John Pym looked at him sharply.
"Hast thou not seen that temper in the House whereof any man might be afraid?" he answered.
"But my Lord Strafford!" exclaimed the other gentleman in a tone as if he named the King himself.
"Thinkest thou I have not the courage to impeach my Lord Strafford?" demanded Mr. Pym grimly. "He is the chief author of these troubles, and must answer for them to the Commons of England."
"I well believe thou hast the courage," answered Mr. Cromwell quietly, taking up the sword which was waiting for him, "as I believe my lord hath the courage to answer you."
"He hath courage," returned John Pym. "You speak as if you favoured him," he added with a smile.
Mr. Cromwell smiled also and they left the shop, turning towards St. Martin's Lane where Mr. Cromwell had his lodgings beyond the fields, and there, when they had reached his chamber, they sat quiet awhile, oppressed by the sense of great events which, gathering force and momentum with every day, were marching forward with the majestic strength of fate—events in which they, these two modest gentlemen sitting silent in this modest chamber, felt that they might be involved, might indeed be piece and part of the new pattern into which the destinies of England were being rapidly woven.
Presently Mr. Cromwell rose and opened the window on to the light of the setting sun which fell aslant the narrow street.
"There is a great battle before us," he said.
"Now the Parliament is called, half that battle is won," replied Mr. Pym.