272 THE SMUGGLER. 



every one of feeling and intellect, when it seems as if we could 

 meditate for ever: when, without motion or change, the spirit 

 within the earthly tabernacle could pause and ponder over deep 

 subjects of contemplation for hour after hour, with the doors 

 and windows of the senses shut, and without any communica- 

 tion with external things. The matter before us may be any 

 of the strange and perplexing relations of man's mysterious 

 being; or it may be some obscure circumstance of our own fata; 

 some period of uncertainty and expectation; some of those 

 Egyptian darknesses which from time to time come over the 

 future, and which we gaze on half in terror, half in hope, dis- 

 covering nothing, yet speculating still. The latter was the 

 case at that moment with Edith Croyland; and, as she re- 

 volved every separate point of her situation, it seemed as if 

 fresh wells of thought sprung up to flow on interminably. 



She had continued thus during more than half an hour after 

 her uncle's departure, when she heard a horse stop before the 

 door of the house, and her heart beat, though she knew not 

 wherefore. Her lover might have come at length, indeed; 

 but if that dream crossed her mind it was soon swept away ; 

 for the next instant she heard her father's voice, first inquiring 

 for herself, and then asking, in a lower tone, if his brother was 

 within. If Edith had felt hope before, she now felt apprehen- 

 sion; for during several years no private conversation had 

 taken place between her father and herself without bringing 

 with it grief and anxiety, harsh words spoken, and answers 

 painful for a child to give. 



It seldom happens that fear does not go beyond reality, but 

 such was not the case in the present instance; for Edith Croy- 

 land had to undergo far more than she expected. Her father 

 entered the room where she sat, with a slow step and a stern 

 and determined look. His face was very pale, too; his lips 

 themselves seemed bloodless, and the terrible emotions which 

 were in his heart showed themselves upon his countenance by 

 many an intelligible but indescribable sign. As soon as Edith 

 saw him, she thought, " He has heard of Henry's return to 

 this country. It is that which has brought him;" and she 

 nerved her heart for a new struggle ; but still she could scarcely 

 prevent her limbs from shaking, as she rose and advanced to 

 meet her parent. 



Sir Robert Croyland drew her to him, and kissed her 



