and, his memory returned: he staggered
from his daughter--who, after her appeal to Cromwell, clung to her
father's side, as if heroically resolved to share his disgrace to the
last--and grasped at the papers.

"What need of keeping them?" said the Protector, much affected at the
scene: "give them to him, give them to him."

Dalton obeyed, and Sir Robert clutched them with the avidity of a
maniac: he stared at them, enwreathed as they were by his thin,
emaciated fingers, and then, bursting into a mad fit of exulting
laughter, fell prostrate on the floor, before any one had sufficiently
recovered from the astonishment his renewed strength had occasioned, to
afford him any assistance. He was immediately raised by Constantia and
his attendants, and conveyed to his own apartment, still holding fast
the papers, though he gave little other sign of life. There was another,
besides his daughter, who followed the stricken man--his nephew Walter.

"It is ill talking of marriage," said Cromwell, as the young man paused,
and requested permission to leave the room,--"It is ill talking of
marriage when Death stands at the threshold; but I have little doubt
_you_ will be able to obtain the hand which _I_ could not dispose of.
When I first saw you, I expected to see a different person--a director
of spies--a chief of discord--a master, not a servant. Walter Cecil,
although a bold Cavalier, would hardly have had power to draw me to the
Isle of Shepey, had he not, on board the Fire-fly, chosen to embrown his
face, and carry black ringlets over his own; a trick, perchance, to set
the Protector on a wrong scent. Never hang y'er head at it, young
man--such things have been from the beginning, and will be to the end.
Methinks that old oaks stand friends with the party;--but I quarrel not
with the tree--if it shielded the worthless Charles at Worcester, it
revealed the true Walter at Queenborough. Yet I thank God on every
account that I was led to believe you one whose blood I would fain not
shed, but would rather protect--if that he has the wisdom not to trouble
our country. I thank God that I was brought here to unravel and wind up.
A ruler should be indeed a mortal (we speak it humbly) omnipresent! As
to yonder man--devil I should rather call him--he has, I suppose, no
farther threats or terrors to win a lady's love. Sir Willmott Burrell,
we will at least have the ceremony of your marriage repeated without
delay:--here is my friend's daug