THE SMUGGLER. 149 



and other hedge-row shrubs, no longer, alas, in flower, they 

 caught sight of the chimneys of a house a little way fur- 

 ther on, and Zara said, with a sigh, " There is my uncle's 

 house." 



Sir Edward asked himself, "Why does she sigh?" and as 

 he did so, felt inclined to sigh, too ; for the ride had seemed 

 too short, and had now become as a pleasant thing passed 

 away. But then lie thought, " We shall enjoy it once again 

 as we return ;" and he took advantage of their slackened pace 

 to say, " As I know you are anxious to speak with your sis- 

 ter, Miss Croyland, I will contrive to occupy your uncle for a 

 time, if we find him at home. I fear I shall not be able to 

 obtain an opportunity of talking with her myself on the sub- 

 jects that so deeply interest her, as at one time I hoped to do; 

 but I am quite sure, from what I see of you, that I may de- 

 pend upon what you tell me, and act accordingly." 



As if by mutual consent, they had avoided, during their 

 expedition of that morning, the subject which was, perhaps, 

 most in the thoughts of each ; but now Zara checked her horse 

 to a slow walk, and replied, after a moment's thought, " I 

 should think, if you desire it, you could easily obtain a few 

 minutes' conversation with her at my uncle's. I only don't 

 know whether it may agitate her too much or not. Perhaps 

 you had better let me speak with her first, and then, if she 

 wishes it, she will easily find the means. You may trust to 

 me, indeed, Sir Edward, in Edith's case, though I do not al- 

 ways say exactly what I mean about myself. Not that I 

 have done otherwise with you ; for, indeed, I have neither had 

 time nor occasion; but with the people that occasionally 

 come to the house, sometimes it is necessary, and sometimes 

 I am tempted, out of pure perversity, to make them think me 

 very different from what I am. It is not always with those 

 that I hate or despise either, but sometimes with people that I 

 like and esteem very much. Now, I dare say poor Harry Lay- 

 ton has given you a very sad account of me?" 



"No, indeed," answered Sir Edward Digby, "you do him 

 wrong; I have not the least objection to tell you exactly 

 what he said.'' 



"Oh! do, dol" cried Zara; "I should like to hear very 

 much, for I am afraid I used to tease him terribly." 



" lie said," replied Digby, " that when last he saw you, 



