le more
her eighty-odd years than she did in the first scene. After a few
moments BRIDGET comes in. She is opening a letter._

_Bridget:_
Father has written, grandmother. Shall I read it to you?

_Mrs. Cromwell:_
Yes, child.

_Bridget_
(sits by the fire, and reads):
My dear daughter, I am lately arrived in London, from Edgehill in
the county of Warwickshire, where for the first time our men met the
King's army in set dispute. It was late on the Sabbath afternoon, so
that, as we lay for the attack, the sound of church bells came to us
from three or four places. The King had the better ground, also they
exceeded us in numbers, both horse and foot, and in cannon. It is
hard to say which way the battle went, the advantage at one time
being here, at another there. Their horsemen behaved very well,
being commanded by Prince Rupert, a soldier of great courage in the
field. Your Cousin Hampden managed a regiment with much honour, and
twice or thrice delivered our cause. We were engaged until night
stayed us. Some four thousand were slain, their loss, I hear, being
the greater. Of the sixty in my own troop, eighteen fell. We had
commendation from the general, and indeed I think we did not fail in
resolution. But this matter will not be accomplished save we build,
as it were, again from the foundation. This is God's service, and
all must be given. To which end I am now coming home, to call out
all such men as have the love of England in their hearts, and fear
God. I shall labour with them. It seems to me that I shall be called
to great trust in this, and I will set such example as I can. Expect
me as soon as you receive this, for indeed I leave London as soon
almost as my letter. Your mother I saw here with her nephew. She
loves you as I do. Henry Ireton comes with me--he served very
stoutly at Edgehill, and hath a gunshot in the arm. None is like
to serve these times better than he. Give my loving duty to your
grandmother, which I shall at once deliver myself. God bless you.
Your affectionate Father.

_Mrs. Cromwell:_
You are born into a great story, child. I am old.

_Bridget:_
It's wonderful. To stand like that.

_Mrs. Cromwell:_
Not wonder only, girl. There are griefs.

_Bridget:_
They are wonderful, too, I think.

_Mrs. Cromwell:_
Youth, you are dear. With an old woman, it's all reckoning. One sees the
follies then of this man and that.

_Bridget:_