We may omit our account of the interview between the Buccaneer and Sir
Willmott Burrell; merely observing that it had the effect of chafing
both in no ordinary degree.
"If I did but dare show myself at Whitehall," muttered Dalton, as he
quitted the room in which he had conversed with his base opponent, "how
I should be revenged! Nay, the delight I should feel in giving their
deserts to both would make me risk my life, were it not for my girl's
sake; but my pardon once obtained, sets me at liberty in England--Let
them look to it, then."
As he loitered in one of the passages leading to the back entrance,
Barbara crossed his path. At first she did not recognise him, for in the
day-time he wore many disguises; and his present one was, a Geneva band
and gown, covered with a long cloak of black serge. Having coldly
returned his salutation, she turned into a closet to avoid further
parley; but he followed, and shut the door. Barbara, who on all
occasions was as timid and as helpless as a hare, trembled from head to
foot, and sank on the nearest seat, her eyes fixed upon the Skipper and
her quivering lip as pale as ashes.
"Barbara," he said, "you are afraid of me--you are afraid of me, child,"
he repeated, almost angry with her at the moment, although the feeling
was so perfectly natural.
"Robin told me not to be afraid," she replied, at last; and then looking
about for a chair, pointed to one at the farthest corner of the small
room. "There is a seat, sir!"
"I see you want me to be as far away from you as possible, Barbara," he
replied, smiling mournfully.
"Not now," she said, rising, and moving nearer, until she stood at his
side and looked into his face, pleased at the softened expression of his
features; "I am not, indeed, afraid of you now, sir. The first thing I
did not like you for, was for offering me money; the second--but I beg
your pardon" (bowing her head)--"I make too free, perhaps?" Dalton,
gratified at any mark of confidence, encouraged her to go on--"The
second was--your name;--I heard of a daring man called Hugh Dalton--a
ruthless, cruel man--a man of----"
"Speak out, Barbara; you cannot anger me."
"A man of blood!" and she shuddered at her own words. "But I am sure one
thing Mistress Cecil said was true--'that we are not to put faith in all
we hear.' Now, I believe all she says, and all Robin Hays says; and he
speaks so kindly of you. And another thing, sir, makes me think so well
of you is--that you knew my father--Nay, I am sure you did," she
continued, laying her hand on his arm and looking into his countenance,
which he turned away to conceal his emotion. "I am certain you did,
Robin told me as much, and Mistress Constance did not deny it; and now
that you are here, so gentle, and so kind, I am sure you will tell me.
Do, dear, good sir. Did you not know my father? my poor dear, dear
father!"