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248 his own. Even so had his past mingled gloom and brightness, and so unquiet and troubled was his actual life. Still present to his mind rose one beloved face—beloved in spite of all. In vain he said to himself, "How lightly did she give me up!" He felt aggrieved, but not the less did he feel that for him there existed no other. Never again could he love woman as he had loved Francesca Carrara. Vainly he strove to banish that sweet face, which rose too vividly to his memory; he could not fix his thoughts on the many important points which needed consideration in his present position. Highly trusted, and for his father's sake, by the Protector, he knew all the need there was to prove himself worthy of such confidence; still, to-night one vain and fond regret reigned paramount.

But his reverie was interrupted by hurried steps; he turned, and saw Henry Cromwell, white with some strong agitation, and so absorbed in his own thoughts that at first he did not observe Evelyn. He caught sight of him suddenly, and anxiously grasping his arm, exclaimed, "Have you heard the intelligence? The Lord Protector is no more!"

Evelyn stood speechless. The awe of a great man's death struck upon his heart; and even the