themselves been consulted, the frigate's launch would have been selected for their use, on account of its size; but Barnstable, who would have thought such a choice on his part humiliating to his guests, ordered the long, low barge of Captain Munson to be drawn upon the sand, it being peculiarly the boat of honor. The hands of fifty men were applied to the task, and it was soon announced to Colonel Howard and his wards that the little vessel was ready for their reception. Manual had halted on the summit of the cliffs with the whole body of the marines, where he was busily employed in posting pickets and sentinels, and giving the necessary instructions to his men to cover the embarkation of the seamen, in a style that he conceived to be altogether military. The mass of the common prisoners, including the inferior domestics of the abbey, and the men of Borroughcliffe, were also held in the same place, under a suitable guard: but Colonel Howard and his companion, attended by the ladies and their own maids, had descended the rugged path to the beach, and were standing passively on the sands, when the intelligence that the boat waited for them was announced. “Where is he?” asked Alice Dunscombe, turning her head, as if anxiously searching for some other than those around her. “Where is who?” inquired Barnstable; “we are all here, and the boat waits.” “And will he tear me--even me, from the home of my infancy! the land of my birth and my affections!” “I know not of whom you speak, madam, but if it be of Mr. Griffith, he stands there, just without that cluster of seamen.” Griffith, hearing himself thus named, approached the ladies, and, for the first time since leaving the abbey, addressed them: “I hope I am already understood,” he said, “and that it is unnecessary for me to say that no female here is a prisoner; though, should any choose to trust themselves on board our ship, I pledge them to the honor of an officer that they shall find themselves protected, and safe.” “Then will I not go,” said Alice. “It is not expected of you,” said Cecilia; “you have no ties to bind you to any here.” (The eyes of Alice were still wandering over the listeners.) “Go, then, Miss Alice, and be the mistress of St. Ruth, until my return; or,” she added, timidly, “until Colonel Howard may declare his pleasure.” “I obey you, dear child; but the agent of Colonel Howard, at B----, will undoubtedly, be authorized to take charge of his effects.” While no one but his niece alluded to his will, the master of the abbey had found, in his resentment, a sufficient apology for his rigid demeanor; but he was far too well bred to bear, in silence, such a modest appeal to his wishes, from so fair and so loyal a subject as Alice Dunscombe.