The talk turned on Dr. Harford’s visit more than a year before, and of Waghorn’s attack on the East window. Gabriel had heard nothing about it, for letters from Hereford had more than once failed to reach him. Indeed, as he explained, he had imagined that Dr. Coke was still at Bromyard. Just then the Vicar was called away to speak to some one, and as Gabriel could not be induced to eat a third pasty, Hilary proposed that they should return to the garden. “It was from this little arbour that I saw and heard all that passed just now,” she said, as they sat down in the cosy little retreat. “I hope you appreciated Durdle’s words of praise.” “Durdle was kinder to me at Hereford than you were,” he said, reproachfully. “She urged me to see you, and so in truth did my mother,” said Hilary, drooping her head. “And you always refused. I wonder if you knew how cruelly you hurt me,” he said, with that note of pain in his voice which always disturbed her. “What would have been the use of inviting you to come in?” she replied. “You know that it was worse than useless when we met in the cathedral porch. We parted because of our great differences. Naught had changed.” “Yet,” pleaded Gabriel, “the Vicar told us but now that there was one thing which must always unite us.” She drew up her head with all her old pride and hardness. “I could never love a rebel,” she said, perversely. Gabriel, bitterly disappointed, remained absolutely silent. A bee flew humming loudly into the arbour, then roamed forth once more to the apple blossom on a tree hard by. There was a faint stirring, too, in the shrubs just behind them in the churchyard as Peter Waghorn, who had followed the movements of the Parliamentary Captain with stealthy malevolence, crouched down that he might hear what treason was being plotted betwixt this half-hearted officer and the Vicar’s Royalist niece. The two noticed nothing, for they were absorbed in their own thoughts. “Why are you a rebel, Gabriel?” said Hilary, more quietly, as she lifted her face to his pleadingly. “Oh, think better of it! ’Tis not too late. Many men have changed sides. Think how good our King is!” Her appeal moved him painfully, a look of keen distress dawned in his eyes. “A good man, but an untrustworthy King,” he said, controlling his agitation with difficulty. “Nay, we won’t argue. You well know that I fight for the ancient rights and liberties of Englishmen, and even for love of you, Hilary, I can’t turn back! I can’t turn back! And yet, oh! my God! how hard it is!” “I did not mean to pain you,” said Hilary, remorsefully. “Nay, I longed to tell you how it pleased me to hear all that you said when Waghorn would have pulled down the cross. Are you still in Sir William Waller’s army?” “No, at present I am serving under Colonel Massey, but I hope ere long to be sent to Sir Thomas Fairfax at Windsor, where he is forming the New Model Army.” “You will serve under him?”