Barbara had long known that a servant's chief duty is obedience, yet she
would just then have done errand to any one rather than to Robin Hays;
she however replied,-"Please ye, mistress, the roan pony is easy to guide, if you happen to
be going the way he likes, and that is, ever from the park to the
stable, from the stable to the park; otherwise, like the Israelites of
old, he is a stiff-necked beast, whom I would rather eschew than commune
with. And the wolf-hound, my lady, behaves so rudely to little Crisp,
holding him by the throat in an unseemly fashion, and occasionally
despoiling him of a fragment of his ears, toes, or tail, as it pleasures
him, that I had rather take black Blanche if you permit me--she can soon
find Crisp or Robin either."
"As you please, Barbara; only silence and hasten."
"My mistress," thus ran Barbara's thoughts as she wended on her way
through the night, "is a wonderful lady; so good, so wise, so rich, yet
so unhappy! I wouldn't be a lady for the world!--it is hard fate enough
to be a woman, a poor, weak woman, without strength of limb or wisdom of
head; and, withal, a fond heart, yet afraid and ashamed to show its
fondness. If I was my lady, and my lady I, instead of sending my lady to
tell Robin Hays to let the poor gentleman out, I'd just go and let him
out myself, or send my lady (supposing her the maid Barbara) to let him
out, without telling anybody about it. And I am sure she loves that poor
gentleman; and yet she, wise, good, rich, and wonderful, is just going,
in the very teeth of her affections, to marry that black Burrell! I am
very happy that I'm not a lady, for I'd die, that I would ten times
over, sooner than marry any one I didn't love. It will kill her, I
know--I feel it will: yet why does she marry him? And she keeps such
deep silence too.--Down, pretty Blanche, and do not rouse your sleek
ears: your ears, Blanchy, are lady's ears, and so ought to hear nothing
frightening--and your eyes, Blanche, are lady's eyes, and should never
see any thing disagreeable.--What ails thee, doggy? Nay, wag ye'r tail,
and do not crouch so; 'tis but the shadow of a cow, I think.--How my
heart beats!"
The beating of the maiden's heart accelerated her speed, and she ran
with hasty and light footsteps a considerable distance before either dog
or girl paused for breath. At length they did pause, and Barbara saw
with much satisfaction, that she had left far behind the shadow which
caused Blanche and herself so much alarm. She reached the Gull's Nest
without any misadventure, and now her object was to draw Robin forth
from the hostelry without entering herself. Through a chink in the outer
door (the inner being only closed on particular occasions) she
discovered Robin and his mother, and one or two others--strangers they
might be, or neighbours--at all events she did not know them. Presently
Crisp stretched his awkward length from out its usual coil, and trotted
to the door, slowly wagging his apology for tail, as if perfectly
conscious of the honour of Blanche's visit. Miss Blanche, in her turn,
laid her nose on the ground and snorted a salutation that was replied to
by a somewhat similar token from master Crisp. Robin, who was the very
embodyment of vigilance, knew at once there was something or someone
without, acquainted and on friendly terms with his dog, and he quietly
arose and opened the door without making any observation to his
companions. He was, indeed, astonished at perceiving Barbara, who put
her finger on her lip to enjoin silence. He immediately led her to the
back of the house, where none of the casual visiters could see them, and
she communicated her lady's message quickly but distinctly. She would
have enlarged upon the danger, and expatiated on the interest she took
in the cause of the Cavalier, had Robin permitted her, but she saw he
was too much distressed at the magnitude of the information to heed the
details, however interesting they might have been at any other time.