THE SMUGGLER. 279 



words, or words to that effect. I got furious at his insolence, 

 though perhaps, Edith, perhaps I provoked it myself; at least, 

 I have thought so since. However, madly giving way to rage, 

 I took my gun by the barrel to knock him down. A struggle 

 ensued ; for lie caught hold of the weapon in my hand ; and 

 how I know not, but the gun went off, and Clare fell back 

 upon the turf. What would I not have done then to recall 

 every hasty word I had spoken! But it was in vain. I 

 stooped over him ; I spoke to him ; I told him how sorry I 

 was for what had happened. But he made no answer, and 

 pressed his hand upon his right side, where the charge had en- 

 tered. I was mad with despair and remorse. I knew not where 

 to go, or what to do. The man was evidently dying, for his 

 face had grown pale and sharp; and after trying to make him 

 speak, and beseeching him to answer one word, I set off run- 

 ning as fast as I could towards the nearest village for assist- 

 ance. As I was going, I saw a man on horseback riding 

 sharply down towards the very place. He was at some dis- 

 tance from me; but I easily recognised Mr. Eadford, and knew 

 that he must pass by the spot where the wounded man lay. 

 I comforted myself with thinking that Clare would get aid 

 without my committing myself; and I crept in amongst the 

 trees at the edge of the wood, to make sure that Mr. Radford 

 saw him, and to watch their proceedings. Quietly and 

 stealthily finding my way through the bushes, I came near; 

 and then I saw that Radford was kneeling by Clare's side 

 with an inkhorn in his hand, which, with his old tradesman- 

 like habits, he used always at that time to carry about him. 

 He was writing busily; and I could hear Clare speak, but 

 could not distinguish what he said. The state of my mind, at 

 that moment, I cannot describe. It was more like madness 

 than anything else. Vain and foolish is it, for any man, or 

 any body of men, to argue what would be their conduct in 

 trying situations which they have never been placed in. It is 

 worse than folly for them to say what would naturally be ano- 

 ther man's conduct in any circumstances; for no man can tell 

 another's character, or understand fully all the fine shades of 

 feeling or emotion that may influence him. The tale I am 

 telling you now, Edith, is true: too true, in all respects. I 

 was very wrong, certainly; but I was not guilty of the man's 

 murder. I never intended to fire : I never tried to fire ; and 



