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Excel 2007 VBA Programmer s Reference Programmer
to Programmer 1st Edition John Green Digital Instant
Download
Author(s): John Green, Stephen Bullen, Rob Bovey, Michael Alexander
ISBN(s): 9780470046432, 0470046430
Edition: 1
File Details: PDF, 6.95 MB
Year: 2007
Language: english
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Excel® 2007 VBA

Programmer’s Reference

John Green
Stephen Bullen
Rob Bovey
Michael Alexander
01_046432 ffirs.qxp 2/16/07 9:52 PM Page ii
01_046432 ffirs.qxp 2/16/07 9:52 PM Page i

Excel® 2007 VBA

Programmer’s Reference
01_046432 ffirs.qxp 2/16/07 9:52 PM Page ii
01_046432 ffirs.qxp 2/16/07 9:52 PM Page iii

Excel® 2007 VBA

Programmer’s Reference

John Green
Stephen Bullen
Rob Bovey
Michael Alexander
01_046432 ffirs.qxp 2/16/07 9:52 PM Page iv

Excel®2007 VBA Programmer’s Reference

Published by
Wiley Publishing, Inc.
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www.wiley.com
Copyright © 2007 by Wiley Publishing, Inc., Indianapolis, Indiana
Published simultaneously in Canada
ISBN: 978-0-470-04643-2
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Excel 2007 VBA programmer’s reference / John Green ... [et al.].
p. cm.
Includes index.
ISBN 978-0-470-04643-2 (paper/website)
1. Microsoft Excel (Computer file) 2. Business—Computer programs. I. Green, John, 1945-
HF5548.4.M523E92988 2007
005.54—dc22
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Trademarks: Wiley, the Wiley logo, Wrox, the Wrox logo, Programmer to Programmer, and related trade dress are
registered trademarks of John Wiley & Sons, Inc. and/or its affiliates, in the United States and other countries, and
may not be used without written permission. Microsoft and Excel are registered trademarks of Microsoft Corpora-
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available in electronic books.
01_046432 ffirs.qxp 2/16/07 9:52 PM Page v

About the Authors

John Green lives and works in Sydney, Australia, as an independent computer consultant, specializing in
Excel and Access. He has 35 years of computing experience, a Chemical Engineering degree, and an MBA.

He wrote his first programs in FORTRAN, took a part in the evolution of specialized planning languages
on mainframes and, in the early ‘80s, became interested in spreadsheet systems, including 1-2-3 and Excel.

John established his company, Execuplan Consulting, in 1980, specializing in developing computer-
based planning applications and in training. He has led training seminars for software applications and
operating systems both in Australia and overseas.

John has had regular columns in a number of Australian magazines and has contributed chapters to a num-
ber of books including Excel Expert Solutions and Using Visual Basic for Applications 5. He also co-authored
Professional Excel Development with Stephen Bullen and Rob Bovey.

From 1995 to 2005 he was accorded the status of MVP (Most Valuable Professional) by Microsoft for his
contributions to the CompuServe Excel forum and MS Internet newsgroups.

John Green contributed the Introduction, Chapters 1–11, 13, 15–17, and 19 to this book.

Stephen Bullen lives in Woodford Green, London, England, with his partner Clare, daughter Becky, and
their dogs, Fluffy and Charlie. He has two other daughters, Jane and Katie, from his first marriage.

A graduate of Oxford University, Stephen has an MA in Engineering, Economics, and Management,

providing a unique blend of both business and technical skills. He has been providing Excel consulting
and application development services since 1994, originally as an employee of Price Waterhouse
Management Consultants and later as an independent consultant trading under the names of Business
Modelling Solutions Limited and Office Automation Limited. Stephen now works for Barclays Capital in
London, developing trading systems for complex exotic derivative products.

The Office Automation web site, www.oaltd.co.uk, provides a number of helpful and interesting utili-
ties, examples, tips and techniques to help in your use of Excel and development of Excel applications.

As well as co-authoring previous editions of the Excel VBA Programmer’s Reference, Stephen co-authored
Professional Excel Development.

In addition to his consulting and writing assignments, Stephen actively supports the Excel user community
in Microsoft’s peer-to-peer support newsgroups and the Daily Dose of Excel blog. In recognition of his
knowledge, skills and contributions, Microsoft has awarded him the title of Most Valuable Professional
each year since 1996.

Stephen Bullen contributed Chapters 14, 18, 24–27, and Appendix B to this book.

Rob Bovey is president of Application Professionals, a software development company specializing in

Microsoft Office, Visual Basic, and SQL Server applications. He brings many years’ experience creating
financial, accounting, and executive information systems for corporate users to Application
Professionals. You can visit the Application Professionals web site at www.appspro.com.
01_046432 ffirs.qxp 2/16/07 9:52 PM Page vi

Rob developed several add-ins shipped by Microsoft for Microsoft Excel and co-authored the Microsoft
Excel 97 Developers Kit and Professional Excel Development. He earned his Bachelor of Science degree from
The Rochester Institute of Technology and his MBA from the University of North Carolina at Chapel
Hill. He is a Microsoft Certified Systems Engineer (MCSE) and a Microsoft Certified Solution Developer
(MCSD). Microsoft has awarded him the title of Most Valuable Professional each year since 1995.

Rob Bovey contributed Chapters 20–22 to this book.

Michael Alexander is a Microsoft Certified Application Developer (MCAD) with more than 14 years’
experience consulting and developing office solutions. He parlayed his experience with VBA and VB
into a successful consulting practice in the private sector, developing middleware and reporting solu-
tions for a wide variety of industries. He currently lives in Frisco, Texas, where he serves as a Senior
Program Manager for a top technology firm. Michael is the author of several books on Microsoft Access
and Excel, and is the principle behind DataPig Technologies, where he shares Access and Excel knowl-
edge with the Office community.

Michael Alexander contributed Chapters 12 and 23 and Appendices A and C to this book.
01_046432 ffirs.qxp 2/16/07 9:52 PM Page vii

Credits
Acquisitions Editor Vice President and Executive Publisher
Katie Mohr Joseph B. Wikert

Development Editor Project Coordinator

Brian Herrmann Jennifer Theriot

Technical Editor Graphics and Production Specialists

Dick Kusleika Carrie A. Foster
Denny Hager
Production Editor Joyce Haughey
William A. Barton Jennifer Mayberry
Barbara Moore
Copy Editor Barry Offringa
Kim Cofer Heather Ryan

Editorial Manager Quality Control Technicians

Mary Beth Wakefield Jessica Kramer
Christine Pingleton
Production Manager
Tim Tate Proofreading and Indexing
Kevin Broccoli
Vice President and Executive Group Publisher Sean Medlock
Richard Swadley
 01_046432 ffirs.qxp 2/16/07 9:52 PM Page viii

ts
 02_046432 ftoc.qxp 2/16/07 9:52 PM Page ix

Contents

Acknowledgments xxi
ts Introduction xxiii

Chapter 1: Primer in Excel VBA 1

Using the Macro Recorder 2
Recording Macros 2
Running Macros 6
The Visual Basic Editor 8
Other Ways to Run Macros 11
User-Defined Functions 17
Creating a UDF 18
What UDFs Cannot Do 21
The Excel Object Model 21
Objects 22
Getting Help 27
Experimenting in the Immediate Window 29
The VBA Language 30
Basic Input and Output 30
Calling Functions and Sub Procedures 35
Parentheses and Argument Lists 37
Variable Declaration 38
Scope and Lifetime of Variables 40
Variable Type 42
Object Variables 45
Making Decisions 47
Looping 50
Arrays 55
Run-Time Error-Handling 59
Summary 62

Chapter 2: The Application Object 63

Globals 63
The Active Properties 64
Display Alerts 65
Screen Updating 66
02_046432 ftoc.qxp 2/16/07 9:52 PM Page x

Contents
Evaluate 66
InputBox 68
StatusBar 70
SendKeys 70
OnTime 71
OnKey 72
Worksheet Functions 73
Caller 74
Summary 75

Chapter 3: Workbooks and Worksheets 77

The Workbooks Collection 77
Getting a Filename from a Path 78
Files in the Same Directory 81
Overwriting an Existing Workbook 81
Saving Changes 82
The Sheets Collection 83
Worksheets 83
Copy and Move 85
Grouping Worksheets 87
The Window Object 89
Synchronizing Worksheets 90
Summary 91

Chapter 4: Using Ranges 93

Activate and Select 93
Range Property 95
Shortcut Range References 96
Ranges on Inactive Worksheets 96
Range Property of a Range Object 97
Cells Property 97
Cells Used in Range 98
Ranges of Inactive Worksheets 99
More on the Cells Property of the Range Object 99
Single-Parameter Range Reference 101
Offset Property 102
Resize Property 103
SpecialCells Method 105
Last Cell 105
Deleting Numbers 107

x
02_046432 ftoc.qxp 2/16/07 9:52 PM Page xi

Contents
CurrentRegion Property 108
End Property 110
Referring to Ranges with End 110
Summing a Range 111
Columns and Rows Properties 112
Areas 113
Union and Intersect Methods 115
Empty Cells 115
Transferring Values between Arrays and Ranges 118
Deleting Rows 121
Summary 123

Chapter 5: Using Names 125

Naming Ranges 127
Using the Name Property of the Range Object 128
Special Names 128
Storing Values in Names 129
Storing Arrays 130
Hiding Names 131
Working with Named Ranges 132
Searching for a Name 133
Searching for the Name of a Range 135
Determining which Names Overlap a Range 136
Summary 139

Chapter 6: Data Lists 141

Structuring the Data 141
Sorting a Range 142
Older Excel Versions 144
Creating a Table 144
Sorting a Table 145
AutoFilter 146
AutoFilter Object 147
Filter Object 148
Date Custom Filter 148
Adding Combo Boxes 149
Copying the Visible Rows 153
Finding the Visible Rows 154
Advanced Filter 156
Data Form 158
Summary 159

xi
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Contents
Chapter 7: PivotTables 161
Creating a PivotTable Report 162
PivotCaches 165
PivotTables Collection 165
PivotFields 166
CalculatedFields 170
PivotItems 171
Grouping 171
Visible Property 175
CalculatedItems 176
PivotCharts 177
External Data Sources 178
Summary 180

Chapter 8: Charts 181

Chart Sheets 182
The Recorded Macro 184
Adding a Chart Sheet Using VBA Code 184
Embedded Charts 185
Using the Macro Recorder 186
Adding an Embedded Chart Using VBA Code 186
Editing Data Series 187
Defining Chart Series with Arrays 190
Converting a Chart to Use Arrays 193
Determining the Ranges Used in a Chart 194
Chart Labels 195
Summary 196

Chapter 9: Event Procedures 199

Worksheet Events 199
Enable Events 200
Worksheet Calculate 201
Chart Events 202
Before Double Click 202
Workbook Events 205
Save Changes 206
Headers and Footers 207
Summary 208

xii
02_046432 ftoc.qxp 2/16/07 9:52 PM Page xiii

Contents

Chapter 10: Adding Controls 209

Form and ActiveX Controls 209
ActiveX Controls 210
Scrollbar Control 211
Spin Button Control 211
CheckBox Control 212
Option Button Controls 212
Forms Controls 214
Dynamic ActiveX Controls 216
Controls on Charts 220
Summary 221

Chapter 11: Text Files and File Dialog 223

Opening Text Files 223
Writing to Text Files 224
Reading Text Files 226
Writing to Text Files Using Print 227
Reading Data Strings 229
Flexible Separators and Delimiters 230
FileDialog 233
FileDialogFilters 235
FileDialogSelectedItems 235
Dialog Types 235
Execute Method 235
MultiSelect 236
Summary 238

Chapter 12: Working with XML and the Open XML File Formats 239
The Basics of Using XML Data in Excel 240
XML Fundamentals 240
Consuming XML Data Directly 246
Creating and Managing Your Own XML Maps 249
Using VBA to Program XML Processes 253
Programming XML Maps 253
Leveraging DOM and XPath to Manipulate XML Files 258
Using VBA to Program Open XML Files 265
Programming Open XML Files with VBA 266
Programmatically Zipping an Excel Container 267
Summary 272

xiii
02_046432 ftoc.qxp 2/16/07 9:52 PM Page xiv

Contents
Chapter 13: UserForms 273
Displaying a UserForm 273
Creating a UserForm 275
Directly Accessing Controls in UserForms 277
Stopping the Close Button 281
Maintaining a Data List 282
Modeless UserForms 288
Progress Indicator 288
Variable UserForm Name 291
Summary 291

Chapter 14: RibbonX 293

Overview 293
Prerequisites 294
Adding the Customizations 294
XML Structure 295
RibbonX and VBA 298
Control Types 299
Basic Controls 299
Container Controls 300
Control Attributes 301
Control Callbacks 303
Managing Control Images 305
Other RibbonX Elements, Attributes, and Callbacks 307
Sharing Controls among Multiple Workbooks 308
Updating Controls at Run Time 309
Hooking Built-In Controls 311
RibbonX in Dictator Applications 312
Customizing the Office Menu 312
Customizing the QAT 313
Controlling Tabs, Tab Sets, and Groups 313
Dynamic Controls 314
dropDown, comboBox, and gallery 315
dynamicMenu 315
CommandBar Extensions for the Ribbon 316
RibbonX Limitations 317
Summary 318

xiv
02_046432 ftoc.qxp 2/16/07 9:52 PM Page xv

Contents

Chapter 15: Command Bars 319

Toolbars, Menu Bars, and Popups 320
Excel’s Built-in Command Bars 322
Controls at All Levels 325
FaceIds 328
Creating New Menus 330
The OnAction Macros 332
Passing Parameter Values 333
Deleting a Menu 334
Creating a Toolbar 335
Popup Menus 338
Showing Popup Command Bars 342
Table-Driven Command Bar Creation 344
Summary 354

Chapter 16: Class Modules 355

Creating Your Own Objects 356
Property Procedures 357
Creating Collections 359
Class Module Collection 360
Encapsulation 363
Trapping Application Events 363
Embedded Chart Events 365
A Collection of UserForm Controls 368
Referencing Classes Across Projects 370
Summary 371

Chapter 17: Add-ins 373

Hiding the Code 374
Creating an Add-in 374
Closing Add-ins 375
Code Changes 376
Saving Changes 377
Interface Changes 377
Installing an Add-in 379
AddinInstall Event 381
Removing an Add-in from the Add-ins List 381
Summary 382

xv
02_046432 ftoc.qxp 2/16/07 9:52 PM Page xvi

Contents
Chapter 18: Automation Add-Ins and COM Add-Ins 383
Automation Add-Ins 383
A Simple Add-In — Sequence 384
Registering Automation Add-Ins with Excel 385
Using Automation Add-Ins 386
Introducing the IDTExtensibility2 Interface 388
COM Add-Ins 394
The IDTExtensibility2 Interface (Continued) 395
Registering a COM Add-In with Excel 395
The COM Add-In Designer 396
Summary 409

Chapter 19: Interacting with Other Office Applications 411

Establishing the Connection 411
Late Binding 412
Early Binding 414
Opening a Document in Word 416
Accessing an Active Word Document 417
Creating a New Word Document 418
Access and ADO 419
Access, Excel, and, Outlook 420
Better than Mail Merge 423
Readable Document Variables 428
Summary 430

Chapter 20: Data Access with ADO 431

An Introduction to Structured Query Language (SQL) 431
The SELECT Statement 432
The INSERT Statement 434
The UPDATE Statement 434
The DELETE Statement 435
An Overview of ADO 436
The Connection Object 437
The Recordset Object 441
The Command Object 445
Using ADO in Microsoft Excel Applications 447
Using ADO with Microsoft Access 448
Using ADO with Microsoft SQL Server 454
Using ADO with Non-Standard Data Sources 463
Summary 468

xvi
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 Norton. “What can you expect? Soldiers are but human. ’Tis only
the Roundheads that set up for being saints. However, we must not
scare Mistress Hilary with talk of cruelties. Believe me,” he said,
turning to her, “these tales of the village folk never lose in the
telling, and we are not so black as we’re painted. Prince Rupert——”
“Prince Rupert is one of a thousand!” said Hilary, enthusiastically.
“How I should like to see him! Do you think there is a chance that he
may come this way?”
“You are of a more martial spirit than the Vicar. That is generally
the way. We poor soldiers mostly find favour with the fair sex—’tis
one of our few compensations,” said Norton, venturing nearer to her
and lowering his voice as he noticed that Dr. Coke had moved over
to the table and taken up the bone brought in by the sexton. “Yet do
not make me jealous of the Prince by dwelling overmuch on his
merits. Am I to have my answer to-day?”
She shook her head, and blushed deliciously. Norton had every
intention of furtively kissing her hand, when the Vicar suddenly
turned round and showed them his latest treasure.
“Most curious! Most interesting! Why, the fellow must have been a
giant. Hilary, look here! In life this man must have stood at least
eight feet high. Where did it come from?”
“I don’t know, Uncle,” said Hilary, shuddering. “Ugh! how
gruesome it looks! I can’t bear skulls and bones!”
Norton with a smile watched the two. “What a contrast,” he
reflected. “That old bone collector and a maid whose cheeks are like
a wild rose! I wonder if the parson will get in the way of my
designs?”
He was roused from his reverie by the entrance of Mrs. Durdle and
the customary tray of cakes and cider.
The Vicar re-crossed the room with an eager question on his lips.
 “Where did this come from, Mrs. Durdle? To whom am I indebted
for this very rare bone?”
“Why, sir, ’twas Zachary brought it, and do now let me take it back
to him. It gives me the creeps to see churchyard bones lying round
loose.”
“Well, I suppose if Zachary dug it up we ought to give it Christian
burial,” said the Vicar regretfully, “but it does seem a pity. A most
rare and interesting bone.”
“Yes, sir, yes,” said the housekeeper, receiving it carefully in her
apron, “very interesting, but do now let it be buried decentlike. ’Tis
impossible to keep the place tidy—let alone clean—when your antics
are littering all over the house.”
There was a general laugh as she left the room.
“No more antics for you, Uncle dear, if Mrs. Durdle has her way,”
said Hilary blithely.
“She is a most orderly person,” said the Vicar, with a good-
humoured smile, “and to have as master an untidy old antiquary
must be a sore trial to her. But pardon me, Colonel, all this time I
have been rambling on about my own affairs, and I understand that
you had some special matter to talk over with me.”
“To tell the truth, sir, I walked over from Canon Frome this
morning to ask you to sign your name to the Protestation framed by
Prince Rupert. He commands the signatures of the people of this
neighbourhood, and I shall be glad to have yours.”
He handed a paper to the Vicar, who, with some reluctance, took
it, and began to read it to himself.
“Hey! What!” he exclaimed, presently, “the Prince commands?
Why, Colonel, he has no right to extort oaths from free Englishmen.
He fancies himself back in Germany. Listen to this! ‘I do strictly
enjoin, without exception, all commanders and soldiers, gentry,
citizens, freeholders, and others within the county and city of
Hereford to take this Protestation.‘ I’faith, he goes too far, Colonel,
too far! Look at this! I must swear that all the Parliamentarians
ought to be brought to condign punishment—I must swear that I will
help His Majesty to the utmost of my skill and power and with the
hazard of my life and fortune; I must swear not to hold any
correspondency or intelligence with Parliamentarians, and to
discover all their plans that I may chance to know; and all these
particulars I must vow and protest sincerely to observe without
equivocation or mental reservation.”
“Well, but, Vicar, we all know that you honour the King,” said
Norton, reassuringly. “No man could dare to call your loyalty in
question—why, you are the son of one of the twelve bishops who
signed the Remonstrance.”
“Very true,” said the Vicar “but the signing of that ill-judged and
illegal document was, to my mind, my father’s great mistake. No, no,
Colonel; I try to do my best to honour the King and to love and
honour all men; therefore I loathe this unlawful Protestation, and
will not say, ‘I willingly vow and protest,’ as here enjoined.”
Norton watched him intently; this was a side of the antiquary’s
character which had not before been revealed to him.
“But, sir, you scarce realise, I think, what a serious matter this
may be,” he said. “The Prince has expressly ordered that all who
refuse to sign shall be seized without delay and kept in custody. It
was enacted, as you see, on the second of this month.”
The Vicar again examined the paper, then looked up with an
astute expression. “So it seems, sir, but you will also note that this
Protestation is ordered to be tendered to all by the High Sheriff and
Commissioners of the county, assisted by a Divine.”
Norton veiled his annoyance by a laugh.
 “Of course if you want to keep to the letter of the law, we must
bring over the whole posse from Hereford, but I thought as we were
friends——”
The Vicar smiled genially, and held out his hand.
“We are friends, certainly—very good friends. But as to keeping to
the letter of the law—I don’t acknowledge this document to be law
at all, ’tis grossly illegal. You see, sir,” he added reverently, “I must
try to remember that at Ordination I vowed to maintain and set
forwards quietness, peace and love among Christian people.”
As though the words had cost him something to utter in what he
knew would be a hostile atmosphere, he turned away and stood for
a minute by the window, looking out at the church he loved so well,
and the strong tower of refuge and the quiet graveyard.
Norton stroked his moustache to conceal a scornful smile, then
bent low over Hilary’s hand and kissed it, conveying to her by look
and touch much more than the customary salute.
“I am not without hope, Mistress Hilary, that where I have failed
you will succeed,” he said gently. “Try if you can to persuade your
uncle, for his refusal places him in some danger. I know well how
much influence your sweet words have over men, and trust you will
permit me to wait on you before long to learn of your success.”
With one of his sweeping bows he turned to take leave of the
Vicar, who accompanied him to the door and bade him farewell very
cordially, but being pre-occupied with the thought of the
Protestation, forgot to give him the usual invitation to stay to dinner.
Hilary, with a restlessness which she had never before felt, paced
up and down the room unhappily. Did this man indeed love her as
he professed to do? And did she in truth care for him? That he was
handsome, clever and fascinating was beyond dispute—she thought
she did care for him—certainly she was far from being indifferent to
him—and yet? Yet it was not like that day years ago when Gabriel
had spoken to her in the wood, and a whole new world had opened
to them.
“Nothing can be like first love, of course,” she said to herself
dreamily, and then bitterness overwhelming her, “but my first love
was all a miserable mistake! Gabriel cared more for this phantom of
parliamentary government—loved that better than he loved me.”
She impatiently dashed from her eyes the tears that had started at
this thought, and with sudden energy caught up her lute and began
vigorously to tune it.
“I won’t be a fool!” she thought, resolutely forcing back the old
memories that tried to rise. “I will wed this loyal Colonel Norton. He
said my words had power over men, and I see they have over him.
They had none over Gabriel!”
At that moment the Vicar returned to the sitting-room.
“Well, my child,” he said, stroking her hair, “yonder is a pleasant-
spoken man, but I can never sign that paper he brought. We will talk
no more of it, the very thought of it chafes me. Sing me one of your
songs, dear, let us have ‘Come, sweet love, let sorrow cease!”
Hilary winced, for the plaintive sweetness of “Bara Fostus Dream”
was for ever associated with the summer days when Gabriel had
wooed her; but she could not refuse her uncle’s request, and sang
the song in a more subdued frame of mind.
She had just begun the last verse—
“Then, sweet love, disperse this cloud—”
when sounds of confusion in the village street and an uproar of
voices brought her to a sudden pause. Running to the window, she
called eagerly to the Vicar.
“See, Uncle, the people are thronging this way. What can have
happened?”
 And as the Vicar joined her and looked forth, Durdle and Zachary
rushed without ceremony into the room, breathless with haste, but
each eager to give the news.
“Oh, sir, come out and stop it, for pity’s sake,” panted Durdle.
“Yes, sir, do’ee now. Mayhap they’ll hearken to you,” said Zachary.
“What is wrong?” asked the Vicar, looking from one to the other.
“The soldiers, sir—they’ve marched from Ledbury!”
“Parliament soldiers, sir,” panted Zachary. “Fetched by Waghorn a-
purpose to pull down the cross.”
“And they’re a-goin’ to do it, too,” put in Durdle, determined to
have the last word.
The Vicar’s indignant amaze almost choked him.
“What!” he cried. “Pull down Bosbury Cross! Why, Hilary, ’tis one
of the oldest in all England—one of our most valued antiquities. God
grant I may be able to save it.”
He hastily crossed the room towards the door.
“Ay, sir,” said Zachary, “you speak to the captain, he be a pleasant-
looking young officer. But as for Waghorn, I do think he be gone
stark mad.”
“Don’t come into the crowd, Hilary,” said the Vicar, excitedly, as he
hurried from the house. “Wait in the garden and leave me to plead
for this treasure of the past.”
 CHAPTER XXXVI.
“Could we forbear dispute, and practise love,
We should agree as angels do above.”
—Edmund Waller.

T
he churchyard, which during Norton’s visit had looked so
peaceful, had become, before the Colonel had ridden halfway
back to Canon Frome, the scene of an extraordinary
gathering. With bewildered astonishment the Vicar saw the villagers
hurrying in from all directions—men in their smock frocks, women
fresh from their household work in cap and apron, and eager
children pressing to the front that they might the better see the
soldiers in their glittering steel helmets and corslets, their buff coats
and orange scarves. A cornet carried the blue banner of the
Parliament, with its motto, “God with us,” and the Captain brought
up the rear. The Vicar, glancing at him, saw that he was young,
slight and alert-looking; but his attention was quickly drawn away to
Waghorn, who, springing up on the steps of the cross, turned with a
vehement gesture towards the leader of the detachment.
“There it stands, Captain, just as I told you!” he cried. “There is
the accursed Popish idol! Down with it! Down with it! even to the
ground! So may all Thy enemies perish!”
Anything more violent and frenzied than his manner it was
impossible to conceive; his dark eyes blazed, his sombre face was
transformed.
But the ludicrous inappropriateness of his quotation tickled
Gabriel’s sense of humour, and under the violence of the attack he
grew restive.
“Your text seems to me ill-chosen,” he said. “But if this be indeed
an idol, then by all means let it come down. An idol is a visible
object which men bow down to or worship. Do any of you people of
Bosbury bow down to this cross?”
There was a quiet force in his tone which instantly arrested the
villagers’ full attention.
“No, sir,” they cried, unanimously.
And at that the Vicar hastened forward, courteously greeting the
young Parliamentarian, and exclaiming eagerly, “Sir, the answer of
the people of Bosbury is true. None of my people are so foolish as to
bow to sticks or stones. I humbly hope that they have learnt better
than that.”
“’Tis a lie!” shouted Waghorn. “A lie! How about old Jock? How
about Billy Blunt?”
“Old Jock,” explained the Vicar to the Captain, “had been brought
up a Papist, and I admit that he did superstitiously nod his head
when he passed the cross; he is now bedridden. As for Billy, he,
poor lad, is an idiot, and ’tis impossible to reason with him.”
But explanations could not satisfy Waghorn.
“Down with all idolatrous symbols!” he shouted. “Down with the
cross!”
And his vehemence and excitement proved infectious, for now the
soldiers and a few of the spectators caught up the cry, and the
churchyard rang with shouts of “Ay! down with it! down with it!”
while the villagers began to press forward in an uncertain way,
scarcely knowing what to think.
The Vicar rushed between the cross and the soldiers as though to
guard it from attack, and turned with outstretched arms to his
parishioners.
“I tell you, good people,” he said, in his ringing, manly voice, “that
this cross was set up by early Christians. Beneath it there lies buried
the ancient stone which was worshipped in heathen times. This is no
idol, but a witness to the truth.”
“Don’t heed the Vicar! Obey the word of God!” shouted Waghorn.
“Break it in pieces like a potter’s vessel!”
Again the contagion of the fanatic’s excitement spread, and
elicited yet fiercer shouts of “Ay! Pull it down! Break it in pieces!
Remember Smithfield!”
Gabriel saw that a serious riot would ensue unless action were
quickly taken.
Shouting an order for silence, which was promptly obeyed by the
soldiers, he said to the Vicar, “Sir, ’tis true enough that Parliament
hath ordered the destruction of images and crosses. In many places
the people truly did bow down to them. We wish that God alone
should be glorified, and we dread homage to symbols. I fear that it
will be my duty to carry out the Parliamentary order.”
“In truth, sir,” pleaded the Vicar, “I assure you that I dislike acts of
homage to the cross as much as you do. I merely plead with you for
our right to keep the ensign of our faith. What is that blue banner
yonder officer holds?”
“’Tis the banner of the Parliament, sir,” said Gabriel.
“Well, sir, you do not worship your flag, but you would not lightly
part with it. That cross, sir, is my flag, and, unless your looks belie
you, I think you will refuse to destroy the witness of our common
faith.”
Gabriel had listened with respect and deep attention to this
earnest appeal. The long years of controversy and strife had
accentuated every religious difference. Hard words had been
remorselessly hurled on both sides; but here was a man who boldly
appealed to “our common faith.”
In a sudden flash he seemed to realise how overwhelmingly great
was this faith they shared. All lesser differences were dwarfed. He
no longer saw the stone cross, the buff-coated men-at-arms and the
villagers—he saw instead a jeering rabble, and Roman soldiers and
the Eternal Revelation of God’s great love to the world. All that he
had known from childhood, and honestly striven to carry into
practice, was flooded by one of those inspiring gleams which make
us understand how much nearer is the Unseen than the Seen; so
that for the time there seemed to him nothing in the whole universe
save that perfect Revelation of Love.
He was recalled from his Mount of Transfiguration by the urgent
need of help down below. Like a false note in a symphony,
Waghorn’s voice broke the silence which, to his violent zeal, had
seemed unendurable.
“Don’t heed him, Captain! Don’t heed him! Down with the
accursed idol! So let all Thine enemies perish, O Lord!”
Gabriel strode towards him.
“Silence!” he cried, sternly. “The devil, as we all know, can quote
Scripture. Sir,” he continued, turning to the Vicar, with a look that
told of genuine respect, “your words stir my heart strangely. If you
will promise to have graven on the cross these words

Honour not the cross,

But honour God for Christ,

no man shall touch what you rightly call the witness of our
common faith.”
 The Vicar grasped his hand with grateful warmth.
“I thank you from my heart, sir, and I promise right willingly.
Zachary! Go fetch Tim the mason, and bid him carve the words
without delay. And, good people,” he added, as the villagers crowded
round him, two little children plucking at his sleeve till he put his
kindly hands caressingly on their shoulders, “let us never allow the
emblem of Divine Love to become the target for bitterness and
division. Above all the unhappy strife of to-day, there is one thing
which may yet unite us—it is love, the bond of peace.”
All this time Hilary had obediently waited in the garden, but the
garden was separated from the churchyard only by a low hedge of
clipped yews, and in one place the trees had been allowed to grow
higher and had been cut into a sheltered arbour. Here, quite hidden
from view, she had seen and heard all that passed.
For a minute or two she had not recognised Gabriel, for his face
had been turned from her and she had only once before seen him
with short hair and in uniform. But when he stepped forward and
spoke to the people her heart gave such a bound of joy that in
reality all her perplexed musings as to the answer she should make
to Colonel Norton were solved.
When she heard the word of command given to the soldiers to
march from the churchyard, and saw the crowd beginning to
disperse, she hastened from the arbour, and was just approaching
the little gate in the hedge when she saw the Vicar drawing near,
and heard him warmly pressing the Parliamentary Captain to dine
with them.
“Uncle!” she said, opening the gate, “you do not know our old
friend, Mr. Gabriel Harford.”
Gabriel looked in amazement at the dear familiar face in the grey
and pink hood, at the trim erect figure in the old grey gown, outlined
against the arch of dark yew. Surely that white hand holding open
the gate was an emblem of hope? Surely he could read signs of love
in the bright eyes and in the glowing cheeks?
“Hilary!” he cried, with a choking sensation in his throat. “Are you
here?”
He bent down and kissed her hand, and they were both relieved
when the Vicar came to the rescue.
“Captain Harford! Why, this is excellent hearing. I had no notion,
sir, what your name was, but if aught could make my rejoicing
greater, it would be the knowledge that this kindly deed was done by
one well known to my dear sister now at rest, this child’s mother,”
and he took Hilary’s hand caressingly in his.
“I will see if dinner is ready,” she said, nervously.
“No, child, I must myself go in, and will speak to Durdle. Do you
entertain Captain Harford. You were children together and will have
many a matter to talk over, I’ll warrant.”
He went into the house, and Gabriel drew a little nearer to Hilary.
“Your uncle does not know, then, that we were ever more to one
another than just playmates?” he said; and as for an instant she
glanced at him, she saw how much he must have gone through
since their last parting.
“No,” she replied, shyly. “He never heard about it. So much has
passed since then. You had tidings of my dear mother’s death,
Gabriel?”
“Yes, I heard of it at Bath, before the fight at Lansdown. My
thoughts have always been with you, but you never replied to my
letter.”
“No letter ever reached me,” she said.
“This miserable war too often makes writing useless,” said Gabriel,
with a sigh. “For nigh upon two years I have been hoping against
hope for an answer. Ah! here comes Mrs. Durdle.”
“Dinner is served, mistress,” said Durdle. “I hope I see you well,
sir,” she added, curtseying and beaming as her eyes fell on Gabriel.
“Why! Mrs. Durdle,” he said, laughing, as he shook her by the
hand. “I could fancy myself at home once more now that I see you
again.”
“And it’s glad I am to welcome you to Bosbury, sir,” said the
housekeeper, blithely. “Begun your work you did by guarding me and
that silly wench Maria when the Parliament soldiers first came to
Hereford; and now here you be to guard Bosbury Cross from that
crazy-pated Waghorn.”
They entered the house and were soon dining together. Hilary, far
too much excited to eat, keeping up a gallant show with a mere
fragment of meat and a large helping of salad, but Gabriel making
satisfactory inroads on the cold stalled ox, which usually made the
household dinner on Sunday, Monday and Tuesday.
“I only hope that in the excitement of that scene in the
churchyard, Durdle hasn’t let my apple pasties burn to cinders in the
oven,” said Hilary, smiling. “You always used to have a liking for hot
apple pasties when we were children,” she said, glancing at him.
“And ’tis many a day since I had a chance of tasting one,” he said,
laughing. “Soldiers are supposed to keep alive and well on the
strangest fare.”
“Ah! sir, you have done a grand work to-day,” said the Vicar, with
such relief and happiness in his tone that Hilary found tears starting
to her eyes. “You have shown a generous forbearance which coming
generations will have cause to remember with gratitude.”
“In truth, sir,” said Gabriel, “’tis I that am indebted to you for
words that will often cheer me in these harsh times. Our rasping
differences are ever confronting us and shutting out all thought of
what we share.”
 The talk turned on Dr. Harford’s visit more than a year before, and
of Waghorn’s attack on the East window. Gabriel had heard nothing
about it, for letters from Hereford had more than once failed to
reach him. Indeed, as he explained, he had imagined that Dr. Coke
was still at Bromyard.
Just then the Vicar was called away to speak to some one, and as
Gabriel could not be induced to eat a third pasty, Hilary proposed
that they should return to the garden.
“It was from this little arbour that I saw and heard all that passed
just now,” she said, as they sat down in the cosy little retreat. “I
hope you appreciated Durdle’s words of praise.”
“Durdle was kinder to me at Hereford than you were,” he said,
reproachfully.
“She urged me to see you, and so in truth did my mother,” said
Hilary, drooping her head.
“And you always refused. I wonder if you knew how cruelly you
hurt me,” he said, with that note of pain in his voice which always
disturbed her.
“What would have been the use of inviting you to come in?” she
replied. “You know that it was worse than useless when we met in
the cathedral porch. We parted because of our great differences.
Naught had changed.”
“Yet,” pleaded Gabriel, “the Vicar told us but now that there was
one thing which must always unite us.”
She drew up her head with all her old pride and hardness.
“I could never love a rebel,” she said, perversely.
Gabriel, bitterly disappointed, remained absolutely silent. A bee
flew humming loudly into the arbour, then roamed forth once more
to the apple blossom on a tree hard by. There was a faint stirring,
too, in the shrubs just behind them in the churchyard as Peter
Waghorn, who had followed the movements of the Parliamentary
Captain with stealthy malevolence, crouched down that he might
hear what treason was being plotted betwixt this half-hearted officer
and the Vicar’s Royalist niece. The two noticed nothing, for they
were absorbed in their own thoughts.
“Why are you a rebel, Gabriel?” said Hilary, more quietly, as she
lifted her face to his pleadingly. “Oh, think better of it! ’Tis not too
late. Many men have changed sides. Think how good our King is!”
Her appeal moved him painfully, a look of keen distress dawned in
his eyes.
“A good man, but an untrustworthy King,” he said, controlling his
agitation with difficulty. “Nay, we won’t argue. You well know that I
fight for the ancient rights and liberties of Englishmen, and even for
love of you, Hilary, I can’t turn back! I can’t turn back! And yet, oh!
my God! how hard it is!”
“I did not mean to pain you,” said Hilary, remorsefully. “Nay, I
longed to tell you how it pleased me to hear all that you said when
Waghorn would have pulled down the cross. Are you still in Sir
William Waller’s army?”
“No, at present I am serving under Colonel Massey, but I hope ere
long to be sent to Sir Thomas Fairfax at Windsor, where he is
forming the New Model Army.”
“You will serve under him?”
“My great wish is to follow in my father’s steps, but just now I am
to act as the bearer of important despatches. Enough, however, of
my affairs. Do tell me of yourself. If only you guessed how I had
hungered for news of you!”
“’Twere far better that you forgot me,” she said, beginning to play
with the little housewife that hung from her girdle.
 “I can never forget,” he said, vehemently. “Surely you understand
that my love for you is unchanged.”
Suddenly there darted into her mind the remembrance of Norton’s
words about the pretty daughter of the Gloucestershire squire. When
spoken they had seemed to turn her love to hatred, yet in the
sudden rapture of Gabriel’s return she had absolutely forgotten all
about them. He could not understand the change that now came
over her whole manner and bearing.
“Don’t speak of your love,” she said, indignantly. “All that is at an
end—at best we can now be only friendly foes. More is impossible.”
“Why impossible?” he pleaded.
Then terror seizing him, he exclaimed, “Do you mean that
someone else loves you?”
“Why do you ask?” she said, with some embarrassment.
“Oh! have pity on me, Hilary,” he cried. “At least tell me one way
or the other. Is there some other lover?”
“Yes,” she owned. “There is one that loves me, and a right loyal
gentleman he is—the Governor of Canon Frome.”
He turned pale. The silence and the suffering in his face angered
Hilary.
“What right have you to be concerned?” she said, indignantly.
“You have not really been constant to me; I well know that you have
been making love to the heiress of a Gloucestershire squire.”
“Who told you so base a lie?” said Gabriel, starting to his feet.
“One whose word I trust,” she replied, quietly, “the loyal Governor
of Canon Frome.”
“His name?” asked Gabriel, eagerly.
 “His name is Colonel Norton,” she said, triumphantly.
“Norton!” he cried, in horror. “He is the man you trust? The man
who has dared to speak of love to you?”
“Yes; why not? Is he not a brave soldier and active in the King’s
service?”
“Brave, no doubt. He is an Englishman. But surely you have heard
that even his own party are aghast at his doings?”
“I have heard naught against him,” said Hilary, indignantly. “You
are jealous, and if there is one thing on earth I despise ’tis jealousy.”
“The fellow is not worthy to touch the hem-of your garment,” said
Gabriel, sternly. “Listen to me. You shall hear the plain truth. ’Tis
well known that he is a Cavalier of the type of my Lord Goring. I
would sooner see you dead than in his power.”
“It would be unfair of me to heed your attack on the absent,” said
Hilary, coldly. “You are jealous, and ready to believe evil of Colonel
Norton.”
“You torture me!” cried Gabriel, desperately.
“Oh, you pretend that you are unchanged,” said Hilary, with scorn.
“But there is no smoke without fire, and the Gloucestershire heiress
——”
“Hush!” he said, sitting down beside her once more, and his
quietness of manner and restrained force dominated her.
“Now I am resolved that you shall hear precisely what passed, for
it is due to Mistress Neal as well as to you and to myself.”
Very briefly he told of Norton’s interview with Major Locke at
Gloucester, of the interrupted duel, of the way in which he and
Joscelyn Heyworth had rescued Helena from the cruel trap that had
been set for her. In spite of herself Hilary’s sympathies were enlisted
on the side of the poor little maid, and perhaps she inclined to her
all the more when she heard that she was now happily married to
Mr. Humphrey Neal.
“And her father?” she inquired. “What has become of him?”
“He died at Marlborough, mainly, I do believe, because Colonel
Norton forced him to travel when he was desperately wounded and
refused him the aid of a surgeon,” said Gabriel.
There was a silence. He would not speak of the way in which
Norton had treated him in the church.
“After all,” said Hilary, with a mutinous little toss of the head, “I
have but your word for this. You tell me one tale and Colonel Norton
another. Why should I trust a rebel and distrust a Royalist?”
A sigh of despair broke from Gabriel at her perversity.
“I can only repeat,” he said, “that I love you with all my heart and
soul, but if it were to save you from wedding this vile profligate I
could rejoice to see you the wife of any honourable man.”
“You leap to conclusions,” she said, relenting a little, “I am in no
haste to wed. There is not even a promise given yet. I merely said
he loved me. But enough! Let us come into the church and you shall
see what havoc Waghorn wrought there.”
 CHAPTER XXXVII.
“We must admit nothing which turns our worship from inward to
outward, which tends to set the transitory in place of the eternal.
Nothing external, however splendid and impressive, can bring us
nearer to the Divine; but external things may engross and exhaust
our powers of devotion. Veils of sense, no less than veils of intellect,
may come between us and the spiritual, in which alone we can rest.
To rest in forms is idolatry. Earth may hold us still under the guise of
heaven.”
—Christian Aspects of Life.—Bishop Westcott.

W
hen the two had passed through the little gate in the
churchyard, and had disappeared inside the building, Peter
Waghorn crept cautiously from his hiding place among the
shrubs. Shaking his fist at the cross which was so obnoxious to him,
he slowly made his way to his own house, his mind full of what he
had overheard.
The long-delayed scheme for the destruction of the cross, upon
which he had set his heart, had been frustrated at the very last
moment by this young captain. Doubtless, Waghorn thought, he had
been secretly persuaded beforehand by the soft blandishments of
the Vicar’s niece. She had discreetly kept in the background
throughout the scene, but, of course, it was all really her doing.
“Well, well,” he muttered grimly, as he sat down in his lonely
room, “I have him in my power now, and can revenge myself on
him! He baulked me as to the cross, and as good as called me a
devil. The man’s a traitor! He’s one of the ungodly. I’ll unmask him
even if for the nonce I have to play into Colonel Norton’s hands. I’ll
take word to Canon Frome as to the despatches he is to bear to
Windsor. Eh, eh! Captain Harford. I shall have you laid by the heels,
and you shall bitterly rue the day when you set your hand to the
plough and then turned back.”
With bitter vindictiveness he drew an inkhorn and pen towards
him, and laboriously began to write the following words:
“I have a carpentering job in the ante-room at Canon Frome
Manor this day, and shall be there at three of the clocke. If Colonel
Norton wishes to gett tydings of a dangerous ryvall, who is moreover
a rebel, he cann obtayne it on certaine con-dishuns.”
He had just sanded this document, and was about to fold and seal
it, when the sound of the Old 113th in the village street made him
pause. He stepped out into the road in front of the house, and saw
that the Puritan soldiers were ready to march back to Ledbury, and,
evidently at the Vicar’s request, were first joining the villagers in a
Psalm. As the words floated towards him a look of wonder and
hesitation crossed the stern face of the wood carver. It was as if he
caught a momentary glimpse of a unity as yet far beyond his reach.

O children which do serve the Lord,

Praise ye His name with one accord,
Yea, blessed always be His name;
Who from the rising of the sun
Till it return where it begun,
Is to be praised with great fame,
The Lord all people doth surmount,
As for His glory we may count
Above the heavens high to be.
With God the Lord who may compare,
 Whose dwellings in the heavens are;
Of such great power and force is He.

But the bitter memory of his father’s death returned to him, and
when another psalm was started he closed his door and hardened
his heart; as soon as the soldiers had left the village he resolved to
set out for Canon Frome.
Meanwhile Gabriel and Hilary were viewing Waghorn’s work in the
church.
“It was such a grief to my uncle,” said Hilary. “Often in former
times I have seen him sitting here about sunset quietly enjoying the
beauty of the place and the jewel-like colouring of the window.”
“I am sorry Waghorn destroyed it,” said Gabriel. “Yet it would be
dishonest of me to let you think that I am wholly without the usual
Puritan feeling. To paint an imaginary picture of the Christ seems to
me taking an unwarrantable liberty, which we should not allow a
painter to take with any other friend or kinsman.”
“Don’t you mind spoiling a beautiful thing?” she said, wonderingly.
“I never saw anything to complain of in the Bosbury window,” he
replied, “but some representing the Trinity I gladly saw destroyed. At
Abingdon, when Sir William Waller had the market cross hewn down,
I helped to break in pieces the images of the saints surrounding it,
for some folk still knelt to them. And though at Winchester we
regretted the irreverence shown to the tombs of the dead, and did
our utmost to check it, we found it well-nigh impossible to control
the people, for they connect all pictures and sculpture with the
hated tyranny of Popish times.”
“I don’t understand how you can endure such sights,” said Hilary.
 “Perhaps you hardly understand that a soldier has to endure sights
so much more dreadful. Human beings crushed, battered, mangled
—homes destroyed, and families destitute and starving—all the
horrors of war. When once you have learnt to love people, you can’t
think so much of mere things.”
“I don’t think you ever really cared for what was beautiful,” she
said, reproachfully.
He winced. For was not her radiant loveliness tugging at his heart
—torturing him with an intolerable longing to have her for his own to
all eternity?
Norton would skilfully have taken advantage of such an opening
and used it for his selfish ends, but Gabriel’s voice only sounded a
little constrained, as he replied:
“You are right in deeming me no artist.”
Into his mind there came a sudden recollection of the comfort that
Hilary’s miniature had been to him through these years of pain and
separation; and then a horrible memory of what had passed about it
in the church at Marlborough, and the sickening thought that Norton
was even now seeking to ensnare her.
What was he to do? How could he best serve her? Their
differences in religion and politics seemed to loom up larger than
ever, and hopelessly to part them.
The sound of the soldiers and the villagers joining in the
thanksgiving psalm broke in upon his sad thoughts. When the verse
ended, he turned to Hilary and there was again a look of hope in his
eyes. He was standing beneath the beautifully carved old rood
screen and she was strangely moved by the pathos of his
expression.
“After all,” he said, cheerfully, “we may find a parable in this
Bosbury window which will show us how small are our differences.
You and the Vicar love to see through a coloured picture; we
Puritans should, as a rule, prefer the clearest glass, but we are both
looking through the same outlet to the same sunlight.”
The thought appealed to her; she smiled with something of her
old comprehending sweetness.
“I am very glad you spared the cross,” she said, gently, as they
paused for a minute in the south porch. “If—if I pained you just
now, I am sorry, Gabriel.”
“Promise me that you will at least take counsel before you again
speak to Colonel Norton,” he pleaded.
“What right have you to demand promises of me?” she asked
proudly.
“No right,” he said, his voice faltering, “but by the memory of your
mother I implore you, Hilary.”
“I will think of it,” she said. “What! are you going?”
“I distrust that fanatic Waghorn, he may stir up the soldiers once
more,” he replied. Then, with an irrepressible sigh, “’Tis like enough,
Hilary, that you and I may never meet again; will you not give me
that one word of comfort?”
The sudden stab of pain at the thought that this might indeed be
their last meeting, broke down her pride.
“Well—I promise,” she said, gently. Then, as he bent down and
kissed her hand, the familiar notes of “In trouble and adversity,” fell
upon her ear. “Do you hear what they are singing?” she cried. “’Tis
our psalm that we sang years ago in the Cathedral, that day when
——” she broke off in confusion.
“You still remember?” he said, tenderly, his eyes full of happiness
as they met hers.
At that moment, to his bitter regret, they heard steps on the path,
and looking up, saw a burly sergeant approaching. Gabriel went to
give him his orders, then returned to the porch.
“We must march as soon as they have ended the psalm,” he said,
stooping once more to press a passionate kiss on her hand. “I am
glad you remember that day, Hilary. Remember always! Remember
always!”
She heard his voice tremble, yet could not speak; she watched
him walk rapidly down the path to the lych-gate, and then as the
hearty voices of the soldiers and the villagers rose in the final verse,
she sank down on one of the benches in the porch, and, hiding her
face in her hands, burst into tears.
About three o’clock that afternoon Norton, waking from an after-
dinner nap, sauntered out into one of the corridors at Canon Frome
Manor.
“There is a carpenter-fellow, sir, at work in the house, and he bade
me give this into your hands,” said his servant, approaching him.
Norton carelessly broke the seal and glanced at the laboriously-
written lines. A smile began to flicker about his lips, and with some
curiosity he made his way to the ante-room which led to Dame
Elizabeth’s apartments. Here he found Waghorn busily engaged in
mending a spinning-wheel.
“Good-day, Colonel,” said the fanatic, gloomily. “Hath my missive
been delivered?”
“So this is from you!” said Norton, with a sarcastic smile. “You are
the fellow I met once at Bosbury. Have you thought better of it, and
are you going to change sides?”
“Nay, nay, I trow not,” replied Waghorn, his eyes gleaming. “But I
would fain be used as the instrument of vengeance on the ungodly,
even though for the time I do serve thee and thy cause.”
Norton gave one of his short scoffing laughs.
 “I faith I scarce know if I could be served by one of such a vinegar
aspect!”
“Dost thou love Mistress Hilary Unett?” asked the wood-carver,
sternly.
The Colonel started.
“What is that to you, scarecrow?”
“I had heard gossip in the village as to thy wooing of her, and I
thought mayhap a knowledge of the doings of her old lover, Captain
Harford, might be worth something to thee.”
“Harford!” cried the Colonel, in surprise. “What do you know of
him?”
Waghorn carefully adjusted a screw in the spinning-wheel, then
looked up shrewdly.
“What would the knowledge be worth to thee?”
“Oh! You want money! Here! I’m as poor as a rook, but for the
whole truth about this cursed lover I’ll give you a crown piece.”
He took a coin from his pocket and flung it on the floor. Waghorn,
with an angry frown, pushed it from him.
“Thy money perish with thee! I want none of it. Nay, ’tis
something more than money that I must have for the tidings.
Promise to use me as the instrument of vengeance on this traitor.”
“Dost take me for a murderer hiring assassins?” said the Colonel,
scornfully.
“I speak not of murder, but of bringing the ungodly and the
traitorous to just punishment.”
“Well, I will use you if I can, but you must tell me more. Where is
this Mr. Harford?”
 “This very morning he yielded to the entreaty of the Vicar of
Bosbury and spared the Popish cross in the churchyard. I vowed in
my heart that he should suffer for that treachery, and, concealing
myself, I heard all that passed later betwixt him and Mistress Hilary.”
“What did the fair lady say to him?”
“Why, she was just a second Eve, leading him on, and then the
next minute sorely paining him; but methinks she hath a liking for
him all the same, and left him some hope.”
“Hope of winning her?”
“That, doubtless, would follow: but what he urged on her was to
walk warily with respect to you, sir.”
“What! Did my name pass betwixt them?”
Waghorn smiled grimly. “Ay, verily; and he plainly told her what
you are, sir.”
“The devil he did! Pray, where can I find him?”
“He’ll be back at Ledbury by now, and I heard him say that he was
to be sent off with important despatches to Sir Thomas Fairfax at
Windsor.”
“You heard that?” cried Norton. “By the Lord Harry! we have him
then! Waghorn, you are worth your weight in gold. Dog this fellow’s
steps for me, have him waylaid with the despatches on him, and you
may ask what you will of me. Ha, ha! We’ll have some sport with this
outspoken young fool! He plainly told Mistress Hilary what I am, did
he? I’ll be revenged on him for that, the prating, Puritanical
marplot!”
“Only give me your orders, sir, and trust me he shall not escape.
The ungodly shall be trapped in the work of his own hands!” said
Waghorn, rubbing his hands with satisfaction.
 Norton laughed. “Take care you don’t get trapped, Waghorn; you
are not exactly what I should call a godly man yourself! A good deal
of the old Adam in your thirst for vengeance, isn’t there?”
“Sir, Captain Harford hath treacherously spared a Popish idol, and
he hath baulked me, although it was through my zeal and love for
the truth that the Parliament soldiers were marched out from
Ledbury for the pious work of destruction.”
“’Tis not pleasant to be baulked, I grant you,” said Norton, his
eyes still twinkling. “But avenge yourself, and you’ll avenge me. How
soon can you be in Ledbury?”
“As soon as this job is done, sir, and that will not be long.”
“Good! Let me know how you prosper, and see—you may be put
to some charge in the town; so take this crown piece, and the devil
send you luck!”
In high good humour at the prospect of getting Gabriel Harford
into his power, the Colonel left the room, and Waghorn, having
completed his work, packed up his tools and returned to Bosbury.
On the road he encountered the Vicar and his niece, for Hilary, ill
at ease after her talk with Gabriel, had determined to seek advice
from the motherly Dame Elizabeth, while the Vicar was anxious to
see Sir Richard Hopton, and to congratulate him on his recent
release from prison.
Fortune favoured the girl, for they encountered not only Sir
Richard in the courtyard, but Mr. Geers, who had ridden over from
Garnons to bring tidings of Frances and her sister, and to learn how
Sir Richard fared. The gentlemen remained without, chatting
together, and Hilary was ushered into the house, where, in the ante-
room which Waghorn had just quitted, she found Dame Elizabeth, a
stately, white-haired old lady, with kind far-seeing eyes.
Greeting her visitor warmly, she made her sit on a stool beside
her, lamenting that Frances was still absent.
 “In truth, dear madam, though it sounds unfriendly, I am glad she
is not here,” said Hilary; “for I greatly want your help and counsel.”
“Now that is always a pleasant thing to hear,” said Dame Elizabeth,
smiling. “There are many drawbacks to growing old, but the best
part is that the maidens and the young matrons come to us with
their joys and their sorrows.”
“They do well to come to you, dear madam, for you always
understand so well. How the Queen can lay bare her heart to a
priest is to me passing strange. But in sore need one might come to
a mother-confessor.”
“What is your trouble, dear child?” said Dame Elizabeth, kindly.
“How can I help you?”
“It all comes from this sad war,” said Hilary, with a sigh.
“In truth it hath brought sorrow to every home,” said Dame
Elizabeth. “Think what it means for us to have one son fighting for
the King and two for the Parliament! I love them alike, and there is
never a moment’s ease or relief.”
“But you can rightly love all your sons, madam. My case is
different. I—I am half ashamed to tell you how it is with me,”
faltered Hilary, drooping her head.
“Perchance I can guess,” said Dame Elizabeth, caressing her.
“Methinks, child, you do not know your own heart.”
“That is the very truth,” said Hilary, blushing, and lowering her
voice. “This morning I thought—I fancied—that a loyal King’s officer
had the chief place there; and now—now—I am half afraid that all
the time my heart has been harbouring a rebel.”
“Try to forget their opinions, and think of them only as men.
Believe me, child, love has naught to do with matters of State.”
 “That is what Gabriel Harford always said—we were betrothed
before the war began.”
“And then, I suppose, you quarrelled.”
“Yes—we—parted. I vowed I would never wed a man who was not
loyal, and he protested that loyalty meant faithfulness to law.”
“’Tis what my sons said, too. The King had unlawfully imprisoned,
unlawfully taxed and unlawfully governed without a Parliament for
eleven years, and they said they must defend the ancient liberties of
England. Tell me of this other lover, child.”
“Gabriel thinks him unfit to speak to me, and says that the
Royalists themselves blame his way of life.”
“Have you known him long?”
“Not very long. But to Uncle Coke and to me he hath been all that
is kind. I wish you would tell me the truth about him, dear madam.”
“Surely it is not possible that you mean Colonel Norton? Hath he
dared to force himself upon you?”
“Why, he hath shown great attention to my uncle, and is ever
bringing him rare antiquities that greatly please him, and many and
many a time I have talked with him.”
“Oh, child! you are too inexperienced. I know Colonel Norton, for
the officers of the Canon Frome garrison live here at free quarters.
Have no more to do with him, Hilary, for, believe me, he is cruel and
dissolute. At this very time, Sir Richard is writing to beg for the
appointment of some other governor, and I am writing of our
grievances to our kinsman, Lord Hopton, the noblest of all the King’s
generals.”
“Were we, then, so deceived in Colonel Norton? I know that I am
ignorant enough, but Uncle Coke——”
 “My dear, the Vicar of Bosbury is the most genial and kind-hearted
gentleman, and very slow to suspect that all men are not of a like
disposition. You must warn him—you can tell him of our talk.”
“He ought to know, but, oh, dear madam! I cannot tell him,” said
Hilary, blushing to the roots of her hair. “Why, only this morning I
fancied—oh!” she cried, springing to her feet in a burst of
indignation, “how dared that man trifle with me!—how dared he!”
“The best plan will be for me to say a word to Mr. Geers, he is
your uncle’s friend, and he knows more of Colonel Norton than Sir
Richard doth. Do not grieve your heart any more, my child,” said
Dame Elizabeth, embracing her. “Stay to supper, and I will arrange
matters for you. And as for Mr. Harford, remember this, ’tis not a
man’s opinions that make him a good husband, but his life and
character.”
With great tact, the hostess contrived in a few words to tell Mr.
Geers the state of affairs, and the good-natured owner of Garnons
undertook, in his cordial, friendly way, to talk matters over with the
Vicar.
“It seems that I am predestined to plead the cause of my rival,
the grapegulper,” he reflected, with a smile. “But I can do it this time
with even more zeal than when I talked years ago with the Bishop,
being myself an excellent example of the happy married man. Both
for the sake of Mrs. Jefferies’ godson and of the pretty maid that
rejected my suit, I will do my best to open the eyes of my friend the
antiquary.”
 CHAPTER XXXVIII.
We wait beneath the furnace-blast
The pangs of transformation,
Not painlessly doth God re-cast
And mould anew the nation.
Hot burns the fire
Where wrongs expire;
Nor spares the hand
That from the land
Uproots the ancient evil.
—Whittier.

O
n returning to Ledbury, Gabriel seized the opportunity of
writing to his father, begging that, if possible, he might see
him before he left the neighbourhood; and by the time he
had found a messenger to despatch to Hereford, Massey had
returned from reconnoitring the surrounding country. The Governor
of Gloucester was in excellent spirits, for he had reason to believe
that Prince Rupert, having learnt of his arrival at Ledbury, had halted
in his march to join the King, and would probably return and give
him battle.
“I only wish it were possible to fortify this town,” he remarked as
he and his officers supped at the ‘Feathers,’ “but it is out of the
question.”
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