For some minutes not a word was spoken; all eyes were fixed upon the vessel. Presently Polly Grey turned pale as death as the vessel, altering her course, distinctly exposed the three masts and rig of a lugger.

"It is the Polly! it is Paul!" shouted Polly Grey, as she fell heavily on the floor, overpowered by hopes and fears.

CHAPTER VII.

THE wind was blowing hard from the north, and the lugger presently stood off on another tack. At this moment the white sails of a revenue cutter were suddenly perceived as she rounded a point, and with a spanking breeze she bore down direct upon the lugger. Polly had quickly recovered from her emotion, and the three now watched with intense interest the movements of the two vessels, feeling convinced that Paul was within a few hours of home.

As the lugger was close hauled to the wind, endeavoring to beat up toward the shore, she had no chance of escaping the cutter, should that be her intention, unless by altering her course and running before the wind. This she present ly did, and in a few minutes she disappeared below the horizon, while the cutter in full sail chased in the same direction. This was a terrible disappointment to Polly Grey, who with natural eagerness had expected her husband's quick return. More than a month had passed without the slightest tidings since Paul had left Sandy Cove. At that time the Channel was full of British cruisers and privateers which preyed like falcons upon the French commerce, while on the other hand the French ships of war were ever on the lookout for British merchant vessels returning deeply laden from the colonies. Accordingly there was much risk attending unarmed vessels that ventured too near the coast of France. Polly Grey's chief anxiety was, that Paul might have been captured by the French; but as she had now recognized his vessel, she had no longer any

fear of the common enemy: the danger lay in the revenue cutters. There was a real cause for apprehension; should he return in safety, he might be immediately arrested upon the charge of smuggling, even should the ridiculous accusation of complicity in the burglary fall to the ground. This latter charge was only supported by the false evidence. of Mother Lee, who had sworn that she saw him near the rectory on the night of the murder.

The day passed away in watching the sea; the cutter had quickly disappeared in chase of the lugger in the morning. It was now past six in the evening, and for the last two or three hours the wind had changed; and although there was no appearance of actual bad weather, it was blowing hard from the south-west, and, as usual, a heavy surf was breaking upon the rocky coast.

As the wind was now fair, Polly, and other inhabitants of the Cove, who were experienced in the locality, expected that the lugger would run for the bay during the night. Among others, Mother Lee was also of this opinion; and, true to her natural instincts, she had already collected some staves of old tar-barrels and a quantity of inflammable material for the purpose of making the fires necessary as guides.

As has been already described, this wretched woman had vowed vengeance against Paul and all that belonged to him ever since the memorable night on which he had dashed her to the ground when caught in the dastardly act of stoning the drowning crew of the cutter. From that moment there was no villainy that Mother Lee would not have perpetrated in order to effect his ruin. Thus she had endeavored to swear away his life, together with that of Ned, in the false evidence given in the case of the burglary. She also had betrayed the secret of the cave; and this night she intended to complete his ruin and death by an act of treachery still more diabolical.

Paul Grey, as is well known, was a daring, and hitherto a successful smuggler; and whenever it had been necessary to run straight for Sandy Cove on a dark and stormy night, when all other vessels would have avoided the coast, he could depend upon his knowledge of the locality, and upon the fires which were generally lighted on the heights upon either side to guide the Polly into the entrance of the bay.

Mother Lee felt certain that the Polly, being chased by the cruiser, would, as usual, run for the bay during the night, as the wind was blowing hard directly upon the shore, therefore the cutter would hesitate to approach the rocks. She accordingly determined to arrange a snare that must inevitably wreck the Polly, and destroy all on board. Having collected a large quantity of fuel, which she tied in many bundles, she left word in the village that she would take care of the fires as usual, if a couple of men would give her a hand in carrying the fagots to the proper points; this was done without loss of time.

Immediately after dark the old woman, unseen by any one, busied herself in carrying several bundles of shavings and a quantity of barrel-staves to the cliff against which, upon a former occasion, the mast of the cutter had been dashed, with the clinging crew.

She found the pile of fuel properly arranged by the fishermen upon the edge of the precipice overhanging the narrow entrance of the bay. On the opposite side, upon a corresponding height, they had piled the fagots for the parallel fire; but this it was not Mother Lee's intention to light. Guessing as nearly as possible the width of the entrance to the bay, the old woman carried her fagots to an equal width from the fuel already piled upon the cliff. Here she carefully arranged the shavings and the staves of tarbarrels in readiness for the occasion.

There were now three piles of fuel instead of two; thus

should that on the left of the bay remain dark, while the other two on the right were lighted, the unfortunate vessel, that might trust to the fires as guides, would be led at full speed directly against the cliff, instead of to the mouth of the harbor. Such was the snare that the treachery of the old hag had designed.

It was a dark night; there were neither moon nor stars, and a heavy surf roared against the rocks, while the cliffs trembled with each heavy shock as the waves dashed against their sides.

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Ha, ha, ha!" chuckled the woman, as she leaned over the pile of dry wood and smeared a quantity of fresh tar from a small keg upon the shavings. "This'll make it burn brightly, and keep the fire alight till it's all over, I know. Mother Lee knows a trick or two, cuss them all!" she muttered, as she continued to dip small pieces of wood into the keg of tar, which she arranged beneath the pile, wiping her skinny fingers occasionally upon her tarred and greasy old rags, with which she was thickly clothed. "Mother Lee knows a trick or two," she continued. "I'll have revenge to-night. It was here down below I paid 'em out; just here where the cutter's people caught it, cuss 'em all! and here, Paul Grey, you'll catch it too. It was here you laid hands on Mother Lee, and here she'll teach you that she knows a trick or two."

Thus the old woman muttered to herself as she arranged her yet unlighted beacons; she had prepared herself with about a gallon of tar, in order to keep up a strong blaze by pouring it upon the fire whenever it should be required.

In the mean time the villagers had gone to sleep, and the only persons who watched were Mother Lee upon the Point and Polly Grey from the cottage window; Edith and her mother had retired to rest.

The wind had increased in violence, and nothing could