446 THE SMUGGLER. 



marriage; for I longed to witness it with my own eyes, yet 

 was unwilling to mingle the happiness of such a union with 

 the thought that it took place while I was in sickness and 

 danger. My brother will be a father to you, I am sure, when 

 I am gone; but still it is some satisfaction to know that you 

 have both better protectors, even here on earth, than he or I 

 could be. I trust you are happy; and believe me, I am not 

 otherwise, though lying here with death before me." 



Towards four o'clock on the following day, the windows of 

 Harbourne House were closed; and about a week after, the 

 mortal remains of Sir Robert Croyland were conveyed to the 

 family vault in the village church. Mr. Croyland succeeded 

 to the estates and title of his brother; but he would not quit 

 the mansion which he himself had built, leaving Mrs. Barbara 

 with a handsome income, which he secured to her, to act the 

 Lady Bountiful of Harbourne House. 



The fate of Edith and Zara we need not farther trace. It 

 was such as might be expected from the circumstances in 

 which they were now placed. We will not venture to say that 

 it was purely happy; for when was ever pure and unalloyed 

 happiness found on earth? There were cares, there were 

 anxieties, there were griefs from time to time : for the splendid 

 visions of young imagination may be prophetic of joys that 

 shall be ours, if we deserve them in our trial here, but are 

 never realized within the walls of our mortal prison, and re- 

 cede before us, to take their stand for ever beyond the portals 

 of the tomb. But still they were as happy as human beings, 

 perhaps, ever were ; for no peculiar pangs or sufferings were 

 destined to follow those which had gone before; and in their 

 domestic life, having chosen well and wisely, they found, as 

 every one will find who judges upon such grounds, that love, 

 when it is pure, and high, and true, is a possession, to the 

 brightness of which even hope can add no sweetness, imagina- 

 tion no splendour, that it does not in itself possess. 



The reader may be inclined to ask the after fate of some of 

 the other characters mentioned in this work. In regard to 

 many of them, I must give an unsatisfactory reply. What 

 became of most, indeed, I do not know. The name of Mowle, 

 the officer of customs, is still familiar to the people of Hythe 

 and its neighbourhood. It is certain that Ramley and one of 

 his sons were hanged; but the rest of the records of that 



