“Better search by daylight,” he suggested. “And come now to the ‘Bell’ and have a pint o’ home brewed.”
Waghorn deemed it prudent to accept the invitation, for he desired to get into Zachary’s confidence, and hoped that some day he might gather from the garrulous old man the information he eagerly sought. But on this particular night the clerk was on his guard, and the fanatic gained nothing by his plot.
Meanwhile, in the tower room, Dr. Harford, to his great joy, found his son in far better case than he had dared to expect. Hilary’s good nursing and the patient’s healthy life and sound constitution had triumphed over all the other drawbacks, and although some weeks must pass before he really recovered, all danger to his life was practically over.
The Vicar and Hilary listened with intense relief to the doctor’s verdict.
“The question now is, whether we shall try to remove him,” said his father. “It seems unfair to let you any longer run the risk of sheltering a rebel. Yet I scarce know where we could take him; we should never get him to Hereford without his being made prisoner.”
“Sir, don’t think of moving him. ’Tis hard, indeed, if the church tower may not afford him sanctuary,” said the Vicar. “If, indeed, there be any risk in the matter, I gladly take it.”
“And how about his nurse? What hath she to say?” asked the physician, looking into the girl’s beautiful face.
“Sir,” said Hilary, blushing vividly, “I am his betrothed wife, and only this very day we were saying that we wished the Vicar would wed us.”
Gabriel took her hand in his, and looked with eager hope at the kindly antiquary who had done so much for him.
“In the orchard as I lay in even worse plight, sir, you made no objection to my suit, and if, indeed, you will make us man and wife before I go, I should be for ever your debtor.”