“Didst thou pass my troops?” inquired Cromwell, “and how were they employed?” “They were listening to the exhortations of a preacher, and the very horses even seemed attentive, for they stood silent.” “How different,” exclaimed the dame, “from all other soldiers, who make the sabbath a day of wanton sport. They curse and swear like the king himself. They stay at the wine-cup till their eyes are red, and their great toes cannot balance the bulk above them. Put a cap sideways on a monkey, teach him to say ‘damn,’ to look and be wicked; take him to the king, and get him knighted, and he is a good cavalier. Knight him with a sword! Bring him to me, and I should do it to better purpose with a rough stick!” Cromwell _smiled_ at this ebullition of feeling. Throughout all his life he was never known to _laugh_. “You speak warmly, dame,” said he. “But since a sword is the only weapon of knighthood, they shall have one. Here,” and he pointed to his own, lying sheathed on the casement, “is the sword of Gideon. That sword has been blessed as often as the food which I partake of. But, miller, thou wert at church to-day. ’Tis well; yet I have a few things to say against thee; I would thou wert either cold or hot.” Rachel was looking in at the large pot on the fire, in which the pudding was boiling, as she thought, too slowly. Her temper was provoked, and she muttered, as she raised the pudding on the end of a stick; “I would _thou_ wert either cold or hot.” “I have a few things to say against thee, my trusty miller,” repeated Cromwell. “A few things to say against Hans,” exclaimed Rachel with much warmth, while she left the pot, and faced round to Cromwell. “Take care what thou sayest against Hans!” “Pooh!” was the contemptuous answer. “Thou fumest; but I know how to cork every bottle of ale, brisk though it be. I carry stoppers, even for a woman--but beware.” “A few things to say against Hans!” continued Rachel, but in a lower voice,--“why, he’s a good husband, a good christian, and--” “Too _good_ a subject to King Charles,” added Cromwell with a frown. “Woe unto you that still dwell in the tents of Ham. God shall enlarge us and our borders; but woe be to you. And yet, you have kindly given refuge to this lovely maiden, whose history I have heard, and whose wrongs, God be my witness, I shall revenge. Because Rahab kept the spies, she was allowed to enter the promised land, and because you have kept this persecuted daughter of a brave man, God will reward you!” He paused, and then continued,-- “And wherefore should I induce you to leave this peaceful retreat, and your rural occupations? A Sunday spent in the country would almost suffice to put an end to war, and to make brethren of all mankind!” He turned his head, seemingly absorbed in his own reflections. His eyes could not be seen. They were altogether buried beneath his eye-brows and his massive forehead.