r left
them."

"There, take my horse, mount quickly, and make for the Bay, and turn
him loose on the shore--reach the fleet if you can--in any case, escape;
there is no time to lose."

"And you--how are you to account for this?" said Mark. "Will your
loyalty stand so severe a trial as that of having assisted a rebel's
escape?"

"Leave me to meet my difficulties my own way; turn your thoughts to your
own--heaven knows, they are enough."

The tone he spoke in appealed to Mark's feelings more strongly than all
he said before, and grasping Travers' hand, he said--

"Oh, if I had but had your friendship once, how different I might be
this day; and my father too--what is to become of him?"

"Spare him at least the sorrow of seeing his son arraigned on a charge
of treason, if not of worse."

Fortunately Mark heard not the last few words, which rather fell from
Travers inadvertently, and were uttered in a low voice.

"There," cried Mark, as the loud report of several guns pealed forth--
"they have landed--they will soon be here."

As he spoke, a mounted dragoon rode up to Travers, and whispered a few
words in his ear. Frederick motioned the man to fall back, and then
approaching Mark, said--

"I was correct, sir--the French fleet is under weigh--the expedition is
abandoned; away then before your chance is lost--down to the Bay and get
on board; you will at least find a path where there is glory as well as
peril; there--away."

"They cannot have done this," cried Mark, in an agony of passion; "they
would not desert the cause they have fostered, and leave us to our fate
here."

Mark vaulted on Travers' horse as he said this, all feeling for his own
safety merged in his anxiety for the issue of the plot.

"Treachery we have had enough of--we may be well spared the curse of
cowardice. Good-bye, farewell--few, either friends or foes, have done me
the services that you have. If we are to meet again, Travers----"

"Farewell, farewell," cried Travers; "we shall never meet as enemies,"
and he hastened from the spot, while Mark bending forward in the saddle,
pressed the spurs to his horse, and started.

With the speed of one who cared for nothing less than his own safety,
Mark urged his horse onward, and deserting the ordinary road, he
directed his course to the shore along the base of the mountain--a rough
and dangerous path beset with obstacles, and frequently on the very edge
of the cliff; at last he reached the Ba