THE SMUGGLER. 295 



would have consented in the end ; but, there was a fatal c but,' 

 Henry, an impediment not to be surmounted. I must not tell 

 you what it is ; I cannot, I dare not explain. But listen to 

 what he said besides. You have heard one part of the choice, 

 hear the other : it is to wed a man whom I abhor, despise, 

 contemn ; whose very look is fearful to me ; to ask you to give 

 me back the vows I plighted, in order, in order " and she 

 spoke very low, "that I may sacrifice myself for my father; 

 that I may linger out a few weeks of wretchedness, and then 

 sink into the grave, which is now my only hope." 



" And do you ask me, Edith," inquired Layton, in a sad 

 and solemn tone. " Do you, Edith Croyland, really and truly 

 ask me to give you back those vows? Speak, beloved, speak; 

 for my heart is well-nigh bursting." 



He paused, and she was silent; covering her eyes with her 

 hands, while her bosom heaved, as if she were struggling for 

 breath. "No, no, no, Harry I" she cried at length, as if the 

 effort were vain; "I cannot, I cannot! Oh, Harry, Harry I 

 I wish that I were dead!" and, casting her arms round his 

 neck, she wept upon his breast again. 



Henry Layton drew her closer to him with his left arm 

 round her waist; but pressed his right hand on his brow, 

 and gazed on vacancy. Both remained without speaking for 

 a time; but at length he said, in a voice more calm than 

 might have been expected, " Let us consider this matter, 

 Edith. You have been terrified by some means; a tale has 

 been told you which has agitated and alarmed you; which 

 has overcome your resolution, that now has endured more than 

 six years, and doubtless that tale has been well devised. Are 

 you sure that it is true? Forgive this doubt in regard to one 

 who is dear and near to you ; but when such deceits have been 

 practised, as those which we know have been used to delude 

 us, I must be suspicious. Are you sure that it is true, 

 I say?" 



" Too true, too true," answered Edith, shaking her head, 

 mournfully; " that tale explains all, too, even those deceits 

 you mention. No, no, it is but too true; it could not be 

 feigned; besides, I remember so many things, all tending to 

 the same. It is true, I cannot doubt it." 



Sir Henry Layton paused, and twice began to speak, but 

 twice stopped, as if the words he was about to utter, cost him 



