“I do not think he would; their natures were wholly different. But, child, it is of hearts, not of politics, I would speak. Do you quite realise what you are doing when you vow you will never again see the man who for so long has devotedly loved you?” “It is he who has changed,” said Hilary, fighting hard to keep the tears out of her eyes. “It is true,” said the Doctor, “that no young and unformed nature could possibly have lived in London through these perplexing years without growth and development. But as a lover, he is unchanged, absolutely constant, and broken-hearted at this untoward dispute. Is there no hope that you will reconsider what you said? He quite admits that he might have explained things more considerately yesterday, but you were both of you stirred by the news of the fighting.” Hilary stifled her inclination to yield; the very sound of the word “fighting” had called back her powers of resistance. “And to-day when we have just heard how the rebel troops have defiled Worcester Cathedral you think to find me more amenable?” she exclaimed, indignantly. “Tell Gabriel, sir, that I am more than ever resolved to have nothing to do with those who side with the Parliament. He has given me up for what he calls the ‘country’ and, pray, tell him that I care only for the King.” In her sparkling eyes, in the hard look which dawned in the naturally sweet face, the doctor saw that his mission was hopeless. Very sadly he bade her farewell, convinced that further words would only strengthen her in her resolve; his keen, all-observant eyes seemed for a moment to look her through and through, then, with profound gravity, he turned and walked back to the house. Hilary, with a heavy heart, sauntered aimlessly along beside the moat. She was not well pleased with herself, for as she grew cooler she perceived that her last words had not rung true, and if there was one thing she prided herself on, it was on a high standard of truth and honour. Was it absolutely the case that she cared only for the King? Was her loyal devotion to an unseen head of the State to eclipse every other claim? She pictured Gabriel’s face as he received her curt, cold message, and her pride began to waver; slowly she re-crossed the lawns towards the house--should she not add some more kindly word? Was it not possible to be true to her notion of loyalty yet less harsh to the man who loved her? Glancing up at the study window she saw the old whitehaired Bishop, and remembered how infinitely more thoughtful for Gabriel he had been. Yet no one could dare to call his loyalty in question. What was it that made him view the matter so differently? Drawing nearer she saw that he was standing with clasped hands and closed eyes, his serene face showing plainly that he was in a region far above the petty divisions and difficulties of English life.