The girl breathed hard, but kept silence, gazing like one transfixed into Waghorn’s keen eyes. “Speak, Mistress,” he repeated. “Have you seen Captain Gabriel Harford?” “I saw him--yesterday,” gasped Hilary. “We know that. Have you seen him this morning?” There was a minute’s pause, while in agony she tried to see some way out of the dilemma. But way there was none. “You have seen him?” urged Waghorn, merciless as any Inquisitor. “Yes,” she replied, a sob rising in her throat. Norton, with fury in his eyes, stepped nearer to her. “You dare to protect this rebel, and yet you knew that he carried despatches to the rebel army?” Hilary bowed her head in assent, then turned away. “When did you see him?” urged Norton, wrathfully. She looked up, and her terrible distress was evident. “I saw him--anon,” she said, in a broken voice. “How long ago?” “A little while before you came,” she faltered. “Which way did he ride?” cried Norton, maddened at the thought that this girl was thwarting them and making them lose precious time. “Tell me at once.” Utter despair seized her. “Oh!” she sobbed, “have pity on me!” “Pity!” said Norton, savagely. “Have you pitied me? Tell me which way he went, or I’ll----” At this, Gabriel, driven desperate, struggled to his feet, but, turning faint, was forced for a while to lean against one of the hedge-row elms. The children, terrified by his movement and by the dispute in the orchard, dropped their daisy-chains and ran at full speed down the field, while the Colonel, becoming aware of a stir behind him, glanced round. That was too much for Hilary. She sprang forward and diverted Norton’s attention by pointing to the hills. Her voice was the voice of one goaded beyond all endurance. “He rode yonder!” she cried, “to Malvern!” Norton turned to the wood-carver. “Haste, Waghorn! Take word to my servant at the blacksmith’s, and do you ride with him in pursuit. I have a word to say to this lady.” Waghorn was only too ready to undertake such congenial work, and the moment he was gone Norton seized Hilary roughly by the wrists. “By your tears and your pretences,” he said, with fierce scorn, “you have done your best to hinder me; but I would have you know, Mistress, that I am not one to be baffled. You are wholly at my mercy now.” In wild terror, she felt the pitiless brute force of the man. “Let me go!” she panted, struggling to free herself. “No, by Heaven! you shall not,” said Norton, passionately. “Waghorn can settle matters with your lover, and I will make sure of you.” In the agony of her resistance she forgot everything else, and was as much startled as Norton when suddenly an indignant voice rang out close to them. “_Coward!_” cried Gabriel, and his tone made the Colonel wince as he released Hilary, and stood staring at the wounded man, who, apparently almost at his last gasp, nevertheless confronted him with drawn sword.