might rush off at once to put the revenue men on the
smuggler's track, or he might stop his sister from going, or he might
(in the absence of his father) order a feast to be prepared, and fetch
the outlaw to be his guest. So Mary had resolved not to tell him until
the last moment, when he could do none of these things.

But now she must either go on all alone, or give up her purpose and
break her promise. After some hesitation she determined to go on, for
the place would scarcely seem so very lonely now with the windmill
in view, which would always remind her henceforth of her dear brother
William. It was perfectly certain that Captain Robert Lyth, whose fame
for chivalry was everywhere, and whose character was all in all to him
with the ladies who bought his silks and lace, would see her through all
danger caused by confidence in him; and really it was too bad of her
to admit any paltry misgivings. But reason as she might, her young
conscience told her that this was not the proper thing to do, and she
made up her mind not to do it again. Then she laughed at the notion of
being ever even asked, and told herself that she was too conceited; and
to cut the matter short, went very bravely down the hill.

The lane, which came winding from the beach up to the windmill, was as
pretty a lane as may anywhere be found in any other county than that of
Devon. With a Devonshire lane it could not presume to vie, having little
of the glorious garniture of fern, and nothing of the crystal brook that
leaps at every corner; no arches of tall ash, keyed with dog-rose, and
not much of honeysuckle, and a sight of other wants which people feel
who have lived in the plenitude of everything. But in spite of all that,
the lane was very fine for Yorkshire.

On the other hand, Mary had prettier ankles, and a more graceful and
lighter walk, than the Devonshire lanes, which like to echo something,
for the most part seem accustomed to; and the short dress of the time
made good such favorable facts when found. Nor was this all that could
be said, for the maiden (while her mother was so busy pickling cabbage,
from which she drove all intruders) had managed to forget what the day
of the week was, and had opened the drawer that should be locked
up until Sunday. To walk with such a handsome tall fellow as Willie
compelled her to look like something too, and without any thought of it
she put her best hat on, and a very pretty thing with some French name