the cause of Charles Stuart, would so plot against my life.  And now, sir, I thank you heartily for the great service you have rendered me.  My life is, I think, precious to England, where I hope to do some good work before I die.  I say only in return that henceforth you may come and go as you list; and I hope yet that you will sit by me in Parliament, and aid me to set things in England in order.  Do not take this, sir, as in any way a recompense for saving my life.  The war is over; a few of those who had troubled, and would always trouble the peace of England, have been executed.  Against the rest we bear no malice.  They are free to return to their homes and occupations as they list, and so long as they obey the laws, and abstain from fresh troubles and plots, none will molest them.  But, sir, in order that no molestation or vexation may occur to you, here is a free pass, signed by General Fairfax and two of the commissioners, saying that you are at liberty to go or come and to stay where you please, without hindrance or molestation from any.”

Harry took the document, bowed, and withdrew.

“It is a thousand pities,” he said to himself, “that his majesty the king has not somewhat of this man’s quality.  This is a strong man, and a true.  He may have his faults—­ay, he has them—­he is ambitions, he is far more fanatical for his religion than was Charles I. for his.  He is far more absolute, far more domineering than was King Charles.  Were he made king to-morrow, as I hear he is like enough to be, he would trample upon the Parliament and despise its will infinitely more than any English king would ever have dared to do.  But for all that he is a great man, honest, sincere, and, above all, to be trusted.  Who can say that for the Stuarts?”

Upon the day of his arrival Harry had written to Jacob telling him the cause of his sudden departure, and promising to return by the first ship, He hesitated now whether he should sail at once, or go down to see his father, but he determined that it would be best, at any rate in the first place, to return to Hamburg and look after his companion, and then to come over to see his father, before carrying out his intention of proceeding to Virginia.  A ship would, he found, be sailing in three days, and he wrote to his father telling him that he had been in London for a day or two, but was forced by the illness of Jacob to return at once; but that upon his friend’s recovery he would come back to Abingdon for a short time before leaving.  He arrived at Hamburg without adventure.  On reaching the hotel he was informed that Jacob was delirious, and that his life was despaired of.  The rascally boatman could not have given the message with which he had been charged, since Jacob, upon the day after he was first missed, had risen from his bed, and insisted on going in search of him.  He had, after many inquiries, learned that one answering to his description had taken part in a fray in a drinking-house—­interfering