‘But they tell you you may take it?’
‘Yes, the smugglers: but the buyers must not know that the smugglers have been kind to me at their expense.’
‘I see,’ said Stockdale doubtfully. ‘I much question the honesty of this proceeding.’
By her direction he held the tub with the hole upwards, and while he went through the process of alternately pressing and ceasing to press, she produced a bottle of water, from which she took mouthfuls, conveying each to the keg by putting her pretty lips to the hole, where it was sucked in at each recovery of the cask from pressure. When it was again full he plugged the hole, knocked the hoop down to its place, and buried the tub in the lumber as before.
‘Aren’t the smugglers afraid that you will tell?’ he asked, as they recrossed the churchyard.
‘O no; they are not afraid of that. I couldn’t do such a thing.’
‘They have put you into a very awkward corner,’ said Stockdale emphatically. ‘You must, of course, as an honest person, sometimes feel that it is your duty to inform—really you must.’
‘Well, I have never particularly felt it as a duty; and, besides, my first husband—’ She stopped, and there was some confusion in her voice. Stockdale was so honest and unsophisticated that he did not at once discern why she paused: but at last he did perceive that the words were a slip, and that no woman would have uttered ‘first husband’ by accident unless she had thought pretty frequently of a second. He felt for her confusion, and allowed her time to recover and proceed. ‘My husband,’ she said, in a self-corrected tone, ‘used to know of their doings, and so did my father, and kept the secret. I cannot inform, in fact, against anybody.’
‘I see the hardness of it,’ he continued, like a man who looked far into the moral of things. ‘And it is very cruel that you should be tossed and tantalized between your memories and your conscience. I do hope, Mrs. Newberry, that you will soon see your way out of this unpleasant position.’
‘Well, I don’t just now,’ she murmured.