The Buccaneer - A Tale

"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 servant-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

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 ourselves 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."

"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

simplicity.

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."