me down by this
time, without adding to the weight of our poor brains. Something fell in
this old tree, a long way up, as high as where the crows build. It
was like a long body, with one leg and one arm. I hope it was not the
Commander; but one thing is certain--he is gone to heaven. Let us pray
that he may stop there, if St. Peter admits a man who was selling the
keys of his country to the enemy. But we must do duty to ourselves, my
Cheray. Let us hasten to the sea, and give the signal for the boat. La
Torche will be a weak light after this."

"I will not go. I will abide my time." The old man staggered to a broken
column of the ancient gateway which had fallen near them, and flung his
arms around it. "I remember this since I first could toddle. The ways of
the Lord are wonderful."

"Come away, you old fool," cried the Frenchman; "I hear the tramp of
soldiers in the valley. If they catch you here, it will be drum-head
work, and you will swing before morning in the ruins."

"I am very old. My time is short. I would liefer hang from an English
beam than deal any more with your outlandish lot."

"Farewell to thee, then! Thou art a faithful clod. Here are five guineas
for thee, of English stamp. I doubt if napoleons shall ever be coined in
England."

He was off while he might--a gallant Frenchman, and an honest enemy;
such as our country has respected always, and often endeavoured to turn
into fast friends. But the old man stood and watched the long gap, where
for centuries the castle of the Carnes had towered. And his sturdy faith
was rewarded.

"I am starving"--these words came feebly from a gaunt, ragged figure
that approached him. "For three days my food has been forgotten; and
bad as it was, I missed it. There came a great rumble, and my walls fell
down. Ancient Jerry, I can go no further. I am empty as a shank bone
when the marrow-toast is serving. Your duty was to feed me, with
inferior stuff at any rate."

"No, sir, no;" the old servitor was roused by the charge of neglected
duty. "Sir Parsley, it was no fault of mine whatever. Squire undertook
to see to all of it himself. Don't blame me, sir; don't blame me."

"Never mind the blame, but make it good," Mr. Shargeloes answered,
meagrely, for he felt as if he could never be fat again. "What do I see
there? It is like a crust of bread, but I am too weak to stoop for it."

"Come inside the tree, sir." The old man led him, as a grandsire leads a
famished chil