"’Tis true in part, my lord," I broke in scornfully, "as far as it regards my loss, that is. The other is rank folly. I vow my head is quite as sound and clear as this your godly chaplain’s. For the rest, I would repeat my warning. Scripture hath fluttered somewhat freely here to-night, therefore, I pray you, let me add my quota to it, namely: ’Beware of those who come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly are ravening wolves’. Yea, have a care, my lord. I wish you well." With that I bowed, took one last look at Ferguson, then, passing through the crowd, went forth as I had come, and left them to their own devices. Being in no mood for conversation, I turned towards the kitchen regions, hoping thus to slip out unobserved, except by servants, with whom there was no need to traffic. Kind fortune favoured me in this respect, for, save a hot, perspiring scullion, I met no one, and so I gained my quiet, lonely street again without the utterance of a word. Oh, how fresh and sweet the cool air was after that crowded, reeking room! I drank it in like nectar, and felt mightily refreshed. What next? Whither should I go? The thought of home (two days before the dearest place on earth for me) was now abhorrent to my soul. The hum of whispering, mournful voices; the reddened eyes that followed me about with pitying looks--nay, by my life I would not, could not face them. To be alone, to think in solitude, was what I needed. Just then the murmur of the sea broke in upon my ears. Ah! what better place than that? I had communed with it, told it many a secret in the past, and now it seemed like some old friend who would not fail me in the hour of need. Striking across some fields, in order to avoid the town, I made a wide sweep for the eastern shore. To do this I must needs go through the churchyard, and there I chanced upon the sexton finishing a grave--whose I knew full well. I did not stop, but, as I passed, the old man raised a sweating face to glance at me; then, seeing who it was, he touched a dripping forelock, shook his head, and, mumbling sadly, bent o’er his task again; while I--with what black thoughts you may imagine--descended by a narrow cliff-path to the beach, and set off swiftly towards Charmouth. Dusk was now falling fast, and as I strode along, scarce knowing whither, the cool breeze fanned my burning cheeks refreshingly, the ceaseless thunder of a full-tide sea fell like some soothing music on my ears, until at length a strange deep calm came stealing over me. Rousing myself, I took a backward glance (I know not why), and saw two figures--blurred and indistinct by such a failing light--following in the distance far behind. "Two Charmouth fishers going home," thought I. "Wise men, who will not risk their necks e’en for the pretty Duke of Monmouth." With that I clean dismissed them from my mind, and so pressed on again.