“One is the work of God, and the other has been produced by the art of man. Cecilia, those are no leaves, but they are my own childish signals, and without doubt Barnstable himself is on that ruined tower. Merry cannot, will not, betray him!” “My life should be a pledge for the honor of our little cousin,” said Cecilia. “But you have the telescope of my uncle at hand, ready for such an event! one look through it will ascertain the truth--” Katherine sprang to the spot where the instrument stood, and with eager hands she prepared it for the necessary observation. “It is he!” she cried, the instant her eye was put to the glass. “I even see his head above the stones. How unthinking to expose himself so unnecessarily!” “But what says he, Katherine?” exclaimed Cecilia; “you alone can interpret his meaning.” The little book which contained the explanations of Miss Plowden's signals was now hastily produced, and its leaves rapidly run over in quest of the necessary number. “Tis only a question to gain my attention. I must let him know he is observed.” When Katherine, as much to indulge her secret propensities as with any hope of its usefulness, had devised this plan for communicating with Barnstable, she had, luckily, not forgotten to arrange the necessary means to reply to his interrogatories. A very simple arrangement of some of the ornamental cords of the window-curtains enabled her to effect this purpose; and her nimble fingers soon fastened the pieces of silk to the lines, which were now thrown into the air, when these signals in miniature were instantly displayed in the breeze. “He sees them!” cried Cecilia, “and is preparing to change his flags.” “Keep then your eye on him, my cousin, and tell me the colors that he shows, with their order, and I will endeavor to read his meaning.” “He is as expert as yourself! There are two more of them fluttering above the stones again: the upper is white, and the lower black.” “White over black,” repeated Katherine, rapidly, to herself, as she turned the leaves of her book.--“'_My messenger: has he been seen?_'--To that we must answer the unhappy truth. Here it is--yellow, white, and red--'_He is a prisoner._' How fortunate that I should have prepared such a question and answer. What says he, Cecilia, to this news?” “He is busy making his changes, dear. Nay, Katherine, you shake so violently as to move the glass! Now he is done; 'tis yellow over black, this time.” “'_Griffith, or who?_' He does not understand us; but I had thought of the poor boy, in making out the numbers--ah! here it is; yellow, green, and red--'_My cousin Merry_'--he cannot fail to understand us now.” “He has already taken in his flags. The news seems to alarm him, for he is less expert than before. He shows them now--they are green, red, and yellow.”