rtificial distinctions, but also of personal qualities. The
dispossessed nobleman, and the village-ploughman, conversed familiarly
together of many a hard-fought day. The scene of their warfare lay in
different parts of the kingdom; but each listened with painful interest
to the details of the other: Evellin ruminating on the errors which had
ruined the King's cause, Jobson cursing the knaves who betrayed, and the
traitors who beheaded, him.

"I cannot help making free with Your Honour," said Jobson, "though I see
by all your ways you are a right true gentleman, and not like the
Rump-tinkers and Old Noll's make-believes. You would hardly think, merry
as I seem with you, that I am very sad at heart: not about Madge Jobson,
my wife as was; no, let her go where she will, for she always was a bad
one; but 'tis about that noble family that are so good to us both. And
that pretty Mistress Constance, as sighs so when she bandages up my
knee; sweet creature! she thinks she hurts me, but I would not cry out
if she did; for I have a story I could tell her would make her sigh
more, and look paler than she does, though she is now as white as a
coward marching up to a charged battery."

Colonel Evellin inquired what story. The remembrance of his son was ever
present to his mind; but the indelible shame of his public disgrace had
prevented him from alluding to him, or asking Jobson if he had ever met
him during the campaign of 1645: and the deep feeling of affectionate
grief prevented Jobson from naming the gallant youth to the good
gentleman, who seemed, he thought, to want to have his spirits raised,
and was too cast down to be diverted with melancholy stories.

Jobson now begged the Colonel to satisfy his doubts whether it was right
to make his benefactors unhappy. "As a friend of the family," said he,
"and a wise man, I wish to consult you. They don't seem to know what is
become of Mr. Eustace Evellin, had I better tell them or not?"

Though long and intimately versed in the discipline of severest misery,
Colonel Evellin was forced to turn away his face to conceal his paternal
perturbation. "If," said he, "since the public rebuke of Lord Hopton, he
has again disgraced his lineage, bury his shame in that oblivion which I
hope now covers his body; but, if he lived long enough to redeem his
honour, tell me his history."

Jobson gazed with indignant surprise on his agitated companion. "If,"
answered he, "you had not fought as nob