“We were at Ringwood about Easter, pretty well worn out with long marches and the worst weather of the whole winter, in our journey for the relief of Taunton,” said Gabriel. “But now Sir William Waller’s army is disbanded, and I was sent for a time to Gloucester with a contingent of the men to serve under Massey in Herefordshire.” “They certainly work you hard and don’t overfeed you. Why, you are well-nigh as lean and hollow-cheeked as when I first saw you in that pestilent gaol at Oxford.” “We have in truth been half-starved these many months,” said Gabriel. “What else can one expect when the country has been laid waste and plundered for nigh upon three years? And even if provisions were to be had for money, we had naught to pay with, thanks to the mismanagement of the authorities.” Helena, determined that he should at least have all that the Manor would provide in the way of a banquet, hastened off to interview her housekeeper, while Gabriel, with a secret pang, watched the fatherly pride with which Humphrey showed off the perfections of the blue-eyed, curly-locked son and heir, who rolled and kicked in perfect bliss on the hearthrug, quite indifferent to the fact that he was in a most distracted country. “He is the image of Helena,” said Humphrey. “All save his hands; did you ever see such a fist in a brat of his age? You should feel how hard he can grip. Soon we shall have him at work with the dumb bells!” “You have been reading Mr. John Milton’s letter on Education,” said Gabriel, with a laugh, “and mean to have him as well skilled in athletics as an ancient Greek. I found my friend, Captain Heyworth, deep in the treatise the other day.” “Oh! you mean the gentleman that married my pretty cousin Clemency. I have heard naught of them since old Sir Robert Neal’s death. How do they fare?” “Sadly enough; you probably didn’t hear that he lost his arm at the second battle of Newbury. It came about through sheer lack of surgeons, and through the scandalously inadequate aid for the wounded. Each regiment was supposed to have its surgeon and two mates, but at Newbury the supply had fallen into arrears, and Heyworth’s wound gangrened, and many other men lost their lives just from neglect and from the severe privations we had to put up with.” “And you have seen the Heyworths in their home since then?” “Yes, I was at Katterham about two months ago. It is piteous to see that poor fellow suffering, and like to suffer all his life long, Sir Theodore Mayerne says. We are speaking of my friend, Captain Heyworth,” he explained as Helena rejoined them. She listened to his account with eager sympathy in her gentle eyes. “I remember him well,” she said, “both here and at Gloucester; he was ever cheerful and light-hearted. Doth he keep up his spirits even now?” “He makes a gallant effort to do so,” said Gabriel, “but you can guess what it would be for a man of his active habits to be a helpless invalid at three-and-twenty.”