1828.] The Winter Cruise. 589° 
desperate had taken place. The’smuggler gained the street Susan had 
set out from ; the women, and others who had joined them, were ga- 
thered round the door of the house, waiting with breathless impatience 
her revurn, and various were the conjectures of the night’s events ; when 
a voice, whose tones all knew, was heard to exclaim—< Stand o’ one 
side there ; a chair! a chair!” They made way for him in an instant ; 
he darted into the house, placed Susan in the arm-chair, and dropped on 
the floor, with his forehead resting on his arm. 
« James!” the women cried, “ are you hurt?” 
They received no reply; but his convulsive panting alarmed them : 
they raised him from the ground, while one of the wemen lighted a 
candle. At that moment a scream of dismay escaped from all: those 
who had stcod listening at the door rushed in, and were horror-struck 
on beholding poor Susan lying apparently lifeless in the chair, her face 
and neck dabbled with blood ; but she breathed, and not 2 moment was 
to be lost. Restoratives were applied to both, the blood was cleansed 
from Susan, and, to the joy of all, not a wound could be perceived. 
James had now sufficiently recovered to stand and bathe her temples: 
he kissed her cold, quivering lips—she slowly opened her eyes—the 
first object they rested upon was her husband! She started from the 
chair, and gazed at him with a mingled expression of terror and delight. 
James, seeing the effect his appearance produced, pressed her in his arms, 
where she lay laughing and crying, and clasping him round the neck, 
till the shock had subsided, when she sat like a quiet child on his knee, 
reposing her head upon his shoulder. None had as yet ventured to ask 
a question, but all impatiently waited till Susan should break the silence 
that had now followed the confusion of cries, tears, and wonder. But 
she seemed to liave no other wish on earth—she was in her husband’s 
arms—beneath their own roof—and that was question, and answer, and 
every thing to her. James appeared restless, and attempted ta rise ; 
but the motion was followed by the close winding of Susan’s arms round 
his neck. Then, as if suddenly resolved, and chiding himself for some 
neglect. he started from his seat. ee 
“ Susan,” said he, “ you are better now; keep yourself still till I 
return—lI shall be but a few minutes.” 
“ No, no,” cried Susan, grasping his arm with both her hands— 
“not again—go not again. I shall be able to speak to you presently ; 
don’t leave me now, James.” 
“ You mus’‘n’t persuade me to stay,” replied he; “I left the crew 
- fighting with the blockade when I saw you in that fellow’s arms ; but I 
must go back again, for life and death are in this night’s business.. One 
of us has been shot, poor Peter Cullen drowned—he would drink in 
spite of our orders, and fell‘overboard. I tried to save him; but I’m 
afraid’ he lies dead under the cliff, just-where I first saw you, Susan, 
when I lost my footing. But I must go back, and see the end of it— 
now don’t gripe me so hard, Susan--I must go. I dare say all’s lost— 
but I must go.” 
He struggled to release himself from Susan, when a smuggler rushed 
into the house, pale and exhausted ; he flung himself into a chair, and 
throwing a brace of pistols on the ground, exclaimed— 
« The boat’s taken—the tubs we had worked to the foot of the cliffs 
are seized too: we fought hard for it, but it was of no use ;’—and then 
he breathed a bitter curse in that low, withering tone, which seems 
