Hilary stifled her inclination to yield; the very sound of the word “fighting” had called back her powers of resistance.
“And to-day when we have just heard how the rebel troops have defiled Worcester Cathedral you think to find me more amenable?” she exclaimed, indignantly. “Tell Gabriel, sir, that I am more than ever resolved to have nothing to do with those who side with the Parliament. He has given me up for what he calls the ‘country’ and, pray, tell him that I care only for the King.”
In her sparkling eyes, in the hard look which dawned in the naturally sweet face, the doctor saw that his mission was hopeless. Very sadly he bade her farewell, convinced that further words would only strengthen her in her resolve; his keen, all-observant eyes seemed for a moment to look her through and through, then, with profound gravity, he turned and walked back to the house.
Hilary, with a heavy heart, sauntered aimlessly along beside the moat. She was not well pleased with herself, for as she grew cooler she perceived that her last words had not rung true, and if there was one thing she prided herself on, it was on a high standard of truth and honour. Was it absolutely the case that she cared only for the King? Was her loyal devotion to an unseen head of the State to eclipse every other claim? She pictured Gabriel’s face as he received her curt, cold message, and her pride began to waver; slowly she re-crossed the lawns towards the house—should she not add some more kindly word? Was it not possible to be true to her notion of loyalty yet less harsh to the man who loved her?
Glancing up at the study window she saw the old whitehaired Bishop, and remembered how infinitely more thoughtful for Gabriel he had been. Yet no one could dare to call his loyalty in question. What was it that made him view the matter so differently?
Drawing nearer she saw that he was standing with clasped hands and closed eyes, his serene face showing plainly that he was in a region far above the petty divisions and difficulties of English life.
“He sees beyond the struggle and lives in another atmosphere,” thought the girl, all her hardness melting as she looked at the saintly old face. Then, quickening her steps, she hastened on to overtake the doctor before he mounted, not pausing to think what words she should say, but with an eager desire to undo the effect of her needlessly cold message.
“Where is Dr. Harford?” she asked, encountering one of the servants.
“He would not stay for food, mistress,” replied the man. “I saw him mount his horse but now.”
With an impatient exclamation, Hilary ran through the hall and out into the drive; surely she should be in time to stop him, it could not be too late.