"Stay, Robin; you of all men are the most likely to know—can you tell me aught concerning one, I believe, we both loved?"
"Ask me not, dear mistress, now; only quickly, quickly to the Protector."
In a few minutes Robin Hays again stood before the great and extraordinary man he both respected and feared.
There was a mingling of kindliness and warmth in Cromwell's manner, as he desired the manikin to come forward, and, having first questioned him about his health, commanded him to tell his business.
"I have intruded on your Highness, which is a mark of great boldness in a creature of such low degree," commenced the Ranger in obedience to the Protector's orders, "and it is on behalf of one to whom I am much bound. Alack! great sir, it is a sad thing when a man of spirit, of power, and of bravery, has no friend to speak for him but one that Nature threw from her as unworthy of the neat finishing she bestows on others:—when our parent discards us, what have we to expect from mankind?"
"Do you speak of the youth called Walter, whose gallant Jubilee waits impatiently till his master is at liberty to boot and saddle? He shall mount him soon."
"With all humility, your Highness, no:—I would speak of Hugh Dalton and the Fire-fly."
"Of his ship, which may be at sea, say you?"
Robin ventured one glance at Cromwell's countenance, doubtless with the intention of ascertaining if he knew the position of the vessel: but there was no expression on those features that could lead to any conclusion, and the Ranger skilfully evaded the question.
"It is indeed of Hugh Dalton I would speak," continued Robin, "and intreat in his behalf, what I need myself, yet ask not for—a pardon."