"'T will be twenty-one-two-three, twenty-three years, next September. I mind it well. The parson was killed. What did folks say about it?"
"I was scarce born," Edward answered. "But I ha' heard it made a great noise in the country. Some said it was Will Watch's people, and some that the Squire knew more about it than he'd choose to tell."
"That was wrong," said Denis.
"What!" cried his companion.
"I mean 'twas none of his people at the time. And what's this ye say about the marriage?"
"Well, it was always thought to be made by this parson, whose body they found under the cliff. But now Michael brings a fellow to swear 'twas no such thing, but he married them himself, and, he not being a parson, the marriage falls to the ground, and the squire's son is put out of the castle. That's what it is."
The smuggler mused for some time.
"Edward," then he said, "'tis a long time since that night, and little I deemed to have it brought back like this. I have sailed many a league since then, and half of it has been forgotten. And why should I recollect it to-day? Will it do me good or harm? But there's nought left me to care for now; nought but the little lass that the revenue thieves carried off when they had shot my poor Felipa. And then this fire; one can hardly be worse off than one is. And I should like to put a check on this sneaking knave, that wanted to draw me into a lie. So sit thee down, lad, and listen to the rights of all this story:—
"'Tis twenty-three years ago, I was much such another as ye are now. But, to say the truth, fonder of the wrestling-ring than of the plough, and better pleased at a wake than at a sermon. Moreover, I knew the country well, and when I set a snare at night you may rely it was not empty in the morning. Well, it was that spring or summer, there came to lodge at Madam Sennor's—a little house on the cliff, not over far from Trevethlan Castle—one Mr. Ashton, that was a clergyman. Somehow or other he fell in with me, and used to get me to guide him, as it were, about the country,—a thing that suited my idle ways very well. Now I soon found that Mr. Ashton was not over much like a parson, but did not care to go to a wake himself, and could read the glance of a girl's eye as well as another. So he and I grew to be in a way more companionable than suited my station perhaps; but I don't know it, for he was often very ill off for money. Be it as it will, we got on very well together.
"So, while we were on this footing, says Mr. Ashton to me one day,—Wyley, he says, here's Mr. Trevethlan, of the Castle, wants me to marry him specially, or something, he called it, and I am to take a witness with me. Will you come? says he. And he told me the particulars; as how it was a young peasant girl, and there would be money to be had for the business, and so I agreed to go. Well, he took me with him to the castle, and Mr. Trevethlan met us himself on the outside, and brought us just into the great hall without our seeing a single soul. And there were a young woman, and also an old one, that I understood was her mother. So Mr. Trevethlan gave Mr. Ashton a prayer-book, and he read the office between the parties, and I was put to give the bride—Margaret something was her name—away. And I recollect that Ashton, being somewhat nervous, dropped the ring, and the mother muttered it was no good sign.