"Nor sigh for them again?"

"Sigh for such as these!" she repeated, looking on her finery with disdain. "No, Robin, young as I am, I have learned better things. The linnet would look ill tricked out in parrot's feathers. Not but I think the bravery becoming, though, perhaps, not to me;--surely no, if you like it not! But whither are you going? only tell me that. Alas! that dark and black-browed boy has so confounded me, that I know not what I say. The last night's fray has sore distressed me too:--you know it all."

"Hush, Barbara! 'Tis of that I would speak; it is that which takes me from you--but only for a few days--it cannot be very long;--yet I must find out where he is. I know the hands his wilfulness has thrown him into, but I think they will save him from worse treachery. Nevertheless, I must to London, and, if I cannot find him there, I must elsewhere seek him out. If any ask for me, you will remain silent; and, dear girl, if chance should throw you in Dalton's way, (it is likely he may be here in a few days, perhaps before I return,) speak him kindly and gently; bear with him, as you have borne with me."

"That is impossible," interrupted Barbara, "for there is no reason why I should do so. He was never kind to me."

"But the time is coming when he will be kind. And now adieu, Barbara. I desired much to remain; but I cannot. I imagined I might be useful to Mistress Constance, but I could not; it rests not with me."

"I am very sorry you are going, Robin; for now, when I think of it, my heart is heavy within my bosom; I know not why it should be so. You are sure you can prevent that wild bad boy from frightening me again?"

"Quite sure. I'll lock him up within the Crag till my return."

"Thank you, Robin; but he will be kindly treated."

"To be sure he will."

"Thank you again;--but still the weight is here--_here_ on my heart. Do you think it would be very wrong to wear this dress at my lady's bridal?"

Robin smiled at the earnestness and simplicity that characterised this child of nature.

"Oh, no; but if you love such, I can get you far finer garments."

"Can you indeed?" she exclaimed joyfully:--"But no," she added in a sadder voice, "no bravery for me after this bridal. I dreamed a dream last night. Do you believe in dreams, Robin? Listen: I thought we were all standing at an altar in the ruined chapel."

"Who? All?" inquired the Ranger, eagerly.

"My lady and that man, and----" she paused.

"Who?" again inquired Robin.

"Why you: 'twas but a dream, you know," she added, blushing to the temples. Then, as the colour faded from her calm face, even more quickly than it came, she continued, "And we all looked so beautiful! and I thought you so like the Cavalier Walter, and I felt so peaceful and happy. But just as you touched my hand, there came a mist between us--a dense and chilling mist, that made the marrow curdle in my bones, and my joints stiff and iron-bound; and a voice, a low mournful voice, like the wail of a dying bird, said, 'Come!'--and I attempted to answer, 'Not yet;' but my tongue felt frozen to my teeth, and my teeth were as icicles within my lips; and I was enshrouded in the mist. Then suddenly a pang shot through my heart, as if it were the dart of death, and I would have screamed, such was its agony; but still my tongue was frozen!

And I suffered, I cannot tell you what: when suddenly a soft breath breathed upon my cheek, and it felt warm and soothing, and a voice--sounding--I may as well tell it all, Robin--so like yours, said, 'Pray.' And as I prayed--not in words, but in spirit, the pain departed from me, and the blood flowed again through my veins; and gazing upwards, I found that I was not in the ruined chapel, but in the presence of the blessed Saviour! He looked upon us--upon us both----"

"Stop, Barbara!" exclaimed Robin, whose imagination, at all times easily worked upon, now became absolute torture, "for mercy, stop! It was but the dream of a weak girl."

For the first time since she had grown to woman's estate, he pressed her to his bosom, and then silently walked with her to the little gate that led to the garden.

"Let Crisp stay with me. Bright-eye and he agree better than usual,"

said Barbara with a quiet smile.

"I will," replied Robin, adding, as he turned away, "Trust in the G.o.d you worship, and put no faith in dreams."

CHAPTER V.

Tell men of high condition That rule affairs of state, Their purpose is ambition, Their practice only hate; And if they once reply, Then give them all the lie.

Tell Wit how much it wrangles In tickle points of niceness-- Tell Wisdom she entangles Herself in over-wiseness; And when they do reply, Straight give them both the lie.

JOSHUA SILVESTER.

Robin had, doubtless, good reasons for the hint he had given Barbara, that she might soon again see the Buccaneer, and that she would do well to use that forbearance towards him which she had so kindly and so invariably practised towards the Ranger. After leaving her, as we have stated, in safety at one of the entrances to Cecil Place, he proceeded to the Gull's Nest. His first inquiries were concerning the boy who had contrived to steal a pa.s.sage on board the Fire-fly from France to England, and who had pretended dumbness. How the youth got on board his vessel, Dalton could not imagine; although, when the discovery was made, his feigning the infirmity we have mentioned succeeded so well, that the Buccaneer absolutely believed he could neither hear nor speak, and sympathised with him accordingly. The indignation of Dalton was quickly roused by the outrage described by Robin Hays: he was, moreover, much exasperated that such a deception should have been successfully practised on himself. Nothing is so sure to anger those who duly value their penetration, as the knowledge that they have been duped by those they consider inferior to themselves: indeed, the best of us are more ready to pardon bare-faced wickedness than designing cunning;--we may reconcile ourselves to the being overpowered by the one, but scarcely ever to the being over-reached by the other.

Springall had quitted Cecil Place the morning after his encounter with Major Wellmore, of whom he persisted in speaking as "the strong spectre-man;" and neither Robin's entreaties nor Dalton's commands could prevail on or force him again to take up his abode within the house.

"I know not why I should remain," he said; "the girls flout and laugh at my 'sea-saw ways,' as they call them; and though Barbara is a trim craft, well-built and rigged too, yet her quiet smile is worse to me than the grinning of the others. I'll stay nowhere to be both frightened and scouted: the Captain engaged me to weather the sea, not the land, and I'd rather bear the cat a-board the Fire-fly, or even a lecture in the good ship Providence, than be land-lagged any longer."

He was present in the room at the Gull's Nest when Robin recounted to the Buccaneer the peril in which Barbara had been placed; and the young sailor speedily forgot the meek jesting of the maiden in the magnitude of her danger.

"The black-eyed boy has not been near the house all day," added Springall, "and my own belief is, that he's no he, but a woman in disguise. My faith on it, Jeromio's in the secret, as sure as my name is Obey Springall! Jeromio understands all manner of lingoes, and would be likely to consort with any foreigners for filthy lucre: he has ever ventures of his own, and this is one."

"There may be wisdom in thy giddy pate," observed the Buccaneer thoughtfully. "G.o.d help me! dangers and plots gather thickly around, and my wits are not brightening with my years."

"Marry, it's no woman," observed Mother Hays; "I could not be deceived--it's a dark-browed boy," lowering her voice, "very like what Prince Charlie was, as I remember him, but with rather a Jewish look for a Christian prince."

"Robin," said Dalton, taking the Ranger aside, "if this most loathsome marriage cannot be stayed--if what I mean to do should fail--my daughter must seek another home and another protector. Were Miss Cecil to become the wife of Sir Willmott Burrell, under _their_ roof Barbara should not bide--the kite's nest is a bad shelter for the ring-dove."

"Where would you take her?--who would protect her?" inquired Robin earnestly.

"Faith, I know not. I'll to Sir Robert Cecil this day--speak to him about some matters of our own, and then be guided by circ.u.mstances as to the disposal of my daughter.--My daughter! that word sends the blood to and from my heart in cold and then in hot gushing streams! But, Robin, you must not tarry; close watch shall be set for this dangerous imp, to prevent farther mischief; and if Springall's conjecture should be right--yet it is most wild, and most improbable!--What disguise will you adopt in this pursuit of our heedless friend?"

"As yet, I know not; I must suit it to the times and to the persons I encounter; a pedlar's will do me best at present; a pack is a fitting nook for concealment. Dear Captain, look well to Jeromio; he never meant you honest."

"I believe you are right, Robin; and yet why should I quarrel with men's honesty? they have as good a right to label mine with the foul word 'spurious.' This d.a.m.ning thing within my breast, that saints call conscience, how it has worked me lately! Poison is nothing to it: but it will soon be over, if the boy were safe, and my own Barbara would but pray for me, after the fashion of her mother." He paused, then striking his forehead violently, as if to banish thought, continued, "You go to London straight?"

"Ay, sure, and have secreted the invoices you spoke of, for the good merchant beyond St. Paul's, who ordered the rich velvets, counting, perhaps, upon a coronation."

"I hope he has a better chance of selling them than that affords. Noll will hardly dare it; his name--Protector--gives as much power, and 'tis as a fencing-master's guard, ever at hand to turn aside the sneers against his ambition. Thought'st thou of the pearls for my Lord Fauconberg's rich jeweller?"

"Ay, master, they are safe; those I will myself deliver; though, from what the journals say, his Lordship has small need of new tr.i.m.m.i.n.g.

'Twas the public talk, when you made me act the respectable character of spy in Sir Willmott Burrell's service--at the court, sir, they talked of nothing else--how the King of France, with his own hands, made him a present of a gold box, inlaid with diamonds, that had upon the lid, on the outside, the arms of France, composed of three large jewels, and, in the inside, the monarch's own picture;--the Cardinal Mazarine, too, gave him a dozen pieces of the richest Genoese velvet; and then his Lordship, not to be outdone, made him a gift of equal value;--and then, I forget me what was the next--and the next--and the next--and the next; but it was mighty fine trafficking, that I know."

"Ay, Robin, 'nothing for nothing' is the statesman's motto. Now, give you good speed and success! You can send to me almost from any part of the kingdom in a few hours. Spare no efforts for _his_ freedom--Jack Roupall's confession proves but too truly, that Sir Willmott is sworn against his life; and, till that ruffian is done for, or quieted, there is no safety for Walter. I have sent Jack on private work to the West; so he is out of the way--that's one comfort. Great interest have I in the boy; next to my own child, there is nothing I love so much. And now, Robin, farewell!"

When Robin bade adieu to his mother, she began to weep and wail, after the natural custom of mothers, high and low. "Ah! you are ever on the rove; ever on the wander! You will be on your ranges, some of these odd days, when I depart this life; and then you'll never know what I have to tell you."

"If it were any thing worth telling, you would have told it long ago; for a woman cannot keep a secret, that we all know."

"Ah, boy! boy! G.o.d bless you, and good-by! I wonder will that wench, Barbara, think to send me a bit of the bride-cake? I warrant I have a sweet tooth in my head still, albeit I have but two." And after some more idle talk, and much caressing, they parted.

"My poor old mother!" thought Robin Hays, "she does excellently well as a mother for me; but think of such as Barbara calling her by such a t.i.tle!" And he whistled on his way, though not "for want of thought;"

his feelings and affections were divided between Barbara Iverk and Walter De Guerre.

We must now proceed with Hugh Dalton a second time to Cecil Place. His interview with the baronet was of a nature very different from that with which our narrative commenced. Sir Robert seemed as if the weight of a hundred years had been pressed upon his brow; indeed, Time could not have so altered any man. It was not the deed of Time that made the eye vigilant, even in its dimness--the hand, though trembling almost to palsy, fumble with the sword-handle--that racked the poor, withering, and shrinking brain, within its multiplied cabinets, by a thousand terrors--such was not the work of Time. How different was his, from the h.o.a.ry, but holy age, that ushers an aged, and it may be a worn, but G.o.dly and grateful spirit, to an eternity of happiness!--when the records of a good man's life may be traced by the gentle furrows that nature, and not crime, has ploughed upon the brow--the voice, sweet, though feeble, giving a benison to all the living things of this fair earth--the eye, gentle and subdued, sleeping calmly within its socket--the heart, trusting in the present, and hoping in the future; judging by itself of others, and so judging kindly (despite experience) of all mankind, until time may have chimed out his warning notes!