had done, but there was a lifting of his cloud in one way--he felt less
uncomfortable than at first; he was getting a little used to his
circumstances and surroundings; his chains still galled, but not all the
time; he found that the presence and homage of the great afflicted and
embarrassed him less and less sharply with every hour that drifted over
his head.

But for one single dread, he could have seen the fourth day approach
without serious distress--the dining in public; it was to begin that day.
There were greater matters in the programme--for on that day he would
have to preside at a council which would take his views and commands
concerning the policy to be pursued toward various foreign nations
scattered far and near over the great globe; on that day, too, Hertford
would be formally chosen to the grand office of Lord Protector; other
things of note were appointed for that fourth day, also; but to Tom they
were all insignificant compared with the ordeal of dining all by himself
with a multitude of curious eyes fastened upon him and a multitude of
mouths whispering comments upon his performance,--and upon his mistakes,
if he should be so unlucky as to make any.

Still, nothing could stop that fourth day, and so it came. It found poor
Tom low-spirited and absent-minded, and this mood continued; he could not
shake it off. The ordinary duties of the morning dragged upon his hands,
and wearied him. Once more he felt the sense of captivity heavy upon
him.

Late in the forenoon he was in a large audience-chamber, conversing with
the Earl of Hertford and dully awaiting the striking of the hour
appointed for a visit of ceremony from a considerable number of great
officials and courtiers.