Down, stormy Passions, down; no more
Let your rude waves invade the shore
Where blushing Reason sits, and hides
Her from the fury of your tides.
* * * * * * *
Fall, easy Patience, fall like rest,
Where soft spells charm a troubled breast.
HENRY KING
We believe that even those who are anxious to learn if the Protector
travelled in safety to his place of destination, and what he did when he
arrived there, will scarcely murmur at the delay which a brief visit to
Constantia Cecil will necessarily occasion.
We must not leave her alone in her sorrow, which, of a truth, was hard
to bear. A temporary respite had been afforded her by the terrible
events of the evening; it was, however, a respite that was likely, in
her case, only to bring about a more fatal termination. What was to
prevent Sir Willmott Burrell from branding her father--from publishing
his crime, now that he was to receive no benefit by the terrible secret
of which he had become possessed? Although she might be preserved from
the dreadful and dreaded doom of marrying a man she could neither regard
nor respect, it was equally certain that an eternal barrier existed
between her and the only one she loved--a barrier which not even the
power of Cromwell could break down or remove. It has been said, and said
truly, that there are few things reason can discover with so much
certainty and ease as its own deficiency. Constantia was a reasoning
being, and she appeared ever placid in situations where her fine mind
was overwhelmed by a painful train of circumstances over which she had
no control: the sins for which she suffered were not of her own
committing.
She had often gloried in days past at the prospect of fame--the honest,
upright fame which appeared the guiding principle that influenced her
father's actions, when the seeking after glory seemed to her as a
ferment thrown into his blood to work it up to action; and though she
sometimes apprehended that he used his will with his right hand and his
reason with his left, she never imagined the possibility that his pomp
was furnished by injustice and his wealth dyed in blood. It was, in
truth, a fearful knowledge she had acquired--a knowledge she could not
communicate, and upon which she could never take advice. Her misery was
to be endured not only with patience, but in secret and without
complaint. That destiny was indeed severe which compelled her to
anticipate a meeting with Walter as the greatest evil which could befall
her; yet ardently did her soul yearn to know his fate. She sat by her
father on the first night of his affliction, and on the long, long day
that followed, guarding him through his dreadful malady with the
watchfulness of a most devoted child, and the skilfulnes of a most wise
physician. Almost every word he uttered was as a dagger to her heart;
yet she saw and knew the necessity that must soon exist for others to
hear him speak, and shuddered at the thought.