on, and placed
her leaning on her father's shoulder.

"Manasseh!" he said, "at times our speech is obscure, and men see
through it darkly. We hope it will not be so now. Your daughter is no
harlot, but a wedded woman who will soon become a mother, and, in virtue
of her husband and her child, is a subject of our own. We regret the
violence of which she has been guilty, but Satan is ever busy in his
work of temptation. If you cast her from you, we take her to ourselves;
as our blessed Lord would have received the prodigal--the sinful, but
repentant son--even so will we receive her. Poor prodigal," he added,
after waiting for a reply from the Rabbi, which came not, for the
feelings of the tribe were struggling with those of the father--"Poor
prodigal! we will not desert thee in thy hour of trial--but seek to
preserve thee from worse crimes than even those of which thou hast been
guilty."

Although Cromwell had placed Zillah resting on the shoulder of her
father, he made no effort to support or keep her there, and the
Protector was in the act of leading her towards his daughter, when Ben
Israel raised a great cry, for the father had triumphed over the Jew,
and snatching her to his bosom, he burst into a fervent but almost
inaudible prayer of thanksgiving and gratitude, that entered the hearts
of those who heard it, and witnessed the terrible strength of his
emotions. The Lady Constance was suffering from various causes; the
nature of which, from past events, may be more easily imagined than
described. Nor were those sufferings either terminated or relieved,
when, on Cromwell's striking the table again in the same manner as
before, Sir Willmott Burrell stood in the apartment.

His entrance caused a sensation of astonishment and confusion through
the whole group. Constantia Cecil unconsciously moved her seat nearer to
that of the Protector. An expression of satisfaction crossed the anxious
and feverish brow of Robin Hays. Dalton folded his arms across his
bosom, and advanced his right foot, as if strengthening his position.
Preacher Fleetword, who had hitherto leaned against a high-backed chair,
his eyes glaring from their sockets on the countenance of "the Lord's
anointed," and drinking in, with open ear and mouth, every word he
uttered--now shrank into the farthest portion of the room, skilfully
keeping a chair in the direction of Burrell, as a sort of fortification
against violence or evil, while he muttered sentences o