In all his conversation, Mary Evelyn had observed that there was something of an innocent hypocrisy about him. He counterfeited tender feelings, when it was evident, from his face, that he had none; and at other times he restrained tender feelings, and appeared what he was not--cold and indifferent. But in his expressed hatred of the king, there could not be a doubt of his sincerity. The awful sarcasm was in deadly earnest, and the very words hissed, and hissed, as if they were coming from a full furnace of burning wrath. Neither was his love for England at that time insincere. Had his life been of as much value to it as his sword, instead of taking up the one, he was willing to have resigned the other. A knocking was now made at the gate, and when Rachel went to it, a soldier of the common rank inquired,-- “Tarrieth my lord in the house? Verily he hath chosen a peaceful spot. The lines have fallen unto him in pleasant places. Lead me the way.” “Dost thou preach in the army?” inquired the dame. “No madam; verily, verily I say unto you, that many shall be called unto that work, but few chosen. But thou wonderest at the fluency of my speech. Ah!--out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh. I only edify and exhort in private.” The good dame could, with difficulty, refrain from laughing at the uncouth soldier. He was tall and thin, and she afterwards remarked,--had Goliath been still alive, the soldier would have been an excellent sword for his huge hand. But he opened his lips so oracularly, and strode so gravely, that these circumstances being taken into consideration, along with his leanness, he was termed by Cromwell himself, with no little blasphemy, when in an unusual fit of jocularity and good humour, “the holy _ghost_!” When they had gained the house, he made a low reverence to Cromwell, repeating the words, “honour to whom honour is due, fear to whom fear.” “Well, my good soldier, what wouldst thou?” “Will it please you, my lord, to walk forth in the cool of the day, and commune with thy servants, our captains and officers?” “Yes, in a few moments I shall be with them.” The soldier retreated to the door slowly, whilst he said, “Now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace.” Cromwell, in a little, walked forth alone. The miller looked at his form. It was muscular, but not strong, and well built, but not handsome; but all its movements were expressive of power. “He _will_ save the nation,” exclaimed Miss Evelyn, “and for all his greatness, he is yet so pious and devout.” “I could trust that man,” replied Rachel, “but I could not feel any attachment or affection to him. He might perish to-morrow, and yet, but for our country, I would not mourn at his loss.”