ara, with her eyes fixed on the ground, commenced
pulling to pieces the rose-bud he had given her.

"Supposing all this, Barbara----?"

"Well, Robin?"

"Do you think, Barbara, you would then--marry me?"

"I never thought of marriage, seeing that I am too young, and, withal,
too inexperienced; but there is one thing, Robin----"

"I knew it," interrupted the Ranger, in one of his sudden bursts of
bitterness; "I might easily have known it--Beauty and ugliness!--Fool!
fool! to imagine that a girl could look on me without loathing!
There--go to your mistress, go to your mistress, and make gay sport of
Robin Hays!"

The soft eyes of Barbara filled with tears; she made no reply, but
prosecuted her attack on the rose-bud so vigorously, that nought but the
stem remained in her fingers.

"You need not have torn that rose to bits before my face! Ay, trample on
its leaves as you do on my heart!--Why do you not go to your mistress?"

"You are very wayward, Robin; one time smooth, at other times, and
without cause, rugged as a path through a thorny common: I can only pray
that the Lord may teach you better than to misinterpret my words, and
mock a poor girl who never entertained a thought to your disadvantage."

She could say no more, for the large round tears forced their way down
her cheeks, as she turned towards the house with a bowed head and a
feeble step. But Robin's mood had again changed.

"I beg your pardon, Barbara: forgive me; and think, that if my mind
sometimes takes a crooked turn, it is the fault of my damnable body!"

"Do not swear; it is the profaneness of your words, and, I fear me too
truly, of your life also, that hurts me. Oh, Robin! do tell me who my
father is, that I may find him, and have some heart to lean upon that
will not always cause me tears. My lady is ever sad, and you are ever
wayward and uncertain: I am a double orphan; and were it not for the
consolation afforded me by better thoughts, should be most miserable."

"Forgive me, girl, forgive me; but every one alludes to this cursed
deformity, and it is ill to bear--" said Robin, walking by her side.

"I never alluded to it, never even thought of it," replied Barbara,
sobbing: "if the voice and the eye is kind, and, above all, if the face
become familiar, it is one, all one, whether the features be formed
according to beauty or otherwise. I never thought of looking into little
Crisp's face, when he licked my hand but now; I only felt that