THE SMUGGLER. 4? 



with her friends, when the) 7 disapproved of her spoiling their 

 whole plans with the intention of facilitating them. She knew 

 that her design was good ; and she thought it very ungrateful 

 in the world to be angry when her good designs produced the 

 most opposite results to those which she intended. She was 

 fully convinced, too, that circumstances were perversely against 

 her; and yet for her life she could not refrain from trying to 

 make those circumstances bend to her purpose, notwithstand- 

 ing all the raps on the knuckles she received ; and she had 

 still some scheme going on, which, though continually disap- 

 pointed, rose up Hydra- like, with a new head springing out as 

 soon as the other was cut off. As it was at her suggestion, 

 and in favour of certain plans which she kept deep in the re- 

 cesses of her own bosom, that Sir Robert Croyland had claimed 

 acquaintance with Sir Edward Digby on the strength of an 

 old friendship with his father, and had invited him down to 

 Harbourne House immediately on the return of his regiment 

 to England, it may well be supposed that Miss Barbara re- 

 ceived him with her most gracious smiles, which, to say the 

 truth, though the face was wrinkled with age, and the com- 

 plexion not very good, were exceedingly sweet and benignant, 

 springing from a natural kindness of heart, which, if guided by 

 a sounder discretion, would have rendered her one of the most 

 amiable persons on the earth. 



After a few words of simple courtesy on both parts, Sir 

 Edward turned to the other two persons who were in the 

 room, where he found metal more attractive at least, for the 

 eyes. The first to whom he was introduced was a young 

 lady, who seemed to be about one- and- twenty years of age, 

 though she had in fact just attained another year; and though 

 Sir Kobert somewhat hurried him on to the next, who was 

 younger, the keen eye of the young officer marked enough to 

 make him aware that, if so cold and so little disposed to look 

 on a lover as her uncle had represented, she might well become 

 a very dangerous neighbour to a man with a heart not well 

 guarded against the power of beauty. Her hair, eyes, arid 

 eye-lashes were almost black, and her complexion of a clear 

 brown, with the rose blushing faintly in the cheek; but the 

 eyes were of a deep blue. The whole form of the head, the 

 fall of the hair, the bend of the neck from the shoulders, were 

 all exquisitely symmetrical and classical, and nothing could be 



