The Smuggler Part 13

As soon as they were gone, Mr. Radford shook old Ramley familiarly by the hand, exclaiming, "This is the luckiest thing in the world, my good fellow! If I can but get them to accuse me of conniving at this job, it will be a piece of good fortune which does not often happen to a man."

Ramley, as well he might, looked a little confounded; but Mr. Radford drew him aside, and spoke to him for a quarter of an hour, in a voice raised hardly above a whisper. Numerous laughs, and nods, and signs of mutual understanding pa.s.sed between them; and the conversation ended by Mr. Radford saying, aloud, "I wonder what can keep d.i.c.k so long; he ought to have been here before now! I sent over to him at eight; and it is past eleven."

CHAPTER XII.

We will now, by the reader's good leave, return for a short time to Harbourne House, where the party sat down to breakfast, at the inconveniently early hour of eight. I will not take upon myself to say that it might not be a quarter-of-an-hour later, for almost everything is after its time on this globe, and Harbourne House did not differ in this respect from all the rest of the world. From the face of young Radford towards the countenance of Sir Edward Digby shot some very furious glances as they took their places at the breakfast-table; but those looks gradually sunk down into a dull and sullen frown, as they met with no return. Sir Edward Digby, indeed, seemed to have forgotten the words which had pa.s.sed between them as soon as they had been uttered; and he laughed, and talked, and conversed with every one as gaily as if nothing had happened. Edith was some ten minutes behind the rest at the meal, and seemed even more depressed than the night before; but Zara had reserved a place for her at her own side; and taking the first opportunity, while the rest of the party were busily talking together, she whispered a few words in her ear. Sir Edward Digby saw her face brighten in a moment, and her eyes turn quickly towards himself; but he took no notice; and an interval of silence occurring the next moment, the conversation between the two sisters was interrupted.

During breakfast, a servant brought in a note and laid it on the side-board, and after the meal was over, Miss Croyland retired to her own room to make ready for her departure. Zara was about to follow; but good Mrs. Barbara, who had heard some sharp words pa.s.s between the two gentlemen, and had remarked the angry looks of young Radford, was determined that they should not quarrel without the presence of ladies, and consequently called her youngest niece back, saying, in a whisper, "Stay here, my dear. I have a particular reason why I want you not to go."

"I will be back in a moment, my dear aunt," replied Zara; but the worthy old lady would not suffer her to depart; and the butler entering at that moment, called the attention of Richard Radford to the note which had been brought in some half-an-hour before, and which was, in fact, a sudden summons from his father.

The contents seemed to give him no great satisfaction; and, turning to the servant, he said, "Well, tell them to saddle my horse, and bring him round;" and as he spoke, he directed a frowning look towards the young baronet, as if he could scarcely refrain from shewing his anger till a fitting opportunity occurred for expressing it.

Digby, however, continued talking lightly with Zara Croyland, in the window, till the horse had been brought round, and the young man had taken leave of the rest of the party. Then sauntering slowly out of the room, he pa.s.sed through the hall door, to the side of Richard Radford's horse, just as the latter was mounting.

"Mr. Radford," he said, in a low tone, "you were pleased to make an impertinent observation upon my conduct, which led me to tell you what I think of yours. We were interrupted; but I dare say you must wish for further conversation with me. You can have it when and where you please."

"At three o'clock this afternoon, in the road straight from the back of the house," replied young Radford, in a low, determined tone, touching the hilt of his sword.

Sir Edward Digby nodded, and then turning on his heel, walked coolly into the house.

"I am sure, Sir Edward," cried Mrs. Barbara, as soon as she saw him, while Zara fixed her eyes somewhat anxiously upon his countenance--"I am sure you and Mr. Radford have been quarrelling."

"Oh no, my dear madam," replied Sir Edward Digby; "nothing of the kind, I can a.s.sure you. Our words were very ordinary words, and perfectly civil, upon my word. We had no time to quarrel."

"My dear Sir Edward," said Sir Robert Croyland, "you must excuse me for saying it, I must have no such things here. I am a magistrate for this county, and bound by my oath to keep the peace. My sister tells me that high words pa.s.sed between you and my young friend Radford before breakfast?"

"They were very few, Sir Robert," answered Digby, in a careless tone; "he thought fit to make an observation upon my saying a few words to your daughter, here, in a low tone, which I conceive every gentleman has a right to do to a fair lady. I told him, I thought his conduct insolent; and that was all that pa.s.sed. I believe the youth has got a bad headache from too much of your good wine, Sir Robert; therefore, I forgive him. I dare say, he'll be sorry enough for what he said, before the day is over; and if he is not, I cannot help it."

"Well, well, if that's all, it is no great matter!" replied the master of the house; "but here comes round the carriage; run and call Edith, Zara."

Before the young lady could quit the room, however, her sister appeared; and the only moment they obtained for private conference was at the door of the carriage, after Edith had got in, and while her father was giving some directions to the coachman. No great information could be given or received, indeed, for Sir Robert returned to the side of the vehicle immediately, bade his daughter good-bye, and the carriage rolled away.

As soon as it was gone, Sir Edward Digby proposed, with the permission of Sir Robert Croyland, to go out to shoot; for he did not wish to subject himself to any further cross-examination by the ladies of the family, and he read many inquiries in fair Zara's eyes, which he feared might be difficult to answer. Retiring, then, to put on a more fitting costume, while gamekeepers and dogs were summoned to attend him, he took the opportunity of writing a short letter, which he delivered to his servant to post, giving him, at the same time, brief directions to meet him near the cottage of good Mrs. Clare, about half-past two, with the sword which the young officer usually wore when not on military service. Those orders were spoken in so ordinary and commonplace a tone that none but a very shrewd fellow would have discovered that anything was going forward different from the usual occurrences of the day; but Somers was a very shrewd fellow; and in a few minutes--judging from what he had observed while waiting on his master during dinner on the preceding day--he settled the whole matter entirely to his own satisfaction, thinking, according to the phraseology of those times, "Sir Edward will pink him--and a good thing too; but it will spoil sport here, I've a notion."

As he descended to the hall, in order to join the keepers and their four-footed coadjutors, the young baronet encountered Mrs. Barbara and her niece; and he perceived Zara's eyes instantly glance to his sword-belt, from which he had taken care to remove a weapon that could only be inconvenient to him in the sport he was about to pursue. She was not so easily to be deceived as her father; but yet the absence of the weapon usually employed in those days, as the most efficacious for killing a fellow-creature, put her mind at ease, at least for the present; and, although she determined to watch the proceedings of the young baronet during the two or three following days--as far, at least, as propriety would permit--she took no further notice at the moment, being very anxious to prevent her good aunt from interfering more than necessary in the affairs of Sir Edward Digby.

Mrs. Barbara, indeed, was by no means well pleased that Sir Edward was going to deprive her schemes of the full benefit which might have accrued from his pa.s.sing the whole of that day unoccupied, with Zara, at Harbourne House, and hinted significantly that she trusted if he did not find good sport he would return early, as her niece was very fond of a ride over the hills, only that she had no companion.

The poor girl coloured warmly, and the more so as Sir Edward could not refrain from a smile.

"I trust, then, I shall have the pleasure of being your companion to-morrow, Miss Croyland," he said, turning to the young lady. "Why should we not ride over, and see your excellent uncle and your sister?

I must certainly pay my respects to him; and if I may have the honour of escorting you, it will give double pleasure to my ride."

Zara Croyland was well aware that many a matter, which if treated seriously may become annoying--if not dangerous, can be carried lightly off by a gay and das.h.i.+ng jest: "Oh, with all my heart," she said; "only remember, Sir Edward, we must have plenty of servants with us, or else all the people in the country will say that you and I are going to be married; and as I never intend that such a saying should be verified, it will be as well to nip the pretty little blossom of gossip in the bud."

"It shall be all exactly as you please," replied the young officer, with a low bow and a meaning smile; but at the very same moment, Mrs.

Barbara thought fit to reprove her niece, wondering how she could talk so sillily; and Sir Edward took his leave, receiving his host's excuses, as he pa.s.sed through the hall, for not accompanying him on his shooting expedition.

"The truth is, my dear sir," said Sir Robert Croyland, "that I am now too old and too heavy for such sports."

"You were kind enough to tell me, this is Liberty Hall," replied the young baronet, "and you shall see, my dear sir, that I take you at your word, both in regard to your game and your wine, being resolved, with your good permission, and for my own health, to kill your birds and spare your bottles."

"Certainly, certainly," answered the master of the mansion--"you shall do exactly as you like;" and with this licence, Sir Edward set out shooting, with tolerable success, till towards two o'clock, when, quite contrary to the advice and opinion of the gamekeepers--who declared that the dogs would have the wind with them in that direction, and that as the day was now hot, the birds would not lie a minute--he directed his course towards the back of Harbourne Wood, finding, it must be confessed, but very little sport. There, apparently fatigued and disgusted with walking for a mile or two without a shot, he gave his gun to one of the men, and bade him take it back to the house, saying, he would follow speedily. As soon as he had seen them depart, he tracked round the edge of the wood, towards Mrs. Clare's cottage, exactly opposite to which he found his trusty servant, provided as he had directed.

Sir Edward then took the sword and fixed it in his belt, saying, "Now, Somers, you may go!"

"Certainly, sir," replied the man, touching his hat with a look of hesitation; but he added, a minute after, "you had better let me know where it's to be, sir, in case----"

"Well," rejoined Sir Edward Digby, with a smile, "you are an old soldier and no meddler, Somers; so that I will tell you, 'in case,'--that the place is in a straight line between this and Harbourne House. So now, face about to the right, and go back by the other road."

The man touched his hat again, and walked quickly away, while the young officer turned his steps up the road which he had followed during the preceding evening in pursuit of the two Miss Croylands. It was a good broad open way, in which there was plenty of fencing room, and he thought to himself as he walked on, "I shall not be sorry to punish this young vagabond a little. I must see what sort of skill he has, and if possible wound him without hurting him much. If one could keep him to his bed for a fortnight, we should have the field more clear for our own campaign; but these things must always be a chance."

Thus meditating, and looking at his watch to see how much time he had to spare, Major Sir Edward Digby walked on till became within sight of the garden wall and some of the out-buildings of Harbourne House. The reader, if he has paid attention, will remember that the road did not go straight to the back of the house itself: a smaller path, which led to the right, conducting thither; but as the gardens extended for nearly a quarter of a mile on that side, it followed the course of the wall to the left to join the parish road which ran in front of the mansion, leaving the green court, as it was called, or lawn, and the terrace, on the right hand.

As there was no other road in that direction, Sir Edward Digby felt sure that he must be on the ground appointed, but yet, as is the case in all moments of expectation, the time seemed so long, that when he saw the brick-work he took out his watch again, and found there were still five minutes to spare. He accordingly turned upon his steps, walking slowly back for about a quarter of a mile, and then returned, looking sharply out for his opponent, but seeing no one. He was now sure that the time must be past; but, resolved to afford young Radford every opportunity, he said to himself, "Watches may differ, and something may have detained him. I will give him a full half hour, and then if he does not come I shall understand the matter."

As soon, then, as he saw the walls once more, he wheeled round and re-trod his steps, then looked at his watch, and found that it was a quarter past three. "Too bad!" he said,--"too bad! The fellow cannot be coward, too, as well as blackguard. One turn more, and then I've done with him." But as he advanced on his way towards the house, he suddenly perceived the flutter of female garments before him, and saying to himself, "This is awkward!" he gazed round for some path, in order to get out of the way for a moment, but could perceive none. The next instant, coming round a shrub which started forward a little before the rest of the trees, he saw the younger Miss Croyland advancing with a quick step, and, he could not help thinking, with a somewhat agitated air. Her colour was heightened, her eyes eagerly looking on; but, as soon as she saw him, she slackened her pace, and came forward in a more deliberate manner.

"Oh, Sir Edward!" she said, in a calm, sweet tone, "I am glad to see you. You have finished your shooting early, it seems."

"Why, the sport was beginning to slacken," answered Sir Edward Digby.

"I had not had a shot for the last half hour, and so thought it best to give it up."

"Well then, you shall take a walk with me," cried Zara, gaily. "I am just going down to a poor friend of ours, called Widow Clare, and you shall come too."

"What! notwithstanding all your sage and prudent apprehensions in regard to what people might say if we were seen alone together!"

exclaimed Sir Edward Digby, with a smile.

"Oh! I don't mind that," answered Zara. "Great occasions, you know, Sir Edward, require decisive measures; and I a.s.suredly want an escort through this terrible forest, to protect me from all the giants and enchanters it may contain."

Sir Edward Digby looked at his watch again, and saw that it wanted but two minutes to the half hour.

"Oh!" said Zara, affecting a look of pique, "if you have some important appointment, Sir Edward, it is another affair--only tell me if it be so?"

Sir Edward Digby took her hand in his: "I will tell you, dear lady,"

he replied, "if you will first tell me one thing, truly and sincerely--What brought you here?"

Zara trembled and coloured; for with the question put in so direct a shape, the agitation, which she had previously overcome, mastered her in turn, and she answered, "Don't, don't, or I shall cry."

"Well, then, tell me at least if I had anything to do with it?" asked the young baronet.

"Yes, you had!" replied Zara; "I can't tell a falsehood. But now, Sir Edward, don't, as most of you men would do, suppose that it's from any very tender interest in you, that I did this foolish thing. It was because I thought--I thought, if you were going to do what I imagined, it would be the very worst thing in the world for poor Edith."

"I shall only suppose that you are all that is kind and good,"