form a Spanish play."

"I am sorry, Mistress Frances," replied Colonel Jones, "to find your
thoughts still turning to these follies--follies anathematized in this
regenerated land."

A smart reply mounted to the lady's lip, who was annoyed that the plain
mistress had taken place of the title so universally ceded to her, but
she dared not send it forth in her father's presence.

"I assure Lady Frances," observed her father, rising from the table at
the same time, and laying a particular emphasis on the word _lady_, as
if he would reprove Colonel Jones's plainness--"I assure _Lady_ Frances
that I am a most excellent unraveller of mysteries,--of _all_
mysteries," he repeated with a stress on the word ALL, that made the
blood rush into his daughter's cheek. "And if I may presume on such an
accomplishment, I would request the honour of a private interview with
Mistress Cecil."

Cromwell conducted the lady from the room with an air that would not
have disgraced the descendant of a race of kings.

CHAPTER XI.

If you, my son, should now prevaricate,
And, to your own particular lusts, employ
So great and catholic a bliss; be sure
A curse will follow, yea, and overtake
Your subtle and most secret ways.

BEN JONSON.

Whatever passed between Cromwell and the Lady Constantia must remain
secret, as neither were of a particularly communicative disposition.
Lady Frances, indeed, laboured hard to succeed and comprehend the whole
matter, but in vain. She waylaid her friend on her passage from the room
of audience, and observed, in a tone and manner that betrayed her
anxiety on the subject,

"My father and you have had a long conference!"

"He has indeed honoured me by much condescension and kindness," was
Constantia's reply.

"Do you know whom he has closeted up so strangely in Cecil Place? I was
going into the oak parlour, when a sentry at the door--(What rough
fellows those soldiers are!)--cried 'Stand!' as if I had been a statue.
With that I repaired to the small oriel chamber; but there, too, was
another 'Stand!' Why, the house is at once a prison and a garrison!"

"Not quite."

"Oh, you take it more gently than I should--to have persons in your own
house, and not know who they are."

"Your father, I suppose, knows them; and I may have sufficient
confidence in the Protector of England to believe in the wisdom of all
he does--nothing doubting."

"My father is very anxious about