THE SMUGGLER. 359 



" My dear child !" she said, " I did not know whether your 

 maid was gone ; but I am very happy she "is, for I have some- 

 thing to tell you of very great importance indeed. What do 

 you think that rascal Kadford has done?" and as she spoke, 

 she sank, with a dignified air, into a chair. 



"I really can't tell, my dear aunt," replied Zara, not a little 

 surprised to hear the bad epithet which her aunt applied to a 

 gentleman, towards whom she usually displayed great polite- 

 ness. "I am sure he is quite capable of anything that is 

 bad." 



"Ah! he is very much afraid of me, and what he calls my 

 sweet meddling ways, 5 ' said the old lady; " but, perhaps, if I 

 had meddled before, it might have been all the better. I am 

 sure I am the very last to meddle, except when there is an 

 absolute occasion for it, as you well know, my dear Zara." 



The last proposition was put in some degree as a question ; 

 but Zara did not think fit to answer it, merely saying, " What 

 is it, my dear aunt? I am all anxiety and fear regarding 

 Edith." 



"Well you may be, my love,' 5 said Mrs. Barbara; and 

 thereupon she proceeded to tell Zara, how she had overheard 

 the whole conversation between Mr. Kadford and her brother, 

 through the door of the library, which opened into the little 

 passage, that ran between it and the rooms beyond. She did 

 not say that she had put her ear to the keyhole, but that 

 Zara took for granted, and indeed felt somewhat like an ac- 

 complice, while listening to secrets which had been acquired 

 by such means. 



Thus almost everything that had passed in the library, with 

 a few very short variations and improvements, but with a 

 good deal of comment, and a somewhat lengthy detail, was 

 communicated by Mrs. Barbara to her niece ; and when she 

 had done, the old lady added, " There, my dear, now go to 

 bed and sleep upon it; and we will talk it all over in tho 

 morning, for I am determined that my niece shall not bo 

 treated in such a way by any vagabond smuggler like that. 

 Dear me! one cannot tell what might happen, with Edith shut 

 up in his house in that way. Talk of my meddling, indeed! 

 He shall find that I will meddle now to some purpose! Good 

 night, my dear love; good night!" But Mrs. Barbara stop- 

 ped at the door, to explain to Zara that she had not told her 



