"Then, Doctor," said Mrs. Cromwell, "look better after your dinner. That buttered salmon has gone cold while you talked. There is a jar of olives near you,—and pray what will you have? a dish of steaks? or marrow bones? or ribs of roast beef? or some larded veal? or broiled larks?"
"Roast beef for John Verity, madame, and a couple of broiled birds and a dish of prawns and cheese. I enjoy my meat, and am not more ashamed of it than the flowers are of drinking the morning dew."
"You are always happy, Doctor," said Jane.
"I think it is the best part of duty to be happy, and to make others happy. No one will merit heaven by making a hell of earth. As I came through Jermyn Street I saw Lady Matilda de Wick. She looked daggers and pistols at me. God knows, I pity her. She was shrouded in black."
"Has anything been heard of Stephen de Wick?" asked Jane.
"It is thought he reached The Hague in safety. His companion, Sir Hugh Belvard, joined Prince Rupert's pirate fleet there."
Then Mrs. Ireton, as if desirous of changing the subject, spoke of Doctor John Owen, and of his treatise on "The Pattern-Man," and Doctor Verity said he was "a Master in Israel." Talking of one book led to conversations on several others, until finally the little volume by Cromwell's brother-in-law, Doctor Wilkins, was mentioned. It was a dissertation on the moon and its inhabitants, and the possibility of a passage thither. Mrs. Ireton disapproved the book altogether, and Mrs. Cromwell was quite scornful concerning her brother Wilkins, and thought "the passage to the heavenly land of much greater importance."
But it was easy to turn from Doctor Wilkins to the great University in which he was a professor, and Mrs. Claypole reminded her mother of their visit to Oxford after its occupation by Cavalier and Puritan soldiers.
"I remember," she answered. "It was a sin and a shame to see! The stained windows were broken, and the shrines of Bernard and Frideswide open to the storm; the marble heads of the Apostles were mixed up with cannon balls and rubbish of all kinds. Straw heaps were on the pavements and staples in the walls, for dragoons had been quartered in All Souls, and their beasts had crunched their oats under the tower of St. Mary Magdalene. I could not help feeling the pity of it, and when I told the General he was troubled. He said 'the ignorant have clumsy ways of showing their hatred of wrong; but being ignorant, we must bear with them.'"
"All these barbarisms have been put out of sight," said Dr. Verity, "and thanks to Doctor Pocock, Oxford is itself again."