"I am not distraught, Miss Cecil, though I have suffered enough to make me so: what care I for acts formed by a pack of regicides!"

"Young man," interrupted the old officer with a burst of fierce and strong pa.s.sion that, like a mountain torrent, carried all before it, "_I_ arrest you in the name of the Commonwealth and its Protector! A night in one of the lone chambers of Cecil Place will cool the bravo-blood that riots in your veins, and teach you prudence, if the Lord denies you grace."

He laid his hand so heavily on De Guerre's shoulder, that his frame quailed beneath its weight, while the point of his sword rested on the peaceful gra.s.s. Burrell attempted, at the same instant, to steal the weapon from his hand: the Cavalier grasped it firmly; while Major Wellmore, darting on the false knight a withering look, emphatically observed, and with a total change of manner,--

"_I_ can, methinks, make good a capture without _your_ aid, kind sir; although I fully appreciate your zeal _in the cause of the Commonwealth!_" The latter part of the sentence was p.r.o.nounced with a slow and ironical emphasis; then, turning to De Guerre, he added, "I need not say to you that, being under arrest, your sword remains with me."

De Guerre presented it in silence; for the result of his interview with Constantia had rendered him indifferent to his fate, and, although but an hour before it would have been only with his life that his sword had been relinquished, he now cared not for the loss of either.

Major Wellmore took the weapon, and appeared for a moment to consider whether he should retain it or not: he decided on the former, and in a cold, calm voice commanded his prisoner to move forward. De Guerre pointed to Constantia, who had neither shrieked nor fainted, but stood a mute statue of despair in the clear light of the young spring moon, whose early and resplendent beams fell in a silver shower on her bared and beautiful head.

"I will take care of Mistress Cecil," said the insidious Burrell.

As he spoke, Lady Frances, who, alarmed at the absence of her friend, had come forth to seek her, bounded into the Fairy Ring, and as suddenly screamed, and stood irresolute amid the dread circle. The Major immediately spoke:--

"Lady Frances, pray conduct your friend: Sir Willmott Burrell, we follow you to the nearest entrance."

"And now," said Constantia, as her head fell on the bosom of her friend, "he is in the lion's den--fully and for ever destroyed!" Nature was exhausted: it was long ere she again spoke.

END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.

VOLUME THE SECOND.

CHAPTER I.

The doubt of future foes exiles my present joy, And wit me warns to shun such snares As threaten mine annoy; For falsehood now doth flow, and subject faith doth ebb, Which would not be, if Reason ruled, or Wisdom weav'd the web.

QUEEN ELIZABETH.

While the headstrong Cavalier was confined in "the strong room" of Cecil Place, he had ample leisure to reflect upon the consequences of his rashness, and to remember the caution he had received from Major Wellmore on the night of their first meeting--to be guarded in his expressions, where danger might arise from a single thoughtless word. He surveyed the apartment with a careless look, as if indifferent whether it were built of brick or of Portland stone, glanced upon the ma.s.sive bars of the iron-framed windows, and scarcely observed that the walls were bare of tapestry, and that dampness and decay had mottled the plastering into a variety of hues and shades of colour. His lamp burned brightly on the table; the solitary but joyous light seemed out of place; he put it therefore aside, endeavouring to lessen its effect by placing it behind a huge worm-eaten chair, over which he threw his cloak. Thus, almost in darkness, with a mind ill at ease, brooding on the events of the day, which had perhaps perilled his life, although life had now become of little value, we leave him to his melancholy and self-reproachful thoughts, and hasten to the chamber of Constance Cecil.

It has already appeared that an early and a close intimacy had subsisted between her and Walter De Guerre; but we must leave it to Time, the great developer, to explain the circ.u.mstances under which it originated, as well as those by which it was broken off.

Lady Frances Cromwell had left her friend in what she considered a sound slumber; and sought her dressing-room only to change her garments, so that she might sit with her during the remainder of the night.

Barbara, however, had hardly taken the seat the lady had quitted, when her mistress half arose from the bed, and called her by name in so hollow a voice that the poor girl started, as if the sound came from a sepulchre.

"The night is dark, Barbara," she said, "but heed it not; the good and the innocent are ever a pure light unto themselves. Go forth with courage and with faith, even to the Gull's Nest Crag; tell Robin Hays that Walter De Guerre is a prisoner here, and that, unless he be at liberty before sunrise, he may be a dead man, as surely as he is a banned one; for some covert purpose lurks under his arrest. Tarry not, but see that you proceed discreetly, and, above all, secretly. It is a long journey at this hour; the roan pony is in the park, and easily guided--he will bear you along quickly;--and for security--for you are timid, Barbara--take the wolf-hound."

Barbara had long known that a servant's chief duty is obedience, yet she would just then have done errand to any one rather than to Robin Hays; she however replied,--

"Please ye, mistress, the roan pony is easy to guide, if you happen to be going the way he likes, and that is, ever from the park to the stable, from the stable to the park; otherwise, like the Israelites of old, he is a stiff-necked beast, whom I would rather eschew than commune with. And the wolf-hound, my lady, behaves so rudely to little Crisp, holding him by the throat in an unseemly fashion, and occasionally despoiling him of a fragment of his ears, toes, or tail, as it pleasures him, that I had rather take black Blanche if you permit me--she can soon find Crisp or Robin either."

"As you please, Barbara; only silence and hasten."

"My mistress," thus ran Barbara's thoughts as she wended on her way through the night, "is a wonderful lady; so good, so wise, so rich, yet so unhappy! I wouldn't be a lady for the world!--it is hard fate enough to be a woman, a poor, weak woman, without strength of limb or wisdom of head; and, withal, a fond heart, yet afraid and ashamed to show its fondness. If I was my lady, and my lady I, instead of sending my lady to tell Robin Hays to let the poor gentleman out, I'd just go and let him out myself, or send my lady (supposing her the maid Barbara) to let him out, without telling anybody about it. And I am sure she loves that poor gentleman; and yet she, wise, good, rich, and wonderful, is just going, in the very teeth of her affections, to marry that black Burrell! I am very happy that I'm not a lady, for I'd die, that I would ten times over, sooner than marry any one I didn't love. It will kill her, I know--I feel it will: yet why does she marry him? And she keeps such deep silence too.--Down, pretty Blanche, and do not rouse your sleek ears: your ears, Blanchy, are lady's ears, and so ought to hear nothing frightening--and your eyes, Blanche, are lady's eyes, and should never see any thing disagreeable.--What ails thee, doggy? Nay, wag ye'r tail, and do not crouch so; 'tis but the shadow of a cow, I think.--How my heart beats!"

The beating of the maiden's heart accelerated her speed, and she ran with hasty and light footsteps a considerable distance before either dog or girl paused for breath. At length they did pause, and Barbara saw with much satisfaction, that she had left far behind the shadow which caused Blanche and herself so much alarm. She reached the Gull's Nest without any misadventure, and now her object was to draw Robin forth from the hostelry without entering herself. Through a c.h.i.n.k in the outer door (the inner being only closed on particular occasions) she discovered Robin and his mother, and one or two others--strangers they might be, or neighbours--at all events she did not know them. Presently Crisp stretched his awkward length from out its usual coil, and trotted to the door, slowly wagging his apology for tail, as if perfectly conscious of the honour of Blanche's visit. Miss Blanche, in her turn, laid her nose on the ground and snorted a salutation that was replied to by a somewhat similar token from master Crisp. Robin, who was the very embodyment of vigilance, knew at once there was something or someone without, acquainted and on friendly terms with his dog, and he quietly arose and opened the door without making any observation to his companions. He was, indeed, astonished at perceiving Barbara, who put her finger on her lip to enjoin silence. He immediately led her to the back of the house, where none of the casual visiters could see them, and she communicated her lady's message quickly but distinctly. She would have enlarged upon the danger, and expatiated on the interest she took in the cause of the Cavalier, had Robin permitted her, but she saw he was too much distressed at the magnitude of the information to heed the details, however interesting they might have been at any other time.

"But I don't understand it," at length murmured Robin; "I can't see it: how could he possibly suffer Sir Willmott Burrell to place him in confinement?"

"It was not he at all," replied Barbara; "it was Major Wellmore, and he is at the Place now."

"Death and the devil!" exclaimed Robin, at the same instant pressing his back against the wall beside which he stood: it instantly gave way, and Barbara was alone--alone in that wild and most dreary-looking place.

She summoned Blanche, but Blanche was far away over the cliffs, exploring, under Crisp's guidance, the nooks and intricacies of the hills and hollows. She would have called still louder, but her quick eye discerned not now a shadowy figure, but Sir Willmott Burrell himself, within a distance of two or three hundred yards, and approaching towards her. She was concealed from his sight by a projection of the cliff: but this she never considered, alive only to the feelings his appearance at once suggested. She had noted the spot where Robin had disappeared, and, urged by terror, flung herself against the same portion of the wall, with such success, that it gave way before her, replacing itself so suddenly that, in an instant, the light of the bright stars in the blue heavens was shut out, and she stood in total darkness, within the recess that had so mysteriously opened to receive her.

When she became a little collected, she distinctly heard the sound of voices at no great distance, and groping about in the same direction, discovered a narrow flight of stairs, which she immediately descended, imagining that she was following the course which Robin had pursued. Her progress was soon arrested by a door, which she attempted to shake, but in vain; she leaned against it, however, or rather sank down upon the steps, worn out by fatigue of body and anxiety of mind. She could not have lain there a moment, when the door opened, and Robin literally sprang over her in his haste to re-ascend. She started from her position on perceiving before her the well-remembered figure of the Buccaneer, who was about to mount also, evidently with as much eagerness, though with less activity, than Robin Hays.

The sight of a stranger at their most secret entrance, even though that stranger was a woman, sent Hugh Dalton's hand to the pommel of his sword, but it was as quickly stayed by Robin's cry of, "It is Barbara."

The Buccaneer had just time to catch the fainting form of his daughter in his arms, and the wild and reckless seaman was so overpowered by the unexpected meeting, that he thought not of inquiring how she had obtained admittance. We have observed that women in the inferior ranks of society continue much briefer time in hysterics, swoons, and such-like, than the highborn and well educated, who know how to make the most of all matters of the kind. Barbara rapidly revived, and as rapidly urged Robin to heed her message, and to take her away, informing him in the same breath, that she had pushed against that portion of the wall where he had so strangely disappeared, because she had seen Sir Willmott Burrell approaching the spot with determined speed.

"Listen at the secret door," exclaimed the Buccaneer. "When he cannot find you above, he will seek you at the only entrance he knows of: I need not say, answer not the sign."

"Robin, Robin!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Barbara, "take me, oh! take me with you!--You are not, surely, going to leave me in this horrid place, and with a stranger too!"

Poor Dalton! what painful and powerful emotions convulsed his heart and features!--"a stranger!"--a stranger, indeed, to his own child!

Robin quitted the place without replying to her entreaty; and when the Buccaneer spoke, it was in that low and broken voice which tells of the soul's agony.

"Why call me stranger?" he said, approaching, and tenderly taking her hand; "you have seen me before."

"Yes, good sir, the night previous to my dear lady's death--it is an ill omen to see strangers for the first time where there is death. I thank you, sir, I will not sit. May I not go after Robin?"

"Then you prefer Robin to me?"

"So please ye, sir; I have known Robin a long, long time, and he knows my father: perhaps you, too, may know him, sir; you look of the sea, and I am sure my father is a sailor. Do you know my father?"

The gentle girl, forgetting her natural timidity under the influence of a stronger principle, seized the hand of the Buccaneer, and gazed into his face with so earnest and so beseeching a look, that if Robin had not returned on the instant, the Skipper would have betrayed the secret he was so anxious to preserve until (to use his own expression) "he was a free man, able to look his own child in the face."

"He is at the entrance, sure enough," said Robin; "but it will occupy him longer to climb the rocks than it did to descend them; we can take the hollow path, and be far on the road to Cecil Place before he arrives at the summit."

"But what can we do with her?--She must not longer breathe the air of this polluted nest," argued Dalton, all the father overflowing at his heart; "if we delay, Burrell may see her: if so, all is over."

"I can creep along the earth like a mocking lapwing," she replied. "Let me but out of this place, I can hide in some of the cliff-holes--any where out of this, and," she whispered Robin, "away--above all things away--from that fearful man."

"To Cecil Place at once then, Captain; the delay of half an hour may seal his doom. I will place Barbara in a nook of the old tower, where nothing comes but bats and mice; and, as it overlooks the paths, she can see from it the road that Burrell takes, and so avoid him when returning."

Dalton looked at Barbara but for a moment, then suddenly clasping her with rude energy to his bosom, he darted up the stairs, holding open the door at the top, so that he might see her forth in safety.