Not for ourselves, or for this day, we fought, But for all lands and for all times we wrought Stormy Salvation: Thine was the battle, both by land and sea, Thine was our valour and our victory, Thine our oblation." So far, Cluny Neville led the singers, but it was Cromwell’s strenuous, adoring tones that mostly influenced the stirring chorus— "Not unto us triumphant lauds and lays, To ’Him whose name is Wonderful’ be praise! Be thanks! Be glory!" The exultant song ceased, but their hearts were yet full of thanksgiving, and Cromwell walked about the room—with Frances and Jane at his side—humming the majestic melody, or breaking out into some line of audible song, until he finally said, "I came here for John Milton, whose pen I need, and I have stayed to sing; and that is well, for the soul has wings as well as hands—and indeed our souls have had a good flight heavenward." Then addressing John Milton, he said, "We have sundry letters to write, and the plain truth is, I could wish they were more heavenly. Here is a man to answer who is playing fast and loose with us,—and I will not have it. He is laying too much weight on my patience; let him take care that he break it not." Speaking thus, he walked towards the door, and Jane marveled at the man. His countenance was changed: all its wistful tenderness and exaltation had given place to a stern, steadfast severity; his voice was sharp, his words struck like caustic, and the homelike, country gentleman was suddenly clothed with a great and majestic deportment. He put on his hat as he left the room. And there was the glint of a gold band round it, and in Jane’s mind it gave to the rugged, broad-hatted grandeur of the man a kind of mythical authority, for she instantly remembered a picture of St. George of Cappadocia in de Wick hall which had the same gold band around the helmet. And ever afterwards she associated in her memory the patron Saint of England and the great Pathfinder of her people. Neville left soon after the Lord General, and the girls had a game of battledore and shuttlecock in the long gallery; then sewing, reading aloud, the evening meal, and the evening exercise closed the day. The days that followed were little different; when the weather permitted there was a ride in the park, or shopping in Jermyn Street, or a visit to St. Paul’s to hear Dr. Owen, or the great tolerant Mr. Jeremy Taylor. But Jane thought Dr. Verity need hardly have given her special counsel against the vanities of such a life as the Cromwells led. On the whole, she was not very sorry when her visit was over and she was free to return home. In spite of the frankest kindness, she felt out of her element. The Cromwells had outgrown their old friends, and not all their familiarities could dispel the atmosphere of superiority which surrounded them; it was unavoidable and unequivocal, though they were not themselves conscious of it.