"Poor George!" sighed Aunt Margaret; "always so sordid in his ideas in early life; now that he is wealthy, so utterly wanting in aspirations! Always dallying over some miserable shrimp. He has no more ambition than one of those silly fish over which he sits and dreams. Oh, Henri, my boy, when I look back at what our family has been--right back into the distant ages of French history--valorous knights and noble ladies; and later on, how they graced the court at banquet and at ball, I weep the salt tears of misery to see my brother sink so low, and so careless about the welfare of his boy." "Ah! well, it's of no use, aunt. I must go and turn somebody's grindstone again." "No, Henri, it shall not be," cried the old lady, with flashing eyes. "We must think; we must plot and plan. You must get money somehow, so as to carry on the war; and we will have back the estate in Auvergne; and a noble future shall be yours; and--" "If you please, ma'am, I've brought your lunch," said a voice; and Liza, the maid, who bore a strong resemblance to the fish-woman who had accosted Uncle Luke at the mouth of the harbour, set down a delicately-cooked cutlet and bit of fish, and spread on a snowy napkin, with the accompaniments of plate, glass, and a decanter of sherry. "Ah! yes, my lunch," said Aunt Margaret, with a sigh. "Go, and think over what I have said, my dear, and we will talk again another time." "All right, auntie," said the young man, rising slowly; "but it seems to me as if the best thing I could do would be to jump into the sea." "No, no, Henri," said Aunt Margaret, taking up a silver spoon and shaking it slowly at her nephew, "a des Vignes was ready with his sword in defence of his honour, and to advance his master's cause; but he never dreamed of taking his own life. That, my dear, would be the act of one of the low-born _canaille_. Remember who you are, and wait. I am working for you, and you shall triumph yet. Consult your friend." "Sometimes I think it's all gammon," said Harry, as he went slowly down-stairs, and out into the garden, "and sometimes it seems as if it would be very jolly. I dare say the old woman is right, and--" "What are you talking about--muttering aside like the wicked man on the stage?" "Hullo, Vic! You there?" "Yes, dear boy. I'm here for want of somewhere better." "Consult your friend!" Aunt Margaret's last words. "Been having a cigar?" "I've been hanging about here this last hour. How is it she hasn't been for a walk?" "Louie? Don't know. Here, let's go down under the cliff, and find a snug corner, and have a talk over a pipe." "The latter, if you like; never mind the former. Yes, I will: for I want a few words of a sort." "What about?" said Harry, as they strolled away. "Everything. Look here, old fellow; we've been the best of chums ever since you shared my desk." "Yes, and you shared my allowance."