“I thought so,” said Hilary, blushing. “His father and my father were old friends, and I heard of his wish to turn physician.”
“Cromwell took a great liking to him,” said Captain Bayly; “and was himself well-nigh distracted to see the cruel suffering of the men, and angry, too, at the disgraceful mismanagement of those in authority. ’Tis strange how often you find that the bravest soldiers are the most tender-hearted men, and have the greatest loathing of war.”
“What did this Cromwell advise Mr. Harford to do?” asked Hilary, trying to disguise her eagerness to learn more about Gabriel.
“He said that no man could judge for another, but it seemed to him that, for the time being, the country was in no condition to spare a man of his calibre, for the training which would be needful ere he could practise the healing art. Harford told me that he could never forget the words he spoke to him, as to avoiding all self-formed plans in life, and seeking at each step the direct guidance of God Himself. All the counsel he would give Captain Harford was to wait until light should come to guide him to a decision as to his next step.”
At that moment they were interrupted by the arrival of Frances Hopton’s brother, and during supper the talk naturally turned to matters connected with Sir Richard’s imprisonment, and Canon Frome Manor. Hilary resigned herself to the inevitable, and felt something of the satisfaction of a hostess mingling with the rueful, yet half humorous reflection that the two young officers evidently appreciated the “Welsh rarebit” as much as Gabriel would have done, and had made a most ravenous assault on the eggs and bacon.
They were thankful after supper to snatch a few hours’ sleep, but about midnight Hilary heard the steady tramp of soldiers without, and knew that the Parliamentarians were marching to Canon Frome. The next morning Zachary brought word that an attack had been made on one of the Royalist quarters in that neighbourhood. But Bosbury saw Massey’s men no more, and for the present Waghorn had to bide his time.
All went on quietly enough for some days, and Hilary had only too much leisure to feel the loss of Frances Hopton’s companionship. One morning Mrs. Durdle, seeing that she looked pale and dispirited, contrived an excuse to make a little variety for her.
“My dear,” said the old housekeeper, “I wish you’d be so kind as to save my old bones, and just step over to the Hill Farm to bespeak the Christmas turkey. Zachary, he tells me Mrs. Kendrick has some first-rate birds. But I’ll not be trusting to a man’s judgment in a matter o’ that sort. Men be first-rate judges o’ cooking, but for judging a bird uncooked give me a woman.”
Hilary laughed.
“I quite allow the superiority of the male palate,” she said, “and will do my best to choose a good Christmas dinner. Moreover, to please you, I will take Don with me for protection, for I believe you will never learn to think these quiet country lanes as safe as Hereford streets.”