lips clanked against each
other impatient of moisture--"Mother, take but little for you have need
of prayer; that will stifle the cry far better than this."

"And I will pray," returned the woman, "when my tale is finished. There
was but that one loud, loud scream, and a heavy splash in the ocean, and
with it the darkness again passed: but, Robin Hays, Robin Hays, the men
had passed too, and one of them returned no more! And why did he not? He
had broad and fair lands, such as make people cling to their own
country, but he came not back. Soon after, I heard the noise of oars,
and--mind your mother now, Robin,--another man came to the cliff--to the
brow of the same cliff--I saw him look down, and along the waves, and,
all of a sudden, a pistol flash from the boat sprang through the
darkness, and he who came last stood while you could count ten, and
passed away. But mind again, Robin, he came with a weak step, and he
went as a strong man."

Robin shuddered; his mother after a brief pause continued.

"Now, who think you, Robin--my child, Robin, who think you was the
murdered man--and who think you was he who came last, and saw the
murderers departing in peace--who? I will tell it, before my breath is
for ever stopped: the one was Robert Cecil, and the other his father's
son, the first-born of his own mother!"

"Oh God!" exclaimed Robin, adding in a muttering tone, "I see through it
all, the hold that Dalton has over the wretched, wicked man! But could
Dalton do this?"

"Did you say any thing of Dalton?" inquired Mother Hays, whose quickness
of hearing appeared increased; "it was his ship that was off the coast,
though I could not swear he was himself there. Such things, I have
heard, were often done in those wild times, and it made a noise then,
and Sir Robert seemed like one mad about his brother; though people did
whisper, for they were set against one another to the knowledge of all,
and of different parties. And in time the lands all fell to him; and the
Parliament since, I heard, made out, that Sir Herbert, being a friend to
the king, even if he were alive, shouldn't have his own, which was all
made over to the present man. But, as sure as there is a God, so sure He
is just! Is it not plain? Of all the fine boys his lady bore him, not
one is left! And, as to the daughter, look, if she knew as much of Sir
Willmott Burrell as I do, she'd make her night-posset with the mermaids
before she'd wed him. Well, Robin, Sir