The Buccaneer - A Tale

"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, 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 Cavalier, 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 Fleetword 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 signified his intention of walking forth "to meet the

man 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 expressions of gratitude for the attentions he had

experienced during his brief sojourn.

"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?"

"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."

"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."

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 delightful to a parent than a

strong one. Wilt always love thy father, Constance?"

"My dear father, do you doubt it?"

"No, my child; but suppose that any circumstance should make me poor?"