Dick saw the effect his remark had produced, and tried to laugh it off.
“Why, my good fellow, such things happen every day, and it’s no use being downcast about it,” he observed. “You can take up your old quarters at Deadman’s Farm till the Saucy Sally sails again; and then if you have a fancy for it, we will make a longer trip. The skipper intends to try his luck on another part of the coast, as this little affair will probably make the forest too hot for us for a time. We shall be back again, however, when it blows over, depend upon that.”
Gilbert lay concealed for about a week. He had time for reflection, and had he dared, he would have gone back.
“It’s too late now, though; it’s too late!” he groaned out, and had recourse to the brandy-bottle to stifle conscience.
He was once more on board the lugger, and from henceforth for several years was the constant associate of the smugglers. During the time he paid several visits to the neighbourhood of Christchurch; but he was so completely changed in appearance that even had he met any of his old acquaintances, they would not have recognised him. He had long ceased to be called by his own name, having assumed another, by which he was known among his associates. Dick Hockley and Slippery Rogers, and others who were acquainted with his secret, kept it for their own objects, and under his assumed name he became known as one of the most daring and desperate of the band.
Story 3--Chapter V.
Hugh had returned to college. It was again summer. Arthur studied harder than ever during every spare moment. He assisted his father as far as he could, but Mr Maitland saw that his heart was not in the work, and he more than once observed—
“I am afraid, Arthur, you will make no hand at farming.”