gligence on the part of the sentinels. When
they were a little way from the Castle, the men began to row briskly
towards a small vessel which lay at some distance. Peveril had, in
the meantime, leisure to remark, that the boatmen spoke to each other
doubtfully, and bent anxious looks on Fenella, as if uncertain whether
they had acted properly in bringing her off.

After about a quarter of an hour's rowing, they reached the little
sloop, where Peveril was received by the skipper, or captain, on the
quarter-deck, with an offer of spirits or refreshments. A word or two
among the seamen withdrew the captain from his hospitable cares, and he
flew to the ship's side, apparently to prevent Fenella from entering
the vessel. The men and he talked eagerly in Dutch, looking anxiously at
Fenella as they spoke together; and Peveril hoped the result would
be, that the poor woman should be sent ashore again. But she
baffled whatever opposition could be offered to her; and when the
accommodation-ladder, as it is called, was withdrawn, she snatched the
end of a rope, and climbed on board with the dexterity of a sailor,
leaving them no means of preventing her entrance, save by actual
violence, to which apparently they did not choose to have recourse. Once
on deck, she took the captain by the sleeve, and led him to the head
of the vessel, where they seemed to hold intercourse in a manner
intelligible to both.

Peveril soon forgot the presence of the mute, as he began to muse upon
his own situation, and the probability that he was separated for some
considerable time from the object of his affections. "Constancy," he
repeated to himself,--"Constancy." And, as if in coincidence with the
theme of his reflections, he fixed his eyes on the polar star, which
that night twinkled with more than ordinary brilliancy. Emblem of pure
passion and steady purpose--the thoughts which arose as he viewed its
clear and unchanging light, were disinterested and noble. To seek
his country's welfare, and secure the blessings of domestic peace--to
discharge a bold and perilous duty to his friend and patron--to regard
his passion for Alice Bridgenorth, as the loadstar which was to guide
him to noble deeds--were the resolutions which thronged upon his mind,
and which exalted his spirits to that state of romantic melancholy,
which perhaps is ill exchanged even for feelings of joyful rapture.

He was recalled from those contemplations by something which nestled
i