"The manifestation of the Lord! The manifestation of his righteous
judgments! His ways are clear in Israel, and mighty is his name!--Look
here, Colonel Jones; my worthy friend Manasseh Ben Israel, behold! Is it
not wonderful! Gracious Meanwell, see that the bearer of this be well
cared for, but safely kept. We will speak with him ourselves. Of a truth
it is wonderful!"
Such were the words of Cromwell as he scanned, with a rapid but
scrutinising glance, each of the several papers contained in the
parcel;--first, a certificate of marriage between Sir Willmott Burrell
and Zillah Ben Israel, as performed by one Samuel Verdaie a monk
residing at the Benedictine Friary in the "Faubourg St. Antoine," at
Paris--next, many letters from the said Sir Willmott Burrell to the
Jewess--and lastly, a love document given before their marriage, wherein
he pledged himself to marry Zillah, and to use his influence with
Cromwell (whom he facetiously termed vieux garçon), to induce her
father to pardon the undutiful step she was about to take.
"This is also a counterfeit, Sir Willmott, I presume," continued the
Protector, pointing to the document; "nor is this in your
hand-writing--nor this--and this is not your seal--and there is no such
person as Samuel Verdaie--nor such place as the Benedictine Friary, or
Paris, I suppose? What! have you lost the power of speech? Shame! shame!
shame! and the curse of shame fall upon you! It is such men as you--such
crimes as yours, that bring disgrace upon England. Sad will be the day
for her, when she sinks in the estimation of the world as a moral
nation. Behold her, a small speck in the immensity of the globe; yet
great is her name among the kingdoms of the earth! A Briton carries, or
ought to carry, ten times the influence of any other man, because our
power is over the mind, over the respect, over the veneration of
mankind. Go to, sir, you are no Englishman! Behold, how ill prosper your
evil contrivances! Sir, I say again, you have robbed that old man of his
daughter.--What say you?"
"It was to spare that old man's feelings I denied the act," said Sir
Willmott, again rallying, yet wanting the courage that forms a
respectable villain; "it was to spare him. But the marriage is nought! a
Popish priest, a Protestant gentleman, and a Jewess! I knew not your
Highness would sanction such unholy rites. Besides, despite all this,
the Lady Constantia will wed me yet."
"By the holy heavens, she shall not!" exclaimed Cromwell, forgetting the
Puritan Protector in the soldier, the soberness of the age in the energy
of the moment; then as suddenly adding, "The Lord forgive me! the Lord
blot out mine iniquities! See what it is to have to do with sinners!"