room was panelled
with dark shining oak, had a polished floor, an immense chimney-piece,
and a moulded ceiling. Within it were a few high-backed chairs, and
some other cumbrous furniture, while on an oak table at the side, was
spread the simple morning repast of the Puritan and his daughter. But
all 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