"Even of that have I come to speak," pursued John Pym. "Thou, sagacious as thou art, canst see the next move the King will take when he returneth without the help he hoped for from Scotland?"
The other lifted his fine head quickly.
"He will demand an army for the reconquest of Ireland," he said briefly. "And as I hope for mercy," he added solemnly, "he shall not have it!"
"The only army the Parliament will raise will be one under its own control and officered by its own men," replied John Pym; "but the struggle will be sharp. We have now such men as Hyde and Falkland against us, and the King's Episcopalian party gathereth strength in the House and in the country."
He was silent a while, then he gave a great sigh of mental distress and physical weariness.
"Is it too late to hope for peace?" he murmured, as if speaking to himself. "Is it too late?"
"It is too late," blazed out Cromwell, "to trust the King. Too late, indeed! Unless we wish to wait another Saint Bartholomew—another Valtelline. It is not so long since this Queen's house had those damnable murders done on poor Protestants—she who designed that devilry was a Medici. Was not this woman's mother of that family? And was not the King's grandmother from that same idolatrous court, and was she not a wanton Papist? Trust none of them, Mr. Pym, nor Stewart, nor Bourbon, but listen to the Lord's bidding, even as He commandeth, and care nothing for any other."
"Thou didst not use to be so hot against the King," said John Pym.
"I did not know his subtle tricks, his shifts, his deceptions, his lies, his faithlessness, his great unreason. Hath he not given us his challenge? What did he not write this very month from Scotland? Mindst thou his words? 'I am constant to the discipline and doctrine of the Church of England established by Queen Elizabeth and my father, and I resolve, by the grace of God, to die in the maintenance of it.' And then he proceedeth to fill up the vacant bishoprics, and with those very divines against whom we were bringing a charge of treason. Then what thou hast said, even this moment, of Ireland—tell me not that it was not his sceptre which was the staff that stirred up this flame! No more dealings with Charles, Mr. Pym; the time for that is past."
The extraordinary strength and grandeur that emanated from the speaker's personality, clothing it with that magnificence that is usually only bestowed by the knowledge of high power or a mighty station, was impressed on Mr. Pym as never, perhaps, before; and it flashed into the mind of the bold parliamentary leader that here might be indeed that champion of great fearlessness, indomitable purpose, spiritual enthusiasm, and broad views who would soon be necessary to second him and even to take his place, for he, John Pym, was not young, and was worn with years of infinite labour. Times, too, had immensely changed since first he had stepped forward to defend the English law and English liberties, and in the new, strange, perhaps terrific epoch coming it might well be that a man would be needed of qualities different from his own.