Gabriel tried to picture Lady Brillianas dismay could she have seen her favourite son in his forlorn plight, for Ned, at the best of times, was far from strong. Meantime, the citizens, having had a good look at the soldiers, withdrew, bolting and barring their doors; and it was with much difficulty that fuel was procured for the great fires which the officers ordered to be kindled in the street. Gabriel was doing his best to help with these when he was joined by his father, and they worked with a will to get food for the weary men, retiring after midnight, and taking Ned Harley with them for the rest he sorely needed. When his friend had been fed and warmed, and left to the blissful quiet of a great four-post bed in the guest chamber, Gabriel followed his father to the study. The doctor was smoking his short clay pipe beside the fire, and he looked with a certain expectancy at his son, whose change of expression was noteworthy. “Sir,” said Gabriel, “I crave your leave to join the Parliamentary Army. I had determined to ask it before the arrival of Lord Stamford’s force, but this will make matters still easier and to-morrow Sir Robert Harley himself will be here.” The doctor’s face was sad, and he sighed heavily. “I am not surprised that you wish to serve,” he said. “I will try not to grudge you to the good cause, my son. But God grant that this fratricidal war may be a brief one.” “Were it not a war in defence of our rightful liberties, I would never draw sword, sir,” said Gabriel. “But since the discovery of the Army Plots I know you also hold that there was naught for the Parliament to do but in defence of the country’s rights to seize on the Militia and prepare us to face foes from without and from within. The King makes specious promises ‘on the word of a King,’ but his word has been proved to be wholly untrustworthy. They say he is swayed by evil counsellors, and if so, let us fight to deliver both King and country from that curse. I for one would gladly enough die.” “Lad,” said Dr. Harford, reading his thoughts, “you are sore-hearted and in great heaviness, but forget not that your life is a sacred trust; fight like a brave soldier, but give me your promise that you will not rashly plunge into peril for the sake of ending a pain which you should live to conquer.” Gabriel was silent, he leant his head on the carved wooden chimney-piece and looked down into the glowing embers. “Remember,” said Dr. Harford, “that thousands have to bear just what you are bearing, and that some weakly succumb or sink to lower levels, while others, like your hero, Sir John Eliot, make pain and harsh treatment and contumely so many stepping stones in their career.” “I see not how pain of this sort is to be conquered,” said Gabriel, still watching the embers in which his fancy could picture Hilary’s face. “Live on bravely, and you will find that it will be conquered by life,” said the doctor. “Remember the poet’s saying: