"Doctor Pocock!" ejaculated Mrs. Cromwell. "He was here a few days ago to consult with the General. He had on a square cap, and large ruff surmounting his doctor's gown; his hair was powdered and his boots had lawn tops trimmed with ribbons. He looked very little like a Commonwealth Divine and Professor."
"My dear madame, Doctor Pocock is both a Royalist and a Prelatist."
"Then he ought not to be in Oxford," said Mary Cromwell hotly. "What is he doing there?"
"He is doing good work there, Lady Mary, for he is the most famous Oriental and Hebrew scholar in England. No Latiner, but great in Syriac and Arabic; and no bigot, for he is the close friend of Doctor Wallis and of your uncle, Doctor Wilkins, though he does not go with them to the Wadham conventicle. The Parliamentary triers declared him incompetent but Edward Pocock had powerful friends who knew his worth, and perhaps if you ask your honoured father, he can tell you better than I why Dr. Pocock is in Oxford, and what he is doing there."
At this moment, Lord Cluny Neville entered the room. He saw Jane on the instant, and his eyes gave her swift welcome, while in the decided exhilaration following his entrance Love found his opportunities. But among them was none that gave him free speech with Jane; they were not a moment alone. Cluny had a fund of pleasant talk, for he had just come from the Mulberry Gardens, where he had met Mr. and Mrs. Evelyn and had some refreshment at the tables with them.
"I suppose the Evelyns were as gaily dressed as usual?" asked Mrs. Claypole, "and looking as melancholy as if the world would come to an end in a week's time?"
"Indeed, they were very handsome," answered Neville; "and the coach they brought from Paris is extremely fine. We had some chocolate in thin porcelain cups, and some Italian biscuits and sweetmeats. And anon we were joined by Mr. Izaak Walton, the gentlest of malignants, and very entertaining in his talk. Mr. Evelyn was praising Mr. Milton's poetry, but Mr. Walton did not agree with him. He thought John Milton was always trying to scale heaven by a ladder of his own, or else to bring down heaven on earth in some arbitrary shape or other—that in truth, he knew not in his work where he was going."
"He goes, truly, where Mr. Izaak Walton cannot follow him," said Mrs. Ireton. "John Milton has looked God's Word and his own soul in the face, and he will not hold Mr. Walton's opinion of him as anything to his hurt."
"Besides," added Cluny with a pleasant laugh, "Mr. Walton is writing a book, and Mr. Milton will soon not need to say with the patient man of Uz, 'Oh, that mine enemy had written a book!' He may have reprisals."
During this speech there was heard from a distant apartment the sound of music, low and sweet, and full of heavenly melody.