"Will your Highness permit?" inquired Constantia, rising from her own

seat, and pushing it towards the Rabbi.

"Most certainly," was Cromwell's prompt reply; "our friend is aged, but

he is welcome; and we have news that will gladden his heart." In an

instant all trace of the servility which custom had imposed upon the

manners of the children of Israel vanished. The Rabbi stood upright, and

clasping his hands together, exclaimed, "My child! my child!"

"The lost sheep is found--blessed be the Lord!--safe here, within this

house--and I lay my commands upon her father that she be received as a

stray lamb from the fold, and warmed within his bosom. We have all

children, good Rabbi; and the Lord judge between us and them, they are

stiffnecked and stubborn! All, more or less, all--except one or two who

shine forth as bright examples;--such is my own Elizabeth, and such also

is Mistress Constantia here."

"She is found!" repeated the Jew; "but they talked of crime--of her

having--I cannot speak it, please your Highness, but you know what I

would say. Peradventure gold might be made to atone."

"Peace, good friend!" interrupted Oliver sternly; "justice must have its

due; and, by God's blessing, while we are Protector, all the gold your

tribe is worth shall not turn the scale! We would be merciful for

mercy's sake; but for justice--Yet pardon me," he added in compassion to

the Rabbi's horror, "I would not trifle with a father's feelings--she is

guiltless of murder."

He struck the table with the butt-end of his pistol--a private door of

the library opened as of itself--not one, but two females stood beneath

its shadow, each supporting each, as if the one weak creature thought

she could lend a portion of much needed strength to the other. Lady

Frances and Constantia sprang from their seats--all distinction of rank

was forgotten, and Mistress Cecil wept over her affectionate

bower-maiden, as an elder over a younger sister, or even as a mother

over a beloved child. She asked no questions, but kissed her brow and

wept; while Barbara stood curtseying, and smiling, and crying, and

glancing with evident satisfaction, amid her tears, towards her father

and Robin, as if she would have said, "See how my lady, my grand lady,

loves me!"

It did not escape the observation of Lady Frances that Barbara wore the

chain she had given her, and she most heartily wished her father at

Whitehall, or elsewhere, that she might have an opportunity of asking

all the questions at once suggested by her busy brain.




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