"I carried her round the chapel, and sank with her into the vault, where I had been concealed--that which contains the passage leading up to Minster, and then sloping down the hill; and I placed my daughter on the ground and closed the entrance, as we have ever done. And then I sat on the earth and raised her head and shoulders on my knees, and loosening her kerchief to look at the wound, which I had no doubt had been inflicted by the Jewess Zillah--shall I ever forget the sensation!--I cannot describe it, so different from anything I ever felt--ever can feel:--her bosom was warm, as the fleece of a young unshorn lamb, and her heart palpitated within it." The rugged Buccaneer covered his face with his hands, and Robin, in a voice which strong emotion rendered almost inarticulate, said,---- "I know what must have been your feelings from what I myself felt so short a time past." Hugh Dalton slowly withdrew his broad palms from his countenance, and looking somewhat sternly on the Ranger, replied, "Young man, that you love my daughter, I have seen but too plainly; and I take it ill that you told me not of it before." Robin would have interrupted,--but he motioned him to remain silent. "We will talk of it hereafter;--only this--you may love her, but you cannot love her with a parent's love. It is as deep as it is mysterious; it comes with the first look a father casts upon his babe; the infant, which to the whole world seems a mis-shapen, an unpleasant thing to look upon, to him is a being of most perfect beauty--the hope--the prop--the stay of his future life. Upon that weak, helpless, inanimate creature, his heart leans--the heart of the strongest man leans upon it. The world holds out no promise to tempt him like the well-doing of his child. It is a wonderful mystery," continued the Buccaneer, reverently uncovering his head, as men do when they are about to enter a place of worship; "it is most wonderful, the holy love which comes upon us, for the simple, senseless, powerless things, that fill us with so much hope, and strength, and energy! I saw a whale once, who, when her young one was struck by the harpoon, came right between it and the ship, and bore the blows, and took the fatal weapons again and again into her bleeding body; and when she was struggling in her flurry, and the sea around was dyed as red as scarlet, still she tried to save her offspring, and managed so as to die lying over it. It was the very time that I was bringing my own girl to England--a little creature, sleeping in my bosom--and it was by a vessel in our company the poor whale was killed; for I would not suffer one of my men to have a hand in such a sickening job:--but I never forgot it--never--how she lay over her young, shielding it to the last with her own body! I used to pray--I could pray whenever I took my Barbara into my arms!--I thought it a duty then to pray for her, and I trusted that she would hereafter pray for me. Had I always her sweet face to look