w, for by the time that
he reached the door she was there holding it open: and then, as if she
had not sufficiently considered her act of coming out, she drew herself
back, saying with some constraint, 'Mr. Stockdale!'

'You knew it was,' said Stockdale, taking her hand. 'I wrote to say I
should call.'

'Yes, but you did not say when,' she answered.

'I did not. I was not quite sure when my business would lead me to these
parts.'

'You only came because business brought you near?'

'Well, that is the fact; but I have often thought I should like to come
on purpose to see you . . . But what's all this that has happened? I
told you how it would be, Lizzy, and you would not listen to me.'

'I would not,' she said sadly. 'But I had been brought up to that life;
and it was second nature to me. However, it is all over now. The
officers have blood-money for taking a man dead or alive, and the trade
is going to nothing. We were hunted down like rats.'

'Owlett is quite gone, I hear.'

'Yes. He is in America. We had a dreadful struggle that last time, when
they tried to take him. It is a perfect miracle that he lived through
it; and it is a wonder that I was not killed. I was shot in the hand. It
was not by aim; the shot was really meant for my cousin; but I was
behind, looking on as usual, and the bullet came to me. It bled
terribly, but I got home without fainting; and it healed after a time.
You know how he suffered?'

'No,' said Stockdale. 'I only heard that he just escaped with his life.'

'He was shot in the back; but a rib turned the ball. He was badly hurt.
We would not let him be took. The men carried him all night across the
meads to Kingsbere, and hid him in a barn, dressing his wound as well as
they could, till he was so far recovered as to be able to get about. He
had gied up his mill for some time; and at last he got to Bristol, and
took a passage to America, and he's settled in Wisconsin.'

'What do you think of smuggling now?' said the minister gravely.

'I own that we were wrong,' said she. 'But I have suffered for it. I am
very poor now, and my mother has been dead these twelve months . . . But
won't you come in, Mr. Stockdale?'

Stockdale went in; and it is to be supposed that they came to an
understanding; for a fortnight later there was a sale of Lizzy's
furniture, and after that a wedding at a chapel in a neighbouring town.

He took her away from her old haunts to the home