Why he remained so long, we leave the reader to imagine, for the girl had been immediately taken to her own little chamber, and he saw her no more for several hours.
When our young sailor came out upon the head-land again, he found the party near the flag-staff increased to four.

Dick, the groom, had returned from his errand, and Tom Wychecombe, the intended heir of the baronet, was also there, in mourning for his reputed father, the judge.
This young man had become a frequent visiter to the station, of late, affecting to imbibe his uncle's taste for sea air, and a view of the ocean.

There had been several meetings between himself and his namesake, and each interview was becoming less amicable than the preceding, for a reason that was sufficiently known to the parties.

When they met on the present occasion, therefore, the bows they exchanged were haughty and distant, and the glances cast at each other might have been termed hostile, were it not that a sinister irony was blended with that of Tom Wychecombe.

Still, the feelings that were uppermost did not prevent the latter from speaking in an apparently friendly manner.
"They tell me, Mr.Wychecombe," observed the judge's heir, (for this Tom Wychecombe might legally claim to be;) "they tell me, Mr.Wychecombe, that you have been taking a lesson in your trade this morning, by swinging over the cliffs at the end of a rope?
Now, that is an exploit, more to the taste of an American than to that of an Englishman, I should think.