With a mind capable of much good, but constantly exposed to much evil, Mary felt with bitterness that she had no friend among her village associates who could share her feelings, or enjoy her unfeminine pursuits.  With energy of purpose to form and execute the most daring projects, her mental powers were confined to the servile drudgery of the kitchen and the field until the sudden return of her long-lost brother gave a new coloring to her life, and influenced all her future actions.

The bold audacious William Mathews, of whom she felt so proud, and whom she loved so fiercely, carried on the double profession of a poacher on shore and a smuggler at sea.  Twice Mary had exposed her life to imminent danger to save him from detection; and so strongly was she attached to him, that there was no peril that she would not have dared for his sake.  Fear was a stranger to her breast.  Often had she been known to ride at the dead hour of night, through lonely cross-roads, to a distant parish, to bring home her father from some low hedge-alehouse, in which she suspected him to be wasting his substance with a set of worthless profligates.

Twice during the short period of her life, for she had only just entered upon her eighteenth year, she had suffered from temporary fits of insanity; and the neighbors, when speaking of her exploits, always prefaced it with, “Oh, poor thing!  There is something wrong about that girl.  There is no account to be taken of her deeds.”

From a child Mary had been an object of deep interest to the young Hurdlestones.  Residing on the same estate, she had been a stolen acquaintance and playfellow from infancy.  She always knew the best pools in the river for fishing, could point out the best covers for game, knew where to find the first bird’s-nest, and could climb the loftiest forest tree to obtain the young of the hawk or crow with more certainty of success than her gay companions.  Their sports were dull and spiritless without Mary Mathews.

As they advanced towards manhood they took more notice of her peculiarities, and laughed at her boyish ways; but when she grew up into a beautiful girl they became more respectful in their turn, and seldom passed her in the grounds without paying her some of those light compliments and petty attentions always acceptable to a pretty vain girl of her class.  Both would officiously help her to catch and bridle her horse, carry her pail, or assist her in the hay-field.  And this was as often done to hear the smart answers that pretty Poll would return to their gallant speeches, for the girl possessed no small share of wit, and her natural talents were in no way inferior to their own.

Godfrey had of late addressed her in less bantering tones; for he had played, like the moth, around the taper until he had burnt his wings, and was fairly scorched by the flame of love.  In spite of the remonstrances of his more conscientious cousin, he daily spent hours in leaning over her garden gate, enacting the lover to this rustic Flora.  It was to such a scene as this that Anthony had alluded, and respecting which Godfrey had given such an indefinite answer.