these things were lost upon Jocelyn, who had eyes only for one object.  She was there, and how lovely she appeared!  How exquisite in figure—­how faultless in feature!  Some little embarrassment was discoverable in her manner as the young man entered; but it quickly disappeared.  Her father was with her; and advancing towards Jocelyn, he took him kindly by the hand, and bade him welcome.  Then, without relinquishing his grasp, he presented the young man to his daughter, saying—­

“This is Jocelyn, the son of my dear departed friend, Sir Ferdinando Mounchensey.  Some inscrutable design of Providence has brought him hither, and right glad I am to behold him.  Years ago, his father rendered me a signal service, which I requited as I best could; and there is nothing I would not gladly do for the son of such a friend.  You will esteem him accordingly, Aveline.”

“I will not fail in my duty, father,” she replied, blushing slightly.

And Jocelyn thought these words were the sweetest he had ever heard pronounced.

“I would pray you to break your fast with us, if our simple fare will content you,” said Hugh Calveley, pointing to the table.

“I am not over-dainty, and shall do ample justice to whatever is set before me,” Jocelyn replied, smiling.

“It is well,” said the Puritan.  “I am glad to find the son of my old friend is not a slave to his appetites, as are most of the young men of this generation.”

With this they approached the board; and, a lengthy grace being pronounced by Hugh Calveley, Jocelyn sat down by the side of Aveline, scarcely able to believe in the reality of his own happiness—­so like a dream it seemed.

CHAPTER XVII.

A rash promise.

During the slender repast, Jocelyn, in reply to the inquiries of the Puritan, explained the two-fold motive of his coming to London; namely, the desire of taking vengeance on his father’s enemies, and the hope of obtaining some honourable employment, such as a gentleman might accept.

“My chances in the latter respect are not very great,” he said, “seeing I have no powerful friends to aid me in my endeavours, and I must consequently trust to fortune.  But as regards my enemies, if I can only win an audience of the King, and plead my cause before him, I do not think he will deny me justice.”

“Justice!” exclaimed the Puritan with deep scorn.  “James Stuart knows it not.  An archhypocrite, and perfidious as hypocritical, he holdeth as a maxim that Dissimulation is necessary to a Ruler.  He has the cowardice and the ferocity of the hyaena.  He will promise fairly, but his deeds will falsify his words.  Recollect how his Judas kiss betrayed Somerset.  Recollect his conduct towards the Gowries.  But imagine not, because you have been evil intreated and oppressed, that the King will redress your wrongs, and reinstate you in your fallen position.  Rather will he take part with the usurers and extortioners who have deprived you of your inheritance.  How many poor wretches doth he daily condemn to the same lingering agonies and certain destruction that he doomed your father.  Lamentable as is the good Sir Ferdinando’s case, it stands not alone.  It is one of many.  And many, many more will be added to the list, if this tyrannical Herodias be suffered to govern.”