"My Lord Broghill."
The cabinet counsellor bowed and returned.
"I forgot to mention, there is a great friend of yours in London."
"Indeed! Please your Highness, who is it?"
"My Lord of Ormond," replied the Protector. "He came to town on Wednesday last, about three of the clock, upon a small grey mule, and wearing a brown but ill-made and shabby doublet. He lodges at White Friars, number—something or other; but you, my Lord," he added, pointedly, ["will] have no difficulty in finding him out."
"I call the Lord to witness," said Broghill, casting up his eyes after the most approved Puritan fashion—"I call the Lord to witness, I know nothing of it!"
Cromwell gathered his eyebrows and looked upon him for a moment with a look which made the proud lord tremble; then sending forth a species of hissing noise from between his teeth, sounding like a prolonged hish—h—h—h. "Nevertheless, I think you may as well tell him that I know it. Good night, my Lord, good night!"
"He's had his night-cap put on, and now for mine," thought little Robin, who, as he advanced, bowing all the way up the room, could not avoid observing, (even under such circumstances, there was something singularly touching in the fact,) that a little girl, a child of about six or seven years old, sat on a stool at the Protector's feet, her fair arms twined around his knee; and her plain, but expressive face, looking up to his, and watching every movement of his features with more than childish earnestness. As Robin drew near, she stood up, and contemplated him with very natural curiosity.
"Closer, young man—still closer," said the Protector; "our sight grows dim; and yet we will see distinctly, and with our own eyes too—for the eyes of others serve us not."
Robin did as he was commanded, bowing and shaking all the time like the figure of a mandarin. The Protector advanced one step towards him; and then plucked at the Ranger's beard with so strong a hand, that it deserted his chin, and dangled between Cromwell's fingers. At this, the child set up a loud and merry shout of laughter; but not so did the incident affect the Protector, to whose mind treachery was ever present; he instantly exclaimed,—