ue
criterion of a gentleman or lady, inasmuch as there is then no motion to
take off from an ungraceful attitude or an awkward mien. The features
of the Cavalier were almost too high for beauty; and had it not been for
a playful smile that frequently flitted across his countenance,
elongating his moustache, softening and blending the hard lines that
even at four-and-twenty had deepened into furrows, he would have been
pronounced of severe aspect. Bright golden hair clustered in rich curls
over his forehead, and fell a little on either cheek, giving a
picturesque character to the form of the head. His eyes appeared of a
dark grey; but they were so much sunk, so overshadowed by his forehead,
as to leave one in doubt as to their exact colour. His figure was
unusually tall and well-formed, and his whole bearing was more that of
an accomplished gentleman than of a cut-and-slash cavalier: his manner
was neither reckless nor daring, but it was firm and collected. His
dress was composed of the finest black cloth, with a black velvet
doublet; and his sword-hilt glittered with diamonds.

Robin did not attempt to place himself at the same table, but sat back
on a lower seat and at a little distance, sharing his repast with Crisp,
who had scrambled down the stairs after his master, and looked ugly
enough to be, what he certainly was, an extraordinary canine genius.

Dalton and Walter laboured under no restraint because of the presence of
Robin; on the contrary, he occasionally shared in the conversation, and
his opinion upon various topics was frequently asked; indeed, he was
fond of bestowing it gratuitously, and seemed highly pleased when called
upon to express it.

"Didst hear, Robin, when Blake was expected off Sheerness with the
Spanish prizes?"

"In a few days, it is said, he will either bring or send them; but my
own thought is, that it will be about a week, neither more nor less,
before any ship arrives."

"I must get off for the French coast in a day or two," said Dalton; "and
I do not care to return until Blake with his train go up the river a
bit; for it's foul sailing athwart the brave old boy: he's the only man
living I'd strike flag to."

"And who has the care of the Firefly now you're ashore?" inquired the
Cavalier.

"Why, Jeromio."

"I don't like him," said Robin bluntly: "foreigners are good slaves,
but bad masters to us English: I'd rather trust the ship to little
Spring."

"He is a mere boy, and too