Hilary departed on the errand, unable to determine whether she wished to see her admirer or not.
“I will leave you to have your chat with the colonel,” she said when she had with some difficulty roused the Vicar from a treatise on ancient coins which Mr. Silas Taylor had lent him.
“Nay, nay, child,” said the Vicar, retaining her hand in his. “I have scarce clapped eyes on you this morning; come in too, and hear the news.”
And to Norton’s satisfaction the uncle and niece entered the room together. The Vicar’s greeting was always cordial, yet this morning Norton fancied that there was a certain depression about his host which he could not fathom.
“Do you bring us any news, sir?” asked the antiquary wistfully.
“No news, sir, and no treasures for the collection, unluckily,” said Norton. “I called mainly on business. You have not been disturbed here, I hope, by Governor Massey? I hear he is hovering about again near Ledbury.”
“Nay, we have heard naught of him here,” said the Vicar. “I have been up this morning seeing the owner of the Hill Farm. There is sore trouble there, sir, and I wish you would consider the people more than you do. These foraging parties are growing unbearable.”
“Believe me, I do what I can, sir,” said Norton in his most winning tone. “I dislike the work of plundering as much as you would, but how else are we to keep the army alive?”
The Vicar sighed heavily.
“May God send us the blessing of peace!” he said. “I tell you, sir, it fairly breaks my heart to go about among the people of Bosbury. There is scarce a family but has lost a man in this cruel war, or else hath been well-nigh ruined by marauders.”