“That is the very truth,” said Hilary, blushing, and lowering her voice. “This morning I thought--I fancied--that a loyal King’s officer had the chief place there; and now--now--I am half afraid that all the time my heart has been harbouring a rebel.” “Try to forget their opinions, and think of them only as men. Believe me, child, love has naught to do with matters of State.” “That is what Gabriel Harford always said--we were betrothed before the war began.” “And then, I suppose, you quarrelled.” “Yes--we--parted. I vowed I would never wed a man who was not loyal, and he protested that loyalty meant faithfulness to law.” “’Tis what my sons said, too. The King had unlawfully imprisoned, unlawfully taxed and unlawfully governed without a Parliament for eleven years, and they said they must defend the ancient liberties of England. Tell me of this other lover, child.” “Gabriel thinks him unfit to speak to me, and says that the Royalists themselves blame his way of life.” “Have you known him long?” “Not very long. But to Uncle Coke and to me he hath been all that is kind. I wish you would tell me the truth about him, dear madam.” “Surely it is not possible that you mean Colonel Norton? Hath he dared to force himself upon you?” “Why, he hath shown great attention to my uncle, and is ever bringing him rare antiquities that greatly please him, and many and many a time I have talked with him.” “Oh, child! you are too inexperienced. I know Colonel Norton, for the officers of the Canon Frome garrison live here at free quarters. Have no more to do with him, Hilary, for, believe me, he is cruel and dissolute. At this very time, Sir Richard is writing to beg for the appointment of some other governor, and I am writing of our grievances to our kinsman, Lord Hopton, the noblest of all the King’s generals.” “Were we, then, so deceived in Colonel Norton? I know that I am ignorant enough, but Uncle Coke----” “My dear, the Vicar of Bosbury is the most genial and kind-hearted gentleman, and very slow to suspect that all men are not of a like disposition. You must warn him--you can tell him of our talk.” “He ought to know, but, oh, dear madam! I cannot tell him,” said Hilary, blushing to the roots of her hair. “Why, only this morning I fancied--oh!” she cried, springing to her feet in a burst of indignation, “how _dared_ that man trifle with me!--how dared he!” “The best plan will be for me to say a word to Mr. Geers, he is your uncle’s friend, and he knows more of Colonel Norton than Sir Richard doth. Do not grieve your heart any more, my child,” said Dame Elizabeth, embracing her. “Stay to supper, and I will arrange matters for you. And as for Mr. Harford, remember this, ’tis not a man’s opinions that make him a good husband, but his life and character.”