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,

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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!"




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