"Oh, Jane! I am tipsy with laughing when I think of the doleful widow Ireton—and Fleetwood. You remember what a hot quarrel we had about Ireton being buried among the Kings of England—they will kick him out yet, though they be dead—and how you shamed me for not weeping with the desolated woman?" "It would be better to forget these things, Matilda." "And then she let the widower Fleetwood console her in less than half a year! It makes me blush! Yet the widow Ireton is an honourable woman! To be sure, only God understands women. I don’t. I don’t understand myself—or you." "No woman likes to be put down; and when General Lambert got Ireton’s place, Madame Lambert was insolently proud, and insisted on taking precedence of Ireton’s widow, though she was Cromwell’s daughter." "Fancy the saints quarreling about earthly precedence! Madame Lambert was right. A living dog is better than a dead lion. And I admire the devout Bridget’s revenge; it was so human—so sweetly womanly. How did she get round her father?" "Indeed, men are sweetly human too; and the better men, the more human. Colonel Fleetwood by taking Lady Ireton’s part, won her affection; it was a fitting match, and it pleased the Lord General; he recalled Lambert—who was truly overpowered by his great position—and made Fleetwood commander in Ireland, thus giving his daughter back the precedence." "’Twas a delightful bit of domestic revenge. I enjoyed it. London enjoyed it. Puritans and Royalists alike laughed over it. It was such a thing as any mortal father would have done, and every mortal father, for once, felt kin to the Lord General. ’Nicest thing I ever heard of him,’ said Lord and Lady Fairfax; for, as you know, Lord and Lady Fairfax always have the same opinion." "Why do you talk of it? The thing is past and over." "By no means. The Lamberts are still going up and down, he in wrath and she in tears, talking about it." "Then let us talk of other things. As I came here I met a large company of Dutch prisoners. They were taking them to our Fen country, that they might drain it." "They are very fit for that work. They are used to living in mud and water. How came they?" "They did not come. Blake sent them. He sunk their ship and made them his prisoners." "Why did they interfere with Blake? It serves them right." "The Dutch are at war with the Commonwealth. Does not that please you?" "No. What right have the Dutch to meddle in our affairs? The quarrel is between our King and the Parliament. It is our own quarrel, Englishmen against Englishmen. That is all right. It is a family affair; we want no foreigners taking a hand in it. The only time I ever saw my father angry at the King was when he landed foreigners to fight Englishmen. We can settle our own quarrels. If Dutchmen will come into our boat they will, of course, get the oars over their fingers. Serve them right. Let them go to the Fens. They are only amphibious creatures."