He had seen but little of the monk since the day of the feast, but he was yearning to see him now.  His love for the man, his reverence for the truths he taught, his thought of his own future if he lost his life in his rash expedition, all urged him to seek a parting interview.

The brothers received him affectionately and bade him join their frugal meal.  The monks were five in number:  they had been six, but one had recently been drowned while returning from a pious mission to Herm.  Jean knew them all; they were honest, God-fearing men, trustful and truthful.  If their reasoning powers were not great, their faith was unswerving.  Their life was a prolonged asceticism, and they had fair reason to expect that martyrdom would be their earthly crown.

The only exceptional feature of the repast was the appearance of one who had never yet been seated there in Jean’s presence; this guest was the hermit who dwelt on the extreme point, against which the Atlantic waves dashed in their fiercest fury.  The recluse did not seem to cultivate the duty of abstemiousness, but he maintained silence.  Jean could not forbear furtively scanning his appearance, which was indeed remarkable.  He would have been of large stature in any country; compared with the natives his proportions were gigantic.  His broad shoulders and muscular arms betokened enormous strength; his hair and beard were fair; his blue eyes had a clear, frank, expression; there was firmness of purpose in his massive jaw; he seemed between forty and fifty, and would have been strikingly handsome but for three deep scars which totally marred the expression of his features.  As Jean eyed him he returned the compliment, but the meal was soon over and the youth accompanied Father Austin to his cell.

There a long and sleepless night was passed by both.  The monk in vain endeavoured to combat Jean’s resolution; he argued, prayed, indeed threatened, but without effect.  Finding his efforts hopeless he abandoned them, and endeavoured to fortify his charge against the influence of the spell under which he believed him to have fallen.  Then the young man was again the pupil; he listened humbly and reverently to the repetition of the great truths which the father strove to rivet on his mind, and joined earnestly in the prayers for truth and constancy.  As daylight broke, and he at length laid himself down to rest, his latest vision was that of the good man kneeling by him with that rapt look of contemplation which seemed to foreshadow his immortality.

Jean slept profoundly for some hours.  When night began to fall he received Austin’s blessing, no further reference being made to his expedition, and when the moon was on the eve of disappearance he launched his boat.  As he rounded Lihou point another boat shot out, the occupant of which hailed him.  Recognizing the hermit, Jean paused.  “You steer wrong,” said the giant, speaking with an accent which at once reminded his hearer of that of