All this time London was angry, anxious, almost tumultuous. Jane would have gone to Cromwell for help—indeed she did go once to Whitehall with this object in view—but she was told that he was in his own apartments silent and sad, and carrying a weight of responsibility that might have appalled the stoutest heart. Indeed, the whole family were quiet and preoccupied, and she came away without finding any fit opportunity to say a word about Cluny and his unaccountable delay. There was no one else to go to. Doctor Verity was visiting the Rev. Mr. Baxter at Kidderminster, and Matilda hated Cluny. Jane could not bear to suggest to Matilda a doubt as to Cluny’s return. Certainly Mrs. Swaffham listened to her daughter’s fears and anxieties, but Jane felt that the Parliament and its doings and misdoings, and the speculations concerning Cromwell, were the great and vital interest filling every heart. No one seemed to care about Lord Neville as she thought they ought to. So far, then, she had borne her sorrow alone, and it had never left her a moment for eighteen days and nights. Even in her sleep she wandered wretchedly looking for him; her pillows were full of evil forebodings, and the atmosphere of her room was heavy with the misery of her thoughts. Fortunately the Cromwells had no idea that Jane was in trouble; they were, as was right and natural, very much excited over the ceremony of the day and the order in which it was to be carried out. His Excellency was with a number of his officers in a separate apartment, but madame, the General’s mother, was in the large parlour of the Cockpit, and when the Swaffhams entered, she rose with delight to meet her old neighbours and friends. In spite of her great age she looked almost handsome in a robe of black velvet and silver trimmings, with a shawl-like drapery of rich white lace. In a short time her daughter-in-law and her grandchildren entered, and Mrs. Swaffham looked curiously at her old friend. Was this indeed the Elizabeth Cromwell she had gossiped with and sometimes quarreled with? this stately woman in purple velvet, with large pearls round her throat and falling in priceless beauty below her waist? There could be no doubt of her identity, for as soon as Mrs. Swaffham began to approach her, she came forward, saying in a tone of real pleasure, "Martha! Martha! How glad I am to see you!" and the two women broke into smiles and exclamations, and then kissed each other.