"Ugh!" grunted forth the bluff landlord, turning away. "When I play, it shall be against a Christian Englishman, and none of your foreign jigmaries."

"Play, play, nevertheless," said the young landlady, handing Robin at the same time a measure of fine ale; then stooping as if to untie the knot that fastened the gittern, she whispered in his ear. "And there was one who, with a few others, left the party, rode on, and took no refreshment. I knew him well; but if the youth be a friend of yours, depend upon't he's kindly thought of, for the leader put a broad-piece into my hand as he pa.s.sed, and told me to see that the Cavalier was properly attended to."

"Took they the London road?" inquired Robin.

"Ay; though 'tis hard to say how long such as they continue on any path."

"What are you doing, Maud?" inquired the rough landlord, who had just returned, and was lounging against the door-post.

"There! I have broken the string that went round his neck," she said aloud, without heeding the question. "I must get you another."

When she returned with a flaming red riband, that glared in cruel mockery at the shabby gittern, she contrived to add, "I have a brother in the Ironsides, and he said he thought they were bound for Hampton Court; but it might have been only his fancy."

It was a quaint but pretty sight under that green Kentish cherry-tree, and upon the bank of that beautiful river, to see the weather-c.o.c.k Robin in his motley dress, the long peac.o.c.k's feather ever and anon lifted from his hat by the fresh breeze that came from the water, while he sung with sweet and animated voice a song that suited well the tastes and feelings of his hearers.

"Oh, the sailor's home is the boundless sea, The sea, the sea, the sea!

He loves it best when waves are high, And a fierce nor'-wester shakes the sky.

Oh, the sea, the sea, the sea-- Oh, the sailor's home is the home for me!

"Away we go, o'er our own blue sea, The sea, the sea, the sea!

We are ocean lords, for the winds obey, And the raging billows own our sway.

Oh, the sea, the sea, the sea!-- Let my home be the sailor's home--the sea!

"A proud man well may our captain be, The sea, the sea, the sea!

But our n.o.ble ship a bride shall be To five hundred men as good as he.

Oh, the sea, the sea, the sea-- 'Tis a fitting mate for the brave and free!

"Give the land to slaves, but give us the sea-- The sea, the sea, the sea!

Our hopes, our joys, our bed, and our grave, Are above or below the salt-sea wave.

Oh, the sea, the sea, the sea-- Hurrah for the sailor's home--the sea!"

Then leaning over the hatch-door, her rosy cheek half-resting on the rough shoulder of her rough husband, was the pretty Mistress Maud, the personification of rustic English beauty; then the picturesque grouping of the old and worn, but still gallant and manly sailors--our friend of the wooden legs a little in the fore-ground, supported by the quizzical seaman, and a tall stiff bony-looking "Black Sal" of a woman on the other, whose complexion was contrasted by a snow-white cap, somewhat pointed at the top, which hardly concealed her grizzled hair. She was both exhibiting and admiring in dumb show the telescope so lately in the possession of our friend Robin; while Ned Purcell, a little dumpy, grey-headed mariner, who had heretofore been considered the owner of the best gla.s.s in Greenwich, was advancing, gla.s.s in hand, to decide which was really the best without farther parley. As Robin was obliged to sing his song twice, we may be excused for having given it once, though certainly it received but little advantage from the miserable accompaniment of the wretched instrument that had just been so gaily adorned by the hands of Mistress Maud.

When the song was fairly finished, Robin arose to depart, for he had been long anxious to proceed on his way, though the scene we have described, and the conversation we have recorded, had pa.s.sed within the compa.s.s of an hour. They all pressed him to remain. Even the bluff landlord tempted him with the offer of a pint of Canary, an offer he would not himself under any circ.u.mstances have declined. Robin, however, bade them a courteous farewell; but he had hardly reached the outskirts of the village, when he heard a light step, and felt a light hand press upon his shoulder. He turned round, and the blithe smile of mine hostess of the Oliver's Head beamed upon his painted face.

"Robin Hays!" she said, "I would advise you never to sing when you go mumming; you did well enough till then; but, though the nightingale hath many notes, the voice is aye the same. The gentleman you were speering after, dropped this while making some change in his garments; and it looks so like a love-token, that I thought, as you were after him, you would give it him, poor youth! and my benison with it."

"Yes," replied the Ranger, taking from her the very lock of hair which the Cavalier had severed, with his own hand, from among the tresses of Constantia. "I'll give it him when I can find him; yet, had you not better wrap it up in something? It pains the heart to see such as this exposed to the air, much less the eyes of any body in the world." Maud wrapped it in a piece of paper, and Robin placed it carefully in a small pocket-book.

"The devil's as bright in your eyes still, Maud, as it was when you won poor Jack Roupall's heart, and then jilted him for a rich husband. I did not think any one would have found me out."

"If I did sell myself," replied the landlady, "I have had my reward"--the colour faded from her cheek as she spoke--"as all will have who go the same gait. But ye ken, Bobby, it was not for my ain sake, but that my poor mother might have a home in her auld age--and so she had, and sure that ought to make me content." The tears gathered in her eyes, and the Ranger loudly reproached himself for unkindness, and a.s.sured her he meant no harm.

"I am sure o' that; but when any one evens Jack to me, it brings back the thought of my ain North to my heart, and its words to my tongue, which is no good now, as it becomes me to forget both."

"G.o.d bless you, Maud!" said Robin, shaking her affectionately by the hand: "G.o.d bless you! and if any ask after the Ironsides, see you say nothing of the young gentleman, who is as dear to me as my heart's blood; and do not tell to any, even of our own set, that I pa.s.sed this way; for it's hard to tell who's who, or what's what, these times."

"So it is," replied the dame, smiling through tears; "and now G.o.d be wi'

ye, Robin!" And presently he heard her voice carolling a North country ballad, as she returned to her own house.

"Now is her heart in her own country," muttered the Ranger, "though her voice is here; and those who did not know her little story would think her as cheerful as the length of a summer's day; and so she ought to be, for she performed her duty; and duty, after all, when well performed, seems a perpetual and most cheerful recompense for care and toil, and, it may be, trouble of mind and pain of heart."

Robin having obtained the clue to the secret of which he was in search, wended his way towards the metropolis. The steeples of a hundred churches were soon in sight.

CHAPTER IX.

But yonder comes my faithful friend, That like a.s.saults hath often tried; On his advice I will depend Whe'er I shall win or be denied; And, look, what counsel he shall give, That will I do, whe'er die or live

HENRY WILLOBY.

Robin, when he arrived in London, loitered away an hour around Whitehall and the Park, before he proceeded farther, and easily ascertained that the Protector was then at Hampton Court; as to who went with him, how long he would remain, or when he would return, he could receive no intelligence; for the best of all possible reasons--the movements of his Highness were secrets even from his own family.

There was much talk, however, and considerable speculation among all cla.s.ses of people, as to whether he would yield to the eager entreaties of a certain party in the parliament, who were urgently pressing forward a motion, the object of which was, that Cromwell should exchange the t.i.tle he had heretofore borne, and adopt the more time-honoured, but, alas! more obnoxious one, of King. Some of the more rigid sects were busily discoursing in groups, respecting Walton's Polyglott Bible, and the fitness or unfitness of the committee that had been sitting at Whitelock's house at Chelsea, to consider properly the translations and impressions of the Holy Scriptures. Robin received but surly treatment at the palace-gates, for minstrelsy was not the fashion; and he almost began to think the disguise he had selected was an injudicious one. He hastened on to the city, along the line of street now called the Strand, but which was then only partially skirted by houses, and delivered Dalton's invoices to the merchant beyond St. Paul's, who had need of the Genoa velvets; then proceeded to the dealer in jewels, by whom the pearls had been commanded. Here it appeared no easy matter to gain admission; but a few words mysteriously p.r.o.nounced to a grave-looking person, whose occupation was half porter, half clerk, removed all obstacles, and he found himself in a dark, noisome room, at the back of one of the houses in Fenchurch Street--at that time much inhabited by foreign merchants, who were generally dealers in contraband goods, as well as in the more legitimate articles of commerce.

As soon as the wayfarer entered, he disburdened himself of his hump, and from between its folds produced strings of the finest pearls and heaped them on the table. The dealer put on his gla.s.ses, and examined them separately, with great care, but much rapidity; while Robin, like a good and faithful steward, kept his eyes steadily fixed upon the jewels, never losing sight of them for a single moment, until his attention was arrested by a person entering and addressing the merchant. Robin immediately recognised the stranger as the old Jew, Mana.s.seh Ben Israel, whom he had seen at Sir Willmott Burrell's.

"Excuse me, I pray you, for a few moments, good Rabbi," observed the merchant, who was now occupied in entering the number, size, and quality of the pearls in a large book.

"I cannot wait, friend," was the Jew's quick reply, "for I am going a journey, and the night draws on darkly."

"Whither, sir, I pray you?"

"Even to Hampton House," replied Ben Israel, "to commune with his Highness, whom the G.o.d of Abraham protect!--and I am sorely perplexed, for my own serving-man is ill, and I know not whom to take, seeing I am feeble and require care, unless you can lend me the man Townsend: Samuel a.s.sures me he is a person of trust."

"Townsend is, unhappily, gone on secret business to a long distance, set off not an hour since: would that I had known it before!"

"There is no lack of servants," continued the Rabbi, "but there is great lack of faithfulness. I know not what to do, for I must see his Highness to-night."

"If it so please you," said little Robin, eagerly stepping forward, "I will go with you; I am sure this gentleman can answer for my fidelity, and I will answer for my own fitness."

The Rabbi and the merchant looked at each other, and then the latter observed,--

"I can well answer for this young man's trust-worthiness, seeing he has been engaged to bring me goods such as these, from secret sources, the nature of which you understand, excellent Ben Israel. But what know you of the service befitting a gentleman's servant?"

"I have been in that capacity, too," replied little Robin Hays.

"With whom?" inquired Mana.s.seh.

"With one I care not much to name, sirs, for he does me no credit," was Robin's answer; "with Sir Willmott Burrell."

The old man shuddered, and said in an agitated voice--"Then, indeed, you will not do for me on this occasion."

"Under favour," persisted Robin, "I know not the occasion, and therefore cannot judge, if I may speak so boldly; but I have seen you before, sir, and can only say, that knowing all his manoeuvres well, I am just the person to be trusted by his enemy."

"Young man," said the Jew, severely, "I am no man's enemy; I leave such enmity as you speak of to my Christian brethren. I ask only justice from my fellow mortals, and mercy from my G.o.d."