This speech beginning with a pious submission to God’s will and ending with a dauntless assertion of his own determination, had a marked effect. The Parliamentary members agreed to let the bill for perpetuating themselves lie over until after another conference to be held the following day, and with this understanding, the members of the Council separated. Cromwell took the promise in good faith; and he said to Israel Swaffham as they went towards Whitehall, "I have at last brought Vane to terms. I do think we may draw up the Act for a new Parliament." "Then I know not Vane," answered Israel. "He has more shifts than you dream of, and the other members cluster round him like twigs in a broom." "Everything must bide its time; I mean _His_ time. Truly, I hoped for a settlement to-night; it seems we must wait for to-morrow." Cromwell spoke wearily, and after a moment’s pause added, "’Tis striking twelve. Hark to the clocks, how strangely solemn they sound! Well, then, to-day has come, but we have not got rid of the inheritance of yesterday; and what to-day will bring forth, God only knows. We are in the dark, but He dwelleth in light eternal." *CHAPTER IX* *CROMWELL INTERFERES* "His port was fierce, Erect his countenance; manly majesty Sate in his front and darted from his eyes, Commanding all he viewed." Daylight came with that soft radiance of sunshine over fresh green things which makes spring so delightful. Israel, who had slept his usual six hours, was in the garden to enjoy it, and his heart was full of praise. He watched the little brown song sparrows building their nests, and twittering secrets among the hawthorns. He saw the white lilies of the valley lifting their moonlight bells above the black earth, and he took into his heart the sweet sermon they preached to him. Then suddenly, and quite unawares, a waft of enthralling perfume led him to stoop to where at the foot of a huge oak tree a cluster of violets was flinging incense into the air. He smiled at his big hands among them, he was going to gather a few for Jane, and then he could not break their fragile stems. "Praise the Lord where He set you growing," he said softly; "my hands are not worthy to touch such heavenly things, they have been washed in blood too often." And his heart was silent and could find no prayer to utter, but the conscience-stricken cry of the man of war centuries before him, "Cast me not away from Thy presence, and take not Thy holy spirit from me."