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 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 AT LOS ANGELES
 

 
 THE 
 
 BUCCANEER. 
 
 A TALE. 
 
 Stay ! metbinks 1 see 
 A person iu youd cavf. Who should that bee ? 
 I know her ensignes now — 'tis Chivalrie 
 Possess'd with sleepe, dead as a lethargie ; 
 If any chariTic will wake her, 'tis the name 
 Of our Meliadas! I'll use his Fame. 
 
 Bk.n Jonson. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 . ■ • 
 
 LONDON: 
 RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 
 
 (LATE COLBURN AND BENTLEY ) 
 
 1832.
 
 I 
 
 
 
 . •- •
 
 ''A 
 
 v.\ 
 
 
 "3 
 
 5» 
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " With roomy decks, her guns of mighty strength, 
 t, Whose low-laid mouths each mounting billow laves, 
 
 Deep in her draught, and warlike in her length, 
 She seems a sea-wasp flying on the waves." 
 
 Dryden. 
 
 J 
 
 It was between the hours of ten and twelve on 
 
 ? a fine night of February, in the year sixteen hun- 
 dred and fifty-six, that three men moored a light 
 skiff in a small bay, overshadowed by the heavy 
 and sombre rocks that distinguish the Isle of 
 Shepey from other parts along the coast of Kent, 
 the white cliffs of which present an aspect at 
 once so cheerful and so peculiar to the shores of 
 Britain. The quiet sea seemed, in the murky 
 
 VOL. I. B 
 
 157280
 
 2 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 light, like a dense and motionless mass, save when 
 the gathering clouds passed from the brow of the 
 waning moon, and permitted its beams to repose 
 in silver lines on its undulating bosom. 
 
 It was difficult to account for the motive that 
 could have induced any mariner to land upon so 
 unpropitious a spot, hemmed in as it was on 
 every side, and apparently affording no outlet 
 but that by which they had entered — the track- 
 less and illimitable ocean. Without a moment's 
 deliberation, however, the steersman, who had 
 guided his boat into the creek, sprang lightly to 
 the shore : another followed ; while the third, fold- 
 ing himself in the capacious cloak his leader 
 had thrown off, resumed his place, as if resolved 
 to take his rest, at least for a time. 
 
 " Little doubt of our having foul weather, 
 master,"" observed the younger of the two, in a 
 half querulous, half positive tone, as standing 
 on a huge bank of sea-weed, he regarded first the 
 heavens, and then the earth, with the scrutinizing 
 gaze of one accustomed to pry into their mys- 
 teries. His companion answered not, but com- 
 menced unrolling a rich silk scarf, that had en-
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 3 
 
 veloped his throat, and twisting it into loose 
 folds, passed it several times around his waist, — 
 having previously withdrawn from a wide leathern 
 belt that intervened between his jacket and trow- 
 sers, a brace of curiously-fashioned pistols, which 
 he now handed to the young sailor, while he 
 elevated the hilt of his dagger, so that, without 
 removing or disturbing the silken sash, he could 
 use it in an instant. Having fully ascertained 
 this point, by drawing the weapon more than 
 once from its sheath, he again deposited the pistols 
 in his belt, and buttoned his vest nearly to the 
 throat ; then drew the ends of his sash still more 
 tightly, and placing a hand on either side, turned 
 towards the cliffs, measuring their altitude with 
 an eye, which, though deficient in dignity, was 
 acute, and peculiarly fierce in expression. 
 
 The seaman, for such was his calling, was 
 about five feet eight or nine inches in height. His 
 hair, as it appeared from beneath a cap singu- 
 larly at variance with the fashion of the time, 
 curled darkly round a face, the marked features 
 of which were sufficiently prominent, even in that 
 uncertain light, to denote a person of no ordinary 
 
 B 2
 
 4 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 mind or character. His figure was firm and well- 
 proportioned, and, though he might have num- 
 bered nearly fifty years, it had lost neither 
 strength nor elasticity. His whole bearing was 
 that of a man whom nothing could have turned 
 from a cherished purpose, were it for good or 
 evil : though his eye was, as we have described 
 it, fierce and acute, it was also restless and im- 
 patient as the waves upon which he had toiled 
 from his earliest years. 
 
 Again he surveyed the cliff, and, stepping close 
 to its base, applied the point of a boat-spear to 
 remove the sea-weed that spring and high tides 
 had heaped against it ; he then summoned the 
 youth to his assistance, who, after a few moments' 1 
 search, exclaimed, 
 
 " Here it is, master — here is one — here ano- 
 ther — but, my eyes ! are we to trust our necks 
 to such footing as this ? I'd rather mount the 
 top-gallant of the good ship Providence in the 
 fiercest Nor-wester that ever blow'd, than follow 
 such a lubberlv tack." 
 
 " Then go back to the boat, Sir," replied the 
 elder, as he began, with cautious yet steady
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 5 
 
 daring, to ascend, a course attended with evident 
 danger, " Go back to the boat, Sir — and, here, 
 Jeromio ! you have not been taught your duty 
 on board the Providence, and, I presume, have 
 no scruples, like our friend Oba Springall. Je- 
 romio ! I say, hither and up with me !" 
 
 " I am here, Sir, 11 replied the youth, whose mo- 
 mentary dread had been dispelled by this attempt 
 to promote a rival to the post of honour ; " I am 
 here, Sir :" muttering, however, soon afterwards to 
 himself, as the difficulties of the way increased, 
 " He thinks no more of his life than if he were a 
 sprat or a spawn." No other word was breathed 
 by either of the adventurers, as they threaded 
 the giddy path, until about midway, when the 
 elder paused and exclaimed, " A-hoy there, boy ! 
 there are two steps wanting ; you had better 
 indeed go back. To me, the track has been 
 long familiar ; not so to you. 11 
 
 The youth thought of his master's taunt and 
 Jeromio, and resolved to take his chance. " Ay, 
 ay, Sir, no danger when I follow you. 11 But the 
 peril was, in truth, appalling, though its duration 
 was brief. Below, the sea that was now rapidly
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 covering the small creek, rudely agitated and op- 
 posed by a rising breeze, dashed and foamed against 
 the rocks. To fall from such a height would be 
 inevitable destruction. There was scarcely suffi- 
 cient light to mark the inequality of the ascend- 
 ing cliffs ; and a spectator, gazing on the scene, 
 must have imagined that those who clung to such 
 a spot were supported by supernatural agency. 
 The Skipper, nothing daunted, struck the spear, 
 that had served as a climbing-stick, firmly into 
 the surface of mingled clay and stone, and then, 
 by a violent effort, flung himself upwards, catch- 
 ing with his left hand at a slight projection that 
 was hardly visible ; thus, hanging between earth 
 and heaven, he coolly disengaged the staff, and 
 placed it under the extended arm, so as to form 
 another prop ; and feeling, as it were, his way, he 
 burrowed with his foot a resting in the cliff, from 
 which he sprang on a narrow ledge, and was 
 in safety. He then turned to look for his young 
 companion, to whom he extended the boat-spear 
 that had been of such service. Animated by his 
 master's success and example, Springall's self-
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 7 
 
 ossession was confirmed ; and both soon stood on 
 the brow of the precipice. 
 
 " Sharp sailing that, boy, 11 observed the elder, 
 as the youth panted at his side. 
 
 " Ay, ay, Sir," replied Springall, wiping his 
 face with the sleeve of his jacket. " Take a drop, 
 master," he continued, drawing a tin bottle from 
 his bosom, " 'twill warm ye after such a cursed 
 cruise." 
 
 The Skipper nodded as he accepted the flask, 
 " I hope you are as well armed on all points 
 as on this ; but don't take in too great a reef, 
 or it will make you a heavy sailor before your 
 time : drop anchor now, and keep watch here 
 till further orders." 
 
 " Keep watch here, Sir !" said Springall, in a 
 mournful tone. "And did ye bring me ashore, 
 and up that devil's rope-ladder, to leave me to 
 watch here ?" 
 
 The Captain looked upon him angrily for a mo- 
 ment. " I am rightly served for taking man or boy 
 out of the canting hulks that lag on the water. Did 
 ye ever chance to hear such a sound on board the
 
 8 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 ship Providence as ' Silence, and obey orders T Let 
 not your walk, youngster, extend beyond that 
 point, from which, at daybreak, you can catch 
 a view of the court tree, where, if ancient habits 
 are not all put off, there will be revelries ere 
 long : the old church at Minster will be also 
 within your sight, while the sea between us and 
 the Essex coast, and for miles along the Nor- 
 thern ocean, can scarcely bear a sail that your 
 young eyes will not distinguish. Watch as if 
 your life — as if a thousand lives hung upon the 
 caution of a moment ; and remember, while the 
 blue light revolves, which you now see in the 
 vessel's bow, all things aboard go on well. You 
 also know the pass-word for our friends, and the 
 reception for our enemies. If you should be at 
 all afraid, three loud notes on your whistle will 
 summon Jeromio, and a single flash of your 
 pistol will bring the long-boat off, and into the 
 creek in five minutes. You can then tumble 
 down the devil's rope-ladder, as you call it, and 
 send the less timid Italian to keep watch till my 
 return — you understand me." So saying he 
 strode onwards, leaving the youth, who had not
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 9 
 
 yet passed eighteen summers, to his discon- 
 tented solitude and ill-temper. 
 
 " Understand you ! I wonder who does, ever 
 did, or ever will ; perched up here like a sea- 
 mew, and not having touched land for five weeks ! 
 ' Beyond that point !' I'll be even with him, for 
 I won't walk to that point : 111 just stay in the 
 one spot." With this resolution, he flung him- 
 self upon a bank of early wild thyme, that 
 filled the air with its refreshing odour. Long- 
 after his master was out of sight, he continued 
 pulling up tufts of the perfumed herb, and 
 flinging them over the cliff. 
 
 " Now, by my faith," he mentally exclaimed, 
 " I have a mind to pelt that Jeromio with 
 some of these clay lumps : he is enjoying a sound 
 nap down there, like an overgrown seal, as he 
 is ; and I am everlastingly taunted with Jeromio ! 
 Jeromio ! Jeromio ! at every hand's turn. Here 
 goes, to rouse his slumbers." He drew himself 
 gradually forward, and raised his hand to fling 
 a fragment of stone at his fellow-seaman : the 
 .inn was seized in its uplifted position, by a 
 figure enveloped in a dark cloak, that, muffled 
 
 b5
 
 10 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 closely round the face, and surmounted by a 
 slouched hat, worn at the time by both Cavalier 
 and Roundhead, effectually concealed the person 
 from recognition. He held the youth in so 
 iron a grasp, that motion was almost impossible ; 
 and while the moon came forth and shone upon 
 them in all her majesty, the two who contended 
 beneath her light might have been aptly com- 
 pared, in their strength and weakness, to the 
 mighty eagle overcoming the feeble leveret. 
 
 The stranger was the first to speak, as motion- 
 ing with his disengaged hand towards the re- 
 volving light that hung in the vessel's bow, he 
 inquired, 
 
 " What colours does that ship carry ?" 
 
 " Her master's, I suppose." 
 
 " And who is her master ?" 
 
 " The man she belongs to." 
 
 " She 's a free-trader then ?" 
 
 " The sea is as free to a free ship, as the 
 land to a free man, I take it." 
 
 " Reptile ! dare you barter words with me ? — 
 Your commander's name ?" 
 
 The boy made no answer.
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 11 
 
 " Dost hear me ? Your commander's name ?" 
 and as the question was repeated, the mailed 
 glove of the interrogator pressed painfully into 
 SpringalPs flesh, — without, however, eliciting a 
 reply. 
 
 " He has a name, I suppose ?" 
 
 " That you, or any cowardly night-walker, 
 would as soon not hear; for it is the name of 
 a brave man," replied the youth at last, strug- 
 gling violently, but ineffectually, to reach the 
 whistle that was suspended round his neck. 
 
 " Fool !" exclaimed the stranger, " dost bandy 
 strength as well as words? Learn that in an 
 instant I could drop thee into the rolling ocean, 
 like the egg of the unwise bird." He raised the 
 youth from the earth, and held him over the 
 precipice, whose base was now buried in the wild 
 waste of waters, that foamed and howled, as if 
 demanding from the unyielding rock a tribute 
 or a sacrifice. 
 
 " Tell me thy master's name." 
 
 The heroic boy, though with certain death 
 before him, made no reply. The man held him 
 for about the space of a minute and a half in
 
 12 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 the same position : at first he struggled fiercely 
 and silently, as a young wolf caught in the 
 hunter's toils ; yet fear gradually palsied the body 
 of the unconquered mind, and his efforts became 
 so feeble, that the stranger placed him on his 
 feet, saying, 
 
 " I wish not to hurt thee, child !" adding, 
 in a low and broken voice, " Would that the 
 Lord had given unto me sons endowed with the 
 same spirit ! Wilt tell me thy own name ?" 
 
 " No ! If you are a friend, you know our 
 pass- word ; if a foe, you shall not know it from 
 me. You can go down the cliff, and ask our 
 commander's name from yon sleepy Orson; his 
 tongue goes fast enough at all seasons." 
 
 The stranger entirely withdrew his hold from 
 Springall, while he moved towards the summit of 
 the rock. Quick as lightning, the whistle was ap- 
 plied to the youth's mouth, and three rapid, dis- 
 tinct notes cut through the night air, and were 
 echoed by the surrounding caverns. 
 
 " I thank thee, boy," said the mysterious 
 being, calmly ; " that tells of Hugh Dalton and 
 the Fire-fly."
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 13 
 
 And he disappeared so instantaneously from 
 the spot, that Springall rubbed first his eyes, 
 and then his arm, to be assured whether the 
 events of the last few minutes were not the 
 effects of a distempered imagination. He had, 
 however, more certain proof of its reality : for, 
 upon peering closely through the darkness into 
 the thick wood that skirted the east, he distinctly 
 noted the glitter of steel in two or three points 
 at the same moment ; and apprehensive that their 
 landing must have been witnessed by more than 
 one person — the hostile intentions of whom he 
 could scarcely doubt — he examined the priming 
 of his pistols, called to Jeromio to look out, for 
 that danger was at hand, and resumed his watch, 
 fearful, not for his own safety, but for that of 
 his absent commander. 
 
 In the mean time, the Skipper, who was known 
 in the Isle of Shepey, and upon other parts of the 
 coast, by the name of Hugh Dalton, proceeded 
 uninterruptedly on his way, up and down the 
 small luxuriant hills, and along the fair valleys 
 of as fertile and beautiful a district as any of 
 which our England can boast, until a sudden
 
 14 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 turn brought him close upon a dwelling of large 
 proportions and disjointed architecture, that evi- 
 dently belonged to two distinct eras. The por- 
 tion of the house fronting the place on which he 
 stood, was built of red brick, and regularly ele- 
 vated to three stories in height ; the windows 
 were long and narrow ; and the entire of that 
 division was in strict accordance with the taste 
 of the times, as patronised and adopted by the 
 rulers of the Commonwealth. Behind, rose seve- 
 ral square turrets, and straggling buildings, the 
 carved and many-paned windows of which were 
 of very remote date, and evidently formed from 
 the relics of some monastery or religious house. 
 Here and there, the fancy or interest of the 
 owner had induced him to remodel the struc- 
 ture ; and an ill-designed and ungraceful mix- 
 ture of the modern with the ancient, gave to the 
 whole somewhat of a grotesque appearance, that 
 was heightened by the noble trees, which had 
 once towered in majesty and beauty, being in 
 many places lopped and docked, as if even the 
 exuberance of nature was a crime in the eyes 
 of the present lord of the mansion.
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 15 
 
 " Sir Robert," muttered Dalton, " may well 
 change the name of his dwelling from Cecil Ab- 
 bey to Cecil Place. Why, the very trees are ma- 
 nufactured into Roundheads. But there is some- 
 thing more than ordinary a-foot, for the lights 
 are floating through the house, as if it were 
 haunted. The sooner I make harbour, the 
 better." 
 
 He paced rapidly forward, and stood before a 
 small building that was then called a porter's 
 lodge, but which had formerly been designated 
 the Abbey-gate, and which, perhaps in considera- 
 tion of its singular beauty, had been spared all 
 modern alteration. The ivy that clustered and 
 climbed to its loftiest pinnacles, added a wild 
 and peculiar interest to this remnant of ancient 
 architecture. It contained a high carriage arch- 
 way, and a lateral passage beneath it, both deco- 
 rated with numerous ornamental mouldings and 
 columns, flanked at the angles by octagonal 
 turrets of exquisite elegance. An apartment 
 over the arch, which, during the reign of monastic 
 power, had been used as a small oratory, for the 
 celebration of early mass to the servants and
 
 16 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 labourers of the convent, was now appropriated 
 to the accommodation of the porter and his 
 family. 
 
 The Skipper applied his hand to the bell, and 
 rang long and loudly. For some time no answer 
 was returned. Again he rang, and, after much 
 delay, an old man was seen approaching from the 
 house, bearing a torch, which he carefully shaded 
 from the night wind. 
 
 " My good friend," inquired the sailor in no 
 gentle tone, " is it Sir Robert's wish that those 
 who come on business should be thus kept wait- 
 ing?" • 
 
 " You know little of the affliction with which 
 it has pleased the Lord to visit Sir Robert, or 
 you would not have rung so loudly : our good 
 Lady is dying !" and the old man's voice faltered 
 as he spoke the tidings. 
 
 " Indeed !" was the only reply of Dalton, as 
 he passed under the archway; but the word 
 was spoken in a tone that evinced strong feeling. 
 The porter requested him to walk into the 
 lodge. 
 
 " The place is in confusion, afTd as to seeing my
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 17 
 
 master, it is a clear impossibility ; he Jias not 
 left our Lady's bed-side these three days, and the 
 doctor says she will be gathered to her kindred 
 before morning. 11 
 
 " He will leave even her to attend to me ; and 
 therefore, my friend, on your own head be the 
 responsibility if you fail to deliver to him this 
 token. I tell you, 11 added Dalton, " death could 
 hardly keep him from me !" 
 
 The porter took the offered signet in silence, 
 and only shook his head in reply, as they passed 
 together towards the house. 
 
 " You can tell me, I suppose, if Master Ro- 
 land is still with his Highness 1 s army P 11 
 
 " Alack and weli-a-day ! God is just and 
 merciful ; but, I take it, the death of that noble 
 boy has gone nigher to break my Lady's heart 
 than any other sorrow : the flesh will war against 
 the spirit. Had he died in honourable combat 
 at Marston or at Naseby, when first it was given 
 him to raise his arm in the Lord's cause ! — but to 
 fall in a drunken frolic, not befitting a holy 
 Christian to engage in — it was far more than my 
 poor Lady could bear. 11
 
 18 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 " Oliver promised to be a fine fellow. 11 
 
 " Do not talk of him, do not talk of him, I 
 entreat you,' 1 replied the domestic, placing his 
 hand on his face to conceal his emotion ; " he 
 was, indeed, my heart's darling. Long before Sir 
 Robert succeeded to his brother's property, and 
 when we lived with my Lady's father, I was the 
 old gentleman"^ huntsman, and that dear child 
 was ever at my heels. The Lord be praised ! the 
 Lord be praised ! but I little thought the blue 
 waves would be his bier before he had seen his 
 twentieth year. They are all gone, Sir : five 
 such boys ! — the girl, the lamb of the flock, only 
 left. You do not know her, do ye? 11 inquired 
 the old man, peering with much curiosity into 
 the Skipper's face, as if recognizing it as one he 
 had seen in former days. 
 
 The sailor made no answer. 
 
 They had now entered a small postern-door, 
 which led to the hall by a narrow passage ; and 
 the porter proceeded until they stood in one of 
 those vaulted entrances that usually convey an 
 idea of the wealth and power of the possessor. 
 
 " You can sit here till I return, 11 observed the
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 19 
 
 guide, again casting an inquiring look upon the 
 form and features of the guest. 
 
 " I sit in no man's hall,'' 1 was the stern re- 
 
 The porter withdrew, and the seaman, folding 
 his arms, paced up and down the paved vestibule, 
 which showed evident tokens of the confusion 
 that sickness and death never fail to create. 
 He paused occasionally before the huge and 
 gaping chimney, and extended his sinewy hands 
 over the flickering embers of the expiring fire : 
 the lurid glare of the departing flames only 
 rendered the darkness of the farthermost portion 
 of the hall more deep and fearful. The clock 
 chimed eleven : it was, as ever, the voice of Time 
 telling of eternity ! 
 
 A light gleamed at the most distant end of the 
 apartment, and a short but graceful girl ap- 
 proached the stranger. She was habited in a close 
 vest of grey cloth ; her head covered with a linen 
 cap, devoid of any ornament, from under the 
 plain border of which, a stream of hair appear- 
 ed, tightly drawn across a forehead of beautiful 
 colour and proportions.
 
 20 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 " Will you please to follow, Sir, to my master's 
 study ?" 
 
 Dalton turned suddenly round ; the entire ex- 
 pression of his countenance softened, and his firm- 
 set lips opened, as if a word laboured to come 
 forth, and was retained only by an effort. 
 
 " Will you not follow, good Sir ?" repeated 
 the girl, anxiously but mildly. " My master is ill 
 at ease, and wishes to return to my Lady's room : 
 it may be " 
 
 The sentence remained unfinished, and tears 
 streamed afresh down cheeks already swollen with 
 weeping. 
 
 " Your name, girl ?" inquired the stranger, 
 eagerly. 
 
 " Barbara Iverk," she replied, evidently asto- 
 nished at the question. He seized her arm, and, 
 while gazing earnestly in her face, murmured 
 in a tone of positive tenderness — 
 
 " Are you happy ? n 
 
 " I praise the Lord for his goodness ! ever 
 since I have been here, I have been most happy ; 
 
 but my dear Lady, who was so kind to me, " 
 
 Again her tears returned.
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 21 
 
 " You do not know me ? — But you could not." 
 Hugh Dalton gradually relaxed his hold, and 
 pulled from his bosom a purse heavy with Spa- 
 nish pieces — he presented it to the girl, but she 
 drew back her hand and shook her head. 
 
 " Take it, child, and buy thee a riding-hood, 
 or a farthingale, or some such trumpery, which 
 thy vain sex delight in." 
 
 " I lack nothing, good Sir, I thank ye ; and, as 
 to the coined silver, it is only a tempter to the 
 destruction of body and soul." 
 
 " As it may be used — as it may be used," re- 
 peated the sailor quickly ; " one so young would 
 not abuse it." 
 
 " Wisdom might be needed in the expenditure ; 
 and I have heard that want of knowledge is the 
 forerunner of sin. Besides, I ask your pardon, 
 good Sir, but strangers do not give to strangers, 
 unless for charity ; and I lack nothing." 
 
 She dropped so modest a curtsey, and looked 
 so perfectly and purely innocent, that moisture, 
 as unusual as it might be unwelcome, dimmed 
 the eyes of the stern man of ocean ; and as he 
 replaced the dollars, he muttered something that
 
 22 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 sounded like, " I thank God she is uncontami- 
 nated !" He then followed the gentle girl 
 through many passages, and up and down more 
 than one flight of stairs : they both at length 
 stopped before a door that was thickly plated 
 with iron. 
 
 " You need not wait, 1 ' said Dalton, laying 
 his hand on the latch. Barbara paused a mo- 
 ment, to look on the wild being, so different 
 from the staid persons she was in the daily 
 habit of seeing at the hall ; and then her light, 
 even step, faded on the sailor's ear. 
 
 Sir Robert Cecil was standing, or rather lean- 
 ing, with folded arms, against a column of the 
 dark marble chimney-piece, which, enriched by 
 various carvings and mouldings, rose nearly to 
 the ceiling. The Baronet's hair, of mingled grey 
 and black, had been cropped according to the 
 approved fashion of the time ; so that his fea- 
 tures had not the advantage of either shadow 
 or relief from the most beautiful of nature's 
 ornaments. He might have been a few years older 
 or younger than the sailor who had just entered ;
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 23 
 
 but his figure seemed weak and bending as a 
 willow- wand, as he moved slowly round to re- 
 ceive his visiter. The usually polite expression 
 of his countenance deepened into the insidious, 
 and a faint smile rested for a moment on his 
 lip. This outward show of welcome contrasted 
 strangely with the visible tremor that agitated 
 his frame : he did not speak ; either from in- 
 ability to coin an appropriate sentence, or the 
 more subtle motive of waiting until the commu- 
 nication of the stranger was first made. 
 
 After a lengthened pause, during which Dal- 
 ton slowly advanced, so as to stand opposite 
 Sir Robert Cecil, he commenced the conversa- 
 tion, without any of that show of courtesy, which 
 the knowledge of their relative situations might 
 have called for : even his cap was unremoved. 
 
 " I am sorry, Sir Robert, to have come at 
 such a time ; nor would I now remain, were it 
 not that my business " 
 
 " I am not aware," interrupted the Baronet, 
 " of any matters of ' business' pending between us. 
 I imagine, on reflection, you will find that all
 
 24 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 such have been long since concluded. If there is 
 any way, indeed, in which I can oblige you, for 
 the sake of an old servant " 
 
 " Servant!" in his turn interrupted Dalton, 
 with emphasis ; " we have been companions, Sir 
 Robert — companions in more than one act ; and, 
 by the dark heavens above us, will be so in ano- 
 ther — if necessary." 
 
 The haughty Baronet writhed under this fa- 
 miliarity ; yet was there an expression of tri- 
 umphant quietude in his eye, as if he despised 
 the insinuation of the seaman. " I think, con- 
 sidering all things, you have been pretty well 
 paid for such acts, Master Dalton ; I have never 
 taken any man's labour for nothing." 
 
 " Labour !" again echoed the sailor ; " labour 
 may be paid for, but what can stand in lieu 
 of innocence, purity of heart, and rectitude of 
 conduct ?" 
 
 " Gold — which you have had, in all its gor- 
 geous and glowing abundance." 
 
 " 'T won't do," retorted the other, in a pain- 
 fully subdued tone ; " there is much it cannot 
 purchase. Am I not at this moment a banned
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 25 
 
 and a blighted man — scouted alike from the board 
 of the profligate Cavalier, and the psalm-sing- 
 ing Puritan of this most change-loving country ? 
 And one day or another, I may be hung up 
 at the yard-arm of a Commonwealth — Heaven 
 bless the mark ! — a Commonwealth cruiser ! — 
 or scare crows from a gibbet off Sheerness or 
 Queenborough, or be made an example of for 
 some act of piracy committed on the high seas !" 
 
 " But why commit such acts ? You have 
 wherewithal to live respectably — quietly."" 
 
 " Quietly I" repeated the Skipper ; " look ye, 
 Master — I crave your pardon — Sir Robert Cecil ; 
 as soon could one of Mother Carey's chickens 
 mount a hen-roost, or bring up a brood of lub- 
 berly turkies, as I, Hugh Dalton, master and 
 owner of the good brigantine, that sits the waters 
 like a swan, and cuts them like an arrow — live 
 quietly, quietly on shore ! Santa Maria ! have I 
 not panted under the hot sun off the Caribbees ? 
 Have I not closed my ears to the cry of mercy ? 
 Have I not sacked, and sunk, and burnt with- 
 out acknowledging claim or country ? Has not 
 the mother clasped her child more closely to her 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 2G THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 bosom at the mention of my name ? In one 
 word, for years have I not been a Buccaneer ? 
 And yet you talk to me of quietness ! — Sir, Sir, 
 the soul so steeped in sin has but two resources- 
 madness, or the grave : the last even I shrink 
 from ; so give me war, war, and its insanity." 
 
 " Cannot you learn to fear the Lord, and trade 
 as an honest man ?" 
 
 Dalton cast a look of such mingled scorn and 
 contempt on his companion, that a deep red 
 colour mounted to his cheek as he repeated, 
 " Yes ! I ask, cannot you trade as an honest 
 man ?" 
 
 " No ! d n trade : and I 'm not honest," he 
 
 replied fiercely. 
 
 " May I beg you briefly to explain the object 
 of your visit ?" said the Baronet at last, after 
 a perplexing pause, during which the arms of the 
 Buccaneer were folded on his breast, and his rest- 
 less and vigilant eyes wandered round the apart- 
 ment, flashing with an indefinable expression, 
 when they encountered the blue retreating orbs of 
 Sir Robert.
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 27 
 
 " This, then : I require a free pardon from Old 
 Noll, not only for myself, but for my crew. The 
 brave who would have died, shall live with me. 
 As a return for his Highness's civility, I will 
 give up all free trade, and take the command of a 
 frigate, if it so please him." 
 
 " Or a revenue cutter, I presume," observed 
 the Baronet, sarcastically. 
 
 " Curse me if I do V replied Dalton, con- 
 temptuously — " the sharks ! No, no, I 'm not 
 come to that yet ; nor would I ever think of 
 hoisting any flag but mine own, were it not for 
 the sake of a small craft, as belonging to— no 
 matter what." 
 
 " You have seen but little of the girl." 
 
 " Too little: and why? Because I was 
 aafiamed to see her — but now — not ten minutes 
 ago— I was glad she did not know me. Sir 
 Robert, when your own daughter hangs upon 
 vour arm, or looks with her innocent eyes into 
 your face, how do you feel P" 
 
 Sir Robert Cecil had been too well schooled in 
 Puritanism to suffer the emotions of his mind to 
 
 c 2
 
 28 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 affect his features. He did not reply to the 
 question, but skilfully turning the conversation, 
 brought the intruder back to his old subject. 
 
 " How do you purpose procuring this free 
 pardon ?" 
 
 " I ! I know not how to procure it ; I only 
 wish it procured : the means are in your power, 
 not mine.'" 
 
 " In mine !" ejaculated the Baronet with 
 well-feigned astonishment ; " you mistake, good 
 Dalton, I have no interest at Whitehall ; I would 
 not ask a favour for myself." 
 
 " That is likely ; but you must ask one for 
 
 me." 
 
 " Must /" repeated Sir Robert, " is a strange 
 word to use to me, Dalton.' 1 
 
 " I 'm not scholar enough to find a better," 
 replied the other insolently. 
 
 " I cannot if I would, 1 ' persisted the Baronet. 
 
 " One word more, then. The Protector's plans 
 render it impracticable for me to continue, as I 
 have done, on the seas : I know that I am a 
 marked man, and unless something be determined
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 29 
 
 on, and speedily, I shall be exposed to that 
 ignominy which, for my child's sake, I would 
 avoid. Don't talk to me of impossibilities ; you 
 can obtain the pardon I desire, and, in one word, 
 Sir Robert Cecil, you must !" 
 
 Sir Robert shook his head. 
 
 " At your pleasure, then, at your pleasure ; 
 but at your peril also. Mark me ! I am not one 
 to be thrown overboard, and make no struggle — 
 I am not a baby to be strangled without cry- 
 ing ! If I perish, facts shall arise from my grave, 
 — ay, if I were sunk a thousand fathoms in my 
 
 own blue sea, — facts that would You may 
 
 well tremble and turn pale ! The secret is still 
 in our keeping ; only remember, I fall not 
 singly !" 
 
 " Insulting villain !" said Sir Robert, regain- 
 ing his self-command ; " you have now no facts, 
 no proofs ; the evidence is destroyed. 1 ' 
 
 " It is not destroyed, Robert Cecil," observed 
 Dalton, calmly pulling a bundle of papers from 
 his vest : " look here — and here — and here — do 
 you not know your own hand-writing ? You
 
 30 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 practised me first in deception : I had not for- 
 gotten your kind lessons, when in your presence 
 I committed forged letters to the flames !" 
 
 The man laughed the laugh of contempt and 
 bitter scorn as he held forward the documents. 
 For a few moments Sir Robert seemed petrified ; 
 his eyes glared on the accursed papers, as if their 
 frozen lids had not the power of shutting out 
 the horrid proofs of his iniquity. Suddenly he 
 made a desperate effort to secure them ; but the 
 steady eye and muscular arm of the smuggler 
 prevented it. 
 
 " Hands off !" he exclaimed, whirling the 
 Baronet from him, as if he had been a thing of 
 straw ; " you know my power, and you know my 
 terms : there needs no more palaver about it." 
 
 " Will not gold serve your purpose ?" 
 
 " No, I have enough of that ; I want dis- 
 tinction and fame, a free pardon, and the com- 
 mand of one of your registered and acknow- 
 ledged plunderers ; or, mayhap, baptism for my 
 own bright little Fire-fly, as the ' Babe of 
 Grace;' or — But, hang it, no — I'd sink the ves- 
 sel first, and let her die, as she has lived, free,
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 31 
 
 free, free ! I belong to a civilized set of beings, 
 and must therefore be a slave, a slave to some 
 thing or some one. Noll knows my talents well, 
 knows that I am as good a commander, ay, and 
 for the matter of that, would be as honest a one 
 as the best." 
 
 He paused ; the Baronet groaned audibly. 
 
 " We have one or two little jobs upon the 
 coasts here of Kent and Essex, trifles that must, 
 nevertheless, be attended to ; but this day month, 
 Sir Robert Cecil, we meet again. I will not 
 longer keep you from your wife. Gracious God ! 
 where was I when mine expired ! But farewell ! 
 I would not detain you, for her sweet and gentle 
 sake : she will be rewarded for her goodness to 
 my child ! Remember, 1 ' he added, closing the 
 door, " remember, — one month, and Hugh Dal- 
 ton !"
 
 32 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 " Death ! be not proud, though some have called thee 
 Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so ; 
 For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow, 
 Die not, poor Death 
 
 Why swell'st thou, then ? 
 
 One short sleep past, we wake eternally ; 
 And Death shall be no more : — Death ! thou shalt die." 
 
 Dr. Donne. 
 
 When Sir Robert Cecil returned to his wife's 
 chamber, all within was silent as the grave. He 
 approached the bed ; his daughter rose from the 
 seat she had occupied by its side, and motioned 
 him to be still, pointing at the same time to her 
 mother, and intimating that she slept. " Thank 
 God for that ! 1? he murmured, and drew his hand 
 across his brow, while his chest heaved as if a 
 heavy weight had been removed from it. The
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 33 
 
 attendants had left the room to obtain some ne- 
 cessary refreshment and repose, and father and 
 daughter were alone with the sleeper in the 
 chamber of death. The brow of Lady Cecil was 
 calm, smooth, and unclouded, white as alabaster, 
 and rendered still more beautiful by the few- 
 tresses of pale auburn hair that escaped from under 
 the head-tire. The features were of a noble yet 
 softened character, although painfully emaciated ; 
 and not a shadow of colour tinged her upturned 
 lip. Her sleep, though occasionally sound, was 
 restless, and the long shadowy fingers, that lay 
 on the embroidered coverlet, were now and then 
 stirred, as if by bodily or mental suffering. There 
 was an atmosphere of silence, not of repose, 
 within the apartment, at once awful and oppres- 
 sive : and Sir Robert breathed as if his breathy 
 ings were but a continuation o( suppressed 
 sobs. 
 
 Constance Cecil, never in earlier life, never in 
 after years, glorious and beautiful as she ever 
 was, appeared half so interesting to her unhappy 
 father as at that moment. There was at all times 
 about her a majesty of mind and feeling that 
 lent to her simplest word and action a dignity 
 
 c 5
 
 34 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 and power, which, though universally felt, it 
 would have been impossible to define. If one 
 could have procured for her a kingdom to reign 
 over, or have chosen from the galaxy of hea- 
 ven a region worthy her command, it must have 
 been that pale and holy star, which, splendid 
 and alone in the firmament, heralds the approach 
 of day ; so unfitted might she have been deemed 
 to mingle with a world less pure, so completely 
 placed by nature above all the littlenesses of ordi- 
 nary life. Her noble and majestic form was the 
 casket of a rich and holy treasure, and her father's 
 conscience had often quailed, when contemplating 
 the severity of her youthful virtue. Dearly as he 
 loved his wife, he respected his daughter more, 
 and the bare idea that certain occurrences of 
 former years might be known to her was as a 
 poisoned dagger in his heart. He had been a 
 daring, and was still an ambitious man — success- 
 ful in all that men aim to succeed in ; wealthy, 
 honoured, and powerful, and — what is frequently 
 more ardently sought for than all — feared ; yet 
 would he rather have sacrificed every advantage 
 he had gained — every desire for which he had un-
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 35 
 
 hesitatingly bartered his own self-esteem — every 
 distinction he had considered cheaply purchased 
 at the price of conscience, than have lost the 
 good opinion, the confiding love of his only 
 child. Even now he looked upon her with 
 mingled feelings of dread and affection, though 
 her bearing was subdued and her lofty spirit 
 bowed by sorrow, as she stood before him, the 
 thick folds of her dressing-gown falling with 
 classic elegance to her feet, her fine hair pushed 
 back from her forehead and carelessly twisted 
 round her head, and her countenance deepened 
 into an expression of the most intense anxiety : 
 while, assured that the invalid slept on, she 
 whispered into his ear words of hope, if not of 
 consolation. 
 
 Lady Cecil had existed for some days in a state 
 of frightful delirium, and, during that time, her 
 ravings had been so loud and continued, that her 
 present repose was elysium to those who loved 
 her. Constance bent her knees, and prayed 
 in silence, long and fervently, for support. Sir 
 Robert, leaning back in the richly cushioned 
 chair, covered his face with his hands, withdraw-
 
 36 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 ing them only when the sleeper groaned or breath- 
 ed more heavily. At length both felt as if death 
 had indeed entered the chamber, so motionless 
 lay the object of their love : they continued gazing 
 from each other to the couch, until the misty 
 light of morning streamed coldly through the 
 open shutters. Another hour of sad watching 
 passed, and, with a long and deeply drawn sigh, 
 the sufferer opened her eyes : they were no longer 
 wild and wandering, but rested with calm intel- 
 ligence on her husband and her child. 
 
 " It is long since I have seen you, except in 
 strange dreams,'" she said, or rather murmured ; 
 " and now I shall be with you but for a very 
 little time !" 
 
 Constance put to her lips a silver cup con- 
 taining some refreshment, while Sir Robert sup- 
 ported her head on his arm. 
 
 " Call no one in. Constance — Cecil — my mo- 
 ments now are numbered : — draw back the cur- 
 tains, that I may once more look upon the light 
 of morning !" Constance obeyed ; and the full 
 beams of day entered the room. " How beau- 
 tiful ! how glorious !" repeated the dying wo-
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 37 
 
 man, as her sight drank in the reviving light ; 
 " it heralds me to immortality — where there is 
 no darkness — no disappointment — no evil ! How 
 pale are the rays of that lamp, Cecil ! How feeble 
 man's inventions, contrasted with the works of 
 the Almighty !" Constance rose to extinguish it. 
 " Let it be," she continued, feebly ; " let it be, 
 dearest ; it has illumined my last night, and we 
 will expire together." The affectionate daughter 
 turned away to hide her tears; but when did 
 the emotion of a beloved child escape a mother's 
 notice ? — " Alas ! my noble Constance weeping ! 
 I thought she, at all events, could have spared 
 me this trial : — leave us for a few moments ; 
 let me not see you weep, Constance — let me not 
 see it — tears enough have fallen in these halls ; — 
 do not mourn, my child, that your mother will 
 find rest at Last." 
 
 How often did Constantia remember these 
 words ! How often, when the heart that dic- 
 tated such gentle chiding, had ceased to beat, 
 did Constantia Cecil, gazing into the depths of 
 the blue and mysterious sky, think upon her 
 mother in Heaven ! 
 
 57280
 
 38 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 Lady Cecil had much to say to her husband 
 during the remaining moments of her existence ; 
 but her breathing became so feeble, that he was 
 obliged to lean over the couch to catch her 
 words. 
 
 " We part, my own, and only beloved hus- 
 band, for ever in this world ; — fain would I 
 linger yet a little, to recount how much I 
 have loved you — in our more humble state — 
 in this — oh ! how falsely termed our prosperity. 
 My heart has shared your feelings. In our late 
 bitter trials, more than half my grief wa6, that 
 you should suffer. Oh, Robert ! Robert ! now, 
 when I am about to leave you and all, for ever 
 — how my heart clings — I fear, sinfully clings, 
 to the remembrance of our earlier and purer 
 happiness ! My father's house ! The noble oak, 
 where the ring-doves built, and under whose 
 shadow we first met ! The stream — where you 
 and Herbert — wild, but affectionate brother ! — 
 Oh ! Robert, do not blame me, nor start so at 
 his name ; — his only fault was his devotion to a 
 most kind master ! — but who, that lived under 
 the gentle influence of Charles Stuart's virtues,
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 39 
 
 could have been aught but devoted? — And yet 
 what deadly feuds came forth from this affection ! 
 Alas ! his rich heritage has brought no blessing 
 with it. I never could look upon these broad 
 lands as ours — Would that his child had lived — 
 and then — But they are all gone now — all gone ! 
 — Alas ! what had we to do with courts, or courts 
 with us ? — Our domestic comforts have been 
 blighted — our hearth left desolate — the children 
 for whom you toiled, and hoped, and planned, 
 have been removed from us — nipped in the bud, 
 or the first blossoming! — And oh, Cecil! take 
 the words of a dying woman to heart, when she 
 tells you, that you will go down childless to 
 your grave, if you do not absolve our beloved 
 Constance from her promise to him whom she 
 can neither respect nor love. She will complete 
 the contract, though it should be her death- 
 warrant, rather than let it be said a daughter 
 of the house of Cecil acted dishonourably — she 
 will complete it, Robert — she will complete it — 
 and then die !" 
 
 Lady Cecil, overcome by emotion and exertion, 
 fell back fainting and exhausted on her pillow.
 
 10 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 Recovering herself, however, after a brief pause 
 she added, in a broken whispering voice, " Forgive 
 me, my dear, dear husband ; — my mind is wan- 
 dering — >my thoughts are unconnected —but my 
 affection for you — for Constance — is strong in 
 death. I mean not to pain you, but to warn — 
 for the sake of our only child — of the only thing 
 that remains to tell you of your wife. My 
 breath trembles on my lips — there is a mist be- 
 fore mine eyes — call her in, that my spirit may 
 depart — may ascend heavenward on the wings 
 of prayer ! — " 
 
 Sir Robert was moving towards the door, when 
 her hand motioned him back. 
 
 " Promise — promise that you will never force 
 her to wed that man ! — more — that you yourself 
 will break the contract I 11 
 
 " Truly, and solemnly do I swear, that I will 
 never force her to fulfil — nay, that I will never 
 even urge her to its fulfilment." 
 
 The dying lady looked unsatisfied, and some 
 unpronounced words agitated her lips, as Con- 
 stance entered unbidden, but most welcome. She 
 knelt by her mother's side, and took the hand so
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 41 
 
 feebly but affectionately extended towards her. 
 The fearful change that had occurred during her 
 short absence was but too visible. The breath 
 that touched her cheek was cold as the morning 
 mist. The sufferer would have folded her hands 
 in prayer, but the strength had departed before 
 the spirit was gone. Constance, seeing that the 
 fine expression of life with which her upturned 
 eyes had glittered was gradually passing away, 
 clasped her mother's hands within her own : sud- 
 denly they struggled for freedom, and as her eye 
 followed the pointing of her parent's finger, she 
 saw the lamp^ last beam flicker for a moment, 
 and then expire ! — Her mother, too, was dead ! 
 
 It is ill to break upon the solitude of the dying, 
 though it is good to enter into the solemn temple 
 of death : it is a sad but a useful lesson to lift the 
 pall ; to raise the coffin-lid ; to gaze upon all we 
 loved, upon all that was bright, and pure, and 
 beautiful, changing with a slow but certain change 
 to decay and corruption. The most careless can- 
 not move along the chamber of death without 
 being affected by the awful presence of the
 
 42 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 King of Terrors. The holy quiet that ought to 
 characterize a funeral procession, is too fre- 
 quently destroyed by the empty pomp and heart- 
 lessness which attend it ; but in the death 
 chamber there is nothing of this; the very at- 
 mosphere seems impregnated with the stillness of 
 the time when there was no life in the broad 
 earth and when only " God moved on the face 
 of the waters."''' Our breath comes slowly and 
 heavily to our lips, and we murmur forth our 
 words as if the spirit watched to record them in 
 the unchanging book of immortality. 
 
 In due time, the funeral train of Lady Cecil 
 prepared to escort the corpse to its final home. 
 Sir Robert was too ill, and too deeply afflicted to 
 be present at the ceremony ; and as he had no 
 near relative, Sir Willmott Burrell, of Burrell, 
 the Knight to whom his daughter's hand was 
 plighted, was expected to take his station as chief 
 mourner. The people waited for some hours with 
 untiring patience; the old steward paced back- 
 wards and forwards from the great gate, and at 
 last took his stand there, looking out from be- 
 tween its bars, hoping that, wild and reckless as
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 43 
 
 Burrell really was, he would not put so great an 
 affront upon the Cecil family, as to suffer its late 
 mistress to go thus unhonoured to the grave. 
 
 The day advanced, and as neither the gentle- 
 man, nor any one to show cause for" his ab- 
 sence, appeared, strange whisperings and surmises 
 arose amongst the crowd, which had assembled 
 from all the villages on the island, as to the 
 probable motive of this most ill-advised delay. 
 More than one messenger was despatched to the 
 top of Minster Church to look out and see if any 
 person like Sir Willmott was crossing the King's 
 ferry, the only outlet in general use from the 
 island to the main land : but though the passage- 
 boat, conducted (as it was termed) by Jabez Tip- 
 pet, was evidently employed as much as usual, 
 there was no token to justify farther waiting. 
 The Rev. Jonas Fleetword, one of the soundest 
 of Puritan divines, stood like a statue of cast iron 
 in the doorway, his arms folded on his breast, and 
 his brow contracting and contracting into a nar- 
 row and fretted arch, as the minute-hand moved 
 round and round the dial of the old clock. At 
 Length assuming to himself the command, which
 
 44 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 in those times was as willingly ceded to the 
 Reformed minister as it had formerly been to the 
 not more arbitrary Catholic priest, he ordered the 
 procession " to tarry no longer the coming of him 
 whose feet were shod with heaviness, but to de- 
 part forthwith in the name of the Lord." 
 
 The place of interment was at East-Church, a 
 distance of about four miles from Cecil Place ; 
 and as they paced it but slowly, the increasing 
 chill of the gathering clouds gave intimation that 
 the prime of day was sinking into the even-tide 
 before the spire was in sight. As they at length 
 ascended the hill upon whose summit was the 
 vault of the Cecils, a young gentleman, mounted 
 on a grey and noble charger, met the funeral 
 train so suddenly, that those who preceded halted, 
 and for a moment it was rumoured, that Sir 
 Willmott Burrell, though late and last, had taken 
 the lower road from King's ferry, and so ar- 
 rived in time to behold the remains of her who 
 was to have been his mother, deposited in the 
 tomb. 
 
 When the people observed, however, that the 
 salutation of respect made by the youth to the
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 45 
 
 Rev. Jonas Fleetword was followed by no sign 
 of recognition, they moved silently onward, mar- 
 velling amongst themselves at the young gentle- 
 man's keeping a little in advance of the clergy- 
 man, so as to take the exact station which be- 
 longed to the chief mourner. He was habited in 
 a suit of the deepest black ; and though the cloak 
 which fell in ample folds from his throat concealed 
 his figure, yet his movements indicated that it 
 was slight and graceful. His broad hat com- 
 pletely shaded his face, but the luxuriant curls of 
 light hair, which, moistened by the misty atmo- 
 sphere, fell negligently beneath its brim, in- 
 timated that he was more akin to the Cavalier 
 than the Roundhead. 
 
 By the time the ceremony was concluded, and 
 the divine had finished one of those energetic 
 and powerful appeals to the feelings which so 
 effectually roused or subdued, as it pleased him 
 to desire, darkness had nearly shrouded the sur- 
 rounding landscape ; and the multitude, whom 
 respect or curiosity had assembled, retired from 
 the churchyard, and wended to their homes. 
 The year was in its third month, and the weather,
 
 46 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 which, when Hugh Dalton landed, had been clear 
 and fine, was now foggy and cold : — 
 
 " The dewy night had with her frosty shade 
 Immantled all the world, and the stiff ground 
 Sparkled in ice " 
 
 Yet the steed of the youth, who had so unce- 
 remoniously joined Lady Cecil's funeral, was 
 cropping the withered grass from the church-yard 
 graves, while his master, apparently unconscious 
 of the deepening night, leaned against one of 
 the richly ornamented stone slabs that marked 
 the entrance to the vault. 
 
 Suddenly the clatter of horses' 1 hoofs sound- 
 ed on the crisp road, the cavalier involuntarily 
 placed his hand on his sword, and his horse lifted 
 his head from the earth, bent back his ears, and 
 whinnied in the low and peculiar tone that serves 
 to intimate the approach of strangers. The 
 travellers (for there were two) halted at the 
 church -yard gate. 
 
 " What ho there !" exclaimed the foremost, 
 " you, Sir, who are pondering in grave-yards at 
 this hour, canst tell me if Lady Cecil's funeral 
 took place this morning ?"
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 47 
 
 " Her ladyship was buried this evening," re- 
 plied the other, at the same time fairly drawing 
 his sword out of its scabbard, though the move- 
 ment was concealed by his cloak. 
 
 " They waited then ?" 
 
 " They did, for one whose presence was not 
 needed." 
 
 " And pray, how know you that ? or knowing, 
 think you it wisdom, Sir Dolorous, to give forth 
 such knowledge, when it might be him they tar- 
 ried for who questioneth ?" 
 
 " It is because I know you, Sir Willmott Bur- 
 rell, that I am so free of speech," replied the 
 youth, vaulting into his saddle ; " and I repeat it, 
 your presence was not needed. The lady, as you 
 truly know, loved you not while living, so it was 
 as well that you profaned not her burial by a 
 show of false grief." 
 
 " Here's a ruffler !" exclaimed the other, turn- 
 ing to his follower. " And pray who are you ?" 
 
 " You shall know that, good Sir, when you 
 least desire it," answered he of the black cloak, 
 reining up his horse, that pawed and pranced im- 
 patiently : he then loosened the bridle, and would
 
 48 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 have crossed Burrell to pass into the highway ; 
 but the other shouted to his associate, " Hold, 
 stop him, Robin ! stop him in the name of the 
 Lord ! 'tis doubtless one of the fellows who have 
 assailed his Highness 1 s life, — a leveller — a leveller ! 
 a friend of Miles Syndercomb, or some such 
 ruffian, who is tarrying in this remote part of the 
 island for some opportunity of escape. If you 
 are an innocent man, you will remain ; if guilty, 
 this shall be my warrant." 
 
 He attempted to pull forth a pistol from his 
 belt, but, before his purpose could be accom- 
 plished, the point of his adversary's rapier rested 
 on his throat, which, at the same instant, was 
 grasped with more strength than so slight a person 
 could be supposed to possess. Burrell cried to 
 his comrade for help, but he was already out of 
 hearing, having set spurs to his horse the mo- 
 ment he had seen the assault ; he then entreated 
 for quarter in an altered and humbled tone. 
 
 " I am neither a robber nor a murderer, 11 re- 
 plied the youth, " but, not having pistols, I hold 
 my own safety of too much value to relax my 
 grasp, till you pledge your honour not to attack
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 49 
 
 me but with the same weapon I can use in my 
 defence." 
 
 Burrell pledged his word " as a Christian and a 
 soldier :" the stranger withdrew his sword. 
 
 " And now," said he, fixing himself firmly in 
 his seat, and rolling his cloak around his left 
 arm, " if you wish for honourable combat, I am at 
 your service ; if not, Sir, I take my way, and you 
 can proceed on yours." He drew up to his full 
 height, and awaited Burrell's answer, who sat as 
 if undetermined what course to pursue. He did 
 not long hesitate ; the villain's ready friend — 
 treachery — was at his elbow — in an instant the 
 pistol was presented to the head of his con- 
 fiding antagonist, who, though unprepared for 
 such an act, bent forward previous to the effort 
 of raising himself in the saddle to give more 
 strength to his good steel. Merciful Providence ! 
 at the very instant that he bowed himself, the 
 ruffian fired ! The ball passed over him — he 
 swayed in his saddle; — the next moment, reining 
 up his horse, he prepared to punish such das- 
 tardly conduct as it deserved ; but, as worthless 
 purposes are sometimes accomplished by worthy 
 
 vol. i. n
 
 50 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 instruments, the fleet steed that Burrell rode was 
 far on its way towards Minster, its track marked 
 by fire-sparks, which glittered in the thickening 
 darkness. 
 
 The youth remained on the same spot until the 
 sound of the horse's hoofs were lost in the dis- 
 tance, and then, setting spurs to his own gallant 
 grey, proceeded on his course.
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 51 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Now is the time when rakes their revels keep ; 
 Kindlers of riot, enemies of sleep. Gay. 
 
 " A Brewer may be like a fox or a cub, 
 And teach a lecture out of a tub, 
 And give the wicked world a rub, 
 
 Which nobody can deny. 
 
 A Brewer may be as bold as Hector, 
 When he had drunk his cup of nectar ; 
 And a Brewer may be a Lord Protector, 
 
 Which nobody can deny. 
 
 But here remains the strangest thing, 
 How this Brewer about his liquor did bring 
 To be an Emperor or King, 
 
 Which nobody can deny. 
 
 Then push the Brewer's liquor about, 
 And loudly let each true man shout — 
 Shout—" 
 
 D 2
 
 52 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 " Shout not, I pray you, but rather keep 
 silence,"" exclaimed an old woman, cautiously 
 opening the door of a room in which the revellers 
 were assembled, and thus interrupting their 
 rude, but animated harmony ; " shout not : you 
 may hear a horsed tramp without ; and Crisp 
 grumbles so hard, that sure I am 'tis no friend's 
 footstep.'" 
 
 " Why, mother," cried one of the company, 
 winking on the rest, " you say it was a horse 
 you heard ?" 
 
 " Well ! and I say so still, good master 
 Roupall." 
 
 " Sure you do not make friends of horses ?" 
 
 " Better make them of horses than of asses, 1 ' 
 replied the crone, bitterly ; and the laugh was 
 raised against Roupall, who, as with all jesters, 
 could ill brook the jest that was at his own 
 expense. 
 
 " I hear no tramp, and see no reason why 
 you should interrupt us thus with your hoot- 
 ing, you ill-favoured owl," he exclaimed fiercely. 
 
 " Hush !" she replied, placing her finger on 
 her lip, while the little terrier that stood at
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 53 
 
 her feet, as if comprehending the signal, crept 
 stealthily to the door, and laying his nose on 
 the floor, drew in his breath hardly ; and then 
 erecting his ears, and stiffening his short tail, 
 uttered a low determined growl. 
 
 " There are strangers, and near us too," ob- 
 served an older man, who had hitherto remained 
 silent ; " there is little doubt of their being 
 unfriendly : we had therefore better, seeing it 
 would be imprudent to fight, retreat." 
 
 " Retreat ! and why, I wonder ?" inquired 
 Roupall, the most reckless and daring of the 
 set ; and whose efforts were invariably directed 
 towards meriting the soubriquet of ' Jack the 
 Rover/ by which he was usually designated 
 among his associates ; " what care we, whether 
 they be friends or foes ! let them enter. Old 
 Noll himself has too much to do abroad, to heed 
 a few noisy troopers in an obscure hostelry in 
 the Isle of Shepey." 
 
 " You are always heedless," observed the 
 other; "and would sell vour soul for an hour's 
 mirth." 
 
 " My soul thanks you for the compliment,
 
 54 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 truly, Master Grimstone, and my body would 
 repay you for it, if there was time, which, I 
 take it, there lacks just now, for it is past 
 eleven. Observe, gentlemen, Jack Roupall re- 
 treats not — he only retires." As he spoke, he 
 pushed from a corner of the apartment, a huge 
 settle of black oak, that apparently required the 
 strength of six men to displace, but which the 
 trooper handled as easily as if it had been a 
 child's cradle. He then slid aside a panel, that 
 fitted most accurately into the wall, of which it 
 appeared a part ; and in a few moments the party, 
 consisting of some five or six, had entered the 
 aperture, carrying with them the remnants of 
 their feast, at the particular request of the old 
 woman, who exhibited great alarm lest any 
 symptom of revelling should remain. The last 
 had hardly made good his retreat, when a loud 
 knock at the door confirmed the dame in her 
 apprehensions. 
 
 " In the devil's name !" she growled, " how 
 am I to shove this mountain into its place ? 
 One of you must remain here ; I might as well 
 attempt to throw Blackburn cliff into the sea."
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 55 
 
 " 1 11 stay then, if you '11 wait a minute," 
 replied Roupall ; " I defy the devil and all his 
 works ; and old Noll himself, the worst of them : 
 — so here goes." 
 
 Another and a louder noise testified the tra- 
 veller's impatience ; but the summons was re- 
 peated a third time before the settle was re- 
 placed, and the room restored to its usually 
 desolate and inhospitable appearance. Roupall 
 ascended a narrow ladder, that led to the loft 
 of the cottage-like dwelling, carrying with him 
 a pack resembling those used by itinerant vend- 
 ers of goods ; and Mother Hays (for such was 
 her cognomen) holding the flickering candle in 
 one hand, unfastened the door with the other, 
 while Crisp crouched and snarled at her feet. 
 
 " You could not have been all asleep, dame," 
 said the stranger, as he threw off his horseman's 
 cloak, and hung his rapier on the back of the 
 nearest seat, " for I distinctly saw lights. Is 
 your son within ?" 
 
 " No, marry, good Sir ; lie is far away, in 
 London, with his master, Sir Willniott Burrell, 
 who was looked for home to-day, but came not,
 
 56 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 as I hear from some neighbours, belonging to 
 East-Church and Warden, who were at Lady 
 Cecil's funeral." 
 
 " Do you expect me to believe there is no one 
 in the house but yourself ?" 
 
 " One other kind gentleman, a pedlar-man, a 
 simple body, who lies above ; he 's weary travel- 
 ling, and sleeps soundly. 1 ' 
 
 The stranger took off his hat ; and as he 
 shook his head, throwing completely back the 
 hair that had in some degree overshadowed his 
 face, the old woman started, and an undefined 
 expression of astonishment and doubt burst from 
 her lips. The gentleman either did not, or ap- 
 peared not to notice the effect he produced ; but 
 carefully drew from his bosom a small book or 
 tablet, and read in it for some minutes with 
 much attention, turning over and over the one or 
 two leaves upon which his eyes were fixed. 
 
 " And are you sure, good woman, that no 
 other persons are in your house save this same ped- 
 lar ?" he inquired, now fixing his gaze steadily 
 on the withered countenance of Mother Hays. 
 
 " Alack ! yes, Sir, few travellers come to the lone
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 57 
 
 widow's door, and it 's an out o 1 the way place ; 
 wouldn't your honour like some supper, or a stoop 
 of wine, or, mayhap, a glass of brandy ? — it is 
 useful these raw nights ; or a rasher and eggs ?" 
 
 " Are you quite certain there is no other in 
 the house, and that your son is really not re- 
 turned ?" he again inquired, heedless of her in- 
 vitation. 
 
 " Why should I deceive your honour ? — am I 
 not old, and would you that I should so sin 
 against the Lord ?" 
 
 " You were not always thus piously given," re- 
 plied the youth, smiling. " Know you aught of 
 this token ?V and he united his hands after a par- 
 ticular fashion : " heard you never the words — " 
 and he whispered a short sentence into her ear : 
 upon which she dropped a reverential curtsey, 
 and, without reply, ascended, as quickly as her 
 age and infirmities permitted, the ladder that led 
 to Roupall's place of retreat. Ere she returned, 
 however, accompanied by the trooper, another 
 person had entered the dwelling. It was no other 
 than her son Robin, for whom the gentleman had 
 first inquired, and they were both engaged in
 
 58 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 such deep and earnest conversation, that neither 
 noticed the addition to the party, until the old 
 woman had thrown her arms around her son's 
 neck, so as almost to stifle him with her caresses, 
 seeming to lose all sense of the stranger's presence 
 in the fulness of joy at the youth's return. 
 
 " There, mother, that will do ; why, you forget 
 I have been in London lately, and 'tis not the 
 court fashion to rejoice and be glad. Besides, I 
 have seen his Highness, and his Highness's daugh- 
 ters, and his Highness's sons, and drank, in mode- 
 ration, with his Highness's servants : so, stand off, 
 good mother, stand off ! — ' honour to whom ho- 
 nour.' " And Robin laid his finger on his nose, 
 while a remarkable expression of cunning and 
 shrewdness passed along his sharp and peculiar 
 features. 
 
 As he busied himself with preparations for the 
 guest's supper, it was impossible to avoid ob- 
 serving his quick and energetic movements, spare 
 body, dwarfish stature, and long apish arms, that 
 appeared in greater disproportion when viewed 
 beside the now sedate and elevated carriage, the 
 muscular and finely-developed form of the bulky
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 59 
 
 trooper. And, in good sooth, it seemed that 
 Roupall little relished the extraordinary civility 
 shown to the new comer, both by mother and 
 son. Had the stranger been disposed to hold 
 any converse with him, matters might have been 
 different ; but he neither asked nor required in- 
 formation — sitting, after his return from the shed 
 in which he had seen his horse sheltered, with his 
 legs stretched out in front of the warm fire, his 
 arms folded on his bosom, and his eyes fixed on 
 the blazing wood that lent a brilliant light to the 
 surrounding objects — giving a simple, though 
 not uncourteous reply of " Yea," or " Nay," to 
 the leading questions occasionally put to him by 
 his rough, yet inquisitive companion. At length, 
 when the rashers were dressed and deposited on 
 the table, flanked on either side with a flagon of 
 Canary and of Gascoigne, and the traveller had 
 done ample justice to his cheer, he, with a con- 
 ciliating smile and bow, wished the widow and 
 Roupall "Good night," and followed Robin 
 up the ladder, observing that his rest must be 
 very brief, as he had occasion to start early next 
 morning, and begging the good widow and her
 
 GO THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 friend to finish the draught of her own excellent 
 wine, to which he feared to render farther justice. 
 Some time elapsed ere Robin returned ; and when 
 he did, he perceived that Roupall was in no 
 gentle humour. 
 
 " Have you warmed the chicken's nest, and 
 taken good and tender care of the gentle bird, 
 according to orders, Robin ? Gadzooks ! I see 
 so many cocks with hens 1 feathers now-a-days — 
 sweet-scented Cavaliers, who could no more draw 
 a trigger than they could mount the moon, that 
 I think Hugh Dalton must line the Fire-fly with 
 miniver to bring them safely over. A murrain 
 take such fellows! say I — close-mouthed, long- 
 eared scoundrels. D — n it ! I love a frank 
 heart—" 
 
 " And a bloody hand, Master Roupall." 
 
 "Stuff! stuff! Robin; few of either party can 
 show clean hands these times ; but does yon gal- 
 lant come from over sea ?" 
 
 " It might be that he dropped from the sky, for 
 that is over the sea, you know." 
 
 " Faugh ! you are as snappish as a cur whelp. 
 I mean, what is he about ?"
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 61 
 
 " Sleeping. Zooks ! I 'm sure he sleeps." 
 
 " Is he of good credit ?" 
 
 " Faith, Roupall, I know not his banker." 
 
 " Good again, Master Robin ; upon what grind- 
 ing-stone were your wits sharpened ?" 
 
 " Right loyally, good trooper ; even upon King- 
 Log," replied Robin, grinning maliciously ; and 
 then, as if fearful that the gathering storm 
 would forthwith burst, he continued ; " Come, 
 let 's have a carouse, and wake the sleepers in 
 that snug nest between Avails ; let 's welcome in 
 the morning, like gay gallants, while I tell you 
 the court news, and exhibit the last court fashion, 
 as it graces my own beautiful form !" 
 
 The man looked at him and smiled, soothed 
 into something resembling good-nature by the 
 odd humour and appearance of his old com- 
 panion, who was tricked out with much precision 
 in a blue doublet and yellow hose, while a large 
 bow of sad-coloured riband, with fringed ends, 
 dangled from either knee. He then glanced a look 
 of complacency on his own proper person, and 
 replied : — 
 
 " No, let them sleep, Robin ; they are better
 
 62 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 off than I. That maidenlike friend of yours has 
 taken possession of my bed, after your mother's 
 routing me up as if I had been a stoat or a dor- 
 mouse. Of course he is a Cavalier : I suppose 
 he has a name ; but is that, too, a secret ?" 
 
 " Master Roupall, , ' > replied the other, with a 
 look of great sagacity, " as to the person, it 's 
 hard to say who 's who, these times ; and as to the 
 name, why, as you say, I suppose he has a name, 
 and doubtless a good one, though I cannot ex- 
 actly now call to mind what it is ; for at court — " 
 
 "D — n court!" interrupted the other — 
 "you're all court-smitten, I'm thinking. In 
 plain English, I want to know ivho this young- 
 ster is ? When Hugh is in one of his romances, 
 he cares not who or what he sends us, either here, 
 or, what is of more consequence, on the main- 
 land — and we are to receive them and "tend them, 
 and all the time, mayhap, are hazarding our own 
 heads ; for I 'd bet an even wager that one of the 
 ferrymen is a spy in the pay of old red-nose ; and 
 it's little we get for such hazards — it's many a 
 day since even a keg of brandy has been run 
 ashore."'''
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 63 
 
 " You have sworn an oath, for which I should 
 exact, I think, the sum of three shillings and 
 fourpence, Jack the Rover ; but, I fear me, thou 
 hast not wherewithal to satisfy the law, even in a 
 small thing, until thou offerest thy neck unto the 
 halter as a sacrifice. But did Hugh Dalton ever 
 bring you, or any man, into trouble yet ?" con- 
 tinued Robin, composing his comic features into 
 a grave and quiet character. 
 
 " I can't say that he did." 
 
 " I am sure he has had opportunities enough." 1 '' 
 
 " I 'm not going to deny that Hugh 's a fine 
 fellow, Robin ; but I remember, long ago, ay, 
 thirteen or fourteen years past, before he entered 
 on the regular buccaneering trade, there wasn't a 
 firmer Cavalier amongst the whole of us Kentish 
 men. Blazes ! how he fought at Marston ! But 
 a few years 1 sunning off the hot Havannah either 
 scorches the spirit out of a man, or burns it in." 
 
 " And what reason have you to think that 
 Hugh is not now a good Cavalier ?*" 
 
 " Pshaw ! he grows old, and it 's no good try- 
 ing to pull Oliver down. He's charmed. Ay, 
 you may laugh ; but no one of Us could have
 
 64 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 escaped the bullet of Miles Syndercomb, to say 
 nothing of dark John Talbot : — I tell ye, he 
 is spell-guarded. Hugh is a knowing one, and 
 has some plan a-foot, or he wouldn't keep beat- 
 ing about this coast as he does, after being so 
 long from it, and using every county but Sussex 
 and Kent. I wonder, too, what placed you, 
 Master Robin, in Burrell of Burrelrs service : I 
 thought you were a man of taste till then." 
 
 Robin again grinned ; and, as his wide mouth 
 literally extended from ear to ear, his face looked, 
 as it were, divided by some accident ; so separate 
 did the chin appear from the upper portion of the 
 countenance. 
 
 " If you won't talk, 11 growled out the trooper, 
 " I hope you will pay those who do so for your 
 amusement. 11 
 
 " Thou wouldst have me believe, then, thou 
 art no genuine disinterested talker. Ah ! Roup- 
 all, Roupall ! acquaintance with courts has 
 taught me, that Nature in the first place, and 
 Society in the second, have imposed upon us 
 mortals two most disagreeable necessities : the 
 one is that of eating ; the other, that of talking.
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 65 
 
 Now Nature is a tyrant, and Society is a tyrant ; 
 
 and I, being a tyrant-hater " 
 
 " 'Slife, man — or mongrel — or whatever you 
 choose to call your twisted carcase," inter- 
 rupted Roupall, angrily, " hold your jibber. I 
 wonder Joan Cromwell did not seize upon you, 
 and keep you as her chief ape, while you were 
 making your courtly acquaintance — A pretty 
 figure for courts, truly ! — ah ! ah ! ah !" As he 
 laughed, he pointed his finger scornfully towards 
 Robin Hays, who, however little he might care 
 to jest upon his own deformity, was but ill in- 
 clined to tolerate those who even hinted at his 
 defects. As the trooper persevered, his victim 
 grew pale and trembled with suppressed rage. 
 The man perceived the effect his cruel mockery 
 produced, and continued to revile and take to 
 pieces the misshapen portions of his body, with 
 most merciless anatomy. Robin offered, in re- 
 turn, neither observation nor reproach ; — at first 
 trembling and change of colour were the only 
 indications of his feelings — then he moved rest- 
 lessly on his seat, and his bright and deeply sunken 
 eyes gleamed with untameable malignity ; but, as
 
 66 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 Roupall followed one jeer more brutal than the 
 rest, with a still more boisterous laugh, and, in 
 the very rapture of his success, threw himself 
 back in his chair, the tiger spirit of Robin burst 
 forth to its full extent : he sprang upon the 
 trooper so suddenly, that the Goliath was per- 
 fectly conquered, and lay upon the floor helpless 
 as an overgrown and overfed Newfoundland dog, 
 upon whose throat a sharp and bitter terrier has 
 fastened. At length, after much exertion, he suc- 
 ceeded in standing erect against the wall of the 
 apartment, though still unable to disengage Ro- 
 bin's long arms and bony lingers from his throat, 
 where he hung like a mill-stone : it was some 
 minutes ere the gigantic man had power to throw 
 from him the attenuated being whom, on ordi- 
 nary occasions, he could have lifted between his 
 finger and thumb. 
 
 Robin gathered himself up on the spot to which 
 Roupall had flung him : his chin resting on his 
 knees, round which his arms were clasped ; his 
 narrow chest and shoulders heaving with the ex- 
 ertion of the conflict ; his eyes wild and glitter- 
 ing, yet fixed upon his adversary, like those of
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 67 
 
 some fierce animal eager to dart upon its prey. 
 The trooper shook himself, and passed his hand 
 once or twice over his throat, as if to ascertain 
 whether or not he were really strangled ; then re- 
 turning Robin's gaze as steadily, though with a 
 far different expression, he said, 
 
 " Upon my soul, you are as strong a hand at a 
 grapple as I would care to meet ; nor would I be- 
 lieve, did I not know it, that Roupall the Rover, 
 who has borne more blows upon his thick head 
 than there are days in February, and rises six 
 foot two without boots, could be half choked by 
 little Robin the Ranger, who stands forty inches 
 in his shoes ; — but I beg pardon for offending a 
 man of your mettle. I warrant you safe from any 
 future jests of mine ; I like not quarrelling with 
 old friends — when there is nothing to be got by it. 
 Tut, man ! leave off your moping, and shake 
 hands, like a Christian. You won't ! why you 
 are not going to convert your body into a nursery 
 for bad blood, are you ? What would pretty 
 Barbara Iverk say to that?" 
 
 Robin laughed a laugh so loud, so shrill, so 
 unearthly, that it echoed like a death-howl along
 
 68 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 the walls ; then stretched out and looked on his 
 ill-formed limbs, extended his long and grappling 
 fingers, and muttered bitterly, " Curse ! — curse ! 
 — curses on myself ! I am a dainty morsel for a 
 fair girl's love ! Ah ! ah ! ah ! a dainty morsel IV 
 he repeated, and covered his face with his broad 
 palms. Thus, shutting out the sight of his own 
 deformities, and rocking himself backwards and 
 forwards, moaning and jibbering like one dis- 
 traught, he remained for several minutes. At 
 length poor Crisp, who had been a most anx- 
 ious spectator of the scene, ran timidly to his 
 master, and, standing on his hind legs, began 
 licking his fingers with an affectionate earnestness, 
 more soothing to his agitated feelings than all 
 the sincere apologies of the trooper, whose rough 
 good-nature was really moved at what had taken 
 place. Slowly uncovering his face, Robin press- 
 ed the little animal to his bosom, bending his 
 head over it, and muttering in a tone the dog 
 seemed fully to understand, by the low whine with 
 which he returned the caress. After a time his 
 eyes met those of Roupall's, but their meaning 
 was totally changed : they no longer sparkled
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 69 
 
 with fury, but were as quiet and subdued as if 
 nothing had occurred. 
 
 " You'll shake hands now, 1 ' exclaimed the 
 trooper, " and make the child's bargain." 
 
 Robin, rising, extended his hand ; and it was 
 cordially taken by his adversary, who soon after 
 removed the settle, and entered the concealed 
 room to join his slumbering companions. 
 
 Whatever were Robin's plans, reflections, or feel- 
 ings, time alone can develope ; for, laying himself 
 before the yet burning embers of the fire, he ap- 
 propriated the stranger's cloak as a coverlet in 
 which to enshroud himself and Crisp, and, if oral 
 demonstrations are to be credited, was soon in a 
 profound sleep.
 
 n 
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Yet not the more 
 Cease I to wander, where the Muses haunt 
 Clear spring, or shady grove, or sunny hill, 
 Smit with the love of sacred song. 
 
 Great things, and full of wonder, in our ears, 
 Far differing from the world, thou hast revealed, 
 Divine Interpreter. Milton. 
 
 The morning that followed was rife with the 
 sweet and balmy air and the gay sunshine, so 
 duly prized in our variable climate, because of 
 the rarity of their occurrence ; more especially 
 when the year is yet too young to assist with 
 vigour the energies of all-industrious Nature. 
 The trees, in their faint greenery, looked cheer- 
 ful as the face of childhood ; the merry birds 
 were busied after their own gentle fashion, 
 forming their dwellings in the covert and soli-
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 71 
 
 tude of the wooded slopes which effectually shel- 
 tered Cecil Place from the chill blast of the 
 neighbouring sea. The freshened breeze came 
 so kindly through the thick underwood, as to 
 be scarcely felt by the early wanderers of the 
 upland hill, or valley green. Even the rough 
 trooper, Roupall, yielded to the salutary influ- 
 ence of the morn ; and as he toiled in his ped- 
 lar's guise across the Downs, which were mottled 
 with many hundred sheep, and pointed the path- 
 way to King's ferry, his heart softened within 
 him. Visions of his once happy home in Cum- 
 berland — of the aged parents who fostered his 
 infancy — of the companions of his youth, be- 
 fore he had lived in sin, or dwelt with sorrow 
 — of the innocent girl, who had loved, though 
 she had forsaken him, — all passed before him ; 
 the retrospect became- the present ; and his 
 heart swelled painfully within him : for he 
 thought on what he had been, and on what he 
 was, until, drawing his coarse hand across his 
 brows, he gave forth a dissolute song, seeking, 
 like many who ought to be wiser, to stifle con- 
 science by tumultuous noise.
 
 72 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 About the same hour, our friend Robin Hays 
 was more than usually active in his mother's 
 house, which we have already described, and 
 which was known by the name of the " Gull's 
 Nest." The old woman had experienced con- 
 tinued kindness from the few families of rank 
 and wealth, who at that time resided in Shepey. 
 With a good deal of tact, she managed out- 
 wardly to steer clear of all party feuds ; though 
 people said, she was by no means so simple 
 as she pretended ; but the universal sympathy 
 of her neighbours was excited by her widowed 
 and almost childless state — three fine sons having 
 been slain during the civil wars — and the fourth, 
 our acquaintance Robin, being singularly under- 
 valued, on the ordinary principle, we may pre- 
 sume, that " a prophet hath no honour in his 
 own country.'''' This feeling of depreciation 
 Robin certainly returned with interest, indulg- 
 ing a most bitter, and, occasionally, biting con- 
 tempt for all the high and low in his vicinity, 
 the family at Cecil Place forming the only 
 exception. Despite his defects natural and ac- 
 quired, he had, however, managed to gain the
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 73 
 
 good opinion of Burrell of Burrell, who, though 
 frequently on the island, possessed only a small 
 portion of land within its boundary. Into this 
 service he entered for the purpose of accom- 
 panying the knight to London as travelling- 
 groom. During that brief servitude, he rendered 
 himself so useful while sojourning in the metro- 
 polis, that Burrell would fain have retained him 
 in his employ — a design, however, to which 
 Robin strenuously objected, the moment it was 
 communicated to him. ' Nature,'' he said, ' had 
 doubtless made him a bond-slave ; but he liked 
 her fetters so little, that he never would be slave 
 to any one or any thing beside. 1 He therefore 
 returned to the GulFs Nest, on the night his late 
 master arrived at Cecil Place, from which his 
 mother's home was distant about three miles. 
 
 Never was there a dwelling more appropriately 
 named than the cottage of Mother Hays. it 
 stood on either a real or artificial eminence be- 
 tween Sheernessand Warden, facing what is called 
 " The Cant," and very near the small village of 
 Bast-Church. The clay and shingle of which it 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 was composed would have ill encountered the 
 whirlwind that in tempestuous weather fiercely 
 yelled around the cliffs, had it not been for the 
 firm support afforded to it by the remains of an 
 ancient watch-tower, against which the " GulFs 
 Nest" leaned. Perched on this remarkable spot, 
 and nestling close to the mouldering but still 
 sturdy walls, the very stones of which disputed 
 with the blast, the hut formed no inappro- 
 priate dwelling for withered age, and, if we may 
 be allowed the term, picturesque deformity. 
 Robin could run up and down every cliff in the 
 neighbourhood like a monkey — could lie on the 
 waters, and sport amid the breakers, with the 
 activity of a cub-seal — dive like an otter ; and, 
 as Nature generally makes up in some way or 
 other for defects similar to those so conspicu- 
 ous in the widow's son, she had gifted him with 
 so sweet a voice, that the fishermen frequently 
 rested on their oars beneath Gull's Nest crag, 
 to listen to Robin's wild and mournful ballads, 
 which full often mingled with the murmur of the 
 small waves as they rippled on the strand. But 
 the manikin, Robin, had higher and better qua-
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 75 
 
 lities than those we have endeavoured to describe 
 — qualities which Hugh Dalton, with the ready 
 wisdom that discovers at once what is excellent 
 and then moulds that excellence to its own pur- 
 pose, had assiduously cultivated. Many years 
 before the period of which we treat, Robin had 
 accompanied the Buccaneer on one or two pirati- 
 cal cruises ; and though it cannot be denied that 
 Hugh was a better sailor than scholar, yet he 
 generously sought to secure for little Robin the 
 advantages he did not himself possess ; Robin, 
 accordingly, received daily instruction in pen- 
 manship from a run-away merchant's clerk, the 
 clerk and book-keeper, the lubber and idler of 
 the crew. 
 
 Robin laboured to reward this kindness by 
 unshaken fidelity, unceasing watchfulness, and a 
 wild enthusiasm which endeared him to the rude 
 captain, as if he were something that belonged 
 exclusively to himself. The Buccaneer knew that 
 secrets, where life and property were at stake, were 
 safe in his keeping ; and as the renowned Dalton 
 had often worked in the service of both Cavaliers 
 and Roundheads, a person of ready wit and true 
 
 e 2
 
 76 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 heart was most invaluable as an auxiliary on the 
 coast. 
 
 If the Buccaneer entertained any political creed, 
 it was certainly in favour of the exiled Charles : 
 a bold and intrepid spirit like his felt something 
 most galling and repulsive in the stern and un- 
 yielding government of the Protector. A ruler 
 who not only framed acts, but saw those acts en- 
 forced, whether they regarded a " Declaration for 
 a day of Publique Thanksgiving," or " A Licence 
 for transporting Fish in Foreign Bottoms," was 
 not likely to be much after the taste of one who 
 had the essence of law -giving only within him- 
 self, and who perceived clearly enough that the 
 royal but thoughtless Stuarts would be more easily 
 managed — more prone, if not from feeling, at all 
 events from indolence, to overlook the peccadilloes 
 of such as Dalton, than the unflinching Oliver, 
 who felt that every evil he redressed was a fresh 
 jewel in his sceptre. Nevertheless, as we have 
 seen, the Buccaneer had decided on offering his 
 services to the Commonwealth : he believed that 
 Cromwell knew his talents and valued his cou- 
 rage ; but he also knew that the Protector
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 77 
 
 piqued himself upon consistency, and that, con- 
 sequently, there would be vast difficulties to 
 overcome, as a price had more than once been set 
 upon his head. 
 
 We must, however, conduct our readers back 
 into the fresh morning we have instanced as one 
 of the favourites of spring. Leaving Robin to 
 his preparations for the stranger's breakfast, and 
 premising that he had previously dismissed the 
 midnight revellers on their respective errands, 
 we will roam for a while amid the sheltered walks 
 of Cecil Place. 
 
 It was situated on the slope of the hill, leading to 
 the old monastery of Minster. Although nothing 
 now exists except the church, a few broken walls, 
 and a modernized house, formed out of one of the 
 principal entrances to what was once an extensive 
 range of monastic buildings ; yet at the time of 
 which we treat, the ruins of the nunnery, founded 
 by Sexburga, the widow of Ercombert, king of 
 Kent, extended down the rising ground, present- 
 ing many picturesque points of view from the 
 small but highly-cultivated pleasure-grounds of 
 Cecil Place. Nothing could be more beautiful
 
 78 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 than the prospect from a rude terrace which had 
 been the favourite walk of Lady Cecil. The 
 small luxuriant hills, folding one over the other, 
 and terminating in the most exquisite valleys 
 and bosky glades that the imagination can con- 
 ceive — the rich mixture of pasture and meadow 
 land — the Downs, stretching to King's Ferry, 
 whitened by thousands of sheep, whose bleating 
 and whose bells made the isle musical, — while, 
 beyond, the narrow Swale, widening into the 
 open sea, shone like a silver girdle in the rays of 
 the glorious sun, — were objects indeed delightful 
 to gaze upon. 
 
 Although, during the Protectorate, some pains 
 had been taken to render Sheerness, then a very 
 inconsiderable village, a place of strength and 
 safety, and the ancient castle of Queenborough 
 had been pulled down by the Parliamentarians, 
 as deficient in strength and utility, no one visit- 
 ing only the southern and western parts of the 
 island could for a moment imagine that the inte- 
 rior contained spots of such positive and culti- 
 vated beauty. 
 
 It was yet early, when Constantia Cecil, accom-
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 79 
 
 panied by a female friend, entered her favourite 
 flower-garden by a private door, and strolled 
 towards a small Gothic temple overshadowed by 
 wide-spreading oaks, which, sheltered by the sur- 
 rounding hills, had numbered more than a cen- 
 tury of unscathed and undiminished beauty, and 
 had as yet escaped the rude pruning of the 
 woodman's axe. The morning habit of the noble 
 Constance fitted tightly to the throat, where it 
 was terminated by a full ruff of starched muslin, 
 and the waist was encircled by a wide band of 
 black crape, from which the drapery descended 
 in massive folds to her feet. She pressed the soft 
 green turf with a more measured step than was her 
 wont, as if the body shared the mind's sad heavi- 
 ness. Her head was uncovered, save that, as she 
 passed into the garden, she had carelessly thrown 
 on a veil of black muslin, through which her 
 bright hair shone with the lustre and richness of 
 the finest satin : her throat and forehead appear- 
 ed most dazzlingly white in contrast with her 
 sable dress. 
 
 The lady by whom she was accompanied was 
 not so tall, and of a much slighter form ; her
 
 80 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 limbs delicately moulded, and her featvires more at- 
 tractive than beautiful. There was that about her 
 whole demeanour which is expressively termed 
 coquetry, not the coquetry of action, but of feel- 
 ing : her eyes were dark and brilliant, her mouth 
 full and pouting ; and the nose was only saved 
 from vulgarity by that turn, to describe which we 
 are compelled to use a foreign term — it was un 
 pen retrousse : her complexion was of a clear 
 olive, through which the blood glowed warmly 
 whenever called to her cheek by any particular 
 emotion. The dress she wore, without being; 
 gay, was costly : the full skirt of crimson gro- 
 gram descended not so low as to prevent her 
 small and beautifully turned ankles from being 
 distinctly seen, and the cardinal of wrought pur- 
 ple velvet, which had been hastily flung over her 
 shoulders, was lined and bordered with the finest 
 ermine. Nor did the contrast between the ladies 
 end here : the full and rich- toned voice of Con- 
 stance Cecil was the perfection of harmony, while 
 the light and gay speech of her companion might 
 be called melody — the sweet playful melody of an 
 untaught bird.
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 81 
 
 " You must not mourn so unceasingly, my 
 dear Constance, 1 ' she said, looking kindly into the 
 sorrowing face of her friend : " I could give you 
 counsel — but counsel to the distressed is like 
 chains thrown upon troubled waters." 
 
 " Say not so, Frances ; rather like oil upon 
 a stormy sea is the sweet counsel of a friend : 
 
 and trulv none but a friend would have turned 
 
 j 
 
 from the crowded and joyous court to sojourn in 
 this lonely isle ; and, above all, in the house of 
 mourning. 11 
 
 " I do not deny to you, Constance, that I love 
 the gaiety, the pomp, and the homage of our 
 courts ; that both Hampton and Whitehall have 
 many charms for me; but there are some things — 
 some things I love far more. I loved your mo- 
 ther, 11 she continued, in a tone of deeper feeling 
 than was usual with so gay a spirit ; " and I love 
 the friend who, while she reproves my follies, can 
 estimate my virtues : for even my sombre sister 
 Elizabeth, your grave god-mother, admits that I 
 have virtues, though she denies them to be of an 
 exalted nature." 
 
 " Were the Lady Claypole to judge of others 
 
 e 5
 
 82 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 according to the standard of her own exceeding 
 excellence, Frances, we should, indeed, fall far 
 below what we are disposed to believe is our real 
 value ; but, like the rose, instead of robbing less 
 worthy flowers of their fragrance, she imparts to 
 them a portion of her own.' 1 
 
 " Now should I like to call that a most courtly 
 compliment, but for my life I cannot — it is 
 so true." 
 
 " You pronounce a severe satire on your 
 father's court, my friend ; and one that I hope 
 it merits not." 
 
 " Merits ! Perhaps not — for, though the 
 youngest and least rational of my father's chil- 
 dren, I can perceive there are some about him 
 who hit upon truth occasionally, either by chance 
 or intention. There 's that rugged bear, Sir 
 Thomas Pride, whom, I have heard say, my 
 father knighted with a mopstick — he, I do be- 
 lieve, speaks truth, and of a truth follows one 
 scriptural virtue, being no respecter of persons. 
 As to General George Monk, my father trusts 
 him — and so — yet have I observed, at any men- 
 tion of Charles Stuart's name, a cunning twink-
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 83 
 
 ling of the eye that may yet kindle into loyalty 
 — I would as soon believe in his honesty as in his 
 lady's gentleness. Did you hear, by the way, 
 what Jerry, my poor disgraced beau, Jerry 
 White, said of her ? Why, that if her husband 
 could raise and command a regiment endowed 
 with his wife's spirit, he might storm the strong- 
 hold of sin, and make Satan a state prisoner. 
 Then our Irish Lord Chancellor, we call him the 
 true Steel ; and, indeed, any one who ventures to 
 tell my father he errs, deserves credit. Yes, Sir 
 William Steel may certainly be called a truth- 
 teller. Not so our last court novelty, Griffeth 
 Williams of Carnarvon, Esq. who, though he 
 affects to despise all modern titles, and boasts of 
 his blood-ties with the Princes of Wales, Kings 
 of France, Arragon, Castile, and Man, with the 
 sovereigns of Englefield and Provence to boot, 
 yet moves every secret engine he can find to gain 
 a paltry baronetcy ! Even you, dear Constance, 
 would have smiled to see the grave and courtly sa- 
 lutations that passed between him and the Earl of 
 Warwick — the haughty Earl, who refused to sit 
 in the same house with Pride and Hewson, — a cir-
 
 84 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 cumstance, by the way, that caused Jerry White 
 to say, ' he had too much Pride to attend to the 
 mending of his soul.'' The jest is lost unless you 
 remember that Hewson had been a cobbler. As 
 
 to John Milton !" 
 
 " Touch him not," interrupted Constance; 
 " let not your thoughtless mirth light upon 
 John Milton ; there is that about the poet, which 
 made me feel the very first time I saw him, that 
 
 ' Something holy lodges in that breast.' 
 
 I remember the day well, now more than three 
 years ago, while staying at Hampton Court, 
 (whither your gracious mother had commanded 
 me,) and reading to the Lady Claypole, near 
 the small window of her dressing-room, which 
 opened into the conservatory, one sultry July 
 evening, when the last rays of the golden sun 
 disturbed the sober and to me more touching* 
 beauty of the silver night, — at last I could no 
 longer see, and closed the volume ; your sister, 
 in sweet and gentle voice, stayed me to repeat 
 some passages from the ' Masque of Comus.' How 
 accurately I can call to mind her every tone, as
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 85 
 
 it mingled with the perfume of the myrtle and 
 orange trees, impregnating the air at once with 
 harmony and fragrance. 
 
 ' So dear to Heaven is saintly chastity, 
 That, when a soul is found sincerely so, 
 A thousand liveried angels lackey her, 
 Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt ; 
 And in clear dream and solemn vision 
 Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear, 
 Till oft converse with heavenly habitants 
 Begin to cast a beam on the outward shape, 
 The unpolluted temple of the mind, 
 And turns it by degrees to the soul's essence, 
 Till all be made immortal.' 
 
 I was so absorbed by the beauty of the poetrv, 
 and the exquisite grace and feeling with which 
 it was repeated, that my eyes were riveted on 
 your sister; nor could I withdraw them, even 
 when she ceased to speak. Thus abstracted, I was 
 perfectly unconscious that a gentleman was stand- 
 ing close to the great orange-tree, so that the 
 rays of the full moon rested on his uncovered 
 head : his hair was parted in the centre, and 
 fell on his shoulders at either side, and his de- 
 portment was of mingled dignity and sweetness. 
 ' John Milton V exclaimed Lady Clay pole, rising ;
 
 86 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 ' I knew not, 1 she continued, ' that you had been 
 so near us. 1 — ' The temptation was great, in- 
 deed, Madam : a poet never feels that he has 
 true fame, until lips such as yours give ut- 
 terance to his lines. 1 He bowed low, and I 
 thought coldly, over Lady Claypole 1 s extended 
 hand. She walked into the conservatory, and 
 called on me to follow. How my heart throb- 
 bed ! how I trembled ! I felt in the almost 
 divine presence of one whose genius I had wor- 
 shipped with a devotion which, enthusiastic as it 
 was, I am not even now ashamed of. I longed to 
 fall at his feet, and implore his blessing ; to kiss 
 the hem of his garment ; and thought, in my 
 foolishness, that inspiration might be communi- 
 cated by his touch. I pushed back my hair, so 
 that I might not lose a word he uttered, or the 
 least look he gave. ' His sight was so impaired, 1 
 he said, ' that the light of day occasioned him 
 much pain ; and of late he had been so useless to 
 his Highness, that he feared to intrude too often 
 into his presence. 1 Lady Claypole made some 
 remark, which in truth I little heeded, for I long- 
 ed again to hear the poet speak ; nor did I remain
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 87 
 
 ungratified. In answer to some observation, he 
 stated ' he was well aware that much of what he 
 had written would not meet with the indulgence 
 she had graciously bestowed upon his verse ; for, 
 though they both valued freedom, they widely 
 differed as to the mode of its attainment.' To 
 this the Lady Claypole made no reply ; and 
 presently we had issued from the conservatory, 
 and stood for a few moments on the terrace. 
 ' How beautiful P said your sister, as she raised 
 her eyes to the glorious heavens, sparkling with 
 countless stars, whose brilliancy was showered on 
 the now sleeping earth. — ' Yes, beautiful P re- 
 peated Milton ; and his voice, so musical, yet 
 melancholy, thrilled to my inmost soul : ' Beauti- 
 ful P he said again, as if the word was pleasant 
 in his ears ; ' and yet the time is coming fast 
 when I shall behold that beauty no more — when 
 I shall be more humbled than the poor worms 
 upon which I may now heedlessly tread — they 
 creep, but sec ; I shall be a thing of darkness 
 in the midst of light — irrevocably dark ! — total 
 eclipse! — without the hope of day! Your par- 
 don, Lady ; but is it not strange, that life's chiefest
 
 88 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 blessing should be enthroned in such a tender 
 ball, when feeling is diffused all over us ?' — ' The 
 Maker must be the best judge,"' replied your sister. 
 — ' 'Tis true," he said; ' and the same hand that 
 wounds can heal. I will not sorrow, if I can 
 refrain from grief, though it is hard to bear ; 
 yet often, when I look upon my daughters, I 
 think how sad 'twill be when I no more can 
 trace their change of form and feature. And this 
 deep affliction comes upon me in my manhood's 
 prime: — life in captivity — all around me grows 
 darker each fair day I live. A bunch of violets 
 was given me this morning ; their fragrance was 
 delicious, yet I could not discern the little 
 yellow germ that I knew dwelt within their dark 
 blue petals, and I put them from me because I 
 could not see as well as smell : — 'twas foolish, 
 but 'twas natural. The moon at this very mo- 
 ment looks so sallow — pale, — and you,' he bowed 
 to us as he spoke, ' and you, even you, ladies, 
 appear both dim and cold.' I thought he laid 
 more emphasis on the word cold than on the 
 other words, perhaps in allusion to the political 
 differences between Lady Claypole and himself:
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 89 
 
 your sister thought so too. — ' You do us wrong, 1 
 she observed warmly ; ' never, never cold to 
 John Milton ! never, indeed never ! This sad 
 affliction, if it should continue, (which the Al- 
 mighty in his mercy forbid !) will create for you 
 new worlds ; when all its treasures are destroyed, 
 you will but close your eyes on earth that you 
 may look through heaven. 1 What would I not 
 have given for such a rewarding smile as played 
 upon without disturbing his features ! Your sis- 
 ter, surprised into an enthusiasm that was not in 
 keeping with her usually subdued deportment, 
 turned aside, and taking me by the hand, pre- 
 sented me to him, saying, ' Here, Sir, is a little 
 girl, who, though she has only numbered six- 
 teen summers, has learned to value Milton P 
 What do you think I said, Frances ? Nothing : — 
 that might have passed — but what do you think 
 I did ? I fell on my knees, and kissed his hand ! 
 I am almost ashamed to repeat such frowardness, 
 though done in all the purity of truth ; — not that 
 I think lie was displeased." 
 
 " Displeased !"" interrupted the Lady Frances, 
 who had kept silence marvellously long; "oh!
 
 90 • THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 no, it is not in man to be displeased with the de- 
 votedness, the love of woman " 
 
 {( 
 
 I prithee, peace," interrupted Constance in 
 her turn ; for the word ' love'' had called the 
 flush into her pale cheek ; " thou art ever placing 
 earth on a level with heaven. 1 ' 
 
 " And thou, my saintly friend, wouldst bring 
 heaven down to earth. I remember my sister 
 Claypole treating of this before, saying that Mil- 
 ton laid his fingers on thy forehead, and that 
 thou didst clip off the particular ringlet pressed 
 by them, and enshrine it in a jewelled cross." 
 
 " I confess " 
 
 a 
 
 To the folly of despoiling thy tresses ?" 
 " Dearest Frances, you are cruel in your 
 gaiety. How I watched his retreating footsteps 
 as he passed under the archway, after bidding us 
 good night ! His gait was measured, but, though 
 his sight was so impaired, I observed that his 
 head was thrown upward, and that he walked as 
 one having no fear. 11 
 
 " Well, give me Milton in the morn, but the 
 gay Lovelace when the twilight shades come 
 down. I know a fair gentleman who sings his
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 91 
 
 ballads most sweetly. You too, had you heard 
 him, would have listened a second tune : — 
 
 ' True, a new mistress now 1 chase, 
 The first foe in the field, 
 And with a stronger faith embrace 
 A sword — a horse — a shield. 
 
 ' Yet this inconstancy is such 
 As you, too, shall adore — 
 I could not love thee, dear, so much, 
 Loved I not honour more ! ' 
 
 But I forget, the theme is a forbidden one ; 
 and I see, Constance, you do not like my poet, 
 and I have a mind not to admire yours ! Ah ! 
 poor Lovelace ! he might have been my lau- 
 reate." 
 
 " I thought the Lady Frances sighed no longer 
 for a thorny crown." 
 
 " I may surely love the poetry of a Cavalier 
 without wishing to be the bride of Prince Charlie. 
 My father's fiat has gone forth against my Royal 
 lover's offer, and so I shall be the wife of some 
 staid sober Covenanter, I suppose ; that is, if 
 I follow my father's wishes, and marry Will 
 Dulton."
 
 92 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 " Better than be the wedded mistress of a dis- 
 solute man," said Constance, firmly. " Believe 
 me, Charles Stuart has all his father's weakness 
 without his father's virtues. 1 "' 
 
 " Well, be it so," replied Frances Cromwell : 
 " I did not care ; but methinks I should have 
 liked the garniture of a crown and the grasp of a 
 sceptre. You should have been my first maid of 
 honour. — But your pardon, lady fair — you will 
 be the first married, if I can judge from Sir Will- 
 mott Burrell's earnestness of late." As she spoke, 
 Constance Cecil grew deadly pale ; and, to con- 
 ceal her emotion, sat upon the step of the Gothic 
 temple before which they had been standing for 
 some minutes. Frances did not observe the 
 change, but heedlessly continued : — " Ah ! it is 
 happy for those who can marry as they will, and 
 him they love ; to whom the odious sound of 
 ' state necessity' is utterly unknown."" 
 
 " And think you," said Constance, in a voice 
 struggling for composure, " think you so poorly 
 of me, that I can will to marry such as Burrell, 
 of my own free choice ! Oh ! Frances, Frances I 
 would to Heaven the same grave had closed over
 
 • THE BUCCANEER. 93 
 
 me that closed over my mother !" She clasped 
 her hands with an earnestness amounting to 
 agony, and there came an expression over her 
 features which forbade all trifling. Frances 
 Cromwell was a warm, cheerful, and affectionate 
 girl ; but to her it was not given to understand 
 the depth or the refinement of minds such as that 
 of her friend. Her own home was not a peaceful 
 one, for party spirit, that hydra of disunion, raged 
 and ravaged there, without regard to years or 
 sex. The Protector's most beloved child was 
 known to be faithfully attached to the Stuart 
 cause; while his eldest daughter was so staunch 
 a Republican, that she only blamed her father 
 for accepting power bordering so closelv upon 
 Royalty. This difference occasioned sad and ter- 
 rible domestic trouble; and the man, feared, 
 honoured, courted by the whole world, ruling 
 the dynasties of kingdoms, could not ensure an 
 hour's tranquillity within his palace walls ! 
 Fiances, the youngest, interfered the least in 
 their most grievous feuds. She had so m;m\ 
 flirtations, both romantic and anti-romantic, to 
 attend to, that, like all women who flirt much,
 
 94 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 she thought little. The perfect misery so fear- 
 fully, yet so strongly painted upon the coun- 
 tenance of Constance, was to her utterly incom- 
 prehensible. Had it been the overboiling of 
 passion, the suppressed but determined rage, or 
 the murmuring of discontent, Frances could have 
 understood it, because it would have resembled 
 what she had full often witnessed ; but she had 
 never before beheld the struggles of a firm and 
 elevated mind against a cruel and oppressive des- 
 tiny. Frances Cromwell looked upon her friend 
 for some moments, uncertain what course to pur- 
 sue. She knelt down and took her hands within 
 her own ; they were cold as death, rigid as marble. 
 She bent over her ! — 
 
 " Constance ! Constance ! speak ! Merciful 
 Providence !"" she exclaimed aloud, " What can 
 I do ? what shall I do ? Barbara ! Alas ! alas ! 
 she hears me not — Dear Constance ! This is 
 worse than faintness,*" she continued, as exer- 
 tions to restore her proved ineffectual ; for Con- 
 stantia, exhausted by her efforts to appear tran- 
 quil, and to chime in with the temper of her 
 guest, until tortured at the very mention of Bur- 
 relFs name, remained still insensible.
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 95 
 
 " I must leave her and seek assistance from 
 within," repeated Frances, rapidly unclasping 
 her jewelled mantle, throwing it over her friend, 
 and flying, rather than running, along the shaven 
 path they had so recently paced in gentle con- 
 verse. No very long time elapsed before the 
 Lady returned, followed by Barbara Iverk and 
 
 another faithful attendant. 
 
 " Thank God V exclaimed Frances, " she 
 
 must be recovered, for her position is changed. 11 
 And so it was — the veil of black had entirely 
 fallen off, and her unconfined hair reposed in 
 rich shadowy masses on her bosom and shoulders : 
 one arm rested on her knee, while the extended 
 hand supported her head ; the other was open on 
 her lap, and upon its small and transparent palm 
 lay a large locket of peculiar workmanship, set 
 round with brilliants. On this her eyes were fixed; 
 and when her bower-maid, Barbara, endeavoured 
 to rouse her mistress's attention, the first symptom 
 of returning consciousness she gave, was to hide 
 the jewel within her bosom. She appeared like 
 one waking from a long dream. Frances spokv 
 to her in a tone of gentle cheerfulness — 
 
 " Come, dearest, it is cold ; we will in : you
 
 96 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 must be better presently. One moment ; let me 
 bind up this hair ; it keeps back the cloak from 
 covering your throat, and you shiver like an 
 aspen. 11 Frances was gathering the large tresses 
 eagerly in her hand, when she stopped, and let- 
 ting them suddenly fall, exclaimed, 
 
 " What 's here to do ! One of the finest of 
 your lady's braids severed more than mid- way, 
 and by no scissors, truly ; absolutely butchered ! 
 Do but look, Barbara; I am sure 'twas not so 
 this morning !" 
 
 The young tire-woman lifted up her hands in 
 horror and amazement ; for she very properly 
 regarded her mistress's beautiful hair as under 
 her own especial control, and was about to make 
 some inquiry touching the mysterious incident, 
 when Constance drew the cardinal completely 
 over her head, and, leaning her arm on Barbara's 
 shoulder, proceeded towards the house. 
 
 Notwithstanding the great anxiety of Lady 
 Frances on the score of her friend's indisposition, 
 and it is but justice to admit she loved her with 
 all the constancy of which her volatile nature was 
 capable, her affection was nearly overpowered by
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 97 
 
 her curiosity — curiosity to discover how Constance 
 obtained the locket, and how she lost her most 
 admired tress. Yet, to neither of these perplex- 
 ities had she the slightest clue. Intimate as they 
 had been from childhood ; superior as was her 
 rank to that of Sir Robert Cecil's daughter ; yet 
 was there no one of her acquaintance with whom 
 she would not sooner have taken a liberty than 
 with Constance Cecil. In the course of the day 
 she tried every little art that female ingenuity 
 could devise, short of saying, " how came you by 
 that locket ?*" to induce her to talk on the sub- 
 ject — and in vain. Constance made no assertion 
 — offered no explanation ; but, when Frances ap- 
 peared to come too near the subject, she silenced 
 all farther approach to confidential communica- 
 tion, simply by raising her clear, calm, and holy 
 eve, letting it fall upon the animated, restless 
 face of her companion, and then shading its 
 glory by the long silken lashes that almost rested 
 on the exquisitely moulded cheek. It was this 
 peculiar look that made her lively friend usually 
 designate her " the awful beauty." 
 
 Still curiosity, that most busy and feminine 
 
 \ol. I. F
 
 98 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 sprite, tortured the Lady Frances with extraor- 
 dinary perseverance ; and, in the end, it suddenly 
 occurred to her that Barbara might know or con- 
 jecture something about the matter : accordingly, 
 at night, she dismissed her own women, under 
 some pretext or other, to their chambers, and sum- 
 moned the pretty Puritan to wait at her toilet. 
 Poor Barbara was as neat and as docile a maid 
 as any country gentlewoman could desire ; but, as 
 she had never accompanied her ladies to court, 
 to which, because of Lady Cecil's illness, they had 
 been rare visiters of late, she felt somewhat nerv- 
 ous on being called into active duty by so great a 
 personage as the Lady Frances Cromwell. With 
 trembling hands she unlaced the velvet bodice, 
 released the tiny feet from their thraldom, set 
 loose the diamond clasps of the sparkling sto- 
 macher ; and, after arraying the lady in a wrap- 
 ping robe of fringed linen, with point-lace collar, 
 commenced the disentangling of her raven hair : 
 this was a task that required skill and patience. 
 Nature had been so bountiful to her own fair 
 mistress, that her hair needed no art to increase 
 either its quality or quantity : the simple Barbara
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 99 
 
 consequently stood aghast when a vast portion of 
 the fabric fell to the ground the moment a little 
 dark band had been separated from the pretty head 
 of the more courtly maiden. Frances laughed as 
 the girl's astonished features were reflected in the 
 polished mirror before which she sat : so evident 
 was her dismay, as she held it forth, exclaiming, 
 " I did not pull it off, my lady—" 
 
 " Ah, wicked wench ! so you would rob my 
 head as well as your lady's. Now, Barbara, 
 tell me truly, what didst do with that same 
 lock I missed this morning P" 
 
 " I, my lady ?" 
 
 " Yes, you. No one else, I suppose, dresst -. 
 your lady's hair. 11 
 
 " That may be ; but I assure your ladyship 
 I never cut off that curl : — it is quite wonderful !" 
 
 " So it is, as you say, like a very sensible girl, 
 ' quite wonderful ;"" but, Barbara, do you think 
 you could find out who did cut it off? 11 
 
 " Not unless my lady would tell me. 11 
 
 " But is there no way P 11 
 
 " Only by asking my lady, and that I could 
 not presume to do." 
 
 i-2
 
 100 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 " Nor I either," thought Lady Frances : " But, 
 Barbara, you might think — or — or — see per- 
 haps " 
 
 " Please you, my lady, I do think a great deal, 
 and the Rev. Mr. Fleetword said to me only this 
 morning, that I grew in grace as much as in 
 stature. And, as to seeing, please your Lady- 
 ship " 
 
 ." Pshaw, child ! it is not that I mean. Could 
 you not discover ? Besides — the locket ! did, 
 you ever see that locket in your lady's possession 
 till this morning ?" 
 
 " No, Madam." 
 
 " Perhaps," continued Frances, blushing and 
 stammering at her curiosity, " it might be well to 
 ascertain something about both mysteries, for your 
 lady's good. 11 
 
 " I am sure, my lady, I can't tell ; but my 
 mistress is very wise, and if she wished me to 
 know any thing of such like, would direct me 
 herself. Shall I put any of this ambergris in your 
 ladyship's hair, or do you better like the musk- 
 rose ?" — How perplexing to the cunning is 
 straightforward simplicity ! " Now," thought
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 101 
 
 Lady Frances, " one of the court waiting-maids 
 would have comprehended my meaning in a mo- 
 ment ; and this wench, with ten times their zeal 
 and real sense, thinks it downright wicked to pry 
 into her lady's secrets. I wonder my women 
 have not taught her the court fashions. — You may 
 go to bed, Barbara ; light my night lamp, and 
 give me a book ; I do not feel at all sleepy." 
 
 Barbara, with great naivete, presented to Lady 
 Frances a small Bible that lay on the dressing- 
 table: — something resembling a smile passed over 
 the lady's face as she took the volume, but she 
 only observed, " Give me also that book with the 
 golden clasps ; I would fain peruse my cousin 
 "Waller's last hymn. — What an utterly useless 
 thing is that which is called simplicity !" she 
 said, half aloud, as Barbara closed the door. 
 " And yet I would sooner trust my life in the 
 hands of that country damsel than with the fine 
 ones, who, though arrayed in plain gowns, flatter 
 corrupt fancies at Whitehall or Hampton P
 
 102 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 " By holy Mary ! Butts, there 's knavery." 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 Having consigned the Lady Frances Crom- 
 well to her perfumed couch, and the companion- 
 ship of Waller's sweet and sonorous strains, we 
 leave her to determine whether the high and 
 mighty Lady Dorothea Sidney, the Poet's Sac- 
 charissa, or the gentle Lady Sophia Murray, the 
 beauteous Amoret of his idolatry, were most 
 worthy the affection he so generously bestowed 
 on both. Waller, the most specious flatterer of 
 flattering courts — Waller, the early worshipper 
 of Charles the First — Waller, the pusillanimous 
 betrayer of his friends — Waller, the adulator of 
 Cromwell — Waller, the wit and the jester of the
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 103 
 
 Second Charles — Waller, the devotional whiner 
 of the bigot James — had not, however, sufficient 
 power to keep the lady from her slumbers long. 
 She was soon in the refreshing sleep, known only 
 to the light-hearted. 
 
 Constance Cecil was more wakeful. After 
 Barbara's dismissal from the presence of Lady 
 Frances, she crept with slow and stealthy pace to 
 the chamber of her dear mistress, and softly turn- 
 ing the bolt, displaced the curtains of silver 
 damask with so light a touch, that her entrance 
 was unnoticed. The girl perceived at once that 
 her lady was not asleep. She had evidently 
 been reading, for the holy volume was still open, 
 and one hand rested amid its leaves : but even 
 Barbara was astonished when she saw that her 
 attention was spell-bound to the mysterious locket 
 she held in the other hand. The excellent ser- 
 vant, with that true honesty of mind which no 
 education can teach, knowing that her lady had 
 not heard her enter, and feeling, rather than 
 reasoning upon, the indelicacy of prying into 
 what she believed was secret, purposely let fall 
 a chalice, which effectually roused Constance,
 
 104 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 who, placing the trinket under the pillow, called 
 upon her attendant for her night drink, and then 
 pointed out a particular psalm she wished her to 
 read aloud. It was a holy and a beautiful sight 
 in that quiet chamber : The young and high- 
 born maiden, her head resting on pillows of the 
 finest cambric ; her arms crossed meekly on her 
 bosom, whose gentle breathings moved, without 
 disturbing the folds of her night-tire ; her eyes 
 elevated ; her lips sufficiently apart to show the 
 small, pearly teeth, glittering in whiteness within 
 their coral nest ; — then, as promises of hope and 
 happiness beyond the control of mortality, found 
 voice from Barbara's mouth, a tear would steal 
 down her cheek, unbidden and unnoticed, but 
 not unregistered by that God who knows our 
 griefs, and whose balm is ever for the heavy- 
 at-heart. 
 
 Barbara sat on a writing-stool by the bed-side, 
 supporting the Bible on her knees, while the 
 beams of a golden lamp, placed on a lofty tripod 
 near the foot of the bed, fell directly on the 
 book : the light, however, was not sufficiently 
 powerful to illume the farthermost parts of the
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 105 
 
 chamber, whose walls were hung with figured 
 tapestry, the gloom of which contrasted strongly 
 with the bright blue and silver that canopied 
 Constantia's bed. 
 
 The next chamber was occupied by her father : 
 it was lofty, but not spacious. The inside of the 
 door was guarded by many bolts ; and at the 
 moment his daughter was seeking commune with, 
 and counsel from, the Almighty, he was employ- 
 ed in examining and securing them with evi- 
 dent anxiety. First one, and then another, was 
 pushed to its rest ; then he turned the key in 
 the lock — once, twice. Having shaken, or rather 
 attempted to shake, the massive door, to deter- 
 mine if it were really secure, Sir Robert Cecil 
 proceeded to inspect the window fastenings ; and 
 being convinced they were in their places, he 
 turned to the table where the light burnt brightly, 
 examined a brace of pistols, which he placed 
 under his pillow, and then took down a huge 
 heavy sword from a shelf where it lay concealed, 
 pulled it forth from its scabbard, and applied 
 his thumb along the edge, to be satisfied of its 
 sharpness. Having laid the weapon by his bed- 
 
 F 5
 
 106 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 side, he commenced, unaided, to undress. This 
 did not occupy him long, though he stopped 
 occasionally, his eye glancing round the apart- 
 ment, his ear bent, as if some unhallowed noise 
 had struck upon it suddenly. As he moved to 
 his lonely couch, he passed before an immense 
 glass, in a heavy oaken frame : his own reflection 
 met his eye ; he started as if a spectre had crossed 
 his path — his cheek blanched — his knees smote 
 one against the other — his respiration was im- 
 peded. At last, waving his hand, as if to dispel 
 the phantom his imagination had conjured up, 
 he sprang into the bed, and buried his head under 
 its pillows. 
 
 At the end of the corridor which led to the 
 sleeping-chambers, was the apartment appropri- 
 ated to Burrell of Burrell, whenever he was a 
 guest at Cecil Place ; his visits, however, were 
 not so frequent, or of such long duration, as might 
 have been expected from the lover of Lady Con- 
 stance Cecil. He was fast approaching the me- 
 ridian of life, and his youth had been spent 
 chiefly at court : — at both courts, in fact, for he 
 had been a partizan of the unhappy Charles,
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 107 
 
 and afterwards, at heart, as complete a regicide 
 as any who took a more active part in the terrible 
 transactions of the times. He joined the army 
 of the Parliament, nevertheless, but for a short 
 time, pleading, as an excuse, the necessity there 
 was for remaining amongst his own tenants and 
 thralls to keep them in subjection. Sir Willmott 
 Burrell might well have been designated a man 
 of two characters — one for public, one for private 
 life. His manners to his superiors, and generally 
 to his equals, were bland and insinuating ; to his 
 inferiors he was overbearing, haughty, and se- 
 vere, except when he had some particular point 
 to carry, and then he could cringe to and fawn 
 upon the vilest. He had a peculiar method of 
 entering into men's hearts, and worming from 
 each whatever best suited his own purpose ; but 
 the principle upon which he invariably acted, 
 was, to extract the honey from the rose, and then 
 scatter its leaves to the whirlwind and the blast. 
 Devoid of everything like moral or religious 
 feeling, he used Puritanism as a cloak for selfish- 
 ness and sin ; and though he had often cursed his 
 good character when it stood in the way of his
 
 108 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 pleasures, yet it was too needful to be cast oft' 
 as a worthless garment. A plotting mind united 
 to a graceful exterior, is as dangerous to the in- 
 terests of society as a secret mine to a besieged 
 city, inasmuch as it is impossible to calculate 
 upon the evils that may suddenly arise either 
 from the one or the other. 
 
 Sir Willmott Burrell, of Burrell, had managed 
 to make himself acquainted with many of Sir 
 Robert Cecil's secrets ; and even those he had not 
 heard, he guessed at, with that naturally acute 
 knowledge which is rarely in the wrong. He was 
 too great a sensualist to be indifferent to the 
 beauty of Constance, which, like all sensualists, 
 he considered the sole excellence of woman ; but 
 he arraigned the wisdom of Nature in endowing 
 aught so fair with mind, or enriching it with 
 soul ; and the dignity and purity of his destined 
 bride, instead of making him proud, made him 
 angry and abashed. 
 
 Constance heard of Burrell of BurrelPs grace, 
 of Burrell of Burrell's wit, and sometimes — 
 though even amongst ladies it was a disputed 
 point — of his beauty, without ever being able to
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 109 
 
 discover anything approaching to these qualities 
 in her future husband ; and certainly he never 
 appeared to so little advantage as when in her 
 presence : her eye kept him under a subjection, 
 the force of which he was ashamed to acknow- 
 ledge ; and although there could be no question 
 that his chief desire for the approaching alliance 
 proceeded from a cherished affection for the 
 broad acres and dark woods of the heiress of 
 Cecil, yet he bitterly regretted that the only 
 feeling the lady manifested towards him was one 
 of decided coldness — he almost feared, of con- 
 tempt. The day after her mother's funeral, she had 
 refused to see him, although he knew that she had 
 been abroad with Lady Frances in the gardens of 
 the Place; and though Sir Robert urged indispo- 
 sition as the cause, yet his pride was deeply mor- 
 tified. A weighty communication from France, 
 where he had been a resident for some months, as 
 an attache to the English embassy, appeared to 
 have increased the discontent of his already 
 ruffled temper. He retired early to his cham- 
 ber, and his moody and disturbed countenance 
 Looked angered and mysterious by the light of
 
 110 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 an untrimraed lamp, as he inspected various 
 documents and papers that lay scattered before 
 him on a table of carved oak, inlaid with silver. 
 One letter, which he read and re-read with much 
 attention, seemed to excite him more than all 
 the rest : he turned it over and over — examined 
 the seal — laid it down — took it up — put it aside 
 again — folded his arms over his chest, and, with 
 his eyes fixed on the ceiling, appeared for a 
 time absorbed in the remembrance of past events. 
 Finally, he committed the letter to the flames, and 
 then paced up and down the room with unequal 
 steps, his head bent forward, and his arms folded, 
 as before, over his bosom. He was evidently ill at 
 ease with himself, and there gleamed " a lurking 
 devil in his eye," that augured peril to some one, 
 and bespoke a man who was neither " infirm 
 of purpose/ 1 nor slow in the execution of what- 
 ever mischief was designed. He did not retire to 
 his bed until the lamp gave token that its oil 
 was expended, when, flinging himself on the co- 
 verlet without removing any portion of his dress, 
 he sought rest. 
 
 Nor were Sir Willmott's slumbers of long
 
 THE BUCCANEER. Ill 
 
 duration ; before the sun had risen, he was up 
 and a-foot. Having let himself down from his 
 window and out at the postern-gate, he took the 
 path that led in the direction of GulFs Nest 
 Crag. 
 
 The night had been wild and stormy : the 
 freshness and freedom of the air now compensated 
 for the turmoil that had passed ; but the ocean's 
 wrathfulness was still unappeased, and Burrell 
 listened to its roarings while it lashed the beach 
 with its receding waves, like a war-horse pawing 
 and foaming when the battle din has sunk into the 
 silence that succeeds the shout of victory, as if 
 eager again to meet the shock of death. 
 
 Suddenly he struck out of the usual track 
 across a portion of wasteland, the utmost verge of 
 which skirted the toppling cliffs: and making for 
 himself a way through tangled fern, long grass, 
 and prickly furze, he strode on in a more direct 
 line towards the dwelling of Robin Hays, pursu- 
 ing his course, heedless of the petty annoyances 
 he encountered, although his feet were frequently 
 entangled among the stunts and stubs that op- 
 posed his progress, with the air of one whose
 
 112 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 mind was evidently bent on the fulfilment of some 
 hazardous but important purpose. It was so early, 
 that not a shepherd had unpenned his fold, nor 
 a girl gone forth to the milking : such cattle as 
 remained at liberty during the night, still slum- 
 bered on the sward ; and the wily fox roamed 
 with less caution than was his wont, under the 
 knowledge that no enemy was by to watch his 
 progress. 
 
 " I may reach Gull's Nest, and return," 
 thought Burrell, " and that before any in the 
 house are astir." But, at the moment, a tall, lank 
 figure, moving with measured pace, yet never- 
 theless approaching rapidly, from the very point 
 towards which his steps were bent, arrested his 
 attention ; and as it came nearer and nearer, he 
 was much disconcerted at the discovery that no 
 other than the Reverend Jonas Fleetword, from 
 whom he anticipated a sharp rebuke for his 
 absence from Lady Cecil's funeral, was about to 
 cross his path. He Avould have gladly hailed the 
 approach of Birnam wood, so it could have 
 settled down between him and the reverend 
 Jonas ; but as no place of refuge was at hand,
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 113 
 
 he bethought him of the shield of patience, 
 drew his cloak as closely as if he were about 
 to encounter a fierce north wind, and finally, 
 returned with much courtesy the salutation of 
 the preacher, whose apt and ready eloquence had 
 obtained for him the significant appellation of 
 Fleetword. The locks of the divine, according 
 to the approved fashion, had been cropped closely 
 round his head, and his thin sharp visage looked 
 of most vinegar-like tinge and character, peering, 
 as it now did, from beneath a steeple-croAvned 
 hat, of formal cut. He wore a black cloth cloak 
 and doublet, his Flemish breeches and hose 
 were of the same sombre hue, and his square-toed 
 shoes were surmounted by large crape roses. 
 Contrary, as it would seem, to the custom of a 
 disciple of the peace-loving Saviour, he also 
 wore a basket-handled sword, girded round his 
 loins by a broad strap of black leather. In 
 truth, face, figure, and all included, he was as 
 harsh and ill-favoured a person as could have 
 been encountered even at that day, — one whose 
 lips would have seemed to taint the blessing to 
 which he might have given utterance ; and grace-
 
 114 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 less as Burrell of Burrell undoubtedly was, there 
 was excuse for the impatience he felt at such 
 an unlucky rencontre. 
 
 " It augurs well to see one whom the Lord 
 hath blessed with all the creature-comforts of 
 life, thus early aroused from sluggish sloth, and 
 abroad, doubtless, on business of the faithful- 
 minded ?" 
 
 Burrell made the best reply he could, with- 
 out confirming or denying the inference drawn 
 from his early rising. 
 
 " Why tarried ye from the gathering of God's 
 people on account of the Lady Cecil's funeral ? 
 I pray that the fleshpots of Egypt may not lure 
 ye to perdition ; or fine gold from Ophir, or the 
 vain glories of sinful men, pilot ye unto destruc- 
 tion r 
 
 " It was business connected with the state — 
 commands from his Highness's own lips, that 
 detained me." 
 
 " All praise to the Providence that has given 
 his chosen people into such keeping as the Lord 
 Oliver's ! Truly may he be likened to the chariots 
 and horsemen of Israel — to the blessed Zerub-
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 115 
 
 babel, who restored the true worship, which the 
 Jews in their blindness had cast from them ; to 
 Joshua, whom the Lord appointed as a scourge 
 to the wicked Canaanites; to Moses, who gave 
 both spiritual help and carnal food to those 
 that needed ; to Gideon ; to Elijah ; to David ; 
 to Hezekiah ; to the most wise Solomon ; to all 
 the holy of the earth !" and, exhausted by the 
 rapidity with which he had uttered the names 
 of the kings and prophets of old, the worthy 
 Jonas made a full stop ; not with any intention 
 of concluding his harangue, but to take breath 
 for its continuation. As time, however, was ex- 
 ceedingly precious to Burrell, he endeavoured 
 to give such a turn to the conversation as would 
 enable him to escape from the preacher's com- 
 panionship ; and therefore expressed a very deep 
 regret that he had not been edified by the dis- 
 course which Mr. Fleetword so ably delivered, 
 and inquired when and where it was likely he 
 would next give his holy lessons, so that he 
 might be comforted by the oil and honey that 
 flowed from his lips. 
 
 " Thou sayest truly," replied the energetic
 
 JIG THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 preacher ; " truly say est thou : oil and honey for 
 the faithful, the holy, the just, in our New- 
 Jerusalem ! But what, what for the unbelievers ? 
 — what for the wise in their own conceit ? — what 
 for the dwellers in Kedar ? — Even this — to them, 
 my words signify bitterness, a scourge, a pesti- 
 lence, an uprooting, and a scattering by the four 
 winds of heaven ! on them shall the seventh phial 
 be poured out ; for verily the Lord is weary of 
 showing mercy to the backsliders from the con- 
 gregation : they shall all perish — their limbs shall 
 be broken asunder — yea, I will smite the uncir- 
 cumcised Philistines — yea, I will smite — " 
 
 " Even as did Sampson of old," interrupted 
 Burrell — " even as Sampson of old smote them — 
 with the jawbone of an ass." 
 
 " Even so," replied Jonas, who, with all his 
 bitterness, was nothing worse than a simple- 
 minded enthusiast, and never imagined that Sir 
 Willmott 1 s words could convey aught than ap- 
 probation of his zeal, and the right spirit that 
 dwelt within him ; — " even so ; and it rejoiceth 
 me to find thee apt and prompt in scriptural 
 passages. Verily, I am glad of thy company ;
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 117 
 
 and as thou regrettest that the world's business 
 prevented thy attendance on the lamented dead, 
 I care not if I bestow this my present leisure 
 unto thy edification, and repeat, nay, even en- 
 large upon, the words I then delivered ; which 
 exercise will be finished before mid-day — it is 
 right that Ave labour unceasingly in the vine- 
 yard." So saying, he drew from his bosom a 
 clasped Bible, and, to BurreH's dismay, actually 
 gave out the text, before he could resolve upon 
 any plan to rid himself of the intruder, whom 
 he heartily wished at Tophet, if not farther. 
 
 " My worthy friend, I would postpone the 
 instruction you would give, until a more conve- 
 nient season; I have urgent business to attend, 
 and must hasten its performance." 
 
 " Then will I gird up my loins, and accom- 
 pany thee unto the very threshold of the house 
 where thou wouldst enter; and as we walk, I 
 can still convey the precious ointment of grace 
 unto thy soul." 
 
 " The merciless old scoundrel !" muttered Bur- 
 rell between his teeth ; then adding aloud, " Not 
 so ; vour words are too costly to be given unto
 
 118 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 the winds ; and I cannot tarry so as to drink 
 in the full draught of satisfaction : let be, I pray 
 you, and come down to Cecil Place to-night, or 
 on the morrow, and then many can worship with 
 thee." 
 
 Fleetword paused, still holding the volume in 
 his hand : — " Besides," continued Burrell, " what 
 I have to accomplish is the Lord's work." 
 
 "The Lord's work — the Lord's work!" re- 
 peated Fleetword, — " then go forth ; why didst 
 thou not confirm me that before ? and I would 
 have hastened, not retarded thee ; for, of a 
 verity, my outward man warreth with the inward, 
 and these supporters of the flesh," pointing with 
 his forefinger to the thin and meagre limbs that 
 scarcely merited the compliment, " grow weary 
 in well doing." 
 
 Burrell needed not a second hint to hasten, 
 but proceeded on his way, after receiving Fleet- 
 word's benediction with all due humility. 
 
 The preacher remained some time on the spot, 
 and his thin upright figure, seen from a distance, 
 its outline so strongly marked against the cold 
 grey morning sky, had a singular effect. Burrell
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 119 
 
 had plunged into a dell or hollow, so that he was 
 
 no longer visible. 
 
 The bleak and unclothed landscape, from 
 
 which the mist was slowly rolling ; the few giant 
 
 trees, that dwelling by the sea-side, and grown 
 
 wise by experience, ventured not to put forth 
 
 their leaves till the sun had chased the north 
 
 wind to his caves ; but, above all, the booming 
 
 of the untranquillised ocean, might have chilled a 
 
 heart within the warmest bosom ; 
 
 " Yet, prophet-like, that lone one stood, 
 With dauntless words and high," 
 
 and looked as if he deemed the rolling clouds 
 his listeners. It was by no means unusual for 
 the preachers in those days to exercise their voice 
 over the hills and heaths of their native land : 
 valuing, as they did, power and strength far 
 more than melody and grace, they endeavoured 
 to acquire them by every possible means — nor 
 wire they without hope that, (to use their own 
 language,) " the Almighty might bless the seed 
 thus sown, seein2 that it was hard to know who 
 might not be within hearing of the precious word." 
 Burrell soon gained the sea-shore, though he
 
 120 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 was still a considerable distance from Gull's Nest 
 Crag. On arriving at a point that commanded 
 an unbroken prospect of the far-spread sea, he 
 shaded his eyes with his hand, and looked long 
 and earnestly along the waste of waters. Ap- 
 parently the scrutiny was unsuccessful, for he 
 drew a telescope from beneath his cloak and 
 gazed through it for some minutes, directing it 
 towards several points. At length, with an im- 
 patience of manner in which, when with his in- 
 feriors or alone, he frequently indulged, he de- 
 scended the cliff and pursued his way along the 
 beach. As he drew near the little public-house, 
 his ears were greeted by the sound of one of 
 Waller's most popular songs, warbled in a voice 
 so sweet, so pipe-like, that he paused, and looked 
 round to ascertain from whence it proceeded. 
 It ceased. Not even his keen eye could rest on 
 aught resembling human form. He hallooed, but 
 received no answer : yet had he not continued 
 three steps on his way when the song was re- 
 newed, as he thought, directly over his head ; 
 notwithstanding the roaring of the waves, he 
 even heard the words distinctly —
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 121 
 
 " Small is the worth 
 Of beauty from the light retired." 
 
 Again he shouted, and a loud and elfin laugh, 
 that danced with the echoes from crag: to crag 
 and billow to billow, was sent forth in reply. 
 
 " Mermaid — Merman — or Demon ! where be 
 ye ?" cried Burrell, loudly. 
 
 " Even here, master mine," answered Robin 
 Hays, shaking his large head, over a midway and 
 partly detached portion of the cliff. 
 
 " Come down, do, you will-o'-the-wisp ! In 
 heaven's name what takes you into such break- 
 neck places ?" 
 
 " The same matter that brings you here, Sir, 11 
 replied Robin, skipping and crawling alternately, 
 Miiting his motions to the inequality of the place : 
 " the very same matter that brings you here — 
 
 a woman." 
 
 " How know you that, master prate-a-pace ? 
 At all events, you have no woman there." 
 
 " Why, master, seeing you were born under 
 the planet Venus, your whole trouble must be of 
 her making ; and, as to there being no woman up 
 here, that matters nothing, for woman's fancy 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 122 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 mounts higher than e'er a cliff in England ; and 
 to gain their favours we must humour their 
 fancy. A certain damsel that I know, had a 
 curiosity to see a peewit's eggs ; so I thought 
 I 'd find her some, and here they are." From a 
 pouch made of untanned leather, which hung 
 in front like an apron, he took two small eggs 
 of a greenish hue, spotted with black. 
 
 " What a fool you are," exclaimed Burrell, " to 
 risk your neck for such trumpery ! It would be 
 long ere you would risk it for your master." 
 
 " I have known many hazard theirs for a less 
 cause — and, to say the truth, there's a deal to be 
 learned from the wild sea-birds," replied Robin, 
 as if he had not heard the latter portion of the 
 sentence ; " I have a regard for the creeturs, 
 which are like kings in the air. Many an hour 
 have I sat up yonder, listening to the noises of 
 earth and the noises of heaven, Avhile the shrill 
 note of the gull, the chatter of the guillemot, the 
 heron's bitter scream, the hoarse croaking of the 
 cormorant, have been all around me : and, indeed, 
 the birds know me well enough. There 's a pair 
 of old gulls "
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 123 
 
 " Robin ! I did not come here to talk about 
 cormorants and gulls ; I want to ask you a ques- 
 tion, and I expect an honest answer. 1 ' 
 
 Robin made the nearest approach to a bow he 
 was ever guilty of. 
 
 " Honesty, Robin, is a most valuable quality. " 
 
 " So it is, Sir — and, like all valuables, ought to 
 fetch a good price." 
 
 " You should be a disciple of Manasseh Ben 
 Israel ! Why, you have hardly left my service two 
 days, and then I had a right to your honesty. 
 You are as bad as a Jew." 
 
 " If so, I have surely a right to extort mone\ 
 from a Christian." 
 
 " A truce to your jests, you ill-favoured loon : 
 I want no mans labour for nothing — there are 
 some broad pieces to stop your mouth ; and now, 
 when saw you Hugh Dal ton ?" 
 
 " Not since I had the honour to wait upon 
 you, Sir, to London." 
 
 " But he is off the coast." 
 
 " Under favour, Sir, that accounts for my not 
 seeing him on it." 
 
 " Scoundrel !" exclaimed Burrell fiercely; "no 
 
 G 2
 
 124 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 such mummery with me, or 111 soon put you 
 upon salt-water rations. Dal ton, I say, is off the 
 coast ; I would speak with him, I must speak 
 with him ; and, as 1 have good reason to know 
 you telegraph each other, manage so that he 
 meet me under the cavern : — do you under- 
 stand, you sprat-spawn? Under the cavern; 
 to-morrow night, at eleven ; we can serve each 
 other. Burrell, when he had retraced his steps 
 about five yards, turned round and added, " You 
 owe me amends for your base desertion the night 
 before last, which I have not forgotten. " 
 
 Robin, cap in hand, watched his receding foot- 
 steps with an underlook ; and then, attended 
 by his faithful Crisp, repaired to the cottage, 
 where a cannikin of porridge, seasoned by the 
 hand of his mother with good spicery, and more 
 than half composed of double-dub, awaited his 
 arrival,
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 125 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 " By the pricking of my thumbs, 
 Something wicked this way comes." 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 There is nothing in England so variable as 
 its climate. Before the succeeding night, the 
 very remembrance of the storm seemed to have 
 passed away from the placid waters, which now 
 slept in the moonbeams as tranquilly as a cradled 
 child ; the sea-bird's scream no longer whistled 
 through the air, and the small waves murmured 
 their gentle music along the strand. Nature was 
 hushed and happy ; but the tranquillity of ex- 
 ternal objects had little effect upon the mind of 
 Burrell, as he strode to his trysting with the 
 bold Buccaneer. Yet were there no outward
 
 126 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 tokens that he apprehended aught from the meet- 
 ing ; for, excepting the sword, usually borne by 
 persons of all ranks and professions during the 
 dynasty of Oliver, he was completely unarmed. 
 The place appointed was appropriately described 
 as " Under the Cavern.'" It was known to Dal- 
 ton's more intimate associates, and the Cavaliers, 
 who had from time to time obtained security 
 therein ; but, if its bare, bleak walls had been 
 gifted with speech, they might have rehearsed 
 such tales of rapine and plunder as few writers 
 would venture to record. The cavern appeared, 
 to those who might wander along the sea-shore, 
 to be but a deep and natural excavation into a 
 huge rock, the western extremity of which ran 
 out into the ocean, and therefore compelled 
 the traveller to ascend a kind of artificial steps, 
 in order to pass to the other side : the beach was, 
 consequently, but little frequented, as leading 
 to no necessary point, and as the inhabitants of 
 the adjoining cottage, with which our readers 
 are already familiar, had taken especial care to 
 form several paths in various directions from its 
 door, but none leading down to this part of the
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 127 
 
 neighbouring cliffs, it was but rarely that the 
 whiteness of the rocks was defaced by any foot 
 save that of the daring bird from whom it re- 
 ceived its name, and by whom it was regarded as 
 his own natural and undisputed property. 
 
 Whether the cavern into which we are about 
 to enter was originally framed by some freak 
 of Nature, or was the invention and subsequent 
 accomplishment of art, we are unable to deter- 
 mine. Like many a structure better formed to 
 endure for ages, it has been long swept away 
 by the encroachments of the sea, which, since 
 the period we write of, has been gradually 
 gaining upon the land. Even at the present 
 moment, there are old men dwelling in the neigh- 
 bourhood who can remember houses and corn- 
 fields where now a proud ship may ride at anchor. 
 From time to time, without the slightest warn- 
 ing, some immense rock falls, and mingles with 
 the ocean, which soon dashes aside every trace of 
 its existence, leaving merely a new surface, to 
 vanish in its turn under the influence of a power, 
 silent and patient, but inevitable and uncon- 
 querable.
 
 128 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 Immediately as the moonlight was left behind, 
 the cavern became high and arched, as if either 
 Nature, or some skilful workman under her su- 
 perintendence, had foreseen to what important 
 purposes it might be applied. Huge masses of 
 flint, and still larger fragments of granite, were 
 scattered about as if by giant hands, yet without 
 any seeming attention to order or regularity. 
 The initiated, however, well knew that such was 
 not the case. Burrell, immediately on entering, 
 proceeded to the farther extremity, and kneeling, 
 placed his mouth to the ground, and gave a loud 
 sharp whistle : he then stood erect, at a little 
 distance from the spot on which he had knelt. 
 Presently, what appeared a lump of grey stone, 
 moved upwards, then aside, and the head and 
 shoulders of a man from beneath sprang into its 
 place so suddenly as to have appeared the work 
 of magic. He leaned a little on one side, to per- 
 mit Burrell to descend ; and the next minute the 
 cavern seemed as if no human step had ever dis- 
 turbed its solitude. Six or eight rugged stairs 
 brought the Knight into a low but spacious 
 apartment, from which there was no apparent
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 129 
 
 exit except by an arched door-way. where the 
 commencement of a spiral ascent was visible, 
 leading almost perpendicularly into the secret 
 room of the widow Hays'" small hostelry, in 
 which our acquaintance Jack Roupall and his 
 friends had been concealed, and which, it may be 
 here stated, served other purposes than to afford 
 comfort and entertainment to the wayfarer. 
 
 It may also be observed, that, if at any time 
 the widow's house was suspected of harbouring 
 dangerous or outlawed persons, and consequent 
 search was made under its roof, those to whom 
 concealment was either convenient or necessary 
 had a ready sanctuary in the cavern beneath, 
 where they might either tarry until assured of 
 safety, or whence they could easily escape 
 on board one of the free-traders which rarely 
 passed a week without a call of inquiry at some 
 point along the coast. The cavern was, there- 
 fore, known to many, for many were they to 
 whom it had been a shelter and a safeguard. 
 Not so the inner temple (if we may so apply the 
 term) to which Burrell now sought admission 
 through a door with the nature of which only 
 
 g 5
 
 130 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 some half a dozen were acquainted. To them 
 the secret had necessarily been confided, but under 
 the most awful oaths of secrecy, and a terrible 
 pledge that the life of him who might reveal it 
 was to be at all times and in all places at the dis- 
 posal of any one of those who shared with him a 
 knoAvledge so fearful. 
 
 The door before which Burrell paused, was, 
 in its way, a masterpiece of art : it consisted of 
 a mass of clay and flint, so skilfully put together 
 that the most acute searcher, even though he pos- 
 sessed the certainty of its existence somewhere, 
 must have failed to discover it from among the 
 natural lining of the rude but extensive cave. A 
 low and gentle whistle was answered by a like 
 signal, and the door was drawn gradually in- 
 wards, until sufficient space was afforded to per- 
 mit Burrell to pass into a large space, but less 
 raw and wild than that from which he had just 
 entered. 
 
 In one corner of this singular hall, rose a mot- 
 ley pile of musketry, rifles, hand-grenades, bas- 
 ket and cross-hilted swords, steel cuirasses, 
 which, from their rude and sullied condition,
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 131 
 
 appeared to have suffered much and hard ser- 
 vice ; buff and other coloured doublets, breast- 
 plates, shoulder-belts with gilt and plain buckles ; 
 manacles, some rusty, others of glittering bright- 
 ness : the muzzle of a small brass swivel projected 
 from beneath a number of flags and emblems of 
 various nations, rolled together with a degree of 
 amity to which their former owners had long been 
 strangers. Over these again were heaped cloaks, 
 caps, feathers, and trappings, enough to form 
 the stock wardrobe of any theatre, present, or 
 to come. Nor were there wanting thumb-screws 
 and other instruments of torture, often unspar- 
 ingly exercised upon those who hid their treasure 
 or retained secrets they were desired to betray. 
 Near to this miscellaneous assemblage rose an- 
 other heap, the base of which appeared to con- 
 sist of some half score of elephants' 1 teeth, rough 
 hemp, fragments of huge cable, cable-yarn, and 
 all manner of cordage ; rolls of lewxerns 1 , mar- 
 trons', and leopard-skins ; wolf-skins, " tawed 
 and untawed ;" girdles of silk, velvet, and lea- 
 ther ; and on pegs, immediately over, hung half 
 a dozen mantles of miniver, and some wide
 
 132 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 robings of the pure spotted ermine. Upon a 
 huge sea-chest were heaped bales of costly Bra- 
 bant, Overyssels, and other rare linens, mingled 
 with French and Italian lawns of the finest tex- 
 ture ; Turkish camlets, satins of China and Luca, 
 plain and wrought, and many other expensive 
 and highly-taxed articles. Delicious odours were 
 diffused through the chamber from various cases 
 of perfume, musk, ambergris, and the costly 
 attar ; while along the north wall were ranged 
 different-sized casks of Nantz brandy, Hollands, 
 and Jamaica rum ; giving to the whole the ap- 
 pearance of a vast storehouse. An enormous 
 chafing-dish, filled with burning charcoal, stood 
 near the centre, and in a deep iron pan was 
 placed a keg of oil, a hole having been driven 
 into its head, through which a sort of hempen 
 wick had been introduced ; it flared and blazed 
 like an overgrown flambeau, throwing a warm 
 and glowing light over the entire of the wild yet 
 well-filled apartment. 
 
 But the most singular portion of the garniture 
 of this most singular cave consisted of a number 
 of " Oliver's Acts," pinned or nailed against
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 133 
 
 the walls. If Dalton had been Lord Chief Jus- 
 tice, he could not have displayed a more mi- 
 nute attention to the products of legal sittings 
 than distinguished his private chamber : here 
 was set forth on goodly parchment, "An Act for 
 the Security of his Highness the Lord Protector, 
 his Person, and Continuance of the Nation in 
 Peace and Safety ;" there, " An Act for Re- 
 nouncing and Disannulling the pretended Title 
 of Charles Stuart, &c. at the Parliament be- 
 gun at Westminster the 17th day of September, 
 anno Domini 1656," 11 with the names " Henry 
 Hills" and "John Field, Printers to his Highness 
 the Lord Protector," in large letters at the bot- 
 tom, together with divers others, chiefly however 
 relating to the excise. 
 
 Hugh Dalton rose from his seat, and laid his 
 enormous pipe on a pile of ebony logs that an- 
 swered the purpose of a table, when Sir Willmott 
 Burrell saluted him with more civility than he 
 usually bestowed upon inferiors : but, despite 
 his outlawry, and the wild course his life had 
 taken, there was a firm, bold, and manly bearing 
 about the Buccaneer which might have overawed
 
 134 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 far stouter hearts than the heart of the Master of 
 Burrell. His vest was open, and his shirt-collar 
 thrown back, so as to display to advantage the 
 fine proportions of his chest and neck. His 
 strongly-marked features had at all times an ex- 
 pression of fierceness which was barely redeemed 
 from utter ferocity by a pleasant smile that usu- 
 ally played around a well-formed mouth ; but 
 when anger was uppermost, or passion was sub- 
 dued by contempt, those who came within reach 
 of his influence, more dreaded the rapid motion 
 or the sarcastic curl of his lip, than the terrible 
 flashing of eyes that were proverbial, even among 
 the reckless and desperate men of whom he was 
 the chief, in name, in courage, and in skill. His 
 forehead was unusually broad ; thick and bushy 
 brows overhung the long lashes of his deeply-set 
 eyes, around which there was a dark line, appa- 
 rently less the effect of nature than of climate. 
 The swarthy hue of his countenance was relieved 
 by a red tinge on either cheek ; but a second 
 glance might have served to convince the gazer 
 that it was the consequence of unchecked dissi- 
 pation, not a token of ruddy health. Indeed,
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 135 
 
 notwithstanding the fine and manly character of 
 his form and countenance, both conveyed an idea 
 of a mind ill at ease, of a conscience smitten by 
 the past and apprehensive of the future, yet 
 seeking consolation in the knowledge of good 
 that had been effected, and of more that remained 
 to be done. Years of crime had not altogether 
 obliterated a natural kindness of heart ; he ap- 
 peared as one who had outraged society and its 
 customs in a thousand forms, yet who knew there 
 was that within him by which he was entitled to 
 ask and expect a shelter within her sanctuary ; 
 and when a deep flush would pass over his fea- 
 tures, and his blood grow chill at the recollection 
 of atrocities at which the sufferers in a score of 
 lands had shuddered as they talked, he endea- 
 voured to still the voice that reproached him, 
 by placing to the credit of his fearful account 
 some matters to which we may hereafter more 
 distinctly refer. 
 
 It was before such a man that Burrell of Bur- 
 rell now stood, and by whom he was addressed. 
 
 " My piping-bird, good Sir, told me you 
 wanted me ; and though somewhat inconvenient
 
 136 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 at this present time, here I am. Won't you sit ? 
 This is no lady's lounging-room ; yet we can find 
 seats, and costly ones too, 11 he added, pushing a 
 chest of spices towards his visiter. 
 
 " Then, you were not at sea, Captain?" ob- 
 served Burrell, seating himself, and unclasping 
 his cloak. 
 
 " I did not say so," replied the other, bringing 
 his bushy brows more closely over his eyes, and 
 glancing suspiciously upon the questioner. 
 
 " Oh, no ; I only imagined it. 1 ' 
 
 " Well, Sir, I was not at sea, and I care not 
 who knows it." 
 
 " But, my worthy friend, we have been ac- 
 quainted too long for you to fear my 'peaching 
 aught concerning you or your doings." 
 
 " And did I talk of fear ?" inquired the Buc- 
 caneer, with a droll and yet bitter expression. 
 " Well, if I did, I only follow, as Robin would 
 say, the example of my betters, by talking about 
 what I don't understand." 
 
 ;t Vastly good, and true ! — true as the " 
 
 " Needle to the pole ; the finest simile in na- 
 ture, Sir Willmott Burrell : you were fishing for
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 137 
 
 a holy one, I saw, which is what these walls don't 
 often hear, for we've no laggers nor warpes 
 among us." 
 
 " You 've enlarged this room, and improved 
 it much, Captain, since I last saw it." 
 
 " Humph ! ay, that was, I remember, when his 
 Highness " 
 
 (C 
 
 " Hush r interrupted Burrell, changing co- 
 lour, and looking round the room cautiously ; 
 " you must be very careful, Dalton, how you say 
 any thing about " 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! ha ! So you look for a troop of 
 old Noll's Ironsides to bounce from under these 
 packages in this good Isle of Shepey ; or, may- 
 hap, expect to see him start forth from behind his 
 own Acts, which you perceive garnish my walls — 
 the walls of my secret palace, so splendidly ; but 
 I may talk about his Highness, ay, and about the 
 prisoners you escorted here, despite the loyal men 
 of Kent, for me to ship to the Colonies— and — 
 But no matter, no matter; Noll knew I did it, for 
 he knows every thing. Well, Sir, you seem so 
 alarmed, that I'm dumb as a sand-bank ; only 
 this, his Highness is far enough off to-night, and
 
 138 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 you need fear no other Olivers, for England will 
 never see but one." 
 
 "True, true — good Dalton ! — but tell me, 
 are you often on the French coast now ?" 
 
 " Yes, I'm grown old, and, though my little 
 Fire-fly is still bright and beautiful, and her 
 ivories as biting, her guns, Sir, as musical as 
 ever, yet I'm done with the Colonies; they ruin a 
 man's morals and his health ; but I do a little, 
 just by way of amusement, or practice, with 
 Flanders and France, and a run now and then to 
 Lisbon." 
 
 " How long is it since you've been to St. 
 Vallery ?" 
 
 " Some time now ; I was at Dieppe last month, 
 and that is very near." 
 
 " Dalton, you must make St. Vallery before 
 this moon is out, and execute a little commission 
 for me." 
 
 " Very good, Sir ; we have never disputed 
 about terms. What is it ? any thing in the way 
 of silks, or " 
 
 " It is flesh, human flesh, Dalton." 
 
 " Ah !" exclaimed the Buccaneer, rising and
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 139 
 
 recoiling from the knight, " Fve had enough of 
 that, and I'll have no more. Sir Willmott 
 Burrell, you must seek out another man." 
 
 " Now, Dalton," said Burrell, in his most insi- 
 nuating tone, " you have not yet heard me, and I 
 take it very unhandsome of an old friend like you 
 to start off in such a manner without knowing 
 why or wherefore. The matter is simply this — a 
 girl, a silly girl, somehow or other got attached 
 to me while I was in France. I have received 
 letter upon letter, talking of her situation, and so 
 forth, and threatening various things ; amongst 
 others, to come over here, unless — the idiot ! — I 
 acknowledge her as my wife. Now, you know, 
 or perhaps you do not know, that I am betrothed 
 to the daughter of Sir Robert Cecil ; and, if I 
 must enter into the holy state, why she is a 
 maiden to be proud of. I have arranged it thus 
 — written to my fair Zillah to get to St. Vallery 
 by a particular day, the date of which I will give 
 you, and told her that a vessel waits to convey 
 her to England. You, Dalton, must guide that 
 
 vessel, and But you understand me ; words 
 
 between friends are needless."
 
 140 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 " The cargo for exportation ; Barbadoes per- 
 haps " 
 
 " Or " and Burrell pointed with his finger 
 
 downwards, though, when he raised his eye to 
 encounter that of the Buccaneer, it was quickly 
 withdrawn. 
 
 " God, Burrell !" exclaimed Dalton, in a tone 
 of abhorrence, " you are a greater villain than I 
 took you for ! Why can't you pay off the girl — 
 send her somewhere — gild the crime?" 
 
 " Gold is no object with her, she desires honour." 
 
 The sympathetic cord of the Buccaneer's heart 
 was touched, for the sentiment echoed his own. 
 
 " Then who is she ?" he demanded ; " I'll not 
 stir in it, unless I know all." 
 
 Burrell paused for a moment, and then said, 
 
 " You have heard of Manasseh Ben Israel, a 
 rabbi, whom it hath pleased a great personage to 
 distinguish with much kindness : nay, his mercy 
 has gone so far as to contemplate receiving 
 that unholy people into commune with us, giving 
 them the right-hand of fellowship, and suffering 
 them to taste of the waters " 
 
 " Spritsail and rigging !" interrupted the Buc-
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 141 
 
 caneer, whose enraged spirit sought some outlet, 
 " No conventicle lingo here — you forget your 
 company, Sir Willmott. What of the Jew ?" 
 
 " You know his Highness has strangely fa- 
 voured this man, and that he is much thought of. 
 It is now more than six months since I was en- 
 trusted with a commission to Paris, and Ben 
 Israel requested I would take charge of some 
 packages he desired to forward to his daughter. 
 She resided with a family whom I knew to be 
 Polish Jews, but who conformed to the Catholic 
 faith, and quieted the conscience of a certain Car- 
 dinal by liberal offerings of silver and of gold. 
 I discharged the commission in person, and must 
 confess that the little black-eyed maid, seated as 
 I first saw her, on crimson cushions of rich 
 Genoa velvet, and nearly enveloped in a veil 
 starred with precious gems, looked more like a 
 houri than a woman. She pleased me mightily ; 
 and, as I had a good deal of time on my hands, I 
 trifled it with her. This might have done well ; 
 we might have gone on pleasantly enough, but 
 the creature was as jealous as a she tiger, and as 
 revengeful too. I made acquaintance with a blue
 
 142 THE- BUCCANEER. 
 
 eyed Dane at the court, and, can you believe it ? 
 she tracked my footsteps in disguise, and would 
 have stabbed me to the heart, had I not wrenched 
 the dagger from her little hand. She pretended 
 to be sorry for it : and, though I never trusted 
 her, our intimacy was renewed, until I was re- 
 called. Particular necessities for money press- 
 ing upon me, I saw that no time was to be lost 
 in fulfilling my contract with Sir Robert Cecil's 
 daughter. My Jewess, however, thinks other- 
 wise : declares she will follow me here ; that if 
 I do her not justice, she will brave her father's 
 anger, avow her intimacy with a Christian (which 
 I believe they invariably punish by death), and 
 forward, what she calls, proofs of my guilt to 
 the Lord Protector. You perceive, Dalton, the 
 creature is dangerous." 
 
 " But what can she forward to Oliver ?" 
 44 Why, she was starch, and — you comprehend 
 me — I was obliged to submit to a species of mar- 
 riage ceremony ; and there was a certificate and 
 some letters. In short, Captain, knowing his 
 Highness's strictness — -knowing his wish to conci- 
 liate this Ben Israel, and feeling the expediency
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 143 
 
 of my immediate marriage, I tell you it would 
 be certain destruction to suffer her to appear 
 now." 
 
 " Then I must ship her off, so that she may 
 never return," observed the Buccaneer, with a 
 fierce knitting of his brows. 
 
 " Dal ton, you know not what a devil she is : 
 were she gentle, or a fond idiot, she could be ma- 
 naged ; but she has the spirit, the foresight of a 
 thousand women. Besides, I swore, when her 
 hand was lifted against my life, that I would be 
 revenged, and I never yet swore in vain." 
 
 Dalton looked upon Burrell's really handsome 
 features, contracted and withered by the pesti- 
 lence of a demoniac spirit, and loathed him from 
 his very soul. 
 
 " I can't, Sir Willmott, I can't ; flesh and 
 blood must rise against the destruction of a loving 
 woman. I won't, so help me God! and that's 
 enough." 
 
 " Very well — very well — but I'll have blood 
 for blood ; breach for breach, master; the Iron- 
 sides, Cromwell's tender pets, would have nice 
 picking here. The Protector has already a scent
 
 144 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 of your whereabouts ; he is one who neither slum- 
 bers nor sleeps. Let the bold Buccaneer look to 
 it, and I'll straight seek some less honest man to 
 do my bidding.' 1 
 
 " Heave over such jargon," replied Dalton, 
 upon whom Burreli's threats seemed to have 
 made no impression. " Suppose you did betray 
 me, how many days 1 purchase would your life be 
 worth ? Think ye there are no true hearts and 
 brave, who would sacrifice their own lives to 
 avenge the loss of mine ? Avast, Master of Bur- 
 rell ! you are old enough to know better. 1 "' 
 
 " And you ought to know better than to sail 
 against the wind. Why, man, the little Jewess is 
 freighted with jewels ; a very queen of diamonds. 
 And I care not for them : you may keep them 
 
 a ll — so " The villain's lip faltered, he feared 
 
 to speak of the deed his heart had planned. 
 Dalton made no reply, but covered his face with 
 his hand, leaning his elbow on the table. Bur- 
 rell took advantage of his silence, to urge the 
 riches of the rabbi's daughter, the presents he 
 himself would give, and wound up the discourse, 
 with protests loud and earnest of everlasting
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 145 
 
 gratitude. Dalton let him speak on, but still 
 maintained an inflexible silence. 
 
 " 'Sdeath, man !" exclaimed Burrell, hastily, 
 after a pause of some minutes, " art asleep, or 
 stupid?" 
 
 " Neither," replied the Buccaneer. " But I 
 will do your bidding. Now, write your directions, 
 — here are pens, ink, paper, all that you require, 
 — and my reward; write, Sir, and then good night/* 
 Burrell did so, while Dalton paced up and down 
 his den, as if meditating and arranging some ac- 
 tion of importance. All matters being agreed 
 upon, apparently to the satisfaction of both, they 
 were about to separate, when Burrell inquired — 
 
 " Did you land any Cavaliers lately ?" 
 
 " Not I ; they are but a bad freight ; broad 
 pieces are a scarce commodity with Charlie's 
 friends. 1 * 
 
 " Very strange. I met a braggart the other 
 night, but 1 dare say he was one of the Syn- 
 dercomb gang. His Highness imagines you con- 
 veyed some of them to their head-quarters." 
 
 " Does he .'** 
 
 " Master Dalton, you are close." 
 
 VOL. i. H
 
 146 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 " Master Burrell, I have agreed to do your 
 business." 
 
 " Well!" 
 
 " I mean it to be well. Consequently, I have 
 not agreed to tell you mine." 
 
 Burrell looked daggers for a moment, and then 
 turned off with a hasty step and a forced laugh. 
 
 " Blasted be my hand for touching his in the 
 way of amity !" exclaimed the Buccaneer, strik- 
 ing the table with a violence that echoed through 
 the room. " The cold-blooded, remorseless vil- 
 lain ! She is too good for such a sacrifice — 
 I must be at work. And so, one infamy at 
 a time is not enough for the sin-dealing land- 
 lubber ; he wanted to worm out of me Robin ! 
 
 ahoy! Robin!" 
 
 Dalton stepped to the outside of the still open 
 door ; and on the instant descended from the 
 communicating stair, leading to the Gull's Nest, 
 not Robin, but him of the grey steed and black 
 cloak, who was so near falling a victim to Bur- 
 rell's treachery on a recent occasion.
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 147 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 For guilty states do ever bear 
 
 The plagues about tbem, which they have deserved, 
 
 And, till those plagues do get above 
 
 The mountain of our faults, and there do sit, 
 
 We see them not. Thus, still we love 
 
 The evil we do, until we suffer it. Ben Jonsox. 
 
 The Buccaneer welcomed the young man with 
 greater warmth than is usually displayed, ex- 
 cept to near and dear connexions. It must be 
 remembered also, he had arrived at that period 
 of life when feelings of affection and friendship 
 stagnate somewhat in the veins, and curdle into 
 apathy. Few are there who have numbered fifty 
 winters without wondering what could have set 
 their blood boiling and their hearts beating 
 so warmly some few years before. A benison 
 upon a smiling lip, a kindly eye, and a che» r> 
 
 n 2
 
 148 THE EUCCANEER. 
 
 ful voice! — whether they belong to the young or 
 to the old — may all such true graces be long 
 preserved from the blight called " Knowledge of 
 the world ;" which, while bestowing information 
 with the one hand, takes away innocence and 
 hope with the other !— But to the story. 
 
 The young Cavalier greeted his associate more 
 as a friend than a companion : there was evi- 
 dently between them that good understanding 
 which, arising from acquaintance with the better 
 points of character, produces mutual esteem ; 
 and although there was a degree of deference paid 
 to Hugh Dalton by the youth, it seemed a com- 
 pliment to his age and experience, gracefully and 
 naturally rendered, and kindly and thankfully 
 received. It was obvious that Dalton so consi- 
 dered it ; receiving attention far less as his due, 
 than as a voluntary offering for which he desired 
 to show his gratitude. 
 
 There was, nevertheless, something of pity 
 mingled with regard, which the youth manifested 
 towards his chafed companion, as he took the seat 
 that had been occupied by Burrell, and, laying 
 his hand upon the powerful arm of the Buccaneer,
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 149 
 
 inquired, in a touching and anxious tone, if aught 
 had particularly disturbed him. 
 
 "Walter — no, nothing very particular ; for 
 knavery and villainy are seldom rare, and I have 
 been long accustomed to treat with both ; only it 's 
 too bad to have more unclean spirits than one's 
 own, harpy ing and haunting a man. God ! I can 
 breathe better now that fellow's gone. Ah, master 
 Walter ! there be two sorts of villains in the world : 
 one with a broad, bronzed face, a bold loud voice, 
 a drinking look, and an unsheathed dagger — and 
 him men avoid and point at, and children cling 
 to their mothers 1 skirts as he passes by : — the 
 other is masked from top to toe ; his step is 
 slow, his voice harmonized, his eye vigilant, 
 but well trained ; he wears his dagger in his bo- 
 som, and crosses his hands thereon as if in piety, 
 but it is, in truth, that his hold may be firm and 
 his stab sure ; yet the world know not that, and 
 they trust him, and he is singled out as a pattern- 
 man for youth to follow ; and so — But we all 
 play parts — all, all ! And now for a stave of a 
 M>ng : Hurrah for the free-trade ! — a shout for 
 the brave Buccaneers! — a pottle of sack! — and
 
 IHO THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 now, Sir, I am myself again ! The brimstone 
 smell of that dark ruffian nearly overpowered 
 me !"" So saying, he passed his hand frequently 
 over his brows, attempting at the same time to 
 laugh away his visible emotion. 
 
 " It will not do V said the young man, whom 
 Dalton had addressed by the name of Walter ; 
 " something has disturbed you ; surely, Captain, 
 I may ask what it is ?" 
 
 " Some forty years ago I had a father," re- 
 plied the Buccaneer, looking earnestly in the 
 youth's face ; " he was an aged man then, for he 
 did not marry until he was old, and my mother 
 was beautiful, and quitted his side ; but that 
 does not matter, only it shows how, as my 
 poor father had nothing else to love, he loved 
 me with the full tenderness of a most affectionate 
 nature. He was a clergyman too, and a firm 
 royalist ; one of those devoted royalists, as re- 
 garded both God and King, who would submit, 
 for their sakes, to the stake or the block with 
 rapture at being thought worthy to make the 
 sacrifice. Well, I was wild and wilful, and 
 even then would rather steal a thing than gain it
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 151 
 
 by lawful means : not that I would have stolen 
 aught to keep it, for I was generous enough ; but 
 I loved the danger and excitement of theft, and, 
 on the occasion I speak of, I had taken some 
 apples from a neighbouring tree belonging to a 
 poor woman. It was evening when I took this 
 unlucky fruit, and not knowing a safe place in 
 which to deposit it, I was restless and disturbed 
 all night. The next day, from a cause I could 
 not guess at, my father would not suffer me to 
 go out, and was perpetually, on some pretext or 
 other, going to and from the cupboard where my 
 treasure had been placed. I was in agony, and 
 as night again closed in, the agitation and anxiety 
 I had suffered made me ill and pale. My dear 
 father drew near him the little oak table that 
 was set apart for the Bible, and opening it, 
 said he had that day composed a sermon for 
 my especial case. I dreaded that my apple- 
 stealing had been discovered, and I was right, 
 though he did not say so : he enlarged in sweet 
 and simple language upon his text — it was this : 
 — ' There is no peace, saith my God, to the 
 wicked.' Walter, Walter ! the old man has
 
 152 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 been many years in his grave, and I have been 
 as many a reckless wanderer over the face of the 
 wild earth and still wilder sea ; but I have never 
 done a deed of blood and plunder, that those 
 words have not echoed — echoed in my ears, struck 
 upon my heart like the fiend's curse : yet," he 
 added in a subdued accent, " it was no cursing 
 lips pronounced them : I have been the curse 
 to the holy words, not they the curse to me." 
 
 " I never before heard you speak of your fa- 
 ther," observed the youth. 
 
 " I do not like to speak of him ; I ran oft' to 
 sea when I was about ten years old, and when I 
 came back he was dead. There was war enough 
 in England at that time to occupy my active 
 nature : I first joined the King's party, and had 
 my share of wounds and glory at Gainsborough, 
 where I fought with and saw poor Cavendish 
 killed by that devil Cromwell. It was at that 
 same battle his successes began : he had a 
 brave horse-regiment there of his countrymen, 
 most of them freeholders and freeholders' sons, 
 who upon matter of conscience engaged in this 
 quarrel under him. It was there he ousted us
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 153 
 
 with his canting. Gadsooks ! they went as re- 
 gularly to their psalm-singing as they had been 
 in a conventicle ; and thus, d'ye see, being armed 
 after their own fanatical fashion within, and 
 without by the best iron armour, they stood as 
 one man, firmly, and charged as one man, des- 
 perately. — But we have other things to talk of 
 than him or me ; so sit down, young gentleman, 
 and let's hear the news; — or, stay, Robin must 
 first bring us some wine — my warehouse is full of 
 it ; 1 must wash down the poison that fellow has 
 crammed into my throat. Ah ! ah ! ah ! what 
 chafes me is, that, from my d — d reputation, 
 greater villains than myself thrust me forward 
 to do their work, and think they have a right 
 to storm and stare if I have conscience in any- 
 thing. But I '11 be even with them all, yet — 
 with one in particular. That villain ! — shall that 
 far greater villain have peace ? ' There is no 
 peace, saith my God, to the wicked." 
 
 He summoned Robin, who placed on the table 
 some meat and wine, and other matters that sup- 
 plied a pretty substantial supper : a ceremony, 
 the rendering justice to which affords us suffi- 
 
 H 5
 
 154 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 cient leisure to examine the form and features of 
 the young Cavalier, who, having laid aside his 
 enormous cloak, reclined on some piles of foreign 
 cloths with an ease and grace that belongs only 
 to those of gentle blood. Amid the bustle and 
 occupation of life, it is a simple matter for 
 people of ordinary rank to assume the bearing of 
 the well-bred ; but repose is the true criterion of 
 a gentleman or lady, inasmuch as there is then 
 no motion to take off from an ungraceful attitude 
 or an awkward mien. The features of the Ca- 
 valier were almost too high for beauty ; and had 
 it not been for a playful smile that frequently 
 flitted across his countenance, elongating his 
 moustache, softening and blending the hard lines 
 that even at four-and-twenty had deepened into 
 furrows, he would have been pronounced of se- 
 vere aspect. Bright golden hair clustered in rich 
 curls over his forehead, and fell a little on either 
 cheek, giving a picturesque character to the form 
 of the head. His eyes appeared of a dark grey, 
 but they were so much sunk, so overshadowed by 
 his forehead, as to leave one in doubt as to their 
 exact colour. His figure was unusually tall and
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 155 
 
 well-formed, and his whole bearing was more 
 that of an accomplished gentleman than of a cut- 
 and-slash cavalier : his manner was neither reck- 
 less nor daring, but it was firm and collected. 
 His dress was composed of the finest black cloth, 
 with a black velvet doublet ; and his sword-hilt 
 glittered with diamonds. 
 
 Robin did not attempt to place himself at the 
 same table, but sat back on a lower seat, and at 
 a little distance, sharing his repast with Crisp, 
 who had scrambled down the stairs after his mas- 
 ter, and looked ugly enough to be, what he cer- 
 tainly was, an extraordinary canine genius. 
 
 Dalton and Walter laboured under no restraint 
 because of the presence of Robin ; on the con- 
 trary, he occasionally shared in the conversa- 
 tion, and his opinion upon various topics was 
 frequently asked : indeed, he was fond of be- 
 stowing it gratuitously, and seemed highly pleas- 
 ed when called upon to express it. 
 
 " Didst hear, Robin, when Blake was expect- 
 ed off Sheerness with the Spanish prizes P 11 
 
 " In a few days, it is said, he will either bring 
 or send them ; but my own thought is, that it
 
 156 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 will be about a week, neither more nor less, be- 
 fore any ship arrives.'" 
 
 " I must get off for the French coast in a clay 
 or two," said Dal ton ; " and I do not care to re- 
 turn until Blake with his train go up the river a 
 bit ; for it 's foul sailing athwart the brave old 
 boy : he 's the only man living I 'd strike flag to." 
 
 " And who has the care of the Fire-fly now 
 you 're ashore ?" inquired the Cavalier. 
 
 " Why, Jeromio." 
 
 " I don't like him," said Robin bluntly : 
 " foreigners are good slaves, but bad masters to 
 us English : I 'd rather trust the ship to little 
 Spring." 
 
 " He is a mere boy, and too bad a sailor ; 
 besides, he is grown so superstitious, swears the 
 devil came to him one night I placed him a watch 
 on yon cliff. I must leave him ashore with you, 
 Robin, and tell you what to do with the scape- 
 grace, if I am not back by a particular day. I 
 must also give you a letter to take to Sir Ro- 
 bert Cecil, postponing an appointment I had 
 made with him." 
 
 " You had better give the letter to that gen-
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 157 
 
 tleman, 11 exclaimed Robin, pointing with his 
 thumb over his shoulder to where the Cavalier 
 sat ; " he would do an errand to Cecil Place, 
 especially if it were to the Lady Constance, right 
 gladly." 
 
 " Indeed !" exclaimed Dalton, fixing his quick 
 eye on the youth's countenance, that betrayed 
 uneasiness but not displeasure. " Sits the wind 
 in that quarter ? But tell us, Robin, how was 
 it ?" 
 
 " There is nothing to tell, Captain," inter- 
 rupted Walter, " except that Robin accompanied 
 me to the Place, as it is called, to show me some 
 alterations, and point out the excellent order in 
 which the trees are kept ; and in the grounds we 
 encountered Mistress Cecil, and, as I am in- 
 formed, the Lady Cromwell." 
 
 " I wish you would keep close here though," 
 muttered Dalton ; " you'll be meeting the villain 
 Burr ell before " 
 
 " I would fain encounter Sir Willmott Bur- 
 rell once again, and make him pay the traitor's 
 forfeit." 
 
 "' Peace — peace ; give Burrell rope enough to
 
 158 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 hang himself. He'll swing as high as Hainan 
 ere long. Robin told me of the coward's trea- 
 chery." 
 
 " I wish Robin had not accompanied him to 
 London," exclaimed Walter ; "I hate people to 
 carry two faces. But my wonder is that Burrell 
 would trust him." 
 
 " Just because he could not help himself," re- 
 torted Robin. " He wanted a clever lad who had 
 understanding. His own valet was in France on 
 some business or another, mighty mysterious ; and 
 a gentleman like him, who has a good character 
 and a foul conscience, a good head and a bad 
 heart, has need of a man of talent, not a loon, 
 about his person. To do full justice, however, 
 to his discretion, he treated me to as few of his 
 secrets as he could, and I endeavoured to save him 
 trouble by finding them all out." 
 
 The Buccaneer laughed aloud, but the high- 
 souled Cavalier looked serious. 
 
 " Ah ! ah !" said Dalton, " you never did 
 relish machinations, and it is well you are not 
 left to yourself in this plan of mine : honour is 
 not the coin to take to a villain's market."
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 159 
 
 " 'Tis the only coin I will ever deal in, Cap- 
 tain : and I told you before I left Cologne, 
 that on no other condition would I accompany 
 you to England, except that of being held 
 clear of every act unbefitting a gentleman or a 
 soldier." 
 
 " Young Sir," replied Dalton, " when you 
 were indeed young, and long before you took 
 your degree in morality at the rambling court of 
 the second Charles, did I ever counsel you to do 
 aught that your — that, in short, you might not 
 do with perfect honour ? I know too well what 
 it is to sacrifice honour to interest, ever to wish 
 you to make the trial. As for me, I am low 
 
 enough in character M 
 
 " My kind preserver ! my brave friend I 11 
 interrupted Walter, touched at his change of 
 manner. " Forgive such unworthy, such un- 
 merited suspicion. This is not the first time 1 
 have had to learn your kindly care for me. But 
 for you " 
 
 " Well, there, there boy — I love to call you 
 boy still ; 1 can bear my own shame, but 1 
 could never bear yours. 11
 
 160 ' THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 Dalton paused, apparently with a view to 
 change the subject : — the Cavalier observed: 
 
 " You quarrel with our young King's mo- 
 rality ?" 
 
 " Ffaith, I do ! — though you will say it 's ill 
 coming from me to fault any man's conduct ; 
 but I hate your little vices as much as your little 
 virtues : sickly, puny goods and evils, that are 
 too weak for sun to ripen, too low for blast to 
 break, but that endure, the same withered, sapless 
 things, to the death-day — Augh ! a bold villain, or 
 a real downright good man, for my money. How 
 the devil can Charles Stuart do any thing great, 
 or think of any thing great, with his mistresses 
 
 and his dogs ? his gaining, and Why, it is 
 
 hardly a year since I took off from Dover that 
 poor Lucy Barton and her brat, after the poor 
 thing suffering imprisonment in the Tower for 
 his sake P 1 
 
 "The child's a noble child," said Walter; 
 " but the mother's a sad reprobate, swears and 
 drinks like a trooper." 
 
 " My mother is a woman," exclaimed little 
 Robin, with great gravity, poising a mutton-
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 161 
 
 bone between his fingers, to arrive at which 
 Crisp was making extraordinary efforts, — " and 
 I cant deny that 1 've a sort of a love, though it 
 be a love without hope, for a very pretty girl, 
 a woman also : now this being the case, I 'm not 
 fond of hearing women reflected on ; for when 
 they 're young, they 're the delight of our eyes ; 
 and when they 're old, they 're useful, though a 
 trifle crabbed, but still useful ; and a house with- 
 out a woman would be like — like — " 
 
 " Robin at fault !" said Dalton : " You 've 
 given me many a comparison, and now 1 11 lend 
 you one — a bell without a clapper — won't that 
 do, Robin?" — Robin shook his head. — " Ay, 
 Robin! Robin! you're right, after all. If it 
 were not for a woman, I'd never set foot on 
 shore again : but 1 'm proud of my little Bar- 
 bara ; and all the fine things you tell me of 
 her, Robin, make me still prouder ; — her mother 
 all over ; — I often think how happy I shall be 
 to call her daughter, when she won't be ashamed 
 to own me : God help me !" — and be it noted that 
 Dalton crossed himself as he spoke — "God help 
 me ! I often think that if ever I gain salvation,
 
 162 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 it will be through the prayers of that girl — 
 Would that she had been brought up in her 
 mother's way !" 
 
 " What would old Noll say to that papistical 
 sign, master !" inquired Robin. 
 
 " D — n you and old Noll too ! I never get 
 a bit up towards heaven, that something doesn't 
 pull me back again." 
 
 " I '11 send you up in a moment, 11 said Robin, 
 in a kind voice. " Your daughter, Barbara " 
 
 " Ay, that it is, that it is," muttered the Buc- 
 caneer ; " my own, own child ! the child of one 
 who, I bless God, never lived to know that she 
 wedded (for I wedded her in holy Church, at 
 Dominica) a wild and wicked rover. Our love 
 was sudden and hot, as the sun under which 
 we lived ; and I never left her but once from 
 the time we became one. I had arranged all, 
 given up my ship and cargo, — and it was indeed 
 a cargo of crimes — at least, I thought so then. 
 It was before the civil wars ; or I had again 
 returned to England, or traded, no matter how. 
 I flew to her dwelling, with a light heart and 
 a light step — What there ? — My wife, she who
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 163 
 
 had hung so fondly round my neck and im- 
 plored me not to leave her, was stretched on a 
 low bamboo bed — dead, Sir — dead ! I might 
 have known it before I entered, had I but re- 
 membered that she knew my step on the smooth 
 walk, fell it ever so lightly, and woidd have met 
 me — but for Death ! And there too sat a black 
 she-devil, stuffing my infant's mouth with their 
 vile food. I believe the hag thought I was mad, 
 for I caught the child in my arms, held it to my 
 heart while I bent over my wife's body, and 
 kissed her cold, unreturning— for the first time, 
 unreturning, lips — then flung myself out of the 
 accursed place, ran with my burden to the ship- 
 owners, who had parted with me most grudg- 
 ingly, and was scudding before the wind in less 
 than twelve hours, more at war with my own 
 species than ever, and panting for something 
 to wreak my hatred on. At first I wished 
 the infant dead, for I saw her pining away ; 
 but at last, when she came to know me, and 
 lift up her innocent hands to my face — I may 
 confess it here — many and many a night have 
 I sat in my cabin looking on that sleep-
 
 164 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 ing child, till my eyes swam in a more bitter 
 brine than was ever brewed in the Atlantic. 
 Particular circumstances obliged me to part with 
 her, and I have never regretted her being with 
 poor Lady Cecil — only I should have liked her 
 to pray as her mother did. Not that I suppose it 
 will make any difference at the wind-up, — if," he 
 added, doubtingly, " there be indeed any wind- 
 up. Hugh Dal ton will never be really himself 
 till he can look that angel girl straight in the 
 face, and ask her to pray for him, as her mother 
 used. 1 ' Dalton was too much affected to con- 
 tinue, and both his auditors respected his feel- 
 ings too much to speak. At length he said, 
 " But this gloom will never do. Come, Robin, 
 give us a song, and let it not be one of your 
 sad ones." 
 
 Robin sung, — 
 
 " Now, while the night-wind, loud and chill, 
 Unheeded raves-around the door, 
 Let us the wine-cup drain and fill, 
 
 And welcome social joys once more 
 
 The joys that still remain to cheer 
 The gloomiest month of all the year 
 
 By our own fire side.
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 165 
 
 " What need we care for frost and snow ? 
 Thus meeting — what have we to fear 
 From frost and snow, or winds that hlow ? 
 Such guests can find no entrance here. 
 No coldness of the heart or air — 
 Our little world of twelve feet square, 
 
 And our own fire-side. 
 
 " I drink this pledge to thee and thine — 
 I fill this cup to thine and thee — 
 How long the summer sun might shine, 
 Nor fill our souls with half the glee 
 
 A merry winter's night can bring, 
 
 To warm our hearts, while thus we sing 
 
 By our own fire-side." 
 
 The song, however, produced a contrary effect 
 to that the Ranger had intended. It pictured 
 a fancied scene — one to which both Walter and 
 the Buccaneer had long been strangers ; and a 
 lengthened and painful pause succeeded to the 
 brief moment of forced merriment. It was bro- 
 ken by the Cavalier, who inquired, 
 
 " How long will it be before you return from 
 this new trip? for remember, my good friend, 
 that suspense is a M 
 
 " Hell !" interrupted Dalton, in his usual in- 
 temperate manner: " But I cannot help it. It is
 
 166 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 not wise to pluck unripe fruit — do you under- 
 stand me ?" 
 
 " Perfectly — and I dare say you are right ; but 
 tell me, Dalton, how is it that, till lately, you so 
 completely abandoned this island, and kept to 
 the Devon and Cornwall coasts ? I should have 
 thought this the most convenient ; your store- 
 house here is so well arranged." 
 
 " Ay, ay, Sir ; but this is over-near London, 
 though it used to be a safe place enough ; but 
 now that Sir Michael Livesay — regicide that he 
 is — abides so continually at Little Shurland, what 
 chance is there for any good to such as I ? I 
 tell ye, Cromwell's nose is ever on the scent." 
 
 " A great advantage to him, and a disadvantage 
 to his foes, 1 '' said Robin : " he has only to put the 
 said nose to the touch-hole of the biggest cannon 
 and off it goes ; it never costs the army a farthing 
 for matches when he's with it." 
 
 " Pshaw, Robin ! but is he indeed so red-nosed ? 
 You have often seen him, Captain ?" 
 
 " Ay, dressed in a plain cloth suit, made by an 
 ill country tailor ; his linen coarse and unclean ; 
 his band unfashionable, and often spotted with
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 167 
 
 blood ; his hat without a band ; his sword close 
 to his side ; his countenance swollen and reddish ; 
 and, as to his nose, it looked to me more purple 
 than aught else. But, Sir, to see Cromwell, see 
 him in battle — he is a right noble horseman ; and 
 the beast (a black one especially he was once so 
 fond of,) seemed to have been tutored by the evil 
 one : its eye was as vigilant as its rider's. Crom- 
 well sits his saddle not gracefully, but firmly, 
 just as if he were part and portion of the animal ; 
 then, with a sword in his right hand, and a pistol 
 
 in his left Sir, it was unlike any thing I ever 
 
 saw! He must have managed the horse by the 
 pressure of his heel, for I never could make out, 
 such was the decision yet rapidity of his move- 
 ments, whether he held reins or not : now here, 
 now there — firing — preachings — houting — pray- 
 ing — conquering — yet everything done in its 
 right place and time, never suffering the excite- 
 ment of the moment to bear down one of his 
 
 resolves. Had he been born a king " 
 
 " He would never have been what he is," said 
 the Cavalier ; " for contention is the school of 
 greatness."
 
 168 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 " It 's mighty fine to see you two sit there," ex- 
 claimed Robin, " praising up that man in the high 
 place : pretty cavaliers indeed ! Well, my opinion 
 is, that — but indeed it is rude to give an opinion 
 unasked, so I ll keep mine to myself. You 
 were talking of the conveniences of this place ; 
 why, bless you, Sir, it 's nothing to fifty others 
 along St. George's Channel. Twould do your 
 heart good to see those our Captain has among 
 the Cornish rocks ; such comfortable dwell- 
 ings, where you could stow away twenty people, 
 never to chirrup to the sun again ; such 
 hiding-holes, with neat little trains of gunpow- 
 der, winding like snakes in summer, so that, to 
 prevent discovery, one crack of a good flint 
 would send the caverns and the cliffs high into 
 the air, to tell stories to the stars of the power 
 of man's skill to destroy the most sublime as 
 well as the most beautiful works of nature." 
 " Robin, you ought to have been a preacher !" 
 " No," said Robin mournfully, and shaking his 
 head, as was his custom, " for I knoAv nothing 
 of your book-holiness ; only I can't bear any- 
 thing moulded and made by the hand of God to 
 be ruined by that of man."
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 169 
 
 " What ails ye, lad ?" inquired the Bucca- 
 neer ; " I thought ye had got over all your 
 shadows, as ye used to call them. 1 '' 
 
 " Not all of them; only they do not come upon 
 me as often as they used," he replied gravely ; 
 for poor Robin had at one time been subject to 
 periodical fits that bordered on insanity, and 
 during such afflictions wandered about the coun- 
 try, without seeking repose or speaking word 
 to any one. Constance Cecil, with her usual 
 kindness, had him frequently taken care of at 
 Cecil Place : and Barbara's kind attention to him 
 during such fearful trials was the source of as 
 strong, as unvarying, and devoted an attachment 
 as ever human being manifested towards another. 
 By degrees the conversation sunk into low, con- 
 fidential whispers, as if caution, even there, was 
 necessary. It was near four o'clock in the morn- 
 ing before the Buccaneer departed for his ship, 
 and then Robin escorted the Cavalier to his usual 
 chamber in the Gull's Nest. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 170 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 When thirsty grief in wine we steep, 
 
 When healths and draughts go free, 
 
 Fishes that tipple in the deep 
 
 Know no such liberty. 
 
 Lovelace. 
 
 " A blessing and a salutation, reverend Sir ; 
 and may the sun, moon, and stars be sanctified 
 unto you !" 
 
 " Ah ! Solomon Grundy, would that the Lord 
 had given thee sense to understand, as he hath be- 
 stowed upon thee talent to speak according to thy 
 understanding ! As it is, Solomon, I lament that 
 thou art a fool, Solomon, a very fool, except in 
 what regardeth the creature-comforts ; and, of a 
 verity, thou art worthy to send up a dinner, even 
 unto Hugh Peters, after he hath delivered a soul-
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 171 
 
 converting oration before the chosen from among 
 God's people. 1 ' 
 
 " Which refection he would in no wise con- 
 demn," observed the cook of Cecil Place, whose 
 closely-cropped head of foxy hair seemed to 
 throw a proportionate quantity of glowing colour 
 upon his rubicund countenance. He had all the 
 outward marks that indicate a bon vivant, and 
 words of piety came as awkwardly from his lips 
 as sighs from the mouth of a seal or a salmon. 
 His little grey eyes twinkled with affection for 
 the said " creature-comforts ;" and the leathern 
 pouch he now carried over his shoulder was 
 stocked with sundry good things appropriated 
 from the larder for his own especial diet. He 
 had received permission from Mistress Cecil to 
 accompany some of his neighbours to see the 
 grand company from London visit a first-rate 
 man-of-war that had just arrived oft' Sheerness, 
 bringing in a train of prizes whicli the veteran 
 Blake had taken and sent home, himself proceed- 
 ing to Vera Cruz, and which it was rumoured 
 the Lord Oliver was about to inspect in person. 
 This intelligence set the country in a ferment, 
 
 l 2
 
 172 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 and persons of all classes hastened to the island to 
 witness the sight. For the English were, as they 
 now are, a sight-loving people, who find pleasure 
 in pageants; and then, as at present, they de- 
 manded economy ; but when economy came, they 
 designated it meanness. 
 
 The staunch Roundheads exulted at the idea 
 of Cromwell's exhibiting himself thus openly after 
 the upsetting of the Syndercomb plot ; and the 
 Royalists, depressed and disappointed, were con- 
 tent to let matters take their course, at least until 
 they saw some prospect of a change ; while the Le- 
 vellers, the party most dreaded by the Protector, 
 and which had been most fatal to the Stuarts, re- 
 mained in that dangerous state of repose that is 
 but the preparative for renewed exertions. 
 
 The Reverend Jonas Fleetword had set forth 
 from the sole desire of " beholding him who was 
 anointed with the oil of the Spirit, and whose 
 name among the nations was Wonderful."" So- 
 lomon Grundy, and such other of the servants 
 of Cecil Place as could be spared, were impelled 
 forward by the wish of hearing or of seeing 
 something new; intelligence not travelling upon
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 173 
 
 wings of steam in the seventeenth century, and 
 newspapers being but rare visiters at Shepey. 
 Occasionally, indeed, there did descend from the 
 breakfast-room of Sir Robert, unto the servants' 1 
 hall, a stray number or two of the " Mercurius 
 Politicus," the " Perfect Diurnal," or " the Par- 
 liament Scout ;" the contents of which were ea- 
 gerly devoured by the several auditors, while one, 
 more gifted than his fellows, drawled forth, amid 
 ejaculations and thanks unto the Lord, the doings 
 of the Commonwealth, and especially of him who 
 was a master in the new Israel. But the in- 
 formation of the underlings of the house was 
 generally gathered from the pious pedlars who 
 sought entrance at the gate, well stocked with 
 wares of every possible description, and with 
 " gifts 11 of which they were always abundantly 
 lavish to those who hungered or were athirst. 
 
 The ladies of the family remained at home ; 
 the Lady Frances feeling assured that her father 
 would not be present, as she had received no in- 
 timation to such effect from Whitehall. Con- 
 stance, however, had heard too many tales of 
 Oliver's sudden movements to feel satisfied as to
 
 174 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 the certainty of any matter in which he was 
 concerned. It was no secret either that he had 
 been displeased with his daughter for her obsti- 
 nate attachment to Mr. Rich ; and that he desired 
 her, for the present, to remain in retirement, and 
 away from Court. 
 
 We have said that Solomon Grundy had re- 
 ceived permission to view the sight ; and for a 
 time he proceeded on his way, accompanied by 
 the other domestics ; but, under some sly pre- 
 text, he lingered behind them. The worthy 
 preacher had not left Cecil Place so early, but, 
 notwithstanding the ambling pace of his favourite 
 jennet, he soon came up to Solomon, who, seated 
 under a spreading elm by the wayside, was ra- 
 pidly demolishing the contents of his wallet, 
 freshened by frequent draughts from a black 
 bottle of vast rotundity. 
 
 " Master Solomon Grundy," he observed, rein- 
 ing up his steed, " could not your stomach tarry, 
 even for a short while ? Ah ! worthy cook, you have 
 a most professional longing after the flesh-pots." 
 
 Solomon grinned, and applied himself with re- 
 newed diligence to his viands when the preacher
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 175 
 
 had passed. He was now surrounded by a motley 
 party, who had crossed from the main land, 
 all bearing towards the same point. Puritans, 
 whose cloaks were of the most formal cut, and 
 whose hats emulated the steeple of St. Paul's; 
 Levellers, with firm steps, wrinkled and over- 
 hanging brows, and hard unchanging features, 
 all denoting inflexibility of purpose and decision 
 of character ; Cavaliers, whose jaunty gait was 
 sobered, and whose fashionable attire was cur- 
 tailed in consideration that such bravery would 
 be noticed and reproved by the powers that were ; 
 Women attired in dark hoods and sad-coloured 
 kirtles ; some of demure aspect, others with 
 laughing eyes and dimpled cheeks, who exchang- 
 ed glances, and sometimes words, with youths of 
 serious apparel but joyous countenances ; while 
 here and there might be recognized Divines, 
 whose iron physiognomies disdained to be affected 
 by any of the usual feelings that flesh is heir to : 
 and ladies on horseback, or in the lumbering 
 heavy carriages, progressing from the horse ferry, 
 " with stealthy pace and slow," towards the centre 
 of attraction.
 
 176 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 The English even now make a business of en- 
 joyment ; but in those days, what we designate 
 pleasure was known by no such unholy term : 
 it was called " recreation,' 1 " the refreshment of 
 the creature," " the repose of the flesh," by any 
 name, in fact, except the true one. But, in the 
 particular instance to which we refer, it was con- 
 sidered a sacred duty to uphold and applaud the 
 Lord Protector whenever there occurred an op- 
 portunity for so doing ; and sound-hearted Pu- 
 ritans would make a pilgrimage for the purpose 
 with as much zeal as ever Roman Catholics 
 evinced in visiting the shrine of some holy 
 saint. The ships rode proudly in the harbour, 
 and groups of the gentry were occasionally con- 
 veyed on board by boats, that waited for the 
 purpose both at Queenborough and Sheerness. 
 It was an animated scene, but the soul of all was 
 wanting, for neither Cromwell, nor any portion of 
 the court, made their appearance. When it was 
 noon, the people hoped he would arrive ere even- 
 ing but, as the evening advanced, and he failed 
 to enter upon the scene, there was a general 
 token of disappointment throughout the crowd,
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 177 
 
 although some few rejoiced at the occurrence, 
 holding it a sign of fear on his part, as if he dread- 
 ed to be seen among them. 
 
 A party, consisting of ten or twelve persons, 
 at Queenborough, had gathered round the trunk 
 of a withered and hollow oak, growing in front 
 of a public-house, that displayed the head of the 
 Lord Protector — a political lure, that was certain 
 to attract all Commonwealth people to the receipt 
 of custom. The noble tree had been one of mag- 
 nificent growth, but age or accident had severed 
 the trunk, and within its heart decay had long- 
 been revelling. It was now perfectly hollow, 
 and afforded a free passage ; two enormous props 
 had been found necessary, to prevent its making 
 a last resting-place of the earth it had for ages 
 triumphantly protected. The cavity that time 
 had created was sufficiently extensive to afford 
 shelter during a storm to three or four per- 
 sons ; and it was not unfrequently resorted to by 
 the people of the inn, as a storehouse for fuel, 
 or farming utensils, when a plentiful harvest 
 rewarded the toil of the husbandman. It- 
 branches, which had so often sheltered the way- 
 
 I 5
 
 178 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 farer alike from the tempest and the hot sum- 
 mer's sun, had been hewn away, to serve the 
 purposes of strife in the shape of spear-handles, 
 or to the doom of the winter fire ; one solitary 
 arm of the blighted tree alone remained, extend- 
 ing its scraggy and shattered remnants to a con- 
 siderable distance over the greensward which had 
 been, from time immemorial, trodden by the 
 merry morrice-dancers, and broken by the cur- 
 vetting of the hobby-horse and the Dragon of 
 YVantley, sports it was now deemed sinful but 
 to name. From a fragment of this dilapidated 
 branch, hung the sign of mine host of the Oliver's 
 Head ; and right glad would he have been, if 
 rumour had lied with each returning morn, so 
 that the lie could but fill his dwelling with so 
 many profitable guests. Thrice had the party, 
 by whom had been appropriated the seat beneath 
 the oak, emptied the black jack of its double- 
 dub ale; and the call for a fourth replenishing 
 was speedily answered, as the sun was setting 
 over the ocean, and tinging the sails and masts 
 of the distant vessels with hues that might have 
 shamed the ruby and the sapphire.
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 179 
 
 " To have our day go for nothing, after a 
 trudge of some twenty miles, to this out-of-the- 
 way place, — Adad, sirs, it's no joke !" exclaimed 
 a sturdy, bluff-looking man, to our friend little 
 Robin Hays, who sat upon the corner of the 
 bench, one leg tucked under (doubtless for the 
 purpose of enabling him to sit higher than na- 
 ture had intended,) while the other swung me- 
 thodically backward and forward : " Adad, Sir, 
 it 's no joke !" he repeated. 
 
 " No more it isn't, Master Grimstone ; I never 
 heard you joke yet," said Robin. 
 
 " And I aver it is an open and avowed doubt- 
 ing of God's providence,'' , chimed in the cook. 
 
 " What ! what!" exclaimed six or eight voices: 
 " what do you mean by such blasphemy, Solomon 
 Grundy ? A forfeit and a fine !" 
 
 " Peace, silly brawlers !" returned he of the 
 kitchen, who had discussed the good things there- 
 of, until he had no room for more, and who had 
 also quaffed largely of the forbidden beverage 
 called " strong waters ;" — " I say, peace, silly 
 brawlers ! I repeat it is an open and avowed 
 doubting of Providence, that we should conn
 
 180 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 thus far, and see nothing but a parcel of people 
 — parcel of sky — parcel of water — parcel of ships 
 ■ — parcel — " 
 
 " Of fools I" grinned little Robin, pointing at 
 the same time towards the oratorical cook, who 
 so little relished the compliment, as to elevate the 
 polished remnant of a mutton shoulder-blade, and 
 aim a well-directed blow at the manikin, which 
 he avoided only by springing with great agility 
 through the aperture in the tree, so as to alight 
 at some distance on the other side of the hollow 
 trunk. This harlequinade excited much boisterous 
 laughter among the crowd ; and no one joined 
 in it more mirthfully than young Springall, who, 
 for some reason known best to Hugh Dalton, yet 
 sanctioned by Sir Robert Cecil, had spent the 
 last few days in the kitchens and buttery of 
 Cecil Place. There was another youth of the 
 same party, who perchance enjoyed the merri- 
 ment, but who looked as if he could have still 
 more enjoyed melancholy. He was seated next 
 to Springall, on the rude bench ; and the boy- 
 sailor treated him with such marks of attention, 
 as manifested that he regarded him more in the
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 181 
 
 light of a superior, than as an equal. The 
 stranger, however, remained with his hat so much 
 slouched over his face, that his features were in 
 complete shadow, while his cloak was muffled 
 over the lower part of his countenance. 
 
 " I say, Robin, 1 '' exclaimed Springall, " come 
 out of your shell ; you have remained there long 
 enough to tell over a dozen creeds or paters, were 
 they in fashion — Come out, are you bewitched ? 
 Robin the Ranger, I say, come forth, and give us a 
 taste of your calling — a melody — a melody ! But 
 you should hear our Jeromio sing his lingo songs 
 some night astern : and though I do hate that 
 cunning rascal, yet, my eyes ! how he does sing I 11 
 
 " Singing,"" observed Solomon Grundy, whose 
 potations had wonderfully increased his piety, 
 " singing is an invention of the beast's, yea, of 
 the horned beast's, of him who knoweth not a 
 turtle from a turtle-dove, but would incon- 
 tinently stew them in the same cauldron, over 
 brimstone and pitch ; therefore shall my voice 
 bubble and boil over against such iniquities — 
 yea, and my tongue shall be uplifted against them, 
 even in the land of Ham f
 
 182 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 " Go to sleep, Solomon, and you, youngster 
 give us a song yourself," growled Grimstone, who 
 had all the outward bearing of a savage ; " the 
 evening is nigh closing, and the birds are gone 
 to their nests. Nevertheless, the song must be 
 right proper : so tune up, tune up, my boy !" 
 
 Springall, with due modesty, replied, " I could 
 sing you sea songs, and land songs, but these I 
 leave to Robin Hays, who beats me hollow. The 
 clerk of our ship has translated one of Jeromio's 
 lilts, so I'll tip you a bit of sentiment. 
 
 " O'er the clear quiet waters 
 My gondola glides, 
 And gently it wakens 
 The slumbering tides. 
 All nature is smiling, 
 Beneath and above ; 
 While earth and while heaven 
 Are breathing of love ! 
 
 " In vain are they breathing 
 Earth, heaven — to me, 
 Though their beauty and calmness 
 Are whispers of thee : 
 For the bright sky must darken, 
 The earth must be grey, 
 Ere the deep gloom that saddens 
 My soul, pass away.
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 183 
 
 " But see, the last day-beam 
 Grows pale, ere it die ; 
 And the dark clouds are passing 
 All over the sky. 
 I hear thy light footstep, 
 Thy fair form I see ; 
 Ah ! the twilight has told thee 
 Who watches for thee." 
 
 Towards the latter part of the ditty, which was 
 but little relished by the company, it was evident 
 that Solomon had followed Grimstone's advice, 
 for his snoring formed a loud and most inhar- 
 monious bass to the sweet boy-like melody of 
 Springall's ballad. 
 
 Robin had rejoined the party, but his face and 
 lips were of a livid paleness, and he seemed la- 
 bouring under evident distress. 
 
 " Art hurt, Robin ?" inquired the stranger, 
 who is known to us by the name of Walter, now 
 speaking for the first time. Robin shook his 
 matted head in reply. 
 
 '* Something ails thee, man ; something must 
 ail thee — speak, good Robin. 11 
 
 " Fm neither sick, sad, nor sorry, 11 he an- 
 swered, affecting his usual easy manner ; " so 
 here "s a long pull, a strong pull, and a pull alto-
 
 184 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 gether at the black jack, to the health — But 
 pardon, I had forgotten the wickedness of such 
 profane customs." Yet Robin evidently did not 
 hold it profane to " swill the brown bowl" so ea- 
 gerly, that but the lees remained at the bottom, as 
 he laid it down, refreshed and strengthened. 
 
 " So you won't give us a toast, Master Robin," 
 said Springall ; " well, I'll not only give ye a 
 toast, but I'll stand the price of a fresh jack of 
 double-dub for you all to drink it in ; and I'll 
 fight any man that says it nay, besides." 
 
 " Hold your profaneness !" exclaimed Robin, 
 with a solemnity so opposed to his actual cha- 
 racter as to be absolutely ludicrous : " Springall, 
 thou hast had too much already ; let us depart in 
 peace." 
 
 " D — n me if I do — peace me no peace." 
 " I tell you what," interrupted Robin, with re- 
 solute spitefulness, " if you swear again, 111 lodge 
 information against you." 
 
 " Ah ! ah ! ah !" shouted several of the party, 
 " Robin Hays turned preacher I Old Noll has 
 sent the breath of holiness before him to supply 
 his place, and made a sudden convert of the 
 Ranger !"
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 185 
 
 <i 
 
 I entreat you most meekly to be silent ; if 
 not for my sake, for your own. My brethren, 
 you know not — " 
 
 " That here comes the black jack," interrupted 
 Springall ; " and here 's to the health — But Ca- 
 valiers " 
 
 " We are not Cavaliers, 1 ' interrupted Robin, in 
 his turn ; " as I hope for mercy, we are not Cava- 
 liers : — hard — honest — pains-taking Common- 
 wealth citizens are we ; but not, I say not," and 
 he elevated his voice to its highest pitch, " not 
 Cavaliers." 
 
 " The devil's in the cards, and knaves are 
 trumps," exclaimed Springall, " nevertheless I'll 
 have my toast, and here it is. — Come, up stand- 
 ing, — ' The fairest maid in Shepey, Barbara 
 Iverk ! and may she soon be a wife' " 
 
 " To whom ?" inquired Robin, bitterly. 
 
 " To whoever can win and wear her," replied 
 Springall. " Come, come, Master Bob, you're 
 mazed by some devilry or other ; the wind's in 
 your teeth ; you've been sailing against a nor- 
 wester, or have met with a witch on a broomstick 
 the other side of this old oak : Serves an oak right
 
 186 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 to wither up — why wasn't it made into a ship? 
 But here's to Barbara Iverk, the fair maid of 
 Shepey !" 
 
 " The fair maid of Shepey !" repeated Grim- 
 stone, after drinking the toast. " That title ought 
 to be given to the mistress, not the maid ; and 
 I care not if I wind up the evening with a cup 
 of Canary to the health of Lady Constance — " 
 
 " Peace, Sir !" exclaimed the stranger, who had 
 heretofore taken no note of their rioting : " I 
 shall offer chastisement to any man who profanes 
 that Lady's name at a vulgar revel." 
 
 " Adad ! and adad, young Sir, ye 're a game 
 one ! What's in any woman, that a man 
 can't name her ? Flesh is flesh ! and as to 
 distinctions — we are all members of a Common- 
 wealth ! so I say a stoup of Canary to the 
 Lady—" 
 
 " By holy Paul ! if that Lady's name passes 
 your unworthy lips, my good rapier shall pass 
 straight through your unhallowed carcase !" ex- 
 claimed the Cavalier fiercely, at the same time 
 throwing back his cloak, and drawing his sword 
 more than half out of its scabbard.
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 187 
 
 " Hey ho ! two can play at that : I never 
 eat my words ; so, the sword in one hand, and 
 the Canary in the other — to the health of " 
 
 His mouth was stopped by the application 
 of the palm of Robin's broad hand to his un- 
 closed lips ; while he whispered some words into 
 his ear, that had the magical effect of restoring 
 the weapon to its sheath, and of inducing the 
 braggart to resume the seat he had so hastily 
 abandoned, grumbling, in an under tone, words 
 that fell indistinctly upon the ear of his opposer. 
 
 " Let us home ; it is a long and a dreary road 
 to Cecil Place, and the night is upon us already ! 
 so up, good Solomon. Here, landlord ! this 
 fatted calf is unable to move : give him house- 
 room till to-morrow ; and mind you put him on 
 his way in time for the dinner-hour," was Robin's 
 parting speech. He then exchanged rough, but 
 kindly salutations, with his boon companions ; 
 and soon the trio — Walter, Springall, and Robin 
 had taken a by-path, leading to the part of 
 the island in which Cecil Place was situated.
 
 188 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 His rude assault, and rugged handeling 
 Straunge seemed to the knight, that aye with foe 
 In faire defence, and goodly menaging 
 Of arms, was wont to fight. 
 
 The Faerie Queene. 
 
 The three young men pursued their way ; at 
 first laughing and chatting merrily upon the 
 events of the morning ; but gradually becoming 
 more and more silent, as persons usually do when 
 the first flush of revelling is over. The taller of 
 the three, who has of course been recognized as 
 the mysterious visiter at Lady Cecil's funeral 
 and in the cave of the Buccaneer, although he 
 bore himself towards them with all the courtesy 
 of a true-born gentleman, received the defer- 
 ence of his more humble associates only as his 
 due, and in a manner that showed he had been
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 189 
 
 accustomed to more than merely respectful treat- 
 ment. After traversing much low and marshy 
 ground, they suddenly reached a spot where the 
 road divided, the one path leading to Cecil Place, 
 the other to Gull's Nest crag. 
 
 " Come with me, Robin ; unless, indeed, the 
 master wishes your company. I ask his pardon 
 for not thinking of that afore," said Springall. 
 
 " Not I, good Springall," replied the gentle- 
 man. " I think you need a guide, for you walk 
 the quarter-deck better than the dry land ; and, 
 if I mistake not, there are sundry pit-falls in the 
 way to your present home. I know my path ; 
 and, besides, am a regular land-lubber." 
 
 " Save and bless your honour V exclaimed the 
 young sailor, holding all land-lubbers in thorough 
 contempt : " that yeVe not : land-lubber, indeed ! 
 I '11 be at the Nest to-morrow early — if " 
 
 " Hush !" said the more careful Robin, " never 
 speak words of secret, openly — See ye yonder ?" 
 
 " Yes," replied Springall, "two horsemen on 
 the other road ; too far off to hear my words, 
 unless they had the ears of a hare.*" 
 
 " I had better go with you, Sir, 11 observed
 
 190 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 Robin earnestly : " I will go with you, that's the 
 truth of it. Good night, Spring — steer to the 
 left till you come to the red gap ; after that, along 
 the stone fence, on the right ; it will lead you to 
 the orchard, then you know your way."" 
 
 " Why did you not go with him ?" inquired 
 the Cavalier, kindly ; " it is a dark night, poor 
 boy, he has small skill in land-steering." 
 
 " He must learn, Sir, as I do,"" answered Ro- 
 bin ; " and my duty calls me to attend on you, 
 particularly when strange people are a-stir." 
 " You are to be my champion, Robin ?" 
 " Your servant, Sir. A servant who learned 
 his duty before it was the fashion for servants 
 to forget what they owe their masters. Alack ! 
 alack ! service now, like liberty, is but a name, 
 and servants do as they please." 
 
 " Did you so with the Master of Burrell ?" 
 " But indifferently, Sir ; I fled, in a very ser- 
 vant-like manner, as you know, when he was in 
 danger. But I had my reasons for it, as well as 
 for going with him to London ; only I'd rather 
 not talk of that to-night, Sir. It is a mortal pity 
 that such a sweet lady as Mistress Constance
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 191 
 
 should be forced to marry such a brute ; for my 
 part, I never could discover any wisdom in those 
 contracts, as they call them. Ah, little Barbara 
 is a discreet girl. But I have heard some one say, 
 that, for all her fine lands, poor lady, her heart is 
 breaking, and chipping away bit by bit. 'Tis 
 very fine to be rich, but, being rich, very hard to 
 be happy, because the troubles we make our- 
 selves are less easy to be borne, than those that 
 come upon us in the course of nature. If I had 
 my wish, it is not gold I'd ask for.'" 
 " Indeed ! What then, Robin ?" 
 " Just enough of beauty to win one woman's 
 heart ; I think I have wit enough to keep it." 
 
 " Pshaw, Robin ! though you may not be very 
 comely, there are many worse." 
 
 " Ay, Sir, apes and baboons ; but they are like 
 their kind — while I am a poor withered creature, 
 that Nature, in spite, threw from her, coarse and 
 unfinished." 
 
 " I wonder a person of your sense, Robin, 
 should fret at such trifles. Remember, beauty is 
 as summer fruits, easy to corrupt and quick to 
 perish."
 
 192 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 " But for all that we look for them in summer, 
 Sir, just as youth seeks out beauty. ,, 
 
 The stranger turned towards Robin, but made 
 no reply ; it is sometimes given to the simple to 
 disconcert the wise, and that alone by their sim- 
 plicity. 
 
 A long silence followed ; each ruminating on 
 his own prospects and projects : it was at length 
 broken by Walter, who abruptly asked if Robin 
 was sure he had taken the right path. 
 
 " Mercy, Sir, am I sure of the sight of my 
 eyes ! Behind that tree runs the road we must 
 cross, and then on to Stony Gap ! Ah, many's 
 the signal I Ve hung out for the Fire-fly from 
 that same spot ; but, if perilous times are past, 
 and we live in days — as Master Fleetword hath it 
 — of peace, poor Hugh's trade will be soon over. 
 I wish he were back — the coast looks lonesome 
 without him.'" 
 
 " So it does, Robin ; but canst tell me what 
 it was that made you look so dull, and astonish- 
 ingly religious after the hop, step, and jump you 
 took through the hollow oak P 11 
 
 " Ah, master P
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 193 
 
 " Well, Robin—" 
 
 " Why, you see, when I sprang through, 
 ' thinking nothing at all,' as the song says, I 
 found myself on the opposite side of the tree, 
 close — as close as I am to you, or nearly so— 
 
 to " As Robin had proceeded thus far with 
 
 his recital, a sudden turn brought them to the 
 high road, which led into a kind of hollow, flanked 
 on either side by close brushwood. About a 
 hundred yards from where they stood, three men 
 were engaged in violent feud. The scene, at such 
 a moment, and in such a place, seemed produced 
 by the wave of a magician's wand. The Cava- 
 lier rubbed his eyes, as if to be assured of its 
 reality ; while Robin stood aghast, bewildered, 
 and uncertain how to act : — the moon was shining 
 in all its brightness, so that they could see as 
 clearly as at noon-day. 
 
 " By heaven, 'tis two to one !" exclaimed the 
 youth, casting off his cloak, and unsheathing his 
 rapier with the rapidity of lightning. 
 
 " So it is r gasped Robin ; " but two to such 
 a one ! Save us, Sir ! you 're not going to draw 
 sword for him — ?* But ere the sentence was con- 
 
 VOL. I. K.
 
 194 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 eluded, his companion was in the thick of the 
 fray. " Oh !" exclaimed Robin, as in agony, 
 " that I should live to see true blood stirred in 
 such a cause! — How he lays about him ! Poor 
 boy, he little knows who "s who ! AVhat a noble 
 thrust ! hand to hand — how their swords glitter ! 
 — A murrain on my shrivelled carcase ! they 
 would but laugh to see me among them ! O that 
 I could be even with Nature, and hate her as she 
 has hated me ! Yet, to be thus without a weapon ! 
 — Ah ! one murderer's down, and the arch-fiend 
 with him — now are they entwined as with the 
 coil of deadly serpents. Treacherous dog ! the 
 other would take advantage ; but, ah ! well done, 
 gallant young gentleman! — he holds him back 
 with most wonderful strength — And now — see, 
 see — the combatants are separated — one stands 
 over the other ! Oh God ! oh God ! how he 
 stabs ! — hold ! hold ! Now, could the moon show 
 through those deadly wounds, twenty at the 
 least count ; and only one such would let the 
 life from out Goliath, or the strongest man in 
 Gath. — But see, the other shows a fleet foot ; and 
 that silly boy flies after him ! Alack ! that he
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 195 
 
 will not learn discretion ! There they go, across 
 the fields, and not towards the ferry." 
 
 When Robin arrived at this point in his com- 
 ments, the man whose life had most probably 
 been saved by the young Cavalier's interposition, 
 called to him to come forward, — a summons the 
 manikin obeyed at first but slowly : a second 
 call, however, urged his alacrity ; and he stood 
 before one of whom he was evidently in much 
 dread, with a bent head and a tremulous frame. 
 
 " Canst tell aught of that vile clay, whom the 
 Lord hath delivered into my hand ?" he said, 
 pointing to the lifeless corpse, while his chest 
 still heaved from the violence of the exertion he 
 had undergone, although in other respects he 
 appeared as composed as if he had gone forth 
 onlv to enjoy the sweet breath of evening, and 
 a ruder breeze than he anticipated had passed 
 across his brow. Robin stooped to examine the 
 distorted features of the dead, smeared as they 
 were by the warm blood that issued from more 
 than one mortal wound. 
 
 " He was one of thy party but three hours past," 
 continued the stranger, speaking with energy and 
 
 K 2
 
 196 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 rapidity, "and thou knew'st him ; heard I not his 
 words beneath the oak ? Ay, and if it had been 
 left unto thee, verily I might have been given over 
 to the destroyer, even as Hoshea was given unto 
 Shalmaneser. Speak, thou deformity, lest, finding 
 thy mind as base as its casket, I let it forth from 
 its vile dwelling, even as a thing of nought. 1 ' 
 
 " Tis poor Grimstone, 11 exclaimed Robin, 
 rising from his scrutiny, and evidently affected by 
 the loss of his boon companion on more occasions 
 than one ; " he was ever after some devilry — but 
 his attack upon such as you " 
 
 " Silence, Sir. Did I not before intimate my 
 wishes ?" 
 
 " Well, then," muttered Robin, " his attack 
 must have been purely a matter of plunder. 
 Grim, was never ambitious — never looked beyond 
 a purse of broad pieces ; v adding in a lower tone, 
 " he was always a fool.* 1 
 
 " The carrion hath fallen in a pleasant place — 
 so let the next comer look to it, and do thou fetch 
 hither my horse. Had it not been that my saddle- 
 girth gave way, I could have mastered twenty 
 such footpads."
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 197 
 
 This was said in the tone of one who, however 
 grateful for assistance, would have been much 
 better pleased to have found it needless, and to 
 have worked out the victory by his own hands. 
 
 Robin hurried to secure the animal, a well- 
 trained war-horse, which had stood quietly in the 
 centre of the road, calmly awaiting the issue of the 
 combat : he observed that the saddle was turned 
 completely round, and hung under the belly. 
 The horseman adjusted his cloak, wiped his sword 
 with the square cape, and had just replaced it in 
 the scabbard, when the Cavalier returned from 
 his fruitless chase. As he advanced towards the 
 person to whom he had rendered such signal 
 service, he noted that he was a hale, stout man, 
 probably past the meridian of life, of a stern 
 and awe-striking presence ; and an involuntary 
 feeling of respect made him lift his hat from his 
 head, and even remain uncovered while expressing 
 hopes "that he had received no injury from the 
 cowards who had thus beset his path." The 
 other gave no reply to the inquiry, but fixed 
 a shrewd and penetrating gaze upon the young 
 man's countenance. Apparently the scrutiny
 
 198 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 pleased him, for he extended his hand, and 
 seizing that of his preserver, held it firmly within 
 his palm for about the space of a minute, then 
 pressed it within his mailed grasp so strenuously, 
 that the youth felt the blood tingle to his finger- 
 ends. 
 
 " I owe thanks and gratitude, and would fain 
 know to whom : your name, young Sir ?" 
 
 The Cavalier paused for a moment, and then 
 said — 
 
 " You may call me De Guerre — Walter De 
 Guerre." 
 
 " Walter De Guerre ! — an English christian 
 wedded to a French surname ! — 'tis strange, but 
 let it pass, let it pass : you have been an instru- 
 ment in the gracious preserving of one who, 
 though unworthy, is of some account ; and in- 
 struments in the Lord's hand must be regarded. 
 My companions had business in this neighbour- 
 hood, and had left me but a little time, when 
 I was set upon by these cowards ; but God is 
 merciful, and inspired you with valour. And 
 now, Sir, whither wend ye ? To Cecil Place ?" 
 
 " No, Sir," replied De Guerre, pondering what
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 199 
 
 he should answer, or how he should designate his 
 present abode. 
 
 " To the worshipful Sheriff, Sir Michael Live- 
 sey, at Little Shurland ? He must look to his 
 ferry- warden and boatmen to prevent such vil- 
 lainies as have now occurred." 
 
 " To none of these, Sir," replied Walter ; " in 
 fact, I am a humble traveller, lodging at a hum- 
 ble hostelry not far from hence." 
 
 During this dialogue, Robin had adjusted the 
 saddle-girth, and led the horse to its master, 
 who took the bridle from his hand, and held it, 
 examining the girth as he spoke. Robin glided 
 imperceptibly round to De Guerre's side, and 
 standing behind him, pulled his sleeve, and whis- 
 pered — 
 
 " Don't tell him where." 
 
 The intimation was, perhaps, not heard, cer- 
 tainly not heeded, for the young man added — 
 
 " At the widow Hays'." 
 
 " I bethink me ; the house near East-Church. 
 It is called Nest — Nest — Nest — ay, Gull's 
 Nest. 'Tis but a poor abode for one who bears 
 a diamond-hilted sword, and bears it bravely too.
 
 200 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 An every-day person, Master De Guerre, would 
 sell the diamonds and get a gayer lodging. 1 '' 
 
 " Persons differ in this and all other matters, 
 more or less," replied the young man somewhat 
 haughtily : " I wish you good night, Sir." 
 
 " Hot r said the stranger, at the same time 
 laying his hand upon the arm of De Guerre : 
 "Hot and high ! Well, it is an ill tree that needs 
 no pruning ; but the preserver and the preserved 
 must not part thus. Come with me to Cecil 
 Place, and though I have it not to offer golden 
 recompense, yet I can assure to you a glad 
 welcome ; for my friends all love each other." 
 
 " Go with him, go with him ; never say him 
 nay : why should you not go when he desires 
 it ?" whispered Robin. 
 
 " But you are mounted, and well too, and I 
 a-foot, and cannot pace it with you," replied De 
 Guerre, hesitatingly. 
 
 " And your grey steed is too far away — 
 even for that nimble squire to bring in good 
 time," retorted the other, a kind of smile dis- 
 tending the rugged and untrimmed moustache 
 that garnished his upper lip.
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 201 
 
 " My grey steed !" repeated Walter in asto- 
 nishment. 
 
 " Yes, and a stout beast it is. But I will rein 
 in my horse, and the Place is not so distant but 
 we may keep together." 
 
 " Thanks for your proffered hospitality," said 
 De Guerre ; " but must we not do something 
 with the fellow you have slain ? His companion 
 was too swift o 1 foot for me." 
 
 " Let the tree lie even where it fell," replied 
 the other, looking on the body for an instant, and 
 then mounting his horse with the greatest com- 
 posure ; " some one will cover it with decent 
 earth in the morning : let us forward, my young 
 friend." 
 
 De Guerre signified his consent, and walked, 
 closely followed by Robin, at the stranger's 
 side. 
 
 " And so," observed the horseman, turning 
 to the Ranger, "you are accompanying us, un- 
 invited, on our way. Wert thou ever engaged in 
 any of the mummeries of Satan, denominated 
 stage plays ? Of all the tricks learned at courts, 
 that of tumbling is the most dangerous ; and as 
 
 K 5
 
 202 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 thy master, Sir Willmott Burrell, has not prac- 
 tised it yet, I am at a loss to understand how 
 thou couldst be so perfect." 
 
 " I have served many masters, Sir, and am 
 now out of employ, 11 replied Robin, whose ready 
 wit appeared to have deserted him, and who kept 
 as near as possible to De Guerre. 
 
 " Thou sayest truly ; and lest one of them 
 may have a demand upon thee ere morning, what 
 say ye to wending onward to that unholy resort 
 of Cavaliers and Smugglers, called the Gull's 
 Nest, and leaving us to pursue our course unat- 
 tended to Sir Robert Cecil ?" 
 
 Robin bowed as respectfully as he could, and 
 was about to whisper some words to De Guerre, 
 when the stranger added, in a stern voice — 
 
 " On, on ! no whispering." 
 
 Robin held up his hands, as if he would have 
 said " How can I help it ?" and sprang over 
 the adjoining fence with his usual agility. 
 
 They proceeded some little time without 
 speaking, De Guerre discontented with himself 
 at the power his extraordinary companion so 
 strangely possessed over him, yet yielding to
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 203 
 
 an influence against which he felt it impossible 
 to contend. 
 
 " And, pray, Sir," at length inquired the 
 elder, " what news may be now stirring in 
 France ? You have, I presume, but recently 
 arrived from thence ?" 
 
 " I have been in France, but not lately." 
 
 " In the Netherlands then ? for I take it 
 you are given to the carnal follies of the times, 
 and have been cherished in the heresies, religious 
 and political, propagated by a person or persons 
 assuming a particular rank, which the Almighty 
 saw fitting to wrest from them now many days 
 past. 11 
 
 " I have not, as I think, been brought up in 
 any heresy," replied the youth, gently but 
 firmly, " and I should be sorry so brave a gen- 
 tleman and so expert a swordsman thought so ; 
 though I do not feel myself bound to give you 
 any information touching my private opinion-, 
 which I hold to be as distinctly my own pro- 
 perty as my hat or sword " 
 
 " And which, 11 said the stranger, " is, perhaps, 
 the only property you are possessed of. 11
 
 204 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 " Exactly so, Sir ; but persons of a lower 
 estate than mine have lately risen to high 
 places, — ay, and carry themselves as loftily as 
 if they were born to lord it over not only empire, 
 but empires. 
 
 " Ah ! true : then, I suppose, you would fain 
 seek service ; and if so, I think my poor word 
 would be of use. I am somewhat esteemed by 
 the Protector and other props of this great Com- 
 monwealth, and would gladly tender my aid to 
 you, to whom I am already strongly bound. 11 
 
 " I thank you for your bounty, Sir ; but at 
 present I feel inclined to sheathe, not draw my 
 sword." 
 
 " But why ? A youth like you, gifted with 
 courage, skill, and health, — the state demands 
 some activity at your hands ; ^is ill to be a lag- 
 gard." 
 
 " Nor am I one. Frankly, I like not innova- 
 tion, and this state has been experimentalising 
 lately : — in a word, I like it not. 11 
 
 " That is a candid confession, more candid 
 than your former words would have led me to 
 expect. But, young gentleman, it is not safe to
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 205 
 
 trust such sentiments into a stranger's keep- 
 ing : the Lord Protector has, it is said, his spies 
 in every house ; nay, it is reported the highways 
 grow them as rife as blackberries." 
 
 " And you may be one, for aught I know or 
 care," said the youth bluntly. " But what of 
 that ? — they say Old Noll likes in others what he 
 hath not yet practised himself — a thing called 
 honesty ; and at worst, he could but take my 
 life, which, after all, is little worth in comparison 
 to those he has already taken." 
 
 A long silence followed this intemperate speech, 
 which at last was broken by the mounted tra- 
 veller. 
 
 " You spoke of innovations, and I also believe 
 it is ill to try experiments in states, unless the 
 need be urgent, and unless it be the reformation 
 that draweth on the change, and not the love of 
 change that urgeth the reformation. Is not Time 
 the greatest innovator ? — is he not always chang- 
 ing ? It hath been said that, as in nature things 
 move violently to their place, and calmly in 
 their place ; so virtue in ambition is violent, in 
 authority settled and calm. Steel sharpens steel ;
 
 206 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 so one glory perfecteth another : and I am of be- 
 lief, that they who are glorious, must have been 
 factious. Yet are there degrees in honour, and 
 amongst the first of them I should rank founders 
 of commonwealths, or even states, such as we 
 read of in history— Romulus — " 
 
 " And you would, I suppose, include the 
 name of Cromwell in the list you were about to 
 make,"" interrupted De Guerre. 
 
 " And why not ?*" retorted the other proudly ; 
 "why not Cromwell? Is the oak to be despised 
 because it was once an acorn ? Remember what 
 he suffers for his state; if, like the stars above 
 us, he is much venerated, even like them he hath 
 no rest." 
 
 " Nor doth he deserve it," said the youth. 
 
 " Ah ! say'st so !" exclaimed the stranger, 
 hastily, but instantly adding in a settled voice 
 — " Walter De Guerre, or whatever be your 
 name, beware, and use not such expressions when 
 you know not your company. You said but 
 now, your opinions were your property ; then give 
 them not away unasked where we are going. I 
 know you to be brave, and generosity follows
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 207 
 
 bravery as truly as one star succeedeth another ; 
 but discretion of speech is more valuable than 
 eloquence. And, as to Cromwell, the people's 
 shepherd has need to keep good count and care- 
 ful watch ; for wolves and foxes in sheep's cloth- 
 ing break into the pin-folds, kill and devour. 
 Did he not act the part of Epimetheus (according 
 to the profane but wise fable,) who, Avhen griefs 
 and evils flew abroad, at last shut down the lid, 
 and kept Hope in the bottom of the vessel, 
 verily, indeed, his lot would be severe. We can 
 know but little how hard it is to labour through 
 evil report and good report. Charity in judg- 
 ment is befitting in all, but most of all in the 
 young\" 
 
 They were now within sight of Cecil Place. 
 De Guerre had to contend with many painful 
 feelings, and a provoking consciousness of the 
 strange ascendancy his companion had acquired 
 over him, so that he dared hardly speak his own 
 words or think his own thoughts. Nor could he 
 trace this to any external influence : the man was 
 plain almost to vulgarity ; his dress common ; and 
 though his sword-blade was strong, the handle
 
 208 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 was perfectly devoid of ornament. His horse was 
 the only thing in his appointments that indicated 
 the station of a gentleman ; but the saddle ap- 
 peared so old and battered, and withal so ill- 
 made, that De Guerre marvelled so noble an 
 animal would condescend to carry such a weight 
 of old leather and damaged flock. It is true, 
 that towards the close of their conversation he 
 had uttered some sentiments that for a moment 
 startled the Cavalier ; but then he had uttered 
 them in so unskilled and confused a manner, and 
 with such an unmusical voice, that it reminded 
 him, not unaptly, of a blacksmith stringing pearls, 
 so coarse was the medium through which these 
 fine things came. He ventured to console himself, 
 however, by the reflection, that a man of such cool 
 and determined bravery must be, despite external 
 appearances, a person of some consequence : an 
 opinion confirmed by his being a guest, and evi- 
 dently a privileged guest, of Sir Robert Cecil. 
 He arrived at this conclusion as they passed the 
 postern-gate ; and, as the night was now far gone, 
 the old porter lighted his flambeaux to escort 
 them to the house.
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 209 
 
 As the old man walked some degree in advance, 
 the elder took the opportunity to inquire of his 
 companion — 
 
 " Have you ever seen Mistress Cecil ?" 
 
 " Seen Mistress Cecil !" repeated De Guerre, 
 in evident embarrassment : " I have seen but few 
 of the ladies of the country — have had few op- 
 portunities of doing so." 
 
 " Yet you resented the profanation of her 
 name this afternoon under the oak — dost re- 
 member that ?" 
 
 " I know not who you are, Sir," retorted 
 Walter, angrily, and at length fully roused from 
 the respectful silence he had so long maintained, 
 " that you should thus cross and question one who 
 sought not your acquaintance. What right have 
 you or any man to watch and pry from every 
 nook and corner, night and day, so that, me- 
 thinks, you neither take nor give rest ? By hea- 
 vens, if I were a friend (which, thank God, I am 
 not) of him you call Protector, or King, or what- 
 ever it be, I would advise him of such persons ; 
 for it is the duty of every honest subject to watch 
 over his ruler, as over his father, with the care
 
 210 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 and the duty — the tenderness and affection of a 
 child. I should like to know how you knew I 
 had a grey steed ?"" 
 
 " Or how I discovered your ruffle with Sir 
 Willmott Burrell after the funeral,'''' interrupted 
 the other ; " but be not afraid of meeting him : 
 he left Cecil Place some days ago, to arrange some 
 business. IV ay, now, do not crow loudly your 
 defiance, because I mentioned the word fear. 
 What a game-cock it is ! pity, that though there 
 is no white feather, there should be no right 
 feather in so gallant a crest ! — Methinks the old 
 porter is long in summoning the grooms, so I 
 will enter in the name of the Lord ; and do thou 
 mind ' Old Thunder/ " he added, in a gentle 
 tone, at the same time patting the curved neck of 
 the noble creature, who turned round his head at 
 the caress, as if in appreciation of its value. 
 
 De Guerre took the bridle almost mechanically 
 in his hand, and at the same time muttered, 
 " Left here, like a groom, to hold his horse ! 
 By the Lord ! I'll groom it for no man — Yet, 
 'tis no disgrace, even to knighthood, to handle 
 a good steed ; though I 'd bet my poor Jubilee
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 211 
 
 against hiin. — Ah! here they come — " and he 
 was preparing to resign his charge right gladly 
 to two servants, who advanced from a side-door 
 just as the stranger had mounted the last of a 
 series of broad and platform-like steps leading 
 to the principal entrance. No sooner, however, 
 had the first of the attendants caught sight of 
 the horseman's cloak and broad-brimmed hat of 
 the stranger, than he sprang up the steps, and 
 seized the garment, as the wearer was entering 
 the hall. He turned fiercely round at the as- 
 sault ; but the aggressor, whom De Guerre now 
 recognised as Springall, hung upon him too 
 firmly to be easily shaken off: — he drew his 
 sword half out of its scabbard, and kept his eye 
 fixed upon the youth. 
 
 " I was sure of it ! I was sure of it V shouted 
 Springall ; " the cloak ! the hat ! all ! Now will 
 I be even with thee for hanging me over the 
 cliff— like a poor fish in a heron's claw— and all 
 for nothing." 
 
 " Go to, Springa!!," said De Guerre, coming 
 up, pleased at observing that the wrathful glance 
 of the stranger had changed into a smiling
 
 212 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 good-humoured look at the boy's harmless im- 
 petuosity : "Go to, Springall; the double-dub 
 and the Canary are in thine eyes, and in thy 
 scatter-pate. What could you know of this 
 strange gentleman ?" 
 
 " I vow by the compass, 1 ' replied the boy, 
 suffering his grasp on the cloak to relax, as he 
 gazed in no less amazement on the Cavalier ; 
 " we are bewitched ! all bewitched ! I left you, 
 Sir, on your way to Gull's Nest with wee Robin ; 
 and here you are keeping company with this 
 very hey-ho sort of — But by the Law Harry ! 
 he's off again!" exclaimed Springall, whose as- 
 tonishment had got the better of his watchful- 
 ness, and who perceived, on turning round, that 
 the mysterious gentleman had disappeared. 
 
 " Yovi are not going to be mad enough to 
 follow any one into Sir Robert Cecil's hall !" 
 argued De Guerre, at the same time seizing 
 Springall's arm. 
 
 " Oh, Lord ! oh, Lord ! that I should ever 
 live to see you, Sir, in league with a bogle ! 
 Why, I vow I had the mark of that devil's 
 hand on me in black lumps — just as if I was
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 21 
 
 a 
 
 burnt with what our scourer calls ague-fortes. 
 As I am a living man, he went from off the 
 brow of the cliff, just like a foam wreath." 
 
 " Pshaw ! Spring ; how can you or any one 
 else tell ' who's who,' on a dark night ?" 
 
 " Could I be deceived in the cut of his jib 
 or mainsail, ye'r honour ? to say nothing of the 
 figure-head ! — Am I a fool ?" 
 
 " You are not over wise, just now, my gay 
 sailor ; so off to your hammock." 
 
 " And must I see no more of that old gentle- 
 
 o x 
 
 man ?" 
 
 " Not to-night, Spring ; perhaps to-morrow 
 he may give you satisfaction," 1 added Walter, 
 smiling at his own conceit. 
 
 The youth went off, not very steadily, to the 
 little gate by which he entered ; and a servant 
 immediately announced to De Guerre, that 
 Sir Robert Cecil waited for him in the supper- 
 hall. 
 
 He followed the domestic through the great 
 vestibule, which bore a more cheerful aspect than 
 on the sad but memorable night of Hugh Dal- 
 ton's most unwelcome visit. Although the spring
 
 214 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 was considerably advanced, the fagot blazed up 
 the huge chimney, and illumined every corner 
 of the overgrown apartment. The grim portraits 
 which graced the walls, looked more repugnant 
 than usual in the red light that was thrown upon 
 them by the glowing fire; while beneath hung 
 the very suits of armour in which, if their most 
 approved chroniclers are to be believed, they 
 had performed feats of valour. Upon the table of 
 massive marble were strewed sundry hawk's hoods, 
 bells and jesses ; some fishing-tackle, and a silver- 
 mounted fowling-piece also appeared amid the 
 melange ; while a little black spaniel, of the breed 
 that was afterwards distinguished by a royal 
 name, was busily engaged in pulling the ears of a 
 magnificent hound of the wolf kind, who, shaggy 
 and sleepy, seemed little disposed to be roused 
 from his lair by the caprioles of the diminutive 
 creature that hardly reached to the first joint of 
 his fore-leg. The lesser animal, in accordance 
 with the general custom of his kind, ran yelp- 
 ing and barking at the stranger as he advanced 
 up the hall; while the more sagacious and dan- 
 gerous dog raised his head, shook his ears,
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 215 
 
 stretched forth his paws, and elevated his broad 
 chest ; then sniffed the air so as to be able to 
 remember De Guerre if ever he needed to do 
 so ; seeing that he was escorted by the servant, 
 and therefore, doubtless, a person of respect- 
 ability, he composed himself again to rest as 
 De Guerre entered the presence of Sir Robert 
 Cecil. 
 
 A few weeks had worked a fearful change upon 
 his countenance and form : the eyes were more 
 hollow, the cheeks more pale, the hair ribanded 
 with white, where but a little before there had 
 been but few grey hairs ; and the shoulders were 
 much rounded since his interview with the Buc- 
 caneer. He proceeded courteously to meet hi>> 
 guest, bowing and expressing the honour he felt 
 in being introduced (through the Lord's mercy) 
 to the preserver of his friend. The Baronet 
 had approached slowly towards De Guerre, 
 during this salutation, but either his dim sight, 
 or the obscurity of the further end of the 
 room, prevented his being at first struck with 
 his appearance. As the young man advanced, 
 Sir Robert Cecil's gaze was fastened on his coun-
 
 216 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 tenance with a gasping earnestness, that shook 
 every fibre of his frame ; his lips trembled, and 
 remained apart, and he seemed for a few mo- 
 ments unable to move to the seat he had quitted. 
 
 The ' friend 1 he had alluded to was seated in 
 a carved chair near the fire, his foot placed upon 
 a cushioned stool, and his arms folded over his 
 bosom, his head rested on his chest, but his eyes 
 were fixed on the beautiful face of Constance 
 Cecil, who had risen on the stranger's entrance ; 
 nor did it escape the notice of so keen an ob- 
 server, that the lady's cheek was suddenly suf- 
 fused by a deep hue of crimson, as suddenly suc- 
 ceeded by a pallor and trembling, that made her 
 cling to the arm of Lady Frances Cromwell for 
 support. 
 
 " I beg to present," he rose, and said, " to 
 my worthy friend Sir Robert Cecil, and to you 
 Lady Frances Cromwell, and to you also, Mis- 
 tress Cecil, this young gentleman, by the name 
 of Walter De Guerre, who, though of French ex- 
 traction, hath doubtless had an English godfather, 
 who hath favoured him with an English chris- 
 tian name. And now, most worthy Baronet, as
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 217 
 
 master of this mansion, I pray you to present 
 me to him who hath a swift arm and a ready 
 hand for the defence of an attacked soldier." 
 
 " Major Wellmore, young gentleman — a tried 
 and trusty friend to the English Commonwealth 
 and its Protector !" said Sir Robert at last ; add- 
 ing, as if in apology for his emotion — " Con- 
 stance ! this strange megrim in my head !'" And 
 Constance, with the Avatchful care of an affec- 
 tionate child, led him to his seat, presented him 
 a glass of cordial ; and not till he had declared 
 himself quite recovered, did she return to her 
 station on the low sofa, beside her friend Lady 
 Frances Cromwell. 
 
 De Guerre was particularly struck, during the 
 brief repast that followed, by the extraordinary 
 change in the manner of his companion, who, 
 from being an animated and sensible speaker, 
 upon matters connected with the State, had be- 
 come more like a mystified and mystifying 
 preacher than a soldier, but whose out-pourings 
 were listened to with reverence and attention by 
 the company. The Cavalier felt himself ill at 
 case in his presence, and but for a governing 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 motive, hereafter to be explained, would have 
 withdrawn from the house when the supper was 
 concluded, despite the specious invitation, and 
 much pressing to remain ; he, however, accepted 
 the apartment provided for him by Sir Robert 
 Cecil. The ladies, attended by their women, 
 withdrew immediately afterwards, and, as Lady 
 Frances kissed her friend's cheek, she whispered, 
 
 " Didst see how Major — plague upon me to 
 forget his name — eyed both you and the hand- 
 some stranger ?" And then she whispered so as 
 to be quite inaudible, ending by saying, — while 
 Constantia affectionately pressed her hand, — 
 
 " Ah ! those holy eyes of blue, remaining so 
 silent and so fixed, do more mischief than my 
 poor little brown ones, that are ever roaming 
 about seeking what they can devour, but se- 
 curing no prey.'"
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 With that smooth falsehood, whose appearance charms, 
 And reason of each wholesome doubt disarms; 
 Which to the lowest depths of guilt descends, 
 By vilest means pursues the vilest ends, 
 Wears friendship's mask for purposes of spite, 
 Fawns in the day and butchers in the night. 
 
 Churchill. 
 
 The dwelling of Sir Willmott Burrell was 
 about eighteen or twenty miles from the island 
 of Shepey, on the Kentish border. The mys- 
 terious companion of De Guerre had correctly 
 stated, that at the period of his introduction to 
 the Cecil family, the youth had little chance of 
 meeting with his treacherous antagonist of the 
 evening on which the remains of Lady Cecil were 
 consigned to the tomb ; the Knight having been, 
 for some days previous, occupied upon certain 
 
 l 2
 
 220 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 weighty affairs within his own house. A bad 
 landlord can never succeed in convincing" his 
 tenantry that he is a good man. The presence 
 of Sir Willmott was by no means desirable to his 
 poorer neighbours and dependents, by whom he 
 was at once dreaded and disliked. Rarely, in- 
 deed, was it that a blessing ever followed the 
 mention of his name; and, although his influence 
 and authority were such as to render it dangerous 
 to murmur against the one, or oppose the other, 
 Sir Willmott had ample reason to know that he 
 was nowhere surrounded by so many secret ene- 
 mies as when residing upon his hereditary estate. 
 The domestics who had served his progenitors 
 had long been dismissed, and their places supplied 
 by more subservient creatures, and more willing 
 panders to the vices that had increased with his 
 increasing years. Although he had taken es- 
 pecial care to surround himself with knaves of 
 great apparent devotion, in order that his cha- 
 racter might not suffer in the estimation -of the 
 few really religious personages by whom he was 
 occasionally visited, it required considerable care 
 to prevent their exposing, by their own depravity,
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 221 
 
 the gross and iniquitous life which their master 
 led. It is seldom that a uniform hypocrite is 
 found among the uneducated ; a more than or- 
 dinary degree of talent and prudence being ne- 
 cessary to sustain a character that is but assumed. 
 Nature may be suppressed by habitual caution ; 
 but the meaner, though not the baser villain, 
 finds appetite too strong for even interest to con- 
 trol. The household of Sir Willmott Burrell 
 was ill-governed, and the lessons which the mas- 
 ter sometimes taught, but never practised, the 
 servants neglected or — despised. The butler, the 
 housekeeper, the steward, and the numerous in- 
 subordinate subordinates were evermore in a state 
 of riot and debauchery : the evil had at length 
 grown to such a pitch, that Burrell saw its dan- 
 ger, and more than once resolved to adopt the 
 only remedy, and discharge them altogether ; 
 but upon such occasions, he overlooked one very 
 important circumstance, namely, that he was in 
 their power, and was consequently any thing but 
 a free agent in his own house. Burrell knew 
 himself in their toils, and at their mercy. Large 
 sums of money might, perhaps, have purchased
 
 222 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 their silence, but such a mode of procuring 
 safety was now beyond his reach ; and although 
 deeply desirous to rid himself of them before his 
 marriage with Constantia Cecil, he scarcely con- 
 ceived it possible to escape from their trammels, 
 without subtracting from the fortune that was 
 to accompany her hand. He dreaded the danger 
 of confiding his difficulties to Sir Robert Cecil, 
 by whom they were unsuspected ; and his fine 
 property was so considerably mortgaged, as to 
 render an appeal to his ancient friends, the 
 usurers, a matter of much difficulty, if not 
 totally useless. Manasseh Ben Israel, indeed, 
 he knew had an inexhaustible store, and a not 
 unready hand, as he had upon more than one 
 occasion, experienced ; but, villain _as he was, 
 he shrank from the idea of applying to him 
 for assistance, at the very moment when he was 
 thrusting the iron into his soul. 
 
 Burrell was seated alone in his library, musing 
 over the labyrinth from which he saw no imme- 
 diate prospect of escape ; plan succeeding plan, 
 as, unnoticed by him, the twilight had deepened 
 into the night. His doors were ordered to be
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 223 
 
 locked at an early hour — a command which, it 
 is to be supposed, the servants obeyed or dis- 
 obeyed according to their own pleasure. 
 
 The Lords' 1 Commissioners, Fiennes and Lisle, 
 who were travelling round the country on special 
 business, had been his visiters for three or four 
 days ; and on the evening on which they took 
 their departure, he was, as we have described 
 him, musing in his library, upon no very amicable 
 terms with himself, when his reverie was broken 
 by a blow against the glass of an oriel window 
 that was sunk deep into an embrasure of the 
 wall. He started from his seat, and was so 
 alarmed at perceiving the face of a man close 
 to the fretted frame- work, as to draw forth ;i 
 pistol, and present it towards the intruder. In 
 an instant the shivered fragments of an exqui- 
 sitely tinted pane flew into the library, and a 
 voice exclaimed, 
 
 " It's me!" 
 
 " And what is the motive of this destruction ?" 
 stormed forth the Master of Burrell, in an angry 
 tone, proceeding at the same time to open the 
 window ; " were there not people enough below
 
 224 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 to bring up your message ? and are there not 
 doors enough for you to enter, without clamber- 
 ing twenty feet up a straight wall, and shatter- 
 ing this beautiful picture, the Marriage of St. 
 Catherine, into a thousand pieces?" 
 
 " As to the marriage of St. Catherine," ob- 
 served his visiter, stepping through the case- 
 ment, " I wish I could break all marriages as 
 easily ; and as to the motive, your honour, I 
 did not like to wait quietly, and see a pistol- 
 ball walk towards my witless pate, to convince, 
 by its effects thereupon, the unbelieving world 
 that Robin Hays had brains. As to the do- 
 mestics, the doors were locked, and they, I do 
 believe, (craving your pardon, Sir,) too drunk 
 to open them. As to the wall, it's somewhat 
 straight and slippery ; but what signifies a Avail 
 to one who can be in safety on a tow-line, and 
 only that between him and eternity ? Thank 
 God ! there is nothing on my conscience to make 
 my footing tremble, — or " 
 
 " Robin Hays," interrupted Burrell at last, 
 " I have listened to you with much patience, 
 because I know you love to hear the sound of
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 225 
 
 your own voice ; if you bear either message or 
 letter from my worthy friend Sir Robert Cecil, 
 let me have it at once." 
 
 " You are in error, Sir, under favour." 
 " Indeed ! — then to whom am I indebted for 
 this visit ; for I suppose you came not on your 
 own account ?" 
 
 " Ah, Sir Willmott ! — you are always wise, Sir 
 Willmott ; truly it would be ill coming on my 
 own account, seeing that I had no business of my 
 own to bring me, therefore why should I come ? 
 and even if I had, Dapple Dumpling travels so 
 slowly. 1 ' 
 
 " This trifling is impertinent," exclaimed the 
 Knight angrily : " to your business." 
 
 " I hope it won't end in smoke, as it begins in 
 fire," replied Robin, slily presenting a roll of the 
 tobacco vulgarly called pig-tail. 
 
 " Misshapen wretch !" retorted Burrell in a 
 towering passion, flinging the roll directly in his 
 face, " how dare you to trifle thus with your 
 superiors ? art drunk, or mad ?" 
 
 " Neither, an please ye, Sir Willmott," replied 
 Robin, replacing the tobacco in his bosom ; 
 
 L 5
 
 226 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 " only, since you won't look into the pig-tail, 
 perhaps you will tell me what I am to say to 
 Hugh Dalton." 
 
 " Hugh Dalton ! There, give it me ; why 
 did you not tell me you came from the Bucca- 
 neer ? Robin, you are a million times worse 
 than a fool ! There, sit, good Robin — But, no, 
 light me yon lamp ; the fire burns dimly. A 
 murrain on 't, I can't see ! There, that will do." 
 While Burrell read Dalton's communication, 
 thus whimsically but carefully conveyed, Robin 
 had ample time to moralize on and observe all 
 around him. 
 
 " That table,' 1 thought the Ranger, " is just 
 a type of the times. The Bible, it can hardly be 
 seen for the heap of foolish expositions, and 
 preachments, in the shape of pamphlets, that crowd 
 upon it. O, Lord ! O, Lord ! take from the Pu- 
 ritans their vain opinions, wild imaginations, false 
 valuations, and the like, which they hang over the 
 book that Barbara says has so much good in it, 
 (just as the Catholics at San Eustatia trick out 
 the Saviour's figure,) and what poor shrunken 
 minds they 'd have ! Then the bottle and
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 227 
 
 glass : that, I 'm afraid, typifies the Cavalier ; 
 the poor Cavalier ! who clings so firmly to the 
 worn, and lets go the stronger rope. But mark 
 how the filthy liquor stands beside the pure book ! 
 — even so are the just and the unjust mingled. 
 Ah ! he has been praying with the Lords"' Com- 
 missioners; then drinking, and so forth, the in- 
 stant their backs were turned ! Yet, God hath 
 made the double-faced villain of good propor- 
 tions, so that a woman can look on him with 
 love, though his heart — augh ! — I wouldn't have 
 his heart for his lands, no, nor for his fine 
 person either. Barbara can't abide him ; she 
 always says he has a black look, — and so he has. 
 But hark ! there's knocking at the gate, and 
 loud knocking too — Sir Willmott, as the servants 
 can't hear, so can't answer, shall I go down ?'* 
 
 Burrell was so much occupied with his letter, 
 that he heard neither the knocking nor Robin's 
 question, but sat, his eyes staring on the paper, 
 as if the words were of fire. Nor was it a long 
 epistle, though sufficiently important to rivet 
 his whole attention. The contents were as 
 follows :
 
 228 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 «' SlR, April the 6th, 1656. 
 
 " Agreeably to your instructions, I went to the 
 house at St.Vallery, where you told me I was to 
 meet the lady of whom we spoke ; but she had 
 left harbour a few hours before I entered. 
 With much trouble I succeeded in tracing her 
 to a very odd sort of dwelling, a little outside 
 the town, yet not in time to overtake her or her 
 attendant. Some said one thing, and some an- 
 other ; but I could gather no information to be 
 depended on. I remained nearly nine days in the 
 neighbourhood, watching every vessel that came 
 in or went out ; nevertheless, I am persuaded 
 that she has embarked for England : how, is still 
 a mystery. " Yours, 
 
 " Fire-fly: 1 
 
 " The fellow is careful enough : can it be pos- 
 sible he has played me false ? Yet, where the 
 motive, or what ?" mused Burrell aloud. The 
 knocking at the door was repeated, but was 
 only answered by the loud baying of a brace 
 of hounds. " And are the rascals really drunk ?"
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 229 
 
 inquired their master in a piteous tone, roused at 
 last to a sense of what was passing around him. 
 
 " Ay, faith, Sir ; had I not as well go down ? 
 for, though ill-apparelled as a serving-man, me- 
 thinks I could do the civilities better than the 
 night-wind that howls so cursedly round the 
 entry." 
 
 " Ay, go, go ! only see that I be not dis- 
 turbed, unless, indeed, it be some person I must 
 see — some one of consequence. 1 ' 
 
 " Ay," muttered Robin : " so much for mo- 
 dern hospitality !" and he hastened to undo the 
 fastening. 
 
 As the chains fell, a small bent figure, com- 
 pletely enveloped in a fur cloak, entered the hall, 
 closely followed by a swarthy attendant, whose 
 high features, quick sparkling eyes, and downcast 
 look bespoke him one of the tribe of Israel. 
 
 " Is Sir Willmott Burrell within ?" inquired 
 the stranger, letting fall the cloak that had been 
 closely muffled round his face : he spoke, how- 
 ever, in so foreign an accent, that it was a mo- 
 ment or two before Robin could reply. 
 
 " I demanded of thee if Sir Willmott Burrell
 
 230 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 of Burrell was within P 11 repeated the old man ; 
 and as Robin observed him more attentively, 
 he perceived that he was dressed in the pecu- 
 liar fashion of the high-born Jews : his beard 
 descended nearly to his girdle, and his head 
 was surmounted by a perpendicular cap of yel- 
 low silk. 
 
 " Sir Willmott Burrell is not well," replied 
 Robin ; " but I will take your name, if it please 
 ye, and return speedily with his commands." 
 
 " Manasseh Ben Israel demands instant parley 
 with the Master of Burrell. ,, 
 
 Robin did not bow, because, as a humble Ca- 
 valier and a proud Christian, he held it a point 
 of duty to hate and avoid the despised race to 
 which the stranger belonged ; but he made a 
 respectful answer, for the riches of the Rabbi 
 and the favour of Cromwell were not to be 
 contemned. He then proceeded along the hall, 
 and up some narrow stairs, called private, as 
 they led only to the library, and was crossing 
 the apartment for the purpose of announcing 
 Ben Israel, when the Jew, who had closely and 
 unobservedly followed his footsteps with so light
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 231 
 
 a tread as even to escape Robin's ears, passed 
 him suddenly, and as suddenly Burrell of Burrell 
 sprang from his seat, as if struck by a musket- 
 ball. The old man stood before him, his features 
 working, his lips moving, but no articulate sound 
 coming forth — his entire frame agitated, almost 
 convulsed ; while Burrell, exerting every power 
 of his mind to the contest, was the first to move. 
 He stepped towards the Jew, extending his hand 
 in token of amity. Ben Israel touched it not, but 
 raised his arm, pointing his skinny and shrivelled 
 finger towards Burrell, until it came on a level 
 with his countenance ; then, by a desperate exer- 
 tion, the cracked, strained voice forced a passage 
 through his parched throat, and he exclaimed — 
 "My child! — my only one! — Zillah!— my 
 beloved, my only, only child ! Do ye remember 
 your own mother, who travailed for ye, brought ye 
 forth in pain, and carried ye, and nourished ye in 
 her bosom ? Do ye ever hope to have a child, 
 who will tend, and serve, and watch over you, 
 as mine once did over me ? If so, tell, tell me 
 where mine is ! — I will bless you for the know- 
 ledge ! I, an old man, whose beard is white,
 
 232 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 implore you who have destroyed her, to tell me 
 where she is !" 
 
 The Jew flung his cap on the floor, and 
 prostrated himself before Burrell, who imme- 
 diately raised him, and in his most persuasive 
 tone sought to soothe and assure the Rabbi he 
 had been in every respect misled and misin- 
 formed. 
 
 " Sit, good Ben Israel, and comfort yourself ; 
 you have, I swear to you, been grossly imposed 
 upon by some malignants whom I must— Ro- 
 bin ! hunt out the knaves, and bring some wine — 
 the best in the old bin, for my good friend. How 
 could you, Sir, suppose me capable of betraying 
 the confidence you reposed when you introduced 
 me to the abode in which your fair daughter 
 dwelt? But, granting I had the ascendancy over 
 her, which from your speech you seem to infer, 
 how— 1 ' 
 
 " Sir Christian, stop I 11 interrupted Ben Israel, 
 who, now that the first burst of his feelings had 
 found vent, had composed himself, so as to meet 
 his wily adversary with tolerable fortitude : " Sir 
 Christian, stop ! There are two classes of human
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 233 
 
 kind your sect deceive without regret — betray 
 without compunction — and destroy, body and 
 soul, without remorse — women and Jews. My 
 daughter, my lost child was both. It is nought, 
 Sir, nought — mere pastime — women's hearts and 
 reputations, and old men's grey hairs ! Alas ! 
 alas ! and is such the religion of England ! M 
 The old man bent his head, and moaned heavily ; 
 then, after a little space of time, raised himself, 
 and said, " In the name of the God of Jacob, 
 I will take you point by point ! Reply unto my 
 questioning ; and, if thou canst, acquit thyself, 1 " — 
 A ray of hope darted over his expressive features, 
 like a beam of light athwart a thunder-cloud. 
 " But no," he continued, his countenance again 
 darkening, " it cannot be — it cannot be — " 
 
 " Worthy Ben Israel ! excellent Rabbi !" re- 
 plied Burrell ; " dissect me as you will ; and if 
 I answer not thy expectation " 
 
 " Too truly wilt thou answer my expectation," 
 said the Jew. " The Lord of Hosts be praised that 
 these iniquities are unpractised by the children 
 of my people ! The innocent lamb torn from the 
 fold ; or, what is worse, decoyed from the tents
 
 234< THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 of her fathers ! Had she been dead, I could have 
 said, ' The Lord's will be done,'' He hath taken 
 the child back into her mother's bosom. But 
 answer unto me these points — Didst often see 
 Zillah r 
 
 " I certainly did see your daughter at times, 
 during my stay in Paris. - " 
 
 " And why, having delivered my messages ? 
 Of what importance ought thy visits to have been 
 to one of the despised race ?" 
 
 " You surely would not impute evil to my 
 inquiring if your daughter wished to write to 
 her father when I forwarded dispatches to Eng- 
 land ?" 
 
 " Strange, then, she should never have availed 
 herself of such kindness. Did she give no reason 
 for this neglect of her parent ?" 
 
 " I saw so little of her," replied Burrell care- 
 lessly, " that I really forget.'' 1 
 The Rabbi shook his head. 
 " Perhaps, then, SirWillmott Burrell, you can 
 remember this trinket, and inform me how it came 
 into my daughter's hands : it was forced from her 
 previous to her flight."
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 235 
 
 Burrell started, for it was a miniature of him- 
 self, which he had given her in the bud of his 
 affection. At last he brazened out an assurance 
 that, however like, it was not his ; that he could 
 not tell how young ladies obtained miniature pic- 
 tures ; that, if the Rabbi would look, he would 
 observe the hair and eyes to be much lighter."" 
 
 " Man V exclaimed the Rabbi, fixing his keen 
 black eye upon Burrell, " away from before me ! 
 Guilt and falsehood are on your lip. Your 
 eye, the eye of the proud Christian, quails before 
 the gaze of the despoiled and despised Jew ; were 
 you innocent, you would stand firm as I do now, 
 erect in your Maker's image. Do you not 
 tremble lest God's own lightnings blast you ? 
 Did you ever read, and reading believe, the Chris- 
 tian story of Ananias and Sapphira !" 
 
 If Burrell had possessed an atom of human 
 feeling, he would have sunk abashed to the earth, 
 and entreated the forgiveness of the Rabbi, whose 
 flashing eyes and extended features glared and 
 swelled with indignation ; but the only two emo- 
 tions that at the time contended within him were 
 cowardice and pride. Had he the power, gladly
 
 236 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 would he have struck the Jew to death, as a pu- 
 nishment for what he deemed his insolence ; but 
 he feared the protecting and avenging hand of 
 Cromwell, who never resigned a cherished pur- 
 pose or a cherished person, and whose esteem 
 for the learned Rabbi was perfectly known, and 
 much talked of about the Court. 
 
 " You cannot avoid crediting me for meek- 
 ness, Ben Israel," he said, without, however, 
 raising his eyes from the ground, (for his blood 
 boiled in his veins, though he spoke in a gentle 
 tone;) " you have come into my house, rated me 
 upon a foul charge, and will not permit me to 
 speak in my own defence. Take a cup of this 
 wine, and then I will hear, if you can adduce it, 
 further proof than that false portrait." 
 
 The Rabbi touched not the proffered beverage, 
 but withdrew from his vest sundry letters, which 
 he unfolded with a trembling hand : they were 
 the communications he had received from the 
 Polish Jew, with whose family at Paris his 
 daughter had remained. He stated BurrelFs ex- 
 traordinary attention to Zillah, during his resi- 
 dence abroad — the frequent letters that passed
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 237 
 
 between them under pretence of a correspondence 
 with her father — her having received others from 
 England since BurrelFs return — her total change 
 of manner — and, finally, her having quitted his 
 house, and his being unable to discover where 
 she had gone. Strong suspicions were added 
 that she had followed Burrell to, and was now 
 in, England ; and there was a long and formal 
 expression of regret from the Polish Jew that he 
 had ever admitted the Christian beyond the 
 threshold of his door. 
 
 The villain breathed more freely when he as- 
 certained that the fugitive had not been traced 
 from St. Vallery ; and he felt he could have 
 braved the affair with perfect ease and indif- 
 ference, but for the information conveyed by 
 Dalton's letter, and the consequent dread of 
 Zillah's appearing before him, perhaps at the 
 very moment that the often-asserted, and sworn- 
 tp, lie passed his lips. It was now more diffi- 
 cult to dissemble than he had ever yet found it ; 
 he saw clearly that his oaths and protestations 
 made but little impression upon the mind of Ben 
 Israel, who filled up every pause either by la-
 
 238 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 mentations for his daughter, execrations on her 
 seducer, or touching appeals to one whose feel- 
 ings were centred in self, and who therefore 
 had little sympathy for sorrow that would have 
 moved a heart of stone. Burrell was so tho- 
 roughly overpowered by the events of the even- 
 ing, that the only point of exertion on which his 
 mind rallied was a strong wish to rid himself of 
 the Jew as speedily as possible, so that he might 
 find opportunity to collect and arrange his 
 thoughts — it therefore occurred to him to assume 
 the bearing of injured innocence, as protestations 
 had been of no avail ; he accordingly said, in a 
 tone and with a manner so earnest, that at the 
 moment it almost destroyed the suspicions of the 
 Rabbi : — 
 
 " Sir, I have over and over again asserted 
 enough to convince any rational person that I 
 know nothing of the crime you impute to me ; 
 having, in my own estimation, performed all that 
 could be required, I must now withdraw. If 
 you please to lay your statement before his High- 
 ness, I will defend myself, as I have now done, 
 and let him judge between thee and me.'"
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 239 
 
 " I have not been yet able to gain speech with 
 the chosen in Israel,*" replied Manasseh ; "he 
 hath been much from home on secret service 
 for the good of his people." 
 
 Burrell exulted at this knowledge, and again 
 protested his innocence in the strongest terms. 
 Manasseh rose to depart. Burrell pressed him 
 to remain ; but the old man resolutely refused. 
 
 " I am about to go forth from your dwelling. 
 If you have not been the seducer of my child, I 
 crave your pardon in deep humility, and will do 
 penance in sackcloth and ashes for having wrong- 
 fully accused you ; but," he added bitterly, " if 
 you have wronged me, and devoted her soul to 
 destruction, may the curse of the old Jew enter 
 into your veins, and curdle the red blood to a 
 hot and destroying poison ! — may the flowers of 
 the spring be to you scentless and revolting ! — 
 may the grass wither under your footsteps! — may 
 the waters of the valley be even as molten lead 
 
 unto your parched lips ! — may ' 1 
 
 " Dog of an unbeliever P exclaimed Burrell, 
 whose temper could no longer brook the taunting 
 curses of the old man, and whose coward spirit
 
 240 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 quailed beneath them, " hold thy foul tongue, 
 lest I pluck it from between thy teeth. Had I 
 been a circumcised Jew, and thou a Christian, 
 I could not have listened with more humility; 
 and this is the reward of my forbearance — curses 
 deep and bitter as the waters of the dead 
 sea. 1 '' 
 
 " They cannot harm if thou art innocent. I 
 have neither broken bread nor tasted salt within 
 thy walls ; and now I shake the dust from off 
 my feet upon thy threshold. Thy words at first 
 were of honey and the honey- comb, but now are 
 they as gall. Others must deal with thee. The 
 prayer of the bereaved father was as a tinkling 
 cymbal in thine ears ; but the curse — the curse 
 knocked at thy heart, and it trembled. Others 
 must deal with thee." 
 
 Manasseh Ben Israel repeated the curse with 
 terrible energy ; then shaking the dust from his 
 sandals, he passed, and entered, with his attendant, 
 the carriage that awaited him at the gate. 
 
 Burrell was convinced, and humbled by the 
 conviction, that an irresistible impulse had com- 
 pelled him to desert his sophistry, and stand forth
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 241 
 
 in his real character before one who had the ear 
 of the Protector, and whose religious persuasion 
 had not prevented his advancement, or his being 
 regarded as a man of extraordinary mental attain- 
 ments, even in a country, the prejudices of which, 
 always deeply- rooted, were at that time peculiarly 
 directed against the Jews. This people were de- 
 voted in their attachment to Cromwell ; and it was 
 believed that they would not have scrupled to 
 declare him the Messiah, could they have traced 
 his descent in any degree, however remote, to the 
 dwellers in Judah. Manasseh had mixed so 
 much with Christians, and had been treated by 
 the Protector so completely as an equal, that he 
 retained but little of the servility of tone or man- 
 ner, and less of the cringing and submissive de- 
 meanour, that characterized his tribe ; he there- 
 fore spoke boldly to Sir Willmott Burrell, after 
 a burst of strong and bitter feeling. He 
 knew himself protected by the ruler of England, 
 and felt undaunted in the presence of one he 
 could easily destroy ; but then he was a father, 
 and as such impelled by Nature to adopt every 
 expedient that might promote the disclosure of a 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 secret on which almost his life depended, and 
 which, he doubted not, was in some shape or 
 other in the keeping of his wily opponent. 
 
 " A pretty scrape my villainies have brought 
 me into !" thought Burrell, as he returned to his 
 chamber : " the girl will come over — that stops a 
 wedding. Suppose I were to take Zillah to wife — 
 the old rascal would not give me a maravedi. Sup- 
 pose, before I have secured Constance, Cromwell 
 listens to the Rabbi's tale — he will forbid my mar- 
 riage, to please the accursed Jew ; and I — may 
 blow my brains out. Suppose I marry at once — 
 But how ? Lady Cecil not many weeks dead ! — 
 I must manage it, however " he continued, pacing 
 the apartment, while Robin, who had ascertained 
 the impossibility of rousing the ill-governed 
 menials from their state of hopeless debauchery, 
 amused himself by counting the number of times 
 the Master of Burrell walked up and down the 
 room. At length, finding such dull watching 
 wearisome, he ventured to enter, and inquire if 
 he were to remain at Burrell House, or return 
 to the Gull's Nest. 
 
 " Well thought on, Robin Hays," said the
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 243 
 
 Knight, as if roused, and not unpleasantly, from 
 himself and his thoughts ; " You will rest here 
 to-night, and accompany me to Cecil Place on 
 the morrow. See to these rioters, of whom I 
 must rid my house." 
 
 " You had better do it then immediately, 11 
 retorted Robin, " or they will save you trouble 
 by ridding you of your house." 
 
 " True, good Robin ; you are ready-witted. 11 
 " And to keep up my character, I'll back to 
 Cecil Place this very hour, 11 muttered Robin, as 
 he closed the door ; " there is one there who 
 must not tarry the coming of Sir Willmott 
 Burrell. 11 
 
 m 2
 
 244 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 But such it is : and though we may be taught 
 To have in childhood life, ere love we know, 
 
 Yet life is useless till by reason taught, 
 And love and reason up together grow. 
 
 Sir W. Davenant. 
 
 " And, indeed, my grave Lady Constance plays 
 with the poor fish in a very sportsmanlike man- 
 ner ; only, methinks, a little too shy, and a trifle 
 too sensitive ! Marry, girl ! what a most yield- 
 ing, docile, and affectionate wife you would make ! 
 — like one of the heroines in the ancient Spanish 
 romances ; or such a one as — Judith! — no — for 
 you would never venture to chop off a man's head 
 — Stay — did she so ? — or — Barbara ! you are well 
 read in Scripture history ; and though you ply 
 your needle so industriously, that will not pre-
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 245 
 
 vent your calling to mind some of the holy 
 women in the Bible, to whom your mistress may 
 be compared. ,, 
 
 Barbara Iverk, who had no other duty at 
 Cecil Place than to wait upon the young heiress 
 or assist in her embroidery, was considered and 
 treated more as a humble companion than a me- 
 nial ; and Lady Frances Cromwell talked just 
 as freely to Mistress Cecil in her presence, as if 
 they were perfectly alone. Nor was such confi- 
 dence ever abused by the gentle girl. She moved 
 within her small circle like an attendant satellite 
 upon a brilliant star — silent and submissive — yet 
 ever in her place, ever smiling, innocent, and 
 happy— 
 
 " A maid whom there were few to praise, 
 And very few to love." 
 
 simple and single-minded, her soul had never 
 been contaminated by the idea, much less the 
 utterance, of falsehood. Even to Constantia, 
 the fulness of her worth and fidelity was un- 
 known ; although the bare contemplation of Bar- 
 bara's ever parting from her, was one of actual 
 pain.
 
 246 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 She replied to the lively question of the Lady 
 Frances in her usual straightforward and un- 
 presuming manner : a manner that afforded 
 considerable amusement to the merry trifler, by 
 whom the little Puritan was commonly spoken 
 of, while absent, as * the fresh primrose. 1 
 
 " Indeed, my Lady, I do not like mixing up 
 profane and holy things together." 
 
 " Fie, Barbara ! to call your mistress profane. 
 Constance, do put down those heavy poems of 
 Giles Fletcher, and listen to your bower-maiden, 
 describing you as one of the profane. 1, 
 
 Constance looked up and smiled ; while poor 
 Barbara endeavoured to free herself from the 
 charge with earnestness and humility. 
 
 " My Lady Frances, I ask your pardon ; but 
 I can hardly, I fear, make you understand what 
 I mean. I know that Mistress Cecil is always 
 aiming at the excellence to which the holy wo- 
 men of Scripture attained, — but " 
 
 " Then she has not attained their holiness in 
 your estimation ? She is too earthly still ?" 
 
 " She is my dear and noble lady, and to know 
 her is to love her," replied Barbara, her brown,
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 247 
 
 affectionate eyes swimming in tears at the wilful 
 perversion of her words. " May I beg, Lady 
 Frances, that you will condescend not to question 
 so poor and simple a girl as myself on what I 
 know so little of ?" 
 
 " There you are again in error, Barbara,"" 
 retorted her tormentor, who, like most wits, 
 cherished a jest more than the feelings of those 
 she jested with ; " I condescend when question- 
 ing, not when silent. ,, 
 
 Barbara made no reply, and Lady Frances, 
 who was at the same time pulling to pieces a 
 superb fan of ostrich feathers, proceeded to open 
 her light battery against Constantia. 
 
 " How is Sir Robert this morning ? I wish 
 he were rid of the rheumatism, and with us again. 
 I have hardly seen him since the valiant De 
 Guerre made his appearance among us, except at 
 dinner ; and, indeed, lie looks ill, though — heigh 
 ho ! — I wish all papas were as accommodating, 
 and let their daughters flirt with whom they 
 like. 1 ' 
 
 " Flirt, Lady Frances P 
 
 " Yes, flirt, Mistress Cecil ! Is there anything
 
 248 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 appalling in the word ? though I believe it some- 
 what of the newest. Now, poor I have no skill 
 in these matters ! If I see a pretty fellow, I care 
 not who knows it ; I like a jest, a laugh, tem- 
 pered with all rightful modesty. I do not prim 
 my mouth — tutor my eyes into sobriety — nor say 
 Amen, like old Will's Macbeth, to those who say 
 ' God bless us V I laugh my laugh, and look my 
 look, and say my say, though I am youngest, 
 and, by God's grace, wildest of his Highness the 
 Protector's children." 
 
 " Where got you your gay spirit, Lady 
 Frances ?" said Constantia, rising and stepping 
 towards her. 
 
 " My mother is a discreet matron as need be, 
 but my father was not always one of the gloomy 
 rulers of this gloomy land : he had his wild days, 
 though it is treason to speak of them now ; and, 
 in sooth, he sometimes forgets that young blood 
 runs swifter than old — How he lectures poor 
 Richard !" 
 
 " The Lord Richard is not cast in his great fa- 
 ther's mould ; he is a gentler and a feebler spirit ; 
 one who loves to hear of, or to read of, great deeds,
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 249 
 
 rather than to act them. Lady Fauconberg is 
 more like your father." 
 
 ' My sister Mary would certainly have made 
 a fine man. It was one of Nature's blunders to 
 convert such coarse clay into a woman." 
 
 " She has a noble mind, Frances, though not 
 so holy a one as the Lady Claypole." 
 
 " Well, dear Constance, you are very good to 
 bear with me. Suppose, now, my father, instead 
 of sending me here, had commanded that I should 
 sojourn and mystify with that righteous Mrs. 
 Lambert, whom he magnifies into a model of 
 holiness ; what a time I should have passed ! 
 Why, the nuns, whom the holy Sexburga placed 
 up yonder, had not as much loneliness ; don't 
 you think the place was admirably adapted for an 
 elopement ? I am certain — nay, you need not 
 smile — for 1 am quite certain, that every one of 
 the seventy-seven maidens, of whom history tells 
 us, including the charming Ermenilda herself, 
 fully made up their minds to run off with the 
 Danes before they came to the island. 1 wish, 
 though, that your father could be persuaded 
 to consider this only a summer residence, for it 
 
 m 5
 
 250 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 must be a little dreary, I think. Not that I feel 
 it such, for you are so kind ; and just as we were 
 beginning to grow a little dull or so, a flourish 
 — and enter Walter De Guerre — under the aus- 
 pices of Major Wellmore! Ha ! ha ! ha ! Well, 
 it has amused me so much. He certainly is a 
 most charming person, and if one, who is not 
 here, were here, I should be inclined to tease 
 him a little by my vast admiration of this gentle- 
 man. By the way, Sir Willmott Burrell has little 
 reason to thank Major Wellmore for this new 
 introduction ; though it must be quite delightful 
 to make either a lover or a husband jealous. Ah, 
 I see you do not agree with me, I did not expect 
 you would ; but, do you know, I have taken it 
 into my head that this De Guerre is not De 
 Guerre. ,, 
 
 " Indeed ! who is he then ?" 
 
 " That, Constantia, is exactly what I want to 
 know — and I think you could unravel the mystery. 
 
 " My dear Frances, you are a very unaccount- 
 able person ; always playing false yourself, you 
 hardly ever give people credit for being true.'" 
 
 " You are vastly complimentary. Ah, Con-
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 251 
 
 stance, when you come to Hampton, you must 
 learn some court observances. When we were 
 children together, we spoke truth." 
 
 " Were we not very happy then ?" 
 
 " We were," said Frances, drawing a heavy 
 sigh; "but how changed the times since then! 
 Constance, those who walk along a precipice may 
 well dread falling. Gay, giddy as I am, Crom- 
 well has not a child who glories in him more than 
 I do." 
 
 " And well you may," added Constance, whose 
 dignity of soul led her to appreciate, with as 
 much judgment as enthusiasm, the extraordinary 
 man who commanded the admiration, not only 
 of England, but of Europe. " Well may you be 
 proud of the most successful statesman, the most 
 resolute general, the most useful Christian that 
 ever governed a state. By his power he holds 
 our enemies in subjection ; and guides our friends 
 by his wisdom. I am but a poor politician, yet, 
 niethinks, I could almost worship your father for 
 the spirit and humanity with which he succours 
 those poor persecuted A T audois, who have kept 
 their faith pure as the breath of their native
 
 252 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 valleys : when I think of this, even the conqueror 
 is forgotten in the man. 1 ' 
 
 " You are a dear noble creature," exclaimed 
 Frances, as she gazed with admiration upon the 
 animated and expressive countenance of her 
 companion ; then encircling her neck, and kiss- 
 ing her cheek, with that delightful warmth of 
 manner, which can spring only from warmth of 
 feeling, she continued, " I wish, my love, that 
 flush were always on your cheek. You nourish 
 some secret sorrow, Constance ; nay, I am sure 
 you do ; and I will write and say so to my sister 
 Claypole, who is worthy to be your confidant, 
 as well as your godmother, though I am not. 
 Nay, nay, I know it well : I admire, but do not 
 quite understand you — The heavens are given us 
 to hope for, and the sun to look upon, and — But 
 dear me ! that would be — a simile ! I vow that 
 sounded like rhyme ; but here comes reason, in 
 the shape of our new Knight. Adieu ! dear 
 Constantia ! — Barbara! that is surely Robin 
 Hays, groping among the slopes like a huge 
 hedgehog. Did you not want to consult him 
 as to the management of the peewits' 1 eggs ?"
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 253 
 
 " In truth, yes, my Lady," replied Barbara, 
 rising from a half-finished carnation : " May I 
 go, mistress ?" 
 
 Constance assented. 
 
 " May / go, mistress ? v ' repeated Lady Fran- 
 ces, mimicking Barbara's tone and courtesy, in 
 her light-hearted gaiety. 
 
 " Yes," replied Constantia firmly, " I would 
 rather you did ; for I have something particular 
 to say to Major Wellmore's friend. 1 '' 
 
 " Now, is not that just like Constance Cecil?" 
 thought Lady Frances, as she left the room ; 
 " another would have said any thing rather than 
 the truth — Yet is truth a noble thing : something 
 to venerate as well as love — the best of virtues, 
 the wisest of counsellors, and the firmest of friends. 
 
 Constance rose from her seat as the Cavalier 
 entered ; but there was an expression of deep 
 sorrow over his whole countenance, that was al- 
 most immediately communicated to hcr's. What 
 an extraordinary and undefinable tie is that 
 which binds souls and sympathies together — the 
 voice, that is heard only by the ear of affection — 
 the look, that only one can understand — the silent
 
 254 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 thrill of happiness or of anguish, communicated 
 by a smile or by a sigh ! The world may sneer 
 at, or may condemn ; yet most true it is, that 
 they who love with the most purity and the 
 most truth, draw nearest to that great Spirit who 
 is the perfection of both ! 
 
 " I am come, 11 said De Guerre, " to bid for 
 awhile farewell to Mistress Cecil ; to thank her 
 for the kindness I have received under this roof ; 
 and to assure her that it can never be forgotten.' 1 
 
 " You have received but little attention — 
 too little indeed — yet, my father's health — our 
 recent heavy affliction, will, I am sure, plead for 
 us, and win an excuse. I was not, however, 
 aware that your departure would come so sud- 
 denly. Is my father apprised of it P 11 
 
 " He is not: — forgive me, lady; but I could 
 not avoid saying how much and how truly I 
 have felt the kind consideration you have be- 
 stowed upon one who, however worthy, I hope, 
 in many respects, has nevertheless deceived 
 you. 11 
 
 " De Guerre may deceive me, 11 replied Con- 
 stance, with considerable emotion, extending one
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 255 
 
 hand as she spoke, and covering her face with the 
 other, " De Guerre may deceive me, but Walter, 
 dear Walter, never." 
 
 The young man took her offered hand, and 
 pressed it affectionately to his lips. " Ah ! how 
 soon you saw in the Cavalier the companion 
 and playmate of your childhood, though you be- 
 lieved him dead ! Women have quick eyes, and 
 warm hearts for old friends. Unrecognized by 
 my nurse — by your father, — yet discovered by 
 you — by you only, Constance ! I need not say, 
 do not betray me ; do not breathe even to those 
 walls who it is that has entered within them ; let 
 it remain secret as the grave — But I need not 
 urge you thus, for treachery is not in your 
 nature ; let me talk of other things, and ask 
 by what token, Constance, did you trace me 
 through the disguise that years, and the burning 
 sun of many a parched land, have thrown over 
 my features and my form ?" 
 
 " It was your voice that struck me first, — some 
 tones and modulations, that I well remembered 
 when you called my dog : — then the unforgotten 
 locket which you placed in my hand, which,
 
 256 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 when I had seen you, I knew could have been 
 placed there by no other : — then — " Constance 
 paused and blushed, she ought to have felt angry 
 at the liberty that had been taken with her 
 tresses, but she gave no expression to such a feel- 
 ing ; and the pause was broken by the Cavalier, 
 who drew from his bosom the beautiful braid of 
 which the maiden had been robbed. 
 
 The colour on Constantia's cheek was succeed- 
 ed by a deadly paleness. 
 
 " Ah ! what a moment it was, by that old 
 temple, the lily triumphing over the rose on 
 your fair cheek, even more than now, yet with 
 such mild and gentle triumph, one scarce could 
 wish it less ; your eyes veiled by those soft lashes 
 — Well, no more — I will say no more of this. I 
 tried my poor skill to call you back to life, and, 
 just as I succeeded, your companion and attendant 
 came in sight. Since then, this dear memento has 
 nestled near my heart, a shield against evil, and 
 against evil thoughts. What ! still so pale ? you 
 must be ill, my sweet friend," he inquired tenderly. 
 
 " No, Walter, not in body ; but wherefore 
 should you bear that braid so near you ?"
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 257 
 
 " Sweet Constance, may I now call you by 
 that dear name ? Oh, how my heart rebelled 
 against the sound 'Mistress Cecil V — Truly is love 
 a republican, for he does not recognize titles ; 
 though, perhaps, it were better to describe him as 
 a despot, acknowledging none that are not of his 
 own creation. Why should I not wear the braid ? 
 Though now an outlawed man, it may not be 
 always thus ; the time will come when my own 
 arm shall win the way to glory and to fortune/'' 
 
 " I doubt it not — I doubt it not; — but — save 
 that nothing can make your fortunes a matter of 
 indifference to the friend and companion of your 
 childhood — I can have no greater interest in you, 
 nor you in me. But why prevent my saying to 
 in v father that the lost bird is found ? Methinks 
 I would gladly know with him the mysteries of 
 your disappearance, and the still greater one of 
 
 your concealment; suffer that I tell " The 
 
 Cavalier smiled a smile so moody, so full of sad 
 expression, that she paused. 
 
 " Not so ; I cannot explain any thing : perhaps 
 (if your words be serious) the time may never 
 come when I can explain. As to your father,
 
 258 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 if you ever valued Walter, I charge you, even as 
 you now value his life, that you give hint to no 
 human being of his existence. I am sure you 
 will keep my secret ; strange as may seem the re- 
 quest, still you will grant it." 
 
 " Yet surely, Walter, you may confide in one 
 who sorrowed for her playmate, with a length- 
 ened and deep grief; but" — she slowly added, ob- 
 serving the altered expression of his countenance, 
 " remember, I can only be to you a friend." 
 
 The words were uttered in a tone not to be 
 misconceived. The Cavalier understood and felt 
 it. 
 
 " Better, then, that I had gone forth, as I was 
 about to do, in ignorance that any here recog- 
 nized the ruined and outcast Walter ! Can there 
 be truth in the rumour, that one so young, so 
 beautiful, bearing the softened impress of a noble 
 and immortal mind upon a brow so lofty, is a will- 
 ins; sacrifice to a coward and villain ? Did I not 
 hear you, with my own ears, protest to the Lady 
 Frances Cromwell, that, of your own free will, you 
 would never marry this Sir Willmott Burrell ? 
 and, if it be so, if you spoke truth then, who
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 259 
 
 dare compel you, wealthy and high-born, to give 
 your hand where your heart is not ? Oh, you are 
 not the free, true-hearted girl, that, twelve years 
 ago, leaped upon your native hills to meet the 
 sunshine and the breeze, and often — alas ! alas ! 
 that it should only have been in mere sportive- 
 ness — declared that — But no matter — I see it all, 
 and, future Lady of Burrell, bid you farewell and 
 for ever. 1 ' 
 
 Constance replied with tears, yet calmly and 
 firmly : " Walter, be not cruel ; or at least be 
 not unjust. You were ever impetuous, but also 
 ever ready to repair the evil you had done. It 
 is ill of you to use so harsh a word against one 
 who has never wronged you. Alas ! could you 
 but read my heart, you would also judge of me 
 otherwise ; but think of me as your friend — your 
 fervent and faithful friend — I will not prove 
 un worthy . v ' 
 
 The Cavalier was about to reply, when Robin 
 Hays was ushered into the room by Barbara, 
 who immediately withdrew. After bowing with 
 due respect to Constance, he was about to 
 whisper into the ear of the Cavalier, who, how-
 
 260 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 ever, desired him to speak out, as he had nought 
 to conceal from that lady. The Ranger seemed 
 but little astonished at receiving such a com- 
 mand, and without further ceremony proceeded. 
 
 " I did hope, Sir, that you would have left 
 Cecil Place before this ; Sir Willmott Burrell 
 will, I am certain, arrive within an hour ; and 
 you know it is the Skipper's earnest desire that 
 you should not meet. ,, 
 
 " Robin, you told me all this but a little time 
 past ; and I know not why I am to hear it again. 
 I have nought to fear from this Burrell. 1 ' 
 
 " It would be certainly unsafe, were there a 
 possibility of his suspecting you, for his — " 
 Again Constantia interrupted herself; she had 
 been on the point of betraying her knowledge 
 of Sir Willmott's jealous and impatient temper ; 
 and, after a pause, she added, " but there is little 
 danger of that : as a boy, he never saw you ; 
 and he must respect the friend of Major Well- 
 more." 
 
 " Ah, Madam !"" observed Robin, " he is no 
 respecter of persons ; and I see no reason why 
 two should meet again, who have already so 
 roughly handled each other."
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 261 
 
 " Where did they meet ?" inquired Constance 
 eagerly. 
 
 " There is no time to tell the story now, 
 lady," replied Robin impatiently. " As I see 
 you know this gentleman, and knowing him, are 
 too generous not to be interested in his favour, 
 urge, I beseech you, his instant departure from 
 Cecil Place. Surely I can explain every thing 
 as well as he. It was Dal ton's wish " 
 
 " I bitterly grieve to hear that you have aught 
 to do with so bold, so bad a man as Dalton," 
 said Constance hastily ; " his name brings to my 
 remembrance feelings of undefined pain, for 
 which I cannot account. It is long since I have 
 heard of him ; but something poor Barbara com- 
 municated to me in her innocence, made me sus- 
 pect he had been here. Go then ; and take my 
 prayers, and (though nothing worth, it may be,) 
 my blessing. And now, farewell — farewell — at 
 least for a time !" 
 
 " We must meet again, Constance ! say only 
 
 that you will see me once more before " 
 
 " By Heaven !" exclaimed Robin, " you stand 
 dallying here, and there is Sir Willmott himself 
 coming down the avenue at full speed ! Lady,
 
 262 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 I entreat your pardon for my boldness — But 
 go, lady, go ! — in God's name ! — then, and not 
 till then, will he depart." 
 
 Constance did not trust herself in the room a 
 moment longer. After briefly collecting her 
 thoughts, which had laboured unceasingly to 
 unravel the mysteries that surrounded the Ca- 
 valier, she entered her father's chamber. He 
 had been evidently suffering from illness, and 
 was seated in a large easy chair, his feet resting 
 upon cushions, while the Reverend Jonas Fleet- 
 word read from time to time out of sundry pious 
 books that were placed on a table before him. 
 The preacher paused as she approached, and sig- 
 nified his intention of walking forth " to meet 
 the man of Burrell," who, he understood from 
 the wild youth called Robin Hays, was to arrive 
 ere noon. It was a precious opportunity, one 
 not to be neglected, for cultivating the rich seed 
 sown in that holy land. 
 
 When the worthy divine was fairly out of the 
 room, Constance delivered a message from the 
 Cavalier, stating that he had been obliged to 
 leave Cecil Place without taking a personal 
 leave of his kind host ; and repeated his ex-
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 263 
 
 pressions of gratitude for the attentions he had 
 experienced during his brief sojourn. 
 
 ' f Thank God, he is gone !" replied the Baronet, 
 drawing his breath freely, as if relieved from a 
 painful oppression. " Introduced as he was, it 
 was impossible not to treat him with respect, but 
 he strangely disturbed me. Did you not think 
 him a cold, suspicious youth P 11 
 
 " I cannot say I did, Sir." 
 
 " You are singularly unsuspicious, Constance, 
 for one so wise : you ought to learn distrust ; it 
 is a dark, a dreadful, but a useful lesson. 1 ' 
 
 " Methinks one has not need to study how to 
 be wretched ; suspicion has to me ever seemed 
 the school of misery." 
 
 The Baronet made no reply to this observation, 
 but soon after abruptly exclaimed — 
 
 " He will not come again, I suppose. 11 
 
 Constance did not know. 
 
 He then fancied he could walk a little ; and, 
 pressing to his side the arm on which he leaned, 
 said — 
 
 " Ah, my child ! a willing arm is more de- 
 lightful to a parent than a strong one. Wilt 
 always love thy father, Constance P 11
 
 264 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 " My dear father, do you doubt it ?" 
 
 " No, my child ; but suppose that any circum- 
 stance should make me poor ?" 
 
 " You will find what a nice waiting-maid your 
 daughter is." 
 
 " Suppose I was dishonoured ?" 
 
 " Public honour is given and taken by a 
 breath, and is therefore of little worth ; but the 
 private and more noble honour is in our own 
 keeping : my father keeps it safely." 
 
 " But suppose that I deserved the ill word of 
 all mankind ?" 
 
 " My dear father, why trouble yourself or me 
 with such a thought ? — if it so happened, you 
 would still be my parent ; but such an event 
 is impossible." 
 
 The Baronet sighed, as if in pain. Constance 
 looked anxiously into his face, and noted that a 
 cold and clammy perspiration stood thickly on his 
 brow. 
 
 " You had better sit down, dear Sir." 
 
 " No, my child, I shall be better for a little 
 air ; let us go into the library." 
 
 As they entered the room, a scene of solemn 
 drollery presented itself, that a humorous painter
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 265 
 
 might well desire to pourtray. Kneeling on 
 a high-backed and curiously-carved chair, was 
 seen the lean, lanky figure of Fleetword, placed 
 within a foot of the sofa, on which, in the 
 most uneasy manner and discontented attitude, 
 sat the Master of Burrell. The preacher had so 
 turned the chair that he leaned over it, pulpit- 
 fashion ; holding his small pocket Bible in his 
 hand, he declaimed to his single auditor with as 
 much zeal and energy as if he were addressing the 
 Lord Protector and his court. The effect of the 
 whole was heightened by the laughing face and 
 animated figure of Lady Frances Cromwell, half- 
 concealed behind an Indian skreen, from which 
 she was, unperceived, enjoying the captivity of 
 Burrell, whom, in her half-playful, half-serious 
 moods, she invariably denominated " the false 
 black Knight." Fleetword, inwardly rejoicing at 
 the increase of his congregation, of whose pre- 
 sence, however, he deemed it wisdom to appear 
 ignorant, had just exclaimed — 
 
 " Has not the word of the Lord come to me, 
 as to Klisha in the third year? and shall I not do 
 His bidding?" 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 266* THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 " Thou art a wonder in Israel, doubtless," said 
 Burrell, literally jumping from his seat, and 
 that so rudely as nearly to overturn the pulpit 
 arrangement of the unsparing minister ; " but I 
 must salute my worthy friend, whom I am sorry 
 to see looking so ill. 11 
 
 " Perform thy salutations, for they are good, 11 
 said the preacher, adjusting the chair still further 
 to his satisfaction, " and after that I will con- 
 tinue ; for it is pleasant repeating the things that 
 lead unto salvation. 1 ' 
 
 " You would not, surely, Sir, 11 said Lady 
 Frances, coming forward and speaking in an 
 under-tone, " continue to repeat poor Lady 
 Cecil's funeral sermon before her husband and 
 daughter? — they could not support it. 11 
 
 " You speak like the seven wise virgins," re- 
 plied Fleetword, putting one of his long limbs to 
 the ground, as if to descend ; and then as sud- 
 denly drawing it back, he added, " But the 
 Lord's servant is not straitened ; there are many 
 rivers in Judah, so the faithful may drink at 
 another stream. 11 
 
 " I wish you would come with me, 11 said Lady
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 267 
 
 Frances, rightly interpreting the intreating look 
 of Constantia ; "or rather, come with us, for I 
 am sure Mistress Cecil has much to say to, and 
 I have much to hear from, you : we will leave 
 Sir Robert and Sir Willmott to talk over the 
 affairs of this great nation ; temporal matters 
 must be attended to, you know : and though" — 
 she looked for a moment at Burrell, whose coun- 
 tenance had not yet regained its usual suavity — 
 " I am sorry to be the means of depriving Sir 
 Willmott of much necessary instruction, I have 
 no doubt you will make up the deficiency to him 
 at some future time." 
 
 N 2
 
 268 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 The soote season that bud and blome forth brings, 
 With green hath clad the hill, and eke the vale, 
 
 The nightingale with fethers new she sings, 
 The turtle to her mate hath told the tale, 
 
 Somer is come, for every spray now springs. 
 
 ****** 
 
 And thus I see among these pleasant things, 
 Eche care decay ; and yet my sorrow springs. 
 
 Surrey. 
 
 It may be readily imagined that Burrell re- 
 mained in a state of extreme perplexity after 
 the receipt of Dalton's letter, and the departure 
 of Ben Israel. He saw there was now but one 
 course that could preserve him from destruc- 
 tion, and resolved to pursue it : — to cajole or 
 compel Sir Robert Cecil to procure the imme- 
 diate fulfilment of the marriage contract between
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 269 
 
 himself and Constance. This was his only hope, 
 the sheet-anchor to which he alone trusted ; he felt 
 assured that, if the Protector discovered his in- 
 famous seduction of the Jewess Zillah, he would 
 step in, from a twofold motive, and prevent his 
 union : in that he esteemed both the Rabin's wis- 
 dom and his wealth, and was most unlikely to suffer 
 one on whom his favour had been bestowed so 
 freely, to be injured and insulted with impunity ; 
 and next, inasmuch as he entertained a more than 
 ordinary regard for Constance Cecil, the child of an 
 ancient friend, and the god-daughter of the Lady 
 Claypole. Of this regard he had, within a few 
 weeks, given a striking proof, in having selected 
 Cecil Place above more splendid mansions, and 
 the companionship of its youthful mistress, in 
 preference to many more eager candidates for 
 such an honour, when, for certain weighty rea- 
 sons, he deemed a temporary absence from the 
 Court essential to the comfort and prosperity of 
 the Lady Frances. 
 
 The friendship that had subsisted between the 
 family of the Protector and that of Sir Robert 
 Cecil was, as we have intimated, not of recent
 
 270 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 growth ; the Lady Cromwell and Lady Cecil had 
 been friends long before the husband of the 
 former had been called to take upon him the 
 high and palmy state that links his name so glo- 
 riously, so honourably — but, alas ! in some re- 
 spects also, so unhappily with the history of 
 his country. When an humble and obscure in- 
 dividual at Ipswich, the visits of the Lady Cecil 
 were considered as condescensions upon her part 
 towards friends of a respectable yet of a much 
 inferior rank. Times had changed ; but he who 
 was now a king in all but the name, and far 
 beyond ordinary kings in the power to have 
 his commands obeyed as widely as the winds of 
 heaven could convey them — remembered the 
 feelings that held sway in lowlier, yet perhaps 
 in happier days ; and, although rarely a guest at 
 Cecil Place, he continued a staunch friend to the 
 family, to whom he had upon several occasions 
 extended the simple hospitalities of Hampton 
 Court. 
 
 Towards the Lady Constance, his sentiments 
 of respect and regard had been frequently and 
 markedly expressed. When he beheld the
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 271 
 
 fading beauty of the mother reviving with 
 added graces and attraction in the fair form 
 and expressive countenance of the daughter, 
 it was with feelings of pride, unusual to him, 
 that he remembered his wife had been among 
 the first to cherish and estimate the promise 
 which the youth had given, and which the 
 coming womanhood of Constance was surely 
 about to fulfil. 
 
 Moreover, two sons of Sir Robert had fought 
 and died by the side of the Protector, having 
 been schooled in arms under his own eye ; and 
 had there been no other motive for his inter- 
 ference, he was not a man to have looked on 
 the dead features of his brave companions, and 
 have felt no interest in the relations who sur- 
 vived them. To the only remaining scion of a 
 brave and honourable race, Cromwell, therefore, 
 had many reasons for extending his protection 
 and his regard. Sir Robert, perhaps, he con- 
 sidered more as an instrument than as a friend ; 
 for Cromwell, like every other great statesman, 
 employed friends sometimes as tools, yet tools 
 never as friends — a distinction that rulers in all
 
 272 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 countries would do well to observe. It is an old 
 and a true saying, u that a place showeth the 
 man ;" few at that time could look upon the 
 Protector, either in a moral or political point of 
 view, without a blending of astonishment and 
 admiration at his sudden elevation and extra- 
 ordinary power ; and more especially, at his 
 amazing influence over all who came within the 
 magic circle of which he was the centre. Bur- 
 rell of Burrell he regarded as a clever, but a 
 dangerous man ; and was not, perhaps, sorry 
 to believe that his union with so true a friend 
 to the Commonwealth as Constance Cecil would 
 convert him from a doubtful adherent, into 
 a confirmed partizan, and gain over to his 
 cause many of the wavering, but powerful fa- 
 milies of Kent and Sussex, with whom he was 
 connected. 
 
 Burrell, however, had succeeded in satisfying 
 Cromwell that the proposed union had the full 
 consent and approbation, not only of Sir Robert 
 Cecil, but of his daughter. The protracted ill- 
 ness of Lady Cecil had much estranged Constance 
 from her friends, and, as the subject was never
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 213 
 
 alluded to in any of the letters that passed be- 
 tween her and her godmother, it was considered 
 that the marriage was not alone one of policy, but 
 to which, if the heart of Constance were not a 
 party, her mind was by no means averse. Of 
 the Protector's views upon these several topics, 
 Burrell was fully aware ; and he dreaded the 
 discovery, not only of his own conduct, but of the 
 feelings that existed towards him on the part of 
 his affianced bride ; there were other topics that 
 did not so readily occur to the mind of Burrell, 
 but that Avould have been of themselves suffi- 
 ciently weighty to have confirmed his worst fears 
 for his own safety,— the Protector's stern love of 
 justice, and his especial loathing of that vice of 
 which the villain had been guilty. Had the Jew, 
 Ben Israel, and the maiden Constance Cecil, been 
 indifferent persons in his sight, the double trea- 
 chery of Burrell would have been requited upon 
 his head. 
 
 Next to Hugh Dalton, no man possessed so 
 unbounded, and so apparently unaccountable an 
 influence over Sir Robert Cecil as Sir Willmott 
 Burrell : he knew, as we have elsewhere stated, 
 
 N 5
 
 274 THE BUCCANEER, 
 
 many of his secrets, and shrewdly guessed at 
 others of more weighty import, while, with the 
 ready sagacity of an accomplished knave, he con- 
 trived to appear well acquainted with matters of 
 which he was altogether ignorant, but the exist- 
 ence of which he had abundant reasons for sus- 
 pecting. The enfeebled health and growing infir- 
 mities of the Baronet rendered him an easy prey 
 to his wily acquaintance, who, driven to his last 
 resource, resolved upon adopting any course that 
 might save him from destruction, by inducing Sir 
 Robert, not only to sanction, but command an 
 immediate marriage with his daughter. 
 
 In commencing the conversation with Burrell, 
 Sir Robert peevishly complained of the annoyance 
 to which he had been subjected in receiving and 
 accommodating the young friend of Major Well- 
 more, although he abstained from the indulgence 
 of feelings similar to those he had exhibited in 
 the presence of his daughter. He then mur- 
 mured bitterly of sleepless nights — of restless 
 days — of watchings and weariness — of hideous 
 dreams — of the toils, turmoils, and unfaithfulness 
 of the world — the usual theme of those who have
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 275 
 
 done nothing to merit its fidelity ; and, as Sir 
 Willmott Burrell looked upon him, he mar- 
 velled at the change that but a few weeks had 
 wrought in his appearance ; his mind seemed so 
 enfeebled, that he deemed it even more altered 
 than his body. He was, moreover, much asto- 
 nished to find that he dwelt so little upon his 
 recent and most heavy loss ; for the attachment 
 between Sir Robert Cecil and his wife had been 
 remarkable at a time when domestic happiness was 
 even the court fashion. But here Burrell was at 
 fault ; he knew nothing of the position in which 
 Sir Robert at present stood with regard to Hugh 
 Dalton, and was therefore ignorant of the positive 
 peril by which he was encompassed : a peril so 
 great and so immediate, as to render him in a 
 degree insensible to the affliction under which he 
 had so recently and so painfully laboured. Often, 
 in his dreary night watches, when sleep set no seal 
 Upon his aching lids, or when they closed for a 
 little over the strained and worn eyeballs, and 
 then opened in terror at frightful images that 
 haunted his fevered fancy — often at such times 
 had he endeavoured to offer up a thanksgiving,
 
 276 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 that she was gone from the wrath, the avenging 
 horrors — the approach of which he dreaded a 
 thousand times more than death. 
 
 The application that had been made to the 
 Protector for Dalton's pardon, had been treated 
 as he expected ; and his only chance of accom- 
 plishing the object of the Buccaneer, now rested 
 on the possibility of his gaining over certain per- 
 sons of the court, to exert their influence with 
 Cromwell in the outlaw's behalf. Sir Robert's 
 personal interest did not extend far, but the 
 influence of his gold did. The Protector could 
 free himself from outward sinners, but he could 
 not rid himself of the more smooth, and conse- 
 quently more dangerous villains, generated by 
 the peculiar forms and habits of the times. To 
 some of these, Sir Robert had secretly offered 
 temptation in every way : the stake was large, 
 the danger certain ; for he well knew the inflexi- 
 bility of Dalton's character, and that he would 
 not fail to perform that upon which he had re- 
 solved. It had occurred to him more than once, 
 to consult Burrell on the subject ; but a dread 
 of his future son-in-law, for which he could not
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 277 
 
 account, had hitherto prevented his naming to 
 him the Buccaneer's desire to be a legalized 
 commander. His anxiety to carry his point, now, 
 however, overcame his timidity, and he resolved 
 to speak to him on the matter, at the very time 
 the Knight had decided on addressing the Ba- 
 ronet — under equally weighty circumstances — 
 on the subject of his marriage. Unfortunately 
 for Sir Robert Cecil, he was the first to unfold 
 his plan ; and thus gave the wily Burrell another 
 and a firmer hold than he had yet possessed. 
 After repinings over his health, and murmurs 
 against mankind, had somewhat lessened that 
 secret and consuming misery, that enveloped him 
 as with a winding-sheet, lie inquired if Burrell 
 had lately encountered a man they must both 
 remember — Hugh Dalton — a bold, but reckless 
 fellow, who had played Cavalier, Buccaneer, and 
 a thousand other characters in turn — all charac- 
 ters, in fact, save that of a coward. Burrell re- 
 plied in the negative ; but confessed he knew the 
 man had been upon the coast; cunningly add- 
 ing, that since his affections had been so entirely 
 fixed upon Constantia, he had given up every
 
 278 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 connexion, every idea, that might hereafter draw 
 him from a home where all blessings would be 
 united. 
 
 Sir Robert was never insensible to his daugh- 
 ter's praise, but it did not prevent his continuing 
 the subject. He stated that Dalton was a clever, 
 experienced seaman; — that his knowledge of fo- 
 reign seas and foreign affairs in general might be 
 made most useful to government, if government 
 would avail itself of such advantages ; — that the 
 Buccaneer was a bitter thorn in the side of the 
 Protector, as he had been known to convey mal- 
 contents to England, as well as to ship them off ; 
 
 that his Fire-fly might be termed a meteor of the 
 
 waters, now here, now there, shining like a blazing- 
 star — stealing like a moon -beam — in the Texel, 
 in the Thames, in the Baltic, or the Black Sea — 
 as occasion required ; everywhere when mischief 
 was doing, nowhere when it was to be remedied : 
 — that all this evil might be avoided by giving 
 Dalton a pardon and the command of a Common- 
 wealth ship ; that he would accept, indeed he 
 (Sir Robert) was sure that he desired, such an 
 employment, and that it would be a grievous
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 279 
 
 thing for the state if an arrangement could not 
 be made to purchase his future services and his 
 good conduct at so small a price. 
 
 Burrell was astonished, but saw clearly enough 
 that there must be some covert motive for such 
 deep and unaccountable anxiety : he dexterously 
 set forth the various arguments that might be 
 urged by government against a man of DaltoiVs 
 character ; the ill example, the dangerous pre- 
 cedent of one so circumstanced taking his place 
 amongst honourable men, and so forth ; mooting 
 a variety of points in order that he might judge of 
 Sir Robert's object by his manner of answering 
 objections. 
 
 The Baronet was caught in the toils ; he be- 
 trayed so much anxiety, so much panting eager- 
 ness in the Buccaneer's behalf, as to satisfy Bur- 
 rell that hardly anything less than a cause of 
 life and death could create such intense earnest- 
 ness on such a subject in a person who seemed ba- 
 lancing between this world and the next. Various 
 surmises and conjectures, which lie had heard in 
 former times, strengthened the opinion. Having 
 assured himself upon this point, he ventured
 
 280 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 upon one of those daring falsehoods that had 
 hitherto been the principal means of his suc- 
 cess : he assured the Baronet in the most solemn 
 manner, that he had a secret way, one which he 
 could not explain, but it was a species of promise 
 for service performed, of winning from Cromwell 
 the desired pardon and appointment ; — that he 
 had avoided asking such a favour until some- 
 thing particular occurred, something of deep 
 value and importance; — that he was willing to 
 sacrifice his own prospects to oblige his friend ; 
 and the only favour he asked in return was one 
 that, though above all price in his estimation, 
 could be easily bestowed by Sir Robert Cecil — the 
 immediate gift of his daughter's hand. He did 
 not wish her feelings to be wounded by a public- 
 ceremony so shortly after the loss they had all 
 sustained ; nay, he would prefer receiving her 
 from her father in the ruined but beautiful little 
 chapel that belonged to the house : all he re- 
 quested, all he entreated, was that the marriage 
 should be speedy. Then, with the power of one 
 deeply skilled in deceitfulness, he wound up the 
 whole by tender allusions to the weakness, the 
 precariousness of Sir Robert's health, and the
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 281 
 
 despair he might experience on his death-bed if 
 he expired with the knowledge that his beloved, 
 his only child, had no earthly protector. 
 
 Sir Robert remembered his promise to his 
 wife, that he would never urge his daughter's 
 marriage with Burrell ; and although he avoided 
 noticing this as an apology to the Knight, yet he 
 firmly stated his dislike to press Constantia on 
 the subject ; and earnestly inquired if there were 
 no other way by which he could show his grati- 
 tude than by interfering in the matter, at all 
 events, until the year of mourning for Lady Cecil 
 had expired. 
 
 Burrell feigned astonishment at this reply : 
 the hand of Mistress Cecil, he said, had long been 
 betrothed to him ; he confessed that he did not 
 think Sir Robert would for a moment have hesi- 
 tated to comply with his most reasonable request : 
 he urged various motives for hastening the union, 
 and finally entreated the Baronet 1 s permission to 
 address his daughter herself on the subject. To 
 this Sir Robert offered no opposition ; he was igno- 
 rant of the strength of Constantia's feelings with re- 
 gard to Burrell. She had been affianced to him in 
 her early girlhood, when much too young to have
 
 282 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 an opinion on the matter ; and as the union had 
 never been pressed upon her, she had not been 
 called upon to state any objections to it. Her 
 poor mother had seen, with the clearness of a 
 mother's love, that the marriage would never 
 tend to her child's happiness : she had observed 
 both characters narrowly, and was perfectly con- 
 vinced of Burrell's worthlessness. She could not 
 impress this conviction on Sir Robert's mind ; but 
 in her last moments she extorted from him the 
 promise that he would never urge the union. This 
 was, as we have seen, all she could obtain ; and 
 Sir Robert was content to " keep the word of 
 promise to the ear," without reference to the 
 sense. 
 
 Burrell seemed perfectly satisfied with the per- 
 mission he had obtained, and left Sir Robert in 
 the library, expressing his determination to speak 
 to Mistress Cecil on the subject that evening. 
 
 " And he will make her a very affectionate 
 husband," mused Sir Robert, after his departure : 
 " how can he do otherwise ? But I do not in- 
 terfere in it ; I know she has no other attach- 
 ment ; and my Constantia's sense of duty will
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 283 
 
 oblige her to love her husband. Oh, yes, she 
 will be happy — happy — happy — " he said, as if 
 the repetition of the word could give birth to' the 
 feeling. 
 
 It was the clear and balmy twilight ; the sun 
 had left the west in glory, and the delicious 
 breeze of evening was mingling among the young 
 leaves of the shrubs and trees ; all appeared in 
 contentment and at peace, when the Lady Fran- 
 ces Cromwell and Constance sat together upon a 
 mossy bank, but a few yards distant from the 
 house, yet so overshadowed by venerable trees, 
 that not a turret nor a vestige of the building was 
 to be seen. The spot they had chosen for their 
 resting-place was known as " the Fairy Ring : n 
 it was a circular mound, girdled by evergreens, 
 which, in their turn, were belted by forest-trees, 
 that spread in an opposite direction to the house, 
 into what was called the Ash Copse. The dark 
 green of our winter shrub, the spotted laurus- 
 tinus, was relieved by the golden tassels of the 
 laburnum, just opening into bloom; the haw- 
 thorn contended for beauty and perfume with 
 the delicate blossoms of the purple lilac ; while
 
 284 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 its modest sister, the white, sent forth her pale 
 green leaves, and delicate buds, over a bed of 
 double violets : 
 
 " Where all the earth beneath — the heaven above, 
 Teem'd with the earliest spring of joyous youth, 
 Sunshine, and flowers, and vague, and virgin love." 
 
 The quiet and serenity of the evening commu- 
 nicated its tone and character to the buoyant 
 mind of Lady Frances Cromwell. 
 
 " I am sober as the twilight, Constance, be- 
 cause I have been thinking of sober matters. 
 Alas ! alas ! we have all our twilights : — Youth's 
 twilight is soft and perfumed as that which 
 hovers over us, — tranquil — but it is the tran- 
 quillity of hope. The twilight of middle life is, 
 methinks, nearly allied to that of an autumn 
 evening, — doubts hover and come upon us as the 
 falling leaves ; the wind Avhistles like the wailing 
 of departing days ; there is but little tranquillity 
 then, because the hope that is left is enough 
 to agitate by its vain dreams, but not to soothe. 
 What shall I say of the twilight of age ? I 
 do not like to think of it — its tranquillity ap- 
 pears to me so closely linked with despair. 11
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 285 
 
 " No, Frances, not despair : it is only the 
 moody and abstracted silence of guilt that claims 
 such awful kindred. I think age more beautiful 
 — more hope-giving, than youth ; though its 
 beauty is far different, and its hope sublime, 
 instead of joyous. Ask the most prosperous — 
 the most fortunate man in existence — one on 
 whom the eyes of the whole world are turned 
 in admiration and its attendant, envy — ask 
 such a one if he would live over his life again, 
 and he will answer, ' No !' " 
 
 " This speaks badly for the happiness of life," 
 said Lady Frances. 
 
 " I do not think it does," replied Constantia ; 
 " every evil has either a remedy or an anodyne : 
 but, unfortunately, we are more prone to dwell 
 upon evils than upon blessings — yet this should 
 make us less satisfied with earth, as we draw 
 nearer heaven." 
 
 " Constance, are you a philosopher ?" 
 
 " No ; for I am a woman ! and what is called 
 
 philosophy, is sadly at war with both our mental 
 
 and our bodily endowments. I have heard there 
 
 are lands in which certain persons think they
 
 286 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 confer honour upon our sex, by mixing us more 
 up with the bustle and turmoil of the world — 
 methinks they would strangely pervert our 
 natures."" 
 
 " I agree with you, Constance : let men have 
 all the public, and women all the private busi- 
 ness of life to manage, and my word on't, the 
 balance of power is with us. Our tongues have 
 enough to do at home, without chattering in high 
 places ; and as to our arms ! mine could ill wield 
 battle-axe or broadsword. I suppose these peo- 
 ple of whom you speak would invent a new sex 
 to look after domestic matters, while we assist 
 in the broil and the battle ! We shall lose our 
 influence, depend on't, the moment we are taken 
 out of our sphere — we shall lose caste as women, 
 and be treated with contempt as men. What J 
 like, Constance, is to have my own dear little 
 way, by my own pretty little manoeuvres — behind 
 the bush — thrust another into the breach, and 
 then, if evil arise, the man gets the blame, while 
 I retreat in safety /" 
 
 " Then the Lady Frances would take one of 
 the other sex as a shield ?"
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 287 
 
 " Yes, Constance ; they would do as well to be 
 shot at as ourselves, you know.' 1 
 
 " Ah, Frances, you are no true woman, unless, 
 if there were real danger, you would thrust 
 yourself between it and the life a thousand times 
 more precious than your own. Suppose, for 
 instance, that sudden danger menaced the life 
 
 of " 
 
 " Hush, dear Constantia ; the idea of such an 
 event is enough. It is easier to sacrifice life 
 when the sacrifice is demanded by affection, than 
 to resign one selfish indulgence.' 1 
 
 " Ah ! because, in the first case, we gratify 
 ourselves ; in the second, others." 
 
 " You are a mental chemist, Constance : but 
 here comes the maid called Barbara, with hoods 
 and cardinals, signifying that the dew is falling, 
 though we feel it not." 
 
 " I sought you, mistress," said Barbara, " all 
 over the house, for Sir Willmott Burrell advised 
 me that he wished to speak with you in the oak 
 parlour, if it so please you, or in the library ; my 
 honoured master was present." 
 " Did my father too want me ?"
 
 288 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 " No, madam ; he said he would go to his 
 chamber, for a little, before the evening meal." 
 
 The young ladies, followed by Barbara, entered 
 the house, and, as Frances Cromwell pressed 
 Constantia's hand, she felt it clammy and chilling 
 cold ; she would have spoken, but, while arrang- 
 ing the necessary words, her friend, with a more 
 than usually dignified deportment, entered the 
 parlour. It was a dark, dim room, the frettings 
 and ornaments of black carved oak. 
 
 " Tell Sir Willmott Burrell I await him here," 
 she said to Barbara, while passing the threshold. 
 
 Frances Cromwell, over whose mind a feeling 
 of terror was imperceptibly stealing, would have 
 remained, but Constance intimated that she 
 would receive Burrell alone.
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 289 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 1 am sworn brother now 
 
 To grim Necessity ; and he and I 
 Will keep a league till death. 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 " My blood seems to curdle in my veins," mur- 
 mured Constance, as she rubbed the palm of one 
 hand against the back of the other ; " my very 
 blood seems to curdle in my veins, and a shadow, 
 as of the Vampire's wings, is over me. But why 
 is this? Is God less present with me here than 
 beneath the heavenly atmosphere I have just now 
 breathed ?" And then she uttered a few words of 
 prayer so earnestly, that Burrell had entered the 
 room before she was aware of his presence. 
 
 " You are not well," he observed, seating him- 
 
 vol. i. o
 
 290 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 self in a chair beside that into which she had 
 sunk : " I hope I do not disturb you unpleasantly. 
 \ ou keep watch too anxiously by your father's 
 couch." 
 
 " I am better now, 11 she replied ; " but that of 
 which you speak, my thought of the living and 
 the dead, although it may have somewhat touch- 
 ed my health, has been my happiest duty." 
 
 " Perhaps you would rather hear what I have 
 to say to-morrow," he observed, a momentary 
 feeling of sympathy forcing itself upon his mind, 
 as he noticed her white lip and still whiter cheek. 
 
 " I pray you, Sir," she replied proudly, " to 
 proceed ; I am as ready now as I can be on 
 the morrow to listen to aught it may be your 
 pleasure to advance. Your observations, if it 
 please you, now." 
 
 " I have no ' observations "* to offer, Mistress 
 Cecil — may I say, Constance ? for so I used to 
 call you in the early days of our betrothment — 
 though I have much to request. I confess, I have 
 felt hurt and ago-rieved at the small show of cour- 
 tesy you have vouchsafed me ; but, as I believe 
 that sorrow and an habitual reserve have wrought
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 291 
 
 this manner, I do not blame, though I regret it 
 deeply. The time, I hope, fair lady, is not far dis- 
 tant when you will ratify my claim to your hand ; 
 then the devotedness of my future life — the entire- 
 ness of my attachment — the depth of my love " 
 
 " Sir Willmott Burrell," interrupted Constan- 
 tia, " the grass upon my mother's grave is not 
 yet green ; and would you talk of love P" 
 
 For a moment the Knight was silent. 
 
 " Reasons — reasons that I will explain here- 
 after, make me exceedingly desire that the con- 
 tract should be immediately fulfilled. Nay, 
 Lady, do not start and shudder," he continued, 
 taking her hand, that hung listlessly and without 
 motion within his grasp ; " even should you not 
 love as I do, affection will make you all mine 
 own. within a little time." 
 
 " Believe it not, Sir Willmott," said Con- 
 stantia, at length disengaging her hand ; " I can 
 never love you. 11 
 
 Men have been unaccustomed, in all ages, to 
 hear simple truths, of such a description, declared 
 in so simple a manner. Ladies rant and protest 
 that they abhor and abominate — or they \v r eep, 
 
 o 2
 
 292 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 and shriek, and call the gentleman odious, or 
 horrid, or some such gentle name ; which the said 
 gentleman perfectly understands to mean — any 
 thing he pleases ; but Constantia , s perfect truth, 
 the plain earnestness of that brief sentence, car- 
 ried conviction with it ; and the handsome Bur- 
 rell paced three or four times the length of the 
 oak parlour, before he could sufficiently bring his 
 mortified feelings under necessary subjection : he 
 then resumed his seat. 
 
 " I think otherwise ; a woman can but require 
 devoted affection, constant watchfulness, and 
 tender solicitude. All, all this will be yours. 
 Besides, a daughter of the house of Cecil would 
 not break faith. I could command your hand — 
 I only solicit it." 
 
 " Sir Willmott, you well know, that when the 
 unhappy contract was entered into, I was of 
 tender age ; too young, indeed, to comprehend 
 its nature. Ought you in honour to urge it 
 on me, when I frankly tell you by word of 
 mouth, what my demeanour must have informed 
 you long, long since, that — I can never love 
 you ?"
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 293 
 
 " You have said it once, Lady ; and the sen- 
 tence cannot be pleasant to the ears of your 
 affianced husband. The turmoils of the times, 
 and the service I so largely owed to the Pro- 
 tector, have called me much from home ; and 
 though my heart lingered here, I was forced 
 away by duty to the State : surely you would 
 not love me less because it was rigidly per- 
 formed P 11 
 
 " Yovi would not wish me your wife, 11 said 
 Constance, in a faltering tone, resolving to make 
 trial of Sir Willmott's generosity, while her 
 strength seemed to rise with her honest purpose 
 — " You would not wish me your wife ; for not 
 only do I not love you, but — I love — another. 11 
 
 Now, Sir Willmott Burrell did not start 
 from his chair, nor did he pace up and down 
 the polished floor — he fixed his eyes upon Con- 
 stantia, as if he would have read within her 
 soul who she loved ; but the expression gradu- 
 ally and gradually changed, from a deep and 
 perilous curiosity, to one of firm resolve, until, 
 drawing his breath between his set teeth, so 
 strongly as to produce a hissing sound, he said,
 
 294 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 slowly and deliberately, but in a restrained 
 tone, as if the voice came from the fiend within 
 him — 
 
 " I am sorry for it, Constantia Cecil ; for it 
 cannot prevent your being mine — mine — and, by 
 the God that hears me, mine only, and for ever !" 
 
 Constantia rose slowly from her seat, and said, 
 in a firm voice, " I did not come here to suffer 
 insult, Sir." 
 
 She walked across the room with so dignified a 
 step, that she had nearly reached the door, before 
 Burrell acquired sufficient courage to stay her 
 departure. He laid his hand on her arm as 
 she touched the lock, but she shook it off as 
 coolly, yet as firmly, as the apostle threw from 
 him the viper into the flames at Melita. Burrell, 
 however, had too much at stake tamely to re- 
 linquish his purpose. He spoke in a constrained 
 voice, and said — 
 
 " I entreat you to remain ; if it be not for 
 your own good, it will be for your father's that 
 you do so." 
 
 The mention of her father's name at once com- 
 manded her attention. She desired Burrell to
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 295 
 
 speak on, without, however, resuming her seat. 
 He paused for so considerable a time that she 
 at length observed : 
 
 " I wait, Sir Willmott, and will wait patiently, 
 if it be necessary : but methinks your silence now 
 is as uncourteous as your speech a brief while 
 since. 11 
 
 " It is because I feel for you, Mistress Cecil, 
 — feel for you acutely, that I thus hesitate. I 
 would spare you the pain I know my words must 
 inflict ; and therefore, once more, calmly, but 
 energetically, implore you to consent to the im- 
 mediate fulfilment of the contract existing be- 
 tween us. 11 
 
 " This is trifling, Sir. I desire that you suffer 
 me to pass forth. I might have known you had 
 nothing to say that concerned my father ; and, 
 as to myself, if you could be mean enough, under 
 such circumstances, to accept my hand, I cannot 
 be base enough to give it." 
 
 " A fine sentence l 11 exclaimed Burrell, sneer- 
 ingly. " I make bold to tell you, Lady, I care 
 not so much as you may imagine for your affec- 
 tions, which I know you have sufficient prin-
 
 296 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 ciple to recall, and bestow upon the possessor of 
 that fair hand whoever he may be. Nay, look not 
 so wrathful, for I know that, which would make 
 your proud look quail, and the heiress of Cecil 
 rejoice that she could yet become the wife of Sir 
 Willmott Burrell !" 
 
 Constantia trembled. She had never before 
 listened to such language, and she felt there must 
 be something appalling in the motive that could 
 give it utterance. Although her hand rested on 
 the massive lock of the door, she had not power 
 to turn the handle. If looks could wither, the 
 Master of Burrell would have shrunk before her 
 gaze ; yet he bore her indignant frown with 
 more audacity than he could have believed he 
 possessed. 
 
 " If your communication concerns my father, 
 speak, Sir ; if not"— she paused, and he took up 
 the sentence — 
 
 " If not, Constantia casts me off for ever ! 
 Yet," he added in a tone of insulting pity, " I 
 would spare your feelings, for you have been a 
 most affectionate child." 
 
 f * Sir," interrupted Constance, " I hope 1
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 297 
 
 am too true a daughter to hear those taunts 
 with patience : your insinuations I despise, 
 and I defy you to utter an accusation against 
 him that could summon a tint of crimson to my 
 
 cheek 
 
 hi 
 
 " But I could speak that which Mould make 
 the red cheek pale, Lady — What think you of— 
 of — of murder ?" 
 
 Constantia's eye gleamed for a moment like a 
 meteor, and then it became fixed and faded ; her 
 form assumed the rigidity of marble, and at each 
 respiration her lips fell more and more apart. 
 The villain became alarmed, and, taking her 
 hand, would have led her to a seat ; but his 
 touch recalled her to herself : she darted from 
 him to the centre of the room, and there, her 
 arm extended, her fine head thrown back, every 
 feature, as it were, bursting with indignation, 
 she looked like a youthful priestess denouncing 
 vengeance on a sinful world. 
 
 " If I could curse," she said, " you should 
 feel it heavily ; but the evil within you will do 
 its own work, and my soul be saved from 
 sin. Away ! away ! And you thought to fright 
 
 o 5
 
 298 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 me with that horrid sound ! My dear, dear 
 father !" 
 
 " I declare before Heaven," interrupted Bur- 
 rell, " it is to save him that I speak ! The 
 damning proofs of his guilt are within my hold. 
 If you perform the contract, neither tortures nor 
 death shall wring them from me ; if you do not — 
 mark me — I will be revenged !" 
 
 " Silly, wicked that I was, 11 exclaimed Con- 
 stance, " not to command you before him in- 
 stantly, that the desperate lie might be sent 
 back into your throat, and choke you with its 
 venom ! Come with me to my father ! — Ah, foul 
 coward ! you shrink, but you shall not escape ! 
 — To my father instantly !" 
 
 Burrell would have restrained her, but it was 
 impossible. Finding that he did not move, she 
 was rushing past him, when he arrested her pro- 
 gress for an instant, saying — 
 
 " Since you will thus dare the destruction of 
 your only parent, it is fitting you know of whose 
 murder he is accused. 1 ' He drew nearer to her, 
 so near that she felt his hateful breath upon 
 her cheek, as, like the serpent in the Garden of
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 299 
 
 Eden, he distilled the deadly poison into her ear. 
 A slight convulsion, succeeded by an awful pale- 
 ness, passed over her countenance ; but, rallying, 
 she darted on him another look of defiance and 
 scorn, and flew to her father's chamber. 
 
 The old man had been sleeping, but awoke 
 as she entered, and, probably refreshed by the 
 short repose he had enjoyed, stretched forward 
 his arms to his daughter with an expression of 
 confiding fondness, which in the then state of 
 Constantia's feelings, but added to the agony she 
 endured. She could not resist the mute appeal ; 
 falling on her knees, she buried her face amid the 
 drapery of his robe. In this posture she continued 
 for a few minutes : her lips uttered no word, but 
 her bosom heaved as if in mortal struggle, and her 
 hard breathings were almost groans. At length, 
 still kneeling, she raised her head, her hands 
 clasped, her swollen but tearless eyes fixed upon 
 the pale, anxious, and alarmed countenance of her 
 parent. He would have spoken, but she raised 
 her finger in token that she entreated silence ; 
 a moment afterwards she addressed him in broken 
 and disjointed sentences.
 
 300 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 " I can hardly give it utterance — and when I 
 think upon it, I know not why I should intrude 
 so vile a falsehood on your ear, my father ; but 
 Burrell seemed so real, so fearfully real in what 
 he said, that I tremble still, and my voice comes 
 heavily to my lips. 11 She paused for breath, and 
 pressed her clasped hands on her bosom. 
 
 Sir Robert, imagining that she alluded to her 
 marriage, which he knew Burrell must have been 
 urging upon her, replied — 
 
 " My dearest child knows that I have not 
 pressed her union ; but Sir Willmott is so anxious 
 — so attached, — and, I must say, that my grey 
 hairs would go peacefully to the grave were I 
 to see her his wife. I am almost inclined to 
 think my Constance capricious and unjust upon 
 this point ; but I am sure her own good sense, 
 her regard for her father w 
 
 " Merciful powers I 11 interrupted Constance, 
 wildly ; " and is it really possible that you knew 
 of his proposal ? Ay, ay, you might have known 
 that, but you could not know the awful, the 
 horrid threat he held out to me, if I did not 
 comply with his demand — ay, demand for an im- 
 mediate union ?"
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 301 
 
 " It was very imprudent, very useless in fact," 
 said the Baronet, peevishly, his mind reverting to 
 the proposals of the Buccaneer, which he believed 
 Burrell had communicated to Constantia ; " very 
 absurd to trouble you with the knowledge he pos- 
 sesses of my affairs — that is strange wooing — but 
 good will arise from it, for you will now, knowing 
 the great, the overpowering motive that I have 
 for seeing your union accomplished " 
 
 The Baronet's sentence remained unfinished, 
 for the look and manner of his daughter terrified 
 him. She had risen from her knees, and stood, 
 her eyelids straining from her glaring eyes, that 
 were fixed upon her father ; while her hands 
 were extended, as if to shut out the figure upon 
 which she still gazed. 
 
 " It is all madness — moon-struck madness," 
 she exclaimed, and her arms dropped at either 
 side as she spoke ; " some cruel witchery sur- 
 rounds me ; but I will speak and break the spell. 
 Father, you are not a murderer? you did not 
 
 murder " and she, too, whispered a name, 
 
 us if it were one that the breath of heaven should 
 not bear.
 
 302 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 The Baronet sprang from his seat, as if a 
 musket-ball had entered his heart. 
 
 " "Tis false !" he exclaimed ; " there is no 
 blood upon my hand — look at it — look at it ! 
 Burrell has no proofs — unless that villain Dalton 
 has betrayed me," he added, in a lower tone ; 
 " but I did not the act, the blood is on his head, 
 and not on mine. Constance, my child, the 
 only thing on earth now that can love me ; do 
 not curse — do not spurn me. I ask not your 
 sacrifice, that I may be saved; — but do not curse 
 me — do not curse your father." 
 
 The haughty Baronet fell, humbled to the 
 dust, at his daughter's feet, clasping her knees 
 in awful emotion, but daring not to look upon 
 the face of his own child. 
 
 It would be as vain to attempt, as it would be 
 impossible to analyze, the feelings of that high- 
 souled woman during moments of such intense 
 misery. She neither spoke nor wept ; nor did 
 she assist her father, by any effort, to arise ; but, 
 without a sentence or a word, folding her mourn- 
 ing robe around her, she glided like a ghost forth 
 from the chamber. When she returned, her step
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 303 
 
 had lost its elasticity, and her eye its light ; she 
 moved as if in a heavy atmosphere, and her father 
 did not dare to look upon her, as she seated her- 
 self by the chair he had resumed. 
 
 She took his hand, and put it, but did not 
 press it, to her lips : he thought he felt a tear 
 drop upon his burning fingers ; but the long 
 hair that fell over her brow, concealed her face. 
 He was the first to break the dreadful and op- 
 pressive stillness. 
 
 " I would speak with Burrell : there must 
 have been treachery — Of himself, believe me, he 
 knew nothing : but I was so taken by surprise, 
 that I did not consider — " 
 
 " Stop, Sir, I entreat you," interrupted Con- 
 stance. " There is now no motive for consider- 
 ation : I have just seen, and promised to be the 
 wife of Sir Willmott Burrell within this week — 
 and three of its days are already past : — his 
 silence, and your honour are secured. M 
 
 The unhappy man was powerless and sub- 
 dued ; he hid his face amid the pillows of the 
 chair, and wept bitterly. Constance walked to 
 the window : the beams of the silver moon dwelt
 
 304 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 with more than usual brightness on the tops 
 and around the foliage of the trees that encir- 
 cled the Fairy Ring, where, but an hour before, 
 her footsteps had lingered with her friend. All 
 around seemed buried in the most profound 
 stillness ; not the bay of a dog, nor the hum of 
 an insect, disturbed the repose that slept on every 
 plant and flower, and covered the earth as with 
 a garment. Suddenly a nightingale flew past 
 the window, and resting its breast on the bough 
 of an old thorn, poured forth a delicious strain 
 of melody. Constance leaned her throbbing fore- 
 head against the cold stained-glass, and the 
 tenderness of the wild bird's untaught music 
 penetrated her soul ; large tears flowed down her 
 cheeks, and her seared heart was relieved, for a 
 little, of its overwhelming horrors. She then re- 
 turned to her father's side ; and again taking 
 his hand in her's, said, in a calmer voice, 
 
 " Father, we have both need of consolation — 
 let us read and pray together. " 
 
 " It is too late to attempt deceiving you 
 longer, Constance ; yet I would fain explain- " 
 
 " Not now, father. We will pray."
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 305 
 
 " And you will be happy ; or if not, you will 
 not curse him who has wrought your misery ?" 
 
 " I have too much need of blessing. Bless, 
 bless you, my father ! — Let us now seek consola- 
 tion where only it is to be found." 
 
 " But may I not speak with Burrell ? I want 
 to know M 
 
 " Father ! I entreat you, peace. It is now 
 useless ; the die is cast — for me — for us — in this 
 world — useless all, except the aid that, under any 
 trials, we can ask and receive from Heaven. 1 ' 
 
 " My child, call me your dear father, as you 
 were wont ; and let your soft lips press upon 
 my hand as there were fondness in them — You 
 said you would not curse me, Constance."" 
 
 " Bless, bless you, my dear father !" She 
 kissed his hand, and having lighted the chamber 
 lamp, read one of the penitential psalms of the 
 King of Israel, when sin, and the wretchedness 
 that follows sin, became too heavy for him to 
 bear. 
 
 " And now let us pray, 11 said Constantia, con- 
 ceiving that her father's mind was more com- 
 posed ; " let us offer up petitions to the source 
 of all mercy and forgiveness. 11
 
 306 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 " I cannot pray," he said ; " my lips may 
 move, but my heart is hardened." 
 
 " We will learn of Him who softened the 
 stony rock, that the Children of Promise might 
 taste of the living waters in a strange land." 
 
 And her earnest and beautiful prayer floated 
 to the Almighty's throne, from that dull and 
 heavy chamber, a record of the faithful and 
 self-sacrificing spirit whose purest earthly temple 
 is a woman's heart.
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 307 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Yet, spite of all that Nature did 
 To make his uncouth form forbid, 
 
 This creature dared to love. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 But virtue can itself advance 
 To what the favourite fools of chance 
 By fortune seem design'd. 
 
 Parnell. 
 
 " Is your sweet lady out yet, pretty Barbara P 11 
 inquired Robin Hays of Barbara Iverk, as he 
 met her in the flower-garden of Cecil Place, when 
 it was nearly mid-day. 
 
 " My poor lady is, I am sure, very ill ; or, 
 what is still worse, ill at ease," replied the maiden : 
 " She has not been in bed all night, I know, for 
 the couch was undisturbed this morning, so I 
 just came here to gather her some flowers : fresh
 
 308 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 flowers must always do one good, and I think I 
 never saw so many in bloom so early." 
 
 " Barbara, did you ever hear tell of a country 
 they call the East ?" 
 
 " A country !" repeated Barbara, whose know- 
 ledge of geography was somewhat more extensive 
 than that of Robin, although she had not tra- 
 velled so much, " I believe there are many coun- 
 tries in the East." 
 
 " Well, I dare say there may be, Mistress 
 Barbara : you are going to chop scholarship with 
 me ; but yet, I suppose, you do not know that 
 they have in that country a new way of making 
 love. It is not new to them, though it is new 
 to us." 
 
 " Oh, dear Robin ! what is it ?" 
 
 " Why, suppose they wished you, a young- 
 pretty maiden as you are, to understand that I, 
 a small deformed dragon, regarded you, only a 
 little, like the beginning of love, they would — " 
 Robin stooped as he spoke, and plucked a rose- 
 bud that had anticipated summer — " they would 
 give you this bud. But, suppose they wanted 
 you to believe I loved you very much indeed,
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 309 
 
 they would choose you out a full-blown rose. 
 Barbara, I cannot find a full-blown rose ; but I 
 do not love you the less for that." 
 
 " Give me the bud, Robin, whether or no ; it 
 is the first of the season : — my lady will be de- 
 lighted with it — if, indeed, any thing can delight 
 her!" 
 
 " I will give it you to keep ; not to give away, 
 even to your lady. Ah, Barbara ! if I had any 
 thing worth giving, you would not refuse it." 
 
 " And can any thing be better worth giving, 
 or having, than sweet flowers ?" said the simple 
 girl. " Only it pains me to pull them — they die 
 so soon — and then, every leaf that falls away 
 from them, looks like a reproach !" 
 
 " Should you be sorry if I were to die one of 
 these days, Barbara," inquired the Ranger, 
 " like one of those flowers ?" 
 
 " Sorry ! have I ever appeared ungrateful, 
 Robin ? When first I came here, you used to be 
 so kind to me: — indeed, you are always kind — 
 only I fear lately you are displeased with me about 
 something or other. You have avoided me — are 
 you angry, Robin ?"
 
 310 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 " Indeed I am not ; nor do I forget how often 
 you have driven away the ' shadows ' that used 
 to come over me.' 1 
 
 " And do you — I mean, do you esteem me as 
 much as ever ?" 
 
 Robin looked earnestly into her face, and 
 then taking her hand, gently replied : 
 
 " I do esteem you, as you term it, more than 
 ever ; but I also love you. When a little helpless 
 thing, I took you from your father's arms : I 
 loved you then as a parent would love a child. 
 When Lady Cecil took you under her care, and 
 I saw you but seldom, my heart leaned towards 
 the daughter of my best friend with a brother's 
 love. And when, as I have just said, the sunlight 
 of your smile and the gentleness of your young 
 girlish voice dispelled much melancholy from my 
 mind, I thought — no matter what. But now the 
 case is altered — you see in me a mere lump, a 
 deformed creature, a being unseemly to look upon, 
 a wretch !" 
 
 a 
 
 Robin Hays, you wrong yourself, 11 inter- 
 rupted Barbara ; " I do not see you thus, nor 
 think you thus. The raven is not a beautiful
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 311 
 
 bird, nor hath it a sweet voice, yet it was wel- 
 comed and beloved of the prophet Elijah. 1 ' 
 
 " So it was, Barbara ; but why ? — because it 
 was useful to him in his hour of need. Think 
 you that, in the time of his triumph and prospe- 
 rity, he would have taken it to his bosom, as if it 
 had been a dove ?" 
 
 " I do not see why he should not," she said : 
 " God is so good, that he never takes away one 
 beauty Avithout bestowing another ; and the 
 raven's glossy wing might be to some even more 
 beautiful than the purple plumage of the dove: 
 at all events, so excellent a man would not be 
 chained by mere eye-beauty, which, after all, 
 passeth quickly. Though I think it was very un- 
 courteous of Mr. Fleetword to say in my hearing, 
 Robin, that the time would come when Mistress 
 Constance would be as plain-favoured as old 
 Dame Compton, whose countenance looks like 
 the worm-eaten cover of Solomon Grundy's 
 Bible." 
 
 " Ah, Barbara ! you are a good girl ; but 
 suppose I was as rich as I ought to be before 
 thinking of marrying — and supposing you came
 
 312 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 to the knowledge of your father, and he agreed 
 — and supposing Mistress Cecil did not say nay 
 — supposing all this ?"" 
 
 Robin paused, and Barbara, with her eyes 
 fixed on the ground, commenced pulling to 
 pieces the rose-bud he had given her. 
 
 " Supposing all this, Barbara ?" 
 
 " Well, Robin ?" 
 
 " Do you think, Barbara, you would then — 
 marry me ?" 
 
 " I never thought of marriage, seeing that I 
 am too young, and withal, too inexperienced ; 
 but there is one thing, Robin " 
 
 a 
 
 I knew it," interrupted the Ranger, in one 
 of his sudden bursts of bitterness ; " I might 
 easily have known it — Beauty and ugliness! — 
 Fool ! fool ! to imagine that a girl could look on 
 me without loathing! There — go to your mis- 
 tress, go to your mistress, and make gay sport of 
 Robin Hays P 
 
 The soft eyes of Barbara filled with tears ; 
 she made no reply, but prosecuted her attack on 
 the rose-bud so vigorously, that nought but the 
 stem remained in her fingers.
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 313 
 
 " You need not have torn that rose to bits 
 before my face ! Ay, trample on its leaves as 
 you do on my heart ! — Why do you not go to 
 your mistress P" 
 
 " You are very wayward, Robin ; one time 
 smooth, at other times, and without cause, 
 rugged as a path through a thorny common : 
 I can only pray that the Lord may teach you 
 better than to misinterpret my words, and mock 
 a poor girl who never entertained a thought to 
 your disadvantage." 
 
 She could say no more, for the large round 
 tears forced their way down her cheeks, as she 
 turned towards the house with a bowed head 
 and a feeble step. But Robin's mood had again 
 
 changed. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Barbara : forgive me ; 
 and think, that if my mind sometimes takes a 
 crooked turn, it is the fault of my damnable 
 body !" 
 
 " Do not swear ; it is the profaneness of your 
 words, and, I fear me too truly, of your life also, 
 that hurts me. Oh, Robin ! do tell me who my 
 father is, that I may find him, and have some 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 314 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 heart to lean upon that will not always cause me 
 tears. My lady is ever sad, and you are ever 
 wayward and uncertain : I am a double orphan ; 
 and were it not for the consolation afforded me by 
 better thoughts, should be most miserable. 1 ' 
 
 " Forgive me, girl, forgive me ; but every one 
 alludes to this cursed deformity, and it is ill to 
 bear — " said Robin, walking by her side. 
 
 " I never alluded to it, never even thought of 
 it," replied Barbara, sobbing; " if the voice and 
 the eye is kind, and above all, if the face be- 
 come familiar, it is one, all one, whether the 
 features be formed according to beauty or other- 
 wise. I never thought of looking into little 
 Crisp's face, when he licked my hand but now ; 
 I only felt that the creature loved me." 
 
 " Crisp is no more a beauty than his master," 11 
 observed Robin, patting the dog, who leaped to 
 the caress : " but you cannot like him as well 
 as black Blanche, or Bright-eye, your mistress^ 
 silken favourites, who show their teeth at the 
 poor fellow whenever he approaches the en- 
 trance P 11 
 
 " Bright-eye is a trifle conceited, I grant ; but
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 315 
 
 Blanche is like a lamb, only what can she do ? 
 Crisp comes gammocking up, wagging his tail, 
 seeming in the best of good humours ; poor 
 Blanche receives him kindly, and sometimes 
 walks before him to the buttery ; then, all of a 
 sudden, just as she is thinking how very glad 
 she is to meet Crisp — thinking, too, that notwith- 
 standing his shaggy coat and crooked legs, he 
 is a thousand times more to be esteemed and 
 liked than the fine and conceited Bright-eye — 
 at that very time, and just as suddenly as you 
 fly into your passions, Crisp stops, grins, twirls 
 his tail, and will neither return her civility nor 
 accept her invitation. What can poor Blanche 
 do, Robin ?" 
 
 This statement was made by the pretty Pu- 
 ritan with a mingling of simplicity and shrewd- 
 ness, for which, to have looked in her innocent 
 face one would scarcely have given her credit. 
 The tears of youth dry as quickly as the dews 
 in summer ; and the young heart rebounds from 
 grief as swiftly as the arrow from the bow. 
 Robin looked upon her with doubting, but with 
 strong affection. He knew, though he struggled 
 
 p 2
 
 316 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 with hope against the conviction, that Dalton's 
 friendship would hardly induce him to bestow 
 his daughter upon such an unpropitious person- 
 age as himself; and he felt assured — or at least 
 believed, in his more gloomy moments, that so 
 it must be — no woman could by any possibility 
 feel affection for him. He was also, at times, 
 under the full assurance that Barbara only 
 laughed at his addresses ; and though she had 
 more than once given him all reasonable encou- 
 ragement, he most industriously placed it to the 
 account of the universality of female coquetry, a 
 theory in which he most conscientiously believed. 
 
 Without, therefore, any notice of her little 
 fable, or the visible inference so easily drawn from 
 the comparison between Crisp and himself, he 
 started off from the subject nearest his heart, 
 with an abrupt inquiry as to whether her mis- 
 tress would be likely to go abroad that evening. 
 
 " I dare say she will come out in the twilight,* 1 '' 
 replied Barbara, who had sufficient of the sen- 
 sitiveness of her sex to feel deeply mortified at 
 Robin's heedlessness of her delicate allusion, add- 
 ing, " Good day ; I cannot stay any longer with
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 317 
 
 you ; so give you good day ;" and she added in a 
 lower tone, " a more gentle humour when next 
 we meet." Woman's pride impelled her footsteps 
 with extraordinary alacrity ; woman's affection, 
 or curiosity, both of which are oftentimes at war 
 with her reason, obliged her to look back as she 
 entered the postern, and then she enjoyed the 
 little triumph of observing that Robin remained 
 on the same spot gazing after her. 
 
 " I don't think I said any thing very unkind 
 to him, 11 she thought while passing along the 
 gallery. " I have a great mind to go back and 
 ask him if he wanted to send any message to my 
 lady ; I did not give the poor fellow time to 
 speak — I ought not to serve any one so — What 
 would good Mr. Fleetword say, if he knew I 
 >|»oke so snappishly to any fellow-christian ? — 
 Keep your cold nose away from my hand, Mas- 
 ter Bright-eye ; you forget how you behaved 
 to my friend Crisp yesterday. 11 
 
 Just as she arrived at this point of her soli- 
 loquy, she stood before a window, overlooking 
 the part of the garden where she had left Robin. 
 — He- was no longer there ! and the fond heart
 
 318 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 of little Barbara, at once forgetful of the harsh- 
 ness and waywardness of her early friend, was 
 only aroused from profound reasoning upon her 
 own unworthiness, by a smart tap on the shoulder 
 from the fair hand of Lady Frances Cromwell. 
 
 " Pretty Barbara in meditation !" she exclaim- 
 ed ; — " but this is no time to ask upon what or 
 why. What is the meaning of your lady's sud- 
 den resolve?' 1 
 
 " What resolve, Madam ?" 
 
 " Why a resolve to marry Sir Willmott Bur- 
 rell within this week. 1 ' 
 
 Barbara was panic-struck : she remained silent 
 for a few minutes, and then clasping her hands, 
 implored Lady Frances to do — she knew not 
 what. 
 
 " Ah ! she will die, my Lady ! she will die ? 
 for who could live married to such a man ? He 
 is indeed a fearful husband for such a one. 
 My Lady, I know she does not love him — she 
 never did — never could. I have heard her say 
 in her sleep " 
 
 " What, good maid ?" asked Lady Frances 
 eagerly, and with her usual curiosity. But the
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 319 
 
 habitual integrity of Barbara's mind was awak- 
 ened: with tears and sobs she replied— 
 
 " What I must not, as a true girl, repeat. 
 I crave your pardon, my Lady, but it would 
 ill become me to speak of what is said in sleep : 
 only, dear, dear lady, if you love my dear mis- 
 tress — if her life be dear to you — prevent, if 
 possible, this marriage."
 
 320 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 And them beside a ladie faire he saw, 
 
 Standing alone on foote in foule array ; 
 To whom himself he hastily did draw, 
 To weet the cause of so uncomely fray, 
 And to depart them, if so be he may. 
 
 Spenser. 
 
 The Lady Frances Cromwell was not likely to 
 keep secret, grief or anything else she had the 
 power of disclosing: forthwith she proceeded to 
 assail Constance Cecil with a torrent of excla- 
 mations and expostulations, to support which no 
 inconsiderable degree of philosophy was requisite. 
 The intention, however, sanctified the deed, and 
 Constance, for some time, only pressed her hand 
 in reply : at length she said —
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 321 
 
 " You see me, dearest Frances, at present un- 
 der much depression: — a dark cloud is over me; 
 but, I entreat you, heed it not. I am about to 
 do what is right, and not even the commands of 
 his Highness, your father, could prevent it, if 
 indeed you were to act upon the hint you have 
 given me, and procure his interference. My fate 
 is sealed, irrevocably sealed ! And do you won- 
 der that I tremble at the change I am about to 
 undergo, the awful change from maid to wife ? 
 Barbara, good maid, let me see no more of tears, 
 but smiles, as in past times. And now I entreat 
 you both, sweet friends, (for that humble girl 
 has a heart formed by tenderness for what is 
 more exalted — friendship,) leave me. You, my 
 dear Lady Frances, will to-day, for my sake 
 and for his, be as much as possible with my fa- 
 ther ; he must grieve at this parting — it is but 
 natural ; — and you, girl — there, go to your em- 
 broidery." 
 
 Barbara looked into her lady's face, seized her 
 hand, and pressed it alternately to her heart and 
 lips. 
 
 " I will sit in yonder nook, dear mistress ; I 
 
 P 5
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 will not turn towards you, nor speak, nor breathe 
 — you may fancy me a statue, so silent, so im- 
 moveable will rest your little Barbara. Blanche 
 and Bright-eye, and even that black wolf-hound, 
 remain in the chamber, and why not I ? Am I 
 less faithful, or less thoughtful, than a dog ? and 
 would you treat me worse ? Besides, dear lady, 
 your wedding-clothes ! There is not a satin or 
 a silver robe, nor farthingale, nor cardinal — not 
 a lone ostrich-plume, that is not of six fashions 
 past ! Good, my lady, if it is to be, you must 
 wed as of a right becomes your high descent. 
 My Lady Frances can well speak of this ; and as 
 there is no time to send to London now, her tire- 
 women would help me to arrange the robes neces- 
 sary upon such occasions." 
 
 " Peace, Barbara ! I mean to dress as well 
 befits this bridal ; so trouble not thyself as to 
 the tiring ; but go, my gentle girl, go, go." 
 
 " And may I not crouch yonder, where so 
 often I have read to you, and sung the little 
 ballads that you taught me for pastime ?" 
 
 " Or those that poor Robin taught you ? 1 
 wish that young man, Barbara, had a more settled
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 323 
 
 way of life ; for, despite his awkward form, there 
 is much that is noble and elevated about him. 
 However, make no haste to wed, and above all, 
 guard well your heart ; keep a keen watch over 
 your affections — ay, watcli them, and pray, pray 
 fervently, poor girl, that they may go to him 
 who may have your hand." 
 
 " They shall go, 11 said Barbara, rising to follow 
 Lady Frances, who had abruptly left the cham- 
 ber to conceal her tears ; " I would not marry a 
 king — I mean, Madam, a governor — if I did not 
 love him !— Why should I ?" 
 
 " Why should you, indeed, my kind Barbara ! 
 There, go and tell your master, tell also Sir Will- 
 mott, that I have much to do and much to think 
 upon ; so that to-day they must excuse my absence. 
 It is an awful thing this marriage, — an unknown, 
 or at least uncharted course to enter on ; — to vir- 
 gin minds, 11 she murmured, as her faithful attend- 
 ant left the room, " at all times full of doubts, 
 ay, even when love is pilot and the fond soul 
 brim-full of hope. I too, who had such dreams 
 of happiness, of good and holy happiness — the 
 interchange of kindness, the mutual zeal, the
 
 324 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 tender care — the look, so vigilant and gentle, so 
 full of pure blandishment — the outpouring of 
 thoughts on thoughts— the words, so musical 
 because so rich with the heart's truth ; and so I 
 fancied love and its fulfilment, marriage. Well 
 knew I of the contract : yet still I dreamed and 
 hoped, yes, slept and dreamed ; but to be awak- 
 ened thus, — to such unutterable horror ! Thank 
 God, my mother is in heaven ! — that is the soli- 
 tary drop of comfort in my life's poison-bowl. — 
 My mother's death a comfort ! Alas, alas !" 
 
 She covered her face with her hands, and we 
 draw the Grecian painter's veil over the contend- 
 ing feelings it would be impossible adequately to 
 pourtray. 
 
 Sir Willmott Burrell bustled and chafed, and 
 gave orders to his serving-men, and to those now 
 tailed tailors ; visited the neighbouring gentry, 
 but spoke not of his approaching marriage, which 
 he preferred should take place as silently as 
 might be. Nevertheless he had far too much 
 depending upon the succeeding hours to pass the 
 day either in quiet or composure. He had braved 
 through his interview with the unhappy Sir Ro-
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 325 
 
 bert Cecil, and urged, as an excuse for his con- 
 duct, the extremity to which his love was driven 
 by Constantia's decided rejection of his suit ; 
 carefully, however, concealing from her unfor- 
 tunate parent the fact that she loved another. 
 
 Sir Robert had sent several messages to his 
 daughter, imploring her to see him, but in vain — 
 she resolutely refused, wisely dreading the result 
 of such an interview. " This day and to-mor- 
 row is all the time," she said, " I can call my 
 own, until — for me — time has entered upon eter- 
 nity. All I implore then is, that I may be 
 alone, the mistress of myself during such brief 
 space." 
 
 When the sun was set, Barbara entered her 
 room with a slight evening meal. Her mistress was 
 sitting, or rather lying on a low couch, opposite 
 a table, upon which stood a small dial, mounted 
 in chased silver, representing a garland of 
 flowers. 
 
 " Lay it down, good girl ; I cannot taste it at 
 present. I have been watching the minute-hand 
 pace round that dial — Is it, indeed, near seven ? 
 It was an ill thought of the foreign craftsman to
 
 326 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 set Time amid roses ; he should have placed it 
 among thorns. Is the evening fine ?" 
 
 " Fine, but yet sober, my lady ; the sun has 
 quite set, and the birds are silent and at roost, 
 except the old blackbird, who whistles late, and 
 the wakeful robin, who sometimes bandies music 
 with the nightingale — Would you like to hear 
 them, madam ?" 
 
 " Not just now, Barbara : but leave me out 
 the hood. Did my father again ask for me ?" 
 
 " Not since, mistress. Mr. Fleetword is with 
 him.'" Barbara left the room. 
 
 " I cannot tell why, my lady, 11 she said earnestly 
 to Lady Frances, whom she met in the vestibule 
 — " I cannot divine the reason, but this bridal has 
 to me the semblance of a funeral. God shield us 
 all from evil ! there is a cold death-like chill 
 throughout the house. I heard — (though, my 
 Lady, I do not believe in such superstitions,) 
 but I heard the death-watch tick — tick — ticking, 
 as plain as I hear the old clock now chime seven ! 
 And I saw — I was wide awake — yet I saw a 
 thin misty countenance, formed as of the white 
 spray of the salt-sea wave, so sparkling, so sha-
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 327 
 
 dowy, yet so clear, come between me and the 
 moonbeams, and raise its hand thus.— Oh, mercy 
 — mercy — -mercy !" she shrieked, so as to startle 
 the Lady Frances, and then as hastily exclaimed, 
 " La ! madam, to think of the like ! if it isn't 
 that little muddy, nasty Crisp, who has found 
 me out ! I will tell you the rest by and by, 
 madam, only I want to turn this little beast into 
 the shrubbery, that he may find his master." 
 
 At another time Lady Frances would have ral- 
 lied her for accompanying, instead of dismissing 
 Crisp to the garden ; but a weight of sorrow 
 seemed also to oppress her. Her usually high 
 spirits were gone, and she made no observation, 
 but retreated to the library. 
 
 A few moments after the occurrence of this 
 little incident, Constance was seated on the bank 
 in " the Fairy Ring," pondering the dread change 
 that had taken place since the previous night. 
 
 The evening, as Barbara had expressed it, was 
 fine but sober. The lilac and the laburnum were 
 in full blossom, but they appeared faded to Con- 
 stantsa's eyes ; so completely are even our senses 
 under the control of circumstances. Sorrow is a
 
 328 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 sad mystifier, turning the green leaf yellow and 
 steeping young roses in tears. She had not been 
 long seated, when a step, a separating of the 
 branches, and Walter De Guerre was at her feet. 
 Constance recoiled from what at heart she loved, 
 as it had been a thing she hated ; and the look 
 and motion could not have been unnoticed by her 
 lover. 
 
 " I have heard, Mistress Cecil — heard all ! — 
 that you are about to be married — married to 
 a man you despise — about to sacrifice yourself 
 for some ambitious view — some mad resolve — 
 some to me incomprehensible determination ! 
 And I swore to seek you out — to see you before 
 the fatal act, had it been in your own halls ; 
 and to tell you that you will never again feel 
 what happiness is " 
 
 " I know it !" interrupted Constance, in a voice 
 whose music was solemn and heavy as her 
 thoughts : " Walter, I know it well. I never 
 shall feel happy— never expect it,— and it would 
 have been but humanity to have spared me 
 this meeting, unwished for as it now is. You, 
 of all creatures in this wide, wide world, I
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 329 
 
 would avoid — Yes, Walter, avoid for ever ! 
 Besides," she continued with energy, " what 
 do you here ? This place — this spot, is no 
 more safe from his intrusion than from yours. 
 If you loved, if you ever loved me, away ! And 
 oh, Walter ! if the knowledge — the most true, 
 most sad knowledge, that I am miserable — more 
 miserable than ever you can be — be any soothing 
 to your spirit, take it with you ! — only away, 
 away — put the broad sea between us, now and 
 for ever ! If Sir Willmott Burrell slept with 
 his fathers the sleep of a thousand dead, I could 
 never be yours. You seem astonished, and so 
 was I yesternight ; but it is true — true — true — 
 so put the broad sea between us quickly, Walter, 
 — now, and for ever V 
 
 The Cavalier looked as if he understood her 
 not, or thought her senses wandered : at last 
 he said, " But why need you, with a fortune 
 to command, and a spirit to enjoy whatever is 
 bright, or beautiful, or glorious — why should you 
 fetter your free-born will ? There is a cunning 
 mystery about it, Constance ;" (Constance shud- 
 dered, and hid her face lest its expression should
 
 330 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 betray something of her secret ;) " a mystery I 
 cannot solve : confide it to me, and solemnly I 
 swear, not only never to divulge, but to peril, 
 with my good sword, my heart's richest and 
 warmest blood, in any cause that can free you 
 from this bad man. Nor do I expect aught of 
 you in return, nor anything ask, save that you 
 may be happy, with any, any but this 1 can- 
 not speak his hated name. 11 
 
 Constance was too agitated to reply. Under 
 present circumstances, she would have given 
 worlds not to have seen Walter ; and having 
 seen him, she knew not what to say, or how to 
 think, or act : the painful struggle she endured 
 deprived her of the power of utterance. 
 
 " It is not for myself I speak, Constantia ; 
 though now I need not tell you that the love 
 of boyhood has never been banished from my 
 bosom. The remembrance of the hours we spent 
 together, before a knowledge of the world, be- 
 fore a change in the constitution of our country, 
 shed its malign influence, not over our hearts, 
 but over our destinies, — the remembrance of those 
 hours has been the blessing, the solitary blessing
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 331 
 
 of my exile ; it has been the green oasis in the 
 desert of my existence : amid the turmoil of 
 battle it has led me on to victory ; amid the 
 dissipation of the royal court it has preserved 
 me from taint. The remembrance of Constance, 
 like the night-star that cheers the mariner on 
 the wide sea, has kept all holy and hopeful feel- 
 ings around my heart ; telling of home, my early 
 home, and its enjoyments — of Constance, the 
 little affectionate, but high-souled girl — the " 
 
 " Stop !" interrupted Constance, with an ago- 
 nized expression; "Stop, I conjure you! I 
 know what you were going to say ; you were 
 about to repeat that which my mother loved to 
 call me — your wife ! She did not mean it in 
 mockery, though it sounds so now, like a knell 
 from the lower earth. But one thing, Walter, 
 one request I have to make — You pray some- 
 times ? — the time has been when we have prayed 
 together ! — when next you pray, thank God that 
 she is dead !" 
 
 " How ! thank God that my kind and early 
 friend — that your mother is dead !" repeated the 
 young man, in a voice of astonishment.
 
 332 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 " Even so, Walter. You would not see her 
 stretched upon the rack ? would not see her 
 exposed to tortures, such as at no very distant 
 period the saints of our own Church endured ? — 
 would not see her torn limb from limb by wild 
 horses ? v> 
 
 " Heavens ! Constantia, are you mad ?" ex- 
 claimed Walter, terrified at her excited and dis- 
 traught manner. 
 
 " I am not mad, 1 ' she replied, in a changed 
 and subdued tone ; " but do not forget (and let 
 it be on your knees) to thank God that my 
 mother is dead ; and that the cold clay presses 
 the temples, which, if they were alive, would 
 throb and burn as mine do now." 
 
 She pressed her hands on her brow ; while the 
 youth, appalled and astonished, gazed on her in 
 silence. 
 
 " It is well thought on,*" she said, recovering 
 her self-command much more quickly than he 
 could have imagined possible. " I will give it 
 you ; it would be sinful to keep it after that dread 
 to-morrow ; even now, what do I with your 
 Sfift ?" She drew forth from her bosom the locket
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 333 
 
 of which we have before spoken, and, looking on 
 it fondly for a moment, thought, though not 
 aloud, " Poor little fragment of the glittering 
 sin that tempts mankind to their destruction ! I 
 heeded not your chasing nor your gems ; but 
 once (forgive it, God, forgive it !) thought far 
 too much of him who gave it : I should have 
 known better. I will not look on you again, lest 
 you take root within the heart on which you 
 have rested : though it was then in innocence, yet 
 )totv it is a crime— There — " she held it towards 
 him with a trembling hand. While her arm 
 was thus extended, Burrell rushed from behind 
 the covert of a wide-spreading laurel, and with an 
 action at once unmanly and insulting, snatched 
 the trinket from her hand and flung it on the 
 sward. 
 
 Magic itself could not have occasioned a great- 
 er change in the look, the maimer, the entire 
 appearance of the heiress of Cecil. She drew 
 herself up to her full height, and instantly de- 
 manded, " How Sir Willmott Burrell dared to 
 act thus in her presence?" 
 
 The Cavalier drew his sword from its sheath ;
 
 334 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 Burrell was not backward in following the ex- 
 ample. He returned Constantia's look of con- 
 tempt with one of sarcasm — the peculiar glance 
 that becomes so effective from under a half- 
 closed lid — and then his eye glared like that of 
 the hooded snake, while he replied — 
 
 " Methought the lady in her chamber : the 
 destined bride, during the day, keeps to her 
 own apartment ; 'tis the soft night that draws 
 her forth to interchange love-pledges and soft 
 sayings." 
 
 " Villain !" exclaimed De Guerre with start- 
 ling energy, " hold thy blaspheming tongue, not- 
 dare to imagine, much less express, aught of 
 this lady that is not pure as heaven's own firma- 
 ment !" 
 
 " Oh, my good Sir," said the other, " I know 
 you now ! the braggart at my Lady Cecil's fu- 
 neral — the pall-bearer — the church-yard lounger 
 —the !" 
 
 " Hold, coward !" interrupted the Cavalier, 
 grinding the words between his teeth. " Lady, 
 I entreat you to retire ; this is no scene for you : 
 — Nay, but you must !"
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 335 
 
 " Touch her not V exclaimed Burrell, the 
 brutality of his vile nature fully awakened at 
 perceiving Walter attempt to take her hand ; 
 " Touch her not, though you are doubtless the . 
 youth to whom her heart is given.' 1 
 
 " Forbear, Sir !" ejaculated Constance ; " if 
 you have the spirit of a man, forbear !" 
 
 " Oh, then, your passion has not been declared 
 by words — you have spoken by actions !" he re- 
 torted with redoubled acrimony. 
 
 The reply to this gross insult was made by the 
 point of De Guerre's sword resting on Burrell's 
 breast. 
 
 " Defend yourself, or die like a vile dog !" 
 thundered the Cavalier, and Sir Willmott was 
 obliged to stand on his defence. 
 
 The feelings of the woman overcame those of 
 the heroine, and Constance shrieked for help, 
 when she beheld the combatants fairly engaged in 
 a feud where the shedding of blood appeai*ed in- 
 evitable. Her call was answered, but not by 
 words ; scarcely more than three or four thrusts 
 had been made and returned, when a stout gen- 
 tleman, clad in a dark and tight-fitting vest,
 
 336 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 strode nearly between tliem, and clashed the 
 tough blade of his broad basket-hilted sword 
 upon their more graceful, but less substantial, 
 weapons, so as to strike them to the earth. Thus, 
 without speaking word or farther motion, he cast 
 his eyes first on the one, then on the other, still 
 holding their weapons under, more, however, by 
 the power of his countenance, than of his arm. 
 
 " Put up your swords !" he said at length, in 
 a low stern voice, — " put up your swords !" he 
 repeated ; then seeing that though BurrelFs ra- 
 pier had leaped into its rest, De Guerre retained 
 his unsheathed, " put up your sword, Sir !" he 
 said again in a loud tone, that sounded awfully 
 through the still twilight, and then stamped upon 
 the ground with such force and energy, that a 
 young oak, near which he stood, seemed to 
 heave in the yielding earth : " the air is damp, 
 I say, and good steel should be kept from 
 rust. Young men, keep your weapons in their 
 scabbards, until God and your country call them 
 forth, then draw according to the knowledge — 
 according to the faith that is in ye ; but a truce 
 to idle brawling."
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 337 
 
 " I would first know who it is," demanded 
 Walter, still in fierce anger, " who breaks in upon 
 us and commands us thus ?" 
 
 " Have you so soon forgotten Major W ell- 
 more, young man ?" replied the stranger in his 
 harshest voice : " I little thought that he of the 
 English graft upon a French stock would have 
 carried such brawling into the house of my an- 
 cient friend. Sir Willmott Burrell, I lament that 
 the fear of the Lord is not with you, or you would 
 not use carnal weapons so indiscriminately ; go 
 to, and think what the Protector would say, did 
 he find you thus employed."' 
 
 " But, Sir," said De Guerre, no less over-awed 
 
 by the imperative manner of Major Wellmore, 
 
 " I, at least, care not for the Protector, nor am 
 
 I to be baffled of my just revenge by any of hi> 
 
 officers." 
 
 " Woudst fight with me, then ?" inquired the 
 Major, with much good temper, and placing 
 himself between the opponents. 
 
 " If it so pleasure you," replied the youth, 
 abating not a jot of his determination ; " when I 
 have made this treacherous and false fellow apo- 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 338 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 logise to the Lady Constance, and afterwards to 
 me for his unproved and unprovoked words. 11 
 
 During the parley, Constance had remained 
 fixed and immoveable ; but a new feeling now 
 seemed to animate her, as she approached, and, 
 clinging to Major Wellmore 1 s arm for support, 
 spoke in an audible but tremulous voice. 
 
 " Walter, I entreat, I command you to let 
 this matter rest. I shall not debase myself by 
 condescending to assert what Sir Willmott Bur- 
 rell ought, and does believe — that I came not here 
 to meet you by any appointment. I say his heart 
 tells him at this moment that such a proceeding 
 would be one of which he knows I am incapable."" 
 
 " If any reflection has been made upon Mis- 
 tress Cecil, 1 ' observed Major Wellmore, " I will 
 be the first to draw steel in her cause. Sir Will- 
 mott, explain this matter. Young Sir, 11 he con- 
 tinued, noting Walter's ire and impatience, " a 
 soldier's honour is as dear to me as it can be to 
 you. 11 
 
 Burrell felt and appeared exceedingly per- 
 plexed ; but with his most insinuating manner, 
 and a tremulous voice, he replied : —
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 339 
 
 " Mistress Cecil will, I hope, allow for the ex- 
 cess of affection that gave rise to such needless 
 jealousy. On consideration, I perceive at once 
 that she would not, could not, act or think in any 
 way unworthy of herself." He bowed profound- 
 ly, as he spoke, to Constantia, who clung still 
 more closely to Major Wellmore's arm, and could 
 hardly forbear uttering the contempt she felt ; 
 at every instant her truthful nature urged her to 
 speak all she thought and knew, to set Burrell 
 at defiance, and hold him up to the detestation he 
 merited : but her father, and her father's crime ! 
 the dreadful thought sent back the blood that 
 rushed so warmly from her heart in icy coldness 
 to its seat ; and the high-souled woman was com- 
 pelled to receive the apology with a drooping head, 
 and a spirit bowed almost to breaking by intense 
 and increasing anguish. 
 
 " And you are satisfied with this !" exclaimed 
 the Cavalier, striding up to her ; " you, Con- 
 stance Cecil, are satisfied with this ! But, by 
 Him whose unquenchable stars are now shining 
 in their pure glory over our heads, I am not ! — 
 Coward ! coward ! and liar ! in your teeth, Sir
 
 340 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 Wilimott Burrell ! as such I will proclaim you 
 all through his majesty's dominions, by word 
 of mouth and deed of sword !" 
 
 " Walter, Walter !" exclaimed Constance, 
 clasping her hands. 
 
 " I crave your pardon, Lady," said Burrell, 
 without altering his tone ; " but do not thus alarm 
 yourself: my sword shall not again be drawn 
 upon a low and confirmed malignant. Sir," 
 turning from his opponent and addressing the 
 stranger, " heard you not how he applied the 
 forbidden title of majesty to the man Charles 
 Stuart ; shall I not forthwith arrest him for high 
 treason ? — runneth not the act so, formed for the 
 renouncing and disannulling of the pretended 
 title of the late man's progeny ?" 
 
 " Perish such acts and their devisers !" shouted 
 the Cavalier, losing all prudence in the excite- 
 ment of the moment. " Let the lady retire, 
 while we end this quarrel as becomes men !" 
 
 " Heed him not, heed him not, I implore, I 
 entreat you !" exclaimed Constance, sinking to 
 the earth at the feet of Major Wellmore, by 
 whom the hint of Burrell was apparently unno-
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 341 
 
 ticed ; " The lion takes not advantage of the deer 
 caught in the hunter's toils, and he is distraught, 
 I know he is !" 
 
 " I am not distraught, Miss Cecil, though I 
 have suffered enough to make me so : what care I 
 for acts formed by a pack of regicides I 11 
 
 " Young man, 11 interrupted the old officer with 
 a burst of fierce and strong passion that, like a 
 mountain torrent, carried all before it, " / arrest 
 you in the name of the Commonwealth and its 
 Protector ! A night in one of the' lone chambers 
 of Cecil Place will cool the bravo-blood that riots 
 in your veins, and teach you prudence, if the 
 Lord denies you grace." 
 
 He laid his hand so heavily on De Guerre 1 s 
 shoulder, that his frame quailed beneath its 
 weight, while the point of his sword rested on the 
 peaceful grass. Burrell attempted, at the same 
 instant, to steal the weapon from his hand : 
 the Cavalier grasped it firmly ; while Major 
 Wellmore, darting on the false Knight a wither- 
 ing look, emphatically observed, and with a total 
 change of manner — 
 
 " / can, methinks, make good a capture with-
 
 342 THE BUCCANEER. 
 
 out your aid, kind Sir ; although I fully appre- 
 ciate your zeal in the cause of the Common- 
 wealth !"" The latter part of the sentence was 
 pronounced with a slow and ironical emphasis ; 
 then, turning to De Guerre, he added, " I need 
 not say to you that, being under arrest, your 
 sword remains with me." 
 
 De Guerre presented it in silence ; for the 
 result of his interview with Constantia had ren- 
 dered him indifferent to his fate, and, although 
 but an hour before it would have been only with 
 his life that his sword had been relinquished, he 
 now cared not for the loss of either. 
 
 Major Wellmore took the weapon, and ap- 
 peared for a moment to consider whether he 
 should retain it or not : he decided on the for- 
 mer, and in a cold, calm voice commanded his 
 prisoner to move forward. De Guerre pointed 
 to Constantia, who had neither shrieked nor 
 fainted, but stood a mute statue of despair in 
 the clear light of the young spring moon, whose 
 early and resplendent beams fell in a silver shower 
 on her bared and beautiful head. 
 
 " I Avill take care of Mistress Cecil," said the 
 insidious Burrell.
 
 THE BUCCANEER. 343 
 
 As he spoke, Lady Frances, who, alarmed at 
 the absence of her friend, had come forth to seek 
 her, bounded into the Fairy Ring, and as sud- 
 denly screamed, and stood irresolute amid the 
 dread circle. The Major immediately spoke : 
 
 " Lady Frances, pray conduct your friend : 
 Sir Willmott Burrell, we follow you to the 
 nearest entrance." 
 
 " And now," said Constantia, as her head fell 
 on the bosom of her friend, " he is in the 
 lion's den — fully and for ever destroyed !" Na- 
 ture was exhausted : it was long ere she again 
 spoke. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
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 C<L<J 
 
 
 
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