"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."




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