"Were they then," resumed Eustace, "innate properties in his mind? Though little more than my own age, he is a master in the science of dissimulation. He practised upon my fears; I mean, my fears for these dear girls, and wormed from my confiding folly a disclosure of my parentage, and my wishes. He promised to serve us. I trusted to his word; and he performs it by rivetting our chains beyond hope of liberation." "While life endures," returned Barton, "hope and fear successively eclipse each other. Yet a wise man should remember both are casualties, which may give colour to his future fortunes. We must allow the enraged lion to chafe, but lest his roarings should terrify these tender lambs, and drive them out among beasts of prey, an old watch-dog will crouch beside them, and assuage their alarms. I fancy, pretty maids, you never were in company with a real round-head before; come, tell me truly, is he as terrible a creature as your fears pictured." "I am half inclined to think you do not mean to injure us," said Isabel. "Beware," cried Eustace, lifting up his finger; "remember your past confidence." "But this is an old gentleman," resumed Isabel, and pressed Barton's offered hand between both hers; "perhaps he is a father, and feels for two terrified girls, who never were among strangers before. Or, perhaps," returning the benevolent smile of Barton with one of playful archness, "he may find us such a troublesome charge, that he will be glad to get rid of us before we reach London." "My pretty Eve," returned Barton; "I am proof to temptation. What I have undertaken to do I will perform." "Yet possibly," said she, "you would just allow me to speak once more to that officer, your pupil. I only wish to remind him of his past promises." "Rather," replied Barton, "to move him to make more, or perchance make him your prisoner. No, fair lady, I see too much of your puissance, to trust my noble pupil in your presence. Yet I would have you think as well of him as the cloudy aspect of present appearances will admit, for man oweth man candour; it is the current coin of social life, and they who do not traffic with it, must not expect a supply for their own wants." Eustace fretted at this _badinage_, and thought Barton a miserable jester. He caught at the epithet "Noble," and asked if any one, lawfully entitled to it, would be so degenerate as to rebel against his King.