_Ireton:_
Yes.

_Bridget:_
It was splendid, wasn't it--although he lost, I mean?

_Ireton:_
It was the note of deliverance.

_Bridget:_
I wish I could have been there, Cousin John.

_Mrs. Cromwell:_
Will you give me my shawl, Henry Ireton.
(He does so.)
There's Oliver coming. Now you can all be thunder.

_Bridget:_
Now, grandmother, you know you don't think it's just that.

_Mrs. Cromwell:_
So you have hope for me yet, miss?

_Bridget:_
Grandmother.

(CROMWELL comes in. He is in plain country dress. His age is forty.)

_Cromwell:_