Chapter 8

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_ CHAPTER EIGHT.

Archy was some little distance ahead of his men, and he had just stepped into the patch of woodland which surrounded the Hoze, when he heard a pleasant little voice singing a snatch of a Jacobite song.

He stopped short to listen, it sounded so bird-like and sweet, and half-laughingly he sang the last line over aloud, thinking the while how disloyal he was.

Hardly had he finished, when there was a burst of barking, a rush, and a dog came hurrying toward him, followed by a voice crying--

"Grip, Grip, come here!"

The dog seemed to pay no heed to the call, and at a turn of the track, Archy saw him coming open-mouthed.

It was not a pleasant sight, and the youth felt disposed to take to his heels, and run for protection to his men.

But there were drawbacks to such a proceeding.

If he ran it would look cowardly, and he knew for certain that the dog would come after him, and take him at a disadvantage; so, making a virtue of necessity, he whipped out his dirk and ran hard at the dog, who checked his pace, hesitated, stopped, barked more furiously than ever, and then turned round, and was chased by the midshipman, who drew up on finding himself face to face with Sir Risdon's daughter, out for her daily walk.

The girl turned white, and was in the act of turning to run away, when Archy's words arrested her.

"No, no," he cried, "don't run away."

She stopped, and looked from his face to his dirk, and back.

"Oh, I see," he said, "that alarmed you. There," he continued, sheathing the little weapon, "I only drew it because your dog looked so fierce. Does he bite?"

"Sometimes, I'm afraid. But were you coming to see my father? Who are you?" she added uneasily, as she glanced at the lad's uniform.

"I am Archibald Raystoke, of His Majesty's cutter _White Hawk_."

"And you want to see my father?" cried the girl, beginning to tremble.

"Well, yes, I ought to see him. The fact is, we have landed to search for a quantity of smuggled things, and to make a capture of the smugglers if we can."

Celia looked at him wildly, and her face grew more and more white.

"Will you show me the way to the house? The Hoze you call it, do you not?"

Celia gave a quick, almost imperceptible nod, as she recalled how she had lain in her clothes, and listened to the busy coming and going of footsteps, for the greater part of the night.

As all this came to her mind, she felt at first as if she must run to warn her father. Then a giddy feeling of dread came over her, and she stood staring blankly at the frank-looking boy before her.

"I know the great vault is full of smuggled things," she said to herself, "and that they will think my father put them there. What shall I do?"

"Poor little lassie!" said Archy to himself, as he smiled complacently; "she has never seen an officer in uniform before, and I frightened her with my drawn sword."

At that moment, Gurr came up with the men, and Celia seemed as if turned to stone.

"This young lady lives at the house, Mr Gurr," said Archy aloud, "and she will show us the way."

Poor Celia felt as if she could neither move nor speak. It seemed horrible to her that she should have the task of guiding the king's men, perhaps to arrest her father. But just then she was brought to herself by the behaviour of the dog, who, on seeing his mistress talking in a friendly way to the stranger who had chased him, had condescended to be quiet, but now that a fresh party of the enemy was approaching, set up his bristles, and began to bark and growl furiously.

"Down, Grip! Quiet!" she cried, and feeling bound to act, she went on, with the midshipman keeping close up, and putting in an apologetic word about giving her so much trouble.

Celia could hardly keep down a hysterical cry, as she caught sight of her father and mother, the latter with her hand upon the former's arm. They had been taking their customary walk in the neglected garden, and Sir Risdon was about to lead his pale, careworn lady up the steps, when the snarling and subdued barking of Grip made him turn his head, and he stopped short with his lips almost white.

"What is it?" whispered Lady Graeme, as she saw the uniforms and weapons of the men.

"The end!" said the unhappy man, as he looked wildly at his wife. "The result of my weakness. They are on the scent of the smuggled goods, and I am to be called to account for their possession. Better that we had starved!"

Lady Graeme caught his hand, and pressed it hard.

"Be firm," she whispered; "you will betray yourself."

"Well," he replied bitterly, "why not? Better so than being the slave of that wretched man. I feel that I am worse than he. I do know better, he does not."

Recalling that he was in the presence of a gentleman, Archy raised his hat, advanced and said, apologetically, who and what they were. That his was a very unpleasant duty, but that as a gentleman, Sir Risdon would see that the king's officers had no alternative but to carry out their duty.

"Of course not, sir," said Sir Risdon. "I understand, sir, you wish to search. Very well, I shall raise no objection. Proceed."

"Shall we close the men all round the house?" said the master, coming up after halting the men.

"Wait a minute," replied Archy. "Really, I hardly think it is necessary for us to commit so serious an act of rudeness towards a gentleman. Perhaps Sir Risdon Graeme will be good enough to assure me."

"No, sir," said the baronet sternly; "I shall make no obstacle. You have your duty to do; pray proceed."

The midshipman hesitated, and looked from one to the other, seeing Lady Graeme standing pale, handsome, and statuesque by her husband's side, while on the other side was Celia, holding her father's hand, and resting her forehead against his arm.

"I won't do it, I can't," thought Archy. "Why didn't he say out at once he had no knowledge of the affair, and send us about our business?"

At that moment, he felt his sleeve plucked, and turning angrily round, he saw the elderly master, who had been standing hat in hand, greatly impressed by Lady Graeme's dignity.

"We're on the wrong tack, Mr Raystoke, sir," he whispered.

"Think so, Gurr?" said Archy joyfully.

"Oh, yes! These are not the sort o' folk to do that kind o' thing. Apologise, and I'll give the order to march. It goes through me like a knife."

Archy drew a long breath, and was about to retire his men, when he heard something which made him bound forward, for Celia, unable to bear the horror and alarm any longer had suddenly swooned away.

The midshipman was too late, for Sir Risdon had bent down, raised his child, and was about to carry her into the house.

He turned fiercely on the young officer.

"Well, sir," he said sternly, "you have your duty to do; pray go on, and then relieve my wife and child of the presence of your men."

"I beg your pardon, Sir Risdon," said Archy quickly. "No one could regret this more than I do. You see I am only a young officer, quite a boy, and was sent on this unpleasant duty."

"Go on, sir, go on!"

"Oh, no!" cried the lad; "I am unwilling to search the place. I'm sure if our lieutenant knew he would not wish it for a moment."

The baronet gazed at the boy wildly, as he clasped his child to his breast.

"You--you are not going to search?" he said hesitatingly.

"No, of course not. Pray forgive me. I'll lead my men back to the boat at once."

He raised his hat to Lady Graeme, an example followed by the master clumsily, as he backed away to the men, whom he faced round, the order was given, and they began to march back.

As they disappeared among the trees, Sir Risdon stooped down and kissed his child's forehead passionately.

"Wife," he said, in a deep, husky voice, "I never felt the misery and degradation of my position so cruelly before. Take her up to her room."

"What are you going to do, Risdon?" exclaimed the lady.

"Follow that poor lad, and let him know the truth. I will not let him fail in his duty, to rescue that old scoundrel down below."

"No, no! You must not. It would be too cruel," whispered Lady Graeme wildly. "Think of the consequences."

"I do," said Sir Risdon sternly. "I should have behaved like what I have a right to be called--a gentleman."

"And make our fortunes ten times worse. You would be torn from us. What are poverty and disgrace to that?"

"You are cruel," said Sir Risdon bitterly. "I must, woman; I tell you I must. If this poor child should ever know into what a pit I have allowed myself to be led, how can I ever look her in the face again?"

"It would kill her for you to be taken away, to be punished, perhaps, for that which you could hardly help."

"No, she would soon forget."

"And I should soon forget?" said Lady Graeme reproachfully.

Sir Risdon turned to her wildly, as she laid her head upon his breast.

"If you were taken from us, it would kill me too," she said tenderly; and then in silence, they bore their insensible child into the forbidding-looking house. _

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