“She is absolutely heartless, and Gabriel Harford has had a lucky escape,” he reflected, too young and impulsive to understand Hilary’s character. “If he had any sense he would wed pretty Mistress Nell, as sweet a little maid as heart could wish, and worth a thousand of this haughty, headstrong maiden.” Meanwhile the “haughty maiden” was pausing at the door of a grey, gabled house. She lifted her beautiful eyes to his, and swept him a stately curtsey. “This is my home, sir. I regret that you should have been put to the very unnecessary trouble of escorting me.” “Madam,” he said, saluting her with grave respect, “any service I can render to my friend is a pleasure; it was quite apparent to me, that at the very moment you were tying Sharp-toothed unkindness like a vulture to his heart, he was seeking to shield you from a momentary discomfiture. I wish you good-day.” “Good-day, sir,” said Hilary, stung to the quick by the truth of his words, and by the calm, unsparing severity of his manner. She was well-used to devotion, and flattery, and admiration of every sort, but here was a man undazzled by her beauty, and only repelled by what Dr. Rogers termed her “high-spirited treatment of her old playmate, Dr. Harford’s rebel son.” CHAPTER XV. “_The spiritual life is not an elaborate system, but a divine life--not a book of Leviticus, but a Gospel of St. John._” --Bishop Walsuam How. When Gabriel had watched the last glimpse of the pale puco gown as Hilary turned the north-west corner of the cathedral, he went despondently enough into the building itself to see whether any mischief had been done by Waghorn and his adherents. At first he could see no slightest trace of damage, but in the north-east transept he encountered Major Locke, pacifying one of the vergers who seemed much concerned at the prospect of “such a mort o’ clearin’ up,” as he expressed it. “It shall be reported to Sir William Waller,” said the major; “but in truth ’tis very hard to prevent the men from being stirred up and led into mischief by these fanatic preachers.” “What on earth induced them to attack Bishop Swinfield’s monument?” exclaimed Gabriel, genuinely vexed to see that the old Bishop’s effigy had been literally hacked to pieces. “Well, it seems that Waghorn, this crazy carpenter fellow, lured them on with tales of a crucifix, and it proved to be a bas-relief just above this tomb. The men have scarce left a trace of it, but you can see the outline on the wall. Then, quite against the Parliamentary order for respecting the monuments of the dead, they must needs go and hew in pieces this effigy. Hearing that mischief was afoot, I was fortunately in time to order them out of the building before they grew more unruly.”