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.
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