"So it is," replied the dame, smiling through tears; "and now God be wi' ye, Robin!" And presently he heard her voice carolling a North country ballad, as she returned to her own house.
"Now is her heart in her own country," muttered the Ranger, "though her voice is here; and those who did not know her little story would think her as cheerful as the length of a summer's day; and so she ought to be, for she performed her duty; and duty, after all, when well performed, seems a perpetual and most cheerful recompense for care and toil, and, it may be, trouble of mind and pain of heart."
Robin having obtained the clue to the secret of which he was in search, wended his way towards the metropolis. The steeples of a hundred churches were soon in sight.
CHAPTER IX.
But yonder comes my faithful friend,
That like assaults hath often tried;
On his advice I will depend
Whe'er I shall win or be denied;
And, look, what counsel he shall give,
That will I do, whe'er die or live
Henry Willoby.
Robin, when he arrived in London, loitered away an hour around Whitehall and the Park, before he proceeded farther, and easily ascertained that the Protector was then at Hampton Court; as to who went with him, how long he would remain, or when he would return, he could receive no intelligence; for the best of all possible reasons—the movements of his Highness were secrets even from his own family.
There was much talk, however, and considerable speculation among all classes of people, as to whether he would yield to the eager entreaties of a certain party in the parliament, who were urgently pressing forward a motion, the object of which was, that Cromwell should exchange the title he had heretofore borne, and adopt the more time-honoured, but, alas! more obnoxious one, of King. Some of the more rigid sects were busily discoursing in groups, respecting Walton's Polyglott Bible, and the fitness or unfitness of the committee that had been sitting at Whitelock's house at Chelsea, to consider properly the translations and impressions of the Holy Scriptures. Robin received but surly treatment at the palace-gates, for minstrelsy was not the fashion; and he almost began to [think] the disguise he had selected was an injudicious one. He hastened on to the city, along the line of street now called the Strand, but which was then only partially skirted by houses, and delivered Dalton's invoices to the merchant beyond St. Paul's, who had need of the Genoa velvets; then proceeded to the dealer in jewels, by whom the pearls had been commanded. Here it appeared no easy matter to gain admission; but a few words mysteriously pronounced to a grave-looking person, whose occupation was half porter, half clerk, removed all obstacles, and he found himself in a dark, noisome room, at the back of one of the houses in Fenchurch Street—at that time much inhabited by foreign merchants, who were generally dealers in contraband goods, as well as in the more legitimate articles of commerce.
As soon as the wayfarer entered, he disburdened himself of his hump, and from between its folds produced strings of the finest pearls and heaped them on the table. The dealer put on his glasses, and examined them separately, with great care, but much rapidity; while Robin, like a good and faithful steward, kept his eyes steadily fixed upon the jewels, never losing sight of them for a single moment, until his attention was arrested by a person entering and addressing the merchant. Robin immediately recognised the stranger as the old Jew, Manasseh Ben Israel, whom he had seen at Sir Willmott Burrell's.