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.
"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. "He came to 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!"
"He's had his night-cap put on, and now for mine," thought little Robin,
who, as he advanced, bowing all the way up the room, could not avoid
observing, (even under such circumstances, there was something
singularly touching in the fact,) that a little girl, a child of about
six or seven years old, sat on a stool at the Protector's feet, her fair
arms twined around his knee; and her plain, but expressive face, looking
up to his, and watching every movement of his features with more than
childish earnestness. As Robin drew near, she stood up, and contemplated
him with very natural curiosity.
"Closer, young man--still closer," said the Protector; "our sight grows
dim; and yet we will see distinctly, and with our own eyes too--for the
eyes of others serve us not."
Robin did as he was commanded, bowing and shaking all the time like the
figure of a mandarin. The Protector advanced one step towards him; and
then plucked at the Ranger's beard with so strong a hand, that it
deserted his chin, and dangled between Cromwell's fingers. At this, the
child set up a loud and merry shout of laughter; but not so did the
incident affect the Protector, to whose mind treachery was ever present;
he instantly exclaimed,-"Guards! what ho! without there!" Five or six rushed into the room and
laid hands upon Robin, who offered no resistance, submitting to their
mercy.