“Oh, she feared and detested Squire Norton, and to tell the truth--but be sure you breathe no word of this--I have a fancy that she lost her heart to your friend.” “Ho! that is good hearing,” said Joscelyn, with a smile. “There is nothing that would please me more than to see them mated, for in truth he stands in need of just such a sweet-tempered gentle little woman, being over-reserved and apt to grow melancholy over the desperate plight the country is in.” “Let us get my sister to invite the Major and his daughter and you and your friend to supper to-morrow,” said Clemency. “Even should the notion fail to come to anything, it can do them no harm to meet.” So it came about that little Mistress Nell donned her prettiest white gown the next evening, arranged her fair curls with anxious care, and, with her blue eyes looking unusually bright, went with her father to the gabled house in the Close. Her rescuers had already arrived, but Helena had hardly a glance to spare for Joscelyn Heyworth who, for all his six feet and his lion-like mane of golden hair, was, for her, quite eclipsed by a shorter, slighter man, with something in his sunburnt face and liquid hazel eyes which appealed to her. Gabriel greeted her with the easy cordiality of one whose deeper feelings are not in the least touched. “You suffered no ill-effects, I hope, from all your fatigues on the ride to Gloucester,” he said. “Oh! no,” said Helena, eagerly. “When once we were out of pistol range it was enjoyable enough; but I hope I may never have to run again as we did that night. Had you not both dragged me on I must have given up.” Gabriel laughed. “We were cruel only to be kind, but I grant you that the feeling of being pursued is unpleasant. I had a longing to stay and fight it out with that dastardly Colonel. But it would have been over great a risk for you, and your safety was the main object. However, I have an instinct that I shall meet the fellow again, and then maybe shall have a chance of fighting him.” At supper, in the panelled room below, Gabriel found himself between Mistress Nell and his hostess, and _vis-à-vis_ with Major Locke, who kept them all merry with his inexhaustible fund of stories. “Who would think, to hear our laughter, that we were in the midst of a deadly civil war?” said Faith Bennett. “We owe you a debt of gratitude, sir. I have not made so merry for many a day.” “Tell Mistress Bennett the story of the fisher-boy,” said Helena. “That mightily tickled my fancy.” “Oh, that is but a simple tale,” said the Major. “We were crossing some wild country in Herefordshire, and, the day being foggy, had lost our bearings, so I sent one of the men to ask the way of a lad that was fishing in the Wye. He came back to say that he couldn’t understand the boy’s language, and knowing something of dialect, I went to him myself and said, ‘Which is the nearest way to Horn Lacy?’