THE SMUGGLE!*. 185 



"In de library, master," replied the man; " and he begin 

 taking down the books directly." 



" High time I should go and see who is so studiously in- 

 clined," said Mr. Croyland; " or he may not only take down 

 the books, but take them away. That would'nt do, you know, 

 Edith, my dear, that wouldn't do. Without my niece and 

 my books, what would become of me ? I don't intend to lose 

 either the one or the other. So that you are never to marry, 

 my love; mind that, you are never to marry!" 



Edith smiled faintly, very faintly indeed ; but for the world 

 she would not have made her uncle feel that he had touched upon 

 a tender point. " I do not think I ever shall, my dear uncle," 

 she answered; and saying, "That's a good girll" the old 

 gentleman hurried out of the room to see his unknown visitor. 



Edith remained for some time where she was, in deep and 

 even painful thoughts. AH that she had learnt from her sister, 

 since Zara's explanation with Sir Edward Digby, amounted 

 but to this : that he whom she had so deeply loved, whom she 

 still loved so deeply, was yet living. Nothing more had 

 reached her; and, though hope, the fast clinger to the last 

 wreck of probability, yet whispered that he might love her 

 still, that she might not be forgotten, that she might not be 

 abandoned, yet fear and despondency far predominated, and 

 their hoarse tones nearly drowned the feeble whisper of a voice 

 which once had been loud and gay in her heart. 



After meditating, then, for some minutes, she rose and left 

 the drawing-room, passing, on her way to the stairs, the door 

 of the library to which her uncle had previously gone. She 

 heard him talking loud as she went along; but the sounds were 

 gay, cheerful, and anything but angry; and another voice was 

 answering, in mellower tones, somewhat melancholy, indeed, 

 but still not sad. Going rapidly by, this was all she distin- 

 guished; but after she reached her own room, which was 

 nearly above the library, the murmur of the voices still rose 

 up for more than an hour, and at length Mr. Croyland and his 

 guest came out, and walked through the vestibule to the 

 door. 



" God bless you, Harry; God bless you! " said Mr. Croyland, 

 with an appearance of warmth and affection which Edith had 

 seldom known him to display towards any one; "if you won't 

 stay, I can't help it. But mind your promise; mind your pro- 



