As yet they had not met, nor had Cluny any certain knowledge of the Swaffham's location. There had been some supposition that they would lodge in Leadenhall Street, at the home of Mistress Adair, the widow of an Independent minister who had preached often in the little chapel attached to Oliver Cromwell's house in Huntingdon; but of this he had no positive information, and he certainly expected that Mrs. Swaffham would advise him of their arrival in London.
Mrs. Swaffham had, however, learned that Cluny Neville was personally objectionable to her husband and sons, and, as she could not see clearly what road to take, she very wisely stood still, waiting for some light and guidance. And it seemed unnecessary to trouble Jane's heart until there was a positive reason for doing so; yet her depression and evident disappointment fretted her mother.
"What is the matter with you, Jane?" she asked irritably one morning; "you look as if you had lost everything in the world instead of being, as your father thinks, right on the road to many a good day. I wouldn't throw such a damp over things if I were you."
"You seem to have forgotten Cluny, mother."
"He seems to have forgotten us; he might have called, I think."
"He could have found out. He sees Cymlin often enough."
"I think Cymlin dislikes him. I asked him yesterday if he knew Lord Neville and he answered me rudely."
"Just for that reason he ought to have spoken civilly to me."
"He is your brother, and you must hear and heed what he says. And I must tell you, Jane, that it is not maidenly to take any young man so seriously as you take Lord Neville until your father and brothers are satisfied. It is a matter of importance to them what men are brought into the Swaffham family. There is plenty to make you happy without Lord Neville. Your own people are safe and sound, the Cause we love is secure, and you may now dwell your life out in England; but if we had not conquered, it would have been over the seas and into the wilderness for us, and strangers forever in old Swaffham. I shouldn't think you were done thanking God for these mercies yet; and if not, then where do you find heart-room for such melancholy and moping as I see in you?"