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Mr Lawrence pursued the same road home by which he had gained Old Harbour. In all probability had Mr Greyquill not looked back, the young gentleman would have found his letter where he had unconsciously dropped it. That side of the bridge—the up-river water path—was much unfrequented, save on a Sunday, when lovers walked along it, and now and again a little family dressed in their best. It was many chances to one that the two or three who had passed along that path since Mr Lawrence and Mr Greyquill had stood in conversation upon it, would have[Pg 146] picked up the letter or even taken notice of it, so very remote from their ideas of things worth stopping for and examining on the highway was a folded sheet of paper., "There is no ship, I assure you, madam. They have my instructions on deck to keep clear of any sail that heaves into sight, because I am not the man to allow my dream of happiness to be dissolved by a Frenchman's capture of this vessel. And what must we expect to find in these narrow waters but the ships of the enemy intent upon easy captures, bloodless prizes such as the Minorca would make?", "Have a good time last night?" he asked..