The beautiful county, a very Garden of Eden for fertility and loveliness, became a hell upon earth, and the pathetic loyalty of the people to a wholly unworthy monarch was speedily changed to active and determined resistance. The Herefordshire folk cared little for the dispute between King and Parliament, but under the intolerable wrongs they suffered they now began to band themselves together into a neutral party, armed only for the protection of their homes.
Hilary’s chief personal loss at this time was the companionship of Frances Hopton, from whom she had not even the poor consolation of a parting visit. A letter received from her soon after the conversion of the Manor into a garrison explained what had passed. It ran as follows:
“My dear Hilary,—You have ere this, I know, heard the ill news of my father’s arrest. He lies once more in gaol, and indeed I can well-nigh rejoice in his absence, for he would be heartbroken could he see the havoc the Royalist soldiers are making here. Many of the outhouses are burnt down, and they ruthlessly destroy and waste the property in a fashion that it is piteous to behold. I am bound to say, however, that the Governor is a most pleasant and courteous gentleman, with so genial a manner that one might think all this mischief carried out by his orders was but a pastime amid toys, and not the wicked destruction of an Englishman’s house, which we were wont to think his own and free from all assaults by outsiders. The Governor has most considerately urged my mother to retain the rooms in the right wing for our private use, and since she is ailing and unfit to travel she remains here with one of my brothers and three of the servants. But she thinks I am best away, therefore I am to be sent with my sister to Garnons to stay with Mr. and Mrs. Geers, you remember that Mr. Geers wedded recently Mistress Eliza Acton, goddaughter to your Hereford friend, Mrs. Joyce Jefferies. Here came a long pause in my letter, for who should come into the ante-room where I am writing but the Governor. He made many pretty speeches on hearing that I was to leave home. Maybe this is the reason my brother doth not like him so well as we womenfolk do; I often notice that my father and the boys particularly detest these evil, pleasant-spoken gentlemen who know how to turn a neat compliment. I forgot to tell you that the Governor—his name is Colonel Norton—is a remarkably handsome man, very tall, and with bright laughing eyes and auburn love-locks. Pray tell the vicar that I will question Mr. Geers as to the antiquities in the neighbourhood of Garnons, and when these troubles be ended seek to bring him some treasures for his collection.—I rest, your affectionate friend,
“Frances Hopton.”
“My youngest brother is now with Governor Massey, and since he is kept so actively at work against various regiments of the Royalists now scattered over the country to seek winter quarters, you may belike see him. Governor Massey doth seem much to affect the neighbourhood of Ledbury, and since his great victory near by at Redmarley last August, he will doubtless hold it in yet more loving remembrance. They tell me that Colonel Edward Harley did there get wounded, and that though he hath now recovered the bullet is yet in him.”
Hilary folded the letter sadly.
Everything seemed to be passing away from her, and she began faintly to understand how terrible a condition England was in. Moreover, the closing in of the short autumn days, and the near approach of the hard winter, depressed her. She wondered how she should ever endure the long nights with their dreadful sense of insecurity; she shuddered at the remembrance of the horrible tales she had heard from the village folk of the wickedness and violence of Prince Maurice’s troops, and she remembered with horror the fate of the Vicar of Tarrington. If one of Massey’s men had shown such brutality to him, what guarantee had she that the Viear of Bosbury would fare any better?
Sitting by the hearth in the fast-gathering twilight, an unusual stir in the village street suddenly attracted her attention; there was a steady, ominous tramp of many feet, which could not be mistaken, then the hoarse shout of an officer, “Plait!”
She sprang up and ran to the study, where the Vicar sat at a table strewn with fossils, deeply absorbed in the contemplation of an ammonite.
“Sir!” she said, “do you not hear that there are soldiers in the village?”