"That Papist family; great friends of Sir John and Lady Wintour. I remember their place. Well?" "He was there in advance, awaiting the Governor to come up, with every hope of their being able to take Monmouth. If they succeed, and they will--I feel sure they will, Vag--then Eustace will be a free man, and all of us go back to Hollymead, with not much danger of being again molested." "Oh?" exclaimed the younger sister, overjoyed by the prospect thus shadowed forth, "wouldn't that be delightful! Back at the dear old place. Once more our walks and rides through the Forest. Our hawking, too. Bless me! my pretty Pers and your Mer, I suppose they won't know us! I trust Van Dom hasn't neglected them, nor my Hector either." And so she ran on, in the exuberance of her new-sprung hopes seemingly forgetting him around whom they all centred. Only for an instant though. Without Eustace Trevor by her side the Forest walks and rides, with Hollymead and its hawking,--would have less attraction for her now. Wherever he might be, that were the place of her choice, thenceforth and for ever. So soon the thought of his being in a prison, with fears of something worse, came back in all its bitterness. And the shadow of returned anxiety was again visible on the brow of Sabrina. A fortified town to be taken there would needs be fighting of a desperate kind--her lover in the thick of it. A forlorn hope for storming, who so like as her soldier knight to be the leader of it? He had been so at Beachley, and proud was she on hearing of his achievements there. But at the thought of his now again undergoing such risk, with all the uncertainties of war--that he might fall before the ramparts of Monmouth, even at that moment be lying lifeless in its trenches--her heart sank within her. For a time both were silent. Then Sabrina, with another effort to cast-off the gloomy reflections, which she saw were also affecting her sister, said,-- "Richard promised to write again last night, or early this morning, if there should be anything worth writing about. He hasn't written last night, or the letter would have been here now. If this morning, I may soon expect it. His messengers are never slow, and a man on a swift horse should ride from High Meadow House to Gloucester in two hours, or a little over." From her belt she drew a quaint, three-cornered watch to ascertain the correct time. Correct or not, its hands pointed to 10 a.m. A messenger from the High Meadow could have been there before if sent off at an early hour, and on an errand calling for courier-speed. Perhaps no reason had arisen for such, and consoling herself with this reflection, she resumed speech, saying,-- "Anyhow, we may make sure of getting news before noon, some kind or other. The Governor will be sending a despatch to the Committee, and one may have already reached them. We shall know when father returns."