“And should I die ere he comes--promise to give them to him,” said Gabriel, pleadingly. “Dying folk must often have asked your aid, Vicar. I ask that--nothing but that?” “Now, may God forgive me if I do amiss,” muttered the Vicar. Then, turning to meet the eager hazel eyes which watched him so intently, “I promise you, my poor boy. Be at rest.” After this Gabriel lay with closed eyes until he heard Hilary’s voice. “I fear we have seemed long,” she said, “and you are suffering so much.” He smiled. “Not now,” he replied, reviving for a while from sheer happiness in the change that had come over her. “You little folk run over and play under the apple trees,” said the Vicar to Nan and Meg, “while I tend my patient.” And with Hilary’s help he rapidly bound up the wounds in a somewhat rough and ready fashion, and put the arm in a sling. “Captain Harford has told me much, my dear, while you have been gone,” he remarked. “Do you feel disposed to take on you the duties of nurse?” Hilary blushed and glanced shyly at her lover. “Yes,” she replied. “Where can we best shelter Gabriel?” “He thinks that his presence at the Vicarage could not be hid from the villagers. We must not risk awakening Colonel Norton’s suspicions.” “Uncle! Why should we not use the room in the Church tower? The bell-ringers never go up the steps. No one but Zachary ever goes, and Zachary must be taken into the secret.” “’Tis well thought of, child; Captain Harford would be safe enough there if we can once carry him up unseen.” “Why should you not give out that you mean to use the tower room for your antiquities?” “You can truthfully say that you are making a study of bones,” said Gabriel, smiling in the midst of his pain. “The notion is not amiss, but yet it will be hard to take him there in broad daylight,” said the Vicar, securing the last bandage. Hilary’s face lighted up. “Why,” she cried, eagerly, “you and Zachary might carry him in a hop-pocket? If you go by way of the hop-yards you would scarce be likely to meet a soul, and if you did, ’tis easily explained that you are carrying something you have just discovered. The villagers will only think ’tis what Mrs. Durdle calls one of Parson’s ‘antics.’” The Vicar turned with a smile to Gabriel. “Did I not tell you she would hit on some device? But before I go I will help you to move to the other side of the hedge, for there is a right of way through this orchard to Ledbury, and you had best not risk being seen.” “The pursuit was hot, but I think it must be over by now,” said Gabriel, allowing himself to be helped to a place where he was sheltered from the orchard by an elm tree and a low hedge. “There! now don’t stir till I return,” said the Vicar. “I will go home and bid Mrs. Durdle prepare the room, and bring Zachary back with me, as soon as may be. And you little people, let Mistress Hilary know if anyone comes in sight.” “Ay, sir,” said the children, curtseying.