"What is your proposal to solve the present difficulties?" was Whitelocke's next question. He was determined that he would, if possible, gain something definite from the present conversation.
The Lord-General made no answer, and they walked on slowly and in silence. The very last leaves were scattered from the boughs overhead on to the frosty ground at their feet, and a little low, sharp wind was blowing across the city.
Bulstrode Whitelocke waited for the Lord-General's answer. Himself a moderate man, to a point he was wholly with Cromwell's tolerance and large-mindedness; but when Cromwell's moderation suddenly culminated in daring action, then Whitelocke refused to follow him. He had been one of the most active of those who had endeavoured to frame a treaty with the late King, and had warmly supported Cromwell's attempts to bring Charles to a compromise; but he had refused to sit in the High Court of Justice that had tried and condemned the King. So now he felt that they were again reaching a crisis when he could not support any longer the man whom he so sincerely admired.
But the Lord-General would not any further disclose himself, and when Whitelocke was about to press for a reply he caused a distraction by pausing and pointing to a gentleman walking near the archery fields, to which they had now nearly approached.
"I know his face, who is he?" asked Cromwell.
Bulstrode Whitelocke, somewhat vexed at this abrupt change of subject, answered briefly—
"He is the Latin Secretary to the Council of State."
"Ah," said the Lord-General, "a very worthy citizen. I have heard of him. From the first he hath given his testimony to the good cause. I would there were many more such among you."
By this, the person of whom he spoke drew near, and seeing the two gentlemen, and knowing Whitelocke and recognizing Cromwell, he stopped and bowed.
Cromwell turned towards him, and Whitelocke had no choice but to do likewise.