"You've got yourself to blame. Father was all against it, you know, and only yielded to your solicitations. As you're his favourite he couldn't refuse you." "But you approved of it yourself, for another reason." Sabrina had approved of it for another reason thus hinted at. After the taking of Monmouth by the Parliamentarians, Sir Richard Walwyn had orders to keep to the Hereford side of the Forest and guard the approaches in that direction. Hence his having his Horse quartered at Ruardean, and hence the desire of the sisters to be back at Hollymead House. Now that he was gone to Gloucester--so unexpectedly summoned thither--all was different, and to Vaga the country life she had so enthusiastically praised seemed no longer delightful. "Well, Vag, we're here now, and must make the best of it. Though I confess to feeling it a little lonely myself. I wish father had taken Richard's advice." At his hurried departure Colonel Walwyn had counselled their leaving Hollymead, and going back to reside at Gloucester, if not at once, soon as the removal could be conveniently made. The knight, without wishing unnecessarily to alarm them, had yet some apprehensions about their safety in that remote place. But they were not shared in by his intended father-in-law, who, although not absolutely rejecting the advice, still delayed following it. So secure felt he that, even on the very day when Sabrina was speaking of it, he had himself gone to Gloucester, on Committee business, and left his daughters at Hollymead alone. Vaga echoed her sister's wish, then added,--"It may be worse than lonely. Don't you think there's some danger?" "Oh, no! What danger?" "Why, from the enemy--the King's people." "There are none nearer than Bristol and Hereford." "You forget Goodrich Castle?" "No, I don't. But with Monmouth in the hands of our soldiers the Goodrich garrison will have enough to do taking care of itself, without troubling us." Monmouth had not yet been retaken by the Royalists; at least no word of that had reached Hollymead House. "Besides," she continued. "Sir Henry Lingen would not likely molest us. You remember before the war he was very much father's friend, and--" "And before he was married very much yours," interpolated the younger sister, with a glance of peculiar significance. "I remember that too. For the which reason he might be the very man to molest us. There's such a thing as spitefulness, and he could scarce be blamed for feeling it a little." "T'sh, Vaga! Don't say such silly things. There never was aught between Sir Henry and myself, nor any reason for his being spiteful now. We have nothing to apprehend from that quarter." "Still we may from some other." "What other are you thinking of?" "Not any in particular. Only a vague sense of somebody--a foreboding-- as when we were out hawking, just before that courier arrived. I had the same feeling then, and it came true."