At that moment the Vicar returned to the sitting-room. “Well, my child,” he said, stroking her hair, “yonder is a pleasant-spoken man, but I can never sign that paper he brought. We will talk no more of it, the very thought of it chafes me. Sing me one of your songs, dear, let us have ‘Come, sweet love, let sorrow cease!” Hilary winced, for the plaintive sweetness of “Bara Fostus Dream” was for ever associated with the summer days when Gabriel had wooed her; but she could not refuse her uncle’s request, and sang the song in a more subdued frame of mind. She had just begun the last verse-- “Then, sweet love, disperse this cloud--” when sounds of confusion in the village street and an uproar of voices brought her to a sudden pause. Running to the window, she called eagerly to the Vicar. “See, Uncle, the people are thronging this way. What can have happened?” And as the Vicar joined her and looked forth, Durdle and Zachary rushed without ceremony into the room, breathless with haste, but each eager to give the news. “Oh, sir, come out and stop it, for pity’s sake,” panted Durdle. “Yes, sir, do’ee now. Mayhap they’ll hearken to you,” said Zachary. “What is wrong?” asked the Vicar, looking from one to the other. “The soldiers, sir--they’ve marched from Ledbury!” “Parliament soldiers, sir,” panted Zachary. “Fetched by Waghorn a-purpose to pull down the cross.” “And they’re a-goin’ to do it, too,” put in Durdle, determined to have the last word. The Vicar’s indignant amaze almost choked him. “What!” he cried. “Pull down Bosbury Cross! Why, Hilary, ’tis one of the oldest in all England--one of our most valued antiquities. God grant I may be able to save it.” He hastily crossed the room towards the door. “Ay, sir,” said Zachary, “you speak to the captain, he be a pleasant-looking young officer. But as for Waghorn, I do think he be gone stark mad.” “Don’t come into the crowd, Hilary,” said the Vicar, excitedly, as he hurried from the house. “Wait in the garden and leave me to plead for this treasure of the past.” CHAPTER XXXVI. “Could we forbear dispute, and practise love, We should agree as angels do above.” --Edmund Waller.