288 THE SMUGGLER. 



mind all the last words which had been spoken. As she did 

 so, a fear came over her, a fear that her meaning might have 

 been mistaken. "No!" she murmured, at length, "no! I 

 said, but; he must have heard it. I cannot break those 

 vows; I dare not; I would do anything to save him; oh, yes! 

 doom myself to wretchedness for life; but I cannot, unless 

 Henry gives me back my promise. Poor Henry! what right 

 have I to make him suffer too? Yet does he suffer? But a 

 father's life, a father's life! That must not be the sacrifice! 

 Leave me, Caroline, I am better now!" she continued aloud; 

 "it is very foolish to faint in this way. It never happened to 

 me before." 



"Oh dear! Miss Edith, it happens to every one now and 

 then," said the maid, who had been in her service long; "and 

 I am sure all Sir Robert said to you to day was enough to 

 make you." 



"Good heaven!" cried Edith; in alarm, "did you hear?" 



" I could not help hearing a part, Miss Edith," answered 

 the maid; "for in that little room, where I sit to be out of 

 the way of all the black fellows, one hears very plain what is 

 said here. There was once a door, I believe, and it is only 

 just covered over." 



For a moment, Edith sat mute in consternation ; but at 

 length demanded, "What did you hear? Tell me all, Caro- 

 line, every word, if you would ever have me regard you more." 



"Oh! it was not much, miss," replied the maid; "I heard 

 Sir Robert twice say, his life depended on it, and I suppose 

 he meant on you marrying young Mr. Radford. Then he 

 seemed to tell you a long story ; but I did not hear the whole 

 of that; for I did not try, I can assure you, Miss Edith; and 

 then I heard you say, 'To save you, my father, I would do 

 anything, I will do anything, but ' and then you stopped in 

 the middle, because I suppose you fainted." 



Edith put her hands before her eyes and thought, or tried 

 to think, for her ideas were still in sad confusion. "Leave 

 me now, Caroline," she said; "but remember, I expect that 

 no part of any conversation you have overheard between me 

 and my father, will ever be repeated." 



"Oh! dear no, Miss Edith," replied the woman, "I would 

 not on any account;" and she left the room. 



We all know of what value are ordinary promises of secrecy, 



