nlaid with diamonds, that had upon the lid, on
the outside, the arms of France, composed of three large jewels, and, in
the inside, the monarch's own picture;--the Cardinal Mazarine, too, gave
him a dozen pieces of the richest Genoese velvet; and then his Lordship,
not to be outdone, made him a gift of equal value;--and then, I forget
me what was the next--and the next--and the next--and the next; but it
was mighty fine trafficking, that I know."

"Ay, Robin, 'nothing for nothing' is the statesman's motto. Now, give
you good speed and success! You can send to me almost from any part of
the kingdom in a few hours. Spare no efforts for _his_ freedom--Jack
Roupall's confession proves but too truly, that Sir Willmott is sworn
against his life; and, till that ruffian is done for, or quieted, there
is no safety for Walter. I have sent Jack on private work to the West;
so he is out of the way--that's one comfort. Great interest have I in
the boy; next to my own child, there is nothing I love so much. And now,
Robin, farewell!"

When Robin bade adieu to his mother, she began to weep and wail, after
the natural custom of mothers, high and low. "Ah! you are ever on the
rove; ever on the wander! You will be on your ranges, some of these odd
days, when I depart this life; and then you'll never know what I have to
tell you."

"If it were any thing worth telling, you would have told it long ago;
for a woman cannot keep a secret, that we all know."

"Ah, boy! boy! God bless you, and good-by! I wonder will that wench,
Barbara, think to send me a bit of the bride-cake? I warrant I have a
sweet tooth in my head still, albeit I have but two." And after some
more idle talk, and much caressing, they parted.

"My poor old mother!" thought Robin Hays, "she does excellently well as
a mother for me; but think of such as Barbara calling her by such a
title!" And he whistled on his way, though not "for want of thought;"
his feelings and affections were divided between Barbara Iverk and
Walter De Guerre.

We must now proceed with Hugh Dalton a second time to Cecil Place. His
interview with the baronet was of a nature very different from that
with which our narrative commenced. Sir Robert seemed as if the weight
of a hundred years had been pressed upon his brow; indeed, Time could
not have so altered any man. It was not the deed of Time that made the
eye vigilant, even in its dimness--the hand, though trembling almost to
palsy, fumble with t