THE SMUGGLER. 4 1 3 



girl, dare you bring upon your head the guilt of parricide? 

 What was the curse of Cam to that? How will you bear the 

 day of your father's trial? ay, how bear the day of his death, 

 the lingering agony of his imprisonment, the public shame of 

 the court of justice, the agony of the gallows and the cord? 

 The proud Sir Robert Croyland become the gaze of hooting 

 boys, the spectacle of the rude multitude, expiring, through 

 his daughter's fault, by the hand of the common hangman! 

 Ay, think of it all, for in another minute it will be too late I 

 Once gone from my hand, this paper can never be recalled." 



Edith uttered a faint cry ; but at the same moment, a voice 

 behind Mr. Radford said, "Nor can it, now!" and Sir Robert 

 Croyland himself laid his hand upon the papers. 



Mr. Radford turned round fiercely, and was darting forward 

 to seize them from him, bat he was held back by a more 

 powerful arm; and the baronet went on, in a voice grave and 

 sad, but firm and strong: " Sir Henry Laytou," he said, "I 

 give these papers into your hands, to do with them exactly as 

 you may think right, as a man of honour, a gentleman, and a 

 respecter of the law. I ask not to hold them for one moment." 



"Do not struggle, sir, do not struggle 1" cried Layton, 

 holding Mr. Radford fast by the collar; "you are a prisoner." 



"A prisoner!" exclaimed Mr. Radford. "What! in my 

 own house; a magistrate! 5 ' 



"Anywhere, sir," answered Layton; "and for the time, 

 you are a magistate no longer. Ho! without there! send some 

 one in." 



Edith had sunk down in her seat; for she knew not whether 

 to rejoice or grieve. The first feeling undoubtedly was joy; 

 but the next was bitter apprehension for her father. At first 

 she covered her eyes with her hands, for she thought to hear 

 the terrible truth proclaimed aloud; but when she looked up, 

 Sir Robert Croyland's face was so calm, so resolute, so unlike 

 what it had ever appeared of late years, that fear gave way to 

 surprise, and surprise began to verge into hope. As that bright 

 flame arose again in her heart, she started up, and cast herself 

 upon her father's bosom, murmuring, while the tears flowed 

 rapidly from her eyes, "Are you safe; are you safe?" 



" I know not, my dear child," replied Sir Robert Croyland, 

 "but I arn now doing my duty, and that gives me strength." 



In the mean time, a dragoon had appeared at the door, and 



