some directions. The evening had quite closed, and the earth slept
under the broad grey wings of twilight; as she crossed the corridors,
she would have been bewildered by the darkness, had not her feet been
acquainted with every winding passage.

As she passed one of the deep and sunken entrances for light, that
seemed constructed for the purpose of expelling and not admitting the
beams of day, so narrow and complicated was its framework, something
struck violently on the glass. She started on perceiving a small figure
enveloped in a woman's cloak. Late occurrences had made her cautious;
but she was quickly assured of safety on hearing her name pronounced by
the voice of Robin Hays. In a low but somewhat confident tone he
informed her of his desire to see the Protector upon a matter of life
and death.

"Only ask him if he will see me, dear lady!--I would not come openly,
because I know he loves mystery in all things, and likes not that the
world should be able to prate of his interviews.--But ask quickly, dear
lady--quickly, as ye would seek heaven!"

"See you, Robin! The Protector see and counsel with you, Robin?"

"Ay, dear lady--the lion and the mouse--the lion and the mouse--only let
it be quickly--quickly."

"Stay, Robin; you of all men are the most likely to know--can you tell
me aught concerning one, I believe, we both loved?"

"Ask me not, dear mistress, now; only quickly, quickly to the
Protector."

In a few minutes Robin Hays again stood before the great and
extraordinary man he both respected and feared.

There was a mingling of kindliness and warmth in Cromwell's manner, as
he desired the manikin to come forward, and, having first questioned him
about his health, commanded him to tell his business.

"I have intruded on your Highness, which is a mark of great boldness in
a creature of such low degree," commenced the Ranger in obedience to the
Protector's orders, "and it is on behalf of one to whom I am much bound.
Alack! great sir, it is a sad thing when a man of spirit, of power, and
of bravery, has no friend to speak for him but one that Nature threw
from her as unworthy of the neat finishing she bestows on others:--when
our parent discards us, what have we to expect from mankind?"

"Do you speak of the youth called Walter, whose gallant Jubilee waits
impatiently till his master is at liberty to boot and saddle? He shall
mount him soon."

"With all humility, your Highness, no:--I would speak of