ared with its dusky and malignant eyes full in my face, and pranked
out its forked tongue dyed in the blackest poison. Oh, madam! how I
screamed--and I know the creature was bent on my destruction, for, when
I jumped down, it uncoiled, and fell upon the earth, coming towards me
as I retreated, when Crisp (only think, my lady, of the wisdom of that
poor dog!)--little Crisp seized it, somewhere by the neck, and in a
moment it was dead!"

"You should smile at that, not weep," observed Lady Frances, patting her
cheek as she would that of a petted child.

"Oh, but," said Barbara, "it was so horrid, and I was almost sorry Crisp
killed it! for it is an awful thing to destroy life, yet it was wickedly
venomous."

"Ah, my poor maid! you will have worse troubles soon than that which
bids you mourn over an adder's death."

"Do not say so, sweet lady," interrupted Barbara: "ah! do not say so:
for I feel, I can hardly tell how, so very, very sad. My poor lady, and
my poor self! and you going away, madam--you, who keep up the life of
every thing; and, though your waiting maids seem so rejoiced to get back
to the court! I don't know what I shall do, not I. I only wish----" She
paused abruptly.

"Tell me what you wish, my pretty Barbara--a new cap, kirtle, hood, or
farthingale? What, none of these!"

"I was only wishing that Robin Hays was come back, because he would
understand my troubles."

"You pay a poor compliment to my understanding, Barbara," observed Lady
Frances, with whom Barbara was at all times an especial favourite.

The simple maid courtesied respectfully, while she replied, "My lady, it
would ill become me to make free with such as you, but I have many small
causes of trouble, which, even if you did hear, you could not
comprehend. The brown wren would not go for counsel to the gay parrot,
however wise and great the parrot might be, but seek advice from another
brown wren, because it would understand and feel exactly the cares and
troubles of its own kind."

"What a little fabulist thou art, pretty Barbara! But, if you had been
at court, you would not have likened a lady to a parrot."

"Not to a parrot!" repeated Barbara; "such a beautiful bird! that looks
so handsome and talks so well!"

"No: but here is a parting present for you, my fair maid; a chain of
gold. Stay, I will clasp it on your slender neck myself; and listen to
me, Barbara. The daughters of the Protector of England would be ill
worthy their fa