The Smuggler Part 53

"Well, Chit," he said, "well, what do you want?--a new gown, or a smart hat, or a riding-whip, with a tiger's head in gold at the top?"

"No, my dear uncle," she answered, "but I want you not to tease me, nor to laugh at me, nor to abuse me, just now. For once in my life, I feel that I must be serious; and I think even less teasing than ordinary might be too much for me. Perhaps, one time or another, you may find out that poor Zara's coquetry was more apparent than real, and that though she had an object, it was a better one than you, in your benevolence, were disposed to think."

An unwonted drop swam in her eyes as she spoke; and Mr. Croyland gazed down upon her tenderly for a moment. Then throwing his arms round her, he kissed her cheek--"I know it, my dear," he said--"I know it. Edith has told me all; and she who has been a kind, good sister, will, I am sure, be a kind, good wife. Here, take her away, Digby. A better girl doesn't live, whatever I may have said. The worst of it is, she is a great deal too good for you, or any other wild, harem-scarem fellow.

But stay--stay," he continued, as Digby came forward, laughing, and took Zara's hand; "here's something with her; for, as I am sure you will be a couple of spendthrifts, it is but fit that you should have something to set out upon."

Mr. Croyland, as he spoke, put his hand into the somewhat wide and yawning pocket of his broad-tailed coat, and produced his pocket-book, from which he drew forth a small slip of paper.

Digby took it, and looked at it, but instantly held it out again to Mr. Croyland, saying, "My dear sir, it is quite unnecessary. I claim nothing but her hand; and that is mine by promises which I hope will not be very long ere they are fulfilled."

"Nonsense, nonsense!" cried Mr. Croyland, putting away the paper with the back of his hand; "did ever any one see such a fool?--I tell you, Sir Edward Digby, I'm as proud a man as you are, and you shall not marry my niece without receiving the same portion as her sister possesses. I hate all eldest sons, as you well know; and I don't see why eldest daughters should exist either. I'll have them all equal. No differences here. I've made up to Zara, the disparity which one fool of an uncle thought fit to put between her and Edith. Such was always my intention; and moreover, let it clearly be understood, that when you have put this old carrion under ground, what I leave is to be divided between them--all equal, all equal--co-heiresses, of Zachary Croyland, Esq., surnamed the Nabob, alias the Misanthrope--and then, if you like it, you may each bear in your arms a crow rampant, on an escutcheon of pretence."

"Thank you, thank you, my dear uncle," answered Edith Croyland, while Zara's gay heart was too full to let her speak--"thank you for such thought of my sweet sister; for, indeed, to me, during long years of sorrow and trouble, she has been the spirit of consolation, comfort, strength--even hope."

Poor Zara was overpowered; and she burst into tears. It seemed as if all the feelings, which for the sake of others she had so long suppressed--all the emotions, anxieties, and cares which she had conquered or treated lightly, in order to give aid and support to Edith, rushed upon her at once in the moment of joy, and overwhelmed her.

"Why, what's the foolish girl crying about?" exclaimed Mr. Croyland; but then, drawing her kindly to him, he added, "Come, my dear, we will make a truce, upon the following conditions--I wont tease you any more; and you shall do everything I tell you. In the first place, then, wipe your eyes, and dry up your tears; for if Digby sees how red your cheeks can look, when you've been crying, he may find out that you are not quite such a Venus as he fancies just now--There, go along!" and he pushed her gently away from him.

While this gayer conversation had been going on within, Mr. Osborn had pa.s.sed through the gla.s.s doors, and was walking slowly up and down with Sir Robert Croyland. The subject they spoke upon must have been grave; for there was gloom upon both their faces when they returned.

"I know it," said Sir Robert Croyland to his companion as they entered the room; "I am quite well aware of it; it is that which makes me urge speed."

"If such be your view," replied Mr. Osborn, "you are right, Sir Robert; and Heaven bless those acts, which are done under such impressions."

The party in the drawing-room heard no more; and, notwithstanding the kindly efforts of Mrs. Barbara, and a thousand little impediments, which, "with the very best motives in the world," she created or discovered, all the arrangements for the double marriage were made with great prompt.i.tude and success. At the end of somewhat less than a fortnight, without any noise or parade, the two sisters stood together at the altar, and pledged their troth to those they truly loved. Sir Robert Croyland seemed well and happy; for during the last few days previous to the wedding, both his health and spirits had apparently improved. But, ere a month was over, both his daughters received a summons to return, as speedily as possible, to Harbourne House. They found him on the bed of death, with his brother and Mr. Osborn sitting beside him. But their father greeted them with a well-contented smile, and reproved their tears in a very different tone from that which he had been generally accustomed to use.

"My dear children," he said, in a feeble voice, "I have often longed for this hour; and though life has become happier now, I have, for many weeks, seen death approaching, and have seen it without regret. I did not think it would have been so slow; and that was the cause of my hurrying your 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 t.i.tle 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 circ.u.mstances 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 recede 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, imagination 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 respectable family are, I fear, lost to the public. Little Starlight seems to have disappeared from that part of the country, for some time; and in truth, I have no certainty that the well-known pickpocket, Night Ray, who was transported to Botany Bay, some thirty years after the period of this tale, and was shot in an attempt to escape, was the same person whose early career is here recorded.

But of one thing the reader maybe perfectly certain, that--whatever was the fortune which attended any of the persons I have mentioned--whether worldly prosperity, or temporary adversity befel them--the real, the solid good, the happiness of spirit, was awarded in exact proportion to each, as their acts were good, and their hearts were pure.

THE END.