“You were not altogether kind to me; in fact, when we got to the Vicarage you followed Colonel Massey’s example, and beat a hasty retreat.” She made a brave effort to divert him from the subject, observing with a smile: “And I am going to beg you, sir, not to follow the example of Prince Rupert; pray do not push the pursuit any further.” “Pardon me,” said Norton more gravely, “but I have every intention of carrying it to a successful end. Don’t you understand that I love you?” “Sir, it is of no use,” she replied. “I cannot listen to your suit. Pray, pray leave me.” “I will not leave you,” he said, fiercely, “till I clearly understand why you are thus cold and indifferent.” “Sir, I have no love to give you,” she said, with quiet dignity. “Never mind that, my love is hot enough to serve for both.” “I do not _want_ your love,” she said, emphatically. His eyes gleamed with an anger that made him look devilish. “The meaning of which is, that you love another. Rumour spoke truly, and the young Parliamentary captain who spared Bosbury Cross--:--” Hilary started, and a wave of colour suffused her face. “You see I know all about it.” She remained quite silent, with drooped head. “Do you love this Captain Harford? Speak--for I _will_ know the truth!” he said, savagely. Hilary raised her head. There was such suffering and pathos in her face that any man not the thrall of passion would have been touched. “Sir, all our lives we have loved each other. Oh! if you understood, you would be generous,” she said. “Why did you not tell me the truth on Monday?” “Our betrothal had ended at the beginning of the war. I vowed I would not love a rebel. But yesterday, when we met again, I found that war was weaker than love, that it could not really part us.” “So you became disloyal to your King?” “No, no; I shall always honour His Majesty; but in truth I can think of only one man in all the world, and that”--her face lighted up--“that is Gabriel Harford, for he _is_ all the world to me. I have told you the whole truth, sir, and now, by your honour as a gentleman, I ask you to leave me.” “Shall I tell you what you have done?” said Norton, speaking low and rapidly. “You have made me all the more in love with you--all the more determined to win you. What is this Captain Harford? A mere boy, your old playmate, perchance a pleasant comrade, but wholly unfit to be your lord and master.” “Sir,” she said, with a new dignity in her manner, “he is the man I love.” Norton muttered an impatient oath. “Had he been of our party I might have left you to him with a good grace. But nothing shall make me yield to a miserable Roundhead, a strait-laced Puritan, who glories in self-control, and keeps a conscience on his premises. Much good may his conscience do him! I have him like a rat in a trap!” The words almost paralysed her with terror. What did he know? What did he mean? Had he caught sight of Gabriel?