th some other
prisoners, to London, there to be kept in safe durance till they could
be exchanged for some other party who had fallen into the hands of the
Royalists. Williams was not suffered to speak. The proposal was adopted;
and orders were given that the escort should set off next morning.

The indignant ravings of Eustace, and the mortification of poor Isabel,
who had seen, in the "melting eye of her supposed protector, a soft
heart and too brave a soul to offer injuries, and too much a Christian
not to pardon them in others," in fine, a generous, open, honourable
character, very like her dear father, called forth the mediation of
Constance, who, recollecting her own father's precepts, recommended
candour and patience. "At least," said she, "whatever befals us, let us
not lose the consolation of fellowship in affliction. We have yet the
comfort of being together; and perhaps we may not find captivity so
dreadful, nor our enemies so merciless as we expect. If they do not take
you from us, dearest Eustace, we cannot be quite miserable."

They were now joined by an elderly man in the dress of a clergyman, who,
though somewhat precise in his habit, and quaint in his address, was
venerable and benevolent in his aspect and expressions. "Fair maidens,"
said he, "I come to inquire if you are content with your present
accommodations, and willing to begin your journey towards London
to-morrow morning. The governor of this garrison has joined me to your
escort; and it will be a duty I shall gladly undertake, to render your
travel lightsome, and your perils trivial."

"May we," answered Isabel, "request to know to whom we shall be so
obliged?"

"You may call me Mr. Barton," replied he, "a minister of the church by
the laying on the hands of the presbytery. My immediate call among these
men in arms, arises from my being tutor to the young officer, to whom
you are surrendered prisoners."

"And did you," said the indignant Eustace, among other things, "teach
him craft and falsehood."

"I have still to learn those Satanical arts," returned Barton, "and
therefore could not teach them."

"Were they then," resumed Eustace, "innate properties in his mind?
Though little more than my own age, he is a master in the science of
dissimulation. He practised upon my fears; I mean, my fears for these
dear girls, and wormed from my confiding folly a disclosure of my
parentage, and my wishes. He promised to serve us. I trusted to his
w