The Vicar and the physician glanced at each other.
“This comes, sir, an’ I mistake not,” said Dr. Harford, “from your words in the churchyard when Waghorn would have had the cross pulled down. I have heard that those who hearkened to you could never forget your plea for love, which is the bond of peace.”
“In truth, sir,” said the Vicar with a twinkle in his eye, “I trow it comes from the quiet days in this tower of refuge, when my niece had in your absence to nurse the wounded. Very gladly will I wed you, my children, and some fine morning we will steal across to the church before the villagers are astir. In the meanwhile I can read your banns in here each Sunday, with Durdle and Zachary for congregation.”
Then Dr. Harford told of his interview with Cromwell, and of the suggestion for Gabriel’s future.
“An you could spare your niece, sir, it would perchance be no bad plan for our bride and bridegroom to journey to London, for possibly the Governor of Canon Frome may yet give some trouble. Hath anyone heard whether he recovers?”
“Farmer Chadd heard that, though still kept to his bed, he mends apace,” said the Vicar. “Your plan seems an excellent one, sir, and though I shall sorely miss Hilary, it would take a load off my mind to know that she was in safety.”
“Then by the earliest opportunity I will write to my mother at Notting Hill Manor,” said the physician. “I well know that her house will be at your disposal, and that you, sir, would be an honoured guest there.”
The Vicar gave a courteous little bow, then turned with a mischievous glance to the invalid.
“Nothing will please me more than to meet Madam Harford, yet don’t make yourself uneasy, Gabriel, I shall not ride with you on the wedding journey, but shall visit you later on, when you are settled down into the prose of everyday life.”
There was a general laugh, and before long, the Vicar suggested that they had better return for the night to the Vicarage, leaving Dr. Harford to talk matters over with his son.