honoured by the bigoted Pope, holding the reins of England--of
Europe--of the world, in these hands--the father of many children--have
I so true-hearted a friend, as to suffer the scale of his own interests
to turn in the air, my life weighing so much the more in the balance?
Truly my heart warmed at his fidelity; it is worth all price, yet no
price that I can offer will purchase it. In my youth a vision said I
should be greatest in this kingdom. Greatest I am, and yet I may be
greater; but will a name, the name at which I scorned, increase my
power? He from whom I took that name was more beloved than I. Oh, 'tis a
fearful game, this game of kingdoms! crowns, ay, and bloody ones, bloody
crowns for foot-balls! while treachery, dark, cunning, slippery
treachery, stands by with many a mask to mock and foil our finest
sporting! God to my aid! Now that success has broken down all
opposition, I am in the face, the very teeth of my strongest
temptations; forbid, O Lord! that they should conquer me, when I have
conquered all things else! God to my aid! One foot upon the very throne
from which I--not I alone--praise Heaven for that--not I alone, but many
dragged him----!" Again for a brief time he stood with folded arms, his
back leaning against a turret; and afterwards his step was quick and
agitated, and much he doubtless meditated upon the crown which he well
knew a strong party of the parliament would tender for his acceptance;
and then he paused and muttered as before. "My children princes! May be
wedded to the mightiest! But will they? Stiff-necked and stubborn! There
is but one who loves me--only one on whom I doat, and she, like all
things loved and lovely, fading from before mine eyes, as the soft mist
fades from the brow of some harsh and rugged mountain, which is
shrouded, and softened, and fertilised before the proud sun climbed the
highest arch of heaven!--Ah! the sentry at the outward gate is sleeping.
Let him rest on, poor wretch. I cannot sleep. And there's a light in the
apartment of my Lord Broghill: perhaps he writes to his friend Ormond.
I had him there; how pale he grew! I have them--know them all! could
crush them in this hand; yet God knows I would not; it has had enough to
do with that already."

And then sobs, sobs that came from the Protector's heart, burst from his
lips, and he fell into one of those passions of tears and prayers to
which of late he had been often subject. It soon subsided, and the man