light in the knowledge of the real peril from which she had saved her handsome companion.
He was, however, loth to accept her invitation to stay at the Parsonage, fearing that he might, by so doing, bring the vengeance of the smugglers on the heads of both father and daughter. She made light of this fear; but finally, at her urgent entreaties, he agreed to go home with her in the first place, and to take Parson Langney's advice as to going further that night or not.
Hardly had this been settled between the two young people, when the horse they rode pricked up his ears, rousing the attention of his riders.
They had now left the open fields, and were passing through a wild bit of country where knots of trees, well-grown hedges, and clumps of bramble made it difficult for them to see far in any direction, and formed, moreover, safe hiding-places where an enemy might lie in ambush unperceived and unsuspected.
In the distance, before them a little to the left, lay the marshes, with the white vapor rolling over them from the sea.
