In a few moments the good gray-haired vicar came, almost breathless from the haste with which he had crossed the little space between the vicarage and the manor; and a little while after his wife followed him, anxious to learn, as soon as possible, what could have so disturbed the quiet tenor of a mind so regulated by high principles, and garrisoned by holy thoughts, as Annabel’s. Their humble dwelling, though scarce a stone’s throw from the Hall, was screened by a projecting knoll, feathered with dense and shadowy coppice, which hid from it entirely the road by which the horsemen were advancing; so that the worthy couple had not perceived or suspected anything to justify the fears of Annabel, until they were both standing in her presence—then, while the worthy doctor was proffering his poor assistance, and his good wife inquiring eagerly what was amiss, the sight of that gay company of cavaliers, with feathers waving and scarfs fluttering in the wind, and gold embroideries glancing to the sun, as, having left the dusty road, they wheeled through the green meadows, flashed suddenly upon them. “Who can they be? What possibly can bring them hither?” exclaimed Annabel, pointing with evident trepidation towards the rapidly approaching horsemen; “I fear, oh, I greatly fear some heavy ill is coming—but I have ordered all the men to take their arms, and the great bell will bring us twenty of the tenants in half as many minutes. What can it be, good doctor?” “In truth I know not, Annabel,” replied the good man, smiling cheerfully as he spoke; “in truth I know not, nor can at all conjecture; but be quite sure of this, dear girl, that they will do, to us at least, no evil—they are King Charles’ men beyond doubt, churchmen and cavaliers, all of them—any one can see that; and though I know not that we have much to fear from either party, from them at least we have no earthly cause for apprehension. I will go forth, however, to meet them, and to learn their errand—meantime, fear nothing.” “Oh! you mistake me,” she answered at once; “oh! you mistake me very much, for I did not, even for a moment, fear personally anything; it was for my poor mother I was first alarmed, and all our good, kind neighbors, and, indeed, all the country around, that shows so beautiful and happy this fair evening—oh! but this civil war is a dread thing, and dread, I fear, will be the reckoning of those who wake it—”