In the present instance, when she had remained in the drawing-room with her niece and Sir Edward, for near half an hour after her brother had departed, it just struck her that they might wish to be alone together; for she had made up her mind by this time, that the young officer"s visit was to end in a love affair; and, as the very best means of accomplishing the desired object, instead of going to speak with the housekeeper, or to give orders to the dairy-maid, or to talk to the steward,--as any other prudent, respectable, and well-arranged aunt would have done--she said to her niece, as if a sudden thought had occurred to her, "I don"t think Sir Edward Digby has ever seen the library. Zara, my dear, you had better show it to him. There are some very curious books there, and the ma.n.u.script in vellum, with all the kings" heads painted."
Zara felt that it was rather a coa.r.s.e piece of work which her aunt had just turned out of hand; and being a little too much susceptible of ridicule, she did not like to have anything to do with it, although, to say the truth, she was very anxious herself for the few minutes that Mrs. Barbara was inclined to give her.
"Oh, I dare say, my dear aunt," she replied, "Sir Edward Digby does not care anything about old books!--I don"t believe they have been opened for these fifty years."
"The greater the treasure, Miss Croyland," answered the young officer; "I can a.s.sure you nothing delights me more than an old library; so I think I shall go and find it out myself, if you are not disposed to show it to me."
Zara Croyland remembered, with a smile, that Sir Edward Digby had met with no great difficulty in finding it out for himself on a previous occasion. She rose, however, with her colour a little heightened; for his invitation was a very palpable one, and she did not know what conclusions her aunt might be pleased to draw, or to insinuate to others; and, leading the way towards the library, she opened the door, expecting to find the room untenanted. There, however, before her eyes, standing opposite to a book-case, with a large folio volume of divinity in his hand, stood the clergyman of the parish; and he instantly turned round his head, with spectacles on nose, and advanced to pay his respects to Miss Croyland and Sir Edward Digby. Now, the clergyman was a very worthy man; but he had one of those peculiarities, which, if peculiarities were systematically cla.s.sed, would be referred to the bore genus. He was frequently unaware of when people had had enough of him; and consequently on the present occasion--after he had informed Zara, that finding that her father was out, he had taken the liberty of walking into the library to look at a book he wanted--he put back that book, and attacked Sir Edward Digby, totis viribus, upon the state of the weather, the state of the country, and the state of the smugglers. The later topic, as it was the predominant one in every man"s mind at that moment, and in that part of the country, occupied him rather longer than a sermon, though his parishioners occasionally thought his sermons quite sufficiently extensive for any sleep-resisting powers of the human frame to withstand; and then, when Sir Edward and Zara, forgetting, in the interest which they seemed to take in his discourse, that they had come into the library to look at the books, walked out upon the terrace, he walked out with them; and as they turned up and down, he turned up and down also, for full an hour.
Zara could almost have cried in the end; but, as out of the basest refuse of our stable-yards, grow the finest flowers of our gardens, so good is ever springing up from evil; and in the end the worthy clergyman gave his two companions the first distinct account which they had received of the dispersion of Mr. Radford"s band of smugglers, and of the eager pursuit of young Radford which was taking place throughout the country. Thus pa.s.sed the morning, with one event or other of little consequence, presenting obstacles to any free communication between two people, who were almost as desirous of some private conversation as if they had been lovers.
A little before three o"clock, however, Zara Croyland who had been looking out of the window, suddenly quitted the drawing-room; and Sir Edward Digby, who maintained his post, was left to entertain Mrs.
Barbara, which he did to the best of his abilities. He was still in full career, a little enjoying, to say sooth, some of the good lady"s minor absurdities, when Zara re-entered the room with a quick step, and a somewhat eager look. Her fair cheek was flushed too; and her face had in it that sort of determined expression which often betrays that there has been a struggle in the mind, as to some step about to be taken, and that victory has not been achieved without an effort.
"Sir Edward Digby," she said, in a clear and distinct tone, "I want to speak with you for a few moments, if you please."
Mrs. Barbara looked shocked, and internally wondered that Zara could not have made some little excuse for engaging Sir Edward in private conversation.
"She might have asked him to go and see a flower, or offered to play him a tune on the harpsichord, or taken him to look at the dovecot, or anything," thought Mrs. Barbara.
The young officer, however, instantly started up, and accompanied his fair inviter towards the library, to which she led the way with a hurried and eager step.
"Let us come in here!" she said, opening the door; but the moment she was within, she sank into a chair and clasped her hands together.
Sir Edward Digby shut the door, and then advanced towards her, a good deal surprised and somewhat alarmed by the agitation he saw her display. She did not speak for a moment, as if completely overpowered, and feeling for her more deeply than he himself knew, her companion took her hand and tried to soothe her, saying, "Be calm--be calm, my dear Miss Croyland! You know you can trust in me, and if I can aid you in any way, command me."
"I know not what to do, or what to say," cried Zara; "but I am sure, Sir Edward, you will find excuses for me; and therefore I will make none--though I may perhaps seem somewhat bold in dealing thus with one whom I have only known a few days."
"There are circ.u.mstances which sometimes make a few days equal to many years," replied Sir Edward Digby. "It is so, my dear young lady, with you and I. Therefore, without fear or hesitation, tell me what it is that agitates you, and how I can serve you. I am not fond of making professions; but if it be in human power, it shall be done."
"I know not, whether it can be done or not," said Zara; "but if not, there is nothing but ruin and desolation for two people, whom we both love. You saw my father set out this morning. Did you remark the course he took? It was over to my uncle"s, for I watched him from the window. He pa.s.sed back again some time ago, but then struck off towards Mr. Radford"s. All that made me uneasy; but just now, I saw Edith"s maid coming up towards the house; and eager for tidings, I hurried away.--Good Heavens, what tidings she has borne me!"
"They must be evil ones, I see," answered Digby; "but I trust not such as to preclude all chance of remedying what may have gone wrong. When two or three people act together zealously, dear lady, there are very few things they cannot accomplish."
"Yes, but how to explain!" exclaimed Zara; "yet I must be short; for otherwise my aunt will be in upon us. Now, Sir Edward Digby," she continued, after thinking for a moment, "I know you are a man of honour--I am sure you are; and I ask you to pledge me that honour, that you will never reveal to any one what I am going to tell you; for I know not whether I am about to do right or wrong--whether, in trying to save one, I may not be bringing down ruin upon others. Do you give me your honour?"
"Most a.s.suredly!" answered her companion. "I will never repeat a word that you say, unless with your permission, on my honour!"
"Well, then," replied Zara, in a faint voice, "Mr. Radford has my father"s life in his power. How, I know not--how, I cannot tell. But so it is; and such are the tidings that Caroline has just brought us.
Mr. Radford"s conference with him this morning was not for nothing.
Immediately after, he went over to Edith; he told her some tale which the girl did not distinctly hear; but, it seems, some paper which Mr.
Radford possesses was spoken of, and the sum of the whole matter was, that my poor, sweet sister was told, if she did not consent, within four days, to marry that hateful young man, she would sacrifice her father"s life. He left her fainting, and has ridden over to bear her consent to Mr. Radford."
"But, did she consent?" exclaimed Sir Edward Digby, in surprise and consternation--"Did she really yield?"
"No--no!" answered Zara, "she did not! The girl said she heard her words, and they were not in truth a consent. But my father chose to take them as such, and left her even before she recovered."
I have already shown the effect of the same account upon Sir Henry Leyton, with all the questions which it suggested to his mind; and the impression produced upon his friend, as a man of sense and a man of the world, were so similar, that it may be needless to give any detailed statement of his first observations or inquiries. Zara soon satisfied him, however, that the tale her father had told, was not a mere device to frighten Edith into a compliance with his wishes; and then came the question, What was to be done?
"It is, in truth, a most painful situation in which your sister is placed," said Digby, after some consideration; "but think you that this man, this Radford, cannot be bought off? Money must be to him--if he be as totally ruined as people say--the first consideration; and I know Leyton so well, that I can venture to promise nothing of that kind shall stand in the way, if we can but free your sister from the terrible choice put before her."
Zara shook her head sadly, saying, "No; that hope is vain!--The girl tells me," she added, with a faint smile, which was quickly succeeded by a blush, "that she heard my father say, he had offered me--poor me!
to Richard Radford, with the same fortune as Edith, but had been refused."
"And would you have consented?" demanded Sir Edward Digby, in a more eager tone than he had yet used.
"Nay," replied Zara, "that has nought to do with the present question.
Suffice it, that this proves that gold is not his only object."
"Nay, but answer me," persevered her companion; "would you have consented? It may have much to do with the question yet." He fixed his eyes gravely upon her face, and took the fair, small hand, that lay upon the arm of the chair, in his.--It was something very like making love, and Zara felt a strange sensation at her heart; but she turned away her face, and answered, with a very pale cheek, "I would die for my father, Sir Edward; but I could not wed Richard Radford."
Sir Edward raised her hand to his lips, and pressed them on it. "I thought so!" he said--"I thought so! And now, heart, and mind, and hand, and spirit, to save your sister, Zara! I have hunted many a fox in my day, and I don"t think the old one of Radford Hall will escape me. The greatest difficulty is, not to compromise your father in any way; but that shall be cared for, too, to the very best of my power, be a.s.sured. Henceforth, dear lady, away with all reserve between us.
While I am in this house, it will be absolutely necessary for you to communicate with me freely, and probably very often. Have no hesitation; have no scruple as to hour, or manner, or means. Trust to my honour as you have trusted this day; and you shall never find it fail you. I will enter into such explanations with my servant, Somers, in regard to poor Leyton, as will make him think it nothing strange, if you send him for me at any time. He is as discreet as a privy councillor; and you must, therefore, have no hesitation."
"I will not," answered Zara; "for I would do anything to save my sister from such a fate; and I do believe you will not think--you will not imagine----"
She paused in some confusion; and Sir Edward Digby answered, with a smile--but a kindly and a gentlemanly one, "Let my imagination do as it will, Zara. Depend upon it, it shall do you no wrong; and believe me when I say, that I can hardly feel so much pain at these circ.u.mstances as I otherwise might, since they bring me into such near and frequent communication with you."
"Hush, hush!" she answered, somewhat gravely; "I can think of nothing now but my poor sister; and you must not, Sir Edward, by one compliment, or fine speech--nay, nor by one kind speech either," she added, laying her hand upon his arm, and looking up in his face, with a glowing cheek--"for I know you mean it as kind--you must not, indeed, throw any embarra.s.sment over an intercourse, which is necessary at present, and which is my only hope and resource, in the circ.u.mstances in which we are placed. So now tell me what you are going to do; for you seemed, but now, as if you were about to set out somewhere."
"I am going to Woodchurch instantly," replied Digby. "Sir Henry Leyton must be there still----"
"Sir Henry Leyton!" exclaimed Zara; "then he has, indeed, been a successful campaigner."
"Most successful, and most deservedly so," answered his friend. "No man but Wolfe won more renown; and if he can but gain this battle, Leyton will have all that he desires on earth. But I will not stay here, skirmishing on the flanks, dear lady, while the main body is engaged. I will ride over as fast as possible, see Leyton, consult with him, and be back, if possible, by dinner time. If not, you must tell your father not to wait for me, as I was suddenly called away on business."
"But how shall I know the result of your expedition?" demanded Zara; "we shall be surrounded, I fear, by watchful eyes."
"We must trust to fortune and our own efforts to afford us some means of communication," replied Digby. "But remember, dearest lady, that for this great object, you have promised to cast away all reserve. For the time, at least, you must look upon Edward Digby as a brother, and treat him as such."
"That I will!" answered the fair girl, heartily; and Digby, leaving her to explain their conduct to her aunt as she best might, ordered his horse, and rode away towards Woodchurch, in haste.
Pulling in his rein at the door of the little inn, he inquired which was Sir Henry Leyton"s room, and was directed up stairs; but on opening the door of the chamber which had been pointed out, he found no one in it, but the somewhat strange-looking old man, whom we have once before seen with Leyton, at Hythe.
"Ah, Mr. Warde, you here!" exclaimed Sir Edward Digby. "Leyton told me you were in England. But where is he? I have business of some importance to talk with him upon;" and as he spoke, he shook the old man"s hand warmly.
"I know you have," answered Mr. Warde, gazing upon him--"at least, I can guess that such is the case.--So have I; and doubtless the subject is the same."
"Nay, I should think not," refilled Digby; "mine refers only to private affairs."
The old man smiled; and that sharp featured, rude countenance a.s.sumed an expression of indescribable sweetness: "Mine is the same," he said.
"You come to speak of Edith Croyland--so do I."
"Indeed!" cried his companion, a good deal surprised; "you are a strange being, Mr. Warde. You seem to learn men"s secrets, whether they will or not."
"There is nothing strange on earth, but man"s blindness," answered the other; "everything is so simple, when once explained, that its simplicity remains the only marvel.--But here he comes. Let me converse with him first. Then, when he is aware of all that I know, you shall have my absence, or my presence, as it suits you."
While he was speaking, the voice of Henry Leyton was heard below, and then his step upon the stairs; and, before Digby could answer, he was in the room. His face was grave, but not so cloudy as it had been when he returned to Woodchurch, half-an-hour before. He welcomed Mr. Warde frankly, and cordially; but turned immediately to Sir Edward Digby, saying, "You have been quick indeed, Digby. I could not have conceived that my letter had reached you."