"At least," said the old gentlewoman composedly, "His Majesty is mewed up, and that should be a step towards the settlement of these tangled affairs."
"Alas, poor King!" murmured the youngest Elisabeth (it was her mother and her grandmother's name). "Alas! alas!"
"Why dost thou say alas?" asked Mrs. Cromwell calmly. "Dost thou not recall what thy father said in the House the other day when he moved that no more addresses should be sent to the King, nor any dealings made with him, under pain of high treason? He put his hand on his sword, thy father did, and he said, quoting Holy Writ—'Thou shalt not suffer a hypocrite to reign——'"
"He said not so much a month ago," replied Elisabeth; "then he was all for a good peace with His Majesty, saying—how could any man come quietly to his own save by that?"
"Thou knowest," returned the old lady, who had much of the strength and melancholy of her son in her calm demeanour, "that all that is changed."
"Will there be another war?" murmured Elisabeth Claypole, looking dreamily into the fire.
"That is a matter for men.... Be not so grave, dear heart, the Lord hath us all in His keeping."
"My father," replied the girl, "hath been grave of late—during all my visit. He thinketh affairs are dark, I believe."
"Not only affairs of the kingdom weigh on him, Elisabeth—something his own do oppress him. The Parliament settlements are yet indefinite, and then there is your brother Richard's marriage. It does not please your father that he should be so deep in love as to leave the Life Guards. And then this Dorothea Mayor's father requireth settlements, hard for your father to give as things now stand—all this weighs with him and puts him in anxieties and silences."