“Yet she had a great spirit, and was the sweetest and gentlest of ladies,” said Gabriel. “What hath befallen her children?” “The six younger ones remain at Brampton, under the care of Dr. Wright and his wife, who were present during the siege and a great comfort to Lady Brilliana. ’Tis a sad household, though, and grievous harm hath been wrought in the village, for the King’s troops destroyed the church and parsonage and the mill, besides many dwelling-houses.” “I can’t picture the place without its mistress,” said Gabriel. “All the noblest and the best seem to perish through this unhappy war. Do you think, sir, we are any nearer hopes of a settlement?” The doctor shook his head sadly. “Further than ever,” he said, with grave conviction. “Instead of an honourable and high-minded man like Lord Falkland, we have now the rash and unscrupulous Lord Digby as Secretary of State; and Cottington, who is almost openly a papist, has become Lord Treasurer.” “And yet I don’t wish Lord Falkland back to the intolerable post he held,” said Gabriel. “There were few that shared my love for him among the prisoners at Oxford, but as long as I live I shall be thankful for having known him. I can better bear the degradation of these scars on my back by remembering that they were earned in seeking to shield his name.” “In truth, I must ever hold his memory dear for the help he gave you, my son,” said the doctor, with a choking in his throat as he recalled all that Gabriel had borne since their last meeting. “He was a man centuries in advance of his age, and such must ever die broken-hearted.” “Yes; war seemed to him a remedy so brutal that, spite of his natural love of adventure and his fearless and daring spirit, the misery and inhumanity of it drove him into a melancholy,” said Gabriel. “I understand him better since living through the hell of last October, and can see now what he meant by the words he let fall at Oxford when he visited me. Father, when my work with Sir William Waller is ended, I would fain follow in your steps and be a physician; for, in truth, the horrors I have seen make me long to save life and to heal as you do.” “I am glad of your choice, lad,” said the doctor. “We will tell your good friend and physician, Sir Theodore Mayerne, when next he sees you. Indeed, he seems to have a great regard for you, and has given you more of his time than he usually bestows on the highest in the land. What doth Mr. Neal purpose doing until he regains his property, or so much of it as the war hath left?” “Indeed, I know not,” said Gabriel. “He is much to be pitied--being well-nigh alone in the world.” “Humph!” remarked the Doctor, with a smile, “I’m not so sure that he will long be that. A most promising romance is being enacted down below while you lie here in this quiet room.” “A romance?” said Gabriel.