the country, and do all the business by water instead of land. They do
it, you know, in Venice."

"There'd be sense and reason in that," replied the sailor in great glee.
"I never could see much use in the land at any time."

"And then we should have all sailors and no soldiers," continued Robin.

"Ah!" said the sailor, "I doubt if the Protector could ever be brought
to see the good of that; he's mortally fond of the army."

"You had some of his own Ironsides here yesterday, you said?"

"Ay, they were after something or other, I'll answer for that; for
though they never go the same road twice, if they can by any means help
it, yet they have been about the place, and round the neighbourhood,
very much lately. I did hear that Noll was after some smuggling, or
devilrie, down a little beyond Gravesend. He never can let a thing alone
when once he gets scent of it."

"Was there any one, any prisoner, or chap of that sort, with them last
night, or yesterday?" Robin ventured to ask.

"No, not that I saw or noticed," said the sailor.

"Yes, there was," replied the landlady, who had been leaning over the
hatch-door, listening to their conversation, and scrutinising the person
of her new guest. "There was a young gentleman, not like a prisoner
either, only I fancied under some restraint; and I brought him a better
stoup of wine than I brought the rest. Poor gentleman! he seemed
downhearted, or like one crossed in love."

"Crossed in a fiddlestick!" said the bluff old landlord: "your woman's
head is ever running on love."

"Then it does not run on you, I am sure," retorted Robin. "Your stick
would get no music out of any fiddle."

"I could make as good music out of a currycomb, as you out of that
cracked thing that sits perched on your hump--like a monkey on the back
of a dromedary."

"Get your currycomb, and we'll make a wager of it," replied Robin,
unslinging his gittern, while some of the old sailors crowded round the
challenger, and voted it a fair challenge.

"Ugh!" grunted forth the bluff landlord, turning away. "When I play, it
shall be against a Christian Englishman, and none of your foreign
jigmaries."

"Play, play, nevertheless," said the young landlady, handing Robin at
the same time a measure of fine ale; then stooping as if to untie the
knot that fastened the gittern, she whispered in his ear. "And there was
one who, with a few others, left the party, rode on, and took no
refreshment. I knew him well; but if the youth be a friend of yours,
depend upon't he's kindly thought of, for the leader put a broad-piece
into my hand as he passed, and told me to see that the Cavalier was
properly attended to."

"Took they the London road?" inquired Robin.

"Ay; though 'tis hard to say how long such as they continue on any
path."

"What are you doing, Maud?" inquired the rough landlord, who had just
returned, and was lounging against the door-post.

"There! I have broken the string that went round his neck," she said
aloud, without heeding the question. "I must get you another."

When she returned with a flaming red riband, that glared in cruel
mockery at the shabby gittern, she contrived to add, "I have a brother
in the Ironsides, and he said he thought they were bound for Hampton
Court; but it might have been only his fancy."

It was a quaint but pretty sight under that green Kentish cherry-tree,
and upon the bank of that beautiful river, to see the weather-cock Robin
in his motley dress, the long peacock's feather ever and anon lifted
from his hat by the fresh breeze that came from the water, while he sung
with sweet and animated voice a song that suited well the tastes and
feelings of his hearers.

    "Oh, the sailor's home is the boundless sea,
      The sea, the sea, the sea!
    He loves it best when waves are high,
    And a fierce nor'-wester shakes the sky.
      Oh, the sea, the sea, the sea--
    Oh, the sailor's home is the home for me!

    "Away we go, o'er our own blue sea,
      The sea, the sea, the sea!
    We are ocean lords, for the winds obey,
    And the raging billows own our sway.
      Oh, the sea, the sea, the sea!--
    Let my home be the sailor's home--the sea!

    "A proud man well may our captain be,
      The sea, the sea, the sea!
    But our noble ship a bride shall be
    To five hundred men as good as he.
      Oh, the sea, the sea, the sea--
    'Tis a fitting mate for the brave and free!

    "Give the land to slaves, but give us the sea--
      The sea, the sea, the sea!
    Our hopes, our joys, our bed, and our grave,
    Are above or below the salt-sea wave.
      Oh, the sea, the sea, the sea--
    Hurrah for the sailor's home--the sea!"

Then leaning over the hatch-door, her rosy cheek half-resting on the
rough shoulder of her rough husband, was the pretty Mistress Maud, the
personification of rustic English beauty; then the picturesque grouping
of the old and worn, but still gallant and manly sailors--our friend of
the wooden legs a little in the fore-ground, supported by the quizzical
seaman, and a tall stiff bony-looking "Black Sal" of a woman on the
other, whose complexion was contrasted by a snow-white cap, somewhat
pointed at the top, which hardly concealed her grizzled hair. She was
both exhibiting and admiring in dumb show the telescope so lately in the
possession of our friend Robin; while Ned Purcell, a little dumpy,
grey-headed mariner, who had heretofore been considered the owner of the
best glass in Greenwich, was advancing, glass in hand, to decide which
was really the best without farther parley. As Robin was obliged to sing
his song twice, we may be excused for having given it once, though
certainly it received but little advantage from the miserable
accompaniment of the wretched instrument that had just been so gaily
adorned by the hands of Mistress Maud.

When the song was fairly finished, Robin arose to depart, for he had
been long anxious to proceed on his way, though the scene we have
described, and the conversation we have recorded, had passed within the
compass of an hour. They all pressed him to remain. Even the bluff
landlord tempted him with the offer of a pint of Canary, an offer he
would not himself under any circumstances have declined. Robin, however,
bade them a courteous farewell; but he had hardly reached the outskirts
of the village, when he heard a light step, and felt a light hand press
upon his shoulder. He turned round, and the blithe smile of mine hostess
of the Oliver's Head beamed upon his painted face.

"Robin Hays!" she said, "I would advise you never to sing when you go
mumming; you did well enough till then; but, though the nightingale hath
many notes, the voice is aye the same. The gentleman you were speering
after, dropped this while making some change in his garments; and it
looks so like a love-token, that I thought, as you were after him, you
would give it him, poor youth! and my benison with it."

"Yes," replied the Ranger, taking from her the very lock of hair which
the Cavalier had severed, with his own hand, from among the tresses of
Constantia. "I'll give it him when I can find him; yet, had you not
better wrap it up in something? It pains the heart to see such as this
exposed to the air, much less the eyes of any body in the world." Maud
wrapped it in a piece of paper, and Robin placed it carefully in a small
pocket-book.

"The devil's as bright in your eyes still, Maud, as it was when you won
poor Jack Roupall's heart, and then jilted him for a rich husband. I did
not think any one would have found me out."

"If I did sell myself," replied the landlady, "I have had my
reward"--the colour faded from her cheek as she spoke--"as all will have
who go the same gait. But ye ken, Bobby, it was not for my ain sake, but
that my poor mother might have a home in her auld age--and so she had,
and sure that ought to make me content." The tears gathered in her eyes,
and the Ranger loudly reproached himself for unkindness, and assured her
he meant no harm.

"I am sure o' that; but when any one evens Jack to me, it brings back
the thought of my ain North to my heart, and its words to my tongue,
which is no good now, as it becomes me to forget both."

"God bless you, Maud!" said Robin, shaking her affectionately by the
hand: "God bless you! and if any ask after the Ironsides, see you say
nothing of the young gentleman, who is as dear to me as my heart's
blood; and do not tell to any, even of our own set, that I passed this
way; for it's hard to tell who's who, or what's what, these times."

"So it is," replied the dame, smiling through tears; "and now God be wi'
ye, Robin!" And presently he heard her voice carolling a North country
ballad, as she returned to her own house.

"Now is her heart in her own country," muttered the Ranger, "though her
voice is here; and those who did not know her little story would think
her as cheerful as the length of a summer's day; and so she ought to be,
for she performed her duty; and duty, after all, when well performed,
seems a perpetual and most cheerful recompense for care and toil, and,
it may be, trouble of mind and pain of heart."

Robin having obtained the clue to the secret of which he was in search,
wended his way towards the metropolis. The steeples of a hundred
churches were soon in sight.

CHAPTER IX.

    But yonder comes my faithful friend,
      That like assaults hath often tried;
    On his advice I will depend
      Whe'er I shall win or be denied;
    And, look, what counsel he shall give,
    That will I do, whe'er die or live

      HENRY WILLOBY.

Robin, when he arrived in London, loitered away an hour around Whitehall
and the Park, before he proceeded farther, and easily ascertained that
the Protector was then at Hampton Court; as to who went with him, how
long he would remain, or when he would return, he could receive no
intelligence; for the best of all possible reasons--the movements of his
Highness were secrets even from his own family.

There was much talk, however, and considerable speculation among all
classes of people, as to whether he would yield to the eager entreaties
of a certain party in the parliament, who were urgently pressing forward
a motion, the object of which was, that Cromwell should exchange the
title he had heretofore borne, and adopt the more time-honoured, but,
alas! more obnoxious one, of King. Some of the more rigid sects were
busily discoursing in groups, respecting Walton's Polyglott Bible, and
the fitness or unfitness of the committee that had been sitting at
Whitelock's house at Chelsea, to consider properly the translations and
impressions of the Holy Scriptures. Robin received but surly treatment
at the palace-gates, for minstrelsy was not the fashion; and he almost
began to think the disguise he had selected was an injudicious one. He
hastened on to the city, along the line of street now called the Strand,
but which was then only partially skirted by houses, and delivered
Dalton's invoices to the merchant beyond St. Paul's, who had need of the
Genoa velvets; then proceeded to the dealer in jewels, by whom the
pearls had been commanded. Here it appeared no easy matter to gain
admission; but a few words mysteriously pronounced to a grave-looking
person, whose occupation was half porter, half clerk, removed all
obstacles, and he found himself in a dark, noisome room, at the back of
one of the houses in Fenchurch Street--at that time much inhabited by
foreign merchants, who were generally dealers in contraband goods, as
well as in the more legitimate articles of commerce.

As soon as the wayfarer entered, he disburdened himself of his hump, and
from between its folds produced strings of the finest pearls and heaped
them on the table. The dealer put on his glasses, and examined them
separately, with great care, but much rapidity; while Robin, like a good
and faithful steward, kept his eyes steadily fixed upon the jewels,
never losing sight of them for a single moment, until his attention was
arrested by a person entering and addressing the merchant. Robin
immediately recognised the stranger as the old Jew, Manasseh Ben Israel,
whom he had seen at Sir Willmott Burrell's.

"Excuse me, I pray you, for a few moments, good Rabbi," observed the
merchant, who was now occupied in entering the number, size, and quality
of the pearls in a large book.

"I cannot wait, friend," was the Jew's quick reply, "for I am going a
journey, and the night draws on darkly."

"Whither, sir, I pray you?"

"Even to Hampton House," replied Ben Israel, "to commune with his
Highness, whom the God of Abraham protect!--and I am sorely perplexed,
for my own serving-man is ill, and I know not whom to take, seeing I am
feeble and require care, unless you can lend me the man Townsend: Samuel
assures me he is a person of trust."

"Townsend is, unhappily, gone on secret business to a long distance, set
off not an hour since: would that I had known it before!"

"There is no lack of servants," continued the Rabbi, "but there is great
lack of faithfulness. I know not what to do, for I must see his Highness
to-night."

"If it so please you," said little Robin, eagerly stepping forward, "I
will go with you; I am sure this gentleman can answer for my fidelity,
and I will answer for my own fitness."

The Rabbi and the merchant looked at each other, and then the latter
observed,--

"I can well answer for this young man's trust-worthiness, seeing he has
been engaged to bring me goods such as these, from secret sources, the
nature of which you understand, excellent Ben Israel. But what know you
of the service befitting a gentleman's servant?"

"I have been in that capacity, too," replied little Robin Hays.

"With whom?" inquired Manasseh.

"With one I care not much to name, sirs, for he does me no credit," was
Robin's answer; "with Sir Willmott Burrell."

The old man shuddered, and said in an agitated voice--"Then, indeed, you
will not do for me on this occasion."

"Under favour," persisted Robin, "I know not the occasion, and therefore
cannot judge, if I may speak so boldly; but I have seen you before, sir,
and can only say, that knowing all his manoeuvres well, I am just the
person to be trusted by his enemy."

"Young man," said the Jew, severely, "I am no man's enemy; I leave such
enmity as you speak of to my Christian brethren. I ask only justice from
my fellow mortals, and mercy from my God."

"But, sir, I thought you had sustained some wrong at the hands of Sir
Willmott Burrell, from your visit at such an hour, and your manner on
that night."

"Wrong! ay, such wrong as turns a father's hair grey, his veins dry,
and scorches up his brain." The old man paused, for his feelings had
overpowered him.

"I know none more faithful than Robin Hays," urged the pearl-merchant;
"and now that I call to remembrance, the time he served that same
knight, (who, I hear, is going to repair his fortunes by a wealthy
marriage,) I think he did well as a lackey; though, to own the truth, I
should fancy him more in his place, and to his liking, as the servitor
to a bold Buccaneer."

"Buccaneer!" repeated Ben Israel--"What Buccaneer?"

"Oh!" said the merchant, smiling, "Hugh Dalton--the fairest man in the
free trade."

"Hugh Dalton!" repeated the Jew, slowly: then adding, after a lengthened
pause, "Art cunning in disguises?"

"As cunning as my body will permit," replied Robin.

"You have seen my faithful Samuel?"

"I have, sir."

"Then array thyself on the instant as much after his dress and fashion
as is possible."

Robin hastily and right cheerfully obeyed this command; and, in less
than half an hour, was rolling along the road to Hampton Court, in the
guise of a serving Jew.

CHAPTER X.

    Vengeance will sit above our faults; but till
        She there do sit,
      We see her not, nor them.

      DR. DONNE.

It is hardly necessary to direct the reader's attention to the quickness
and ingenuity at all times displayed by Robin Hays, or the facility with
which he adapted himself to any circumstance or situation that was
likely to favour or further his designs. The moment the Rabbi had stated
his intention of visiting Hampton Court, he perceived that, as a Jewish
servant, he might have abundant opportunities of ascertaining the
precise condition of the Cavalier: fortunately for his purpose, the
mention of Hugh Dalton's name at once decided Ben Israel in granting his
request.

The Jew had received intimation that the noted and well-known commander
of the Fire-fly had been lying off St. Vallery, and making many
inquiries relative to his daughter, who had at length been traced on
board his cruiser by her continental friends. "Doubtless," thought the
Rabbi, "I may be enabled to draw forth, or bribe forth, from this his
associate, whatever knowledge he may possess of the views and objects
which they contemplate as regards my most wretched daughter." In
pursuance of this plan he commenced a series of examinations as they
journeyed towards Hampton Court; which Robin, with all his dexterity,
would have found it difficult to parry, if he had had any intention or
desire so to do. Suddenly it occurred to the Ranger that the pretended
dumb boy was no other than Ben Israel's daughter, and he frankly
mentioned his suspicions.

The old man at first shrank from the supposition with extreme horror.
"It was impossible," he said, "that his child should so far forget her
birth and station, as to degrade herself by assuming male attire;" but
Robin reminded him that when a woman loves, as she must have done, and
has once sacrificed her duty, perhaps her honour, all obstacles become
as nought. The Jew groaned heavily, and remained long silent; she was
his only, and his beloved one; and, though the Jewish laws were strict,
even unto death, against any who wedded with strangers, yet he loved her
despite her disobedience, and the more he thought, the more resolved he
became to punish the betrayer of her innocence and faith.

Robin was also greatly distressed; the fear of some evil occurring to
Barbara took forcible possession of his mind. Why should this girl, if
indeed Jeromio's charge was actually a girl, why should she menace
Barbara? What had Barbara to do with the foul transaction? Could it be
possible, that, from her being tricked out with so much finery, the
stranger mistook the maid for the mistress; and with impotent rage, was
warning or threatening her, in an unknown tongue, against a marriage
with Burrell! He could not comprehend the matter; and the more he was at
fault, the more anxious he became. He, in his own mind, reproached even
the Buccaneer for imparting to him only half measures.

"Had I known," thought Robin, "the true particulars about Sir Willmott's
affairs, of which I am convinced, from many circumstances, Dalton was
in full possession, I could have assisted in all things, and prevented
results that may hereafter happen." There was another idea that had
lately mingled much with the Ranger's harassed feelings--Constantia's
intended marriage. Robin was satisfied that a strong regard, if not a
deeply-rooted affection, existed between Walter De Guerre and Barbara's
kind mistress; and he thought that Hugh Dalton's manifesting so little
interest on the subject was not at all in keeping with his usually
chivalrous feelings towards woman-kind, or his professed esteem and
affection for his young friend. He knew that the Buccaneer's heart was
set upon attaining a free pardon; and he also knew that he had some
powerful claim upon the interest of Sir Robert Cecil; he knew, moreover,
Dalton's principal motive for bringing over the Cavalier; but with all
his sagacity, he could not discover why he did not, at once and for
ever, set all things right, by exhibiting Sir Willmott Burrell in his
true colours. Robin had repeatedly urged the Buccaneer on this subject,
but his constant reply was,--

"I have no business with other people's children; I must look to my own.
If they have been kind to Barbara, they have had good reason for it. It
will be a fine punishment, hereafter, to Sir Willmott; one that may
come, or may not come, as he behaves; but it will be a punishment in
reserve, should he, in the end, discover that Mistress Cecil may be no
heiress." In fact, the only time that the Buccaneer felt any strong
inclination to prevent the sacrifice Constantia was about to make, was
when he found that she knew her father's crime, but was willing to give
herself to misery as the price of secrecy; then, indeed, had his own
pardon been secured, he would have stated to the Protector's face the
deep villany of the Master of Burrell. Until his return on board the
Fire-fly, and his suppression of the mutiny excited by Sir Willmott and
the treachery of Jeromio, he had no idea that Burrell, base as he knew
him to be, would have aimed against his life.

The Buccaneer was a brave, bold, intrepid, careless man; more skilled in
the tricks of war than in tracing the secret workings of the human mind,
or in watching the shades and modifications of the human character. His
very love for his daughter had more of the protecting and proud care of
the eagle about it, than the fostering gentleness with which the tender
parent guards its young; he was proud of her, and he was resolved to use
every possible means to make her proud of him. He had boasted to Sir
Robert Cecil that it was his suspicions made him commit "_forged_
documents to the flames," at the time when the baronet imagined that all
proofs of his crimes had been destroyed; but, in truth, Dalton had
mislaid the letters, and, eager to end all arrangements then pending, he
burned some papers, which he had hastily framed for the purpose, to
satisfy Sir Robert Cecil. When in after years it occurred to him that,
if he obtained those papers he could wind Sir Robert to his purpose, he
searched every corner of the Gull's Nest Crag until they were
discovered; so that, in fact, he owed their possession to chance, and
not to skilfulness. Even the boy Springall had seen through the
Italian's character; but Dalton had been so accustomed to find his
bravery overwhelmingly successful, and consequently to trust to it
almost implicitly, that his fine intellect was suffered to lie dormant,
where it would have often saved him from much that he endured. If he had
thought deeply, he would have seen the impropriety of trusting the
Fire-fly at any time to Jeromio's command, because, as he had found him
guilty of so many acts of treachery towards others, he should have
known, that it only needed sufficient bribery, or inducement of any
other kind, to turn that treachery upon himself.

His last interview with Sir Robert Cecil had made him aware that the
baronet had really lost the greater part of the influence he once
maintained at Whitehall; and since he had been so much off and on the
English coast, he had heard enough to convince him that Cromwell granted
few favours to those who had not much usefulness to bestow in return.
Sir Robert was broken in intellect and constitution: he had no son to
whom the Protector could look for support in case of broil or
disturbance, and the Buccaneer was ignorant of the strong and friendly
ties that had united the families for so long a series of years. He had
fancied that fear would compel Sir Willmott Burrell to press his suit;
but the atrocious attempt upon his life assured him that there was
nothing to expect from him but the blackest villany. When, therefore, he
despatched, with all the ferocity of a true Buccaneer, the head of
Jeromio as a wedding-present to Sir Willmott, he at the same time
transmitted to the Protector, by a trusty messenger, the Master of
Burrell's own directions touching the destruction of the Jewish Zillah,
and stated that if his Highness would grant him a free pardon, which he
had certain weighty reasons for desiring, he believed it was in his
power to produce the Rabbi's daughter. His communication concluded by
entreating that his Highness would prevent the marriage of the Master of
Burrell, at all events until the following week.

His envoy had particular orders neither to eat, drink, nor sleep, until
he had found means of placing the packet in the hands of the Protector.
Dalton having so far eased his mind, bitterly cursed his folly that he
had not in the first instance, instead of proceeding to St. Vallery in
search of the Jewess, informed Ben Israel of the transaction, who would
at once have obtained his pardon, as the price of his daughter's
restoration and Burrell's punishment.

It will be easily conceived that on the night which Burrell expected to
be the last of the Buccaneer's existence he neither slumbered nor slept.
The earliest break of morning found him on the cliffs at no great
distance from the Gull's Nest Crag, waiting for the signal that had been
agreed upon between Jeromio and himself, as announcing the success of
their plan. There was no speck upon the blue waves between him and the
distant coast of Essex, which, from the point on which he stood, looked
like a dark line upon the waters; neither was there, more ocean-ward, a
single vessel to be seen. He remained upon the cliff for a considerable
time. As the dawn brightened into day, the little skiffs of the
fishermen residing on the Isle of Shepey put off, sometimes in company,
sometimes singly, from their several anchorings. Then a sail divided the
horizon, then another, and another; but still no signal told him that
treachery had prospered. At length the sun had fully risen. He then
resolved upon hastening to the Gull's Nest, with the faint hope that
some message from Jeromio might have been forwarded thither. Time was to
him, upon that eventful morning, of far higher value than gold; yet
above an hour had been spent in fruitless efforts to learn the result of
an attempt on which he knew that much of his future fate depended. He
had not proceeded far upon his course, when he was literally seized upon
by the Reverend Jonas Fleetword, who ever appeared to the troubled and
plotting Sir Willmott in the character of an evil genius.

"I have sought thee as a friend," observed the simple-minded man,--"as a
petitioner, I had almost said, so earnest was the lady about it--from
the Lady Frances Cromwell, to beg that the bridal, which even now,
according to thy directions, he of the Episcopalian faith was preparing
to solemnise, might be delayed until evening, in consequence of Mistress
Cecil being somewhat ill at ease, either in body or in mind, or, it may
be the Lord's will, in both;--very ill of a surety she is."

"This is trifling," exclaimed Burrell in anger. "She asked delay, and I
granted till this morning. I can brook no such vain excuse."

"Of a verity," quoth Fleetword, "thy reply is, as I deem it, given in a
most unchristian spirit. Thy bride elect is ill; and instead of a shower
(which is emblematic of tears) cometh a storm, which (in poetic
language) signifieth anger!"

"Forgive me, sir," replied Burrell, who perceived that the delay, under
such circumstances, however dangerous, must be granted; "but it is
natural for a bridegroom to feel disappointed when there arises any
postponement to his long looked-for happiness, particularly when there
be reasons strong as mine against it."

Fleetword little comprehended the meaning of this last sentence; but
drawing forth a pocket Bible, which on more than one occasion had given
much trouble to Sir Willmott Burrell, he told him he had considered that
admirable portion of the Scripture touching the duty of husband and
wife, so well set forth therein, and that he had composed a discourse
thereon, which he meant to deliver unto them after the holy ceremony,
but that he would now expound much upon the subject, as they journeyed
homeward.

"I am not going direct to Cecil Place," was Burrell's excuse; "I am
looking after one Robin Hays, who dwells somewhere near, or at, a place
called the Gull's Nest Crag: he was once my servant, and I desire to see
him."

"It is even one with me," replied Fleetword; "I know the lad Robin, too;
so I will go with thee, and read the while. I covet a holy exercise; and
for it every time, yea, and every place, is fitting."

Most cordially did Burrell wish the good preacher--no matter where; but
his wishes availed nought, for he remained close to his side, holding
forth, without intermission, in the same monotonous tone, that sounded
like the ding-dong, ding-dong of a curfew-bell to the knight's
bewildered ear.

Yet this was not the only source of embarrassment Sir Willmott was that
morning doomed to encounter. We have elsewhere had occasion to mention
an old tower that supported Gull's Nest, in which Barbara Iverk found
shelter the evening she did her lady's errand to the Crag: as Burrell
and his companion turned the corner by this tower, Zillah Ben Israel,
still habited as a boy, but wearing a tunic of cloth that reached below
her knee, stood before him!

Had a spectre sprung from the earth, Sir Willmott could not have
regarded it with greater astonishment or dismay. He would have passed,
but she still stood in his path, her head uncovered, and her black
luxuriant hair braided around it, displaying to full advantage her
strikingly beautiful but strongly marked Jewish features: her eyes,
black and penetrating, discovered little of gentle or feminine
expression, but sparkled and fired restlessly in their sockets: her lips
curled and quivered as she sought words, for some time in vain, in which
to address the false, base knight.

Fleetword was the first to speak.

"In the name of the Lord, I charge thee, avoid our path, young maniac!
for, of a truth, there is little sobriety, little steadiness, in thy
look, which savoureth neither of peace nor contentment. What wouldst
thou with my friend?--This is his bridal-day, and he has no leisure for
such as thee."

"The devil take thee with him, thou everlasting pestilence!" exclaimed
Burrell to the preacher, fiercely, forgetting all moderation in the
excess of his passion; for at the word "bridal" a change as awful as can
be imagined to shadow the face of woman rested on the countenance of
Zillah. "Avoid me, both of ye!" he continued; "and you, young sir, who
so eagerly rush upon your own destruction, avoid me especially: the time
for trifling is past!"

During this burst of rage, the Jewess kept her eyes steadily fixed upon
Burrell, and held her hand within the bosom of her vest. When he paused,
she addressed him at first in broken English, and then finding that she
could not proceed with the eagerness and fluency her case required, she
spoke in French.

She first appealed to her seducer's honour; referred to his marriage
with her; called to mind his protestations of affection, and used all
the entreaties which a woman's heart so naturally suggests, to arouse
his better feelings on her behalf. All was in vain; for Burrell parried
it all, managing to recover his self-possession while she exhausted
herself with words. She then vowed that, if he failed to render her
justice, she would, as she had threatened at a former time, throw
herself, and the proofs she possessed of his villany, at the Protector's
feet, and be his ruin. Sir Willmott then sought to temporise, assured
her that it was necessity obliged him to forsake her; and would have
persuaded her to meet him or go with him into the house, where, he
assured her, he could perhaps arrange--perhaps----

"No," she replied, in the less strong, but more poetic language of
France, "I will go under no roof with you, I will exchange no token, no
pledge with you. I believe you would follow me to the death; and if you
fail to do me justice, I will pursue you to the same, and not you alone.
No woman but myself shall ever rest upon your bosom. I swear by the God
of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob, that I will have vengeance, though
my nation should spill out my blood as a sacrifice before the Lord for
my iniquities, the next hour!" She shook back her head as she pronounced
the vow, and her hair, loosened from its confinement, cloaked her slight
figure with a robe of darkness.

"Acknowledge your marriage with me before this holy man," she continued:
"although he is a Christian, I have heard that he is honest--and I will
leave you for a time."

"Peace, Zillah!" interrupted Burrell; "there was no marriage. It is a
fable of your own invention--you have no proof."

"Have I not?" she replied, and, with woman's luckless imprudence, she
drew forth a small packet and held it for an instant towards him. That
instant was enough: he snatched the documents from her hand, and held
them before her with the exultation of a demon. His triumph, however,
was but short-lived, for Fleetword, who comprehended what had passed,
was sufficiently alive to its importance to seize the papers from the
Master of Burrell before he had the least idea that the preacher would
have dared such an act. Sir Willmott stood amazed at his presumption:
but instantly Fleetword drew forth the basket-hilted sword we have
before noticed, and with more real intellect, and excellent feeling,
than a cavalier would have believed he possessed, exclaimed,--

"Sir Willmott Burrell! When Solomon sat in judgment in Israel, he
despised not the cause even of the worst. It hath been given me to
understand the tongues of many lands--not by the intervention of the
Holy Spirit, but by the industry and labour of my poor brain, aided, as
all just and fitting things are, by the blessing of the Lord! If what
this person says is true, it would be most unseemly for you to become
the husband of Mistress Constantia Cecil; if it is not true, why the
person must fall by its (for of a truth I cannot determine the sex)--its
own falsehood! But keep off, Master of Burrell! Jonas Fleetword can
fight for the truth by strength of hand as well as of voice; the
documents shall be heard of at the seat of judgment in our New
Jerusalem."

Sir Willmott, thus run down on all sides, had now recourse to stratagem.
After a brief pause, during which both Zillah and the preacher, as if
having come to the same determination, kept silence, he said,--

"Well; perhaps it is best. Will you, Zillah, go with me to Cecil Place?"

"No!" was her reply. "I will meet you there; but I frankly tell you, I
will not trust myself in your company under any roof, unless it be with
many persons."

"Then come there at seven o' the clock this evening--and I swear----"

"I have no faith in your oaths--but I will trust to this man; and if he
assures me that the accursed marriage shall not take place until I hold
commune with the woman you would wed--safe, and undisturbed commune--I
will leave you until night."

"Then I assure you of it," replied Fleetword; "and let this convince you
of my truth, that I love the sweet lady, Constance Cecil, too well, to
see her shadowed even by such dishonour as your words treat of.--Sir
Willmott, Sir Willmott! you have shown the cloven foot!"

"Look out on the waters, Sir Willmott Burrell," shouted the Jewess, in
her wild voice: "look out on the waters, and see the sail and the signal
of the brave Buccaneer!"

Burrell looked anxiously, and earnestly; but he could perceive nothing
of which she spoke. When he turned towards the spot where Zillah had
stood--she was gone!

"All this is of the evil one," said Fleetword, after peering among the
old walls, and approaching his nose so closely to the larger stones,
that it might be imagined he was smelling, not looking at
them.--"Whither has the creature escaped?"

"Verily, I know not," was Burrell's reply. "Best come with me into the
Gull's Nest; I would speak with Robin."

The unsuspicious preacher did as he was desired.

Sir Willmott inquired for the Ranger. His mother said, truly, "He was
gone a journey."

"For Hugh Dalton?"

"He had joined his ship."

He then managed privately to ask for the secret key of a place called
"the Cage," where contraband goods, not wanted for ready sale, were
generally deposited. It had no communication with any of the private
chambers, except by a narrow passage, which, leading to no other place,
was seldom traversed. Into this cage he managed to get Fleetword,
saying, "It was one of the ways out;" and while the preacher was looking
round with much curiosity, he turned the key, placed it safely in his
vest, and, without saying a word to Mother Hays, who, at such an early
hour was just beginning to be very busy, left the Gull's Nest with much
self-congratulation.

"Stay safely there but till another morning, poor meddling fool!" he
murmured; "and then, for your sweet Constantia's sake, you'll keep my
secret, and resign these cursed papers."

It is not to be imagined that Sir Willmott Burrell would, upon any
account, have suffered Zillah to make her appearance at Cecil Place. His
existence seemed now to hang upon her destruction; but instruments were
wanting: Roupall had been sent out of the way by Hugh Dalton, and
tidings were in vain expected of or from Jeromio. The slight relief
afforded by the imprisonment of Fleetword was speedily succeeded by a
state of mind bordering on madness.

Stopping for a few moments at the lodge of Cecil Place, he warned the
old porter not to admit, but to detain, any person, man or woman, who
might inquire for him, no matter under what pretext entrance might be
demanded; for he assured the old man there was a deranged youth, who
pretended to have known him abroad, and who, he was informed, had used
unaccountable threats against him. Sir Willmott, moreover, enforced his
instructions by a handsome present, and was proceeding to the house,
when the gate-bell rang, and a man, habited as a travelling merchant,
presented a parcel, directed "For Sir Willmott Burrell. These----"

Burrell commanded the messenger into the lodge room; the stranger, after
some hesitation, entered. Sir Willmott briefly dismissed the old porter,
and undid the packet; when, lo! the matted and gory head of the Italian,
Jeromio, rolled at his feet. There it lay, in all the hideous deformity
of sudden and violent death! the severed throat, thickened with gouts of
blood! the dimmed spectral eyes starting from their sockets! the lips
shrinking from the teeth of glaring whiteness--there it lay, looking up,
as it were, into the face of the base but horrified associate. His
utterance was impeded, and a thick mist came over him, as he sank into
the old porter's chair.

"What does this mean?" he said at length to the man, whom he now
recognised as one of the sailors of the Fire-fly.--"What means it?"

"A wedding present from Hugh Dalton, is all I heard about the matter,"
returned the fellow, quietly turning a morsel of tobacco in his mouth,
and eyeing the knight with ineffable contempt.

"You must give information of this most horrible murder--you witnessed
it--it will make your fortune," continued Sir Willmott, springing from
the seat, and, like a drowning man, seizing even at a straw. "I can take
your deposition--this most foul murder may make your fortune--think of
that.--What ho!" he would have called the porter, but the man prevented
him, and then burst into a laugh, wild as a wild sea-wave.

"Lodge informations! You a law-maker! May I never spin another yarn, but
ye are precious timber! Shiver and blazes! haven't ye with your palaver
and devilry worked harm enou' aboard our ship, but ye want me to be
pickled up, or swing from the yard-arm! No, no, master; I'll keep off
such a lee-shore. I've no objections in life to a--any thing--but ye'r
informations. Ah! ah! ah! what sinnifies a hundred such as that," and he
kicked at the bloody head, "or such as you," pointing to Sir Willmott,
"in comparison to the bold Buccaneer! Look here, master--whatever ye'r
name be--they say the law and the pirates often sail under false
colours; and blow me but I believe it now, when sich as you have to do
with one of 'em. Bah! I'd cry for the figure-head of our ship, if she
had sich a bridegroom."

"You shall not escape me, villain!" exclaimed Sir Willmott, rendered
desperate by his adverse fortunes, and springing towards the
seaman.--"But stay," he added, drawing back, "you," hesitatingly, "you
are honest to your captain: well, there is something you could do for
me, that----" He paused--and the sailor took advantage of the pause to
say,--

"A farewell and foul weather to ye, master! Look, if you could make ye'r
whole head into one great diamond, and lay it at my feet, as that
carrion lies at yours, may I die on a sandbank like a dry herring, if
I'd take it to do one of the dirty jobs ye're for ever plotting!"

Oh, what a degrading thing it is to be scoffed at by our superiors! How
prone we are to resent it when our equals meet us with a sneer! But when
the offscouring of society, the reptiles that we could have trodden
under foot, may rail at and scorn us with impunity, how doubly bitter,
how perfectly insupportable must it be! The very ministers of evil
scouted him, and sin and misery thought him too contemptible to deal
with! Burrell gnashed his teeth and struck his temples with his clenched
fist--the room turned round--the bloody head of Jeromio uplifted itself
to his imaginings, and gibbered, and cursed, and muttered, and laughed
at him in fiendish merriment! If Zillah could have seen Burrell at that
moment, she would have pitied and prayed for him: the strong man
trembled as a weak girl in the shiverings of a mortal fever--his heart
shuddered within his bosom--he lost all power of reasoning, and it was
not until huge drops of perspiration had forced their way along his
burning brow, that he at all recovered his faculties. He gazed around
the small apartment; but the man was gone. The lodge window that looked
on the road was open, and the knight's first effort was to reach it. The
pure air of heaven, breathing so sweetly upon his pale and agonised
countenance, revived him for the moment, and his energetic mind in a
short space was restrung and wound up to fresh exertion. He resolved to
set some of his own people to watch about the grounds, in case Zillah
should attempt to obtain entrance; and though he felt assured they
would do but little for him, yet he knew they would do much for gold,
and that he resolved they should have in abundance. The marriage once
over, he fancied himself safe--safe from all but the Buccaneer. Hope is
strong at all times, but never more so than when we are roused from
despair. He turned from the window, and his eye fell on the bloody head
of the traitor Jeromio. He knew that, if the porter saw it, there would
be an outcry and an investigation, which it was absolutely necessary,
under existing circumstances, to avoid; for old Saul was one of those
honest creatures who hold it a duty to tell all truth, and nothing but
truth, to their employers. He therefore wrapped it carefully in the
napkin in which it had been originally enveloped, and then covered it
over with his own kerchief. After another moment of deliberation, he
summoned the old man, and directed him to bear it to the house.

"But where is the stranger, sir?" inquired Saul.

"Oh, he passed from the window, to save you the trouble of unclosing the
gate."

It was fortunate for Sir Willmott Burrell that age had deprived Saul of
more faculties than one.

CHAPTER XI.

    Where though prison'd, he doth finde,
    Hee's still free, that's free in minde;
    And in trouble, no defence
    Is so firm as innocence.

      WITHER.

When the poor preacher found that Burrell was really gone, and had left
him a prisoner, without the remotest prospect of escape, he felt (to use
his own expression) "rather mazed," and forthwith applied his hand to
the lock, with the vain hope of extricating himself as speedily as
possible: he found, however, the entrance closed firm and fast, and,
moreover, of so solid a construction, that, with all his effort, he was
unable to move it in the slightest degree. He would have welcomed the
idea that the Master of Burrell did but jest; yet there had been that
about his demeanour which excluded all thought of merriment, and
Fleetword felt his limbs tremble beneath him when he reflected on the
desperate character of the man with whom he had to deal. "The Lord can
make a way for safety even from this den," he muttered, "yea, even from
this fastness, which, of a truth, is most curiously fashioned, and of
evil intention, doubtless." The little light that was admitted into the
cell came through an aperture in the cliff at so great a height from the
floor that it could hardly be observed, even if it had been left
unprotected by a ledge of stone that projected a considerable distance
under the opening, which was scarcely large enough to permit the
entrance of a sufficient quantity of air. The atmosphere was therefore
dense and heavy, and the preacher drew his breath with difficulty. The
chamber, we should observe, was directly over that in which we have
heretofore encountered the Buccaneer; for the interior of the cliff was
excavated in various parts, so as more nearly to resemble the formation
of a bee-hive than any other structure. It was filled, as we have
stated, with a variety of matters, for which either there was no
immediate demand, or that time had rendered useless. Of these, Fleetword
piled a quantity one over the other, and standing tiptoe on the topmost
parcel, succeeded in peeping through the aperture, but could perceive
nothing except the broad sea stretching away in the distance until it
was bounded by the horizon. As he was about to descend, one of the
packages rolled from under the rest, and the hapless preacher came to
the ground amidst a multitude of bales of cloth, logs of ebony, cramps,
and spoiled martin-skins, and found himself half in and half out of a
box of mildewed oranges, into which he had plumped, and which repaid the
intrusion by splashing him all over with their pulpy and unpleasant
remains. It was some time before he could extricate himself from this
disagreeable mass, and still longer before he could cleanse off the
filthy fragments from his garments. When he had done so, however, his
next care was to bestow the papers he had rescued from Burrell into some
safe place. "The Lord," he thought, "hath, at his own good pleasure,
given Satan or his high priest dominion over me, and it may be that I
shall be offered up upon the altar of Baal or Dagon as a sacrifice; but
it shall be one of sweet-smelling savour, untainted by falsehood or
dissimulation. Verily, he may destroy my body--and I will leave these
documents, which by an almost miraculous interposition of Providence
have been committed to my charge, so that one time or other they may be
found of those by whom they may be needed."

He carefully sought and ransacked every parcel he could find in search
of pencil, ink, or any thing by which he could direct a letter; but in
vain. He discovered, however, some parchments, whereon the words "Oliver
Lord Protector" were frequently inscribed: he cut off a slip containing
this sentence, and having encased the papers he had seized, in many
folds, pinned it upon the parcel, so that it might serve as a direction.
He then corded it so firmly that it would require both industry and
patience to dissever the several knots and twistings. Having performed
so much of his task, he set himself to consider what possible means he
could devise to secure its safe delivery. He had previously shouted and
called with all his strength; but when he remembered the length of the
passage he had traversed with his subtle guide, and the little
appearance there was of any apartment near the one in which he was
confined, he desisted, wisely determining not to waste, in such useless
efforts, the breath that, perhaps, he would be suffered to retain only
for a few short hours. Greatly he lamented his want of caution in
accompanying Burrell; and bitterly wept at the fate that awaited his
favourite, Constantia. At length, after much deliberation, he determined
on building a more secure standing-place, mounting once again to the
window, fastening the longest string he could find to the parcel, and
merely confining it to the inside of the cave in so slight a manner,
that it might be detached by the least pull. He would have thrown it
down at once, trusting that some one on the beach would find it; but he
was aware that the tide at high water washed up the cliffs, so that
there was but small chance of its not being borne away upon the waters.
He also remembered that there were sundry little pathways winding up the
chalky rocks, where he had seen people walk; and that, by God's good
blessing, the packet might be found by some one wandering there. Having
accomplished this object, he took his seat on a pile of moth-eaten
clothes, and drawing forth his little pocket Bible, set himself to read
the Holy Scripture, with as much diligence as if he had never before
opened the blessed and consoling volume.

Two classes of persons peruse the Sacred Book; one from pure love of,
and entire dependence on, the words and precepts contained therein; the
other from habit--"their mothers, grandmothers, and great-grandmothers
did so before them--always on a Sunday--and sometimes (when they had
time) during the week--and God forbid that they should ever be worse
than their ancestors!" The Reverend Jonas Fleetword belonged partly to
the one class, partly to the other: his progenitors, for upwards of a
century, had been foremost in forwarding the religion of the Gospel;
they had fought for it both with carnal and spiritual weapons, and he
had followed in their footsteps without swerving either to the right
hand or the left; but, to do him justice, he was stimulated to activity
in his vocation by a better motive than that which arises either from
custom or an estimate of hereditary right--he was at heart, as well as
in word, a Christian, and the promises contained in, together with the
prospects held out by, the book he perused so eagerly, had been, from
the moment when reason dawned, the ruling principle by which his life
was governed. We pause not to inquire whether he had duly weighed or
correctly interpreted all its precepts--whether the hastiness of his
nature was not at times opposed to the meek and unupbraiding example of
his Divine Master--whether he did not now and then mistake bitterness
for sincerity, and persecution for zeal; such errors were but too common
to the age in which he lived, and with the church of which he was a
member. Never did Gospel hope and Gospel consolation visit him with
greater welcome than at the moment of which we write. He entertained
little doubt but that his enemy meditated towards him some evil that
placed his life in danger: such, however, was not the case; Burrell had
agreed to defer the marriage until six of the clock that evening; and,
after the ceremony had been concluded, he entertained no doubt that the
preacher would retain the secret now in his possession for Constantia's
sake.

At Cecil Place all was confusion, for the mind of its afflicted mistress
was scarcely able to bear up against the weight of misery that pressed
upon it; and Lady Frances Cromwell felt happy and relieved when, about
eight in the morning, she fell into an apparently sound sleep. The
preparations for the wedding devolved entirely upon her; but, like most
persons of an exalted rank, although she knew when things were properly
done, she was ignorant how to do them: she, therefore, contented
herself with directing her women to make all matters in order; while
they, proud and pleased at the commission, gave every body as much
trouble as possible. Sir Robert wandered about the house like a troubled
spirit, anxious, yet dreading, to see his child; while Sir Willmott,
after using every precaution within his power against Zillah's
appearance, endeavoured to find occupation by inspecting the carriages
that were to convey them to his aunt's house in Surrey, where he had
previously determined that they should pass many of the succeeding
days--an object not only of convenience, but of necessity, inasmuch as
he could thus gain time to arrange with his servants and tenantry at his
own dwelling.

Mrs. Claypole had written to Lady Frances, stating that the Protector
did not wish his daughter to accompany her friend to the abode of Sir
Willmott's aunt, and would, therefore, send a suitable escort to conduct
her to Whitehall immediately after the ceremony was concluded. Mrs.
Claypole also added that she had left Hampton Court for the purpose of
meeting her dear sister Frances in London, as her mother had been
indisposed, and could not conveniently do so. The letter prayed for many
blessings on the head of their sweet friend Constantia, adding that,
from what she heard of her decision on the subject, she could hardly
believe contradictory reports--as to her heart being given elsewhere,
inasmuch as she must know it to be less evil to break a contract made in
youth, with which the mind and feelings had no connection, than to
register a solemn pledge of affection and faithfulness before the Lord,
where in fact there could be no affection, and faithfulness must be a
plant of forced and not of natural growth.

"Yet would they all wax marvellously wroth," said Lady Frances, "if I
were to draw my own conclusions from this opinion, and act thereupon. I
wonder, does my being the daughter of his Highness the Lord Protector
make it less necessary for me to be true and upright? and can a woman be
either, yet pledge her hand and faith to one for whom she cares
not?---- Yet--" She paused, for she had perused the letter within the
chamber, and beside the couch on which Constance was still sleeping, and
as her eyes fell upon her friend, she could pronounce no harsh judgment
upon an act performed by one she loved so dearly, and of whose truth
and uprightness there could be no doubt.

While the note was yet open before her, the door opened, and Sir Robert
Cecil entered. Lady Frances motioned him that Miss Cecil slept, and the
old man stooped over her bed with clasped hands, scarcely breathing,
lest he should disturb her rest.

"Has she slept thus all the night?" he whispered.--"Has she slept thus
soundly all the night, Lady Frances?"

"No, sir," was the reply; and it was delivered in a tone of unusual
sternness; for it must be remembered that she entertained much anger
against Sir Robert, for permitting the marriage to take place so
manifestly against the inclination of his daughter. "No, sir, it is many
nights since she has slept soundly."

"But, lady, see how sweet, how gentle her repose! Surely, she could not
sleep thus with a heavy heart?"

"Sir Robert," replied Lady Frances, "the heart's heaviness will make
heavy the eyelids; nay, with greater certainty, when they are swollen
with weeping."

The baronet stooped down, as if to ascertain the correctness of what the
lady had said, and at the instant a tear forced its way through the long
fringes that rested on his daughter's pallid cheek. He groaned audibly,
and left the apartment with the stealthy step and subdued deportment of
a proclaimed criminal.

"They are all mystery, one and all, mystery from beginning to end,"
thought Lady Frances, as with a heavy heart she went in search of her
women to ascertain how they were fulfilling her directions.

In one of the passages she met Barbara weeping bitterly.

"Tears, tears! nothing but tears!" said the Protector's daughter,
kindly. "What ails thee now, girl? Surely there is some new cause for
grief, or you would not weep thus?"

"My lady, I hardly know what is come over me, but I can scarcely stanch
my tears: every thing goes ill. I sent two of the serving maidens to
gather flowers, to help to dress up the old chapel, that looks more like
a sepulchre than any thing else. And what do you think, my lady, they
brought me? Why, rue, and rosemary, and willow boughs; and I chid them,
and sent them for white and red roses, lilies and the early pinks,
which the stupid gipsies brought at last, and I commenced nailing up the
boughs of some gay evergreens amongst the clustering ivy, that has
climbed over the north window--the lower one I mean; and just as I had
finished, and was about to twist in a garland of such sweet blush roses,
an adder, a living adder, trailing its length all up the fretted window,
stared with its dusky and malignant eyes full in my face, and pranked
out its forked tongue dyed in the blackest poison. Oh, madam! how I
screamed--and I know the creature was bent on my destruction, for, when
I jumped down, it uncoiled, and fell upon the earth, coming towards me
as I retreated, when Crisp (only think, my lady, of the wisdom of that
poor dog!)--little Crisp seized it, somewhere by the neck, and in a
moment it was dead!"

"You should smile at that, not weep," observed Lady Frances, patting her
cheek as she would that of a petted child.

"Oh, but," said Barbara, "it was so horrid, and I was almost sorry Crisp
killed it! for it is an awful thing to destroy life, yet it was wickedly
venomous."

"Ah, my poor maid! you will have worse troubles soon than that which
bids you mourn over an adder's death."

"Do not say so, sweet lady," interrupted Barbara: "ah! do not say so:
for I feel, I can hardly tell how, so very, very sad. My poor lady, and
my poor self! and you going away, madam--you, who keep up the life of
every thing; and, though your waiting maids seem so rejoiced to get back
to the court! I don't know what I shall do, not I. I only wish----" She
paused abruptly.

"Tell me what you wish, my pretty Barbara--a new cap, kirtle, hood, or
farthingale? What, none of these!"

"I was only wishing that Robin Hays was come back, because he would
understand my troubles."

"You pay a poor compliment to my understanding, Barbara," observed Lady
Frances, with whom Barbara was at all times an especial favourite.

The simple maid courtesied respectfully, while she replied, "My lady, it
would ill become me to make free with such as you, but I have many small
causes of trouble, which, even if you did hear, you could not
comprehend. The brown wren would not go for counsel to the gay parrot,
however wise and great the parrot might be, but seek advice from another
brown wren, because it would understand and feel exactly the cares and
troubles of its own kind."

"What a little fabulist thou art, pretty Barbara! But, if you had been
at court, you would not have likened a lady to a parrot."

"Not to a parrot!" repeated Barbara; "such a beautiful bird! that looks
so handsome and talks so well!"

"No: but here is a parting present for you, my fair maid; a chain of
gold. Stay, I will clasp it on your slender neck myself; and listen to
me, Barbara. The daughters of the Protector of England would be ill
worthy their father's name or their father's honours, did they not seek
to protect the women of their country, and to keep them in virtue and
innocence, as he protects the men, and guides them to war and victory,
or to peace and honour! Would to God, fair girl, that, notwithstanding
your simplicity, the maidens of Britain were all as right-minded and
gentle as yourself! As a proof how highly I value your faithful and true
affection, I bestow upon you an ornament I have long worn, not to feed
your vanity (for we are all vain, more or less,) but to strengthen your
principles. If ever you should encounter real sorrow, and I can aid you,
send me the clasp of this chain, and I will attend to your request, be
it what it may." Lady Frances turned from her with more gravity of
aspect and more dignity of demeanour than was her custom, and proceeded
to look after the arrangements for her friend's nuptials.

Barbara stood for some time after the lady's departure, holding the gift
upon the palm of her small and beautifully formed hand, which no rough
labour had hardened or sullied. Her eye brightened as she gazed upon the
rich gift; but, in a moment, her thoughts reverted to those with whom
were the best feelings of her happy and innocent heart.

"Oh, that Robin had but been here!" she said, "to have heard it all. To
think of her who is as great as a princess! What was it? 'faithful and
true,' and, oh! how proud--no, I must not be proud--how grateful I am!
If my father, _my_ father, too, had heard it; but I can show this to
them both. I will not again think of that horrid adder." And with this
resolution she crept softly into the chamber of her still sleeping
lady.

CHAPTER XII.

    Poor fool! she thought herself in wondrous price
    With God, as if in Paradise she were;
    But, were she not in a fool's paradise,
    She might have seen more reason to despair,
    And, therefore, as that wretch hew'd out his cell
    Under the bowels, in the heart of hell!
    So she, above the moon, amid the stars would dwell.

      GILES FLETCHER.

We must leave Cecil Place for a while--suffer Manasseh Ben Israel to
pursue his journey to Hampton Court--offer no intrusion upon the
solitude of the preacher Fleetword--take no note of aught concerning
Walter De Guerre or Major Wellmore--nor heed, for a time, whether the
Buccaneer steered his course by land or water: attend to nothing, in
fact, for the present, except the motives and actions of Zillah Ben
Israel.

The Jewish females were brought up, at the period of which we treat,
with the utmost strictness, and kept in great seclusion, scarcely ever
associating but with their own people, and enduring many privations in
consequence of never mixing in general society. It is true they had
companions of their own nation, and amusements befitting (according to
the notions of the Elders) their state and age; but, nevertheless, they
were held under much and injudicious restraint, the result of which was
evil. It is seldom that the young can be held back by a tight and
galling rein, without either biting the bit, or breaking the bridle.
Zillah was the only child of her father, and nothing could exceed the
expense or the care lavished upon her. Had Manasseh himself
superintended her education, it is but fair to infer that his wisdom and
judgment would have curbed the headstrong and stubborn nature of her
mind and temper; but, deprived in her infancy of a mother's
watchfulness, and Ben Israel's duty and business calling him continually
from one country to another, she was necessarily intrusted to the care
of certain relatives of his own, Polish Jews; who, though excellent
friends in their way, and well versed in all the rites and ceremonies of
the Mosaic law, were totally ignorant of the proper course to be pursued
with a wild, high-spirited girl, fully aware of the importance of her
father's wealth and influence, and panting for the time when she should
share in both. The people with whom she resided perceived her
wilfulness; but, instead of combating it with reason, they sought to
overcome it by force--and the best of all force, according to their
ideas, was that which a staid and sober husband might exercise. The
person upon whom they fixed was a Jew diamond-dealer, who had numbered
about as many years as her father, but was greatly his inferior both in
sagacity and power; indeed, there were very few who could compete with
the learned Rabbi, Manasseh Ben Israel, in either of these qualities.
Cromwell thought most highly of his talents, and bestowed upon him a
degree of confidence he reposed in few, treating him with a respect and
attention which all classes of Christians thought he carried much too
far; for, at that time, Toleration was only in its infancy, and true
peace-loving Religion suffered much from the persecutions with which the
successful party never failed to visit those over whom they had
triumphed. Catholic against Protestant--Protestant against
Catholic--Sectarian against both--both against Sectarian--all against
Jew--and the defamed and despised Israelite obliged, in self-defence, to
act by subtlety (for his strength had departed from him) against all!
Cromwell took advantage of this state of things, and with much policy,
but it is to be hoped also with much sincerity, exerted himself
continually to render England a place of security and happiness to the
wandering children of Israel. To quote his own words, his opinion was,
"Since there was a promise that they should be converted, means ought to
be used to that end; and the most likely way was, the preaching of the
Gospel in truth and sincerity, as it was then in Britain--devoid of all
Popish idolatry, which had rendered the Christian religion odious to
them." But the design was so violently and so generally opposed, that it
came to nothing. Many scrupled not to affirm, that the Protector had
secured a conditional bribe, to an enormous amount, in case he procured
for them equal toleration with English subjects; while others, with more
show of truth, declared, that when Cromwell "understood what dealers the
Jews were every where in that trade which depends on news, the advancing
money upon high or low interest, in proportion to the risk they ran, or
the gain to be made as affairs might turn up, and in the buying and
selling of the actions of money so advanced, he, more upon that account,
than with a view to tolerate their principles, brought a company of them
over, and gave them leave to build a synagogue." It is certain that they
were sure and trusty spies for him, especially with relation to Spain
and Portugal, and that they never betrayed his confidence.--Is it not,
however, most extraordinary, in these our own times, when the spirit of
liberty is bestriding the whole earth "like a Colossus," that a people
so faithful, so influential, and so peaceable, should be deprived of so
many privileges?--privileges, which we are labouring with mind, pen, and
purse, to procure for tribes of ignorant and uncivilised savages, who as
yet are utterly unable to comprehend the nature of the freedom we seek
to thrust upon them, but who are too often ready and eager to bite the
hand that would bestow it? God forbid that we should desire it to be
withholden from a single human being, whether black or white, who bears
the impress of his Maker. But reason, policy, and humanity, may alike
teach us that the blessing should _first_ be shared by those who have
done most to deserve it--who know best how it should be used--and who
have the most powerful hereditary claims upon the sympathy and
consideration of Christians. The time is surely at hand, when the badge
of ignominy shall be removed from them--at least in Britain--where, but
for the exception to which we refer, Freedom is the birthright of every
native of the soil. Cromwell knew their value to a state; and had he
lived a few years longer, the Jew would have been at liberty to
cultivate his own lands, and manure them (if it so pleased him) with his
own gold, any where within the sea-girt isle of England.

We must no longer digress, although upon a most important and most
interesting topic, but proceed to inform our readers what they must
already have anticipated, that Zillah had little inclination towards the
husband procured for her by her injudicious friends. The Rabbi thought
it altogether a suitable match, particularly as Ichabod could trace his
descent from the tribe of Levi, and was of undoubted wealth, and,
according to belief, unspotted reputation; but Zillah cared little for
reputation, she knew not its value--little for wealth, for the finest
and rarest jewels of the world sparkled in gorgeous variety upon her
person, so that she moved more like a rainbow than a living
woman--little, very little for the tribe of Levi, and less than all for
Ichabod. His black eyes she likened to burnt cinders; she saw no beauty
in a beard striped and mottled with grey, although it was perfumed with
the sweets of Araby, and oiled with as pure and undefiled an unction as
that which flowed from the horn of the ancient Samuel upon the head of
the youthful David. His stateliness provoked her mirth--his deafness her
impatience; and when she compared him with the joyous cavaliers, the
brilliant and captivating men who graced the court of the gay and
luxurious Louis, for whose gallant plumes and glittering armour she so
often watched through her half-closed lattice, she turned from the
husband they would have given with a disgust that was utterly
insupportable.

Her father had prevailed upon the family with whom she lived to remove
to Paris during his residence in England, which had been prolonged from
day to day, in compliance with the desire of the Protector. He was
anxious that his child should be instructed in such elegant arts as
those in which the ladies of France and England excelled--not
remembering that, in a young, forward, and ill-educated woman, the
dangerous desire of display succeeds the acquirement of accomplishments
as surely and as regularly as day follows night.

Thus, shut up in one of the most gloomy hotels in Paris--conveyed in a
close carriage once or twice a week to the Bois de Boulogne, or the
gardens of Versailles--fearing to express delight, lest she should be
reproved for levity--or desire for any thing, lest it should be the very
thing she would not be permitted to possess--the proud, warm,
frank-hearted Jewess became gradually metamorphosed into the cunning,
passionate, deceptive intriguante, only waiting for an opportunity
to deceive her guardians, and obtain that which, from being so
strictly forbidden, she concluded must be the greatest possible
enjoyment--freedom of word and action. Alas! if we may use a homely
phrase, many are the victims to strait-lacing, both of stays and
conscience!

But if the old, grey-bearded Ichabod had been an object of dislike to
the youthful and self-willed Jewess before she saw Sir Willmott Burrell,
how did she regard him afterwards!

Manasseh Ben Israel had, as we have intimated, intrusted some packages
for his daughter to the charge of the treacherous knight; and how he
abused the trust has been already shown. But the poor Jewess found to
her cost, that though she loved him with all the warmth and ardour of
her own nature, he regarded her only as an object of pastime and
pleasure; the idea of in reality marrying a Jewess never once entered
into his calculation, though he was obliged to submit to something like
the ceremony, before he could overcome scruples that are implanted with
much care in the heart of every Jewish maiden. Although she deceived her
guardians and her antiquated lover with great dexterity, it never
occurred to her that Sir Willmott could be so base as to deceive her.
She was new to the world and its ways; and the full torrent of her
anger, jealousy, and disappointment burst upon him, when she found that
the charms of a fair-haired lady had superseded her own, and that
Burrell was already treating her with coldness. Of all the passions
inherent in the heart of a woman, that of jealousy is the most dangerous
to herself and others: it is fierce and restless in its nature; when
infuriated, nothing can oppose its progress; and although most powerful
in the most feeble-minded, it frequently assumes the semblance of
intellectual strength. Zillah's jealousy kept pace with her headlong
love, and in one of its most violent paroxysms she made the attempt on
the life of Burrell, which, it is easy to believe, he never forgave.
Subsequently, and during the remainder of his stay in Paris, he humoured
her fancy, and led her to imagine that he had sufficient influence with
Cromwell to prevail on him to interest her father on her behalf, and do
what no Israelite of the time had ever done--recognise a Christian
son-in-law. After Burrell's departure, however, she soon saw how little
reliance was to be placed upon his promises, and therefore resolved to
act for herself. Suspicion and jealousy divided her entire soul between
them; and she determined not to trust Dalton to bring her over to
England, because Burrell had recommended her to do so. Jeromio was known
to the person at whose house she lodged at St. Vallery, and, hearing
that she wanted to get to England, and would dispense much largess to
secure a passage, he thought he could make something by secreting her on
board, and then passing her off to his captain as a dumb boy. To this
plan Zillah readily agreed, for her imagination was at all times far
stronger than her reason. She had cast her life upon a die, and cared
not by what means her object was to be secured.

It is one of the most extraordinary anomalies in the female character,
that, having once outstepped the boundaries that are never even thought
upon but with danger, it plunges deeper and deeper still into
irretrievable ruin. Perhaps it is because women must feel most acutely
that society never permits them to retrieve, or, what is much the same,
takes no cognisance of their repentance, be it ever so sincere: their
station once lost is never to be regained; it would seem as if Dante's
inscription on the gates of Hell were to be for ever their motto--"All
hope abandon." Man may err, and err, and be forgiven; but poor woman,
with all his temptations and but half his strength, is placed beyond the
pale of earthly salvation if she be but once tempted into crime! It is a
hard, even though it may be a salutary law.

It must be borne in mind that Zillah had committed as great an iniquity
in the eyes of her people by marrying as by intriguing; nor could she
expect pardon for either one or the other, except by some wonderful and
powerful interposition, such as Burrell held out. It was astonishing to
witness the fortitude with which the fragile and delicate Jewess, who
had been clothed in purple and fine linen, fed on the most costly
viands, and slept on the most downy couch, encountered the illness,
terrors, and miseries attendant on a sea voyage in the vessel of a
Buccaneer. The Fire-fly certainly deserved every encomium bestowed upon
her by her captain; yet was she not the most pleasing residence for a
delicately-nurtured female. No murmur escaped her sealed lips, nor, in
fact, did she perceive the inconveniences by which she was surrounded;
her mind was wholly bent upon the prevention of Sir Willmott Burrell's
marriage, of which she had heard from undoubted authority; and it would
appear that she had no feelings, no ideas to bestow upon, or power to
think of, other things.

Jeromio's plotting but weak mind, never satisfied with the present,
eager for the future, and anxious to make it better by foul means, had
contrived to bring into use an abandoned excavation under the old tower
we have so frequently mentioned, which had been forsaken by Hugh
Dalton's party from its extreme dampness. They had filled the entrance
with fragments of rock and large stones; but it was known to Jeromio,
who, thinking that during his occasional visits to Gull's Nest he might
manage to smuggle a little on his own account, assisted by two other
Italians as evil-minded as himself, arranged the stones so as to permit
one person at a time to creep into the wretched hole, where he stowed
away such parts of the cargo of the Fire-fly as he could purloin from
his too-confiding commander. He admitted Zillah to a knowledge of this
cave, as a place in which she might shelter. He knew her to be a female
of wealth and consequence; yet had no idea of her connection with the
Master of Burrell, whom he had rarely seen; and though of necessity she
occasionally mixed with the people of the Gull's Nest, yet she expressed
so strong a desire for some place of privacy in the neighbourhood of
Cecil Place, and paid so liberally for it withal, that he confided to
her the secret of this cave--the entrance to which was nearly under the
window of the tower in which Barbara Iverk had been concealed on the
night when, by her lady's direction, she sought to communicate to Robin
Hays the perilous situation of the young Cavalier. At that time, also,
the Jewess saw Sir Willmott for the first time in England. She had been
on the watch ever since her landing, but terror for her own wretched
life had prevented her addressing him openly. The tones of his
well-known voice had reached her miserable cavern, and roused her from a
troubled slumber. She understood too little of his language to
comprehend the nature of his communication to Roupall, and her first
impulse was to strike a dagger to his heart; but this, her womanly
affection prevented, and she suddenly withdrew. Subsequently, she wrote
to Mrs. Constantia, and trusted much to her generosity and truth of
character, of which she had heard in France; but poor Constance, through
the cowardice of Jeromio, never received her packet, and, enraged and
maddened by the reports of his immediate marriage, she resolved on
seeing Mistress Cecil, and accomplished her purpose, as she thought,
when in fact she only saw Barbara. Her jealousy and violence defeated
her purpose at that time; but still her determination remained fixed to
prevent the union, if her life were to be the forfeit. After meeting
with the knight, she retreated into the earth, from which she had so
suddenly appeared, much to the Master of Burrell's astonishment, who had
no knowledge whatever of the cave, though he doubted not it was of
Dalton's preparing. After securing the preacher, he examined every
portion of the ruins most attentively, but without success, for she had
learned to be as wily as a fox, and had carefully secured the aperture,
through which even her delicate form passed with difficulty.

It would have touched a heart, retaining any degree of feeling, to see
that young and beautiful woman within that damp and noisome
excavation--so damp that cold and slimy reptiles clung to, and crept
over, its floor and walls, while the blind worm nestled in the old
apertures formed to admit a little air; and the foul toad, and still
more disgusting eft, looked upon her, as they would say, "Thou art our
sister."

"And here," thought she, "must the only child of Manasseh Ben Israel
array herself, to meet the gaze of the proud beauty who would not deign
to notice the letter or the supplication of the despised Jewess; to meet
the gaze of the cold stern English, and of the cruel man who points the
finger of scorn against her he has destroyed. Yet I seek but justice,
but to be acknowledged as his wife, in the open day and before an
assembled people, and then he shall hear and see no more of the Rabbi's
daughter! I will hide myself from the world, and look upon all mankind
as I do upon him--with a bitter hatred!--Yet I was not always thus," she
continued, as she clasped a jewel on her arm: "The bracelet is too wide
for the shrunk flesh! Out, out upon thee, bauble! O that I could
thus--and thus--and thus--trample into this black and slimy earth, every
vestige of what I was, and have no more the power to think of what I am!
Is this the happiness I looked for? Are these the feelings of my
girlhood? My heart seems cold within me, cold to every thought but
vengeance! Even the burden I carry--it is part of him, and with the
groans that come in woman's travail I will mingle curses, deep and
blasting, on its head. O that I could cast it from me! And yet--and yet
it will be my own child!" And the feelings of the mother triumphed; for,
at that thought, the Jewess wept, and tears are as balm to an
overwrought mind, at once a relief and a consolation. Zillah wept, and
was humanised. After a little time, she arrayed herself in befitting
garments, but placed pistols within her bosom. Long before the appointed
hour, and despite the watchfulness of Sir Willmott's spies, she was
secreted near the ruined chapel adjoining Cecil Place.

CHAPTER XIII.

    Hither, th' oppressed shall henceforth resort,
    Justice to crave and succour at your court,
    And then your Highness, not for ours alone,
    But for the world's Protector shall be known.

      WALLER _to the Protector_.

It was past midnight when Manasseh Ben Israel, accompanied by Robin
Hays, as his own servant, and disguised as we have seen him, arrived at
Hampton Court. The night was murky, and the numerous turrets of the
great monument of Wolsey's grandeur and ambition were seen but dimly
through the thickened air, although looked upon with feelings of no
ordinary interest by both Jew and servitor.

The carriage was stopped at the outer court by the sentries on guard,
and some little delay occurred, apparently to ascertain if the Rabbi
could be admitted at so late an hour.

Robin looked from the carriage-window and saw, what appeared to him,
scores of mailed and armed warriors reclining on the stone benches of a
spacious but low guard-room, while others crowded over a large fire,
which the chilliness of the night rendered, at least, desirable. The
glaring of the flames showed brightly on their polished armour, and
their firm immovable features looked of a piece with the iron itself.
Nothing could be more imposing, or afford a more correct idea of
Cromwell's perseverance and judgment, than his well-trained soldiery.
Obedience, inflexible obedience to their commander, seemed the leading,
almost the only principle upon which they acted: not that slavish
obedience which is the effect of fear, but the obedience which is the
result of confidence. "God and the Protector" was their faith, and they
knew no other. As the Jew gazed upon those invincible men, he shrouded
himself still more closely within his furred cloak, and shuddered.
Robin's eye, on the contrary, brightened, for he was born of England,
and proud of her greatness. Ah! Englishmen in those days had a right to
be proud.

There was another difference in the conduct of the Protector's troops
from those of every other time and every other nation: they had none of
the reckless wildness, none of the careless bravery which is supposed
necessarily to belong to the profession of arms. Their habits were
staid and sober; and if any Cavaliers did enter in among them, they were
forced to behave themselves according to the fashion of their
associates, which habit, in a little time, tamed their heedlessness into
propriety. There was no singing of profane songs in the guard-room, no
filthy jesting or foolish talking; no drinking; their very breathing
seemed subdued, and nothing frighted the tranquillity which rested on
the turrets at Hampton, and pervaded its courts, save the striking of
some iron heel on the ringing pavement, or the neighing of some gallant
steed in the not distant stables.

Once, indeed, a psalm wailed through the casement from one of the inner
courts: it was sung at first in a troubled tone, and in a low key, but
afterwards the sound was increased by other voices; and it swelled upon
the ear in long and loud continuance.

"He has departed, then!" observed one of the sentries, to an armed man
who stood near the carriage.

"I suppose so, and, I trust, in the Lord," was the reply.

"Doubtless--yet the heart was strong for life. His Highness will be
sorrowful."

"He will; but grace abounded greatly; he was one of the Lord's best
soldiers, and fought well in the good cause."

"Would that my time was passed! I would fain uplift my voice with
theirs."

"I will go there forthwith," replied he in armour; and Robin heard the
echo of his step die in the distance. Ere the messenger, despatched by
the officer of the guard, had returned, a sort of rambling drowsy
conversation was carried on by the soldiers within, which only reached
the quick ear of the Ranger at intervals.

"His Highness has been tormented to-night; methinks the length of a
summer day ought to satisfy those who want to see him."

The sun had set a good hour or more, when Sir Christopher Packe, the
worshipful Lord Mayor, passed in.

"His Highness," replied the stern gruff voice of an old soldier, "is of
the people; and he knows that his duty--next to awaiting the Lord
always--is to wait on them."

"His time is not an easy one, then," thought Robin; and as he so
thought, the messenger returned with an order that the Rabbi should be
immediately admitted. The lumbering carriage passed under one archway,
and traversed a small court--then under another--then across the
next--then stopped, and one of the principal servants opened the door,
and requested Manasseh to descend.

"Her Highness," he said, "had been indisposed; the Lord Protector,
therefore, hoped the worthy Israelite would not object to walk across
the next court, as her chamber was nearly over the entrance."

The Jew leaned upon Robin for support, as they mounted the flight of
steps leading to the grand entrance hall. He paused once or twice; they
were many in number, and hard to climb for one bent with age, and now
bowed down by trouble. When they arrived at the great door, he perceived
that, instead of two, there were four sentries, who stood, two on each
side, like fixed statues, and the torch their conductor carried
glittered on the bright points of their swords that rested on the
ground. The stair was faintly illumined by one large massive iron lamp,
hanging from the ceiling, and flickering, so as to show the outline, not
the minutiæ of the objects.

When they had fairly entered the great hall, Robin truly and sincerely
wished himself safely out again; the more particularly when he saw,
mingled with the pages and servants in waiting, some tried and trusty
soldiers, by whom, if his disguise were penetrated, he would be better
known than trusted. It was one thing to steal and pry about a place, and
another to be only separated by a single plank of oak from Cromwell--the
all-powerful, all-seeing Protector of England--liable to be called at
once into his presence; for the Jew might mention--doubtless would
mention--that one who had served Sir Willmott Burrell, and knew much of
his doings, was in attendance.

This magnificent room, though used as a hall of audience on state
occasions, was generally occupied by the guards, retainers, and
petitioners of the Protectorate. There was a long table of rude
workmanship near the door at which they entered--above was a lamp,
similar in size and construction to that which swung outside:--many
assembled round, or sat close to, this table, while others walked up and
down--not passing, however, the centre of the hall, which was crossed
by a silk cord of crimson, fastened in the middle to two brass poles,
standing sufficiently apart to permit one person at a time to enter; and
also guarded by a single sentinel, who walked so as to pass and repass
the opening every half minute. Manasseh paced slowly towards the
soldier, still leaning on Robin. His conductor kept a little in advance,
bowing on either side, while a conciliating smile lingered on his lip,
until he came to the silken line.

"Only one may pass!" was the soldier's brief notice; and the Rabbi,
grasping his staff more firmly, walked to the door opposite the great
entrance, which was guarded also by another sentinel.

"You can find a seat--that is, if you choose to sit," said the servitor
sneeringly, to Robin, pointing at the same time to an empty corner of
the hall.

"Or would it please you I descend to the apartments of the lower
servants?" inquired the Ranger, remembering the meekness befitting the
character of a Jew.

"None leave this hall, after entering it by his Highness's permission,
till they receive orders to that effect," he replied, turning from
Robin, who slunk to the place assigned him, in no very agreeable mood.

If his imaginings were of an unpleasant description, still more so were
the observations made aloud by the pages, flippant both by nature and
usage, and the sarcastic and cool jests, given forth at his expense by
the more sober persons of the assembly.

"Wouldst like any refreshment, friend?" inquired a youth in a
sad-coloured tunic and blue vest, over which fell a plain collar of the
finest Valenciennes' lace, so as to cover his shoulders. "And yet,"
continued the malapert, "methinks there is nothing to offer thee but
some ham, or preserved pigs' tongues, which, of course, thou tastest not
of."

"No, I humbly thank ye, young sir," replied Robin; "I do not need the
pigs' tongues, having tasted of thine."

"What mean you by that, Jew dog!" said the boy fiercely, laying his hand
on his sword.

"Nothing, fair gentleman, except it be that thine, though well
preserved, would fain take up the business of thy white teeth."

"How, knave?"

"Become biting," replied Robin, bowing.

"Ah, Morrison! the Jew is too much for ye," said another youth, who was
just roused from a half slumber in a high-backed chair.--"Where got ye
yer wit?"

"Where you did not get yours, under favour," was Robin's ready reply.

"And where was that?"

"From nature; too common a person for so gay a young gentleman to be
beholden to," he retorted, bowing again with even a greater show of
humility than before.

At this reply, Sir John Berkstead, formerly a goldsmith in the Strand,
but gradually raised to the dignity of chief steward of Oliver's
household, approached Robin with his usual shuffling gait, and said,--

"Hey! young gentlemen--hey! young gentlemen, what foolish jesting is
this? what mean ye? It is his Highness's pleasure to receive the master,
and what for do ye treat the man with indignity? My worthy Samuel," he
looked closer--"but it is not Samuel," he continued, peering curiously
at Robin, "it is not Samuel. What ho! Gracious Meanwell! did this man
enter with the learned Manasseh Ben Israel?"

"Yes, please ye, Sir John," replied the page, humbly.

"Indeed!" he exclaimed, surveying Robin attentively. "But where is the
Rabbi's usual attendant, whom I have before seen?"

"He is sick even unto death, unless it please the God of Abraham to work
a miracle in his favour," replied Robin: thinking to himself, "he
remembers enough, at least, of his old trade to know all is not gold
that glitters."

Sir John Berkstead withdrew, only observing to the page, who stood back,
boy-like, longing for any frolic likely to relieve the monotony of so
dull a court, especially at midnight, "See ye do not treat him
uncourteously. The Rabbi has always been permitted to bring his
attendant, almost to the anteroom: a favour seldom granted--but his
Highness is gracious in remembering that his bodily infirmities need
support. So see that he is treated with all courtesy, for his Highness
is wishful that Christian toleration be exercised towards this and all
other Jews."

More than one Roundhead looked at another during this declaration; and
all but the two youngsters appeared more than usually intent upon
whatever they were employed about before the Rabbi's entrance. Youth is
a bad courtier, ever preferring frolic and amusement to sobriety and
attention. They had been at once piqued and pleased by Robin's
smartness, and resolved to whet their own wit upon so well-tempered a
steel.

"Wert ever at court before?" inquired the younger.

"No, sir, an' please ye."

"And what think ye of it?"

"Nothing as yet, sir."

"Nothing! how is that?"

"Because I have not had time; and, if the small things of life require
thoughtfulness, how much more must the great things of a court!"

"Shouldst like to turn Christian and live at court?"

"Heaven forbid! All I should be turned to would be ridicule, and that is
a wonderful lowerer of the consequence of even a serving man----"

"Hush!" said the elder page--"there goes Colonel John Jones."

As the brother-in-law of the Protector approached, the several persons
in the hall rose and saluted him with considerable respect. His aspect
was stern and rigid: his whole person firm and erect; and whatever his
faults might have been, he gave one the idea of a person who, doing
wrong, thought it right. His eyes were generally upturned, and there was
a good deal of enthusiasm in the expression of the upper portion of his
countenance, while the firm-set mouth and broad muscular chin betokened
the most inflexible resolution. He proceeded towards the cord we have
before mentioned, exchanged a few words with the sentry, and then
returned to the door whereby he had entered. While unclosing it, he
perceived Robin, and, struck by his Jewish appearance, altered his
course and approached him.

The Ranger bent most lowlily to the ground, for he well knew the
veneration this man excited both amongst soldiers and Puritans.

"One of the cast-aways within the sanctuary!" he said in a stern
reproving voice. "How is it?"

"Sir, his master, the Rabbi, tarrieth with his Highness," replied the
elder page.

"It is evil, and of evil," returned Colonel Jones, with still more
severity, "The clean and the unclean, the believer and the unbeliever,
the offscouring of the earth with the chosen of the Lord! Why is he not
cast forth, yea into outer darkness? Why should the filthy vulture make
his nest with the eagles? Dog of a Jew, out, into the highway!"

"May it please ye," interrupted Gracious Meanwell, "his Highness has
just issued express orders that this man be carefully tended, and kept
within."

The Colonel cast a look full of displeasure at the messenger, and
without trusting himself to utter another word, strode from the hall.

"You see where we would send Jews," observed one of the lads.

"Even where they would rather be."

"How, where?"

"Far from ye."

"And deem ye it not an honour to be admitted within these walls?"

"Ay, sir, such honour as a poor merlin would feel at being caged with
honourable and right honourable eagles. But would ye unravel me, kind
young gentlemen, if Colonel Jones is often seen without his Patients?"

"Oh! you mean the preacher, do ye? Why, yes, frequently now-a-days."

"Ah! what a blessing that must be!"

"As how? master Jew."

"Because others can have their soles mended."

The jest upon the miserable fanatic Patients, who had been a
stocking-footer in London, was not lost upon the lads, though they dared
not countenance it by a very boisterous laugh: they resolved, however,
to become more intimately acquainted with the facetious Jew.

"You ought not to laugh so loud, Morrison," said the elder page. "You
know you are a sort of nephew to his Highness, now that your uncle,
Doctor Wilkins, is married to the Lady French, his Highness's sister."

"And here is my uncle," returned the other. "He said he had permission
to call for me. Ah! he is never angry at a little jest, so long as it
is innocent. I heard a gentleman say last night that 'he was by nature
witty, by industry learned, by grace godly.' What think ye of that for a
character?"

As the subject of this panegyric drew near, Robin thought he had never
seen a more sweet or gracious countenance: he looked "peace on earth and
good will towards men." His entire expression was that of pure
benevolence; and though the eye was something wild and dreamy, yet it
was gentle withal, and of marvellous intelligence. He seemed like one,
and such he truly was, to whom the future as well as the present would
be deeply indebted. The use he made of his alliance with the Cromwell
family must ever be regarded as most noble; instead of aggrandising
himself and his friends, he rendered it only subservient to the great
wish of his heart--the promotion of learning, which, it cannot be
denied, was at that time in danger of being overthrown by bigotry and
fanaticism: for this reason it was that he opportunely interposed to
shelter Oxford from the moroseness of Owen and Godwin. Well might his
eye look dreamy. How could that of the author of a "Discovery of a New
World" look otherwise? He openly maintained that, not only was the moon
habitable, but that it was possible for a man to go there. His reply to
the Duchess of Newcastle, herself a visionary, when she jested a little
at his theory, although sufficiently known, is still worthy of
repetition.

"Where am I to find a place for baiting at, in my way up to that
planet?" she inquired of the Doctor.

"Madam," replied he, "of all the people in the world, I never expected
that question from you, who have built so many castles in the air, that
you may lie every night at one of your own."

As he conducted his nephew to the door, he turned back to look on Robin:
"You have not teased the poor Jew, I hope?" he said to the page.

"No; but he has worried us, uncle; you know not what a wit-snapper it
is."

"Indeed! art thou a Solomon, friend?"

"An' please ye, sir, the wisdom, as well as the glory, has departed from
our people," said Robin.

"I care little for the glory," observed the Doctor, who was Warden of
Wadham College; "I care very little for any earthly glory: but canst
tell me where the wisdom is gone--the wisdom, Jew, the wisdom! Where is
that to be found?"

"Usually at the College of Wadham," replied the crafty Robin, bowing
respectfully, "though sometimes it wanders abroad to enlighten England."

"Go to; you are a most cunning Isaac," said Doctor Wilkins, laughing;
and at the same time throwing Robin a piece of silver, which he caught,
with much dexterity, ere it touched the ground.

"This is the only unwise thing your worship ever did," continued Robin,
depositing the silver safely in his leathern purse.

"How so, most cunning Jew?"

"Bestowing money--when there can be no interest thereupon."

"You have never heard, I fear," said Doctor Wilkins, who, with true
Christian spirit, was ever ready to speak a word in season--"you have
never heard of laying up treasures in a place where neither moth nor
rust can corrupt, and where thieves cannot break through and steal?"

"I have heard some Christians speak of such a place," replied Robin,
"though I did not think they believed in its existence."

"Why so?"

"Because they seemed so little inclined to trust their property in that
same storehouse."

"You say but too truly; yet it is written 'that charity covereth a
multitude of sins.'"

"Then that is reason why so many sins are roaming abroad 'naked but not
ashamed.' Ah, sir! it is a marvellously scarce commodity that same
charity; when Christians spit upon and rail at the poor Jew, they lack
charity; when they taunt me with my deformity, they lack charity; when
they destroy the web of the spider, that toileth for its bread, and
useth what the God of Moses gave it to catch food, they lack charity.
Sir, I have walked by the way-side, and I have seen a man tread into the
smallest atoms the hill of the industrious ant, and say, it stole the
peasant's corn; and yet I have known that same man make long prayers and
devour widows' houses. I have watched the small singing-bird, trolling
its sweet song on the bough of some wild cherry-tree, and a man, whose
hair was combed over his brow, whose step was slow, whose eyes appeared
to seek commune with Heaven, killed that bird, and then devoured all the
cherries. A little of that red fruit would have served the singing-bird
for the length of a long summer's day, and it could have sung to its
mate till, when the night came, they sheltered in each other's bosom;
yet he, the man with the smooth hair and the holy eye, killed the small
bird; but mark ye, sir, he ate the cherries, all, every one. Though I am
as one lacking sense, and only a serving Jew, I trow he lacked charity!"

"Uncle," whispered the page, creeping up to his ear, "can this man be
indeed a Jew? He hath a blue eye and an English tongue; and surely not
an Israelitish heart; see that he deceive us not."

"My dear boy, peace," said the simple yet learned Doctor; "let the
wisdom of this poor child of Israel teach thee to be more humble-minded;
for, look ye, who might not profit by his words?"

The excellent man would have spoken much more to our friend Robin, who
might not inaptly be likened to a dark-lantern, within which is much
light, though it is only occasionally given forth; but on the instant
Gracious Meanwell summoned him to appear before the Protector.

"The Lord deliver me! the Lord deliver me!" muttered Robin, as he
followed his conductor past the silken barrier--"The Lord deliver me!
for, of a truth, my head is now fairly in the lion's mouth."

The room into which he was ushered thus abruptly was hung with ancient
tapestry, and furnished after the strangest fashion. Robin had little
inclination to examine either its proportions or arrangements, but
tremblingly followed until his guide paused with him opposite a long
narrow table, at the further end of which, his hand resting upon a pile
of books, stood the Protector--Oliver Cromwell.

It was impossible to look upon him without feeling that he was a man
born to command and to overthrow. His countenance, though swollen and
reddish, was marked and powerful, and his presence as lofty and majestic
as if he had of right inherited the throne of England. However his
enemies might have jested upon his personal appearance, and mocked the
ruddiness of his countenance, and the unseemly wart that disfigured his
broad, lofty, and projecting brow, they must have all trembled under the
thunder of his frown: it was terrific, dark, and scowling, lighted up
occasionally by the flashing of his fierce grey eye, but only so as to
show its power still the more. His dress consisted of a doublet and vest
of black velvet, carefully put on, and of a handsome fashion; a deep
collar of the finest linen, embroidered and edged with lace, turned over
his vest, and displayed to great advantage his firm and remarkably
muscular throat. His hair, which seemed by that light as dark and
luxuriant as it had been in his younger age, fell at either side, but
was completely combed or pushed off his massive forehead. He looked, in
very truth, a most strong man--strong in mind, strong in body, strong in
battle, strong in council. There was no weakness about him, except that
engendered by a warm imagination acting in concert with the deepest
veneration, and which rendered him ever and unhappily prone to
superstitious dreamings.

When Robin entered, there was no one in the room but the Lord Broghill,
Manasseh Ben Israel, and a little girl. My Lord Broghill, who was one of
the Protector's cabinet counsellors, had been sent for from Ireland to
go to Scotland, and be President of the Council there, but soon wearying
of the place, had just returned to London, and posted down immediately
to Hampton Court:--he was bidding the Protector good night, and that
with much servility. The presence of Robin was yet unnoticed save by the
Jew. Before his Lordship had left the chamber, even as his foot was on
the threshold, Cromwell called him back.

"My Lord Broghill."

The cabinet counsellor bowed and returned.

"I forgot to mention, there is a great friend of yours in London."

"Indeed! Please your Highness, who is it?"

"My Lord of Ormond," replied the Protector. "He came to town on
Wednesday last, about three of the clock, upon a small grey mule, and
wearing a brown but ill-made and shabby doublet. He lodges at White
Friars, number--something or other; but you, my Lord," he added,
pointedly, "will have no difficulty in finding him out."

"I call the Lord to witness," said Broghill, casting up his eyes after
the most approved Puritan fashion--"I call the Lord to witness, I know
nothing of it!"

Cromwell gathered his eyebrows and looked upon him for a moment with a
look which made the proud lord tremble; then sending forth a species of
hissing noise from between his teeth, sounding like a prolonged
hish--h--h--h. "Nevertheless, I think you may as well tell him that I
know it. Good night, my Lord, good night!"

"He's had his night-cap put on, and now for mine," thought little Robin,
who, as he advanced, bowing all the way up the room, could not avoid
observing, (even under such circumstances, there was something
singularly touching in the fact,) that a little girl, a child of about
six or seven years old, sat on a stool at the Protector's feet, her fair
arms twined around his knee; and her plain, but expressive face, looking
up to his, and watching every movement of his features with more than
childish earnestness. As Robin drew near, she stood up, and contemplated
him with very natural curiosity.

"Closer, young man--still closer," said the Protector; "our sight grows
dim; and yet we will see distinctly, and with our own eyes too--for the
eyes of others serve us not."

Robin did as he was commanded, bowing and shaking all the time like the
figure of a mandarin. The Protector advanced one step towards him; and
then plucked at the Ranger's beard with so strong a hand, that it
deserted his chin, and dangled between Cromwell's fingers. At this, the
child set up a loud and merry shout of laughter; but not so did the
incident affect the Protector, to whose mind treachery was ever present;
he instantly exclaimed,--

"Guards! what ho! without there!" Five or six rushed into the room and
laid hands upon Robin, who offered no resistance, submitting to their
mercy.

"Your Highness has mistaken," said Ben Israel; "there is no treachery in
the young man. I have told your Highness how he came to me, and what he
knows. Your servant has not spoken words of falsehood, but of truth."

"But you did not tell me he was not a Jew: you know him not as I do,"
was the Protector's reply: "he consorts with----" then suddenly checking
himself, he continued, addressing the soldiers: "But search him gently
withal--peradventure he has no secret weapons--we would not deal
unjustly; but, of late, there has been so much evil intended us by all
classes of Malignants, that it behoves us to be careful. Methinks,
friend Manasseh, there was no need of this disguise?"

"It was to avoid the scandal of my own people, please your Highness, who
would marvel to see any other than one of our tribe about my person."

The little girl, who was no other than Bridget, a great favourite of
Cromwell's, and one of the youngest children of Ireton, the Protector's
son-in-law, seemed much amused at the search, and the extraordinary
materials it brought to light. There was a whistle, a string of bells, a
small black mask, quantities of paint and patches, and various other
things; but no arms of any kind, save the small Spanish dagger which
Robin so lately exchanged with the sailor at Greenwich. The Protector
took this up, examined it attentively, placed it in a small drawer, then
briefly dismissed the attendants, and seating himself, apologised to Ben
Israel for the delay.

"This person will not wonder at it," he continued, looking at Robin;
"for he knows what excellent reason I have to believe him an adept in
falsehood."

"No one ever heard me speak a lie, please your Highness," said Robin, in
a hesitating and tremulous voice.

"I cannot call to mind your speaking lies; but you are famous for acting
them: however, I desire you speak none here."

"Please your Highness," returned Robin Hays, regaining his
self-possession, "I do not intend it, for it would be useless."

"How mean ye?"

"Because your Highness can always tell truth from falsehood; and say who
is the speaker, no matter how hidden from others."

A smile relaxed for a moment the full, firm, but flexible mouth of
Oliver Cromwell, at this well-timed compliment to that on which he so
much prided himself--his penetration. He then commenced questioning the
Ranger upon his knowledge of Sir Willmott Burrell and the Rabbi's
daughter. Robin did not in the least degree equivocate; but related
every particular as minutely and distinctly as he had done to Ben
Israel; not omitting his knowledge that Sir Willmott meditated the
destruction of Walter De Guerre. Cromwell listened to the details with
much attention; but it was not until this portion of his story was
concluded, that, with his usual wiliness, he told the Ranger, that, as
it had nothing to do with Manasseh Ben Israel, it need not have been
mentioned.

The Protector then commanded Sir John Berkstead to his presence, and
directed that a troop of horse should be had in immediate readiness, and
that, in a few minutes, he would name to Colonel Jones the officer who
was to accompany them, and the place of their destination.

"And now let us to bed. Will my little Bridget bid her grandfather good
night?" and he kissed the child with much tenderness.--"People wonder
why I trust thee in my councils; but God hath given thee a soul of truth
and a secret tongue; thou growest pale with late sitting, and that must
not be." The Protector clasped his hands, and said a few words of prayer
over the girl, who knelt at his feet.

"Good Manasseh, I would recommend your resting here to-night; you need
repose, but I must detain your serving-man. Without there!"

An attendant entered.

"Conduct this person to----" A whisper told the remainder of the
sentence, and Robin was led from the apartment.

Very few lingered in the great hall; the pages were sleeping soundly;
and, though they encountered Colonel John Jones, he did not recognise
Robin, who, despoiled of his beard and black hair, looked so much like
the servant of Sir Willmott Burrell, as to be thought such by more than
one of the attendants. As he passed through the second court, his guide
suddenly turned into a small arched door-way, and directed Robin to
proceed up a narrow flight of winding stairs, that appeared to have no
termination. Robin once halted for breath, but was obliged to proceed,
and at length found himself in a small, cell-like apartment, with a
narrow sky-light, opening, as he conjectured, on the palace roof.

Here his attendant left him, without so much as "good night," and he had
the satisfaction of hearing the key turn within the rusty lock.

The mistiness of the night had passed away, and the moon looked down in
unclouded majesty upon the courts and turrets of "the House at Hampton."

Robin seated himself on his truckle bedstead, upon which merely a rude
straw mattress, covered with a blanket, was thrown, and which, for aught
he knew, had been occupied by a thousand prisoners before him; but,
however bitter and sarcastic his mind might be, it was not given to
despond; and he soon began to reflect on what had passed. Although it
was not by any means the first time he had been face to face with the
Protector, yet it was the first time he had ever seen him with any of
the indications of human feeling. "He has made many children
fatherless," thought the Ranger, "and yet see how fond he is of that
ill-favoured girl, who is the very picture of himself! Poor Walter!
Well, I wonder what has been done with him; I had a great mind to ask,
but there is something about him, that, were he never a Protector, one
would just as soon not make free with." As Robin thought thus, his eyes
were fixed on the light and flitting clouds, and he was longing to be
free and abroad in the moonbeams, that entered his cell only to smile on
his captivity; when some opaque body stood between him and the light, so
that he was for a moment almost in darkness. About three minutes after,
the same effect occurred; and presently a man's face was placed close to
the glass, evidently with the design of seeing into the room.

"A-hoy there!" shouted the Ranger. The face was withdrawn, and no answer
returned, but immediately afterwards the key grated in the lock, and the
Protector himself entered the chamber.

CHAPTER XIV.

    _Grundo._ And what did they there talk about?

    _Julia._  I'faith, I hardly know, but was advised
              'Twas a most cunning parley.

    _Grundo._ I do well credit it.

        _Old Play._

"I would rather talk to him in that old tapestried hall," thought Robin,
"than in this narrow chamber. There I could have a run for my life; but
here, Heaven help me! I am fairly in for it."

"The room is passing close, the air is heavy," were the Protector's
first words: "follow me to the palace-roof, where there can be no
listeners, save the pale stars, and they prate not of man's doings."

Robin followed Cromwell up a narrow flight of steps, so narrow that the
Protector could hardly climb them. They were terminated by a trap-door
leading to the roof; and there these two men, so different in station
and in stature, stood together on a species of leaden platform, which by
day commands a most beautiful and extensive view of the surrounding
country;--at night there was nothing to be seen but the dim outline of
the distant hills, and the dark woods that formed the foreground.

Scarce a sound was heard, save of the breeze wailing among the many
turrets of the proud palace, and now and then the tramp or challenge of
the sentries at the different outposts, as they passed to and fro upon
their ever-watchful guard.

"I believe your real name is Robin Hays?" said the Protector.

"Your Highness--it is so."

"And you are the son of one Mary or Margery, proprietor of an hostelry,
called the Gulls Nest?"

"The son of Margery Hays, as your Highness has said, who, God be
thanked! still lives in a quiet corner of the Isle of Shepey, and of her
good husband Michael, who has now been dead many years."

"I take it for granted that you know your own mother; but it is a wise
son who knows his own father. Impurities are, praised be the Lord! fast
fleeing from the land; but they were rife once, rife as blackberries
that grow by the roadside. Yet this is nought; what business brought you
here?"

"Your Highness knows: I came with the Rabbi Ben Israel."

"Parry not with me," exclaimed the readily-irritated Cromwell.--"I
repeat, why came ye here?"

"Your Highness is acquainted with the reason of my coming."

"I _do_ know; but I also choose to know it from yourself. Why came ye
here?"

"Just then to seek out one who has fallen into your Highness's clutches;
with favour, I would say, under your Highness's care," replied Robin,
who felt himself not over comfortably situated.

"His name sir--his name?"

"Walter De Guerre."

"And who advised you he was here?"

"I found it out; I and another of his friends."

"You mean Hugh Dalton?"

"I do, please your Highness."

"You have some secret communication for this Walter?"

"Your Highness, I have not; yet, if he is here, I humbly entreat
permission to see him; for, as it is your pleasure that we be detained,
I am sure it would be a comfort to him to meet some one who has his
interest firmly, humbly at heart."

"Why came he to England?"

"I believe, that is known only to Hugh Dalton."

"Where got ye that Spanish dagger?"

"Please your Highness, from a sailor at Greenwich, a pensioner."

"You had other business in London than seeking out this Walter?"

"Please your Highness, I had."

"What was its nature?"

"Your Highness must pardon me--I cannot say."

Cromwell, during this examination, had walked backward and forward on a
portion of the roof, bounded at either end by a double range of turreted
chimneys: at the last reply of Robin Hays he suddenly stopped and turned
short upon him, paused as if in anger, and then said,--

"Know you to whom you speak? Know you that the Lord hath made me a judge
and a ruler in Israel? and yet you dare refuse an answer to my
question!"

"Your Highness must judge for me in a righteous cause. From infancy I
have been cherished by Hugh Dalton: if my lowly mind has become at all
superior to the miserable and deformed tenement in which it dwells, I
owe it to Hugh Dalton--if I have grown familiar with deeds of blood,
still I owe it to Hugh Dalton that I saw deeds of bravery; and to Hugh
Dalton I owe the knowledge, that whatever is secret, is sacred."

"Honour among thieves, and rogues, and pirates!" exclaimed the
Protector, chafed, but not angry. "Your Dalton had a purpose of his own
to serve in bringing over this scatter-pate Cavalier, who has too much
blood and too little brains for aught but a cock-throw. Young man, I
know the doings at your Gull's Nest Crag--I have been advised thereupon.
Listen! there has been hardly a malecontent for months in the country
who has not there found shelter. Were I inclined to pardon vagabonds, I
might bestow the mercy with which the Lord has intrusted me upon poor
misguided wretches; but Dalton has been a misguider himself. With my own
good steed, and aided by only three on whom I could depend, I traced two
of those leagued with Miles Syndercomb to their earth, at the very time
when Hugh Dalton was lying in his Fire-fly off the coast.--What waited
he for there? That Buccaneer has imported Malignants by dozens, scores,
hundreds, into the Commonwealth; and now the reever expects pardon! for
I have been solicited thereon. Mark me! the Lord's hand is stretched
out, and will not be withdrawn until his nest be turned up, even as the
plough uprooteth and scattereth the nest of the field-mouse and the
blind mole; and mark yet farther, Robin Hays--there is a book, in which
is written the name of every one concerned in those base practices; and
opposite to each name is a red cross--a red cross, I say--which
signifieth the shedding of blood; and as surely as the stars above us
know their secret course along the pathway of the resplendent heavens,
so surely shall all those traitors, reevers, buccaneers, upsetters,
perish by the Lord's hand--unless it pleaseth the Spirit to infuse its
moving power into some of their hearts, so that one or more of them may
point the secret entrance into this cavern, where there is great
treasure, and whereby blood-shedding and much trouble may be spared. If
such an influence was happily exercised--was, I say, happily exercised
over the minds or mind of any one of this accursed crew, he might not
only be spared, but rewarded with much that the heart of man longeth
after." Cromwell paused, and fixed his eyes on the Ranger, who spoke no
word, and made no gesture of reply.

"Could not such be found?" he continued, addressing Robin more pointedly
than before.

"A person found, did your Highness ask, who would betray his comrades
unto death, and give up his master's property to destruction?"

"No, I meant not that: but think ye, is there not one, who, convinced
of the wickedness of his past ways, would lead blind Justice on the
right track, insomuch that plundered property might be restored to its
rightful owners, and the cause of the Lord and his people be forwarded
many steps?"

"May I speak to your Highness as a man, or as a servant?" inquired
Robin.

"Even as a man--I am neither a king nor a tyrant."

"Then, with all respect, I say that such men may be found; but they
would be unworthy pardon, much less reward. May it please your Highness,
a Buccaneer is, to my mind, only one who takes advantage of troubled
times to secure unto himself the most power and the most property that
he can. The sea is as free to him as the land to--to--to any other man.
His is no coward's trade, for he risks his all, and is neither an
assassin, nor a traitor, nor a rebel, nor a----"

"Peace, atom, peace!" interrupted Cromwell; "I did not want to hear your
reasons on the legality, and justice, and mercy of the Buccaneer; I only
gave you to understand (and I know ye to be quick of comprehension) that
I wished for information touching this retreat--this maze--this
labyrinth--this embowelling of nature, formed in the cliffs--ay, and
that in more than one place, along the Kentish coast--that so I might
erase one red cross at the least. Mark ye, knave--your own name is in
the list, though I may regret it, seeing that there is a mixture of
honest blood in your veins, and a sprinkling of wit in your head, which
might lead to some distinction. Worse men than you have risen to high
places."

"Your Highness mocks me! Wit!--high place! With this mis-shapen body
tackled to a world of wit--a place as high as any of those turrets that
cut the midnight air, still should I be a thing for men to scorn! Your
Highness bitterly mocks me!"

"I mock no one; it is ill Christian sport. But at your own
pleasure--within the space of fifteen minutes you may go forth from this
our house, conduct a chosen few to the Gull's Nest Crag--point out its
ways--give us the necessary information as to the other smuggling
stations--telegraph the Fire-fly into smooth water, and the next sun
will rise on a rich, ay, and a well-favoured gentleman!"

"With a damned black heart!" exclaimed Robin, whose faithful spirit beat
so warmly in his bosom that he forgot for an instant in whose presence
he stood, and gave full vent to his feelings, which doubtless he would
not have done had he seen the expression of Cromwell's countenance--that
awe-inspiring countenance which had full often sent back the unspoken
words from the open lips of bolder men who looked upon him.

"With that I have nothing to do," said the Protector calmly, after
taking another turn along the platform: "but you mistake the case--it is
only justice, simple justice."

"My Lord Protector of England," said Robin, whose thin, disproportioned
figure, as it moved in the dim light, might have been taken for a dark
spirit summoned to some incantation--"My Lord, with you it may be
justice: you believe the Buccaneer deals not only in the free trade, but
imports persons who endanger your Highness's life and the peace of your
protectorate. I believe, from my soul, that he never bore off or brought
over one of the Syndercomb gang, or any that had evil intent against
your person. There are others who deal in that way; and now, when he is
soliciting your mercy, it would speak but little for his wisdom if he
went on provoking your vengeance. My Lord, Hugh Dalton has a daughter,
and it is to save her name from ever-continuing disgrace, that he pants
for honest employment. And may it not offend your Highness, for one so
ill-read as myself in aught that is good or godly, to remind you that
the Bible somewhere tells of those who were received into pardon and
glory at the eleventh hour. As to myself, could your Highness make me
what my heart has so panted after, but as vainly as the carrion-crow
might seek to be the gallant falcon of the chase--could you give me a
well-proportioned figure--make me one who could repel an injury or
protect a friend--stretch out this dwarfish body to a proper
length--contract these arms, and place the head right well upon a goodly
pedestal--then give me wealth--rank--all a man's heart covets in this
most covetous world--weigh these advantages against a portion of Hugh
Dalton's life;--the scale turns in the air, my Lord--there's nothing
in't!"

Cromwell folded his arms in silence, while Robin, who had been much
excited, wiped the night-dew from his brow, and sighed heavily, as
having rid himself of that which weighed upon his conscience.

"One word more, young man--those who hear the Protector's wishes, and
in some degree can draw conclusions as to his projects--if--mark ye
well--if they act not upon them, if they agree not with them, they are
seldom of long life."

"I understand your Highness."

"To your cell----"

Overpowered and heart-stricken, for he hoped to have been granted speech
of the Cavalier, Robin obeyed the mandate, and the Protector of England
passed alone along his palace-roof.

"Ever in the ascendant!" he said, casting his eyes on the star of his
nativity, that shone brightest among the countless multitudes of night.
"High, high, highest, and most powerful," he repeated, gazing upon his
favourite planet with that extraordinary mixture of superstition and
enthusiasm which formed so prominent a part of his most singular
character. "I never saw thee brighter" (he continued) "save upon
Naseby-field, when I watched thy pathway in the heavens, while hundreds
of devoted soldiers couched around me, waiting the morrow's fight.
I prayed beneath thy beam, which, as the Lord permitted, fell right
upon my breast, glistening upon the bright and sturdy iron that
openly, and in the sight of all men, covered it then--pouring into
my heart courage, and confidence into my soul! Would that I might
sleep the sleep of death upon that same field, that you might again
watch over this poor body which now panteth for repose! Yea, there,
under the turf of Naseby, shall my grave be made; there shall I sleep
quietly--quietly--quietly--with thee to keep watch above the bed in
which this poor body shall be at peace, when the ever-restless spirit is
with Him whose right hand led me through the furnace, and made me what I
am. Shine on still, bright star, even to the fulness of thy splendour;
yea, the fulness of thy splendour, which is not yet come. Ah! well do I
remember how you lingered in the grey dawn of morning, eager to behold
my glory--my exceeding triumph upon that eventful field; and thou hast
seen me greater than I dreamed of, great as I can be--or if I can be
greater, to thee all is known, yea, all of the future as well as of the
past is known to thee."

And as he walked along, and again and again traversed the leaded space,
his step was as the step of war and victory; but suddenly it lingered,
and came more heavily, and his foot was more slowly raised, and his
eyes, that so lately drank in the rays of his own star with so much
exultation, fell upon the spot where the little deformed prisoner, even
Robin Hays, of the Gull's Nest Crag, was incarcerated. Again he spoke:
"Complimented by the subtle Frenchman, feared by the cunning Spaniard,
caressed by the temperate Dutch, knelt to by the debased Portuguese,
honoured by the bigoted Pope, holding the reins of England--of
Europe--of the world, in these hands--the father of many children--have
I so true-hearted a friend, as to suffer the scale of his own interests
to turn in the air, my life weighing so much the more in the balance?
Truly my heart warmed at his fidelity; it is worth all price, yet no
price that I can offer will purchase it. In my youth a vision said I
should be greatest in this kingdom. Greatest I am, and yet I may be
greater; but will a name, the name at which I scorned, increase my
power? He from whom I took that name was more beloved than I. Oh, 'tis a
fearful game, this game of kingdoms! crowns, ay, and bloody ones, bloody
crowns for foot-balls! while treachery, dark, cunning, slippery
treachery, stands by with many a mask to mock and foil our finest
sporting! God to my aid! Now that success has broken down all
opposition, I am in the face, the very teeth of my strongest
temptations; forbid, O Lord! that they should conquer me, when I have
conquered all things else! God to my aid! One foot upon the very throne
from which I--not I alone--praise Heaven for that--not I alone, but many
dragged him----!" Again for a brief time he stood with folded arms, his
back leaning against a turret; and afterwards his step was quick and
agitated, and much he doubtless meditated upon the crown which he well
knew a strong party of the parliament would tender for his acceptance;
and then he paused and muttered as before. "My children princes! May be
wedded to the mightiest! But will they? Stiff-necked and stubborn! There
is but one who loves me--only one on whom I doat, and she, like all
things loved and lovely, fading from before mine eyes, as the soft mist
fades from the brow of some harsh and rugged mountain, which is
shrouded, and softened, and fertilised before the proud sun climbed the
highest arch of heaven!--Ah! the sentry at the outward gate is sleeping.
Let him rest on, poor wretch. I cannot sleep. And there's a light in the
apartment of my Lord Broghill: perhaps he writes to his friend Ormond.
I had him there; how pale he grew! I have them--know them all! could
crush them in this hand; yet God knows I would not; it has had enough to
do with that already."

And then sobs, sobs that came from the Protector's heart, burst from his
lips, and he fell into one of those passions of tears and prayers to
which of late he had been often subject. It soon subsided, and the man
so extolled and admired by the one party--so abused and vilified by the
other--so feared by all--retired in silence and in sorrow to his couch.

CHAPTER XV.

    What is the existence of man's life?

    It is a weary solitude
    Which doth short joys, long woes include;
    The world the stage, the prologue tears,
    The acts, vain hope and varied fears;
    The scene shuts up with loss of breath,
    And leaves no epilogue but death.

      HENRY KING.

"And it's come to this, is it?" exclaimed Solomon Grundy, who sat