eir
oozy beds. "A boat is coming from the shore and pulling rapidly towards
us," said Nigel to the captain. "The people on board her are making
signals. Shall we stop weighing the anchor?"

"Yes, without doubt," answered the commander, looking towards the boat.
"I thought that they had abandoned their design. We are still to have
the advantage of the count's assistance and company."

Nigel looked eagerly towards the approaching boat. Besides the rowers,
there were several passengers, two of whom he saw were females, and at
length, as they approached, he recognised the Count de Tourville. His
heart began to beat more violently than it was wont to do. He felt
almost sure that the lady by the count's side was his daughter
Constance. All doubt in a few minutes was set at rest, when the count,
leading his daughter, came up the broad ladder which had been lowered to
allow them to ascend. Constance gave him a smile of recognition as he
bowed low, as did the other officers standing round, to welcome her and
her father on board.

The squadron was now quickly under weigh, and gliding rapidly down the
river. The weather looked fine, and all hoped for a prosperous voyage.
Many who had narrowly escaped with their lives from the Romanists began
to breathe more freely as the ships, under all sail, stood down the
channel. Yet there were sad hearts on board, for they were leaving
their beloved France a prey to civil strife, and their fellow
religionists to the horrors of persecution, so that for the time they
forgot their high hopes of founding another France in the New World.

As Nigel paced the deck in the performance of his duty, he was often
able to stop and speak to the count and his daughter, and to render her
those attentions which a lady so frequently requires on board ship.
Often they stood together watching the distant shore or passing vessels,
or the porpoises as they gambolled in the waves. Insensibly they became
more and more drawn together, Constance told him of the difficulty she
had experienced in escaping from the court. Had not her father himself,
at a great risk, gone to Paris, she would have been unable to accomplish
her object. Fortunately for her, a relative residing in the capital
having fallen ill, had sent an earnest request to see her. She had been
allowed to go, and had the same night left Paris with her father in
disguise, travelling night and day in time to reach Havre just as the
ship was