"Command me to your own convenience," replied Colonel Cromwell.
"To-morrow, then."
The two went into the hall, which was filled by the smell of the tansy pudding.
My lord asked after the eldest son of his host.
"He is very well, I thank you. He is at Newport Pagnell with my Lord St. John's troop of horse. Richard is still at Felsted, as is Henry; but I mean soon to take them from their schooling and put them in the army. Fairfax would take one in his lifeguards; Harrison, I think, another."
"So soon!" exclaimed my lord. "Their years are very tender."
Colonel Cromwell smiled.
"But the times are very rough, and we must suit ourselves to the times."
He opened the door; Ely showed bare and dreary beneath the darkening sky, from which a few flakes of snow were beginning to slowly fall. The two gentlemen touched hands and parted. As Colonel Cromwell still stood at the door of his house, gazing thoughtfully at the winter evening as if he saw there some sign or character plain for his reading, his wife descended the stairs and, seeing him there, came to his side. She had a bunch of keys in her hand, and the light from the lamp above the door gleamed on them. Her docile eyes lifted to his; her face had a look of stillness: she seemed a creature made for quietness.
"What had my lord to say?" she asked.