Archdale was nearer Mistress Royal than he had been since their walks and talks together at Louisburg. But Sir Temple Dacre had seized upon her almost at starting, and when the yacht ran ashore for the party to stroll under the trees on the point and to lunch there, the conversation was still going on. Sir Temple was asking Elizabeth about her late experiences and observations; he found the first very interesting, and the latter unusually keen. As the company grouped themselves upon the beach, however, Elizabeth found Archdale beside her. "I want you to see the waves from that point," he said. "It puts me in mind of one of the juttings of the shore up there." She walked on with him, and two of her companions, who had heard the remark, followed, desirous, as they said, to get a sight of anything that could give them a hint of Louisburg. Elizabeth would not spoil Archdale's satisfaction by saying that she saw no resemblance. She listened while he answered the questions of the others, and by suggestions and reminders she led him on to vivid descriptions of one of the incidents of the siege. In talking he constantly referred to her. "You remember," he said, sometimes; or at others, "You were not there;" or, again, "It was on such a day," recalling some event with which she was connected. It seemed to Archdale very soon when the summons came to lunch. "I haven't enjoyed myself so much for a long time. I hope we are not going home yet," protested Lady Dacre, as the party went on board again. "No, indeed!" cried Archdale. "Where should you like to go, Lady Dacre?" Her ladyship pointed to a line of shore a few miles distant. "Is that too far?" "Not if the wind holds good," returned another of the party so promptly that a sailor, who was about to speak, drew back again with a frown, and contented himself with muttering something to his companions. For a time the wind was fair; but when they had gone two-thirds of the distance it failed them. The boat lay, rocking a little, but with no onward progress, her sails hanging flabby and motionless. Gradually laughter and jest ceased from the lips of the pleasure-seekers. "A shower coming up," said Sir Temple Dacre, in a tone that he wished to make unconcerned. But it was not a mere shower that threatened, but something more awful in the brassy heavens, the stifling atmosphere, the clouds that had gathered with a swiftness unprecedented in that region. The air seemed to have receded behind the clouds to swell the fury of the tempest that was coming. The stillness was full of horror; it seemed like the uplifting of a weapon to strike. The reticence of the sailors was ominous. This calm had fallen so suddenly that the boat had not been able to reach land, or even water more sheltered. It must meet the full fury of the tempest. The lightning began to play incessantly. The thunder had a sound of struggle, as if the giant of the skies were breaking his fetters.