hat
immediately. I'll speak anon of it to Dalton."

"To Dalton!" in her turn echoed the girl--"Oh! that fearful man----"

"There is no one under the sun who has more love for you than he
has--than Hugh Dalton."

"I am sure he knew my father."

"He did, indeed: but question me no farther now, sweet Barbara; make
your mind quite easy, the outrage shall not be repeated. Perhaps the boy
is crazed. Let's think no more of it, my gentle girl. I must bid you
farewell."

"Farewell, Robin! Why--wherefore? Tell me, where are you going? When do
you return? How long do you stay?"

"Now, if I were a king, and one that woman could look upon and love, I
would give the half, the whole of my kingdom, to be sure she feels as
earnestly as she speaks," thought Robin. She perceived the coldness of
his look, and continued, though with a changed expression,--

"What ails you? Have I angered you? Will you be thus wayward with your
poor Barbara?"

"My Barbara!" he repeated bitterly, and he touched the Frenchified hood
that hung over her shoulders: "my Barbara! would these trappings become
any one that belonged to such a thing as me? Rare contrasts we should
be! Methinks such bravery does ill adorn a simple Puritan; one
professing such principles should don a plainer robe. Gems, too, upon
your sleeves!--is not a bright, but modest eye, a far more precious
jewel? If it can be outshone by any other ornament, it is worth
nothing."

He turned from her as he spoke, and tears again gathered in her eyes.

"Robin," she said in a broken voice, "it was Mistress Alice put them
on, to show me the proper tiring for a bower-maiden at a great
festival--such as my lady's ought to be.--But I will take them off--all
off, if you like them not."

"Nor sigh for them again?"

"Sigh for such as these!" she repeated, looking on her finery with
disdain. "No, Robin, young as I am, I have learned better things. The
linnet would look ill tricked out in parrot's feathers. Not but I think
the bravery becoming, though, perhaps, not to me;--surely no, if you
like it not! But whither are you going? only tell me that. Alas! that
dark and black-browed boy has so confounded me, that I know not what I
say. The last night's fray has sore distressed me too:--you know it
all."

"Hush, Barbara! 'Tis of that I would speak; it is that which takes me
from you--but only for a few days--it cannot be very long;--yet I must
find out where he is. I know the hands his wilfulnes