atred!--Yet I was not always thus," she
continued, as she clasped a jewel on her arm: "The bracelet is too wide
for the shrunk flesh! Out, out upon thee, bauble! O that I could
thus--and thus--and thus--trample into this black and slimy earth, every
vestige of what I was, and have no more the power to think of what I am!
Is this the happiness I looked for? Are these the feelings of my
girlhood? My heart seems cold within me, cold to every thought but
vengeance! Even the burden I carry--it is part of him, and with the
groans that come in woman's travail I will mingle curses, deep and
blasting, on its head. O that I could cast it from me! And yet--and yet
it will be my own child!" And the feelings of the mother triumphed; for,
at that thought, the Jewess wept, and tears are as balm to an
overwrought mind, at once a relief and a consolation. Zillah wept, and
was humanised. After a little time, she arrayed herself in befitting
garments, but placed pistols within her bosom. Long before the appointed
hour, and despite the watchfulness of Sir Willmott's spies, she was
secreted near the ruined chapel adjoining Cecil Place.

CHAPTER XIII.

Hither, th' oppressed shall henceforth resort,
Justice to crave and succour at your court,
And then your Highness, not for ours alone,
But for the world's Protector shall be known.

WALLER _to the Protector_.

It was past midnight when Manasseh Ben Israel, accompanied by Robin
Hays, as his own servant, and disguised as we have seen him, arrived at
Hampton Court. The night was murky, and the numerous turrets of the
great monument of Wolsey's grandeur and ambition were seen but dimly
through the thickened air, although looked upon with feelings of no
ordinary interest by both Jew and servitor.

The carriage was stopped at the outer court by the sentries on guard,
and some little delay occurred, apparently to ascertain if the Rabbi
could be admitted at so late an hour.

Robin looked from the carriage-window and saw, what appeared to him,
scores of mailed and armed warriors reclining on the stone benches of a
spacious but low guard-room, while others crowded over a large fire,
which the chilliness of the night rendered, at least, desirable. The
glaring of the flames showed brightly on their polished armour, and
their firm immovable features looked of a piece with the iron itself.
Nothing could be more imposing, or afford a more correct idea of
Cromwell's perse