The following Thursday was changeable, damp, and gloomy; and the nightthreatened to be windy and unpleasant. Stockdale had gone away toKnollsea in the morning, to be present at some commemoration servicethere, and on his return he was met by the attractive Lizzy in thepassage. Whether influenced by the tide of cheerfulness which hadattended him that day, or by the drive through the open air, or whetherfrom a natural disposition to let bygones alone, he allowed himself to befascinated into forgetfulness of the greatcoat incident, and upon thewhole passed a pleasant evening; not so much in her society as withinsound of her voice, as she sat talking in the back parlour to her mother,till the latter went to bed. Shortly after this Mrs. Newberry retired,and then Stockdale prepared to go upstairs himself. But before he leftthe room he remained standing by the dying embers awhile, thinking longof one thing and another; and was only aroused by the flickering of hiscandle in the socket as it suddenly declined and went out. Knowing thatthere were a tinder-box, matches, and another candle in his bedroom, hefelt his way upstairs without a light. On reaching his chamber he laidhis hand on every possible ledge and corner for the tinderbox, but for along time in vain. Discovering it at length, Stockdale produced a spark,and was kindling the brimstone, when he fancied that he heard a movementin the passage. He blew harder at the lint, the match flared up, andlooking by aid of the blue light through the door, which had beenstanding open all this time, he was surprised to see a male figurevanishing round the top of the staircase with the evident intention ofescaping unobserved. The personage wore the clothes which Lizzy had beenbrushing, and something in the outline and gait suggested to the ministerthat the wearer was Lizzy herself.

But he was not sure of this; and, greatly excited, Stockdale determinedto investigate the mystery, and to adopt his own way for doing it. Heblew out the match without lighting the candle, went into the passage,and proceeded on tiptoe towards Lizzy's room. A faint grey square oflight in the direction of the chamber-window as he approached told himthat the door was open, and at once suggested that the occupant was gone.He turned and brought down his fist upon the handrail of the staircase:'It was she; in her late husband's coat and hat!'

Somewhat relieved to find that there was no intruder in the case, yetnone the less surprised, the minister crept down the stairs, softly puton his boots, overcoat, and hat, and tried the front door. It wasfastened as usual: he went to the back door, found this unlocked, andemerged into the garden. The night was mild and moonless, and rain hadlately been falling, though for the present it had ceased. There was asudden dropping from the trees and bushes every now and then, as eachpassing wind shook their boughs. Among these sounds Stockdale heard thefaint fall of feet upon the road outside, and he guessed from the stepthat it was Lizzy's. He followed the sound, and, helped by thecircumstance of the wind blowing from the direction in which thepedestrian moved, he got nearly close to her, and kept there, withoutrisk of being overheard. While he thus followed her up the street orlane, as it might indifferently be called, there being more hedge thanhouses on either side, a figure came forward to her from one of thecottage doors. Lizzy stopped; the minister stepped upon the grass andstopped also.

'Is that Mrs. Newberry?' said the man who had come out, whose voiceStockdale recognized as that of one of the most devout members of hiscongregation.

'It is,' said Lizzy.

'I be quite ready--I've been here this quarter-hour.'

'Ah, John,' said she, 'I have bad news; there is danger to-night for ourventure.'

'And d'ye tell o't! I dreamed there might be.'

'Yes,' she said hurriedly; 'and you must go at once round to where thechaps are waiting, and tell them they will not be wanted till to-morrownight at the same time. I go to burn the lugger off.'

'I will,' he said; and instantly went off through a gate, Lizzycontinuing her way.

On she tripped at a quickening pace till the lane turned into theturnpike-road, which she crossed, and got into the track for Ringsworth.Here she ascended the hill without the least hesitation, passed thelonely hamlet of Holworth, and went down the vale on the other side.Stockdale had never taken any extensive walks in this direction, but hewas aware that if she persisted in her course much longer she would drawnear to the coast, which was here between two and three miles distantfrom Nether-Moynton; and as it had been about a quarter-past eleveno'clock when they set out, her intention seemed to be to reach the shoreabout midnight.

Lizzy soon ascended a small mound, which Stockdale at the same timeadroitly skirted on the left; and a dull monotonous roar burst upon hisear. The hillock was about fifty yards from the top of the cliffs, andby day it apparently commanded a full view of the bay. There was lightenough in the sky to show her disguised figure against it when shereached the top, where she paused, and afterwards sat down. Stockdale,not wishing on any account to alarm her at this moment, yet desirous ofbeing near her, sank upon his hands and knees, crept a little higher up,and there stayed still.

The wind was chilly, the ground damp, and his position one in which hedid not care to remain long. However, before he had decided to leave it,the young man heard voices behind him. What they signified he did notknow; but, fearing that Lizzy was in danger, he was about to run forwardand warn her that she might be seen, when she crept to the shelter of alittle bush which maintained a precarious existence in that exposed spot;and her form was absorbed in its dark and stunted outline as if she hadbecome part of it. She had evidently heard the men as well as he. Theypassed near him, talking in loud and careless tones, which could be heardabove the uninterrupted washings of the sea, and which suggested thatthey were not engaged in any business at their own risk. This proved tobe the fact: some of their words floated across to him, and caused him toforget at once the coldness of his situation.

'What's the vessel?'

'A lugger, about fifty tons.'

'From Cherbourg, I suppose?'

'Yes, 'a b'lieve.'

'But it don't all belong to Owlett?'

'O no. He's only got a share. There's another or two in it--a farmerand such like, but the names I don't know.'

The voices died away, and the heads and shoulders of the men diminishedtowards the cliff, and dropped out of sight.

'My darling has been tempted to buy a share by that unbeliever Owlett,'groaned the minister, his honest affection for Lizzy having quickened toits intensest point during these moments of risk to her person and name.'That's why she's here,' he said to himself. 'O, it will be the ruin ofher!'

His perturbation was interrupted by the sudden bursting out of a brightand increasing light from the spot where Lizzy was in hiding. A fewseconds later, and before it had reached the height of a blaze, he heardher rush past him down the hollow like a stone from a sling, in thedirection of home. The light now flared high and wide, and showed itsposition clearly. She had kindled a bough of furze and stuck it into thebush under which she had been crouching; the wind fanned the flame, whichcrackled fiercely, and threatened to consume the bush as well as thebough. Stockdale paused just long enough to notice thus much, and thenfollowed rapidly the route taken by the young woman. His intention wasto overtake her, and reveal himself as a friend; but run as he would hecould see nothing of her. Thus he flew across the open country aboutHolworth, twisting his legs and ankles in unexpected fissures anddescents, till, on coming to the gate between the downs and the road, hewas forced to pause to get breath. There was no audible movement eitherin front or behind him, and he now concluded that she had not outrun him,but that, hearing him at her heels, and believing him one of the exciseparty, she had hidden herself somewhere on the way, and let him pass by.

He went on at a more leisurely pace towards the village. On reaching thehouse he found his surmise to be correct, for the gate was on the latch,and the door unfastened, just as he had left them. Stockdale closed thedoor behind him, and waited silently in the passage. In about tenminutes he heard the same light footstep that he had heard in going out;it paused at the gate, which opened and shut softly, and then the door-latch was lifted, and Lizzy came in.

Stockdale went forward and said at once, 'Lizzy, don't be frightened. Ihave been waiting up for you.'

She started, though she had recognized the voice. 'It is Mr. Stockdale,isn't it?' she said.

'Yes,' he answered, becoming angry now that she was safe indoors, and notalarmed. 'And a nice game I've found you out in to-night. You are inman's clothes, and I am ashamed of you!'

Lizzy could hardly find a voice to answer this unexpected reproach.

'I am only partly in man's clothes,' she faltered, shrinking back to thewall. 'It is only his greatcoat and hat and breeches that I've got on,which is no harm, as he was my own husband; and I do it only because acloak blows about so, and you can't use your arms. I have got my owndress under just the same--it is only tucked in! Will you go awayupstairs and let me pass? I didn't want you to see me at such a time asthis!'

'But I have a right to see you! How do you think there can be anythingbetween us now?' Lizzy was silent. 'You are a smuggler,' he continuedsadly.

'I have only a share in the run,' she said.

'That makes no difference. Whatever did you engage in such a trade asthat for, and keep it such a secret from me all this time?'

'I don't do it always. I only do it in winter-time when 'tis new moon.'

'Well, I suppose that's because it can't be done anywhen else . . . Youhave regularly upset me, Lizzy.'

'I am sorry for that,' Lizzy meekly replied.

'Well now,' said he more tenderly, 'no harm is done as yet. Won't youfor the sake of me give up this blamable and dangerous practicealtogether?'

'I must do my best to save this run,' said she, getting rather husky inthe throat. 'I don't want to give you up--you know that; but I don'twant to lose my venture. I don't know what to do now! Why I have keptit so secret from you is that I was afraid you would be angry if youknew.'

'I should think so! I suppose if I had married you without finding thisout you'd have gone on with it just the same?'

'I don't know. I did not think so far ahead. I only went to-night toburn the folks off, because we found that the excisemen knew where thetubs were to be landed.'

'It is a pretty mess to be in altogether, is this,' said the distractedyoung minister. 'Well, what will you do now?'

Lizzy slowly murmured the particulars of their plan, the chief of whichwere that they meant to try their luck at some other point of the shorethe next night; that three landing-places were always agreed upon beforethe run was attempted, with the understanding that, if the vessel was'burnt off' from the first point, which was Ringsworth, as it had been byher to-night, the crew should attempt to make the second, which wasLulstead Cove, on the second night; and if there, too, danger threatened,they should on the third night try the third place, which was behind aheadland further west.

'Suppose the officers hinder them landing there too?' he said, hisattention to this interesting programme displacing for a moment hisconcern at her share in it.

'Then we shan't try anywhere else all this dark--that's what we call thetime between moon and moon--and perhaps they'll string the tubs to astray-line, and sink 'em a little-ways from shore, and take the bearings;and then when they have a chance they'll go to creep for 'em.'

'What's that?'

'O, they'll go out in a boat and drag a creeper--that's a grapnel--alongthe bottom till it catch hold of the stray-line.'

The minister stood thinking; and there was no sound within doors but thetick of the clock on the stairs, and the quick breathing of Lizzy, partlyfrom her walk and partly from agitation, as she stood close to the wall,not in such complete darkness but that he could discern against itswhitewashed surface the greatcoat and broad hat which covered her.

'Lizzy, all this is very wrong,' he said. 'Don't you remember the lessonof the tribute-money? "Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's."Surely you have heard that read times enough in your growing up?'

'He's dead,' she pouted.

'But the spirit of the text is in force just the same.'

'My father did it, and so did my grandfather, and almost everybody inNether-Moynton lives by it, and life would be so dull if it wasn't forthat, that I should not care to live at all.'

'I am nothing to live for, of course,' he replied bitterly. 'You wouldnot think it worth while to give up this wild business and live for mealone?'

'I have never looked at it like that.'

'And you won't promise and wait till I am ready?'

'I cannot give you my word to-night.' And, looking thoughtfully down,she gradually moved and moved away, going into the adjoining room, andclosing the door between them. She remained there in the dark till hewas tired of waiting, and had gone up to his own chamber.

Poor Stockdale was dreadfully depressed all the next day by thediscoveries of the night before. Lizzy was unmistakably a fascinatingyoung woman, but as a minister's wife she was hardly to be contemplated.'If I had only stuck to father's little grocery business, instead ofgoing in for the ministry, she would have suited me beautifully!' he saidsadly, until he remembered that in that case he would never have comefrom his distant home to Nether-Moynton, and never have known her.

The estrangement between them was not complete, but it was sufficient tokeep them out of each other's company. Once during the day he met her inthe garden-path, and said, turning a reproachful eye upon her, 'Do youpromise, Lizzy?' But she did not reply. The evening drew on, and heknew well enough that Lizzy would repeat her excursion at night--her half-offended manner had shown that she had not the slightest intention ofaltering her plans at present. He did not wish to repeat his own shareof the adventure; but, act as he would, his uneasiness on her accountincreased with the decline of day. Supposing that an accident shouldbefall her, he would never forgive himself for not being there to help,much as he disliked the idea of seeming to countenance such unlawfulescapades.