"A pretty scrape my villanies have brought me into!" thought Burrell, as he returned to his chamber: "the girl will come over--that stops a wedding. Suppose I were to take Zillah to wife--the old rascal would not give me a maravedi. Suppose, before I have secured Constance, Cromwell listens to the Rabbi's tale, he will forbid my marriage to please the accursed Jew, and I--may blow my brains out. Suppose I marry at once--But how? Lady Cecil not many weeks dead! I must manage it, however," he continued, pacing the apartment, while Robin, who had ascertained the impossibility of rousing the ill-governed menials from their state of hopeless debauchery, amused himself by counting the number of times the Master of Burrell walked up and down the room. At length, finding such dull watching wearisome, he ventured to enter, and inquire if he were to remain at Burrell House, or return to the Gull's Nest. "Well thought on, Robin Hays," said the knight, as if roused, and not unpleasantly, from himself and his thoughts; "you will rest here to-night, and accompany me to Cecil Place on the morrow. See to these rioters, of whom I must rid my house." "You had better do it, then, immediately," retorted Robin, "or they will save you trouble by ridding you of your house." "True, good Robin; you are ready-witted." "And, to keep up my character, I'll back to Cecil Place this very hour," muttered Robin, as he closed the door; "there is one there who must not tarry the coming of Sir Willmott Burrell." CHAPTER XI. But such it is: and though we may be taught To have in childhood life, ere love we know, Yet life is useless till by reason taught, And love and reason up together grow. SIR W. DAVENANT. "And, indeed, my grave Lady Constance plays with the poor fish in a very sportsmanlike manner; only, methinks, a little too shy, and a trifle too sensitive! Marry, girl! what a most yielding, docile, and affectionate wife you would make!--like one of the heroines in the ancient Spanish romances; or such a one as--Judith!--no--for you would never venture to chop off a man's head--Stay--did she so?--or--Barbara! you are well read in Scripture history; and, though you ply your needle so industriously, that will not prevent your calling to mind some of the holy women in the Bible, to whom your mistress may be compared." Barbara Iverk, who had no other duty at Cecil Place than to wait upon the young heiress or assist in her embroidery, was considered and treated more as a humble companion than a menial; and Lady Frances Cromwell talked just as freely to Mistress Cecil in her presence as if they were perfectly alone. Nor was such confidence ever abused by the gentle girl. She moved within her small circle like an attendant satellite upon a brilliant star--silent and submissive--yet ever in her place, ever smiling, innocent, and happy,-- "A maid whom there were few to praise, And very few to love."