r Barton," replied Eustace; "I honour him even for that
severity. His word has been plighted to his employers, and he must
deliver us up prisoners. But what think you of Isabel's gallant officer,
that resemblance of the noble, ingenuous Evellin. I will never study
physiognomy under you, sister."

Isabel was more pained at this reproach than usual. Eustace perceived
her droop. "Come, dear girl," said he, "we will talk of him no more. You
shall never want a faithful protector while I live, and ardently as I
pant to break these bonds and to be in action, I will make no attempt at
freedom, unless I can also liberate you."

They stopped that night at Northampton. Barton was reserved and silent,
and at length remarked, that in two days their party would reach
London.--"I have never seen London," said Isabel. "Come, describe it to
us, and say where shall we be confined. I suppose we shall meet with
only warm, steady, common-wealth's men."

"It is the seat of discord," answered Barton; "there are as many
factions as there are orators, all striving for mastery; yet all united
against the King, by a persuasion of his insincerity, and by
apprehensions that he would sacrifice them to his vengeance, in case he
were reconciled to the Parliament."

"Can it be supposed," said Eustace, "that after the wrongs and
iniquities he has endured, he ever can forgive! Where is the oblivious
draught that can drown the recollection of a nation rising in arms
against its Sovereign?"

Baron answered--"The nation and the King must both forgive, or war must
be eternal. You have seen its aspect; what think you? Is this great
quarrel like the mere abstract question which is cooly discussed in the
cabinet of Princes, when they talk of risking ten thousand lives for a
victory, and laying waste a province to cut off the resources of the
enemy? Let us not balance misery against forgiveness. It is childish
reasoning to keep ourselves in torment, because we will not forget the
injuries we have suffered. Peace only can heal our putrifying wounds,
and peace can never be bought too dear, unless the price is conscience
or safety."

They now separated for the evening; anxious thoughts kept the captives
awake. But after all was silent in the inn, Isabel heard a gentle tap at
the chamber-door. In a state of agitation, every sound is alarming. She
listened, and heard Barton whisper, "Arise." Before she could open the
door, the watchful Eustace had flown to the