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 the maiden; "your course is to the rising
sun." "I go where I will," replied Jean, nettled at this unlooked-for
interruption. "Youth," answered the other, "I have watched thee and wish
thee well! rush not heedlessly to certain death!" "Stay me not!"
resolutely answered Jean, wondering at the interest taken in him by this
strange being. "Thou knowest not!" said the hermit sternly; "it is not
only from death I wish to save thee, but from worse than death; I tell
thee I--" He checked himself, as if fearful of saying too much, and bent
his eyes searchingly into those of Jean, who murmured simply, "I am
resolved." "Then God help thee and speed thee!" said the giant. Glancing
into the boat he saw one of the curved and pierced shells then, as now,
used by Guernsey seamen as signal-horns: pointing to it he said, "If in
peril, where a blast may be heard on Lihou, sound the horn twice: it is
a poor hope but may serve thee!" He was gone.

Jean paddled into the dreaded bay; the moon had now sunk and he was
further favoured by a slight mist. Knowing the tides from infancy, he