She laughed, but was relieved that he did not attempt to linger, and that he made no further allusion to what had passed on their walk from the farm.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
“Just in so far as we have love which shall survive, though that to which it clings be taken away from us,... in so far as our sorrow has brought us into the wide fellowship of human suffering and anguish, and given us a tenderness that shall endure though years of placid comfort should flow over us—in so far as we have reached a life not subject to change or the workings of Time—so far we have some sense of the eternal realities, so far we may feel that we see God, and may, though with awe-struck humility, ask whether, haply, in some measure, we are seeing as God sees. Infinitesimal as our attainment may be, we shall, nevertheless, know what it is to enjoy, and shall not only strive after, but shall, in some measure, have the life eternal.”
—P. H. WICKSTEED.
It was on the Saturday preceding Norton’s walk with Hilary that Gabriel Harford rode once more from Gloucester to the scene of his rescue of Major Locke’s daughter. His recovery from his severe illness had long ago been complete, and the open-air life had fortunately proved the best cure for the mischief done to his constitution by the long months in Oxford Castle. Though thin and a trifle gaunt-looking after the severe campaign and the insufficient food, the indomitable pluck and manliness which had carried him through so much had stood him in good stead through all the quarrels and discussions and difficulties which had prevailed of late among the Parliamentary generals, to the great discomfort of the whole party.
Sir William Waller had, some time before, perceived, with the sagacity which made him the greatest tactician possessed by either Royalists or Parliamentarians, that an entire reorganisation of the army was needed and that, with the Earl of Essex at the head, nothing but disaster lay before them. The new model army was at length being formed, and, by the self-denying ordinance, Waller retired to his work in the House of Commons and his soldiers were dispersed, some being sent to serve in the new army, others despatched to various garrisons in the South of England.
It was with no little amusement that Gabriel recognised again the scenes of his moonlight adventure two years before, and old Amos, the gatekeeper, gave him a warm greeting.
“Eh, sir!” he exclaimed. “These be better times for the Manor, and ’tis you we have to thank for it all.”