The following day, Julian Arden, attired in the garments of the French seaman, Louis Lebeau, and furnished with his papers and a good sum in French money, took leave of his kind friends on board the Onyx, was landed in the dusk on the French coast, actually within half a mile of the spot where the lugger, the Vengeance, had been run ashore by William Thornton, and his follower, Bill Saunders. Julian felt himself perfectly secure in his character of a French seaman, but he felt also greatly anxious to discover the fate of his dear mother; whether she still enjoyed freedom, or was under the surveillance of the Republic. Though he had no doubt, when daylight broke, that he should recognise from memory many of the features of the surrounding country, still, in the dark, he was loth to commence his journey to Coulancourt. It was the month of June, so there was very little hardship in passing the night under the shelter of one of the sand-hills. Stretching himself at his ease, he lay ruminating over the past, and picturing to himself prospects for the future. He had many visions, during his uneasy sleep, but Cherry Packenham was the predominating one. Julian remained quiet till about six in the morning; he then gave himself a shake, bathed his face in an adjacent pool, and mounting a sand-hill, cast a glance over the country before him. Like William Thornton, he was at once attracted by the village spire, and the creek losing itself amongst the sand-hills. “Ah!” said Julian, joyfully, “I remember yonder village; that’s where good Dame Moret lived. She was so fond of me when a boy, when I used to play and romp with her daughters. My good old stepfather, the Duke, was alive then,” soliloquised Julian; “the axe of the guillotine ended his days.” Then he recollected the grief and agony of his mother. Descending the hill, he resolved to proceed to the village, to the house of Dame Moret, have a look at the Château Coulancourt, and afterwards be guided by circumstances. Acting upon this resolve, he crossed the country towards the creek; but coming upon a road where he lost sight of the village, which lay in a thickly-wooded district, he altered his course and followed the road to the right, and presently met a cart laden with ropes, blocks, sails, and all kinds of seafaring requisites; three or four sailors were walking alongside of the cart, which was drawn by three horses harnessed with ropes. One of the men, a broad, muscular man, better dressed than the others, and in manner and bearing like the captain of a ship, was walking in front. He stopped as Julian came up, and looking at him, said— “Well, my hearty, where do you hail from, coming this road; or were you seeking me where I am repairing the Vengeance?” Julian gave a slight start at the name of the Vengeance, saying to himself—