Then she flew back to the sitting-room, and piled fresh wood on the dogs in the fireplace, and by the time everything was ready, had become convinced that all would soon be well, and that her lover would really appear. And now the Vicar’s steps were heard without, and his pleasant voice. Hilary’s heart throbbed wildly, for surely the courteous reply spoken by his companion was in Gabriel’s very tone. The door was thrown open. “My dear,” said the Vicar, “I have brought in Captain Bayly; this, sir, is my niece, Mistress Unett.” Hilary curtseyed, but she really could not speak, so great was her disappointment. “We shall be joined in a minute or two by one of Sir Richard Hopton’s sons,” said the Vicar; “I will speak a word to Durdle. Draw your chair to the hearth, sir, for you look half frozen.” He withdrew to speak to the housekeeper as to arrangements for the two guests, and then lingered for a while in the study with his precious ammonite, so that Hilary was forced to speak civilly to the Parliamentarian, whether she would or no. “’Tis a frosty night,” she remarked, somewhat icily. “Yes, but ’tis nothing to compare with the severe weather we had after Newbury fight, the other day.” “Were you in the second battle of Newbury then?” asked Hilary, interested in spite of herself. “Yes, and we lingered on at Newbury for three miserable weeks after, though the men were dying by scores from sickness, want of food, and lack of physicians and surgeons. There was one of Waller’s officers that well-nigh threw up his commission then and there, and vowed that he’d turn surgeon, for he saw his best friend maimed for life all for lack of skilled aid when wounded.” “Was he not from Herefordshire?” said Hilary, remembering Dr. Harford’s words when he had met the Vicar near Castle Frome. “I can’t tell you, but his name was Captain Harford.” “I thought so,” said Hilary, blushing. “His father and my father were old friends, and I heard of his wish to turn physician.” “Cromwell took a great liking to him,” said Captain Bayly; “and was himself well-nigh distracted to see the cruel suffering of the men, and angry, too, at the disgraceful mismanagement of those in authority. ’Tis strange how often you find that the bravest soldiers are the most tender-hearted men, and have the greatest loathing of war.” “What did this Cromwell advise Mr. Harford to do?” asked Hilary, trying to disguise her eagerness to learn more about Gabriel.