On the visit before James had left home, Richard had felt certain that his cousin liked him; but, since that time, he had not only made no progress, but he felt that he had lost rather than gained ground.  The girl was always friendly with him, but it was the cool friendliness of a cousin, and, somehow, Richard instinctively felt James Walsham was the cause.

In vain he had angrily told himself that it was absurd to suppose that his cousin could care for this fellow, whom she had only seen as an awkward boy, who had been content to stop away from the house, and never go near her for weeks.  Still, though he told himself it was absurd, he knew that it was so.  When the conversation happened to turn upon James, she seldom took any part in it; but Richard knew that it was not from indifference as to the subject.  There was a soft flush on her cheek, a light in her eyes, which he had never been able to call up; and, many a time, he had ground his teeth in silent rage, when the squire and Mr. Wilks were discussing the news received in James’s last letter, and expressing their hopes that, ere long, he would be back from foreign service.

Although by no means fond of encountering danger, Richard felt that he would gladly pick an open quarrel with the man he regarded as his rival, and shoot him like a dog—­for in those days, duels were matters of everyday occurrence—­but there was no possibility of doing this, at the present juncture; and, moreover, he knew that this would be the worst possible way of ridding himself of him; for, were James to fall by his hands, his chances of winning Aggie would be hopelessly extinguished.

“No,” he said to himself, “that is out of the question; but I will do something.  Come what may, he shall never go back to Sidmouth.”

The squadron drifted up beyond Cap Rouge, and anchored, at the top of the flood, an hour before daybreak.  The gig was lowered, and James Walsham, amid many good wishes and hearty farewells from the officers, took his place in her, by the side of the midshipman.

“Look out for my signal,” he said.  “Any time, after today, you may see it.”

“We will see it if you make it, my boy,” said the captain, who had come on deck to see him off.  “Don’t you fear about that.  If you make your signal, you may rely upon it, our boat will be ashore for you that night.”

Another moment, and the boat pulled away from the side of the ship.

“Take it easy, lads,” young Middleton said, “only just dip your oars in the water.  We have but three miles to row, with the stream, and don’t want to be there till the day begins to show.”

The oars had been muffled, and, noiselessly, the boat dropped down the stream, until she neared Cap Rouge, then they rowed in towards the French shore.  The day was just beginning to break, in the east, as they neared the spot where the French camp was situated.  It stood high up on the plateau; but there were a small number of tents on the low ground, by the river, as some batteries had been erected here.  They were but two hundred yards from the shore when a French sentry challenged.  They gave no answer, and the soldier at once fired.