THE SMUGGLER. 155 



"A scratch; a scratch," said Digby; "a mere nothing. 

 A pocket-handkerchief tied round it will soon remedy all the 

 mischief he has done, though not all he intended.'' 



"Oh I come in; come in, and have it examined I' 7 cried 

 Zara, eagerly. 



The rest of the party gathered round, joined, just at that 

 moment, by Edith from the garden ; and Mr. Croyland, tear- 

 ing the coat wider open, looked at the wound with more ex- 

 perienced eyes, saying, "Ah! a flesh wound! but in rather 

 an awkward place. 'Not as wide as a church-door, nor as deep 

 as a draw-well,' as our friend has it ; but if it had been an 

 inch and a half to the right, it would have divided the sub- 

 clavian artery, and then, my dear sir, l it would have done.' 

 This will get well soon. But come, Sir Neddy, let us into the 

 house; and I will do for you what I haven't done for ten or 

 twelve years: id est, dress your wound myself; and mind, 

 you must not drink any wine to-night." 



The whole party began to move into the house, Sir Edward 

 Digby keeping as near the two Miss Croylands as possible, 

 and laying out a little plan in his head for begging the assist- 

 ance of Mrs. Barbara while his wound was dressed, and sending 

 the two young ladies out of the room to hold their conference 

 together. He was, however, destined to be frustrated here 

 also. To Zara Croyland it had been a day of unusual excite- 

 ment; she had enjoyed, she had been moved, she had been 

 agitated and terrified, and she was still under much greater 

 alarm than perhaps was needful, both regarding Sir Edward 

 Digby's wound and the threat which young Radford had 

 uttered. She felt her head giddy and her heart flutter as if 

 oppressed ; but she walked on steadily enough for four or five 

 steps, while her aunt, Mrs. Barbara, was explaining to Edith, 

 in her own particular way, all that had occurred. But just 

 when the old lady was saying: " Then, whipping out his 

 sword in an instant, he thurst at Sir Edward's breast, and I 

 thought to a certainty he was run through;" Zara sunk slowly 

 down, caught by her sister as she fell, and the hue of death 

 spread over her face. 



"Fainted!" cried Mr. Croyland. "I wish to Heaven, Bab, 

 you would hold your tongue ! I will tell Edith about it after- 

 wards. What's the use of bringing it all up again before the 

 girl's mind, when the thing's done and over? There, let her 



