He saw that he was not likely to have any chance of speaking to her alone, and was obliged to risk this allusion. The girl coloured, but kept her countenance marvellously. “I am right glad he hath recovered,” she said, in an even, carefully-controlled voice. “Hath he rejoined Sir William Waller?” “Not yet,” said the Doctor, admiring her self-command, yet longing to know what her thoughts really were. “He hopes to be strong enough to return next month, and, till then, remains at Notting Hill.” Just then the sound of loud and angry voices in the entrance lobby startled them all, and the next minute the door was opened by Mrs. Durdle, who was installed as housekeeper at the Vicarage. “Oh, sir,” she exclaimed, “here’s Zachary the clerk, beside himself, with Peter Waghorn, and I do think, sir, they’ll soon come to blows.” “What’s amiss?” said the Vicar, setting his college cap straight and hastily rising from his elbow-chair. “I believe, sir, you know this man Waghorn,” he added, glancing at the Doctor, who followed him out of the room, thinking that perhaps he might help to pacify the fanatic. “That hateful Waghorn gives my uncle no peace,” said Hilary, indignantly. “Let us come and hear what the dispute is about, Frances.” Now, if there was a man upon earth whom the girl cordially detested it was this village wood-carver, for she had an instinctive consciousness that he was their bitter enemy. Moreover, her earliest dispute with Gabriel after their betrothal had been caused by him, as well as the bitterness of their last interview in the parvise porch at Hereford, an interview which she never recalled without pangs of remorse. “Hold your peace, Zachary,” said the Vicar, “an you rail at the man like that I can understand nothing. What is the dispute betwixt yourself and the clerk, Waghorn?” “I have no dispute with him,” said Waghorn. “I did but cast a stone at the idolatrous painted window in the church, when Zachary fell upon me with railing and abuse and haled me to your presence.” “You have broken the east window!” exclaimed the Vicar, in great distress. “The only bit of old glass we have in the church! Man! how could you do it?” “The Parliament hath given orders for the destruction of all idolatrous and popish windows,” said Waghorn, his stern, square-set face utterly unmoved by the Vicar’s distress. “How can you pretend to see aught popish or idolatrous in a window that represented Michael, the archangel, vanquishing the devil?” said the Vicar, despairingly. “Were Popes of Rome in existence then? And as to idolatry, do you think so ill of your neighbours as to fancy they would bow down to a window?” “If they don’t at Bosbury, they do at Hereford; there’s plenty of altar-ducking there, thanks to Archbishop Laud.”