terminated by a full ruff of starched muslin; and the waist was encircled by a wide band of black crape, from which the drapery descended in massive folds to her feet. She pressed the soft green turf with a more measured step than was her wont, as if the body shared the mind's sad heaviness. Her head was uncovered, save that, as she passed into the garden, she had carelessly thrown on a veil of black muslin, through which her bright hair shone with the lustre and richness of the finest satin: her throat and forehead appeared most dazzlingly white in contrast with her sable dress.

The lady by whom she was accompanied, was not so tall, and of a much slighter form; her limbs delicately moulded, and her features more attractive than beautiful. There was that about her whole demeanour which is expressively termed coquetry, not the coquetry of action, but of feeling her eyes were dark and brilliant, her mouth full and pouting; and the nose was only saved from vulgarity by that turn, to describe which we are compelled to use a foreign term-it was un peu retroussé: her complexion was of a clear olive, through which the blood glowed warmly whenever called to her cheek by any particular emotion. The dress she wore, without being gay, was costly: the full skirt of crimson grogram descended not so low as to prevent her small and beautifully turned ancles from being distinctly seen, and the cardinal of wrought purple velvet, which had been hastily flung over her shoulders, was lined and bordered with the finest ermine. Nor did the contrast between the ladies end here: the full and richtoned voice of Constance Cecil was the perfection of harmony, while the light and gay speech of her companion might be called melodythe sweet playful melody of an untaught bird.'-Vol. I. pp. 77–80.

This last personage is Lady Frances Cromwell, the Protector's youngest daughter, afterwards Lady Rich, to whom Prince Charles (afterwards Charles II.) is reported to have offered his royal hand. Her character, warm, impetuous, gay, and affectionate, is well conceived, and serves as a side light to the sombre parts of the story. The Sir Willmott Burrell to whom Constance has been contracted, is a villain of the deepest grain and of ruined fortune, who, to escape from his embarrassments, is anxious to press his marriage with the heiress of the house of Cecil. Having got possession of Sir Robert's secret, his guilty implication in the murder of his elder brother, the crafty villain first makes use of it to work upon the father's fears, and then, by disclosing the horrible fact to Constance, wrings from her eventually a promise to become his bride within a week, as the only security of her father's honour. The interview between Sir Robert and his daughter, in which the latter obtains the dreadful confirmation of the charge, is very touchingly-we cannot say whether it is naturally described. At this juncture, the friend and companion of her youth, after a long and mysterious absence from his native country, reappears under a disguised name;-becomes a visiter at Cecil Place;-is recognized by Constance, though by her alone;—and receives at the same time the assurance of her regard, and the in

timation of her approaching miserable nuptials. By the time we reach the end of the first volume, the plot becomes too thickly interwoven for us to be able, without entering too much into details, to give an outline of the story. A certain ambiguous Major Wellmore becomes a very prominent actor in the ensuing scenes; and his ubiquitous movements, mysterious influence, and imposing air keep wonder and curiosity alive, till the reader begins to suspect his real station. Actuated by the warm interest he takes in the welfare of Constance, and suspecting foul play in the conduct of Burrell, he takes effectual measures to defeat his plans. Burrell, however, has succeeded in dragging his intended bride to the altar, in spite of the strong indications of incipient insanity in poor Sir Robert, the effects of too powerful and maddening excitement; and Constance is ready, but habited in deep mourning; -notwithstanding which, the ceremony has commenced, when some interruption is occasioned by Sir Robert's insisting that Constance's maid Barbara, who is dressed in white, must be the lady bride; and amid the confusion, a pistol is fired by an intruder, intended for the real bride, but which Barbara receives. The assassin is a beautiful Jewess, whom Burrell has married while abroad, and deserted, and who thus seeks to revenge herself upon her innocent rival. At this moment, a detachment of horse arrive, with orders to conduct Sir Willmott a prisoner to Hampton Court. Barbara, though supposed to be mortally wounded, is carried off by her father, the Buccaneer, who has been on the watch. In the mean time, the father of the Jewess, a learned Rabbi favoured by Cromwell, has followed his daughter to England, supposing her to have fled with her seducer; and having discovered Burrell's treachery, he applies for redress to the Protector. Mrs. Hall has bestowed great care and skill upon the portrait of that extraordinary man. The Robin referred to in the following peep into the Presence-chamber, has attended Manasseh Ben Israel as his servant. He is, in fact, one of the Buccaneer's party, and plays an important part in the story.

'It was impossible to look upon him without feeling that he was a man born to command and to overthrow. His countenance, though swollen and reddish, was marked and powerful, and his presence as lofty and majestic as if he had of right inherited the throne of England. However his enemies might have jested upon his personal appearance, and mocked the ruddiness of his countenance, and the unseemly wart that disfigured his broad, lofty, and projecting brow, they must have all trembled under the thunder of his frown: it was terrific, dark, and scowling, lighted up occasionally by the flashing of his fierce grey eye, but only so as to show its power still the more. His dress consisted of a doublet and vest of black velvet, carefully put on, and of a handsome fashion; a deep collar of the finest linen, embroidered and edged with lace, turned over his vest, and displayed to great advantage his firm and remarkably muscular throat. His

hair, which seemed by that light as dark and luxuriant as it had been in his younger age, fell at either side, but was completely combed or pushed off his massive forehead. He looked, in very truth, a most strong man-strong in mind, strong in body, strong in battle, strong in council. There was no weakness about him, except that engendered by a warm imagination acting in concert with the deepest veneration, and which rendered him ever and unhappily prone to superstitious dreamings.

'When Robin entered, there was no one in the room but the Lord Broghill, Manasseh Ben Israel, and a little girl. My Lord Broghill, who was one of the Protector's cabinet counsellors, had been sent for from Ireland to go to Scotland, and be President of the Council there; but soon wearying of the place, had just returned to London, and posted down immediately to Hampton Court:-he was bidding the Protector good night, and that with much servility. The presence of Robin was yet unnoticed, save by the Jew. Before his Lordship had left the chamber, even as his foot was on the threshold, Cromwell called him back.

"My Lord Broghill."

The cabinet counsellor bowed and returned.

"He came to

"I forgot to mention, there is a great friend of yours in London." "Indeed! Please your Highness, who is it? "My Lord of Ormond," replied the Protector. town on Wednesday last, about three of the clock, upon a small grey mule, and wearing a brown but ill-made and shabby doublet. He lodges at White Friars, number-something or other; but you, my Lord," he added, pointedly, "will have no difficulty in finding him

out."

"I call the Lord to witness," said Broghill, casting up his eyes after the most approved Puritan fashion, "I call the Lord to witness, I know nothing of it!"

Cromwell gathered his eyebrows, and looked upon him for a moment with a look which made the proud Lord tremble; then sending forth a species of hissing noise from between his teeth, sounding like a prolonged hish-h-h-h. "Nevertheless, I think you may as well tell him that I know it. Good night, my Lord, good night!'

Vol. II. pp. 256-258. In a subsequent chapter, the fair Novelist ventures upon an historical essay on the Protector's character, in which is shewn a great deal of candid discrimination.

His Court was a rare example of irreproachable conduct, from which all debauchery and immorality were banished; while, such was his deep and intimate, though mysterious acquaintance with every occurrence throughout the Commonwealth, its subjects had the certainty of knowing that, sooner or later, whatever crimes they committed would of a surety reach the ear of the Protector. His natural abilities must always have been of the highest order, though in the early part of his career he discovered none of those extraordinary talents that afterwards gained him so much applause, and worked so upon the

affections of the hearers and standers by. His mind may be compared to one of those valuable manuscripts that had long been rolled up and kept hidden from vulgar eyes, but which exhibits some new proof of wisdom at each unfolding. It has been well said by a philosopher, whose equal the world has not known since his day, "that a place showeth the man." Of a certainty Cromwell had no sooner possessed the opportunity so to do, than he showed to the whole world that he was destined to govern. "Some men achieve greatness, some men are born to greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them." With Cromwell, greatness was achieved. He was the architect of his own fortunes, owing little to, what is called, " chance," less to patronage, and still less to crime, if we except the one sad blot upon the page of his own history, as connected with that of his country. There appears in his character but a small portion of that which is evil, blended with much that is undoubtedly good. Although his public speeches were, for the most part, ambiguous-leaving others to pick out his meaning -or, more frequently still, having no meaning to pick out-being words, words, words-strung of mouldy sentences, Scriptural phrases, foolish exclamations, and such like; yet, when necessary, he showed that he could sufficiently command his style, delivering himself with so much energy, pith, propriety, and strength of expression, that it was commonly said of him under such circumstances, "" every word he spoke was a thing." But the strongest indication of his vast abilities was, the extraordinary tact with which he entered into, dissected, and scrutinized the nature of human kind. No man ever dived into the manners and minds of those around him with greater penetration, or more rapidly discovered their natural talents and tempers. If he chanced to hear of a person fit for his purpose, whether as a minister, a soldier, an artizan, a preacher, or a spy, no matter how previously obscure, he sent for him forthwith, and employed him in the way in which he could be made most useful, and answer best the purpose his employer. Upon this most admirable system, (a system in which, unhappily, he has had but few imitators among modern statesmen,) depended in a great degree his success. His devotion has been sneered at; but it has never been proved to have been insincere. With how much more show of justice may we consider it to have been founded upon a solid and upright basis, when we recollect that his whole outward deportment spoke its truth. Those who decry him as a fanatic, ought to bethink themselves that religion was the chivalry of the age in which he lived. Had Cromwell been born a few centuries earlier, he would have headed the Crusades, with as much bravery, and far better results, than our noble-hearted, but wrong-headed" Cœur de Lion." It was no great compliment that was passed on him by the French minister, when he called the Protector" the first captain of the age." His courage and conduct in the field were undoubtedly admirable he had a dignity of soul which the greatest dangers and difficulties rather animated than discouraged, and his discipline and government of the army, in all respects, was the wonder of the world. It was no diminution of this part of his character, that he was wary in his conduct, and that, after he was declared Protector, he wore a coat

of

of-mail concealed beneath his dress. Less caution than he made use of, in the place he held, and surrounded as he was by secret and open enemies, would have deserved the name of negligence. As to his political sincerity, which many think had nothing to do with his religious opinions, he was, to the full, as honest as the first or second Charles.

Of a truth, that same sincerity, it would appear, is no kingly virtue! Cromwell loved justice as he loved his own life, and wherever he was compelled to be arbitrary, it was only where his authority was controverted, which, as things then were, it was not only right to establish for his own sake, but for the peace and security of the country over whose proud destinies he had been called to govern. "The dignity of the crown," to quote his own words, " was upon the account of the nation, of which the king was only the representative head, and therefore, the nation being still the same, he would have the same respect paid to his ministers as if he had been a king." England ought to write the name of Cromwell in letters of gold, when she remembers that, within a space of four or five years, he avenged all the insults that had been lavishly flung upon her by every country in Europe throughout a long, disastrous, and most perplexing civil Gloriously did he retrieve the credit that had been mouldering and decaying during two weak and discreditable reigns of nearly fifty years' continuance-gloriously did he establish and extend his country's authority and influence in remote nations-gloriously acquire the real mastery of the British Channel-gloriously send forth fleets that went and conquered, and never sullied the union-flag by an act of dishonour or dissimulation!

war.

Not a single Briton, during the Protectorate, but could demand and receive either reparation or revenge for injury, whether it came from France, from Spain, from any open foe or treacherous ally;--not an oppressed foreigner claimed his protection but it was immediately and effectually granted. Were things to be compared to this in the reign of either Charles?' Vol. III. pp. 19-24.

In the presence of Cromwell, Burrell is confronted with the Rabbi; and the Protector's skilful examination of the parties is very happily conducted. The investigation is adjourned to Cecil Place; and there, according to dramatic rules, all the actors are brought together on the stage,-perhaps somewhat too dramatically. It is, however, all very cleverly managed. The issue is, that the Protector orders the ceremony of marriage to be repeated between Sir Willmott and the fair Jewess; while Constance is repaid for her sufferings and her filial heroism, by finding every obstacle removed to her union with her brave cousin Walter. For Burrell, however, a dreadful fate is reserved. He escapes from custody, and takes shelter in the Gull's Nest, the secret haunt of the Buccaneers, which has been cleared out and deserted preparatory to its being blown up. At the approach of Cromwell's troops, who come to search the place, the train is fired, and