"A priest," she whispered, "is there not a priest? I think he is—dying."
"Pray that the light may come to him in the little time left," said the Puritan sternly. "And seek not to seal his eternal damnation by idolatry and devilry."
The lady looked up as if she had not heard what he said and did not know who he was.
"Oh, sir," she said, "will you come and look at my lord?"
Cromwell stepped up to the couch and gazed down at the Cavalier; his features were pinched, the wound at the side of the head, from which the blood had ceased to flow, was of a purplish colour.
The General touched him on the brow, moving back the clotted curls, and gazed into his agonized features.
"His heart—I cannot feel his heart," cried Lady Pawlet.
"He is not here," said Cromwell. "Even as we speak, he standeth before the Judgment Seat."