ion.

"And now let us to bed. Will my little Bridget bid her grandfather good
night?" and he kissed the child with much tenderness.--"People wonder
why I trust thee in my councils; but God hath given thee a soul of truth
and a secret tongue; thou growest pale with late sitting, and that must
not be." The Protector clasped his hands, and said a few words of prayer
over the girl, who knelt at his feet.

"Good Manasseh, I would recommend your resting here to-night; you need
repose, but I must detain your serving-man. Without there!"

An attendant entered.

"Conduct this person to----" A whisper told the remainder of the
sentence, and Robin was led from the apartment.

Very few lingered in the great hall; the pages were sleeping soundly;
and, though they encountered Colonel John Jones, he did not recognise
Robin, who, despoiled of his beard and black hair, looked so much like
the servant of Sir Willmott Burrell, as to be thought such by more than
one of the attendants. As he passed through the second court, his guide
suddenly turned into a small arched door-way, and directed Robin to
proceed up a narrow flight of winding stairs, that appeared to have no
termination. Robin once halted for breath, but was obliged to proceed,
and at length found himself in a small, cell-like apartment, with a
narrow sky-light, opening, as he conjectured, on the palace roof.

Here his attendant left him, without so much as "good night," and he had
the satisfaction of hearing the key turn within the rusty lock.

The mistiness of the night had passed away, and the moon looked down in
unclouded majesty upon the courts and turrets of "the House at Hampton."

Robin seated himself on his truckle bedstead, upon which merely a rude
straw mattress, covered with a blanket, was thrown, and which, for aught
he knew, had been occupied by a thousand prisoners before him; but,
however bitter and sarcastic his mind might be, it was not given to
despond; and he soon began to reflect on what had passed. Although it
was not by any means the first time he had been face to face with the
Protector, yet it was the first time he had ever seen him with any of
the indications of human feeling. "He has made many children
fatherless," thought the Ranger, "and yet see how fond he is of that
ill-favoured girl, who is the very picture of himself! Poor Walter!
Well, I wonder what has been done with him; I had a great mind to ask,
but there is something about him, that