“In trouble and adversity, The Lord God hear thee still; The majesty of Jacob’s God Defend thee from all ill. And send thee from His holy place His help in every need; And so in Sion stablish thee And make thee strong indeed. “According to thy heart’s desire The Lord grant unto thee, And all thy counsel and device Full well perform may He. The Lord will His anointed save, I know well by His grace; And send him help by His right hand Out of His holy place.” It was Gabriel’s last Sunday in Hereford. On Tuesday night he was to lie at Brampton Bryan; on the following day to set off, in company with Sir Robert Harley and his son for London. His heart was heavy as he wondered when he should again see Hilary, yet, although they were not allowed to meet, there was no small comfort in this glimpse of her at morning service, from which no one had the right to debar him; there was comfort, too, in the words they were singing together, and hope and confidence began to possess his heart, and to bring a look of strength to his face. The Bishop noted it, and bethought him of what Mr. Geers had said. After all, was he perhaps giving these two unnecessary pain? Was it, indeed, useless to try to put an end to love which had grown with their growth and strengthened with their strength? By the end of the service Gabriel had decided that to leave home without a word of farewell to Hilary was intolerable, and being too honourable to steal an interview without leave, he waited in the Bishop’s cloisters hoping to see the prelate as he returned to the Palace, and to make his request. The sunshine blazed on the grass and daisies without, but the cloisters with their vaulted roof and exquisitely sculptured figures and foliage were cool and sheltered; Gabriel leant against one of the mullions of the great windows, glad to feel the fresh September air on his heated forehead. At length steps were heard, and looking up he saw the Bishop approaching, with his chaplain in attendance. Wishing the attendant anywhere else he stepped forward, and bowing low, said, “My lord, may I have a word with you?” Gabriel’s manner was good, and the worthy Bishop, taking the deference in the tone for awe of his office, though it was in truth merely reverence for his age and his learning, felt that he had misjudged Hilary’s lover. Moreover, those who have just joined their prayers and praises see each other in a clearer atmosphere, raised somewhat above the fogs of prejudice and the murky smoke of differing opinions. “You need not wait,” said the Bishop, glancing at his chaplain. “I am glad to see you, Mr. Harford, for I have just learnt from Mrs. Joyce Jefferies that you are about to leave Hereford.”