as more than one tear glistening on the
fair firm flesh.

"Let us call her 'King Charles,'" exclaimed the eldest boy, as the
gallant little vessel moved down the stream; while the children, who not
ten minutes before were trembling with alarm at their grandfather's
displeasure, now, with the happy versatility of youthful spirits,
shouted gaily at the ship's progress over the unrippled waters.

"You will call it by no such name," said Dalton gravely. "Yonder comes
your mother, and she or your father can best christen your little ship."

The old man, who had launched their fairy boat, turned towards where
once Cecil Place had stood. From some peculiar feeling in the bosoms of
Sir Walter and Lady Cecil, for which it would not be difficult to
account, only a portion of the old structure remained--sufficient, and
just sufficient, to lodge Robin, and Robin's wife, and Robin's
father-in-law, and Robin's children. The fine old gateway was fast
crumbling to decay, and, indeed, it was well known that a kindly
sentiment towards the Buccaneer decided Sir Walter on keeping even so
much of the place standing, as the old man's only wish now was to die in
the Isle of Shepey; and it will be readily believed that Hugh Dalton's
wishes were laws to the family of Cecil. The trees had in many places
been levelled, and the only spot which remained perfectly untouched in
the gardens was one called "The Fairy Ring." The neighbouring peasantry
believed that it was hallowed by some remembrance of which both Lady
Cecil and Barbara partook; for the latter tended every herb and flower
therein with more than common care--with perfect devotion. Did we say
there was but one spot cherished? faithless historians that we are!
there was another--a rustic temple; and, about ten years before the
period of which we now treat, something resembling an altar had been
erected therein, with a quaint device carved in white stone, a braid of
hair encircling two hearts, and a rhyme, or, as it was then called, a
posy, the words of which are not recorded, but were said to have been
written by Lucy Hutchinson, as a compliment to her friend Constantia
Cecil.

The old man, as we have said, turned towards Cecil Place, which then
presented only the appearance of a small and picturesque dwelling.
Issuing thence were two persons whom we may at once introduce as the
manikin, Robin Hays, and the little Puritan, Barbara Iverk, of our
story. Manikin, indeed! He of the gay pin