The groans of Lady Bellingham, the consternation of her attendants, the
fierce disputes of her ghostly assistants, occasionally suspended by
ejaculations and hymns, exhibited a scene of distracting confusion, in
which it would have been impossible for the firmest mind to have
preserved its recollection. Lady Bellingham was soon induced to say that
she knew she had once been in a state of grace, and this acknowledgement
was welcomed as her pass-port to heaven[1]. She was informed that her
salvation was unalienable; that grace could neither be resisted nor
forfeited, and that though the saints might appear to sin, yet their
offences were not imputable to them.
This pious conflict (for in an age when fanaticism and hypocrisy were
misnamed religion, these solemn mockeries passed for charitable
assistance to the dying,) was interrupted by the presence of Monthault,
now become the favourite and confidant of a chief leader of the
fanatical party. This renegade-Loyalist had served Cromwell with
conspicuous bravery in the Irish wars, and once, when a division of the
army was thrown into great danger, by the retreat of the forlorn hope,
before it had accomplished its purpose, he rushed forward, killed the
commanding officer with his own hand, and seizing the colours, led them
back, undismayed, by a grove of pikes and a shower of missile weapons.
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