I leave London as soon
  almost as my letter.  Your mother I saw here with her nephew.  She
  loves you as I do.  Henry Ireton comes with me—­he served very
  stoutly at Edgehill, and hath a gunshot in the arm.  None is like
  to serve these times better than he.  Give my loving duty to your
  grandmother, which I shall at once deliver myself.  God bless you. 
      Your affectionate Father.

Mrs. Cromwell: You are born into a great story, child.  I am old.

Bridget: It’s wonderful.  To stand like that.

Mrs. Cromwell: Not wonder only, girl.  There are griefs.

Bridget: They are wonderful, too, I think.

Mrs. Cromwell: Youth, you are dear.  With an old woman, it’s all reckoning.  One sees the follies then of this man and that.

Bridget: It had to come, grandmother.  The King was taking all.

Mrs. Cromwell: It had to come.  Men were no wiser than that.  To make this of the land!  One Cain, as your father says.

Bridget: It’s as though life were different, suddenly.  Do you feel it, grandmother?

Mrs. Cromwell: I know.  There are times when wrath comes, and beauty is forgotten.  But it must be.

Bridget (from the letter):  “This is God’s service, and all must be given.”

Mrs. Cromwell: Yes.  Even that.

Bridget: But you do think father is right?

Mrs. Cromwell: Yes, child.  He could do no other.  That’s his tribute to necessity.  We all pay it.  He will pay it greatly.  We may be sure of that.

(Horses are heard outside.)

Here they are.

(BRIDGET goes out to meet CROMWELL and IRETON, with whom she returns in a moment.  IRETON’S right arm is in a sling.  MRS. CROMWELL has put her book aside, and is standing.  She embraces OLIVER.)

Cromwell: Well, mother.  Almost before our own tidings, eh?

Mrs. Cromwell:
Bless you, son.  How d’ye do, Henry Ireton? 
(Shaking hands with him.)
Is it Colonel Ireton yet?

Ireton: No, ma’am.

Cromwell: Soon, mother.  He is marked.

Bridget: Is the arm—­

Ireton: No, nothing.

Cromwell: The mayor has not come yet?

Bridget: No.  You expect him?

Cromwell: Yes.  We must work at once.

(A bell rings.)

Bridget: That may be the mayor.  I will bring him.

(She goes out.)

Cromwell: Elizabeth sends her devotion to you, mother.

Mrs. Cromwell: Thank her, truly.  Well, boy, it has begun?

Cromwell: We must dispute it to the end now.

Mrs. Cromwell: May England prosper by you.

Cromwell: With God’s help, amen.

(BRIDGET returns with the MAYOR of Ely.)