The Smuggler: A Tale. Volumes I-IIIJames, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
General
The Smuggler: A Tale. Volumes I-III
James, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
England -- Social life and customs -- 18th century -- Fiction; Kent (England) -- Fiction; Smugglers -- Fiction
The young officer knew it was in vain to reason with him, for in the
frequent intercourse they had held together, he had perceived that,
with many generous and noble feelings, with a pure heart, and almost
ascetic severity of life, there was a certain perversity in the course
of Mr. Warde's thoughts, which rendered it impossible to turn them
from the direction which they naturally took. It seemed as if by long
habit they had channelled for themselves so deep a bed, that they
could never be diverted thence; and consequently, without replying at
first, he merely turned his eyes in the direction which the other
pointed out, trying to catch sight of the person of whom he spoke.
They were now on the low sandy shore which runs along between the town
of Hythe and the beautiful little watering place of Sandgate. But it
must be recollected, that at the time I speak of, the latter place
displayed no ornamental villas, no gardens full of flowers, almost
touching on the sea, and consisted merely of a few fishermen's, or
rather smuggler's, huts, with one little public house, and a
low-browed shop, filled with all the necessities that the inhabitants
might require. Thus nothing like the mass of buildings which the
watering place now can boast, lay between them and the Folkestone
cliffs; and the whole line of the coast, except at one point, where
the roof of a house intercepted the view, was open before Osborn's
eyes; yet neither upon the shore itself, nor upon the green upland,
which was broken by rocks and bushes, and covered by thick dry grass,
could he perceive anything resembling a human form. A minute after,
however, he thought he saw something move against the rugged
background, and the next moment, the head and shoulders of a man
rising over the edge of the hill caught his eyes, and as his companion
walked forward in silence, he inquired,
"Have you known him long, or is this one of your sudden judgments, my
good friend?"
"I knew him when he was a boy and a lad," answered Wilmot, "I know him
now that he is a man--so it is no sudden judgment. Come, let us speak
with him, Osborn," and he advanced rapidly, by a narrow path, up the
side of the slope.
Osborn paused a single instant, and then followed, saying, "Be upon
your guard, Warde; and remember how I am circumstanced. Neither commit
me nor let him commit himself."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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