"Oh, father!" cried Mrs. Claypole. "More blood—more misery!"
"It had to be," said Cromwell. "Dost thou think I love it?" He made an effort to shake off his preoccupation and his gloom, "Come, come, this is no news for thee."
He turned again to gaze very tenderly at her as she came with wine on a silver salver.
"Oh, vanity and carnal mind!" he cried, pulling at the ribbons on her sleeve; "thy sister Ireton doth think that thou art too much given to worldliness! Yet seek ye the Lord and ye shall find Him," he added, with a sudden grave smile.
"Sir, I would," she replied earnestly. "Let not my ways deceive you, I am very humble at heart."
"I do believe it," he said.
He drank his wine slowly. He asked where his wife was (he had learnt below that she was abroad), and was told that she was with Lady Wharton.
"She did not expect me," he said half-wistfully. "I wish that I had chanced to find her. Since I am so much away I would have all round me when I am at home."
"She will be in soon," said his mother, gathering up her fine sewing with an air of regret, for the candlelight was not strong enough for her to see the minute stitches.