three hours past noon to-morrow, in the place which he wots of. If it be not as I say to you, secure him on the peril of your life, and have him away forthwith to the gate-house! But in neither case trouble me any more this night. Begone!"

As the soldier left the room, he muttered something to himself inaudibly-drew out no fewer than three pistols from different parts of his attire, looked closely to the flints and priming, extinguished all the lights save one, locked, double-locked and barred the outer door -then raised the tapestry in a corner of the room, opened a panel in the wainscoting, and gliding through it into a devious passage in the thickness of the wall, stole like a guilty thing to a remote bedchamber, different from that in which he had slept the preceding night, known only to one old and trusted servitor.

CHAPTER II.

Perchance she died in youth: it may be bowed
With woes far heavier than the ponderous tomb
That weigh'd upon her gentle dust, a cloud
Might gather o'er her beauty, and a gloom
In her dark eye, prophetic of the doom
Heaven gives its favourites-an early death.

Childe Harold.

THE power, the wealth, and the prosperity of England daily and almost hourly increased. The ravages of war had long since disappeared from her deep velvet pastures and her happy homes. Every religion was endured, except when its professors intermeddled in state matters; all parties, whether cavalier, or presbyterian, or fifth monarchist, shared equally the law's protection, alike relied on the Pro

tector's evenhanded justice. The arts and sciences were more encouraged, learned and polished scholars were esteemed at the court of Oliver in higher and more just repute; morality was more rewarded, licentiousness and vice more frowned down, than ever they had been before.

Nor, though the court was rigid almost to excess in morals, was its decorum chilled by any touch of jealous puritanical moroseness. All innocent amusements were admitted and enjoyed freely, Cromwell himself keeping a stud of race-horses, and labouring to promote in all things lawful, not the mere welfare but the happiness and comfort of his meanest subject. No Christian sect was hindered in its worship or observances; even the trampled and scorned Israelite finding an advocate and friend in that great man, who went infinitely far in toleration, beyond—not his own age alone, but most liberal usages of the most tolerant of modern nations.

Still did his cares, his griefs, and his perplexities but multiply. No success was enough

to please, no general prosperity enough to satiate, the people, craving eternally something new-losing the tangible realities of present, in the dim longings after future happiness-forgetting benefits conferred-ungrateful for past merits-light-headed, fickle, and false-hearted,

Day after day new plots broke out; and though they burst all harmlessly-the veteran bearing still, as it would seem, a charmed life -every detected scheme, punished or pardoned, left its deep sting behind. Cromwell's existence was no longer healthful-his spirit was no longer, as of yore, elastic and storm-riding as the eagle's pinion. His days were spent in bitter, because thankless, labours-his nights in agonizing apprehensions.

It was not that he trembled-it was not that a vile and dastard fear of death shook his soul from its eminence-it was not that he would have doubted any more, to hurl himself in open strife upon the deadliest hazard, now, when the monarch of the land, than when he fought a simple colonel of the ironsides-a theme of dread to others-himself dreading

nothing! But it was the suspense-the doubt ---the inability to harbour trust or confidence in any of those nearest to his person-the gnawing, heart-consuming sense of being undervalued, dealt with ungratefully, wronged, hated, and betrayed. Still in the prime of intellectual manhood, his strong form was bowed and feeble; his hair, once dark as the raven's wing, thin, weak, and gray; his piercing eye downcast, and veiled, and his whole aspect that of a man worn out even by his own success, spiritless, and heart-broken.

Parliament after parliament, convoked to settle the provisions of the nation, rebelled against his power, running, as had their predecessors, wild on abstruse religious doctrines, and anxious to plunge all things once more into anarchy, by striving to work out their frantic phantasies of perfect and unchangeable republics. Each after each he was compelled, not for his own sake merely, but for England's, which else they would have assuredly hurled again into the abyss of civil discord, to break up and dissolve them.