“Bravely said, Ecclesiastes! You have clearly studied under the most virulent Puritan preachers of the day,” said Norton, regarding his victim with an amused smile. “Pardon me, sir,” said Gabriel, ashamed of his words, “I should have held my tongue, for, truth to tell, on first sight of you at Gloucester, I thought you----” He broke off, puzzled by that same hint of a better nature which made itself visible in his enemy’s face, as if in response to his unspoken idea. “You thought me as generous and good-hearted a man as ever you had clapped eyes on,” said Norton, laughing. “They all do on occasion, but quickly discover their mistake.” He strolled away from the prisoners, and entering the alehouse hard by, called for a cup of claret. “A second,” he said, when he had drained it. “Here, Tarverfield, you are always for pampering these rebels, take this to Mr. Harford, I’ll warrant his throat is as dry as a lime-kiln.” The Captain was willing enough to undertake the errand, and Norton saw the look of surprise on the prisoner’s face when he heard who had sent the claret. But the next minute an oath burst from the Colonel’s lips. “Curse the fellow! doth he fancy himself at the Sacrament? He but tastes it and passes it on to that wounded wretch beside him, and he again to his neighbour.” For the third time a twinge of shame dragged him for a little while out of the slough of brutality which threatened to engulph him, and once more there rose before him the vision of the dead wife he still loved, though his profligacy had broken her heart and brought her to the grave. The incident drove from Gabriel’s mind the despair he had felt since passing the King. He insensibly learnt that in the most unlooked-for ways good would manifest itself in those who seemed most uncongenial, and thus with a brave heart went to meet the troubles that awaited him in Oxford Castle. Prince Rupert had very truly observed that the prisoners of war were not pampered. The cruelties of Provost-Marshal Smith, the Governor, had been revealed by the Lady Essex, who had been called into the House of Commons some six months before, and had given evidence on her return from Oxford of what the prisoners had to undergo. This had been fully confirmed by Captain Wingate, who after months of imprisonment at Oxford had obtained an exchange. Still bound to Passey, Gabriel was ordered up to the highest room in one of the towers of the Castle with four other officers and six of the rank and file. The place seemed already full of men, and the exhausted prisoners looked round blankly enough, wondering how they were to find room in these wretched quarters. The unhappy inmates, however, gave them a warm welcome, and it was pitiful to see the way in which these half-famished men crowded round them, eager to gain some news from the outer world. “Where do you come from?” demanded a grey-haired prisoner, seizing upon Gabriel.