“A blind! A mere trick!” cried Norton, angrily. “Depend upon it, she keeps the house to nurse that accursed lover of hers. Oh! if I had but the strength to mount my horse, I would soon track him down.”
“I could keep watch on the house, sir,” said Waghorn, “and let you know who comes and goes.”
“Well, do that, it may serve,” said Norton; “for I will not live to be thwarted by that Puritan Captain. And, look you, Waghorn, you might do me a service by worrying the Vicar. Go and seize the Prayer-book in the church, and bid him obey the Parliamentary order and use this blessed Directory they have concocted. ’S life! what wouldn’t I give to see his face when you confront him with it.”
And he broke into a laugh, which was cut short by a paroxysm of pain.
“I could do that,” said Waghorn, sternly, a gleam of satisfaction kindling in his eyes. “I reckon he would take it even more to heart than the breaking of his painted window. Ay, I could do that.”
“Do it then,” said Norton, mockingly, “and serve the Cause that you are for ever prating about. I care not a jot, for it will serve me.”
With that he dismissed the wood-carver, and Waghorn walked straight to Ledbury, where he had the good fortune to find a trusty waggoner who was willing to carry a letter for him to Gloucester and bear back the reply. He then adjourned to a small alehouse, where he laboriously wrote an order to one of his Puritan friends for a copy of the Directory, which was already in use in Gloucester, but had not yet been enforced in Herefordshire.
Having accomplished this work to his entire satisfaction, he tramped back in the dusk of the evening to Bosbury, but had only gone about half the distance when the sound of a horseman following him made him look round. He saw with a start of surprise that it was none other than Dr. Bridstock Harford.
“Good e’en to you, sir,” he said, touching his hat.
“Good evening,” said the doctor, as he galloped past.