"Because they seemed so little inclined to trust their property in that same storehouse."
"You say but too truly; yet it is written 'that charity covereth a multitude of sins.'"
"Then that is reason why so many sins are roaming abroad 'naked but not ashamed.' Ah, sir! it is a marvellously scarce commodity that same charity; when Christians spit upon and rail at the poor Jew, they lack charity; when they taunt me with my deformity, they lack charity; when they destroy the web of the spider, that toileth for its bread, and useth what the God of Moses gave it to catch food, they lack charity. Sir, I have walked by the way-side, and I have seen a man tread into the smallest atoms the hill of the industrious ant, and say, it stole the peasant's corn; and yet I have known that same man make long prayers and devour widows' houses. I have watched the small singing-bird, trolling its sweet song on the bough of some wild cherry-tree, and a man, whose hair was combed over his brow, whose step was slow, whose eyes appeared to seek commune with Heaven, killed that bird, and then devoured all the cherries. A little of that red fruit would have served the singing-bird for the length of a long summer's day, and it could have sung to its mate till, when the night came, they sheltered in each other's bosom; yet he, the man with the smooth hair and the holy eye, killed the small bird; but mark ye, sir, he ate the cherries, all, every one. Though I am as one lacking sense, and only a serving Jew, I trow he lacked charity!"
"Uncle," whispered the page, creeping up to his ear, "can this man be indeed a Jew? He hath a blue eye and an English tongue; and surely not an Israelitish heart; see that he deceive us not."
"My dear boy, peace," said the simple yet learned Doctor; "let the wisdom of this poor child of Israel teach thee to be more humble-minded; for, look ye, who might not profit by his words?"
The excellent man would have spoken much more to our friend Robin, who might not inaptly be likened to a dark-lantern, within which is much light, though it is only occasionally given forth; but on the instant Gracious Meanwell summoned him to appear before the Protector.
"The Lord deliver me! the Lord deliver me!" muttered Robin, as he followed his conductor past the silken barrier—"The Lord deliver me! for, of a truth, my head is now fairly in the lion's mouth."
The room into which he was ushered thus abruptly was hung with ancient tapestry, and furnished after the strangest fashion. Robin had little inclination to examine either its proportions or arrangements, but tremblingly followed until his guide paused with him opposite a long narrow table, at the further end of which, his hand resting upon a pile of books, stood the Protector—Oliver Cromwell.
It was impossible to look upon him without feeling that he was a man born to command and to overthrow. His countenance, though swollen and reddish, was marked and powerful, and his presence as lofty and majestic as if he had of right inherited the throne of England. However his enemies might have jested upon his personal appearance, and mocked the ruddiness of his countenance, and the unseemly wart that disfigured his broad, lofty, and projecting brow, they must have all trembled under the thunder of his frown: it was terrific, dark, and scowling, lighted up occasionally by the flashing of his fierce grey eye, but only so as to show its power still the more. His dress consisted of a doublet and vest of black velvet, carefully put on, and of a handsome fashion; a deep collar of the finest linen, embroidered and edged with lace, turned over his vest, and displayed to great advantage his firm and remarkably muscular throat. His hair, which seemed by that light as dark and luxuriant as it had been in his younger age, fell at either side, but was completely combed or pushed off his massive forehead. He looked, in very truth, a most strong man—strong in mind, strong in body, strong in battle, strong in council. There was no weakness about him, except that engendered by a warm imagination acting in concert with the deepest veneration, and which rendered him ever and unhappily prone to superstitious dreamings.
When Robin entered, there was no one in the room but the Lord Broghill, Manasseh Ben Israel, and a little girl. My Lord Broghill, who was one of the Protector's cabinet counsellors, had been sent for from Ireland to go to Scotland, and be President of the Council there, but soon wearying of the place, had just returned to London, and posted down immediately to Hampton Court:—he was bidding the Protector good night, and that with much servility. The presence of Robin was yet unnoticed save by the Jew. Before his Lordship had left the chamber, even as his foot was on the threshold, Cromwell called him back.