Little Mistress Nell stole gently across to the fireplace, and began to fold the clothes which lay in a heap on the floor; then her eye happened to fall on a belt evidently containing money, which, with a small shagreen case, lay on the mantelshelf. Opening a drawer she stowed these safely away, and only then perceived that under the case lay the miniature of a darkeyed girl, whose radiant beauty filled her with admiration.
For a moment she could think of nothing but the loveliness of the picture. But very soon, with a start, she awoke from her dream to find herself in a cold and lonely world. Her knight-errant had a lady-love of his own, and the marriage her father had hoped for would assuredly never come about.
Taking up the miniature she laid it gently in the drawer beside the belt and the shagreen case, and, turning the key, drew it from the lock and handed it to Madam Harford.
“I have locked up some money and private things of Mr. Harford’s,” she whispered.
Madam Harford, whose quick eyes instantly detected a change in the girl, sent her on some errand, and then looked to see what the said private things consisted of. Although she had never heard of Hilary’s existence, she gave a shrewd little nod as she caught sight of the miniature.
“If the lad loves that maid,” she thought to herself, “he’ll never do for a husband for my sweet little god-daughter. We must seek a match elsewhere.”
But, in truth, for many days it seemed doubtful whether Gabriel would live to wed any one, and the Manor was pervaded by an atmosphere of gloom and of deep anxiety, which did not help poor Helena to rise above her troubles.
Humphrey Neal, who had been pressed to stay by his kindly hostess, watched the girl with much more sympathy and comprehension than she guessed. He listened to her account of the way in which Gabriel and Captain Heyworth had rescued her in the spring; he told all the details of their escape from Oxford, and often succeeded in persuading her to walk in the grounds of the Manor.
One day it happened that they were walking together in the garden when they saw a coach, drawn by two powerful black horses, approaching the house.
“That must be Sir Theodore Mayerne, the great physician,” said Helena in an awestruck voice. “Madam Harford wrote begging him to come, but she feared he would not be willing to make the journey, for he seldom goes to any, being very corpulent and unwieldy.”