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*' We dashed into the water like madmen,'^ 
 
 [Page 263. 
 
THE 
 
 SMUGGLER'S SECRET 
 
 H IRoinance 
 
 BY 
 
 FRANK BARRETT 
 
 author of 
 
 'between life and death,' 'fettered for life,' 
 
 'honest DAVIE,' ETC. 
 
 LONDON 
 SPENCER BLACKETT 
 
 35, ST. BRIDE STREET, LUDGATE CIRCUS, E.C. 
 
 [AU rij^hts reserved] 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2014 
 
 https://archive.org/details/smugglerssecretrOObarr 
 
U3 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 One morning when I went to my customary 
 place in the library I found a glove upon my 
 table. With a thrill of delight I recognised 
 it, and glanced eagerly round, expecting to 
 see Miss Duncan with a book in one of the 
 cosy chairs. My heart fell : there was no one 
 in the room but myself. She must have come 
 in to write a letter and left the glove there 
 by accident. I took it up and put it to 
 my lips. It was soft and cool and sweet, 
 with a delicate scent of spring flowers. 
 I laid it on my palm and looked at it. 
 There was the form of her hand in it ; it 
 
2 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 had the tint of a fair skin. But oh, in 
 colour, texture, form, and sweetness how- 
 poorly it represented the dear hand that 
 had worn it ! It was charming to the senses 
 only because it suggested something in- 
 fmitely more adorable. 
 
 With some such rhapsody as this I 
 pressed the glove to my lips again, and 
 then, startled by a sound, I turned and 
 found myself face to face with Miss Duncan, 
 who had come back for her glove. There it 
 was, within an inch of my lips. 1 he 
 position was embarrassing. What was to 
 be done ? Could she take the glove with 
 my kiss upon it, or should she turn her back 
 on me, and leave the room in indignation ? 
 She took neither course, but she stood there 
 with a deep blush on her face, and an 
 unspeakable tenderness in the glance that 
 met mine, and then she dropped her 
 eyes, but still she stood there. It was a 
 confession of love that I had not dared to 
 hope for. 
 
 ' Will you let me keep this glove till I 
 
A ROMANCE. 3 
 
 have told your father what has happened ?' I 
 asked. 
 
 ' Yes, Bernard,' she answered, h'fting her 
 eyes to mine and speaking quite firmly. 
 
 I led her to the window that opened on 
 to the lawn, and for a moment before we 
 parted our hands clung together as those 
 cling together which may never meet 
 again. 
 
 As I turned from the window the door 
 opened, and Sir Henry Duncan entered the 
 room, with the quick, abrupt movement 
 habitual to him. He glanced suspiciously at 
 me, for he might have seen his daughter 
 crossing the lawn beyond, and then stood 
 thunderstruck on catching sight of her glove 
 in my hand. 
 
 * What on earth does this mean/ Mr. 
 Thorne ?' he asked in a peremptory tone. 
 
 I was unprepared with anything clever to 
 say, and answered with the plain truth : 
 
 ' Sir Henry, I am in love with your 
 daughter, and this is her glove, which she has 
 suffered me to keep.' 
 
 T — 2 
 
4 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 * Are you mad ?' he asked, after looking at 
 me in silence for a space. 
 
 I thought that madness might be an excuse 
 for not loving Miss Duncan, but I did not 
 say so, and he continued in growing anger : 
 
 * Do you forget what you are, and what 
 my daughter is ? Do you know what she is 
 to m_e ? Do you think I am careless of her 
 happiness or a fool to her interests ? Answer 
 me!' 
 
 ^ No, Sir Henry, I do not forget what I 
 am. I am your secretary, your servant, with 
 nothing beyond the wages I earn. Your 
 daughter has a fortune in her own right, and 
 is heiress to another. I know that she is 
 dearer to you than your life, and that you 
 would sacrifice everything for her happiness 
 and honour. I may add still more to the dis- 
 parity between us. She is of gende, if not 
 noble birth ; my forefathers were smugglers, 
 and two of them are now living within five 
 miles of this house.' 
 
 * And yet/ said he slowly and with wither- 
 ing scorn, ' you dare to think of taking my 
 
A ROMANCE, 5 
 
 daughter from me and making her your wife ! 
 Knowing what you are, you have meditated 
 dragging her down to your level ! Knowing 
 what she is, you have had the insolence to 
 offer her your love — you have taken the 
 glove from her hand !' The sight of the 
 glove maddened him. ' Give me that glove,' 
 he cried, advancing on me white with fury ; 
 give it to me !' he repeated in a still higher 
 tone as I drew it back. I thought he meant 
 to take me by the throat, when suddenly he 
 checked himself, and, turning his back upon 
 me, stood silent, trembling with the effort 
 to control his passion. 
 
 He was a man of strong emotions, which 
 he habitually kept under control by constant 
 watchfulness, and timely effort of will. Only 
 once before had I seen him give way to im- 
 moderate anger, and then, as on this occasion, 
 the outburst sprang from an event which 
 seemed to threaten his daughter's welfare. 
 On that occasion, as on this, it was only 
 by a supreme effort that he governed his 
 fury. 
 
6 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 He was comparatively calm when he faced 
 me again, but sweat beaded his forehead and 
 his face was ashy gray. 
 
 ' How long has this been going on ?' he 
 asked hoarsely. 
 
 * I have loved your daughter three years — 
 ever since I came into this house. I did 
 not meditate making her my wife. If she 
 had given me any reason to hope, by one 
 word, one look, I could not have kept my 
 secret — I could not have stayed here her 
 father s servant.' 
 
 ' That is to say that now you keep your 
 secret no longer you do hope ?' 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 ' Hope what ?' 
 
 • Hope one day to make your daughter my 
 wife. Listen to me, Sir Henry. I have 
 shown my position at its worst. I have 
 told you that my mother's parents were 
 smugglers, but my father was an honest man. 
 Your daughter can say no more for you 
 than that. My character is unstained. I 
 claim moral equality with any man that lives ; 
 
A ROMANCE. 
 
 7 
 
 what more than love and honour do you 
 wish for in the man who must one day be 
 your daughter's husband ? 
 
 ' What more ? — position, wealth. Your 
 moral excellence should enable you to see 
 that you cannot maintain my daughter in the 
 station to which she has been accustomed on 
 the salary of a secretary.' 
 
 I was silent, not knowing how to meet an 
 objection that had never for a moment pre- 
 sented itself to my consideration. 
 
 ' Would you ask your wife to pay your 
 tailor's bill ?' Sir Henry asked, seeing his 
 advantage. 
 
 ' I must have money/ I said, with a falter- 
 ing voice ; * I never thought of that' 
 
 ' You should have thought of that before 
 you asked my daughter to be your wife.' 
 
 ' I have not asked her, and,' I added, 
 piqued by his tone, ' I will not until I can 
 lay a fortune at her feet.' 
 
 ' Now I believe that you are a man of 
 principle,' said Sir Henry, giving me his hand 
 with a cynical smile. ' I am told there is a 
 
8 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 perfect Golconda in South Africa ; I advise 
 you to go and find your fortune.' 
 
 ' I will make my fortune or never see my 
 love again,' I said to myself in desperation as 
 I turned my back on The Chase ; but in my 
 heart I felt that it was a forlorn hope. 
 
A ROMANCE. 
 
 9 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 I HAD lodgings in an isolated cottage which 
 had once been a toll - house on the old 
 London Road, just outside the park gates of 
 The Chase. My landlady, Mrs. Benham, 
 was an old gentlewoman and a widow, with 
 a son at sea. She was sitting at her tambour 
 frame by the parlour window, and rose in 
 astonishment, w^hen the latch of the garden 
 gate clicked, to see me at such an unusual 
 hour. I had been her sole companion for 
 three years, save at those rare intervals when 
 her son made a flying visit ; and when she 
 heard that I had come to pack up my 
 belongings and leave her she burst into tears, 
 confessing that it grieved her more to lose 
 me than her own son. But seeing that I 
 had a sore trouble of my own to bear, she. 
 
lo THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 like a true woman, thrust her own grief 
 aside, and did her best to give me hope and 
 courage. I got the parting over as quickly 
 as possible, and then, with the small port- 
 manteau which contained all the personal 
 effects that I needed, I struck out across the 
 downs in the direction of Sandhaven. The 
 brisk sea breeze revived my spirits, and 
 by the time I reached the cliff path a 
 dozen hopeful projects were revolving in my 
 mind. 
 
 I flattered myself with the reflection that I 
 was in a far better position to make my way 
 in the world successfully than many others 
 who had won fortunes ; for besides energy, 
 strength, and health, and a strong incentive 
 to make the most of them, I had over fifty 
 pounds in my pocket and a little propeity, 
 which I resolved to turn into money at once. 
 This property consisted of a cottage and a 
 few acres of ground upon the cliff, midway 
 between Sandhaven and Towerbridge. It 
 was called the Half-way House, and had 
 quite a romantic history. Originally, it 
 
A ROMANCE. 
 
 belonged to my great-grandfather, Peter 
 Beamish, and a desperate rascal he was, 
 according to all accounts. Even now, at the 
 age of ninety-four, the oldest and most dis- 
 reputable inhabitant in Bonport, signs of in- 
 domitable will, cunning, and reckless daring 
 were evident in the great hooked nose that 
 almost met his chin, the dark slits of eyes 
 gleaming like jet under the shaggy white 
 penthouse of his overhanging brows, and in 
 the quick, abrupt, decisive movements of his 
 shrunken old limbs. He was a tyrant in his 
 domestic relations, and would have no 
 women or children in his house. When his 
 son Ben (my grandfather) married, the wife 
 was sent to live with her mother-in-law in 
 Sandhaven, and Ben was permitted to go 
 and see her on Sundays, unless business 
 prevented. In comparison with his father 
 Ben was a cherub, a meek, inoffensive man, 
 a rascal, doubtless, but one who would have 
 preferred to fall in with the times and 
 exercise his rascality in a respectable way. 
 But there was no resisting the authority of 
 
THE SMUGGLEIVS SECRET: 
 
 his father, who used him as a tool and kept 
 him under from first to last — treating him as 
 a mere boy when old Ben was white-headed. 
 At that time these two, father and son, kept 
 the Half-way House as an inn, but in 
 reality it was nothing but a store for con- 
 traband goods and a rendezvous for the gang 
 of smugglers of which my great-grandfather 
 was captain. 
 
 All along that part of the coast the soft 
 cliff is undermined by the encroaching sea. 
 There was a cavern on the shore into which 
 the cargoes were run, and it was said there 
 existed a secret way of communication 
 between the cave on the shore and the house 
 on the cliff. In those days the preventive 
 service was inefficient, and the revenue men 
 kept away from the Half-way House as 
 much as possible, the company there being 
 constantly the worse for liquor, and using 
 their pistols as freely as we might use lucifer 
 matches. It was, in fact, dangerous for any- 
 one to go near the place. 
 
 The gang was composed of rascals of 
 
A ROMANCE. 13 
 
 various nationalities, but amon^^ them was 
 one called French Peter, to distinguish him 
 from my great-grandfather, who was almost 
 as masterful as the acknowledged captain. 
 The two Peters quarrelled, and there was a 
 split in the camp, when French Peter, to be 
 avenged on his enemy, fired a keg or two of 
 gunpowder in the cavern, and brought down 
 an enormous slice of the cliff, completely 
 choking the cavern, and rendering it unap- 
 proachable from the sea. That ruined 
 English Peter and his faithful adherents ; 
 and his occupation being gone, he sold the 
 cottage to my father, who had then lately 
 married Susan Beamish, my grandfathers 
 only child. 
 
 My father was captain of a coaster. He 
 was wrecked soon after my birth, and my 
 mother, taking her loss to heart (for my 
 father was a good and loving husband), died 
 a year after, leaving the cottage and all she 
 possessed to me by will. Just then my 
 great-grandfather came to grief and got 
 seven years' imprisonment, and my grand- 
 
14 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 father, seeing that smuggHng was no longer 
 a profitable vocation, reformed. He had 
 always hankered after a sneaking, safe, 
 respectable way of living, and being released 
 from thraldom to his father, he took posession 
 of the Half-way House, signed the pledge — 
 several times — and undertook to bring me up 
 in the way I should go. 
 
 When my great-grandfather came out of 
 prison he was disgusted with the change 
 in men and manners that had taken place 
 during his seclusion. The day of smuggling 
 was past. He refused to dwell in the Half- 
 way House, declaring that the smell of 
 whitewash made him sick. How he lived 
 was a mystery. He spent a great part of 
 his days and nights in the alehouses, for com- 
 fort, in the villages round and about ; some- 
 times he was to be seen sitting on a spar at 
 the end of the pier at Bonport scowling out 
 at the sea ; but regularly every month he 
 came over to the Half-way House and stayed 
 there for two days to ' let the boy go for a 
 bit of a spree,' as he put it. And old Ben 
 
A ROMANCE, 
 
 15 
 
 availed himself of this opportunity, going off 
 to some village where he was not well 
 known, and could get drunk without out- 
 raging the feelings of those who helped to 
 reform him and contributed considerably to 
 his maintenance. But why they should 
 never leave the house together was a fact 
 that often perplexed me. 
 
 And now, reaching the crest of Deadman's 
 Point, I saw the square, one-storied cottage 
 on the cliff, with the sea bursting over the 
 detached mass at its base which marked the 
 close of evil days. 
 
 To my surprise I found the doors locked 
 and the blinds drawn when I reached the 
 cottage. There was no response to my 
 knock, and I was beginning to think that my 
 grandfather for once had left the cottage 
 unguarded and gone for a spree without his 
 father s sanction, when the rattle of a piece 
 of mortar on the tiles caused me to lift my 
 eyes, and I caught sight of my grandfather 
 peering through the half-opened shutter of 
 the dormer window in the roof. 
 
i6 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 ' Vm coming down, sonny/ said he 
 blandly, finding himself perceived. ' I was 
 taking of a doze, sonny,' he explained, when 
 he opened the door to me. 
 
 He was a fair-skinned, apple-faced old 
 man, with pleasant blue eyes. He had a 
 trick of passing his tongue round his mouth 
 after speaking, as if in search of a missing 
 tobacco plug. But for that you would never 
 have thought him guilty of any unpleasant 
 habit ; yet I knew he was telling a lie, for 
 there on the table was a dish of smoking hot 
 potatoes. I did not then wait to consider 
 why he should make a secret of eating his 
 dinner, but struck at once into the subject I 
 had come there to discuss. In a few hasty 
 words I told him that I had left The Chase 
 for ever, and was going abroad. He looked 
 at me in mute astonishment for a moment, 
 and then, slapping his leg gleefully, 
 exclaimed : 
 
 ' What, youVe done the trick and cut your 
 cable, sonny ? Well, 1 didn't think it was 
 in you, that I didn't ! What a mortal pity 
 
A ROMANCE. 17 
 
 father ain't here ! This would have been a 
 treat for him. And him that thinks so mean 
 of you, too, that he always spits when he 
 hears your name. Give it me,' he said, 
 stretching out his hand for my portmanteau 
 eagerly. 
 
 'No,' said I, 'I can't stay; I must be off 
 at once.' 
 
 ' Of course you must. But you give me 
 that, boy. Oh, if father was here now, 
 wouldn't he be all agog ! Give it me ; I 
 warrant I'll put it where no one can find it.' 
 
 ' No, I shall take it with me,' I said, 
 holding on to the portmanteau, which he 
 would certainly have taken from me if he 
 could. 
 
 ' What r he exclaimed, ' going to run 
 your cargo in broad day T 
 
 ' I don't understand you at all.' 
 
 ' D it all, what are you got in your 
 
 bag ?' he roared. 
 
 ' Nothing but my clothing.' 
 
 He dropped into the settle with a look of 
 deep dejection. 
 
 2 
 
i8 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S SEC RE 7' 
 
 'Well, if I didn't make sure you'd bolted 
 with the family plate/ said he, ' and had 
 come here to get your old granfather to keep 
 it up dark till you'd got comferably out of 
 the way. Nothing but clothes ; thank God 
 father a2?it here ; how he would ha' gone on 
 at us! Well, what the old 'un have }ou 
 come here for ?' 
 
 * I want money.' 
 
 * You ain't going to ask me rent for this 
 cottage, which your mother, if she'd had an)^ 
 sense of respect and duty, would have left to 
 me, are you ? Look here, sonny, I sent you 
 to a good school and kept you there till you 
 were rising sixteen, and I guv you a eddica- 
 tion fit for a Lord Mayor, so as you've been 
 able to move in the highest suckles as secer- 
 tary ever since, and I've reckoned it out that 
 the expense of that covers all 1 ever received 
 as trustee for Susan.' 
 
 I knew exactly how much money my 
 mother had left in addition to the house, and 
 how much my grandfather had spent on my 
 education. There was still a balance due to 
 
A ROMANCE. 19 
 
 me, and he had never paid a penny for the 
 rent of the cottage. I was sure that he and 
 his father had means beside, and so I did not 
 hesitate to tell him plainly that I intended to 
 sell the cottage, and if he would not buy it I 
 should offer it at once to the land agent at 
 Bonport, who had already written twice tome 
 to know if I was disposed to sell. 
 
 ' Hav^e you thought what's to become of 
 your poor old grandfather if you turn him 
 out of house and home, you grasping, 
 grinding, hard-hearted boy?' he asked, 
 beginning in a whine and ending in a 
 i^rowl. 
 
 ' Your father has not a cottage to himself ; 
 why should you need one ?' I asked. ' Can't 
 you live with him T 
 
 ' Live with father ! and who would give 
 me coals and blankets then in the winter, 
 and tracks to light my pipe with all the year 
 round ? Oh, I wish one of those Scripsher- 
 readers would drop in on you now, and 
 soften your hard young heart, you gallus 
 Philistian taskmaster.' 
 
 2 — 2 
 
 I 
 
20 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 I turned to the door ; he sprang up and 
 came after me. 
 
 ' Wait, sonny,' he cried; 'do you really 
 mean to sell the place to old Fenwick ?' 
 
 ' I must if you can't buy it/ 
 
 Seeing that I was determined not to be 
 .noved either by whining or growling, his 
 manner changed completely ; there was the 
 strangest mixture of dread and cunning cal- 
 culation in his blue eyes as he drew the soft 
 loose folds of his cheek down betwixt his 
 thumb and fingers. 
 
 ' I must go and see father,' he said. ' How 
 much do you want i^' 
 
 ' I can't go with less than a hundred 
 pounds.' 
 
 ' You shall have it by to-morrow morning,* 
 he said. I hesitated. ' Fenwick/ he added, 
 * wouldn't give you the money down on the 
 spot.' 
 
 This was possible. 
 
 ' Very well,' said I. ' To-morrow morning, 
 at ten o'clock, I will come here, and if the 
 money is read}' you shall have the cottage.' 
 
A ROMANCE. 
 
 ' And you won't go to Fenwick in the 
 meanwhile ?' 
 
 ' No ; I promise you.' 
 
 ' Take your oath on it, sonny/ he said, 
 ^ and ril take my oath you shall have the 
 money. Take your oath, sonny.' 
 
 I repeated my promise and went away, 
 wondering why the old man clung so strenu- 
 ously to the possession of th,e cottage. 
 Clearly, he himself had not the money, or 
 with the dread of my selling it over h s head 
 he would not have delayed the payment use- 
 lessly till the next day. His father certainly 
 seemed to be in poorer circumstances than 
 he, and knowing the contempt in which 
 he held my grandfather, it was a crown- 
 ing mystery how the latter proposed, 
 with such assurances of success, to get 
 the loan of such a sum of money from 
 him. 
 
 At Sandyhaven I took a room for the 
 night at the Trusty Mariner Inn. While I 
 was eating a chop in the little parlour that 
 looked upon the High Street, I saw^ my grand- 
 
22 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 father coming down the hill at the settled pace 
 of a man with a long march before him. 
 Opposite the inn he paused and cast a w^ist- 
 ful glance down the sanded steps into the 
 open bar. He shook his head and made a 
 few irresolute steps forward, then paused 
 again, glancing up and dowm the street for 
 possible Scripture- readers, as he stroked his 
 flaccid cheeks and rolled his tongue round his 
 mouth. Finally, with a stamp that seemed 
 to say, ' Hang it all, I can't help it !' he 
 turned back and stumped down into the tap- 
 room. He w^as there when I went out for a 
 stretch in the afternoon, and he was ' yarn- 
 ing ' with some kindred spirits ; he was 
 there when I came back in the evening, and 
 he was singing a sentimental old-fashioned 
 song with a cracked and quavering voice ; he 
 was there when I went up to my room at ten 
 o'clock, and in high dispute, interlarding his 
 argument with scraps of Scripture and oaths 
 enough to make one's flesh creep. Shortly 
 after that I heard the landlady exhorting him 
 to go home like a good man, and his friends 
 
A ROMANCE. 23 
 
 encouraging him to come out in the fresh 
 air and pull himself together. 
 
 There was a scuffling on the sanded floor 
 of the bar and on the steps leading up to 
 the street as if he were trying to carry out 
 these suggestions ; then followed a heavy fall 
 and a shrill cry of alarm from the landlady. 
 I ran downstairs. My grandfather was look- 
 ing vacuously about him in the arms of those 
 who were trying to lift him. He tried to 
 stand upright ; his left leg gave under his 
 weight — it was broken — and with a scream 
 of pain he dropped down on the floor again. 
 I straightened the leg that had doubled 
 under him. 
 
 ' He's fainted, sir ; open his collar,' said the 
 landlady, bustling off to get water. 
 
 I unbuttoned the collar of his gray shirt. 
 Underneath I found a leather thong with a 
 little bag attached to it, such as old seamen 
 sometimes use for carrying a caul as a charm 
 against drowning. He opened his eyes and 
 looked stupidly up in my face for a moment ; 
 then, as he felt my fingers on his throat, for 
 
24 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 the thong seemed to press upon his wind- 
 pipe, he made a sudden grasp at the Httle 
 bag with a look of terror in his face wholly 
 inexplicable to me. 
 
 ' You've taken it out/ he cried in a fury, 
 feeling the leather bag and rubbing it be- 
 tween his thumb and fingers to find if the 
 contents were there ; ' youVe opened it — 
 you've seen it !' 
 
 * No,' said I ; M have not touched the 
 bag.' 
 
 The fright had sobered him. He thrust 
 the bag back and buttoned his shirt over it, 
 glaring at me suspiciously the while ; and 
 then he covered it with his two hands, clasp- 
 ing the treasure as if his life depended on it, 
 forgetting the physical pain that had made 
 him lose consciousness in the terrible dread 
 of losing his secret. 
 
A ROMAiXCE. 
 
 25 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A MATTRESS was brought down into the 
 parlour and my grandfather was laid on it, 
 while his late companions of the tap-room 
 made as straight as their legs permitted to 
 Bonport, to fetch a famous bone-setter who 
 lived there. It was a difficult matter to get 
 him out of bed and persuade him that there 
 was real need of his services, and that 
 those services would be paid for. Three 
 hours elapsed before he made his appearance 
 at the Trusty Mariner, and during that time 
 my grandfather lay on his back suffering 
 acute pain, never for a moment removing his 
 hands from the little bag on his chest. At 
 one moment, after attempting to change his 
 position, it seemed as if the pain would 
 deprive him again of consciousness. He 
 
26 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 groaned, and the sweat came out upon his 
 face ; imploring me with his eyes to come 
 nearer, and, panting for breath, he whis- 
 pered : 
 
 ' Sonny, if I should go off in a swound, 
 you wont take no mean advantage to get 
 at this here little bag, will you ?' 
 
 I promised him I would neither touch the 
 bag myself nor let anyone else to ich it, what- 
 ever happened. 
 
 ' But if I shouldn't come back out of my 
 swound,' he gasped, ' if I should go right off, 
 and there's no fetching me round anyhow, 
 say by ten o'clock to-morrow morning, you 
 must open the bag and see what's inside on 
 it — do you hear ?' 
 
 He made me repeat my promise to 
 observe these wishes when the bone-setter 
 told him to prepare his mind for some nasty 
 twinges. 
 
 After the painful operation was over and 
 he felt comparatively easy, my grandfather s 
 spirits revived. 
 
 'Sonny,' he said, 'I'll be popped into a 
 
A ROMANCE. 2j 
 
 handbarrer and wheeled off to the cottage 
 at once. I shall be as right as a trivet about 
 the afternoon.' 
 
 The bone-setter laughed. 
 
 'You'll stay where you are/ he said. 
 ' Why, you won't be able to move out of 
 bed for a week or two ; and when you 
 get back to your cottage you'll have to 
 keep someone constantly about to help 
 you.' 
 
 ' Keep someone in the cottage to help 
 me !' he gasped. The idea seemed to fill 
 him with terror, and he said no more for a 
 long while, but lay with his mouth agape, 
 as if unable to realize his position or see 
 any way of accommodating himself to circum- 
 stances. 
 
 It was three o'clock in the morning when 
 I turned into bed. At eight I arose and 
 went down to see my grandfather. He was 
 wide awake, and greeted me with a look of 
 satisfaction. 
 
 ' I've been heaving the lead all night, 
 sonny,' said he; 'but I think I've got my 
 
28 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 soundin's now. You must <;o and fincl 
 father. Better go now 'mediately.' 
 
 ' Don't bother yourself about that/ said 
 I, thinking he was troubled with the prospect 
 of my selling the cottage ; ' I can wait a few 
 days for the money.' 
 
 ' It ain't that/ he replied impatiently. 
 ' You must go and find father, I tell you. 
 You go to Bonport now at once, and find 
 Mrs. Ed'ards, the gen'al shop in Mermaid 
 Street. You go upstairs, and if father's at 
 home tell him I'm took queer, and he's 
 w^anted. If he ain't at home, go and look 
 for him on the pier, and if that's no good, 
 have a look in at the Dolphin, and likewise 
 the Hearty Tar, and the Three Mugs, and 
 the Hanchor ; in fact, you'd better try all the 
 beershops and publics one arter the other as 
 you come to 'em ; but find him you must. 
 And I'll tell you for why' — he dropped his 
 voice, and looked suspiciously at the door, 
 as if he feared an eavesdropper — ' it's a 
 matter of life or death.' 
 
 I looked at him in doubt, but the strenuous 
 
A ROMANCE, 29 
 
 expression in his face indicated clearly 
 enough that he had said no more than the 
 bare truth. 
 
 ' What*s the clock now ?' he asked. 
 
 ' Eight; 
 
 ' And what o'clock did I start on this 
 gallus cruise ?' 
 
 ' It was between twelve and one when you 
 came in here.' 
 
 He reckoned up the intervening hours 
 on his fingers, and then said emphatically : 
 
 ' You must be off this minute. There's 
 not a instant to lose. You must find father 
 and bring him here by twelve at the out- 
 side.' 
 
 ^ And supposing he's not to be found T 
 ' Then the Lord ha' mercy on us !' he ex- 
 claimed, clapping his hand on his wet forehead. 
 * Now, look here, if you don't find him by, say, 
 half-past eleven, you must start back here. 
 You can do it in a hour, stepping out smart. 
 That brings it to half-past twelve. You'll 
 have something awful to answer for if you're 
 not back by then/ he added impressively. 
 
30 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 I saw there was no time to waste in 
 inquiries, great as the inducement was to 
 satisfy my curiosity, and buttoned up m\' 
 coat for a sharp walk. 
 
 ' Sonny/ called the old man, as I was about 
 to leave the room, 'jest one word. Don't 
 tell father Tve broke my leg. Tell him I'm 
 took queer, that's all. He wouldn't stand no 
 setting of it if he knew my leg was broke — 
 he'd have it off, he would. He x'^sucli a man 
 for doing things thorough.' 
 
 I snatched a hasty breakfast, and hurried 
 over the cliffs to Bonport. There I called 
 first at my great-grandfather's lodgings. The 
 chandler had not seen him for two days. 
 ' He goes away for a spell now and again,' 
 she said. I tried the beerhouses all along 
 the straggling High Street, and, coming to 
 the pier, questioned the gangs of loafers at 
 the end. Everyone knew old Peter, but 
 none had seen him for the last day or two, 
 nor could anyone give a hint as to where he 
 might be found. ' He takes it in his head 
 the beer ain't stron? enough, or the bacca's 
 
A ROMANCE, y 
 
 bad, or something,' it was explained, * and 
 off he goes for to find better elsewhere. 
 Sometimes he goes to one place, and some- 
 times to another; but theie's no regular 
 telling where fancy will lead the old man. 
 And he don't tell anyone where he's going, 
 or ask anyone's advice, being a world too 
 masterful to think you can know better 'an 
 what he do.' 
 
 At half-past eleven I gave up the search 
 as hopeless, and returned to Bonport. 
 
 ' 1 forecast it/ said my grandfather when 
 he heard of my ill-success ; ' it's al'ust in 
 foul weather you lose a thole-pin, and after 
 that, Lord knows what you won't fall foul on. 
 Shet that door close, sonny: I've got a 
 someat to say to you as no mortial man 
 must know,' 
 
 I closed the door and went back to his 
 bedside. 
 
 ' You're got to take your dying oath of 
 secrecy— your sacred, dying oath,' he said 
 solemnly, screwing his brows together. 
 
 * You may tell me what you please,' said 
 
32 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 I ; ' but I shall not bind myself to any- 
 thing.' 
 
 ^ This comes of giving you a good eddica- 
 tion. Why, my father would knock my 
 head off if I dared to answer him in that 
 disobedient spirit, and here am. I nigh on 
 seventy-two years old. You won't take your 
 dying oath ?' 
 
 ' No.' 
 
 ' Come, sonny, you ain't such a unnatural 
 young viper that if I told you something as 
 might cause the death of a innocent old 
 man you'd go and let it out to all the world ?' 
 
 ' It is not likely that I would.' 
 
 ' Then without taking no oaths you kind 
 of give your solemn promise that you won't 
 let anyone know what I'm going to tell you. 
 We won't argify the matter, but take it 
 for settled.' He drew his hand from under 
 the bedclothes and put a key in my hand. 
 * This is the kev of the cottage. YouVe 
 got to go up there directly.' He dived 
 under the clothes and brought up another 
 key. ' This is the key of the well in the 
 
A romance: 33 
 
 washus/ he said, with some trepidation. 
 * You'll unlock the cover and let down some 
 victuals in the bucket. When you feel the 
 bucket touch the bottom, you'll whistle like 
 as if you was calling" a dog ; then you'll 
 count fifty slow, and pull up the bucket 
 After which you'll shet the cover down, 
 lock it careful, come out of the house and 
 lock that careful, and so bring both keys 
 back to me in not less than two hours at 
 the outside.' 
 
 ' What is at the bottom of the well ?' I 
 asked in amazement. I could see, as he 
 narrowed his eyes and passed his tongue 
 round his mouth, that he was preparing a 
 lie for me. 
 
 ' What's down there ?' he said ; ' why, a 
 live thing. What live things do they 
 gen'ally keep at the bottom of a pit ? Why, 
 bears. That's it. It's a bear. It's a pet 
 of father's. I don't say but what he's mad 
 to keep a bear ; that's neither here nor there. 
 He'd just take and knock my brains out 
 if I didn't keep it alive, and now you know 
 
 0 
 
34 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 why IVe been so anxious to find him, and 
 in such a pickle about not getting home.' 
 
 He seemed perfectly satisfied with this 
 outrageously artless explanation, and quite 
 confident that I accepted it for the truth. 
 
 ' And what victuals am I to put in the 
 bucket ?' I asked. 
 
 * There's a bit of pork on the washus 
 shelf — cut a rasher about a half of a inch 
 thick ; and there's biled taters, put in three ; 
 and likewise there's a loaf of bread, cut a 
 slice of that middlin' thin, about a inch and 
 a half or two inches through.' 
 
 Having given me these instructions, my 
 grandfather exhorted me to do just what I 
 w^as told to do and no more, to come away 
 the moment I had done it ; warning me that 
 if his father discovered that I knew of his 
 keeping a bear (' which,' he said, ' is con- 
 trary to the laws '), he, as like as not, would 
 take my life to prevent any evil consequences 
 to himself. 
 
 It was something more than mere curiosity 
 that hastened me to the cottage. My grand- 
 
A ROMANCE. 35 
 
 father s explanation was altogether untenable. 
 However mad my great-grandfather might be, 
 I knew that he was not mad enough to keep 
 a bear at the bottom of a well, nor was my 
 grandfather mad enough to prescribe such a 
 bill of fare for an animal of that kind. The 
 only feasible conjecture was that their 
 prisoner was human and a dire enemy, whom 
 they had not the courage to kill outright. I 
 found the cottage as it was when I reached 
 it the day before. The drawn blinds and 
 locked doors, the steaming potatoes on 
 the table, were understandable now ; 1 had 
 come there at the moment when my grand- 
 father was about to feed the captive. 
 
 The washhouse adjoined the living-room. 
 It was paved with red bricks, and lit by a 
 skylight in the lean-to roof. A shelf ran 
 round it, on which stood culinary utensils 
 and articles of food. The walls and the 
 woodwork of the roof were whitewashed. 
 The well was sunk in the middle of the room 
 — the shaft guarded by a circular wall about 
 two feet high, and closed by an oak cover 
 
 3—2 
 
36 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 hinged on one side and padlocked on the 
 other. A bucket hung over it, swivelled on 
 a rope, that passed through a pulley on one of 
 the roof joists, and ran to a cleet on the wall, 
 where it was fastened. 
 
 With considerable agitation I unfastened 
 the padlock, lifted the cover, and looked 
 down : I could see nothing beyond a few feet 
 of brickwork ; I heard nothing. 
 
 ' Is anyone down there ?' I called. 
 
 There was no reply but the echo of my 
 own voice as it rang down the shaft. The 
 silence troubled me. The hollow ring of my 
 voice scared me. I looked about and found 
 a candle and a box of matches on the shelf. 
 Unfastening the rope, I lowered the bucket 
 to the level of the circular wall, set the candle 
 inside and lit it ; then letting the cord slip 
 slowly through my hands, I watched the 
 descent of the light. It grew fainter and 
 fainter, until at length it failed to show the 
 surrounding brickwork, and I saw nothing 
 but a faint halo round the speck of light. 
 The well seemed to be interminably deep. 
 
A ROMANCE. 37 
 
 As the knot that finished the rope's end 
 came into my hand the bucket reached the 
 bottom, and the handle struck the side with a 
 clatter that rung* up to my ear about two 
 seconds after. 
 
 If a body had been lying at the bottom, 
 the bucket must almost of necessity have 
 struck it, and not the bottom as it did. 
 If a man had been standing upright some 
 gleam of reflected light must have discovered 
 him. I saw absolutely nothing but the 
 steady speck of light and its halo. I drew 
 the bucket up, and dropped it twice or thrice, 
 and called again without any result. ' Could 
 my grandfather have been delirious when he 
 sent me on this wild-goose chase ?' I asked 
 myself, as I slowly drew up the bucket to the 
 top. 
 
 Reflecting that I had not yet carried out 
 his instructions, I determind to make one last 
 experiment. I took out the candle and 
 charged the bucket with the eatables named 
 by my grandfather, lowered them down, and 
 whistled as if calling a dog. It seemed to 
 
38 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 me, as I listened while counting fifty, that I 
 heard a movement below, and I counted an 
 additional twenty to give the thing a fair trial. 
 When I drew up again, to my intense astonish- 
 ment, I found that the food had been taken 
 out, and an empty pitcher put into the bucket. 
 My grandfather had forgotten to mention 
 drink, and the creature below had sent up 
 the pitcher as a reminder. Clearly, whatever 
 the thing was it had hands. 
 
 I filled the pitcher from a tub of clear water 
 that stood in one corner of the washhouse, and 
 sent it down, completely bewildered by the 
 mystery. When it touched the bottom I 
 whistled again and listened. 
 
 Then from below there came up the 
 queerest elfish and most plaintive sound I 
 ever heard. It was like nothing more than the 
 swelling rise and fading fall of an /Eolian 
 harp. 
 
1 ROMANCE. 
 
 39 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 What was to be done ? When I again 
 lowered a light the sound ceased, and 
 nothing was visible. An athlete could have 
 slipped down the bucket rope and possibly 
 have come up again hand over hand. But 
 that was beyond my power, even if I had 
 found courage to make the attempt and face 
 the unknown. Certainly I must go down 
 there and find out the secret of the villainous 
 old smuggler, my great-grandfather. I felt 
 sure that my grandfather, always under the 
 domination of his father, was playing but an 
 accessory part in this dramatic business, and 
 I saw the necessity for acting with caution 
 to accomplish an investigation successfully. 
 At present the only thing to be done was to 
 
40 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 allay my grandfather's suspicion as much as 
 possible. 
 
 I closed the well, left the bucket hanging 
 as I found it, and quitted the cottage, locking 
 the door after me. On my way over the 
 cliffs an explanation of one anomaly suggested 
 itself to me. It had struck me in taking a 
 last glance at the washhouse that it was a 
 queer place for a well to be sunk, for the 
 house stood within a hundred yards of the 
 cliff's edge. To be sure, a great mass of the 
 cliff had fallen away, and at one time it might 
 have tapped a reservoir for a streeim perco- 
 lating through the chalk. But now I accounted 
 for its existence there by a more satisfactory 
 conclusion. It was the secret way that was 
 said to have been used for communicating 
 with the caves on the shore. It w^as quite 
 possible that, invisible from the top, an out- 
 let at the bottom led laterally into the choked 
 caverns. That hypothesis accounted for 
 my seeing no one at the bottom of the shaft 
 when I let down the light. 
 
 I said nothing about the pitcher, or the 
 
A ROMANCE. 41 
 
 Strange sounds, or my suspicions, to my 
 grandfather when I returned ; but I feigned to 
 be prodigiously curious with respect to the 
 bear, and how it came there. 
 
 ' Young 'uns don't oughter ask questions/ 
 repHed the old man, very well pleased with 
 my pretended simplicity. ' All they're got to 
 do is to mind what's said to 'em ; that's what 
 father has been hammering into me these 
 last seventy years. Now you're got to go 
 over to Bonport and find father, d'ye see ? 
 You're got to go and look into all the beer- 
 shops and leave word everywhere that his son 
 wants him — being took queer. And if he 
 ain't to be found at Bonport you can go over 
 to Stringham, and Shoreby, and Puntness, 
 and you might likewise run over to Tower- 
 bridge. When you're found him tell him 
 you want a hundred pounds. I dare say he'll 
 bully you at fust, but if he sees you going off 
 to old Fenwick, the land agent, he'll come 
 down with the money, I warrant. Then when 
 you're got the money you can slip your cable 
 and run for fureign parts at once, because it 
 
42 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 ain't right for young 'uns to be hanginor about 
 doing nothing. Send father on to me, but 
 you needn't come back yourself You clap 
 on all sail while the wind's fair. Now that's 
 what you're got to do. But look here, if you 
 do not find father by to-morrow morning, 
 you're got to come back here by noon, 
 because there ain't no one else to feed that 
 gallus bear — d'ye see ?' 
 
 I told him I did see, and left him. 
 
 As soon as I had finished my dinner, I 
 went to a ship's chandler, and bought a coil 
 of sixty fathoms of stout hemp cord. With 
 the aid of a lad I carried it to the cottage on 
 the cliff I paid the boy, and waited until he 
 was well out of sight before beginning my 
 work. 
 
 I had to break into the house, for, as it may 
 be imagined, my grandfather had taken the 
 keys from me on my return, and slipped 
 them under his pillow. 
 
 The simplest way was to get through a 
 window ; so having broken a pane of glass 
 with a stone, I unfastened the catch and lifted 
 
A ROMANCE. 43 
 
 the sash. This done, entrance was simple 
 enough. I hauled the cord into the wash- 
 house, ami, finding a hatchet, with a few 
 vigorous strokes I split the cover of the well 
 where it was attached to the hinge, and threw 
 it open. Then I unhitched the rope from 
 the cleet in the wall, setting the bucket on 
 the edge of the well, and firmly knotted the 
 end to the cord I had brought with me. 
 This done, I put the hatchet, and a stout 
 jack-knife that I found on the shelf, into 
 the bucket for my protection, for it seemed 
 to me not unlikely that the captive, who- 
 ever he might be, ignorant of my inten- 
 tions, might attempt to wreak upon me the 
 vengeance he owed his captors. A couple 
 of candles and a box of matches completed 
 my equipment, and then, getting upon the 
 low wall, I stepped into the bucket, slipped 
 the end of the cord through the handle, 
 and, pulling myself up an inch, swung over 
 the shaft. 
 
 My heart stuck in my throat as I swung 
 there, realizing my perilous position and 
 
44 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 the possibly greater risks I was about to 
 encounter ; then, my courage returning, I 
 began slowly to pay out the rope. When 
 the knot that joined the two ropes hitched 
 under the handle of the bucket, I paused again. 
 I was nov/ halfway down, and for the rest of 
 the descent must trust to the rope I had 
 bought at the chandler's. What if it were 
 rotten or faulty in some part ? 
 
 There was no going back, that was 
 certain; and so, after a moment's indecision, I 
 suffered the knot to slip past the handle and 
 let myself down as slowly as I could, lest the 
 friction should injure the cord, bethinking me 
 that I should have to return, as well as 
 descend, in safety. It struck me also that I 
 had omitted to see that my new cord was as 
 long as the other — a stupid oversight that 
 might have cost me my life — and now I 
 handled it more carefully than ever, lest I 
 should find myself suddenly with the end in 
 my hand. But at length, to my great satis- 
 faction, the strain on the rope came to an 
 end, and I found myself at the bottom of the 
 
A ROMANCE. 45 
 
 shaft, with a good length of cord to 
 spare. 
 
 I could see nothing but the faint glimmer 
 of light in the washhouse over my head ; the 
 rest was to my eyes absolute obscurity. An 
 audible movement on my right hand caused 
 me to dive into the bucket for a weapon of 
 defence. I found the jack-knife, and, opening 
 it, stood ready for the attack, at the same 
 time saying, with as steady a voice as I could 
 command, * Whoever is down here, I am his 
 friend.' 
 
 There was no answer, no repetition of the 
 sound, and I think the silence had a more 
 terrifying effect upon my senses than if I had 
 been aroused by the fiercest and most 
 menacing voice. I felt that I might be 
 standing within arm's reach of an unseen foe 
 preparing to spring upon me. To put an 
 end to this suspense I stuck the open knife 
 betw^een my teeth and struck a match. 
 
 As I expected, I found a bricked opening 
 before me ; but the light of the match was 
 insufficient to reveal anything more than a few 
 
46 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 feet of brickwork on each side ; beyond, the 
 darkness was impenetrable. 
 
 I drew out one of the candles and lit it, 
 throwing down the match when the wick 
 caught. The next moment, as I was about to 
 step sideways from the bucket, I heard a sharp 
 hiss, and looking down, with my candle raised, 
 found that the step, if taken, would probably 
 have been my last. I was not nearly at the 
 bottom of the shaft, but only on a plank set 
 across it; the hissing sound was caused by the 
 falling of the lighted match into the water 
 below. The cunning of the old smugglers 
 who had used the well as a secret passage to 
 the caves was evident in this, for, the plank 
 being removed, water would have been 
 drawn from the well to disprove any suspicion 
 of inquiring revenue officers. 
 
 This escape, and the shock it gave to my 
 nerves, made me still more cautious in my 
 advance. With the light held out before me 
 in my left hand, and the open knife in my 
 right, I made my way slowly, and, I must 
 own, with a mo:>t unpleasant sensation of 
 
A ROMANCE. 47 
 
 fear, along the bricked passage. Presently 
 I found myself at the entrance to a cave, 
 spacious and lofty, shored up at intervals 
 with planks and great ship-timbers. The 
 white chalk, reflecting the rays of the candle, 
 made the cavern comparatively light. In 
 front of me was a mass of debris sloping up 
 to the roof, where the fallen cliff choked the 
 shore entrance ; but I could see no sign of 
 any habitant nor hear any sound. 
 
 Suddenly the silence was broken by a loud 
 caw, and, shifting the caiidle, I perceived in 
 a recess that had been thrown into darkness 
 by the shadow of a beam a smooth slab of 
 chalk, on which was set the pitcher I had 
 lowered in the morning, and beside it a piece 
 of the bread, on which a jackdaw was perched. 
 He looked up at me for a moment with his 
 gray eye, and then set to work again digging 
 out the crumb vigorously. This could not 
 be the captive — ' the bear ' — yet I saw no 
 one else. 
 
 I stepped towards the recess : the jackdaw 
 ceased pecking at the bread, eyed me askance, 
 
48 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 and, not liking the look of me, hopped ofi 
 still further into the darkness. 
 
 I followed on, and found the recess to be 
 an opening into a second cave. By the side 
 of the slab there were some rags neatly 
 arranged on a boulder to form a cushion. I 
 had no doubt now that I should find the real 
 captive in the next cave. Surely enough, I 
 did ; and a strange one it was, too. 
 
 A second caw from the jackdaw drew my 
 eye at once to the left of the entrance to the 
 second cave^ and there, in a kind of alcove, 
 hung about with strips of coloured rag in a 
 barbarous attempt at decoration, I saw, 
 crouching upon a litter of straw overspread 
 with blankets, a child with long hair falling 
 over her shoulders. The jackdaw was 
 perched on her shoulder, and, in contrast 
 with its plumage, the child's hair seemed 
 quite white. I could not see her face, for she 
 had covered it with her thin white hands to 
 shut out what, to her unaccustomed senses, 
 was a blinding light— the candle — to me a 
 feeble glimmer. 
 
A ROMANCE, 
 
 49 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 I PUT the candle in a crevice and wedged in 
 a piece of chalk before it, so subduing the 
 light as to make it bearable to the poor 
 thing's eyes, and then I gently drew her 
 hands from her face and raised her to her 
 feet. She was a tall slip of a girl, quite a 
 child seemingly, though in reality she was 
 eighteen. Her colourless face was long 
 and thin, but her features were modelled 
 with exquisite delicacy. She looked like one 
 of those frail and tender plants that are 
 reared in darkness. The darkness and 
 lustre of her eyes gave to this strange pale 
 face an expression more than human — 
 something spiritual, and not of our world. I 
 found that the retina was almost invisible, 
 and by long disuse had lost its power of 
 
 4 
 
50 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 contraction, while the pupil had become 
 abnormally distended to catch the scant rays 
 of light diffused in the caverns. She was 
 dressed in a sack of blue serge, without 
 sleeves — a garment fashioned to the idea of 
 fitness evolved by my grandfather ; yet this 
 rude garment looked well upon her, falling 
 to the graceful curves of her figure, and 
 throwing into relief the long white arms and 
 pretty nude feet ; it seemed to me that a 
 dress of modern cut would have been less in 
 character with her unnatural beauty, and have 
 pronounced her still more pathetically not of 
 our world. We stood looking at each other 
 in silent amazement, for pity choked me. 
 
 Presently she lifted her hand slowly and 
 touched my moustache ; then, walking to the 
 back with a step as graceful as the rise and 
 dip of a gull on the wing, she looked at my 
 head, and finding that my hair was cut short, 
 she clapped her hands together, and burst 
 into a peal of laughter. Then she came 
 round to look me in the face again, and 
 finding the tears running down my cheek- — 
 
A ROMANCE. ^\ 
 
 for her laughter told a tale of life-long 
 captivity in this sunless prison that touched 
 my heart to the quick — she became instantly 
 grave, her own eyes filled, and with inarti- 
 culate sounds of sympathy she stroked my 
 head, as though she would console me for 
 the loss of my hair, which she must have 
 conceived was the cause of my grief. 
 
 ' Cannot you speak, you poor little thing ?' 
 I asked. 
 
 The sound alone was intelligible to her, 
 and she responded with sounds that were but 
 a musical echo of my words. Hearing her 
 voice, the jackdaw cawed, and she replied 
 widi a caw as like his as she could accom- 
 plish. Clearly, she had no notion of sj^eech, 
 and it was hopeless to think of getting from 
 her any explanation of her strange condition, 
 and how she came there. Had she never 
 learnt the use of speech, or had she been 
 there so long that the early days of her 
 childhood were forgotten, I wondered. I 
 tried her again, saying a few words in the 
 few languages that I knew. She listened 
 
 4—2 
 
52 THE SMUGGLE IV S SECRET: 
 
 attentively, smiling as if it gave her pleasure 
 to hear the sound of a human voice, but 
 showing no other signs of intelligence ; then 
 she, to give variety to the amusement, sang, 
 making a kind of music like that I had heard 
 from the mouth of the well — a continued 
 undulating rise and fall of sound as long as 
 the breath could be maintained. In all my 
 ife I never heard anything so plaintively 
 sweet and sad. It seemed to express more 
 than could have been told by words ; it was 
 the revelation of a joyless life, of unspeakable 
 yearning, and indefinable regrets. 
 
 ' Poor child, poor child !' I said involun- 
 tarily. 
 
 * Poor child, poor child \ she echoed in 
 the same tone of sorrow and commiseration. 
 She seemed to see the significance of my 
 sympathy, to understand that my words were 
 an expression of kindness, for she took up 
 my hand and smoothed her cheek against it 
 carelessly. 
 
 I bent down and kissed her head — for she 
 was to me no more than a little child. The 
 
A ROMANCE. 53 
 
 sound of my kiss perplexed her, and looking 
 up in my face, she bade me by a gesture kiss 
 again. I lifted the hand that still clung to 
 mine, and kissed the back of it. She kissed 
 mine, and, repeating the action of her lips 
 once or twice, laughed at the sound she had 
 never heard before. 
 
 And now I w^as curious to see more of her 
 prison, and, taking the candle from the cleft, 
 I lifted it up, shielding it from her eyes with 
 my hand. She caught my arm, and, shrink- 
 ing to my side, pointed with wild wonder at 
 the flickering shadows caused by the moving 
 light. I placed the candle so that she could 
 see her own shadow on the sands. That 
 delighted her, when she recognised what it 
 was. She spread her arms out, and swayed 
 her lithe body from side to side, and then, 
 singing her song, she kept time to it with a 
 movement of her limbs and body that re- 
 sembled more the dance of a Japanese girl 
 than any other I know. When she ceased 
 to move she stood lookinof at her shadow in 
 silent wonder until, comprehension dawning 
 
54 THE SMUGGLER'S SE^CRET : 
 
 upon her, she drew me across the cave. At 
 the farther extremity there were some rough 
 steps made in the sand that led to a cavity, 
 where the sea at high tide filtered up through 
 the shingle. There was a clear pool at the 
 present time, and going down to the edge, 
 she bent over and showed me her reflection 
 in the water. 
 
 I observed that here there was a faint 
 glimmer of daylight, and as I peered about 
 for the opening that admitted it, she divined 
 my object, and led me away to a point a little 
 beyond, where an enormous slab of chalk 
 sloping up met another that formed a vertical 
 wall, and creeping onwards a few steps, she 
 pointed upwards, and I saw through a cleft 
 high above our heads a narrow strip of blue 
 sky. She clapped her hands with delight as 
 she looked up, for this tiny strip of blue was 
 probably the most beautiful thing in nature 
 she knew. 
 
 ' Caw,' she said, pointing up to let me 
 know it was that way the jackdaw came down 
 to her. 
 
A ROMANCE, 55 
 
 Observing the curiosity with which I 
 examined the cave, Psyche — that is the name 
 I instinctively gave the poor girl — drew me 
 away to show me all the curiosities of her 
 home. Going back to the pool in the hollow, 
 she gave me to understand by gestures and 
 sounds, like the splashing of water, that there 
 she bathed. Then, coming to the litter in 
 the alcove, she threw herself down and closed 
 her eyes. I nodded and snored ; but she 
 did not understand that, though she laughed 
 at the odd sound. She pointed round in 
 grave admiration to the strips of coloured 
 rag with which she had adorned the wall. 
 There was nothing else in that cave that she 
 found worthy of remark except a quantity of 
 old clothing useful in cold weather, as she 
 expressed by drawing her shoulders together 
 and clasping her arms ; but it seemed to me 
 they might give some clue as to the length 
 of time she had been a prisoner, and, turning 
 them over, I found a little frock of gray stuff 
 that had clearly been made by a woman's 
 hand. She clapped her hands and laughed 
 
THE SMV-GGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 on my taking this out, and holding it against 
 her side, showed that it came no higher now 
 than her hip. She could not have been more 
 than six or seven when she wore that. That 
 would give her at the outside eleven or 
 twelve years of imprisonment. Well, in 
 that time she might under such conditions 
 easily lose the faculty of speech — reason — 
 anything. The only wonder was that she 
 had continued to exist. 
 
 Taking the frock to the alcove, she pointed 
 out some strips of coloured ribbon, and some 
 curious buttons that she had taken from the 
 dress ; and little as I knew about such 
 matters, I perceived that no child of the 
 common class would have such trimming on 
 her frock. 
 
 Psyche threw aside the dress impatiently, 
 and drew me on quickly, having something 
 better than that to show me. We passed 
 through the opening into the timbered cave, 
 which was far more capacious than the adjoin- 
 ing one. She directed my attention in pass- 
 ing to the table on which the dinner was set, 
 
A /ROMANCE. 57 
 
 and also to a receptacle closed with a slab 
 where she kept her food out of the way of 
 *Caw/ and made her way to that side of 
 the cave where the entrance from the shore 
 was blocked up with the debris from the 
 fallen cliff. The sloping mass spread inward 
 to a considerable distance, the lighter rubble 
 lying on that side nearest the inner cave, and 
 the greater blocks on the other side, where 
 the fracture seemed to have originated. 
 Amongst these blocks, some of which were of 
 gigantic proportions, Psyche began to thread 
 her way. The course was intricate, and to 
 my unaccustomed eyes extremely perilous ; 
 and the difficulty increased as we advanced. 
 In some places it was as much as I could 
 squeeze my body through the openings, in 
 others we passed on hands and knees beneath 
 poised masses that a touch might have 
 brought down upon us. At one point she 
 stopped, and by an expressive gesture let me 
 know that there she had once stood in deadly 
 peril — the expression in her upturned face 
 and crouching figure indicating a mortal 
 
SS THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 terror. Even with the Hght to guide me, it 
 was hard to see where the foot might be set 
 with safety ; it was simply marvellous how 
 she could pass with impunity in the dark. 
 Presently she began to scale the blocks, and 
 we mounted until we almost reached the 
 roof of the cave. Seen from this point, the 
 cave, with the timber balks, and the shadows 
 they cast, looked weird and terrible. Right 
 against the roof there was a gap ; through 
 this Psyche slipped sidelong, and disappeared. 
 Coming to the gap, I cried to her in terror ; 
 she answered with a laugh that seemed far 
 away. I followed her as I best could through 
 the narrow gap, and the next instant found 
 myself slipping and rolling down an incline 
 with no power to stop myself. Psyches 
 laughter assured me that there was no 
 danger, but I was heartily glad when I found 
 myself at the bottom on a bed of soft sand. 
 
 My candle had gone out in this rapid 
 descent, but here there was a faint light that 
 filtered its way between the blocks on the 
 seaward side, though no opening was percep- 
 
A ROMANCE. 59 
 
 tible. I had matches in my pocket ; I relit 
 the candle, for tlie light was insufficient to 
 reveal anything distinctly to my eyes. I 
 suppose I looked particularly foolish and 
 frightened, for Psyche continued to laugh 
 until, suddenly seized with apprehension that 
 I had hurt myself, she came quickly to my 
 side and caressed my hand with her cheek, 
 crooning over it gently, like a mother over 
 her child. 
 
6o 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 When I came to look about me, I found that 
 we were standing in a third cavern, though 
 it was so encumbered with broken masses of 
 the fallen cliff that its form and dimensions 
 were at first indistinguishable. One thing 
 was clear ; it was in this cave that the 
 explosion had taken place. Many of the 
 fragments were on one face black with 
 powder. Amongst them were scattered in 
 every direction staves of tubs, iron hoops, 
 rusted vessels, scraps of timber, iron bolts, 
 and odds and ends of cloth and woollen 
 garments. My feet struck against a long 
 seaman's boot ; it gave an odd rattle under 
 the shock, and when I lifted it up two or 
 three small white bones fell out. They were 
 the bones of a foot ! Was Psyche, then, not 
 
A ROMANCE, 
 
 6i 
 
 the only victim who had been entombed 
 alive ? 
 
 I dropped the boot with a shudder, and, 
 answering Psyche's call, made my way through 
 the boulders towards that point where she in 
 impatience had preceded me. But at every 
 step I took my foot seemed to be crunching 
 the bones of a dead man, and, indeed, before 
 I had made a couple of paces, I caught sight 
 of a long bone, that I knew must be a human 
 thigh-bone. Presently I came to the spot 
 where Psyche was anxiously waiting to 
 show me the chef d'ceiwi^e of her possessions. 
 
 She stood before a large square block of 
 chalk, which she had arranged as a kind of 
 altar, grouping upon it, with some idea of 
 symmetry and artistic effect, all that she had 
 found most curious in the cave. Pistols, 
 knives, hatchets, tobacco-boxes, shells, pieces 
 of broken glass, and the like, were massed on 
 each side, but the place of honour between 
 them was occupied by a pyramid of four 
 skulls ; in the orbits of the top one, pieces of 
 oyster shell had been placed, and the pearly 
 
62 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 surface, reflecting the light from the candle, 
 gave it an appearance that would have been 
 ludicrous if it had not been ghastly. 
 
 I glanced in terror at Psyche, to see what 
 effect this grisly show had upon her. She 
 w^as smiling and swaying her head gracefully 
 from side to side to the low murmuring music 
 of her own voice. Then I perceived that 
 the poor creature must, indeed, have lost her 
 reason, unless her pleasure, in the face of 
 such repulsive mementoes of mortality, was 
 due to utter ignorance of life and death. 
 
 For some time she sang her low monoto- 
 nous hymn — it might have been a rite sug- 
 gested by some crude religious sentiment. 
 When it was finished, she drew me closer to 
 the altar, and with a sweep of the hand drew 
 my attention to the surface on which her relics 
 were mounted. A fresh surprise confronted 
 me : the block was covered with pieces of 
 gold laid side by side as close as they would 
 go. I took one up, and found it was a louis 
 d'or of 1795. I reckoned there were nearly 
 a hundred of these pieces in a row, and the 
 
A ROMANCE, 
 
 63 
 
 block being square, this cover represented 
 a sum of about ^10,000, if all the pieces 
 were of the same value. 
 
 My astonishment, as I held the coin in my 
 hand, being observed by Psyche, to her great 
 delightj she led me to that end of the cave 
 v^hich was less affected by the explosion, and 
 pointed to another of the gold pieces let into 
 a hole in the wall. On the chalk below, 
 written in rude characters with a piece of 
 charcoal, were these words : 
 
 'To Peter Beamish — French Peter and 
 his lads leaves you this for a present, as 
 specimen of the lead in the square chest, 
 which you give us for our sheer out of the 
 French hoy. Let this be a warning to you 
 to play fare next time you go a-wreckin' !' 
 
 From this evidence it seemed to me 
 probable that these rascals, after quarrelling 
 over the spoil taken from the French hoy, 
 had separated — French Peter and his ^. arty 
 going to the caves, my great-grandfather, 
 with his crew, resting in the house above— and 
 that in a drunken bout, which was pretty sure 
 
64 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET. 
 
 to have followed the discovery of their trea- 
 sure in the lead chest, the gunpowder had 
 been accidentally fired, causing the fall of the 
 cliff and their own annihilation in the very 
 moment of triumph. 
 
 I stood lost in wonder over this last dis- 
 covery, and must confess to a feeling of selfish 
 joy which overcame all better considerations. 
 For I did not question my right as proprietor 
 of these caves, with the land above, to ap- 
 propriate the fortune found there, and my 
 imagination leapt at the use I might make of 
 it to obtain the hand of Miss Duncan. That 
 prospect intoxicated me, and for the moment 
 it seemed as if the unholy spirit of the dead 
 wreckers, whose bones were before my eyes, 
 had taken possession of me. 
 
 From this state of abstraction I was aroused 
 by a gentle touch upon my arm, and turning 
 my regard from the gold that had so fascinated 
 me, I found Psyche looking into my face 
 with troubled solicitude, unable to under- 
 stand my preoccupation, and why I had for- 
 gotten her. 
 
A ROMANCE. 
 
 65 
 
 * God forgive me my selfishness,' I said. 
 ' You shall be saved before I think of any- 
 thing else, poor Psyche !' 
 
 ' Poor Psyche !' she echoed, in the same 
 tone, with a smile that reflected my 
 pity. 
 
 There was no time to lose. Old Peter 
 might at any moment return to Bonport, and 
 hear of his son's accident, and the inquiries 
 that had been made for him. I, at least, 
 must get up to the cottage before he 
 arrived. 
 
 The alteration in my manner, as the ne- 
 cessity for immediate action occurred to me, 
 was perceived at once by my watchful com- 
 panion ; and comprehending that for some 
 reason I wished to get back into the other 
 cave quickly, she guided me with swift steps 
 back to the inclined plane by which I had 
 descended so precipitately, and showed me 
 some notched steps which she herself must 
 have cut in the chalk. With surprising agility 
 she ran up the slope ; I scrambled laboriously 
 after her, and she once more gave way to a 
 
 5 
 
66 THE SMUGGLER 'S SEC RE T : 
 
 light laugh at my expense, as she stood at the 
 top waiting for me. 
 
 We passed through the gap, and began the 
 descent into the large cave. But now I found 
 the difficulty and danger greater than in 
 climbing up. I made Psyche take my hand, 
 fearing that an inadvertent step might start 
 a boulder from its place and roll it down upon 
 her; and well it was that I took this precaution, 
 for before we were half-way down my weight 
 tilted a block, and the rubble slipping beneath 
 it, set other boulders in motion, and these, 
 starting others in their course, the greater 
 mass moved forward and thundered down in 
 a perfect avalanche to the bottom. 
 
 Happily the great block on which I drew 
 Psyche back at the first movement remained 
 firm ; but the crash of falling masses in other 
 parts of the cave, loosened by the concussion, 
 led me to fear that the whole of the cliff above 
 would fall, and I watched with terrible sus- 
 pense a long fissure that opened directly over 
 our heads, from which a blinding shower of 
 chalk splinters and dust fell upon us. Gradu- 
 
A ROMANCE. 67 
 
 ally the tumult ceased, and the cloud of dust 
 that choked us subsided ; but still at intervals 
 a block fell with a sudden thud upon the 
 ground below. Psyche clung close to me, 
 with her frail arm raised as if to ward off 
 anything that might fall from above. But 
 in this I am certain that the dear little creature 
 was concerned less for her own protection 
 than for mine ; her upturned hand was over 
 my head, not her own, and she kept it raised 
 until the peril was past. Then she looked 
 at me, nodding gravely, and, turning her arm, 
 showed me an old scar in it, from which I 
 concluded that this was not the first nor the 
 worst slip of the cliff in which she had been 
 concerned. 
 
 The track she habitually followed was now 
 obliterated, and we had to find a new one ; 
 but though our steps, cautiously as we pro- 
 ceeded, produced two or three fresh slips in 
 the treacherous slope, we got lo the bottom 
 without any serious mishap. Rubble and dust 
 lay thick everywhere, and one or two huge 
 fragments had been detached from the side ; 
 
 5—2 
 
68 THE SMUGGLER 'S SEC RE T : 
 
 but the timbers had preserved the main body 
 of the large cave, and the roof above looked 
 safe and sound. In the lesser cave no damage 
 whatever had been done ; and there, to her 
 great joy. Psyche found her jackdaw, who 
 had probably hopped off from the other on 
 the first sound of danger. 
 
 And now I had to make Psyche understand 
 that we must go up the shaft, and leave the 
 cave. She quickly comprehended that I 
 could go as I had come, but she was utterly 
 unable to grasp the idea that she also was to 
 go. It was more incomprehensible to her, who 
 knew no other place than that in which she 
 lived, than the suggestion of quitting this 
 planet for another would be to me. Indeed, 
 such incomplete and defective explanation 
 as I could make by signs or gestures she was 
 not in a condition to understand or accept, 
 for she no sooner comprehended that I was 
 about to go away than she burst into tears, 
 and, throwing her arms about me, clung to 
 me with the strenuous energy of despair. It 
 seemed to me cruel to leave her there even 
 
A ROMANCE. 69 
 
 for a brief space, after such a terrifying 
 episode as that we had just passed through ; 
 but how heartless must it have seeaied to 
 this poor creature, who beHeved that I was 
 leaving her there for ever ! I waited patiently 
 for the paroxysm of grief to subside, quite at 
 a loss to know how I might reassure her. 
 She grew gradually calmer, as she found I 
 made no further attempt to enter the passage 
 leading to the shaft, and smoothed my hands 
 with her cheek and lips. Suddenly conceiving 
 a stratagem to retain me, she darted into the 
 inner cave and returned with her hands full of 
 the coloured ribbons torn down from the bed- 
 place, and these she put into my hands, looking 
 into my face with an entreating smile. 
 
 I took the rubbish and kissed her innocent, 
 sweet brow ; then I drew her towards the 
 passage. She yielded with a long, fluttering 
 sigh, as if accepting an inevitable loss. When 
 we neared the well I sprang on to the plank, 
 and putting my feet in the bucket and the 
 candle between them, I beckoned her to come 
 to me. Then at last, comprehending that 
 
70 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 she was to accompany me, she flew to my 
 side. I put my arm around her, and tried 
 to draw the rope ; but it was useless, for, light 
 as she was, our united weight was more than 
 I could lift with one arm encumbered. After 
 one or two trials I gave up the attempt with 
 a shake of my head. She recognised the 
 difficulty, and having given my hand one last 
 caress, she stepped to the ground, and, sinking 
 on her knees, again burst into tears. 
 
 I could wait no longer ; to save her I must 
 make my own escape without delay. 
 
 I drew myself up hand over hand with 
 Psyche's fading sobs ringing in my ears, until 
 the flame of the candle grew pale in the light 
 from above. Suddenly the light was inter- 
 cepted, and looking up I saw a face bending 
 over me with a horrid nose and chin and two 
 gleaming eyes under a fur cap that came 
 down to the shaggy white eyebrows — all 
 distinct in the light of the candle at my feet. 
 It was my great-grandfather, Peter Beamish. 
 He waved a jack-knife over my head. 
 
 ^ You're gone down there, are you, you 
 
A ROMANCE, 71 
 
 himp of Satan ? Then you're just a-going 
 down there again for good and all !' he 
 shouted ; and with that he gave a hack at the 
 rope on which I hung. 
 
72 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 My strength was already nearly exhausted by 
 the exertion of pulling myself up from the 
 bottom of the shaft, the last few feet being 
 made with painful slowness. I had yet six 
 or eight feet to ascend before gaining the 
 level of the mouth, and then, from my in- 
 ability to leave hold of the rope, I should be 
 entirely at the mercy of the furious old man. 
 A blow with the knife would cut my fingers 
 away and send me hurding to the bottom ; 
 or he might, holding the rope with one hand, 
 deliberately cut the strands with the other — 
 which he could well do before I raised myself 
 another foot. The only possible way by 
 which I could save my life was to let the 
 cord slip swiftly through my hands, and, by 
 thus preventing him hacking it twice in the 
 
A ROMANCE. 
 
 73 
 
 same place, reach the bottom before he 
 achieved his object. It needed but a 
 moment's reflection to arrive at this conclu- 
 sion, and the next instant the cord was 
 running through my hands as fast as I dared 
 to pay it out. Looking up, I saw old Peter 
 slashing away vigorously, the blade of his 
 knife flashing at each stroke as it was turned 
 by the running rope. Once he reached 
 forward, and, laying hold of it with one 
 hand, sawed at it with the other ; but my 
 weight was too much for him, and he had 
 to let go. 
 
 A cry of delight and surprise from Psyche 
 showed me I was nearing the bridge, and the 
 next moment I stood upon the plank. Almost 
 simultaneously the rope was cut, and the two 
 lengths swept down. The one way of escape 
 was closed. 
 
 I was too agitated at the time to realize 
 the full significance of this incident, or the 
 gravity of my position ; indeed, I had reason 
 to congratulate myself on my present escape 
 from immediate destruction, and, in finding 
 
74 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 myself once more in the cave safe, I was 
 hardly less light-hearted than Psyche. But 
 I was terribly shaken by fright, and this, 
 with sheer physical fatigue, made my knees 
 tremble under me, and so unnerved my arms 
 that I could scarcely steady my hand to hold 
 a match and strike it. The candle in the 
 bucket had fallen and gone out in the descent, 
 but I had still another in my pocket, and 
 having lit this, I eagerly sought the pitcher 
 of water, for, besides the feeling of faintness, 
 my mouth was gluey with the fever of excite- 
 ment. To my consternation, I discovered 
 that a fragment, shaken from the well, had 
 fallen on the pitcher and broken it. 
 
 Psyche, seeing the trouble in my face, 
 looked about eagerly, and, with a cry of joy, 
 found about a cupful of water in the broken 
 shoulder of the crock, and this she would 
 have had me drink ; but I would not touch it 
 until she had taken her full share, for it 
 occurred to me now that this might be the 
 last sup of water we might ever taste. If old 
 Peter wished to preserve his secret, a sure 
 
A ROMANCE. 75 
 
 and certain means was within his reach. He 
 had but to close the mouth of the well and 
 leave us here to starve. In a week — less than 
 that, perhaps — one or both of us must die, 
 and with us would die the knowledge of his 
 villainy. 
 
 I could see no reason for his hesitating to 
 take this course. Certainly no consideration 
 of humanity or kin would stop him ; he had 
 already proved that by his murderous attempt 
 upon my life. This reflection made me 
 marvel why the two old rascals had risked 
 discovery by keeping Psyche alive so many 
 years, her existence costing them a certain 
 outlay, and necessarily continual anxiety, 
 with no obvious return. I could hit upon no 
 clue to this mystery. 
 
 I sat upon the block that served Psyche 
 for a table completely engrossed by these 
 thoughts, till she reminded me of her presence 
 by a light touch. The action was just that 
 of your dog, who thrusts his muzzle under 
 your arm when he considers that you have 
 neglected him long enough. She was seated 
 
76 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 by my side ; she smiled as I turned to her, 
 and rubbed her cheek against my shoulder. 
 
 Her unconcern in the midst of such acci- 
 dents as had occurred, the absence of any 
 curiosity to know why I was there, or what 
 might happen in the future, shocked and sur- 
 prised me, until I realized that, in the 
 monotony of such an evendess life as hers, 
 there had been nothing to call for the 
 exercise of apprehension or inquiry, she 
 being altogether the creature of circum- 
 stances which were entirely beyond her 
 control. 
 
 Greatly touched by her mute appeal for 
 recognition, I then made up my mind to 
 think aloud ; for though she might not 
 understand one word of what I said, the 
 mere sound of my voice, and the necessity of 
 turning to address her, would prevent her 
 feeling excluded from my consideration. 
 
 ^ You see, Psyche,' I began, ' I am down 
 here for good and all, and just as much a 
 prisoner as you are. Heaven knows, you 
 poor unconscious child ! how long we may be 
 
A ROMANCE. 77 
 
 down here, or when our companionship may 
 end. But if it please God that we should 
 die here, then I hope we may die together, 
 and not suffer more than our reasons will 
 bear. I very much fear we are going to 
 have a bitter hard time of it, and shall suffer 
 such pangs of hunger and thirst as it has 
 never yet been our misfortune to bear. I 
 don't think we may count on any mercy from 
 those two wicked old rascals above, and our 
 only hope lies in our own efforts enabling us 
 to escape from these terrible caverns. And 
 a small hope that is; for as to getting out the 
 way we came in, that's out of the question. 
 If we do escape, it will be by the sea front; 
 but how we are to do it I don't know. There 
 must be thirty or forty feet of chalk to cut 
 our way through, even if we chance to hit 
 upon the best place to work at, and say that 
 we make as much as a foot a day, there's 
 thirty or forty days' work. But we've got no 
 food, Psyche, and under starvation we shall 
 get weaker and weaker each day ; and I 
 reckon that before a week's out we shall 
 
78 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 have neither strength nor courage to cut a 
 single inch in the day. Still, it's no good 
 despairing before we begin, and if we are to 
 do anything we must look on the best side of 
 things and go about our work hopefully ; so 
 now, first of all, let us see what resources we 
 have got.' 
 
 I rose to my feet, and so did she with 
 alacrity, and as I looked at the remnants of 
 her dinner on the table, she took up the piece 
 of bread left by the jackdaw and offered it to 
 me. I took it to the hole where she kept her 
 food. There was the slice of pork I had 
 sent down, and a few dry crusts. 
 
 ' Caw/ she explained, pointing to them. 
 
 ^ No, we can't let Caw have them,' said I, 
 shaking my head ; ' they are for Psyche and 
 me,' touching her and myself. 
 
 She seemed to understand, for when I put 
 the morsel of bread she had given me into 
 the hole, she blocked it up firmly with the 
 stone, laughing, and then turned to me for 
 approval. I nodded and patted her shoulder, 
 on which she rubbed her hands gleefully, 
 
A ROMANCE. 
 
 79 
 
 and then gave the stone another push for 
 security. 
 
 ' And now. Psyche, we will look about and 
 see where we have the best chance of escape 
 — if any chance there be.' 
 
 At this moment a noise, echoing down the 
 shaft, struck our ears. I took Psyche's hand, 
 and we went through the tunnel. When I 
 looked up I found that the light was no 
 longer visible, the cover had been replaced, 
 and the hammering sound we heard told 
 plainly enough that old Peter was making 
 good the part I had split. 
 
 ' Bom, bom, bom !' said Psyche, laughing. 
 
 * It's a happy thing for you, my poor litde 
 comrade ! that you don't know what that 
 sound means,' said I. ' Those blows might 
 tell you plain enough that he's made up his 
 mind what our fate shall be. Come away. 
 It's like hearing the nails being driven into 
 our own coffin.' 
 
 When we got back into the cave I blew 
 out the light. 
 
 ' Mustn't begin by being careless. Psyche. 
 
So THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 It won't do to burn candle. We may be glad 
 to eat it before long/ 
 
 I groped about in the dark for the store- 
 hole ; but when I explained what I wanted 
 by saying ' Caw/ Psyche at once perceived 
 my object, and led me to the place. 
 
 ' I shall have to get used to this darkness/ 
 said I ; * at present I can distinguish nothing. 
 You must be my eyes.' 
 
 I was silenced for a minute or so by a feel- 
 ing of utter helplessness in the obscurity. 
 Psyche filled up the interval with some little 
 noises of her own, prompted, doubtless, by 
 the same motive that had led me to speak 
 whatever came into my mind. 
 
 ' Yes, that's very true. Psyche,' said I, 
 when she stopped ; ' but where the dickens 
 are we 1 Shall I ever be able to see through 
 this darkness? Heaven help us! what are 
 we to do ? How can I settle where to begin 
 and what to do ? There's the hatchet in the 
 bucket — might as well hack away at some- 
 thing directly as stand here idle. But how 
 can I find the way to the tunnel, or make 
 
A ROMANCE, 
 
 8i 
 
 you understand that I want to go there ? 
 Wait a bit — bom, bom, bom ! Psyche — do 
 you understand me ? — bom, bom, bom !' 
 
 She replied in a cheerful tone, and led me 
 carefully along until I felt the brickwork of 
 the passage ; advancing with still greater 
 care, I reached the shaft and got the hatchet 
 and knife out of the bucket, and I thought it 
 as well to take the bucket and ropes as well, 
 in case I might find use for them. Psyche 
 helped me to haul the ropes along, and, to 
 amuse her, I sang a chant that I have heard 
 at the capstan as the sailors heave up the 
 anchor : 
 
 When all Jack's money is gone and spent, 
 And none's to be borrowed and none's to be lent, 
 Then says the landlord with a frown, 
 ' Get up, you, Jack, let John sit down. 
 
 For I see you're out'ard bound, heave oh ! 
 
 I see youVe out'ard bound.' 
 
 Psyche was in ecstasies over this, and to 
 hear us singing and laughing as we hauled 
 the rope along, one would have thought we 
 had not a care in the world, 
 
 6 
 
82 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 * Well, now where are we, and what are we 
 to do next ?' I asked, as Psyche came to a 
 standstill. ' Oh, my child, for God's sake, 
 don't laugh ! I can't stand it.' The appeal 
 came from my heart involuntarily, for our 
 mirth in the midst of this terrible obscurity 
 overcame me like the singing of a bird in the 
 presence of death. 
 
A ROMANCE, 
 
 83 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 ' Psyche, it's not a bit of good thinking 
 about working in this cave/ said I, when I 
 had brought myself into a practical state of 
 mind again. ' The first blow might bring 
 another avalanche down on us, and ones 
 enough in a day. It's still less a bit of good 
 making any attempt in French Peter s cave, 
 for, to begin with, I don't care to risk my 
 neck in scaling the slope without a light, and 
 our candle's too precious to burn ; and 
 secondly, if we get in there without another 
 cataclysm those blocks would be found more 
 treacherous to work on than these before us 
 (if they are before us — a fact which I cannot 
 decide at present). Very well, then, if we 
 cannot attempt anything in these two caves, 
 there remains only your bedchamber to go 
 
 6—2 
 
84 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 at. That is certainly the safest of the three, 
 and I think we can chop away at the cliff 
 there till we can't chop any longer, with no 
 fear of dying by anything worse than 
 starvation. Now, how can I tell you that I 
 want to be led into the little cave, Psyche 
 Do you know what this means Splash, 
 splash, dabble, dabble, splash By George, 
 you're a better thought-reader than ever I've 
 known,' I added, as she began to lead me 
 along, with a purl of satisfaction in recognis- 
 ing my wish. 
 
 I had not been in this cave before without 
 a candle, and it surprised me now to find 
 how much lighter it was than I expected. I 
 could make out the form of Psyche, and 
 when we came immediately below the strip 
 of blue I could well distinguish her features, 
 although the opening through which the 
 light came was a mere crack, not wide 
 enough in any part, as it appeared to me, for 
 the jackdaw to squeeze his body through. 
 The tide had ebbed, and there was no longer 
 a pool in the cavity, but Psyche, running 
 
A ROMANCE, 85 
 
 down to the bottom and scooping away a 
 few handfuls of sand, showed me that there 
 was still water not far below the surface. I 
 was sorry to see this, for it had occurred to 
 me on seeing the water gone that we might 
 be able to tunnel under the rock instead of 
 through it, and so make our escape by the 
 shore. This would, of course, be out of the 
 question if the bottom of the fallen mass were 
 lower than the level of the sea. Still, there 
 was hope that the tide had not yet reached its 
 lowest. 
 
 I looked up to see if it might be practicable 
 to get to the opening, and by enlarging it 
 to escape thence. But the mouth of this 
 cave was closed, not by a mass of rubble and 
 scattered blocks as in the others, but by a 
 clean-cut mass, sloping outward below, and 
 presenting no irregularities that would 
 facilitate climbing. The walls of the cave, 
 against which it had ground its way in 
 falling, arched over, and were even more 
 impracticable. The opening was, as I 
 reckoned, fifty feet over our heads, we stand- 
 
86 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 ing some twelve feet or so from the nearest 
 wall. 
 
 ' If that great heap of rubbish in the next 
 cave were only piled up here, Psyche said 
 I, finding that I had lapsed into silence. 
 
 She answered by rubbing her cheek 
 against my shoulder, and murmuring some 
 unintelligible sounds. 
 
 ' But it isn't, and we have to do without 
 it somehow. We might drag it in little by 
 little, to be sure, but it would take us months 
 to make a pile that would reach to that 
 opening, and Fm afraid we have not got 
 months to live. If we dared to pull down 
 one of the timbers that shore up the roof in 
 the big cave, with a view to notching it for a 
 ladder, I'm not sure that we could drag it in 
 here ; but I am sure that we could never set 
 it upon end. So that's no good, is it ? No, 
 we must either cut through the chalk or 
 burrow under it. Now supposing we tap it 
 all the way along, and see if any one part 
 sounds less solid than the other.' 
 
 We went to the extreme end on one side, 
 
A ROMANCE. 87 
 
 and with the back of the hatchet I knocked 
 upon the face of the chalk till we reached 
 the other end. It amused Psyche, but it 
 disheartened me, for I could make out no 
 difference in the sound anywhere. 
 
 ' It doesn't matter where we begin, Psyche. 
 We shall just make a mark to show some 
 future discoverer where we tried to escape 
 before we lay down to die, and that's all' 
 
 * That's all,' she said, catching the words 
 and echoing my mournful tone. 
 
 * Well, here goes for a beginning/ said I, 
 in desperation ; and disengaging her hands 
 from my own, I gave a cut at the chalk with 
 my axe. Chipping first of all a square about 
 two feet each way, which I considered 
 sufficiently large for us to wriggle through 
 if ever we got the chance, I worked on 
 steadily till I was tired out. Psyche stood 
 by looking on in silence while I was en- 
 gaged ; but the moment I laid down the axe 
 she took it up and carried on the work ; nor 
 would she give up the axe until her strength 
 failed. 
 
88 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 ' Well done, Psyche ! you are a brave little 
 helpmate,' said I ; but when I took the axe 
 from her hand I felt that she was trembling 
 with exhaustion, and her arms and face were 
 wet with perspiration. I wiped her brow 
 gently with my handkerchief, and made her 
 sit down by my side, with words of sympathy 
 and admiration that sprang from my heart. 
 As for her, I believe that this was the happiest 
 hour of her life, for she cooed with delight as 
 she nestled close to my side. 
 
 We had been working best part of an 
 hour, I imagine, and the sky overhead was 
 getting dark, from which I concluded it must 
 be about seven o'clock, it being now the end 
 of March. 
 
 * We have done enough for to-day, Psyche,* 
 said I, greatly elated by our progress, ^and 
 you have done admirably — quite as much as 
 I have, if not more ; for though your strokes 
 are feebler, you can see what you are at. 
 I couldn't, and half of my labour was wasted 
 in useless blows. I dare say we've knocked 
 the hole six inches deep between us. That's 
 
A ROMANCE, 89 
 
 good. Well begun is half done, it's said, 
 I'm afraid that's not quite true in our case. 
 However, we won't question a hopeful pro- 
 verb. One thing I perceive now that I 
 might have foreseen at first. We haven't 
 got it large enough by two-thirds. We may 
 have fifty feet of the stuff to work through, 
 and we must therefore make the hole big 
 enough to stand upright and work in. 
 That's discouraging, but we won't think of 
 it, will we ?' 
 
 She attempted to respond, but her voice 
 had lost its clear sweetness, and was husky 
 and thick. My own voice rasped my throat ; 
 but the knowledge that she was already 
 suffering from thirst was harder to bear than 
 my own craving, and the anticipation of 
 what she must yet suffer before the end 
 came maddened me. 
 
 * We ??tust have water,' I cried in despera- 
 tion ; ' what can I do ?' 
 
 She nestled yet closer to my arm, as if to 
 comfort me in my evident distress. 
 
 Suddenly I remembered the water at the 
 
90 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 bottom of the well, and the bucket and rope 
 I had in the next cave. I sprang to my 
 feet, and raised my little comrade. And 
 then, striking a match^ 1 hurried into the great 
 cave and seized the bucket. The match 
 went out, but I lit another, feeling that w^e 
 might be prodigal at such a time. We went 
 to the edge of the well, and I drew up a 
 bucketful of water and put it to my lips ; 
 it was brackish, foetid, and undrinkable. I 
 struck my head with a groan, and I would not 
 let Psyche touch it again, eager as she 
 looked at the sight of it. Then I bethought 
 me that if we had any kind of a filter it might 
 be rendered sw^eet and wholesome. 
 
 ' Come along, little one,' I said, ^ we'll see 
 what we can do and, the light being out, I 
 left her to guide me back. 
 
 But now, though it seemed to me no 
 darker than it had been in the earlier part of 
 the day, there was a difference, and Psyche, 
 who could not see in absolute darkness, had 
 to feel her way back. I got out our precious 
 candle and lit it, and choosing a suitable 
 
A ROMANCE. 91 
 
 lump of chalk, I hollowed It out quickly with 
 the axe. Settings it firmly between three 
 stones I filled it wnth water from the bucket, 
 and set that piece of the crock in which we 
 had found water underneath to catch the 
 drops as they filtered through. Then I blew 
 out the light, knowing that we must wait 
 some time for any result. After waiting as I 
 guessed best part of an hour, I lit a match ; 
 the water was gone from the hollow, but not 
 a drop had fallen into the crock, the chalk 
 having absorbed all. When I looked at 
 Psyche she smiled, and, putting her finger to 
 her throat, signified that she was no longer 
 thirsty ; my own thirst had subsided some- 
 what, for it was the heat of our exertions 
 and the dust from the chalk that had made 
 us so dry, and fearing that after all the water 
 might not be drinkable, I thought it better 
 that we should now lie down and try to sleep, 
 with a view to rising early to begin work 
 again. 
 
 I relit the candle, and, taking Psyche into 
 the next cave, pointed to her alcove, and bade 
 
92 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET : 
 
 her lie down. At the same time, as she had 
 a great thickness of the hay and straw sent 
 down from time to time for her use, I took 
 an armful for my own use, and bade her good- 
 night. 
 
 She seemed puzzled and disappointed for 
 a minute at the separation which she saw I 
 intended, but when I spoke gravely and 
 pointed again to the alcove, she accepted my 
 bidding, and having given my hand one last 
 caress with her cheek, ran to the alcove and 
 threw herself down. I made myself com- 
 fortable in the sand in the next cave, and, 
 having refilled the hollowed chalk to the 
 brim, blew out the light. But it was a long 
 while before I could go to sleep for thinking 
 over the means of escape, and trying to 
 devise some better expedient than the 
 laborious one of cutting through an unknown 
 quantity of chalk ; added to the disquietude 
 of my mind, my thirst again began to grow 
 intolerable, and it must have been nearly 
 daybreak when I at last fell asleep. 
 
 It was broad daylight when I awoke, as I 
 
A ROMANCE. 93 
 
 knew by the faint glimmer in the small cave, 
 which revealed the outline of the opening. 
 
 ^ There's no need to wake the poor child,' 
 thought I, as my mind turned to Psyche. 
 So I lay still, trying to moisten miy parched 
 throat by swallowing, and accustoming my 
 eyes to the darkness. I found that the 
 obscurity was less impenetrable to my eyes 
 than I had found it the day before, and that 
 pleased me. But naturally my first thought 
 was of the water I had set to filter ; and I 
 should certainly have sprung up to examine 
 the crock but for the awful dread of finding 
 the water impure. While I lay there, fearing 
 to put this question to the touch, I became 
 conscious of something warm, and, turning 
 my eyes, now accustomed to the semi-light 
 diffused through the cave, I perceived Psyche 
 coiled up beside my litter, her face against 
 my head. My heart melted with this testi- 
 mony of affection — the more because it 
 showed such ignorance of civilization, and 
 was so purely instinctive. 
 
 She was not asleep, and at the slight 
 
94 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 movement of my head she rose on her knees, 
 and, looking down into my open eyes, sang 
 her little elfish song over me. 
 
 It was so sweet, and weird, and unnatural 
 that a sudden terror seized me, as I imagined 
 it might be the first sign of that madness 
 that comes with insufferable thirst. 
 
 I sprang up, and, striking a light, held the 
 match with trembling fingers to the crock. 
 It was full to overflowing, and the water was 
 bright and transparent. I put my lips to the 
 edge, and finding it sweet and good, lifted it 
 with great joy to my dear little friend's 
 mouth ; she drank it eagerly, and yet there 
 was enough left to quench my burning thirst. 
 
A ROMANCE. 
 
 95 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Now that we had water in abundance, I 
 became reckless, and dividing our little store 
 of hard crusts, we ate all at one meal, leaving 
 nothing eatable in the store-hole — except the 
 end of a candle. Then having set more 
 water in the filter, we went into the small 
 cave and continued the work we had begun 
 the night before, enlarging the cutting to 
 three feet in width and six feet in height. 
 In this occupation we hacked on without 
 intermission, turn and turn, until mid-day, 
 and then after the last bout, feeling sick and 
 faint for want of proper food, I would not 
 let Psyche take the axe from my hand, 
 though the willing girl was on her feet and 
 eager to begin the moment I gave over. 
 ' No, Psyche,' said I ; ' we must take our 
 
96 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 dinner-hour the same as other workmen, 
 albeit we have nothing to eat' 
 
 We emptied the crock of sweet water, 
 and Psyche seemed quite contented and 
 happy. We sat down side by side, and I 
 gave my companion a lesson in speech, 
 naming all the things around us, and making 
 her repeat them after me, and then point 
 them out, when I named them again ; and 
 surely no master ever had a more quick and 
 pleasant pupil. In this way we beguiled an 
 hour away, and feeling better for the rest, I 
 returned to the work, but not so hopefully as 
 in the early morning, for certain symptoms 
 already warned me that without food we 
 should be almost as badly oft as without 
 water, and that our strength could not hold 
 out against starvation long enough for us to 
 get through even ten feet of the cliff, and 
 fifty feet must, as I reckoned, be the average 
 thickness of the block. It was astonishing to 
 me how quickly our strength gave out now, 
 and how feeble our strokes became. Before 
 we had been working an hour my limbs 
 
A ROMANCE. 97 
 
 shook after a few blows, and the sweat 
 dropped from my face as if I had gone 
 through a labour of Hercules ; as for poor 
 Psyche, she took the axe now in both hands, 
 and in two or three minutes was forced to 
 yield it up with a little moan of despair. But 
 while I worked she would bear her share of 
 the fatigue, and so when we had struggled 
 on for barely two hours more, I threw down 
 the axe with despair in my heart, and led 
 her away. 
 
 * It is no good, Psyche, not a bit of good,' 
 said I ; ' we haven't cut half a foot deep in 
 the cursed rock. It's useless killing our- 
 selves with fatigue for nothing at all. It 
 must seem a cruel sport to you, poor child ! 
 who have no idea what all this hard work is 
 for. You think it pleases me to see you toil, 
 perhaps ; or maybe you think I am putting 
 your endurance and patience to this cruel 
 test. Why, you poor little soul ! your hands 
 are full of blisters. You may well wince 
 when I touch them ; and now you are 
 smiling and cooing as if it were a pleasure to 
 
 7 
 
98 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET : 
 
 suffer by me. I can understand it, though. 
 I know how I should feel towards any living 
 thing in human form that came to me in a 
 solitude such as this. I'm the only com- 
 panion you have ever known in this secret 
 life of yours — that's why you cling so to me, 
 isn't it ?' 
 
 As I ceased to speak she nestled closer 
 beside me on the rock where we sat, and 
 murmured some words that seemed to 
 entreat me to talk on. 
 
 ' You want more, Psyche, more T 
 
 ' More, more,' she echoed. And so I 
 talked on and on, just whatever came upper- 
 most in my thoughts, until her fingers re- 
 laxed on my arm and her head dropped upon 
 my shoulder. I passed my fingers gently 
 over her face and found that her eyes were 
 closed. There was a tear on her cheek — a 
 tear of happiness, perhaps, with which she 
 had fallen asleep. 
 
 The litter was within my reach, and after 
 holding her silently in my arms until I was 
 assured that her sleep was profound, I 
 
A ROMANCE, 99 
 
 moved her slowly and tenderly down on 
 to it, disposing her in a comfortable 
 position. She only opened her eyes once, 
 and then it was to murmur again, ' More, 
 more !' 
 
 The excitement of the previous day may 
 have kept her awake through the night ; 
 perhaps all the time that I slept she was 
 watching over me, wondering at the strange 
 thing that had come into her world. 
 
 I sat beside her for some time, and then, 
 getting up, I felt along the walls in both 
 caves to see if there were any lichen or 
 growth that would serve us for food, for a 
 ghastly dread now oppressed me that Psyche 
 would die before long, and I should be left 
 with that poor dead little creature to go mad. 
 Food I must get for her, but where } I 
 found nothing on the rocks. I looked about 
 for the jackdaw, but the prudent bird had 
 flown through the gap the evening before, 
 and had not thought fit to return. 
 
 I hardly know how I got through the rest 
 of the day. Psyche slept calmly, and while 
 
 7—2 
 
loo THE SMUGGI ER'S SECRET: 
 
 there was yet a faint light in the small cave I 
 myself fell asleep, sick with hunger and with 
 despair. 
 
 My first thought when I awoke on the 
 third day was of Psyche. Was she still 
 alive ? I asked myself. Creeping to where 
 she lay, I bent over her, holding my breath 
 in dreadful suspense, praying with my very 
 soul that I might hear her respiration. She 
 lifted her arms and clasped her hands about 
 my neck. With a cry of gratitude and joy, I 
 raised her to her feet. 
 
 The mad hope of escape seized me once 
 more, and rushing into the little cave, I seized 
 the axe and attacked the cliff. Psyche stood 
 by, waiting to take her turn, but I kept on 
 till my strength was utterly exhausted. By 
 that time the reaction had come, and once 
 again flinging the axe from me, I swore that 
 I would play this fools game no more, and 
 that come what might neither Psyche nor I 
 should cut another stroke in this maddening 
 endeavour. 
 
 At that very moment Psyche seized my 
 
A ROMANCE. 
 
 lOI 
 
 arm, and after standing silent a moment, 
 burst into joyous laughter and flew from my 
 side. I followed her as quickly as I could, 
 wondering what fantasy possessed her, until, 
 coming into the large cave, her action was 
 explained. From the direction of the well 
 came that signal which my grandfather had 
 told me to make. Someone was whistling as 
 if to a dog. When I reached the edge of 
 the shaft Psyche was singing her yEolian 
 song, and the light from above fell on 
 her pale, upturned face. I looked up and 
 descried a head bending over. 
 
 * Hold on that catawauling !' shouted the 
 voice from above, which I recognised at once 
 as old Peter's. 
 
 I touched Psyche's arm, and she ceased to 
 sing. 
 
 ^ Barnard, you cussed Barnard !' roared 
 Peter. 
 
 ' Well/ I answered. 
 
 ^You blamed warment, you're begun to 
 kick up that hammerin' row down there, are 
 you ?' 
 
I02 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 ' What's that to you ?' I replied. 
 
 ' Why, it's nothin' to me, come to that. 
 But Ben's here — your grandfather — and he 
 can't go to sleep, according to the doctor's 
 orders, while you're a kickin up that racket.' 
 
 Now this seemed to me as artless a reason 
 as my grandfather himself might have offered 
 — coming from the lips of a man who all his 
 life had observed a Spartan indifference to 
 the sufferings of others. However, it was 
 sufficient to know that the noise was objec- 
 tionable, and therefore a possible means of 
 obtaining relief. 
 
 ' You're got to stop it ; do you understand 
 that there ?' he shouted, his wicked old voice 
 breaking from a hoarse bass to a squeaking 
 treble. ' You're got to stop it.' 
 
 ^ I shall make just as much noise as I 
 please, and go on just as long as I choose,' I 
 replied. 
 
 ' No, you won't, blame you ! About three 
 days' starvation would do you. Half a dozen 
 would do me, so I know. In three days 
 you'd be quiet enough. But I ain't a-goin' to 
 
A ROMANCE. 103 
 
 have my boy Ben tormented on his bed o' 
 sickness, I ain't. If it warn't for leaving of 
 him all alone I'd come down and knock your 
 head off; do )'ou understand that there? I'm 
 no more afeard of you than I am of a blow- 
 fly on a bunch o' lights. But to please my 
 boy Ben, and just for the sake of peace and 
 quietness, I'm going to send you down a loaf 
 of bread (pause), and mebbe a lump o' pork 
 (pause), an' preaps a tater or two. But it's all 
 perwising you take your dyin' oath you won't 
 kick up no more racket, you understand that 
 there !' 
 
 As I had resolved not to work upon the 
 cliff again, it was no great hardship to agree 
 to these terms — though I did so without 
 appearing to jump at his offer, and rather as 
 if to oblige my grandfather than myself. In 
 fact, we wasted some minutes in mutual 
 bullying before he w^ithdrew, during which 
 time I trembled with fear lest he should go 
 from his offer. When he came again into 
 sight he had a basket in his hand. 
 
 ' Here's wittles a-comin' down, and they'll 
 
I04 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 come down pretty regular if you behave 
 yourself as a grandson oughter ; but mark my 
 words, if there's any more hammerin' I shall 
 not only stop the wittles, but I'll come down 
 hand over hand, and knock yower blamed 
 head off your blamed shoulder — so you under- 
 stand that there !' 
 
 We waited to hear no more when the 
 basket reached us, but, seizing the contents, 
 ran back to the great cave, and there we 
 devoured the food with such laughing 
 gladness and fervent gratitude as very rarely 
 attends the richest of repasts. And to crown 
 Psyche's delight, whilst there was still bread 
 and meat to spare, we were hailed by a lusty 
 ' caw,' and the jackdaw fluttered down in the 
 very midst of our good things. Sagacious 
 bird ! 
 
A ROMANCE; 
 
 105 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Though I had given my promise to cease 
 cutting at the cliff, and intended to keep it, 
 I was by no means deterred from thinking 
 of escape. It would have needed more than 
 the pangs of hunger to make me accept per- 
 petual imprisonment. And now that we 
 might depend with tolerable certainty on 
 receiving a daily supply of food, the possi- 
 bility of escape was greater than before. 
 We could afford to spend months in the 
 effort. My thoughts turned again to burrow- 
 ing under the rock. 
 
 ' Come along. Psyche ; let us go back to 
 the place and see what we can make of it,' 
 said I, when we had put away in our store- 
 hole all that was left of the food. 
 
 She ran at once and fetched the axe, and 
 
io6 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 seemed rather sorry than glad when I sig- 
 nified that we were not going to use it 
 again. 
 
 ' But there will be plenty of work for you 
 by-and-by, you helpful little friend/ said 1. 
 ^ Only what we have to settle now is which 
 way we are to employ ourselves to the best 
 advantage, and not rush into a hopeless task, 
 as we did in our despair. Just stand quietly by 
 my side while I think it out. And as it seems 
 to me that I think more clearly when I talk 
 aloud, I'll tell you just what comes up in my 
 mind, as if you understood every word, you 
 attentive, wise -looking little soul! Now, 
 there's that confounded mass of fallen cliff that 
 stands between us and freedom, and there's 
 the sand and shingle on which it rests. 
 Where's the best place to scoop out a 
 tunnel and creep under the cliff? At first 
 sight it would seem that Nature has done a 
 good deal for us in making a great cavity 
 down there for us to start from. But I 
 now begin to think that the idea is very 
 misleading. I think that must be the most 
 
A ROMANCE. 
 
 107 
 
 difficult part to begin upon, just because 
 there is a cavity there. For if the mass did 
 not descend a great way there, and present 
 a great obstacle, it would have been filled 
 up before now by the sand silting up 
 every time the water rises. Where the 
 sand is highest, Psyche, there the fallen 
 cliff must have opposed the least resist- 
 ance to the inwash of the tide. Now 
 there's a little water at the bottom there ; 
 we'll scoop it out, and then see on which 
 side the water flows in most quickly. 
 Run and fetch me the crock. Psyche — 
 crock.' 
 
 She looked at me an instant, and then, 
 remembering the word I had taught her, 
 ran off swiftly, and returned with the crock, 
 hugely delighted. 
 
 I descended into the hollow and baled 
 out the water, and watched what followed 
 keenly. 
 
 ^ There,' said I in triumph, ^ look at the 
 little thread of water glistening in the light ! 
 That comes from the right hand, and there. 
 
io8 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET : 
 
 exactly as it should be, the shingle and sand 
 are highest/ 
 
 Acting upon this theory, I found the 
 highest point of ground, and, digging down 
 with the axe against the face of the fallen 
 cliff, made a beginning of this long job. 
 As soon as Psyche perceived what I was 
 about, she fell on her knees, and dug out 
 the loose sand, using her hands for a 
 tool. 
 
 'Wait a bit, little one,' said I. ^ You 
 have blisters on your hands ; come with 
 me, and let us see if we can't find something 
 in the shape of gloves to cover them.' 
 
 Amongst the things she had hung about 
 her alcove were some pairs of thick knitted 
 stockings, for which she had found no use. 
 I made her slip her arms into a pair, and 
 the feet, covering her hands, served as a 
 very good protection to them. They excited 
 her mirth immensely, and though they 
 seemed at first to tickle her arms and 
 produce discomfort, she was well content 
 to wear them when I signified my ap- 
 
A ROMANCE. 109 
 
 proval of their use — indeed, there was no 
 incident in her life at this time which did 
 not in some way minister to her happiness. 
 
 Digging in the sand was far less laborious 
 than cutting a cliff, and we worked on 
 without feeling fatigue until I decided that 
 we should take our dinner-hour. By that 
 time we were standing in a hole as high 
 as my armpits, but we had not yet reached 
 water, though the tide had risen its highest, 
 as one could see by the pool in the hollow. 
 I was very well satisfied, however, with the 
 progress we had made, and, standing on the 
 edge, when I nodded approvingly to Psyche, 
 she looked down and nodded approvingly 
 to me. 
 
 After our meal we set to work again, 
 and kept on till the light faded, only pausing 
 for half an hour in the afternoon to rest and 
 refresh ourselves with some bread and water. 
 How we relished this simple fare no one 
 can imagine who has not suffered privation, 
 and done a long spell of good hard work. 
 
 We had made less progress in the 
 
1 10 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 afternoon than in the morning-, for not only 
 was the sand and shingle more compact 
 and difficult to work as we got lower, but 
 the labour of throwing it up out of the pit 
 was far greater ; and for that reason I gave 
 Psyche the axe to loosen the ground, while 
 I scooped it up with a piece of the broken 
 crock and shot it out. However, we had 
 every reason to be content with our day's 
 work, for we had sunk the pit to a depth 
 of seven feet, and the tide rising again at 
 the time we struck work showed that we 
 had come to the level of high water, if not 
 below it. 
 
 As we had done so well this day I 
 thought we might afford to have a litde 
 light with our supper — Psyche being as 
 unable as myself to see in total darkness — 
 so I got out the candle, which even our 
 hunger had spared, and struck a match. 
 Although the light was still trying to 
 Psyche's eyes, she was greatly interested 
 in the means of producing it ; and when I 
 made her strike a match she gave a long- 
 
A ROMANCE. 
 
 drawn exclamation of wonder at seeing 
 the light burst forth, and continued to hold 
 it at arm's length until the flame approached 
 her fingers, when she dropped it with a 
 cry of terror ; for heat was as much a new 
 experience to her as light. But the crowning 
 surprise came when (taking advantage of 
 the light) I drew out my watch, which had 
 run down, wound it up, and set it to what 
 I thought might be the hour. She bent 
 over it in mute astonishment, pointing to 
 the second hand as it travelled round, and 
 repeating softly the sound it made. I 
 think she looked upon it as a living thing, 
 a kind of ^ caw,' for she murmured that word 
 dubiously among the strange musical sounds 
 she made when I ceased to talk to her, and 
 when I put it in her hand she smoothed it 
 with her cheek, and would by no means 
 allow it to lie on its face, though the shining 
 back drew forth a coo of admiration. I 
 took it to her alcove and put it below the 
 blanket that served for her pillow, and she 
 was content to lie down at once and keep 
 
1 1 2 THE SM UGGLER '5 SECRE T : 
 
 it company, fancying, I imagine, that by my 
 keeping it in my pocket it was a delicate sort 
 of creature, that must be kept warm and 
 comfortable. I heard her singing to it in 
 a low tone for some time afterwards as I 
 sat in the dark, pondering over the strange 
 things that had happened to me. 
 
 I was awoke in the morning by the 
 whistling of old Peter down the shaft. 
 
 ' Send up the pitcher, you little varmint !' 
 he called as I took the things from the 
 basket, ' and the bucket likewise, if you 
 want any water !' 
 
 ^ The bucket is down below, and the 
 pitcher's broken,' I answered. 
 
 With a profusion of curses he drew up 
 the cord, lowered a fresh pitcher of water, 
 pulled up the cord once more, and slammed 
 the cover down, without waiting to hear the 
 song of thanks which Psyche, who had 
 quickly followed me, offered. She put the 
 watch with tenderest care into my hands. 
 I left her to set out our breakfast, which 
 she instinctively saw was her business rather 
 
A ROMANCE. 113 
 
 than mine, and went to have a peep at the 
 blue sky. I found the water high in the 
 hollow, and after a refreshing dip I peered 
 down into our pit to see if it was as w^e had 
 left it. I saw that the rise and fall of the 
 water had caused a slip in the sand, and 
 above two feet of our work would have to 
 be done over again. This was no more 
 than I had expected, but I perceived that 
 we must devise some means of shoring up 
 the sides before we could make more 
 progress. Returning to the large cave, I 
 bade Psyche go and take her dip — an 
 instruction which she readily understood 
 and accepted — while I sat down to consider 
 the subject of shoring up the pit ; but some- 
 how I could hit on no device until Psyche, 
 having taken her bath, came back and sat 
 down by my side, and I told her what was 
 on my mind, in the hope that some idea 
 would come to me. Por I began to see that 
 this method of thinking aloud, besides being 
 agreeable to my companion, brought a clearer 
 perception of things than silent meditation. 
 
 8 
 
1 1.4 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 * You see, Psyche/ said I, breaking the loaf 
 ill half and giving her one portion, 'we may 
 have to go a good way further down yet, and 
 all the time we are working below the level 
 of high water we shall be subject to continual 
 washing down and washing in of sand and 
 rubbish. If it were shored, the water coming 
 in would be an advantage, for it would loosen 
 the stuff, and we could pull it up in the 
 bucket. (And that reminds me that we 
 shall have to time our eating and drinking, 
 and our sleeping as well, maybe, to take 
 
 advantage of the hours when the water is 
 
 <_> 
 
 low enough to allow of our working.) The 
 only way I can think of is to w^all it round 
 below the water level with chunks of chalk. 
 The job will be to bring them in from the 
 great heap out there — and a long job too, 
 carrying them in one at a time. If we only 
 had a barrel that we could fill and roll along 
 now ! Barrels there are enough in French 
 Peter's cave — I saw some intact, as if they 
 were still full of spirits. And there's just 
 about enough candle to last us through. I 
 
A ROMANCE. 115 
 
 wonder if we might venture in there. It's 
 worth trying — what do you think, my quiet, 
 attentive little friend 
 
 What she did think I cannot tell ; but 
 taking her encouraging manner for approval 
 of my idea, I determined to make the 
 attempt. That morning we climbed the 
 great slope, and happily with such unexpected 
 escape from accident that I have nothing to 
 tell of our passing into French Peter's cave 
 this second time, except that we found the 
 slip had considerably opened the gap at the 
 top, and that my descent to the bottom of 
 the inner side was less ignominious and 
 terrifying than before. I saw no material 
 change in this cave. 
 
 A couple of barrels, sheltered by an angle 
 of rock, had escaped destruction. I knocked 
 in the heads and found them full of spirit, 
 which I ruthlessly emptied away, thanking 
 God that I had not thought of them when 
 thirst might have tempted me to seek a mad 
 forgetfulness in their contents. The empty 
 tubs we got up the slope, and rolled down 
 
 8—2 
 
ii6 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 into the inner cave, having first filled them 
 with old staves, which might serve us in the 
 future for a light ; and also we took a crow- 
 bar and another axe from Psyche's altar. 
 The gold lay there in mockery of the power 
 of wealth : I would have ijiven as much of it 
 as a man could take in return for an iron 
 shovel. 
 
 And now, having got all that we wanted 
 for our present use, we returned to the big 
 cave — again passing over the treacherous 
 slope without accident — and carried our 
 treasures to the edge of the pit. 
 
 The water had now ebbed, and in order to 
 see better what the face of the cliff looked 
 like at the bottom I chopped up a couple of 
 staves into thin strips, and, having built them 
 up in a cone on the edge, I set fire to them. 
 And this led to an unanticipated result which 
 I hasten to tell. 
 
 The fire had not been burning ten minutes 
 when we heard old Peter whistling furiously 
 down the shaft. 
 
 ' What are you at now, you young plagues T 
 
A /ROMANCE. 117 
 
 he called, when I answered his whistle from 
 the bottom of the shaft. * Ain't ye got no 
 feelin' of respec' for the sick that you go a 
 choking your poor grandfather with this here 
 smother of smoke ? Do you want me to 
 come down and knock your heads off ? You're 
 got to put that there fire out at once, do you 
 understand that there ?' 
 
 ' We must have light,' I answered. 
 
 ' Must have light, blame ye ! Do you 
 think we're rollin' in riches that we can afford 
 to feed the both on you and keep you in 
 lights as well ? Put out that there fire. 
 Your grandfather's a-chokin ' ! don't you hear 
 him 
 
 ' I'll put out the fire when you send me 
 down candles.' 
 
 He went away and returned with amazing 
 celerity. 
 
 ' There's candles for a week, and you shall 
 have more when they're gone, pervising you 
 put out that fire at once, and don't light it no 
 more. It's all for my poor Ben's sake, mind. 
 I'd never give you food nor candles nor 
 
Tl8 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 nothin' else, if I had my way. Tm doin' of 
 it to please my boy, mind that.' 
 
 But I knew better, and now saw through 
 this pretended paternal sympathy. The 
 smoke was not ascending the well, but 
 streaming up through the gap in the cave 
 over the pit, and he feared that it would 
 attract the attention of the coastguard. 
 That also was why the noise we made in 
 cutting the cliff had brought him to reason. 
 
A /ROMANCE. 
 
 119 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 ' It's as clear, my little friend, as the blessed 
 blue sky up there,' said I to Psyche. * These 
 old rascals have given us food to cease ham- 
 mering, and candles to put out the fire, for 
 fear we should succeed in betraying our 
 imprisonment to the coastguard, who passes, 
 probably, once or twice a day along the cliff. 
 It never occurred to me that we might attract 
 attention leading to investigation by those 
 means ; but now that it is obvious, the 
 question arises whether, instead of going 
 on with our tunnel, which we cannot hope to 
 complete without weeks and weeks of patient 
 toil, it would not be better to devote all our 
 energies in this new direction, shouting, 
 hammering, sending up a cloud of smoke, 
 and doing anything else that might excite the 
 
I20 
 
 THE SMUGGLEW'S SECRET: 
 
 curiosity of anybody passing near. We might 
 even make a rod long enough to thrust 
 through the hole up there by sphtting the 
 staves, and binding them together; and tying 
 my handkerchie^f to the end, we might agitate 
 it from morning till night, in addition to 
 the means we already have. The notion is 
 tempting; what are the arguments against 
 it ? I'm not more afraid of old Peter than 
 he is of me — perhaps less ; so I don't think 
 we need consider his promise to knock our 
 heads off as a serious danger. But he might 
 square the coastguard, and he might find 
 means of rolling rubbish down to choke up 
 the hole above us, and he certainly would 
 stop the supply of food. We know what that 
 means. If we did not make ourselves heard 
 in a few days it would be all up with any 
 chance of escape, so that, on the whole, 
 I doubt if an openly offensive policy is 
 wise.' 
 
 Psyche, listening with the greatest atten- 
 tion, shook her head dubiously, seeing me 
 do so. 
 
A ROMANCE. 
 
 121 
 
 ^Besides/ I continued, 'there is this to 
 consider. If an investigation should be made, 
 these two old reprobates would cut and run, 
 and we should never see them again. At first 
 sight that does not look like a misfortune. 
 But there's your future welfare to consider, 
 my poor Psyche, and that depends very much 
 upon bringing the wretches to justice who 
 have blighted your youth. Revenge can do 
 us no good, but we must wring out the secret 
 of your captivity ; we must find out your 
 family, and restore you to those from whom 
 you were taken, that you may have friends 
 to love and to take care of you when we two 
 part.' 
 
 'When we two part,' she echoed blankly, 
 and yet in a tone so full of mournful regret 
 that I could almost believe she understood 
 the meaning of my words. 
 
 The sound alone was language to her. 
 
 ' Then we'll make up our minds to take the 
 slow and safe course, and go pegging away at 
 this hole steadily till we burrow through to 
 freedom. Gloves, Psyche.' 
 
122 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 That word being one that was quite under- 
 standable, she dashed off with deHght, and 
 returned with the stockings on her arms, 
 ready for anything I might bid her do. 
 Dropping down into the pit, I Ht a candle, 
 and, scraping the sand away, examined the 
 face of the cliff Near the bottom I dis- 
 covered an angular fracture. With the crow- 
 bar we had brought away from French Peter's 
 cave I succeeded in wrenching out a large 
 block of chalk, when, to my great delight, I 
 found that there was nothing below but sand 
 and shingle, showing that we had come to 
 the bottom of the fallen cliff. 
 
 The disengaged block I prised into that 
 portion of the pit which had fallen in through 
 the action of the water, as a beginning to the 
 wall with which we had to surround the lower 
 part, and then, as there was still water at the 
 bottom, I fetched the bucket from the well, 
 and getting down again into the pit, filled it 
 with the loose sand and pushed it up, while 
 Psyche hauled from the top, where she 
 emptied it. Working down lower and lower, 
 
A ROMANCE. 123 
 
 the vertical line that marked the bottom of 
 the chalk became more and more distinct as 
 the sand dropped away from its base. In a 
 couple of hours I had reached a depth that 
 seemed sufficient to permit of opening the 
 lateral boring ; but, as it was necessary to 
 secure the sides of the pit from falling in with 
 the next rising tide, we spent the rest of the 
 morning in shoring it round with the barrel- 
 staves (for which we had now no other use), 
 kept in place by lumps of chalk, which we 
 rolled in from the great cave in the empty 
 tubs. This was hard work, and we had to 
 lose no time, for fear the water should rise 
 before the job was done ; but, happily, we 
 got the sides fairly well protected before the 
 tide rose, so that I think there was not 
 above a dozen bucketfuls of sand to take 
 away when it fell again, and best part of that 
 had washed in from under the cliff in the 
 direction our boring was to take, which was 
 so much to our advantage. 
 
 I had looked at my watch when the water 
 disappeared from the bottom of the pit, and 
 
1 24 THE SM UGGLKR 'S SEC RE T : 
 
 again when it rose, and found that the 
 interval between was a Httle over four hours, 
 so that we could reckon on having eiglit 
 hours' uninterrupted work in the boring out 
 of the twenty-four, which left us sixteen for 
 clearing away the sand thrown up from the 
 pit, for any other incidental work, and for 
 rest. And in this order we worked thence- 
 forth, never failing to take advantage of low 
 water, only that, as the da)s went on, we 
 found it necessary to change our hours of 
 rest, sometimes sleeping in the day to take 
 advantage of the ebb that came in the night. 
 But this was of little consequence to us, 
 for, as we burrowed further and further 
 under the cliff, we worked constantly by 
 candle-light, and could make night in the 
 cave at any moment by simply blowing out 
 the light. 
 
 It must not be imagined that we had no 
 difficulties or hardships to contend with. 
 We had to proceed like moles, scraping the 
 wet stuff away before us, and pushing it 
 back until the bucket in our rear was full, 
 
A ROMANCE. 
 
 125 
 
 when it had to be dragged out into the 
 shaft and shot up to the surface. The 
 mere labour of dragging the stuff out and 
 returning for more occupied much time, 
 and increased materially as we got further 
 from the pit. At one point we found our 
 progress completely stopped by a rock em- 
 bedded in the sand, and after attempting for 
 three days to work it out by means of the 
 crowbar, we were forced to turn aside and 
 burrow round it. The rising tide was a 
 continual source of trouble and anxiety, for, 
 besides washing in the sides of our tunnel, it 
 sapped the shoring of the pit, which gave 
 way twice, despite our watchfulness, doing 
 mischief that took us, on each occasion, a 
 week to repair. In addition to this, we were 
 in continual dread of being blocked in by 
 the fall of the ragged and unequal mass 
 above us. 
 
 I shall never forget our horror one night — 
 or viy horror, rather (for Psyche seemed to 
 to know no fear when with me) — on feeling 
 a difficulty in breathing, and observing our 
 
126 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 candle burn low. On backing along the 
 tunnel I discovered that the thing I dreaded 
 had come to pass: a mass of sand and shingle 
 had fallen in and completely blocked our 
 retreat. The more we thrust with our feet 
 the more compact the obstacle became. The 
 water was rising in front of us, and it seemed 
 inevitable that we should be drowned there 
 like rats in a drain. Every moment the 
 difficulty of breathing became greater, and 
 an awful singing in the head warned me that 
 we were being suffocated. It was the terrible 
 sensation we may all have experienced in 
 dreaming of being buried alive. The water 
 advanced steadily, but we still stuck in the 
 same place. We lay in water up to the neck, 
 only keeping our mouths free by raising our 
 heads against the top of the tunnel. To 
 make the horror greater, our light went out. 
 I clasped Psyche's hand, thinking it was all 
 over, and resigned myself as well as I could 
 to the death that seemed close at hand. But 
 the water that threatened to drown us saved 
 us, by loosening the sand behind, and, 
 
A ROMANCE. 127 
 
 suddenly, to our inexpressible relief, we 
 breathed freely as the sand melted away 
 before the pressure of our feet. When we 
 got out into the cave I fell upon my knees 
 instinctively, and knelt there sick and tremb- 
 ling with emotion, while Psyche raised her 
 little hymn of gratitude above me. 
 
 This terrible accident made me decide that 
 night that we would run the awful risk no 
 more, but the next morning hope overcame 
 my fears, and I went again into the tunnel, 
 leaving Psyche, however, in the cave to do 
 work that I reckoned would occupy her till I 
 came out. Before I had been there an hour 
 she came to my side with a joyful cry, having 
 done in that time all that I had set her to do, 
 and done it well. I let her stay. ' I do not 
 think you could live alone now, Psyche/ said 
 I ; ' and so, if I am to perish in here, you may 
 as well die with me.* 
 
 But we were not again caught in this way, 
 and despite all the difficulties we had to over- 
 come — of which I have instanced only a few 
 — at the end of two months from the time we 
 
128 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 first began our tunnel, we had penetrated 
 under the diff a distance not less than forty 
 feet from the pit ; and this I reckoned might 
 fairly be considered about half the distance 
 we had to go. 
 
A ROMANCE. 
 
 129 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 We received our supply of food and candles 
 with tolerable regularity from above. When 
 there v^^as any sign of neglect or forgetfulness 
 on the part of old Peter, a rap on the cliff 
 with the hatchet brought him at once to the 
 mouth of the well with a request to know 
 what in the name of goodness we wanted 
 now. He protested several times against 
 our wasteful extravagance, and the expense 
 to which we were putting him, in a much 
 injured tone, as though we were there of our 
 own choice. Above all, the waste of candles 
 irritated him the most. 
 
 ' You're got to do wirout 'em,' he shouted 
 one day in reply to my request. ' The young 
 un's done wirout 'em, and you're got to do 
 wirout em ; do you understand that T 
 
 9 
 
I30 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 But on my suggesting the alternative of 
 lighting a bonfire the candles came quickly 
 enough. I also insisted on a supply of linen 
 being sent down for the ^ young un/ and a 
 change for myself, promising to let him have 
 my clothes to vi^ash regularly every week ; and 
 though he swore with the most emphatic 
 oaths at his command that he would never 
 accede to these demands, every one of them 
 was complied with as soon as I raised my 
 voice in anger to a pitch that might be heard 
 outside the cottage. 
 
 We were not unmindful of the future. 
 Every day we put by something out of the 
 supply of food, in case of accident ; and, 
 foreseeing Psyche's wants when we made 
 our escape, I took the measurement of her 
 little foot, and sent it up with a demand that 
 shoes of that size should be sent down the 
 next day. I am not sure that old Peter, 
 who became exceedingly recalcitrant towards 
 the last, would have given in to this, but just 
 at that time my grandfather got about, and 
 old Peter, with a heavy volley of parting 
 
A ROMANCE, 131 
 
 curses, disappeared one morning, and we saw 
 and heard him above us no more ; and 
 though my grandfather, adopting old Peter's 
 manner and style of speaking, swore lustily 
 enough that we had 'got to do wirout 'em,' 
 he truckled under, and the shoes came down 
 the next morning. 
 
 But a preparation of far greater importance 
 than this gave me great concern. I had to 
 make the girl understand something of the 
 great world into which she would go when 
 she left the cave in which she had passed 
 her life — the world in which probably ^he 
 would go one way and I another — fearing that 
 the sudden revelation of such a world would 
 take away her reason, just as the glare of day 
 might blind her if I did not now accustom 
 her eyes to the light of a candle. To do this 
 I had to teach her to speak, and train her 
 imagination to form ideas from the sound of 
 words. 
 
 She was not wanting in intelligence, and 
 quickly picked up the use of such words as 
 were necessary to our immediate wants. She 
 
 9—2 
 
1 32 THE SMUGGLER 'S SEC RE T : 
 
 was as ready to learn as I to teach ; and sat 
 beside me hour after hour in our time of rest, 
 repeating what she had heard, and adding to 
 her store of phrases. For over three months 
 she studied in this way, never showing a sign 
 of impatience or lassitude, and then a change 
 came. Naturally, she understood what I said 
 to her far better than she could express her 
 own meaning — at last comprehending what 
 I said so well that she rarely asked me to 
 repeat a word or change the form of a phrase. 
 Then her interest in learning declined. The 
 incentive was gone now that she had mastered 
 the difficulty of understanding words ; and 
 it seemed to me that her tongue was stiller 
 than when she could merely babble without 
 reason. 
 
 When I urged her to speak she would 
 nestle closer to my arm, smoothing her cheek 
 against my shoulder coaxingly, with a faint, 
 half-sad smile. 
 
 ' Talk to me,' she would murmur ; ' talk to 
 me as you did when I knew nothing but what 
 I saw in your face. You have so much to 
 
A ROMANCE, 
 
 133 
 
 tell me about ; I have nothing to tell ) ou that 
 you do not know/ 
 
 Her phrases were ungrammatical and 
 broken, like a child's, but this was their mean- 
 ing. 
 
 So I talked, and she was content to 
 listen, sitting as still as a mouse. I told 
 her about the wide-spreading sky and the 
 glorious sun that rose on one side and 
 set on the other in soft clouds of beautiful 
 colours, and of the moon that came when 
 he was gone, and of the myriads of 
 stars, like the little one we saw at times 
 through the hole in the cave, that spangled 
 the heavens all over, when neither sun nor 
 moon was there to dim them ; and then I 
 spoke about the broad sea and the things in 
 it and on it, and the fields of green grass 
 dappled with bright-coloured flowers, and 
 the trees where birds far prettier than Caw 
 sang songs almost like her own. 
 
 She never tired of hearing these descrip- 
 tions, but they did not excite her with any 
 eager desire to escape from the cave and 
 
134 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 see and hear all that she loved to be told 
 about. I fancy they must have been to her 
 like those descriptions of Paradise, which 
 tickle our ears, but fail to stimulate us with 
 a desire to go there one moment before the 
 inevitable time. 
 
 Indeed, the outer world must have been as 
 incomprehensible to her stunted imagination 
 as the idea of limitless space or infinite time 
 is to the majority of ordinary people. She 
 could form no conception of a world that had 
 no chalk walls. 
 
 She seemed to take greater interest in 
 hearing about men and women than about 
 things. The existence of other human beings 
 in another cave was understandable, but her 
 delicate brows creased in perplexity to 
 hear that the number of men like myself, 
 and girls like her, was beyond our count- 
 ing. 
 
 ' Do they all live together ?' she asked in 
 bewilderment. 
 
 I tried to explain how people were grouped 
 in communities, and the communities divided 
 
A ROMANCE, 135 
 
 into families, and how the families, while the 
 children were young, lived all under the 
 same roof, but scattered and went different 
 ways when they grew up, leaving only the 
 old ones to live together. She could not 
 think that was good, and one evening, when 
 I told her I hoped to find her family, she 
 said : 
 
 ' What is the use, if we are all to live sepa- 
 rate in different caves ?' 
 
 This idea, I am sure, occupied her thoughts 
 a good deal. One day she coaxed me to 
 neglect work, herself showing a repugnance 
 to it for the first time. 
 
 ' Talk, talk !' she said, holding my arm. 
 
 ' But there is work to do. The water is 
 out. I must not lose a minute.' 
 
 ^ Why do you want to get out into that 
 world ?' she added. • Must you live alone, 
 too ? There are three caves here. I w^ill 
 go in the next one if you do not want me 
 with you. And then this will be better than 
 .that great one, where all go away from those 
 who love them.' 
 
136 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 'We'll talk about that another time, 
 Psyche/ said I, rising. 
 
 She let me go alone for half a dozen steps 
 — it was the first sign of opposition on her 
 part ; then she sprang up with a cry of 
 regret, and, overtaking me, mutely looked 
 into my face, her eyes pleading for forgive- 
 ness. 
 
 And that morning she worked in the bur- 
 row as she had never worked before. To 
 see her, one would have thought that her 
 happiness, rather than mine, depended on 
 our escape. 
 
 I tried in vain to obtain some history of 
 the past from her ; she could reveal nothing 
 beyond her life in the caves. ' Always 
 here, always the same till you came,' she 
 said. 
 
 Days and weeks and months slipped away 
 without seeming tedious, even to me ; to 
 Psyche they were all too short. We rarely 
 worked for less than ten hours a day, and 
 every fresh inch of progress in the burrow- 
 added to my hope of a happy end. In the 
 
A ROMANCE. 137 
 
 intervals between work and sleep we amused 
 ourselves sometimes in playing bowls with 
 the rounded pieces of chalk that we found in 
 our excavation ; sometimes in carving a run- 
 ning scroll that I designed on the wall of the 
 smaller cave. The latter amusement pleased 
 Psyche greatly. She had a strong imitative 
 faculty, and became very deft in the use of a 
 knife in carving ; but the great charm of this 
 occupation was that it beautified our dwelling- 
 place. No lady could be more fastidious 
 about the arrangement of her drawing-room 
 than she was about the wretched appointments 
 of these miserable caves ; she seized eagerly 
 any suggestion for making them more habit- 
 able. Caw was no longer allowed to perch 
 on the loaf, nor was he permitted to hop 
 across the table at meal-times. 
 
 She became scrupulously careful about her 
 personal appearance. When we came from 
 the burrow, all bedabbled and grimed with 
 salt water and sand, she retired into her 
 alcove, which I had screened with a blanket, 
 and thence she came forth in due time dressed 
 
138 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 in her best, and with shoes and stockings on. 
 She was prodigiously proud of the addition of 
 shoes to her costume, as being like mine, and 
 never let me see that they pained her every 
 time she moved — for she had worn them 
 some weeks before I discovered, by accident, 
 that they were far too small for her poor feet. 
 Taking me as her model, she would have cut 
 her hair short like mine, but I forbade that, 
 and taught her to plait it in two long tails — 
 which was the only arrangement I could think 
 of in the absence of hair-pins — to her immense 
 delight. 
 
 Without doubt, a great and good change, 
 physical as well as moral, was produced in her 
 by the altered circumstances of her life. She 
 made flesh ; her cheek lost its hollowness, and 
 a little colour came into it ; her shoulders ex- 
 panded, her arms grew plump, and her figure 
 developed more graceful curves. She was 
 more human. At first her laughter brought 
 tears into my eyes, but now there was a 
 joyous ring in it that made me glad. She 
 had a healthy love of gaiety and fun, and a 
 
A ROMANCE, 139 
 
 most human craving for praise and admiration. 
 Only when she grew tired something of the 
 old elfish, pensive sadness came back to her 
 face, and at these times she would forsake her 
 amusements and coax me to talk about the 
 world she was going to, and the people in it, 
 sitting wistfully silent by my side. 
 
 It was on the 30th of August — just four 
 months and three days from the day I was made 
 prisoner — that a stroke of Psyche's hatchet 
 brought down a cone of wet sand, and a shred 
 of light streamed into our tunnel through a 
 crack at the edge of the chalk over our heads. 
 ' At last I cried, driving my hatchet into the 
 crack, and so widening the gap that a great 
 flood of light burst upon us. 
 
 With a moan of pain Psyche dropped her 
 axe and covered her eyes with her hands. 
 Frantic joy made me brutally indifferent to 
 her suffering ; I thought only of my recovered 
 liberty, and, dropping the hatchet, tore away 
 the sand and shingle with my hands, until I 
 had made a hole through which I wriggled 
 
I40 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 my body. Then I stood up, and stretched 
 out my arms towards the open sky over m) 
 head, thanking God aloud with a choking 
 voice for His mercy. 
 
A ROMANCE. 
 
 141 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A FAINT cry of despair reminded me of my 
 selfish forgetfulness, and, turning about, I dis- 
 covered Psyche standing at a Httle distance 
 from me, with her arms outspread, vainly 
 endeavouring to see in the light that blinded 
 her. There was a piteous, bewildered look 
 in her face, that seemed to say, * I am aban- 
 doned. What shall I do in this world where 
 each one goes his way ?' 
 
 And then, when I looked at her hair matted 
 with the sand, her drabbled dress hanging 
 heavily from her shoulders with the sea wash 
 from the burrow, my heart reproached me 
 for my ingratitude. For she had toiled as 
 much as I — nay, more; cheerfully ready at 
 any hour of the night or day to bury herself 
 in the wet sand, to dig and drag as she was 
 
142 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 bidden, suffering hardships with smiles, 
 risking her Hfe fearlessly day and night for 
 months in the struggle to make me happy, 
 and all for this — to be forgotten in the first 
 moment of my freedom ! 
 
 ' Oh, you are not gone !' she exclaimed, 
 clutching my hand as I touched her and 
 spoke her name. ' Not yet,' she added, 
 striving to open her eyes that she might see 
 me. 
 
 ' I shall never leave you, Psyche,' I said ; 
 ' I only forgot you for a minute in the first 
 joy of seeing the world again.' 
 
 ' Is it so very beautiful?' she asked. 'I can 
 see nothing but a light that makes me ache.' 
 
 ' The sun is right over our heads ; it 
 makes me blink to look up. When he goes 
 down you will be able to look at the glory of 
 it. But you feel the beautiful fresh air, don't 
 you T 
 
 ' Yes, it is good — like drinking when you 
 are thirsty.' 
 
 ' Yes, that is true, and the sight of the 
 blue sky is like that too.' 
 
A ROMANCE. 143 
 
 * I wish I could look at it/ she said, raising 
 her pale face, and moving her head from side 
 to side. ' How warm it is ! Tell me what 
 you can see.' 
 
 ^ Nothing but the sun, and sky, and cliffs, 
 and some jackdaws playing about up there/ 
 
 * I hear them, I hear them,' she said joy- 
 fully — ' Caw, caw, caw !' 
 
 ' We are surrounded by great masses of 
 broken cliff ; they shut out the view of the 
 sea. But we can climb over them and make 
 our way to the open shore, as soon as the 
 light fades and you can use your eyes.' 
 
 ' Why should we wait, if you want to get 
 there ? You can guide me in the light, just 
 as I used to guide you in the dark — do you 
 remember she asked tenderly. 
 
 ' Yes, I remember, dear. But I dare not 
 venture now ; the tide is rising, and we may 
 be hemmed in. It will be better to wait till 
 the tide ebbs ; then we shall have nothing to 
 fear, and shall both see. Besides, we have 
 our things to get ; we should be laughed at 
 if we showed ourselves in this state.' 
 
144 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 ' I will put on my shoes ; no one will laugh 
 at me then.' 
 
 A wave ran up between the rocks and 
 touched our feet ; it was time to return. We 
 wriggled back into our burrow, the mouth of 
 which I stopped as well as I could with pieces 
 of chalk, to prevent the inrush of sand, and 
 backed into the cave, dragging the bucket 
 after us with the sand dug out in our 
 passage. 
 
 The eight hours that followed were the 
 longest and most tedious I had yet endured. 
 I had long ago decided upon the course I 
 should take when we got out of the cave, and 
 there now seemed absolutely nothing to do. 
 To dispel the tedium, I was almost tempted 
 to make an expedition into French Peter's 
 cave ; I was deterred rather by the useless- 
 ness than the danger of the venture. The 
 treasure w^as safer there than it could be any- 
 where else, and it would have been alike 
 dangerous and futile to encumber ourselves 
 with it in our flight. 
 
 At six o'clock my grandfather whistled 
 
A ROMANCE. 145 
 
 down the well, and lowered a basket of 
 provisions. 
 
 ' You re got to do wirout bread to-night, 
 cause the baker ain't been to-day,' he called. 
 ' But you'll get double allowance to-morrow 
 mornin' if you behave yourself.' 
 
 I emptied the basket, and sent it up with- 
 out a word ; but I mentally promised to 
 behave myself in a manner that would 
 astonish him before another day was out. 
 
 At eight o'clock we went into the tunnel, 
 and had an hour's work in clearing away the 
 sand washed in by the tide. At length the 
 passage was free, and Psyche, looking up, saw 
 the countless stars in mute wonder. 
 
 ' Our work is done ; we can put on our 
 best now/ I said to her. 
 
 We went back and changed our clothes — I 
 trembling and my teeth chattering with excite- 
 ment. 
 
 ^ Must we leave all ?' Psyche asked in 
 a low voice, when she came from her 
 alcove. 
 
 ' Yes ; there is nothing here that we shall 
 
 xo 
 
146 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 ever want again, please God/ said I. ' Wait ; 
 there is the food we have put by in case of 
 need. I wull put it out for Caw/ 
 
 'Yes, poor Caw! He will never sit on 
 my shoulder any more. We shan*t have to 
 scold him for coming on our table again.' 
 
 I ran into the other cave and threw all our 
 store on the slab that served us for a table, 
 while Psyche remained in the lesser one. 
 Through the opening I saw her by the light 
 of the candle that stood on the ground 
 touching with her cheek the carving in the 
 chalk on which we had spent so many hours 
 together, and laying her hand tenderly on 
 the hatchets we had used in our work ; and 
 when we descended for the last time into the 
 pit she turned round, and, spreading her 
 arms towards the cave as if to take in all that 
 was dear to her, said, ' Good-bye 
 
 The moon had not yet risen, but the stars 
 gave us, inured to obscurity, ample light to 
 find our way between the rocks and over the 
 scattered masses of cliff to the open shore ; 
 but it would have been another thing to have 
 
A ROMANCE. 147 
 
 retraced our steps through such a chaos to 
 the hole from which we had come. Happily, 
 we got clear of the sea-swept boulders while 
 the tide was yet low. 
 
 Psyche gazed at the boundless expanse of 
 sea and sky in silent awe for some time, and 
 then she murmured half to herself, ^ Too 
 large, too great !' But she was delighted 
 with the stars, and when, rounding Deadman's 
 Point, we came in sight of the young moon 
 hanging over the water with the shadowed 
 disc in its embrace, a low cry of rapture came 
 from her lips. We got on to the downs by 
 the gap beyond Deadman's Point, and struck 
 across for the old London road, and now that 
 we had no cliff beside us, Psyche's wonder 
 at the unbroken expanse around us was 
 inexpressible. ' No walls !' she said. And 
 the soft grass under her feet in place of the 
 sand she had always known was another 
 marvel. She tried to scoop it up in her 
 hand as if it were sand, and when I plucked 
 some and put it in her palm, she laughed at 
 the oddity of this new world. 
 
148 THE SM UGGLER 'S SEC RE T : 
 
 We had not yet met a single living 
 creature, but as we neared the road I heard 
 sounds of footsteps and voices, and Psyche told 
 me she saw two persons coming, one little and 
 one big. i\ few seconds afterwards I saw a 
 stout woman and a boy laden with bundles. 
 Psyche slipped round and clung to my other 
 arm to be safe, while she strained her eyes 
 in wonder to see a girl so large and a man 
 so small. 
 
 ' Mrs. Benham,' I said, recognising my 
 old landlady as we drew near. 
 
 ^ Surely that's not Mr. Bernard come back !' 
 she exclaimed. 
 
 ' It is indeed, and I'm on my way to take 
 possession of my old rooms, if you have not 
 let them to anyone else.' 
 
 ' Bless your heart, no, sir ! There they are 
 just as you left them. I shouldn't have had 
 the heart to let 'em to anyone else if I'd had 
 the chance. Little did I think you would 
 ever come back to them ; and it's a real 
 comfort in the midst of my trouble to see you 
 again. There, take the keys, sir ; there they 
 
A ROMANCE. 149 
 
 are all, and you know the look of 'em almost 
 as well as I do. You haven't heard the sad 
 news, I'll warrant ; how should you, when 
 I've only just got the message by tele- 
 graph myself ? The lad there brought it, 
 and scared me out of my wits, nearly half an 
 hour ago. My poor son has been landed 
 from his ship at Southampton with a fever, 
 and there he lies now in a stranger's house 
 with no one to care for him. And now Tm 
 on my way to Bonport to catch the last train, 
 though while I am talking here I may lose it. 
 I will write to you to-morrow and tell you 
 more, and you will let me know all about 
 your own affairs, that I have no time to ask 
 about now, though I am dying with curiosity 
 to know how you have fared and every- 
 thing.' 
 
 ' Everything ' included Psyche, whose un- 
 covered head and bare arms drew her eyes 
 from me in perplexity, even while her mind 
 was so divided between thoughts of her 
 son and myself. As for the telegraph 
 messenger, who was carrying a part of the 
 
THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 old lady's hastily-packed luggage, he could 
 scarcely close his mouth or take his eyes off 
 Psyche, even when Mrs. Benham trotted 
 on, calling him to come along. 
 
 ' Who is that one that you spoke to ?' 
 whispered Psyche as we went our way. 
 
 ' A dear old friend. We are going to 
 live in her house.' 
 
 ' House — that is a cave.' 
 
 'Yes, a kind of cave. I lived wath her 
 before I came to you.' 
 
 ' Not very long 
 
 ' Yes ; years — much longer than I have 
 lived with you.' 
 
 ' Then everyone does not go a different 
 way — some stay together.' 
 
 ' Oh yes. A son sometimes stays with 
 his mother, even when he is no longer a 
 child. A brother may live with his sister 
 till they grow quite old.' 
 
 ^ Will you be my brother ?' 
 
 ' Yes, Psyche ; that is just what I should 
 like to be.' 
 
 She hugged my arm close, and was silent 
 
A ROMANCE, 151 
 
 for awhile. I pointed to the trees of The 
 Chase park as we neared them. She looked 
 at them indifferently, reminding me that I 
 had told her about them. Then presently, 
 while I wondered what she was pondering, 
 she said : 
 
 ' You like that old woman ?' 
 
 ' Yes ; she has been like a mother 
 to me.' 
 
 ' But you didn't talk to her as you talk 
 to me/ she said, smiling and shaking her 
 head. 
 
 ' What makes you think that ?' 
 
 * Oh, I am sure of it,' she answered with 
 delighted satisfaction, ^ and that shows that 
 you like your sister more than you like your 
 mother.' 
 
 I laughed, and then, having come to the 
 cottage, I told her that it was here we were 
 to live. She looked at it incredulously, for 
 to her it seemed no more than a strangely- 
 fashioned mass of rock, and could hardly 
 believe her senses when I opened the door 
 and showed her it was habitable. 
 
i52 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 I lit a candle and took her through the 
 rooms below, and then up the stairs to the 
 rooms above, and she was speechless with 
 wonder at the strangeness of it and all the 
 surprising contrivances it contained. When 
 I got her to speak I found that she did not 
 admire the rooms. After the caves they 
 were as much too small as the world was 
 too large. The low flat ceilings and squared 
 walls were ugly to her eyes. But the 
 quantity and variety of colour everywhere 
 delighted her. Two things astonished her 
 beyond the rest — a looking-glass, and a rose 
 growing in a pot. The glass she thought must 
 be water ; the scent of the rose took her breath 
 away. She was charmed with the canary 
 that hung in the sitting-room— it was such 
 a wee little * caw,^ and so prettily coloured ! 
 I put it in her bedroom, telling her that it 
 would sing to her in the morning. 
 
 ' Show me how I may take him out of his 
 house,' she said. 
 
 ' No, you must not do that,' said I. ' He 
 would fly away if you did/ 
 
A ROMANCE. 153 
 
 She looked into my face in mournful 
 silence for a moment, and then she said : 
 
 ' Does everything that we love in this 
 world fly away and leave us ?^ 
 
154 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 When Psyche had called her last ' good- 
 night ' to me from her room, as in the cave 
 it was her custom to do before composing 
 herself to sleep, I stole out of the house to 
 breathe again the fresh air and enjoy the 
 full sense of freedom. 
 
 After standing awhile gazing all round at 
 the heavens with an ineffable joy in my heart, 
 I passed through the garden, and turning 
 instinctively towards The Chase, followed the 
 familiar path to the park gates, my step 
 growing quicker and more elastic under an 
 elation that was easily to be accounted for. 
 When I left The Chase I had no prospect 
 more hopeful than that of realizing Sir 
 Henry Duncan's cynical suggestion by 
 finding a Golconda. Well, I had found 
 
A ROMANCE. 155 
 
 what to me was a Golconda, and now I 
 could face Sir Henry and demand his 
 daughter s hand. 
 
 It was nearly midnight ; there was no 
 light in the lodge-keeper's window. The 
 gate was unlocked, and not a hundred yards 
 down the drive there was a bend from which 
 the house could be seen. With no excuse 
 but a lovers folly, I passed the gate and 
 walked to the bend, and there I stood for 
 fully five minutes gazing at a solitary light 
 in one of the windows, giving a loose rein 
 to my fancy, and letting it carry me into a 
 Paradise where I saw no face but Ethel 
 Duncan's. 
 
 When at length I turned to go back I 
 perceived a tall gray figure standing in the 
 alley, formed by a footpath which turned 
 from the drive at the bend. It was Sir 
 Henry ; I recognised him at a glance. 
 There was nothing extraordinary in his being 
 there at this hour, even if the night had been 
 less tempting to a late stroll. He was a 
 man of odd, ascetic habits, sometimes con- 
 
IS6 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 fining himself for days together in one room, 
 at others wandering on the downs night 
 after night in weather that made even the 
 coastguard shirk his duty. 
 
 ' Who are you ?' he asked, stepping 
 forward. 
 
 ' Bernard Thorne.' 
 
 ' I thought so/ he said, and then, placing 
 himself before me with a stride as I was 
 about to pass on, he added, in a peremptory 
 tone, * Tell me what you are doing here.' 
 
 I hesitated to answer, feeling that I had 
 placed myself in a ridiculous position. 
 
 ' You have come here to see my daughter,' 
 he said in an angry tone of conviction. * You 
 have written to her.' 
 
 ' I have done nothing of the kind.' 
 
 ' Is that true ?' he asked in a tone that 
 stung me. 
 
 ' You have never known me attempt to 
 deceive you,' I answered warmly. 
 
 * Indeed ! You promised you would not 
 return until you had a fortune to offer my 
 daughter.' 
 
A ROMANCE. 157 
 
 * And on that condition you suffered me 
 to hope that I might make her my wife. 
 It was an expedient, perhaps, to get rid of 
 me. You did not expect me to return before 
 you had married your daughter to a husband 
 more to your taste than your late secre- 
 tary. But you held out that hope to me ; 
 I accepted it ; and now that you see me 
 here you know the reason — I have a fortune 
 to offer your daughter.' 
 
 * It is incredible. I was told you had 
 gone to America. Even there you have 
 not had time to make a fortune — honestly.' 
 
 ' I dare not trust my tongue to answer 
 you after that insinuation/ said I, stepping 
 aside in order to pass him. 
 
 ' Wait,' he said, putting his stick rudely 
 before me. ' Our estimate of fortunes may 
 differ considerably. What is this fortune you 
 have made i^" 
 
 ^ I cannot tell you. It may be ten 
 thousand pounds ; it may be less.' 
 
 ' Ten thousand pounds ! Do you know 
 that my daughter may accept a husband with 
 
T 5 8 THE SMUGGLER \S SEC RE T : 
 
 twenty times that amount. You mistake 
 your position. What is ten thousand 
 pounds ?' 
 
 ' Enough to make me independent of your 
 generosity, and that is all I sought. I dare 
 now to ask your daughter to be my wife, 
 and it is for her — not you — to decide 
 whether I shall be her husband or not.' 
 
 ' One moment. One question at least I 
 have a right to ask, and one which you, 
 with the antecedents of your family before 
 you, ought to answer. How have you come 
 by this money ?' 
 
 ' I am not in a state of mind at this 
 moment to tell you my history. If I told 
 you now you would think me more mad 
 than my presence here at this time gives 
 you reason to suppose I am. In a proper 
 time and place I will tell you all.' 
 
 ' Before you speak to my daughter i^' 
 
 *Yes.* 
 
 Upon that we separated without another 
 word. 
 
 I greatly regretted this meeting with Sir 
 
A ROMANCE, 159 
 
 Henry, and the avowal it had led me to make. 
 For, ardently as I desired to meet Miss Dun- 
 can, and put my fate in her hands — a desire 
 that was now made more urgent by Sir 
 Henry's hint that he had a richer husband 
 in view, and the fear that by delay I might 
 lose her — I felt that I must do my duty by 
 my faithful little friend, and provide for 
 Psyche's future happiness before I considered 
 my own. 1 must wring a confession of the 
 mysterious crime from my grandfather, and 
 find the girl's family. I had promised not to 
 abandon her, but without that promise my 
 heart would never have suffered me to oro 
 away from her, as she pathetically put it, 
 until I had found those who had a right to 
 take my place as her guardian and dearest 
 friend. If Sir Henry Duncan thought fit to 
 question my grandfather about the fortune I 
 had acquired, the old rascal, discovering my 
 escape, would, to avoid unpleasant con- 
 sequences to himself, get out of the way 
 before I could draw a confession from 
 him. 
 
i6o THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 I reflected also that Mrs. Benham or the 
 telegraph boy might spread the news of my 
 return in Bonport, and that this would 
 speedily reach old Peter's ears and put both 
 the old rascals on the alert. However, there 
 was one simple way of securing my grand- 
 father, and that was to forestall others by 
 tackling him at the very earliest hour. With 
 the determination to go over to the Halfway 
 House as soon as it got light, I returned to 
 the cottage and lay down without taking off 
 my clothes, that I might not oversleep myself. 
 Nevertheless, it was broad daylight and past 
 six o'clock when I awoke, and then it was 
 only Psyche's cry of delight from the next 
 room that aroused me. The canary was 
 singing. 
 
 ' Hark, the little caw!' she cried. 
 
 I bade her sleep again until I called her, 
 and slipped noiselessly out of the house, 
 fearing my going would trouble her if she 
 knew it. 
 
 Looking down to the shore from the cliff at 
 Deadman's Point, I saw the waves bursting 
 
A ROMANCE. 
 
 i6i 
 
 over the scattered rocks where we had risen 
 from our burrow the day before. The great 
 blocks were so closely thrown together that it 
 was impossible to distinguish the exact spot, 
 and I knew that by this time the sea had 
 washed in the sand and effaced every outside 
 trace of our work. It seemed to me now 
 hardly possible that we two could have been 
 lying toiling under that fallen cliff for over four 
 months. Something unpleasantly akin to a 
 thirst for vengeance possessed me as I neared 
 the Halfway House and thought of the old 
 villains who had doomed me to perpetual 
 imprisonment there, and who had robbed 
 poor Psyche of all that makes youth and life 
 worth having. 
 
 Turning the handle softly, I found that the 
 door was locked. The blinds were drawn 
 down. Over the window pane I had broken 
 to get into the place on the day of my 
 capture, a sheet of brown paper had been 
 pasted. I wetted my fingers, struck it in the 
 middle, and made a hole through the brown 
 paper without noise. My grandfather was 
 
 1 1 
 
l62 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 Stumping about in the washhouse, for this 
 was about the hour when he sent down our 
 breakfast. Taking advantage of the noise 
 he made, I tore down the brown paper, 
 slipped my arm through, and unfastened the 
 catch. The next minute I had the sash up, 
 and the minute after that I was standing in 
 the Httle parlour. 
 
 The washhouse door was closed. I 
 opened it without noise, and found my 
 grandfather in front of me, leaning over the 
 well with the cord in his hand. For just one 
 moment my fingers itched to slip that cord 
 round his neck and pitch him down the well. 
 
 He was whistling lustily — a signal which 
 either Psyche or I usually answered at once. 
 
 * Can't make the beggars hout,' he muttered ; 
 ' in gen'al they comes fast enough for their 
 grub, and it's a lucky day when that gall us 
 Barnerd don't holler out for extrys.' He left 
 off muttering, and recommenced whistling 
 and jerking the cord. 
 
 'What's the marrer wi' you — are you hill T 
 he roared. After waiting a minute or two he 
 
A ROMANCE. 163 
 
 drew up the bucket to see if it had been 
 emptied. When it came up full he set it on 
 the edge of the well and scratched his head. 
 
 ' Good Lord, if one on ' em's dead !' he 
 murmured; and then, looking round in the 
 scared way of those whose consciences are ill 
 at ease, he caught sight of me standing 
 within a couple of paces of him. His jaw 
 dropped, his face turned gray, his eyes started 
 from their sockets, and he staggered back to 
 the wall, stretching out his quivering hands 
 to keep me off. His old jaw closed and fell 
 as he attempted to speak, and his breath 
 caught in his parched windpipe with a click 
 at each respiration. At length he gasped 
 out : 
 
 ' God forgive me if I ever done you harm. 
 Lord knows IVe alust acted for the best 
 according to my lights. 'Twasn't me as put 
 you down. Father's got to answer for all 
 thatj a gallus, wicked old man. I've supplied 
 ye reg'lar — ^denied ye nothin'.' He broke 
 off with a choke, terrified out of his wits by 
 my silence and immobility. Then he gasped 
 
 II — 2 
 
THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 again, loosening his neckcloth with one hand 
 and motioning me back with the other : 
 
 ' For God's sake speak ! tell me you're not 
 his fitch! tell me I haven't murdered my 
 Sukey's boy !' 
 
A ROMANCE. 
 
 165 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 I SUPPOSE my appearance was not sufficiently 
 ghostly to create more than a temporary effect 
 upon my grandfather ; for after regarding me 
 with unreasoning horror as he crouched 
 against the wall for a few minutes, the 
 strained muscles of his face relaxed, a look 
 of hopeful doubt and suspicion twinkled in 
 his blue eye, and he breathed more easily. 
 Gradually he straightened himself, and with 
 growing confidence rolled his tongue round 
 his cheek once or twice, and spoke : 
 
 ^ You don't mean to say as it's your identi- 
 cal self, Barnerd ! you don't go for to tell me 
 as you're got out in the night like a thief 
 in the same, and as youVe come here for a 
 sort of a spree to frighten your po'r old grand- 
 father into a hillness 
 
i66 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 * I am your grandson Bernard — so much 
 the worse for me ; and I have got out — so 
 much the worse for you. But I have not 
 come here for a spree : I have come to call 
 you to account/ 
 
 'Where's the other one — her?' he asked, 
 nodding towards the well. 
 
 ' Not down there.' 
 
 ' Where are you took her to ?' 
 
 ' Where you can do her no more harm.' 
 
 ^ Lord ! what'Il father say to this.^' exclaimed 
 the old man in a tone of consternation. 
 
 ' We shall hear what he has to say when 
 he is brought to justice.' 
 
 * You're not going to inform on him 
 You won't send a old man of ninety-fower to 
 prison ?' 
 
 ' It may be that both of you will end your 
 days in gaol. You have no right to expect 
 more mercy than you have shown to that 
 helpless child, whose life you have blasted.' 
 
 My grandfather tottered, clinging to the 
 edge of the well for support. 
 
 ' Sonny,' said he faintly, drawing the back 
 
A ROMANCE. 167 
 
 of his hand across his forehead, ' I can't 
 go no furder like this. I must have a drop 
 to keep me up, or my legs '11 give under 
 me/ 
 
 He passed into the next room, and I 
 followed close at his heels. Taking an 
 innocent-looking teapot from the corner 
 cupboard, he drew a cork from the spout 
 and helped himself to a dram. 
 
 ' Now Tm better/ said he stoutly, as he 
 rested himself, ' let's hear what you're got 
 to say. If it depends on me to save father 
 from going to gaol, you may depend upon 
 my doin' my duty as a son.' 
 
 * Do you see that ?' I asked, pointing to 
 one of the texts with which the walls were 
 plentifully decorated. 
 
 ' Yes ; I sees it fast enough ; but what it's 
 all about I dun' know\ They comes here, 
 these Scripsher-readers, and sticks 'em up 
 accordian to their fancy, but I can't read 'em.' 
 
 ' Honesty is the best policy," that's what 
 it says ; and I advise you to keep that in 
 mind; for if I have reason to doubt the 
 
i68 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 honesty of the confession you have to make 
 to me, I shall go at once to Bonport, and 
 bring you and your father before judges who 
 will find means to get the truth out of 
 you/ 
 
 The old man looked at me with deep cun- 
 ning in his shifty eyes as he turned over the 
 quid in his cheek, and then he said : 
 
 * You know you can depend on my word, 
 sonny, else you'd ha' gone to the justicrs 
 fust.' 
 
 ' I have come to you first because I would 
 spare myself the shame of seeing you in the 
 felon's dock ; but I am prepared to meet that 
 shame to learn the truth.' 
 
 ' What do you want to know T 
 
 ' I must know all about the poor girl you 
 have kept in the caves from her childhood.' 
 
 ' Right you are, sonny. Now, you look 
 in my face, and I'll look in yourn, and if you 
 see me so much as wink a eye, set me 
 down for a liar. Now then, start on !' 
 
 With these words he planted his hands 
 firmly on his knees, bent forward, and so 
 
A ROMANCE. 
 
 169 
 
 fixed his eyes that they looked as if they 
 were of glass and several sizes too large. 
 
 ' Who is that girl ?' I asked. 
 
 ' I don't know no more than what you do.' 
 
 'What is her name ?' 
 
 ' I can't tell you : on my dyin' oath I don't 
 know.' 
 
 * How long have you kept her down 
 there T 
 
 ' Twelve years last July the thirteenth.' 
 
 ' Where did you take her from ?' 
 
 ' We didn't take her ; she was give to us 
 by a man.' 
 
 ' Who was that man ?' 
 
 ' I don't know : I'll take my oath on it.' 
 
 If honesty may be gauged by the ability 
 of a man to look you straight in the eyes, 
 then my grandfather was as honest in this 
 declaration as anyone could desire. 
 
 * How did the child come into your 
 hands ?' I asked. 
 
 * That's a question as I can't answer in 
 two words. It's a longish story; but I'll 
 tell it you just as fair and square as if I was 
 
I70 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 before a judge and jury. And look you 
 here, sonny, you think Tm a hard-hearted, 
 un-christian Philistian ; but I'm going to 
 show you the contraries, and then if you 
 think Tm only fit to rot out the rest of my 
 days in a gaol, you can go and peach on me, 
 and be d d to you.' 
 
 With this he struck the table a blow with 
 his fist, and turned over his quid ; then, fixing 
 his eyes again on me, he began : 
 
 ' It was twelve years ago, as I tell you, 
 the thirteenth of July, that me and father 
 was wuss off than ever we'd been in our life. 
 Father had just done his seven year ; Sukey's 
 money was all gone ; you was at school earn- 
 ing nothing, and only kep' there because it 
 was cheaper than keepin' of you elsewhere, 
 seein' as the payment was allowed to run on 
 like, in consideration of your bein* a kind of 
 school help ; and the sm.uggling business 
 was reg'lar finished for good and all. We 
 was that pinched we d scarce got the price 
 of a plug betwixt us — and that was got 
 through me reforming. Well, just then 
 
A ROMANCE, 171 
 
 comes this man to father, and asks him if 
 he'd mind takin' of a chest out to sea, and 
 droppin' of it in a clear five miles from land, 
 which this here job was to be done that night. 
 Father smelt a rat, and said that if this were 
 a contraband job he'd have to be paid heavy 
 for the risk he run. The man owned it was 
 a contraband job, and the chest must not be 
 opened by us nor anyone else ; and he'd 
 g^ive us something han som if we pulled it 
 off all right, but not a farden if we didn't. 
 Father — he says, says he, proud like, Fve 
 a-been a smuggler," he says, ''man and boy 
 seventy-one year" — he was then height) -two 
 — ''and I've never lost so much as a quid of 
 baccy; and it don't stand to reason as I'm 
 going to be run down now." The man an- 
 swered and said he knowed father's record, 
 and that's why he'd applied to him. So it 
 was agreed there and then that father should 
 have a boat ready waitin' off Deadman's Point 
 at high water, which was half after eleven. 
 Father was for doin' the job all alone, but 
 he couldn't get no one to lend him a boat. 
 
172 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 'cause, you see, he wasn't known like nor 
 much respected at Bonport, havin' just come 
 off his seven year at Dartmoor. So in this 
 here fix he comes to me ; and I goin' to 
 church reglar, and drawin' my bread every 
 Sunday, was that trusted that a Plymouth 
 Brother lent me his boat in the afternoon to 
 pull to Towerbridge, I a-makin' out as the 
 rheumatics didn't allow of my walking. I 
 takes the boat and lays round the p int, out 
 of sight, till nightfall. And as pretty a night 
 it was as ever I see for harvestin' a crop o' 
 tubs, with the wind comin' right out o' the 
 sou'west, the rain a-comin' down a treat, and 
 as black as a hedge. At eleven o'clock we 
 beaches the boat, and at half after comes this 
 man with his chest. There was not a word 
 spoke : we put the chest in, run the boat 
 down, and the job, I counted, was as good 
 as finished. We pulled out without a light 
 till we was about a couple of mile out, and 
 then father, leaving the work to me, lugs out 
 a bit of a lantern from his pocket, and 
 spreadin' his tarpaulin over it, takes and lights 
 
A ROMANCE, 173 
 
 it with a lucifer. Father," I says, says I, ''we 
 don't want no Hght for this job, and the lamp 
 may do us a mischitf." " Speak when you're 
 spoke to, young un/' he says — ^' young un " 
 he called me, though I was over sixty — 
 ''speak when you're spoke to. I'm goin' 
 to see what's in this here chest. It ain't the 
 fust time I've known half-hearted uns chuck 
 away stolen property when they thought it 
 might lead to information." And with that 
 he shoves a cold chisel under the lid, and 
 with a sharp wrinch bustes it open. *' Curse 
 it !" says he, showin' the lamp inside, " it ain't 
 nothing but a gal." And as I leant forard 
 I see there a child looking like as if it was 
 comferably asleep, with a little twist of hair 
 blowin' about in the breeze. Is it dead ?" 
 I says. Of course it is/' says he. " Do 
 you think it 'ud lay still and not snivel if 
 it wern't ?" And he was taking his lantern 
 out, and goin' to lling the lot out in disgust, 
 when I stops him, for, by the Lord ! I see the 
 child's eyes open under the light. The wind 
 and rain had kind o' revived it, I reckon. 
 
174 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 Father," I says, it's alive!" *^Well, we 
 won't give it time to get fractious/' says he, 
 banging down the Hd. Now, sonny, I hadn't 
 never done any job of this sort before, and I 
 turned sick at the thought of heaving that 
 Hving child into the sea Hke a mangy dog ; 
 for she looked to me the very daps of my 
 Sukey when she was a little un. Then, as 
 father laid hold of the chest, for to heave it 
 out, the sickness inside of me seemed to turn 
 to fire, and I what had never dared tell 
 father my soul was my own, I upped and told 
 him, with a voice as didn't seem to belong to 
 me, as Td peach on him, if he hanged for it. 
 Father he was goin' to knock my head off 
 my shoulders then and there ; but on second 
 thoughts, he din't. After turnin' of it over 
 in his mind a bit, he says, says he : If we 
 don't drown the young un, what are we to do 
 with it ? It don't stand to reason that we're 
 goin' to lose the price of this here job." 
 ''Well," says I, '^you pull me into Pringle's 
 Hole, and I'll run up with it home, which I 
 may well do wirout bein' seen in such a love 
 
A ROMANCE. 
 
 175 
 
 of a night as this here. Then Til come back, 
 and we'll pull out a bit and then into Dead- 
 man's P'int, and take the money off the gent/' 
 ''That's all right for to-night," he says ; but 
 what are you goin' to do with the varment to- 
 morrow, and hever after ?" Do with it !" says 
 I ; I'll rare it up like as if it was my own child." 
 
 ' We disputed of it a long while, but at 
 last father give in, and we carried out my 
 plan accordian — the gent looking in the boat 
 when we run in to Deadman's P'int, and goin' 
 off quite content.' 
 
 My grandfather shifted his position, passed 
 his tongue round his cheek once or twnce, and 
 resumed, with fresh fixity in his eyes : 
 
 * I'm a-tryin' to recollect the succumstances 
 exact, so as I may not accidentially tell a 
 huntruth,' he explained. ' Next day father 
 called on me, and seein' the youngster layin' 
 in bed covered up^ he says, 'Ms she dead 
 '' No," says I ; but she seems very queer, and 
 I don't think she's goin' to live, for she haven't 
 spoke a word, and only took a drop o' milk 
 since here she's been." Well," says he 
 
176 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 in his masterful way, if she don't die 
 youVe got to keep her down in the caves ; 
 and if you don't keep her down there, 
 by the laws I'll find a way to do for her. 
 Tve been thinking this thing over, and I'm 
 ashamed of myself for givin' in like I did. I've 
 acted upright with my employers, man and 
 boy, over seventy year, and I ain't goin' to be 
 found out actin' shabby now. We was paid to 
 put the varment away, and you're got to put 
 her away, or / zuill,^' says he. I knew he 
 meant it, for I never knew father to tell a lie 
 in business. ^' I'll drop in to-morrow and see 
 how things is goin'," he says when he left. 
 The child got better that afternoon, though 
 she was not clear in her head, being always 
 kind o' half silly. So seein' she were not goin' 
 to die, I had a go with my conscience as to 
 what was best for to be done. Now, if I 
 defies father, what's goin' to happen ? I 
 asks myself. Answer— Why, one fine morn- 
 in' the young un '11 disappear as sure as ever 
 is. What then ? Answer — I shall be the 
 cause of father committin' a wicked crime, 
 
A ROMANCE, 177 
 
 and have to answer for the young un's comin' 
 to a untimely hend. Puttin' of it the other way 
 about, what then ? I shall save the young un's 
 life, and keep father's hands clean — leastways, 
 as clean as what they are at present. More- 
 over, thinks I, I shall be keepin' that child 
 out of harm's way, and bringin' of her up 
 in the ways of innocence. For what is the 
 roots of all sin in this world ? Why, temp- 
 tation. Well, there won't be no temptation 
 down in them caves, and no goin' astray, any- 
 how. So havin' argeyed it out this way, sonny, 
 it looked to me as if I was doin' the most right- 
 eous thing out for to take her down below 
 and keep her there. Which I did. I took her 
 down there, and made her comferable. I 
 learnt her to wash herself, and all manner. 
 Day after day I went down there, to see 
 how she were gettin'on,for nigh three months, 
 and then, seein' she was just as happy wirout 
 me as what she was with me, bein' always a 
 kind of a natural, and not in possession of 
 her mind, as you may say, and seein', like- 
 wise, as I got a bad attack of rheumatism, so 
 
 12 
 
178 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 I wasn t equal to gettin' up and down easy, 
 I dropped it, and din't go down no more. 
 But every day reg'lar I let down her food, 
 and now and then such little treats as new 
 clothes, and blankets and beddin', which she 
 had learnt for to take when I called, as before 
 leavin' I had showed her. Well, sonny. 
 Heaven has smiled on my hefforts. The 
 child has growed up in innocence, and con- 
 tent, and been blessed with remarkable health ; 
 not a day has she missed singin' of her little 
 song to me to show her gratefulness for 
 my kindness till you went down there and 
 hupset the happlecart of contentment. She's 
 lived a reg'lar life — which is what we all 
 should pray for ; and I ask you if it is likely 
 she would have done the same if exposed to 
 temptations, rough weather, and things what 
 plays the deuce with our constitootions. Hear 
 me out, sonny ; you shall have your say 
 d'rectly. You think I'm a gallus hard- 
 hearted Philistian, I know ; but you can't 
 accuse me of bein' careless of the young un's 
 welfare, You see what a takin' I was in 
 
A ROMANCE. 179 
 
 when I broke my leg and couldn't let down 
 the food reglar, and how I betrayed myself 
 and father to you rather than let her want for 
 a day's grub. But Til give you a proof more 
 stronger than that of my abidin' thought and 
 kindness. I'm goin' to show you what it 
 would cost me my life for father to know. 
 I'm goin' to show you what's in that little 
 bag I wears round my neck, and was so fear- 
 ful about bein discovered when I went off at 
 the Trusty Mariner. You remember that I 
 told you if I went off and didn't come back, 
 you was to open it; dint I ? Well, it was 
 all that the young un shouldn't come to no 
 harm after I had cut my everlastin' cable. 
 There, look at that there !' 
 
 The old man had unbuttoned his waistcoat, 
 and brought out from beneath his shirt the 
 leather bag that hung round his neck. From 
 this he drew a folded piece of cloth, and 
 opened it. On it were pasted down a dozen 
 scraps of paper, each written upon by a 
 different hand. 
 
 ' I can't read, and I can't write,' he ex- 
 
i8o THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 plained ; ' but I've got varies friends to jot 
 down the words I wanted at odd times, so as 
 none could tell what I was arter, or the 
 meanin'of what they writ, and Tve put em 
 together as I got them done. There you 
 are. You're a scholard ; read that. 
 
 ' I Under the Half-way House] [betwixt 
 Sandy-haven and Tower-bridge,' | | ' there's 
 two I [caves, I |and in them caves | | There's 
 a live female. | | To get her go down, | 
 I the well, I I in the centre] | Of the wash- 
 house 1 I At the back of the kitchen, | | And 
 go through j I the brick passage near the 
 bottom. I I The female will | | Die of Star- 
 vation I I unless rescued immediate. | ' 
 
 ' There now, sonny,' said my grandfather, 
 when I had read this strange communication. 
 ' If I had come to a sudden hend, they must 
 have found that in layin' of me out. So you 
 see, I din't only take care on her whilst I was 
 living, but I pervided for her after my death. 
 Could I do more 
 
A ROMANCE. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 After hearing my grandfather's extraordi- 
 nary story, I was disposed to take a more 
 lenient view of the part he had played in it 
 than had been previously presented. Indeed, 
 I did not see how a man of his character 
 could have done better — a character in which 
 cunning supplied the place of moral strength, 
 and the lawless proclivities of early days were 
 oddly blended with the respectable tendencies 
 of his later years. 
 
 I did not for a moment doubt that he had 
 saved the child's life. In relating that part 
 of the story his manner alone carried con- 
 viction. And it seemed to me quite possible 
 that, with the distorted views of right and 
 wrong which the ignorant owe to an imper- 
 fect comprehension of religious instruction 
 
l82 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 imperfectly given, he really looked upon him- 
 self as a benefactor to poor Psyche, in keeping 
 her out of the way of temptation and sin. 
 Certainly, if his story was to be believed, he 
 had acted with more humanity towards her 
 than if, in the first instance, he had simply 
 washed his hands of the whole business and 
 left that helpless child to the mercy of his 
 father — a course which most men in his 
 position would have taken. 
 
 But then, I was not quite certain that my 
 grandfather's version of the story was to be 
 believed. 
 
 It was not the improbability of the story 
 that shook my faith in it, for nothing was 
 ever produced by the imagination of man so 
 bizarre as the stories in real life to be found 
 in the file of a newspaper, and nothing in this 
 story was so improbable as the fact of a 
 human being existing for twelve years alone 
 in a sunless cave — a fact I have since found 
 paralleled in a dozen well - authenticated 
 records. The thing I could not digest was 
 my grandfather s exceeding disinterestedness : 
 
A ROMANCE, 183 
 
 that seemed to me quite too good to be 
 true. 
 
 * Speak out, sonny, if you're got any 
 question a burnin in your mind/ said the 
 old man, seeing that I was not quite satis- 
 fied. ' I'm prepared to answer any question; 
 here am I, lookin' of you straight in the 
 face.' 
 
 ' How much money did you get for that 
 job ?' I asked. 
 
 ' I can't tell you 'xactly how much ; but 
 quite a lot.' 
 
 ' You must know how much your father 
 gave you for your share.' 
 
 ' Well, off and on, I dussay he's give me 
 as much as fifty pound.' 
 
 ' And you have managed to keep yourself 
 and the girl on that for twelve years ! — it's 
 not quite two shillings a week. You remem- 
 ber that you hadn't enough to buy tobacco 
 with twelve years ago.' 
 
 ' Yes, my boy, I remember,' he replied, with 
 that cunning look which was so out of char- 
 acter with some of his professions. ' But 
 
i84 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 you forget how virtue is rewarded here below, 
 and what a lot I made by reforming my ways, 
 and signin' pledges, and one thing and 
 another/ 
 
 ' But how about your father ? He has not 
 reformed. You signified that he could raise 
 a hundred pounds to buy this cottage. Now, 
 if he gave half, as he promised ' 
 
 ' If! Why, you don't suppose he kep his 
 word, do you ?* 
 
 I was compelled to admit that this was 
 scarcely likely ; and being stopped on this 
 line of inquiry I opened another. 
 
 ' What sort of man was it who gave you 
 the child ?' I asked. 
 
 ' He was a little, shortish kind of man,' said 
 my grandfather, shifting in his chair ; ' rather 
 high shouldered, with red hair and a bottle 
 nose.' 
 
 ' You spoke of him in your narrative as a 
 gentleman.' 
 
 ' Well, sonny, what if I did ? Look at 
 Mr. Meaders, the horsedealer ; there's a gent 
 for you, and there's a bottle-nose !' 
 
A ROMANCE. 
 
 ' But you said the night was pitch-dark. 
 How could you tell whether he had red hair 
 or not ?' 
 
 The old man continued to look at me 
 steadfastly for another minute ; but he passed 
 his tongue round his cheek, and I saw that I 
 had him in a corner. 
 
 * Sonny/ he said at length, ' you see me 
 shift just now. That was 'cause I was tellin' 
 a huntruth. I never see that gent, for the 
 darkness ; and if I see him again I shouldn't 
 know him from Adam. Only, as you seemed 
 to want such a lot of pertic'lar§, I tried for to 
 oblige you.' 
 
 I felt I had got as much truth out of the 
 cunning old fellow as I could hope to get for 
 the present, and I rose, thinking of Psyche, 
 whom I had left alone in the cottage. 
 
 ' Barnard/ said my grandfather, rising 
 also, ' what are you going to do ?' 
 
 ' Find out the truth about that poor girl.' 
 
 ' You can try, suttinly ; and I wish you 
 luck. But look here: Tm goin' to give you 
 a word of advice. I don't know what you're 
 
THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 done with the young un, and I only hope you 
 are takin' as much care of her as what I have 
 took. Skes got to be took care of, and in 
 more ways than one! He spoke impressively 
 and with genuine earnestness. • You're got 
 to keep a watchful eye on her, for fear 
 she don't take and slip through your fingers. 
 You're answerable for her now — not me. 
 Mark that.^ 
 
 I looked at him in perplexity ; his eyes 
 were restless enough now. He opened 
 the door, and cast a searching glance all 
 round. 
 
 ' Which way are you making for T he asked, 
 as he came back. 
 
 I nodded in the direction of Towerbridge. 
 
 ' Good !' said he. ' The coast is clear. 
 Just one word more and I've done. Think 
 over what I've said — 'specially them words of 
 warning. Don't go a-telling everybody what 
 you know. Don't go showing that gal round 
 just for the sake of praise. If I thought you'd 
 take advice I'd tell )Ou to shift her right 
 away ; but you young uns think too much of 
 
A ROMANCE. 
 
 187 
 
 yourselves to be guided ; but this here is 
 something more than advice. I tell you you 
 must look to it that father don't find you 
 out.' 
 
THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Reflecting on my grandfather's confession, 
 the conviction grew upon me that he had 
 not given me the true reason for Psyche's 
 long captivity, and the urgent warning with 
 which he concluded the interview confirmed 
 this conviction. It was inconceivable that 
 the man who had hired old Peter to drop 
 the chest in the sea should offer a price to 
 draw suspicion on his motives, and excite 
 cupidity. Yet, according to my grandfather's 
 statement, he had paid at least one hundred 
 pounds for the service, while there was every 
 reason to suppose, from their way of living, 
 and the fact that old Peter could raise 
 sufficient at a moments notice to meet my 
 demands, that the two old rascals between 
 them must have received many hundreds of 
 
A ROMANCE. ' 189 
 
 pounds. Now, if the man had not paid old 
 Peter a preposterous price for getting rid of 
 the chest at the time, how had the rascals 
 got the money ? 
 
 The answer to this question flashed upon 
 me before I had left my grandfather ten 
 minutes : they had extorted it since ; and 
 Psyche had been kept alive for the purpose 
 of blackmailing ! 
 
 Old Peter had recognised the man or 
 found means to identify him — possibly by the 
 child or some betraying evidence in her 
 dress — and had drawn money from him 
 by threatening to produce the child in 
 evidence of his attempted crime. 
 
 I saw now a double purpose in the warning 
 that had been given me. My grandfather 
 dreaded two things : his father's wrath, and 
 the stoppage of those supplies which made 
 life pleasant ; and those consequences might 
 be averted by Psyche's escape remaining a 
 secret. But, despite his rascality, I was 
 disposed to give my grandfather credit for 
 some kindly feeling towards Psyche. There 
 
I90 THE SMUGGLER '5 SECRE T : 
 
 was a warmth in his cunning that seemed to 
 come from his heart, and not from calculating 
 self-interest. One thing was clear: if Psyche 
 was still a source of revenue, old Peter 
 w^ould stop at no means^ however desperate, 
 to recover her, when he learnt that she had 
 escaped from the cave ; and I dreaded to 
 think what might be her fate if he succeeded 
 in getting her again in his power. 
 
 I found it difficult to decide what course I 
 ought to take. It was obvious, however, that 
 I must not precipitate a catastrophe by any 
 rash movement, and for the present I must 
 keep Psyche as much as possible out of 
 sight. 
 
 Happily, circumstances favoured her se- 
 clusion. The light of the sun was so painful 
 to the poor girl that we kept the blinds 
 closely drawn down all day, and never left 
 the house before the evening, and then 
 curiosity never tempted her to stray from my 
 side. To her the garden at the back of the 
 cottage was a wide world, and in harmony 
 with her tastes, perhaps, because it was 
 
A ROMANCE. 191 
 
 enclosed with high thick hedges ; it was a 
 beautiful world, too, full of surprising treasures 
 and lovely wonders. Every flower was a 
 miracle, and the commonest herb a source of 
 delieht I never knew how much there was 
 to admire in so small a space until she 
 showed me. We have sat for hours watching 
 a spider make its w^eb ; we have followed an 
 ant step by step down the long path to his 
 retreat in a pot on the top of a dahlia stick — 
 sympathizing with him when he went wrong 
 and had to find his way back, congratulatmg 
 him on meeting a friend who clearly put him 
 up to a short cut, condoling with him when 
 he got on tiresome ground, and found himself 
 compassed about with a forest of chickweed — 
 all with a growing interest in his career that 
 only ended when we felt sure he was safe 
 home at last. 
 
 Sometimes when we had watched the 
 stars come out, until the heavens were full 
 and the night well advanced, I took her away 
 over the downs and showed her the sleeping 
 villages, and the distant town of Towerbridge, 
 
192 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 where she took the twinkling gas lamps for 
 fallen stars ; but she was always glad to 
 return to her beloved garden. Everything 
 in the world was marvellous, she said, but 
 there was nothing more beautiful or wondrous 
 than the endless discoveries she made there. 
 Mere largeness, which had never produced a 
 pleasant impression on her mind, ceased to 
 excite her wonder; the larger animals — horses 
 and kine — were not more surprising than 
 night-moths and tiny insects, whose beauty 
 escaped the sight of impatient observers. 
 Her view of Nature at first appeared to me 
 distorted, but I came to see that in many 
 instances her judgment was truer than mine, 
 and that my views were warped frequently 
 by the influence of early teaching and conven- 
 tional ideas ; certainly, through her I learnt 
 to reverence God in small things as well as 
 great. 
 
 The nights were mild and fine, and we 
 spent them chiefly in the open air ; for 
 Psyche was loath to go indoors even when 
 the sun had risen and dimmed the world to 
 
A ROMANCE. 193 
 
 her eye. After seeing the stars ' go out ' one 
 by one, and the clouds take on the opal tints 
 of morning ; after marking the first twitter of 
 the swallows in the eaves and the lowing of 
 cows ; when she had watched the flower- 
 petals unclose and display their hidden 
 beauties, and the first ray reflected in rain- 
 bow colours by the dewdrops hanging on leaf 
 and gossamer, she would still linger with 
 closed eyes to feel the sun's warmth on her 
 upturned face and outstretched hands. 
 
 She slept through the day in her darkened 
 room, and this gave me an opportunity to go 
 over to Towerbridge, where I was not known, 
 and get many things we needed in the way 
 of food and clothing. I bought a couple of 
 pretty dresses for Psyche, a square of lace 
 for her head, a Shetland shawl, and some 
 shoes with bright steel buckles ; and these 
 things gave her great delight, for she was 
 quite human, and loved as well as any other 
 pretty girl to ' look nice.' I felt tolerably 
 secure in leaving her alone at these times. 
 Except The Chase, there was no house nearer 
 
 » 13 
 
194 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 than the inland village of Ecclesham. Since 
 the opening of the new read, the London 
 road had been practically abandoned, and to 
 the few who passed by, the isolated cottage, 
 with its closed blinds, must have seemed 
 abandoned also. No one knew that I had 
 returned to inhabit it except Mrs. Benham, 
 and her hasty departure had not given her 
 time for gossiping with her acquaintances in 
 Bonport. I received a letter from her, 
 slipped under the door by the postman, 
 telling me that she had taken rooms in 
 Southampton for her son, who was too ill to 
 be moved ; and in replying I begged her, for 
 reasons I would give when she returned, not 
 to mention my name to anyone. 
 
 Thus a week passed without my taking 
 any steps to discover Psyche's friends or 
 seeking an interview with Miss Duncan, 
 seeing that I must habituate Psyche to the 
 new life before introducing any change ; but 
 at the end of that time, moved, I fear, rather 
 by the jealous fear that Miss Duncan might 
 be married to the husband her father had 
 
A ROMANCE. 
 
 195 
 
 chosen than by a disinterested consideration 
 for Psyche's welfare, I sent an advertisement 
 to be inserted in the second column of the 
 Times. It ran thus : 
 
 ^ Found, a girl, thought to be between 
 eighteen and nineteen years of age, who 
 disappeared about July 14, 1877.— Apply for 
 further information by letter to The Finder, 
 Post-office, Towerbridge.' 
 
 Three days after posting this advertise- 
 ment I walked over to Towerbridge, and 
 asked at the post-office if there were any letters 
 for ' The Finder/ The post-master handed 
 me one. It w^as from a well-known firm of soli- 
 citors in Lincoln's Inn, asking me on, behalf of 
 a client whose name was not given, to supply 
 them with the information referred to in my 
 advertisement. 
 
 Although the name of the firm was a 
 sufficient guarantee of their good faith, I felt 
 it necessary to be guarded in my reply, lest 
 their client might be the very man who had 
 paid old Peter to do away with Psyche. Of 
 
 13-2 
 
196 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 all persons in the world he would be most 
 anxious to get her into his hands. After 
 some consideration I replied as follows : 
 
 ' The girl in question, presumably 
 under the influence of a narcotic, was en- 
 closed in a chest, and the chest was given by 
 an unknown man to a notorious scoundrel 
 living in Bonport to be taken out at night 
 into the open sea and thrown overboard. 
 
 ' The chest was opened, and the child, 
 showing signs of life, was carried to shore, 
 and there has since been kept in confinement 
 by the rascal employed to sink the chest. 
 She was discovered and removed to a place 
 of safety by me. I cannot leave this neigh- 
 bourhood, but if you make an appointment to 
 meet me in Towerbridge any day between 
 eleven and four, I shall be happy to answer 
 further questions upon this subject. 
 * Bernard Thorne, 
 
 ' c/o Mrs. Benham, 
 
 * Toll House Cottage, 
 * Old London Road, 
 
 ' Ecclesham.' 
 
A ROMANCE. 197 
 
 I expected a reply to my letter the next 
 day, but none came ; another day passed 
 without any letter being slipped under the 
 door, and, then concluding that the postman 
 had not thought it worth while to deliver it, 
 believing the house to be empty, I resolved 
 to go over to Towerbridge and make 
 inquiries the following afternoon, if nothing 
 came in the interval. 
 
 I waited until three — the latest hour at 
 which the second mail was delivered at The 
 Chase, and then, assured that Psyche slept, I 
 locked the doors and started for Towerbridge. 
 About four I reached the post-office. The 
 packet of returned letters was examined, and 
 none being found addressed to me, I tele- 
 graphed to the solicitors for an explanation of 
 their silence, telling them to reply to me at 
 the post-office. Nearly an hour elapsed 
 before their answer came. 
 
 * Regret delay,' their telegram said ; ' client 
 not yet replied to our letter. We now wire 
 him for instructions. Please await at office 
 our next telegram.' 
 
193 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 It was hopeless to expect the next tele- 
 gram for at least an hour, and tired of 
 waiting in the dismal office, I w^ent out 
 and strolled round the town, picking up 
 one or two things that I thought would 
 please Psyche. At six o'clock I returned to 
 the post-office ; nothing had yet come in. I 
 began to feel anxious about Psyche. It was 
 nearly an hour's walk home. At seven it 
 would be getting dark, and she would rise, 
 and finding me not there, might be fright- 
 ened. Should I go back now, and return for 
 the message early the next morning ? While 
 I was debating this question the signal-bell 
 jingled. 
 
 ' Is that for me ?' I asked the clerk, as he 
 began to read from the instrument. 
 
 ^ Yes, sir/ he replied, after a minute's 
 silence. 
 
 It was a long message ; at last it w^as 
 handed to me. 
 
 ^ Our client replies us as follows,' I read: 
 ' Absent from home since last writing you. 
 Bernard Thome's discovery not the slightest 
 
A ROMANCE. 199 
 
 connection with my loss. A blur in the 
 advertisement led me to read 1887 1877 
 — the date at which my daughter left her 
 home. Make any arrangement you think 
 just to compensate Mr. Thorne for in- 
 convenience, etc, incurred by my mistake.*'' 
 ' Then all this correspondence has ended in 
 nothing,' thought I ; and so I continued to 
 think until, in the slums through which I had 
 to pass in quitting Towerbridge, by the old 
 road, I caught sight of old Peter, my great- 
 grandfather. 
 
200 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 There was a beerhouse at the corner of the 
 street with a low bow^-fronted window, from 
 which old Peter must have seen me coming. 
 He lurched out into the middle of the 
 road, and stood there waiting for me like 
 nothing so much as a great chimpanzee 
 waiting an incentive to attack. His back 
 was bent with age, so that his leathery hands 
 WMth their crooked and gnarled fingers hung 
 below his knees, and to look up at me his 
 head was well thrown back. Summer and 
 winter he wore a pea-jacket with a guernsey 
 underneath, and a fur cap which spread 
 his ears outward and covered his forehead, 
 meeting the ragged brows that beetled 
 over his deep-set, fierce and vicious black 
 eyes. His skin was the colour of an 
 
A ROMANCE, 
 
 20I 
 
 old tanned sail. Between his protruding 
 cheekbones and lower jaw his cheeks fell 
 in, and his great beak of a nose almost 
 touched his bristled, underhung chin. His 
 legs were bowed and he stood with his feet 
 well apart ; altogether he was the oddest 
 specimen of humanity you could wish to 
 meet, and quite the most unpleasant. 
 
 His attitude was openly defiant, and 
 seemed to say, ' Here am I, and I'm not 
 afraid of you. What have- you got to say to 
 me ?' 
 
 I was not disposed to say anything to him. 
 That was not the place to bring him to 
 account for his misdeeds. I was anxious 
 to get back to the cottage. His presence 
 alarmed me for the safety of Psyche ; for it 
 was clear that her escape was no longer a 
 secret from old Peter, who, I could not doubt, 
 had followed me into the town and had lain 
 in wait for my return. He stood directly 
 in front of me : when I moved towards the 
 footpath he shifted his position to confront 
 me and provoke encounter. 
 
202 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 ' Mind he don't bite ye, sir, ' said a man at 
 the beerhouse door, grinning. 
 
 I brushed past old Peter, and, regaining the 
 middle of the road, pursued my course. He 
 overtook and kept pace with me, swinging 
 along a couple of feet from my side with a 
 queer plantigrade gait, setting his long foot 
 flat on the ground and rolling his bent body 
 from side to side. My pace was about four 
 miles an hour, but he kept up with me in a 
 surprising manner, his features set in an ex- 
 pression of dogged determination. Neither 
 of us spoke a word till we were clear of the 
 town and out in the lonely road ; then, seeing 
 that his purpose was to dog me home, and 
 that I must shake him off by some means, 
 I stopped. He stopped as well. 
 
 ' What do you mean by this ?' I asked. 
 
 ' What do I mean, you varmint !' he 
 answered. ' Why, I mean to do what I like. 
 IVe as good right to walk along this road 
 and stop where I choose as you 'ave. If you 
 think you can prevent me, have a try T 
 He slipped his hand in the pocket of 
 
A ROMANCE, 203 
 
 his pea-jacket and brought out an open 
 knife. 
 
 * Have a try/ he repeated; 'and I'll run 
 this into your liver in self-defence. I'm 
 ninety-four, but Tni wuth a dozen such 
 scurvy pups as you. Have a try ! You'd 
 ruther not. You're got no fight in you. 
 You're only a slinking thief. You're afeared 
 on me, ain't ye 1 You would like to call a 
 policeman to help you, wouldn't ye ? Why 
 ain't ye set the policemen on to me } Because 
 you've got more reason to fear 'em 'an what 
 I 'ave. I ain't robbed you, but you're robbed 
 me. I don't want no one to help me ; I'm just 
 going to do this business myself. I'm goin' 
 to hunt you down, and when I've found 
 where you're stowed aw^ay that gal, I'm 
 going to get her, dead or alive. Now you 
 know. Do what you like ; but say your 
 prayers afore you try to prevent me.' 
 
 To old Peter's disgust, I tacitly declined to 
 be drawn into a fight or even a w^ordy 
 dispute. The distance to the cottage was 
 over three miles, and it seemed to me that, 
 
204 THE SMUGGLERS SECRET: 
 
 extraordinary as the old man's physical 
 powers were, he could not keep up to my 
 pace for more than half that distance, and 
 that I might leave him out of sight by the 
 time I reached the bend of The Chase park ; 
 and this being the best plan of defeating him 
 that presented itself to my mind, I started 
 afresh, increasing my pace as I went. The 
 old man, with his bear-like gait, kept by my 
 side, and lost not an inch of ground for the 
 first mile, with no visible sign of exhaustion ; 
 and it became evident that I must increase 
 our distance to succeed in tiring him out. I 
 determined to strike away from the main 
 road and make for the village of Ecclesham, 
 whence I could return by a footpath over the 
 downs to the old London road, doubling the 
 distance to the cottage : and so on coming to 
 the by-road, I turned off sharp. The pace 
 tried me, but still with indomitable pertinacity 
 old Peter stuck to my side. We came in sight 
 of the village, and here I saw that I must 
 make a vigorous effort to outstrip the dread- 
 ful old man, for if, on getting through the 
 
A ROMANCE. 205 
 
 village, he found me doubling to regain the 
 old road, he would at once conclude that 
 Psyche was there, and that I had simply gone 
 out of my way to mislead him. 
 
 There was a pretty steep hill before us ; 1 
 put on a spurt. Old Peter kept up with 
 me for a hundred yards, and then stopped 
 as if his strength had suddenly given 
 way. 
 
 'You think you've done me, do you, ye 
 runnin' varmen !' he gasped. ' Don't make 
 no mistake. Old Peter takes more beatin' 
 than you can give him.' 
 
 He had disappeared from the road when I 
 turned round on the brow of the hill and 
 looked back. I was fairly exhausted, and 
 sank down by the roadside, whence I com- 
 manded a view of the hill, to recover my 
 breath and strength, with the satisfactory 
 reflection that somewhere in the copse below 
 old Peter was also panting for breath. 
 
 As soon as I was somewhat relieved I 
 rose, cut through the village, and took the 
 path through the cornfields. The sun had 
 
2o6 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 already sunk, and the first star twinkled in 
 the sky overhead. 
 
 Judging by my own fatigue, I reckoned 
 that old Peter would certainly give up the 
 pursuit for to-day, and that his first move on 
 leaving the copse would be to find an ale- 
 house in Ecclesham where he could take a 
 long drink and a long rest at the same time ; 
 nevertheless, the uncomfortable apprehension 
 that he had returned to the old road, where I 
 might again encounter him, hurried me on. 
 
 The lingering twilight was not yet past 
 when I reached the cottage, and to my great 
 satisfaction I could see no one on the road 
 in either direction. I unlocked the door and, 
 entering, closed it behind me. 
 
 'We are safe at least for another night,' 
 thought I. Then I called ' Psyche !' There 
 was no response. It was unusual. At the 
 first sound of my footfall at this hour she 
 would cry to me, * Brother 
 
 Going down the passage towards the stairs, 
 I stopped abruptly at the angle facing the 
 entrance to the back garden : the door was 
 
A ROMANCE. 207 
 
 wide open. It was easily accounted for, I 
 said to myself — Psyche, rising at the usual 
 hour, and finding me not in the house, had 
 unbolted the door, and gone out to seek me 
 in the garden. That was why she had not 
 responded to my call. But for all that it was 
 with growing fear that I ran down the 
 garden, calling her under my breath at every 
 turn and alley, peering into all her favourite 
 haunts with the hope that she might be 
 hiding from me in sport, as she sometimes 
 did. Not a sound broke the silence : I could 
 see no sign of her. 
 
 I ran back into the house, and searched 
 every room, calling upon her again and again 
 with despair in my voice that told me how 
 dear she had become to me. Once more I 
 explored the garden with ever-fading hope, 
 and coming at last to the wicket at the side 
 of the house which communicated with the 
 front garden, I found that open. 
 
 Then it occurred to me that old Peter had 
 beaten me, and not I him. It was obvious 
 now why he had stopped me in the open 
 
2o8 THE SMUGGLERS SECRET: 
 
 Street at Towerbridge and tried to provoke 
 me to a quarrel ; why, when he saw me 
 resolved on going through Ecclesham, he 
 allowed me to struggle alone up the hill. 
 He had succeeded only too well in gaining 
 time for my grandfather or some other 
 rascally accomplice to lure Psyche out of 
 the cottage and make away with her. And 
 while I wasted precious moments on the hill 
 in the complacent delusion that he was rest- 
 ing in the copse, my untiring enemy was 
 plodding back by the shorter road to lend 
 a hand, and with that ruthless hand might 
 have stifled the poor child's cries for help. It 
 seemed to me that I was something worse 
 than a fool to have overlooked a device so 
 palpable. 
 
A ROMANCE, 
 
 209 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 My first impulse was to make at once for the 
 Half-way House, on the chance of finding 
 Psyche there ; but a moment's reflection con- 
 vinced me that those who had the cunning 
 to devise this scheme of abduction would 
 never have the folly to carry the girl to a 
 place where she would certainly be sought. 
 They would never dare again to bury her 
 in the caves. Would it not be better, I 
 asked myself, to go at once to Bonport, 
 whither she would more probably be taken, 
 and set the police to search for her ? 
 
 As I stood irresolute by the open wicket I 
 heard the sound of a heavy slouching step 
 upon the road ; I had listened too recently 
 to that peculiar step to be mistaken. It 
 was old Peter ; one part of my last hypothesis 
 
 14 
 
2IO 
 
 THE SMUGGLERS SECRET: 
 
 was faulty : he had not trudged back to 
 lend a hand in carrying Psyche away. 
 And, what was more, it looked as if he 
 doubted the success of that enterprise ; for, 
 coming in front of the house, he stopped 
 and cast his eye on the door and the upper 
 windows, scratching his stubby jaw with his 
 hooked fingers in dubitation. 
 
 Standing by the wicket at the side of the 
 house, a shrub screened me, and a fir in the 
 front garden threw a deeper shadow on 
 the narrow path. I scarcely breathed. He 
 moved on slowly, and presently the rustling 
 of corn told me that he had turned into the 
 field and was skirting the holly hedge. 
 Stepping lightly along the garden path, I 
 followed the rustling of the corn till it 
 stopped. Then I heard him parting the holly 
 with the purpose of getting a clear view of 
 the garden. He spent a few minutes in this 
 endeavour, and then, giving it up with a 
 growled curse, he retraced his steps and got 
 into the road. Once more that heavy flat- 
 footed step sounded upon the road, and as it 
 
A ROMANCE. 
 
 211 
 
 receded I made up my mind to follow, 
 concluding that he would make at once 
 for the rendezvous where Psyche had been 
 taken. 
 
 I watched him from the garden until the 
 squat, rolling figure was only just perceptible 
 in the rapidly fading twilight, and then 
 followed, keeping on the turf beside the 
 standing corn. He plodded steadily along 
 the road for about a quarter of a mile, slowly 
 enough now, and then, turning to the side, he 
 disappeared and his steps became inaudible. 
 Doubtful whether he had taken a path 
 through the cornfield, or was standing still to 
 make sure that he was not being followed, I 
 redoubled the caution with which I stole 
 onward. A grunt close at hand stopped me, 
 and I dimly perceived the old man stretched 
 out on the turf not more than half a dozen 
 paces from me. He kicked off one boot 
 and then the other, muttering curses all the 
 while upon me, and the blisters on his feet, 
 and things in general. 
 
 1 was puzzled ; not a word of exultation or 
 
 14 — 2 
 
2T2 
 
 THE SMUGGLERS SECRET: 
 
 triumph brightened up his monologue, such as 
 a man in such sore condition would have 
 tried to console himself with. Was I at fault 
 again ? Had I jumped to the wrong con- 
 clusion ? After all, might I have overlooked 
 Psyche in some nook or corner of the garden ? 
 While these questions were running through 
 my mind old Peter had rolled over, and, 
 making a pillow of his arms, laid his head 
 upon them with a grunt. The next grunt 
 terminated in a snore. 
 
 His heavy boots lay temptingly between 
 his blistered feet and me ; the means of 
 checking pursuit by him lay almost within 
 reach. I crept forward, picked them up, and, 
 retreating cautiously, hurled the trophy 
 into the midst of the corn when I was a 
 hundred yards back on my way to the cottage. 
 
 At the gate I heard the distant murmur of 
 a voice, and passing quickly through the 
 alley at the side of the house, I saw Psyche 
 in the garden-seat facing the lawn, but to my 
 utter astonishment Miss Duncan was seated 
 beside her. 
 
A ROMANCE, 
 
 213 
 
 * He is here ! come back to me, my 
 brother !' cried Psyche, as she sprang to her 
 feet and ran to meet me. 
 
 Miss Duncan, recognising me as I 
 approached, seemed even more amazed than 
 I by this unlooked-for meeting. 
 
 What had happened ? Simply this : Psyche, 
 as I imagined, finding me not in the house, 
 had sought me in the garden, and thence, 
 extending her search, had wandered along the 
 road. The park gates, which she had seen 
 shut when we passed in the night were wide, 
 open. Who could have opened them but I, 
 who did everything ? She passed through, 
 and was found in the avenue by Miss 
 Duncan, looking in the twilight like a spirit, 
 with her pale face, her large dark eyes, and 
 their expression of childlike fearlessness. 
 
 I can best tell what followed as Ethel 
 described it to me this morning : 
 
 ' After the first shock — for indeed I was 
 frightened at first, her silence and the vague 
 way in which she looked about her, after 
 regarding me for a few moments, giving 
 
214 THE SMUGGLERS SECRET: 
 
 additional weirdness to her spiritual appear- 
 ance — I summoned up courage to falter : 
 Who are you ? ' 
 
 * I am Psyche," she answered, with sweet, 
 slow articulation. 
 
 ' Psyche — is that your only name ?" 
 
 ' Yes. Why should I have two names } 
 I am only one — Psyche — that is all.'' 
 
 ' Her strange answer seemed in character 
 with her ethereal nature. There was nothing 
 in her dress unreal, and surely nothing in her 
 manner to make me fear the gentle creature, 
 and so, gathering my wits together a little, I 
 said : 
 
 ' ''Do you want to see anyone up in the 
 house, dear ?' 
 
 ' No ; I am looking for my brother. He 
 has gone away from me ; but he will come 
 back, because he knows I could not live with- 
 out him. He has only gone away to look at 
 the great world — to see the sky touch the sea, 
 and the clouds lie on the hills. Do you 
 know, I think he loves the great world better 
 than I do, that is why he did not take me. 
 
A ROMANCE. 215 
 
 That is so strange to me — a world without 
 walls — because it is so new to me." 
 
 ' How long have you been here, dear ?" 
 
 ^ Only some nights — I cannot count. Not 
 many." 
 
 ' And where have you come from ?" 
 
 ' I came from the caves where I have 
 lived always — the caves under the sea. My 
 brother found me there^ and brought me away 
 when the sea went down." 
 
 ' Who is your brother 
 
 ' Psyche rubbed her hands caressingly and 
 her face lit up with a beautiful smile. 
 
 ' I will tell you about my brother," 
 she said. I think about him always. I 
 should like to talk about him. You are the 
 first person I have ever talked to except 
 him." 
 
 'There was a seat at the border of the 
 drive : I led her to it, and we sat down 
 side by side. I slipped my hand under her 
 arm, and almost with surprise found she was 
 warm and human. She lifted my hand and 
 caressed it with her cheek, and I could see 
 
2t6 
 
 THE SMUGGLERS SECRET: 
 
 she was thinking of her brother. Tell me 
 about him/' I said. 
 
 ' He is everything to me. All that I see 
 and hear is lovely : the stars and the 
 swallows and the little golden caw ; the 
 flowers and the moths ; this dress and my 
 shoes — all make me happy. But I could do 
 without them all. I should be just as happy 
 in the cave, w^th my eyes shut and not a 
 sound, if only I could feel my brother's hand 
 in mine. Have you got a brother ?" 
 
 ' No, dear." 
 
 ' Poor one, poor soul !" said she in tender 
 pity. " You do not know what it is to be 
 happy. But you will when a brother comes 
 to find you. I think we must all have 
 brothers, though we can't know it till they 
 come to us. Long — long — long years — 
 longer than I can recollect — I had no brother 
 and my life was nothing ; but since he has 
 come to me it has been all joy." 
 
 ' When did he find you, dear 
 
 ' " Not long — not long, when I think of the 
 days that went before. Ah, they were long, 
 
A ROMANCE. 217 
 
 those days when I saw nothing but the rocks 
 and sand, and had no friend but my black 
 caw ; when I heard no sound but his voice 
 and the whistle up above when my food was 
 sent down, and my own voice when I sang. 
 Sometimes I slept because I did not know 
 what to do ; and sometimes I cried because I 
 could not sleep. I wanted to sleep for ever. 
 So these days seemed very long, and since 
 then the nights have been too short. For 
 I cannot see in the day, you know, like my 
 brother, and he sleeps when the sun shines 
 that he may be with me in the night." 
 
 ' You cannot see in the day ?" 
 
 ' No, because always I lived in the dark. 
 There is no light in the caves. But I can 
 bear the light better and better every day. 
 I can wait till the blue flowers have 
 untwisted, and the big bees push their way 
 in. My brother tells me their names, and 
 tells me all about them. He taught me to 
 speak. I could not say a word when he first 
 came to me ; I could not understand what he 
 said. I knew nothing but what I thought. 
 
2i8 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 But he taught me patiently till I could under- 
 stand what he said and make him understand 
 me. Then I wanted no more in the cave 
 but just to sit and listen to all he said about 
 the world ; but now, when there is so much 
 to understand, I talk a great deal. But still 
 the greatest happiness is to sit by his side 
 and listen to his voice." 
 
 ' Were you long together in the cave ?" 
 
 ' Only a little while ; but when I remember 
 how many times we went down into the wet 
 sand under the rock, making the hole that let 
 us out into this world, and how many marks 
 my brother cut in the wall to show the days 
 we had worked, I think it must have bee a 
 long while. I must look for him," she said, 
 rising abruptly. I want him ! Oh, I want 
 my brother ! Where is he ?" 
 
 ' Can you tell me where you live now, 
 dear ?" 
 
 ' Yes, I will show you. It is quite near. 
 Come with me, and when we find him you 
 shall hear him speak, you shall look at him, 
 and know what it is to have a brother." ' 
 
A ROMANCE. 219 
 
 Ethel suffered herself to be guided — 
 Psyche taking her hand — out into the road 
 and along it to the Toll-house Cottage. She 
 knew that Mrs. Benham lived there, and that 
 I had lodged there ; but she had heard 
 nothing of my old landlady's going, and 
 believed that I was in America, for her father 
 had not spoken to her of our meeting. 
 
 As Psyche led the way without hesitation 
 through the side wicket into the garden, she 
 conceived that the poor girl was a patient 
 placed under the charge of the old lady, and 
 that her malady was a form of mental hallucin- 
 ation. If that were the case, it was her duty 
 to restore Psyche to her guardian, and she 
 willingly helped to look for that ' brother, ' 
 who, she thought, existed only in the girl's 
 romantic imagination. When they found no 
 one in the house or in the garden, she con- 
 cluded that Mrs. Benham had been called 
 away, and, though it was getting late, she 
 resolved to stay with Psyche until her 
 return. 
 
 Psyche grew apprehensive and silent ; but 
 
220 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 her new friend soothed her by assuring her 
 that the brother would soon return, and 
 led her on to talk about the past. Psyche 
 could go no further back in her history than 
 the eventless life in the cave, for that destroy- 
 ing monotony had obliterated all memories 
 of the period before her illness. Ethel was 
 struck by the consistent thread of the wonder- 
 ful story : nothing was contradictory. Psyche 
 never wandered from the subject except to 
 wonder where I was. ' He will come back 
 to me !' she repeated with pathetic insistence. 
 
 ' He must, dear. He would not leave you, 
 knowing how you love him/ Ethel replied. 
 Yet still she doubted if that brother existed 
 until I came in sight, and Psyche cried : 
 ' He is here — come here to me — my brother !' 
 Then her wonder increased. 
 
 ' Psyche has told me the strangest story,' 
 she said; ' can it be true ?' 
 
 ' It must be true,' I answered, ^ for she has 
 not yet learned what falsehood means.' 
 
 * And you are that brother whose love has 
 given her life T 
 
A ROMANCE. 
 
 221 
 
 ' Yes, in the wide sense that those are 
 brothers whose love is brotherly.' 
 
 Ethel put her hand into mine, and as she 
 turned in gentle sympathy to Psyche, a star lit 
 the tear that fell from her cheek. 
 
222 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 A SERVANT from the house crossed the road 
 as we came to the gate. 
 
 ' Sir Henry has come home, rniss^ and has 
 sent out to find you/ he said. 
 
 Ethel kissed Psyche, promising to see her 
 again and often, and left us. We returned 
 to the garden. 
 
 Psyche was unusually quiet. The objects 
 which before had excited her interest were 
 passed now unnoticed. 
 
 ' I am tired,' she said — ' I have walked so 
 much. I want to feel that you have come 
 back to me again/ 
 
 We sat down in the garden-seat^ and, 
 nestling against my arm, she said: 
 
 ' Tell me about that other one, and let me 
 only listen.' 
 
A ROMANCE. 
 
 223 
 
 Ethel was a pleasant subject to talk about, 
 and I told all I knew about her, letting my 
 tongue run on thoughtlessly and with a 
 lovers enthusiasm— forgetting that Psyche 
 loved me and was neither a child nor an 
 elf, but had a woman's heart and a woman's 
 susceptibility. 
 
 For a long while she listened, sitting as 
 quiet as a mouse ; then she took her hand 
 from my arm and drew herself away from me 
 a little distance. I checked myself abruptly, 
 seeing that I had awakened her jealousy and 
 pained her by my folly. It might be only 
 the jealousy of a child, but I saw by the expres- 
 sion on her downcast face that she suffered. 
 And now it occurred to me whether, having 
 gone so far, I ought not to go farther and 
 prepare her for the separation that must 
 come if I married Ethel. She knew nothing 
 of my hopes in that direction, for marriage 
 was a subject I had studiously avoided ; yet 
 I felt that she ought to know. But before I 
 could make up my mind to undertake the 
 cruel task, she had come back to my side 
 
224 
 
 THE SMUGGLERS SECRET: 
 
 again, and was nestling her cheek against my 
 shoulder. 
 
 ' Do not tell me any more about her/ she 
 murmured. ' It gives me a pain here/ press- 
 ing her hand upon her breast, ' and makes 
 me feel as if you were no more my brother. 
 I cannot bear to hear that she is so much to 
 you, because it makes me think that I must 
 be nothing, and I feel as if sharp rocks were 
 running into me. But though you have 
 known her so long, you have never lived in 
 the same cave with her, and she has never 
 worked with you, scraping the sand away 
 with her hand, and fighting to get away from 
 the water when it came in and stopped the 
 hole. And, after all, you are not her brother 
 as you are mine, are you, dear ?' 
 
 ' No ; that is true. Psyche / and thinking 
 that perhaps Ethel might never be mine, 
 I resolved to be silent about it for the 
 present. 
 
 ' You will teach me to dance and sing ?' 
 Psyche continued coaxingly. ' Not a foolish 
 song like mine, but one with words like those 
 
A ROMANCE. 225 
 
 you sing. And you will buy me something to 
 wear on my head like hers, and teach me how 
 to wear my hair so that it may not be seen.' 
 
 ' Yes, Psyche, all in good time.' 
 
 ' Yes, all in good time, dear/ she echoed. 
 * She called me ''dear'': its a pretty word, 
 isn't it ?' 
 
 There was a tear running down her white 
 cheek, but her voice quivered with joy in 
 this reconciliation and spring of hope. 
 
 'k- ^ ^ ^ 
 
 It was about two hours after the departure 
 of Ethel that Psyche and I, then at the 
 bottom of the garden (where she had dis- 
 covered a glow-worm, and was marvelling 
 over the little insect who carried a star with 
 him), were startled by hearing a knock at the 
 front door. It was a feeble knock, but distinct 
 enough in the night silence. It was nearly 
 eleven o'clock. Who would call at such an 
 hour .^^ Clearly no one to see Mrs. Benham. 
 My suspicions pointed rather to a visit from 
 old Peter, who on some pretext had come to 
 assure himself as to my being an inmate. 
 
 15 
 
226 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 ' Someone has come to the house/ I said 
 to Psyche as the knock was repeated. ' I 
 must go and see who it is. Stay here.' 
 
 ' Yes, I will not go away again. You will 
 find me here when you come back.' 
 
 I went up to the house, and, passing by the 
 side, peered cautiously into the front garden. 
 A man was standing by the door : it was Sir 
 Henry Duncan. 
 
 He came towards me, holding out his hand, 
 when I showed myself. 
 
 I was too surprised to speak, but I took his 
 hand. It was moist and cold, and trembled 
 palpably as he put it into mine. For a 
 moment he was silent ; then he spoke in a 
 quick, unsteady voice : 
 
 ^ It is not the first time I have had to 
 apologize to you, Mr. Thorne/ he said. ' You 
 know my weaknesses too well to require an 
 explanation. A weak man — a weak man 
 led by uncontrollable impulses into actions 
 that entail mortification and regret. My 
 daughter Ethel has told me a story so 
 strange' — he hesitated, passed his hand over 
 
A ROMANCE. 
 
 227 
 
 his brow, and then clasped the lattice — ' so 
 strange that it would pass belief if it were 
 not supported by something you told me 
 when we last met. The story of a young 
 girl his voice sank so low that the last word 
 was hardly audible. ^ Can I sit down ? I 
 feel faint.' 
 
 I led him through into the back garden, 
 and as he took a seat his eyes wandered in 
 every direction. 
 
 ^ A feeble heart — the slightest emotion 
 upsets me/ he explained. ^ You have seen 
 that in the past.' 
 
 I offered to fetch some water, knowing 
 that he never drank anything stronger. He 
 declined, still looking from side to side 
 furtively. 
 
 ' I am better ; it is gone,' he said, though 
 his voice belied him. ' I was saying — Mr. 
 Thorne — I came to apologize to you. When 
 you told me of having found a treasure I 
 treated it as the statement of a madman. 
 Now I know you have been confined in 
 those caves, and what has happened there, 
 
 15— 2 
 
228 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET : 
 
 anything is possible. I know something 
 of the history of those caves — the landsHp 
 that closed them, and so on. I intended, 
 after hearing the strange story from Ethel, to 
 call upon you to-morrow ; but I found it 
 impossible to rest with this — this on my 
 mind !' 
 
 It seemed to me that here was much ado 
 about nothing ; but his character had always 
 been so incomprehensible to me that I was 
 scarcely surprised by this unnecessary act of 
 self-humiliation. 
 
 ' I had another motive in coming here/ he 
 continued after a pause. ' From what Ethel 
 told me, I thought that possibly I might be 
 able to render you some assistance.' 
 
 ' Assistance ?' I said questioningly. 
 
 ' Perhaps the version of the story that 
 Ethel gave me, which she, I believe, learnt 
 from the poor girl who calls herself Psyche, 
 is misleading. May I ask you to tell me 
 what really has happened ?' 
 
 He spoke less coherently than I have 
 written, with frequent hesitation and correc- 
 
A ROMANCE. 229 
 
 tions. being still under the influence of power- 
 ful emotion. 
 
 I saw no reason for withholding the facts 
 from him, and I told him briefly how I had 
 found Psyche, and how we had escaped. 
 He did not interrupt my narrative by a word, 
 but sat with his eyes set on me as if he were 
 transfixed. Only when I dwelt on the awful 
 solitude of the caves, the dark prison in 
 which Psyche had passed her youth, he drew 
 his handkerchief out as if to wipe his face, 
 and^ forgetting his purpose, sat fingering it as 
 the dying finger the sheet of their deathbed. 
 
 ' And did she preserve her reason in this 
 living death T he asked hoarsely when I 
 ceased to speak. 
 
 ' Yes. She is like one who is beg^innin^i to 
 live, that is all.' 
 
 At that moment he started to his feet. 
 Psyche was on the lawn, her figure revealed 
 by the light dress against the dark ever- 
 greens. She stood motionless, looking at 
 him for a minute, and then with a cry of fear 
 that I had never heard before from her, she 
 
230 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET : 
 
 ran to my side for protection, gazing across 
 me at him with terror. 
 
 'You don't know me!" he gasped, looking 
 not less terrified than she. 
 
 ' Wasn't it you who put your arm through 
 the hedge, with a knife to cut me ?' she 
 asked. 
 
 ' What does she mean ?' he asked, speak- 
 ing to me quickly in French. 
 I could not tell 
 
 ' No, no/ said Psyche in a calmer tone, ' it 
 was not you. Your hand is white and thin 
 and long ; that one was like the roots of a 
 hedge.' 
 
 ' Do you^understand .f^' Sir Henry asked me 
 in a low tone of pity, that showed he doubted 
 her sanity. I answered him in French, as he 
 spoke to me, that Psyche might not compre- 
 hend. 
 
 ' Yes ; I understand it well enough/ I said. 
 ' 1 know that hand. He knows she is here, 
 and passed along the hedge not three hours 
 ago.' 
 
 ' He — who T he asked sharply. 
 
A ROMANCE, 2^1 
 
 ' Peter Beamish.' 
 
 He started as if he had been struck, and as 
 if the blow had roused his courage he said to 
 Psyche, with a firmness of voice and manner 
 contrasting sharply with his previous nerve- 
 less utterance : 
 
 ' That hand shall not frighten you again, 
 my child ' — then to me, as he turned to 
 leave the garden, he added : ' I will return 
 when I have got that wretch out of the 
 way/ 
 
 We heard him passing between the corn 
 and the garden hedge. Trying to conceal 
 my uneasiness, I waited anxiously for the 
 result. Old Peter, I knew, was not one to 
 be frightened away by the rustling corn ; he 
 would wait down there, knife in hand, for who- 
 ever might come. If I had heard a death 
 cry from Sir Henry it would have been no 
 more than I expected. No such cry came, 
 yet I fancied I heard old Peter s grow^ling 
 voice. Half an hour passed, and Sir Henry 
 had not returned. 
 
 When I proposed to Psyche that we 
 
232 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 should go and look at the glow-worm she 
 assented at once. 
 
 ' You are not afraid now ?' I asked. 
 
 She laughed. 
 
 ' I could not fear anything when you are 
 with me/ she said. 
 
 We were at the bottom of the garden when 
 I heard the distant crack of a shot sounding 
 as if it came from the park. 
 
A ROMANCE, 
 
 233 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Sir Henry did not return that night, as he 
 had promised. I could not conceive of old 
 Peter carrying such a contemptibly insignifi- 
 cant-looking weapon as a modern revolver, 
 otherwise I might have feared that the shot 
 I heard had been fired by him, and that Sir 
 Henry was hit. I attributed the shot rather 
 to poachers in Sir Henry's preserves, and his 
 absence to the pursuit of them. All doubt of 
 his safety was removed by his coming over to 
 the cottage the following morning, soon after 
 Psyche had gone up to her room for the day. 
 
 He was quite self-possessed ; his manner, 
 indeed, was almost apathetic as he gave me 
 his hand and then dropped into the seat on 
 the lawn ; the only trace of that agitation 
 which had unmanned him the previous night 
 
234 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET : 
 
 was in the haggard, worn and old expression 
 of his face : he looked like a gambler who 
 lias played long and lost all. 
 
 ' There was a shot in the park last night/ 
 he began. 'You may have heard it. I 
 thought my daughter might be alarmed, and 
 so went in. Quite as well, you will say, see- 
 ing that I was no more fit to be at large than 
 a maniac. She knew what was the matter 
 with me, and brought me round as only 
 she can he repeated slowly, ' as only she 
 can. One of these days, Mr. Thorne, you 
 may know the value of my daughter Ethel ; 
 then, should you be threatened with the loss 
 of her, you will understand my feeling. 
 Fancy if a man came insolently to you and 
 said he loved your wife, and meant to take 
 her from you if he could, how would you 
 feel towards that man 1 and if, in addition to 
 that, your wife admitted the possibility of 
 being taken from you, how would you feel 
 towards the whole world 
 
 ' You are speaking now of the love of a 
 man for his wife.' 
 
A ROMANCE. 235 
 
 * Well,' he returned sharply, 'may not 
 the love of a father for his daughter be as 
 deep and strong as that of a husband for 
 his wife ? The love I bore her mothc^r is 
 centred in my daughter — all the love of my 
 heart.' 
 
 He turned his back upon me for a 
 moment, then, glancing round the garden, 
 he asked : 
 
 ' Where is she — that other unloved soul ?' 
 
 I explained how she slept during the day. 
 being unable to endure the light after living 
 so long in darkness. 
 
 'Twelve years without light or love/ he 
 said, visibly moved. ^ A month would kill me. 
 She loves you, Ethel tells me.' 
 
 ' That is only natural, as she knows none 
 but me.' 
 
 ' It never occurred to you that she might 
 be your wife T 
 
 ' How could it occur to me, loving your 
 daughter as I do ?' 
 
 He knitted his brows as he buried his face 
 in his hands, his elbows resting on his knee. 
 
236 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 Raising his head after a minute's silence, he 
 said : 
 
 ' It isn't right that the girl should Hve here 
 alone with you. I am not speaking from 
 any conventional considerations of propriety, 
 but with respect to the girl's future. You 
 are strengthening the tie of affection which 
 presently is to be snapped. You ought to 
 weaken it, that when the shock comes it may 
 not break her heart.' 
 
 ' I hope to find her family or friends ; 
 until then she must stay with me.' 
 
 ' Not necessarily/ he said, his eye bright- 
 ening. ' Let her come to us, Ethel is 
 deeply interested in her. Let her dangerous 
 affection for you be replaced by a sister's love.' 
 
 ' With all my heart ! I can wish Psyche 
 no greater happiness than to live with your 
 daughter.' 
 
 * It would be a healthier life for her,' he 
 continued, with growing excitement. ' She 
 would get to know the world she is to live 
 in. We could take her abroad while yon are 
 finding kcr friends, ' 
 
A ROMANCE, 237 
 
 He looked eagerly into my eyes as he 
 made this proposition. There was a won- 
 derful change in the expression of his face ; 
 apathy had changed to keen interest. It 
 was still a gambler's face, but it wore the 
 look of one who sees his way to retrieve a 
 fortune by plucking a pigeon. For the first 
 time a doubt of his honesty rose in my mind. 
 I believe he saw it, for his eye quailed before 
 mine, and he rose, muttering something in a 
 deep, self-deprecating tone that I could not 
 catch. He passed across the lawn with his 
 head bent, and when he returned the evil 
 look was gone from his face. As he seated 
 himself again beside me, he said : 
 
 ' It wouldn't do, Thorne; I understand and 
 sympathize with the girl's feelings more than 
 you can believe. She must not lose you at 
 once like that. What have you done towards 
 finding her family ?' 
 
 I told him of the advertisement I had pub- 
 lished, and the answer I received. 
 
 ' You had no other answer ?' he asked. 
 
 ^No.' 
 
THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET : 
 
 ' And wliat do you propose to do now ?' 
 
 'Advertise again — if I find no further 
 notice taken of the last advertisement. 
 There may be a letter at the post-ofiice 
 now. I shall go over to-day and see.' 
 
 ' It's not unlikely. Some sharp lawyer 
 may see his way to making money through 
 it. The man who got rid of the child would 
 be only too glad, one may suppose, to claim 
 her and put her out of the way more securely. 
 Have you thought of that ?' 
 
 ' Yes ; I am not certain that I have not 
 already played into the hands of that man or 
 his agents.' 
 
 ' I dare say you have,' he replied calmly. 
 ' At any rate, you see the danger of adver- 
 tising in that way. It would be far safer to 
 put the affair into the hands of a good 
 solicitor — do you know one ?' 
 
 'Only your solicitor, Mr. Andrews, at 
 Bonport.' 
 
 ^ A good man, but not at all suited to an 
 investioation of this kind. You had better 
 leave it to me. I will see Andrew\s and ask 
 
A ROMANCE. 239 
 
 him who is the best man in the profession to 
 employ, if you like.' 
 
 I accepted the offer at once. 
 
 ' Then you will take no further steps at 
 present.' 
 
 ' I shall be very happy to leave it entirely 
 in your hands.' 
 
 'Good' — he seemed pleased with my 
 renewed confidence in him. He was leaning 
 forward with his elbows on his knees, looking 
 on the ground. After a moment's pause, 
 without raising his head, he said : 
 
 ' Someone will be going up from the house 
 to Towerbridge in the course of the morning; 
 shall he inquire at the post-office if there is 
 any letter for you ?' 
 
 I assented to this, giving him the name to 
 which answers were to be addressed. 
 
 ' Very well ; that is settled,' he said, drawing 
 a long breath and rising to his feet. ' Let 
 us walk. There is something else I want to 
 say to you.' 
 
 We walked up and down the lawn. When 
 we had made a couple of turns, he said : 
 
240 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET : 
 
 ' You told me you had found some sort of 
 treasure in those caves. What do you value 
 it at ?' 
 
 ' Roughly, I think about ten thousand 
 pounds.' 
 
 ' More or less. The caves and the cottage 
 on the cliff are your property.' 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 'If I give you a cheque for twenty 
 thousand pounds, will you let me have the 
 freehold and full possession of all that is to 
 be found in the caves ? Remember, you may 
 have found but part of the treasure.' 
 
 ' You are welcome to the rest.' 
 
 ^ Then that is a bargain, and I may take 
 possession as soon as I please after paying ?' 
 
 * Certainly.' 
 
 ' Why did you hesitate ?' 
 
 ' Because your offer seemed too generous.' 
 
 ' It is not generous. I want those caves, 
 and I would have paid twice as much to get 
 them.' 
 
 ' My grandfather inhabits the cottage/ I 
 said. 
 
A ROMANCE. 
 
 241 
 
 ' I know he does. He may live there as 
 long as he pleases. I will arrange with 
 him.' 
 
 We took another turn in silence, for his 
 strange contradictory behaviour bewildered 
 me. Opposite the wicket he stopped. 
 
 * That is all I have to say now,' he said. 
 * Come over this evening ; that cheque shall 
 be ready for you. Bring Psyche with you. 
 There is no time to lose.' 
 
 j6 
 
242 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 When the sun had set we went to The Chase, 
 Psyche and I, she agreeing to pay this visit 
 far more readily than I anticipated. 
 
 ' Shall you be glad to see Ethel ?' I asked, 
 the wish prompting the question. 
 
 ' Yes,' she answered, nodding her head. 
 ' There is so much I want to ask her that I 
 can't ask you, so much I want to learn. I 
 can't talk much to you, because I don't know 
 enough words, and sometimes I say the 
 wrong one, and it makes you laugh and 
 shows me how foolish I am. But I think a 
 great deal when my eyes are shut.' 
 
 ' Can you tell me what you think ?' 
 
 ' So many things ! I think how beautiful 
 it is to sit and listen to you speak, and I 
 think if I could learn more words I could 
 
A ROMANCE, 243 
 
 talk to you and make you happy, just as you 
 make me happy. Sometimes I think I am 
 no more than the Httle creatures in the 
 garden, that we forget the next day because 
 they cannot tell us what they think and 
 feel. And I want to be something more 
 than that.' There was a pathetic vibra- 
 tion in her voice as it sank in this last 
 phrase ; then in a firmer tone she added : 
 * So I want to see all that Ethel can do, 
 and learn how to do it very soon — very 
 soon.' 
 
 We met Ethel and her father in the drive, 
 and walked together through the flower- 
 garden and the conservatories, there being 
 still light enough to reveal the tints of the 
 blooms even to ordinary eyes. Under his 
 daughters influence Sir Henry was always 
 reasonable, and at most times amiable and 
 interesting ; but this evening I was struck 
 by the tender interest he took in Psyche. 
 He devoted himself almost exclusively to 
 her, and betrayed no symptom of jealousy or 
 suspicion when Ethel and I lingered in the 
 
 16 — 2 
 
244 
 
 THE SMUGGLERS SECRET: 
 
 room. The manner of this extraordinary man 
 was now as opposed to his abrupt behaviour 
 in the morning as that to the quaking agita- 
 tion of the night before. Selecting some of 
 the blossoms that Psyche most admired, he 
 arranged them with taste in a spray, gossip- 
 ing at the same time in a simple way that 
 she could understand^ and fastened it upon 
 her dress. Psyche was delighted, pointing 
 out to me that it was like the spray that 
 Ethel wore. 
 
 ' I had no idea the girl was so intelligent/ 
 he said to me, when Psyche had draw^n 
 Ethel away with the serious view she had in 
 mind. ^ And how exceedingly sweet her 
 manner is !' 
 
 I repeated what Psyche had said in 
 coming. 
 
 ' That wish of hers would be terribly 
 pathetic if it were impossible to realize it,' 
 he answered. ^ But, thank God, it may be 
 realized. She shall learn all that she wishes 
 to know, I will adopt her as my own 
 daughter.' 
 
A ROMANCE. 
 
 245 
 
 ' If her real parents are not found/ I 
 suggested. 
 
 ' True. But I do not think they will be 
 found,' he said in an odd, dry tone. ' By- 
 the-bye, there was no letter for you at 
 Towerbridge. I saw Andrews this after- 
 noon, and put the case hypothetically before 
 him. He is distinctly of opinion that, so far 
 as the girls welfare is concerned, the best 
 thing to be done is to do nothing. The 
 great thing to be feared is that the man 
 who put her cut of the way twelve years ago 
 will get her into his hands again in order 
 to put her away effectually and for ever. 
 There can be no doubt that the crime was 
 attempted with a mercenary motive — the 
 child coming between this man and a fortune. 
 If that was so, Psyche is still the rightful 
 heiress, and more dangerous to the man 
 now than she was as a child. At any rate, 
 it would be most unwise to do anything in a 
 hurry. There is no necessity for haste. I 
 intend, with the blessing of heaven,' he mur- 
 mured fervently, ^ to repair the wrong that 
 
246 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 has been done to that poor child, and to be 
 to her a better friend than those who suffered 
 her to be carried away.' 
 
 There was an awkward pause. I could 
 not account satisfactorily to myself for the 
 feeling of embarrassment that made me 
 silent. 
 
 ^You can't make it out?' said Sir Henry, 
 observing my silence. ^ That does not 
 surprise me. To you it must seem that my 
 conduct has been that of a maniac rather 
 than a sane man, and nothing must appear 
 more mad than my proposal to adopt as my 
 daughter a girl I saw for the first time last 
 night. Every effect is inexplicable until the 
 cause that produced it stands revealed. My 
 quickly - changing moods are inexplicable. 
 Believe me, not one of those moods would 
 appear more unaccountable than the phases 
 in an eclipse if you knew of the shadow cast 
 upon my life. That shadow is nearly past, 
 thank God ! One of these days — not now — 
 you shall know all.' 
 
 As he spoke the last words he opened his 
 
A ROMANCE, 
 
 247 
 
 notebook, took out a folded slip of paper, and 
 put it in my hand. 
 
 ' That is the cheque for the property you 
 were good enough to let me have,' he said 
 in a tone of real gratitude. ' With it, 
 Bernard, I give you permission to ask my 
 daughter to be your wife.' 
 
 This was as unexpected as anything he had 
 yet said or done, his tone betraying none of 
 that bitter sense of deprivation he had before 
 displayed. 
 
 ' In giving you my daughter/ he continued, 
 ' you may perhaps find some reason for my 
 eager desire to adopt Psyche/ 
 
 If I had not been blinded by a lovers 
 emotion I might have found another reason, 
 and seen that I was taking a bribe. 
 
 We found poor Psyche in the library looking 
 with pained wonder at an open book, and 
 striving to understand that each collection of 
 black marks meant a word, and that these 
 words, taken together, told of something that 
 people wanted to know. From the book 
 
248 THE SMUGGLER S SECRET: 
 
 she looked round the room at the shelves, 
 from floor to ceiling, filled with similar books. 
 
 ' Are they all the same ?' she asked. 
 
 ^ No ; see, this is quite different/ replied 
 Ethel, opening another, and telling her the 
 story it contained in a few easy words. But 
 the story failed to charm Psyche, for she had 
 a very serious object in making these 
 inquiries. 
 
 * Can you read them all — all these little 
 words in all these books ?' she asked in awe. 
 
 ' Yes, Ethel can read them all, and so will 
 you be able to read them one of these days,' 
 said Sir Henry kindly. 
 
 Psyche drew a long breath in silence. 
 Then turning to Ethel, she said : 
 
 ' Now I want to hear you sing — a song 
 with words/ 
 
 Ethel took her into the drawing-room, and, 
 sitting down to the piano, sang a simple 
 ballad to her own accompaniment. 
 
 'Oh, that is beautiful!' said Psjche, after 
 listening in rapt attention. ' I want to hear 
 it again ; let me do it.' And seating herself 
 
A ROMANCE. 249 
 
 before the piano, she pressed the notes as 
 she had seen Ethel press them ; but when 
 nothing but discord came from her touch she 
 drew back frightened, and looked round to 
 see if we were laughing at her folly. But the 
 poor child's ignorance and dismay moved us 
 in another way. 
 
 'You will have to learn a long while, dear, 
 before you can play,' said Ethel, sitting down 
 beside her, and taking her hand ; ' I have 
 been learning since I was quite a little child.' 
 
 When we left the house the stars were out. 
 
 ' Look, look !' cried Psyche, lifting Ethel's 
 hand in delight; 'see, she wears dewdrops on 
 her fingers !' 
 
 At a word from her father, Ethel took the 
 diamond ring off, and slipped it on Psyche's 
 finger. 
 
 ' It's a dewdrop that doesn't fade, and 
 that you can keep for ever/ she said ; ' and 
 you shall wear it always, dear, for my sake.' 
 
 As Psyche sat by my side in the night she 
 held up the ring, and looked at the glancing 
 rays wistfully. 
 
2 so THE SMUGGLERS SECRET: 
 
 ^ Brother/ she said, ' it does not look so 
 lovely on my hand as it did on hers. My 
 fingers are not so smooth and white as hers.' 
 
 ' Working in the sand has spoiled them. 
 That's all over now/ 
 
 ^ Yes ; we shall work side by side no more.' 
 
 Presently she looked at the ring again. 
 
 ' Oh, it was kind of her to give it to me 
 she said, pressing the ring to her cheek. 
 ' She is all kind and good, and sweet, and 
 beautiful. You don't know anyone in all 
 the world more beautiful and good, do you ?' 
 
 ' No, Psyche.' 
 
 ' I don't think there ever will be one like 
 her/ she said in a quiet tone of conviction. 
 
 ' Why, I thought you were going to be 
 like her/ I said lightly, hoping to change the 
 vein of sadness in which her thoughts seemed 
 to be running. But the pleasantry was 
 unperceived. 
 
 ' No,^ said she, shaking her head gravely ; 
 ^ I can never be like her. I was silly and 
 vain to think that. I know better now\ I 
 could never learn all those words — never 
 
A ROMANCE. 251 
 
 sing as she does ; for she has been learning 
 since she was a little child — all the time I 
 have been living in the dark. I shall never 
 be anything but a silent little creature of the 
 garden.' Her voice trembled. ' Talk to 
 me, dear, just a little more, and let me listen 
 as I did in the cave when you first came to 
 me and I knew nothing. Oh, it was good to 
 know nothing then ; it is dreadful to know so 
 little now ! My heart is very full. I cannot 
 speak.' 
 
 My heart was full also, but I managed to 
 speak cheerfully as I reasoned with her, 
 showing that our happiness did not depend 
 upon our excelling all others, or there could 
 be but one happy person in the whole world ; 
 that no two persons are alike, but each has 
 some excellence which the other may lack 
 without being less lovable ; and other truisms 
 of a like kind. 
 
 Whether she followed my arguments or 
 understood them, I cannot tell. Perhaps it was 
 only the sound of my voice she heard, while 
 her thoughts were occupied with pleasant 
 
252 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 memories. But she seemed comforted, now 
 and again smoothing my shoulder gently 
 with her cheek, as she did when she was 
 happy. 
 
 I thought I might take advantage of this 
 mood, to prepare her for the coming chang(% 
 so I spoke of our visit to The Chase, and the 
 things we had seen. It pleased her to talk 
 about the greenhouses and the gorgeous 
 flowers in them. 
 
 ' But it was so strange,' she said in a tone 
 of awe. 
 
 ' It will seem less strange and more beauti- 
 ful when you know them better.' 
 
 ' Are we going there again T she asked 
 shyly. 
 
 'We are going there to dine to-morrow^ 
 evening. You will like to go ?' 
 
 ' Wherever you go I must like to go. 
 
 ' You don't dislike Sir Henry ?' 
 
 ' Oh no ; I like him a great deal.' 
 
 ' I am glad of that. Do you know, he 
 wants you to live with him always.' 
 
 ' Why, I couldnt do that,' she exclaimed, 
 
A ROMANCE. 253 
 
 laughing. Then seehig me grave, her smile 
 went suddenly, and she said, with an accent of 
 consternation : ' You don't want me to go 
 away from you — you will not make me go to 
 him 
 
 ' ril not make you do anything, Psyche, 
 that hurts you. You shall live with me as 
 long as you will' 
 
 ' Oh, my brother !' she exclaimed, clasping 
 my arm to her breast. 
 
 Presently I said : 
 
 ' Would you like to have Ethel always 
 for a companion and friend 
 
 ' I do not understand that. I cannot live 
 always with her and with you, too.' 
 
 ' Not while we live asunder as we do. But 
 if I ask Ethel to live with us, and she says 
 yes ?' 
 
 ' She will never say yes,' Psyche said con- 
 fidently. ^ Never — never — never.' 
 
 I laughed, and asked how she could tell 
 that. 
 
 * I can tell it by what I feel,' she answered. 
 * When she looks at you and you look at her 
 
254 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 — when you speak low together, as you did 
 to-night — I could cry with the pain in my 
 heart. Then, how^ could she bear to see us 
 sitting as we sit now, whispering to each 
 other ? No, no, she could not do that. It 
 would be too much pain — more than she 
 could bear. She would rather live alone 
 than see that you are my brother and not 
 hers.' 
 
 How could I tell her that I loved Ethel 
 more than I loved her I rose, putling off 
 a little longer the evil hour. 
 
 Psyche rarely came down from her room 
 before sunset ; we were to dine at eight 
 o'clock, but Sir Henry had asked me to come 
 in the afternoon. 
 
 I went up to the house at four, and after 
 some general conversation Sir Henry excused 
 himself and went into the library, leaving 
 Ethel and me to ourselves. 
 
 We strolled in the shade of the pine-wood, 
 and there I asked Ethel to be my wife, and 
 she came into my arms and I held her to 
 
A ROMANCE, 255 
 
 my breast, oblivious of everything but the 
 crowning happiness of my Hfe. 
 
 But presently I heard a stifled cry of 
 pain, and looking down in surprise, I 
 said : 
 
 ' Why are you crying, love ?' 
 
 Ethel raised her head from my breast, and 
 showed me a face radiant with happiness. 
 
 ' Why should I cry ?' she asked. 
 
 I was perplexed. I could have sworn that, 
 as I murmured my love over her bent head, 
 kissing the waving hair, I heard a smothered 
 sob. 
 
 It was getting dark, when we saw Sir 
 Henry in the drive. 
 
 ' I am going over to fetch Psyche, my 
 other child,' he said. 
 
 I gave him the key of the door, content 
 to stay with my love. 
 
 Ten minutes, perhaps, had gone by when 
 Sir Henry appeared in the drive. He was 
 alone and walking hastily. 
 
 ' Where is Psyche ?' he asked, when he 
 was within speaking distance. 
 
256 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 ' I left her in the house when I came away. 
 I heard her singing in her room.' 
 
 * She is not there now/ he answered. ' She 
 is gone !' 
 
A ROMANCE. 
 
 257 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 * She is gone !' The words struck me with 
 dismay. I concluded at once that old Peter 
 had succeeded in capturing poor Psyche. 
 He was not a man who threatened idly, as 
 the murderous attempt upon the girFs life 
 had already proved. I spoke my fear to Sir 
 Henry as we ran to the cottage. 
 
 * You have nothing to fear from him/ 
 he replied with confidence. ' It is more 
 probable that she has left the house as 
 she did the other day when she found you 
 gone.' 
 
 This view was partly confirmed in my 
 mind when I found the back door unbolted. 
 After taking a hasty glance in her rooms and 
 round the garden we returned to The Chase. 
 It was there she sought me before: she knew 
 
 ^7 
 
258 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET : 
 
 we were to dine at the house ; it was natural 
 to suppose that she had taken the same path, 
 and had wandered from the open drive into 
 the deeper shade of the park. Yet my heart 
 sank with a fearful misgiving that the hope 
 was delusive. We went up to the house, 
 then, separating, we searched the alleys of the 
 park, calHng Psyche as we went. But no 
 answer came. 
 
 I found myself on the spot where I had 
 asked Ethel to be my wife and taken her 
 into my arms. Then noticing a close thicket 
 hard by, and remembering the sound of a 
 stiHed sob that had reached my ear, I felt 
 convinced that it had come from poor 
 Psyche's wrung heart, and that she, in seeing 
 me embrace Ethel as I had never embraced 
 her, had learnt for herself what I had not 
 found courage to tell her — that I loved Ethel 
 more than I loved her. 
 
 * My poor little sister !' I cried, and waited 
 with the last hope of hearing her sweet voice 
 echo as in the early days, ' Poor little sister !' 
 Not a breath broke the awful silence. 
 
A ROMANCE. 
 
 259 
 
 Alone I went back to the cottage. I 
 called her again and again in the garden, and 
 went into the house to search in every room 
 with blank hopelessness. Opening the door 
 of my own room, I found a trace of her that 
 crisped the hair on my head. 
 
 The room was strewn with fresh - cut 
 riowers. There were flowers on my pillow, 
 and beside them the ring that Ethel had put 
 on her finger. 
 
 I sat down unable to go further, for this 
 touching souvenir was too significant to be 
 misunderstood. Our conversation of the 
 night before came back to me ; what she had 
 said in speaking of the impossibility of Ethel 
 living with us applied now to herself — she 
 could not do that. It would be too much 
 pain. More than she could bear. She 
 would rather live alone than see that you are 
 mine, and not hers.' And she had found that 
 it was for her to go away and live alone. 
 But where had she wandered ? I asked my- 
 self, starting up as I realized the necessity of 
 finding the poor girl and soothing her stricken 
 
 17—2 
 
26o 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 heart at once. I did not fear suicide. 
 Pysche scarcely knew what death was ; the 
 possibiHty of self-destruction was beyond her 
 imagination. Had she simply gone along 
 the road on and on with no other object but 
 to get away from the place where it was too 
 much pain to live? No. In her room I 
 found a clue to her destination. 
 
 There was a cupboard in which she kept, 
 with a strange love, the relics she had 
 brought away with her from the cave. The 
 rough serge sack in which she worked by my 
 side in the burrow, the shoes she wore when 
 the day's work was done, and necklace of 
 shells that I had ground on a flint and 
 threaded together — they were gone, and 
 beside her bed lay all the clothes I had given 
 her in her new life. I felt sure she had gone 
 back to the cave, to live alone there wuth the 
 memory of those happy days when her heart 
 never ached. 
 
 It struck me that amongst those things 
 which she could not find words to tell me 
 about was some sort of premonition of this 
 
A ROMANCE, 
 
 return. The old life was often in her 
 thoughts ; but she had dwelt more than 
 usual upon the cave this last night. Long 
 after our conversation about Ethel, she 
 said : 
 
 ' Brother, do you remember the pretty 
 things we carved in the wall of the cave ? 
 There was a piece that you marked in black 
 that I never had time to do. Only a little 
 more and it would be all finished.' And 
 later on she said : ' We have forgotten all 
 about poor Caw ; I wonder if he would 
 know me again and come on my shoulder if 
 I called.' 
 
 With these recollections coming to my 
 mind I ran across the downs. There was 
 only one way to the cave that she knew — the 
 way by which we had left it together — and 
 that way I knew she would try to return by, 
 not reasoning that the water must long since 
 have silted up the tunnel. I went down the 
 gap : to my consternation the water was up, 
 and after following the shore some distance, I 
 was prevented by the sea from going further. 
 
262 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 I ran back, up the gap, and along the cHff in 
 frenzied haste. Beyond Deadman's Point I 
 looked down. The light had so faded that I 
 could barely distinguish the fragments of 
 cliff strewed on the shore from the foam of 
 the water breaking amidst them. Presently 
 I stood on the cliff just over the cavern and 
 strained my eyes in the dark chaos of rocks 
 and water below. It was there we had come 
 out into the open day ! A few jackdaws 
 were wheeling round half-way down ; their 
 cry was to me a terrible omen. Then gulping 
 down my choking emotion, I called for tlie 
 last time : 
 
 ' Psyche ! Sister ! Dear Psyche !' 
 
 It may have been no more than imagina- 
 tion, and yet a cold awe chilled me to the 
 heart, as there seemed to fall upon my ear 
 that swelling rise and plaintive fall of the 
 ^olian song of my sweet little help- 
 mate. 
 
 As I rushed back along the cliff I met Sir 
 Henry. 
 
 ' Good God, man !' he cried, ' what is the 
 
A ROMANCE. 263 
 
 matter ; you look like the ghost "of your- 
 self/ 
 
 ' Poor Psyche is down there !' I answered 
 through my sobs, still running on. 
 
 * What do you mean, Thorne ?' he asked, 
 his voice almost as broken as mine. 
 
 ' She has tried to go back to the cave — I 
 know it, I know it ! — and the water has come 
 up.' 
 
 ' O God, have I this to answer for too !' 
 he cried. 
 
 We dashed into the water like madmen, 
 and waded and swam till the point was 
 rounded, and then we got upon the sand, 
 and ran again till we came among the giant 
 boulders and ragged fragments of the fallen 
 cHff. 
 
 And there we found her — just a Httle 
 beyond the receding waters in her drabbled 
 dress. Her hands were clasped tightly upon 
 the string of shells I had put about her neck 
 in days when she knew no pain, and now in 
 her sweet child's face there was the same 
 expression of innocent joy it had worn then. 
 
264 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 I trust in God's mercy that at the last she 
 forgot that there is suffering in this world, 
 and died with the happiest memories she 
 knew. 
 
A ROMANCE, 
 
 265 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 She lies in the churchyard at Ecclesham. 
 On the stone over her grave there is one 
 word, ' Psyche' — no more. Her loss was a 
 terrible blow to all who had known her. 
 Even my grandfather hobbled up to the 
 grave as we left it, and dropped in the 
 flowers he had gathered for that purpose ; but 
 the one most prostrated was Sir Henry 
 Duncan. He looked like a man who never 
 slept. Morally and physically he seemed 
 unable to hold up his head, and walked as if 
 he had risen from a bed of sickness against 
 his wish. His condition perplexed Ethel as 
 much as it alarmed her ; it was less a mys- 
 tery to me, for I was perfectly sure that 
 in some way he was responsible for Psyche's 
 suffering. 
 
266 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 ' He has always suffered from occasional 
 fits of dejection/ Ethel said to me, ' and 
 hitherto I have been able to give him 
 relief. But now my efforts fail ; it seems 
 as if he did not hear my voice. I wish 
 you would persuade him to have medical 
 advice.' 
 
 Finding him alone in the park that even- 
 ing, I told him what she had said : 
 
 ' Yes,' he said, ' it is time I did something. 
 I can't go on like this, blighting the happiness 
 of all I love. You will be over early to- 
 morrow morning ; tell her I have gone to 
 consult the best physician I know, and shall 
 act on his advice, no matter what it is. I 
 can't tell her myself : she'd ask questions, 
 and I have never told her a lie.' 
 
 He was absent the next day, and I told 
 Ethel what he had promised to do ; but I 
 knew that he had gone no further than the 
 rocks where Psyche perished, and that his 
 own conscience was the only physician whose 
 guidance he sought and intended to follow. 
 We met him in the evening as he was coming 
 
A ROMANCE. 267 
 
 home, his hands behind him, his chin sunk on 
 his breast. 
 
 ^ I've seen him, love — the physician/ he 
 said, taking Ethel's hand with more tender- 
 ness than he had lately displayed. * Says I 
 need change. Tells me I must go away as 
 soon as possible.' 
 
 ' I thought he would advise that,' Ethel 
 said. ' Where shall we go ?' 
 
 ^ I shall go alone/ he said firmly, and then 
 with an abrupt change : ' When shall you be 
 married ?' 
 
 ' It is almost too early to think of that,' she 
 replied, looking down at the crape on her 
 dress. 
 
 ' I suppose conventional considerations 
 must be studied, even in a quiet wedding. 
 I should have liked to wait until you were 
 married, dear ; but I don't think I must 
 delay this — this journey. I want to avoid 
 anything like a parting/ he continued after a 
 pause. ' And so if I don't put in an appear- 
 ance one morning you must not be alarmed. 
 My sister is coming down with her youngsters 
 
268 
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 next week — perhaps I shall go then, perhaps 
 before, as I can't stand children. Anyhow, 
 I shall not say good-bye to you.' 
 
 One night at the end of the week after I 
 had parted from Ethel, I found Sir Henry in 
 the drive, where he waited purposely for me. 
 
 ' I want to talk to you,' he said. ' Let us 
 go on to the downs. This path is the most 
 direct.' 
 
 We turned from the drive and walked 
 in silence through the shade. 
 
 ' Do you believe in expiation, Thorne T he 
 asked suddenly. 
 
 * If you mean reparation ' I began. 
 
 He interrupted me impatiently. 
 
 * There are some injuries that can never be 
 repaired. Do you believe that a man may 
 get his soul out of hell by an act of self- 
 sacrifice — that is what I mean.' 
 
 ' No. To injure one's self for having 
 injured another doubles the offence.' 
 
 ' If a man may cry quits with society when 
 he has served his term in gaol for breaking 
 society's laws, why should not a man's con- 
 
A ROMANCE, 269 
 
 science be at peace when he has inflicted 
 upon himself the punishment he deserves ? 
 How else is he to get his soul out of that hell 
 where the vulture of reproach tears at it 
 night and day ? There is no other way by 
 which he may hope to meet those he loves 
 hereafter.' 
 
 ' But for that fear of something after death,' 
 he continued in a lower tone, speaking to 
 himself rather than addressing me, ' the 
 fear of facing one fair-haired, sweet-faced 
 child, and but for the hope of meeting my 
 dear daughter — escape from this purgatory 
 would be easy and quick enough/ 
 
 The path was bounded by a deep ditch ; 
 we leapt it ; but on the other side Sir Henry 
 stopped as if he had recalled something to 
 his mind ; and instead of skirting across the 
 downs, as had seemed his intention, he 
 followed the ed^e of the ditch till it ran into 
 a deep cleft in the cliff whence the drainage 
 was carried off. 
 
 The cleft was deep, but not more than six 
 or eight ftet wiue at the surface, and it grew 
 
270 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 deeper as it went down to the outlet on the 
 shore. Following the cleft for some twenty 
 paces, Sir Henry stopped at a point where 
 the turf showed that a load of lime had been 
 thrown there. 
 
 ' 1 had lime shot in/ he said, ' because 
 there is something dead and putrid down 
 there. Peter Beamish is down there. I 
 shot him through the head that night, you 
 remember.' 
 
 ' Is that the crime you are going to 
 expiate ?' I asked. 
 
 He laughed hoarsely. ' Crime !' he ex- 
 claimed. ' I think no more of having shot 
 that cursed villain through the head than if 
 he had been a mad dog.' 
 
 He kicked a clod down the cleft, and as it 
 fell with a thud on the lime that covered old 
 Peter, he said : 
 
 ' Fancy a thing like that — a vile ignorant 
 ruffian, ninety and odd — keeping me under 
 his thumb for a dozen years, holding me at 
 his mercy, threatening my daughter with life- 
 long disgrace ! With a little more wit he 
 
A ROMANCE, 271 
 
 might have taken every penny of my ill- 
 gotten fortune from me. You must know by 
 this time that I am the man who gave him 
 that child to sink out at sea. Every meeting 
 we had was in the dark, and under a disguise 
 I believed he could not recognise me ; but he 
 did. He was used to the night ; it was part 
 of his old business to penetrate disguise and 
 know what sort of man he had to deal with. 
 He told me how they had discovered her and 
 brought her to life. But no bribe would 
 induce him to give her up to me or tell 
 me where I could find her. Perhaps your 
 grandfather had something to do with that. 
 He thought, maybe, that, having tried to de- 
 stroy her once, I only wanted to get her again 
 to do the deed effectually. For twelve years 
 that went on. Then I saw your advertise- 
 ment in the Times, and answered it through a 
 firm of solicitors in London. When I learnt 
 from them that the girl you had found was 
 the child I had tried to murder, I lost my 
 head, and Peter Beamish coming to me at 
 that very moment for money, and with his 
 
272 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 usual threats of exposure, I defied him to pro- 
 duce the girl, and so, like a fool, put him on 
 the scent. He had told me that the child 
 was a stout, healthy wench in service as a bar- 
 maid ; I expected to find her vulgar, coarse, 
 robust. You can imagine the shock when I 
 heard the truth, and found the sweet, fresh 
 little thing whose wasted life I had to answer 
 for. God knows I did not mean to bury her 
 alive. You ask why I tried to kill the child : 
 I have brought you here to tell. Not that I 
 may excuse myself, but that it may lessen my 
 child's shame when the truth is known. I 
 married in direct defiance to my father's 
 wish. He disinherited me. I, a spendthrift, 
 a ne'er-do-well who had never occupied myself 
 with one serious consideration, found myself 
 unable to earn a living. My wife died. 
 Ethel was sick ; my last guinea was paid for 
 the advice of a physician. He declared that 
 Ethel could be saved by being taken to 
 Madeira for a time, but could never live 
 through the winter in this climate. At that 
 juncture my father died leaving everything to 
 
A ROMANCE, 273 
 
 an adopted infant, for he, like me, was a 
 friendless, unlovable man. By a strange 
 coincidence the adopted child was weak, not 
 expected to outlive childhood. My father 
 knew this, and left his fortune to her with a 
 reversion to me simply, as a means of pro- 
 longing my punishment for a few years 
 longer. And now this question was pre- 
 sented to me : Should I suffer my own child 
 to die when I might save her life by destroy- 
 ing the child who was not expected to live ? 
 I did not hesitate an instant. My child was 
 everything to me ; the other was nothing to 
 anybody. I stole the child, and, as I 
 believed, took her life away with an opiate. 
 I believed that she was dead when I gave 
 her into the hands of Peter Beamish. My 
 God deny me mercy if this is untrue!' He 
 paused, and then in a softened tone he said : 
 ' I do not wish to exonerate myself. Time 
 will show that I have paid the penalty for 
 the woe I brought upon poor unhappy 
 Psyche.' 
 
 % ^ 
 
 18 
 
274 THE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 He did not return to The Chase. Ethel 
 tried to believe that her father was seeking 
 relief from physical suffering- abroad. A month 
 passed and we heard no tidings of him. One 
 day my grandfather came to me, with a 
 scared look in his face. 
 
 ' Sonny,' he said in the hectoring tone he 
 had learned from his father, ^ you're got 
 to come along of me. You're got to put on 
 your hat and ask no questions, but just 
 take what I've got to give you as we goes 
 along.' 
 
 I put on my hat and went out w^ith him. We 
 turned in the direction of the Halfway House. 
 * I don't see much good in reformin',' he 
 began as we trudged along. ^ Seems to me 
 if you go a bit out o' your right course at the 
 fust that not all the tracks and total abstinat- 
 ing in life ain't going to put you straight 
 agen.' 
 
 ' What's the matter ?' I asked. 
 
 ' You speak when you're spoke to, and not 
 afore, sonny, or you'll go wrong like the rest 
 o' the family.' 
 
A ROMANCE. 275 
 
 Having walked on some distance in silence 
 to let this warning sink in, he recommenced : 
 
 * I dunnow what's the use on it. Here's 
 father been out on the loose for a month, and 
 never come anigh me ; it don't signify any- 
 thing that I ain't touched so much as 
 twopennorth, and been a-cocking my eye up 
 at the textes all the while, not a bit : — here's 
 more trouble come. As if it warn't enough 
 dreamin' every night of the young un, and 
 wakin' up all a shiver and a sweat, thinkin' 
 rd forgot to send down her victuals ! It 
 gets over me, that it do.' He stopped, his 
 old chin twitched, and he looked out over the 
 sea with blank dejection. The sight of his 
 cottage roused him. He turned his quid, 
 and, knitting his brows said : 
 
 ^ You're got to go down in that cave agen, 
 sonny.' 
 
 I stopped short, chilled to the heart at the 
 very thought of revisiting the scene of my 
 poor Psyche's captivity. 
 
 * Come on — you're got to go,' he said 
 doggedly. M'd go myself if I'd got the 
 
 18—2 
 
276 rtlE SMUGGLER'S SECRET: 
 
 Strength, and it ain't the fear of not comin' 
 up agen stops me, neither. I diinnow what's 
 the good of a old fellow like me a-hanging 
 on in this world/ 
 
 ' Who is down there ?' I asked, the truth 
 flashing upon me. 
 
 ' He's down there — Sir Henry Duncan.' 
 
 ' How long has he been there ?' 
 
 ' A month, sonny. He come to me and 
 told me I should have the old cottage as 
 long as I lived if I served him as I served the 
 young un. And seein' it was kinder right and 
 pious he should do by hisself as others had 
 been done by through him I agreed to it. Day 
 by day I've whistled to him like — well, as 
 near as I could like I whistled to her ; but 
 there warn't no pretty song come back ; he 
 emptied the basket all right, but with never a 
 sound till it come yesterday, and all day long 
 I was a-calling him and a-whistling, but no 
 answer come, and this morning the victuals is 
 in the basket just as I left 'em. So you're 
 got to go down and see what's amiss.' 
 
 I went down, sick with apprehension and 
 
A ROMANCE. 277 
 
 the dull pain of awakened memories. Once 
 more I lit the candle, and groped along the 
 passage into the shadowy cave. I found him 
 stretched out dead on Psyche's bed, with the 
 evidence of Psyche's life about him. In the 
 alcove over his head hung strips of the 
 coloured rags she had hung there for orna- 
 ment ; in the wall the scroll she cut ; in the 
 sand a print of her little foot. What place, 
 what means, could he have found more fitting 
 for his terrible expiation ? 
 
 ^ M, M. 
 
 •JT W W W W 
 
 The clouds have lifted ; the sun shines 
 now. Ethel is my wife, and when I hold her 
 hand in mine 1 feel that all the happiness 
 heaven can give is mine. 
 
 Last night we lingered long in the garden 
 after the afterglow faded away ; the heavens 
 filled with stars, and we walked slowly in 
 silent happiness. 
 
 ' Hush !' murmured Ethel, stopping. ' Did 
 you hear it ?' 
 
 A faint sound far away rose and fell, .nd so 
 died away imperceptibly. 
 
278 THE SMUGGLER 'S SEC RE T . 
 
 * There it is again,' she whispered low. ' It 
 is the first nightingale/ 
 
 It sounded to my ears like the lost voice 
 of Psyche, singing of the new happiness of a 
 new world. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD.