Joscelyn Heyworth glanced at the little slender figure which clung so closely to his comrade; in the moonlight her girlish face looked pale, but absolutely tranquil, and in her eyes he could read perfect trust in her rescuer. He felt convinced, that ere long such confidence would develop in the girl’s heart into the utter devotion of love. “Now, an’ my friend could but rid his heart of old memories, and forget that Mistress Hilary he raved about at Kineton in his fever, here is as winsome and sweet a bride for him as man could desire,” thought Joscelyn. But Gabriel’s expression was grave, and his eyes had an absent look in them. He paid very little heed to the Major’s daughter when once assured of her safety and comfort, for the clasp of her arms about his neck only made him crave Hilary’s presence the more, and he was dreaming his own dream of how one day it might be his happy fortune to rescue her from some deadly peril or save her from the machinations of such a man as Norton. CHAPTER XIV. “A mighty pain to love it is, And ’tis a pain to miss it; But of all pains, the greatest pain It is to love, but love in vain.” --Cowley. The city of Hereford, which had been evacuated by the last remnants of Lord Stamford’s army shortly before Christmas, was once more in the hands of the Royalists, and throughout the winter, reprisals had been the order of the day. Price, the Mayor, who had admitted Stamford’s troops, was thrown into gaol, his house was plundered, and there was a keen desire to hang him in front of his own door, happily frustrated by the more moderate citizens. Sir Richard Hopton, also, had his house at Canon Frome plundered, while Dr. Harford would probably have suffered imprisonment for his bold advocacy of the Parliamentary cause had not the citizens been loth to lose the services of their first physician. None needed these services more than Mrs. Unett, who all through the cold weather had been grievously ill, and Hilary could not but feel grateful for his skill and helpfulness, even when the virulent tongue of Prebendary Rogers was kindling the flame of vindictive hatred in her heart, and fanning that fierce resentment of Gabriel’s actions which had made such havoc in her life. On the morning of April the 24th she was roused by Mrs. Durdle’s agitated voice, and, opening her drowsy eyes, started up in alarm as she saw the genuine terror in the housekeeper’s fat face. “Is my mother worse?” she asked, anxiously. “Nay, mistress, she is still sleeping, but I stole up to bid you keep the ill news from her as long as may be.” “What news? What is amiss?” cried Hilary. “The Parliament soldiers are marching from Ross to attack Hereford,” said Durdle. “Hark to the ringing of the common bell! It summons all citizens, my Valentine tells me, to come and help with making earthworks at the gates and by the river.”