stantia
expressed her belief that he was; but silenced Monthault's intended
allusions to a millennial state of felicity under his government, by
declaring her conviction that he was the sword of vengeance, rather than
the renovating sun of mercy.

Monthault withdrew sullen and offended, planning schemes of vengeance,
all pointed at Arthur de Vallance, whose retreat he determined to
discover. He questioned the keeper of the prison, who had access to the
Beaumonts, and was by him directed to Jobson. His talkative simplicity,
and the danger that would result from his being sifted by Cromwell's
spies, had obliged them to dispense with the services of the faithful
trooper, who now earned his bread by manual labour, and only came
occasionally to inquire after their health. Though care was taken to
represent him as a porter occasionally employed, the jailor suspected he
had been an old servant. Monthault immediately recollected him as
attached to Eustace a little before their separation at Dartmoor, and
recommended himself to the affectionate creature, by recognising him as
one who leaped with him into the moat, and climbed the wall at his side,
when Prince Rupert stormed Bristol. Taking him apart, he avowed himself
to be a stanch royalist, watching every opportunity to serve a cause he
still wore at his heart. He declared that he accepted the office of a
judge at Dr. Beaumont's trial, with a resolution of saving him; he
praised his firm demeanour, the beauty of Constantia, the goodness of
Isabel, and the noble self-devotedness of Neville; assuring Jobson, that
he was most sedulous in employing the interest he possessed with the
Protector to the advantage of this family. But he lamented that there
existed one obstacle to Neville's becoming Earl of Bellingham: the
Protector's betrayed confidence required a victim, and Arthur de
Vallance must be given up to his vengeance.

The honest countenance of Jobson fell at this information. "Ah, worthy
sir," said he, "there is no washing the black-a-moor white; Old Noll
will continue Old Noll, dress him up how you will. There's no putting a
King's heart into a scoundrel's body; and a tailor never yet made more
than the clothes of a gentleman. I say, the man that can't forgive a
brave young gentleman, never ought to wear the crown of England. You had
half persuaded me to forget the true King beyond sea, and to think, as
this ruler would do justice, we might go on as we are, but when you t