a moment. IRETON'S right arm is in a sling. MRS. CROMWELL has put her
book aside, and is standing. She embraces OLIVER.)

_Cromwell:_
Well, mother. Almost before our own tidings, eh?

_Mrs. Cromwell:_
Bless you, son. How d'ye do, Henry Ireton?
(Shaking hands with him.)
Is it Colonel Ireton yet?

_Ireton:_
No, ma'am.

_Cromwell:_
Soon, mother. He is marked.

_Bridget:_
Is the arm--

_Ireton:_
No, nothing.

_Cromwell:_
The mayor has not come yet?

_Bridget:_
No. You expect him?

_Cromwell:_