estic
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.

"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 th