When they left the gates of the prison there was a large gathering of men, and it increased as they proceeded,—a pitiful crowd, whose very silence was the highest eloquence. For they understood. Cluny lay prone and oblivious to their vision. They had seen him come from the Bastile. He was dead, or dying, and these angry, weeping soldiers were his comrades. They began to mutter, to exclaim, to voice their sympathy more and more intelligibly. Women, praying and weeping audibly, joined the procession, and Israel foresaw the possibility of trouble. He felt that in some way order must be restored, and inspired by the wisdom within, he raised his hands and in a loud, ringing voice, began the favourite hymn of his troopers; and to the words they had been used to sing in moments of triumphal help or deliverance they carried Cluny, with the solemn order of a religious service, safely into their camp. For when the hymn began, the crowd followed quietly, or dropped away, as the stern men trod in military step to their majestic antiphony: "Lift up your heads, O ye gates, And the King of glory shall come in." "Who is the King of glory?" "The Lord strong and mighty; the Lord mighty in battle. Lift up your heads, O ye gates, And the King of glory shall come in." "Who is this King of glory?" "The Lord of hosts; the Lord mighty in battle, He is the King of glory!" [Illustration: "’LIFT UP YOUR HEADS, O YE GATES, AND THE KING OF GLORY SHALL COME IN.’"] *CHAPTER XVI* *OLIVER THE CONQUEROR* "O Heart heroic, England’s noblest son! At what a perfect height thy soaring spirit burns Star-like! and floods us yet with quickning fire." * * * * * "Cromwell is dead: a low-laid Heart of Oak." * * * * * "There the wicked cease from troubling, there the weary are at rest." "Cheer up, Jane! You and Lord Neville will yet arrive at the height of your wishes. This is my judgment, and if it be not true, you may burn me in the ear for a rogue." "And you will marry Cymlin?" "Perhaps I shall, perhaps I shall not; perhaps ’tis time enough next year to consider on it." "It would be a happy marriage." "A happy marriage would be so much of heaven that I think it was never enjoyed in this world. ’Tis a weary world, I swear I often cry for myself in it." "But you will marry Cymlin?" "Faith, I know not how I am to help the catastrophe! But in all sobriety, I think Cymlin loves me, and you do, too, dear Jane! Oh, I could weep my eyes dry when I think of your dear lover, and all he has so innocently suffered. It is intolerable!" In her way, Matilda was doing her best to console and encourage Jane as they talked over the sad fate of her rescued lover. Both had been weeping, and there was a more affectionate confidence between them than had existed for many years.