“Peter Waghorn little understood how much pain his stone-throwing would give,” said Dr. Harford. “I think he was blindly feeling after the truth which unites all who side with us, and is the pivot of Puritanism--that the relationship betwixt God and man is direct, and that no human ceremony, no glory of art, must ever stand between as a barrier.” “Yet you do not deem all such things as necessarily barriers?” said the Vicar. “Not when carefully safeguarded by a true and inward religion,” said the Doctor. “Indeed, I have learnt that through nature God doth oft reveal Himself, just as you have found that in His wonderful works of old, and in the beauty of this place, He may teach us of His ways. ’Twas but a few days since that I read words by my friend John Milton the schoolmaster, a noteworthy Puritan pamphleteer, as all will admit. Yet he wrote right lovingly of: ‘The high-embowèd roof, With antique pillars massy proof, And storied windows richly dight Casting a dim religious light.’” “Ay, and now I think of it,” said the Vicar, “our good neighbour, Mr. Silas Taylor, a Puritan himself, but one that hath a regard for all that is beautiful or of great antiquity, will sympathise with us as you do, sir. After all, ’tis, in the main, lack of education that drives on such fellows as Waghorn--the man is conscientious, but his conscience is untrained--we must have patience.” “Yet Gabriel would agree with his harsh words about the Archbishop,” said Hilary, when for a minute she found herself alone with Dr. Harford, her uncle lingering to lock up the church. “Nay, there you wrong him,” said the Physician, quietly. “He told me that in prison he had lost all his rancorous hatred towards one who was also a prisoner. More and more we both tend to the Independents, who desire the nearest approach to religious toleration that is at present compatible with the safety of the country.” “I fear you will not tolerate us,” said the Vicar, joining them as they re-entered the house. “The Presbyterians certainly will not; and, indeed, I think that Cromwell himself, who is by far the greatest soul now living, would deem it impracticable to have in power again those ecclesiastics who have truckled slavishly to the Court and laid an unbearable yoke on the consciences of Englishmen. Were all prelates like the Bishop of Hereford, and all parsons like yourself, sir, a reconciliation would be easy enough; but as it is, I fear Waghorn is right in prophesying trouble.” Then he told them of his visit to the Tower, and Hilary’s face grew tender and wistful as she learnt of the proposals for the Archbishop’s flight. After all, was not her Puritan lover one who merited deep respect? However much they differed, did she not in her heart of hearts still love him?