"Oh," said Waller thoughtfully. "Yes, I have heard of him--in France," and he looked more curiously in the other's eyes as he asked his next question, thinking the while of the slight accent in the lad's speech. "But you have not come from there?" "Yes," said the lad quietly, and with a bitter tone of sadness in his words; "we crossed over from Cherbourg--oh, it must be a month ago." "We?" said Waller inquiringly. "Yes; I came with my father and four other gentlemen to Lymington." "And are they here in the forest?" The lad looked at him wonderingly. "No," he said; "they were all hunted down like wild beasts--treated as spies." "And where are they now?" said Waller eagerly. "Who knows?" replied the lad sadly. "Lingering in prison, if they have not already been shot. Quick! Tell me," he continued, catching Waller by the arm. "My father! Have you heard anything about him?" "I? No," said Waller. "Oh, surely not shot! But in this quiet country place at the Manor we hear so little of what is going on. I can't help being so ignorant about all these things." "You are all the happier, perhaps," said the lad sadly. "Oh, I don't know," said Waller. "I am afraid I don't know much about what's going on. I am fond of being out here in the woods. It is holiday-time now my father's out. But I say," he continued, with a frank laugh, "isn't it rather funny that you and I should be talking together like this, after--you know--such a little while ago?" "Yes, I suppose so; but I thought you were one of the enemy coming to take me." "Yes," said Waller; "and I don't know what I thought about you when I was looking down the barrel of that pistol." "I--I beg your pardon," faltered the lad. "I was half-mad." "Quite mad, I think," said Waller to himself. Then aloud, "But, I say, why were you here?" "I was hiding; trying to get down to the coast and make my way back to France. The soldiers have been hunting me for days, but I have escaped so far." "To get back to France?" said Waller. "But are you not English?" "Yes, of course. Don't I speak like an Englishman?" "Well, there is a little something queer about it," said Waller--"a sort of accent." "I said English," continued the other, "but my family, the Boynes, are of Irish descent, and staunch followers of the Stuarts." "Yes; but that's all over now, you know," said Waller. "Don't you think you had better give all that up and go back?" "I was trying to go back," said the lad despairingly. "Or stop here." "You talk like a follower of the Pretender," said the lad bitterly. "That I don't!" cried Waller indignantly. "My father is a magistrate, and a staunch supporter of King George. But there, I didn't mean to talk like that," he cried, as he noted the change that came over his companion's face. "Here, I say, never mind about politics. You look-- well, very ill. Hadn't you better go home?"