ead, throwing
completely back the hair that had in some degree overshadowed his face,
the old woman started, and an undefined expression of astonishment and
doubt burst from her lips. The gentleman either did not, or appeared not
to notice the effect he produced; but carefully drew from his bosom a
small book or tablet, and read in it for some minutes with much
attention, turning over and over the one or two leaves upon which his
eyes were fixed.

"And are you sure, good woman, that no other persons are in your house
save this same pedlar?" he inquired, now fixing his gaze steadily on the
withered countenance of Mother Hays.

"Alack! yes, sir, few travellers come to the lone widow's door, and it's
an out o' the way place: wouldn't your honour like some supper, or a
stoop of wine, or, mayhap, a glass of brandy?--it is useful these raw
nights; or a rasher and eggs?"

"Are you quite certain there is no other in the house, and that your son
is really not returned?" he again inquired, heedless of her invitation.

"Why should I deceive your honour?--am I not old, and would you that I
should so sin against the Lord?"

"You were not always thus piously given," replied the youth, smiling.
"Know you aught of this token?" and he united his hands after a
particular fashion: "heard you never the words----" and he whispered a
short sentence into her ear: upon which she dropped a reverential
courtesy, and, without reply, ascended, as quickly as her age and
infirmities permitted, the ladder that led to Roupall's place of
retreat. Ere she returned, however, accompanied by the trooper, another
person had entered the dwelling. It was no other than her son Robin, for
whom the gentleman had first inquired, and they were both engaged in
such deep and earnest conversation, that neither noticed the addition to
the party, until the old woman had thrown her arms around her son's
neck, so as almost to stifle him with her caresses, seeming to lose all
sense of the stranger's presence in the fulness of joy at the youth's
return.

"There, mother, that will do; why, you forget I have been in London
lately, and 'tis not the court fashion to rejoice and be glad. Besides,
I have seen his Highness, and his Highness's daughters, and his
Highness's sons, and drank, in moderation, with his Highness's servants:
so, stand off, good mother, stand off!----'honour to whom honour.'" And
Robin laid his finger on his nose, while a remarkable expression of
c