Colonel Newbolt was a man who had risen from the people. He had displayed considerable military talents, which Cromwell had been quick to recognize and to make use of; so he had pushed John Newbolt, stirring up his ambition and throwing titbits to him as one does to a hungry dog, and Newbolt had responded. He was not a man likely to go back, or to suffer himself to be defrauded of what he had gained honestly, as he considered, therefore he now persuaded himself that the change in his political opinions was both desirable and lawful. His position had been, according to his lights, honestly won, both in the field and in Parliament, where he had taken his seat. It was but natural that he should desire to retain his place and wealth, and hand them down to his son.
He was glad that circumstances had enabled him to join hands with Reginald, and, as is often the case, his new loyalty was somewhat exaggerated, almost to bravado.
"Well, Reggie, will you be ready to ride to-morrow?" he asked boisterously, as he came up towards him.
"Where to?" asked the youth.
"Why, to London, of course, man! We must not be laggards. I would not miss the king's entrance into the city for a hundred pounds."
"I had not thought of going so soon," said Reginald; "but if you desire it, I will accompany you."
"I do desire it," said his father; "we will go together."
"As far as London," said Reginald; "but as for presenting myself with you before the king, I cannot do that; I have no place at court."
"Tush, tush, man!" said his father, "we will soon find you one."
"Thanks! but I am in no hurry," said Reginald; "nevertheless I will ride with you. I should like to see the pageant, and shout 'Long live the king!'"