“And I feel much obliged to you for so doing, and I assure you I will, as far as I have made up my own mind, answer you candidly: but you tremble—allow me to conduct you to a seat. In few words, then, to remove your present alarm, I intend that the vessel shall be returned to its owner, with every article in it as religiously respected as if they were church property. With respect to you, and the other ladies on board, I pledge you my honour that you have nothing to fear; that you shall be treated with every respect; your privacy never invaded; and that, in a few days, you will be restored to your friends. Young lady, I pledge my hopes of future salvation to the truth of this; but, at the same time, I must make a few conditions, which, however, will not be very severe.”
“But, sir,” replied Cecilia, much relieved, for Pickersgill had stood by her in the most respectful manner, “you are, I presume, the captain of the smuggler? Pray answer me one question more—What became of the boat with Lord B—? He is my father.”
“I left him in his boat, without a hair of his head touched, young lady; but I took away the oars.”
“Then he will perish!” cried Cecilia, putting her handkerchief to her eyes.
“No, young lady; he is on shore, probably, by this time. Although I took away his means of assisting to capture us, I left him the means of gaining the land. It is not every one who would have done that, after his conduct to us.”
“I begged him not to go,” said Cecilia; “I told him that it was not fair, and that he had no quarrel with the smugglers.”
“I thank you even for that,” replied Pickersgill. “And now, miss—I have not the pleasure of recollecting his lordship’s family name—”
“Ossulton, sir,” cried Cecilia, looking at Pickersgill with surprise.
“Then with your permission, Miss Ossulton, I will now make you my confidant: excuse my using so free a term, but it is because I wish to relieve your fears. At the same time, I cannot permit you to divulge all my intentions to the whole party on board. I feel that I may trust you, for you have courage, and where there is courage there generally is truth; but you must first tell me whether you will condescend to accept these terms?”
Cecilia demurred a moment; the idea of being the confidant of a smuggler rather startled her: but still, her knowledge of what his intentions were, if she might not reveal them, might be important; as, perhaps, she might dissuade him. She could be in no worse position than she was now, and she might be in a much better. The conduct of Pickersgill had been such, up to the present, as to inspire confidence; and, although he defied the laws, he appeared to regard the courtesies of life. Cecilia was a courageous girl, and at length she replied:—