With bitter vindictiveness he drew an inkhorn and pen towards him, and laboriously began to write the following words:
“I have a carpentering job in the ante-room at Canon Frome Manor this day, and shall be there at three of the clocke. If Colonel Norton wishes to gett tydings of a dangerous ryvall, who is moreover a rebel, he cann obtayne it on certaine con-dishuns.”
He had just sanded this document, and was about to fold and seal it, when the sound of the Old 113th in the village street made him pause. He stepped out into the road in front of the house, and saw that the Puritan soldiers were ready to march back to Ledbury, and, evidently at the Vicar’s request, were first joining the villagers in a Psalm. As the words floated towards him a look of wonder and hesitation crossed the stern face of the wood carver. It was as if he caught a momentary glimpse of a unity as yet far beyond his reach.
O children which do serve the Lord,
Praise ye His name with one accord,
Yea, blessed always be His name;
Who from the rising of the sun
Till it return where it begun,
Is to be praised with great fame,
The Lord all people doth surmount,