96 THE SMUGGLER. 



" It requires no generosity, my dear Miss Croyland," re- 

 plied the young baronet. "I am already aware of so much, 

 and see the kind and deep interest you take in your sister so 

 clearly, that I fully understand and appreciate your motives." 



"Thank you, thank you!" replied Zara, warmly; "that 

 sets my mind at rest. But come out upon the terrace. 

 There, seen by all the world, I shall not feel as if I were plot- 

 ting;" and she unlocked the glass door at the end of the 

 passage. Sir Edward Digby followed close upon her steps ; 

 and when once fairly on the esplanade before the house, and 

 far enough from open doors Imd windows not to be overheard, 

 they commenced their walk backwards and forwards. 



It was quite natural that both should be silent for a few 

 moments; for where there is much to say, and little time to 

 say it in, people are apt to waste the precious present, or at 

 least a part, in considering how it may best be said. At length 

 the lady raised her eyes to her companion's face, with a smile 

 more melancholy and embarrassed than usually found place 

 upon her sweet lips, asking, "How shall I begin, Sir Edward? 

 Have you nothing to tell me?" 



"I have merely to ask questions," replied Digby; "yet, 

 perhaps that may be the best commencement. I am aware, 

 my dear Miss Croyland, that your sister has loved, and has 

 been as deeply beloved as woman ever was by man. I know 

 the whole tale ; but what I seek now to learn is this : does 

 she or does she not retain the affection of her early youth? 

 Do former days and former feelings dwell in her heart as still 

 existing things; or are they but as sad memories of a passion 

 passed away, darkening instead of lighting the present; or 

 perhaps as a tie which she would fain shake off, and which 

 keeps her from a brighter fate hereafter?" 



He spoke solemnly, earnestly, with his whole manner 

 changed; and Zara gazed in his face eagerly and inquiringly 

 as he went on, her face glowing, but her look becoming less 

 sad, till it beamed with a warm and relieved smile at the 

 close. " I was right, and she was wrong," she said, at length, 

 as if speaking to herself. "But to answer your question, Sir 

 Edward Digby," she continued, gravely. " You little know 

 woman's heart, or you would not put it; I mean the heart of 

 a true and unspoiled woman, a woman worthy of the name. 

 When she loves, she loves for ever ; and it is only when death 



