CHAPTER V.

"By holy Mary! Butts, there's knavery."

SHAKSPEARE.

HAVING Consigned the Lady Frances Cromwell to her perfumed couch, and the companionship of Waller's sweet and sonorous strains, we leave her to determine whether the high and mighty Lady Dorothea Sidney, the Poet's Saccharissa, or the gentle Lady Sophia Murray, the beauteous Amoret of his idolatry, were most worthy the affection he so generously bestowed on both. Waller, the most specious flatterer of flattering courts-Waller, the early worshipper of Charles the First-Waller, the pusillanimous betrayer of his friends-Waller, the adulator of Cromwell-Waller, the wit and the jester of the Second Charles-Waller, the devotional whiner of the bigot James-had not, however, sufficient power to keep the lady from her slumbers long. She was soon in the refreshing sleep, known only to the lighthearted.

Constance Cecil was more wakeful. After Barbara's dismissal from the presence of Lady Frances, she crept with slow and stealthy pace to the chamber of her dear mistress, and softly turning the bolt, displaced the curtains of silver, damask with so light a touch, that her entrance was unnoticed. The girl perceived at once that her Lady was not asleep. She had evidently been reading, for the holy volume was still open, and one hand rested amid its leaves: but even Barbara was astonished when she saw that her attention was spell-bound to the mysterious locket she held in the other hand. The excellent servant, with that true honesty of mind which no education can teach, knowing that her lady had not heard her enter, and feeling, rather than reasoning upon, the indelicacy of prying into what she believed was secret, purposely let fall a chalice, which effectually roused Constance, who, placing the trinket under the pillow, called upon her attendant for her night drink, and then pointed out a particular psalm she wished her to read aloud. It was a holy and a beautiful sight in that quiet chamber: The young and high-born maiden, her head rest

ing on pillows of the finest cambric; her arms crossed meekly on her bosom, whose gentle breathings moved, without disturbing the folds of her night-tire; her eyes elevated; her lips sufficiently apart to show the small, pearly teeth, glittering in whiteness within their coral nest;—then, as promises of hope and happiness beyond the control of mortality, found voice from Barbara's mouth, a tear would steal down her cheek, unbidden and unnoticed, but not unregistered by that God who knows our griefs, and whose balm is ever for the heavy at heart.

Barbara sat on a writing-stool by the bed-side, supporting the Bible on her knees, while the beams of a golden lamp, placed on a lofty tripod near the foot of the bed, fell directly on the book: the light, however, was not sufficiently powerful to illume the farthermost parts of the chamber, whose walls were hung with figured tapestry, the gloom of which contrasted strongly with the bright bluɔ and silver that canopied Constantia's bed.

The next chamber was occupied by her father: it was lofty, but not spacious. The inside of the door was guarded by many bolts; and at the moment his daughter was seeking commune with, and counsel from the Almighty, he was employed in examining and securing them with evident anxiety. First one, and then another, was pushed to its rest; then he turned the key in the lock-once, twice. Having shaken, or rather attempted to shake, the massive door, to determine if it were really secure, Sir Robert Cecil proceeded to inspect the window fastenings; and being convinced they were in their places, he turned to the table where the light burnt brightly, examined a brace of pistols, which he placed under his pillow, and then took down a huge heavy sword from a shelf where it lay concealed, pulled it forth from its scabbard, and applied his thumb along the edge, to be satisfied of its sharpness. Having laid the weapon by his bed-side, he commenced, unaided, to undress. This did not occupy him long, though he stopped occasionally, his eye glancing round the apartment, his ear bent, as if some unhallowed noise had struck upon it suddenly. As he moved to his lonely couch, he passed before an immense glass, in a heavy oaken frame: his own reflection met his eye; he started as if a spectre had crossed his path-his cheek blanched-his knees smote one against the other his respiration was impeded. At last, waving his hand, as if to dispel the phantom his imagination had conjured up, he sprang into the bed, and buried his head under its pillows.

At the end of the corridor which led to the sleeping

chambers, was the apartment appropriated to Burrell of Burrell, whenever he was a guest at Cecil Place; his visits, however, were not so frequent, or of such long duration, as might have been expected from the lover of Lady Constance Cecil. He was fast approaching the meridian of life, and his youth had been spent chiefly at court:-at both courts, in fact, for he had been a partisan of the unhappy Charles, and afterwards, at heart, as complete a regicide as any who took a more active part in the terrible transactions of the times. He joined the army of the Parliament, nevertheless, but for a short time, pleading, as an excuse, the necessity there was for remaining amongst his own tenants and thralls to keep them in subjection. Sir Willmott Burrell might well have been designated a man of two characters-one for public, one for private life. His manners to his superiors, and generally to his equals, were bland and insinuating; to his inferiors he was overbearing, haughty, and severe, except when he had some particular point to carry, and then he could cringe to and fawn upon the vilest. He had a peculiar method of entering into men's hearts, and worming from each whatever best suited his own purpose; but the principle upon which he invariably acted, was, to extract the honey from the rose, and then scatter its leaves to the whirlwind and the blast. Devoid of every thing like moral or religious feeling, he used Puritanism as a cloak for selfishness and sin; and though he had often cursed his good character when it stood in the way of his pleasures, yet it was too needful to be cast off as a worthless garment. A plotting mind united to a graceful exterior, is as dangerous to the interests of society as a secret mine to a besieged city, inasmuch as it is impossible to calculate upon the evils that may suddenly arisc either from the one or the other.

Sir Willmott Burrell, of Burrell, had managed to make himself acquainted with many of Sir Robert Cecil's secrets; and even those he had not heard he guessed at, with that naturally acute knowledge which is rarely in the wrong. He was too great a sensualist to be indifferent to the beauty of Constance, which, like all sensualists, he considered the sole excellence of woman; but he arraigned the wisdom of Nature in endowing aught so fair with mind, or enriching it with soul; and the dignity and purity of his destined bride, instead of making him proud, made him angry and abashed.

Constance heard of Burrell of Burrell's grace, of Burrell of Burrell's wit, and sometimes-though even amongst ladies it was a disputed point-of his beauty, without ever being

able to discover any thing approaching to these qualities in her future husband; and certainly he never appeared to so little advantage as when in her presence: her eye kept him under a subjection, the force of which he was ashamed to acknowledge; and although there could be no question that his chief desire for the approaching alliance proceeded from a cherished affection for the broad acres and dark woods of the heiress of Cecil, yet he bitterly regretted that the only feeling the lady manifested towards him was one of decided coldness he almost feared, of contempt. The day after her mother's funeral, she had refused to see him, although he knew that she had been abroad with Lady Frances in the gardens of the Place; and though Sir Robert urged indisposition as the cause, yet his pride was deeply mortified. A weighty communication from France, where he had been a resident for some months, as an attache to the English embassy, appeared to have increased the discontent of his already ruffled temper. He retired early to his chamber, and his moody and disturbed countenance looked angered and mysterious by the light of an untrimmed lamp, as he. inspected various documents and papers that lay scattered before him on a table of carved oak, inlaid with silver. One letter which he read and re-read with much attention, seemed to excite him more than all the rest: he turned it over and over-examined the seal-laid it down-took it up —put it aside again-folded his arms over his chest, and, with his eyes fixed on the ceiling, appeared for a time absorbed in the remembrance of past events. Finally, he committed the letter to the flames, and then paced up and down the room with unequal steps, his head bent forward, and his arms folded, as before, over his bosom. evidently ill at ease with himself, and there gleamed lurking devil in his eye,” that augured peril to some one, and bespoke a man who was neither "infirm of purpose," nor slow in the execution of whatever mischief was designed. He did not retire to his bed until the lamp gave token that its oil was expended, when, flinging himself on the coverlet without removing any portion of his dress, he sought rest.

He was

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Nor were Sir Willmott's slumbers of long duration; before the sun had risen, he was up and a-foot. Having let himself down from his window and out at the postern-gate, he took the path that led in the direction of Gull's Nest Crag.

The night had been wild and stormy: the freshness and freedom of the air now compensated for the turmoil that had passed; but the ocean's wrathfulness was still unappeased, 5

VOL. I.

and Burrell listened to its roarings while it lashed the beach with its receding waves, like a war-horse pawing and foaming when the battle din has sunk into the silence that succeeds the shout of victory, as if eager again to meet the shock of death.

Suddenly he struck out of the usual track across a portion of waste land, the utmost verge of which skirted the toppling cliffs: and making for himself a way through tangled fern, long grass, and prickly furze, he strode on in a more direct line towards the dwelling of Robin Hays, pursuing his course, heedless of the petty annoyances he encountered, although his feet were frequently entangled among the stunts and stubs that opposed his progress, with the air of one whose mind was evidently bent on the fulfilment of some hazardous but important purpose. It was so early, that not a shepherd had unpenned his fold, nor a girl gone forth to the milking: such cattle as remained at liberty during the night, still slumbered on the sward; and the wily fox roamed with less caution than was his wont, under the knowledge that no enemy was by to watch his progress.

"I may reach Gull's Nest, and return," thought Burrell; "and that before any in the house are astir." But at that moment, a tall, lank figure, moving with measured pace, yet, nevertheless, approaching rapidly, from the very point towards which his steps were bent, arrested his attention; and as it came nearer and nearer, he was much disconcerted at the discovery that no other than the Reverend Jonas Fleetword, from whom he anticipated a sharp rebuke for his absence from Lady Cecil's funeral, was about to cross his path. He would have gladly hailed the approach of Birnam wood, so it could have settled down between him and the reverend Jonas; but as no place of refuge was at band, he bethought him of the shield of patience, drew his cloak as closely as if he were about to encounter a fierce north wind, and, finally, returned, with much courtesy, the salutation of the preacher, whose apt and ready eloquence had obtained for him the significant appellation of Fleetword. The locks of the divine, according to the approved fashion, had been cropped closely round his head, and his thin sharp visage looked of most vinegar-like tinge and character, peering, as it now did, from beneath a steeple-crowned hat, of formal cut. He wore a black cloth cloak and doublet, his Flemish breeches and hose were of the same sombre hue, and his square-toed shoes were surmounted by large crape roses. Contrary, as it would seem, to the custom of a disciple of the peace-loving Saviour, he also wore a basket-handled sword, girded round his loins by a broad strap of black