The judicial murders reached in all three hundred and twenty; the number of persons transported as slaves to the West Indies was eight hundred and forty-one. The poor wretches destined to the plantations were distributed into gangs and bestowed on courtiers, who made huge sums by this traffic in the flesh and blood of their fellow subjects. The Chief-justice traded largely in pardons, and managed to accumulate a fortune in this way. No wonder the popular name for the estate which he bought with the money was _Aceldama_, “the field of blood.” The ladies of the queen’s household were specially prominent in this odious work of selling pardons. The little girls who had presented the banner to Monmouth became the portion of the queen’s maids of honour. Two of them died in prison, and the rest were only released upon payment of a heavy ransom. And now James stands triumphant; his throne seems unassailable. He is at the height of his power and prosperity, and Jeffreys is his Lord Chancellor; yet already the writing appears on the wall, and the day of his doom is fast approaching. His terrible vengeance in the west has sent a thrill of horror through the whole country, and has made men loathe his very name. [Illustration] [Illustration: =The Last Sleep of Argyll.= (_From the fresco by E. M. Ward., in Westminster Palace._)] [Illustration: =The Arrest of Alice Lisle.= (_From the picture by E. M. Ward, R.A._)] [Illustration] Chapter XV. AFTER THE REVOLUTION. WILLIAM THE THIRD. “_I am constant as the northern star,_ _Of whose true-fixed and resting quality_ _There is no fellow in the firmament._” A PRINCE now passes by on horseback. He is small, almost diminutive, but by no means insignificant. His figure is slender and apparently feeble, but few men have borne such hardships and sustained such reverses of fortune as he. His forehead is ample, his nose aquiline, his eye bright and keen, his lips thin and compressed, his cheek pale and deeply furrowed by the marks of sickness and care. His whole aspect is pensive, severe, almost morose. At a glance you judge him to be neither a happy nor a good-humoured man. His bearing is simple; he cares nothing for pomp and parade, and he has no particular desire for popularity; yet there is an unmistakable dignity in his presence, and you feel as you gaze upon him that here is a man of high spirit and of great intellectual power, of constant and lofty soul, of unshaken courage and calm fortitude. This is William of Orange, the man whom the exasperated English people called upon to invade their country in order to preserve their liberties and the Protestant faith. He accepted the invitation, and without striking a blow marched from Torbay to London, where he and his wife became King and Queen of Great Britain and Ireland.