The Smuggler Part 47

On his way to the farm, Leyton desired Mowle to return to Woodchurch, and to wait for him there, taking every step that he might think necessary, with the aid of Captain Irby. "I will not be long," he added.

"Pray don't, sir," rejoined Mowle; "for we have other business to do to-night;" and, sinking his voice to a whisper, he added, "I've got the information I wanted, sir. A part of the goods are certainly at Radford Hall, and if we can seize them there, that, with the deposition of the men at Woodchurch, will bring him in for the whole offence."

"I shall, very likely, overtake you by the way," replied Leyton. "But, at all events, I shall be there before four."

Most such calculations are vain, however. Leyton turned aside to the Harris's farm, where he found poor Kate Clare sinking rapidly. The curate of the parish had been sent for, and, by his advice, Mr.

Broughton, the magistrate, who had entered the house but two or three minutes before Leyton himself. Though her voice now scarcely rose above a whisper, she made her dying declaration with clearness and accuracy. It is not necessary here to give any of the details; but, as she concluded, she turned her faint and swimming eyes towards Leyton, saying, "That gentleman, who has always been such a good friend to me and mine, can tell you more, sir, for he came up to my help, just as they shot me."

The magistrate raised his eyes, and inquired, in a low tone, "Who is he?"

"Sir Henry Leyton," replied the poor girl, loud enough for that officer to hear; and thinking that she asked for him, he approached nearer, and stood by Harding's side. Kate raised her hand a little from the bedclothes, as if she would have given it to him; and he took it kindly in his, speaking some words of comfort.

"Thank you, sir--thank you, for all your kindness," said Kate. "I am glad you have come, that I may wish you good-bye, and ask you to be kind to poor Harding, too. It will soon be over now; and you had better all leave me. Not you, Harding--not you.--You must close my eyes, as my poor mother is not here."

A groan burst from the stout seaman's breast; and giving way to all his feelings, he sobbed like a child. According to her desire, Leyton and Mr. Broughton retired from the room; and the young officer informed the magistrate, that the prisoners who had been taken were waiting for examination at his house.

"We shall want your evidence, Sir Henry," said the magistrate. "It is absolutely necessary, if, as I understand, you were eye-witness to the murder."

Leyton saw the propriety of the magistrate's demand, and he yielded immediately. But the investigation was prolonged by several circ.u.mstances; and, what between the time that it took up, and that which had been previously spent in the pursuit of the murderers, it was past three o'clock before Leyton mounted his horse at Mr.

Broughton's door. He paused for an instant at the gate of the Harris's farm-yard, where a girl was standing with tears in her eyes; but before he could ask any question, she replied to that which was rising to his lips. "She is gone, sir," said the girl--"she is gone. She did not last half-an-hour after you were here."

With a sad heart, Leyton rode on, pa.s.sing at a quick pace through Harbourne Wood, and not trusting himself to stop at Mrs. Clare's cottage. The windows, however, were closed; and the young officer concluded from that circ.u.mstance, that the tidings of her daughter's fate must by this time have reached the childless widow. Not far beyond her gate, he was met by Sir Edward Digby's servant; but eager to arrive at Woodchurch, Leyton did not stop to speak with him, and Somers, turning his horse with the orderly and his old companion, Leyton's servant, gleaned what information he could from them as he went.

Notwithstanding all the speed he could use, however, it was half-past four before Leyton reached Woodchurch; and, on inquiring for Mr.

Warde, he found that gentleman had called, but gone away again, saying he would return in an hour.

CHAPTER X.

Such as we have described in the last chapter, were the fatal events to which Sir Edward Digby had alluded in the few words he had spoken to Zara Croyland; and it may be needless to explain to the reader, that he had learned the tale from his servant just before he came down to dinner.

Sir Robert Croyland, as we have shown, after some agitation and hesitation, quitted the drawing-room to meet,--the first time for many years--the son of a man, whom, at the instigation of others, he had cruelly persecuted. He paused as soon as he got into the pa.s.sage, however, to summon courage, and to make up his mind as to the demeanour which he should a.s.sume--always a vain and fruitless task; for seldom, if ever, do circ.u.mstances allow any man to maintain the aspect which he has predetermined to affect. Sir Robert Croyland resolved to be cold, stately, and repulsive--to treat Sir Henry Leyton as a perfect stranger, and if he alluded to their former intimacy, to cut the conversation short by telling him that, as all the feelings of those days were at an end, he did not wish to revive their memory in any shape. He did not calculate, indeed, upon the peculiar state of Leyton's mind, at the moment--nay, nor even upon the effect of his former favourite's personal appearance upon himself; and when he entered the library and saw the tall, powerful, dignified-looking man, the pale, thoughtful, stern countenance, and the haughty air, he felt all his predeterminations vain.

Leyton, on his part, had done the same as Sir Robert Croyland, and in setting out from Woodchurch had made up his mind to see in the man he went to visit, nothing but Edith's father--to treat him kindly, gently, and with compa.s.sion for his weakness, rather than anger at his faults; but as he rode along, and conversed with one who accompanied him thither, the memory of much that Sir Robert Croyland had done in former days, came painfully back upon him, and combining with his treatment of Edith, raised up bitter and indignant feelings that he could have wished to quell. The scenes which he had pa.s.sed through that day, too, had given a tone of sternness to his mind which was not usual; and the few minutes he had waited in the library, when every moment seemed of value, added impatience to his other sensations.

The baronet entered as firmly as he could, bowing his head and motioning coldly to a chair. But Leyton did not sit down, gazing for an instant on the countenance of Sir Robert, struck and astonished by the change that he beheld. That steadfast gaze was painful to its object, and sank his spirit still farther; but Leyton, the moment after, began to speak; and the well-known tones of his clear, mellow voice, awakened the recollection of the days when they were once pleasant to hear.

"Sir Robert Croyland," he said, "I have come to you on business of importance, in which it is necessary for you to act immediately in your magisterial capacity."

"I have no clerk with me, sir," answered the baronet, in a hesitating manner; "at this late hour, it is not usual, except under circ.u.mstances----"

"The circ.u.mstances admit of no delay, Sir Robert Croyland," replied Leyton. "As the nearest magistrate, I have applied to you in the first instance; and have done so for many other reasons besides your being the nearest magistrate."

"Well, sir, what is your application?" demanded Edith's father. "I wish, indeed, you had applied to somebody else, at this time of night; but I will do my duty--oh, yes, I will do my duty."

"That is all that is required, sir," answered the young officer. "My application is for a warrant to search the house of one Richard Radford; and I have to tender you, on oath, information that customable goods, which have been introduced without the payment of duty, are concealed on his premises.--One moment more, if you please--I have also to apply to you, upon similar evidence, for a warrant to search his house for his son, Richard Radford, charged with murder; and, in the end, if you would allow me to advise you, you would instantly mount your horse, and superintend the search yourself."

There was a marked and peculiar emphasis on the last few words, which Sir Robert Croyland did not understand. The manner was not agreeable to him; but it was scarcely perhaps to be expected that it should be; for there had been nothing in his own, to invite that kindly candour, which opens heart to heart. All that had of late years pa.s.sed between him and Sir Henry Leyton, had been of a repulsive kind. For one youthful error, he had not only repelled and shut his house against the son, but he had persecuted, ruined, and destroyed the father, who had no part in that fault. Every reason too, which he had given, every motive he had a.s.signed, for his anger at Henry Leyton's pretensions to Edith's hand, he had set at nought, or forgotten in the case of him whom he had chosen for her husband. Even now, although his manner was wavering and timid, it was cold and harsh; and it was a hard thing for Henry Leyton to a.s.sume the tone of kindness towards Sir Robert Croyland, or to soften his demeanour towards him, with all the busy memories of the past and the feelings of the present thronging upon him, on his first return to the house where he had spent many happy days in youth. I am painting a man, and nothing more; and he could not, and did not overcome the sensations of human nature.

His words did not please Sir Robert Croyland, but they somewhat alarmed him. Everything that was vague in his present situation, did produce fear; but after a moment's thought, he replied, coldly, "Oh dear no, sir, I do not see that it is at all necessary I should go myself. I really think the application altogether extraordinary, seeing that it comes from, I am led to imagine, the lieutenant-colonel, commanding the ---- regiment of dragoons, quartered in this district, who has no primary power, or authority, or even duty in such affairs; but can only act as required by the officers of Customs, to whom he is so far subordinate.--But still I am ready to receive the informations tendered, and then shall decide in regard to my own conduct, as the case may require."

"You are wrong in all respects, but one, Sir Robert Croyland,"

answered Leyton, at once; "I am empowered to act very differently from any officer who has been in command here before me. If my powers are beyond that which the law authorizes, those who gave them are responsible to their country; but, for an extraordinary case, extraordinary means are requisite; and as I require of you nothing but what the law requires, I shall not pause to argue, whether I am exactly the proper person to make the application. It might easily be made by another, who is without: but I have reasons for what I am doing--and reasons, believe me," he added, after a moment's pause and reflection, "not unfriendly to Sir Robert Croyland."

Again his words and manner were peculiar. Sir Robert Croyland began to feel some apprehension lest he might push his coldness too far. But he did not see how he could change his tone; and he was proceeding, with the same distant reserve, to repeat that he was ready to receive the information in a formal manner, when Leyton suddenly interrupted him, after a severe struggle with himself.

"Sir Robert Croyland," he said, "let us speak as friends. Let griefs and complaints on both sides be forgotten for the moment; let us bury, for the time, seven years in oblivion. Look upon me, if it be but for a few minutes, as the Henry Leyton you knew before anything arose to produce one ill feeling between us; for, believe me, I come to you with kindly sentiments. Your own fate hangs in the balance at this hour. I would decide it favourably for you, if you would let me.

But--you must shake off doubt and timidity; you must act boldly and decidedly, and all will be well."

"I do not understand what you mean, sir," cried Sir Robert Croyland, astonished at his change of tone, and without time to collect his ideas, and calculate the probabilities. "My fate!--How can you affect my fate?"

"More than you are aware," answered Leyton; "even now I affect your fate, by giving you the choice of at once proceeding in the line of your duty, against a bad man who has overruled your better nature, too long,--by allowing you to conduct the search, which must be inst.i.tuted either by yourself or others.--In one word, Sir Robert Croyland, I know all; and would serve you, if you would let me."

"You know all!" exclaimed Edith's father, in a dull, gloomy tone--"you know all! she has told you, then! That explains it--that shows how she retracted her consent--how she was willing to-day to sacrifice her father. You have seen her--you have taught her her part!--Yes, she has betrayed her parent's confidence."

Leyton could bear no more. Himself, he could have heard slandered calmly; but he could not hear such words of her he loved: "It is false!" he said; "she did not betray your confidence! She told me no more than was needful to induce me to release her from bonds she was too faithful and true to break. From her I have heard nothing more--but from others I have heard all; and now, Sir Robert Croyland, you have chosen your part, I have but to call in those who must lay the required information. Our duty must be done, whatever be the consequences; and as you reject the only means of saving yourself from much grief--though, I trust, not the danger you apprehend--we must act without you;" and he rose and walked towards the door.

"Stay, Leyton--stay!" cried Sir Robert Croyland, catching him eagerly by the arm--"yet a moment--yet a moment. You say you know all. Do you know all?--all?--everything?"

"All!--everything!" answered Leyton, firmly; "every word that was spoken--every deed that was done--more than you know yourself."

"Then, at least, you know I am innocent," said the old man.

A calm but grave serenity took the place, on Sir Henry Leyton's countenance, of the impetuous look with which he had last spoken.

"Innocent," he said, "of intentional murder; but not innocent of rash and unnecessary anger; and, oh! Sir Robert Croyland--if I must say it--most culpable in the consequences which you have suffered to flow from one hasty act. Mark me; and see the result!--Your own dear child, against your will, is in the hands of a man whom you hate and abhor.

You are anxious to make her the wife of a being you condemn and despise! The child of the man that your own hand slew, is now lying a corpse, murdered by him to whom you would give your daughter! Your own life is----"

"What, Kate!--Kate Clare!" exclaimed Sir Robert Croyland, with a sudden change coming over his countenance--"murdered by Richard Radford!"

"By his own hand, after the most brutal usage," replied Leyton.

Sir Robert Croyland sprang to the bell, and rang it violently, then threw open the door and called aloud--"My horse!--my horse!--saddle my horse!--If it cost me land and living, life and honour, she shall be avenged!" he added, turning to Leyton, and raising his head erect, the first time for many years. "It is over--the folly, and the weakness, and crime, are at an end. I have been bowed and broken; but there is a spark of my former nature yet left. I vowed to G.o.d in Heaven, that I would ever protect and be a father to that child, as an atonement--as some--some compensation, however small; and I will keep my vow."

"Oh! Sir Robert," cried Leyton, taking his hand and pressing it in his, "be ever thus, and how men will love and venerate you!"

The barrier was broken down--the chain which had so long bound him was cast away; and Sir Robert returned Leyton's grasp with equal warmth.

"Harry," he said, "I have done you wrong; but I will do so no more. I was driven--I was goaded along the road to all evil, like a beast driven to the slaughter. But you have done wrong, too, young man--yours was the first offence."

"It was," answered Leyton--"I own it--I did do wrong; and I will make no excuse, though youth, and love as true as ever man felt, might afford some. But let me a.s.sure you, that I have been willing to make reparation--I have been willing to sacrifice all the brightest hope of years to save you, even now. I a.s.sured Edith that I would, when she told me the little she could venture to tell; but it was her misery that withheld me--it was the life-long wretchedness, to which she was doomed if I yielded, that made me resist. Nothing else on earth should have stopped me; but now, Sir Robert, the prospect is more clear for you."

"Nay, do not speak of that," replied Sir Robert Croyland; "I will think of it no more--I have now chosen my path; and I will pursue it, without looking at the consequences to myself. Let them come when they must come; for once in life, I will do what is just and right."

"And by so doing, my dear sir, you will save yourself," answered Leyton. "Moved by revenge--with no doubt whatsoever of his motive--after a concealment of six years, this base man's accusation will be utterly valueless. Your bare statement of the real circ.u.mstances will be enough to dissipate every cloud. I shall require that all his papers be seized; and I have many just reasons for wishing that they should be in your hands."

"I understand you, Harry, and I thank you," said Sir Robert Croyland; "but with my present feelings I would not----"