door of the vestibule—a moment longer, and they came into the parlor, the worthy vicar leading the young man by the hand, as if he were a friend of ten years’ standing. “Annabel,” he exclaimed, in a joyous voice, as he crossed the threshold of the room, “this is the young Lord Vaux, son of your honored father’s warmest and oldest friend; and in years long gone by, but unforgotten, my kindest patron. He has come hither, bearing letters from _his_ father—knowing not until now that you, my child, were so long since bereaved—letters of commendation, praying the hospitality of Ingleborough, and the best influence of the name of Hawkwood, to levy men to serve King Charles in the approaching war. I have already told him—” “How glad, how welcome, doubtless, would have been his coming,” answered Annabel, advancing easily to meet the youthful nobleman, although a deep blush covered all her pale features as she performed her unaccustomed duty, “had my dear father been alive, or my poor mother”—casting a rapid glance towards the invalid—“been in health to greet him. As it is,” she continued, “the Lord Vaux, I doubt not, in the least, will pardon any imperfections in our hospitality, believing that if in aught we err, it will be error, not of friendliness or of feeling, but of experience only, seeing I am but a young mistress of a household. You, my kind friend, and Mistress Summers, will doubtless tarry with us while my Lord Vaux gives us the favor of his presence.” “Loath should I be, indeed, dear lady, thus to intrude upon your sorrows, could I at all avoid it,” replied the cavalier; “and charming as it must needs be to enjoy the hospitalities tendered by such an one as you, I do assure you, were I myself concerned alone, I would remount my horse at once, and ride away, rather than force myself upon your courtesy. But, when I tell you that my father’s strong opinion holds it a matter of importance—importance almost vital to the king, and to the cause of Church and State in England—that I should levy some force here of cavaliers, where there be so few heads of noble houses living, to act in union with Sir Philip Musgrave, in the north, and with Sir Marmaduke Langdale, I both trust and believe that you will overlook the trouble and intrusion, in fair consideration of the motives which impel me.” “Pray—” said she, smiling gaily—“pray, my Lord Vaux, let us leave, now, apology and compliment—most unaffectedly and truly I am glad to receive you, both as the son of my father’s valued friend, and as a faithful servant of our most gracious king—we will do our best, too, to entertain you; and Doctor Summers will aid you with his counsel and experience in furthering your military levies. How left you the good earl, your father? I have heard mine speak of him many times, and ever in the highest terms of praise, when I was but a little girl—and my poor mother much more recently, before this sad calamity affected her so fearfully.”