or
some object of intrigue, Talbot had assumed the name and character
of this celebrated personage. The very fact of his rescuing the
bill-sticker strengthened this impression. Such an act seemed to Mark
far more in unison with the wayward recklessness of Talbot's character,
than with the bearing of a man who might thus expose himself to capture.
With the subtlety which the will supplies to furnish arguments for its
own conviction, Mark fancied how readily Talbot might have made this
personation of Barrington a master-stroke of policy, and while thus he
ruminated, he reached the sea shore, and could see before him that long
bleak track of sand, which, uncovered save at high tide, is called "the
Bull." This was the spot appointed for the meeting, and, although now
within half an hour of the time, no figure was seen upon its bleak
surface. Mark rode on, and crossing the narrow channel of water which
separates "the Bull" from the main-land, reached the place over which,
for above two miles in extent, his eye could range freely. Still no one
was to be seen; the light ripple of the ebbing tide was the only sound
in the stillness of the morning; there was a calmness over the surface
of the sea, on which the morning sunbeams were slanting faintly,
and glittering like freckled gold, wherever some passing breeze or
shore-current stirred the waters. One solitary vessel could be seen,
and she, a small schooner, with all her canvas bent, seemed scarcely to
move.

Mark watched her, as one watches any object which relieves the
dreariness of waiting, he gazed on her tall spars and white sails
reflected in the sea, when suddenly a bright flash burst from her side,
a light-blue smoke, followed by a booming sound, rolled forth, and a
shot was seen skimming the surface of the water, for above a mile in her
wake; the next moment a flag was run up to her peak, when it fluttered
for a moment and was then lowered again. Mark's experience of a
smuggling life taught him at once to recognize these signs as signals,
and he turned his gaze towards the land to discover to whom they were
made; but although for miles long the coast lay beneath his view, he
could see nothing that corresponded with this suspicion. A single figure
on horseback was all that he could detect, and he was too far off to
observe minutely. Once more Mark turned towards the ship, which now was
feeling a fresher breeze and beginning to bead beneath it. The white
curl that broke