"Hush, Barbara! 'Tis of that I would speak; it is that which takes me from you--but only for a few days--it cannot be very long;--yet I must find out where he is. I know the hands his wilfulness has thrown him into, but I think they will save him from worse treachery. Nevertheless, I must to London, and, if I cannot find him there, I must elsewhere seek him out. If any ask for me, you will remain silent; and, dear girl, if chance should throw you in Dalton's way, (it is likely he may be here in a few days, perhaps before I return,) speak him kindly and gently; bear with him, as you have borne with me." "That is impossible," interrupted Barbara, "for there is no reason why I should do so. He was never kind to me." "But the time is coming when he will be kind. And now adieu, Barbara. I desired much to remain; but I cannot. I imagined I might be useful to Mistress Constance, but I could not; it rests not with me." "I am very sorry you are going, Robin; for now, when I think of it, my heart is heavy within my bosom; I know not why it should be so. You are sure you can prevent that wild bad boy from frightening me again?" "Quite sure. I'll lock him up within the Crag till my return." "Thank you, Robin; but he will be kindly treated." "To be sure he will." "Thank you again;--but still the weight is here--_here_ on my heart. Do you think it would be very wrong to wear this dress at my lady's bridal?" Robin smiled at the earnestness and simplicity that characterised this child of nature. "Oh, no; but if you love such, I can get you far finer garments." "Can you indeed?" she exclaimed joyfully:--"But no," she added in a sadder voice, "no bravery for me after this bridal. I dreamed a dream last night. Do you believe in dreams, Robin? Listen: I thought we were all standing at an altar in the ruined chapel." "Who? All?" inquired the Ranger, eagerly. "My lady and that man, and----" she paused. "Who?" again inquired Robin.