“And yet silence might often betray—might seem to give consent,” she said, musingly.
“God has charge of consequences,” he said, quietly. “And I suppose we always do amiss when we take into human hands the guidance that belongs to Him alone.”
“You mean that at all costs we must be true?”
“Yes, dear heart. But a truce to disputations.”
“You and I have done with disputes,” she said, tenderley. “Love and danger and the shadow of death have lifted us above our old arguings.”
“We are somewhat nearer than the day you suggested that we might be friendly foes,” said Gabriel, putting his arm round her.
She laughed softly.
“The day when Mistress Helena roused my jealousy! No; you shall be a friendly foe to every honourable Royalist, but to me you are—all the world!
“Dearest, then must I share your troubles, but I fear you are keeping them back from me. Zachary tells me the Vicarage hath been searched!”
“Yes, the Governor of Canon Frome sent to search for you, but that was no great matter. He did not dare to come himself.”