“Good! Let me know how you prosper, and see—you may be put to some charge in the town; so take this crown piece, and the devil send you luck!”
In high good humour at the prospect of getting Gabriel Harford into his power, the Colonel left the room, and Waghorn, having completed his work, packed up his tools and returned to Bosbury.
On the road he encountered the Vicar and his niece, for Hilary, ill at ease after her talk with Gabriel, had determined to seek advice from the motherly Dame Elizabeth, while the Vicar was anxious to see Sir Richard Hopton, and to congratulate him on his recent release from prison.
Fortune favoured the girl, for they encountered not only Sir Richard in the courtyard, but Mr. Geers, who had ridden over from Garnons to bring tidings of Frances and her sister, and to learn how Sir Richard fared. The gentlemen remained without, chatting together, and Hilary was ushered into the house, where, in the ante-room which Waghorn had just quitted, she found Dame Elizabeth, a stately, white-haired old lady, with kind far-seeing eyes.
Greeting her visitor warmly, she made her sit on a stool beside her, lamenting that Frances was still absent.
“In truth, dear madam, though it sounds unfriendly, I am glad she is not here,” said Hilary; “for I greatly want your help and counsel.”
“Now that is always a pleasant thing to hear,” said Dame Elizabeth, smiling. “There are many drawbacks to growing old, but the best part is that the maidens and the young matrons come to us with their joys and their sorrows.”
“They do well to come to you, dear madam, for you always understand so well. How the Queen can lay bare her heart to a priest is to me passing strange. But in sore need one might come to a mother-confessor.”
“What is your trouble, dear child?” said Dame Elizabeth, kindly. “How can I help you?”
“It all comes from this sad war,” said Hilary, with a sigh.