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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Brown Mask, by Percy J. Brebner
+#2 in our series by Percy J. Brebner
+
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+*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****
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+
+Title: The Brown Mask
+
+Author: Percy J. Brebner
+
+Release Date: February, 2006 [EBook #9849]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on October 24, 2003]
+
+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BROWN MASK ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Beth Trapaga
+and PG Distributed Proofreaders
+
+
+
+
+THE BROWN MASK
+
+
+By
+
+Percy J. Brebner
+
+Author of "Princess Maritza," "Vayenne," "A Royal Ward"
+
+1911
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+CHAPTER
+
+ 1. BRETHREN OF THE ROAD
+ 2. BARBARA LANISON
+ 3. GREY EYES
+ 4. THE NUN OF AYLINGFORD
+ 5. CHILDREN OF THE DEVIL
+ 6. MAD MARTIN
+ 7. KING MONMOUTH
+ 8. SEDGEMOOR AND AFTERWARDS
+ 9. "THE JOLLY FARMERS"
+10. FATE AND THE FIDDLER
+11. THE FUGITIVE AT AYLINGFORD
+12. BARBARA HELPS TO CLOSE A DOOR
+13. THE WAY OF ESCAPE
+14. A WOMAN REBELS
+15. BARBARA LANISON IN TOWN
+16. PREPARED FOR SACRIFICE
+17. BARBARA'S SELF-SACRIFICE
+18. THE JOURNEY TO DORCHESTER
+19. THE HUT IN THE WOOD
+20. SCARLET HANGINGS
+21. LORD ROSMORE DICTATES TERMS
+22. THE LUCK OF LORD ROSMORE
+23. LORD ROSMORE AS A FRIEND
+24. LOVE AND FEAR
+25. THE TRIPLE ALLIANCE
+26. THE FLIGHT
+27. OUT OF DORCHESTER
+28. THE LEATHER CASE
+29. SAFETY
+30. ALONG THE NORTH ROAD
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+BRETHREN OF THE ROAD
+
+Dismal in appearance, the painted sign over the mean doorway almost
+obliterated by time and weather, there was nothing attractive about the
+"Punch-Bowl" tavern in Clerkenwell. It was hidden away at the end of a
+narrow alley, making no effort to vaunt its existence to the world at
+large, and to many persons, even in the near neighbourhood, it was
+entirely unknown. Like a gentleman to whom debauchery has brought shame
+and the desire to conceal himself from his fellows, so the "Punch-Bowl"
+seemed an outcast amongst taverns. Chance visitors were few, were
+neither expected nor welcomed, and ran the risk of being told by the
+landlady, in terms which there was no possibility of misunderstanding,
+that the place was not for them. It was natural, therefore, that a
+certain air of mystery should surround the house, for, although the
+alley was a _cul-de-sac_, there were stories of marvellous escapes
+from this trap even when the entrance was closed by a troop of soldiers,
+and it was whispered that there was a secret way out from the
+"Punch-Bowl" known only to the favoured few. Nor was an element of
+romance wanting. The dwellers in this alley were of the poorest sort,
+dirty and unkempt, picking up a precarious livelihood, pickpockets and
+cutpurses--"foysters" and "nyppers" as their thieves' slang named them;
+yet, through all this wretched shabbiness there would flash at intervals
+some fine gentleman, richly dressed, and with the swagger of St. James's
+in his gait. Conscious of the sensation he occasioned, he passed through
+the alley looking strangely out of place, yet with no uncertain step. He
+was a hero, not only to these ragged worshippers, but in a far wider
+circle where wit and beauty moved; he knew it, gloried in it, and recked
+little of the price which must some day be paid for such popularity. The
+destination of these gentlemen was always the "Punch-Bowl" tavern.
+
+Neither of a man, nor of a tavern, is it safe to judge only by the
+exterior. A grim and forbidding countenance may conceal a warm heart,
+even as the unprepossessing "Punch-Bowl" contained a cosy and
+comfortable parlour. To-night, half a dozen fine gentlemen were enjoying
+their wine, and it was evident that the landlady was rather proud of her
+guests. Buxom, and not too old to forget that she had once been
+accounted pretty, she still loved smartness and bright colours, was not
+averse to a kiss upon occasion, and had a jest--coarse, perhaps, but
+with some wit in it--for each of her customers. She knew them
+well--their secrets, their love episodes, their dangers; sometimes she
+gave advice, had often rendered them valuable help, but she had also a
+keen eye for business. Her favours had to be paid for, and even from the
+handsomest of her customers a kiss had never been known to settle a
+score. The "Punch-Bowl" was no place for empty pockets, and bad luck was
+rather a crime than an excuse. When it pleased her the landlady could
+tell many tales of other fine gentlemen she had known and would never
+see again, and she always gave the impression that she considered her
+former customers far superior to her present ones. Perhaps she found the
+comparison good for her business since she spoke to vain men. She had
+become reminiscent this evening.
+
+"The very night before he was taken he sat where you're sitting," she
+said, pointing to one of her customers who was seated by the hearth.
+"Ah! He made a good end of it did Jim o' the Green Coat; kicked off his
+boots as if they were an old pair he had done with, and threw the
+ordinary out of the cart, saying he had no time to waste on him just
+then. I was there and saw it all."
+
+There was silence as she concluded her glowing tale. Depression may take
+hold of the most careless and light-hearted for a moment, and even the
+attraction of making a good end, with an opportunity of spurning a
+worthless ordinary, cannot always appeal. The landlady had contrived to
+make her story vivid, and furtive glances were cast at the individual
+who occupied the seat she had indicated. There suddenly appeared to be
+something fatal in it and ample reason why a man might congratulate
+himself on being seated elsewhere. The occupant was the least concerned.
+He had taken the most comfortable place in the room; it seemed to be
+rightly his by virtue of his dress and bearing. He had the grand air as
+having mixed in high society, his superiority was tacitly admitted by
+his companions, and the landlady had addressed herself especially to
+him, as though she knew him for a man of consequence.
+
+"When the time comes you shall see me die game, too, I warrant," he
+laughed, draining his glass and passing it to be refilled. "One death is
+as good as another, and at Tyburn it comes quicker than to those who lie
+awaiting it in bed."
+
+"That's true," said the landlady.
+
+"I should hate to die in a bed," the man went on. "The open road for me
+and a quick finish. It's the best life if it isn't always as long as it
+might be. I wouldn't forsake it for anything the King could offer me.
+It's a merry time, with romance, love and adventure in it, with plenty
+to get and plenty to spend, with a seasoning of danger to give it
+piquancy--a gentleman's life from cock-crow to cock-crow, and not worthy
+of a passing thought is he who cannot make a good end of it. I'd sooner
+have the hangman for a bosom friend than a man who is likely to whimper
+on the day of reckoning. Did I tell you that a reverend bishop offered
+me fifty guineas for my mare the other day?"
+
+"You sold her?" came the question in chorus.
+
+"Sold her! No! I told him that she would be of little use to him, since
+no one but myself could get her up to a coach."
+
+"Your impudence will be the death of you, John," laughed the landlady.
+
+"That seems a fairly safe prophecy," answered Gentleman Jack--for so his
+companions named him--"still, I've heard of one bishop who took to the
+road in his leisure hours. He died of a sudden fever, it was said; but,
+for all that, he returned one night from a lonely ride across Hounslow
+Heath, and was most anxious to conceal the fact that somebody had put a
+bullet into him. My bishop may have become ambitious--indeed, I think he
+had, for he had intellect enough to understand my meaning and was not in
+the least scandalised."
+
+"Then we may yet welcome him at the 'Punch-Bowl,'" said one man. "So
+far, this house has entertained no one higher in the church than a Fleet
+parson. I see no sin in drinking the bishop's good health and wishing
+him the speedy possession of a horse to match his ambition."
+
+"Anyone may serve as a toast," said another; "but could a bishop be good
+company under any circumstances, think you?"
+
+"Gad! why not?" asked Gentleman Jack. "He'd Spend his time trying to
+square his profession with his conscience maybe, and when a man is
+reduced to that, bishop or no bishop, there's humour enough, I warrant."
+
+The health was drunk with laughter, and the air of depression which had
+followed the landlady's recital disappeared like clouds from an April
+sky. Each one had some story to tell, some item to add to the
+accumulated glory of the road.
+
+"Ay, it's a merry life," said the man who had had doubts about the
+bishop's company, "and the only drawback is that it comes to an end when
+you're at the top of your success. The dealers in blood-money never hunt
+a man down until he's worth his full price."
+
+"And isn't that the best time to take the last ride?" exclaimed
+Gentleman Jack. "Who would choose to grow old and be forgotten? What
+should we do sitting stiffly in an armchair, wearing slippers because
+boots hurt our poor swollen feet? What should we be without a pair of
+legs strong enough to grip the saddle or with eyes too dim to recognise
+a pretty woman, lacking fire to fall in love, and with lips which had
+lost their zest for kissing?"
+
+"But we come to that last ride before we lack anything--that's the
+trouble," was the answer.
+
+"Not always," said another man. "Galloping Hermit was feared on all the
+roads before I had stopped my first coach, and he is still feared
+to-day." The speaker was young, and he mentioned the name of the
+notorious highwayman with a kind of reverence.
+
+"They say he's the devil himself, and that's why he's never been taken,"
+said another. "Did any of you ever see him?"
+
+"Once." And they all turned quickly towards the man who spoke. "My mare
+had gone lame, and I had dismounted in a copse to examine her, when
+there was the quick, regular beat of hoofs at a gallop across the turf.
+I was alert on my own account in a moment, crouching down amongst the
+undergrowth, for with a lame animal I could have made but a poor show.
+There flashed past me a splendid horseman, man and beast one perfect
+piece of harmony. The moon was near the full. I saw the neat, strong
+lines of the horse, the easy movement of the rider, and I could see that
+the mask which the man wore was brown. This happened two years ago, out
+beyond Barnet."
+
+"And without that brown mask no one knows him." said the man who had
+first spoken of him. "He has been met on all the roads, north, south,
+east and west--never in company, always alone. He never fails, yet the
+blood-feasters have watched for him in vain. Truly, he disappears as
+mysteriously as the devil might. He may go to Court. He may be a
+well-known figure there, gaming with the best, a favoured suitor where
+beauty smiles. He may even have been here amongst us at the 'Punch-Bowl'
+without our knowing it."
+
+"It is not impossible," Gentleman Jack admitted, smiling a little at the
+others' enthusiasm.
+
+"I envy him," was the answer. "We seem mean beside such a man as
+Galloping Hermit."
+
+"I do not cry 'Yes' to that," said Gentleman Jack, just in time to
+prevent an outburst from the landlady, who appeared to fancy that the
+quality of her entertainment was being called in question. "The brown
+mask conceals a personality, no doubt, but before we can judge between
+man and man we must know something of their various opportunities. Were
+he careful and lucky, such a man as my bishop would be hard to run to
+earth. Galloping Hermit is careful, for only at considerable intervals
+do we hear of him. The road would seem to be a pastime with him, rather
+than a life he loved. For me, the night never comes that I do not long
+to be in the saddle, that I do not crave for the excitement, even if
+there be no spoil worth the trouble of taking. This man is different. He
+is only abroad when the quarry is certain. True, success has been his,
+but for all that the fear of Tyburn may spoil his rest at night, and
+when he gets there we may find that the brown mask conceals a coward
+after all."
+
+"Had you seen him that night as I did you would not say so," was the
+answer.
+
+"I like speech with a man before I judge his merits," said Gentleman
+Jack, rising from his chair and flicking some dust from his sleeve. He
+appeared to resent such slavish admiration of Galloping Hermit--perhaps
+because he felt that his own pre-eminence was challenged. It pleased him
+to think that his name must be in everyone's mouth, that his price in
+the crime-market must for months past have been higher than any other
+man's, and he was suddenly out of humour with the frequenters of the
+"Punch-Bowl." He threw a guinea to the landlady, told her to buy a
+keepsake with the change, and passed out with a careless nod, much as
+though he intended never to come back into such low company.
+
+The landlady stood fingering the guinea, turning it between her finger
+and thumb, rather helping her reflections by the action than satisfying
+herself that the coin was a good one.
+
+"I believe we've had Galloping Hermit here to-night," she said suddenly.
+"It was unlike Gentleman Jack to talk as he did just now. Mark my words,
+he wears a brown mask on special occasions, and thought by sneering to
+throw dust in our eyes. It's not the first time I have considered the
+possibility, and I'm not sure that I won't buy a brown silk mask for
+keepsake and slip it on when next I see him coming in at the door. That
+would settle the question."
+
+She had many arguments to support her opinion, reminded her customers of
+many little incidents which had occurred in the past, recalling
+Gentleman Jack's peculiar behaviour on various occasions. Her arguments
+sounded convincing, and for an hour or more they discussed the question.
+
+The opportunity to test her belief by wearing a brown silk mask never
+came, however, for that same night Gentleman Jack was taken on Hounslow
+Heath. A stumbling horse put him at the mercy of the man he sought to
+rob, who struck him on the head with a heavy riding-whip, and when the
+highwayman recovered consciousness he found himself a prisoner, bound
+hand and foot. He endeavoured to bargain with his captor, and made an
+attempt to outwit him, but, failing in both efforts, he accepted his
+position with a good grace, determined to make the best of it. Newgate
+should be proud of its latest resident. For a little space, at any rate,
+he would be the hero of fashionable circles, and go to his death with
+all the glamour of romance. He would leave a memory behind him that the
+turnkeys might presently make stirring tales of, as they drank their
+purl at night round the fire in the prison lobby.
+
+The highwayman's story concerning the bishop quickly went the round of
+the town, and a wit declared that at least half the reverend gentlemen
+went trembling in their shoes for fear of their names being mentioned.
+The story, and the wit's comment, served to raise the curiosity of the
+fashionable world, and more than one coach stopped by Newgate to set
+down beauty and its escort on a visit to the highwayman. But a greater
+sensation was pending. Who first spread the report no one knew, but it
+was suddenly whispered that this man was in reality no other than the
+notorious wearer of the brown mask. When questioned he did not deny it,
+and his evident pleasure at the mystery which surrounded him went far to
+establish the story. For every person interested in Gentleman Jack, a
+dozen were anxious to see and speak to Galloping Hermit. Every tale
+concerning him was recalled and re-told, losing nothing in the
+re-telling. Men had rather envied his adventurous career, many women's
+hearts had beat faster at the mention of his name, and now the most
+absurd theories regarding his real personality were seriously discussed
+in coffee-houses, in boudoirs, and even at Court. It was whispered that
+the King himself would intervene to save him from the gallows.
+
+For a long time no trial had caused such a sensation, and Judge
+Marriott, whose ambition it was to be likened to his learned and famous
+brother, Judge Jeffreys, rose to the occasion and succeeded in giving an
+excellent imitation of the bullying methods of his idol. This was an
+opportunity to win fame, he argued, and he gave full play to the little
+wit he possessed and ample licence to his undeniable powers of
+vituperation and blasphemy.
+
+Newgate was thronged, and the prisoner bore himself gallantly as a man
+might in his hour of triumph. It was a great thing to be an object of
+interest to statesmen, scholars, and wits, and to win smiles and tears
+from beauty. His eyes travelled slowly over the sea of faces, and rested
+for a little while upon a young girl. Her eyes were downcast, but he
+thought there must be tears in them, and for a moment he was more
+interested in her than in anyone else. Why had she come? She was
+different from all the other women about her. Beside her sat an elderly
+woman who seemed to be enjoying herself exceedingly, and appeared to
+find especial relish in Judge Marriott's remarks. The more brutal they
+were the more witty she seemed to think them.
+
+As sentence was pronounced the girl rose to her feet and turned to go.
+In truth, it had been no wish of hers to come. The judge, the people,
+and the whole atmosphere sickened her. She longed to get away, to feel
+the fresh air upon her cheek; and in her anxiety to depart she took no
+particular trouble to make sure that her companion was following her.
+There was a hasty crushing on all sides of her, and as she was carried
+forward she became conscious that she was alone, that she was being
+stared at and commented upon by some of those who were about her. She
+ought not to be there, she felt it rather than knew it, and was
+painfully aware that people were judging her accordingly. One man spoke
+to her, and in her effort to escape his attentions she contrived to
+thrust herself into a corner of an outer lobby, and waited.
+
+"Can I be of service?"
+
+For a moment she thought that the man she had escaped from had found
+her, and she turned indignantly. The steady grey eyes that met hers were
+eyes to trust--she felt that at once. This was quite a different person.
+He was young, with a face grave beyond his years, and a sense of
+strength about him likely to appeal to a woman.
+
+"I am waiting for my aunt, Lady Bolsover," she said, the colour mounting
+to her cheeks under his steady gaze, and then, suddenly anxious that he
+should not think evil of her, she added: "I did not want to come. It was
+horrible."
+
+"Your aunt must have missed you," he said, glancing round the almost
+empty lobby, for the crowd had poured out into the street by this time.
+"If you have a coach waiting, may I take you to it?"
+
+"Oh, please--do."
+
+The crowd was dense in the street, and their progress was slow, but the
+man forced a way for her. His face gave evidence that it would be
+dangerous for anyone to throw a jest at his companion. There was a
+general inclination to give him the wall as he went.
+
+"I am glad you did not come here willingly," he said suddenly, as though
+no other thought had been in his mind all this time. "This is no place
+for a woman."
+
+"Indeed, no. I am wondering why a man should be here either."
+
+"Galloping Hermit once did me a kindness. I would like to repay the
+debt."
+
+"But how? What could you do?"
+
+"I could not tell. Something might have happened to give me an
+opportunity. It did not; still, I shall see him presently. Perhaps I may
+yet be able to do him some small service."
+
+"Oh, I hope so, poor man," she answered. "There is the coach, and my
+aunt. She will thank you."
+
+Lady Bolsover, who was talking to Lord Rosmore, did not appear agitated,
+but she hurried forward when she caught sight of her niece.
+
+"My child, I have been consumed with anxiety, and--"
+
+"This gentleman--" the girl began, and then stopped. The man had not
+followed her as she went to meet her aunt. He had disappeared.
+
+There came no intervention on the prisoner's behalf in the days that
+followed, nor did he set up any plea for his life on the ground of
+knowing of plots against the King's Majesty. This would be to shirk the
+day of reckoning, and he had boasted to his companions at the
+"Punch-Bowl" that they should see him play the game to the end. He would
+fulfil this promise to the letter. He had ridden up Holborn Hill scores
+of times, seeking spoil and adventure on Hounslow Heath or elsewhere; he
+would journey up it once more, and pay the price like a gentleman. It
+would be no lonely journey; there would be excitement and triumph in it.
+He had lived his life and enjoyed it; he had allowed nothing to stand in
+the way of his desires; he had pressed into a few short years far more
+satisfaction than any other career could have given him. Why should he
+whimper because the end came early? It would be a good end to make, full
+of movement and colour. He knew, for he had been a spectator when others
+had taken that journey, and he was of more importance than they were.
+The whole town was ringing with his fame. Why should he have regrets?
+Beauty and fashion came to visit him, and one man came to thank him for
+some former kindness, a trivial matter that the highwayman had thought
+nothing of and had forgotten.
+
+It came, that last morning, a fine morning flushed with the new life of
+the world that trembles hesitatingly in the spring of the year, and
+steeps the hearts of men and women with stronger hope and wider
+ambition; such a morning as draws a veil over past failures and
+disappointments, and floods the future with success and achievement. It
+seemed a pity to have to die on such a morning, and for one moment there
+was regret in the highwayman's soul as he took his place in the cart.
+The next he braced himself to play his part, for there were great crowds
+in the streets, waiting and making holiday. All eyes were turned,
+watching for the procession, for was it not Galloping Hermit who came,
+the notorious wearer of the brown mask, the hero of wealth and squalor
+alike, the man whose deeds had already passed into legend? No one
+thought of him as Gentleman Jack, not even his companions of the
+"Punch-Bowl" who were in the crowd to see him pass; not the landlady,
+who had come to see the last of him, and stood at the end of the
+journey, waiting and watching.
+
+By the steps of St. Sepulchre's Church there was a pause. A woman, one
+of a frail sisterhood, yet strangely pretty and innocent to look upon,
+held up a great nosegay to the hero of the hour, and as he took it he
+bent down and kissed her.
+
+"Don't let another's kiss make you forget this one too soon," he said
+gaily, and her lips smiled while there was a sob in her throat.
+
+The cart jogged on again, and at intervals the man buried his face in
+the flowers. This was his hour, and if he had any fear or regret, there
+were no eyes keen enough to note the fact.
+
+Tyburn and its fatal tree were in sight across a surging crowd. Even at
+the last moment the King might intervene, it was whispered, and there
+were some who looked for signs of a swift-coming messenger. But the cart
+came nearer, slowly and surely; the space round the gallows was kept
+clear with difficulty, and there was no sign of hurrying reprieve.
+
+This was the end of the game. Now was the great test of courage. He was
+too great a man to indulge in small things to prove it.
+
+"I've been used to riding in the night; a morning ride tires one," he
+said carelessly. "Let's get it over, or I shall be getting hungry, as
+all these folks must be. There's a good pair of boots for anyone who has
+the courage to wear them. I'm ready. Make an end of it."
+
+And the landlady at the "Punch-Bowl" that night drank to his memory,
+declaring that he had died game, as was fitting for a gentleman of the
+road.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+BARBARA LANISON
+
+As the coach rolled heavily homewards towards St. James's Square, Lady
+Bolsover speedily recovered from her anxiety concerning her niece; she
+did not even reprimand her for getting lost in the crowd, and seemed to
+take no interest whatever in the gentleman who had come to the rescue
+and had not waited to be thanked. He could have been no person of
+consequence, or he would not have neglected the opportunity of bowing
+over her hand. She talked of nothing but the trial and the excellent
+manner in which her friend Judge Marriott had conducted it. Some of his
+witticisms she remembered and repeated with such excellent point that
+her niece shuddered again as she had done when they fell from the
+judge's lips.
+
+"It was altogether horrible," said the girl. "I wonder why you made me
+go."
+
+"Judge Marriott's wit horrible!" exclaimed Lady Bolsover. "Pray do not
+say so in company, or you will be taken for a fool."
+
+"I meant the trial--the whole thing. Why did we go?"
+
+"Would you be altogether out of the fashion, Barbara?"
+
+"Such fashion, yes, I think so."
+
+"Ah, that's the drawback of living in the country," was the answer. "All
+one's morals and manners smell of the soil, and a woman's attainments
+are limited to the making of gooseberry wine and piecrusts. I was of
+that pattern myself once, but, thank heaven! I married wisely and
+escaped from it. You must do the same, Barbara."
+
+"Indeed, I am not sure that I want to, and yet--"
+
+"I am grateful for the reservation," said Lady Bolsover, "or I should be
+compelled to think that all my care of you during these last few months
+had been wasted."
+
+"Oh, no; I have learnt many things--many things that it is good for me
+to know. I have seen men and women who seem to live in another world to
+the one I have knowledge of, a large and most interesting world, truly,
+yet not altogether to my taste. Is it not a strange world that can enjoy
+what we have witnessed to-day?"
+
+"I must confess I enjoyed Judge Marriott hugely," was the answer, "and
+the prisoner was a man, I'll say that for him. I almost regret not
+having had the honour of being stopped by him. I grant you he was
+interesting, and played his part gallantly."
+
+"Doomed to die on the gallows! Do you call that playing a part?"
+
+"My dear," and Lady Bolsover touched the girl's arm, "did I not know
+your ancestry I should imagine your father a scurvy Puritan and your
+mother a kitchen wench given to long hymns and cant of a Sunday. Are you
+sure this cavalier of yours was not some miserable sniveller who found
+time to favour you with a sermon? He disappeared so hastily that it
+would seem he was ashamed of himself."
+
+The girl did not answer, and if the colour came into her cheeks at the
+memory of what the man had said to her, Lady Bolsover was too amused at
+her own conjecture to notice it.
+
+There are those who are so intent upon living that they have little time
+to think. Lady Bolsover was of these. The hour that did not hold some
+excitement in it wearied her and made her petulant. Her husband, dead
+these ten years, had been amongst the enthusiastic welcomers of Charles
+at his Restoration, and his wife had from first to last been a
+well-known figure in the Court of the Merry Monarch. That she was no
+beauty, rather than because she possessed any great strength of
+character, probably accounted for the fact that she enjoyed no peculiar
+fame in that dissolute company. As she could not be the heroine of an
+intrigue, it pleased her to consider herself too great a dame for such
+affairs, and she was fully persuaded that she might count her lovers by
+the score, even now, had she so desired. As she had no very definite
+character, so she had no real convictions. Charles was dead, and James
+was King. Many changes were imminent, and Lady Bolsover was waiting to
+see in which direction the wind blew. Her nature, perhaps, was to hate
+Puritans and all their ways, but, if necessary to her own well-being,
+she would easily be able to love them and curse all Catholics. She was
+not really bad at heart, but she was a strange companion for Barbara
+Lanison.
+
+Some few months ago Sir John Lanison, of Aylingford Abbey in Hampshire,
+Lady Bolsover's brother and Barbara's uncle and sole guardian since the
+death of her parents, had suggested that his sister should take charge
+of his ward for a little while. Practically she knew nothing of London,
+he said, and it was time she did. Sir John declared that he did not want
+it to be said that he had hidden his niece away at the Abbey so that no
+man should have a chance of seeing her. He had known prettier women, but
+she was well enough, and where her face failed to attract her ample
+fortune would.
+
+"She's got more learning than is needful for a girl, to my mind," he
+told his sister; "but that kind of nonsense will be knocked out of her
+as soon as she understands her value as a woman. Send her back with all
+the corners rounded, my dear Peggy--that is what I want."
+
+Lady Bolsover had done her best, but the result was not very
+satisfactory. Barbara had convictions which her aunt was powerless to
+undermine, and seemed to set such a value upon herself that no man was
+able to make the slightest impression on her. She had barely refrained
+from laughing outright at the compliments of recognised wits, and half a
+dozen gallants with amorous intentions had been baffled and put to
+shame. Lord Rosmore, whose way with a woman was pronounced irresistible,
+had declared her adorable, but impossible, and Judge Marriott had
+promised Lady Bolsover a very handsome gratuity if she could persuade
+her niece to favour him and become his wife.
+
+Barbara Lanison could not be unconscious of the sensation she caused--a
+woman never is--but she sometimes studied the reflection in her mirror,
+and tried to discover the reason. Quite honestly she failed. She was not
+dissatisfied with the reflection, in its way it was pleasing, she
+admitted, but she had not supposed that it was of the kind that would
+appeal to men, and to such a variety of men. The women who usually
+pleased them were so different. It even occurred to her that there might
+be something in herself, in her behaviour, which was not quite nice, and
+that her real attraction lay in this, an idea which proved that her
+estimate of the men who came to her aunt's house was not a very high
+one.
+
+Born and bred in the country, and with an amount of learning which her
+uncle considered unnecessary, she had prejudices, no doubt, and possibly
+had a standard of female beauty in her mind which her own reflection did
+not satisfy. That she was mistaken in her own estimate of herself was
+certain, or the men would not have been so assiduous in their
+attentions. Perhaps she admired dark women, and the reflection which
+smiled at her out of the depths of the mirror was fair. The eyes were
+blue--that blue which the sky shows in the early morning of a cloudless
+day, and there was a suggestion of tears in them--the tears which may
+come from much laughter rather than those which speak of sorrow. There
+was a touch of gold in the fair hair, which was inclined to be
+rebellious and curl into little lovelocks about her neck and forehead.
+The skin was fair, with the bloom of perfect health upon it, and the
+little mouth was firm, the lips fresh as from the kiss of a rose. There
+was grace in all her movements, that unstudied grace which tells of life
+in the open air and freedom from restraint; and in thought and word and
+deed conventionality had small interest for her. It was hardly wonderful
+that Lord Rosmore should pronounce her adorable, or that Judge Marriott
+should forget that his youth was a thing of the past. Indeed, she had
+come as a revelation to the men whose lives were made up of Court
+intrigue and artificiality.
+
+Perhaps another reason why Barbara Lanison found it difficult to
+understand the sensation she created lay in the fact that her heart and
+affections remained entirely untouched. Those blue eyes, underneath
+their long lashes, saw very keenly, and gave her a quick insight into
+character. She was not to be easily led, and if she did a good many
+things in her aunt's house, where she was a guest, which did not come
+naturally to her and which did not please her, there was a point beyond
+which no persuasion on Lady Bolsover's part could make her go. Much
+against her will she had been taken to the trial of the highwayman, and
+that she was ashamed of being there was shown by her eager desire to
+explain her presence to the man who had come to her rescue in the crowd.
+It would probably have annoyed Lady Bolsover considerably had she known
+that her niece thought more of this man during the next few days than of
+all the eligible gallants who had been brought to her notice.
+
+If in one sense Lady Bolsover had to admit failure with regard to her
+plans concerning her niece, in another direction she had achieved
+considerable success, for since the advent of Barbara Lanison her own
+favour had been courted on all sides, and her house in St. James's
+Square had become a little Court in itself. To half a dozen men who had
+flattered her sufficiently as a first step towards her good graces, she
+had promised to do her best with her niece on their behalf, and at
+intervals she dispensed encouragements for which no action or private
+word of Barbara's gave any foundation. Lady Bolsover found her present
+_entourage_ very pleasant, and was not inclined to spoil it by being
+too definitely honest. It was therefore with considerable chagrin
+that, a few days after the trial, she received a message from her
+brother that Barbara was to return to Aylingford Abbey without delay;
+and since Judge Marriott was about to pay him a visit, nothing could be
+better than that Barbara should travel in his company.
+
+Barbara was quite ready to return to the Abbey, but she did not relish
+Judge Marriott as a travelling companion. He was old enough to be her
+father, and foolish enough to attempt to make love to her. She had
+disliked him from the first; she had come near to hating him since she
+had seen and heard him at that dreadful trial. The self-satisfied judge,
+on the other hand, hoped to make capital out of the trial. He had been
+instrumental in ridding the world of a notorious highwayman, one who had
+made himself unpleasantly known to not a few of those who were Sir
+John's guests from time to time. The trial would be much talked of at
+Aylingford, and Marriott could not fail to be a centre of attraction.
+His acumen must also have appealed to the woman whose escort he was to
+be. His conduct of the case must have impressed her with his importance.
+She was the most beautiful woman with whom he had ever been brought into
+contact, and his ambition took to itself wings. Why should not this
+woman belong to him? True, he had no family behind him to boast of, but
+he had made a position, and the way to greater things lay open before
+him. Jeffreys was his friend, and Jeffreys was a power with the new
+King. High honours might be in the near future for Judge Marriott. He
+was an ugly man--with all his willingness to do so, he could not gainsay
+that; but he consoled himself with the reflection that many beautiful
+women had married men whose looks certainly did not recommend them. It
+was only the commonplace that women turned from, and he was sufficiently
+ugly not to be commonplace.
+
+So Judge Marriott exerted himself to amuse and interest his fair young
+charge as they journeyed together into Hampshire, and not altogether
+without success. He soon discovered that all discussion concerning the
+trial was unwelcome, that the girl's foolish sympathies had been with
+the prisoner rather than the judge, and he quickly talked of other
+things. He almost made Barbara believe that he regretted Nature had not
+made him a highwayman instead of a judge, and he certainly succeeded in
+making the girl confess to herself that he was not such an unpleasant
+travelling companion as she had expected.
+
+The day had been cloudy, threatening rain, and twilight came early. When
+the coach began to cross Burford Heath it was dusk. Barbara was tired,
+and leaned back in her corner, while the judge lapsed into silence, not
+altogether oblivious to the fact that there might be dangers upon the
+heath. The road was heavy, and in places deep-rutted; the grinding and
+crunching of the wheels, the only sound breaking the stillness of the
+evening, grew monotonous; and the constant heavy jolting was trying.
+Suddenly there was a cry from the post-boys, and the coach came to a
+standstill with a jerk.
+
+"Curse them! They've managed to break down!" exclaimed Marriott. His
+hand trembled a little as he let down the window, and it seemed to
+Barbara that he was more afraid than angry. He thrust his head out of
+the window with an oath, then drew it in sharply. A horseman stood at
+the door with a pistol in his hand.
+
+"There is payment to make for crossing the heath."
+
+The judge broke out into a torrent of abuse, but whether at the man who
+barred his way or at himself for being unprepared, it was difficult to
+say.
+
+"And the payment is extra for cursing your luck, especially in the
+presence of a lady," said the man sharply, in a tone which admitted no
+argument and proved him master of the situation.
+
+Barbara, sitting upright, looked steadily into the masked face of the
+highwayman, deeply interested, but without fear. Was it fancy, or was
+there a familiar note in the man's voice? Marriott had shrunk back in
+the coach as he fumbled for his purse. He tried to conceal his face from
+the man, for, should the highwayman discover his identity, he might
+consider the moment opportune to avenge his brother of the road who had
+so recently died at Tyburn.
+
+"A meagre purse for so famous a judge," the man said, weighing it in his
+hand; "but your money is a small matter. I have a bigger score to settle
+than that. Out with you!" and the man flung open the coach door.
+
+Marriott shrank farther back until he appeared a very small and mean man
+in the corner of the coach. He tried to speak, but his words were
+inarticulate, and Barbara could feel him trembling violently.
+
+"Get out, or--"
+
+"Surely, sir, you would not kill him?" and Barbara stretched out an arm
+to protect him.
+
+"Do you plead for him, mistress? He is lucky to have such an advocate.
+Get out, judge. For the sake of those bright eyes beside you, you may
+keep your life, but you shall do penance for your sins. Get out, I say."
+
+Very reluctantly Marriott crept from the carriage.
+
+"You have all my money," he whimpered.
+
+"Down on your knees, then, and ask pardon for passing judgment on a
+better man than yourself. Down! Quickly, or this pistol of mine may
+forget that I have made a promise."
+
+Marriott sank upon his knees in a place where the road was very muddy.
+
+"The man I sent to Tyburn--say it after me."
+
+"The man I sent to Tyburn," repeated Marriott.
+
+"--was a gentleman compared to me."
+
+"--was a gentleman compared to me."
+
+"I am an unjust judge, a scoundrel at heart, a mean, contemptible
+coward, unfit to consort with honest men, and every pure, good woman
+should spurn me like dirt. Say it! Louder! The lady should be interested
+in your confession."
+
+Marriott said the words, raising his voice as he was ordered.
+
+"And I pray to Heaven to have pity on the soul of the man I sent to his
+death at Tyburn. Say it aloud, with uplifted hands. It is a prayer you
+may well make, for, God knows, you'll have need of all His mercy some
+day."
+
+The prayer was repeated, and so like a real prayer was it that, in the
+darkness of the coach, Barbara smiled. Prayer and Judge Marriott seemed
+so wide asunder.
+
+"Now get back into the coach, and take care your muddy clothes do not
+soil the lady's gown, as your presence could hardly fail to be
+pestilential to her, did she but know you as you really are. Good-night,
+fair mistress; some day I hope to see you under better escort."
+
+For a moment he bowed low over his horse's neck, then he turned and
+galloped straight across the heath.
+
+Judge Marriott had entered the coach hurriedly, so glad to escape from
+the highwayman that he did not consider how poor a figure he had cut in
+the sight of the girl. Fearful that his tormentor might not yet have
+done with him, he sank back in his corner again. Barbara was sitting
+forward looking from the window.
+
+"He has gone," she said.
+
+"Curse him!" said Marriott in a whisper. He was still afraid, and his
+voice trembled. "Surely his mask was--"
+
+"It was brown," said Barbara. "I thought the man who wore the brown mask
+was dead."
+
+"I thought so too," he muttered as he leaned forward to the window and
+watched the highwayman disappear into the shadows of the night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+GREY EYES
+
+Where a stream, running through a wide track of woodland, turned to flow
+round three sides of a plateau of rising ground, a community of
+Cistercian monks had long ago founded their home. Possibly the original
+building was of small dimensions, but as the wealth of the community
+increased it had been enlarged from time to time, and, it would appear,
+with an ever-increasing idea of comfort. Of this completed building as
+the monks knew it, a large part remained, some of it in a more or less
+ruinous state it is true, but much of it incorporated in the work of
+those subsequent builders who had succeeded in converting Aylingford
+Abbey into one of the most picturesque residences in Hampshire. It faced
+away from the stream, and the long, massive front, besides being the
+most modern part of the building, was the least interesting aspect;
+indeed, it was difficult to get a comprehensive view of it, because the
+woods approached so closely that the traveller came upon it almost
+unawares. From every other side the outlines of the Abbey were
+singularly beautiful. Here a small spire sharply cut the sky, or a
+graceful point of roof told of a chapel or high-pitched hall; there,
+half frowning, half friendly, a mass of creeper-clad, grey wall looked
+capable of withstanding a siege. In some places solid pieces of masonry
+spoke of comparatively recent improvement, while towards one end of the
+building walls had crumbled, leaving ruined chambers open to wind and
+weather. There were open casements, through which one might catch a
+glimpse of comfort within, and again there were narrow slits, deeply
+sunk into thick walls, through which fancy might expect to hear the moan
+of some prisoner in a dungeon.
+
+As it swept round the Abbey the stream broadened out, and its current
+became almost imperceptible. On one side the bank was comparatively low,
+but on the Abbey side a stone wall had been built up from the water.
+Above this was a broad terrace, flanked by the top of the wall, which
+rose some three or four feet above it, and into which seats had been cut
+at intervals. This terrace ran round three sides of the Abbey, and was
+mostly of stone flags, worn and green with age, but in some places there
+were stretches of trimly-kept grass. Two stone bridges arched and dipped
+from the terrace to the opposite bank of the stream. Wonderful vistas of
+the surrounding country were to be seen from the vantage ground of the
+terrace; here a peep through a sylvan glade to the blue haze of the
+hills beyond; there a glimpse of the roofs of the village of Aylingford,
+a mile away; and again a deep, downward view into dark woods, where
+mystery seemed to dwell, and perhaps fear, and out of which came the
+sound of running and of falling water.
+
+It was not difficult to believe in the legends which the simple country
+folk told of Aylingford, and they were many. Had some old monk come
+suddenly out of the wood, over the bridge, and walked in meditation
+along the terrace, he would hardly have looked strange or out of place
+so long as a bevy of Sir John's visitors had not chanced to meet him. It
+seemed almost natural that when the night was still the echoes of old
+prayer and chant should still be heard, as folk said they were. Sir John
+himself had heard such sounds, so he affirmed, and would not have his
+belief explained away by the fact that the wind found much to make music
+with in the ruins. Then there were rooms which never seemed to be
+unoccupied; corridors where you felt that someone was always walking a
+little way in front of you or had turned the corner at the end the
+moment before; stairs upon which could be heard descending footsteps;
+doors which you did not remember to have noticed before. But while of
+legend there was plenty, of history there was little. It would appear
+that the monks had forsaken their home even before the Reformation, for
+the first Lanison had acquired in the Eighth Henry's reign a property
+"long fallen into ruinous decay," according to an old parchment.
+Possibly the writer of this description had not seen the Abbey,
+trusting, perchance, to the testimony of a man who had not seen it
+either, for certainly much of the present building was in existence
+then, and could hardly have been as ruinous as the parchment would lead
+one to suppose. It may be that Aylingford, lying in the depth of the
+country, away from the main road, escaped particular notice, and this
+might also account for the fact that it had never attracted the
+attention of Cromwell's men, which it reasonably might have done, seeing
+that the Lanisons were staunch for the King.
+
+Since old Sir Rupert Lanison had first come to Aylingford, Lanisons had
+always been masters there--indifferent ones at times, as at intervals
+they had proved indifferent subjects, yet reverenced by the country
+folk.
+
+Sir John, in the course of time, had become the head of the house of his
+ancestors, proud of his position, punctilious as to his rights,
+superstitious, and a believer in the legends of his home. He had married
+twice, losing each wife within a year of his wedding day, and had no
+child to succeed him. His brother, who had gone abroad ready to serve
+where-ever there was fighting to be done, had also married. His wife
+died young, too, and her daughter Barbara had come as a child to
+Aylingford. She did not remember her father, who subsequently died in
+the East Indies, leaving his child and a great fortune to the care of
+Sir John.
+
+So the Abbey and the woods which surrounded it had been Barbara's world
+for eighteen years, for only once had she been to London before her
+visit to Lady Bolsover. In a measure this second visit was unhappily
+timed, for the death of King Charles had cast a gloom over the capital,
+and the accession of his brother James caused considerable apprehension
+in the country. Still, Barbara had created a certain sensation, and,
+according to Lady Bolsover, would have made a great match had not Sir
+John foolishly recalled her to the Abbey.
+
+"She was just getting free from pastry and home-made wine, and my
+brother must needs plunge her back into them," Lady Bolsover declared to
+her friends, who were neither so numerous nor so distinguished now that
+Barbara had left St. James's Square.
+
+Sir John had welcomed his niece, but had given no reason for bringing
+her home. She did not expect one. She had been away a long while; it was
+natural she should be home again, and she was glad. There was no real
+regret in her mind that she had left London; yet, somehow, life was
+different, and although she had been home nearly a week there was
+something which kept her from settling down into the old routine.
+
+"Why is it? What is it? I wonder."
+
+She was sitting on one of the stone seats cut in the wall of the
+terrace, leaning back to look across the woods. The morning sun flooded
+this part of the terrace with golden light, the perfume of flowers was
+heavy in the air. From the woods came a great song of birds; in the
+water below her a fish jumped at intervals--a cool sound on a hot day.
+She had this part of the terrace to herself for a little while, but from
+another part, round an angle of the house, came the murmur of voices and
+sometimes laughter, now a man's, now a woman's. It had all been just the
+same before, many, many times, yet now the girl was conscious of a sound
+of discord in it. Nothing had really changed. The Abbey was full of
+guests, as her uncle loved to have it, many of the same guests who came
+so constantly, many of those who had been her companions at Lady
+Bolsover's, and yet the world seemed changed somehow. The reason must
+lie in herself. Her visit to London had brought enlightenment to her,
+although she had only a vague idea of its meaning. She found it
+difficult not to shrink from some of her uncle's guests, a feeling she
+had not experienced until now. True, she had been brought more in
+contact with them during this last week than she had previously been.
+They treated her differently, no longer as a child, but as one of
+themselves. They spoke more freely, both the men and women, and it
+seemed to Barbara that only now was she beginning to understand them,
+and that it was this wider knowledge which made her shrink from them.
+
+"I have become a woman; before I was only a girl--that must be the
+reason," she said, resting her chin on her clasped hands and looking
+down into the depths of the wood on the opposite side of the stream. "I
+have been very happy as a child, I do not believe I am going to be happy
+as a woman," and then she glanced towards the distant blue hills. The
+world was full of sunlight, even though the woods below her were dark
+and gloomy.
+
+She looked along the terrace to make certain that no one was coming to
+disturb her--and she smiled to think how often she was disturbed in
+these days. Judge Marriott had only to catch sight of her, and he would
+leave any companion--man or woman--to hurry after her. At first he
+seemed only intent on proving to her that he had not really been afraid
+of the highwayman on Burford Heath, not on his own account at least,
+only on hers; but presently he began to praise her, stammering over
+high-flown compliments concerning her eyes or her hair, and looking
+ridiculously distressed as he uttered them. He made her laugh until she
+understood that he was making love to her, then she was angry. All
+yesterday he was sighing to be forgiven.
+
+Then there was Sir Philip Branksome, who twice within the last three
+days had endeavoured to impress upon her the fact that his attentions
+were a very great honour. He was so sure of himself in this particular
+that it was almost impossible to despise him. There was Sydney Fellowes,
+too, near kinsman to my Lord Halifax, full of boyish enthusiasm, now for
+some warrior, now for some poet, chiefly for Mr. Herrick, whose poems he
+knew by heart and repeated sympathetically. In Barbara Lanison he
+professed to find the ideal woman, the inspiration which, he declared,
+warrior and poet alike must have; and for hours together he would
+explain how debased he was, how exalted was she. He wrote verses to her,
+breathing these sentiments, and appeared to touch the height of his
+ambition for a moment when she deigned to listen to them. Barbara felt
+herself so much older than he was that she only stopped him when he grew
+too persistent, neither laughing at him nor despising him. She praised
+his verses which really had merit, but she would not understand that she
+had inspired them. And last evening Lord Rosmore had arrived, had bowed
+low over her hand and whispered a compliment. His looks, his attitude,
+had occasioned comment, for my Lord Rosmore seldom sought, he was so
+consistently sought after. Had not King Charles once called him the
+handsomest attraction of his acquaintance, and laughingly turned to warn
+a bevy of beauties of the danger of running after so well favoured a
+cavalier?
+
+"It is all because I am a woman," said Barbara, with a little sigh. "I
+suppose I ought to be happy, proud, pleased; and yet--"
+
+She looked across the woods, far away into the blue distance where fancy
+well might have its kingdom, and her thoughts became a day-dream. That
+she was a woman, that the horizon of her mind had widened, that in
+touching the great world she had understood things which before were a
+sealed book to her, did not altogether account for the change. In her
+day-dream she was conscious of a pair of grey eyes which seemed to look
+into her soul; conscious of a voice--kindly, yet with something stern in
+it--saying in her ear: "Can I be of service?" and again, "This is no
+place for a woman."
+
+It was strange that she should remember so vividly; strange, too, that
+he had gone from her so quickly. Why had he done so? Who was he? Such
+questions brought another in their train. Why had the voice of the
+highwayman with the brown mask seemed familiar? She tried to remember
+the exact figure of the man who had come to her rescue at Newgate, her
+fair brow frowning a little with the endeavour, but only the look in his
+eyes and the sound of his voice remained. Somehow the highwayman's voice
+had seemed unnatural.
+
+The opening and closing of a door startled her, and she turned quickly
+to see her uncle crossing the terrace.
+
+"It is surprising to find you alone in these days, Barbara. London has
+worked marvels, and it would seem that you have become a reigning toast,
+Such is the news that has filtered down to Aylingford."
+
+"That may be my misfortune; it is certainly none of my choice," was her
+answer.
+
+"And she has grown as quick at repartee as the best of them," laughed
+Sir John, touching her shoulder lightly with approval. His laugh was a
+pleasant one, his face kindly, his pose rather graceful, in spite of the
+fact that his increasing bulk gave him anxiety. Report declared that his
+youth had had wild passages, that one episode in his career had led to a
+duel in which Sir John had killed his man, and it was whispered at the
+time that justice and honour had gone down before the better
+swordsmanship of a libertine. But this was years ago, before he was
+master of Aylingford Abbey, and was forgotten now. Sir John Lanison of
+Aylingford seemed to have nothing in common with that young roysterer of
+long ago, and to-day there was no more popular man in this corner of
+Hampshire.
+
+"Indeed, I had to run away to be alone this morning," Barbara went on.
+"I saw Judge Marriott go into the woods yonder not long since, and I
+warrant he is looking for me."
+
+"And Branksome, and Fellowes, and half a dozen more--they are always
+seeking you," said Sir John, with mock consternation. "I am to have my
+hands full, it seems, looking after my niece. It might have been better
+if I had kept her at the Abbey."
+
+"In my absence I have seen enough of men to make me careful about
+falling in love with one."
+
+"Still, it must needs be with a man if you fall in love at all," said
+her uncle, seating himself on the stone seat beside her, "and there is
+something I want to say on this matter, Barbara. It is well that you
+should have seen something of the town, but it is not a good place in
+which to judge men."
+
+"And around Aylingford I know of no men worth troubling about," said
+Barbara, "so it would seem that I am on the high road to dying a
+spinster."
+
+"Never was woman more unlikely to do that than you," answered Sir John.
+"When a young girl talks like that, an old campaigner like myself begins
+to wonder in which direction her heart has fluttered. No woman ever yet
+regarded being a spinster with complacency, and few women jest about it
+unless they are satisfied there is no danger. Is there a confession to
+be made, Barbara?"
+
+"None. Except for you and Martin Fairley, all men are--well, just men,
+and of little interest to me. It is certain I cannot marry my uncle, and
+I am not likely to fall in love with Martin, am I? By the way, where is
+Martin? I have not seen him since I returned to the Abbey."
+
+"I met him just a week ago, here on the terrace, with his fiddle under
+his arm. He was starting to tramp to the other end of the county, he
+told me, to play at a village wedding."
+
+"Poor Martin!" said the girl.
+
+"Mad Martin, rather," said Sir John; "and yet not so mad that he has not
+had a certain effect upon us all, and upon you most of all. Ever since
+you were a child he has been your willing slave, and he has taught you
+many things out of that strange brain of his. I sometimes fancy that he
+has made you look upon life differently from the way in which most women
+look upon it, has filled it with more romance than it can hold, and
+taken out of it much that is real."
+
+"In fact, made me as mad as he is," laughed Barbara.
+
+"I am not jesting," Sir John said gravely. "You have come back to the
+Abbey a woman. You are more beautiful than I thought you were. You have
+made something of a sensation. You say you have no confession to make."
+
+"That I have no confession to make is true, and for the other items I am
+glad I please you."
+
+"But you do not please me," returned Sir John. "I should have been more
+gratified had you made a confession. I have no son, Barbara."
+
+She put her hand upon his arm in a quick caress, full of sympathy,
+knowing how sore a trouble this was to him.
+
+"So you see my interests are centred in you," he went on after a
+moment's pause which served to intensify the meaning in his words. "One
+of those interests--indeed, the chiefest of them--is your marriage. It
+must be a wise marriage, Barbara, one worthy of a Lanison. Have you
+never thought of it at all?"
+
+"Never, definitely."
+
+"And yet it is time."
+
+"Yesterday I was a child," she answered, her eyes looking towards the
+distant hills. A pair of grey eyes seemed to be watching her.
+
+"You were born before your mother was your age," Sir John answered. "I
+was prepared to look with favour upon any man on whom your choice had
+fallen. It has fallen on no one, you say."
+
+"I have said so. We must wait a little while. I am very happy as I am."
+
+"I have been thinking for you," said her uncle.
+
+"You mean--Surely you don't want me to marry Judge Marriott?"
+
+"No, Barbara," and he smiled. "I am too young myself yet to care for the
+judge as a nephew."
+
+"Ah! We are talking absurdly, aren't we?" she said, and although she
+laughed she still looked towards the distant hills. "Of course, I could
+never marry a man I didn't love, and to have a man chosen for you would
+naturally prevent your loving him, wouldn't it?"
+
+"To advise is not to force, Barbara."
+
+"Who is the man you have thought of?" she asked.
+
+"You cannot guess?"
+
+"Has he grey eyes and a low, strong voice and--"
+
+"Grey eyes!" said Sir John, glancing at her sharply.
+
+"Grey eyes--yes." She had spoken dreamily, only half conscious that she
+had put thoughts into words. Now she laughed and went on gaily, "I have
+always thought I should like to marry a man with grey eyes. Girls get
+fancies like that sometimes. Foolish, isn't it?"
+
+Sir John lifted his shoulders a little as though the point were too
+trivial to discuss, and he tried to remember what coloured eyes young
+Sydney Fellowes had.
+
+"I am not sure whether Lord Rosmore's eyes are grey or not; I rather
+think they are," he said slowly.
+
+"Lord Rosmore!"
+
+Laughter sounded along the terrace, and several people came towards
+them, Lord Rosmore and Sydney Fellowes amongst them.
+
+"If his eyes are grey, they are not the shade I like," said Barbara
+decidedly, and as Sir John rose she turned and walked along the terrace
+in the opposite direction. If her uncle were annoyed at her action he
+did not show it as he went to meet his guests.
+
+"I was taking a quiet half-hour to discuss matters with the chatelaine
+of the Abbey," he said. "She will worry over small details more than is
+needful."
+
+"Perhaps if I go and read her some new verses it will soothe her," said
+Fellowes.
+
+"Better wait a more convenient season, unless you would have some of the
+servants for your audience," laughed Sir John, as he turned to walk with
+Rosmore. "You would find her engaged with them, and domesticities go ill
+with poetry."
+
+"Plagued ill with the poetry Fellowes writes," said Branksome; "is that
+not true, Mistress Dearmer?"
+
+"I am no judge, since Mr. Fellowes has never made verses for me,"
+answered the lady.
+
+"So facile a poet may remedy that on the instant," said Branksome.
+"Come, Master Rhymster, there's a kiss from the reddest lips I know
+waiting as payment for a stanza."
+
+"They are kisses which are not at your disposal," answered the lady, but
+she looked at Fellowes.
+
+"Gad! I believe you may have the kiss without the trouble of earning it,
+Fellowes," laughed Branksome. "I can go bail for the goods."
+
+Mistress Dearmer pouted, but the laugh was against her until Fellowes
+came to the rescue.
+
+"You shall have a sonnet," he said. "You may pay if you think it
+worthy."
+
+Another woman caught Sir Philip's hand and whispered, "The poetry could
+hardly be so bad as the kisses are cheap, could it?"
+
+Lord Rosmore and his host had walked to the end of the terrace talking
+confidentially.
+
+"I should have said more, but you came to interrupt us," Sir John
+replied in answer to a question from his companion.
+
+"You can force her to do as you wish," said Rosmore. "Indeed, if
+necessary, you must."
+
+"How?"
+
+"You are her guardian. If your powers are limited, that is no reason you
+should tell her so."
+
+"You seem strangely doubtful about your own powers, Rosmore, yet rumour
+has it that few women are proof against you."
+
+"She may be one of the few, that is why you have spoken to her. I want
+her more than I have ever wanted anything on earth. You--well, if all
+else fails, you must force her to marry me."
+
+"There is another alternative," and Sir John stopped and drew himself up
+stiffly.
+
+"I don't think you would take it," Rosmore answered carelessly. "I
+should not advise you to take it."
+
+"She spoke of grey eyes," said Sir John, as though he were disinclined
+to argue the point. "She has thought of some man with grey eyes."
+
+"Tell me all she said--it may be useful," and for some minutes Rosmore
+listened attentively while Sir John talked.
+
+"I have more than one way of wooing," Rosmore said presently, "and my
+love must condone them all. The siege shall begin forthwith. A man may
+win any woman if he is subtle enough; in that conviction lies the secret
+of the success with which rumour credits me. I may persuade your niece
+to believe my eyes are grey, or perchance charm her into hating grey
+eyes henceforth. Where shall I find her, Sir John?"
+
+"Probably in the Nun's Room."
+
+"No place for so desirable a lady, and surely a strange room to have in
+Aylingford Abbey," laughed Rosmore. "There are many strange things about
+Aylingford which Mistress Barbara must never discover."
+
+Sir John laughed, a forced laugh with a curse underneath it, and his
+hands tightened a little as he watched his guest go quickly along the
+terrace.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+THE NUN OF AYLINGFORD
+
+Before she had taken many steps Barbara regretted that she had not
+remained with her uncle. Lord Rosmore must have said something to Sir
+John, and would guess that they had been talking about him; it would
+have been better to have stayed and shown him by her manner how
+distasteful the subject was to her. But she did not turn back. If she
+had missed an opportunity, it was certain that many more would be given
+her. She even began to wonder whether she really disliked Lord Rosmore;
+he had certainly given her no definite cause. In London he had not
+attempted to pay her any marked attention, and last night, when he had
+bent low over her hand, was the first time there had been anything
+noticeable in his behaviour. She liked him better--far better--than
+Judge Marriott; Sydney Fellowes hardly counted, and there was no other
+man whose coming had pleased her or whose departure had caused her a
+single regret. The man who had come to her help at Newgate was a shadow,
+a dream. Only curiosity could account for her remembering him. Indeed,
+it was doubtful if she did really remember him; were she to meet him she
+would probably not know him again. No, she had no ground for disliking
+Lord Rosmore. She did not dislike him, but, since he had been chosen for
+her, there was ample reason why she could never love him. Any woman
+would naturally hate the man she was commanded to love.
+
+She turned from the terrace and, passing through a low doorway from
+which the door had gone long ago, entered a wide space enclosed by
+ruinous and moss-grown walls. It was open to the sky and littered with
+_debris_. At one end the blocked-up entrance from the present house
+was distinctly visible; at the other a small door, deeply sunk into the
+massive masonry, gave entrance to a small round tower or bastion, which
+rose some feet above the walls and overhung the terrace. The tower had
+escaped ruin, almost accidentally it would seem, for there were no signs
+of any particular care having been expended upon it. This open space had
+evidently been chiefly occupied by a large hall, its floor a little
+lower than the terrace level, but adjoining the tower end of it there
+had been other rooms, for traces of stone steps could be seen in the
+wall. In one corner, too, there had been a room below the level of the
+floor--indeed, some of the stone flags still projected over it. Its
+walls, strong and dungeon-like, were built down some fifteen feet; two
+or three narrow slits piercing the outer wall in a sharp upward angle
+had evidently given this buried chamber a dim light, and the entrance to
+it could only have been from the top, probably by a trap door. Some
+_debris_ had fallen into it, but not very much, and creepers had sown
+themselves and, climbing over part of the walls to the top, had spread
+themselves over a portion of the floor of the hall.
+
+Barbara picked her way across the fallen _debris_ and stood looking
+down into this hole for a few minutes. It seemed to possess a certain
+fascination for her, as though it were in some way connected with her
+history. Then she went to the small door in the tower. It was locked,
+and although she knocked several times, and stood back to look up at the
+narrow windows above her, there was no sound, and no one answered her
+summons. She sat down upon a fallen piece of stonework, and her thoughts
+troubled her. Truly, she had come back to a new life. Even that locked
+door seemed to have its significance. She did not remember ever to have
+found it fastened before when she really wanted to enter.
+
+She turned at the sound of approaching footsteps, and then rose quickly
+to her feet.
+
+"What a place to hide in!" exclaimed Lord Rosmore as he came towards
+her. "I have never had the curiosity to penetrate into this rubbish heap
+before, and behold I am rewarded by finding a jewel."
+
+"I came here to be alone for a little while," she said.
+
+"I came for the same reason."
+
+"You did not follow me?" she asked, evident disbelief in her tone.
+
+"I wish I could say that I had, if it would please you; but, alas! truth
+will out. I came to think and to get through a troubled hour where my
+fellows could not see me. In this, at least, we can sympathise with each
+other it would seem."
+
+"We can talk plainly, perhaps; it will be best," she answered.
+
+"At least, I can explain," said Rosmore; "but won't you be seated again?
+That is better," he went on as she sat down, "it seems to make
+confession of my fault easier. A little while since I spoke to your
+uncle about you. It was unwise, I know that now, but I did not think so
+then. Your position and your wealth seemed to make it the honourable
+thing to do. Sir John was kind enough to wish me good fortune, and I was
+content to wait. It was not my intention that Sir John should say
+anything to you, I did not imagine he would do so. Now, I learn that you
+have been pestered with my sentiments by proxy, that I have been forced
+to your notice. It is enough surely to make me seek solitude, where I
+may curse the hard fate that ruins me."
+
+"I thought--"
+
+"I dare not try and understand all you thought," Rosmore interrupted. "I
+can only suppose that Sir John meant to be kind, that in some sense he
+did not consider me an altogether unworthy alliance; but that I should
+ever have my wooing done for me--the idea is maddening! A man could not
+take a surer road to a woman's contempt."
+
+"My uncle has made a mistake," said Barbara. "I understand, and you have
+my thanks for the explanation."
+
+"And your forgiveness?"
+
+"I hardly think I had become angry."
+
+"You lift my trouble from me with generous hands," said Rosmore. "Truly,
+Sir John has made a mistake, his desire perhaps marring his judgment;
+but, as truly, I am your humble worshipper. No! please hear me out. In
+London I did not thrust myself upon you because I had wit enough to
+understand that professions with even a suspicion of lightness in them
+were distasteful to you; now, after what has occurred, I am at a
+disadvantage, and I have no intention of putting my happiness to the
+test at such an inopportune time. For the present look upon me as a
+friend who hopes presently to win a greater regard, and who is,
+meanwhile, always at your service."
+
+"I thank you," Barbara said, and the man's nerves tingled as she rose
+and swept him a graceful curtsy. She had never looked more beautiful,
+never so desirable as at that moment. He had conquered so often and so
+carelessly that he could not think of failure now.
+
+"So we are friends and our troubles gone," he said gaily. "They are lost
+in the _debris_ of this ruinous place. It is strange this part should
+have been left in ruins, while the rest of the Abbey has been so
+carefully rebuilt and preserved."
+
+"It is because of the Nun of Aylingford."
+
+"A nun! In an Abbey for monks?"
+
+"Strange, but true. I thought everyone knew the story."
+
+"No. Won't you tell it to me?"
+
+"You must look into the Nun's Room first, Lord Rosmore," said Barbara,
+and she was so interested in the legend that she forgot to ask herself
+whether she liked or disliked her companion as she led the way to the
+sunken stone chamber. "Be careful you do not stumble and fall into it,
+for it is said that death comes to such a stumbler within the year."
+
+"A fable, of course?" he laughed.
+
+"I have only known one man who fell in. He was helped out unhurt, but he
+died within the week. I should not like to fall."
+
+"Give me your hand," he said.
+
+"For your safety or for mine?" she returned. "I am used to this place,
+have loved it since I was a child; besides, it is said that the curse
+applies only to men. You see, the Nun had pity on her own sex."
+
+Lord Rosmore's hand was still extended, but she did not take it.
+
+"For thirteen years a woman lived in this dungeon. Under the creeper on
+yonder wall you can see the stone slab which was her bed. The floor of
+the hall shut her up almost in darkness, and from the hour she stepped
+down into this room she saw no human face, heard no human voice."
+
+"You stand too close to the opening, Mistress Lanison. I pray you come
+back or take my hand."
+
+Barbara stepped back and stood by the wall, facing him.
+
+"Her story is a sad one, sad and cruel," she went on. "She had a lover,
+and an enemy who said he loved her. The lover--a knight of prowess--went
+to the wars, and on his return was told that the woman he worshipped was
+false. He sought for her from one end of the land to the other, still
+believing in her, until by some artifice he was brought to believe in
+her unfaithfulness. Life had lost all zest for him, and he came here at
+last, to Aylingford Abbey, to seek consolation in a life of religion. It
+was the enemy who had contrived to keep the lovers apart, telling the
+girl also that the knight in whom she trusted was untrue. How she
+discovered the lie I do not know, nor does it matter, but when she did
+she sought for him as he had sought for her. She heard at last that he
+had become a monk, and she presently came to seek him at Aylingford.
+Dressed in a monk's gown, she asked for him. They met, and were
+discovered by the Abbot just at the moment when she had almost persuaded
+him to forsake his vows for love of her. Religion had claimed him
+because a lie had deceived him, she argued; therefore no vow could
+really bind him. She argued in this way with the Abbot, too, who was a
+shrewd man and as cruel as death. The monk, he knew, was no longer a
+monk at heart; the woman had penetrated into the Abbey under a false
+guise--as a man. No punishment was too severe for such a sin, he said,
+and he used religious arguments which could certainly never find an echo
+in a merciful heaven. The woman was condemned and lowered into that
+room--a nun by force--and there for thirteen years she existed. Once a
+day sufficient food to keep her alive was given her through the trap, in
+such a manner that she should see no one, and never a word was spoken.
+The monk fought for her release in vain, and soon died, raving mad, it
+is said. When the nun died, she was carried to the woods beyond the
+stream and buried. Village legend has marked a tree, which they call
+'Nun's Oak,' as her burying-place, but probably this is fancy. Ever
+since that time there has been a curse on this part of the Abbey, and
+that is why it has been allowed to go to ruin."
+
+"A sad tale most sweetly told," said Lord Rosmore; "a tale to appeal to
+a lover."
+
+"Or it may be to warn a woman how cruel men can be," Barbara answered.
+
+"Some men, not all," he said gently. "The monk in the story went mad for
+love. Still, there is a warning, too, not to trust men over easily. The
+greatest villains have often good looks to recommend them and can
+deceive most easily."
+
+"I think I could tell," said Barbara.
+
+"I wonder," Rosmore answered slowly. "There is often a vein of romance
+in a woman which makes her blind. I have thought of this more than once
+when thinking of you."
+
+"It would seem I have troubled you a great deal in one way or another,
+Lord Rosmore."
+
+"Some day, when you have forgotten that you were inclined to hate me, I
+may tell you how much. Yet there is one thing I might tell you now, as a
+friend, in case there should be much of this vein of romance in you."
+
+"Yes, as a friend."
+
+"Newgate--the trial day of the highwayman, Galloping Hermit."
+
+He spoke abruptly, after a moment's pause, and had his intention been to
+startle her he could hardly have employed a better method.
+
+"I see you remember it," he said. "Lady Bolsover should not have taken
+you, it was no place for a woman--indeed, she and I almost quarrelled
+about it afterwards. You may remember I was with Lady Bolsover when
+that--that gentleman brought you out of the crowd, the mysterious person
+who did not want to be seen."
+
+"Yes, I remember," she said quietly.
+
+"A good-looking man, yet--"
+
+"You knew him, Lord Rosmore?"
+
+"Well enough to follow him; but I failed to find him."
+
+"Why should you follow him?"
+
+"You would hardly understand," he returned. "It is a matter concerned
+with politics. This you know, however, that the King has enemies.
+Monmouth plots in Holland, the Duke of Argyll is being defeated in
+Scotland. Well, Mistress Lanison, there are traitors and traitors--those
+that one may at least recognise as brave men, and others who are
+cowardly curs. Of the first is Argyll and, perhaps, Monmouth; of the
+second are those who promote rebellion from safe hiding-holes, and never
+show themselves to take a hand in the fighting. There is a rascal hiding
+from the officers of justice now--one Danvers--who is of this second
+kind, a scurrilous fellow who is willing to barter the lives of better
+men, but dares nothing himself. He is one of a gang. The man who came to
+your rescue at Newgate is a companion of his. I have wondered whether
+you have seen him since."
+
+"At least it was courteous of him to come to my rescue," Barbara said.
+
+"Never was there a man yet who had not a good instinct on occasion.
+Besides, the basest of men would not fail to grasp the opportunity of
+doing a service to a beautiful woman."
+
+"I was almost crying, and in that condition I am positively repulsive,"
+she answered, almost as if she were angry at being spoken of as a
+beautiful woman. "What is the name of this man?"
+
+"He calls himself Crosby--Gilbert Crosby. Probably he has no right to
+the name. He is a dangerous and a clever man--dangerous because he plots
+and schemes while other men act, clever because he skilfully manages to
+evade the law. Many people find it difficult to believe ill of him, for
+he has all the appearance of a courageous gentleman."
+
+"I am among those people difficult to convince," said Barbara.
+
+"Exactly, hence my warning," said Rosmore. "You noted how quickly he
+disappeared. He saw me, and had no desire to face a man who knows him
+for what he is. Those grey eyes of his were sharper than mine or he
+would not have escaped so easily."
+
+Barbara glanced at him quickly, wondering how much of their conversation
+her uncle had repeated, but Lord Rosmore did not appear to notice her
+look.
+
+"And if you had found him?" she asked.
+
+"I should have forced a quarrel on some pretext or other, and so
+contrived that he could not have run away without giving me
+satisfaction. By killing him I should have done a public service, and,
+for my own honour, I should have snapped the sword I had been compelled
+to stain with the blood of so contemptible a person. You smile, Mistress
+Lanison. Why?"
+
+"At your vindictiveness, and at a thought which came into my mind."
+
+"May I know it?"
+
+"I was wondering what this Mr.--did you say the name was Crosby?--would
+have done with his sword had he proved equal to reversing the issue of
+the quarrel."
+
+"Ah! I wonder," and Lord Rosmore laughed, but not good-naturedly. "I
+have faith enough in my skill to believe that it can successfully defend
+you whenever you may have need of it."
+
+She turned towards the doorway opening on to the terrace, but having
+taken two or three hasty steps, as if desirous of bringing the interview
+to a speedy end, she stopped and faced him:
+
+"Lord Rosmore, this highwayman, this Galloping Hermit; he is not dead,
+you know that?"
+
+"Judge Marriott will not allow us to forget it," he laughed. "Give him
+the slightest opportunity, and he will tell of his adventure on Burford
+Heath half a dozen times in the day."
+
+"Who is this Galloping Hermit?" Barbara asked, almost as though she
+expected a definite answer to the question.
+
+"Could I satisfy that curiosity I should be quite a famous person," he
+said. "Scores of men envy him his reputation and half the women of
+fashion are in love with him."
+
+"Is he this Gilbert Crosby, think you?"
+
+"Why should you suggest such a thing?" Rosmore asked sharply. "Were they
+grey eyes which peeped through the brown mask that night?"
+
+"I could not see; and, besides, I do not belong to that half of the
+women of fashion."
+
+"Truly, if you did you would be in no bad company. I have a sneaking
+fondness for the fellow myself, and it has been my ill-fortune never to
+meet him. By all accounts he is a gallant scoundrel, with a nerve of
+iron, whereas Crosby--Oh, no, whoever Galloping Hermit may be, he is
+not Gilbert Crosby."
+
+Lord Rosmore did not follow Barbara on to the terrace. He had made his
+peace with her, and had succeeded in establishing a definite
+understanding between them. She accepted his friendship--that counted
+for a great deal with such a woman. It would be strange if he could not
+turn it into love. Yet he was conscious that this was to be no easy
+triumph, no opportunity must be neglected, and his busy brain was full
+of schemes for bending circumstances to further his desires.
+
+A little later, as he slowly crossed one of the stone bridges towards
+the woods, he saw Barbara sitting on the terrace, and Sydney Fellowes
+standing before her reading from sheets of paper in his hand.
+
+"I cannot write verses to please her, that is certain," he mused. "She
+cannot care for Fellowes, his eyes are not grey. It is this fellow
+Crosby she thinks of, and of a highwayman, perhaps. A strange pair of
+rivals, truly! Sydney Fellowes might be useful, besides--" Some
+brilliant idea seemed to take sudden possession of him, for there was
+excitement in his step as he crossed the bridge quickly and disappeared
+into the woods beyond.
+
+Neither Barbara nor Fellowes noticed Lord Rosmore, nor were either of
+them thinking of him. Fellowes was absorbed in reading his verses to the
+best advantage. Barbara, while apparently listening intently to her
+companion, was wondering if the man who had come more often into her
+thoughts than perhaps she had realised could possibly be a scoundrel and
+a coward.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+CHILDREN OF THE DEVIL
+
+Although Barbara Lanison had found that life at the Abbey was different
+since her return from London, and had concluded that the true reason lay
+in the fact that she was now considered a woman, whereas before she had
+been looked upon as a child only, she did not at once appreciate how
+great the difference really was. Her uncle seemed a little doubtful how
+to treat her. He talked a great deal about her taking her place as
+mistress of the house, yet he made little attempt to have this position
+recognised. The guests, especially the women, while quite willing to
+admit her as one of themselves, did not even pretend to consider her
+their hostess, and, on the whole, Sir John seemed quite contented that
+they should not do so. He seemed rather relieved whenever Barbara
+withdrew herself from the general company, as she constantly did, and
+those who knew Sir John best found him more natural when his niece was
+not present.
+
+Since she only saw him when, as his intimates declared, he was under a
+certain restraint, Barbara had not much opportunity of forming a clear
+judgment of her uncle. He had been very kind to her ever since she had
+come to Aylingford as a little child, and if his manner towards her had
+changed recently she hardly noticed it. Under the circumstances she
+would not easily be ready to criticise. But in the case of the guests
+the change was not only very marked, but increasingly so, particularly
+with the women. Whereas the men, chivalrous in spite of themselves,
+perhaps, showed her a certain amount of deference, the women seemed to
+resent her. It was so soon apparent that she had nothing in common with
+them that they appeared to combine to shock her. Mistress Dearmer led
+the laughter at what she termed Barbara's country manners and prudery.
+There were few things in heaven or earth exempt from the ridicule of
+Mrs. Dearmer's tongue, and it was a loose tongue, full of coarse tales
+and licentious wit. She was a pretty woman, which, from the men's point
+of view, seemed to add piquancy to her scandalous conversation, but the
+fact only made Barbara's ears tingle the more. Mrs. Dearmer was in the
+fashion; Barbara knew that, for even at Lady Bolsover's she had often
+been made to blush, but she had never heard in St. James's Square a
+tithe of the ribaldry which assailed her at the Abbey.
+
+It was natural, perhaps, that Barbara Lanison should propound a problem
+to herself. Was she foolish to resent what was little more than the
+fashion of the day? These people were her uncle's guests, honoured
+guests surely, since they had come to Aylingford so often. Would he
+countenance anything to which there was any real objection? She would
+have asked him, but found no opportunity. For two or three days after
+his talk with her about Lord Rosmore she hardly saw him, and never for a
+moment alone. More guests arrived, and it was during these days that
+Mrs. Dearmer's conversation became more daring. On two occasions Barbara
+had got up and walked away, followed by a burst of laughter--she thought
+at her modesty, but it might have been at Mrs. Dearmer's tale.
+
+On the second occasion Sydney Fellowes followed her as soon as he could
+do so without undue comment.
+
+"Why did you go?" he asked.
+
+"That woman maddens me."
+
+"Yes, she is--the fact is, you ought not to be here."
+
+"Not be here!" she exclaimed. "This is my home. It is she who ought not
+to be here. I shall speak to my uncle."
+
+"Wait! Have a little patience," said Fellowes. "After all, she is Mrs.
+Dearmer, a lady of fashion, a lady who has been to Court. You would be
+astonished at the power she wields in certain directions. In these days
+the world is not censorious, and is apt to laugh at those who are."
+
+"If you merely came to defend that woman, I am in the mood to like your
+absence better than your company."
+
+"I hate her," Fellowes answered. "I think I hate all women now that I
+have known one beautiful, pure ideal. Oh, do not misunderstand me. I
+look up at a star to worship its dazzling brightness, and I would not
+have it come to earth for any purpose. You are too far removed from Mrs.
+Dearmer to understand her, nor can she possibly appreciate you. To fight
+her would be to fail, just now at any rate--even Sir John would laugh at
+you."
+
+"You speak seriously?"
+
+"Intentionally. I am a very debased fellow. A dozen men will tell you
+so, and women too for that matter, but I can appreciate the good,
+although I am incapable of rising to its level. I recognise it from the
+gutter, but I go on lying in the gutter. There is only one person on the
+earth who can pick me out and keep me out."
+
+"I should not suppose there was a person in the world who would consider
+such a man worth such a labour," said Barbara.
+
+"No doubt you are right, and that is why I must remain in the gutter."
+
+He looked, in every way, so exactly the opposite of anyone doomed to
+such a resting-place that Barbara laughed.
+
+"I suppose you know who that person is?" he said.
+
+"At least I know that any woman would be a fool to attempt such an
+unprofitable task," she answered. "If I thought you were really speaking
+the truth, I should hate you. You would not be worthy the name of a man,
+and even a Mrs. Dearmer, in her more reasonable moments, would despise
+you."
+
+Fellowes looked at her for a moment.
+
+"I wish my mother had lived to make a better man of me," he said
+abruptly, and turned and left her.
+
+Barbara had become so accustomed to Sydney Fellowes' sudden and
+changeable moods that she thought little of his words, or his manner of
+leaving her. Yet, to the man had come a sudden flash of repentance, not
+lasting but real enough for the moment, holding him until the next
+temptation came in his path. He did not seek his companions, but crossed
+one of the bridges, and plunged into the woods, cursing himself and
+feeling out of tune with the rest of the world. Two hours later he and
+Lord Rosmore came back together, slowly, and talking eagerly. Fellowes,
+like many other quite young men, had a profound admiration for Lord
+Rosmore, and his opinion upon any matter carried weight.
+
+"You have not sufficient faith in yourself, Fellowes," Rosmore said as
+they crossed the bridge. "That is the trouble."
+
+"It is easily remedied," was the answer.
+
+"That is the spirit which brings victory," said Rosmore, patting his
+companion on the shoulder.
+
+The guests who had arrived during the last two or three days had
+introduced a noisier and wilder element into the Abbey. Barbara was
+puzzled at her uncle's attitude, and retired from the company as much as
+possible. This evening she left early, pretending no excuse as hitherto
+she had done. She wanted her uncle to understand, and question her.
+Surely he must do so if she were rude to his guests. A burst of laughter
+followed her withdrawal.
+
+"You must be a Puritan in disguise, Abbot John, to have such a niece,"
+said Mrs. Dearmer; and then she turned and whispered something into the
+ear of Sir Philip Branksome that might have made him blush had he been
+capable of such a thing. Sir John seemed mightily entertained at the
+lady's suggestion. He laughed aloud, cursed Puritans generously, and
+drank deeply to their ultimate perdition.
+
+There is ever some restraint in vice when virtue is present, but with
+Barbara's departure all restraint seemed to vanish. There were probably
+degrees in the viciousness of these men and women, but, as a whole, it
+would have been difficult to bring together a more abandoned company.
+High play was here, and the ruin of many a man's fortune. Honour, save
+of the spurious sort, held no man in check, and virtue was as dross.
+Debauchery of every kind was practised openly and unashamedly. Vice was
+enthroned in this temple, and her ribald followers bowed the head. This
+was Aylingford Abbey, built for worship long ago, therefore worship
+should be in it now. "We will be monks and nuns of the devil," some
+genius in wickedness had cried one evening, and the suggestion had been
+hailed with delight. This was their foundation, so they had called
+themselves ever since, and Sir John Lanison delighted to be the "Abbot"
+of such a community. They chose a sign whereby they might be known to
+one another in the world--the slow tracing of a circle on the forehead
+with the forefinger--and they bound themselves by an oath to their
+master to love him and all his works, and to eschew all that was called
+good. It had often been noticed how many persons of condition, who
+seemed to be at one with Sir John in politics, had never been offered
+the hospitality of Aylingford. The true reason had never been divulged.
+If, as had chanced on one or two occasions, guests had been there who
+knew nothing of these debaucheries, the devil's children present
+dissembled, and affected to yawn over the dull entertainment provided by
+Sir John. The secret of the Abbey had never leaked out, nor did it
+appear that any man or woman, desirous of betraying it, had ever found
+an entrance into the community. Once, a year ago, a woman had whispered
+her suspicion of a man, and he was found dead in his lodging in Pall
+Mall before he had time to speak of what he knew, even if he intended to
+do so.
+
+As he was popular in the county, passing for a God-fearing gentleman, so
+Sir John Lanison was popular as the devil's "Abbot." There were few who
+could surpass him in wickedness, but he was a man of moods, and there
+were times when fear peered out of his eyes. He was superstitious,
+finding omens when he gambled at basset, and premonitions in all manner
+of foolish signs. He had played this evening with ill success, he had
+drunk deeply, and was inclined to be quarrelsome.
+
+"The Abbot is wanting to make us all do penance," laughed Fellowes, who
+some time since had parted with sobriety. "I'll read him these verses to
+pacify him; they would make an angry devil collapse into a chuckle. Mrs.
+Dearmer inspired them, so you may guess how wicked they are."
+
+"Always verses--nothing but verses," said Rosmore, who had drunk little
+and seemed to watch his companions with amusement.
+
+"No woman was ever won by poetry," said a girl in Fellowes' ear. "Try
+some other way."
+
+"What way?"
+
+The girl whispered to him, laughing the while. She was very pretty, very
+innocent to look upon.
+
+"Women must be carried by assault, gloriously, as a besieged city is,"
+roared Branksome from the other end of the room. "The lover who attempts
+to starve them into surrender is a fool, and gets ridiculed for his
+pains. What do you say, Rosmore?"
+
+"Nothing. There are many ladies who can explain my methods better than I
+can."
+
+Mrs. Dearmer laughed, and desired a lesson forthwith.
+
+"My dear lady, there would be too many lovers to call me to account for
+my presumption," Rosmore answered.
+
+"Branksome is right," said Mrs. Dearmer. "Take a woman by force or not
+at all. She loves a desperate man. His desperation and overriding of all
+convention do homage to her. I never yet met the virtue that could stand
+against such an assault."
+
+"She is right, Sydney," whispered the girl to Fellowes, her hands
+suddenly clasped round his arm.
+
+Fellowes looked down into her face, and a strange expression came into
+his own.
+
+"I believe she is," he said almost passionately. "I believe she is.
+There's no woman so virtuous that--"
+
+"None," whispered the girl.
+
+Fellowes laughed, and shook himself free from her.
+
+"I'll drink to success, and then--" He stumbled as he rose to his feet,
+and, recovering himself, laughed at Sir John. "You shall have the verses
+another time, Abbot; I have other things to do just now."
+
+He called a servant, and talked to him in a low voice.
+
+"Yes, blockhead, I said the hall," he exclaimed in a louder voice. "The
+hall in ten minutes, and if she isn't there I'll come and let the life
+out of you for a lazy scoundrel who cannot carry a message. A drink with
+you, reverend Abbot--a liquid benediction on me."
+
+Lord Rosmore watched him, but Sir John took no notice of him. Sir John's
+thoughts were wandering, and had anyone been watching him closely they
+might have seen fear looking out of his eyes. A candle on a table near
+him spluttered and burnt crookedly.
+
+"That means disaster," he muttered, and then he turned to Lord Rosmore
+fiercely, though he spoke in an undertone. "You were a fool to let me
+bring her back."
+
+It was evident that he had made a similar statement to his companion
+before, for Rosmore showed no surprise or ignorance of his meaning.
+
+"I shall take her away presently, her lover and deliverer. In this case
+it is the best method."
+
+"And let her curse me?"
+
+"No. I shall promise to deliver you and bring about your redemption."
+
+"A devilish method," said Sir John.
+
+"One must work with the tools that are to hand," said Rosmore with a
+shrug of his shoulders.
+
+"But when? When?"
+
+"Perhaps in a few short hours. Wait! Wait, Sir John. It seems to me that
+opportunity is in the air to-night."
+
+"And disaster," said Sir John, glancing at the spluttering candle. Lord
+Rosmore made no comment--perhaps did not hear the words, for he was
+intent upon watching Sydney Fellowes, who was standing near a door which
+opened into the hall. No one else appeared to notice him, not even the
+pretty girl he had spurned. She was too much engaged in consoling a
+youth who had lost heavily at basset.
+
+Barbara was dull in her room. The silence was oppressive, for no sounds
+of the riotous company reached her there, and the pale moonlight on the
+terrace below, and over the sleeping woods, seemed to throw a mist of
+sadness over the world. She had opened the casement, and for a time had
+puzzled over her uncle and his strange guests. Something must be going
+forward at the Abbey of which she was ignorant. Sydney Fellowes must
+know this, and there had been more meaning in his words than she had
+imagined. Why ought she not to be at the Abbey? And then her thoughts
+wandered to another man who had found her in a place where no woman
+ought to be, and she remembered all Lord Rosmore had said about him.
+Looking out on the quiet, sleeping world, so full of mystery and the
+unknown, it was easy to fall into a reverie, to indulge in speculations
+which, waking again, she would hardly remember; easy to lose all count
+of time. Once, at some distance along the terrace towards the servants'
+quarters, there was the sound of slow footsteps and a low laugh. There
+were two shadows in the moonlight--a man's and a woman's. Some serving
+maid had found love, for the low laugh was a happy one, and some man,
+perchance no more than a groom, had suddenly become a hero in a girl's
+eyes. Unconsciously perhaps, Barbara sighed. That girl was happier than
+she was.
+
+A gentle knock came at her door, and a man stood there.
+
+"Mr. Fellowes sent me. Will you see him in the hall in ten minutes. It
+is important; he must see you. 'It is for your own sake.' Those were his
+own words, madam."
+
+Barbara received the message, but gave no answer, and the man departed.
+Had the message come from anyone but Sydney Fellowes she would have
+taken no notice of it, but, remembering what he had said to her, this
+request assumed importance. She was more likely to discover the truth
+about the Abbey from Sydney Fellowes than from anyone else.
+
+There was only a dim light in the great hall--candles upon a table at
+the far end. The moonlight came through the painted windows, staining
+the stone floor here and there with misty colours. There was no movement
+near her, but the sound of voices and laughter came from the chamber
+beyond--the one from which she had angrily departed some time ago. Now
+the voices were hushed to a murmur, now they were loud, and the laughter
+was irresponsible. How she hated the sound of it, and that shriller
+note, peculiarly persistent for a moment, was Mrs. Dearmer's. No
+Christian feeling could prevent her from hating that woman.
+
+Barbara crossed to the wide hearth and waited.
+
+A door opened suddenly; there was the rustling of the curtain which hung
+over it being thrust aside, a shaft of light shot across the hall for a
+moment, and the sounds of voices and laughter were loud, then the door
+closed again sharply. There were a few hasty steps, and then silence.
+
+"You sent me a message, Mr. Fellowes."
+
+In a moment he was beside her.
+
+"Barbara!"
+
+She stepped back as though the sound of her own name startled her.
+
+"I love you. Women were made for love--you above all women. You think I
+can only scribble poetry--you are wrong! I mean to--Barbara, my
+Barbara!"
+
+"You insult me, Mr. Fellowes."
+
+He caught her in his arms as she turned away from him.
+
+"Insult! Nonsense! Love insults no woman. You are mine--mine! I take you
+as it is right a man should take a woman."
+
+She struggled to free herself, but could not. She did not want to cry
+out.
+
+"You remembered your mother to-day, remember her now," she panted.
+
+The wine fumes were in his head, confusion in his brain; reason had left
+her seat for a while, and truth was distorted.
+
+"I do remember her," he answered, speaking low but wildly. "She was a
+woman. A man took her, as I take you; wooed her, loved her as I love
+you. I do remember--that is why you are mine to-night."
+
+She struggled again. She did not want to cry out. There was no man in
+that room she wished to call upon to defend her--not even her uncle.
+Evil seemed to surround her. Had any other man touched her like this,
+she would have called to Sydney Fellowes, so far had she believed in him
+and trusted him.
+
+"Barbara, you shall love me!" he went on, holding her so that she was
+powerless. "Love shall be sealed, my lips on yours."
+
+"Help! Save me from this man!" Her fierce, angry cry woke the echoes. In
+a moment there was the sound of hurrying feet, the sudden opening of a
+door, and again a shaft of light cut through the hall. Men and women
+rushed in from the adjoining room with loud and eager inquiry. Then Sir
+John, closely followed by Lord Rosmore.
+
+"Quick! More lights!" he said. "Who is it screaming for help?"
+
+"Is it some serving-maid in distress?" cried Branksome.
+
+"Or a fool too honest to be kissed," laughed a woman.
+
+"Barbara!" Sir John's exclamation was almost a whisper. Lights were in
+the hall now, brought hastily from the room beyond. Some had been put
+down in the first place that offered, some were still held by the
+guests. Fellowes had turned to face this wild interruption, and Barbara
+had wrenched herself free from his arms as he did so.
+
+"A love passage!" laughed Fellowes. "Why interfere?"
+
+"He insulted me!" said Barbara.
+
+"My niece is--"
+
+"Leave this to me, Sir John," said Rosmore, laying a hand upon his
+shoulder.
+
+"That's right, Rosmore, and leave me to my wooing," cried Fellowes.
+
+"You cur! You shall repent this night's folly," said Rosmore.
+
+"Excellent! Excellent! You should have been a mummer. This is glorious
+comedy!" and Fellowes laughed aloud. "What! A hint of tragedy in it,
+too!"
+
+A naked sword was in Rosmore's hand.
+
+"A woman's honour must be defended," hissed Rosmore.
+
+"Gad! I'll not spoil the play for want of pantomime," cried Fellowes,
+still laughing. "Why don't you all laugh at such excellent fooling?"
+
+"There is no laughter in this," said Rosmore, and Fellowes' face grew
+suddenly serious.
+
+"This is real? You mean it?" he said.
+
+"I mean it."
+
+"Devil's whelp that you are!" Fellowes cried. "Between two scoundrels
+may God help the least debased."
+
+In an instant there was the ring of steel and the quick flash of the
+blades as the light caught them.
+
+Sir John had made a step forward to interfere, but had hesitated and
+stopped. No one else moved, and there was silence as steel touched
+steel--breathless silence. For a moment Barbara was hardly conscious of
+what was happening about her. It seemed only an instant ago that she had
+cried out, and now naked swords and the shadow of death. Lord Rosmore's
+face looked evil, sinister, devilish. Fellowes was flushed with wine,
+unsteady, taken by surprise. There came to Barbara the sudden conviction
+that in some manner Fellowes had fallen into a trap. He had insulted
+her, but the wine was the cause, and Rosmore had seized the opportunity
+for his own ends. She tried to speak, but could not. There was a fierce
+lunge, real and deadly meaning in it, an unsteady parry which barely
+turned swift death aside, and then a sudden low sound from several
+voices, and an excited shuffle of feet. Barbara had rushed forward and
+thrown herself between the fighters.
+
+"This is mere trickery," she cried. "You play a coward's part, my lord,
+fighting with a drunken man."
+
+"He insulted you--that sufficed for me."
+
+"I did not ask you to punish him," she answered.
+
+She faced Lord Rosmore, shielding Fellowes, who was behind her. Now
+Fellowes gently touched her arm.
+
+"Grant me your pardon, Mistress Lanison, and then let me pay the
+penalty," he said.
+
+She had thrust out her arm to keep him behind her, when the big door at
+the end of the hall opening on to the terrace was flung open, and on the
+threshold stood a tall figure, dark and distinct against the moonlit
+world beyond. His garments were of nondescript fashion, but his pose was
+not without grace. Under one arm he carried a fiddle, and the bow was in
+his hand. He raised it and waved it in a sort of benediction.
+
+"Give you greeting, ladies and gentlemen--and news besides. Monmouth has
+landed at Lyme, and all the West Country is aflame with rebellion."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+MAD MARTIN
+
+The sudden interruption served to relax the tension in the hall. There
+was the quick shuffling of feet, as though these men and women had
+suddenly been released from some power which had struck them motionless,
+and eager faces were turned towards the doorway. Barbara did not move.
+Her eyes were still fixed on Lord Rosmore's face, her arm was still
+outstretched to prevent a renewal of the fight.
+
+The man stood in the doorway for a moment with his bow raised, pleased,
+it seemed, with the sensation he had caused. He had spoken in rather a
+high-pitched voice, almost as if his words were set to a monotonous
+chant or had a poetic measure in them.
+
+"It is only that mad fool Martin Fairley," said Branksome.
+
+"What is this news?" Sir John asked. His anger seemed to have gone, and
+he spoke gently.
+
+"That depends," said Martin, advancing into the hall with a step which
+appeared to time itself with some unheard rhythm. "That depends on who
+it is who hears it. Good news for those who hate King James; bad for
+those who love priests and popery. How can such a mad fool as I am, Sir
+Philip Branksome, guess to which side so many gallant gentlemen and fair
+ladies may lean?"
+
+There was grace, and some mockery perhaps, in the low bow he made, his
+arms wide extended, the fiddle in one hand, the bow in the other; and
+then, slowly standing erect again, he appeared to notice Barbara for the
+first time.
+
+"Drawn swords!" he exclaimed, "and my lady of Aylingford between them.
+Another legend for the Abbey in the making--eh, Sir John? I must write a
+song upon it, or else Mr. Fellowes shall. If his sword is as facile as
+his pen, my Lord Rosmore, 'tis a marvel you are alive."
+
+"This fool annoys me, Sir John. I am not in the mood for jesting."
+
+"That, at least, is good news," said Martin, "for in this Monmouth
+affair there is no jest but real fighting to be done. Will you not save
+your strength for one side or the other?"
+
+"Peace, Martin," said Sir John. "We must hear more of this news of yours
+at once. And you, gentlemen, will you not put up your swords at my
+niece's request?"
+
+"I drew it to play a dishonourable part," said Fellowes. "I used it to
+defend a worthless life. Do you command its sheathing, Mistress Lanison?"
+
+"Yes," and she still looked at Lord Rosmore as she spoke.
+
+"Since Mr. Fellowes has apologised, and you have commanded, I have no
+alternative," said Rosmore. "If Mr. Fellowes resents my attitude he may
+find a time and an opportunity to force me to a better one."
+
+"Come, Martin, we must hear the whole story," said Sir John, and then he
+whispered to Rosmore as they crossed the hall together: "He is certain
+to be right, Martin invariably hears news, good or bad, before anyone
+else."
+
+"May we all hear it?" asked Mrs. Dearmer.
+
+"Why, surely," Martin Fairley exclaimed. "Monmouth was always
+interesting to ladies, and he may, as likely as not, set up his court at
+St. James's before another moon is at the full."
+
+They followed Sir John and Lord Rosmore back into the room which they
+had left so hurriedly a few moments ago, and as Martin Fairley went in
+after them he drew his bow across the strings of his fiddle, sounding
+just half a dozen quick notes in a little laughing cadenza.
+
+"He is going to sing his tale to us," said Branksome, rather bored with
+the whole proceeding.
+
+"He is quite mad," answered Mrs. Dearmer, "but I fancy Abbot John is
+somewhat afraid of him."
+
+The little sequence of notes made Barbara Lanison start, she had heard
+it so often. When she was a child Martin had told her fairy tales, and
+he constantly finished the story by playing just these notes, a sort of
+musical comment to the end of a tale in which prince and princess lived
+happily ever afterwards. When he had been thinking out some difficult
+point he would play this cadenza as a sign that he had come to a
+decision. Once when Barbara had been ill, and got well again, he had
+played it two or three times in rapid succession. If he declared he was
+busy when Barbara wanted to go to him, he would tell her she might come
+when she heard his fiddle laugh, and these notes were the laugh, always
+the same notes. They had evidently some meaning for him, and they had
+come to have a meaning for Barbara. They were a link between her and
+this strange mad friend of hers. When she heard them she always felt
+that Martin had something to tell her, or could help her in any
+difficulty she was in at the moment.
+
+"Mistress Lanison."
+
+She started. She was almost unconscious that the people who had
+surrounded her just now had gone and closed the door. She was alone in
+the hall with Sydney Fellowes, from whom a few moments ago she had cried
+out to be delivered.
+
+"Mistress Lanison, I ask your pardon for to-night. Forget it, blot it
+out of your memory, if you can. If some day you would deign to set me a
+task whereby I might prove my repentance, I swear you shall be humbly
+served. Against your will, perhaps, you have picked me out of the
+gutter. Please God, I'll keep out of it. Thank you for all you have done
+for me."
+
+He spoke hurriedly, giving her no opportunity to answer him, and then
+turned and left her, going out through the door which opened on to the
+terrace, and which still stood open. Had he waited Barbara would not
+have answered him, perhaps; she was not thinking of him, but of Martin
+Fairley and the laugh of his fiddle. The sound of Fellowes's retreating
+footsteps had died into silence before she turned and went out slowly on
+to the terrace, closing the door quietly behind her.
+
+The fiddle, with the bow beside it, lay on the table near its master, a
+strange master, whose moods were as varying as are those of an April
+day. Mad Martin he was called, and he was known and loved in all the
+villages for miles round Aylingford. He and his fiddle brought mirth to
+many a simple festival, and in time of trouble it was strange how
+helpful were the words and presence of this madman. Martin Fairley was
+not as other men, the village folk said, he was not sane and ordinary as
+they were, he was to be pitied, and must often be treated as a wayward
+child. Yet there were times when he seemed to see visions, when the
+invisible spirits of that world with which he was in touch whispered
+into his ear things of which men knew nothing. He was suddenly endowed
+with knowledge above his fellows, and the whole aspect of the man
+changed. At such times the villagers were a little afraid of him and
+spoke under their breath of magic and the black art. Even Sir John
+Lanison was not free from this fear of his strange dependent. He never
+spoke roughly to him, never checked him, never questioned his goings and
+comings. Sometimes, half-jestingly it seemed, he asked his advice, and
+whatever Martin said was always considered. As often as not the advice
+given took the form of a parable, and, no matter how absurd it sounded,
+Sir John invariably tried to understand its meaning.
+
+Martin Fairley had come to the Abbey one winter's night soon after
+Barbara Lanison had been brought there. He had come out of the woods,
+struggling against a hurricane of wind across one of the bridges, his
+fiddle cuddled in his arms for protection. He had begged for food and
+shelter, and then, warm and satisfied, he had played to the company
+gathered round the Abbey fire, had told them strange tales, and, with a
+light laugh, had declared that he was the second child to come to the
+good Sir John Lanison for care and protection, first the little niece,
+now the poor fool. Someone told Sir John that there was luck in keeping
+such a fool about the place, and whether it was that he believed it, or
+really felt pity for the homeless wanderer, Martin Fairley had been
+allowed to remain at the Abbey ever since, a willing slave to Barbara
+Lanison, an inconsequent person who must not be interfered with. Perhaps
+he was twenty years old when he came, strong and lithe of limb then, and
+to-day he was hardly changed, older-looking, of course, but still lithe
+in his movements. Mentally, his development had been curious. His powers
+had both increased and decreased. There were times when he was silent,
+depressed, when his mind was a complete blank, and whatever words he
+might utter were totally without meaning; but there were other times
+when his eyes were alight with intelligence, when his wit was as keen as
+a well-tempered blade, and his whole appearance one of resolute energy
+and competent action.
+
+He was keen to-night as he told the story of Monmouth's landing.
+
+"Lyme went mad at his coming," he said. "His address was read from the
+market cross, and the air rang again with shouts of 'Monmouth! and the
+Protestant faith!' As captain-general of that faith has he come, and the
+people flock to his blue standard and scatter flowers in his path. The
+Whig aristocracy will rise to a man, it is said, and London fly to arms.
+The King and his Parliament tremble and turn pale, and the train-bands
+of Devon are only awaiting the opportunity to join the Duke. All the
+West is in arms."
+
+"How did you hear the news?" asked Sir John.
+
+"It flies in all directions; you have only to listen."
+
+"We have heard nothing," said Rosmore contemptuously.
+
+"Ah, but these walls are thick," said Martin, "and wine makes people
+dull of hearing, while the company of fair ladies breeds disinclination
+to hear. Perhaps, too, you were making a noise over your play."
+
+"I am inclined to think it is all a tale," said Branksome. "Before this
+we have known you to dream prodigiously, Martin."
+
+"True. I dreamed last night as I lay on a bed of hay in a loft, with my
+fiddle for company, that all the gentleman at the Abbey had flown to
+fight for Monmouth."
+
+"A stupid dream," said a man who was a Whig, and whose mind was full of
+doubt as to what his course of action must be should Monmouth's landing
+be a fact.
+
+"And I come back to find two gentlemen fighting in the hall," Martin
+went on. "Were you trying to rob King James of a supporter, my lord?"
+
+Rosmore laughed.
+
+"No, Martin; I was endeavouring to punish a man for insulting a lady."
+
+"Truly the world is upside down when it falls to your lot to play such a
+part as that," was the answer.
+
+"How many men has Monmouth?" asked Sir John, silencing the laugh against
+Lord Rosmore.
+
+"They come by the hundreds, 'tis a labour to write down their names fast
+enough. From the ploughs, from the fields, from the shops they come;
+their tools turned into implements of war even as Israel faced the
+Philistines long ago. Men cut loose the horses from the carts and turn
+them into chargers; labourers bind their scythes to poles and carry
+reaping-hooks for swords; the Mendip miners shoulder their picks making
+a brave front; and here and there a clerk may wield a ruler for want of
+a better weapon. And night and day they drill, march, and countermarch.
+The cause is at their heart and no leader need feel shame at such a
+host."
+
+"A rabble," said Rosmore.
+
+"A rabble that will not run counts for much, my lord, and Monmouth is no
+mean general as those who fought at Bothwell Bridge know well."
+
+"You talk as though you were a messenger from Monmouth himself," said
+Rosmore. "Were you a witness of the landing?"
+
+"No, no; my fiddle and I have been to a wedding--besides, I am far too
+changeable a fellow to take sides," said Martin. "Were I for Monmouth
+to-night, I might wake to-morrow morning and find myself for King James.
+I shall make a song of victory so worded that it will serve for either
+side. Were I Monmouth's messenger I should have made certain of my
+company before telling my news. You may all be for the King; that would
+be to send you marching against Monmouth. He does not want such a
+messenger as I am. Do you march early to-morrow, Sir John?"
+
+"Not so soon as that, I think, Martin."
+
+"And you, Lord Rosmore?"
+
+"Is it worth while marching at all against such a rabble?" was the
+answer.
+
+Martin took up his fiddle.
+
+"You, Sir Philip, will hardly leave the ladies, I suppose? Like me, you
+are no fighting man."
+
+Sir Philip Branksome chose to consider himself a very great fighting
+man, and every acquaintance he had knew it. His angry retort was drowned
+in the laughter which assailed him on all sides, and by the time the
+laughter had ended Martin Fairley had left the room.
+
+"That madman knows too much," said Rosmore, turning to Sir John. "You
+give him too great licence. Had I anything to do with him I should slit
+that wagging tongue of his."
+
+"He talks too freely to be dangerous," said Sir John. "His news is
+doubtless true, and we--which side do we favour?"
+
+Mrs. Dearmer propounded a question.
+
+"Does it not depend upon which is the good? If popery, then Monmouth and
+the Protestants claim us; if Protestantism, then must we die for King
+James and all the evil he meditates."
+
+"A fair abbess reminding us of our rules," said Branksome. "Would not
+the most wicked course be to do nothing, and then side with the victor?"
+
+"That madman seems to have spoken shrewdly when he said you did not like
+fighting," said a girl beside him.
+
+"There is evil to be done whichever side we fight for," said Rosmore. "I
+see more personal advantage in fighting for King James, and should
+anyone be able to persuade Fellowes to throw in his lot with Monmouth he
+will do me a service. The world grows too small to hold us both."
+
+"At least I hope that all my lovers will not fall victims to the
+rabble," said Mrs. Dearmer. "Abbot John, you at least must stay at the
+Abbey to keep me merry."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Martin Fairley tucked his fiddle under his arm and went quickly down the
+terrace. As he approached the doorway leading into the ruined hall a man
+came out of the shadows.
+
+"My brother poet!" Martin exclaimed. "You have left the revel early,
+brother!"
+
+"Can you be serious, Martin, and understand me clearly?" asked Fellowes.
+
+"It happens that I am rather serious just now," was the answer.
+
+"Martin, I was a scoundrel to-night," said Fellowes, catching him by the
+arm. "I might plead wine as an excuse, but I will not, or love, which I
+dare not. All women are to be won, you know the roue's damnable creed. I
+was in despair; a few words from a pure woman's lips had convinced me of
+my unworthiness, and then I met Rosmore. He ridiculed me; suggested,
+even, that my love was returned, goaded me to play the lover wilfully
+and as a man who will not be beaten. Then the wine and the sham courage
+that is in it drove me on. I sent a lying message, and she came to the
+hall yonder. I would not let her go, and she cried out. In a moment they
+came hurrying in upon us, Rosmore with them. They would have turned it
+to comedy, laughed at her, applauded me; but Rosmore, Martin, drew his
+sword to defend her--he had played for the opportunity. Had any other
+man but Rosmore faced me I should say nothing, but he is worse even than
+I am. You saw the end."
+
+"She was shielding you," said Martin.
+
+"I know. I do not count, but Rosmore desires her, Martin. He thought to
+stand high with her by killing me to-night. She must never belong to
+Lord Rosmore. She will listen to you, Martin--she always does, she
+always has."
+
+"Would you make a Cupid's messenger of me, Mr. Fellowes?"
+
+"Fool! I tell you I am nothing. Save her from Rosmore, that is your
+mission. My sword, my life are at her service, she knows that, and
+probably would not use them, no matter what her peril might be; but you,
+some day, might use me on her behalf, without her knowledge. Take this
+paper; it is the name of my lodging in town. Keep it. Do you understand?
+To-morrow I leave the Abbey."
+
+"To join Monmouth?"
+
+"To try and do what is right," Fellowes answered, "and find a worthy
+death, if possible, to atone for an unworthy life."
+
+"A new day will change your mood," said Martin.
+
+"Think so if you will, only keep the paper, and save her from Rosmore."
+
+As he turned away Martin caught his arm.
+
+"There was once a man like you," he said, "a man who loved like you, who
+was a scoundrel like you. Suddenly an angel touched him, and in great
+pain he turned aside into a rugged, difficult path. At the end of it he
+shrank back at the sound of a voice, shrank back until he knew that the
+voice spoke words of praise and confidence and honour; and a hand, clean
+as men's hands seldom are, grasped his in friendship."
+
+The madman's hand was stretched out to him, and Fellowes took it.
+
+"The eyes of a fool often see into the future," said Martin. "I am
+grasping the hand of the man you are to be. I shall keep the paper."
+
+Fellowes went along the terrace without another word, and Martin went to
+the deep-set door in the tower by the Nun's Room. It was not locked
+to-night, and he climbed the narrow, winding stair quickly.
+
+A dim light was burning in the circular chamber, and as Martin entered
+Barbara rose from a chair to meet him. Swiftly he drew the bow across
+the fiddle strings.
+
+"The fiddle laughs at your trouble, child."
+
+"It must not be laughed at so easily, Martin. Your news to-night--"
+
+"Was just in time to save a very foolish man from my Lord Rosmore. I can
+guess what happened. The one insults you, the other pretends to defend
+you and--"
+
+"And my uncle wishes me to marry him; but that is not the trouble,
+Martin."
+
+"I should have called that trouble enough."
+
+"But listen," said Barbara, "this news of Monmouth's landing distresses
+me for a very strange reason."
+
+"Tell me," said Martin.
+
+Barbara told him of the man who had come to her rescue at Newgate, and
+repeated all that Lord Rosmore had said of him.
+
+"Do you think he can be such a man as that, Martin?"
+
+"If Lord Rosmore knows him then--"
+
+"If--but does he?"
+
+"Lord Rosmore knows a great many scoundrels, I have been told. What was
+the name of this one?"
+
+"He is not a scoundrel, Martin, I am sure, quite sure. A woman
+knows--how, I cannot tell, but she does. And then, even if he be a
+scoundrel, I would do him a service, if he can be found. That Monmouth
+is in England will be an excuse for taking him, even if he is innocent."
+
+"Still you do not tell me his name."
+
+"Gilbert Crosby," said Barbara.
+
+Martin sat in a corner where the shadows fell, and Barbara did not
+notice his sudden start of interest.
+
+"Crosby, Crosby," he said slowly. "There are Crosbys in Northamptonshire,
+and here in Hampshire, close by the borders of Wilts and Dorset, there
+is one; but a Gilbert Crosby--what is he like?"
+
+"I cannot tell. He made me ashamed to be in such a place, and I did not
+look much into his face. He had grey eyes, and a voice that was stern
+but kind."
+
+"An excellent picture!" cried Martin. "He should be as easy to find as a
+cat in winter time. Cats always go towards the fire, you know, and blink
+the dreamy hours away in the warmth of the blaze. Oh, we'll find this
+Gilbert Crosby, never fear; and when we find him, what shall we say? Our
+Lady of Aylingford is in love. Come with us."
+
+"You are foolish, Martin."
+
+"I was born so, they say, and therefore cannot help it, but, being a
+fool, I am convinced that folly is sometimes better than wisdom.
+To-night, like a fool, I will dream of this Gilbert Crosby, and learn in
+what direction he must be sought for; but now I must be wise and tell
+you that the hour grows late and that children should be in bed."
+
+"I fear that childhood, and with it happiness, is being left far behind
+me, Martin," Barbara said with a sigh.
+
+She could not see him clearly in the shadows, could not discern the
+strange light in his eyes, nor catch the hushed echo to her sigh which
+came from her crazy companion.
+
+"No, no; we are all children right to the end," he said suddenly. "There
+are moments when we know it and feel it, and, alas! there are times,
+too, when we are blind and feel quite old. Open your eyes and you'll
+know that childhood has you always by the hand, keeping love and purity
+and fair dreams blossoming in your heart. Come, I will take you along
+the terrace lest Mr. Fellowes or my Lord Rosmore or--Ah! how many more
+are there who would not give half their years and most of their fortune
+to stand in the shoes of this fool to-night."
+
+"Peace, Martin."
+
+"Do you hear her little fiddle?" and he laid his hand lovingly on the
+polished wood for a moment.
+
+"You must not laugh while I am away. Maybe we'll have a laugh together
+when I return, for the moon is too bright to go out on to my roof and
+get wisdom from the stars. Come, mistress."
+
+And they went down the narrow, winding stair together.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+KING MONMOUTH
+
+The day was dying slowly, the west still aglow after the sinking of the
+sun. Thin wreaths of mist were rising from the wide, deep trenches, or
+"rhines," as the country folk called them, which intersected and drained
+this moorland, making cultivation possible where once had been a great
+marshy pool with shifting islands here and there, and rush-covered
+swamps.
+
+Silence was over the land, broken now and again by the call of a bird,
+and presently by the quick beating of hoofs. A solitary horseman came
+rapidly along a road which skirted the edge of the moor. He was dusty
+with a long journey, and his horse came to a standstill at the first
+tightening of the rein. The rider had been in the saddle since early
+morning, and although he had not loitered on his journey, his eyes and
+ears had been keenly set all day, and, whenever practicable, he had
+chosen by-paths in preference to the main road. His was a mission which
+might bring him many dangers, and enemies even amongst those he sought
+to befriend.
+
+Before him lay the moorland, growing mistier and a little unreal in the
+failing light. To his left, clustering roofs round a church tower, was a
+village, so silent that none but the dead might have been its
+inhabitants. Not a labourer plodded homewards from his toil in the
+fields; not a horse, freed from its harness, grazed in the fields. To
+his right, sharply cutting the distant sky-line, rose a tall spire, a
+landmark for miles round.
+
+"The end of our journey," he murmured, patting the horse's neck, "and
+they won't thank us for coming."
+
+The horse appeared to understand, and started forward again, shaking
+himself as though to throw off his weariness. His rider had smiled a
+little sadly as he spoke, but now his face was set again, as one who
+rides upon an unpleasant mission but is not to be turned aside from
+fulfilling it, no matter what the cost may be.
+
+It was not long before he entered Bridgwater, and, had he not known that
+it was so, the aspect of the town would have shown him that he was in
+the midst of some great event. At no time would he be a man to pass
+unnoticed, but here his coming caused excitement. Words of welcome were
+flung at him, and anxious questions shouted after him. There was a
+feverish eagerness in the atmosphere, and if some faces which he saw at
+windows and in doorways had a look of fear in them, they were in the
+minority, and were not anxious to invite attention to themselves.
+
+"Duke!" one man exclaimed in answer to the rider's question. "He is no
+duke who is at the castle, but a king--King Monmouth. Yesterday, in the
+market-place at Taunton, they proclaimed him."
+
+"I had not heard," said the rider.
+
+"Do you come alone?" asked the man.
+
+"Quite alone."
+
+"Each man counts--may count for much--but you should have ridden in at
+the head of a troop. We'd have cracked our throats with roaring a
+welcome."
+
+The rider smiled, and passed on to the castle.
+
+Here was the centre of bustle and excitement, constant coming and going,
+hastily given orders, and general clamour. In the castle field was
+encamped an army of six thousand men, a rabble truly, and poorly armed,
+many having naught but their tools for weapons, but enthusiasts all,
+certain of the righteousness of their cause, prepared to die for the
+King they had made and whom they trusted and loved. There was order of a
+sort, but it seemed strangely like confusion to the horseman as he
+dismounted within the courtyard. Here again a welcome met him, but it
+was with difficulty he could get a message carried to King Monmouth.
+Would he not see Lord Grey who was in charge of the cavalry, or Master
+Ferguson who could tell him all he wanted to know--or Buyse, or Wade,
+or--
+
+"Monmouth, blockhead--and Monmouth only," was the angry retort. "And
+quickly, or you'll suffer for such laggard service."
+
+He spoke with such authority that there was whispered speculation who
+this stranger might be. Perhaps he was the first of those nobles who had
+promised to draw swords with them in the great cause. A messenger went
+quickly, and soon returned. The King would see him at once.
+
+As the stranger entered the chamber where half a dozen men were
+gathered, one man rose and came forward to meet him.
+
+"Gilbert Crosby!" he exclaimed. "Never was friend more welcome."
+
+His face, somewhat gloomy a moment before, was suddenly lit with a
+brilliant smile, so winning, so full of charming graciousness, that it
+was easy to understand the influence such a leader must have over the
+army of enthusiasts gathered in the town of Bridgwater. He was a
+handsome man, in appearance a born leader of men; and if Gilbert Crosby
+understood some of the shortcomings which lay underneath this attractive
+exterior, he could not remember them just now. There was the temptation
+to offer himself heart and soul to this man and forget the self-imposed
+mission on which he had come. He had been brought in contact with
+Monmouth some years ago, had begun, perhaps, by pitying, and had ended
+by giving him a friendship which was truer and stauncher than any other
+he had ever possessed. When, a few years since, Monmouth had been feted
+throughout Somersetshire and Devon, Crosby had been much in his company,
+had entertained him modestly at his own manor, and had been at that
+sumptuous feast given in honour of the Duke by Thynne of Longleat.
+
+"Gentlemen, this is a very dear friend of mine," said Monmouth, turning
+and presenting him to the company, "Mr. Gilbert Crosby of Lenfield
+Manor, than whom we could not welcome a better gentleman."
+
+"Pardon, my lord, but--"
+
+"Ye've come to help a great cause," said a long, lean man, bent in the
+shoulder, and with lantern jaws which mouthed out his words in the
+strongest of Scotch accents. "I'm Ferguson. Ye've heard of me; and I'm
+saying it's a fight against the enemies of the Lord ye've come to wage."
+
+"I would not be misunderstood," said Crosby, turning to Monmouth; "I
+came to talk with you in private, not to fight."
+
+"I regret to hear you say so," Monmouth answered. "I am rather weary of
+advice, but come with me." And then, having taken a few steps towards a
+door leading to another room, he stopped. "No, Crosby; friendship must
+stand aside for a while. I must have no secrets from these comrades, who
+are with me heart and soul in this enterprise."
+
+"That's better--much better," said Ferguson. "Let us hear the man and
+his communication. It is no more than the right of those who are bearing
+the heat and burden of the day."
+
+"I would urge that our conversation be in private," said Crosby.
+
+"And I would urge otherwise," said Ferguson. "Such a desire for privacy
+has the savour of treachery about it."
+
+"Can a man be a traitor to a cause he has never espoused?" Crosby asked
+quietly.
+
+"Is it, then, that ye are afraid to speak before honest men?" Ferguson
+demanded roughly, the eruption with which his face was plentifully
+covered glowing a fiery red as he thrust his head forward like an angry
+vulture.
+
+"Afraid!"
+
+"Gentlemen! Gentlemen! I will have no quarrelling," said Monmouth. "I
+will go bail for my friend, even though he does not throw in his lot
+with us. I warrant he has naught but kindness in his heart for me, and
+that kindness has brought him to Bridgwater."
+
+"The gentleman can certainly not be accused of cowardice if he comes to
+vilify your friends," said one man. "That requires courage."
+
+"That is true, Grey," said Monmouth. "Speak freely, Crosby, as you would
+to me were we alone; or, if you regret coming, keep silent. You shall
+sup with us to-night, and to-morrow depart. We will force no man to
+raise a hand for us."
+
+"Why make promises until we have heard the man's communication?" growled
+Ferguson. "Those who are not for the Lord are for Baal; there is no
+middle course."
+
+"The purpose for which I came shall be fulfilled," said Crosby. "You
+gentlemen know nothing of me, nor I of you, except that you stand by the
+side of your new-made king. For that I can honour you; on your side,
+pray give me credit for honesty."
+
+"Words, words, like sounding brass and a tinkling cymbal," said
+Ferguson.
+
+"Most assuredly such words, with their specious promises, have had much
+to do with this enterprise," Crosby retorted; and then, turning to
+Monmouth, he went on earnestly: "You have been deceived by lying agents,
+such men as Wildman and Danvers. By this time you must know that London
+will not raise a finger nor spend a guinea to help you, and that there
+is not a single Whig nobleman who will draw a sword on your behalf."
+
+"You are full of news, sir," sneered Ferguson. "You must be deep in the
+councils of our enemies to know so much. And why limit yourself to
+Wildman and Danvers when you speak of liars and deceivers? I am
+Ferguson--everybody knows me. This is Lord Grey of Wark. Here stands
+Fletcher, and Wade and Anthony Buyse. Why not complete your accusation?"
+
+"You are deceived with your master, rather than deceivers," Crosby
+answered. "You are prepared to fight for the cause, therefore you stand
+apart. You know that what I say is true, my lord." And he turned to
+Monmouth again.
+
+"Finish what you have to say, Crosby."
+
+"Your enterprise is doomed to failure. Here in Somersetshire you are
+loved, and a few thousand men, confident that the whole country will
+acclaim you, are prepared to lay down their lives for you. The country
+is not going to open its arms to you. You can no longer be deceived upon
+that point. The train-bands of Wiltshire are mustering, the militia of
+Sussex and Oxfordshire are on the road. The Duke of Beaufort supports
+the crown, and the undergraduates of Oxford take up arms to oppose you.
+Feversham and Churchill march with the regular troops against you, and
+your army of yokels must go down like a field of corn before the
+reapers."
+
+"I take it that, had there been no doubt of our success, we should have
+had the pleasure of your company," said Ferguson.
+
+"No, you would not. I do not favour the rebellion you are raising, and I
+come on a self-imposed embassy to plead with my Lord Monmouth, first
+because of my friendship for him, secondly to urge that he will not
+fashion a scourge for the back of this simple West-Country folk."
+
+Monmouth's face had grown gloomy. He was too good a soldier not to know
+that what Crosby said was true, that his chance of success was of the
+feeblest kind. Not a single man of real importance had joined him;
+already there was regret that he had left his retreat in Brabant to lead
+such a desperate venture, and deep down in his heart, perhaps, he
+recognised in Ferguson his evil genius.
+
+"You are a veritable Job's comforter," he said with a forced smile. "You
+show us a crowd of difficulties, have you any advice how they may be
+overcome?"
+
+"Bid these men with their scythes and reaping-hooks disperse, and then
+leave England as quietly as you came."
+
+Such a solution had entered into Monmouth's mind already. It seemed more
+feasible now that a friend had spoken it.
+
+"You cannot!" exclaimed Lord Grey. "That would be base ingratitude to
+the men who are encamped without these walls. We have called them to
+arms, we must stand or fall with them."
+
+"I grant it sounds the more honest advice," said Crosby, "but, my lord,
+you have to choose between two evils; I only counsel you to take the
+lesser. A few will suffer, doubtless, if you abandon your enterprise,
+but if you press on with it the whole of the West Country will be
+persecuted. King James does not know how to forgive."
+
+"It is too late to turn back," said Monmouth. "Grey is right. These men
+look to me to lead them to victory. I will make the attempt. I have
+sworn it on the Holy Book."
+
+Crosby bowed his head and was silent. He could not deny that Monmouth's
+attitude was that of an honest man.
+
+"And what becomes of this gentleman who is so ready to help our enemies
+by giving us advice?" asked Ferguson.
+
+"To-night he sups with us, to-morrow he departs," Monmouth answered.
+
+"Is that wise? He has seen us in our stronghold, he has counted our
+numbers, he has knowledge of our weakness. He would be safer shut in
+this castle, safer still were he turned loose to the mercies of those
+men who are encamped yonder. I would make short work of all spies."
+
+"The gentleman is honest, but gives bad advice," said Grey.
+
+"I'm thinking we shall find him in the ranks of our enemies on the day
+of battle," Ferguson retorted.
+
+"Even so, he departs in peace to-morrow," said Monmouth.
+
+"I fight neither for you nor against you," Crosby answered. "Presently
+I may try to do something to help these peasants in their need, which
+will surely come. If in your hour of need, my Lord Monmouth, you should
+think there is safety at Lenfield Manor, I will do my best to find you
+a hiding-place there."
+
+"If I enter Lenfield Manor I trust it will not be as a fugitive from my
+enemies," said Monmouth. "Now, gentlemen, to supper."
+
+Gilbert Crosby had hardly expected anything else but failure, yet he was
+disappointed. Had he seen Monmouth privately he might have been able to
+persuade him better. Some honesty there might be in Monmouth's use of
+the Protestant faith to further his cause, but it was probably of very
+secondary consideration, while with those about him, and who were
+responsible for his actions, it was merely a tool to be used so long as
+it proved useful. With the peasantry who had flocked to the blue
+standard it was everything, and it was chiefly on their account that
+Crosby had journeyed to Bridgwater. He would have saved Monmouth if he
+could, but after all, Monmouth aspired to a throne and must take the
+risks; the people, on the other hand, had nothing to win and everything
+to lose, and, although Crosby would not take up arms with them, he was
+quite ready to sacrifice himself on their behalf. He was of that stock
+which had bred the Pyms and Hampdens of the Civil War. At the
+Restoration his father had retired to his Manor of Lenfield and had
+mixed no more in politics. Possibly the Restoration was for the general
+good of the country rather than the rule of that rabid section of the
+Puritans which had caricatured the original spirit in which an appeal to
+arms had been made, but Thomas Crosby remained a Puritan, and distrusted
+the Stuarts as much as he had ever done. In this atmosphere Gilbert
+Crosby had grown to manhood, and since his father's death five years ago
+had been master of Lenfield. If he were less of a Puritan than his
+father, he was just as opposed to all forms of popery, and had been
+quite sensible of the danger which must arise on the accession of James.
+He had been active amongst those who were firmly determined to struggle
+against the re-establishment of Roman Catholicism in England, but he had
+lent himself to no underhand plots against the King, and, although
+conscious that there existed an undercurrent of intrigue in favour of
+the Duke of Monmouth, neither he nor those with whom he was associated
+had expected Monmouth's landing. It was natural, perhaps, that men like
+Wildman and Danvers should believe that such an invasion would force the
+hands of all those who clung to the Protestant faith, but the body to
+which Crosby belonged looked to the Prince of Orange as leader should
+open rebellion become necessary; they might be at one with the
+West-Country peasantry in religion, but they were not likely to help the
+son of Lucy Walters to his father's throne. Gilbert Crosby was prepared
+to be his friend, but he was not prepared to be his subject.
+
+He had retired to his room and locked the door. He was to start early in
+the morning, and had taken leave of Monmouth, who had striven to appear
+in high spirits during supper. His forced gaiety had not deceived
+Crosby, whose heart was heavy as he paced the room thoughtfully for a
+time. Disaster was in the air, and Monmouth was but the shuttlecock of
+unscrupulous men.
+
+"I wish I could help him," he sighed, and then he drew from his neck a
+white ribbon. The ends were knotted together so that he could suspend it
+round his neck under his clothing, and it had rested there day and night
+ever since he had picked it up. He folded it in his hands and kissed it;
+so he had done every night, and there had come to him a vision--a
+hurrying crowd of men and women, careless of everything but pleasure and
+excitement, and a young girl shrinking back against the wall, strangely
+out of place there, and alone.
+
+"I wonder whether we shall ever meet again, and, if we do, whether I
+shall have the courage to show you the ribbon you dropped," he murmured.
+
+He had slipped the ribbon round his neck again when there was a hasty
+knock at the door, and when he opened it Lord Grey entered the room
+quietly.
+
+"I am glad to see you have not retired, Mr. Crosby. King Monmouth is
+afraid for you. Ferguson, a good man but a fanatic, is set upon
+detaining you at Bridgwater--has, perhaps, more sinister designs. He
+plots on his own account in this matter to take you in the morning, so
+you must needs leave to-night."
+
+"I would rather stay and settle the score with Ferguson," said Crosby.
+
+"One man, while Ferguson has a dozen enthusiasts at his back! It is
+impossible. Besides, Monmouth commands, and, in Bridgwater at least, his
+word is law."
+
+"I will go," Crosby answered.
+
+Grey led the way down numerous small passages and short flights of
+narrow steps until a small door was reached.
+
+"Your horse is here, but I will walk with you through the town. We can
+understand men coming in, we do not understand men going out."
+
+"I have already said I should prefer to stay and face Ferguson in the
+morning," Crosby returned.
+
+Grey laughed.
+
+"His rage will be wonderful to behold, but you must not be there to see
+it. He will fling texts of damnation after you, which, had they power to
+kill, would certainly prevent you reaching the end of your journey. His
+knowledge of such passages in the Bible is wonderful."
+
+They passed through the town quietly. It was sleeping.
+
+"Farewell, Mr. Crosby. I wish you could have remained with us."
+
+"And I wish that you had never been persuaded to try so mad a venture,"
+said Crosby.
+
+"The issue lies still in the balance," Grey returned.
+
+So Gilbert Crosby rode away from Bridgwater, and the mist was thick over
+Sedgemoor.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+SEDGEMOOR AND AFTERWARDS
+
+Lentfield Manor, on the borders of Dorsetshire, was a square house set
+against a background of woods, with an expanse of park land in front of
+it. There was no particular beauty about it; indeed, it had a dreary
+look, and evidences of economy were not wanting. Thomas Crosby, never at
+any time to be reckoned a wealthy man, had expended much in the cause of
+the Parliament, and had left his son Gilbert a comparatively poor man.
+Within, the house was spacious and comfortable, with many a hiding-place
+in it which had been turned to account before now, and, if the furniture
+had grown shabby and showed its age unmistakably, Gilbert had become so
+accustomed to it that he hardly noticed its deficiencies. Lenfield was
+the home he loved, and this fact touched it, and everything in it and
+about it, with magical colours. Lately he had had visions of a fair
+woman descending the low, broad stairs, smiling at him as she came; in
+fancy he had seen her flitting from room to room, filling them with
+laughter and sunshine. So much power had a length of white ribbon which
+had once belonged to such a woman.
+
+Crosby returned to Lenfield by many by-roads, more careful, even, than
+he had been when riding towards Bridgwater. Once he had turned aside to
+avoid a band of militiamen, for he had no desire to be questioned. This
+insurrection in the West would bring suspicion on many an innocent
+person, and Thomas Crosby had been so well known a Puritan that it would
+be well for his son to be found at home when he was inquired for. If
+King James persisted in his struggle for popery, there was a much
+greater rebellion than Monmouth's to come, infinitely more far-reaching.
+In that outburst Gilbert Crosby intended to play his part, but until
+then he would safeguard himself as much as possible. There would be
+refugees from Monmouth's ragged army presently, he must help them if he
+could, but he would play no part in active rebellion.
+
+An old man, who had been servant to the Crosbys when Gilbert was born,
+met him in the hall.
+
+"I've been anxious, Master Gilbert," he said, "very anxious indeed, and
+the Lord be praised that you've returned in safety. I began to fear you
+might have ridden West to join Monmouth."
+
+"Why should you think that, Golding?"
+
+"When one is anxious one thinks of all the worst things that could
+possibly happen."
+
+"It seems that they fight in a good cause, Golding."
+
+"Don't let a soul hear you say so, Master Gilbert. They've arrested two
+hundred or more in London already, honest merchants many of them, and
+they say the gaol at Oxford is full of prisoners. No Puritan is really
+safe in these days."
+
+"You've heard far more than I have, Golding. Who has brought you such
+news?"
+
+"A gentleman who came to see you yesterday," the man answered. "He
+called me a round-headed old scoundrel, but I think there was no malice
+in it."
+
+"Who was he?"
+
+"He gave no name, but he wrote you a letter. I told him you were in
+London, and that I was hourly expecting your return."
+
+"I did not say I had ridden to London," said Crosby.
+
+"No, Master Gilbert, but he asked me where you were, and I thought it
+best to be definite."
+
+"Where is this mysterious stranger's letter?"
+
+Gilbert Crosby looked at the writing on the outside, which told him
+nothing. The contents mystified him, and he had no knowledge of the man
+who signed it.
+
+"Sir," he read, "I have waited for you, having broken my journey to the
+West against these rebels on purpose to see you. This I have done, at
+some hazard to myself, at the bidding of one who honours me with
+commands. Since I cannot see you I must needs write, a dangerous
+proceeding, but your servant seems honest. Know then, sir, that you have
+enemies, men who will seek to find occasion to accuse you of disloyalty,
+and they may well find an easy opportunity now that Monmouth has landed.
+You are likely to be accused of helping his venture, and will know how
+best to secure yourself against such an accusation. For myself I know
+nothing of your aims, but the person who commands me believes you
+incapable of a base action, and would do you a service. This manor of
+yours is too near the West to be a safe place for you with an enemy so
+bent on your overthrow, and I am commanded to suggest that, for the
+present, you go to London and give no occasion for suspicion. The trust
+I have in my employer in this matter compels me to urge you to take heed
+of this letter, and moreover to offer you my help if at any time I can
+be of service to you.--Yours most obediently, Sydney Fellowes."
+
+"The danger I can understand," Crosby murmured, having read the letter a
+second time; "the meaning of this gentleman's warning is beyond my
+comprehension. I have no knowledge of him, and who can the person be who
+commands him?"
+
+"May I inquire if the communication is serious, Master Gilbert?" Golding
+asked presently.
+
+"No, no, a kindly message from a man who would do me a service," Crosby
+answered. "If I am inquired for, Golding, at any time, or by anyone,
+show no hesitation, but bring them to me at once; we have nothing to
+hide at Lenfield," and then, when the old man had gone, he added, "at
+present, at any rate."
+
+During the following days Crosby did not move abroad, did not leave the
+grounds of the manor except to walk into the village and gather any news
+he might. It was meagre enough, and was always to the effect that
+Monmouth was hard pressed. It was sadly told, too, for in the village
+the sympathy was with the Duke.
+
+Doubtless through the length and breadth of the land there was sympathy,
+but it had little power to help. It did not bring arms to the rebel
+camp; it did not bring the men Monmouth had expected to fly to his
+standard. He knew, no one better, that with such an army as he possessed
+there could be no real success. His one hope was that, by holding out
+and perchance by driving back the enemy in some skirmish which might get
+magnified into an important engagement, the men he so longed for--the
+great body of the Whigs--would be persuaded to flock to him. He did not
+let go this hope even after Crosby's visit to Bridgwater. The one thing
+he could not afford was to be inactive, so he marched to Glastonbury,
+then to Wells, then to Shepton Mallet, harassed the whole way by a
+handful of troops under Churchill, drenched by continuous and heavy
+rain. Then he turned to seize Bristol, but, checked at Keynsham, he
+turned towards Wiltshire. Bath shut its gates against him, and at Philip
+Norton Feversham was close upon his heels. For one wild moment he
+contemplated an advance on London, but fell back on Wells, and from
+there returned to Bridgwater. Ten days of constant marching had wearied
+an army ill-prepared for such toil, and nothing had been accomplished.
+
+This was the news that filtered through to Lenfield, and Crosby waited
+for the great disaster which he knew must come.
+
+Feversham, with the King's forces, lay encamped on Sedgemoor, and with
+him were some of the very men who had fought with Monmouth at Bothwell
+Bridge. As Monmouth surveyed the position of the enemy from the top of
+Bridgwater Church there leapt into his heart a wild hope that these men
+might desert and fight by his side in the day of battle. A desperate
+courage came to him. Feversham was not a general to inspire trust in his
+men; it was said that the camp was full of drunkenness. With drunken
+soldiers to command even Churchill might find ill-armed but enthusiastic
+peasants too much for him. The time to strike had come. Heaven itself
+lent aid to the rebels, for the night brought a thick fog over Sedgemoor
+as Monmouth left Bridgwater for the last time. Not a drum beat to the
+attack, not a shot was fired; only the word "Soho" was whispered that
+men might recognise their friends in the darkness.
+
+Two of the broad trenches which intersected the moor, and where the fog
+was thickest, were crossed in silence, but there was a third, protecting
+the camp, of which Monmouth knew nothing. The check brought confusion,
+and some man in his excitement fired a pistol. The battle had begun, and
+although the camp was taken by surprise, and drink made many heavy
+sleepers, the drums beat quickly to arms and the peasant warriors had
+little advantage. Grey's motley cavalry was scattered in a moment, and
+Lord Rosmore, who was amongst those who charged upon them, laughed
+aloud. This was a rabble, not an army.
+
+But while darkness lasted the peasants did not lose heart. Monmouth was
+in the midst of them, fighting with them, pike in hand. He might know
+that the battle was lost, might long for some friendly enemy to deal him
+his death blow. His enterprise would fail, but his end would be
+glorious. Men fell on every side of him, while he remained untouched,
+and ever the light grew stronger in the east. The light meant defeat;
+Monmouth knew it. Death would not come to him, and life suddenly seemed
+precious. They still fought, these soldiers of his; the scythes were red
+with blood; the Mendip miners still faced the enemy, and were cut down
+as they stood; and Monmouth in his flight turned for a moment to look
+back, and shuddered. His courage was gone. Fear took hold of him, and,
+hiding the blue riband and his George, he galloped away with Grey and
+Buyse, first towards the Bristol Channel, and then, turning, made
+towards Hampshire. He remembered that Gilbert Crosby had promised to
+find him a hiding-place, and if he could reach Lenfield he might be
+safe. The pursuers followed hard after him, Lord Rosmore amongst them,
+and he, too, thought of Lenfield Manor and Gilbert Crosby.
+
+No news reached the village on the Sunday or the Monday. Crosby waited
+anxiously. The last he had heard was that Feversham was on Sedgemoor and
+that a battle was imminent. He walked through the woods to the high
+road, and if he saw a peasant whose face was unfamiliar, waited for him
+lest he should prove a fugitive and bring news. On Tuesday Lenfield knew
+that Sedgemoor had been fought and lost, and that Monmouth was a
+fugitive. In which direction he had fled was not known, but Crosby
+hazarded a guess and rode some distance towards Cranbourne Chase.
+
+"Be careful, Master Gilbert," Golding whispered. "They've arrested men
+on less suspicion than you're giving occasion for."
+
+Crosby was quite aware of this, but he had made a promise. He had not
+been prepared to fight for a rebellious Monmouth, but he was prepared to
+risk much now that he was defeated and a fugitive. Still, he went
+carefully, not seeking danger, and soon had reason to be convinced that
+Monmouth had fled in the direction of Lenfield. Men of the Somerset
+Militia were beating the country, and Crosby barely escaped falling in
+with them.
+
+When he returned to the Manor at nightfall Golding was full of news.
+Lord Grey of Wark had been taken that morning, but Monmouth was still at
+large.
+
+"But he is surrounded, Master Gilbert; there is no escape for him."
+
+"No one has been to the Manor?" Crosby asked.
+
+"No; but there have been scouts in the neighbourhood all day. Luke the
+blacksmith saw them and told me. They don't expect Monmouth to come to
+Lenfield, do they, Master Gilbert?"
+
+"It seems certain that he has come in this direction, Golding."
+
+"Then stay you at home, Master Gilbert," pleaded the old man.
+
+"Nonsense. The presence of a few militia-men in the neighbourhood is no
+cause for fear. Tell them to let me have my horse at dawn."
+
+Crosby did not sleep that night. Monmouth might come under cover of the
+darkness, and he waited and listened through the long hours. At break of
+day he was in the saddle again, but did not ride far afield. He hardly
+left his own land, and it was evident that Lenfield was surrounded. In
+the afternoon he returned home, unconscious that Monmouth had been taken
+during the morning, found in a ditch clad in a shepherd's dress, and was
+already on his way to Ringwood.
+
+"Monmouth is taken," whispered Golding as Crosby dismounted.
+
+"How do you know that? Who told you?"
+
+"A man who came two hours ago. He is waiting."
+
+"Is he a friend, do you think, Golding?"
+
+"I do not know," Golding answered. "He said he would wait until you
+came, and then demanded to be taken to the stables, where he tended his
+own horse. A masterful man, Master Gilbert, but whether a friend or an
+enemy who can tell?"
+
+"We will soon see," said Crosby; and as he turned to go to this stranger
+Golding laid a hand on his arm.
+
+"If there is danger, Master Gilbert, call. I have lost some strength
+with the passing of years, but I have never lost my ability to shoot
+straight," and he just showed him the butt of a pistol in the pocket of
+his coat.
+
+Crosby patted him on the shoulder and went to his persistent and
+uninvited guest, wondering whether Monmouth were really taken, whether
+this might not be he.
+
+Men still surrounded Lenfield. It was whispered amongst them that,
+although Monmouth was a prisoner, there was another important traitor
+yet to capture. They had been told so by Lord Rosmore, under whose
+command they were. Now they were ordered to draw in closer, and to take
+anyone who attempted to escape.
+
+"Capture him if possible, but, if not, shoot him down," was Rosmore's
+command. Then, with a dozen men, he rode across the stretch of park land
+to the front entrance of the Manor. He made no attempt to surround it in
+such a manner that those within might take alarm. His men were in the
+woods, escape was impossible.
+
+There was some little delay in answering his summons, and then a servant
+came to the door.
+
+"Is your master, Mr. Gilbert Crosby, within?"
+
+"I think he is asleep, sir; but will you be pleased to enter?"
+
+The girl looked innocent enough, but Lord Rosmore was too well versed in
+artifice not to be cautious.
+
+"My horse is restive, as you see. Will you request your master to come
+out and speak with me for a moment?"
+
+The girl curtsied and departed with her message, leaving the door open.
+
+"He suspects nothing," Rosmore whispered to a man beside him.
+
+"I am not so certain," was the answer, "since the door is left so
+invitingly open. It would be natural to enter, and an ambush might await
+us within. That girl was over simple to be natural, it seemed to me."
+
+"Keep watch upon the windows above, some of you," said Rosmore in a low
+tone. "If this is a well-baited trap we are not such fools as to walk
+into it."
+
+The girl reappeared and came across the hall.
+
+"I cannot find my master," she said. "He will be in the gardens
+somewhere. Will you not come in and wait?"
+
+For a moment Rosmore hesitated, and then dismounted. He called to two or
+three men to come with him.
+
+"If you see him coming tell him we are within," he said to the others.
+"Now, my girl, we will see if we can find your master," and he caught
+her roughly by the arm. "Where is he hiding, eh?"
+
+"Hiding?"
+
+"Yes, pretty innocence; and unless you tell me quickly I shall have to
+bare these shoulders of yours and see what the taste of a whip can
+accomplish."
+
+At that moment there was a shout from the men without, and Rosmore
+rushed back to them. A horseman had suddenly ridden from the stables at
+the far end of the house.
+
+"Where's that scoundrel Rosmore?" he cried. "He would take Crosby of
+Lenfield, would he? Well, now is his chance; and in taking him he will
+capture an even more notorious person, whom, rumour says, he has long
+desired to meet."
+
+"Now I know!" Rosmore exclaimed as he flung himself into the saddle.
+"After him, and shout, all of you, to put the men in the woods on the
+alert."
+
+The horseman turned and galloped across the park in a slanting
+direction.
+
+"Don't ride too close, Rosmore," he shouted over his shoulder, "for I
+seldom miss the mark I aim at."
+
+He suddenly altered his course. It was deftly done, and served to gain
+him a few yards on his pursuers.
+
+"To the right and left to cut him off!" cried Rosmore. "We have him. The
+chase is over before it has well begun."
+
+Well might he say so, for the fugitive was galloping straight towards a
+stiff fence that few horses would face and few horsemen would hazard
+their necks over.
+
+He turned again and laughed, but rode straight on. The next moment, with
+inches to spare, the gallant animal had cleared the fence and dropped
+into the wood beyond.
+
+A cry of wonder came from the men who were following him, a curse from
+Lord Rosmore, for the rider was the highwayman Galloping Hermit, and
+wore the brown mask.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+"THE JOLLY FARMERS"
+
+For a few moments the very daring of the leap paralysed the hunters. The
+man had surely gone to his death, preferring an end of this sort to the
+one that most surely awaited him if he were captured. They had looked to
+see horse and rider crash downwards to destruction, or perchance fall
+backwards to be crushed and maimed past all healing; but when neither of
+these things happened a cry of astonishment, not unmingled with
+admiration, burst from a dozen throats. The shouting had brought men
+running from the other sides of the house; a few of them were in time to
+see the leap accomplished and to realise that Galloping Hermit had been
+in their midst; others saw only a straggling group of horsemen at fault,
+and looked in vain for the reason of the shouting. Lord Rosmore himself
+was too surprised to give orders as quickly as he might have done, and
+made up for the delay by swearing roundly at everybody about him.
+
+"Fools! What are you waiting for?" he cried savagely. "There are more
+ways into the wood than over that cursed fence."
+
+He turned to one man and gave him quick instructions concerning the
+watch to be kept on the Manor House, and then spurred his horse into the
+wood after the mounted men who had already started in pursuit.
+
+Either from actual knowledge, or conviction, the highwayman seemed to be
+certain that at this spot the woods surrounding Lenfield Manor would not
+be so carefully watched, that so stiff a fence would be deemed
+sufficient to make escape that way impossible. To the right and left of
+it, however, men were sure to be stationed; so, with a soothing word to
+his horse, he plunged into the depths of the wood along a narrow track,
+as one who knew his way perfectly and was acting on some preconceived
+plan. In a small clearing he halted, listening for the sounds of
+pursuit, and then pressed forward again until he presently came out upon
+the green sward bordering a road. Again he halted to listen, and,
+satisfied that the hunters were not too perilously close upon his heels,
+he cantered in the direction of the open country which lay to his right.
+He was now riding in a direction which made an angle with the way some
+of his pursuers had evidently taken; he knew the spot where the two ways
+met, and halted again when he reached it. Here a broad glade cut into
+the very heart of the wood, and down it came three horsemen at a trot,
+looking to right and left as they came, searching for their hidden
+quarry. Then they saw him at the end of the glade, and shouted as they
+put spurs into their horses. The shouts were answered from other parts
+of the wood, and the highwayman smiled underneath his mask as he patted
+his horse's neck.
+
+"We'll give them a hopeful chase for a while, my beauty; presently you
+shall stretch yourself and leave them behind, but it's a steady canter
+for a time. No, no; not even so fast as that. We are well out of pistol
+shot."
+
+Six men took up the chase, their faces set with grim determination. They
+were well mounted, and hopeful of success. They had every incentive to
+do their utmost.
+
+"There is a large reward offered for the capture of the wearer of the
+brown mask," said Lord Rosmore. "He is, besides, Gilbert Crosby, a
+rebel, and, further, I have a private account to settle with him. I
+double the reward."
+
+The men nodded. It would be strange if six of them could not compass the
+downfall of one. They rode on in silence, sometimes with increased hope
+as the distance between them and the highwayman lessened a little,
+sometimes with muttered curses when they realised that their horses were
+doing as much as they were able.
+
+"I think he tires a little," said one man presently, and Lord Rosmore
+saw that they had materially gained upon their quarry.
+
+"Where will this take us?" he asked.
+
+"We should strike the West Road soon," was the answer. "He'll have a
+hiding-hole somewhere near it, maybe."
+
+"He is too clever to lead us to it," said Rosmore. "He'll change his
+line presently, and we may have to separate. But his horse is tiring,
+that is certain. Press forward, lads; if we gain only inches it must
+tell in time."
+
+The day was drawing to a close. Evening shadows were beginning to steal
+up from behind distant woods. There would be light for a long while yet,
+but the chase must end before the shadows grew too deep, or the
+highwayman's chances would be many. The road took a wide circle through
+a plantation, and then ran straight across a stretch of common land,
+gradually mounting upwards to a distant ridge. As they galloped through
+the plantation the highwayman was lost sight of for a few moments round
+the bend in the road. The hunters pressed their horses forward at the
+top of their speed, conscious that in such a place the fugitive might
+quite possibly slip away from them; but when they came on to the
+straight road he was still in front of them, farther in front of them
+than he had been at any time during the chase. The highwayman turned to
+look back, and seemed to check his horse a little, but his advantage did
+not appear to decrease.
+
+"What a magnificent beast he rides!" exclaimed Rosmore. "We shall have
+to separate, and without his knowing it. The opportunity will come
+directly. Look! I thought as much."
+
+The highwayman had evidently only tried his horse's power. He was quite
+satisfied that he could distance his pursuers when he liked, and thought
+that the time had come. He was leaning forward in his saddle now, riding
+almost as a trick rider might do, but the effect was great. Possibly he
+contrived to shift his weight, for the horse suddenly bounded forward,
+breasting the hill to the ridge in splendid fashion. He might have been
+at the beginning of the race instead of nearing the end of it.
+
+"Playing with us all the time!" said one man with a curse.
+
+"That pace cannot last," Rosmore returned. "Keep after him. The moment
+he is over the ridge, you, Sayers and Watson, come with me. You others
+keep after him. He may be headed away from the road, which must lie just
+beyond the ridge. Perhaps we shall cut him off, for I have an idea he
+means to turn upon his track. Capture, or no capture, there's money for
+this day's work."
+
+As the highwayman disappeared over the ridge Lord Rosmore and his two
+men turned at right angles from the road and went across the common; the
+others continued the pursuit, but going not a whit faster than they were
+before. No amount of spurring served to lengthen the stride of their
+horses. To follow seemed hopeless, was hopeless unless the unexpected
+happened.
+
+"Let our horses walk for a few moments," said Rosmore. "You know this
+part of the country, Sayers; what should you say our direction is now?"
+
+"I don't know it over-well, my lord, but I should say we've got
+Salisbury almost straight behind us and Winchester some miles in that
+direction," and the man pointed a little to the right. "I should say
+we've been riding pretty well due north from Lenfield."
+
+"Then if the highwayman wanted to make Winchester he would have to cross
+us somewhere if we go straight forward?"
+
+"He would, my lord, but since we've been after him he's given no sign of
+making for Winchester," Sayers answered.
+
+"An inquiry in that direction may give us some information," said
+Rosmore. "I have an idea that the Brown Mask will be seen along the
+Winchester Road presently."
+
+"These horses will be no match for his."
+
+"They must carry us a little farther, but the pace may be easy," said
+Rosmore, shaking his jaded animal into a trot, and the two men rode side
+by side a few paces behind him. Strange to say, failure seemed to have
+improved Rosmore's temper rather than aggravated it. He had at least a
+score of witnesses to prove who Galloping Hermit was. A girl might be
+romantic enough to pity such a man, but it could hardly be that pity
+which is akin to love.
+
+"She has the pride of her race in her," he murmured. "I would not have
+it otherwise. There are a dozen ways to a woman's heart, and if need be
+I will try them all."
+
+The prospect appeared to please him, for he smiled. So for two hours
+they rode in the general direction of Winchester.
+
+"This is foolery," whispered Sayers to his companion. "I warrant the
+Brown Mask has gone to earth long ago. His lordship has more knowledge
+of this way than he pretends, I shouldn't wonder, and knows of a nest
+with a pretty bird in it. There may be other birds about to look after
+her, Watson. Such kind of hunting is more to my taste than the sort
+we've been sweated with to-day."
+
+They were presently traversing a road with a wood on one side and fields
+on the other, when a glimmer of light shone in front of them, and the
+barking of a dog, catching the sound of the approaching horsemen
+probably, awoke the evening echoes. Back against the trees nestled "The
+Jolly Farmers," an inn of good repute in this neighbourhood, both for
+the quality of its liquor and the amiable temper of its landlord. A
+guest had entered not five minutes ago, and was talking to the landlord
+in an inner parlour when the barking of the dog interrupted them.
+
+"Horses!" said the landlord. "They follow you so sharply that it is well
+to be cautious. This way, sir."
+
+He touched the wall where there certainly was no sign of a door, yet a
+door swung open inwards, disclosing a dark and narrow chamber. The guest
+entered it without question, and the landlord hurried out to meet the
+new arrivals.
+
+"You ride late, gentlemen."
+
+"And would sample your liquor, landlord," said Rosmore, dismounting and
+bidding his men do the same. "Have the horses looked to."
+
+The landlord called in a stentorian voice, and a lad came running from
+the rear of the premises.
+
+"Any other guests to-night, landlord?" Rosmore asked as he passed into
+the inn.
+
+"No, sir, and not much chance of them. They're having a sort of feast in
+the village yonder--dancing and such-like; and what business there is
+'The Blue Boar' will get--unless, mind you, a pair o' lovers is tempted
+to come up this way for the sake o' the walk."
+
+"How far is the village?"
+
+"Three-quarters of a mile by the road, half a mile by the path through
+the wood. But, bless you, sir, if the lovers were to come they'd get
+their refreshment out o' kisses and not trouble my ale."
+
+"What do you call this place?"
+
+"'The Jolly Farmers,' sir, and I'm called Tom Saunders, very much at
+your service."
+
+"A poor spot for an inn, surely?" said Rosmore.
+
+"There are better, and there are worse," was the answer. "We're in touch
+with the main road, and they are good enough to say that the
+entertainment is worth going a little out of the way for."
+
+"No doubt. We will judge for ourselves."
+
+"And, although I blush to mention it, folks have a kind of liking for
+Tom Saunders himself. It's often the landlord that makes the inn."
+
+If the landlord blushed, it made no appreciable difference to his rosy
+countenance, which grinned good-humouredly as he executed Lord Rosmore's
+orders.
+
+"Truly, it is good liquor," said Rosmore when he had sampled it. "Do you
+get good company to come out of their way to taste it?"
+
+"Ay, sir, at times, and a few soldiers lately. You and your two men here
+will be from the West, very like. I've heard of Sedgemoor fight. May one
+know the latest news?"
+
+"Who told you of Sedgemoor?"
+
+"I think it was the smith down in the village, or it might 'a been
+Boyce, the carpenter; anyway, it was somebody down yonder. They'd heard
+it from someone on the road."
+
+"Monmouth is taken," and Rosmore watched the landlord closely as he said
+it.
+
+"That'll be good news for King James," was the answer. "Would it be
+treason to say I'm sorry for them who've been foolish enough to take up
+arms?"
+
+"Too near it to be wise. Pity of that kind often leads a man to give
+help, and that's the worst kind of treason."
+
+"So I've heard say, but I never could understand the rights and wrongs
+of the law, nor, for that matter, the lawyers neither. I'd a lawyer here
+not many weeks back, and all his learning hadn't taught him to know good
+ale when he put his lips to it. What's the good of learning if it can't
+teach you that?"
+
+"Do you number him amongst your good company?" asked Rosmore.
+
+"I don't, but he'd reckon himself that way."
+
+"You'll be having other company before long asking you to find them
+hiding-places. The rebels are being hunted in every direction."
+
+"We're too far away," said the landlord. "Bless you, we're a sight o'
+miles from Bridgwater, and most o' these fellows ain't got horses to
+carry them. They won't trouble 'The Jolly Farmers,' sir."
+
+"And if they did?"
+
+"The bolts on the door are strong enough to keep them out."
+
+"The bolts, if used, are more likely to keep them out than the
+distance," said Rosmore; and, although the landlord still smiled, he was
+quite conscious of the doubt expressed concerning the use of the bolts.
+Rosmore paused for him to speak, but when he remained silent went on.
+"We are searching for a rebel now, one Gilbert Crosby. Do you reckon him
+amongst your good company?"
+
+"I might if I had ever heard of him," the landlord answered.
+
+"Who is in the house at this moment?" Rosmore asked.
+
+"A wench in the kitchen, and myself. My daughter is in the village at
+the merry-making, and the only other person about the place to-night is
+the boy who is looking after your horses."
+
+"I am sorry to inconvenience you, landlord, but I must make a search. If
+you're honest you will not mind the inconvenience."
+
+"Mind!" the landlord exclaimed. "I like to see a man do his duty,
+whatever that duty may be, and whatever the man's station may be."
+
+"Spoken honestly," said Rosmore. "Watson, you will stay here. Savers,
+come with me, and you come, too, landlord."
+
+The search was a thorough one, and although Rosmore keenly watched the
+landlord he could discover no sign of fear either in his face or
+attitude. Watson had nothing to report when they returned to the
+tap-room.
+
+"Tell me, landlord, what persons of quality have you in the near
+neighbourhood?"
+
+Saunders mentioned several names, amongst them Sir Peter Faulkner.
+
+"Are we near Sir Peter's? That is good hearing. He will give me a
+welcome and good cheer."
+
+"You take the road through the village," said Saunders. "It's less than
+five miles to Sir Peter's."
+
+"We'll get on our way, then," said Rosmore. Then he turned quickly upon
+the landlord. "Do you know Galloping Hermit, the highwayman?"
+
+"Well, by name. A good many have had the misfortune of meeting him on
+the West Road yonder. And, to tell the truth, sir, I believe I've seen
+him once--and without the brown mask, too."
+
+"When?" Rosmore asked sharply.
+
+"It may be three, perhaps four, months back. A horseman galloped up to
+the door, just at dusk, and called for ale. He did not dismount, and I
+took the drink to him myself. There was nothing very noticeable about
+him, only that his eyes were sharp and restless, and he held his head a
+little sideways as if he were listening. It was the horse that took my
+attention rather than the man. It was an animal, sir, you'd not meet the
+likes of in a week's journey. When the horse had galloped into the
+shadows of the night I said to myself, there goes the highwayman for a
+certainty."
+
+"And you've never seen him since?"
+
+"No, nor shall now, since he was hanged lately at Tyburn."
+
+"That was a mistake, landlord. Galloping Hermit is still alive. I have
+seen him to-night."
+
+"Alive!"
+
+"Ay, and the horse you describe fits with the animal he was riding."
+
+"I hope your honour was not robbed of much."
+
+"Of nothing, my good friend," laughed Rosmore, "except of the
+satisfaction of laying him by the heels."
+
+"Still alive, is he?" said the landlord. "I cannot credit it. Maybe 'tis
+someone else who wears the brown mask now, and trades on the other's
+fame."
+
+"It is not likely, and if it is so he must suffer for the other's sins,"
+said Rosmore; but the idea lingered with him as he rode away from the
+inn, followed by Watson and Sayers.
+
+As they passed through the village the sound of dancing to the music of
+a fiddle came from a large barn by the roadside, and a brisk trade was
+being done at an ale-house over the way. Lord Rosmore had small sympathy
+with the common folk and their amusements; besides, he was thinking
+deeply of the landlord's suggestion. Fate seemed to have thrust certain
+cards into his hand to play--cards which seemed to belong to two
+separate games, and which, if he could only join them into one, might
+bring him victory. How was he to join them? Somewhere there was a card
+missing, a link which must be supplied. Did the landlord's suggestion
+supply it? As he rode slowly forward the sound of the dancing and
+laughter was gradually hushed; only the far-carrying notes of the fiddle
+lingered a little longer. Lord Rosmore fancied he heard the notes long
+after it was possible for him to do so. Even as Sir Peter welcomed him
+presently they seemed to be sounding faintly in his ears.
+
+In the tap-room of "The Jolly Farmers" the landlord sat staring at the
+opposite wall for some time. He looked as if he were counting over and
+over again the glasses and tankards which hung or stood on shelves
+there, and could not get the number to his satisfaction. Once or twice
+he turned his head towards the door and listened, but appeared to catch
+no sound worthy of investigation. Once he got up and stepped lightly to
+the parlour beyond, and looked towards the secret door which he had
+opened for his guest, but he did not touch it. Satisfied that no sound
+came from that direction, he went back and stared at the glasses and
+tankards again. Presently he went to the inn door and looked out at the
+night. There was a soft breeze singing along the road, and a multitude
+of stars overhead. The breeze carried no other sound besides its own
+music.
+
+A good two hours passed after the departure of the horsemen before the
+landlord's usual energy returned. Then he went into the inner parlour
+and opened the secret door. A few moments elapsed before the guest
+stepped out. It seemed as if he were not quite certain of the landlord's
+honesty.
+
+"Well, has he come?" he asked.
+
+"No, but they have gone," the landlord answered. "Three horsemen who had
+ridden far looking for a rebel."
+
+"I must thank you for hiding me so securely. For your courtesy I should
+tell you my name. I am--"
+
+"Better let me stay in ignorance," said Saunders. "I am in no position
+to answer questions then."
+
+"As you will; and, truly, I am on an adventure of which I understand
+little and was warned to speak of sparingly. I was to make for this inn
+and inquire for a fiddler. How this fiddler fellow is to serve me I do
+not know."
+
+"Nor I," answered the landlord.
+
+At that moment a little cadence of notes, strangely like a laugh, fell
+upon their ears, and there came a fiddler into the tap-room.
+
+"Ale, Master Boniface, ale. I could get well drunk upon the generosity
+of your village yonder. See how they rewarded this fiddle of mine for
+making them dance." And he held out a handful of small coins. "Ale,
+then, and let it be to the brim. Has anyone inquired for a poor fellow
+like me?"
+
+"This gentleman," said the landlord.
+
+The fiddler looked steadily into the eyes of the guest for a moment, as
+if he were trying to recall his face, then he bowed.
+
+"Martin Fairley, sir, is very much at your service."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+FATE AND THE FIDDLER
+
+The stars were still bright in the deep vault above, the breeze still
+had a note of singing in it, but the sound of music and dancing was
+hushed in the village, and all the lights were out, when two horsemen
+came through a gateway on to the road some five miles away.
+
+Gilbert Crosby found himself in strange company. No sooner had this
+queer fiddler learned that search had been made at "The Jolly Farmers"
+than he refused to give any information, or listen to any explanation,
+until they had put some distance between themselves and the inn. He
+hurried out of the house, and in a few minutes returned with the
+information that he had two horses waiting in the wood behind. Crosby's
+mount was a good enough looking animal which seemed capable of carrying
+him far if not fast; his companion's horse was so lean and miserable
+that it seemed to bear a resemblance to the fiddle which Fairley had
+slung by a string across his back. In spite of its ill-condition Crosby
+wondered whether it would not be too much for the musician, who mounted
+awkwardly and seemed so intent on keeping his seat that he was not able
+to talk. He had grown more accustomed to the animal by the time they
+came out on to the high road. They had travelled chiefly at walking
+pace, by rough paths, and through woods where the tracks would have been
+difficult to find even in the daytime, and impossible at night save to
+one who knew them intimately.
+
+"So we strike the road as you declared we should," said Crosby. "You
+have great knowledge of the byways in this part of the country, Master
+Fairley."
+
+"I have travelled them, usually on foot, for many years," he answered.
+"My fiddle and I go and make music in all the villages round about;
+almost everybody knows me along the road. Should we be questioned, say
+you fell in with me and we continued together for company."
+
+"Trust me. I can keep a quiet tongue," Crosby returned. "Will you tell
+me now where we are going, and how it is you interest yourself in me?"
+
+"Better that you should tell me your part of the story first or I may be
+giving you stale news."
+
+"Truly, I have little to tell," Crosby said. "I am no rebel, though the
+charge might with some show of reason be brought against me. To-day--or
+yesterday rather, for it must be long after midnight--my house was
+secretly surrounded. My servant told me when I returned in the
+afternoon, and informed me also that a man was waiting to see me."
+
+"Who was it?" Fairley asked.
+
+"I must keep faith with him since so far he keeps faith with me. He bid
+me say nothing concerning him."
+
+A short ejaculation came from the fiddler. Perhaps his horse gave him
+trouble at that moment, but it seemed to Crosby that his companion did
+not believe him.
+
+"You doubt what I say?"
+
+"Did I say so?" asked Fairley. "I am used to strange tales, and I have
+only heard a part of yours. Finish it, Mr. Crosby."
+
+"The flight from Sedgemoor had let licence loose in the West, and I have
+reason to think that I am a victim of private vengeance. Be this as it
+may, my visitor had a scheme for my deliverance. He proposed facing the
+enemy who had now come to the door, arranged that I should give him a
+few minutes' start, and then make my way to the village from the back of
+the house. I should find a horse ready for me there, and he told me to
+ride to 'The Jolly Farmers,' where I was to await the coming of a
+fiddler who would direct me further. He was most insistent on the exact
+road I should follow, that I should leave my horse at a certain place in
+the village, and reach the inn on foot. My escape was cleverly
+arranged."
+
+"This man did you a service," said Fairley. "I wish I knew his name."
+
+"I cannot tell you. I can tell you nothing further about him; but now
+that I have escaped I feel rather as if I were playing a coward's part
+by running away."
+
+"Why? You are not a rebel."
+
+"True; yet I count for something in my own neighbourhood and might
+stretch out a protecting arm."
+
+"You were caught like a rat in a hole, and would have been powerless;
+whereas now you are free to fight your enemies, thanks to your strange
+visitor."
+
+"You speak of him as if you doubted his existence," said Crosby with
+some irritation.
+
+"Doubt! I do assure you I am one of those strange fellows who see and
+hear things which most folk affirm have no existence. I find doubting a
+difficult matter. With ill-luck I might get burnt for a wizard. I
+promise you there is more understanding in me than you would give me
+credit for, and certainly I should not call such a flight as yours
+cowardly."
+
+"I shall be able to judge the better perhaps when I have heard your part
+of the tale," said Crosby.
+
+"That is by no means certain, for my part is as vague as yours," Fairley
+answered. "You were in danger, that I knew, but the exact form of it I
+was ignorant of. I was instructed to find you and bring you to a place
+of safety, and was told that I should meet with you at 'The Jolly
+Farmers.'"
+
+"By this same man, I suppose?"
+
+"No. My instructions came from a woman."
+
+"A woman!"
+
+"Yes, and one who is evidently interested in your affairs," Fairley
+answered. "Does your memory not serve to remind you of such a woman?"
+
+Crosby did not answer the question. In the darkness of the road before
+him he seemed to see a vision.
+
+"What is this woman like?" He did not turn to look at his companion as
+he asked the question; he hardly seemed to know that he had spoken.
+
+"I cannot tell you; there are no words," said Fairley, in that curious
+monotone which the recital of verse may give, or which constant singing
+may leave in a minstrel's ordinary speech. "I cannot tell, but my fiddle
+might play her to you in a rhapsody that should set the music in your
+soul vibrating. There are women whose image cunning fingers may catch
+with brush and pigment and limn it on canvas; there are women whose
+image may be traced in burning words so that a vision of her rises
+before the reader or the hearer; and there are women whose beauty can
+only be told in music--the subtle music that lies in vibrating strings,
+music into which a man can pour his whole soul and so make the world
+understand. Such a woman is she who bid me find Gilbert Crosby and bring
+him into safety."
+
+"I know no such woman," Crosby answered. "It may seem strange to you,
+Master Fairley, but women have not entered much into my world. Tell me
+this woman's name."
+
+"Nay, I had no instructions to do so."
+
+"Shall I see her at the end of this journey?"
+
+"She hath caprices like all women; how can I tell?"
+
+"At least tell me whither we go."
+
+"If you can read the stars you may know our direction," was the answer.
+"Yonder is the Wain and the North Star, and low down eastwards is the
+first light of a new day. We may mend our pace a little if only this
+poor beast of mine has it in him to do so."
+
+It was no great pace they travelled even when they endeavoured to
+hasten. The fiddler's lean nag, either from ill-condition or over-work,
+or perchance both, could do little more than amble along, falling back
+into a walking pace at every opportunity. Perhaps it was as well, Crosby
+thought, for the fiddler seemed strangely uneasy in the saddle, and more
+than once apologised for his want of dexterity when he noticed his
+companion glance at him.
+
+"He's a sorry beast to my way of thinking, but to his thinking maybe I'm
+a sorry rider. Those who have great souls to carry often have poor knees
+for the gripping of a saddle."
+
+Crosby did not answer. The vision was still before him on the road, and
+he wondered whether Fate and this fiddler were leading him to his
+desire. Absorbed in his dream, he let his horse, which had no speed to
+boast of, suit his pace to that of the lean nag, and did not trouble to
+think how quickly they must be overtaken should there be any pursuit on
+the road behind them. So they rode forwards, their faces towards the
+growing dawn, and Gilbert Crosby was conscious of a new hope stirring in
+his soul, of an indefinable conviction that to-night was a pilgrimage, a
+journeying out of the past into the future.
+
+"He rides well surely who rides towards the coming day," said Fairley
+suddenly, breaking a long silence. Crosby felt that it was true, and
+that his own thoughts had found expression.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The night brought no vision to Barbara Lanison, only a restless turning
+to and fro upon her bed and a wild chaos of mingled doubts and fears
+which defied all her efforts to bring them into order. There were still
+many guests at the Abbey, but she saw little of them except at a
+distance. She had begged her uncle to excuse her presence, and he had
+merely bowed to her wishes without commenting upon them. He may have
+been angry with her, but since she had heard him laughing and jesting
+with his companions as they passed through the hall, or went along the
+terrace, she concluded that her absence did not greatly trouble him.
+There were guests at the Abbey now who hardly knew her, some who did not
+know her at all, and she was missed so little by Mrs. Dearmer and her
+friends that they no longer troubled to laugh at her. She was as she had
+been before her visit to London, only that now she understood more; she
+was no longer a child. She had not seen Sydney Fellowes again before his
+departure, but she had no anger in her heart against him. He had
+insulted her, but it was done under the influence of wine, and in
+reality he was perchance more genuinely her friend than any other guest
+who frequented the Abbey. Had he not said that this was no home for her?
+Lord Rosmore she had seen for a few moments before he had set out to
+join the militia marching westward. He was courtly in his manner when he
+bid her farewell, declared that she would know presently that he had
+only interfered to save her from a scoundrel, and he left her with the
+assurance that he was always at her command. Barbara hardly knew whether
+he were her friend or foe. Sir Philip Branksome had left Aylingford full
+of the doughty deeds which were to be done by him, but it was whispered
+that he was still in London, talking loudly in coffee-house and tavern.
+Judge Marriott had hurried back to town, thirsting to take a part in
+punishing these rebels, but before he went he had made opportunity to
+whisper to Barbara: "Should there be a rebel who has a claim on your
+sympathy, Mistress Lanison, though he be as black as the devil's dam,
+yet he shall go free if you come and look at me to plead for him. Gad!
+for the sake of your pretty eyes, I would not injure him though the King
+himself stood at my elbow to insist." Barbara could do no less than
+thank him, and felt that he was capable of perjuring himself to any
+extent to realise his own ends, and wondered if there were any
+circumstances which could bring her to plead for mercy to Judge
+Marriott.
+
+Mad Martin had gone, too, with his fiddle under his arm. "Folks will
+marry for all there is fighting in the West," he had said, "and my
+fiddle and I must be there to play for them." He had said no more about
+Gilbert Crosby, had probably forgotten by this time that she had ever
+mentioned the name with interest. Half dreamer, half madman, what could
+he do? With a fiddle-bow for his only weapon he was a poor ally, and yet
+he seemed to be the only true friend she possessed.
+
+Barbara was very lonely, and more and more she was persuaded that
+Aylingford Abbey was a different place from that which, through all her
+childhood until now, she had considered it. Something evil hung like a
+veil over its beauty, an evil that must surely touch her if she remained
+there. She was impelled to run away from it, yet whither could she go?
+Could she explain the evil? Could she put into words what she was afraid
+of? The world would laugh at her, even as Mrs. Dearmer did, or label her
+a wench of Puritan stock, as her aunt, Lady Bolsover, was inclined to
+do. She must talk to Martin, who had taught her so many things; but even
+Martin was away fiddling at some festival that rustics might dance.
+Barbara was disposed to resent his absence at a time when she wanted him
+so much.
+
+Yesterday she had heard some guests talking of the fight on Sedgemoor as
+they walked to and fro on the terrace below the window. Monmouth was
+defeated and flying for his life, and the heavy hand of King James would
+certainly fall swiftly on the country folk of the West. Would it fall
+upon the man who had come to her rescue at Newgate? Certainly it would
+be stretched out against him were he such a man as Lord Rosmore declared
+him to be.
+
+Wearied out with much thinking, Barbara fell asleep towards morning, and
+the sun was high, flooding the terrace with light and warmth, when she
+awoke.
+
+Later, she went across the ruins to the door in the tower. Martin might
+have returned in the night. The door was still locked. It was always
+locked when Martin was away from the Abbey, and he took the key with
+him.
+
+She went back slowly along the terrace, and, from sheer loneliness, she
+was tempted to forsake her solitude and join the guests. There was a
+group of them now at the end of the terrace, and Barbara's step had
+quickened in that direction when she heard Mrs. Dearmer laugh. She
+shuddered, and went no farther. Utter loneliness was far preferable to
+that woman's company.
+
+The day seemed to drag more heavily than any which had preceded it.
+Surely there had never been such long hours and so many hours in a day
+before! The sunshine was out of keeping with her mood, and it was almost
+a relief to her when the afternoon became overcast and the haze on the
+distant hills spoke of rain. The sound of rain was on the terrace
+presently, the stone flags grew dark with the wet, and the woods became
+sombre and deeply mysterious. A light still lingered in the west, low
+down and angry looking, but the night fell early over the Abbey. Candles
+had been burning in Barbara's room for a long time when a faint cadence
+of notes struck upon her ear. She knew it well, and the sound gladdened
+her so that she laughed as she threw open the window. Her laughter was
+like a musical echo of the notes.
+
+"Martin!" she said, leaning from the casement and looking down on the
+terrace; "Martin!"
+
+There was no answer. She looked to right and left, but only the shadows
+of the night lay still and unmoving. Had the sound been fancy? She
+closed the casement and shivered a little as though she had heard a
+ghost; then there came a knock at her door.
+
+She opened it quickly and stood back.
+
+"It is you, then?"
+
+"Did you not hear my fiddle smile? No, it was not a laugh to-night; I
+was afraid someone else might hear it. Will you come to the tower? I
+like to sit in my own room when I come back from making the folks laugh
+and dance and helping them to be happy."
+
+"Well, Martin, have you nothing to tell me?"
+
+Now that he had come back, advice was not what she asked for, but news.
+
+"We always have much to talk of--always--you and I."
+
+"But to-night, Martin, especially to-night. Ah! you have forgotten."
+
+"Very likely," he answered. "I do forget a great many things. But come
+to my room in the tower; I may remember when I get there."
+
+"No, Martin, not to-night," she said.
+
+"I may remember," he repeated; "and, besides, why should you be less
+kind to me? I always look forward to my own room and you."
+
+There was a tone of sadness in his voice, and she was angry with herself
+for occasioning it. Because she was sad, was that a reason why she
+should make this poor fellow miserable? Would he not do anything to
+serve her which fell within the power of the poor wits God had given
+him?
+
+"I will come," she said.
+
+"You must wrap a thick cloak about you," said Martin. "It is raining
+heavily."
+
+She left him for a moment and quickly returned, closely wrapped up.
+
+"Tread lightly," said Martin. "I always like to think that these
+evenings when you come to my tower are secret meetings, that the world
+must not know of them. I pretend sometimes that we are followed, and
+must go warily."
+
+"Foolish Martin!"
+
+They reached the terrace by a small door, and went quickly through the
+ruins to the tower. The door was still locked. Martin had evidently only
+just returned to the Abbey, and had not yet entered his tower.
+
+"Give me your hand up the stairs," he said.
+
+"Why, Martin, I must know every turn in them as well as you do," she
+answered.
+
+"It is my fancy to-night," he said. "Give me your hand. So. I have a
+dream of a valiant knight, famous in war and tourney, one whom fine
+ladies turn to glance after and desire that he should wear their favour.
+Only one fair maid heeds him not, and ever the knight's eyes look
+towards her. Whenever he draws his sword, or sets his lance in rest, he
+whispers her name; for him she is the one woman in all the world. And
+suddenly there comes to her the knowledge of his worth; I know not how
+it comes, but she understands, and then--The dream ends then, yet
+to-night it seems to linger for an instant. This dark stair leads to
+some beautiful palace. You are the woman of the dream, the most
+beautiful woman in the world; and for just a moment I stand a valiant
+knight--your knight--and welcome you to all I possess."
+
+His voice was little above a whisper. She could not see his face, but in
+the dark her hand was raised and lips touched it.
+
+"Martin!"
+
+"After all, it's a narrow winding stair, and leads to a meagre chamber
+where lives a poor fellow who loves his fiddle. Come."
+
+The room was in darkness, but Martin guided her to a chair.
+
+"Wait; we will have candles, four of them to-night, and we will pretend
+we keep high festival. See, mistress, how bright the room is; there are
+scarcely any dark shadows in it at all."
+
+She turned to look, and then a little cry came from her parted lips.
+Before her, his eyes fixed upon her, stood the man who had come to her
+rescue at Newgate.
+
+"You see, mistress, I did not forget," said Martin; and, taking up his
+fiddle from a table, he went out, closing the door softly behind him.
+There came a little cadence of notes--the laugh of the fiddle. Somehow
+there was the sound of wailing rather than of laughter in it to-night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+THE FUGITIVE AT AYLINGFORD
+
+Barbara Lanison suddenly remembered how much she had thought of the man
+who stood before her. For the first time she realised that not a day had
+passed but those grey eyes had seemed to look into hers, even as they
+did now; that the hours were few into which his image had not come. This
+meeting was so unexpected, she was so entirely unprepared for it, that
+she was taken at a disadvantage. It seemed to her that this man must
+surely know how much he had been in her thoughts, must be reading her
+like an open book. Her eyes fell, and the colour rushed into her cheeks.
+
+"Why has Martin gone?" she said, turning to the door to recall him, and
+whatever sense of confusion she experienced, there was a dignity in her
+movement, and a tone of annoyance in her voice, which showed Crosby that
+she was proud, and seemed to prove that just now she was angry as well.
+
+"Won't you at least let me thank you for your help?" he asked, taking a
+step towards her.
+
+"It was nothing," she answered. "By chance I learnt your name, by chance
+I heard you were in danger, and I sent you a warning. I was in your
+debt, and I like to pay what I owe."
+
+"You have done that with interest."
+
+"Tell me, why are you here?" she asked.
+
+"Indeed, madam, to answer that question I have need of Martin, too, for
+he brought me."
+
+"I do not understand, Mr. Crosby--you are Mr. Gilbert Crosby, are you
+not?"
+
+"Yes; and I do not understand, either," he answered. "I have been under
+the guidance of Fate and a fiddler, and it would appear that the
+fiddler, at any rate, has played some trick with me, for I do assure you
+that he made me suppose he was doing your bidding in bringing me here."
+
+"We call him 'Mad Martin,'" she said with a little laugh. "Will you tell
+me his tale? It should be interesting, though I fear it must greatly
+have misled you."
+
+She turned from the door as she spoke, and sat down by the table.
+Perhaps it was as well Martin had gone, for there was no guessing what
+he had told this stranger, nor how far he might call upon her to support
+his action were he asked suddenly for an explanation.
+
+"It would also be interesting to me to learn who you are, and where I
+am," said Crosby with a smile.
+
+"You do not know? You have forgotten?" Barbara exclaimed.
+
+"I have not so poor a memory as that," he answered, "and will you deem
+it presumptuous in me when I say that I hoped it might be you who had
+rendered me this service? I did not know until Martin lit those candles
+and you turned towards me. Within a few hours of my seeing you at
+Newgate I was called away from London. I had no opportunity of making
+inquiry about you."
+
+"There was no reason why you should," she answered.
+
+"You did not forbid me to do so."
+
+"Indeed, no. I had small chance to do that," Barbara returned. "You
+disappeared so quickly and mysteriously."
+
+"I had seen you to your friends--why should I wait?"
+
+"If for nothing else, to be thanked. I wondered whether you had
+recognised an enemy in the neighbourhood of my aunt's coach."
+
+He laughed, but whether at the suggestion, or at her method of trying to
+draw a confession from him, it was impossible to tell.
+
+"Did you see the highwayman and thank him, as you proposed?" Barbara
+asked.
+
+"I did, and now it seems he was not this famous Galloping Hermit, after
+all."
+
+For a moment she was silent, recollecting that she had speculated
+whether this man himself might not be the wearer of the brown mask.
+
+"I am Barbara Lanison," she said suddenly, "niece to Sir John Lanison of
+Aylingford Abbey."
+
+"Am I in Aylingford Abbey?" Crosby asked.
+
+"A queer little corner of it appropriated by Martin Fairley. You seem
+surprised, sir."
+
+"Indeed, I am. I have passed through many surprises during the last few
+hours, not the least of them being that this is Aylingford, and that you
+are astonished to see me."
+
+"Perhaps it would be well to tell me your story before Martin returns.
+You must not forget that he is half a madman, and sometimes talks
+wildly."
+
+Crosby told her the manner of his escape from Lenfield, as he had told
+it to Fairley; and if Barbara Lanison did not so obviously disbelieve it
+as the fiddler had done, her eyes were full of questioning. He explained
+how "The Jolly Farmers" had been searched, and how he and Martin had
+ridden away together in the night.
+
+"He told me that he had been bidden by a woman to bring me into a place
+of safety, and he brought me here. He would tell me nothing more."
+
+"He did not even try and picture the woman for you?"
+
+"Only his fiddle could do that, he declared."
+
+"You see how foolish he is," said Barbara.
+
+"I do not find any great sign of folly in that," Crosby answered.
+
+"I was thinking of your journey, sir. I told Martin to find you if he
+could and warn you; that was all I bid him do."
+
+"And my coming has displeased you," said Crosby. "I will go on the
+instant if it be your will."
+
+"No, no; it is my will that you tell me the remainder of the story."
+
+"There is no more to tell."
+
+"You have not told me who the man was who helped you to escape from your
+manor at Lenfield," said Barbara.
+
+"He desired me not to speak of him, and I must keep faith."
+
+"Yet he told you of Martin."
+
+"He spoke only of a fiddler," said Crosby.
+
+"Have I no means of persuading you to tell me his name?" she said,
+leaning a little across the table towards him, with a look of pleading
+in her eyes. Most men would have found the temptation difficult to
+resist.
+
+"I do not think you would try any means to make a man break his
+promise," Crosby said.
+
+The grey eyes looked straight into hers, and the voice had that little
+tone of sternness in it which she had noted that day at Newgate.
+
+"Perhaps not," she said; "but it is provoking. To have a nameless
+partner in such an affair as this is to have more mystery than I care
+for."
+
+"Did you ever hear of a Mr. Sydney Fellowes?"
+
+"So you have told me after all," she said, disappointment in her voice.
+He was not the strong man she supposed him to be--merely one a woman
+could cajole at her ease. She was too disappointed in him to realise at
+once how strange it was that he should speak of Sydney Fellowes.
+
+"No, this is another friend," he answered quietly, conscious of what was
+passing in her mind.
+
+"I know Mr. Fellowes," Barbara said, her brow clearing. "Not many days
+since he was here at the Abbey."
+
+"He came to see me, but since I was away from home he left a letter
+warning me that I had enemies. He, too, had been commissioned by someone
+to warn me."
+
+"Not by me," said Barbara. "Surely you must have been acting unwisely,
+Mr. Crosby, to have so many enemies?"
+
+"It is the number of my friends which astonishes me more," he returned.
+"I am wondering what it was you heard about me which made you send to
+help me."
+
+"It concerned the Duke of Monmouth, and was not to your credit," Barbara
+said.
+
+"Yet you have helped me."
+
+"I did not believe what was said. Besides, I was in your debt."
+
+"These are times when one must speak with caution if one would dwell in
+safety," said Crosby. "Whoever accused me of being a supporter of the
+Duke of Monmouth spoke falsely, yet it is possible that he believed
+himself justified. I went to see Monmouth at Bridgwater."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"With a hope that I might persuade him to turn back from certain ruin,
+and so mitigate the misery which he must bring upon the West Country. My
+pity was rather for the simple peasants than for Monmouth, perhaps; but
+I know the Duke well, and in the past have been his close friend. You
+see, your informant may have had some reason for his accusation."
+
+"Then you are for King James?" questioned Barbara. She could not help
+remembering that the man before her had been classed with those cowards
+who will betray friends and foes alike so that their own purposes are
+served and their own safety secured. Was Gilbert Crosby almost
+confessing to as much?
+
+"I stand apart, taking neither side," he answered. "Believe me, Mistress
+Lanison, I am only one of many in England to-day who do the same. They
+are loyal subjects so long as the King remains true to his coronation
+oath."
+
+"I suppose some might call them cowards and time-servers," she said. She
+was not deeply learned in politics, and was inclined to let the personal
+qualities of a man make her hero, no matter which side he fought for. To
+stand aside and take no part at all always seemed to her rather
+cowardly. It appeared such an easy way out of a difficulty.
+
+"Some undoubtedly do call them so," Crosby admitted with a shrug of his
+shoulders, "and perhaps the fact that they are able to hear the
+accusation and remain unmoved proves them brave men. Still, I feel
+something like a coward to-night."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"I am wondering whether I ought to have left Lenfield. It is probable
+that, had I remained, I should have been arrested, perhaps hanged on the
+nearest tree without trial or question; but, since I am free, my
+presence in the West might do something to help these poor folk who will
+most certainly suffer bitterly for the rebellion."
+
+"What can you do?"
+
+"Truly, I do not know. Assist a few miserable wretches to escape from a
+brutal soldiery, perhaps--that is all I can think of; but I may see
+other ways of helping once I am back again. Cannot you advise me? A
+woman often sees more clearly than a man."
+
+"To advise well, one must know more," said Barbara. "Of you I know
+little, except what I have heard, and, truly, that would give me a poor
+opinion of you."
+
+"You have said that you did not believe it."
+
+"Still, you have told me nothing to strengthen that belief," she
+returned quickly. "There is something more than merely a woman's
+curiosity in this, for, truly, I am set in the midst of difficulties.
+Listen! That is Martin on the stairs."
+
+"It is not your will that I leave Aylingford to-night, then?"
+
+"It is poor weather to start upon a journey. Besides, you are Martin's
+guest, not mine, and--"
+
+The door opened, and Martin entered.
+
+"It is late, mistress. I must see you along the terrace."
+
+"I had not thought of the time," Barbara said, rising quickly and
+folding her cloak round her.
+
+"There are certain hours in life one does not stay to count," Martin
+answered, "but they burn candles, for all that. See how much these have
+lessened since I lighted them."
+
+"I am glad, Martin, that you have brought your guest to a safe place,"
+said Barbara. "Good-night, Mr. Crosby. Perhaps to-morrow you will tell
+me more."
+
+The door closed, and Crosby was alone. Indeed, there was much more to
+tell, but the telling was not all for him to do. What was it Barbara
+Lanison had heard of him which had evidently impressed her unfavourably,
+although it was perhaps against her will, and who had told her these
+things? Then, too, this fiddler must be made to speak clearly, for he
+must surely know a great deal.
+
+Martin Fairley quickly returned, and closed and locked the door.
+
+"There must be some explanation between us," said Crosby. "This lady did
+not expect me."
+
+"Are you sure of that?"
+
+"She told me so."
+
+"Ah! that is a different matter," Fairley returned sharply. "What kind
+of a welcome did you expect? Have you done aught to win a more tender
+greeting?"
+
+"I have done much to anger her by coming here," answered Crosby.
+
+"You were not quarrelling when I entered just now. She spoke of
+to-morrow. Does a woman leave anything for the morrow if she has no
+interest in that morrow? You would make a poor lover, Master Crosby."
+
+"To my knowledge I have not been cast for the part."
+
+"We shall see," said Martin, "It's a poor fire that will not boil a
+kettle, and she's a poor woman who cannot make a man love her if she
+will. There's to-morrow, and after that you and I may talk a little more
+freely, perhaps. For to-night I only want sleep. I can fiddle from dusk
+to dawn and forget that I have not closed my eyes, but a night in the
+saddle--ah! my poor knees, Master Crosby! I was never meant for a
+horseman." And he laughed, the same notes in the laugh as came from the
+fiddle when it laughed.
+
+He was half a madman--Barbara Lanison had said so--and Crosby was
+convinced that there was little information to be got out of him, either
+then or at any other time.
+
+The next morning broke grey and sombre over Aylingford, yet Barbara woke
+to find the world brighter and more interesting than she had found it
+for a long time; perhaps it had never been quite so bright before. And
+yet there were clouds in it, wreaths of doubt which would not clear
+away. She must know more of this man Gilbert Crosby before she trusted
+him fully--and she wanted to trust him. Martin had told her many things
+in the past; she had meant to ask Martin whether she ought to stay at
+Aylingford; now she had a desire to take her fears to Gilbert Crosby. He
+had seemed so strong that day at Newgate; ever since then she had grown
+to believe more and more that he was a man to be relied upon in trouble,
+and last night--was she a little disappointed in him?
+
+"I have expected so much," she said to herself. "Perhaps a man is never
+all that a woman expects him to be."
+
+She went early to the tower, almost afraid that he might have gone in
+the night. He was there, and Martin left them much together that day. In
+the afternoon they sat side by side on one of the broken pieces of
+masonry in the ruins, while Martin lounged by the door opening on to the
+terrace; and there was little of Crosby's life that Barbara had not been
+told before the dusk came. She did not question that he had told her the
+truth. And much about herself Barbara told him, but not yet of the evil
+which hung over Aylingford. She could not tell him that yet, and there
+was time enough, for she had advised that he should remain at the Abbey
+for a little while.
+
+"I believe your enemies are private ones, and would only use this
+rebellion against you as a means to an end," she said. "When it is known
+that you took no part with Monmouth you will be free to deal with your
+enemies."
+
+"You are not angry that I came, then?"
+
+"No; and, besides, you may perchance do me a great service."
+
+"How? Only tell me how," he whispered, and there was a new note in his
+voice which sent a thrill into her very soul and yet made her shrink
+from him a little.
+
+"To-morrow--perhaps to-morrow I will tell you."
+
+So the clouds of doubt were driven away, and yet they returned again as
+she sat in her room that evening, for she would not go again to the
+tower until to-morrow. Someone might have seen her go in that direction
+and wondered why she had spent so many hours in the ruins. She was angry
+with herself for allowing such doubts to enter her mind, but, try as she
+would, she could not force them out.
+
+There came a knock upon her door presently, and a servant entered to
+request that she would go to Sir John.
+
+"He is in his own room," said the servant, "and bid me say that he was
+waiting for you."
+
+It was so unusual for her uncle to send for her that Barbara wondered
+what had happened to make her immediate presence necessary. Had Sir John
+found out that there was a visitor in the tower, and wished to question
+her? As she went she endeavoured to make up her mind what she should say
+if Gilbert Crosby's presence at Aylingford were the reason she was sent
+for.
+
+Sir John's room opened out of the great hall. It was of fair
+proportions, panelled from floor to ceiling and lighted by three long
+windows with leaded glass and stone mullions. At one end was a huge
+fireplace, looking cold and empty in summer-time, and over it, and
+elsewhere in the room, branches for candles were fixed in the wall. Only
+the candles over the fireplace were lighted to-night, and much of the
+room was in shadow. Curtains hung across the entrance door.
+
+"You sent for me," said Barbara as she parted them, and then she
+stopped, her hands still grasping the curtains.
+
+Her uncle rose from the writing table beside which he was seated,
+although it was evident he had not been writing; but it was not upon him
+her eyes were fixed, but upon the man who turned from the fireplace and
+bowed low to her.
+
+It was Lord Rosmore!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+BARBARA HELPS TO CLOSE A DOOR
+
+There was no doubt in Barbara's mind that the presence of Lord Rosmore
+at Aylingford boded no good to the man who was at that moment in the
+tower across the ruins. She was to be questioned concerning him. What
+was she to say that could be the truth while not harming him?
+
+In Lord Rosmore's mind there was no doubt that the woman before him,
+framed by the curtains which she held, was very beautiful, a possession
+much to be desired. There was nothing on earth he would not do to make
+her his own. It was a vow he had registered before; he registered it
+anew as he stood erect and Barbara advanced into the room.
+
+"You are back sooner than I expected from the West, Lord Rosmore," said
+Barbara.
+
+"Lord Rosmore comes upon a grave matter," said Sir John, and his face
+was serious enough to give his words ample meaning, "a matter that
+concerns us all. I fear there are days of trouble in front of us, and I
+am too old for such things."
+
+"Your uncle takes too melancholy a view of a circumstance which was
+beyond his control," said Rosmore.
+
+"Beyond it--yes, but can I prove that it was so?" asked Sir John.
+
+"There are many ways," said Rosmore. "Sir John, Mistress Barbara, would
+have you sent for, although I begged him not to disturb you. I had
+mentioned your name--I could hardly help doing so--but with no intention
+of dragging you into a matter with which you have really nothing to do."
+
+"Tell her, Rosmore," said Sir John. "She may have more concern in it
+than you imagine."
+
+"Rebellion brings many things in its train, Mistress Barbara--the
+hunting and punishment of those who rebel, for instance; unfortunately,
+some of this hunting has fallen to my lot," said Rosmore, and he had the
+air of gently concealing some of the horrors he had witnessed from his
+fair listener. "I was commanded to arrest one Gilbert Crosby, of
+Lenfield, and it was in speaking of him that I mentioned your name. You
+will remember that we spoke of him on one occasion."
+
+"I remember. It was you who told me his name," said Barbara; and,
+whatever fears were in her mind, she spoke with absolute indifference.
+
+"As I told you then, he is a man of most contemptible character,"
+Rosmore went on, "a cowardly enemy and a dangerous friend. And he is
+something more. We surrounded his house at Lenfield; we saw him enter,
+and then I rode to the door, demanding to see him. The servant went to
+call him, and returned to say she could not find him. A few moments
+later he appeared from the direction of the stables, mounted on the most
+splendid animal I have ever seen. Cantering across the open park, he
+eluded our pursuit by putting his horse at a fence that I should have
+sworn was impossible to take had I not seen that animal take it. It was
+a marvellous leap, and I grant you this man is no mean horseman; but,
+Mistress Barbara, his outward appearance was changed. For the time being
+he was no longer Gilbert Crosby, the rebel, but Galloping Hermit, the
+highwayman, and wore a brown mask."
+
+"I would I had seen the leap," said Barbara impulsively as a child might
+say it; and both men, who knew her love for horses, heard nothing but
+genuine excitement in her remark. It concealed her real thoughts. If
+this story were true, Gilbert Crosby had deceived her.
+
+"We followed him, but not over the fence," said Rosmore, "and a long,
+stern chase began. We had no horse amongst us to match the highwayman's.
+He could have left us behind sooner than he did, but he was playing a
+cunning game. I divided my men, and whilst some followed him, I and two
+stout fellows turned aside with the object of cutting him off when he
+doubled on his tracks, as I was convinced he would do."
+
+"You take a great while coming to the point," grumbled Sir John.
+
+"Indeed, uncle, I think Lord Rosmore tells the story most excellently,"
+said Barbara. "I am all excitement to know with what success you met."
+
+"We failed to take him," said Rosmore. "There was no choice left but to
+let him go, and I admit I was disappointed as I rode through the
+village, close to an inn we had searched, on my way to beg a night's
+entertainment from my friend, Sir Philip Faulkner. There was some kind
+of feast in the village, and in a barn by the roadside there was dancing
+going on to the scraping of a fiddle. I have no soul for music, but the
+notes of that fiddle haunted my sleep that night and all the next day as
+I rode back to Lenfield. At Lenfield I understood why. That little
+sequence of notes was familiar to me. You must often have heard it
+yourself. I was convinced that the fiddler was none other than Martin
+Fairley."
+
+"Martin!" exclaimed Barbara. "Surely he would not be so far afield?"
+
+"I asked myself the same question," said Rosmore, "and I acted promptly
+as well. I have often warned Sir John that there was method in Martin's
+madness, and in this case, at any rate, I was right. Yesterday Martin
+travelled back towards Aylingford in company with a stranger. Unless I
+am in error, that stranger was Gilbert Crosby, otherwise known as
+Galloping Hermit, and I have taken care to guard every road of escape
+from the Abbey to-night."
+
+"Certainly a wise precaution," said Barbara quietly; "but how does it
+concern me?"
+
+"Can you swear that you did not send Martin to bring this fellow to
+Aylingford?" said Sir John. "You certainly had some interest in this man
+Crosby, and Martin would try and do your bidding if you asked him to
+fetch you the moon."
+
+"My interest was surely natural," Barbara answered, "for I assure you I
+was in an unpleasant situation at Newgate when this man came to my
+rescue--Lord Rosmore has doubtless told you the circumstances--but I
+certainly did not send Martin to bring this man to Aylingford."
+
+She laughed lightly as though the mere suggestion were absurd. So far
+she could answer honestly, but she dreaded the next question.
+
+"I do not suppose my niece would do such a thing," returned Sir John,
+"but the world is hardly likely to have the same faith in her. I warrant
+even you have your doubts, Lord Rosmore."
+
+"I assure you, Mistress Barbara, your uncle has no reason to suggest
+such a thing," said Rosmore. "As I have said, I am told off for
+unpleasant duty, and that duty has brought me to Aylingford to arrest a
+rebel, and compels me also to arrest Martin for assisting a rebel."
+
+"Poor Martin! A madman!" said Barbara.
+
+"I have much doubt as to his madness," was the answer, "but you have
+only to persist, and those doubts shall vanish. If you desire it, Martin
+shall escape--you have my word for that."
+
+Barbara was alert. She was prepared to have traps set for her, and had
+no intention of stepping into them if she could help it.
+
+"That is generous of you, Lord Rosmore," she said, thanking him with a
+curtsy, "but I would not ask you to neglect your duty."
+
+"Nonsense, child," said Sir John, who seemed irritated by this bandying
+of words. "You talk ignorantly. For my part I am most anxious that Lord
+Rosmore should not do his whole duty. If he did, he would report
+Aylingford Abbey and ourselves suspect. I am most desirous that he
+should remember friendship as well as duty--indeed, I have already urged
+this upon him."
+
+"That is true, but Sir John is too anxious in this matter."
+
+"You know perfectly well that I am justified in that anxiety," Sir John
+returned. "The King is as bitter, even more bitter, against those who
+assist rebels than against the rebels themselves. This fool Martin has
+brought disaster to our doors, and we have got to meet it promptly. It
+is well that you should understand this clearly, Barbara," he went on,
+turning to his niece. "No one will believe that Martin has acted
+entirely by himself in this matter, and since you have confessed some
+interest in this fellow Crosby, you are suspect, let Lord Rosmore hide
+the fact as he will."
+
+"Bear me witness, this is your uncle's declaration, not mine," said
+Rosmore.
+
+"It is a hard fact, that is what concerns us," said Sir John; "and it
+becomes necessary to prove beyond question that we are heart and soul
+for King James. There is one way that you may easily do so, Barbara. You
+will remember a conversation I had with you recently concerning Lord
+Rosmore. He wished--"
+
+"I pray you, Sir John, this is not the moment to thrust my wishes upon
+your niece."
+
+"I say it is," was the sharp answer. "I have wit enough to see the
+safest road, and to take it. Since it is also a pleasant road, why
+should there be any hesitation or delay?"
+
+Rosmore shrugged his shoulders, and with a helpless glance at Barbara
+turned to contemplate the great iron dogs in the fireplace, kicking a
+log which lay there with some impatience. The conversation had taken a
+turn which was not to his liking, it seemed.
+
+"You remember the conversation to which I refer, Barbara?"
+
+"Perfectly, uncle."
+
+"Lord Rosmore has done us the honour to ask your hand in marriage. My
+own satisfaction may have made me a little too hasty in telling you. You
+were naturally unprepared, and, womanlike, were inclined to resent any
+idea of being forced into a marriage. Since then, however, you have had
+time to consider the matter. You may guess my own feelings concerning
+such an alliance. From the moment Lord Rosmore spoke to me I have seen
+nothing but advantage in it. Now, there is an additional reason why your
+answer should not be delayed. Affianced to Lord Rosmore, whose whole
+interests lie with the King, no one would dare suggest that you had had
+the slightest sympathy for a rebel, or that Aylingford had ever
+willingly opened its gates to a fugitive from Monmouth's rabble army.
+Martin's indiscretion puts you in danger. If by some careless word you
+are responsible for that indiscretion, which may very likely be the
+case, you are in grave danger. Rosmore is not here alone, and though he
+may be silent, other tongues will wag. Is it not so, my lord?"
+
+"I do not wish to bias your niece," Rosmore answered, without turning
+from the fireplace.
+
+Barbara was in a hard case. The man in the tower was trapped; Martin,
+too, would be arrested. By a word she could save Martin; possibly Lord
+Rosmore might be induced to let Crosby also slip through his fingers. If
+she consented to marry him she felt that she might persuade him to
+anything. The thought brought a quick reaction. If she could persuade
+him to anything, he was not a man to trust. Duty should come first, no
+matter how insidiously a woman might tempt. She did not trust Rosmore.
+She remembered the evil in his face that night in the hall when she had
+stood between him and Sydney Fellowes. She remembered Gilbert Crosby;
+his grey eyes seemed to look into hers at this moment. He must be
+saved--but how?
+
+"I think you exaggerate the danger, uncle," she said quietly. "Surely a
+madman's folly is not sufficient to condemn us?"
+
+"I have told you the truth. Ask Lord Rosmore."
+
+"Will you tell me, please?"
+
+"Sir John forces my hand," said Rosmore, turning quickly towards her.
+For an instant he seemed angry, but his face softened as he looked at
+her. "I am torn between love and duty. Sir John speaks truly. Another in
+my place to-night, one who had only his duty to consider, would probably
+arrest both you and your uncle on suspicion, and you would have to prove
+your innocence as best you might. King James is determined to trample
+out this rebellion, and even some innocent persons may suffer."
+
+Barbara did not speak when he paused. She had glanced at her uncle and
+wondered whether this might be some plot between these two to force her
+to this marriage. She distrusted her uncle as much as, if not more than,
+she did Lord Rosmore.
+
+"If I consent?" she said.
+
+Rosmore made a step towards her, and Sir John looked up quickly. They
+were suddenly as men who had played a desperate game and won.
+
+"I said 'If,'" and she shrank back a little, unconscious how beautiful
+she looked in that moment.
+
+"Consent to be my wife, and there is nothing that you can ask me that I
+will not do--nothing. Do you understand--nothing?"
+
+"And if I say 'No'?"
+
+Anger came back into Rosmore's face for an instant, but it was gone in a
+moment.
+
+"Even so I could not do my duty," he said slowly. "I should ask that
+another might take my place, and then--"
+
+"Then the heavy hand of the King upon us," said Sir John.
+
+"I must think. You cannot expect me to answer now, at once," said
+Barbara.
+
+"Duty may not wait," said Sir John.
+
+"You shall have my answer to-morrow, Lord Rosmore," Barbara said. "I
+must have the night to decide. Duty does not compel you to march Mad
+Martin from Aylingford to-night."
+
+"I will give you until to-morrow," he answered.
+
+Barbara curtsied low and turned to the door.
+
+Rosmore drew back the curtains for her, and as she passed out whispered:
+
+"I love you, sweetheart. Say 'Yes' to-morrow."
+
+"Will she consent, think you?" Sir John asked as Rosmore came slowly
+back across the room.
+
+"I think so; yes, I think so."
+
+"I spoke sufficiently?" questioned Sir John.
+
+"You were excellently diplomatic. Were she a woman easily frightened
+there would be no doubt of her answer. Your guests in the Abbey, Sir
+John, must not know of my presence here, nor that the place is watched
+to-night."
+
+"You are sure that Martin brought this man Crosby to Aylingford?"
+
+"Quite sure."
+
+"Why not take him to-night, quietly?" said Sir John. "If he is with
+Martin, he is probably in the old tower by the ruins. Is he most rebel
+or most highwayman?"
+
+"Why do you ask?"
+
+"Because, if he is most highwayman, you might influence Barbara's answer
+to-morrow by letting him escape."
+
+"I have thought of it, but--"
+
+"My niece and a highwayman! She may be romantic, my lord, but she is not
+a fool."
+
+"Gad! Sir John, you are lost here in Hampshire; you should be beside the
+King to advise him. If we let him go to-morrow, this knight of the road
+may easily meet with an accident. In my company it should not be
+difficult to find a man or two who can shoot straight. Your niece's
+romance might prove inconvenient to me if Galloping Hermit were still in
+the land of the living."
+
+"Settle that as you will," said Sir John, "but arrest him to-night."
+
+As soon as the door had closed behind her Barbara crossed the hall
+quickly; but she did not return to her own apartments. She had made her
+plans while she listened to her uncle and Lord Rosmore. Now, she hurried
+along a corridor to a small door opening on to the terrace, hardly ever
+used except by herself when she went to talk to Martin in the tower.
+Between it and the ruins there was not much of the terrace to travel,
+and the shadows were deep. The sharpest eyes might fail to see a moving
+figure amongst them. Barbara ran lightly, her skirts gathered from her
+feet, and, entering the ruins, went quickly to the tower. The door was
+shut, but not locked, and she mounted the winding stairs to Martin's
+room. It was in darkness.
+
+"Martin!" she called softly, but there was no answer.
+
+Had Crosby got knowledge of his danger, and gone? Even now he might be
+in the hands of his enemies, for were not all the ways of escape watched
+to-night? What could she do?
+
+She stood for a few moments undecided how to act. She must not be found
+there by her uncle or Lord Rosmore who might seek her there if by chance
+they discovered that she had not returned to her own rooms. Almost
+certainly they would have her watched to-night. Yet she must stay to
+warn Martin and Gilbert Crosby, if by chance they were still ignorant of
+their danger. It would never do for them to be caught in the tower, from
+which there was no hope of escape.
+
+There was a small landing outside the room. At the top of the winding
+stairs there was a door, fastened back by a clamp, and Barbara had never
+known this door to be shut. Another winding stair led to the flat roof
+of the tower, where Martin often spent hours, reading the future in the
+stars, he said. She went to the roof now, but it was empty, and she came
+down again quickly. Perhaps they were sitting in the ruins, and had not
+heard her. She would go and see. As she descended a sound came to
+her--running feet--and through one of the narrow slits which gave a dim
+light to the stairs in daytime she discerned two men crossing the ruins.
+It was so dark in the tower that she could see them easily. They were
+not half-way across when other men came running from the terrace, but
+the fugitives could easily have reached the tower and closed the door
+upon their pursuers had not one of them caught his foot and fallen. It
+was Gilbert Crosby; he did not know every stone as Martin did. He was on
+his feet again directly, but the advantage had been lost. Barbara went
+down a little farther until she was just hidden by the first bend in the
+stairs. There was the sudden clash of steel, and a pistol-shot rang out
+upon the night. All was confusion in the doorway just below her. Then
+two men came up slowly, and backwards, thrusting downwards as they came,
+and more than one groan told that the steel had done its work.
+
+"Be ready to rush when I give the word," Martin whispered; "then, at the
+top, make a stand--we must close the door there somehow."
+
+The stairs were too narrow for two men to fight side by side. Martin
+was a step or two below his companion, and it was no longer a fiddle bow
+which he held in his hand. It was doubtful whether he had ever used his
+bow so well as he used a sword to-night.
+
+Barbara leaned down.
+
+"I am here, Mr. Crosby. I came to warn you," she whispered. "I know the
+door. Tell Martin."
+
+She went up quickly. The clamp which held the door back at the head of
+the stairs was stiff, but with her weight thrown against the woodwork to
+ease the pressure she managed to unfasten it. The door creaked loudly as
+she drew it forward. Possibly Martin heard the noise, for a moment later
+he shouted, and he and Crosby rushed on to the landing.
+
+"Into the room, mistress," Martin whispered, as he swung the door to and
+shot the bolt. "It won't hold long, but long enough." Then he followed
+them quickly into his room and locked the door.
+
+Two men lay on the narrow stairs grievously hurt, and there was blood
+flowing from a cut on the face of another man as he threw himself
+against the door at the top, bent on settling a score rather than taking
+a rebel. He cursed and called to those below him.
+
+"It is a small matter," said Rosmore. "It shuts us out, but it shuts
+them in."
+
+"The door will not take much breaking down," said Sir John; "the rot of
+years must be in it."
+
+There was some delay while a heavy bar was found with which to attack
+the door, and a light to see by. The door at the head of the stairs soon
+yielded, but that of the room was another matter. It was of stout oak,
+and Sir John seemed to think that Martin might be persuaded to open it.
+
+"Martin! Martin!" he called, knocking as he did so. There was movement
+within, but no answer. "Martin! This riot is no concern of yours. Open!
+I have a message for you from Mistress Barbara."
+
+Again there was movement within, and someone spoke in a low voice, but
+Sir John got no answer.
+
+"Your madman is defiant," said Rosmore. "We shall have to teach him
+better manners. We must break in the door, Sir John."
+
+The first blow of the bar fell heavily, and there came a sudden answer,
+a quick sequence of notes--the laugh of the fiddle--then silence. Blow
+upon blow followed quickly, but there was no answering sound from
+within.
+
+"Beat where the lock is," said Rosmore. "It gives there, I think; and be
+on the defensive, Sir John. We have certainly one desperate man to deal
+with--I think two."
+
+With a crash the lock suddenly gave way, and the door swung open; but no
+rush of attack came out of the darkness. One man carried the light in
+and held it high above his head. There was no movement, no sound.
+
+The room was empty!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+THE WAY OF ESCAPE
+
+"That was warm work while it lasted," said Martin as he locked the door.
+"They will easily break the first door, but this, at any rate, is good
+stout oak, and will keep them out for a little while. Wait; I will light
+a candle."
+
+"We have no way of escape, so they may take what time they will," said
+Crosby, and then, as the candle shed a dim light in the room, he turned
+to Barbara. "How can I thank you?--yet I would you were not here. My
+coming to Aylingford has brought you grievous trouble."
+
+"There was trouble before you came; it does not seem to me much greater
+now," she answered.
+
+"Spoken like a philosopher," said Martin, laying his sword on the table
+beside the fiddle and the bow.
+
+"And, truly, Martin, you fight like a soldier," said Barbara.
+
+"The occasion makes the man, mistress. For the moment I was a soldier,
+and had forgotten the fiddle bow. But speak low; they will be upon the
+landing in a moment, and I would not have them know that you are here.
+Did anyone see you come to the ruins?"
+
+"I think not."
+
+"Good! There are more ways than one of cheating an enemy."
+
+"But we are caught here, Martin--here in the tower." And she put a hand
+upon the arm of this mad dreamer, as though she would rouse him to
+action, and cast an appealing glance at Crosby to add his efforts to
+hers.
+
+"I know, I know. We are locked in my tower. There is no place like it in
+Aylingford Abbey." And Martin sat down on a low stool by the open hearth
+and began pushing back the sticks and rubbish which lay there into a
+heap, as if it were his intention to light a fire.
+
+"Come, Master Fairley, rise once more to the occasion," said Crosby.
+
+"I'm sitting down to it this time," was the answer. "Riding made my
+knees sore, and fighting has put an ache in my back."
+
+"They have not gained the landing yet," urged Crosby. "Is there not a
+way to the roof? With a rope we might at least get Mistress Lanison to
+the ground in safety."
+
+"Yes, Martin, possibly we might all get down from the roof without being
+seen," said Barbara. "But every way of escape from the Abbey is watched
+to-night," she went on, turning to Crosby. "Lord Rosmore said so."
+
+"Then we gain little by climbing from the roof if we could do so, which
+we cannot," said Fairley. "First, I have no rope; secondly--ah! that
+will do for a second reason. They are upon the landing."
+
+As he spoke the door at the head of the stairs crashed open, and there
+was a rush of feet without.
+
+"Can you hide Mistress Lanison?" whispered Crosby to Martin, glancing
+round the room. "They are not likely to search if you and I open the
+door to them."
+
+Barbara started back, perhaps expecting the room door to burst in
+suddenly, perhaps to protest that she intended to share the danger,
+whatever it might be. Her ankle was suddenly seized and held tightly.
+
+"Have a care, mistress," said Martin in a low tone, and, looking down at
+him, Barbara saw that where the hearth-stone had been there was now a
+hole. "There is one way that is not watched to-night, I warrant--this
+way."
+
+He rose quickly from the stool and touched Crosby's arm.
+
+"Go first. There are steps. Take my sword as well as your own. Then you,
+mistress. I come last to shut this up again."
+
+There was a loud knock at the door. "Martin! Martin!"
+
+"Sir John!" he whispered, and held up his finger to command silence.
+
+"Martin! This riot is no concern of yours. Open! I have a message for
+you from Mistress Barbara."
+
+"Quickly! They do not know you are here," whispered Martin.
+
+Crosby went down into darkness, and held his hand to Barbara to steady
+her. Their heads had sunk below the floor level when the first blow was
+struck at the door. Martin had extinguished the candle and seized his
+fiddle. With his foot on the steps he drew the bow sharply across the
+strings--a little laugh. Then he went down, and at a touch the
+hearth-stone came slowly back into its ordinary position.
+
+After going down straight for a little way the stairs began to wind, and
+were so narrow that a man had only just room enough to pass. Crosby led
+the way carefully, leaning back a little lest Barbara should stumble in
+the darkness and fall. From behind, Martin whispered his instructions.
+They came presently to a landing which widened out, and here Martin took
+the lead.
+
+"Give me your hand, mistress. Carefully--there are six more steps," and
+Martin counted them as he went down. "So, we are now below the floor of
+the ruined hall. Mad Martin was not to be caught in a trap so easily."
+
+"And now which way do we go? We are still in the Abbey," said Barbara.
+
+"A man might stay here a long time undiscovered, but that is not my
+plan. Mr. Crosby shall be leaving the Abbey behind long before his
+enemies have given up hunting for him."
+
+"Martin, I must go too," said Barbara. "There are reasons--many
+reasons."
+
+"Many reasons why you must stay for the present," said Martin. "Trust
+me, mistress; it is more dangerous for you to leave the Abbey just now
+than to remain."
+
+"You do not understand, Martin. Lord Rosmore--"
+
+"Fairley is right," said Crosby. "We found that the Abbey was watched
+to-night. By one of the bridges on the other side of the stream we
+overheard two men talking. Cursing their vigil, they declared that
+Rosmore was bent on private revenge--that my arrest was of his own
+scheming. He has already had some of my servants sent to Dorchester, and
+I must ride there without delay to save them."
+
+"But you will be taken."
+
+"Would that be a reason for not going?"
+
+"No," she answered quickly. "No; you must go."
+
+"And you must do nothing to associate yourself with me in any way. It
+was a chance that Martin brought me here, more of my contriving than his
+--do you understand? All you know of Gilbert Crosby is that he once came
+to your assistance at Newgate."
+
+She did not answer immediately. In the darkness Crosby could hear a
+little quick intake of her breath and a slight rustle of her gown.
+
+"Does Martin go with you?" she asked after a pause.
+
+"A little way to put him on the road; then I shall return to
+Aylingford," Fairley said.
+
+"You must not. It will not be safe for you."
+
+"Never fear, mistress. Lord Rosmore cannot remain here, and no one else
+will care a jot whether Mad Martin comes or goes. Come, there must be no
+more delay. You must be back in your room if they should chance to call
+for you when they return from the ruins. Indeed, you must contrive to
+let them know that you are there. You will wait for me, Mr. Crosby. Your
+hand once more, mistress."
+
+She stretched out her arm, and her hand was taken, but it was not Martin
+who took it.
+
+"Thank you for all you have done for me," whispered Crosby. "It is more
+than you have knowledge of; as yet, it is almost beyond my own
+comprehension. There will come happier times--quickly, I trust--then I
+may thank you better. Then, I would have you remember something more of
+Gilbert Crosby than that he came to you that day in Newgate."
+
+Then lips were pressed upon her hand, homage and reverence in the touch.
+
+"I shall think of you and pray for you," she answered.
+
+"I am waiting, mistress," said Martin. "I am here; your hand is
+difficult to find in the darkness."
+
+It was the other arm Barbara stretched out, and so for an instant she
+stood, both hands firmly held, linked to these two men.
+
+Martin led the way quickly, and certainly, as one who had made the
+journey often and knew every step of it. At first there was a faint echo
+of their footfalls, speaking of a wide space about them, but they were
+soon in a passage which became gradually narrower, then they began to
+ascend, for a little way by a sharp incline, and afterwards by a winding
+staircase.
+
+"Martin," Barbara said suddenly, "I am in real danger. Lord Rosmore
+wishes to marry me. To-night he gave me his word that you should go
+free, and I think I could persuade him to let Mr. Crosby escape, if I
+consent to be his wife. I have until to-morrow morning to give him an
+answer."
+
+"To-morrow morning he will have no prisoners to bargain with," Fairley
+answered.
+
+"Nevertheless, he will want an answer. If he does not get the answer he
+wants, I am likely to be accused of helping rebels."
+
+"Is that what he threatens? You are not a woman to be frightened by
+threats. You must meet deceit with deceit. Answer neither 'Yea' nor
+'Nay' for a while. He will wait if you let him suppose your answer may
+be 'Yea.'"
+
+"My uncle is insistent," said Barbara.
+
+"Should you be pressed in such a fashion that there is no escape,
+mistress, say this to Sir John: 'It is a sacred trust; God requite you
+if you fail in it. When she is of age, give her that which is hers. She
+is free.' Tell him that these words were spoken to you out of the
+darkness, and then there followed a single word spoken low--'Beware!'
+Can you remember them? They must be exact. It is true you have heard
+them out of the darkness, and you will not say that Mad Martin spoke
+them."
+
+"And then, Martin?"
+
+"He will be afraid of you; but do not speak the words unless you are
+obliged. Let me hear you repeat them."
+
+Barbara said them carefully and correctly.
+
+"Good," said Martin. "You are armed with a weapon that can hardly fail,
+and you shall not be left long to fight the battle alone. Courage,
+mistress; there comes an end to the blackest hours, and surely into
+yours there has penetrated a beam of light. Is it not so?"
+
+"Perhaps, Martin."
+
+"Another step. So. Pass on, mistress, and good-night."
+
+Barbara's foot suddenly pressed a soft rug instead of the hard stone of
+the stairs; it was still dark, but not black as it had been; there was a
+faint stirring of the air about her, and then a scarcely audible sound
+behind her, which for a moment had no meaning for her. Then she saw the
+dim outline of a window above, and to her right, at some little
+distance, a narrow line of light. She was in the corridor out of which
+her own apartments opened, and behind her was the panelled wall!
+
+She went quickly to her room. The candles were burning as she had left
+them when bidden to go to her uncle. How swiftly the moments had passed
+since then, yet how much had happened in them! A kiss was still burning
+on her hand, and she raised the hand to her lips, blushing and accusing
+herself of folly as she did so. Then she threw the casement wide open
+and leaned out to listen.
+
+A murmur of sound came from the ruins. Had they forced the door and
+found the room empty? It was certain that there were men in the ruins.
+Suddenly there came another sound, the clatter of horses' hoofs on the
+stones of the courtyard. Were these new arrivals at the Abbey, or were
+men mounting in haste to scour the country for the fugitives? She must
+know, and yet Martin had said that she must let them understand that she
+was in her own room to-night.
+
+There were quick footsteps below her window.
+
+"I think they must be along the terrace, sir," said a servant; "both my
+master and Lord Rosmore."
+
+"I thought it was a haunted spot which no one cared for after dark," was
+the answer in a voice which sounded familiar to Barbara.
+
+"So it is, sir, but to-night there's something afoot which--" And then
+they passed out of Barbara's hearing. She leaned out of the window,
+looking towards the ruins, and saw a man with a torch come out on to the
+terrace. He shouted, and two or three other men joined him. The servant
+and the visitor went forward quickly, and entered the ruins as the
+shouting ceased. Still Barbara did not move; they must know she was in
+her room, Martin had said--and Mad Martin had proved himself wondrous
+wise and clever to-night. So she waited, and the moments were
+leaden-footed. Presently three men came from the ruins and along the
+terrace. Barbara heard her uncle's voice.
+
+"What is it?" she said, leaning down. "I am afraid."
+
+All three men stopped and looked up. The new arrival was Sydney
+Fellowes.
+
+"I am frightened at so much stir at this time of the night," she said.
+
+"It is nothing, Barbara," said Sir John.
+
+They had seen her. She need remain in her room no longer, and she flew
+along the corridor and down the stairs in time to meet them as they
+entered the hall.
+
+Fellowes bowed low to her. His dress was dusty. He had evidently ridden
+far.
+
+"Dare I hope that you have repented, and that to-morrow seems too long
+to wait?" said Rosmore.
+
+"There has been such riot I have had no time to think of other matters.
+What does it mean, uncle?"
+
+"That Mr. Fellowes has ridden from Lord Feversham, commanding Rosmore's
+presence in Dorsetshire."
+
+"So unless we capture this rebel of ours to-night, Mistress Lanison, I
+shall have to leave some of my men to do it," said Rosmore. "I must
+depart to-morrow morning, and you must--you will give me my answer
+before I go?"
+
+"It is news to me that Crosby of Lenfield has been named as a rebel,"
+said Fellowes.
+
+"It was news to me until I had my commands," said Rosmore.
+
+"Lord Feversham bid me tell you to return with all the men you could
+muster. I do not envy you your employment. Kirke's lambs are already too
+busy for my liking."
+
+"You go no further to-night, Mr. Fellowes?" said Sir John.
+
+"Yes, towards London. I bear despatches to the King at Whitehall. I have
+accomplished one part of my errand; I must hasten to complete the other.
+A stirrup cup as you suggested, Sir John, and then to horse. Good-night,
+Mistress Lanison."
+
+Fellowes and her uncle moved away, leaving Barbara with Rosmore.
+
+"You may sleep late to-morrow if you will give me my answer to-night,"
+he said.
+
+"I cannot force love, Lord Rosmore; I will not say 'Yes' without it."
+
+"It shall dawn with the speaking of one little word."
+
+"Wait until you return," pleaded Barbara. "How do I know that you will
+not take Martin to-night, and be unable to free him to-morrow."
+
+"You have my word."
+
+"Your word against my love; it is too unequal a bargain. If you ride
+with my promise to-morrow, you must leave Martin with me. He has been my
+mad playfellow ever since I can remember."
+
+"You have my word," said Rosmore, "it must suffice."
+
+"And to all my pleading you only answer with threats," said Barbara.
+"Indeed, my lord, that is a rough path to a woman's heart. There is
+still the night for me, and for you; I pray that you will have chosen
+another road before the morning."
+
+She turned and left him, all the coquette that was in her displayed to
+win him to a better mood. She had little hope of succeeding, but she was
+very sure that he should ride away with no promise of hers. There was
+another, by this time rapidly leaving Aylingford behind him she hoped,
+who bore with him, not her promise, he had not asked for that, but her
+thoughts and her prayers. If these were any shield from danger, surely
+he went in safety.
+
+It was quite evident to Barbara that neither her uncle nor Lord Rosmore
+intended her to know what had happened that night; what line they would
+take to-morrow she could not guess, but she had already hinted to Lord
+Rosmore that in exchange for her promise he must leave Martin free at
+the Abbey with her. This he could not do if Martin and Gilbert Crosby
+had got away safely, and she believed they had done so.
+
+Barbara could not sleep. The most fantastic happenings seemed possible
+through the long hours of wakefulness. Martin might see his companion
+far enough upon the road to render his capture unlikely, and then return
+at once. If he came before Lord Rosmore departed, what excuse would be
+left her for not fulfilling her part of the bargain? Towards morning
+this fear began to dwarf all others, and an intense longing to be
+certain that Martin had not returned took possession of her. She was
+always an early riser; there would be no reason for comment if she were
+found upon the terrace soon after the sun had risen. She would have no
+need to find an excuse, because her habit was well known.
+
+It was a silent and beautiful world into which she stepped. The Abbey
+was still asleep, no sound came from the servants' quarters at present,
+nor the clink of a pail-handle from the stables. If they were waking in
+the village yonder, they were welcoming the new day in silence.
+Barbara's footfall on the stone flags of the terrace rang strangely loud
+in the morning air, and she went slowly, pausing to look across the
+woods and down into the stream. Hidden men might still be watching, or
+someone, whose night had been as wakeful as her own, might see her from
+one of the windows. She must act as though she had no thought beyond the
+full enjoyment of the early morning. Slowly, and with many pauses, she
+made her way towards the ruins, and passed in after standing at the door
+absorbed in contemplation of the beauty of the scene about her. She
+hummed the tune of a little ballad to herself, and sat down on the first
+convenient piece of fallen masonry. If men were watching this place she
+would give them ample opportunity to ask what her business there might
+be. Not a movement, not a sound disturbed her. The door into the tower
+stood open; she wondered what had become of the men who had groaned last
+night, and must have fallen on the narrow stairs; and she shuddered a
+little at the thought of some hastily contrived grave, quite close to
+her, perchance. She had no intention of entering the tower, only to show
+herself in the ruins; surely if Martin were in hiding there he would
+contrive some means to let her know. Still humming the ballad, slightly
+louder than before, she went a little farther into the ruins, and
+stopped by a piece of fallen stone-work which had constantly afforded
+her a resting-place. It was here that Gilbert Crosby had caught his foot
+and stumbled last night as he and Martin had run from their pursuers; it
+was just here that the swords had first clashed, and the men had run
+eagerly together upon their prey; here, probably, a little later, Sydney
+Fellowes had given Lord Feversham's message to Lord Rosmore. Barbara
+would go no further. If men were watching they should see that she had
+no intention of entering the tower.
+
+As she sat down she saw close by the stone, half trampled into the loose
+dust which surrounded it, a piece of cloth or linen, cut sharply, it
+seemed. The work of one of those clashing swords, Barbara thought, as
+she stooped and drew it out of the dust, and then a little
+half-strangled cry escaped her. It was a piece of coarse silk, brown in
+colour. In her hand she held a brown mask!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+A WOMAN REBELS
+
+The Abbey awoke earlier than usual this morning. It would be some hours
+yet before Mrs. Dearmer, radiant from the hands of her maid, came forth
+to face the world and God's good sun, and there were men with heads
+racked from last night's deep potations who would still lie abed and
+curse their ill-luck; but there was noisy bustle in the stable yards,
+the champing of bits and jingling of harness, and in the servants'
+quarters a hurrying to and fro with eager haste, and a pungent
+atmosphere of cooking food. Lord Rosmore was starting for Dorsetshire
+within the hour, and his men were being fed with that liberality for
+which the Abbey was famous.
+
+Barbara sat on one of the stone seats let into the wall overlooking the
+stream. Lord Rosmore would see her there and come for his answer. She
+had no intention of trying to escape the interview; she had no doubt
+what answer she would give, yet there was trouble in her heart. The mask
+of brown silk which lay concealed in the bosom of her dress struck at
+the very roots of her belief in a man's truth and honour. Lord Rosmore
+had told her no falsehood, no made-up tale to suit his own purposes as
+she supposed, and it was impossible for her not to think less harshly of
+him as she saw him come out on to the terrace with her uncle. Sir John,
+with some jesting remark, walked slowly in the opposite direction, and
+Lord Rosmore came quickly towards her. He bowed low with that grace
+which had made him famous amongst men, and which no woman had ever
+attempted to deny him. There was not a cloud upon his brow, and a little
+smile played at the corners of his mouth as though he had already
+received his answer--the answer he desired.
+
+"On such a gracious morning as this am I to be made the happiest man on
+whom the sun shines, Mistress Lanison?"
+
+"I asked for a longer time, Lord Rosmore."
+
+"I wish I could give it," he returned. "There is nothing that I would
+rather do than stay here to convince you how true and deep my love is;
+but, alas! duty calls me away upon no pleasant mission."
+
+"But you will return," said Barbara.
+
+"Not for some weeks, I fear, and in them what may not happen? I would
+take my happiness with me--your promise--not wait in anxious doubt."
+
+"Love has not come to me yet; it might come when you return," Barbara
+said. "Without love I will not give my promise to any man."
+
+"Love will come," was the answer; "and, besides, love is not the whole
+of marriage. There are other reasons often--indeed, almost always--for
+giving a promise."
+
+"Is it bargaining, you mean?"
+
+"I would not call it by such a name," said Rosmore. "The alliance which
+satisfies parents and guardians, which sends a man and a woman walking
+side by side along a worthy road in the world, giving each to each what
+the other lacks, a good, useful comradeship which keeps at arm's length
+the world's cares, surely this makes a true marriage, and into it,
+believe me, love will come."
+
+"It may, Lord Rosmore, but I am not yet persuaded that the road is
+worthy, nor that such a comradeship between us could bring good. Believe
+me, you will be far wiser to give me time. Wait for your answer until
+you return."
+
+"I fear to find the bird stolen," he said.
+
+"I am not so desirable a possession as you imagine," she answered, with
+an effort to bring an element of banter into the interview.
+
+"You cannot see yourself at this moment, Mistress Lanison, or you would
+not say so. I must have your answer. Are there not many, many reasons
+why you should give me your promise?"
+
+"You will come to this lower level of bargaining," said Barbara.
+
+"I have no choice."
+
+"I have shown you a wise road to take," she answered; "wait until you
+come back from Dorsetshire."
+
+"I cannot wait."
+
+"Then if we bargain, Lord Rosmore, you must remember that there are
+always two sides to a bargain. You do not show me Martin Fairley a free
+man."
+
+"I can hardly set free a man I have not taken prisoner. Martin and the
+highwayman succeeded in getting away from the Abbey last night. Until we
+saw you leaning from your window, Sir John was absurd enough to declare
+that you must have warned them."
+
+"My uncle seems strangely anxious to make a rebel of me," said Barbara.
+"I hold to our bond. Martin Fairley is not here, therefore I give no
+promise this morning."
+
+"I do not remember agreeing to such a bargain," said Rosmore.
+
+"It pleases me," said Barbara, "and helps me to forget that you began by
+threatening me. I am not a woman to be frightened by a threat."
+
+"Then you will give me no promise?"
+
+"No; but if you persist I will give you an answer, and promise that it
+shall be a final one."
+
+"I would spare myself the indignity of a direct repulse," he said, "and
+I trust I am man enough not to let love blind my eyes to duty. I am
+afraid you must live to regret your decision, but I may yet find means
+to do you a service."
+
+He turned and left her, and, calling to Sir John that he must depart
+without delay, he left the terrace with her uncle, telling him, Barbara
+had no doubt, of the ill-success of his interview.
+
+What was the reason of her uncle's anxiety to force her into this
+marriage? Some power Lord Rosmore must surely hold over him. Sir John
+was afraid, and since he had not scrupled to suggest that she was in
+league with rebels, and in the same breath point out in how dangerous a
+position this rebellion placed her, there was no knowing to what lengths
+he might not go to achieve his ends.
+
+Later in the day Sir John sent her a courteous message. He did not
+demand her presence amongst his guests, but he requested it. Her
+continued absence had been much remarked and questioned, and there were
+many reasons why these comments should be silenced. Barbara answered
+that she would comply with his wishes; and that afternoon found her in
+the midst of a party on the terrace, listening to Mrs. Dearmer's coarse
+wit and endeavouring not to shudder at her laugh. It seemed quite
+evident that Sir John had not suggested to his guests that they should
+treat his niece in any special manner, and their conversation was less
+reticent than ever.
+
+"You blush very easily," laughed Mrs. Dearmer, "but that pleases the
+men. I used to be the same, and devoutly wish I had not lost the art."
+
+"Could you not regain it?" asked Barbara, and the question was followed
+by a burst of laughter, more at Mrs. Dearmer's expense than at her
+questioner's, perhaps.
+
+"I'm afraid not. What we gain by experience must be lost in some other
+direction. It is merely a question which you prefer, the gain or the
+loss."
+
+"My adorable madam, you go ill with mathematics," said one man,
+laughing. "Pray tell some tale that will again bring the colour to
+Mistress Lanison's cheek, for I vow she blushes most divinely."
+
+"At least, sir, the cause can have little connection with heaven," said
+Barbara.
+
+"Waste no words on him, my dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Dearmer. "He has been
+so long attached to the opposition that he has forgotten such a place as
+heaven exists. Tell me why you have deserted us lately. I held that it
+was indisposition, others declared it was temper, and others--can you
+guess what the others said?"
+
+"Was it something very unkind?" asked Barbara.
+
+She had walked away with Mrs. Dearmer and one or two others, amongst
+them a man named Heriot, to whom Barbara had hardly spoken, but whom she
+cordially disliked.
+
+"They said you had a lover," said Mrs. Dearmer.
+
+"It would have been kinder if they had given me a hundred, wouldn't it?
+That would, indeed, have been to praise me mightily and declare me
+irresistible."
+
+"You will not find women so generous as that," laughed Heriot. "I
+thought there was a more subtle meaning in the declaration. In a hundred
+lovers there might be safety, but in one--ah! it is the persistency of
+one which reduces the citadel."
+
+"I know many who might persist until they were leaning over their grave,
+and then not succeed," said Barbara, "and the citadel would not need to
+be very strongly guarded either."
+
+"That should hasten your retreat, Mr. Heriot," said Mrs. Dearmer, and
+then she drew Barbara a little farther away. "Tell me, are they right?
+Is there a lover?"
+
+"You may deny it if you are questioned," Barbara answered.
+
+"I will. I would not betray such a secret for the world. Does he climb
+to your window when the terrace is empty and silent, or is there some
+secret door by which he comes and no one ever the wiser?"
+
+"Is that what they say?" asked Barbara.
+
+"Yes, and more," and Mrs. Dearmer put her finger to her lips to warn
+Barbara that others were close to them and might not keep her secret so
+faithfully as she would.
+
+Barbara did not then understand all that was implied, but within a day
+or two she was conscious that her name was being flung from lip to lip
+with a laugh and a jest, that, no matter how innocent her words or her
+actions might be, an evil meaning was twisted out of them and applauded.
+Even her uncle laughed and seemed to agree when Heriot declared that a
+woman who was shy in her love affairs was always the most dangerous, and
+suggested that Mrs. Dearmer must look to her laurels now that Mistress
+Lanison had taken the field against her. To deny the insinuations, or to
+resent them, was only to make these men and women coarser, and increase
+the laughter and ribaldry, so Barbara decided to stay away again. This
+time, however, Sir John did not leave her alone. He sent a peremptory
+message demanding her presence.
+
+"Tell Sir John I refuse to come, and if he would know my reason I will
+tell him here."
+
+The servant hesitated.
+
+"Sir John is out of temper, mistress. Would it not be better to--"
+
+"You have my answer," said Barbara.
+
+Many minutes had not elapsed before there were quick steps along the
+corridor, and Sir John burst into the room. The servant had spoken
+mildly when he said his master was out of temper, and Barbara's answer
+to his message had made him furious. He slammed the door and faced his
+niece.
+
+"What is the meaning of this gross impertinence, girl? When I bid you do
+a thing you will do it; do you understand me? I have had more than
+enough of your vapours."
+
+"And I, sir, more than enough of your guests."
+
+"Do you dare to flout me?" he said with an oath.
+
+"I dare anything when you forget what is my due from my guardian. For
+some purpose of your own you seem anxious to accuse me of being a rebel,
+and drag me into this ribald crew to have my ears assailed with all
+manner of indecencies, and to hear my own honour called in question."
+
+"You're a fool, girl."
+
+"Wise enough to determine that either Mrs. Dearmer and her companions
+must leave Aylingford, or I shall."
+
+"Curse your impudence!" said Sir John, and before Barbara was aware of
+his intention, he had seized her wrist and commenced to drag her towards
+the door, "Curse your impudence! We will see who is master at
+Aylingford. I shall have what guests I choose, and, by heaven, you shall
+treat them as I demand! You may flout Lord Rosmore, but I will see to it
+that you obey me."
+
+"You hurt my wrist, sir."
+
+"If it brings you to reason, it is perhaps the easiest way for you," he
+retorted. "Guests that are good enough for me shall be good enough for
+you."
+
+"And if they say I am a scheming light o' love, you, sir, will no doubt
+find means to prove that they are right."
+
+"Gad! your own prudery is doing that. Perhaps I might not have to make
+much inquiry to find that they had seen far more than I have. Much might
+go on in these rooms and the rest of the Abbey be none the wiser."
+
+Barbara's free hand was suddenly raised to strike him, but she let it
+fall to her side again. He held her wrist the tighter, and laughed in
+her face.
+
+"It is well for you that your daring stops short of that," he sneered.
+
+"Last night I heard words spoken out of the darkness," said Barbara.
+"'It is a sacred trust,' said a voice; 'God requite you if you fail in
+it. When she is of age give her that which is hers. She is free.
+Beware.'"
+
+There was magic in the words. Sir John let go her wrist and started
+backwards with a curious, muffled sound in his throat. His face was
+suddenly white with fear, and his trembling hands were linked together,
+straining at each other. Barbara did not move, and in her motionless
+attitude and the fixed gaze in her eyes the man seemed to perceive an
+added terror.
+
+"Who spoke them?" he stammered.
+
+"A voice out of the darkness."
+
+"They--they recall--what am I saying? Have your own way to-night; we
+shall both talk more calmly to-morrow."
+
+"To-morrow cannot undo to-night, sir. I have decided to ask Lady
+Bolsover to let me visit her for a while. Two days ago I received a
+letter from her asking me to go to her again."
+
+"I will see. We will talk of it to-morrow."
+
+"There is naught to do, sir, but arrange for my journey to town."
+
+It was almost as one suddenly stricken with a palsy that Sir John left
+the room and stumbled along the corridor. As he passed a man drew
+hastily back into the shadows, and then went light-footedly to Barbara's
+door. She had already locked it. He knocked.
+
+"I have nothing more to say," said Barbara.
+
+The man chanted a little stave in a low voice, and the door flew open.
+
+"Martin!"
+
+"You are in trouble, mistress, you need not tell me. Much I overheard,
+the rest I can guess. Lord Rosmore has departed. I met him on the road,
+at least he passed along the road, and I stood in the wood by the side
+to see him pass. Mr. Crosby is already busy in Dorsetshire, and I return
+to hear you are going to London."
+
+"Yes, Martin."
+
+"Dark hours, indeed," he said, "but there is the beam of light."
+
+"It has gone out. Ah, Martin, you are a dreamer and look at the world
+through a veil of cloud, while I am a woman prone to trust too easily.
+We are easy to deceive, you and I."
+
+"Yes, dreamer as I am, I have recognised much of the falsehood," said
+Martin.
+
+"You like Mr. Gilbert Crosby?"
+
+"One grows to like a man when you have fought by his side in an awkward
+corner."
+
+"You would trust him?"
+
+"Don't you?" asked Martin.
+
+"He told me something of himself, but it was told to deceive. I found
+that in the ruins, just where he stumbled last night. He dropped it,"
+and Barbara held out the brown mask which she had drawn from her dress.
+
+Martin took it and turned it this way and that.
+
+"He did not tell me that he was Galloping Hermit the highwayman," she
+said.
+
+"Very strange," said Martin. "Another might have dropped it. Many men
+tramped that spot that evening. Sir John, Lord Rosmore, and a dozen
+others."
+
+"Yes, and later, Mr. Fellowes," said Barbara. "He came with a despatch
+calling Lord Rosmore back into Dorsetshire."
+
+"Might not Mr. Fellowes have dropped it?" Martin asked.
+
+"He might. You may find many possibilities, but not probabilities."
+
+"The famous mask," mused Fairley, "and you find it, mistress. For my
+part I have had a kindly thought for the wearer. There are tales about
+him which make him different from other highwaymen."
+
+"Yes, Martin, I know, but I had almost--ah! you would not understand."
+
+"I saw the beam of light, and it has now gone out, you say. This wisp of
+brown silk has extinguished it. But consider, might there not be some
+great purpose for a man taking to the road?"
+
+"There might, Martin."
+
+"I have heard, mistress, of a great noble who wore fool's motley that he
+might the better stand between his King and danger. I have heard of one
+who lay bound in chains for years that his friend might be saved. Men
+have died for others ever since this world was young."
+
+"True, Martin."
+
+"So Galloping Hermit may have some purpose which, did we but know it,
+would make him a hero to crown rather than a scoundrel to hang. His
+heart may beat honestly; the eyes which looked from these holes--"
+
+"Were grey, Martin," and there was a catch in Barbara's voice which her
+companion was quick to notice.
+
+"Courage, mistress, the beam of light is still shining. We must get rid
+of this."
+
+"No, give it me. I may see him again and give it to him."
+
+"And perhaps be mistaken after all," said Martin. "The highwayman has
+long since provided himself with another mask, so we may destroy this."
+
+"No, Martin."
+
+"Why keep so dangerous a trifle? See, it burns."
+
+He took the candle and the mask to the hearth, and made sure that no
+tell-tale particle of the silk remained.
+
+"Mistress, it is gone. Be wise, forget that you ever found it," and
+Martin trampled the ashes into dust.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+
+BARBARA LANISON IN TOWN
+
+Londoners had crowded towards Tower Hill from an early hour, had seized
+every point of vantage, or looked down from high windows and roofs upon
+that little square of space which was kept clear and strongly guarded.
+To a few, perhaps, it was mere sight-seeing, an excitement, a means of
+passing a holiday; but to the majority it was a day of mourning, a time
+for silence and tears. Ill-fated rebellion was to be followed by the
+judicial murder of a popular idol. There had been tales current of this
+man's cowardice. He had crawled at the King's feet, begging slavishly
+for his life, had been willing to resign honour and liberty, his creed,
+and his very manhood so that he might escape the fate awaiting him. He
+had begged and petitioned for the intercession of every person who might
+have the power to say a word in his favour. He had shown himself a
+craven in every possible way, so it was said. This silent crowd,
+however, had no certain knowledge of the truth of these rumours; they
+might be, probably were, false reports to belittle him in the minds of
+the populace. What this waiting multitude remembered was that James,
+Duke of Monmouth, was a soldier of distinction and was doomed to die a
+martyr for the Protestant faith.
+
+Ten o'clock had sounded some time since, when there was a sudden
+movement in the crowd, a backward pressure by the ranks of guards, and a
+man, saluting as he passed, walked up that narrow, human lane to the
+little square and mounted the scaffold with a firm tread. A great hush
+fell, broken only by the sounds of sobbing. This man a coward! Every
+look, every action, gave the lie to such an accusation. Two Bishops
+stood by him and spoke to him, but their words were inaudible to the
+greater part of the crowd; and Ketch, the headsman, stood silently by
+the block, a man hated and execrated from the corridors of Whitehall to
+the filthiest purlieus of the town.
+
+"I die a Protestant of the Church of England."
+
+These words were clear enough, and against them the Bishops seemed to
+protest, but in what words the crowd could not hear, and only those
+close about the scaffold heard Monmouth's confession that he was sorry
+the rebellion had ever happened, since it had brought ruin on those who
+loved him. Then for a while he knelt in prayer, and said "Amen!" even to
+the Bishops' petition for a blessing upon the King, but it was
+grudgingly said, and after a pause. Why, indeed, should he pray for a
+King whose heart was of stone and who was incapable of showing
+compassion?
+
+The silent crowd watched him with bated breath, dimly seeing through
+tears that he spoke to the executioner as he ran his finger along the
+edge of the axe, and then he laid his head upon the block. The axe fell
+once, twice, and again, yet there was not an end.
+
+Then the silence was broken. A wild fury roared from every side.
+
+"Fling Ketch to us!" cried the mob, pressing in upon the guards.
+
+Two more blows were struck by the frightened, cursing headsman. The
+martyrdom was accomplished, but the angry and nauseated crowd had gone
+mad, and, but for the guards, would have worked their will on Ketch and
+perchance on others who had had part in this butchery. It was a raging
+crowd, ripe for anything, fiercely lusting to wreak its revenge on
+someone; but it was a crowd without a leader. Had a strong man at that
+moment assumed command of it, Monmouth's death might have brought
+success to the rebellion he had raised. Had a leader been found at that
+moment, a short hour might have seen the storming of Whitehall by the
+populace, and the King in the hands of his merciless enemies. No strong
+man arose, and James was left in peace to plan further vengeance on all
+those who had taken part in the rebellion, or shown pity to the
+vanquished.
+
+Two days afterwards Barbara Lanison arrived in town, and received a most
+cordial welcome from her aunt, Lady Bolsover. She did not pester her
+niece for reasons why she had left Aylingford, it was only natural that
+any right-minded person would prefer London; nor did Barbara enlighten
+her. Before Barbara had been in the house an hour her aunt had given her
+a lively account of Monmouth's execution, and the horrors of it lost
+nothing in the telling.
+
+"Surely you were not there!" Barbara exclaimed.
+
+"No, I was not. I was tempted to venture, but I decided that it was
+wiser to keep away. I should certainly have shown sympathy with the poor
+man, and to do so would be dangerous. I assure you, Barbara, all the
+news in town lately has concerned this rebellion, and--let me whisper
+it, for it comes near treason to say it--half London has been in two
+minds whether to cast in its lot with Monmouth or with the King. There
+is no denying the fact that the King is not popular, and, to put no fine
+point on it, has the temper and cruelty of the devil."
+
+Lady Bolsover was genuinely pleased to have her niece with her again.
+After her own fashion she liked Barbara, and the presence of so
+attractive a person in her house was likely to re-establish the number
+and importance of her visitors, who, truth to tell, had not been so
+assiduous in their attentions since Barbara left her. The good lady was
+full of schemes for making the hours pass pleasantly, of course for her
+niece's sake, and, having assured herself that Barbara was still
+heart-whole, she was prepared to welcome to her house in St. James's all
+the eligible men she could entice there.
+
+"I taught you a good deal last time, my dear; I'll see if I cannot get
+you married this."
+
+Barbara smiled. She was anxious to please her aunt, and showed no desire
+to interfere with Lady Bolsover's schemes. It was such a relief to be
+free from the Abbey that Barbara experienced a reaction, and was
+inclined to enjoy herself. There were many things she would willingly
+forget. The brown mask had been reduced to ashes, but its destruction
+had not altered her opinion, nor had Martin succeeded in convincing her
+that she had not been grossly deceived. She had been threatened by Lord
+Rosmore, she had been insulted by her uncle and the men and women who
+were his companions, but, worst of all, she had been deceived by the man
+who had for so long occupied her thoughts and whom she had trusted.
+
+The opportunity to forget her troubles in a round of pleasure was soon
+forthcoming. At a sign a dozen men were ready to throw themselves at her
+feet, and a score more were only restrained by the apparent hopelessness
+of their case. She was a queen and her courtiers were many; music and
+laughter were the atmosphere about her; her slightest wish immediately
+became a command, and she became the standard by which others were
+judged. Barbara was young and enjoyed it, as any young girl would. There
+were moments when her laughter and merry voice had no trace of trouble
+in them, when it would have been difficult to believe that a cloud had
+ever hung in her life; but there were other times when her eyes looked
+beyond the gay crowd by which she was surrounded, when her attention
+could not be fixed, and when her face had sadness in it. She was
+conscious of sorrow and tears under all the music and laughter.
+
+Sometimes ugly rumours came, brought by a court gallant, or some young
+soldier who had returned from the West. Feversham had been called to
+London and loaded with honours, for "winning a battle in bed," as a wit
+said, and the brutal Colonel Kirke and his "lambs" were left in
+Somersetshire, free to commit any atrocities they pleased. If only half
+the stories were true, then had the West Country been turned into a
+hell, and Barbara hated the King who allowed such cruelty. She became a
+rebel at heart, and for the first time since she had found the mask in
+the ruins thought less harshly of Gilbert Crosby. There could be no
+reason to excuse his being a highwayman, but at least he had gone West
+to give what help he could to the suffering. How had he sped? The
+question set Barbara thinking, and, in spite of herself, Gilbert Crosby
+was in those thoughts all through a wakeful night.
+
+Barbara saw nothing of Lord Rosmore, whether he was in London or not she
+did not hear; but once Sydney Fellowes came to her aunt's, and Barbara
+was glad to see him, although she hardly had a word with him. She was
+surrounded at the time, and Fellowes made no effort to secure her
+attention. He evidently considered himself in disgrace still, although
+Barbara had forgiven him, and had ceased to associate him with the evil
+which was at Aylingford Abbey.
+
+It was not so easy to dissociate Judge Marriott from Aylingford. He came
+constantly to Lady Bolsover's, and on each occasion seemed to consider
+himself of more importance. So far as Barbara could judge he knew
+nothing of her reason for leaving the Abbey. He asked no questions, but
+delivered himself of many clumsy compliments framed to express his
+delight that the most charming creature on earth had brought sunshine
+again to town. It was impossible to make Judge Marriott understand that
+his attentions were not wanted, and Barbara, who had no desire to make
+an enemy of him, endured them as best she could. It was from him that
+she first heard that Judge Jeffreys was going to the West.
+
+"He takes four other judges with him; I am one of them. Rebellion must
+be stamped out by the law. Jeffreys will undoubtedly come to great
+honour, and it will be strange if your humble servant, his most intimate
+friend, does not pick up some of the crumbs."
+
+"Will the law be as cruel as the soldiers have been?" Barbara asked.
+
+"A dangerous question, Mistress Lanison; I would not ask it of anyone
+else were I you. Remember the law deals out justice, not cruelty."
+
+"Yet even justice may be done in a cruel fashion."
+
+"The sufferer always thinks it cruel," said Marriott.
+
+"And often those who look on," Barbara returned.
+
+"I have no doubt that Jeffreys will do his duty and carry out the King's
+command. Why should you trouble your pretty head with such matters?"
+
+"There are women who will suffer," she said. "It would be unwomanly not
+to think of them."
+
+"And some man, some special man, who interests you, eh, Mistress
+Barbara?"
+
+"Why should you think so?"
+
+"Because I can read a woman like an open book," laughed Marriott. "Her
+thoughts line her face as the print does a page, while the looks in her
+eyes are like the notes on the margin."
+
+"You read amiss if you think I am interested in a rebel awaiting
+judgment."
+
+"I will confess that you are more difficult to understand than most
+women," said Marriott, "and it is not for want of study on my part. Do
+you remember what I said to you on the terrace at Aylingford?"
+
+"Indeed, I have not treasured up all your words," she laughed.
+
+"I swore that if there were a rebel you were interested in, he should go
+free at your pleading. I am in the humour to-night to listen very
+eagerly."
+
+"There is no special person, Judge Marriott, but I would plead for them
+all," she answered. "Be merciful, for it is surely in your power. These
+people are ignorant countryfolk, led away by smooth tongues, and never
+counting the cost. They are men of the plough and the scythe, with
+little thought beyond these things, and they have wives and little
+children. Be merciful, Judge Marriott. Think of me, if you will, when
+the fate of a woman lies in your hands, and to the day of my death you
+shall hold a warm corner in my heart."
+
+"I will, I swear it, and you--"
+
+"Lady Bolsover is beckoning to me," said Barbara, and left him.
+
+It was the day after this conversation with Judge Marriott that Martin
+Fairley came to see her for the second time since she had left
+Aylingford. To Barbara he seemed strangely out of place in town, the air
+he assumed of being exactly like other men ill-suited him, and he seemed
+at a loss without his bow and fiddle. His dress, too, was strictly
+conventional, and it appeared to affect the manner of his conversation.
+He was as a man in bonds.
+
+"In London again, Martin!" Barbara exclaimed.
+
+"To see that you are not in trouble, mistress," he answered, and it
+would have been difficult for a stranger to tell whether he was a lover,
+or a trusted servant of long standing; there was something of both in
+his manner.
+
+"It is a long way to come."
+
+"It is lonely at the Abbey," he said.
+
+"Do you think you are safe there, Martin? Would it not be better to go
+away for a time?"
+
+"Since you are not there, mistress, I lock the door of the tower at
+nights."
+
+"But Sir John knows you are at the Abbey, and you cannot lock yourself
+in the tower all day," said Barbara.
+
+"Your uncle is a little afraid of me. He is superstitious, and unless he
+has someone beside him to lend him courage, he will not molest me.
+Besides, there have been many festivals where my fiddle was wanted; I
+have not been much at the Abbey."
+
+"You have been towards the West?" said Barbara eagerly.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And you have heard--"
+
+"Yes, mistress. I have heard how they suffer."
+
+"Have you heard aught of Mr. Crosby?"
+
+"Once or twice. I have seen one or two men who have said they escaped
+the soldiers by his help. He is doing all a man can do, I think, but for
+a fortnight I have heard nothing."
+
+"Do you know that Judge Jeffreys goes West directly?"
+
+"For the Assizes, yes. God help the prisoners! An unjust judge,
+mistress, a fawning servant of a brutal and revengeful King."
+
+"Hush, Martin!" Barbara whispered. "It may be dangerous to speak the
+truth."
+
+As if to prove the warning necessary, there came a knock at the door.
+
+"There is a young woman asking to see you," said the servant. "She would
+give no name, but declared you would see her if I said Lenfield."
+
+"Lenfield!" and her eyes met Martin's quickly. "Bring her up at once."
+
+"Mistress, she may talk more freely if she is atone with you," said
+Martin. "There is a screen there, may I use it?"
+
+Barbara nodded, and was alone when the woman entered the room.
+
+"You are Mistress Lanison?" she asked, dropping a curtsy.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"My name is Harriet Payne, and I was a servant at Lenfield Manor when my
+master, Mr. Gilbert Crosby, escaped. Some of us, Golding the butler and
+myself amongst others, were arrested and taken to Dorchester."
+
+"Yes, and then--"
+
+"I cannot tell by what means, but my master procured my release and bid
+me go to my home, a little village in Dorsetshire. I cannot tell all the
+master has done, but I know that they have tried to catch him for a long
+time. He has been helping people to escape, they say. You don't know
+what it has been like in the West, mistress."
+
+"Something of it, I know," said Barbara.
+
+"One night Mr. Crosby came to my mother's cottage to see me," the girl
+went on. "He told me something of his danger, and said that if anything
+happened to him, or if I were in danger, I was to go to Aylingford Abbey
+and ask for you; if I could not see you I was to ask for Martin the
+fiddler."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"I was soon in trouble, mistress, and went to Aylingford. You were not
+there, nor was the fiddler. I was asked what I wanted, but I would not
+say. I suppose the servant went to ask his master, for Sir John Lanison
+himself came out to me."
+
+"You did not tell him who you were?"
+
+"I just said I was in trouble, and asked where I could find you. He
+laughed and said I wasn't the first young woman who had got into
+trouble, and he said--"
+
+"You need not repeat it," said Barbara; "it was doubtless something
+insulting about me."
+
+"Indeed it was, mistress, but he told me where I should find you."
+
+"I do not know how I am to help you," said Barbara. "What do you want me
+to do?"
+
+"It is not help for myself I want, but for Mr. Crosby. They had followed
+him to mother's cottage that night and waited. As he went out they
+caught him. He is a prisoner in Dorchester!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+PREPARED FOR SACRIFICE
+
+Harriet Payne had made up her mind that she was the bearer of a lover's
+message; she expected her news to have a startling effect upon the woman
+she had travelled so far to see, but she was disappointed. There came no
+cry from suddenly parted lips, there was no sign of agitation about
+Barbara as her hands idly played with the folds of her gown for a few
+moments; it seemed doubtful whether she realised the full meaning of the
+message.
+
+"What does your master expect me to do?" she asked, looking up after a
+pause.
+
+Harriet Payne may have rehearsed a scene in which she would be called
+upon to soothe a stricken woman and speak comfort to a breaking heart.
+She had supposed that love was the same the world over, whether it went
+in silk brocade or coarse homespun. She had apt phrases ready to meet
+the expected, plenty of well-prepared sympathy to bestow, but she had no
+answer for this quiet, deliberate manner, and remained silent.
+
+"Perhaps you can help me to a decision by telling me more," said
+Barbara. "You need not be afraid to speak."
+
+"By Mr. Crosby's manner I thought you had some power, madam; I imagined
+that if you knew my master's position you would be able to help him."
+
+"Who has accused Mr. Crosby of having anything to do with rebels?"
+Barbara asked.
+
+"I cannot tell, but there is no doubt as to what he has done. It is well
+known that he has helped many of the rebels into safe hiding. There is
+another who is doing the same, a highwayman called 'Galloping Hermit.'
+You may have heard of him."
+
+"Is he, too, in Dorsetshire?"
+
+"The country people speak of him; now he is here, now there, but--"
+
+"Do you think your master and this highwayman are the same person?"
+asked Barbara, and with more eagerness than she had asked her other
+questions.
+
+"I have heard other people wonder whether they were, but I do not
+believe it; still, if Mr. Crosby is 'Galloping Hermit,' he is a man to
+be proud of. I would--"
+
+"Yes, yes, I know," said Barbara; "but you can hardly expect me to take
+much interest in a highwayman."
+
+"No, madam, of course not. I was not thinking of the highwayman, but of
+my master. It is on his account that I have journeyed to see you."
+
+"It was good and honest of you to come," said Barbara. "I must think
+what I can do. Are you remaining in London?"
+
+"I have a cousin in the city who is married to a mercer's assistant; I
+shall remain with her for a day or two," the girl answered.
+
+"Come to-morrow about noon; I shall have decided something then."
+
+"And if not you could help me to find this fiddler, perhaps?" said the
+girl.
+
+When she had gone Martin came from behind the screen, and Barbara looked
+at him, her eyes full of questions.
+
+"Yes, mistress, I fear her story is true. What she says of Mr. Crosby's
+doings is correct, also it is a fact that Galloping Hermit has been in
+Dorsetshire."
+
+"You have seen him?"
+
+"I have heard of him."
+
+"I must try and help him though he is a highwayman," said Barbara.
+"There can be no longer any doubt, Martin, that the two are one."
+
+"Yet you will help him? How?"
+
+"There is a way, a hard way, and I am not yet certain what it may mean
+to me, but it shall be done; yes, it shall be done."
+
+As she turned to a window and looked down into the square, Martin saw
+that there were tears in her eyes.
+
+"Tell me, mistress. You have told me your troubles before now, and it
+has not been always in vain."
+
+"I will tell you later, Martin.".
+
+"Perhaps it will be too late then," he answered. "Count the cost,
+mistress; is a highwayman worth the price?"
+
+"That girl was right," said Barbara, turning a glowing face to Martin.
+There were tears in her eyes, but they had not fallen. "She was right;
+even a highwayman is a man to be proud of when he helps the suffering
+from their brutal persecutors, as this Galloping Hermit is doing. I
+would sacrifice much even for a highwayman, and when he is Gilbert
+Crosby, too--ah! Martin, I have had dreams, pleasant dreams. I am awake
+now, they are only a memory, but, if need be, I will pay for them to the
+uttermost farthing."
+
+"You will not tell me the price?"
+
+"When I know it, and that will be to-morrow. Come to-morrow afternoon,
+Martin, unless you are going back to Aylingford at once."
+
+"I shall come," he answered; but listen, mistress, there are more ways
+than one of helping Gilbert Crosby. Do not pay too high a price. I wish
+you would tell me with whom you are bargaining."
+
+"To-morrow, Martin, and until then--"
+
+"You would be alone," said Martin quietly, and then his figure suddenly
+stiffened, his hands were clenched until the muscles in them stood out
+like whipcord, and his speech was quick and fierce. "Understand,
+mistress, no word you speak, no promise you may be compelled to give,
+binds me. No matter how fettered you may be, I am free to do as I will,
+and God help the man who seeks to work you evil!"
+
+Barbara had seen him in many moods, known him as dreamer, jester,
+counsellor, and philosopher, always with an air of unreality in what he
+did and said, always "Mad Martin," yet with strange wisdom and cunning
+in his madness at times. In this mood she had never seen him before. His
+face, indeed, the whole man, was changed. Madness must have got the
+upper hand entirely for a moment.
+
+"Why, Martin, you--"
+
+But he had gone. She had been too astonished to speak at once, and the
+door had closed before she could finish her sentence. The mood seemed to
+pass quickly, too, for looking from the window, Barbara saw him cross
+the square, the familiar figure, in spite of the conventional garments
+which he wore in town and which suited him so ill. He could never be the
+real Martin Fairley away from that tower in the ruins at Aylingford,
+Barbara thought.
+
+Not without reason was Fairley's warning, for if a woman will make a
+sacrifice she seldom counts the full cost. She must give generously,
+with both hands wide open, or not at all. Barbara did not think of the
+highwayman, but of Gilbert Crosby, and for him she was determined to
+sacrifice herself. Dreams she had had, dreams which ended in happiness;
+now such an ending was impossible, but the man who had inspired those
+dreams was still worthy the sacrifice. It was a woman's argument,
+absolutely conclusive to a woman. She had the power to help, and she
+meant to use that power.
+
+There was a brilliant company that night at Lady Bolsover's, and
+probably Barbara Lanison had never appeared more fascinating. She had
+been very careful to wear what became her best; she was bent on
+conquest, and so that she conquered fully and completely she recked
+little how. Her beauty and her ready wit quickly gathered a crowd about
+her, and not one of her enthusiastic admirers guessed that under her
+merry speech and laughter was an anxious, sorrowful heart and a wealth
+of restrained tears. One or two, whose love and hope had made their
+understanding of her keener, may have noticed that her eyes were sharp
+to mark each new guest who entered the room. There was someone she
+expected and for whom she was waiting. One man beside her looked at her
+quickly when Sydney Fellowes entered the room, possibly he had reason to
+suppose that Fellowes loved her and might prove no mean rival, but it
+seemed evident that he was not the man expected to-night. Sydney
+Fellowes bowed over her hand presently, murmured some conventional
+phrase, and passed on; but from a corner, and unobserved, he watched
+her. When she passed into another room he followed her at a distance,
+and took note of every man and woman with whom she talked. He saw that
+she was restless, for who was there who could understand her moods
+better than he did? How often had he sat beside her, learning to read
+her thoughts in the blue eyes which were more beautiful than any other
+eyes in the world.
+
+She was standing in the doorway between two rooms when he saw her start
+suddenly, and, following the direction of her eyes, he saw Sir John
+Lanison. He had just entered the room, and was explaining his presence
+to his sister, Lady Bolsover, who was evidently surprised to see him. He
+turned to greet several acquaintances, and then, seeing his niece,
+advanced towards her. He looked at her a little curiously, realising for
+the first time, perhaps, how beautiful she was. Barbara's face hardened
+for a moment, but the next instant she smiled. This man was her enemy,
+all the more dangerous because he was also her guardian, but it would be
+wise to keep him in ignorance of how fully she understood him.
+
+"Your arrival is unexpected, sir."
+
+"Yet not altogether unwelcome, I trust," said Sir John, treating her
+with studied courtliness, a manner he could use to perfection. "I was
+obliged to come to town, and could not refrain from coming to see you.
+You may guess why, perchance?"
+
+"Has it to do with a young person in trouble?" asked Barbara.
+
+Sir John looked puzzled for a moment. "Oh, you mean that girl who came
+to the Abbey. Did she really travel all the way to London to see you? I
+am surprised. She did not tell me her story, but I told her where you
+were to be found, never supposing that she would come to you."
+
+"She came, and I have heard her story," said Barbara.
+
+"It bears a close relationship to many another young woman's story, I
+wager," said Sir John with a smile. "Truly, I was not much impressed
+with her. If I may be allowed to speak a word of warning, I should say
+beware of her. She could lie easily, I fancy, with never a blush or the
+flicker of an eyelid to betray her. No, it was not about her I wished to
+see you."
+
+"Then, sir, I cannot guess," said Barbara.
+
+"I wished to apologise," said Sir John. "As I grow older my ill temper
+gains on me, I fear. Thwarted, I am senseless enough at times to become
+like a bullying schoolboy, and I say the first outrageous things which
+come to my tongue--conduct worthy only of a harridan. It was so that
+night at Aylingford. You were entirely right, I was entirely wrong.
+Forgive me, Barbara."
+
+"I forgive, yes, but you must not expect me to forget so readily," she
+answered. "Forgetfulness can only come with time, Sir John, you must
+understand that."
+
+"Perfectly. I do not expect to enjoy the luxury of being ill-tempered
+without having to pay the price for it. I only ask that you may not make
+the price too heavy. When you choose to return to the Abbey you shall
+find a welcome."
+
+Sir John did not wait for any answer, nor had Barbara the opportunity of
+thinking over what he had said just then, for the moment her uncle left
+her another claimed her attention.
+
+Still Sydney Fellowes watched her. It was evidently not her uncle for
+whom she had been waiting. It seemed as evident that she was doomed to
+disappointment to-night. Fellowes was one of the last to leave, and it
+was impossible that any other guest could arrive now.
+
+Barbara dismissed her maid quickly, almost impatiently, that night. She
+wanted to be alone. She expected to have done so much this evening,
+expected that she would have known her fate by now. She had faced the
+worst, she was prepared to pay the price, whatever it might be, always
+with a hope that it would not be as bad as she anticipated. Everything
+was yet to do, the uncertainty was still hers; the delay gave her lonely
+hours in which to realise all that this sacrifice might involve, and
+involuntarily she shrank from it. She was not less resolved, however,
+and there was an added incentive in the fact that the difficulties in
+her way were greater than she had expected. Sir John's arrival could
+have only one meaning; he must know, or had guessed, the real reason of
+Harriet Payne's coming to the Abbey, and had immediately travelled to
+town to ensure that, if he could possibly prevent it, no help should be
+given to Gilbert Crosby. His apology made no impression upon her, and
+she believed him capable of committing any villainy to get his own way.
+Surely, after what had happened at Aylingford, she had ample reason for
+her opinion. How was she to meet his designs and defeat them? There was
+only one way, the full sacrifice of herself. She looked critically at
+herself in the mirror, dashed the tears from her eyes, and smiled,
+touched her hair that the curls might fall most becomingly, and turned
+her head this way and that, coquetting with her own reflection.
+
+"Can I smile so winningly that a man will think possession of me cheaply
+bought at any price?" she murmured. "I think so, I believe so. I will
+make the bargain. Whatever beauty I have shall be staked against your
+villainy, Sir John; and I think the woman will win."
+
+She was strong in her determination, yet she sobbed herself to sleep.
+
+Not having been a frequent visitor at Aylingford Abbey in recent years,
+Lady Bolsover knew nothing about the company so constantly assembled
+there, nothing about her brother's pursuits and interests. That he must
+have fallen behind the times and become uninteresting, she took for
+granted; nothing else was to be expected of one who resided constantly
+in the country, she argued; yet she admitted to herself that Sir John
+looked a fine gentleman as he passed amongst her guests, and was rather
+surprised to find how full he was of town graces. After all, he was the
+owner of Aylingford, a circumstance which marked him as a man of
+importance, and some of the scandal which had been attached to his name
+as a younger man had not died out. She heard one woman inquire who he
+was, and, receiving an answer, say quickly, "_the_ Sir John Lanison, do
+you mean?" The interest displayed rather pleased Lady Bolsover, for
+surely fame, however obtained, was preferable to insignificance and
+nonentity. She therefore received her brother very graciously when he
+called on the following morning, and felt very contented that he should
+have chanced last night upon such a brilliant evening, and must realise
+how big a position his sister filled in the social world of London. If
+she had been inclined to despise him for burying himself at Aylingford,
+she was conscious that he had never looked upon her as a very important
+person.
+
+Sir John was full of flattery this morning. He regretted that his niece
+had a headache, but it enabled him to have his sister to himself.
+
+"A few days here, amongst men and women of wit and standing, would cure
+you of your absurd love of the country," said Lady Bolsover.
+
+"At least it has done wonders for my niece," he answered.
+
+"Surely you have not come to drag her back into exile!"
+
+Sir John smiled. It was evident that Barbara had not entered into an
+explanation of her reasons for leaving the Abbey.
+
+"No, I think she is in very good hands for the present. She appears to
+have many admirers."
+
+"Can you wonder at it? She is as pretty as a picture, and when such a
+picture has an exceedingly heavy golden frame--"
+
+"My dear Peggy, you hit the centre of the target with the first shaft.
+For most of these admirers the frame is the chief attraction. In this
+fact arises the difficulty of my guardianship."
+
+"Barbara has spirit; you must not draw the rein too tightly or she will
+kick over the traces," said Lady Bolsover.
+
+"Exactly, and show herself a true Lanison," said Sir John. "I propose to
+let the reins hang very loosely indeed. Let her have her own way. She
+will find it so uninteresting not to meet with any opposition that she
+will probably end in doing exactly as I wish."
+
+"And to whom have you decided to marry her?"
+
+Sir John held up his hand with his fingers apart.
+
+"There are at least five to choose from," he said.
+
+"All country bumpkins who affect outrageous clothes and delight in muddy
+boots?" inquired his sister.
+
+"On the contrary, they are all lovers of the town, whole-heartedly for
+King James, and with those convenient morals which go so far to make a
+gallant gentleman."
+
+"You pique my curiosity."
+
+"Then I do you a service, and would not spoil it by satisfying that
+curiosity," said Sir John. "Watch Barbara, and you may see my little
+comedy in the playing, for some of these five are not infrequently your
+guests."
+
+Lady Bolsover found her brother entertaining, and it was late in the
+afternoon when he spoke of taking his leave.
+
+"I will let Barbara know; she will like to see you before you go."
+
+A servant was sent to inform Mistress Lanison of her uncle's departure,
+and in a few minutes he returned to say that Mistress Lanison was out.
+
+"Out! Where?"
+
+"I have made inquiries, my lady, but no one seems to know," said the
+servant. "Madam went out with her maid quite early this morning, but
+returned shortly afterwards. A young person who came to see her
+yesterday came again to-day, just after noon, and it seems that Mistress
+Lanison went out with her. The maid left the house barely an hour ago."
+
+Lady Bolsover looked at her brother, who glanced swiftly at the servant.
+Lady Bolsover understood, and told the servant to go.
+
+"What can have happened?" she said as the door was closed.
+
+"Nothing serious, I warrant, my dear Peggy. Like all you women, Barbara
+is enjoying some harmless intrigue. Do you mind that day at Aylingford
+when I horsewhipped your first admirer? How old were you then?"
+
+"But Barbara is--"
+
+"Young," said Sir John, "and to indulge a frolic has taken advantage of
+the loose rein. You will find her in her room presently, with her head
+still aching, but slightly better, and to-night she will be as radiant
+as a young Diana."
+
+"I trust so."
+
+"Take my word for it. Long residence in the country has not made me
+forget that I once understood women very well." And with a smile Sir
+John departed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+
+BARBARA'S SELF-SACRIFICE
+
+There were few coaches and lackeys in the square when Sydney Fellowes
+left Lady Bolsover's. Hastily taking leave in the hall of an
+acquaintance who seemed inclined to bear him company, he hurried away,
+too much absorbed in his thoughts to think of the dangers of the streets
+for a lonely man at that hour of the night. He went quickly to Pall
+Mall, and entered a coffee-house there. A man at once rose from a corner
+to attract his attention. It was Martin Fairley.
+
+"She evidently expected someone to-night," said Fellowes in a low tone
+as they sat down together, "but I cannot guess who, nor whether it was
+man or woman. Of one thing I am certain, whoever she expected, Mistress
+Lanison was disappointed."
+
+"Who was there?"
+
+"Sir John Lanison for one, Martin. No, his niece did not expect him, nor
+Lady Bolsover either. His arrival was a surprise to both of them."
+
+"And to me," Martin answered; "but it is bad news. What brings him from
+Aylingford? Can Rosmore be in town?"
+
+"No, that is impossible," returned Fellowes. "He is busy with
+preparations for the assizes, and is in command of the military force
+placed at the disposal of Judge Jeffreys. For the present Rosmore is
+tied to the West. I would he might find a speedy grave there."
+
+"Sir John comes like an ill-omened bird; I wish I knew his reason," said
+Martin thoughtfully. "Did he speak with his niece?"
+
+"A few words only, and there was the courtesy as of strangers between
+them. I could not hear what was said, but it was nothing that had any
+special interest for Mistress Lanison. Her expression did not change."
+
+"Do you imagine you can read her so easily?"
+
+"Ah, Martin, I know; there is no imagination in it. Were I cunning with
+a brush and colour, I could paint you a thousand of her expressions and
+tell you the thoughts which lay behind them all. I am a lover, remember,
+with all a lover's quick perception, although the lady I worship thinks
+no more of me than of the soiled glove she casts aside."
+
+Martin looked at him for a moment in silence, and then laid his hand on
+his arm.
+
+"Soiled gloves go in pairs, Master Fellowes."
+
+"You mean--"
+
+"There is small difference sometimes between a lover and a madman. Had I
+my fiddle with me I might play to you all that I mean."
+
+Fellowes drummed with his fingers on the little table before him for a
+moment, and then seemed to shake himself out of a dream.
+
+"There must be too few women in the world, Martin, when the desires of
+so many men are for one. To-morrow--what must be done to-morrow?"
+
+"I shall see her to-morrow afternoon; until then I cannot tell what is
+to be done. A message will find you at your lodging?"
+
+"Yes, I shall wait. If I do not hear, I shall make some excuse for being
+at Lady Bolsover's again in the evening."
+
+Outside the coffee-house they separated. Where Martin went at nights
+Fellowes did not know, nor did he inquire. Fairley could find him, if
+necessary, and that was enough.
+
+Neither did Barbara know where Martin lived, or she would surely have
+sent him a message next day, for long before noon she had made up her
+mind to act without delay.
+
+The coming of Sir John was as ill-omened to her as it was to Martin. In
+some manner, she was convinced, his presence in London nearly concerned
+her, and much might depend on her promptness in carrying out the
+resolution she had made. So she awoke with a convenient headache, and
+had the news conveyed to her aunt. Then, assured that she would be left
+undisturbed, she dressed very carefully, anxious to look her best, and
+even practised her most winning smiles before her mirror. Her maid, who
+could be trusted and was a child of intrigue by nature, loyally assisted
+her mistress, and they were able to leave the house together without
+hindrance. Calling a coach, they were driven to the Temple, where Judge
+Marriott had his lodging. Barbara had determined to appeal to him. If he
+would, he certainly could save Gilbert Crosby, and, if she hoped so to
+entreat him that the reward he asked for his help should not be too
+heavy, she was prepared to pay whatever price he demanded. In
+imagination she saw herself his wife, and though she shuddered at the
+thought she never contemplated stopping the coach and going back to St.
+James's Square, her mission unfulfilled.
+
+"Judge Marriott has left London," said the servant when Barbara inquired
+for him.
+
+"When does he return?"
+
+The servant did not know. It seemed evident that his general
+instructions were to be reticent concerning his master's going and
+coming.
+
+"I must see him without delay on a matter of the gravest importance--the
+gravest importance to him," said Barbara, and she was surely speaking
+nothing but the truth, for the easy winning of her must be of great
+moment to any man. "Can you tell me where I shall find him? Has he gone
+to Aylingford Abbey?"
+
+The man thought not, but his imagination did not appear to help him
+further than that.
+
+"It is most important," repeated Barbara, and in her hand was a golden
+bribe.
+
+"I ought not to give any information," said the man, "but you say it is
+important to my master. He has set out for Dorchester to deal with some
+of the rebel prisoners there."
+
+"You are sure he goes first to Dorchester?"
+
+"Quite certain, madam."
+
+Barbara was deeply thoughtful as the coach drove back to St. James's
+Square. An unforeseen obstacle was placed in the way of her
+self-sacrifice, an obstacle so great that it did not seem possible to
+overcome it. Was Judge Marriott's absence of her uncle's contriving? It
+did not seem probable, but she was in the mood to connect him with all
+disaster, and when, on returning to the house, she learnt that Sir John
+was there with Lady Bolsover, her suspicions seemed confirmed. Barbara
+was the more determined to defeat his schemes. She would certainly have
+sent to Martin had she known where to find him, but as it was she was
+obliged to act for herself.
+
+Harriet Payne came at noon, with a sad and gloomy countenance.
+
+"What is it?" Barbara asked. "Is there further and worse news?"
+
+"No, nothing further."
+
+"Your face has a wealth of trouble in it."
+
+"Indeed, madam, and is it any wonder?" the girl asked. "I am so
+helpless, and I could wish to be so strong. Every hour counts, and what
+can I do?"
+
+"You have travelled far to ask my help, that is something."
+
+"Yes, madam; but yesterday you gave me little hope, and even that little
+is gone. In this matter you are as helpless as I am."
+
+Barbara laughed, a little hardly perhaps, remembering in which direction
+her power lay.
+
+"Had I been powerless, do you suppose your master would have sent you to
+me? I have had to decide whether I shall use that power."
+
+"And you will use it?"
+
+"I have already tried to do so this morning, and failed."
+
+"Here? In London?"
+
+"Yes. In which direction did you imagine my power lay?"
+
+"I could not tell, but I thought--I thought it must be in Dorchester
+where my master is a prisoner. Madam, there are powerful men in the West
+who may be bribed, who are being bribed every day. I thought it was with
+them you would have to deal."
+
+"The man I hoped to see in London is gone to the West," said Barbara.
+
+"Then--"
+
+"Yes, I intend to follow him, and at once. In this enterprise you will
+be of more service to me than my own maid. Will you go with me?"
+
+"Gladly, madam," and the girl's face brightened at once. "I have made
+the journey to London more than once, and know that at the house where
+the coach stops a carriage and horses can be procured."
+
+"You are beginning to make yourself useful at once," Barbara returned.
+"Wait here for me. I have to give my maid instructions, and then we will
+start without delay."
+
+Barbara told her maid to be on the watch for Martin Fairley, and to tell
+him that she had gone to Dorchester.
+
+"He will understand why," she said; "and as I shall not want you with
+me, and yet do not want you to be questioned, you had better return to
+the Abbey as soon as you have seen Martin. Be sure and do not let anyone
+hear you give the message."
+
+The girl had friends in London, and asked if she might spend a day or
+two with them before returning to Aylingford.
+
+"It will fit my plan excellently," Barbara answered. "Leave this house
+as soon as you possibly can after seeing Martin, and if your friends
+will have you, stay with them until I send for you. You will be well out
+of the way of questions."
+
+"No questions would make me betray you," said the girl.
+
+"I know, but your face is a tell-tale one," Barbara answered. "You have
+the virtue of not being able to lie easily."
+
+The girl was honest, and it was no fault of hers that she failed to
+deliver her message to Martin Fairley. She saw him come to the house,
+and hurried down to him, meaning to catch him in the square and speak to
+him where none could overhear her, and so carry out her mistress's
+instructions to the letter. But Fairley had departed quickly, and was
+nowhere to be seen. For some time she waited for his return, and when he
+did not come, thought it best to fulfil the other part of her
+instructions and leave the house at once.
+
+The servants at Lady Bolsover's knew nothing of Martin Fairley, not even
+his name. He had twice been admitted to see Mistress Lanison, but, for
+all the servants knew, he was some tradesman with whom she had dealings.
+Many such came to Lady Bolsover's. As Martin came to the door that day
+one servant called to another to fetch a coach for Sir John Lanison,
+and, hearing that Sir John was in the house, Martin departed quickly,
+saying that he would come at a more convenient hour. He did not want Sir
+John to know that he was in London, but he was curious to know upon what
+mission Sir John had come to town. Here was an opportunity to satisfy
+his curiosity which he had not counted upon, and he turned swiftly into
+the first alley which presented itself, and waited. He was so intent on
+watching for Sir John that he failed to notice Barbara's maid, who on
+her side was not anxious to attract too much attention either from those
+who might be at the windows of the house or from idlers in the square.
+
+Fairley had to wait nearly an hour, and then Sir John came. He took no
+notice of the coach, had no doubt given the servants some instructions
+concerning it, but walked leisurely across the square with the air of a
+man at peace with himself and all the world. Whatever plot might be on
+foot, it had received no check, and Fairley argued the worst from that
+handsome, smiling face.
+
+"He is delighted with some great villainy," he said to himself as he
+came from his hiding-place and followed him.
+
+Sir John Lanison was conscious that some attention was paid to him as he
+passed. He was a fine gentleman, and retained a little of that
+old-fashioned grace which had been the admiration of the town a couple
+of decades ago, when foolish women had looked upon him almost as a hero
+of romance, and men had thought twice before raising the anger of so
+accomplished a swordsman. A remembrance of former triumphs, with perhaps
+a little sigh to keep it company, came to him as he went towards the
+Haymarket, but certainly no thought of Martin Fairley was in his mind.
+His destination was a hostelry where he was evidently known, and there
+was a rush to do his bidding. He was travelling to Aylingford to-morrow,
+and must needs have the best coach and horses procurable. He was going
+alone; yes, and would start at an early hour. His orders were received
+with bows and much obsequiousness.
+
+"Tell me, landlord, have you sent out a coach in that direction to-day?"
+
+"Not to Aylingford, sir."
+
+"But in that direction. The road does not only lead to the Abbey."
+
+"Why, yes, sir; a coach started for the West early this afternoon," was
+the answer.
+
+"In these days the traffic sets more this way," said Sir John. "What
+kind of passengers were they?"
+
+"Two women; one closely veiled, but if her face were equal to her
+figure, to hide it was cheating mortals out of a pleasure. The other was
+a maid, a pert little baggage who ordered us about somewhat."
+
+"Going to Exeter?"
+
+"No, to Dorchester."
+
+Sir John nodded, and the smile of satisfaction seemed permanent.
+
+"You observe closely, landlord. I warrant you could describe the
+mistress's clothing for all you were so ordered about by the maid."
+
+The landlord grinned, and proved his observation by a somewhat close
+description.
+
+"I get asked such questions sometimes," he said, "when a mistress runs
+away, or a rebel makes hastily for the sea-coast and safety. It is well
+to be observant."
+
+Sir John laughed, and having demanded that the post-boys supplied
+to-morrow should not be of the sort who see a highwayman in every broken
+tree trunk by the wayside, he departed.
+
+The conversation had been overheard by a crowd of loafers in the
+adjoining room, who had suspended their drinking to watch this fine
+gentleman to whom the landlord was so attentive. Then the clatter and
+conversation began again, and only one man was interested enough to seek
+further information. He had only entered a few moments ago; now he
+approached the landlord.
+
+"I heard your description just now; it interested me."
+
+The landlord looked at Fairley from head to foot, and then brought his
+eyes to bear keenly on his face.
+
+"You are not known to me."
+
+"But I am to the lady, unless I mistake not. You spoke of runaway
+mistresses, and truly I think that shot at a venture found its mark."
+
+"You would follow her?"
+
+"If your answer to a question or two satisfies me, I will ride without
+delay the best horse you have."
+
+The questions were asked, and Martin was so satisfied that he was
+impatient to be gone.
+
+"So that I am well paid it's no odds to me," said the landlord. "I made
+the lady no promise, and she's not the first who has grown tired of her
+husband, nor will she be the last."
+
+"She may thank you for giving me the information," Fairley answered.
+"Ink and paper quickly, landlord; I must write a letter before I go."
+
+By the time the horse was ready the letter was written.
+
+"Find a messenger for this, landlord, and see that it is delivered
+without delay. There is payment for the messenger; tell him he will
+receive a like sum from the gentleman to whom this is addressed."
+
+There was a certain awkwardness about Martin Fairley as he rode out of
+the yard, enough to show that he was not so accomplished a horseman as
+some men; yet he had improved in his riding since he had borne Gilbert
+Crosby company from "The Jolly Farmers" that night.
+
+The letter was delivered to Sydney Fellowes before Fairley had gone many
+miles upon his journey.
+
+"I believe Mistress Lanison is on her way to Dorchester, and I am
+following," Fellowes read. "What plan is in her mind I cannot tell, but
+since it seems to give Sir John much satisfaction, I argue that some
+trap lies in the way. It is possible that I may be mistaken, so will you
+go to Lady Bolsover's to-night and make sure that Mistress Lanison has
+gone. If she has, and you can come, make all haste to Dorchester. There
+is a little tavern called 'The Anchor' in West Street. No one of
+consequence would use it, so you shall find word of me there."
+
+Not many hours later Sydney Fellowes was also riding towards the West.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+
+THE JOURNEY TO DORCHESTER
+
+There was an atmosphere of unrest about the inn at Witley this evening.
+An hour ago a coach had arrived, and the best rooms were in requisition
+for the travellers, a lady and her maid. It was whispered amongst the
+loungers in the common room that she was a great lady, in spite of the
+fact that she travelled in a hired coach, but this idea was perhaps due
+to the fact that the maid was imperious, and demanded attention in a
+manner that carried weight. The servant of an ordinary person would
+hardly have been so dictatorial.
+
+Even before the arrival of the coach the inn had been far more alive
+than usual, for a company of troopers had galloped up to it late in the
+afternoon making inquiry concerning a fugitive. He might be alone, but
+probably had a companion with him. Both men were minutely described, and
+it would seem that the capture of the companion would be likely to give
+the greater satisfaction.
+
+No one at the inn had either seen or heard anything of them, and the
+troop had given up the pursuit. After refreshment, and a noisy halt of
+half an hour, the men had returned by the way they had come, leaving two
+of their company behind. These two were in the common room when the
+coach arrived, and, like everyone else in the house, were mightily
+interested in the lady and her maid. When the bustle had subsided a
+little they called for more ale and settled themselves comfortably in a
+corner.
+
+"Well, for my part I'm not sorry the fellow got away," said one man,
+stretching out his legs easily. "We've enough prisoners to make examples
+of already."
+
+"One more or less makes no matter," was the answer, "but it's wonderful
+how many have managed to slip through our fingers by the help of this
+fellow Crosby. I'd give something to lay him by the heels."
+
+"Aye, that would mean gold enough in our pockets to jingle."
+
+"And we shall get him presently," the other went on. "He is known to
+many of us now that he does not always hide himself behind the brown
+mask."
+
+"If there were no money in it, I wouldn't raise a hand against him,"
+said his companion, "for I've a sneaking fondness for the fellow. He's
+got courage and brains, and they've got the better of us up to now. Mark
+me, we shan't take him easily when the opportunity does offer. He'll
+make a corpse of one or two of us in the doing it."
+
+"More guineas for those who are left," was the answer. "The other affair
+trots nicely," and he winked slowly over the tilted edge of his tankard.
+
+"Wait!" said the other. "The netting of such fish may be sport enough,
+but there are handsome fish which are the devil to handle, and the taste
+of them is poison. Hist!"
+
+His companion turned quickly at the warning, and through the open door
+saw the maid, who attended the great lady, in the passage without. She
+inquired for the landlord, who came quickly, and at the same time the
+trooper got up and crossed the room, giving no explanation to his
+companion.
+
+"Must we start early to reach Dorchester to-morrow?" the maid inquired
+of the landlord.
+
+"Yes, very early. The roads--"
+
+"The roads are good, mistress," volunteered the trooper. "I have ridden
+over them to-day."
+
+"You may be able to tell me better than the landlord, then," said the
+girl, and for some minutes they talked in a low tone as they stood in
+the doorway of the inn.
+
+"A fine night, mistress," said the man as the girl was about to leave
+him. "With the moon up like this, lovers should be abroad. It's but a
+hundred yards to the open fields; will you come?"
+
+"With you!" exclaimed the girl scornfully, looking him up slowly from
+his boots to his eyes.
+
+"Why not?" The maid's eyes were attractive, her figure was neat, and the
+man had sufficient ale in him to make him bold. For an instant they
+looked at each other; then the girl laughed derisively.
+
+"When the master grows tired, the man may prove useful, and the man has
+a fancy for sampling the wares forthwith," said the trooper as he caught
+hold of the girl and would have kissed her. Perhaps he did not expect
+any great resistance, and was unprepared, but at any rate she slipped
+from his embrace, dealing him a resounding box upon the ears as she did
+so.
+
+"You shall be punished further before many hours are over," said the
+girl as she ran lightly up the stairs.
+
+The man growled an oath as he stood with his hand to his assaulted ear.
+
+"Did I not say that some were the devil to handle?" remarked his
+companion, who had come to the common-room door, and was smiling grimly.
+
+"I grant she takes first trick, and with a heavy hand for so small a
+person, but the game is only commencing. One more draught of ale to
+drink success to the end of it, and then to horse."
+
+As the troopers rode out of Witley presently a horseman drew back into
+the shadow of some trees by the roadside to let them pass.
+
+"The remaining two," he murmured. "That's well; they have given up the
+pursuit," and he turned and went at a brisk canter across country.
+
+The maid said nothing about the trooper to her mistress; she only told
+her that an early start would have to be made.
+
+"Very well, Harriet, I shall want nothing more to-night, and will put
+myself to bed."
+
+But Barbara Lanison was in no haste to seek sleep. She was tired, bodily
+tired, but mentally she was wakeful. There were some hours still before
+she could reach Dorchester, and many more hours might elapse before she
+could get speech with Judge Marriott. Having determined to make the
+sacrifice, she was eager that it should be over and done with, that she
+should know the full extent of the sacrifice. And perhaps, at the back
+of her mind, there was a little fear of herself. The question would
+arise, again and again, no matter how she tried to suppress it, was she
+justified in acting as she intended to do? Who was this man for whom she
+was prepared to give so much? A notorious highwayman, upon whose head
+there was a price. Yes, it was true, but he was also Gilbert Crosby, the
+man who had taken possession of her thoughts since the first moment she
+had seen him, the man who had sheltered and helped the peasantry fleeing
+from an inhuman persecution, and who must now pay for his courage with
+his life unless she pleaded for him. Was she justified? The question
+sounded in her ears when she fell asleep; she heard it when she awoke
+next morning. Yes, and mentally she flung back the answer, yes, for to
+her Gilbert Crosby was something more than a brave man, and was dear to
+her in spite of everything. He was the man who had set an ideal in her
+heart, he was the man she loved. Hardly to herself would she admit it,
+but it was love that sent her to the West.
+
+It was still early when the coach rolled out of Witley, but it was not
+early enough, nor was the pace fast enough, to satisfy Barbara. She
+became suddenly fearful of pursuit which might stop her from reaching
+Dorchester. She began to dread some breakdown which might delay her and
+cause her to arrive too late.
+
+"Shall we be in time?" she asked more than once, turning to Harriet
+Payne.
+
+"Yes, madam, you need have no fear. The assizes have not yet begun in
+Dorchester."
+
+Pursuit was behind, but it was the pursuit of a friend. Whether it was
+the fault of the horseman or his mounts, disaster rode with Martin
+Fairley. To begin with, his horse cast a shoe, and by the time a smith
+was found and his work done, an hour had been wasted. Before the end of
+the first stage the horse collapsed; there was considerable difficulty
+in getting a remount, and the animal procured was a sorry beast for
+pace. Martin fretted at the delay, and cursed the adverse fates which so
+hindered him. Once he was within three miles of the coach, and then his
+horse went dead lame. Hours were lost before he could get another horse
+and resume the journey, and during those hours much might have happened.
+
+The coach had left only an hour when he arrived at the inn at Witley.
+
+"Yes, the travellers were a lady and her maid," the landlord told him.
+
+"Going to Dorchester?" Martin asked.
+
+"Yes. They started early."
+
+"Has anyone inquired for them?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Some breakfast, landlord--ale and bread and cheese will do--and a horse
+at once."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"And for heaven's sake give me a horse with four sound legs and with
+wind enough in its bellows to stand a gallop."
+
+Fairley was soon in the saddle again, and this time with a better horse
+under him. His spirits rose as the miles were left rapidly behind, and
+as he turned each bend in the road he looked eagerly for a dust cloud
+before him proclaiming that his pursuit was nearly at an end.
+
+Barbara sat silently in the corner of the carriage, Harriet Payne sat
+upright, looking from the window. It was Harriet who first noticed that
+the post-boy was suddenly startled, and that, in looking back, he had
+almost allowed the horses to swerve from the roadway.
+
+"What is it?" she called from the window, as she looked back along the
+road they had come.
+
+The post-boy pointed with his whip. Barbara looked hastily from the
+other window. There was much dust from their own wheels, but, beyond,
+there was another cloud surrounding and half concealing a horseman who
+was fast overtaking them.
+
+"Looks like a highwayman," said the post-boy.
+
+"Better a highwayman than some others who might have followed us," said
+Barbara, leaning back in her corner again. "Tell the boy to go on
+quietly, Harriet. This may be a very worthy gentleman who has need of
+haste."
+
+A few minutes later the horseman galloped up to the window.
+
+"Martin! You!" Barbara exclaimed.
+
+"Had I not been delayed upon the journey I should have caught you before
+this. I wish I had."
+
+"Why, Martin? Do you suppose I am to be turned from my purpose?"
+
+Fairley rode beside the open window, and Barbara leaned forward to talk
+with him.
+
+"I do not know your purpose," he said, "but I fear a trap has been set
+for you."
+
+"A trap!" Harriet exclaimed.
+
+"Why do you think so, Martin?" Barbara asked.
+
+Fairley told her how he had followed Sir John to the hostelry in the
+Haymarket.
+
+"You see, mistress, he knew where you would hire. He went direct to this
+place and made his inquiries as though he knew beforehand what answers
+he would receive. His smile was so self-satisfied that I scented
+danger."
+
+"And you see we are safe, nothing has happened."
+
+"Not yet," was the answer. "There is presently a by-road I know of, and
+by your leave we will take it."
+
+Barbara felt a little quick tug at her sleeve, and turned to Harriet.
+
+"Do not give him leave. I do not trust him," whispered the girl.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Some who seem to be your friends are no friends to Mr. Crosby."
+
+"This is no friend to be afraid of," laughed Barbara. "Were you not told
+to seek a fiddler at Aylingford if you failed to find me? This is he!"
+
+"A fiddler!" Harriet exclaimed. She had evidently not expected the
+fiddler to be a man of this sort, and was not satisfied.
+
+Barbara turned to the window again. "Tell me what you fear, Martin. I
+must not be hindered in reaching Dorchester, but take this by-road you
+talk of if you think it safer."
+
+"It will be a wise precaution, and will not delay us long upon the
+journey." He rode forward a little, and spoke to the post-boy.
+
+"He will delay us, I know he will," said Harriet. "I have no faith in
+him, and it may just make the difference in saving my master."
+
+"Don't be foolish, girl. Your master has no better friend in the world."
+
+"I cannot help it, but I do not believe it," sobbed the girl.
+
+"You have told me the assizes have not begun in Dorchester. We shall not
+be too late."
+
+"But they have hanged and shot men without waiting for a trial. I know;
+I have seen them. They hate my master, and were they to learn you were
+hurrying to his rescue, they would kill him before you came."
+
+"I am doing my best," said Barbara.
+
+"Keep to the high road, mistress," urged the girl.
+
+Barbara turned from her impatiently, and Martin came back to the window.
+
+"What is your purpose when you arrive in Dorchester?" he asked.
+
+"I cannot tell you."
+
+Martin made a little gesture to indicate Harriet Payne.
+
+"I have told no one, and shall not do so until my purpose is
+accomplished," said Barbara.
+
+"Mistress, I have some knowledge of things in the West. My fiddle and I
+hear many things, and I might give you useful news."
+
+"You cannot help me in this, Martin."
+
+"I am under no oath not to thwart you should the price you are prepared
+to pay be too large."
+
+"That is why I do not tell you, Martin."
+
+Fairley asked no further question, but rode on by the carriage in
+silence. He believed that she was going to bargain with Lord Rosmore,
+and his brain was full of schemes to frustrate her, or at least to
+prevent her fulfilling the bargain, even if it were made. It was not
+necessary to be honest in dealing with such a scoundrel, he argued, and
+even if it were wise to let the bargain be struck, he would see to it
+that Lord Rosmore should not profit by it.
+
+"This is the road," he said to the post-boy, and the carriage swung
+round into what was little more than a lane.
+
+Harriet Payne gave a little cry, and looked from the window.
+
+"I thought we were over, but we are off the road. Forbid this way,
+mistress; I pray you forbid it."
+
+For an instant Barbara wondered whether this was a scheme of Martin's to
+keep her from her purpose but the idea was absurd. He was as anxious
+that Gilbert Crosby should be rescued as she was. She commanded Harriet
+to keep quiet.
+
+Progress was slower now, for this side road was heavy, and the coach
+came near to being overturned more than once.
+
+"It will be better presently," said Martin, but it was a long time
+before his prophecy came true, and when it did, the improvement was not
+very great.
+
+"I wouldn't have come if I had known," growled the post-boy.
+
+"You'll go where you're told," said Martin, "and the more words about
+it, the less pay."
+
+They had travelled slowly for an hour or more, along a winding road
+between thick copses and high-hedged fields, when Martin suddenly
+brought his horse to a standstill and listened.
+
+"Stop!" he said to the post-boy, and immediately the grinding wheels
+were still.
+
+There was the quick thud of hoofs behind them, coming so rapidly that
+there was no hope of escape if they were pursued. Barbara leaned
+forward, looking at Martin as he unfastened the holster and half drew
+out a pistol; but Harriet Payne had thrust her head from the other
+window.
+
+"I knew it! He has betrayed us!" she said shrilly.
+
+"The devil take that wench!" growled Martin.
+
+Two men rode round the bend in the road, then two more, then others, a
+score of them at least. With an oath Martin let the pistol fall back
+into the holster. The odds were too great. His head sunk a little, and
+he looked strangely limp in his saddle.
+
+"Fire at them! Be a man and defend us!" shrieked Harriet, but Martin did
+not move.
+
+Barbara looked at him with wondering eyes; she was still looking at him
+when the coach was surrounded.
+
+"Your servants, Mistress Lanison," said a man at the door. "We are sent
+to bring you to Dorchester."
+
+"By whom?"
+
+"I had my orders from my superior; I cannot say who first gave them."
+
+"I am travelling to Dorchester."
+
+"We must be your escort, madam."
+
+"Am I a prisoner?"
+
+"One that shall be well treated by us and by all, I trust. This rogue
+here has led you off the road. A little further from the highway and I
+suppose you would have robbed them, you scoundrel."
+
+"No, sir, I only thought the dust would be less this way," Fairley
+answered meekly.
+
+Another man looked keenly at Martin, and then laughed.
+
+"Surely this is that fiddler fellow we know something of?"
+
+"Yes, sir," said Martin, crooking his arm as though a fiddle were in it,
+and in a timid voice he sang a few notes, like a wail, but they had
+often seemed a laugh to Barbara. She could not tell which they were now.
+"My fiddle is lost, or I would play for you, so long, so sweetly, that
+you would see flagons of ale around you, and think you tasted them too."
+
+"I would the fiddle were found, then," said one.
+
+"Having lost it, you carry pistols instead."
+
+"Yes, sir, every gentleman does so, but there's many dare not use them.
+I didn't use them. You'll remember that, for it's to my credit, and let
+me go."
+
+The man removed the pistols from his holster.
+
+"They're dangerous toys for a fool."
+
+"Truly, I feel much happier without them," said Martin.
+
+"Coward!" said Harriet Payne from the window as the coach was turned.
+"Coward!"
+
+Barbara said nothing.
+
+"Please let me ride by the other window," pleaded Martin. "This wench
+has no music in her soul, and does not like me."
+
+"You shall ride behind," was the answer.
+
+"Thank you, sir; I shall not see her then. She is not beautiful to look
+at."
+
+The man laughed.
+
+"Look to this fool, some of you, and give him a cuff if he grows
+sleepy."
+
+"Sleepy! Never in good company," said Martin.
+
+The post-boy whipped up the horses, and the carriage went slowly back
+towards the main road, surrounded by its escort.
+
+Barbara was still bound for Dorchester, but a prisoner. Would she now be
+able to get speech with Judge Marriott?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+
+THE HUT IN THE WOOD
+
+The grinding of wheels, the sharp stroke of horses' hoofs, and the
+voices of men lessened and died into silence. No sound disturbed the
+narrow, winding lane which twisted its way now between neglected and
+forlorn looking fields, presently through woods of larch and pine, again
+across some deserted piece of common land. One might have followed the
+lane for hours without meeting a soul, without hearing a human sound
+beyond the echoes of one's own footsteps sent back from the depth of a
+copse. For miles it went, turning now this way, now that, until a
+stranger would wonder whither it was leading him, and speculate whether,
+at the end, he might not find himself on the same high road which he had
+left long ago. At one part, for a mile or more, the lane skirted a
+forest, where, down short vistas, could be seen deeper depths beyond,
+solemn gloom which might serve to hide in, or might contain lurking
+danger. Old cart ruts here and there made short incursions into it,
+their limit marked by a small clearing and a few tree stumps, showing
+that timber had been brought out; but no such track gave any sign of
+penetrating far, and offered little temptation to explore. There was a
+track, however, so casual in its departure from the lane that a stranger
+would hardly have noticed it, which ran deeply into the forest, losing
+itself at intervals in a small clearing, but going on again, although
+anyone but those who had knowledge of it might miss it a score of times,
+and wander hopelessly amongst tangled undergrowths and into swampy
+depressions. This track presently crossed a larger clearing, where was a
+hut set up by charcoal burners long ago. Time had cracked and warped its
+planks, but pieces had been nailed across weak places, giving the hut a
+botched and tumble-down appearance but keeping it weather-tight. The hut
+was divided into a shed for tools and storage, or perhaps for stabling a
+horse upon occasion, and a larger chamber which served as a dwelling.
+From a hole in the roof of this part a thin wreath of smoke was curling
+upwards towards the overhanging trees, losing itself in their foliage.
+Twilight came early here, and the great world seemed shut out
+altogether.
+
+Presently the door of the hut opened, but he was no charcoal-burner who
+stood on the threshold, listening and looking up at the sky above the
+clearing. His hair was white, his figure a little bent, and there was an
+anxious look upon his face, a permanent expression rather than one
+caused by any tardy arrival this evening. The man he waited for was too
+erratic in his goings and comings to make a few hours', or even a day's,
+delay a cause of wonder.
+
+He went back into the hut, but in half an hour or so came to the door
+again. He was not a woodsman used to distinguishing sounds at a long
+distance, and the sound that presently reached him was close by. In
+another moment a man, leading a horse, came out of the gloomy shadows
+into the clearing.
+
+"Master Gilbert! Master Gilbert! You're late. Thank God you're back once
+more. I've a hare in the pot which begins to smell excellently."
+
+"I'll do justice to your cooking, Golding, never fear. I'll look to the
+mare first; she's had a trying day."
+
+He led the animal into the small shed, and for some time was busy making
+her comfortable for the night.
+
+"Ah! the smell is appetising," he said as he joined Golding, "and I am
+ravenous."
+
+"And in good spirits, surely."
+
+"Yes, we baulked them again, Golding. Yesterday afternoon we made in the
+direction of Witley, and had as narrow a squeak of capture as I want to
+experience. A troop was before us on the road, and one fellow with the
+eyes of a lynx sighted us. The poor fellow I was helping was a bit of a
+coward--no, I won't call him that, but constantly being hunted had taken
+the heart out of him, and he was inclined to give up the struggle. I
+urged him on, and we made for Witley, openly, and as if we were
+confident of a hiding-place in the town. Fortune favoured us, and we
+pulled up short in a hollow, the troop riding by us in desperate haste.
+Hot footed they poured into Witley, but for some reason which I did not
+understand they went no further. Half an hour afterwards they came back,
+all but two of them. I had counted them as they passed. Those two
+remained in Witley until long after nightfall, then they rode back, and
+my man had a free country before him."
+
+"You'll run the risk once too often, Master Gilbert."
+
+"That is probable, but, by Jove! I shall have done some good with my
+life. This was the thirty-eighth man I've helped out of the clutches of
+these devils."
+
+"And I was the first," said Golding. "It's wonderful how you schemed to
+get me out of Dorchester, Master Gilbert."
+
+"And it's marvellous how you manage to make this hut a home that one is
+glad to get back to, Golding."
+
+"Maybe we'll get back to Lenfield presently, Master Gilbert, and you'll
+then shudder at the thought of what you had to put up with here."
+
+"It will be some time before there will be safety for me at Lenfield,"
+said Crosby.
+
+"And meanwhile a hare's no such bad fare, if the preparing and cooking
+of it does present some difficulties in a place like this," said Golding
+as he replenished his master's plate.
+
+Crosby had eaten little in the last twenty-four hours, and was silent
+for some time.
+
+"Thirty-eight is something, but it's a drop in the ocean," he said
+presently. "I wish I could open the prison doors in Dorchester before
+the assizes commence. There'll be murder enough done there in a few
+days, Golding."
+
+"That is beyond your power, Master Gilbert," and the old man said it as
+if he feared his master would make the attempt.
+
+"Yes, I am powerless. I wonder what became of that girl, Golding."
+
+"Do you mean Harriet Payne?"
+
+"I had forgotten her name for the moment," said Crosby. "When I came to
+Dorchester after they had arrested you, I found out where you were, but
+I could hear nothing about her. I would give a great deal to set her
+free."
+
+"Yes, Master Gilbert."
+
+"It is frightful for a woman to be in the clutches of these devils, and
+when that fiend Jeffreys comes to Dorchester, God help the women he
+judges! I wonder what has become of the girl."
+
+"She may have been released."
+
+"Why should they release her when they would think it was within her
+power to betray me?"
+
+Golding shrugged his shoulders. "It was only a suggestion," he said.
+
+"What is in your mind?" Crosby asked.
+
+"An unjust thought, Master Gilbert. Since thirty years ago the one woman
+I ever thought of jilted me, I've had no love for any woman. I'm afraid
+of them and unjust in my thoughts of them. My opinion concerning women
+is of no value."
+
+"What were you thinking about Harriet Payne?"
+
+"She was a bit flighty, Master Gilbert, and rather given to look down on
+the other servants. That kind of girl is open to flattery."
+
+"And then, Golding?"
+
+"Then! Well, I'm no judge of women, but it seems to me that once they're
+fond of flattery you can make them do almost anything. She was a
+good-looking girl, was Harriet Payne, and if some young slip of a dandy
+got hold of her--well, she might make a bargain with him and get
+released that way."
+
+"Was she that kind of girl?"
+
+"I'm not saying so; I'm only putting it as a possibility," Golding
+answered. "Such bargains have been made, Master Gilbert, if the tales
+they tell be true."
+
+Crosby clenched his teeth suddenly, and struck his fist irritably on his
+knee. One such tale he had heard, told of the brutal Colonel Kirke, a
+woman's honour sacrificed to save her lover, and sacrificed in vain. He
+was prepared to believe any villainy of such a man, and there were many,
+little better than Kirke, free to work their will in the West Country
+to-day. He was conscious of the ribbon about his neck, he remembered
+that handclasp in the hidden chamber below Aylingford Abbey, and thanked
+Heaven that the fair woman who had done so much to help him was in
+London.
+
+"Such thoughts make me sick, Golding," he said after a long pause. "I
+feel that I must rush into the midst of such villains and strike, strike
+until I am cut down. Sometimes there comes the belief that if a man had
+the courage to charge boldly into such iniquity, God Himself would fight
+beside him and give him victory."
+
+"There peeps out the Puritan faith of your fathers, Master Gilbert. It's
+a good faith, but over confident of miracles. You'd be foolish throwing
+your life away trying the impossible when there is so much you are able
+to do well."
+
+"I argued like that only a few hours since," said Crosby. "But, for all
+that, there's a taste of cowardice left behind in the mouth. I should
+have been back early this afternoon but for the fact that this troop I
+spoke of was still hanging about the highway yonder."
+
+"They did not see you!" Golding said in alarm. "They will not track you
+here?"
+
+"They were not watching for me. I take it the men were ordered not to
+follow us beyond Witley, but to wait for other prey that was expected. I
+did not see how it happened, nor where, only the result. They had
+captured a coach, and were guarding it on the way to Dorchester. What
+unfortunate travellers it contained I do not know, I was at too great a
+distance to see. But in the midst of the villains there was a captured
+horseman, and they seemed to be ill-treating him. I touched the mare
+with the spur, thinking to go to his aid, but drew rein again
+immediately. There was at least a score of men to 'do battle with."
+
+"A wise second thought," said Golding.
+
+"Leaving a taste in my mouth," said Crosby. "I thought I heard
+something, Golding."
+
+"It was the mare in the shed."
+
+"I heard her, but something else besides, I fancy," and, with Golding at
+his heels, he went out of the hut to listen. There were stars in the sky
+over the clearing. The night had fallen, and strange sounds came from
+the gloomy depths of the forest, sounds which might well set an
+unaccustomed ear intent to catch their meaning. Gilbert Crosby may not
+have been able to account for all of them, but they did not trouble him.
+It was another sound he waited and listened for.
+
+"There is nothing, Master Gilbert," Golding whispered.
+
+"Wait."
+
+Golding saw that a pistol was in his master's hand, so he took one
+slowly from his pocket and tried to look into the darkness.
+
+It was well that Gilbert Crosby saw the coach from such a distance, that
+he could not catch a glimpse of the travellers. Had he known who the
+travellers were, the spurs would have been driven deep into the mare's
+flanks and there would have been no drawing rein; had he even recognised
+the horseman who was being ill-treated he would not have paused to count
+the cost. A trooper or two might have gone down before his fierce
+attack, but a score of men, trained in fighting and on the alert, cannot
+be scattered by one. Gilbert Crosby would have been flung lifeless on
+the roadside, or overpowered and carried a prisoner to Dorchester.
+
+The two women sat silently in the coach. Harriet Payne sobbed quietly.
+She was tired of abusing Martin, weary of telling her mistress that they
+ought to have kept to the high road and safety. At first she had broken
+out at intervals with her wailing, and Barbara's commands to be silent
+had not much effect.
+
+Barbara did not answer her, did not look at her. Her own thoughts and
+fears were trouble enough. A trap had been laid for her, doubtless it
+was of her uncle's contriving, and it was unlikely that she would be
+able to send even a message to Judge Marriott. Her mission was doomed to
+failure, and she was in the hands of her enemies. What could they compel
+her to do? Was marriage with Lord Rosmore the only way out? She would
+never take that way. Though they accused her of treason, though death
+threatened her, she would never marry him. To Judge Marriott she was
+prepared to sacrifice herself, but to Lord Rosmore never, not even to
+save the life of the man she loved. There had been moments when an
+alliance with Rosmore had not appeared so dreadful to her, moments when
+her disappointment concerning Gilbert Crosby had helped to make Rosmore
+less repugnant to her; but from the moment she had determined to
+sacrifice herself these two men stood in clear and definite antagonism.
+The one she loved, the other she hated. Why she should so love and so
+hate she could not have explained fully, but the love and hate were
+facts, and she made no attempt to reason about them.
+
+She heard Martin's voice at intervals, complaining, garrulous, and then
+suddenly jesting, jests not meant for her ears, but fitted to the rough
+company in the midst of which he rode. Poor Martin, she thought, Mad
+Martin. This might make him mad indeed, drive from him entirely that
+strange wit he had and which he used so wonderfully at times. He had
+been her playfellow, and her teacher, too, in many things, yet he was
+one of God's fools. There was compensation in that surely.
+
+Barbara winced presently when Martin's voice was raised in higher
+complaint.
+
+"What are you trying to do, you fool?" cried a gruff voice.
+
+"I want to see that my mistress is happy. She would like me to ride
+beside her window; and I will, too."
+
+It was probably at this moment that Gilbert Crosby caught sight of the
+cavalcade, and thought the prisoner was being vilely ill-used. Well
+might he think so, for Martin attempted to force his way through the
+troopers and get to the window.
+
+"She's used to me," he literally screamed. "See what an ugly fellow is
+beside the window now! Truth, I never saw so many ugly men together. Let
+me pass!"
+
+"Peace, Martin, I am all right!" Barbara called from the window, fearful
+that these men might do him an injury.
+
+"Take that idiot further back!" roared the voice of the man in command
+of the troop. "He does naught but frighten the lady."
+
+Martin received a cuff on the head, and was hustled to the rear, a man
+riding on either side of him.
+
+"Who was the gentleman who struck me?" whined Martin, rubbing his head.
+
+"Sayers. His is a good hand for dusting off flies," laughed one of the
+men beside him, willing to get some sport out of this madman.
+
+"Flies! To judge by my head he must have fancied he saw a bullock before
+him. Lucky I dodged somewhat, or I'd have no head for flies to settle
+on. And who is the gentleman with the voice of thunder?"
+
+"That's Watson."
+
+"It's a good voice, but there's no music in it. You have never heard him
+sing, eh?"
+
+"Aye, but I have. He can roar a fine stave about wine and women."
+
+"I'll go and ask him to favour us," said Martin, jerking his horse
+forward.
+
+"Stay where you are," and the man's hand shot out to the horse's bridle.
+
+"Very well, very well, if you like my company so much. It's a strange
+thing that they should put wine and women into the same song."
+
+"Strange, you fool! Strong enough and beautiful enough, are they not
+both intoxicating?"
+
+"I know not," Martin answered. "I have no experience of strong women."
+
+"Strong wine and beautiful women," I said.
+
+"Did you. I am rather dull of hearing."
+
+"You're a dull-witted fellow altogether to my thinking."
+
+"It is most true, sir. I am so dull that I cannot see the wit in your
+conversation."
+
+"I can cuff almost as vigorously as Sayers," said the man a little
+angrily, when his companion on the other side of Martin laughed.
+
+"I will believe it without demonstration," said Martin, cringing in his
+saddle. "You frighten me, and now I have lost my stirrups. I am no rider
+to get on without them. I shall fall. Of your kindness, gentlemen, find
+me my stirrups."
+
+"Plague on you for a fool," said one.
+
+"A blessing on you if you get my feet into the stirrups."
+
+"Stop, then, a moment."
+
+Martin pulled up, and the cavalcade went on. The two men, one on either
+side, brought their horses close to Martin's, and bent down to find the
+stirrups. Martin suddenly gave both horses the spur in the flanks with a
+backward fling of his heels, and at the same time struck each man a
+heavy blow on his lowered head. The horses sprang aside, one rider
+falling in the roadway, the other stumbling with his animal into the
+ditch by the roadside. The next instant Martin had whipped round his own
+horse, and was galloping back along the road.
+
+It had been the work of a few seconds, and a few seconds more elapsed
+before the cavalcade came to a standstill.
+
+Then a voice roared orders, half a dozen shots sang about the fugitive,
+and there were galloping horses quickly in pursuit.
+
+Expecting the shots, Martin had flung himself low on the horse's neck.
+The animal, frightened by the swinging stirrups and driven by the spur,
+plunged madly along the road. So long as the road was straight, Martin
+let the horse go, but at the first bend, when there was no chance of his
+pursuers seeing him, he checked the animal a little, slipped from his
+back, and with a blow sent him careering riderless along the road.
+
+"He'll make a fine chase for them, and should find his way back to
+Witley," said Martin as he crouched down in a ditch which divided the
+road from a wood. Cracking branches might have betrayed him had he
+entered the wood just then. Half a dozen horsemen passed him, galloping
+in pursuit, and when the sounds had died away, and he was convinced that
+no others followed, he crawled from the ditch and went straight before
+him into the wood. At a clearing he stopped and looked at the stars,
+then continued his way along a narrow track that went towards the
+south-west, in which direction lay Dorchester. He had no mind to enter
+the town as a prisoner, but he meant to reach it all the same, and as
+soon as possible.
+
+For an hour he pushed forward, and then came suddenly to the edge of a
+clearing of some size. He stopped. He saw nothing, he was not sure that
+he heard anything, but the air seemed to vibrate with some presence
+besides his own.
+
+Perhaps he had heard the low sound which the opening door of the hut
+made.
+
+"You're a dead man if you move," said a voice out of the darkness.
+
+Fairley started and made a step forward, but stopped in time.
+
+"I should know that voice. I am Martin Fairley."
+
+"Fairley!"
+
+Crosby hurried forward to meet him.
+
+"Have you been a prisoner in Dorchester?" Martin asked.
+
+"A prisoner! No."
+
+"The devil take that wench!"
+
+"What wench?" Crosby asked.
+
+"Give me something to drink and a mouthful of food. The story may be
+told in a few words, and then we must get to Dorchester."
+
+"Martin! Why? Surely she--"
+
+"Yes; she will be there within an hour or so. That is why we go to
+Dorchester to-night."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+
+SCARLET HANGINGS
+
+Barbara's prison was an old house in a narrow street of Dorchester, the
+ground floor of which had been turned into temporary barracks for
+soldiers and militiamen. The prisoner passed to rooms on the upper floor
+through a rough, gaping crowd, and in some faces pity shone through
+brutality for a moment. Something worse than death might await so fair a
+traitor.
+
+The rooms to which she was taken were sparsely furnished and rather
+dark, the windows looking out upon a blank wall, two rooms
+communicating, but with only a single entrance from the passage without.
+The most hopeful would have seen little prospect of escape, and the most
+spirited might wonder if depression could be successfully conquered in
+such surroundings. Half a dozen soldiers had followed them up the
+stairs, but only Watson, whose stentorian voice seemed to fit him to
+command a troop of ruffians, entered the room with them.
+
+"There are so many prisoners in Dorchester that we have to make shift to
+find room for them," he said, as though to make apology for the
+accommodation.
+
+"Indeed, I might be much worse lodged," Barbara answered.
+
+Harriet Payne looked round the rooms in dismay, but said nothing.
+
+"May I know what charge is brought against me?" asked Barbara.
+
+"With that I have naught to do," Watson answered. "I'm a soldier, not a
+lawyer, madam. My orders are to keep you in safe custody until your
+presence is required, and I am told to see that you have everything in
+reason to make you comfortable."
+
+"It would appear that I have friends in Dorchester."
+
+"It is not unlikely, madam; as for this young person," he went on,
+looking at Harriet, "she will see to your wants and may pass in and out.
+I suppose, therefore, that nothing is known against her beyond the fact
+that she is found in your company."
+
+"Your temporary mistress is evidently a dangerous person, Harriet,"
+Barbara said with a smile. "Had I not forced you to make this perilous
+journey with me, you would have been better off."
+
+This deliberate attempt to dissociate her from any treasonable intention
+rather startled Harriet Payne.
+
+"At least you shall find the comfort of having a maid with you, madam,"
+she said quickly.
+
+"If the young person will come with me, I will show her where certain
+things you may require can be found," said Watson. "There will be a
+sentry constantly in the passage, madam, so if you hear footsteps in the
+night you need not fear."
+
+Barbara made no answer to this indirect warning that any thought of
+flight was hopeless, and Harriet followed Watson out of the room.
+
+"It was well done," he whispered as they went down the passage, leaving
+a sentry by the locked door.
+
+"I was not looking for your praise."
+
+"It is given gratis," the man answered, "and in the same spirit I'll
+give you a warning: don't attempt the impossible, whatever happens. A
+woman like her yonder might succeed in wheedling any man, or woman."
+
+"I want neither your praise nor your warning," said Harriet.
+
+"And I'm not looking for another clout on the ear, mistress, such as you
+gave me at Witley, though, for that matter, I like a woman of spirit. If
+you're in want of a comforter later on, you may reckon on Sam Watson."
+
+"And Sam Watson had best be careful, or he may find himself in hot water
+with his master," Harriet answered with a toss of her head.
+
+For herself, Barbara Lanison had little thought, but her fears for
+others troubled her. As a prisoner her power to help Gilbert Crosby was
+grievously lessened. Doubtless she herself was to be accused of treason,
+and Judge Marriott might be afraid to say a word at her bidding, or
+perchance he would refuse if the power to make the sacrifice she
+intended were taken from her. Death might be her punishment for treason,
+and if so, where was Judge Marriott's reward? There was another
+contingency: he might be able to save her, and he would certainly use
+his efforts to this end instead of troubling about Crosby, no matter
+what pleading she might use. As a prisoner she was, indeed, of little
+use to Gilbert Crosby. She must see Judge Marriott and do her best, but
+her hope of success was small. Who had brought this disaster upon her?
+Surely her guardian, and Barbara's hands clenched in impotent rage to
+think that he had outwitted her. Yet he could not be alone in the
+matter, for it was not probable that he had openly accused her himself.
+Had Rosmore anything to do with it? It was a new thought to Barbara. She
+knew her uncle for a villain, but about Lord Rosmore she was undecided.
+True, he had threatened her, but he also loved her, she could not doubt
+that in his own fashion he did so. Would a man place the woman he loved
+in such jeopardy as that in which she was placed? Barbara could not
+believe it possible; besides, how should Lord Rosmore know that she was
+on her way to Dorchester? The coming of Harriet Payne to Aylingford had
+aroused Sir John's suspicions, but there was no circumstance which would
+lead Rosmore to suppose that she intended journeying to the West.
+
+Martin Fairley also troubled her. Had he made good his escape, or had he
+been retaken and confined somewhere else in the town? She had asked the
+man Watson as the cavalcade had started again, and his gruff reply was
+that the fool would be left dead in the ditch by the roadside. She did
+not believe Martin was dead; in fact, Martin puzzled her. He could not
+have had a hand in her betrayal, yet, at the very moment when courage
+was most needed, he had been a coward. Probably he had saved himself,
+but he had deserted her. The one person upon whose fidelity she would
+have staked her honour had utterly forsaken her at a supreme moment.
+Full as her mind was of Gilbert Crosby, the failure of this half-witted
+companion depressed her as, perhaps, nothing else could have done.
+
+Had he really deserted her? The question came through the long, wakeful
+hours of the night. It came with the memory of that little cadence of
+notes, the same notes in which his fiddle laughed. He had sung them in a
+foolish fashion when the men surrounded the coach; had he meant to speak
+to her by them? The thought brought hope and sleep, sleep giving
+strength, hope bringing new courage when the day came.
+
+"To help Mr. Crosby I must Speak with Judge Marriott, who is in
+Dorchester," she told Harriet Payne. "You must find him and ask him to
+come to me."
+
+"Will he come, madam?"
+
+"I think so."
+
+"Alas, you have need of help yourself now."
+
+"Perhaps not such need as may appear. To arrest me does not prove me
+guilty of treason."
+
+"It is not only the guilty who are suffering."
+
+"Out upon you, girl, for whining so easily," said Barbara. "Courage
+lends help against every ill, even against death itself. You will find
+where Judge Marriott is lodged, and tell him where I am."
+
+"They may not let me have speech with the judge."
+
+"You must contrive, use art, use--Ah, you are a woman, and need no
+lesson from me."
+
+So Harriet Payne went upon her mission, and Barbara was impatient until
+her return. Disappointment was upon the girl's face when she came back.
+It had been easy to find out the judge's lodgings, but impossible to get
+speech with him. He was too engaged to see anyone that day.
+
+"I must try again to-morrow," said the girl.
+
+"Yes, and the next day and the next," said Barbara. "Did anyone carry a
+message for you?"
+
+"I contrived so far, but whether it came to the judge's ears or not I
+cannot tell."
+
+"I'll ask this man Watson to take a message," said Barbara.
+
+"Not yet," said the girl. "That might be dangerous. Wait until I have
+entirely failed"; and, to prove how dangerous it might be, she began to
+tell her mistress some of the gloomy forebodings which were whispered
+about the town.
+
+Dorchester was in terror, and spoke its fears with bated breath. There
+were three hundred prisoners awaiting judgment, and the dreaded Jeffreys
+was coming; the cruel, the brutal, the malignant judge whose fame, like
+an evil angel, came before him, speaking of death. There was to be no
+pity, no mercy. If Alice Lisle, for no greater fault than compassion for
+two fugitives, was condemned with all the barbarity that the inhuman law
+could render possible; if the appeal of clergy, of ladies of high
+degree, of counsellors at Whitehall, of Feversham himself, could only
+move the King to grant that she should be beheaded instead of burned
+alive, what hope for the prisoners in Dorchester who would have no such
+powerful appeal made in their favour?
+
+The Court was already prepared, its hangings of scarlet. Judge Marriott,
+busily awaiting his learned brother, chuckled at the innovation. It was
+like Jeffreys--an original thing, a stroke of genius. Men quaked because
+of those scarlet hangings; this was to be no ordinary assizes, but a
+marked occasion which should put fear into the souls of all who should
+even think upon rebellion. Some man, in an awed undertone, spoke of it
+as a bloody assizes, and the name passed from lip to lip until it
+reached Judge Marriott's lodging. He chuckled still more, and said to
+those about him that Jeffreys would act up to the name, here and
+wherever else in this cursed West Country there were prisoners to be
+punished.
+
+Bloody Assizes! It was almost the first articulate sound that Lord
+Rosmore heard as he galloped into the town, a troop of men about him,
+and those who watched him pass knew that the judge must be on his way
+from Winchester. Rosmore laughed, but his thoughts were complex, schemes
+ran riot in his brain. Immediately upon entering his lodging he sent for
+Watson and Sayers, and was restless until they came.
+
+He looked quickly towards the door as it opened.
+
+"The lady is safe in Dorchester," said Watson.
+
+"And the fugitive?"
+
+"We followed him to Witley. We should have run him to earth, only your
+orders were not to go beyond Witley."
+
+"This cursed fellow Crosby, what of him?"
+
+"He was with this fugitive."
+
+"And you let him go!" exclaimed Rosmore, stamping his foot passionately.
+
+"We obeyed orders, sir, and it is well we did so. We, Sayers and I, were
+in Witley when the coach arrived. I had speech with Mistress Payne."
+
+A grim smile overspread Sayers' face as he remembered the box on the ear
+his companion had received, but he saw that Lord Rosmore was in no mood
+to relish such a tale just now, and held his tongue.
+
+"I told her something of what was to happen, and the place," said
+Watson, "but had I not known at what hour the coach was to start, and
+when we might expect it at the spot chosen, we should have been
+outwitted. In the morning that fiddler from Aylingford caught the coach,
+and in some manner had got wind that a trap was set. He persuaded the
+lady to take a by-road. I waited, and then, marvelling at the delay,
+ordered the troop to ride forward to meet the coach. At the corner where
+this by-way turns from the high road, we found a handkerchief lying on
+the grass--Mistress Payne's handkerchief. Had it not been for such a
+signal we had ridden past, and might have failed to catch them."
+
+"Fairley! Then you have him too?"
+
+"We had, sir, but he escaped."
+
+"Escaped!"
+
+"I have the two men who let him go under arrest," Watson answered. "One
+so badly hurt by the fall from his horse that it will be weeks before he
+can fling his leg across saddle again."
+
+"You fools! The girl has more sense in her finger than you can muster in
+the whole of your carcasses. How did he get away?"
+
+"By a trick," said Sayers. "He was taken to the rear to keep him from
+his mistress, and, on pretence of losing his stirrups, got the men
+beside him to come close, when he spurred their horses, striking the men
+at the same time. He was round in a minute and galloping back upon the
+road. Half a dozen of us went in pursuit, when the shots fired after him
+failed to stop him. We went the whole way back to Witley, and there, at
+the inn, found the horse lathered with foam. The animal had entered the
+yard riderless!"
+
+"What fools I have to serve me!" said Rosmore, laughing derisively.
+"Apart from the woman, it would have been failure from beginning to
+end."
+
+The derision hurt Watson.
+
+"Care must be taken even of her, my lord."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"There is generally a tender spot in a woman somewhere, and Mistress
+Lanison may chance to find it in Harriet Payne."
+
+"Mistress Payne is to be trusted, Watson. I'll see to that."
+
+"She would turn her wits against you, my lord, if she thought she were
+deceived. That's as sure as the coming of the Sabbath."
+
+"Do you suppose, Watson, I throw away the skin before I have used all
+the fruit? Send the girl to me to-night."
+
+The men saluted and turned.
+
+"And Watson, you might put a little misery into your face and
+commiserate with Mistress Lanison on her position. It might interest her
+to hear the story of Alice Lisle of Winchester. She is high-spirited,
+and I would have that spirit broken."
+
+"I will play Jeremiah, sir, like any Puritan."
+
+"And Sayers, keep your eyes open in Dorchester. Crosby and this fiddler
+are too cunning not to be dangerous. I warrant they are not far away
+from Mistress Lanison. By Heaven! if you let her slip through your
+fingers now, you shall suffer for it!"
+
+Bloody Assizes! Along West Street the name travelled to the "Anchor
+Inn," that hostelry of mean repute in Dorchester, and to a small upper
+room where three men sat. They leaned towards each other as they spoke.
+
+"I have failed to find out where they have taken her." said one. "It
+must have been dark when they entered Dorchester; I can find no one who
+remembers such a cavalcade in the streets. I am at a loss how to
+discover her prison."
+
+"Think, Martin."
+
+"I have never been so barren of schemes as I am how. Have you no
+suggestion, Crosby?"
+
+"I want to kill Rosmore."
+
+"And you, Mr. Fellowes?"
+
+"Here I may be of service. I am known as a soldier and a King's man," he
+answered. "My presence in Dorchester will not be called in question, and
+I may learn what is the real plot on foot. Until we know it, we can
+hardly scheme to prevent it."
+
+"An excellent plan," said Martin. "There is another scheme half-born
+within me. I will let it mature to-night. Courage, comrades. Three
+honest men are worth many scoundrels. Three lovers of one woman, for so
+we are in our different fashions."
+
+"That is true," said Crosby.
+
+"Quite true," murmured Fellowes.
+
+"And we strive together," said Martin, letting his hand fall on the
+table. It was covered immediately by the other men's hands.
+
+"Heart and soul for Mistress Lanison," said Fellowes.
+
+"Heart and soul," said Crosby.
+
+"Three honest and true men," murmured Fairley, and tears were in his
+eyes. "A triple alliance."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+
+LORD ROSMORE DICTATES TERMS
+
+Lord Rosmore thought little about the assizes as he supped alone and
+drank his wine, unconscious of the many times he filled and emptied the
+glass. The hunting of fugitives was not to his taste, unless the
+fugitive chanced to be his personal enemy. He was sick at some of the
+cruelties he had been forced to witness; he hated and despised Judge
+Jeffreys, and almost shuddered at the thought of the punishment which
+was about to fall upon the crowd of ignorant peasants imprisoned in
+Dorchester. Had he been judge he would have treated them leniently, and
+probably no fear of the King's displeasure would have made him act
+otherwise; but for the furtherance of his own desires he had another
+standard of morality. It was not a standard made to suit the present
+circumstances, but one that had guided him through life, the primitive
+ideal that what a man desires he must fight for and take as best he may.
+From his youth upwards he had coveted little that he had not obtained;
+the success was everything, the means used did not trouble him. If fair
+ones failed, foul ones were resorted to, and his conscience troubled him
+not at all. If, without hindrance to himself, he could return some
+service for one rendered, he did so, and with a certain class of men and
+women won for himself a name for generosity. To withstand him, however,
+no matter in how small a thing, to baulk his aims and desires, directly
+or indirectly, was to turn him into an implacable enemy, the more
+dangerous because no scruple of honour would weigh with him or direct
+his actions. At the present moment he knew three persons were opposed to
+him--Gilbert Crosby; the fiddler, Martin Fairley; and Barbara Lanison.
+Had the first two been in his hands he would have destroyed them. If, to
+accomplish this, false witnesses had to be found, he would have found
+them, and would have slept not one whit the less at night. He hated them
+both, and was still scheming for their downfall. Had circumstances so
+chanced that these two were powerless to be of further danger to him, he
+would still have hated them, would still have crushed them at the first
+opportunity. He was not a man to forgive an injury.
+
+Truly, they were almost powerless to baulk him now, he argued, as he
+drained his glass again. What could two men do in Dorchester at the
+present moment, with the town full of soldiers, and Jeffreys at hand to
+deal out summary justice? The brown mask no longer hid a person of
+mystery; the features of Gilbert Crosby were known to dozens of men who
+had been outwitted by him. He would not dare to walk the streets by day.
+As for this fiddler fellow, what power had he to cajole rough soldiery?
+He might work upon the superstition of Sir John Lanison at Aylingford,
+might play upon the heartstrings of a woman, but these hard-drinking,
+hard-swearing men were not likely to fall victims to his fooleries. Even
+if he discovered where his mistress was lodged, he would not be able to
+come near her.
+
+"I have played the trump card and taken the trick," laughed Rosmore.
+"Now comes the taming of Mistress Lanison. I should hate her for defying
+me did I not desire her so much."
+
+What he chose to think love was perhaps not far removed from hate. He
+longed to possess, to bend to his will, to have the woman who stood for
+so much in the estimation of so many men. Self-gratification controlled
+him, the desire that men should once again know how useless it was to
+attempt rivalry with him. He had a reputation to maintain, and he would
+maintain it at all hazards. He had begun to weigh carefully in his mind
+the plans he had formed, when the door opened.
+
+"Ah! you loveable little trickster!" he exclaimed as Harriet Payne
+entered. "Come and let me thank you. Gold and trinkets I have none
+to-night; but--"
+
+"I do not want them," she said.
+
+"Love and kisses, my love and kisses," he said, drawing her on to his
+knee. "I've spent wakeful nights thinking of you; now I am happy again."
+
+After a while she disengaged herself a little from his embrace.
+
+"Playing the traitor is not pleasant," she said.
+
+"It is a despicable game," he answered, filling a glass with wine and
+handing it to her. "Drink confusion to all traitors."
+
+"That would be to curse myself."
+
+"You are so clever that I wonder you should think me capable of asking
+you to do a treacherous action, even for love of me," said Rosmore. "You
+shall know my great scheme now that you have so well earned full
+partnership in it. But tell me the whole story first. I heard of the
+dropped handkerchief. That was excellently conceived."
+
+Harriet told him of her visit to Barbara Lanison in London, repeating
+almost word for word what had been said. She told him of the journey to
+Dorchester, almost acted for his benefit the part of sobbing and
+frightened woman which she had played so well, and Rosmore laughed and
+applauded her.
+
+"Excellent! Most excellent!"
+
+"And now?" said the girl, "what is to happen? What is in store for her
+now she is in Dorchester? You swore to me that I should not be bringing
+her into the hands of Judge Jeffreys. Into whose hands have I delivered
+her?"
+
+"Into mine," said Rosmore.
+
+"For what purpose?"
+
+"To save her from herself. It is a long story, but you shall have it
+presently. I shall still want your help."
+
+"You do not love her?" the girl questioned almost fiercely, "There are
+those about you who believe that I am your plaything, useful to do your
+bidding, only to be thrown aside when you have no more need of me."
+
+"Who has dared to say so? Tell me!" Rosmore was splendid in his sudden
+wrath, and Harriet Payne was a little frightened.
+
+"Nay, I will not injure anyone. It is natural for a man to think so
+seeing what you are and what I am."
+
+Rosmore turned her towards a mirror on the wall.
+
+"Learn, mistress, to value yourself at something nearer your true worth.
+I see in the mirror as dainty a piece of womanhood as this fair land,
+with all its treasures of beauty, holds. Hast heard of Trojan Helen,
+that woman who was a world's desire, whose beauty made men sigh for her
+until they fell ill with their desire; for whom two nations fought,
+pouring out their noblest blood for her possession through ten long
+years, and at the end dooming a city to flames and massacre? I would not
+have you so like this ancient Helen that all the world should be my
+rival, for then could I not hope to have my arms about you as now they
+are; but as she was fair, so are you; as beside her all women were
+naught, so to me are all women naught beside you. Kiss me, and, if you
+will not tell me who has done me such slander, at least know this that
+they were lying words which he spoke."
+
+She kissed him, contented.
+
+"Then you will not treat her harshly?" the girl said. "Mistress Lanison
+is a true, brave woman; I would not have her hurt in any way."
+
+"It is my desire to help her, as I will show you presently," Rosmore
+returned. "Tell me what she has said to you. Two women in adversity ever
+grow confidential."
+
+"I do not know whether she loves Mr. Crosby--I think there are barriers
+which even love cannot break down--but she is willing to make some great
+sacrifice for him, that is why she consented to come to the West. No
+sooner were we lodged in Dorchester than she sent me with a message to
+Judge Marriott praying him to go to her."
+
+"And you delivered the message."
+
+"I made pretence of doing so, but told her that I could not get speech
+with the judge."
+
+"You are as wise as you are fair," said Rosmore. "I must see Marriott at
+once. He is a blundering fool, this judge, and might ruin everything.
+Tell me, have you seen Mr. Crosby since he fled from Lenfield?"
+
+"And you threatened to have my shoulders bared and whipped!" laughed the
+girl. "No, I have not seen him since then."
+
+"It was the bare shoulders I thought of, not the whipping, you witch."
+
+"Now, tell me your purpose concerning Mistress Lanison," said the girl.
+
+"She is a woman in love," said Rosmore, "and loves not as her guardian
+would have her do. It is the usual way of women who have guardians. Had
+you such an ogre to direct your actions and you loved me, he would be
+certain to have some other lover for you and would hate me. This is
+Mistress Lanison's case, and although she does not like me, I would do
+her a service and outwit her guardian. I would--"
+
+He stopped suddenly. There were footsteps in the passage, and Harriet
+slipped from his knee and was standing sedately at a little distance
+from him when the door opened and a servant entered.
+
+"Judge Marriott is asking to see you, my lord."
+
+"I was thinking of him. Bring him in." Then, as the servant departed, he
+turned to Harriet: "Come this way, into this other room."
+
+"Your room!" she exclaimed. "I would not have anyone find me here."
+
+"No one shall enter unless they kill me first upon the threshold. Have
+no fear. You could not leave the house unseen by Judge Marriott, and I
+would not have him see you for the world. He is foul-mouthed and
+foul-minded. Let the curtain fall close, so, to keep from you as much of
+his conversation as possible."
+
+Lord Rosmore crossed the room to meet his guest as the door opened.
+
+"This assize work makes one thirsty, Rosmore, and, hearing you had
+arrived, a longing came over me to drink a bottle with you."
+
+"You are welcome. Within a few minutes I should have been knocking at
+your door had you not come."
+
+"Good! Then we may have an hour's peace. The town's astir, Rosmore;
+there'll be great doings in Dorchester. Do you hear what that wag
+Jeffreys has done? He has had the court hung with scarlet to mark the
+occasion. He does not mean his lesson to die quickly out of the memory."
+
+"That is what they mean, then, by 'Bloody Assizes.' I heard the name
+whispered as I entered the town."
+
+"Oh, they were quick enough to see that this was no ordinary
+dispensation of law," laughed Marriott. "The dogs are sleepless and
+trembling to-night, I warrant."
+
+"Aye, it is certainly the King's turn now, and I would he were making
+better use of his opportunity."
+
+"What a glutton you are, Rosmore. There are over three hundred prisoners
+in Dorchester alone."
+
+"And most of them might be released," was the answer. "Such clemency
+would do more for the King" than will be accomplished by this revengeful
+spirit."
+
+"Since when have you turned sentimental?"
+
+"I think I was born with a horror of wholesale injustice."
+
+Marriott laughed, then grew serious.
+
+"We are old friends, Rosmore, and there is no danger in free speech
+between us, but it would not be wise to say such things in the hearing
+of Jeffreys."
+
+"Even Jeffreys may have a weak spot to touch which would be to compel
+him to silence. Most men have."
+
+"They hide it successfully as a rule."
+
+"Or think so," said Rosmore. "Amongst these three hundred prisoners are
+there any of importance?"
+
+The judge shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Not in our world. I dare say in this neighbourhood there are a few with
+some standing."
+
+"You have had no personal appeals made to you?"
+
+"Many, but none which counted," and then Marriott dropped his voice to a
+whisper. "The escape of anyone you are interested in might be arranged."
+
+"I might even contrive that without your assistance, eh, Marriott,"
+laughed Rosmore. "He who holds the key can easiest open the door. Don't
+look so astonished, man. It is an open secret that, from the King
+downwards, personal aims enter into this rebellion. Jeffreys has his, a
+stretching out towards power; you have yours, which are no concern of
+mine; I have mine, which are nothing to you."
+
+"You are too honest, and perhaps you bark too loudly," said the judge,
+glancing round the room.
+
+"I take care to examine walls well before I live between them," said
+Rosmore; "but see for yourself. This curtain hangs before the door of my
+bedroom, this before a window looking into a side street," and he drew
+the curtains aside for a moment to show that he spoke truly.
+
+Marriott nodded and drank more wine.
+
+"We can talk quite freely," said Rosmore, seating himself again at the
+table opposite to his guest. "There is a woman you have promised to help
+should she ask you."
+
+"No; you are mistaken."
+
+"Think, Marriott. The promise may have been made at Aylingford Abbey."
+
+"Do you mean Mistress Lanison?"
+
+Rosmore nodded his head slowly.
+
+"Ah, yes, I did make some kind of promise," said Marriott. "A gallantry,
+Rosmore, and I would make my words good if I had the chance."
+
+"And the bribe?" Rosmore asked.
+
+"As you have just said, that can be no concern of yours."
+
+"That is not so certain. It happens that you have the chance. Mistress
+Lanison is in Dorchester--a prisoner."
+
+Marriott sprang to his feet.
+
+"The devil! Who had her arrested?"
+
+Rosmore shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"I do not know, but the fact remains, she is a prisoner. This I can tell
+you, she journeyed to the West to appeal to you on behalf of Gilbert
+Crosby, and was arrested on the way."
+
+"But Crosby has not been captured?"
+
+"Don't you think you and I could make up our minds that he has?" said
+Rosmore.
+
+"I do not see the necessity. My influence will have to be exerted to
+procure her release. I shall have kept my word, and--"
+
+"And the reward?" asked Rosmore.
+
+"It will not be so great that it will be beyond her power to pay," was
+the answer.
+
+"Shall I make a guess?" said Rosmore. "If your influence is exerted,
+Barbara Lanison becomes the wife of Judge Marriott. Ah! I see I have hit
+near the mark. I have another plan. You shall write me two orders, one
+for the release of Mistress Lanison, the other for the release of
+Gilbert Crosby. The execution of these orders shall be at my discretion
+as to time. They may be given because of your love for her, if you will,
+but you must be self-sacrificing and claim no reward."
+
+"My dear Rosmore, if you are serious, your impudence is colossal, if you
+are in jest, I fail to see the point of it."
+
+"I have not come to the point, for jest it is, and one you may profit
+by. Sit down again and fill your glass--we can enjoy the joke together.
+Although you do not ask for any reward, you get one--five hundred or a
+thousand guineas, the exact amount we can decide, but at any rate a
+goodly sum for two scraps of paper. I should advise you to close with
+such an offer."
+
+"Still the jest does not appeal to me."
+
+"No?"
+
+"You want Mistress Lanison--"
+
+"Released," Rosmore interrupted sharply.
+
+"She shall be, but in my own fashion."
+
+"In mine, I think," said Rosmore quietly.
+
+Marriott rose to his feet again, his face purple with anger. A string of
+oaths and invectives poured suddenly from his lips.
+
+"You are not in court, Marriott, and I am not a prisoner," said Rosmore
+quietly. "Do you happen to remember a prisoner who was tried some months
+ago? Was his name Josiah Popplewell?"
+
+The judge was suddenly silent, and his purple face became livid.
+
+"He was a rich merchant in the City, I fancy, full of crime and treason,
+and, moreover, very wealthy. His wealth was tempting to--let us say to
+those in high authority, and there was plenty of evidence against him,
+manufactured, perhaps, but still apparently irrefutable. At the crucial
+moment, however, there came forward a witness who, in the clearest
+manner, was able to prove that the evidence was false, and Popplewell
+got off. That is the case from the world's point of view. But there was
+another side to it. This witness was well paid, and by whom do you
+think? By the judge himself, who accepted an immense bribe from the
+prisoner. I wonder what the King would have to say if he knew, or in
+what estimation Judge Jeffreys would hold his learned brother? Do you
+remember the case?"
+
+"A pretty story. I wonder if you could prove it?"
+
+"Easily. The witness named Tarrant is in my employment. He declares that
+the judge made an effort to have him accidentally killed, not unwisely,
+perhaps, for the man has in his possession a scrap of writing which
+would ruin the judge."
+
+"It is a lie."
+
+"I have seen the writing," said Rosmore. "I could lay the case before
+Jeffreys whilst he is in Dorchester. That might make a sensation.
+Amongst the gibbeted wretches we might see hanging one of the judges who
+had been sent to punish them; that would be more original than a court
+hung with scarlet."
+
+Marriott sat down slowly.
+
+"Your glass is empty, let me fill it," said Rosmore. "Shall we say five
+hundred guineas for the two orders, no further questions asked, and
+presently, when the prisoners are in safety, the return of that
+incriminating scrap of paper?"
+
+"You swear that--"
+
+"My dear Marriott, I have not mentioned the name of the judge, why tell
+me what you chance to know of the story?"
+
+"You shall have the orders," Said Marriott.
+
+"Here are paper, ink, and pen."
+
+Rosmore watched him as he wrote.
+
+"Will that suffice?" Marriott asked.
+
+"It is worded exactly as I would have it."
+
+"So Mistress Lanison--"
+
+"Did we not say no further questions?" asked Rosmore, smiling. "What
+should you say if I made a match between her and this notorious
+highwayman, Gilbert Crosby?"
+
+"You must catch him first."
+
+"Should you see him in Dorchester, you will do me a service by having
+him arrested. With this paper I can have him released at a convenient
+time. You are going? There is still wine in the bottle."
+
+"Just enough for you to drink to the success of your night's work," said
+Marriott savagely.
+
+"And to your health," Rosmore answered as he crossed the room with his
+guest.
+
+As the door was closed, Harriet Payne took hold of the curtain to draw
+it aside, but paused in the act of doing so. Her eyes, wide open and
+fixed, stared at the curtains which hung on the opposite wall across the
+window. A hand, a man's hand, grasped them. Then they parted silently,
+and fell together again, slowly and silently.
+
+Rosmore did not wish to be disturbed again, but the lock was stiff and
+the key difficult to withdraw. With a sigh of satisfaction he turned
+presently, but the Sigh became a sudden gasp of astonishment.
+
+Against the background of the window curtains stood Gilbert Crosby!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+
+THE LUCK OF LORD ROSMORE
+
+Harriet Payne did not move. The curtain over the door concealed her, but
+it hung a little apart at one side, and she could see into the room,
+could see both men as they stood facing each other. For a while there
+was absolute silence, then Rosmore made a quick movement towards a side
+table on which lay a pistol.
+
+"Stop, or you are a dead man!" said Crosby.
+
+Rosmore stopped. He knew too much about his unwelcome guest to imagine
+that he would not be as good as his word. He paused a moment, then went
+to the table on which were the remains of the supper.
+
+"I have no fear that you will shoot an unarmed man, Mr. Crosby," he said
+quietly. "I have heard many things against you, but never that you were
+a coward. I marvel that you have the courage to walk abroad in
+Dorchester, and wonder, even more, that you come into this room."
+
+Crosby also walked to the table, and so they stood erect on either side
+of it, face to face, man to man, deadly enemies feeling each other's
+strength.
+
+"We may come to the point at once, Lord Rosmore. Where is Mistress
+Barbara Lanison?"
+
+"I hear that she is a prisoner in Dorchester."
+
+"By your contriving."
+
+"It is natural you should think so, seeing the position I hold in the
+West Country at the present time."
+
+"I do not think, I know," Crosby answered. "By a trick, and through a
+lying messenger, you induced her to travel to Dorchester and had her
+arrested on the journey."
+
+"Let us suppose this to be the case, is it not just possible that there
+may be a legitimate reason for such a trick?"
+
+"I am ready to listen," said Crosby.
+
+"Always supposing that your knowledge is correct, is it not possible
+that Mistress Lanison may foolishly believe herself enamoured of a
+certain somewhat notorious person, and that those who have her
+well-being at heart think it necessary to protect her from this
+notorious person until she becomes more sensible?"
+
+Harriet Payne watched him as he spoke. There was a smile upon his
+handsome face such as any honest man's might wear when dealing with an
+excitable and imaginative opponent. Then, as Crosby spoke, she looked at
+him.
+
+"I will tell you the truth," he said, speaking in a low, clear, and
+incisive tone. "You would yourself marry Barbara Lanison, and, having
+established a hold over her guardian, you have attempted to force her to
+such an alliance by threats. At every turn in the game you have been
+foiled. You have failed to impress Mistress Lanison; you failed in a
+villainous endeavour to defend her against a drunken man who was acting
+on your suggestion; you failed to capture me at Lenfield when you had no
+warrant but your own will for attempting such a capture."
+
+"You have sat at the feet of an excellent taleteller, sir, or else you
+have a prodigious imagination of your own."
+
+Harriet Payne's eyes were fixed upon Rosmore. She watched him, and
+looked no more at Crosby.
+
+"Failing in these endeavours, you made other schemes," Crosby went on.
+"Having taken a servant girl from Lenfield, you make use of her. She was
+an honest girl, I believe, not ill-intentioned towards me, but in your
+hands she was as clay. How you have deceived her, or what promises you
+have made to her, I do not know, I can only guess, but, to serve your
+own purposes, you have made a liar and a cheat of her. She has brought
+Mistress Lanison to Dorchester for you, that you may once more attempt
+to force a marriage which is distasteful to the lady. That is the story
+up to this moment."
+
+"You appear to know the lady's secrets as well as mine."
+
+"No, not as well as I know yours," Crosby answered. "Had I done so, I
+might have outwitted you and have prevented her coming to Dorchester."
+
+"For a man who so easily believes every tale he hears, you are an
+exceedingly self-reliant person."
+
+"And fortunate, too," said Crosby, "since I have an opportunity of
+showing you the end of the story."
+
+"A prophet, by gad!" exclaimed Rosmore.
+
+"I entered this room in time to hear your transaction with Judge
+Marriott," said Crosby. "Now the story ends in one of two ways. You have
+two orders of release, one for Mistress Lanison, one for me. I know
+their value, or you would not have been so anxious to get them, and I
+have at least one friend in Dorchester who can execute those orders
+without any question being raised. Those orders you will deliver to me,
+here and now."
+
+"May I know how else the story might end?" Rosmore asked contemptuously.
+
+"With your death," was the quiet answer. "Oh, no, not murder; death in
+fair fight. You are hardly likely to scream for help, I take it; you
+have yourself carefully locked the door, and no one is likely to pass
+along the alley outside that window. You may choose which way the story
+shall end."
+
+"You so nearly make me laugh at you, Mr. Crosby, that I find the utmost
+difficulty in quarrelling with you. The orders I shall not part with,
+and I am half minded to call for help."
+
+"You would not need it when it arrived," Crosby answered.
+
+"And you would hang to-morrow."
+
+"You have worked so secretly that I hardly think suspicion would fall
+upon me. I could go as quietly as I came, and no one be any the wiser."
+
+"You shall be humoured, Mr. Crosby. I never thought to cross blades with
+a man ripe for Tyburn Tree, but the blade can be snapped afterwards."
+
+"It is the way I should prefer the story to end," Crosby returned.
+
+Rosmore pushed back the table, then the swords rang from their
+scabbards.
+
+The girl behind the curtain did not move. She had watched Rosmore's face
+to try and learn whether Crosby's story were true. She travelled from
+doubt to belief, then back to doubt again, and now as the swords crossed
+she was fascinated, held there, it seemed, by some power outside
+herself, unable to move, powerless to cry out. She knew not what to
+believe. Lord Rosmore had not admitted the truth of the story, still he
+had not denied it. He had fenced with it. Harriet Payne had been at
+Lenfield long enough to understand the estimation in which her master,
+Gilbert Crosby, was held; he was not a man to lie deliberately, and she
+dared not face him, knowing the part she had played. She had played it
+because she loved this other man, but, dispassionately described as
+Crosby had told it, the offence she had committed seemed far greater
+than she had imagined. If Rosmore had deceived her! The thought burnt
+into her soul and sent the hot blood to her cheeks. Was she merely a
+silly wench, as were hundreds of others, won by a smooth tongue,
+stepping easily down into shame at the bidding of the first man whose
+words had enough flattery in them? Was there truth in what the trooper
+Watson had suggested? So, with her hand strained against her side, and
+leaning forward a little, she watched the play of the swords.
+
+Rosmore was not smiling now. He was a master of fence, had proved it a
+dozen times, more than once had sent his man to his account. He had
+never yet faced an antagonist whose skill was quite equal to his own.
+Even to-night he would not admit to himself that he had found his equal.
+He remembered that he had drunk much wine, yet, before this, he had not
+fought the worse upon such a quantity. He had known sudden encounters
+over dice and cards when the settlement followed hard upon the quarrel,
+as well as more formal duels, and in none had he been beaten. Truly this
+Crosby was no mean opponent, but no glow of satisfaction at meeting a
+worthy foeman came to Lord Rosmore. This must be a fight to the death,
+and twice in quick succession he attempted a thrust, a famous thrust of
+his, which had so often carried death with it. Now it was parried,
+easily it seemed, and barely could he turn aside the answering point
+which flashed towards him. For a few moments he was entirely on the
+defensive, with never an opening to attack.
+
+Gilbert Crosby's actual experience was not equal to his skill. Once only
+had he fought a duel, and had wounded his man on that occasion. He was
+confident of his skill as he faced Lord Rosmore, but he knew that he
+must lack something of that assurance which comes to the persistent
+duellist, that detachment of self which so often helps to victory. He
+was conscious of a certain anxiety which made him more than usually
+cautious. He fought as a man who must, not as one who glories in it, and
+it was well for Rosmore, perhaps, that it was so. It was for Barbara
+Lanison that he fought, the conviction in his mind that now or never
+must she be saved. No other way seemed open. It was of her he
+thought--of all she must have suffered, of the despicable trickery which
+had been practised upon her, of the fate which awaited her if she were
+not rescued. He loved her, that was as sure as that he lived, but it was
+not his love he thought of just then. As Rosmore once more attacked him
+fiercely the idea of defeat came to him for an instant. For himself he
+cared not, but what would it mean for her! The fight must end. It should
+end soon in the only possible way, honesty triumphant over villainy.
+
+Lord Rosmore's thoughts wandered, too. The end did not really trouble
+him; he had never known defeat--why should it come to him now? Other men
+had parried a difficult thrust twice, and had failed to do so the third
+time; yet he remembered Barbara Lanison's speculation when he had spoken
+of breaking his sword after killing the highwayman. What would the
+highwayman do, she had wondered, if he should prove the victor, and
+Rosmore found himself wondering what Crosby would do in the event of
+such an end. Then he remembered Harriet Payne. What was the girl doing
+behind the curtain? Why had she not rushed into the room, as he had
+fully expected she would do? Had she swooned at the sight of the
+fighting? That he fought in an unrighteous cause he did not think about.
+For him right meant the attainment of what he desired, and his head was
+scheming as he parried Crosby's attack. The fight must end quickly. It
+was very certain that the wine he had taken was telling upon his
+endurance. He almost wished that the girl would scream for help; he was
+half inclined to call for it himself. It would be an easy way to bring
+the end. Lord Rosmore was not himself to-night.
+
+Harriet stood motionless and watched. In her ignorance she thought that
+each thrust must end it, so impossible did it seem to turn aside, now
+this flashing blade, now that; but presently it was evident, even to
+her, that the fight was fiercer. The panting breaths came quicker, the
+blades rang more sharply. She wondered that the house had not been
+aroused, wondered that those passing in the streets had not heard this
+quarrel of steel with steel, and sought to know the reason. Then for the
+first time through long, long minutes her eyes wandered. The power which
+held her immovable and speechless was lessening, but the tension was not
+gone yet. Her eyes wandered, and her ears heard something besides the
+ringing steel. The curtains over the window shook a little, stirred by a
+breath of wind from the alley without. Then the window must have been
+left open! How was it no one without had heard the noise?
+
+Crosby's back was to the window; he could not see that the curtains
+stirred, his ear caught no sound to startle him.
+
+Rosmore, although he faced the window, saw nothing, heard nothing. His
+eyes were fixed upon those of his enemy, who was growing fiercer, more
+deadly every moment. The end was coming. Rosmore knew it, and felt
+weary. Every moment his enemy's point came nearer. It was parried this
+time and that, and again; but still it came. It touched him that time,
+not enough to scratch even, still it touched him! Next time! No, once
+more it was turned aside, and then it touched him again. It was nothing,
+but there was blood on his arm. In a moment that blade which had begun
+to dazzle him would be in his heart.
+
+The curtains stirred again, floating out slightly into the room.
+Harriet's eyes turned to Rosmore, and saw the blood on his arm. She knew
+that this was the end. Then the curtains parted swiftly, and Crosby's
+blade fell with a clatter to the floor. For an instant he was struggling
+in the grasp of two men who had rushed upon him from behind, and was
+then borne to the ground. It was at this moment, too, that Harriet flung
+back the curtain from the door and stood in the room. Perhaps she
+expected Rosmore to make one late thrust at the falling man.
+
+For a moment there was silence.
+
+"Tie this handkerchief round my arm, mistress," said Rosmore; "the
+honours have gone against me."
+
+She did as she was told.
+
+"Shall we secure him, sir?"
+
+"Yes, Sayers, but gently. I would not have him hurt. Forgive me, Crosby,
+I had no hand in this interruption; but, since it comes, I am glad to
+take advantage of it. What brought you here, Sayers?"
+
+"Chance," was the answer. "We were wondering where the alley led to, saw
+the window unfastened, and heard the steel."
+
+"Thank you, Harriet," said Rosmore, as she finished binding up his arm.
+"Help Mr. Crosby to a chair, Sayers. Give me that pistol on the table
+yonder. Here is the key of the door--catch; shut the window, one of you.
+Now go, and wait in the passage until I call you."
+
+"Shall I go?" said Harriet.
+
+"No; stay."
+
+"You may well want to go, girl," said Crosby. "You have betrayed an
+innocent woman into the hands of her enemies, and for reward--what has
+this man promised you for reward?"
+
+"Will you listen to me a moment, Mr. Crosby?" said Rosmore.
+
+"Your confederates have made it impossible for me to refuse."
+
+"That is unworthy of you," Rosmore answered. "I assure you I had no
+knowledge of their presence until I had made up my mind that your point
+was in my heart. I am glad they came for my own sake. I should have been
+a dead man had they been a moment later. I admit my defeat. Technically
+I am in your debt. If these bottles on the table are some excuse for me,
+I yet own that to-night the better man won."
+
+"It hardly looks like it, does it?"
+
+"Life is full of queer chances," said Rosmore, smiling. "You could find
+only two ways of ending your story. You see there is at least a third."
+
+"It but delays the true ending," Crosby answered.
+
+"No; believe me, I see in it a happy ending to the tale, but the tale is
+not quite as you imagine it. It is true that I take a sincere interest
+in Mistress Lanison, and I grieve to think that she has somewhat
+misjudged me, even as you have. You have also spoken some hard words
+against my valued companion here, Mistress Payne. Few men can see eye to
+eye, Crosby. You know Mistress Payne only as in your service--an
+honourable service, I know, yet one she was not intended for. I have
+seen her in different circumstances. Will you favour me by taking back
+the hard words you have said?"
+
+"Yes, when she can prove her innocence, when she can prove that she has
+not betrayed another woman into your hands."
+
+"I think I can prove that," said Rosmore. "Finding Mistress Payne here
+to-night may lead you to surmise many things. Strange to say, I was
+beginning to explain matters to her when we were interrupted, first by
+Judge Marriott, then by you. That is so, is it not?"
+
+"Yes," Harriet answered in a whisper.
+
+"The explanation may be made for your benefit, too, Mr. Crosby, but
+first let me assure you that Barbara Lanison is a woman I would
+befriend, and is nothing more to me. Mistress Payne has done me the
+honour to see in me a worthy man. As soon as this detestable work of
+taking inhuman revenge on poor peasants is over, Mistress Payne will
+become Lady Rosmore--my wife."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+
+LORD ROSMORE AS A FRIEND
+
+A wave of colour swept into Harriet's face as Rosmore turned to her with
+a smile. Doubt and uncertainty had been hers a moment ago, and the sting
+of Crosby's words had hurt her; now this open declaration clothed her
+with a pleasant confusion, vindicated her presence in these rooms, and
+it was natural, perhaps, that there should be gratification in her heart
+that her former master should understand how important a person she had
+become.
+
+Crosby remained silent. Was Rosmore speaking the truth? Could such a man
+marry such a woman? It seemed impossible, and yet where love rules the
+impossible constantly happens. He had grown so used to seeing Harriet
+Payne a serving maid at his manor at Lenfield that he had thought of her
+in no other position. As he looked at her now, standing with her hand in
+Rosmore's, he was bound to admit that she made a pretty figure, that
+many an eye might turn upon her with pleasure, that she certainly looked
+something more than a mere serving maid.
+
+"Have you no congratulations to offer, Mr. Crosby?" said Rosmore. "Will
+you not withdraw some of the hard words you have spoken against this
+lady?"
+
+"I cannot forgive even your future wife for deceiving Mistress Lanison."
+
+"You will presently, when you understand that Mistress Lanison has been
+saved from the intrigues of her uncle and guardian. For the rest, her
+happiness lies chiefly in your hands, and you may find me more useful as
+a living friend than I should have proved as a dead enemy. Gad! you look
+as if you doubted it. No man is such a villain as he is painted, and,
+being a lover myself, I sympathise with all lovers. Perhaps you are
+right to be cautious, wise not to trust me until I have proved myself.
+For a day or two you must be my guest, and you will forgive me if I,
+too, am cautious. You know my position in the West, and, truth to tell,
+I have used it in somewhat unwarrantable fashion on Mistress Lanison's
+behalf. I cannot afford to let you loose in Dorchester while you still
+think me an enemy. You must not blame me, then, if I have you guarded so
+that you must remain my guest even against your will. It will only be
+for a day or two. To-morrow we will go into my scheme in detail, and in
+the meanwhile I would remind you that your capture would rejoice the
+hearts of many. You will be wise to accept quietly the asylum I offer
+you in this house."
+
+"I hope I shall live to thank you for your generosity," said Crosby.
+
+"Indeed, I hope so," Rosmore answered, and he called to the men who were
+waiting without. "Make Mr. Crosby comfortable in one of the rooms
+upstairs. He is my guest, Sayers, and is to be well treated. That I have
+such a visitor is not to be spoken of, but you must see that he remains
+my guest. I do not ask for your parole, Mr. Crosby, because I do not
+believe you would give it, but I ask you to be wise for--for the sake of
+Mistress Lanison. Unfasten those bonds, Sayers--we do not keep prisoners
+here."
+
+"I do not understand you, Lord Rosmore," said Crosby, standing up. "It
+may be that I shall know you better to-morrow."
+
+"You will have slept, I trust, and clearer vision often comes with the
+new day. Good-night."
+
+With a slight inclination of the head Crosby left the room with his two
+gaolers, for gaolers they surely were, although he had been called a
+guest. One of the triple alliance had grievously failed in his endeavour
+to help the woman who was in such sore distress; would the others fail
+as ignominiously?
+
+"Are you satisfied?" asked Rosmore, turning to Harriet. "This pretty
+head of yours must have thought of hating me as you heard my character
+so basely spoken of."
+
+"I am a woman, and was suspicious."
+
+"And now, though still a woman, have no evil thoughts about me. I
+warrant you, this fellow Crosby will hardly be gracious enough to thank
+me when I place the woman he loves in his arms."
+
+"You have not told me your scheme." "Scheme!" Rosmore exclaimed. "My
+head is full of schemes, and one comes uppermost at this moment. It is
+natural since it concerns you. I cannot let you serve another any
+longer. There are many rooms in this house; you shall stay here. Nay,
+let this kiss stop all remonstrance. I will send at once for some decent
+woman in the town who shall be your maid for the present, and Mistress
+Lanison shall have someone to wait on her in your place. I cannot have
+the lady who is to be my wife stooping even to serve Mistress Lanison.
+Rosmores ever looked eye to eye with their fellows, and long ancestry
+and loyalty have given them privileges even in the presence of the King.
+Are you angry that I already teach you something of what my love means?"
+
+"Angry? No; proud."
+
+"Come, then. Let us see what is the best this house can do for you."
+
+"Am I to be guarded like your other guest?" she asked demurely.
+
+"Aye, far more strongly guarded, for at every exit Love shall stand
+sentinel."
+
+She leaned towards him, and he kissed her again, even as a man will kiss
+the woman he worships. Then they went out.
+
+Barbara Lanison was sorely troubled when Harriet Payne did not return.
+The girl had gone to try once more to get speech with Judge Marriott,
+and her mistress waited for her impatiently. So much depended on her
+success, and never for a single instant had Barbara doubted her loyalty.
+As the hours passed and the girl did not return she grew anxious. The
+town was in the hands of rough soldiers, whose licence, if even half the
+stories she had heard were true, had gone unpunished. The officers were
+no better than their men, and there must be a thousand dangers for a
+girl like Harriet Payne in the streets of Dorchester. Barbara blamed
+herself for letting her run into such danger, and, as she thought more
+of her, thought less of the mission upon which she had sent her.
+
+It was late when the door opened and Watson came in. Barbara had crossed
+the room hurriedly, supposing that it was Harriet, but stopped, seeing
+who her visitor was.
+
+"I have just heard that your maid will not return," Said Watson.
+
+"Where is she?"
+
+The man shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"How can I know? She has probably found freedom more attractive than
+this place."
+
+"Tell me the truth," said Barbara.
+
+"I know no more than that she will not return. That was the bald message
+she sent, with a suggestion that someone else must be found to serve
+you. To-night, it is too late to search the town for a woman willing to
+undertake the duty, but to-morrow--"
+
+"I want no other maid," said Barbara. "There is some reason why the girl
+does not return to me, and you know that reason."
+
+"I can guess."
+
+"It is easy to understand," Barbara returned. "The streets of Dorchester
+are not safe for any honest woman to-day."
+
+"That may be so, madam, but I do not think it is the reason of Mistress
+Payne's desertion. I think fear has stepped in. At the best she did not
+seem to me a courageous person, at the worst she would be an easy
+coward. At any moment Judge Jeffreys may arrive in the town, and it
+would seem that he has less pity on those who help rebels than on the
+rebels themselves; I think that is why your maid does not return."
+
+Barbara did not answer. The coming of Judge Jeffreys must seal the fate
+of Gilbert Crosby. So important a prisoner would be quickly tried and
+speedily executed. Her mission had failed.
+
+"Yes, I believe that is the reason," Watson went on after a pause. His
+conscience awoke for a moment and pricked him sharply, but the breaking
+of this woman's spirit meant money in his pocket, and his manner of life
+had made him an easy victim to such a temptation. Had Barbara shown fear
+and pleaded with him, she might have prevailed and gained a friend; as
+she did not, the man found a certain brutal satisfaction in doing his
+best to destroy her courage by carrying out his master's instructions.
+"I have no doubt that is the reason," he repeated with some emphasis,
+"and I hardly care to blame her. It is a good thing to keep out of the
+way of Judge Jeffreys. Have you heard about Lady Alice Lisle and what
+they did to her lately at Winchester?"
+
+"I have heard of her," said Barbara.
+
+"She was no rebel, I take it," said Watson, "She only assisted a couple
+of fugitives, and for that paid the penalty."
+
+Barbara looked at him questioningly, and he entered into details,
+sparing her nothing of the history of this fiendish judicial murder, and
+contrived to let her see that her own case was not unlike Lady Lisle's.
+Barbara did not move, uttered no sound during the recital. When Watson
+had finished she looked at him.
+
+"It is a marvel to me that rebellion has been confined to the West," she
+said quietly. "Were I a strong man, I should be in revolt at such
+injustice."
+
+"You would be as others, afraid to speak."
+
+"There are some who are not afraid," she answered.
+
+"Aye, and will dangle from a gibbet for their pains. May a rough trooper
+give you a word of advice?"
+
+She bowed her head slowly.
+
+"If you have friends, make petition to them," said Watson. "Be humble,
+and endeavour to escape standing before Judge Jeffreys."
+
+"Can you tell me of what I shall be accused?" Barbara asked.
+
+"No, but means will be found to destroy you. I hear the gossip, and I
+draw my conclusions."
+
+"Can you suggest anyone to whom I can apply?"
+
+Watson had no suggestion to make, but he promised that any message she
+might send should be delivered.
+
+"I thank you for the advice and for the promise," said Barbara. "I can
+think of no friend in Dorchester, and I am not sure that being a rebel
+is not the more honourable position to-day."
+
+"It means death."
+
+"Well? Are there not worse things than death?"
+
+"Truly, I think not. From all other ills a man may perchance recover,
+but from death--never."
+
+Barbara smiled. It was not likely that this man would understand.
+
+"Think over my advice to-night," said Watson. "There are many in
+Dorchester who might help you. Think to-night, and give me the names of
+some friends to-morrow. I shall know whether they are in the town, and
+would help you. To-morrow also I will seek for a new maid to serve you."
+
+"Spare yourself that trouble," Barbara said as he went to the door. "So
+short a service as I shall require is not worth anyone's taking."
+
+Watson was a soldier, and in his way a good soldier. He would have faced
+death at a moment's notice so long as he was well paid for doing so, and
+would be loyal to those he served, unless perchance a very heavy bribe
+were offered him and there was a reasonable probability of safety in
+accepting it. He had risen to some authority amongst his fellows, and
+did not think meanly of himself. He was convinced that his treatment of
+Barbara Lanison had been diplomatic, whereas his whole manner and
+conversation had put her upon her guard. He had succeeded in convincing
+her that he was laying a trap for her indiscretion, and that to trust
+him would be only playing into the hands of her enemies. In the morning
+she had thought of no friend to mention to him, and had decided not to
+trust him even with a message to Judge Marriott. Such a message was more
+likely to be used against her than on her behalf. Shrugging his
+shoulders, Watson departed, and did not disturb her again until the
+evening. Then he entered the room quietly, and dropped his voice to a
+whisper.
+
+"I have found you a friend," he said, "a powerful friend who runs some
+risk to serve you. Take my advice, and treat him courteously."
+
+"Who is he?"
+
+Watson did not answer, but went to the door. A closely-cloaked figure
+entered, and Watson went out, closing the door. Then the cloak was
+thrown back.
+
+"Lord Rosmore!" Barbara exclaimed.
+
+"At your service, but speak low. I come secretly. This trooper found me
+out, but I had already been scheming on your behalf. He was able to help
+me in my one remaining difficulty."
+
+She drew back from him.
+
+"I have not asked for your help," she said.
+
+"I know. You have misunderstood me, Mistress Lanison, and I grant you
+have had some reason. I would have won you if I could, and, as many
+another lover has done, I have thought all ways honest. I was wrong. I
+ask your pardon."
+
+"What is the purpose of this visit?" she asked. She knew that she was a
+helpless prisoner, she knew that this man was powerful in the West, yet
+she stood before him, looking straight into his eyes, defying him to
+frighten her or to bend her to his will.
+
+"To help you."
+
+"I have no need of your help," she answered.
+
+"I have more than words to prove my sincerity, yet I would justify
+myself a little. I have loved you; even now I may think that your coming
+to the West was foolish, that the man you have jeopardised yourself to
+save is hardly worthy, but--"
+
+"You have beaten me, Lord Rosmore," said Barbara quietly. "I am
+convinced that I owe my position here in Dorchester to you and to my
+uncle. It may save you trouble and time if I tell you that your success
+ends here. I would rather die the death of a traitor than marry you."
+
+"I know that," he returned just as quietly. "Love plays the fool with us
+all, even making Mistress Lanison of Aylingford Abbey fall a victim to
+the worship of a highwayman. To help him you are even willing to
+sacrifice yourself to a brute like Judge Marriott."
+
+"I have indeed been betrayed by those I trusted," said Barbara.
+
+"It is the common fortune, and help conies, as it often does, from those
+we distrust and hate," was the answer. "Marriott would have let you
+sacrifice yourself, but he would have done little else. It makes me sick
+to think that I should have a rival in such a man. But let that pass.
+You were doomed to failure, for it is my business to know everything
+that happens in the West just now."
+
+"Again I say, Lord Rosmore, that between us there can be no terms."
+
+"Still, you must listen to me; so far you are in my power. Your
+infatuation for Galloping Hermit seemed to me so impossible a thing that
+I confess I have done my utmost to save you. You are not to be saved;
+therefore I will help you. What your sacrifice could never have done, my
+knowledge of Marriott's vile character has accomplished. I have in my
+possession two orders--one for your release, one for the release of
+Gilbert Crosby."
+
+A quick intake of her breath showed Barbara's sudden excitement. For an
+instant the good news was everything, the next moment she remembered
+from whom it came. Either the news was untrue, or there would be
+conditions.
+
+"I can see that you do not trust me," said Rosmore, reading the look in
+her eyes. "These are the orders signed by Judge Marriott."
+
+She looked at the papers which he held out.
+
+"Even these shall not tempt me to make terms."
+
+"There are no conditions except that you and your lover leave
+Dorchester--together," he said with a short laugh. "He will probably
+hasten to get out of the country as soon as possible, since he has
+become too notorious to live in it in safety, unless he still prefers
+the excitement of the road to the quiet peacefulness of your love."
+
+"Is this some new trickery?" she asked.
+
+"Perhaps there is some little revenge in it," he answered. "There comes
+a time when a scorned lover may cease to care for the woman who flouts
+him, and will remember that the world holds fairer women. When he finds
+this fairer love he is happy, but a spirit of retaliation may remain. I
+think this is my case. To be the wife of a notorious highwayman would
+not appeal to many women; most women would prefer to be Lady Rosmore,
+whatever the drawbacks to such a position might be. Mistress Lanison
+will go her own way, and I should be more than human if I did not hope
+that she may live to regret it. There is no trickery, and no condition
+except that you leave Dorchester together. Once safely in his hands, I
+can trust Gilbert Crosby not to let you escape him."
+
+"I ought to thank you, Lord Rosmore, but--"
+
+"But you may live to curse me for my help. It is possible, probable
+even. You have three days to think it over. Escape will not be possible
+until then."
+
+"There is some scheme against me," said Barbara passionately. "You and
+my guardian have--"
+
+"I said I had more than words to prove my sincerity," said Rosmore,
+going to the door. He went out. "I will give you an hour," Barbara heard
+him say, and then another closely-cloaked figure entered and the door
+was shut and locked.
+
+"Gilbert!" she cried, and the next moment she was sobbing in his arms.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+
+LOVE AND FEAR
+
+Gilbert!
+
+It was the first time she had called him by his name, and surely on her
+lips there was unexpected music in it. She had come into his arms and,
+with a sob, had nestled there as if she had found safety and content.
+Her face was hidden against him, and he kissed her hair reverently, not
+daring to attempt to turn her face to him. His possession of her was so
+sudden that he was as a man who dreams a dream, half conscious that it
+is a dream, which he would not have broken. Until he was in the room
+Crosby could not believe that the promise which Rosmore had made would
+be fulfilled. He could not believe that Barbara was close to him, that
+he would see her. He had listened to Rosmore as he unfolded his scheme
+for their escape, trying to detect the direction of his villainy, never
+for an instant believing that he was sincere; and, after all, he had
+done as he had promised, he had brought him to Barbara Lanison. The
+woman he loved was in his arms. It was wonderful, wonderfully true! The
+rest would happen in its due time. Life with love in it was to be his.
+The man he hated had proved a friend. So he kissed the beautiful fair
+hair and waited for Barbara to look up, that he might read her heart
+through her eyes and kiss her lips.
+
+Barbara did not look up. Almost unasked she had crept into the arms that
+opened to her, quickly and without question. From the first moment she
+had seen Gilbert he had been more to her than any other man, and, if she
+had not dared to admit it even to herself, she knew she loved him. Had
+she not come to the West to save him? Had she not been ready to
+sacrifice herself for him? She, too, had placed no trust in Lord
+Rosmore, yet the unexpected had happened. He had brought Gilbert Crosby
+to her. They were to escape together. She and Galloping Hermit, the
+notorious wearer of the brown mask, were to go together! He was a man, a
+true man, she had said it, she meant it, but--Ah, strive to forget them
+as she would, Rosmore's words had left a sting behind them. For all he
+was a man, he was a highwayman, and she was Barbara Lanison, of
+Aylingford Abbey! She did not look up as she gently disengaged herself
+from his arms.
+
+"Tell me everything," she said quietly. "We have only an hour. I heard
+him tell you so when you came in."
+
+If Crosby was disappointed, if at that moment the desire to hold her in
+his arms and kiss her lips was almost beyond his control, he let her go
+without protest. It was for him to do her will, and how should he, who
+had never squandered spurious love, know the ways of a woman with a man.
+She sat down, leaning a little forward in her chair, her hands clasped
+in her lap. She did not look at him as he stood beside her, telling her
+shortly and quickly what he had done in the West. He told her how Martin
+Fairley had found him in the wood, and how they had come to Dorchester
+on the night of her capture.
+
+"You had not been a prisoner at all?" she asked.
+
+"No, you were brought to the West by a lie; but I shall never forget
+that you came, and why you came. What did you think you could do?"
+
+"I thought I could help you."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Judge Marriott had once made me a promise that if I asked him he would
+contrive the escape of anyone I--anyone I was interested in."
+
+"Such a man would not make a promise for nothing."
+
+"No."
+
+"What was his reward to be?"
+
+"I hoped he would let me off," Barbara said, covering her face with her
+hands, "but he wanted me to marry him. That would have been his price,
+and I should have paid it."
+
+"Oh, my dear, don't you know I would rather have died a score of
+deaths?"
+
+"And then, when you came to Dorchester?" she asked. She did not look at
+him; her head was lowered and her hands clasped in her lap again.
+
+"We tried to find you, Martin and Fellowes and I."
+
+"Sydney Fellowes?" she said.
+
+"It was a triple alliance," said Crosby. "What the others have done
+since I parted with them I do not know. I sought out Rosmore," and then
+he told her of the duel and of Harriet Payne. "I should have killed him
+that night had we been undisturbed a moment longer, and then I might
+never have found you."
+
+"Harriet Payne to be Lady Rosmore, is it possible?" said Barbara. "Do
+you suppose Lord Rosmore is honest with her or with us?"
+
+"How can I think otherwise now? He has brought me to you when he could
+so easily have kept us apart. Why should he not fulfil the rest of his
+promise?"
+
+"Has he told you his scheme?" she asked.
+
+"Yes. In three days we are to leave Dorchester together. I shall wait
+with a coach just outside the town, on the road which leads down to the
+River Frome, and you are to join me there. It is not far from this
+house, and you will be safely guarded on your way to me. Then--"
+
+Crosby paused, hoping to see her look up with the light of love in her
+eyes. She remained with her head lowered.
+
+"Then we shall be free," he said. "And it is for you to command which
+road we take, and how far we journey upon it together."
+
+She moved a little restlessly. In this one short hour, which was
+slipping away so fast, she had to decide upon what her future was to be.
+She loved, but she was the daughter of a proud race, whose blood mingled
+with the best blood of which England could boast. The man beside her was
+more to her than any other man could ever be, yet he was the highwayman,
+"Galloping Hermit," the notorious wearer of the brown mask, the man upon
+whose head a price was set, and who would surely perish miserably at
+Tyburn if he fell into the hands of his enemies. Great provocation might
+have made him a knight of the road, romance had succeeded in setting him
+apart from his brethren, but was she justified in loving such a man,
+could she give herself into his keeping? And she dared not tell him all
+that was in her heart, for she knew instinctively how he would answer
+her. She knew that he would sacrifice himself for her without a moment's
+hesitation; she believed that, without her, life would be of little
+worth to him. Their love was a strange thing, binding them together in
+silence. He had never said that he loved her; knowing what he was he had
+not dared to speak, perhaps, yet he had opened his arms and she had gone
+to him without a question. What words were needed to tell such a love as
+this? Her lover must be saved at any cost, and afterwards--
+
+The silence seemed long as these thoughts sped through her mind. She was
+conscious that his eyes were fixed upon her, felt that he understood
+something of the doubts which troubled her.
+
+"I do not trust Lord Rosmore," she said.
+
+"Nor should I if I could conceive any advantage he could gain from his
+present action," Crosby answered. "He knows that I am a valuable
+prisoner. He might reasonably hope that he is now in a position to bring
+pressure upon you. He and I have stood face to face, letting cold steel
+settle our quarrel. I say it not boastingly, but I should have killed
+him. He admitted defeat, although I was robbed of victory. Under all the
+evil that is in him may there not be some generosity? I am inclined to
+think this is his reason for helping us."
+
+"He gave me another reason," said Barbara quietly.
+
+"Tell me."
+
+"Revenge. I should live to regret leaving Dorchester with Gilbert
+Crosby, who would never let me go, once I was in his hands. I have
+scorned him for a--"
+
+"For me," said Crosby. "True, I have no such name as Rosmore has, I
+cannot offer you a tithe of what he can give you. My most precious
+possession is my love, but in love he is bankrupt beside my wealth.
+True, too, that I will not easily let you go, but you shall choose your
+own path. We will seek safety together, and then--then if along the road
+I would have you take you see difficulties and dangers, if in your mind
+there stands a single shadow which you fear, you shall take your own way
+unhindered and alone. If you will it, I will pass out of your life and
+you shall never hear of me again. Can you not trust me?"
+
+"You know I do; you should not even ask the question, but--ah, Gilbert,
+cannot you understand the trouble that is mine?"
+
+"Yes, dearest; I know, I know," he said, falling on his knees beside
+her. "Chance brought me into your life, chance gave us a few sweet hours
+together, yet how little can you know of me. We are not like other
+lovers who have told each other their secrets, who have dreamed long
+dreams together. Only to-night you have been in my arms for the first
+time. I have never told you that I love you, yet you know it."
+
+"Yes, I know it," she whispered.
+
+"And yet you are afraid. I do not blame you, my dearest; you know so
+little about me, but you shall question me once we are free."
+
+"And you will answer all my questions?"
+
+"All of them, even if the answer should bring a blush of shame to my
+cheek," he said.
+
+"And if--if I asked you to give up something, to begin a new life, to
+forsake old friends, old associations?"
+
+"I shall live only for you," he said.
+
+Then for the first time she looked straight into his eyes. What was the
+question in them? She was waiting, for some answer--what was it?
+
+"You must be lenient with me," he said. "When a man answers all a
+woman's questions, it is because he worships her, only because of that,
+and then he understands how poor a thing, how unworthy he is. I shall
+answer them all, you must be lenient and forgive."
+
+She still looked at him, but did not speak.
+
+"I may argue with you, use all the power I have to win your forgiveness,
+use all the depths of my love to show you that our way henceforth must
+be together. Be sure I shall not easily let you go. Rosmore was wrong,
+you shall be free to choose; but I will use every artifice I have to
+make you choose to stay with me. It has never seemed to me that words
+were necessary. Love came to me as the sunshine and the wind come, given
+to me, a free gift from Heaven. One moment I was without it, ignorant of
+it, and the next it was a part of my life. Before, to live had seemed a
+great thing, to be a man, to do a man's work was enough; afterwards,
+life could not be life without love. Rob me of love now, and you leave
+me nothing."
+
+"When was the moment, Gilbert?"
+
+"When I saw you shrinking from the crowd as it poured out of Newgate,"
+he whispered.
+
+"Even then?" she said.
+
+"Yes; and I did not know who you were, Barbara. It did not seem to
+matter. Love had come--I thought to us both. I could not understand that
+it should come to me so suddenly, so wonderfully, and not come to you
+also. A little waiting, and then you would be mine. It must happen so.
+And then came my token and talisman. See how close it has clung to me."
+
+With fingers that trembled a little, he drew out the white ribbon which
+was fastened about his neck. She touched it, looked at it and at him.
+
+"It fell from your throat, or waist, when you moved to come with me. I
+caught it as it fluttered to the ground and hid it. I have worn it ever
+since. I have kissed it night and morning, and it has brought the vision
+of you to my waking eyes and into my dreams. I have seen you going from
+room to room in my old home at Lenfield, I have seen you descending the
+stairs, so vividly that I have found myself holding out my arms to you.
+Sometimes when the days were dark, and I was troubled, an awful sadness
+has crept into my soul. Doubts have come. Should I ever see you in those
+rooms, on those stairs? And then, dearest, I have touched this ribbon
+and hope has come again like sunshine after storm. Aye, you shall
+question me as you will, but be very sure I shall not easily let you
+go."
+
+Barbara stood up suddenly. Her hands were in his, and she made him rise
+from his knees. She stood before him, her eyes looking into his.
+
+"And, Gilbert, when you have ridden in the night, alone, have you
+thought of me then?"
+
+"Since love came I have never ridden alone," he answered. "No matter if
+the stars were clear, or the night had wind and rain in it, you have
+been beside me. At times, lately, a hundred difficulties have stood in
+my path. It seemed impossible that I could win safety for some poor
+wretch of a fugitive, so impossible that I might have given up the task
+in despair only that you seemed to speak to me, encouraging me. No; I
+have never been alone since love came."
+
+"I am glad," she said.
+
+"And you love me, Barbara?"
+
+"Yes--yes, I must love you, I cannot help it, but--" and then she
+stopped, for there were sounds of footsteps in the passage. "Is the hour
+gone so soon? Kiss me, Gilbert; I love you. No matter who you are, or
+what you have done, I love you. I am yours, always; no other shall kiss
+me or hold me in his arms. But, remember, I have your promise, I may
+take which road I choose, alone and unhindered if I will it so," and
+then, as the door opened, she pushed him gently from her, and they were
+standing apart when Rosmore entered.
+
+"It has seemed a long hour, Mistress Lanison, to a waiting man. To
+you--"
+
+"Long enough to hear the plan you have made for my escape," said
+Barbara.
+
+"For your escape and Mr. Crosby's," said Rosmore, laying some stress
+upon his words.
+
+"For which we both thank you," she went on. "For my part I have had,
+perhaps, unjust thoughts concerning you, your present generosity makes
+me understand that in many ways I have misjudged you. Please forgive
+me."
+
+"You certainly have misjudged me in many ways, Mistress Lanison, and, as
+I have said, you may not have much cause to thank me for what I do now."
+
+"I have decided to run the risk."
+
+"You have yet three days in which to alter your decision if you so
+wish," Rosmore returned. "The delay is necessary. The road will be freer
+and safer then, and the town too much occupied with Judge Jeffreys to
+pay much attention to anyone else. Mr. Crosby has told you the place of
+meeting. The trooper Watson will follow you and see you safely into Mr.
+Crosby's company, and then freedom and happiness. Until then you must
+not meet. I must think of myself, and bringing Mr. Crosby here is a
+risk. Should you, even at the eleventh hour, change your mind, I will
+let Mr. Crosby know. Once upon the road, no one is likely to stop you,
+especially if you go southwards, as I presume you will; but in case of
+accident, there is Judge Marriott's order for your release. With that in
+your possession, I know of none who would refuse to let you pass."
+
+Barbara took the paper.
+
+"And there is your order, Mr. Crosby. It is time we went. Your servant,
+Mistress Lanison," and Rosmore bent low over her hand.
+
+"Thank you," she said in a whisper. Crosby in his turn bent over her
+hand, his lips touching it.
+
+"Until you come to me," he said, "God keep you."
+
+A swift pressure of his fingers was her only answer. Then the door
+opened and shut again, the key was turned in the lock, and she was
+alone.
+
+As Gilbert Crosby had been brought there, in a coach and blindfolded, so
+he left, and went back with Lord Rosmore to his lodgings.
+
+"In view of your kindness in helping us, the bandage hardly seemed
+necessary," said Crosby, as he took it off, when they had entered
+Rosmore's room, the same room in which they had fought.
+
+"You might grow weary of waiting, and attempt to see her. Lovers are
+like that, and often spoil the best-laid schemes," Rosmore laughed. "Oh,
+I am thinking chiefly of myself. Jeffreys has no profound love for me,
+and would rejoice to catch me tripping. You are no longer my guest, Mr.
+Crosby. I have done my part, and your presence here is a danger to me.
+You are free to go. Perhaps you had better tell me where you are to be
+found during the next three days. Women are sometimes as changeful as a
+gusty wind, and Mistress Lanison might alter her decision."
+
+Although astonished at being set at liberty at once, Crosby was not so
+off his guard as to mention "The Anchor" in West Street. He gave the
+address of Fellowes' lodging. It was the only other place he knew where
+a message could reach him.
+
+"Good-bye, then," said Rosmore. "You will be wise to keep within doors
+until you leave Dorchester for good. There are many who know Gilbert
+Crosby, and once in the hands of Jeffreys you would have short shrift."
+
+"Thank you. I shall take care. I believe you have proved a friend, Lord
+Rosmore," and Crosby held out his hand.
+
+For a moment Rosmore hesitated.
+
+"No; we will not shake hands," he said. "If I have found consolation, I
+cannot forget who you are and that you have robbed me of Mistress
+Lanison. To clasp your hand would mean to wish you good luck, and I
+cannot do that. I want her to know that she has chosen badly. You and I
+could never be friends, Mr. Crosby."
+
+"As you will; yet I would repay your kindness if ever the opportunity
+should offer."
+
+Rosmore shrugged his shoulders as he crossed the room and Crosby went
+out, Sayers joining him in the passage and seeing that no one hindered
+his going.
+
+For a few minutes Rosmore remained in deep thought, and then Harriet
+Payne came in.
+
+"You look strangely ill-tempered," was her greeting.
+
+"My face must be a poor index to my thoughts," he answered, with quick
+yet forced gaiety. "I have just finished a good work."
+
+"What is that?"
+
+"Making two people happy. Come and kiss me, and I'll tell you all about
+it." Yet all her kisses and arts of pleasing could not keep the
+thoughtfulness out of his face as he told her how Barbara Lanison and
+Gilbert Crosby were to leave Dorchester together.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+
+THE TRIPLE ALLIANCE
+
+There was little danger of anyone recognising Gilbert Crosby as he
+passed through the streets of the town. A swinging lantern might
+illumine his face for a moment, or the beam of light from some
+unshuttered window might have betrayed him to some watching enemy, but
+everyone in the houses and in the streets had enough to think about
+to-night. Judge Jeffreys had come to Dorchester. To-morrow his ferocious
+voice would be dooming dozens to death in that court with the scarlet
+hangings. The Bloody Assizes would have commenced in earnest, and there
+were few families in Dorchester which had not one relative or friend
+waiting in the prisons to be tried for rebellion. There was already
+mourning in the city, and the soldiers were in readiness lest
+desperation should drive to riot. Crosby might have gone with less care
+than he did and yet passed unnoticed.
+
+In the upper room at "The Anchor" he found Fellowes, who sprang up at
+his entrance.
+
+"Gad! I had lost all hope," he exclaimed. "I have been searching the
+town for you. I thought Rosmore must have caught you."
+
+"He did. A miracle has happened. Where is Fairley?"
+
+"I have not seen him since we parted the other night," Fellowes
+answered. "I have picked up some information, but have had no one to
+tell it to."
+
+"And I have seen Mistress Lanison."
+
+"Seen her!"
+
+"Seen her and spoken to her. It is a miracle, I tell you." And Crosby
+gave him the history of his dealings with Lord Rosmore, omitting no
+detail from the moment he had stepped into the room and overheard part
+of the conversation with Judge Marriott to his leaving Rosmore's lodging
+less than an hour ago.
+
+"It is well that you did not tell him of this place," said Fellowes.
+
+"You do not trust him?"
+
+"No. Do you?"
+
+"I cannot see how he is possibly to profit out of such a plan," said
+Crosby.
+
+"The devil tempts in the same way," answered Fellowes. "If we could
+always see through the devil's plans we should less often fall a victim
+to his wiles. If an angel came and bid me trust Rosmore, I should have
+no faith in the angel."
+
+"Let us find the weak places in the scheme if we can," said Crosby.
+
+"There is one I see at once," said Fellowes. "You are taken blindfold to
+Mistress Lanison's prison. You do not know in what part of the town she
+is. You cannot watch the house. Why the delay of three days?"
+
+"I am inclined to think Rosmore has been generous this time," Crosby
+persisted.
+
+"If by some strange chance he has, there are three days in which he may
+repent of his generosity," was the answer. "I have seen Marriott. He
+told me of his interview with Rosmore, and that the orders had been
+stolen from him, he did not explain how. Rosmore has no fiercer enemy at
+the moment than the judge. Marriott knew nothing of Mistress Lanison's
+capture; indeed, he declared that he did not believe she was in
+Dorchester. One thing he was certain of, that Rosmore intended to force
+her to marry him."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Perhaps by letting her appear before Jeffreys, allowing her to be
+accused and condemned, and then rescuing her at his own price. This is
+Marriott's idea."
+
+"She would not pay the price."
+
+"And I fear Marriott would not be powerful enough to save her, although
+he says he could, if Rosmore took this course. The outlook is black,
+man, black as hell, and only one feeble ray of light can I bring into
+it. Marriott has promised to help me to open her prison doors should she
+be condemned. To his own undoing I believe he will keep that promise, so
+great is his hatred of Rosmore."
+
+"What can we do?" said Crosby, pacing the room with short, nervous
+strides. "It is damnable to be so helpless."
+
+"Wait; there is nothing else to do. Marriott is doing his best to find
+out where Mistress Lanison is imprisoned. He is to let me know. If we
+can find that out we may yet beat this devil Rosmore."
+
+"He may be honest in this," said Crosby.
+
+"We will have the coach waiting," Fellowes answered, "but I do not
+believe Rosmore is ever going to help you to use it. I wish Martin were
+here."
+
+"Where can he have gone?"
+
+"Working somewhere for his mistress," said Fellowes. "That is certain
+unless he is dead. You recollect he said he had a half-formed scheme in
+his mind. Next morning I found a message here that he might be absent
+for a day or two."
+
+"Some forlorn hope," said Crosby.
+
+"Perhaps, but Martin's forlorn hopes have a way of proving useful. You
+will lie low here, I suppose, Crosby? I will get back to my lodgings,
+and if I hear from Marriott I will come to you at once--or from Rosmore.
+It may be part of his design to make you think Mistress Barbara has
+changed her mind."
+
+"If he sent such a message I should know he was lying."
+
+"Don't leave here, Crosby. Much may depend on my being able to find you
+at a moment's notice, and Martin may return at any time. You and I have
+only discovered how great our difficulties are. Let us hope Martin will
+have found the way out of them."
+
+Would he? Crosby wondered, when he was left alone. In what direction
+could Martin be seeking a solution to the problem? Not in Dorchester,
+surely, or he would have come to the "Anchor" tavern. Where else? In
+London? At Aylingford? Yes, perhaps at Aylingford; an appeal to
+Barbara's guardian. If Martin Fairley had attempted such a forlorn hope
+as this it was unlikely that he would bring much help with him when he
+returned. Hour after hour Crosby sat there alone, now staring vacantly
+at the opposite wall, now pacing the narrow room like a caged and
+impotent animal. The dawn found him asleep in his chair.
+
+News travelled slowly. Messengers, with instructions not to spare their
+horses, might ride to London, to the King at Whitehall, yet Lady Lisle
+had been executed at Winchester before the story of her trial was known
+in parts of Hampshire even. If one were far from the main road, where
+news might be had from the driver or guard of a coach, information could
+only come from some wandering pedlar to a remote village, and might or
+might not be true. Vague stories were told, and forgotten as soon as
+told. Men and women, with a hard living to earn, cared little what was
+happening fifty or a hundred miles away, unless a son or brother or
+friend had had part in the rebellion. At the village of Aylingford no
+one appeared to have this personal interest, and they were ignorant of
+the fact that at least one messenger had ridden to the Abbey with news
+for Sir John. He had come at nightfall, had been with Sir John for an
+hour, and had then departed. He had not lingered in the servants'
+quarters to whisper something of his news, nor had Sir John mentioned
+his coming to his guests. There were not many guests at Aylingford just
+now, and Mrs. Dearmer yawned openly, and confessed herself bored. She
+seemed to have taken up her abode permanently at the Abbey, playing the
+hostess, and to some extent ruling Sir John.
+
+"I vow, Abbot, you're less lively than a ditch in a dry summer," she
+said to him the day after the messenger had been.
+
+"What shall we do to make us merry? You have only to command," he
+answered.
+
+"Plague on it, I am at a loss to know. In all our present company
+there's not a wit worth listening to, nor a woman with sufficient vice
+or virtue to make her interesting. I feel like turning saint for the
+sake of a new sensation."
+
+"There are some things even you cannot do, and turning saint is one of
+them."
+
+"I would have said as much for you," she returned. "But this morning
+your face has already begun to play the part. It might belong to the
+painted window of a chapel."
+
+"Is it so uninteresting?" laughed Sir John. "Truly, you and I must
+devise some wickedness to pass the time until kindred spirits return to
+the Abbey. Half the monks of Aylingford are in the West, and the nuns
+find it dull without them."
+
+"Next week we will go to town," said Mrs. Dearmer. "I love you, Abbot
+John, with all the wickedness that is in me, but truly you have grown
+dull lately."
+
+No one was better qualified to pass judgment on Sir John than Mrs.
+Dearmer. To her he was dull, perhaps the worst crime a man can be guilty
+of in the eyes of such a woman, yet the accusation did not trouble him
+now as much as it would have done at another time. He was restless, and
+if his conscience was too moribund to have the power of pricking, he had
+become introspective. Fear and superstition took hold of him, and he
+could not shake himself free. The news which the messenger had brought
+him was good news, yet, even as the man had delivered it, a candle had
+guttered and gone out, and Sir John saw a warning of disaster in the
+fact. He was constantly on the watch for such omens, and saw them within
+the house and without. He met a new kitchen wench who looked at him with
+eyes askew, sure sign of evil. Three crows with flapping wings settled
+at dusk upon the terrace wall and called to him as he passed. A vase of
+quaint workmanship, brought from the East Indies by his brother,
+Barbara's father, split suddenly in twain, and Sir John trembled as with
+an ague at so sure a premonition of evil as this. There were moments
+when he could not bear to be shut in a room, when the confinement
+between four walls seemed to stifle him, and like a half suffocated man
+he would stagger on to the terrace and gasp for breath.
+
+He promised Mrs. Dearmer that next week he would go with her to town,
+and all that day he tried to prove that he was not dull. The effort was
+successful until the evening, and then came the feeling of suffocation
+and the need for deep draughts of air. With a muttered excuse he left
+his guests to their play and laughter, and hurried to the terrace.
+
+The night was still, not a breeze stirred in the trees, and the light of
+a young moon was upon the terrace, casting faint, motionless shadows
+over greensward and stone flags. For a little while Sir John stood
+looking down into the stream, which seemed asleep to-night. Upon it the
+shadows quivered, but scarce a ripple of music came from underneath its
+banks. A man might well feel some regrets for the past on such a night
+of peace, might well hear the small voice of conscience distinctly, but
+with Sir John there was only superstition and fear.
+
+Motionless shadows on the terrace, and yet Sir John turned suddenly, as
+though he were conscious of movement, and his eyes rested upon a shadow
+in the angle of a wall. He had not noticed it before; now for a little
+space it seemed like other shadows, but Sir John was not deceived. It
+moved, coming out from the wall and towards him, and a man stood there.
+
+"Martin!"
+
+Sir John was not a coward, but a sigh of relief escaped him when he
+realised that this was no phantom, but a thing of flesh and blood--only
+Mad Martin.
+
+"I have waited for you, Sir John."
+
+"The doors were not locked against you, though they well might have
+been. Where do you spring from to-night, and what have you been doing?"
+
+"Wandering and dreaming."
+
+"In a mad mood, eh?"
+
+"Yes, when I see things and hear voices," said Martin in a sing-song
+tone, as though he were dreaming now and unconscious of the words his
+lips uttered. "I heard my mistress calling me. Where is she, Sir John?"
+
+"In London, Martin."
+
+"No; she was, but not now. She was calling from a dark room, and the
+door was locked. I could see the room, a miserable room, but I could not
+see her, only hear her. She was in the power of Lord Rosmore."
+
+Sir John bent forward to see Fairley's face more clearly in the
+moonlight. He had known him in this mood before, known him to give
+strange but good advice while in this state. He was satisfied that
+Martin was unconscious now, and was eager to question him.
+
+"What will happen, Martin?"
+
+"I cannot see."
+
+"But why come to the Abbey?"
+
+"She sent me to you. I know not why, but I have waited. I heard her say
+that I must not be seen. She thought you could save her."
+
+"How?"
+
+Martin put his arm across his eyes for a moment.
+
+"It is all a mist, and the voices are muffled," he said. "You would know
+what Lord Rosmore would do, and would tell me."
+
+"It will be good for her to marry Lord Rosmore," said Sir John.
+
+"Not good for her, but good for you," was the answer; "she said that.
+She said you were afraid of him, that you must do as he willed. It was
+very clear in my dreams."
+
+"Why should I fear him?"
+
+"So many questions give me pain. I was dreaming; I cannot remember
+everything. One thing is clear. She called to me that you might be free
+from Lord Rosmore if you knew a secret which the Abbey holds."
+
+"Do you know it, Martin?"
+
+"Yes; she told me, and it is a secret."
+
+"What is it, Martin?"
+
+"A secret, but I was to tell you if you helped her."
+
+"Stop this foolery!" said Sir John, seizing his arm sharply. "You shall
+be locked up until this wayward niece of mine is safely married."
+
+"Married! Would you die, master?"
+
+"Die?"
+
+"Surely. The stars showed it me long ago. Two planets in conjunction,
+that was the marriage, and then across the night sky the flash of a
+meteor, dead and cold in a moment."
+
+"Curse your dreams and the stars!"
+
+"Listen!" said Fairley. "Cannot you hear the music of chinking money?
+Look, master! I see gems like eyes--white and red and blue--diamonds,
+rubies, and sapphires. That is all part of the secret, that and the
+Nun's Room."
+
+"Tell me the secret," said Sir John.
+
+"If you help my mistress."
+
+"I know nothing."
+
+"I have forgotten the secret," Martin whispered.
+
+He moved away slowly and then stopped.
+
+"Master, why not be rich? What is it to you and me what happens to
+Mistress Barbara, so we can be rich? I would be rich, too. If Lord
+Rosmore has power over you, money and jewels will buy freedom. It is
+true, somewhere in the Abbey the wealth of the Indies has been buried. I
+know it."
+
+"Then tell me, Martin."
+
+"You fool, you fool, you have made me forget, but I shall remember if
+you will only let me. In dreams, when we promise and do not fulfil, we
+forget everything. You must help my mistress, or I cannot remember. See,
+I have a proof. Once, long ago, I found that in the Nun's Room; I
+thought it was glass, but Mistress Barbara's voice says it is a diamond.
+Take it, master, you will know."
+
+It was a diamond which Sir John held between his finger and thumb. In
+the moonlight the colours sparkled, such deep, clear colours as never
+came from glass. It was a stone that had been set; how had it come into
+the Nun's Room? Sir John's pulses quickened. If he told what he knew,
+what harm would be done?
+
+"It is a diamond, Martin."
+
+"One among hidden hundreds. Help the mistress, master, and let us be
+rich. You must give me a little of all we find, so that I may always
+have a fire in winter and can eat and drink when I like; that is to be
+rich, indeed."
+
+"I will tell you what I know, Martin, but how can it help Barbara?"
+
+"She has command of my thoughts, as you speak she will hear; but a
+warning, master--you must speak the truth. I shall not know the truth
+from a lie, but she will, and if you lie we shall not find the
+treasure."
+
+"Barbara went to Dorchester to try and save the highwayman, Gilbert
+Crosby," said Sir John. "It was Rosmore's device to send her word that
+Crosby was a prisoner, and on the way she was captured, not by the
+King's troops as a rebel, but by men in Rosmore's pay. She is in no real
+danger, but she does not know this. She will not be brought before
+Jeffreys or any other judge, but she will be treated as though this were
+to be her fate. Rosmore will save her, do you understand, and in her
+gratitude she will give him his reward."
+
+"How will he save me?" came the question in a monotonous voice, and Sir
+John started, for it did not seem as if Martin had asked it.
+
+"The day of the trial will be fixed--it may be to-day or to-morrow, I
+cannot tell; but the night before she will be smuggled into a waiting
+coach and driven here to Aylingford."
+
+"Must she promise to marry Lord Rosmore first?"
+
+"Probably. Yes, he will certainly make her promise that before he helps
+her. It is not a hard promise to make, Martin; Lord Rosmore is a better
+mate than 'Galloping Hermit.'"
+
+Martin sighed and rubbed his eyes. He looked round him and then at Sir
+John.
+
+"I thought I was speaking to Mistress Barbara," he said. "Ah, I
+remember, I was. We have helped her, Sir John. How she will use that
+help does not matter. Is she to give a promise to Rosmore? I wonder what
+will happen if she will not give it?"
+
+"I do not know. Such is Lord Rosmore's plan, but circumstances might
+make him alter it."
+
+"And if he fails he may denounce her and leave her to her fate," said
+Martin. "She won't be the only woman to suffer, and, whichever way it
+ends, we have something else to think of--riches."
+
+"Is it true about this treasure, Martin?" said Sir John.
+
+"True! As true as that Lady Lisle was foully executed at Winchester for
+just such a crime as Mistress Barbara may be accused of if she will make
+no promise to Lord Rosmore."
+
+"That is a horrible thought," said Sir John, shrinking from him.
+
+"We mustn't think. Those who would get rich quickly must act. Come."
+
+He led the way along the terrace towards the ruins, and Sir John
+followed him almost as if he expected to see movement in the motionless
+shadows about him. The prospect of finding this hidden wealth, and all
+it would mean to him, shut out every other thought. The legend of buried
+treasure at the Abbey was not a new one. The monks who had lived in it
+had grown wealthy--why should they not have left their wealth behind
+them? Martin was mad, but in his madness he had strange visions; Sir
+John was satisfied that he had had many proofs of this, and he followed
+him now, never doubting that the treasure existed and would be found.
+
+They came to the opening of the Nun's Room.
+
+"The creepers in this corner are a natural ladder, Sir John."
+
+"But we cannot go down into it, Martin."
+
+"How else shall we get the riches?"
+
+"Those who enter the Nun's Room die within the year," said Sir John,
+trembling.
+
+"A tale made to keep the curious from looking for the treasure," Martin
+answered. "I have gone down many times, but I searched in vain, not
+having the key to the secret. To-night I have it. I will go first," and,
+kneeling down, he grasped the creepers, which grew strongly here, and
+lowered himself quickly.
+
+Sir John was not so agile, but he went down after him. He would have
+accomplished a far more difficult feat rather than remain behind.
+
+"I wonder whether Mistress Barbara will make that promise?" said Martin,
+as Sir John came to the floor beside him.
+
+"I wonder."
+
+"If she doesn't, death. If she does, Rosmore will have a wife; the poor
+highwayman will doubtless hang at Tyburn; but we shall be rich. That
+matters, nothing else does."
+
+"Nothing else, Martin," and, indeed, Sir John was too excited to be
+troubled by any other thought.
+
+Martin guided him across the room.
+
+"Feel, Sir John. This is the ledge where they say the Nun slept;
+creepers hang over it, and behind these creepers--listen, Sir John,
+listen!" and he knocked sharply against the stone wall. "Hollow! It's
+true! This is no solid wall as it seems. Feel, Sir John, your finger on
+the edge of this great slab. A doorway built up, and not so long ago.
+Listen! Hollow! It's true, it's true!" and Martin jumped and clapped his
+hands like a child.
+
+"Yes, it's hollow, sure enough," said Sir John.
+
+"Light and a pick. We'll be in the treasure chamber before morning.
+Wait, Sir John, I'll get them."
+
+"Stop, Martin; where are you going?"
+
+"For a light and a pick," and he climbed out by the creepers in the
+corner. "I know the treasure has been hidden there. I have seen it in my
+dreams."
+
+"Be quick, Martin."
+
+"I shall make more haste than I have ever done in my life before," he
+answered, bending over the edge by the corner. "Poor Rosmore! poor
+highwayman! Only a wife and a gibbet for them. But for us--"
+
+"Stop talking, Martin, and let us get to work," came the answer from
+below.
+
+"I wonder whether Mistress Barbara will make a promise?" And Martin cut
+and wrenched at the creepers where they clung to the stone floor and
+fallen masonry at the top.
+
+"What are you doing?" said Sir John.
+
+"Freeing myself from the creepers. That's done. I'll hasten, Sir John,
+never fear."
+
+Something moved in the dark, sunken room, scraping and sliding.
+
+"Martin!"
+
+Sir John could hear the sound of his footsteps quickly lessening in the
+distance, but there was no answer to his call.
+
+"Martin!"
+
+Still no answer, and the sound of the footsteps had gone. Sir John, with
+his hands stretched out before him, crossed to the corner where he had
+come down. His hands came in contact with a tangle of creepers, hanging
+loose, from the wall. The ladder was broken!
+
+Martin Fairley went swiftly to the terrace and on to one of the stone
+bridges over the stream. Then he paused and listened.
+
+"He will have to cry loudly to be heard to-night. Grant that he may find
+no escape until morning."
+
+Then he crossed the bridge and went swiftly through the woods.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+
+THE FLIGHT
+
+Dorchester was in mourning. If there had been any hope that Mercy and
+Justice would go hand in hand, if there were a lingering belief that
+Judge Jeffreys might not be so cruel as it was said, such hopes and
+beliefs were quickly dispelled the moment that court with its scarlet
+hangings was opened. Even Judge Marriott shrank a little as his learned
+brother bullied and laughed and swore at the prisoners, bidding them
+plead guilty as their only hope of escape, and then condemning them to
+the gibbet with the ferocity of a drunken fiend. Pity crept into the
+hard faces of rough soldiers; the devilishness of this judge appalled
+even them.
+
+Since she had no maid to attend to her, Watson took Barbara her food;
+but, although he had received no instructions to discontinue his efforts
+to break her courage by detailing the horrors of the punishment which
+was being administered to rebels, he spoke of them no more. He pitied
+this fair woman, and was deeply impressed with her bravery. He was not
+wholly in his master's confidence, and believed that his prisoner was in
+grave danger. He did not doubt that under certain conditions she might
+be saved, but she was not the woman from whom promises could be forced,
+and no one could know better than Watson did how ruthless his master was
+in clearing obstacles out of his path, how cruel he was when he became
+revengeful. He knew that Gilbert Crosby had been allowed an interview
+with Barbara Lanison, but was ignorant of the purpose. He did not know
+that her escape had been arranged for, nor that he was to have a part in
+it; and there were times when he weighed against each other his pity for
+the woman and his fear of Lord Rosmore, finding it so difficult to tell
+which outbalanced the other that he went a step further and thought out
+plans for getting Mistress Lanison away from Dorchester. Not one of his
+schemes could possibly have succeeded, but the trooper found a
+satisfaction in making them.
+
+Barbara was speedily aware of the change in Watson's manner towards her,
+but she was not astonished. It was natural under the changed conditions
+of her imprisonment. Every hour brought her freedom nearer, and the man
+knew this, she supposed, and treated her accordingly. Concerning her
+escape she did not question him, but she did ask him whether Judge
+Jeffreys had arrived, and if the Assizes had begun.
+
+"Truth, madam, my duty keeps me in this house, and I know little of what
+is happening in the town."
+
+"Nor how the prisoners will be treated?" Barbara asked.
+
+"Some say this and some say that," Watson replied evasively, "and I have
+enough to do without thinking about the lawyer's work. When I hear
+lawyers talk I can't tell right from wrong. You have to be trained to
+understand the jargon."
+
+So Barbara Lanison heard nothing of the mourning that was in the town,
+and had naught to do during the long waiting hours but think of the
+future and all that it meant to her. She was going with Gilbert Crosby,
+but he had promised that, once they were in safety, she should choose
+her own way. Would she take his road? She loved him. The fact was so
+absorbing that nothing else seemed to matter; yet she had many lonely
+hours for thought, and it would have been strange indeed if none of the
+circumstances of her life, of her position, had demanded her
+consideration. To trust this lover with her future meant the snapping of
+every tie which bound her to the past; it must mean, in the world's
+eyes, bringing contempt upon her name. She faced the truth bravely. It
+seemed an impossible thing that Barbara Lanison of Aylingford should
+marry Galloping Hermit the highwayman. Such a thing might appeal as a
+romantic tale, but in the real world it meant disgrace. In another land
+love might be hers, such love, perchance, as few women have ever had,
+but could it obliterate the past? Would she ever be able to forget that
+the man beside her, his face hidden behind the brown mask, had waited,
+pistol in hand, upon the high road, to rob passing travellers? All men
+were not cowards, nor did they travel unprepared for danger; there must
+have been times when the pistols had spoken in the silence of the night,
+when some hapless traveller had died upon the roadside. Surely there was
+blood upon the hands of the man she loved! The thought bowed her head,
+and her hands clasped as if a spasm of sudden pain had seized her. No
+repentance in the long years to come, not all the good that might be
+done in them, could wipe out the past. And then she tried to find
+excuses for that past, some reason that could justify the life he had
+chosen. Some very definite reason there must have been. The artificial
+glamour of the life would not attract such a man as Gilbert Crosby. He
+must have imagined that justice was on his side, that there was some
+wrong to right, to make him defy all the laws of life and property and
+become a menace and a terror to his fellows.
+
+Stories concerning Galloping Hermit had already passed into legend. His
+greatest exploits always seemed to be against those who were cruel in
+their dealings with others, who were unjust, or those whose lives were
+notoriously bad; and there were many tales of courtesy, of
+consideration, of help, which were totally out of keeping with the
+ordinary career of a highwayman. Barbara remembered his treatment of
+Judge Marriott, remembered what he had said. He was, the world said it,
+quite apart from all other highwaymen; nevertheless, there was a price
+upon his head, and the shadow of Tyburn lay dark across his path. And
+yet he was Gilbert Crosby, the man she loved, the man who was blessed
+and nightly prayed for in many a humble home in this West Country. What
+did the world hold for her that she should thrust such a man out of her
+life? Which way was she to choose--that which led Lack in her uncle's
+world, with its Rosmores, its Branksomes, its Marriotts, its Mistress
+Dearmers, and its shams of love which was vice, and of life which was
+moral death; or that which led to quiet obscurity with the man she
+loved, a sinner, but repentant, in whose worship she could trust, and
+whose touch thrilled her very soul? Had she not almost promised
+already--to take her way with him?
+
+The second day of her waiting had ended, darkness had come; to-morrow
+night she would go. At about this hour galloping horses would be
+hurrying her away from Dorchester. Her thoughts were full of to-morrow,
+when the key turned quietly in the lock and Watson entered.
+
+"Good news, madam. I only heard it an hour ago, and was never more
+pleased in my life."
+
+"What news?"
+
+"That you are to leave Dorchester, and with Mr. Crosby. Craving your
+pardon, madam, I know something of your reason for coming to the West;
+and, for all I'm so rough a fellow, I'm fond o' lovers."
+
+"Thank you," said Barbara, for the man was evidently pleased.
+
+"And it comes sooner than you expected," said Watson. "The road is safe,
+and you are to go to-night."
+
+"To-night!"
+
+"Yes, now. Mr. Crosby will already be waiting on the road which leads
+down to the river. I am to see you safely there."
+
+"But to-night? Are you sure there is no mistake?"
+
+"Quite sure. We must go at once."
+
+Barbara went quickly into the inner room, and in a few moments returned
+closely wrapped in an ample cloak.
+
+"Draw the hood down over your head," said Watson. "The less left for
+prying eyes to see the better. You have the papers signed by Judge
+Marriott?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"One word, madam. No one will hinder us in this house. At the door into
+the street turn to the right. I shall walk close behind you. Do not
+hurry. Do not stop if anyone should speak to you, and do not answer
+them. Walk forward as if I had nothing to do with you."
+
+"I understand."
+
+"Pardon, but the hood does not quite hide your hair. Such hair might
+betray you if we should meet enemies to-night, for I never saw its
+like."
+
+Barbara readjusted the hood, and wondered if Gilbert Crosby admired her
+hair as this trooper did.
+
+Watson opened the door, and they went down the passage together. Two men
+on the top of the stairs stood aside to let them pass; the street door
+was open, and Barbara turned to the right, walking alone, the soldier
+close behind her.
+
+It was a narrow street, and dark, only a light gleaming out here and
+there from an unshuttered window; but there were many people abroad,
+whispering together, and Barbara heard sobbing, once coming through an
+open window, once from a woman who passed her quickly.
+
+"Twenty-nine," she heard one man say in hoarse tones, "the first fruits
+of this bloody vengeance."
+
+"Curse him! May hell reward him," said his companion.
+
+Barbara shuddered as she passed on, although she did not realise what
+the words meant.
+
+Then a man stood in her path for a moment.
+
+"A fine night, mistress," he cried. "Twenty-nine of them by the
+roadside, the chains creaking and the moonlight touching the white
+faces. Never such a thing in Dorchester before. A damned judge, but what
+a show!" And then, with a laugh, he ran past her. The voice and the
+laughter were those of a maniac.
+
+Barbara knew now. Judge Jeffreys had commenced his work. Must she pass
+those hideous signs of it?
+
+"Turn to the right," said Watson behind her.
+
+She turned, as she was told, into a quieter street, and hurried a
+little. To be free from this horrible place, it was her only thought.
+Before she had gone far the houses began to straggle; she was at the
+edge of the town. The moon was just rising, and by its misty light
+Barbara saw that the open country was before her. A little further on,
+the road began to dip, and there, in the shadow of a belt of trees,
+stood a carriage. There were no gibbets with their twenty-nine victims
+along this road; that sight she was spared.
+
+Watson came to a standstill.
+
+"Mr. Crosby waits, madam. Good fortune go with you."
+
+"Thank you," she said, and pressed some coins into the man's hand. "Some
+day, perhaps, I may thank you better."
+
+The soldier saluted as she went forward, watching her, but not following
+her.
+
+The post-boy was already in his place, and it was evident that the
+horses were impatient to be gone. A groom stood beside the carriage.
+
+"Mr. Crosby is here, madam," the man said as he opened the door. "There
+is no time to lose."
+
+Barbara entered the coach quickly, and literally fell into the arms of
+the man who was awaiting her, for as the door was shut the horses
+bounded forward.
+
+"Gilbert!"
+
+The hood had fallen from her fair hair as she turned and leaned towards
+him, and at this moment there was no doubt in her mind which way she
+would choose. Then with a cry she shrank back into the corner of the
+coach. It was not Gilbert Crosby beside her, but Lord Rosmore!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+
+OUT OF DORCHESTER
+
+Watson went back into Dorchester humming the chorus of a tavern song. It
+mattered not to him that twenty-nine rebels swung on their gibbets, but
+it was an intense relief to him that Mistress Barbara Lanison was safely
+out of the town. He doubted whether he could have seen her condemned in
+silence, and to speak might have meant that he would speedily swing by
+the roadside, so he was glad for himself as well as for her. Watson was
+totally unconscious that he had helped to deliver his prisoner into the
+hands of Lord Rosmore. He had received definite instructions to see that
+she safely reached the coach in which Gilbert Crosby was awaiting her;
+he was not to attend her to the door of the coach lest the post-boy and
+groom should become suspicious, but to wait and see that she drove away
+in safety. These instructions he had fulfilled to the letter, and glad
+to have been concerned in such a happy escape, he went back singing.
+
+From first to last Lord Rosmore had carefully matured his scheme. He had
+entrusted Watson with one part of it, Sayers with another, and drew a
+veil over the whole by openly showing and avowing his love for Harriet
+Payne. He might have enemies in the town, but what power had they? Fear
+closed Judge Marriott's mouth; the fiddler, Martin Fairley, had vanished
+into some hole to hide himself; Crosby was waiting patiently for the
+fulfilment of his promise; and Sydney Fellowes, who, to his surprise, he
+learnt was also in Dorchester, could do little against him. Still, it is
+ever the little weaknesses which are the danger-points in great
+enterprises, and Rosmore realised that Fellowes' presence in Dorchester
+might bring all his plans to the ground. Great was his satisfaction,
+therefore, when Barbara entered the coach and the horses started on
+their journey.
+
+At that moment Fellowes was listening to Martin Fairley's account of his
+visit to Aylingford. Martin had entered the town half an hour before,
+and had gone straight to Fellowes' lodging. During his absence the
+meeting-place at "The Anchor" in West Street might have been discovered,
+and Martin could not afford to run any risk to-night. To both men it
+seemed evident that Crosby's reliance in Rosmore's promise was futile.
+It was possible, even probable, that Sir John Lanison might not know all
+Rosmore's plans, or might not have told everything he knew, but all
+faith in Rosmore must fall like a building of cards.
+
+"That road to the river must be watched, Fellowes," said Martin.
+
+"I'll go at once."
+
+"And I will get to 'The Anchor' and see Crosby."
+
+They were leaving the house when a woman met them, inquiring for Mr.
+Gilbert Crosby.
+
+"What do you want with him?" Martin asked.
+
+"Ah, you are the fiddler, but you are a coward." And Harriet Payne's
+cloak fell apart as she turned to Fellowes. "Are you Mr. Crosby's
+friend?"
+
+Martin gave him a quick sign.
+
+"Yes. Is he in danger? Come in and tell me."
+
+"Did you know that he was to have escaped from Dorchester with Mistress
+Lanison to-morrow night?" said Harriet as Fellowes closed the door.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"He's fooled--fooled from first to last. She has gone to-night. She left
+Dorchester, not an hour ago, with Lord Rosmore. He has lied to her and
+to me," and the girl's eyes blazed with fury as she spoke.
+
+"Gone! Willingly, do you mean?"
+
+"Willingly!" exclaimed the girl. "She hates him; she was wiser than I
+was. I loved him. She is in his power to-night."
+
+"Which road did they take?" asked Fellowes.
+
+"That which goes towards the river, afterwards I do not know. If you are
+men follow him. Avenge Mistress Lanison and me."
+
+"You have lied before this," said Martin quietly. "With a lie you
+brought Mistress Lanison to the West. You played Lord Rosmore's game for
+him. How do we know that you are speaking the truth now?"
+
+"I hate him! Love turned to hate--do you know what that means?" said the
+girl, turning upon him like some wild animal. "To-night I waited for him
+and he did not come. Servants saw me and laughed; then one man, jeering
+at me, told me the truth. He has gone with her, and every moment you
+waste he is speeding from you. More, to make himself doubly secure, men
+will come here at midnight asking for Mr. Crosby. They will pretend to
+come from Mistress Lanison, and then capture him. A hasty trial, and
+then the gibbet."
+
+"We'll follow," said Martin.
+
+"And kill him--kill him!" said the girl. "And if you have any thought
+for a deceived woman, let him know that I sent you."
+
+A few moments later Martin and Fellowes were in the street, talking
+eagerly as they went. Martin's head was not barren of schemes to-night.
+
+"You understand, Fellowes. To Crosby first. Tell him everything. Bid him
+not spare his horse, nor pass a coach without knowing who rides in it.
+Then let him hasten to 'The Jolly Farmers,' Tell him to wait there for
+me as he did once before. On no account must he leave it. Then start on
+your road, and leave Dorchester behind you as fast as horse can gallop.
+One of us shall find Rosmore before the dawn."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Heavy clouds sailed majestically across the face of the moon. Now the
+long road lay dimly discernible in the pale misty light, now for a time
+it was dark, so that a coach might have driven unawares on to the
+greensward, or a stranger stumbled into the ditch by the roadside.
+Lonely trees shivered at intervals with a sound like sudden rain, and
+from the depths of distant woods came notes of low wailing, as though
+sad ghosts mourned in a hushed chorus. Hamlets were asleep, and not a
+light shone from wayside dwellings. Yet into a tired man's dreams there
+came the rhythmic beat of a horse's hoofs, far distant, then nearer,
+nearer, and dying again into silence. A late rider, and with this
+half-conscious thought, and an uneasy turning on the pillow perhaps,
+sleep again. On another road, beating hoofs suddenly came to the ears of
+a wakeful woman; someone escaping in the night, perhaps, and she
+murmured a prayer; she had a son who had fought at Sedgemoor. The
+grinding of coach wheels on one road, followed by the barking of dogs;
+and a woodcutter asleep in his hut, which lay at the edge of a forest
+track, was startled by the thud of hoofs, and, springing quickly from
+his hard couch, peeped from the door. Nothing to be seen, but certainly
+the sound of a horse going quickly away. There was naught in his hut to
+bring him a visit from a highwayman.
+
+A man, riding in haste towards Dorchester, with papers and money in his
+pocket which might save his son from Judge Jeffreys, halted suddenly.
+Meeting him came another galloping horseman, and suddenly the moonlight
+showed him.
+
+"Have you passed a coach upon the road?"
+
+The galloping horseman drew rein, and the anxious father trembled. Horse
+and rider might have been of one piece; every movement of man and animal
+was perfect, and the man wore the dreaded brown mask.
+
+"No, I have not seen a coach." And the father, remembering vaguely that
+this notorious highwayman was said to have helped many to escape from
+the West, burst out in pleading. "Oh, sir, have mercy. My son lies a
+prisoner in Dorchester, and the money I have may be his salvation."
+
+"Pass on, friend. Good luck go with you." And with a clatter of hoofs the
+brown mask rode on.
+
+Galloping Hermit was on the road to-night, but a score of travellers,
+carrying all the wealth they possessed, might have passed him in safety.
+He was out to stop one coach wherein sat a villain, and a fair woman
+whom he loved. Surely she must be shrinking back in her corner, so that
+even the hem of her gown might not be soiled by the touch of the man
+beside her.
+
+Lord Rosmore had not attempted to justify himself as the coach started
+upon its journey; he had only told her that escape was impossible, that
+the post-boy was in his pay and had his instructions. Barbara had called
+him a villain through her closed teeth, and then had shrunk into her
+corner, drawing the hood of the cloak closely over her head. She
+realised that for the moment she was helpless, that her captor was on
+his guard, but an opportunity might come presently. The more she
+appeared to accept the situation, the less watch was he likely to keep
+on her. It was a natural argument, perhaps, but far removed from fact.
+Never for an instant did Lord Rosmore cease to watch her. This time he
+meant to bend her to his will, if not one way, then another; fair means
+had failed, therefore he would use foul. For a long while he was silent,
+and then he began to explain why he had acted as he had done. Again he
+showed her how impossible a lover was Gilbert Crosby, and he painted the
+many crimes of a highwayman in lurid colours. He knew she must have
+thought of these things, and he declared that the day would come when
+she would thank him for what he had done to-night.
+
+Barbara did not answer him, and there was a long silence as the coach
+rolled steadily on.
+
+Then Lord Rosmore ventured to excuse himself. He spoke passionately of
+his love for her. His way with women was notorious; seldom had he loved
+in vain, and women whose ears had refused to listen to all other lovers
+had fallen before his temptations; yet never had woman heard such
+burning words as he spoke in the darkness of the coach to Barbara
+Lanison. He was commanding and humble by turns, his voice was tremulous
+with passion, yet not a word did Barbara speak in answer.
+
+Rosmore lapsed into silence again, and he trembled a little with the
+passion that was in him. Love her he certainly did in his own way, and
+he bit his lip and clenched his hands, furious at his failure. It took
+him some time to control himself.
+
+"There are many reasons why you should marry me," he said presently.
+"Some of them I have given, but there are others why you must marry me."
+
+He gave her time to answer, but she neither spoke nor moved. Her
+indifference maddened him.
+
+"Your uncle is wholly in my power, you must have guessed that. A word
+from me, and this fellow Crosby hangs. Sir John is afraid, and you
+cannot suppose that I have left Crosby in Dorchester to go or come as
+he likes. He cannot move without my help. I wonder if you realise what
+your persistent refusal of me will mean. You may drive me to harsh
+measures, and make a devil of me. Thwart me, and I stand at nothing. I
+will bring your uncle to the hangman, and Crosby shall rot in chains at
+four cross-roads."
+
+Barbara moved slightly, but she tightly shut her lips that she might not
+be tempted to speak. He thought her movement was one of contempt, and
+turned upon her savagely.
+
+"And there is yet another way," he hissed, bending towards her. "I swear
+to God I will use it rather than let you go. A careless word or two
+shall easily suffice to smirch your fair fame. Ah! that has power to
+rouse you, has it? I will do it, and for very shame you shall have to
+listen to me."
+
+Still she did not answer him. Silence had served her well. He had shown
+himself to her in all the blackness of his soul. He might kill her, but
+there were worse things than death. She would remain silent. And the
+coach rolled on, now in darkness, now in the misty light of the moon.
+
+There was a dip in the road that every coach-driver knew, a sudden stiff
+descent into a thick wood, the trees arching and mingling their
+branches, almost like a lofty green tunnel, and then a sharp ascent.
+Drivers usually let their horses go, so that the impetus of the descent
+would help to carry them up the opposite incline, for the road was
+loose, and, with a full load of passengers, the climb tested the
+strength of the best teams. Lonely Bottom it was called, and well named,
+for there was no more deserted spot along the road.
+
+The highwayman checked his horse to a walking pace when he came to this
+dip, and went slowly down, and slowly climbed the opposite ascent. He
+patted the mare's neck, and spoke to her in whispers.
+
+"Well done, my beauty! Unless all the fates are against us we have got
+in front of the coach. The glory is yours. I know no other that could
+have carried me as you have done to-night. We shall win, lass, and then
+you shall take life easier."
+
+The mare seemed to understand as she climbed out of the hollow and
+appeared ready to gallop on again; but her rider drew her on the
+greensward beside the road, just beyond the wood, and dismounted. He had
+no doubt that the coach was behind him. He had come by short cuts across
+country, along bridle-paths which shortened the journey. He had not
+struck the road long before he met the traveller going towards
+Dorchester who said that no coach had passed him. He leaned against the
+trunk of a tree, which years ago had been struck and killed by
+lightning, and his thoughts were busy as he looked to the priming of his
+pistols and made sure that certain papers he carried were secure in a
+leathern case, which he slipped back into the pocket of his ample, caped
+coat. His plans were mature. His presence there would be a complete
+surprise. He could not fail so long as the coach came, and it would
+come. Yet, in spite of this conviction, he began to grow anxious and
+restless as the time passed slowly and no sound broke the stillness of
+the night. It was not the first time he had waited by the roadside
+listening for his victim. Excitement he had experienced before to-night,
+but never such anxiety, nor such restlessness. To-night's adventure was
+a thing apart. A woman's happiness depended on his success, a woman with
+a crown of golden hair like an aureole about her, who must even now be
+shrinking from the villain in whose company she travelled.
+
+Presently he started. Most men would have discovered no new sound upon
+the night air, but his ears were experienced and keen. For a moment he
+stood beside the mare, his hand upon her neck, then he sprang lightly to
+the saddle.
+
+"The time has come, my hearty. Here is our place, in the shadow."
+
+Out of the silence grew the sound of distant wheels grinding the road,
+and the beating of horses' hoofs. A coach travelling rapidly. Each
+moment the sounds became more distinct, and then loud as the horses
+plunged down the incline into Lonely Bottom. At a gallop they breasted
+the climb out, but the clatter of hoofs quickly grew uneven as the
+weight told. The post-boy was using the whip vigorously as they drew to
+the top, and then the coach suddenly came to a standstill. The window
+rattled down, and a head was thrust out.
+
+"Move, and you're a dead man!"
+
+The coach had drawn out of the shadows into the moonlight, and Lord
+Rosmore started back, so close was the pistol to his head. He looked
+along it, and along the man's extended arm, and into his face, and a
+half-smothered cry broke from his lips. He had been caught unawares.
+Physically he was no coward, but the sight of the brown mask seemed to
+paralyse him.
+
+"You!"
+
+"Open the door and get out. Quickly, or, by heaven, you shall fall out
+with a bullet through your brain."
+
+From this man Lord Rosmore knew he could expect no mercy, knew that he
+was likely to be as good as his word, and he got out.
+
+"Down with you," said the highwayman to the post-boy. "Take this rope,
+and see that you fasten this gentleman securely to that tree yonder. One
+loose knot that may give him a chance of escape, and I'll see to it that
+you never throw your leg across the back of a horse again."
+
+Covering them with his pistol, he watched this operation performed.
+
+"See that he has no firearms," and the lad hastened to do as he was
+told.
+
+The highwayman carefully examined the cord, and made sure that the
+captive could not get free without help. Then he went to the door of the
+coach.
+
+"You are safe, Mistress Lanison."
+
+"Gilbert!" she whispered.
+
+"Pitch anything that belongs to this fellow into the road."
+
+A coat was thrown out.
+
+"Curse you both!" said Rosmore. "By God! if I live you shall pay for
+your work to-night!"
+
+"Is he to pay the price, mistress?" said the highwayman. "You know what
+you have suffered at his hands. What things have his vile lips
+threatened you with to-night? His life is in your hands. Speak, and the
+world shall be well rid of him."
+
+"Oh, no, Gilbert, no!"
+
+"I almost wish you had said 'Yes.' Mount!" he called to the post-boy.
+
+A string of oaths came from Lord Rosmore.
+
+"Silence!" the highwayman shouted, but the oaths did not cease. Then a
+sharp report rang out upon the night, and a cry came from the captive.
+
+"Oh, Gilbert, you have killed him!"
+
+"That was a cry of fear, mistress. The bullet is in the tree a good four
+feet above his head," said the highwayman as he closed the coach door.
+
+"You must travel for the rest of the journey alone, but have no fear. I
+ride by the coach to see you into safety. Forward, post-boy! Good-night,
+Lord Rosmore. A woman betrayed you, even as you have betrayed many
+women. Thank fate that your life lay in the hands of Mistress Lanison,
+and not in hers. She would have bid me shoot straight. Good-night."
+
+For a moment the highwayman let his horse paw the ground in front of the
+man bound helplessly to the tree. Then he laughed, as a man will who
+plays a winning game, and rode after the coach.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+
+THE LEATHER CASE
+
+Her rescue had been so sudden, so unexpected, that it was difficult for
+Barbara to realise that she was alone in the coach, that she need no
+longer shrink away from a man she hated, that her ears were no more
+assailed by threats and vile insinuations. The relief was so intense
+that for a little while she revelled in her liberty, and cried a little
+for very joy. Why did not the man who had delivered her come to the door
+of the coach and talk to her? Not as he had done just now, calling her
+Mistress Lanison and seeming not to hear when she had called him
+Gilbert, but as he had spoken to her that other night in her prison in
+Dorchester. She leaned forward to listen. Yes, he was on the road behind
+her, she could hear the steady canter of his horse; why did he not ride
+where she could see him? He must know that she would want him close
+beside her. Did he know it? He wore the brown mask to-night, and, oh,
+the difference it made! With that silken disguise, and with his coat
+close fastened at the throat, she would never have recognised him in the
+moonlight had she not known who he was. Involuntarily she shuddered a
+little at the thought that he was indeed two men, so distinct that even
+she, had she not known, would have failed to see her lover in the wearer
+of the brown mask. Why did he not come to the window, come as himself,
+without that hideous disguise which distressed her and brought so many
+horrible fancies and fears into her mind? Should she call to him? She
+was much tempted to do so, but surely he knew what was best for her
+to-night. There might be other enemies upon the road, she was safer
+perhaps in the charge of the brown mask than she would have been had he
+ridden beside her as Gilbert Crosby.
+
+The coach rolled steadily on through the night, now in the shadow of
+dark woods, now across a stretch of common land where the misty
+moonlight seemed to turn the landscape into a dream world, silent and
+empty save for the sound of the grinding wheels and the steady beating
+of the horses' hoofs. The long monotony of the sound became a lullaby to
+the girl, tired in body and mind. Last night, and the night before, she
+had slept little; now, with a sense of security, she closed her eyes,
+only that she might think the more clearly. There were many things she
+must think of. Gilbert Crosby would not easily let her go, this she
+knew, and to-morrow, perhaps, she would have to answer his question,
+would have to decide which way she would take. The lullaby of the
+grinding wheels became softer, more musical; the corner of the coach
+seemed to grow more comfortable; once she started slightly, for she
+seemed to have stepped suddenly back into her prison in Dorchester, then
+she smiled, knowing that she was free, that Lord Rosmore was bound and
+helpless, that Gilbert Crosby was near her. The smile remained upon her
+lips, but she did not move again. She was asleep. Even the jolting upon
+the rougher by-road along which the coach was driven presently did not
+rouse her. She did not see the dawn creeping out of the east, she was
+not conscious that the highwayman came to the window and looked at her,
+that he stopped the coach for a moment, nor did she feel the touch of
+gentle hands as he folded her cloak more closely about her lest the
+chill breath of the morning air should hurt her.
+
+The dawn came slowly, very slowly, to the man bound securely to the tree
+by the roadside. When the sound of the wheels had died away, Lord Rosmore
+struggled to free himself, but the post-boy had done his work too well.
+Every knot was securely fastened and out of reach. Once or twice he
+shouted for help, and the only answer was an echo from the woods. Unless
+a chance traveller came along the road he could not get released until
+the day broke. It was wasting strength to shout, and he wanted all his
+strength to help him through the strain of the night. All his will was
+bent on not allowing his cramped position to so weaken him that
+to-morrow he would be unable to pursue his enemy. Crosby had outwitted
+him for the moment, but to-morrow the game might be in his hands again,
+and he must retain his strength to play it. Many a man would have lost
+consciousness during the night, but Lord Rosmore's determined spirit and
+fierce lust for revenge helped him. He would not allow his limbs to grow
+stiff, the cords gave a little, and every few minutes he twisted himself
+into a slightly different position. He would not close his weary eyes,
+but set his brain to work out a scheme for Crosby's downfall. The coach
+would certainly make for the coast presently. Some delay there must be
+before reaching it, and further delay before a vessel could be found to
+carry the fugitives into safety. Crosby could not possibly be prepared
+for what had happened, and time must be wasted in making up his mind how
+to use to the best advantage the trick in the game which had fallen to
+him. Galloping Hermit, the highwayman, must be cautious how he went, and
+caution meant delay at every turn. He would not easily escape.
+
+So the dawn found Lord Rosmore with aching limbs but with a clear brain,
+and he looked about him, as far as he was able, wondering from which
+direction help would most likely come. On the ground, at a little
+distance from him, lay a heavy coat, just as Barbara had thrown it from
+the coach last night, and a growling oath came from Rosmore's dry lips.
+He wished with all his heart that he had delivered her into Judge
+Jeffreys' hands in Dorchester. She would have been just such a delicate
+morsel as the loathsome brute would have gloated over. How easily, too,
+he might have had Crosby hanged in chains. He had been a fool to let
+love influence him. Then his eyes turned slowly to the ground
+immediately in front of him. The turf was cut and trampled where the
+highwayman had been, by the impatient hoofs of his pawing horse, and
+there lay in the very centre of the trampled patch a leather case. It
+must have fallen from Crosby's pocket last night. Had the highwayman
+unwittingly left behind him a clue that would be his ruin?
+
+The thought excited the helpless man, and he began to listen for coming
+succour, and once or twice he shouted, but it was only a feeble sound,
+for his throat was parched, and his tongue had swollen in his mouth.
+
+Chance came to his aid at last; a dog bounding from the woods not far
+distant saw him, and racing to the tree tore round and round it, barking
+furiously, bringing a man out into the open to see what so excited the
+animal. The woodman hastened forward.
+
+"Eh, master, but what's been adoing?"
+
+"Highwayman--last night," said Rosmore feebly. Now that help was at hand
+his strength seemed to dwindle to nothing.
+
+The man cut the cords so vigorously that Rosmore stumbled forwards and
+fell. For an instant he was powerless to move, and then with an effort
+he crawled a few inches until his hand touched the leather case.
+
+"The coat," he muttered. "The pocket--a flask."
+
+The liquid revived him, and he drew himself painfully into a sitting
+posture.
+
+"'Galloping Hermit'--the brown mask--last night," he said.
+
+"The brown mask!" exclaimed the man in a low tone, looking round as if
+he expected to see the famous highwayman. "Your horse gone too."
+
+"It was a coach. I want a horse. Where can I get one?"
+
+"Lor', master, you couldn't get into the saddle."
+
+"Where can I get one?" Rosmore repeated, speaking like a man who was
+breathless from long running.
+
+"There's the village over yonder, two miles away."
+
+"Lend me your arm. So," and Rosmore drew himself to his feet. "Earn a
+guinea or two and help me to the village."
+
+"Can you walk at all?" asked the man.
+
+"The stiffness will go by degrees. Slowly to begin with, that's it. Two
+miles, eh? It will be the longest two miles I've ever walked, but it's
+early. They won't escape easily. By gad! they shall suffer!"
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Both of them, the man and the woman."
+
+"The woman!"
+
+"Curse you, you nearly let me fall," said Rosmore. "Don't talk. I can't
+talk."
+
+At a little tavern in the village Lord Rosmore ate and drank, and while
+he did so he carefully examined the contents of the leather case. There
+was a key and several papers closely written upon. Rosmore's eyes
+brightened as he read, and the papers trembled in his hand with
+excitement. All his thoughts were thrust into one channel, one idea and
+purpose took possession of him. Soon after noon he painfully mounted a
+horse which the landlord had procured for him and rode slowly away. He
+was in no fit condition to take a long journey, so it was fortunate that
+he had time to spare and could go quietly. He thought no more of Barbara
+Lanison or Gilbert Crosby, he might follow them to-morrow; but to-day,
+to-night, he had other work to do, and he laughed softly to himself as
+he felt the leather case secure in his pocket. Some tricks in the game
+he had lost, but the winning trick was his.
+
+It was dark when he reached the woods which lay on the opposite bank of
+the stream below Aylingford. He tethered his horse to a tree and went on
+foot towards one of the bridges which led to the terrace, and there he
+waited, leaning against the stone wall, looking at the house. Lights
+shone from a few of the windows, but the Abbey did not look as if it
+were full of guests. There was, perhaps, the more need to exercise
+caution. The balmy air of the night might tempt visitors on to the
+terrace if the play did not prove exciting, and if the talk became stale
+and wearisome. So Rosmore waited. He did not intend to enter the house,
+and a little delay was of no consequence. Only one man besides himself
+could know the secret which the leather case held, and that other man
+was far away from Aylingford.
+
+Most of the windows in the Abbey were dark when Rosmore crossed the
+bridge to the terrace and walked lightly towards the ruins, careful to
+let the shadows hide him as much as possible. Entering the ruins, he
+drew the case from his pocket and took out the key. By Martin's tower he
+stood for a moment to listen, but no sound came to startle him, and he
+fitted the key into the lock. The door opened easily, and Rosmore
+entered, closing it again and locking it on the inside. Gently as he did
+it, the sound echoed weirdly up the winding stairs. The door at the top,
+and that of Martin's room, hung broken on their hinges. Nothing had been
+done to them since the night they were forced open in the attempt to
+capture Gilbert Crosby; nor did it appear that Martin had occupied his
+room since then. The piece of candle was still upon the shelf, fastened
+to it with its own grease, and Lord Rosmore lit it. Then he drew the
+papers from the case, and turned to one portion of the writing. He had
+already studied it carefully, but he read it once again, and, bending
+down to the hearth, felt eagerly along the coping which surrounded it.
+His fingers touched a slight projection, which he pressed inwards and
+downwards. It moved a little, but some few moments elapsed before he
+succeeded in making the exact motion necessary, when the front portion
+of the hearth was depressed and slid back silently.--Taking the piece of
+candle in his hand, Rosmore stepped into the opening and went cautiously
+down the narrow twisting stairs, without attempting to shut the secret
+entrance. The instructions contained in the leather case were exact,
+even to a rough calculation of the value of the treasure hidden below
+the Abbey ruins. Rosmore came at last to a wide chamber, bare wall on
+one side, but on the other three sides were a series of arches, some of
+them framing recesses merely which were not uniform in depth, some of
+them forming entrances into other rooms. The corner arch at the further
+end was the one mentioned in the papers, and Rosmore went slowly across
+the stone floor, the feeble light of the candle casting weird shadows
+about him. For the first time the eeriness of the place forced itself
+upon him. These stone walls must have sheltered many a secret besides
+the one he had come to solve. Unholy deeds might well have happened
+here, and into his memory came crowding many a legend he had heard of
+Aylingford Abbey. Phantoms of the past might yet haunt these dark
+places, and to the man breaking into this silence alone ghosts were easy
+to believe in. Phantoms of the present might be there, too, for to-day
+vice was the ruling spirit of the Abbey, and there were those who
+declared that evil might take shape and in an appointed hour deal out
+punishment to its votaries.
+
+Rosmore found an effort necessary to retain his courage as he went
+towards the opposite corner. The light, held above his head, fell
+quivering into the recess there, and touched a great oak coffer,
+massively made, and heavily bound with iron. It was exactly as the
+papers said, and therein lay the treasure, gold and jewels--the wealth
+of the Indies, as the writing called it. He stood for a moment looking
+at the recess, and then, as he took a hasty step forward, he started,
+and a sharp hiss of indrawn breath came from his lips. A sudden sound
+had struck upon his ear, a grating noise, then silence, then light
+footsteps. In a moment Rosmore had blown out the candle, his one idea
+being to hide himself; fear caught him, the darkness was so great. Who
+was it? What was it coming towards him with those stealthy steps? Nearer
+they came, and from one of the arches a faint glimmer of light, as
+though the old walls were growing luminous, and a man carrying a lantern
+entered the chamber and stood there, raising the lantern above his head.
+It was Sir John Lanison. A little sigh of relief escaped from Rosmore.
+He had only flesh and blood to deal with, a man full of foolish
+superstition. He, too, must have come seeking treasure, but which way
+had he come, and how had he found the courage to embark on such an
+adventure? Must two participate in this treasure after all! No, however
+great it might be, Rosmore wanted it all. He would not share it with any
+man. A word growled in the darkness would terrify the superstitious Sir
+John; he would flee as though ten thousand devils were at his heels, or
+perchance the sudden terror might kill him. The alternative did not
+trouble Lord Rosmore, and he smiled as Sir John came slowly towards him,
+holding the lantern close to the floor that he might not step into some
+hole. As the light came close to his motionless figure, Rosmore uttered
+a low cry, weird enough to startle the bravest man. It may have startled
+Sir John, but he did not shriek out in fear nor turn to flee. He raised
+the lantern sharply, and it hardly trembled in his hand.
+
+"Rosmore!" he exclaimed.
+
+Rosmore was so taken back by this strange courage that he did not answer
+at once, and the two men stood with the raised lantern lighting both
+their faces.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Martin Fairley had left him down in the Nun's Room, Sir John had
+been terrified. He had shouted for help to no purpose, and he was not
+released until early on the following morning. How he came to be there
+he did not explain. He went to his own room, and gave instructions that
+he was not to be disturbed. Once alone, his mind became active, and he
+shook himself free from his fear. Wealth was within his grasp. That
+Martin had run away and left him did not shake his belief. Martin was a
+madman, not responsible for his actions from one moment to another, but
+in his trance he had seen this treasure, therefore it was there, Sir
+John argued. More, the entrance to it lay behind the Nun's hard couch;
+only a stone slab blocked the entrance. Greed took the place of fear,
+and it may be that Sir John was a little off his mental balance, and
+forgot to think of fear. He was certainly cunning enough to make plans
+and to carry them out secretly. He left his room unseen, and the Abbey
+by a small door seldom used; and, having secured a pick and a length of
+rope while the stable men were at their dinner, he went to the Nun's
+Room. He would chance anyone coming into the ruins and hearing him at
+work, and nobody did come. He fastened the rope round a piece of fallen
+masonry which was firmly embedded in the ground and lowered himself. He
+worked all the afternoon, and the stone slab was loose before he climbed
+out of the Nun's Room again. Then he went back and mixed with his guests
+for an hour or two, so that they might not grow anxious about him and
+come to look for him. Escaping from them with an excuse that he could
+not play to-night, and must retire early, he went again to the ruins and
+resumed his work by the light of a lantern. He had succeeded in gaining
+an entrance, the hidden treasure was a fact; his one idea was to get
+possession of it, and, absorbed in this thought, other sensations were
+dormant for the time being. He was so savage that anyone else should
+know the secret that he forgot to be afraid. When the lantern showed him
+who his rival was, there was no need to be afraid, for Lord Rosmore
+would assume that they could be partners in this as they had been in
+much else, and Sir John smiled, for he intended to free himself from
+such a partnership. He had a pistol with him, and since Rosmore had
+evidently come to the Abbey secretly, no one would be likely to look for
+him there.
+
+"There are evidently two ways to the treasure, Sir John?" said Rosmore
+after a pause.
+
+"And we have found them," was the answer. "It is lucky that no one else
+forestalled us. The treasure first. We may count it, and tell each other
+how we found it afterwards."
+
+Lord Rosmore turned to the recess, and Sir John went eagerly forward
+with the lantern. The exact position of the treasure he had not known,
+but catching sight of the iron-bound box, he determined that no one
+should share its contents with him. He set down the lantern.
+
+"The key in the lock!" he exclaimed. "It was foolish to leave it in the
+lock."
+
+"Who would come to this infernal tomb?" said Rosmore.
+
+"Two of us have come," said Sir John, as he turned the key and raised
+the heavy lid.
+
+A few crumpled pieces of paper, one or two torn pieces of cloth, an
+empty canvas bag, half of a broken jewel case, and in one corner the
+glitter of two or three links of a gold chain. This was all the great
+chest contained!
+
+"You forgot that bit of chain when you removed the treasure, Sir John,"
+said Rosmore, pointing to it.
+
+"Liar! Robber! Where is it?"
+
+Rosmore laughed; perhaps he was unconscious that he did so.
+
+The empty chest seemed to have paralysed his brain for a moment. He
+could not think. He could not devise a scheme for forcing the truth from
+his rival.
+
+Sir John had only one idea--revenge. This man had robbed him. The
+treasure was gone, but the thief was before him. With an oath he sprang
+forward, there was a flash in Rosmore's face, and a report which echoed
+back from every side sharply. The bullet missed its mark, chipping the
+stone wall behind. Then the two men were locked together in a silent,
+deadly struggle. Lord Rosmore was the stronger and the younger man, but
+he had not recovered from the cramped position in which he had spent the
+long hours of last night, and perhaps Sir John was mad and had something
+of a madman's strength. Neither could throw the other off, nor gain the
+advantage. Fingers found throats, and gripped and pressed inwards with
+deadly meaning. Never a word was spoken. The lamp was overturned and
+went out, each man holding to his adversary the tighter lest he should
+escape in the darkness. Shuffling feet and gasping breaths, then a heavy
+fall, then silence.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Daylight crept down into the Nun's Room and into Martin's room, with its
+gaping hearth, but no one came out through the hole behind the Nun's
+hard bed, nor climbed the narrow stairs into the tower room. The day
+passed, and the night, and another dawn came. The door of the tower was
+still locked on the inside, and the rope was still hanging into the
+sunken room. That morning the rope was seen when the ruins were
+searched, and presently two of the guests climbed down and entered the
+underground chamber, carrying lanterns and walking carefully.
+
+Sir John Lanison and Lord Rosmore were both dead. Both faces were
+discoloured and told of a horrible struggle. It looked as if Rosmore had
+succumbed first, for he lay on his back, his arms flung out. Sir John
+was lying partly across his body; it seemed as though his fingers had
+just relaxed their hold on Rosmore's throat.
+
+Why this awful tragedy? One of the guests noticed the iron-bound chest,
+and, looking in, saw the broken gold chain gleaming in the lantern
+light.
+
+"A treasure!" he exclaimed, holding it up. "All that is left of it!"
+
+Then they looked at the dead men, so suggestive in their ghastly
+attitude, and they thought they understood. Those old monks, thinking
+perhaps that they would one day return to their old home, must certainly
+have buried a treasure under the walls of Aylingford.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+
+SAFETY
+
+The door of "The Jolly Farmers" had only just been opened to the
+business of a new day when Gilbert Crosby came by a narrow track through
+the woods on to the road. His horse was jaded, and bore evidences of
+having been hard ridden.
+
+At the inn door Crosby dismounted, and the landlord came hurrying out
+to welcome his early visitor. He looked at the horse, and then shouted
+towards the stables.
+
+"It's evident you are going no further on that animal at present. Shall
+I hide him in the place I have in the woods yonder? Have you given them
+the slip, or are they close upon your heels?"
+
+"There is no need to hide him," said Crosby, as he entered the inn. "It
+would seem that you remember me."
+
+"Aye, faces have a way of sticking in my memory. I had to conceal you
+one night when you came inquiring for a fiddler."
+
+"This morning I am come to look for him again."
+
+"His appointment?" asked the landlord.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then you may wait contentedly. I never knew him to fail. If he failed I
+should say he had met his death on the way. Death is the only thing that
+would stand between his promise and its fulfilment. Come into the inner
+room. We might get other early visitors, and the door in the wall might
+be useful."
+
+"And food--what about food at this early hour? I am well-nigh starving."
+
+"I'll see to that, and I take it that a draught of my best ale will take
+the dust out o' your throat pleasantly. That beast of yours has done a
+long spell from stable to stable, I warrant."
+
+"From Dorchester," said Crosby.
+
+"And that's a place you're well out of, since Jeffreys must be there by
+this time."
+
+Crosby nodded, and the landlord drew the ale and busied himself with
+ordering his guest's breakfast.
+
+Crosby had but half appeased his hunger when the sound of wheels was
+upon the road. As he hurried out the landlord stopped him.
+
+"Carefully, sir. Better let me see who it is."
+
+"Quickly, then! It is a coach, and I must know who rides in it."
+
+The tired horses came to a halt before the door, and by the coach was a
+horseman, the dust of a long journey upon his horse, upon his clothes,
+even upon the brown mask which concealed his face. Then the window of
+the coach was lowered, and a head was thrust out, a head shining with
+golden curls which the hood did not wholly conceal. Only a few minutes
+ago Barbara had roused from her long sleep, startled for a little space
+that the walls of her prison at Dorchester were not about her. The
+knowledge that she was free, that she had escaped from Lord Rosmore,
+quickly brought the colour to her cheeks, and her eyes were bright and
+full of questions as she looked at the man in the mask.
+
+"Barbara!"
+
+She turned with a sharp little cry of bewilderment. The landlord,
+standing at the inn doorway, had been thrust aside, and Gilbert Crosby
+was beside her. He lifted her from the coach, yet even when he had set
+her on the ground he did not release her.
+
+"Gilbert, I do not understand--I thought--" and her eyes turned towards
+the masked horseman.
+
+"I know not who you really are, sir," said Crosby. "I know that you are
+called 'Galloping Hermit,' I know that I am so deeply your debtor that I
+can never hope to repay. At Lenfield a little while ago you saved my
+life, to-day you bring me what is more than life."
+
+"And a message," said the highwayman. "Word from a certain fiddler you
+expected to find here. He will not come. It has fallen to my lot to
+rescue this lady from a scoundrel, and I do not think he will attempt to
+follow you. There are horses to be had from the landlord here, and in
+half an hour you may be on the road for Southampton. The fiddler bids
+you not to wait for him, but, on the road, to stop at a house named 'The
+Spanish Galleon,' There you will find a friend who has secured your safe
+departure from the country."
+
+"You will not tell me who you are?" said Crosby, whose keen eyes were
+trying to penetrate the disguise.
+
+"'Galloping Hermit,' Mr. Crosby."
+
+"While fresh horses are being harnessed, Mistress Lanison will have a
+hasty breakfast, at least share the meal with us."
+
+"Daylight is dangerous for me. I ride safely only in the night. A
+tankard of ale, landlord, and then for a hiding hole."
+
+Barbara gently put Crosby's arm away from her, and went to the
+horseman's side.
+
+"Whoever you may be, I thank you from the bottom of my heart," she said.
+"You cannot know all that you are to me. You have been constantly in my
+thoughts; I will not tell you why, but I have shuddered to think what
+must sometimes have happened when you rode in the night. Might not the
+brown mask cease to exist? Some day I may be in England again, may be
+strong to help if need should come. Take this ring of mine. The man who
+brings it to me, though many years should pass between now and then,
+shall never ask of me in vain. Burn the mask, sir, and learn that you
+are too honest a gentleman for such a trade."
+
+The man took the ring.
+
+"Mistress Lanison, I have stopped my last coach," he said. "It was a
+good ending since it saved you from a scoundrel. Do not think too
+harshly of the past. It has had more honesty in it than you would
+imagine. For love of a woman I took to the road; for love of a woman the
+road shall know me no more. Ah, landlord, the ale! To you, mistress, and
+to you, Mr. Crosby. May God's blessing be with you to the end."
+
+He drank, and tossing the empty tankard to the landlord, turned his
+horse and galloped back along the road.
+
+For half an hour or more the coach stood before the door of "The Jolly
+Farmers," and then, with fresh horses, started briskly on its journey to
+Southampton. At the inn the landlord had waited upon his guests so
+attentively that they could say little to each other, but in the coach
+they were alone, shut away with their happiness from all the prying
+world. With her golden head upon his shoulder, Barbara told Crosby all
+that she had feared, all her doubts. There were so many things to make
+her certain that he was "Galloping Hermit."
+
+"I know," he answered. "It has suited my purpose sometimes while I have
+been helping men to escape out of the West Country to let my enemies
+suppose that I was; but it never occurred to me that you would think so.
+Now I understand some of your words which troubled me, hurt me, almost.
+Are you content to take the way with me, dearest? I have not forgotten
+my promise."
+
+"Gilbert, I am ashamed now that I ever asked you to make it," she said,
+clinging close to him. "Kiss me, and forgive me. I think I should have
+gone with you even if you had been 'Galloping Hermit.'"
+
+Awaiting them, and beginning to grow anxious, they found Sydney Fellowes
+at "The Spanish Galleon." Crosby was not surprised, although he had half
+expected to see Martin Fairley.
+
+As Fellowes bent over her hand, Barbara thanked him.
+
+"Gilbert has told me how much you have done for me," she said. "I have
+heard of the triple alliance Surely no woman ever had better friends
+than I."
+
+"I wish Martin were here," said Crosby.
+
+"We must talk of him presently," said Fellowes. "An hour for rest and
+food, then you must be on the road again. I must come with you as far as
+Southampton. It is my part to bid you farewell out of this country. I
+hope before long it may be my part to welcome you back."
+
+When they had started again, Fellowes took some papers from his pocket.
+
+"These are for you, Mistress Lanison, to read at your leisure. I had
+them from Martin Fairley to give to you."
+
+"I wish I could have seen Martin to thank him too."
+
+"That is impossible."
+
+"Impossible! Why? Surely he is not dead?"
+
+"No; yet I do not think you will ever see him again. Have you never
+guessed his secret, Mistress Lanison?"
+
+"Secret?"
+
+"Nor you, Crosby?"
+
+"Surely Martin cannot be 'Galloping Hermit'!" Barbara exclaimed.
+
+"He is. You will find the whole history in those papers," said Fellowes.
+"I knew soon after that night at Aylingford, the night Rosmore and I
+fought in the hall. It is a strange history. He came to Aylingford
+shortly after you were brought there as a child, a chance derelict it
+seemed, and not a little mad at times. But his coming was no chance. He
+knew your father, and came to be near you and watch over you. In a sense
+Martin was always a dreamer, but he was never a madman. He played a part
+to get a lodging within the Abbey, and he has played that part in your
+interest ever since. Many things which must have set you wondering at
+times you will understand when you read these papers. He soon discovered
+what manner of man your uncle was, and the kind of company the Abbey
+gave shelter to. It was worse than you have imagined--a whirlpool of
+vice and debauchery. Such vice is expensive, and a long run of bad luck
+at play might easily bring a man to the verge of ruin. Your uncle came
+to the brink of the precipice, his appetite for vice and play still
+insatiated. Your fortune was in his keeping, and he used it."
+
+"Then I have nothing!" exclaimed Barbara, turning to Gilbert, "and I
+have been thinking and planning that--"
+
+"My dear, your money was nothing to me."
+
+"I know, but--"
+
+"Better let me finish the story, Mistress Lanison," said Fellowes. "In
+some way, I cannot tell you how, Lord Rosmore discovered what your uncle
+was doing. He therefore obtained a hold over Sir John, which hold he
+used for the purpose of forcing himself upon you, meaning to marry you.
+I do not doubt that, in a way, he loved you, but he wanted your money
+too, for Rosmore has squandered his possessions for years past, and must
+be near the end of his tether. Martin declares that it is only money he
+wants."
+
+"Has he been using my fortune, too?"
+
+"No, except those large sums which he has won from your uncle from time
+to time. Possibly, in the firm belief that your money would some day be
+his, he may have checked your uncle's recklessness, and he has never let
+Sir John know his position. Sir John was usually an unlucky player, in
+the long run he invariably lost, and there has hardly been a guest at
+the Abbey who has not enriched himself. This fact set Martin Fairley
+scheming. He became 'Galloping Hermit,' the notorious wearer of the
+brown mask, and plundered travellers with amazing success. It has been
+said of him that he never made a mistake, that the plunder he took was
+always large. His victims, too, were always those who had bad
+reputations; and, one thing more, Mistress Lanison, his victims have
+always won largely at Aylingford Abbey. Where Sir John squandered your
+fortune, Martin compelled Sir John's guests to disgorge on the high
+road. He knew when they were worth robbing. As 'Galloping Hermit' he got
+back a considerable part of your fortune--from the very persons who
+profited by Sir John's ill use of it. For my part, I cannot call that
+robbery. His plunder he stored at the Abbey, somewhere near the Nun's
+Room. You and Crosby escaped from Martin's tower one night that way.
+While you have been a prisoner in Dorchester, Martin has been to
+Aylingford, and, playing upon Sir John's superstition, showed him one
+way of breaking into the secret chamber where a treasure was hidden, and
+in exchange heard what Lord Rosmore intended to do with you. You were to
+be smuggled back to Aylingford. You will find all the history of his
+robberies very clearly stated in those papers, but of the history of the
+last few weeks, his rapid movements, his changes of character, his
+pretence of poor horsemanship, you will find no mention. Crosby will be
+able to tell you much of this. Having rescued you, Martin wanted
+completely to secure your safety, and believing that Rosmore's greed was
+far greater than his love for you, he conceived a plan which no doubt he
+carried out and which I hope was successful. He had carefully placed in
+a leather case papers containing his secret, together with the key of
+his tower, and full instructions of how his hiding-place was entered.
+This case he intended to drop where Rosmore could see it. He believed
+that Rosmore would hurry to Aylingford before he made any attempt to
+find you. We are close to Southampton, and safe so far, so Martin's idea
+of Rosmore may have been a correct one."
+
+"And Martin's money?" asked Barbara.
+
+"Your money," Fellowes corrected. "It was moved from the Abbey some
+little time ago, and is hidden at 'The Jolly Farmers.' Since you must be
+out of England for a while, Martin thought you might like to give me
+instructions concerning it."
+
+"Mad Martin," murmured Barbara.
+
+"Mad. Yes, in one way, perhaps," said Fellowes. "That way you will not
+learn from those papers. He was a man, and near him you grew to be a
+woman. Poor Martin! He was mad enough to love you."
+
+Barbara put her hand into Crosby's. She remembered what the highwayman
+had said that morning, she remembered how she had once stood in the dark
+passage under Aylingford, one hand in Gilbert's, one in Martin's; two
+men who loved her and had braved so much for her. And then she looked at
+Fellowes, whose face was turned from her. He had said nothing of what he
+had done, but she remembered that night in the hall.
+
+"Three men; Gilbert and Martin, yes, and you, Mr. Fellowes," she said
+softly, putting her other hand into his. "It was a triple alliance, and,
+indeed, never was woman better served."
+
+That night Gilbert Crosby and Barbara Lanison left England, and a few
+weeks later were married in Holland, in which country they found their
+first home together. When, a little later, England rose in revolt
+against King James, some of the negotiations with the Prince of Orange
+were conducted by Crosby, and he accompanied the Prince when he landed
+at Torbay, receiving later a baronetcy for his services. He became of
+some importance at the Court of William and Mary, but his happiest hours
+were those spent at his manor at Lenfield. There his dreams had
+fulfilment. Barbara flitted from room to room, as, in his visions, she
+had so often seemed to do; many a time he watched her slowly descending
+the broad stairs and held out his arms to her.
+
+Sometimes a shade of sorrow would rest upon her brow.
+
+"I was thinking of Martin," she said, when her husband questioned her.
+
+Martin had never come to Lenfield. Gilbert could find out nothing about
+him. There were still highwaymen on the road, but nowadays no one was
+ever stopped by "Galloping Hermit" in his brown mask.
+
+"I wonder what became of him," said Barbara; but she never knew.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+
+ALONG THE NORTH ROAD
+
+On the North Road there is a small inn, rather dilapidated and not
+attractive to travellers. Its customers are yokels from the neighbouring
+village, but occasionally a gentleman may be found warming himself at
+the open hearth and drinking the best that the house contains. Such a
+gentleman invariably rides a good horse, and is the recipient of
+open-mouthed admiration from the yokels. No gentleman but a highwayman
+would be there, they believe.
+
+Only one man remained in the bar to-night, a jovial fellow of the farmer
+type, a lover of horses by his talk, and he was wont to boast that he
+had made the fortune of more than one gentleman of the road by the
+animal he had sold him.
+
+"Shut the door, landlord. I'll wait a bit, and have another tankard of
+ale. I'm expecting a visitor."
+
+"Who may that be?"
+
+"One you know well enough, but perhaps you haven't seen him for some
+time."
+
+In a few minutes there was a sharp knock at the door, and, when the
+landlord opened it, there entered a man wearing a brown mask and
+carrying a shapeless parcel under his arm.
+
+"'Galloping Hermit!'" exclaimed the landlord, and it was evident that he
+was pleased to see his visitor.
+
+"So you got my message," said the highwayman to the farmer.
+
+"Aye, but I doubt if I've got a horse to sell that you would care to
+ride. What's become o' that mare o' yourn?"
+
+"She's in the stables--I've just put her there. I want you to take her."
+
+"Buy her? Well, I'll look at her, but buying and selling are two
+different things."
+
+"Do you suppose I'd sell her?" was the answer. "No; I want you to take
+her and keep her--keep her until she dies, and then bury her in the
+corner of some quiet field. You're honest, and will do it if you say you
+will; and here's gold to pay you well for your trouble. She's done her
+work, and the last few days have finished her. She had to help me save a
+woman in the West Country, and it's broken her."
+
+"I'll do it," said the farmer. "And you'll be wanting another horse?"
+
+"Not yet. When I do you shall hear from me. Will you take the mare
+to-night? If I looked at her again I do not think I could let her go."
+
+"Aye, it's like that with horses, we know," said the sympathetic farmer.
+"I'll take her to-night."
+
+The landlord went to the stables with him, and when he returned found
+the highwayman standing in deep thought before the fire.
+
+"I'm tired, friend. Is there a hole I can sleep in until daylight?"
+
+"Of course."
+
+"I must start at daybreak."
+
+"What! Without a horse?"
+
+"Yes, and without this," he said, taking off his brown mask, showing the
+landlord his features for the first time. "To-night 'Galloping Hermit'
+ceases to exist."
+
+He kicked the dying embers into a blaze, and dropped the mask into the
+fire.
+
+"That's the end of it. Show me this sleeping hole of mine," he said,
+taking up his parcel from the floor. "What clothes I leave in it you may
+have. I shall not want them any more."
+
+With the dawn a man came out of the inn. He looked at the sky, and up
+the road, and down it. Under his arm he carried a fiddle and a bow.
+There fell from his lips a little cadence of notes, soft, low, not a
+laugh, nor yet a sigh, yet with something of content in it.
+
+"For the love of a woman," he murmured, and then he went along the road
+northwards, his figure slowly lessening in the distance until it
+vanished over the brow of the hill which the morning sunlight had just
+touched.
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Brown Mask, by Percy J. Brebner
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Brown Mask, by Percy J. Brebner
+#2 in our series by Percy J. Brebner
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+*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****
+
+
+Title: The Brown Mask
+
+Author: Percy J. Brebner
+
+Release Date: February, 2006 [EBook #9849]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on October 24, 2003]
+
+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BROWN MASK ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Beth Trapaga
+and PG Distributed Proofreaders
+
+
+
+
+THE BROWN MASK
+
+
+By
+
+Percy J. Brebner
+
+Author of "Princess Maritza," "Vayenne," "A Royal Ward"
+
+1911
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+CHAPTER
+
+ 1. BRETHREN OF THE ROAD
+ 2. BARBARA LANISON
+ 3. GREY EYES
+ 4. THE NUN OF AYLINGFORD
+ 5. CHILDREN OF THE DEVIL
+ 6. MAD MARTIN
+ 7. KING MONMOUTH
+ 8. SEDGEMOOR AND AFTERWARDS
+ 9. "THE JOLLY FARMERS"
+10. FATE AND THE FIDDLER
+11. THE FUGITIVE AT AYLINGFORD
+12. BARBARA HELPS TO CLOSE A DOOR
+13. THE WAY OF ESCAPE
+14. A WOMAN REBELS
+15. BARBARA LANISON IN TOWN
+16. PREPARED FOR SACRIFICE
+17. BARBARA'S SELF-SACRIFICE
+18. THE JOURNEY TO DORCHESTER
+19. THE HUT IN THE WOOD
+20. SCARLET HANGINGS
+21. LORD ROSMORE DICTATES TERMS
+22. THE LUCK OF LORD ROSMORE
+23. LORD ROSMORE AS A FRIEND
+24. LOVE AND FEAR
+25. THE TRIPLE ALLIANCE
+26. THE FLIGHT
+27. OUT OF DORCHESTER
+28. THE LEATHER CASE
+29. SAFETY
+30. ALONG THE NORTH ROAD
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+BRETHREN OF THE ROAD
+
+Dismal in appearance, the painted sign over the mean doorway almost
+obliterated by time and weather, there was nothing attractive about the
+"Punch-Bowl" tavern in Clerkenwell. It was hidden away at the end of a
+narrow alley, making no effort to vaunt its existence to the world at
+large, and to many persons, even in the near neighbourhood, it was
+entirely unknown. Like a gentleman to whom debauchery has brought shame
+and the desire to conceal himself from his fellows, so the "Punch-Bowl"
+seemed an outcast amongst taverns. Chance visitors were few, were
+neither expected nor welcomed, and ran the risk of being told by the
+landlady, in terms which there was no possibility of misunderstanding,
+that the place was not for them. It was natural, therefore, that a
+certain air of mystery should surround the house, for, although the
+alley was a _cul-de-sac_, there were stories of marvellous escapes
+from this trap even when the entrance was closed by a troop of soldiers,
+and it was whispered that there was a secret way out from the
+"Punch-Bowl" known only to the favoured few. Nor was an element of
+romance wanting. The dwellers in this alley were of the poorest sort,
+dirty and unkempt, picking up a precarious livelihood, pickpockets and
+cutpurses--"foysters" and "nyppers" as their thieves' slang named them;
+yet, through all this wretched shabbiness there would flash at intervals
+some fine gentleman, richly dressed, and with the swagger of St. James's
+in his gait. Conscious of the sensation he occasioned, he passed through
+the alley looking strangely out of place, yet with no uncertain step. He
+was a hero, not only to these ragged worshippers, but in a far wider
+circle where wit and beauty moved; he knew it, gloried in it, and recked
+little of the price which must some day be paid for such popularity. The
+destination of these gentlemen was always the "Punch-Bowl" tavern.
+
+Neither of a man, nor of a tavern, is it safe to judge only by the
+exterior. A grim and forbidding countenance may conceal a warm heart,
+even as the unprepossessing "Punch-Bowl" contained a cosy and
+comfortable parlour. To-night, half a dozen fine gentlemen were enjoying
+their wine, and it was evident that the landlady was rather proud of her
+guests. Buxom, and not too old to forget that she had once been
+accounted pretty, she still loved smartness and bright colours, was not
+averse to a kiss upon occasion, and had a jest--coarse, perhaps, but
+with some wit in it--for each of her customers. She knew them
+well--their secrets, their love episodes, their dangers; sometimes she
+gave advice, had often rendered them valuable help, but she had also a
+keen eye for business. Her favours had to be paid for, and even from the
+handsomest of her customers a kiss had never been known to settle a
+score. The "Punch-Bowl" was no place for empty pockets, and bad luck was
+rather a crime than an excuse. When it pleased her the landlady could
+tell many tales of other fine gentlemen she had known and would never
+see again, and she always gave the impression that she considered her
+former customers far superior to her present ones. Perhaps she found the
+comparison good for her business since she spoke to vain men. She had
+become reminiscent this evening.
+
+"The very night before he was taken he sat where you're sitting," she
+said, pointing to one of her customers who was seated by the hearth.
+"Ah! He made a good end of it did Jim o' the Green Coat; kicked off his
+boots as if they were an old pair he had done with, and threw the
+ordinary out of the cart, saying he had no time to waste on him just
+then. I was there and saw it all."
+
+There was silence as she concluded her glowing tale. Depression may take
+hold of the most careless and light-hearted for a moment, and even the
+attraction of making a good end, with an opportunity of spurning a
+worthless ordinary, cannot always appeal. The landlady had contrived to
+make her story vivid, and furtive glances were cast at the individual
+who occupied the seat she had indicated. There suddenly appeared to be
+something fatal in it and ample reason why a man might congratulate
+himself on being seated elsewhere. The occupant was the least concerned.
+He had taken the most comfortable place in the room; it seemed to be
+rightly his by virtue of his dress and bearing. He had the grand air as
+having mixed in high society, his superiority was tacitly admitted by
+his companions, and the landlady had addressed herself especially to
+him, as though she knew him for a man of consequence.
+
+"When the time comes you shall see me die game, too, I warrant," he
+laughed, draining his glass and passing it to be refilled. "One death is
+as good as another, and at Tyburn it comes quicker than to those who lie
+awaiting it in bed."
+
+"That's true," said the landlady.
+
+"I should hate to die in a bed," the man went on. "The open road for me
+and a quick finish. It's the best life if it isn't always as long as it
+might be. I wouldn't forsake it for anything the King could offer me.
+It's a merry time, with romance, love and adventure in it, with plenty
+to get and plenty to spend, with a seasoning of danger to give it
+piquancy--a gentleman's life from cock-crow to cock-crow, and not worthy
+of a passing thought is he who cannot make a good end of it. I'd sooner
+have the hangman for a bosom friend than a man who is likely to whimper
+on the day of reckoning. Did I tell you that a reverend bishop offered
+me fifty guineas for my mare the other day?"
+
+"You sold her?" came the question in chorus.
+
+"Sold her! No! I told him that she would be of little use to him, since
+no one but myself could get her up to a coach."
+
+"Your impudence will be the death of you, John," laughed the landlady.
+
+"That seems a fairly safe prophecy," answered Gentleman Jack--for so his
+companions named him--"still, I've heard of one bishop who took to the
+road in his leisure hours. He died of a sudden fever, it was said; but,
+for all that, he returned one night from a lonely ride across Hounslow
+Heath, and was most anxious to conceal the fact that somebody had put a
+bullet into him. My bishop may have become ambitious--indeed, I think he
+had, for he had intellect enough to understand my meaning and was not in
+the least scandalised."
+
+"Then we may yet welcome him at the 'Punch-Bowl,'" said one man. "So
+far, this house has entertained no one higher in the church than a Fleet
+parson. I see no sin in drinking the bishop's good health and wishing
+him the speedy possession of a horse to match his ambition."
+
+"Anyone may serve as a toast," said another; "but could a bishop be good
+company under any circumstances, think you?"
+
+"Gad! why not?" asked Gentleman Jack. "He'd Spend his time trying to
+square his profession with his conscience maybe, and when a man is
+reduced to that, bishop or no bishop, there's humour enough, I warrant."
+
+The health was drunk with laughter, and the air of depression which had
+followed the landlady's recital disappeared like clouds from an April
+sky. Each one had some story to tell, some item to add to the
+accumulated glory of the road.
+
+"Ay, it's a merry life," said the man who had had doubts about the
+bishop's company, "and the only drawback is that it comes to an end when
+you're at the top of your success. The dealers in blood-money never hunt
+a man down until he's worth his full price."
+
+"And isn't that the best time to take the last ride?" exclaimed
+Gentleman Jack. "Who would choose to grow old and be forgotten? What
+should we do sitting stiffly in an armchair, wearing slippers because
+boots hurt our poor swollen feet? What should we be without a pair of
+legs strong enough to grip the saddle or with eyes too dim to recognise
+a pretty woman, lacking fire to fall in love, and with lips which had
+lost their zest for kissing?"
+
+"But we come to that last ride before we lack anything--that's the
+trouble," was the answer.
+
+"Not always," said another man. "Galloping Hermit was feared on all the
+roads before I had stopped my first coach, and he is still feared
+to-day." The speaker was young, and he mentioned the name of the
+notorious highwayman with a kind of reverence.
+
+"They say he's the devil himself, and that's why he's never been taken,"
+said another. "Did any of you ever see him?"
+
+"Once." And they all turned quickly towards the man who spoke. "My mare
+had gone lame, and I had dismounted in a copse to examine her, when
+there was the quick, regular beat of hoofs at a gallop across the turf.
+I was alert on my own account in a moment, crouching down amongst the
+undergrowth, for with a lame animal I could have made but a poor show.
+There flashed past me a splendid horseman, man and beast one perfect
+piece of harmony. The moon was near the full. I saw the neat, strong
+lines of the horse, the easy movement of the rider, and I could see that
+the mask which the man wore was brown. This happened two years ago, out
+beyond Barnet."
+
+"And without that brown mask no one knows him." said the man who had
+first spoken of him. "He has been met on all the roads, north, south,
+east and west--never in company, always alone. He never fails, yet the
+blood-feasters have watched for him in vain. Truly, he disappears as
+mysteriously as the devil might. He may go to Court. He may be a
+well-known figure there, gaming with the best, a favoured suitor where
+beauty smiles. He may even have been here amongst us at the 'Punch-Bowl'
+without our knowing it."
+
+"It is not impossible," Gentleman Jack admitted, smiling a little at the
+others' enthusiasm.
+
+"I envy him," was the answer. "We seem mean beside such a man as
+Galloping Hermit."
+
+"I do not cry 'Yes' to that," said Gentleman Jack, just in time to
+prevent an outburst from the landlady, who appeared to fancy that the
+quality of her entertainment was being called in question. "The brown
+mask conceals a personality, no doubt, but before we can judge between
+man and man we must know something of their various opportunities. Were
+he careful and lucky, such a man as my bishop would be hard to run to
+earth. Galloping Hermit is careful, for only at considerable intervals
+do we hear of him. The road would seem to be a pastime with him, rather
+than a life he loved. For me, the night never comes that I do not long
+to be in the saddle, that I do not crave for the excitement, even if
+there be no spoil worth the trouble of taking. This man is different. He
+is only abroad when the quarry is certain. True, success has been his,
+but for all that the fear of Tyburn may spoil his rest at night, and
+when he gets there we may find that the brown mask conceals a coward
+after all."
+
+"Had you seen him that night as I did you would not say so," was the
+answer.
+
+"I like speech with a man before I judge his merits," said Gentleman
+Jack, rising from his chair and flicking some dust from his sleeve. He
+appeared to resent such slavish admiration of Galloping Hermit--perhaps
+because he felt that his own pre-eminence was challenged. It pleased him
+to think that his name must be in everyone's mouth, that his price in
+the crime-market must for months past have been higher than any other
+man's, and he was suddenly out of humour with the frequenters of the
+"Punch-Bowl." He threw a guinea to the landlady, told her to buy a
+keepsake with the change, and passed out with a careless nod, much as
+though he intended never to come back into such low company.
+
+The landlady stood fingering the guinea, turning it between her finger
+and thumb, rather helping her reflections by the action than satisfying
+herself that the coin was a good one.
+
+"I believe we've had Galloping Hermit here to-night," she said suddenly.
+"It was unlike Gentleman Jack to talk as he did just now. Mark my words,
+he wears a brown mask on special occasions, and thought by sneering to
+throw dust in our eyes. It's not the first time I have considered the
+possibility, and I'm not sure that I won't buy a brown silk mask for
+keepsake and slip it on when next I see him coming in at the door. That
+would settle the question."
+
+She had many arguments to support her opinion, reminded her customers of
+many little incidents which had occurred in the past, recalling
+Gentleman Jack's peculiar behaviour on various occasions. Her arguments
+sounded convincing, and for an hour or more they discussed the question.
+
+The opportunity to test her belief by wearing a brown silk mask never
+came, however, for that same night Gentleman Jack was taken on Hounslow
+Heath. A stumbling horse put him at the mercy of the man he sought to
+rob, who struck him on the head with a heavy riding-whip, and when the
+highwayman recovered consciousness he found himself a prisoner, bound
+hand and foot. He endeavoured to bargain with his captor, and made an
+attempt to outwit him, but, failing in both efforts, he accepted his
+position with a good grace, determined to make the best of it. Newgate
+should be proud of its latest resident. For a little space, at any rate,
+he would be the hero of fashionable circles, and go to his death with
+all the glamour of romance. He would leave a memory behind him that the
+turnkeys might presently make stirring tales of, as they drank their
+purl at night round the fire in the prison lobby.
+
+The highwayman's story concerning the bishop quickly went the round of
+the town, and a wit declared that at least half the reverend gentlemen
+went trembling in their shoes for fear of their names being mentioned.
+The story, and the wit's comment, served to raise the curiosity of the
+fashionable world, and more than one coach stopped by Newgate to set
+down beauty and its escort on a visit to the highwayman. But a greater
+sensation was pending. Who first spread the report no one knew, but it
+was suddenly whispered that this man was in reality no other than the
+notorious wearer of the brown mask. When questioned he did not deny it,
+and his evident pleasure at the mystery which surrounded him went far to
+establish the story. For every person interested in Gentleman Jack, a
+dozen were anxious to see and speak to Galloping Hermit. Every tale
+concerning him was recalled and re-told, losing nothing in the
+re-telling. Men had rather envied his adventurous career, many women's
+hearts had beat faster at the mention of his name, and now the most
+absurd theories regarding his real personality were seriously discussed
+in coffee-houses, in boudoirs, and even at Court. It was whispered that
+the King himself would intervene to save him from the gallows.
+
+For a long time no trial had caused such a sensation, and Judge
+Marriott, whose ambition it was to be likened to his learned and famous
+brother, Judge Jeffreys, rose to the occasion and succeeded in giving an
+excellent imitation of the bullying methods of his idol. This was an
+opportunity to win fame, he argued, and he gave full play to the little
+wit he possessed and ample licence to his undeniable powers of
+vituperation and blasphemy.
+
+Newgate was thronged, and the prisoner bore himself gallantly as a man
+might in his hour of triumph. It was a great thing to be an object of
+interest to statesmen, scholars, and wits, and to win smiles and tears
+from beauty. His eyes travelled slowly over the sea of faces, and rested
+for a little while upon a young girl. Her eyes were downcast, but he
+thought there must be tears in them, and for a moment he was more
+interested in her than in anyone else. Why had she come? She was
+different from all the other women about her. Beside her sat an elderly
+woman who seemed to be enjoying herself exceedingly, and appeared to
+find especial relish in Judge Marriott's remarks. The more brutal they
+were the more witty she seemed to think them.
+
+As sentence was pronounced the girl rose to her feet and turned to go.
+In truth, it had been no wish of hers to come. The judge, the people,
+and the whole atmosphere sickened her. She longed to get away, to feel
+the fresh air upon her cheek; and in her anxiety to depart she took no
+particular trouble to make sure that her companion was following her.
+There was a hasty crushing on all sides of her, and as she was carried
+forward she became conscious that she was alone, that she was being
+stared at and commented upon by some of those who were about her. She
+ought not to be there, she felt it rather than knew it, and was
+painfully aware that people were judging her accordingly. One man spoke
+to her, and in her effort to escape his attentions she contrived to
+thrust herself into a corner of an outer lobby, and waited.
+
+"Can I be of service?"
+
+For a moment she thought that the man she had escaped from had found
+her, and she turned indignantly. The steady grey eyes that met hers were
+eyes to trust--she felt that at once. This was quite a different person.
+He was young, with a face grave beyond his years, and a sense of
+strength about him likely to appeal to a woman.
+
+"I am waiting for my aunt, Lady Bolsover," she said, the colour mounting
+to her cheeks under his steady gaze, and then, suddenly anxious that he
+should not think evil of her, she added: "I did not want to come. It was
+horrible."
+
+"Your aunt must have missed you," he said, glancing round the almost
+empty lobby, for the crowd had poured out into the street by this time.
+"If you have a coach waiting, may I take you to it?"
+
+"Oh, please--do."
+
+The crowd was dense in the street, and their progress was slow, but the
+man forced a way for her. His face gave evidence that it would be
+dangerous for anyone to throw a jest at his companion. There was a
+general inclination to give him the wall as he went.
+
+"I am glad you did not come here willingly," he said suddenly, as though
+no other thought had been in his mind all this time. "This is no place
+for a woman."
+
+"Indeed, no. I am wondering why a man should be here either."
+
+"Galloping Hermit once did me a kindness. I would like to repay the
+debt."
+
+"But how? What could you do?"
+
+"I could not tell. Something might have happened to give me an
+opportunity. It did not; still, I shall see him presently. Perhaps I may
+yet be able to do him some small service."
+
+"Oh, I hope so, poor man," she answered. "There is the coach, and my
+aunt. She will thank you."
+
+Lady Bolsover, who was talking to Lord Rosmore, did not appear agitated,
+but she hurried forward when she caught sight of her niece.
+
+"My child, I have been consumed with anxiety, and--"
+
+"This gentleman--" the girl began, and then stopped. The man had not
+followed her as she went to meet her aunt. He had disappeared.
+
+There came no intervention on the prisoner's behalf in the days that
+followed, nor did he set up any plea for his life on the ground of
+knowing of plots against the King's Majesty. This would be to shirk the
+day of reckoning, and he had boasted to his companions at the
+"Punch-Bowl" that they should see him play the game to the end. He would
+fulfil this promise to the letter. He had ridden up Holborn Hill scores
+of times, seeking spoil and adventure on Hounslow Heath or elsewhere; he
+would journey up it once more, and pay the price like a gentleman. It
+would be no lonely journey; there would be excitement and triumph in it.
+He had lived his life and enjoyed it; he had allowed nothing to stand in
+the way of his desires; he had pressed into a few short years far more
+satisfaction than any other career could have given him. Why should he
+whimper because the end came early? It would be a good end to make, full
+of movement and colour. He knew, for he had been a spectator when others
+had taken that journey, and he was of more importance than they were.
+The whole town was ringing with his fame. Why should he have regrets?
+Beauty and fashion came to visit him, and one man came to thank him for
+some former kindness, a trivial matter that the highwayman had thought
+nothing of and had forgotten.
+
+It came, that last morning, a fine morning flushed with the new life of
+the world that trembles hesitatingly in the spring of the year, and
+steeps the hearts of men and women with stronger hope and wider
+ambition; such a morning as draws a veil over past failures and
+disappointments, and floods the future with success and achievement. It
+seemed a pity to have to die on such a morning, and for one moment there
+was regret in the highwayman's soul as he took his place in the cart.
+The next he braced himself to play his part, for there were great crowds
+in the streets, waiting and making holiday. All eyes were turned,
+watching for the procession, for was it not Galloping Hermit who came,
+the notorious wearer of the brown mask, the hero of wealth and squalor
+alike, the man whose deeds had already passed into legend? No one
+thought of him as Gentleman Jack, not even his companions of the
+"Punch-Bowl" who were in the crowd to see him pass; not the landlady,
+who had come to see the last of him, and stood at the end of the
+journey, waiting and watching.
+
+By the steps of St. Sepulchre's Church there was a pause. A woman, one
+of a frail sisterhood, yet strangely pretty and innocent to look upon,
+held up a great nosegay to the hero of the hour, and as he took it he
+bent down and kissed her.
+
+"Don't let another's kiss make you forget this one too soon," he said
+gaily, and her lips smiled while there was a sob in her throat.
+
+The cart jogged on again, and at intervals the man buried his face in
+the flowers. This was his hour, and if he had any fear or regret, there
+were no eyes keen enough to note the fact.
+
+Tyburn and its fatal tree were in sight across a surging crowd. Even at
+the last moment the King might intervene, it was whispered, and there
+were some who looked for signs of a swift-coming messenger. But the cart
+came nearer, slowly and surely; the space round the gallows was kept
+clear with difficulty, and there was no sign of hurrying reprieve.
+
+This was the end of the game. Now was the great test of courage. He was
+too great a man to indulge in small things to prove it.
+
+"I've been used to riding in the night; a morning ride tires one," he
+said carelessly. "Let's get it over, or I shall be getting hungry, as
+all these folks must be. There's a good pair of boots for anyone who has
+the courage to wear them. I'm ready. Make an end of it."
+
+And the landlady at the "Punch-Bowl" that night drank to his memory,
+declaring that he had died game, as was fitting for a gentleman of the
+road.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+BARBARA LANISON
+
+As the coach rolled heavily homewards towards St. James's Square, Lady
+Bolsover speedily recovered from her anxiety concerning her niece; she
+did not even reprimand her for getting lost in the crowd, and seemed to
+take no interest whatever in the gentleman who had come to the rescue
+and had not waited to be thanked. He could have been no person of
+consequence, or he would not have neglected the opportunity of bowing
+over her hand. She talked of nothing but the trial and the excellent
+manner in which her friend Judge Marriott had conducted it. Some of his
+witticisms she remembered and repeated with such excellent point that
+her niece shuddered again as she had done when they fell from the
+judge's lips.
+
+"It was altogether horrible," said the girl. "I wonder why you made me
+go."
+
+"Judge Marriott's wit horrible!" exclaimed Lady Bolsover. "Pray do not
+say so in company, or you will be taken for a fool."
+
+"I meant the trial--the whole thing. Why did we go?"
+
+"Would you be altogether out of the fashion, Barbara?"
+
+"Such fashion, yes, I think so."
+
+"Ah, that's the drawback of living in the country," was the answer. "All
+one's morals and manners smell of the soil, and a woman's attainments
+are limited to the making of gooseberry wine and piecrusts. I was of
+that pattern myself once, but, thank heaven! I married wisely and
+escaped from it. You must do the same, Barbara."
+
+"Indeed, I am not sure that I want to, and yet--"
+
+"I am grateful for the reservation," said Lady Bolsover, "or I should be
+compelled to think that all my care of you during these last few months
+had been wasted."
+
+"Oh, no; I have learnt many things--many things that it is good for me
+to know. I have seen men and women who seem to live in another world to
+the one I have knowledge of, a large and most interesting world, truly,
+yet not altogether to my taste. Is it not a strange world that can enjoy
+what we have witnessed to-day?"
+
+"I must confess I enjoyed Judge Marriott hugely," was the answer, "and
+the prisoner was a man, I'll say that for him. I almost regret not
+having had the honour of being stopped by him. I grant you he was
+interesting, and played his part gallantly."
+
+"Doomed to die on the gallows! Do you call that playing a part?"
+
+"My dear," and Lady Bolsover touched the girl's arm, "did I not know
+your ancestry I should imagine your father a scurvy Puritan and your
+mother a kitchen wench given to long hymns and cant of a Sunday. Are you
+sure this cavalier of yours was not some miserable sniveller who found
+time to favour you with a sermon? He disappeared so hastily that it
+would seem he was ashamed of himself."
+
+The girl did not answer, and if the colour came into her cheeks at the
+memory of what the man had said to her, Lady Bolsover was too amused at
+her own conjecture to notice it.
+
+There are those who are so intent upon living that they have little time
+to think. Lady Bolsover was of these. The hour that did not hold some
+excitement in it wearied her and made her petulant. Her husband, dead
+these ten years, had been amongst the enthusiastic welcomers of Charles
+at his Restoration, and his wife had from first to last been a
+well-known figure in the Court of the Merry Monarch. That she was no
+beauty, rather than because she possessed any great strength of
+character, probably accounted for the fact that she enjoyed no peculiar
+fame in that dissolute company. As she could not be the heroine of an
+intrigue, it pleased her to consider herself too great a dame for such
+affairs, and she was fully persuaded that she might count her lovers by
+the score, even now, had she so desired. As she had no very definite
+character, so she had no real convictions. Charles was dead, and James
+was King. Many changes were imminent, and Lady Bolsover was waiting to
+see in which direction the wind blew. Her nature, perhaps, was to hate
+Puritans and all their ways, but, if necessary to her own well-being,
+she would easily be able to love them and curse all Catholics. She was
+not really bad at heart, but she was a strange companion for Barbara
+Lanison.
+
+Some few months ago Sir John Lanison, of Aylingford Abbey in Hampshire,
+Lady Bolsover's brother and Barbara's uncle and sole guardian since the
+death of her parents, had suggested that his sister should take charge
+of his ward for a little while. Practically she knew nothing of London,
+he said, and it was time she did. Sir John declared that he did not want
+it to be said that he had hidden his niece away at the Abbey so that no
+man should have a chance of seeing her. He had known prettier women, but
+she was well enough, and where her face failed to attract her ample
+fortune would.
+
+"She's got more learning than is needful for a girl, to my mind," he
+told his sister; "but that kind of nonsense will be knocked out of her
+as soon as she understands her value as a woman. Send her back with all
+the corners rounded, my dear Peggy--that is what I want."
+
+Lady Bolsover had done her best, but the result was not very
+satisfactory. Barbara had convictions which her aunt was powerless to
+undermine, and seemed to set such a value upon herself that no man was
+able to make the slightest impression on her. She had barely refrained
+from laughing outright at the compliments of recognised wits, and half a
+dozen gallants with amorous intentions had been baffled and put to
+shame. Lord Rosmore, whose way with a woman was pronounced irresistible,
+had declared her adorable, but impossible, and Judge Marriott had
+promised Lady Bolsover a very handsome gratuity if she could persuade
+her niece to favour him and become his wife.
+
+Barbara Lanison could not be unconscious of the sensation she caused--a
+woman never is--but she sometimes studied the reflection in her mirror,
+and tried to discover the reason. Quite honestly she failed. She was not
+dissatisfied with the reflection, in its way it was pleasing, she
+admitted, but she had not supposed that it was of the kind that would
+appeal to men, and to such a variety of men. The women who usually
+pleased them were so different. It even occurred to her that there might
+be something in herself, in her behaviour, which was not quite nice, and
+that her real attraction lay in this, an idea which proved that her
+estimate of the men who came to her aunt's house was not a very high
+one.
+
+Born and bred in the country, and with an amount of learning which her
+uncle considered unnecessary, she had prejudices, no doubt, and possibly
+had a standard of female beauty in her mind which her own reflection did
+not satisfy. That she was mistaken in her own estimate of herself was
+certain, or the men would not have been so assiduous in their
+attentions. Perhaps she admired dark women, and the reflection which
+smiled at her out of the depths of the mirror was fair. The eyes were
+blue--that blue which the sky shows in the early morning of a cloudless
+day, and there was a suggestion of tears in them--the tears which may
+come from much laughter rather than those which speak of sorrow. There
+was a touch of gold in the fair hair, which was inclined to be
+rebellious and curl into little lovelocks about her neck and forehead.
+The skin was fair, with the bloom of perfect health upon it, and the
+little mouth was firm, the lips fresh as from the kiss of a rose. There
+was grace in all her movements, that unstudied grace which tells of life
+in the open air and freedom from restraint; and in thought and word and
+deed conventionality had small interest for her. It was hardly wonderful
+that Lord Rosmore should pronounce her adorable, or that Judge Marriott
+should forget that his youth was a thing of the past. Indeed, she had
+come as a revelation to the men whose lives were made up of Court
+intrigue and artificiality.
+
+Perhaps another reason why Barbara Lanison found it difficult to
+understand the sensation she created lay in the fact that her heart and
+affections remained entirely untouched. Those blue eyes, underneath
+their long lashes, saw very keenly, and gave her a quick insight into
+character. She was not to be easily led, and if she did a good many
+things in her aunt's house, where she was a guest, which did not come
+naturally to her and which did not please her, there was a point beyond
+which no persuasion on Lady Bolsover's part could make her go. Much
+against her will she had been taken to the trial of the highwayman, and
+that she was ashamed of being there was shown by her eager desire to
+explain her presence to the man who had come to her rescue in the crowd.
+It would probably have annoyed Lady Bolsover considerably had she known
+that her niece thought more of this man during the next few days than of
+all the eligible gallants who had been brought to her notice.
+
+If in one sense Lady Bolsover had to admit failure with regard to her
+plans concerning her niece, in another direction she had achieved
+considerable success, for since the advent of Barbara Lanison her own
+favour had been courted on all sides, and her house in St. James's
+Square had become a little Court in itself. To half a dozen men who had
+flattered her sufficiently as a first step towards her good graces, she
+had promised to do her best with her niece on their behalf, and at
+intervals she dispensed encouragements for which no action or private
+word of Barbara's gave any foundation. Lady Bolsover found her present
+_entourage_ very pleasant, and was not inclined to spoil it by being
+too definitely honest. It was therefore with considerable chagrin
+that, a few days after the trial, she received a message from her
+brother that Barbara was to return to Aylingford Abbey without delay;
+and since Judge Marriott was about to pay him a visit, nothing could be
+better than that Barbara should travel in his company.
+
+Barbara was quite ready to return to the Abbey, but she did not relish
+Judge Marriott as a travelling companion. He was old enough to be her
+father, and foolish enough to attempt to make love to her. She had
+disliked him from the first; she had come near to hating him since she
+had seen and heard him at that dreadful trial. The self-satisfied judge,
+on the other hand, hoped to make capital out of the trial. He had been
+instrumental in ridding the world of a notorious highwayman, one who had
+made himself unpleasantly known to not a few of those who were Sir
+John's guests from time to time. The trial would be much talked of at
+Aylingford, and Marriott could not fail to be a centre of attraction.
+His acumen must also have appealed to the woman whose escort he was to
+be. His conduct of the case must have impressed her with his importance.
+She was the most beautiful woman with whom he had ever been brought into
+contact, and his ambition took to itself wings. Why should not this
+woman belong to him? True, he had no family behind him to boast of, but
+he had made a position, and the way to greater things lay open before
+him. Jeffreys was his friend, and Jeffreys was a power with the new
+King. High honours might be in the near future for Judge Marriott. He
+was an ugly man--with all his willingness to do so, he could not gainsay
+that; but he consoled himself with the reflection that many beautiful
+women had married men whose looks certainly did not recommend them. It
+was only the commonplace that women turned from, and he was sufficiently
+ugly not to be commonplace.
+
+So Judge Marriott exerted himself to amuse and interest his fair young
+charge as they journeyed together into Hampshire, and not altogether
+without success. He soon discovered that all discussion concerning the
+trial was unwelcome, that the girl's foolish sympathies had been with
+the prisoner rather than the judge, and he quickly talked of other
+things. He almost made Barbara believe that he regretted Nature had not
+made him a highwayman instead of a judge, and he certainly succeeded in
+making the girl confess to herself that he was not such an unpleasant
+travelling companion as she had expected.
+
+The day had been cloudy, threatening rain, and twilight came early. When
+the coach began to cross Burford Heath it was dusk. Barbara was tired,
+and leaned back in her corner, while the judge lapsed into silence, not
+altogether oblivious to the fact that there might be dangers upon the
+heath. The road was heavy, and in places deep-rutted; the grinding and
+crunching of the wheels, the only sound breaking the stillness of the
+evening, grew monotonous; and the constant heavy jolting was trying.
+Suddenly there was a cry from the post-boys, and the coach came to a
+standstill with a jerk.
+
+"Curse them! They've managed to break down!" exclaimed Marriott. His
+hand trembled a little as he let down the window, and it seemed to
+Barbara that he was more afraid than angry. He thrust his head out of
+the window with an oath, then drew it in sharply. A horseman stood at
+the door with a pistol in his hand.
+
+"There is payment to make for crossing the heath."
+
+The judge broke out into a torrent of abuse, but whether at the man who
+barred his way or at himself for being unprepared, it was difficult to
+say.
+
+"And the payment is extra for cursing your luck, especially in the
+presence of a lady," said the man sharply, in a tone which admitted no
+argument and proved him master of the situation.
+
+Barbara, sitting upright, looked steadily into the masked face of the
+highwayman, deeply interested, but without fear. Was it fancy, or was
+there a familiar note in the man's voice? Marriott had shrunk back in
+the coach as he fumbled for his purse. He tried to conceal his face from
+the man, for, should the highwayman discover his identity, he might
+consider the moment opportune to avenge his brother of the road who had
+so recently died at Tyburn.
+
+"A meagre purse for so famous a judge," the man said, weighing it in his
+hand; "but your money is a small matter. I have a bigger score to settle
+than that. Out with you!" and the man flung open the coach door.
+
+Marriott shrank farther back until he appeared a very small and mean man
+in the corner of the coach. He tried to speak, but his words were
+inarticulate, and Barbara could feel him trembling violently.
+
+"Get out, or--"
+
+"Surely, sir, you would not kill him?" and Barbara stretched out an arm
+to protect him.
+
+"Do you plead for him, mistress? He is lucky to have such an advocate.
+Get out, judge. For the sake of those bright eyes beside you, you may
+keep your life, but you shall do penance for your sins. Get out, I say."
+
+Very reluctantly Marriott crept from the carriage.
+
+"You have all my money," he whimpered.
+
+"Down on your knees, then, and ask pardon for passing judgment on a
+better man than yourself. Down! Quickly, or this pistol of mine may
+forget that I have made a promise."
+
+Marriott sank upon his knees in a place where the road was very muddy.
+
+"The man I sent to Tyburn--say it after me."
+
+"The man I sent to Tyburn," repeated Marriott.
+
+"--was a gentleman compared to me."
+
+"--was a gentleman compared to me."
+
+"I am an unjust judge, a scoundrel at heart, a mean, contemptible
+coward, unfit to consort with honest men, and every pure, good woman
+should spurn me like dirt. Say it! Louder! The lady should be interested
+in your confession."
+
+Marriott said the words, raising his voice as he was ordered.
+
+"And I pray to Heaven to have pity on the soul of the man I sent to his
+death at Tyburn. Say it aloud, with uplifted hands. It is a prayer you
+may well make, for, God knows, you'll have need of all His mercy some
+day."
+
+The prayer was repeated, and so like a real prayer was it that, in the
+darkness of the coach, Barbara smiled. Prayer and Judge Marriott seemed
+so wide asunder.
+
+"Now get back into the coach, and take care your muddy clothes do not
+soil the lady's gown, as your presence could hardly fail to be
+pestilential to her, did she but know you as you really are. Good-night,
+fair mistress; some day I hope to see you under better escort."
+
+For a moment he bowed low over his horse's neck, then he turned and
+galloped straight across the heath.
+
+Judge Marriott had entered the coach hurriedly, so glad to escape from
+the highwayman that he did not consider how poor a figure he had cut in
+the sight of the girl. Fearful that his tormentor might not yet have
+done with him, he sank back in his corner again. Barbara was sitting
+forward looking from the window.
+
+"He has gone," she said.
+
+"Curse him!" said Marriott in a whisper. He was still afraid, and his
+voice trembled. "Surely his mask was--"
+
+"It was brown," said Barbara. "I thought the man who wore the brown mask
+was dead."
+
+"I thought so too," he muttered as he leaned forward to the window and
+watched the highwayman disappear into the shadows of the night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+GREY EYES
+
+Where a stream, running through a wide track of woodland, turned to flow
+round three sides of a plateau of rising ground, a community of
+Cistercian monks had long ago founded their home. Possibly the original
+building was of small dimensions, but as the wealth of the community
+increased it had been enlarged from time to time, and, it would appear,
+with an ever-increasing idea of comfort. Of this completed building as
+the monks knew it, a large part remained, some of it in a more or less
+ruinous state it is true, but much of it incorporated in the work of
+those subsequent builders who had succeeded in converting Aylingford
+Abbey into one of the most picturesque residences in Hampshire. It faced
+away from the stream, and the long, massive front, besides being the
+most modern part of the building, was the least interesting aspect;
+indeed, it was difficult to get a comprehensive view of it, because the
+woods approached so closely that the traveller came upon it almost
+unawares. From every other side the outlines of the Abbey were
+singularly beautiful. Here a small spire sharply cut the sky, or a
+graceful point of roof told of a chapel or high-pitched hall; there,
+half frowning, half friendly, a mass of creeper-clad, grey wall looked
+capable of withstanding a siege. In some places solid pieces of masonry
+spoke of comparatively recent improvement, while towards one end of the
+building walls had crumbled, leaving ruined chambers open to wind and
+weather. There were open casements, through which one might catch a
+glimpse of comfort within, and again there were narrow slits, deeply
+sunk into thick walls, through which fancy might expect to hear the moan
+of some prisoner in a dungeon.
+
+As it swept round the Abbey the stream broadened out, and its current
+became almost imperceptible. On one side the bank was comparatively low,
+but on the Abbey side a stone wall had been built up from the water.
+Above this was a broad terrace, flanked by the top of the wall, which
+rose some three or four feet above it, and into which seats had been cut
+at intervals. This terrace ran round three sides of the Abbey, and was
+mostly of stone flags, worn and green with age, but in some places there
+were stretches of trimly-kept grass. Two stone bridges arched and dipped
+from the terrace to the opposite bank of the stream. Wonderful vistas of
+the surrounding country were to be seen from the vantage ground of the
+terrace; here a peep through a sylvan glade to the blue haze of the
+hills beyond; there a glimpse of the roofs of the village of Aylingford,
+a mile away; and again a deep, downward view into dark woods, where
+mystery seemed to dwell, and perhaps fear, and out of which came the
+sound of running and of falling water.
+
+It was not difficult to believe in the legends which the simple country
+folk told of Aylingford, and they were many. Had some old monk come
+suddenly out of the wood, over the bridge, and walked in meditation
+along the terrace, he would hardly have looked strange or out of place
+so long as a bevy of Sir John's visitors had not chanced to meet him. It
+seemed almost natural that when the night was still the echoes of old
+prayer and chant should still be heard, as folk said they were. Sir John
+himself had heard such sounds, so he affirmed, and would not have his
+belief explained away by the fact that the wind found much to make music
+with in the ruins. Then there were rooms which never seemed to be
+unoccupied; corridors where you felt that someone was always walking a
+little way in front of you or had turned the corner at the end the
+moment before; stairs upon which could be heard descending footsteps;
+doors which you did not remember to have noticed before. But while of
+legend there was plenty, of history there was little. It would appear
+that the monks had forsaken their home even before the Reformation, for
+the first Lanison had acquired in the Eighth Henry's reign a property
+"long fallen into ruinous decay," according to an old parchment.
+Possibly the writer of this description had not seen the Abbey,
+trusting, perchance, to the testimony of a man who had not seen it
+either, for certainly much of the present building was in existence
+then, and could hardly have been as ruinous as the parchment would lead
+one to suppose. It may be that Aylingford, lying in the depth of the
+country, away from the main road, escaped particular notice, and this
+might also account for the fact that it had never attracted the
+attention of Cromwell's men, which it reasonably might have done, seeing
+that the Lanisons were staunch for the King.
+
+Since old Sir Rupert Lanison had first come to Aylingford, Lanisons had
+always been masters there--indifferent ones at times, as at intervals
+they had proved indifferent subjects, yet reverenced by the country
+folk.
+
+Sir John, in the course of time, had become the head of the house of his
+ancestors, proud of his position, punctilious as to his rights,
+superstitious, and a believer in the legends of his home. He had married
+twice, losing each wife within a year of his wedding day, and had no
+child to succeed him. His brother, who had gone abroad ready to serve
+where-ever there was fighting to be done, had also married. His wife
+died young, too, and her daughter Barbara had come as a child to
+Aylingford. She did not remember her father, who subsequently died in
+the East Indies, leaving his child and a great fortune to the care of
+Sir John.
+
+So the Abbey and the woods which surrounded it had been Barbara's world
+for eighteen years, for only once had she been to London before her
+visit to Lady Bolsover. In a measure this second visit was unhappily
+timed, for the death of King Charles had cast a gloom over the capital,
+and the accession of his brother James caused considerable apprehension
+in the country. Still, Barbara had created a certain sensation, and,
+according to Lady Bolsover, would have made a great match had not Sir
+John foolishly recalled her to the Abbey.
+
+"She was just getting free from pastry and home-made wine, and my
+brother must needs plunge her back into them," Lady Bolsover declared to
+her friends, who were neither so numerous nor so distinguished now that
+Barbara had left St. James's Square.
+
+Sir John had welcomed his niece, but had given no reason for bringing
+her home. She did not expect one. She had been away a long while; it was
+natural she should be home again, and she was glad. There was no real
+regret in her mind that she had left London; yet, somehow, life was
+different, and although she had been home nearly a week there was
+something which kept her from settling down into the old routine.
+
+"Why is it? What is it? I wonder."
+
+She was sitting on one of the stone seats cut in the wall of the
+terrace, leaning back to look across the woods. The morning sun flooded
+this part of the terrace with golden light, the perfume of flowers was
+heavy in the air. From the woods came a great song of birds; in the
+water below her a fish jumped at intervals--a cool sound on a hot day.
+She had this part of the terrace to herself for a little while, but from
+another part, round an angle of the house, came the murmur of voices and
+sometimes laughter, now a man's, now a woman's. It had all been just the
+same before, many, many times, yet now the girl was conscious of a sound
+of discord in it. Nothing had really changed. The Abbey was full of
+guests, as her uncle loved to have it, many of the same guests who came
+so constantly, many of those who had been her companions at Lady
+Bolsover's, and yet the world seemed changed somehow. The reason must
+lie in herself. Her visit to London had brought enlightenment to her,
+although she had only a vague idea of its meaning. She found it
+difficult not to shrink from some of her uncle's guests, a feeling she
+had not experienced until now. True, she had been brought more in
+contact with them during this last week than she had previously been.
+They treated her differently, no longer as a child, but as one of
+themselves. They spoke more freely, both the men and women, and it
+seemed to Barbara that only now was she beginning to understand them,
+and that it was this wider knowledge which made her shrink from them.
+
+"I have become a woman; before I was only a girl--that must be the
+reason," she said, resting her chin on her clasped hands and looking
+down into the depths of the wood on the opposite side of the stream. "I
+have been very happy as a child, I do not believe I am going to be happy
+as a woman," and then she glanced towards the distant blue hills. The
+world was full of sunlight, even though the woods below her were dark
+and gloomy.
+
+She looked along the terrace to make certain that no one was coming to
+disturb her--and she smiled to think how often she was disturbed in
+these days. Judge Marriott had only to catch sight of her, and he would
+leave any companion--man or woman--to hurry after her. At first he
+seemed only intent on proving to her that he had not really been afraid
+of the highwayman on Burford Heath, not on his own account at least,
+only on hers; but presently he began to praise her, stammering over
+high-flown compliments concerning her eyes or her hair, and looking
+ridiculously distressed as he uttered them. He made her laugh until she
+understood that he was making love to her, then she was angry. All
+yesterday he was sighing to be forgiven.
+
+Then there was Sir Philip Branksome, who twice within the last three
+days had endeavoured to impress upon her the fact that his attentions
+were a very great honour. He was so sure of himself in this particular
+that it was almost impossible to despise him. There was Sydney Fellowes,
+too, near kinsman to my Lord Halifax, full of boyish enthusiasm, now for
+some warrior, now for some poet, chiefly for Mr. Herrick, whose poems he
+knew by heart and repeated sympathetically. In Barbara Lanison he
+professed to find the ideal woman, the inspiration which, he declared,
+warrior and poet alike must have; and for hours together he would
+explain how debased he was, how exalted was she. He wrote verses to her,
+breathing these sentiments, and appeared to touch the height of his
+ambition for a moment when she deigned to listen to them. Barbara felt
+herself so much older than he was that she only stopped him when he grew
+too persistent, neither laughing at him nor despising him. She praised
+his verses which really had merit, but she would not understand that she
+had inspired them. And last evening Lord Rosmore had arrived, had bowed
+low over her hand and whispered a compliment. His looks, his attitude,
+had occasioned comment, for my Lord Rosmore seldom sought, he was so
+consistently sought after. Had not King Charles once called him the
+handsomest attraction of his acquaintance, and laughingly turned to warn
+a bevy of beauties of the danger of running after so well favoured a
+cavalier?
+
+"It is all because I am a woman," said Barbara, with a little sigh. "I
+suppose I ought to be happy, proud, pleased; and yet--"
+
+She looked across the woods, far away into the blue distance where fancy
+well might have its kingdom, and her thoughts became a day-dream. That
+she was a woman, that the horizon of her mind had widened, that in
+touching the great world she had understood things which before were a
+sealed book to her, did not altogether account for the change. In her
+day-dream she was conscious of a pair of grey eyes which seemed to look
+into her soul; conscious of a voice--kindly, yet with something stern in
+it--saying in her ear: "Can I be of service?" and again, "This is no
+place for a woman."
+
+It was strange that she should remember so vividly; strange, too, that
+he had gone from her so quickly. Why had he done so? Who was he? Such
+questions brought another in their train. Why had the voice of the
+highwayman with the brown mask seemed familiar? She tried to remember
+the exact figure of the man who had come to her rescue at Newgate, her
+fair brow frowning a little with the endeavour, but only the look in his
+eyes and the sound of his voice remained. Somehow the highwayman's voice
+had seemed unnatural.
+
+The opening and closing of a door startled her, and she turned quickly
+to see her uncle crossing the terrace.
+
+"It is surprising to find you alone in these days, Barbara. London has
+worked marvels, and it would seem that you have become a reigning toast,
+Such is the news that has filtered down to Aylingford."
+
+"That may be my misfortune; it is certainly none of my choice," was her
+answer.
+
+"And she has grown as quick at repartee as the best of them," laughed
+Sir John, touching her shoulder lightly with approval. His laugh was a
+pleasant one, his face kindly, his pose rather graceful, in spite of the
+fact that his increasing bulk gave him anxiety. Report declared that his
+youth had had wild passages, that one episode in his career had led to a
+duel in which Sir John had killed his man, and it was whispered at the
+time that justice and honour had gone down before the better
+swordsmanship of a libertine. But this was years ago, before he was
+master of Aylingford Abbey, and was forgotten now. Sir John Lanison of
+Aylingford seemed to have nothing in common with that young roysterer of
+long ago, and to-day there was no more popular man in this corner of
+Hampshire.
+
+"Indeed, I had to run away to be alone this morning," Barbara went on.
+"I saw Judge Marriott go into the woods yonder not long since, and I
+warrant he is looking for me."
+
+"And Branksome, and Fellowes, and half a dozen more--they are always
+seeking you," said Sir John, with mock consternation. "I am to have my
+hands full, it seems, looking after my niece. It might have been better
+if I had kept her at the Abbey."
+
+"In my absence I have seen enough of men to make me careful about
+falling in love with one."
+
+"Still, it must needs be with a man if you fall in love at all," said
+her uncle, seating himself on the stone seat beside her, "and there is
+something I want to say on this matter, Barbara. It is well that you
+should have seen something of the town, but it is not a good place in
+which to judge men."
+
+"And around Aylingford I know of no men worth troubling about," said
+Barbara, "so it would seem that I am on the high road to dying a
+spinster."
+
+"Never was woman more unlikely to do that than you," answered Sir John.
+"When a young girl talks like that, an old campaigner like myself begins
+to wonder in which direction her heart has fluttered. No woman ever yet
+regarded being a spinster with complacency, and few women jest about it
+unless they are satisfied there is no danger. Is there a confession to
+be made, Barbara?"
+
+"None. Except for you and Martin Fairley, all men are--well, just men,
+and of little interest to me. It is certain I cannot marry my uncle, and
+I am not likely to fall in love with Martin, am I? By the way, where is
+Martin? I have not seen him since I returned to the Abbey."
+
+"I met him just a week ago, here on the terrace, with his fiddle under
+his arm. He was starting to tramp to the other end of the county, he
+told me, to play at a village wedding."
+
+"Poor Martin!" said the girl.
+
+"Mad Martin, rather," said Sir John; "and yet not so mad that he has not
+had a certain effect upon us all, and upon you most of all. Ever since
+you were a child he has been your willing slave, and he has taught you
+many things out of that strange brain of his. I sometimes fancy that he
+has made you look upon life differently from the way in which most women
+look upon it, has filled it with more romance than it can hold, and
+taken out of it much that is real."
+
+"In fact, made me as mad as he is," laughed Barbara.
+
+"I am not jesting," Sir John said gravely. "You have come back to the
+Abbey a woman. You are more beautiful than I thought you were. You have
+made something of a sensation. You say you have no confession to make."
+
+"That I have no confession to make is true, and for the other items I am
+glad I please you."
+
+"But you do not please me," returned Sir John. "I should have been more
+gratified had you made a confession. I have no son, Barbara."
+
+She put her hand upon his arm in a quick caress, full of sympathy,
+knowing how sore a trouble this was to him.
+
+"So you see my interests are centred in you," he went on after a
+moment's pause which served to intensify the meaning in his words. "One
+of those interests--indeed, the chiefest of them--is your marriage. It
+must be a wise marriage, Barbara, one worthy of a Lanison. Have you
+never thought of it at all?"
+
+"Never, definitely."
+
+"And yet it is time."
+
+"Yesterday I was a child," she answered, her eyes looking towards the
+distant hills. A pair of grey eyes seemed to be watching her.
+
+"You were born before your mother was your age," Sir John answered. "I
+was prepared to look with favour upon any man on whom your choice had
+fallen. It has fallen on no one, you say."
+
+"I have said so. We must wait a little while. I am very happy as I am."
+
+"I have been thinking for you," said her uncle.
+
+"You mean--Surely you don't want me to marry Judge Marriott?"
+
+"No, Barbara," and he smiled. "I am too young myself yet to care for the
+judge as a nephew."
+
+"Ah! We are talking absurdly, aren't we?" she said, and although she
+laughed she still looked towards the distant hills. "Of course, I could
+never marry a man I didn't love, and to have a man chosen for you would
+naturally prevent your loving him, wouldn't it?"
+
+"To advise is not to force, Barbara."
+
+"Who is the man you have thought of?" she asked.
+
+"You cannot guess?"
+
+"Has he grey eyes and a low, strong voice and--"
+
+"Grey eyes!" said Sir John, glancing at her sharply.
+
+"Grey eyes--yes." She had spoken dreamily, only half conscious that she
+had put thoughts into words. Now she laughed and went on gaily, "I have
+always thought I should like to marry a man with grey eyes. Girls get
+fancies like that sometimes. Foolish, isn't it?"
+
+Sir John lifted his shoulders a little as though the point were too
+trivial to discuss, and he tried to remember what coloured eyes young
+Sydney Fellowes had.
+
+"I am not sure whether Lord Rosmore's eyes are grey or not; I rather
+think they are," he said slowly.
+
+"Lord Rosmore!"
+
+Laughter sounded along the terrace, and several people came towards
+them, Lord Rosmore and Sydney Fellowes amongst them.
+
+"If his eyes are grey, they are not the shade I like," said Barbara
+decidedly, and as Sir John rose she turned and walked along the terrace
+in the opposite direction. If her uncle were annoyed at her action he
+did not show it as he went to meet his guests.
+
+"I was taking a quiet half-hour to discuss matters with the châtelaine
+of the Abbey," he said. "She will worry over small details more than is
+needful."
+
+"Perhaps if I go and read her some new verses it will soothe her," said
+Fellowes.
+
+"Better wait a more convenient season, unless you would have some of the
+servants for your audience," laughed Sir John, as he turned to walk with
+Rosmore. "You would find her engaged with them, and domesticities go ill
+with poetry."
+
+"Plagued ill with the poetry Fellowes writes," said Branksome; "is that
+not true, Mistress Dearmer?"
+
+"I am no judge, since Mr. Fellowes has never made verses for me,"
+answered the lady.
+
+"So facile a poet may remedy that on the instant," said Branksome.
+"Come, Master Rhymster, there's a kiss from the reddest lips I know
+waiting as payment for a stanza."
+
+"They are kisses which are not at your disposal," answered the lady, but
+she looked at Fellowes.
+
+"Gad! I believe you may have the kiss without the trouble of earning it,
+Fellowes," laughed Branksome. "I can go bail for the goods."
+
+Mistress Dearmer pouted, but the laugh was against her until Fellowes
+came to the rescue.
+
+"You shall have a sonnet," he said. "You may pay if you think it
+worthy."
+
+Another woman caught Sir Philip's hand and whispered, "The poetry could
+hardly be so bad as the kisses are cheap, could it?"
+
+Lord Rosmore and his host had walked to the end of the terrace talking
+confidentially.
+
+"I should have said more, but you came to interrupt us," Sir John
+replied in answer to a question from his companion.
+
+"You can force her to do as you wish," said Rosmore. "Indeed, if
+necessary, you must."
+
+"How?"
+
+"You are her guardian. If your powers are limited, that is no reason you
+should tell her so."
+
+"You seem strangely doubtful about your own powers, Rosmore, yet rumour
+has it that few women are proof against you."
+
+"She may be one of the few, that is why you have spoken to her. I want
+her more than I have ever wanted anything on earth. You--well, if all
+else fails, you must force her to marry me."
+
+"There is another alternative," and Sir John stopped and drew himself up
+stiffly.
+
+"I don't think you would take it," Rosmore answered carelessly. "I
+should not advise you to take it."
+
+"She spoke of grey eyes," said Sir John, as though he were disinclined
+to argue the point. "She has thought of some man with grey eyes."
+
+"Tell me all she said--it may be useful," and for some minutes Rosmore
+listened attentively while Sir John talked.
+
+"I have more than one way of wooing," Rosmore said presently, "and my
+love must condone them all. The siege shall begin forthwith. A man may
+win any woman if he is subtle enough; in that conviction lies the secret
+of the success with which rumour credits me. I may persuade your niece
+to believe my eyes are grey, or perchance charm her into hating grey
+eyes henceforth. Where shall I find her, Sir John?"
+
+"Probably in the Nun's Room."
+
+"No place for so desirable a lady, and surely a strange room to have in
+Aylingford Abbey," laughed Rosmore. "There are many strange things about
+Aylingford which Mistress Barbara must never discover."
+
+Sir John laughed, a forced laugh with a curse underneath it, and his
+hands tightened a little as he watched his guest go quickly along the
+terrace.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+THE NUN OF AYLINGFORD
+
+Before she had taken many steps Barbara regretted that she had not
+remained with her uncle. Lord Rosmore must have said something to Sir
+John, and would guess that they had been talking about him; it would
+have been better to have stayed and shown him by her manner how
+distasteful the subject was to her. But she did not turn back. If she
+had missed an opportunity, it was certain that many more would be given
+her. She even began to wonder whether she really disliked Lord Rosmore;
+he had certainly given her no definite cause. In London he had not
+attempted to pay her any marked attention, and last night, when he had
+bent low over her hand, was the first time there had been anything
+noticeable in his behaviour. She liked him better--far better--than
+Judge Marriott; Sydney Fellowes hardly counted, and there was no other
+man whose coming had pleased her or whose departure had caused her a
+single regret. The man who had come to her help at Newgate was a shadow,
+a dream. Only curiosity could account for her remembering him. Indeed,
+it was doubtful if she did really remember him; were she to meet him she
+would probably not know him again. No, she had no ground for disliking
+Lord Rosmore. She did not dislike him, but, since he had been chosen for
+her, there was ample reason why she could never love him. Any woman
+would naturally hate the man she was commanded to love.
+
+She turned from the terrace and, passing through a low doorway from
+which the door had gone long ago, entered a wide space enclosed by
+ruinous and moss-grown walls. It was open to the sky and littered with
+_débris_. At one end the blocked-up entrance from the present house
+was distinctly visible; at the other a small door, deeply sunk into the
+massive masonry, gave entrance to a small round tower or bastion, which
+rose some feet above the walls and overhung the terrace. The tower had
+escaped ruin, almost accidentally it would seem, for there were no signs
+of any particular care having been expended upon it. This open space had
+evidently been chiefly occupied by a large hall, its floor a little
+lower than the terrace level, but adjoining the tower end of it there
+had been other rooms, for traces of stone steps could be seen in the
+wall. In one corner, too, there had been a room below the level of the
+floor--indeed, some of the stone flags still projected over it. Its
+walls, strong and dungeon-like, were built down some fifteen feet; two
+or three narrow slits piercing the outer wall in a sharp upward angle
+had evidently given this buried chamber a dim light, and the entrance to
+it could only have been from the top, probably by a trap door. Some
+_débris_ had fallen into it, but not very much, and creepers had sown
+themselves and, climbing over part of the walls to the top, had spread
+themselves over a portion of the floor of the hall.
+
+Barbara picked her way across the fallen _débris_ and stood looking
+down into this hole for a few minutes. It seemed to possess a certain
+fascination for her, as though it were in some way connected with her
+history. Then she went to the small door in the tower. It was locked,
+and although she knocked several times, and stood back to look up at the
+narrow windows above her, there was no sound, and no one answered her
+summons. She sat down upon a fallen piece of stonework, and her thoughts
+troubled her. Truly, she had come back to a new life. Even that locked
+door seemed to have its significance. She did not remember ever to have
+found it fastened before when she really wanted to enter.
+
+She turned at the sound of approaching footsteps, and then rose quickly
+to her feet.
+
+"What a place to hide in!" exclaimed Lord Rosmore as he came towards
+her. "I have never had the curiosity to penetrate into this rubbish heap
+before, and behold I am rewarded by finding a jewel."
+
+"I came here to be alone for a little while," she said.
+
+"I came for the same reason."
+
+"You did not follow me?" she asked, evident disbelief in her tone.
+
+"I wish I could say that I had, if it would please you; but, alas! truth
+will out. I came to think and to get through a troubled hour where my
+fellows could not see me. In this, at least, we can sympathise with each
+other it would seem."
+
+"We can talk plainly, perhaps; it will be best," she answered.
+
+"At least, I can explain," said Rosmore; "but won't you be seated again?
+That is better," he went on as she sat down, "it seems to make
+confession of my fault easier. A little while since I spoke to your
+uncle about you. It was unwise, I know that now, but I did not think so
+then. Your position and your wealth seemed to make it the honourable
+thing to do. Sir John was kind enough to wish me good fortune, and I was
+content to wait. It was not my intention that Sir John should say
+anything to you, I did not imagine he would do so. Now, I learn that you
+have been pestered with my sentiments by proxy, that I have been forced
+to your notice. It is enough surely to make me seek solitude, where I
+may curse the hard fate that ruins me."
+
+"I thought--"
+
+"I dare not try and understand all you thought," Rosmore interrupted. "I
+can only suppose that Sir John meant to be kind, that in some sense he
+did not consider me an altogether unworthy alliance; but that I should
+ever have my wooing done for me--the idea is maddening! A man could not
+take a surer road to a woman's contempt."
+
+"My uncle has made a mistake," said Barbara. "I understand, and you have
+my thanks for the explanation."
+
+"And your forgiveness?"
+
+"I hardly think I had become angry."
+
+"You lift my trouble from me with generous hands," said Rosmore. "Truly,
+Sir John has made a mistake, his desire perhaps marring his judgment;
+but, as truly, I am your humble worshipper. No! please hear me out. In
+London I did not thrust myself upon you because I had wit enough to
+understand that professions with even a suspicion of lightness in them
+were distasteful to you; now, after what has occurred, I am at a
+disadvantage, and I have no intention of putting my happiness to the
+test at such an inopportune time. For the present look upon me as a
+friend who hopes presently to win a greater regard, and who is,
+meanwhile, always at your service."
+
+"I thank you," Barbara said, and the man's nerves tingled as she rose
+and swept him a graceful curtsy. She had never looked more beautiful,
+never so desirable as at that moment. He had conquered so often and so
+carelessly that he could not think of failure now.
+
+"So we are friends and our troubles gone," he said gaily. "They are lost
+in the _débris_ of this ruinous place. It is strange this part should
+have been left in ruins, while the rest of the Abbey has been so
+carefully rebuilt and preserved."
+
+"It is because of the Nun of Aylingford."
+
+"A nun! In an Abbey for monks?"
+
+"Strange, but true. I thought everyone knew the story."
+
+"No. Won't you tell it to me?"
+
+"You must look into the Nun's Room first, Lord Rosmore," said Barbara,
+and she was so interested in the legend that she forgot to ask herself
+whether she liked or disliked her companion as she led the way to the
+sunken stone chamber. "Be careful you do not stumble and fall into it,
+for it is said that death comes to such a stumbler within the year."
+
+"A fable, of course?" he laughed.
+
+"I have only known one man who fell in. He was helped out unhurt, but he
+died within the week. I should not like to fall."
+
+"Give me your hand," he said.
+
+"For your safety or for mine?" she returned. "I am used to this place,
+have loved it since I was a child; besides, it is said that the curse
+applies only to men. You see, the Nun had pity on her own sex."
+
+Lord Rosmore's hand was still extended, but she did not take it.
+
+"For thirteen years a woman lived in this dungeon. Under the creeper on
+yonder wall you can see the stone slab which was her bed. The floor of
+the hall shut her up almost in darkness, and from the hour she stepped
+down into this room she saw no human face, heard no human voice."
+
+"You stand too close to the opening, Mistress Lanison. I pray you come
+back or take my hand."
+
+Barbara stepped back and stood by the wall, facing him.
+
+"Her story is a sad one, sad and cruel," she went on. "She had a lover,
+and an enemy who said he loved her. The lover--a knight of prowess--went
+to the wars, and on his return was told that the woman he worshipped was
+false. He sought for her from one end of the land to the other, still
+believing in her, until by some artifice he was brought to believe in
+her unfaithfulness. Life had lost all zest for him, and he came here at
+last, to Aylingford Abbey, to seek consolation in a life of religion. It
+was the enemy who had contrived to keep the lovers apart, telling the
+girl also that the knight in whom she trusted was untrue. How she
+discovered the lie I do not know, nor does it matter, but when she did
+she sought for him as he had sought for her. She heard at last that he
+had become a monk, and she presently came to seek him at Aylingford.
+Dressed in a monk's gown, she asked for him. They met, and were
+discovered by the Abbot just at the moment when she had almost persuaded
+him to forsake his vows for love of her. Religion had claimed him
+because a lie had deceived him, she argued; therefore no vow could
+really bind him. She argued in this way with the Abbot, too, who was a
+shrewd man and as cruel as death. The monk, he knew, was no longer a
+monk at heart; the woman had penetrated into the Abbey under a false
+guise--as a man. No punishment was too severe for such a sin, he said,
+and he used religious arguments which could certainly never find an echo
+in a merciful heaven. The woman was condemned and lowered into that
+room--a nun by force--and there for thirteen years she existed. Once a
+day sufficient food to keep her alive was given her through the trap, in
+such a manner that she should see no one, and never a word was spoken.
+The monk fought for her release in vain, and soon died, raving mad, it
+is said. When the nun died, she was carried to the woods beyond the
+stream and buried. Village legend has marked a tree, which they call
+'Nun's Oak,' as her burying-place, but probably this is fancy. Ever
+since that time there has been a curse on this part of the Abbey, and
+that is why it has been allowed to go to ruin."
+
+"A sad tale most sweetly told," said Lord Rosmore; "a tale to appeal to
+a lover."
+
+"Or it may be to warn a woman how cruel men can be," Barbara answered.
+
+"Some men, not all," he said gently. "The monk in the story went mad for
+love. Still, there is a warning, too, not to trust men over easily. The
+greatest villains have often good looks to recommend them and can
+deceive most easily."
+
+"I think I could tell," said Barbara.
+
+"I wonder," Rosmore answered slowly. "There is often a vein of romance
+in a woman which makes her blind. I have thought of this more than once
+when thinking of you."
+
+"It would seem I have troubled you a great deal in one way or another,
+Lord Rosmore."
+
+"Some day, when you have forgotten that you were inclined to hate me, I
+may tell you how much. Yet there is one thing I might tell you now, as a
+friend, in case there should be much of this vein of romance in you."
+
+"Yes, as a friend."
+
+"Newgate--the trial day of the highwayman, Galloping Hermit."
+
+He spoke abruptly, after a moment's pause, and had his intention been to
+startle her he could hardly have employed a better method.
+
+"I see you remember it," he said. "Lady Bolsover should not have taken
+you, it was no place for a woman--indeed, she and I almost quarrelled
+about it afterwards. You may remember I was with Lady Bolsover when
+that--that gentleman brought you out of the crowd, the mysterious person
+who did not want to be seen."
+
+"Yes, I remember," she said quietly.
+
+"A good-looking man, yet--"
+
+"You knew him, Lord Rosmore?"
+
+"Well enough to follow him; but I failed to find him."
+
+"Why should you follow him?"
+
+"You would hardly understand," he returned. "It is a matter concerned
+with politics. This you know, however, that the King has enemies.
+Monmouth plots in Holland, the Duke of Argyll is being defeated in
+Scotland. Well, Mistress Lanison, there are traitors and traitors--those
+that one may at least recognise as brave men, and others who are
+cowardly curs. Of the first is Argyll and, perhaps, Monmouth; of the
+second are those who promote rebellion from safe hiding-holes, and never
+show themselves to take a hand in the fighting. There is a rascal hiding
+from the officers of justice now--one Danvers--who is of this second
+kind, a scurrilous fellow who is willing to barter the lives of better
+men, but dares nothing himself. He is one of a gang. The man who came to
+your rescue at Newgate is a companion of his. I have wondered whether
+you have seen him since."
+
+"At least it was courteous of him to come to my rescue," Barbara said.
+
+"Never was there a man yet who had not a good instinct on occasion.
+Besides, the basest of men would not fail to grasp the opportunity of
+doing a service to a beautiful woman."
+
+"I was almost crying, and in that condition I am positively repulsive,"
+she answered, almost as if she were angry at being spoken of as a
+beautiful woman. "What is the name of this man?"
+
+"He calls himself Crosby--Gilbert Crosby. Probably he has no right to
+the name. He is a dangerous and a clever man--dangerous because he plots
+and schemes while other men act, clever because he skilfully manages to
+evade the law. Many people find it difficult to believe ill of him, for
+he has all the appearance of a courageous gentleman."
+
+"I am among those people difficult to convince," said Barbara.
+
+"Exactly, hence my warning," said Rosmore. "You noted how quickly he
+disappeared. He saw me, and had no desire to face a man who knows him
+for what he is. Those grey eyes of his were sharper than mine or he
+would not have escaped so easily."
+
+Barbara glanced at him quickly, wondering how much of their conversation
+her uncle had repeated, but Lord Rosmore did not appear to notice her
+look.
+
+"And if you had found him?" she asked.
+
+"I should have forced a quarrel on some pretext or other, and so
+contrived that he could not have run away without giving me
+satisfaction. By killing him I should have done a public service, and,
+for my own honour, I should have snapped the sword I had been compelled
+to stain with the blood of so contemptible a person. You smile, Mistress
+Lanison. Why?"
+
+"At your vindictiveness, and at a thought which came into my mind."
+
+"May I know it?"
+
+"I was wondering what this Mr.--did you say the name was Crosby?--would
+have done with his sword had he proved equal to reversing the issue of
+the quarrel."
+
+"Ah! I wonder," and Lord Rosmore laughed, but not good-naturedly. "I
+have faith enough in my skill to believe that it can successfully defend
+you whenever you may have need of it."
+
+She turned towards the doorway opening on to the terrace, but having
+taken two or three hasty steps, as if desirous of bringing the interview
+to a speedy end, she stopped and faced him:
+
+"Lord Rosmore, this highwayman, this Galloping Hermit; he is not dead,
+you know that?"
+
+"Judge Marriott will not allow us to forget it," he laughed. "Give him
+the slightest opportunity, and he will tell of his adventure on Burford
+Heath half a dozen times in the day."
+
+"Who is this Galloping Hermit?" Barbara asked, almost as though she
+expected a definite answer to the question.
+
+"Could I satisfy that curiosity I should be quite a famous person," he
+said. "Scores of men envy him his reputation and half the women of
+fashion are in love with him."
+
+"Is he this Gilbert Crosby, think you?"
+
+"Why should you suggest such a thing?" Rosmore asked sharply. "Were they
+grey eyes which peeped through the brown mask that night?"
+
+"I could not see; and, besides, I do not belong to that half of the
+women of fashion."
+
+"Truly, if you did you would be in no bad company. I have a sneaking
+fondness for the fellow myself, and it has been my ill-fortune never to
+meet him. By all accounts he is a gallant scoundrel, with a nerve of
+iron, whereas Crosby--Oh, no, whoever Galloping Hermit may be, he is
+not Gilbert Crosby."
+
+Lord Rosmore did not follow Barbara on to the terrace. He had made his
+peace with her, and had succeeded in establishing a definite
+understanding between them. She accepted his friendship--that counted
+for a great deal with such a woman. It would be strange if he could not
+turn it into love. Yet he was conscious that this was to be no easy
+triumph, no opportunity must be neglected, and his busy brain was full
+of schemes for bending circumstances to further his desires.
+
+A little later, as he slowly crossed one of the stone bridges towards
+the woods, he saw Barbara sitting on the terrace, and Sydney Fellowes
+standing before her reading from sheets of paper in his hand.
+
+"I cannot write verses to please her, that is certain," he mused. "She
+cannot care for Fellowes, his eyes are not grey. It is this fellow
+Crosby she thinks of, and of a highwayman, perhaps. A strange pair of
+rivals, truly! Sydney Fellowes might be useful, besides--" Some
+brilliant idea seemed to take sudden possession of him, for there was
+excitement in his step as he crossed the bridge quickly and disappeared
+into the woods beyond.
+
+Neither Barbara nor Fellowes noticed Lord Rosmore, nor were either of
+them thinking of him. Fellowes was absorbed in reading his verses to the
+best advantage. Barbara, while apparently listening intently to her
+companion, was wondering if the man who had come more often into her
+thoughts than perhaps she had realised could possibly be a scoundrel and
+a coward.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+CHILDREN OF THE DEVIL
+
+Although Barbara Lanison had found that life at the Abbey was different
+since her return from London, and had concluded that the true reason lay
+in the fact that she was now considered a woman, whereas before she had
+been looked upon as a child only, she did not at once appreciate how
+great the difference really was. Her uncle seemed a little doubtful how
+to treat her. He talked a great deal about her taking her place as
+mistress of the house, yet he made little attempt to have this position
+recognised. The guests, especially the women, while quite willing to
+admit her as one of themselves, did not even pretend to consider her
+their hostess, and, on the whole, Sir John seemed quite contented that
+they should not do so. He seemed rather relieved whenever Barbara
+withdrew herself from the general company, as she constantly did, and
+those who knew Sir John best found him more natural when his niece was
+not present.
+
+Since she only saw him when, as his intimates declared, he was under a
+certain restraint, Barbara had not much opportunity of forming a clear
+judgment of her uncle. He had been very kind to her ever since she had
+come to Aylingford as a little child, and if his manner towards her had
+changed recently she hardly noticed it. Under the circumstances she
+would not easily be ready to criticise. But in the case of the guests
+the change was not only very marked, but increasingly so, particularly
+with the women. Whereas the men, chivalrous in spite of themselves,
+perhaps, showed her a certain amount of deference, the women seemed to
+resent her. It was so soon apparent that she had nothing in common with
+them that they appeared to combine to shock her. Mistress Dearmer led
+the laughter at what she termed Barbara's country manners and prudery.
+There were few things in heaven or earth exempt from the ridicule of
+Mrs. Dearmer's tongue, and it was a loose tongue, full of coarse tales
+and licentious wit. She was a pretty woman, which, from the men's point
+of view, seemed to add piquancy to her scandalous conversation, but the
+fact only made Barbara's ears tingle the more. Mrs. Dearmer was in the
+fashion; Barbara knew that, for even at Lady Bolsover's she had often
+been made to blush, but she had never heard in St. James's Square a
+tithe of the ribaldry which assailed her at the Abbey.
+
+It was natural, perhaps, that Barbara Lanison should propound a problem
+to herself. Was she foolish to resent what was little more than the
+fashion of the day? These people were her uncle's guests, honoured
+guests surely, since they had come to Aylingford so often. Would he
+countenance anything to which there was any real objection? She would
+have asked him, but found no opportunity. For two or three days after
+his talk with her about Lord Rosmore she hardly saw him, and never for a
+moment alone. More guests arrived, and it was during these days that
+Mrs. Dearmer's conversation became more daring. On two occasions Barbara
+had got up and walked away, followed by a burst of laughter--she thought
+at her modesty, but it might have been at Mrs. Dearmer's tale.
+
+On the second occasion Sydney Fellowes followed her as soon as he could
+do so without undue comment.
+
+"Why did you go?" he asked.
+
+"That woman maddens me."
+
+"Yes, she is--the fact is, you ought not to be here."
+
+"Not be here!" she exclaimed. "This is my home. It is she who ought not
+to be here. I shall speak to my uncle."
+
+"Wait! Have a little patience," said Fellowes. "After all, she is Mrs.
+Dearmer, a lady of fashion, a lady who has been to Court. You would be
+astonished at the power she wields in certain directions. In these days
+the world is not censorious, and is apt to laugh at those who are."
+
+"If you merely came to defend that woman, I am in the mood to like your
+absence better than your company."
+
+"I hate her," Fellowes answered. "I think I hate all women now that I
+have known one beautiful, pure ideal. Oh, do not misunderstand me. I
+look up at a star to worship its dazzling brightness, and I would not
+have it come to earth for any purpose. You are too far removed from Mrs.
+Dearmer to understand her, nor can she possibly appreciate you. To fight
+her would be to fail, just now at any rate--even Sir John would laugh at
+you."
+
+"You speak seriously?"
+
+"Intentionally. I am a very debased fellow. A dozen men will tell you
+so, and women too for that matter, but I can appreciate the good,
+although I am incapable of rising to its level. I recognise it from the
+gutter, but I go on lying in the gutter. There is only one person on the
+earth who can pick me out and keep me out."
+
+"I should not suppose there was a person in the world who would consider
+such a man worth such a labour," said Barbara.
+
+"No doubt you are right, and that is why I must remain in the gutter."
+
+He looked, in every way, so exactly the opposite of anyone doomed to
+such a resting-place that Barbara laughed.
+
+"I suppose you know who that person is?" he said.
+
+"At least I know that any woman would be a fool to attempt such an
+unprofitable task," she answered. "If I thought you were really speaking
+the truth, I should hate you. You would not be worthy the name of a man,
+and even a Mrs. Dearmer, in her more reasonable moments, would despise
+you."
+
+Fellowes looked at her for a moment.
+
+"I wish my mother had lived to make a better man of me," he said
+abruptly, and turned and left her.
+
+Barbara had become so accustomed to Sydney Fellowes' sudden and
+changeable moods that she thought little of his words, or his manner of
+leaving her. Yet, to the man had come a sudden flash of repentance, not
+lasting but real enough for the moment, holding him until the next
+temptation came in his path. He did not seek his companions, but crossed
+one of the bridges, and plunged into the woods, cursing himself and
+feeling out of tune with the rest of the world. Two hours later he and
+Lord Rosmore came back together, slowly, and talking eagerly. Fellowes,
+like many other quite young men, had a profound admiration for Lord
+Rosmore, and his opinion upon any matter carried weight.
+
+"You have not sufficient faith in yourself, Fellowes," Rosmore said as
+they crossed the bridge. "That is the trouble."
+
+"It is easily remedied," was the answer.
+
+"That is the spirit which brings victory," said Rosmore, patting his
+companion on the shoulder.
+
+The guests who had arrived during the last two or three days had
+introduced a noisier and wilder element into the Abbey. Barbara was
+puzzled at her uncle's attitude, and retired from the company as much as
+possible. This evening she left early, pretending no excuse as hitherto
+she had done. She wanted her uncle to understand, and question her.
+Surely he must do so if she were rude to his guests. A burst of laughter
+followed her withdrawal.
+
+"You must be a Puritan in disguise, Abbot John, to have such a niece,"
+said Mrs. Dearmer; and then she turned and whispered something into the
+ear of Sir Philip Branksome that might have made him blush had he been
+capable of such a thing. Sir John seemed mightily entertained at the
+lady's suggestion. He laughed aloud, cursed Puritans generously, and
+drank deeply to their ultimate perdition.
+
+There is ever some restraint in vice when virtue is present, but with
+Barbara's departure all restraint seemed to vanish. There were probably
+degrees in the viciousness of these men and women, but, as a whole, it
+would have been difficult to bring together a more abandoned company.
+High play was here, and the ruin of many a man's fortune. Honour, save
+of the spurious sort, held no man in check, and virtue was as dross.
+Debauchery of every kind was practised openly and unashamedly. Vice was
+enthroned in this temple, and her ribald followers bowed the head. This
+was Aylingford Abbey, built for worship long ago, therefore worship
+should be in it now. "We will be monks and nuns of the devil," some
+genius in wickedness had cried one evening, and the suggestion had been
+hailed with delight. This was their foundation, so they had called
+themselves ever since, and Sir John Lanison delighted to be the "Abbot"
+of such a community. They chose a sign whereby they might be known to
+one another in the world--the slow tracing of a circle on the forehead
+with the forefinger--and they bound themselves by an oath to their
+master to love him and all his works, and to eschew all that was called
+good. It had often been noticed how many persons of condition, who
+seemed to be at one with Sir John in politics, had never been offered
+the hospitality of Aylingford. The true reason had never been divulged.
+If, as had chanced on one or two occasions, guests had been there who
+knew nothing of these debaucheries, the devil's children present
+dissembled, and affected to yawn over the dull entertainment provided by
+Sir John. The secret of the Abbey had never leaked out, nor did it
+appear that any man or woman, desirous of betraying it, had ever found
+an entrance into the community. Once, a year ago, a woman had whispered
+her suspicion of a man, and he was found dead in his lodging in Pall
+Mall before he had time to speak of what he knew, even if he intended to
+do so.
+
+As he was popular in the county, passing for a God-fearing gentleman, so
+Sir John Lanison was popular as the devil's "Abbot." There were few who
+could surpass him in wickedness, but he was a man of moods, and there
+were times when fear peered out of his eyes. He was superstitious,
+finding omens when he gambled at basset, and premonitions in all manner
+of foolish signs. He had played this evening with ill success, he had
+drunk deeply, and was inclined to be quarrelsome.
+
+"The Abbot is wanting to make us all do penance," laughed Fellowes, who
+some time since had parted with sobriety. "I'll read him these verses to
+pacify him; they would make an angry devil collapse into a chuckle. Mrs.
+Dearmer inspired them, so you may guess how wicked they are."
+
+"Always verses--nothing but verses," said Rosmore, who had drunk little
+and seemed to watch his companions with amusement.
+
+"No woman was ever won by poetry," said a girl in Fellowes' ear. "Try
+some other way."
+
+"What way?"
+
+The girl whispered to him, laughing the while. She was very pretty, very
+innocent to look upon.
+
+"Women must be carried by assault, gloriously, as a besieged city is,"
+roared Branksome from the other end of the room. "The lover who attempts
+to starve them into surrender is a fool, and gets ridiculed for his
+pains. What do you say, Rosmore?"
+
+"Nothing. There are many ladies who can explain my methods better than I
+can."
+
+Mrs. Dearmer laughed, and desired a lesson forthwith.
+
+"My dear lady, there would be too many lovers to call me to account for
+my presumption," Rosmore answered.
+
+"Branksome is right," said Mrs. Dearmer. "Take a woman by force or not
+at all. She loves a desperate man. His desperation and overriding of all
+convention do homage to her. I never yet met the virtue that could stand
+against such an assault."
+
+"She is right, Sydney," whispered the girl to Fellowes, her hands
+suddenly clasped round his arm.
+
+Fellowes looked down into her face, and a strange expression came into
+his own.
+
+"I believe she is," he said almost passionately. "I believe she is.
+There's no woman so virtuous that--"
+
+"None," whispered the girl.
+
+Fellowes laughed, and shook himself free from her.
+
+"I'll drink to success, and then--" He stumbled as he rose to his feet,
+and, recovering himself, laughed at Sir John. "You shall have the verses
+another time, Abbot; I have other things to do just now."
+
+He called a servant, and talked to him in a low voice.
+
+"Yes, blockhead, I said the hall," he exclaimed in a louder voice. "The
+hall in ten minutes, and if she isn't there I'll come and let the life
+out of you for a lazy scoundrel who cannot carry a message. A drink with
+you, reverend Abbot--a liquid benediction on me."
+
+Lord Rosmore watched him, but Sir John took no notice of him. Sir John's
+thoughts were wandering, and had anyone been watching him closely they
+might have seen fear looking out of his eyes. A candle on a table near
+him spluttered and burnt crookedly.
+
+"That means disaster," he muttered, and then he turned to Lord Rosmore
+fiercely, though he spoke in an undertone. "You were a fool to let me
+bring her back."
+
+It was evident that he had made a similar statement to his companion
+before, for Rosmore showed no surprise or ignorance of his meaning.
+
+"I shall take her away presently, her lover and deliverer. In this case
+it is the best method."
+
+"And let her curse me?"
+
+"No. I shall promise to deliver you and bring about your redemption."
+
+"A devilish method," said Sir John.
+
+"One must work with the tools that are to hand," said Rosmore with a
+shrug of his shoulders.
+
+"But when? When?"
+
+"Perhaps in a few short hours. Wait! Wait, Sir John. It seems to me that
+opportunity is in the air to-night."
+
+"And disaster," said Sir John, glancing at the spluttering candle. Lord
+Rosmore made no comment--perhaps did not hear the words, for he was
+intent upon watching Sydney Fellowes, who was standing near a door which
+opened into the hall. No one else appeared to notice him, not even the
+pretty girl he had spurned. She was too much engaged in consoling a
+youth who had lost heavily at basset.
+
+Barbara was dull in her room. The silence was oppressive, for no sounds
+of the riotous company reached her there, and the pale moonlight on the
+terrace below, and over the sleeping woods, seemed to throw a mist of
+sadness over the world. She had opened the casement, and for a time had
+puzzled over her uncle and his strange guests. Something must be going
+forward at the Abbey of which she was ignorant. Sydney Fellowes must
+know this, and there had been more meaning in his words than she had
+imagined. Why ought she not to be at the Abbey? And then her thoughts
+wandered to another man who had found her in a place where no woman
+ought to be, and she remembered all Lord Rosmore had said about him.
+Looking out on the quiet, sleeping world, so full of mystery and the
+unknown, it was easy to fall into a reverie, to indulge in speculations
+which, waking again, she would hardly remember; easy to lose all count
+of time. Once, at some distance along the terrace towards the servants'
+quarters, there was the sound of slow footsteps and a low laugh. There
+were two shadows in the moonlight--a man's and a woman's. Some serving
+maid had found love, for the low laugh was a happy one, and some man,
+perchance no more than a groom, had suddenly become a hero in a girl's
+eyes. Unconsciously perhaps, Barbara sighed. That girl was happier than
+she was.
+
+A gentle knock came at her door, and a man stood there.
+
+"Mr. Fellowes sent me. Will you see him in the hall in ten minutes. It
+is important; he must see you. 'It is for your own sake.' Those were his
+own words, madam."
+
+Barbara received the message, but gave no answer, and the man departed.
+Had the message come from anyone but Sydney Fellowes she would have
+taken no notice of it, but, remembering what he had said to her, this
+request assumed importance. She was more likely to discover the truth
+about the Abbey from Sydney Fellowes than from anyone else.
+
+There was only a dim light in the great hall--candles upon a table at
+the far end. The moonlight came through the painted windows, staining
+the stone floor here and there with misty colours. There was no movement
+near her, but the sound of voices and laughter came from the chamber
+beyond--the one from which she had angrily departed some time ago. Now
+the voices were hushed to a murmur, now they were loud, and the laughter
+was irresponsible. How she hated the sound of it, and that shriller
+note, peculiarly persistent for a moment, was Mrs. Dearmer's. No
+Christian feeling could prevent her from hating that woman.
+
+Barbara crossed to the wide hearth and waited.
+
+A door opened suddenly; there was the rustling of the curtain which hung
+over it being thrust aside, a shaft of light shot across the hall for a
+moment, and the sounds of voices and laughter were loud, then the door
+closed again sharply. There were a few hasty steps, and then silence.
+
+"You sent me a message, Mr. Fellowes."
+
+In a moment he was beside her.
+
+"Barbara!"
+
+She stepped back as though the sound of her own name startled her.
+
+"I love you. Women were made for love--you above all women. You think I
+can only scribble poetry--you are wrong! I mean to--Barbara, my
+Barbara!"
+
+"You insult me, Mr. Fellowes."
+
+He caught her in his arms as she turned away from him.
+
+"Insult! Nonsense! Love insults no woman. You are mine--mine! I take you
+as it is right a man should take a woman."
+
+She struggled to free herself, but could not. She did not want to cry
+out.
+
+"You remembered your mother to-day, remember her now," she panted.
+
+The wine fumes were in his head, confusion in his brain; reason had left
+her seat for a while, and truth was distorted.
+
+"I do remember her," he answered, speaking low but wildly. "She was a
+woman. A man took her, as I take you; wooed her, loved her as I love
+you. I do remember--that is why you are mine to-night."
+
+She struggled again. She did not want to cry out. There was no man in
+that room she wished to call upon to defend her--not even her uncle.
+Evil seemed to surround her. Had any other man touched her like this,
+she would have called to Sydney Fellowes, so far had she believed in him
+and trusted him.
+
+"Barbara, you shall love me!" he went on, holding her so that she was
+powerless. "Love shall be sealed, my lips on yours."
+
+"Help! Save me from this man!" Her fierce, angry cry woke the echoes. In
+a moment there was the sound of hurrying feet, the sudden opening of a
+door, and again a shaft of light cut through the hall. Men and women
+rushed in from the adjoining room with loud and eager inquiry. Then Sir
+John, closely followed by Lord Rosmore.
+
+"Quick! More lights!" he said. "Who is it screaming for help?"
+
+"Is it some serving-maid in distress?" cried Branksome.
+
+"Or a fool too honest to be kissed," laughed a woman.
+
+"Barbara!" Sir John's exclamation was almost a whisper. Lights were in
+the hall now, brought hastily from the room beyond. Some had been put
+down in the first place that offered, some were still held by the
+guests. Fellowes had turned to face this wild interruption, and Barbara
+had wrenched herself free from his arms as he did so.
+
+"A love passage!" laughed Fellowes. "Why interfere?"
+
+"He insulted me!" said Barbara.
+
+"My niece is--"
+
+"Leave this to me, Sir John," said Rosmore, laying a hand upon his
+shoulder.
+
+"That's right, Rosmore, and leave me to my wooing," cried Fellowes.
+
+"You cur! You shall repent this night's folly," said Rosmore.
+
+"Excellent! Excellent! You should have been a mummer. This is glorious
+comedy!" and Fellowes laughed aloud. "What! A hint of tragedy in it,
+too!"
+
+A naked sword was in Rosmore's hand.
+
+"A woman's honour must be defended," hissed Rosmore.
+
+"Gad! I'll not spoil the play for want of pantomime," cried Fellowes,
+still laughing. "Why don't you all laugh at such excellent fooling?"
+
+"There is no laughter in this," said Rosmore, and Fellowes' face grew
+suddenly serious.
+
+"This is real? You mean it?" he said.
+
+"I mean it."
+
+"Devil's whelp that you are!" Fellowes cried. "Between two scoundrels
+may God help the least debased."
+
+In an instant there was the ring of steel and the quick flash of the
+blades as the light caught them.
+
+Sir John had made a step forward to interfere, but had hesitated and
+stopped. No one else moved, and there was silence as steel touched
+steel--breathless silence. For a moment Barbara was hardly conscious of
+what was happening about her. It seemed only an instant ago that she had
+cried out, and now naked swords and the shadow of death. Lord Rosmore's
+face looked evil, sinister, devilish. Fellowes was flushed with wine,
+unsteady, taken by surprise. There came to Barbara the sudden conviction
+that in some manner Fellowes had fallen into a trap. He had insulted
+her, but the wine was the cause, and Rosmore had seized the opportunity
+for his own ends. She tried to speak, but could not. There was a fierce
+lunge, real and deadly meaning in it, an unsteady parry which barely
+turned swift death aside, and then a sudden low sound from several
+voices, and an excited shuffle of feet. Barbara had rushed forward and
+thrown herself between the fighters.
+
+"This is mere trickery," she cried. "You play a coward's part, my lord,
+fighting with a drunken man."
+
+"He insulted you--that sufficed for me."
+
+"I did not ask you to punish him," she answered.
+
+She faced Lord Rosmore, shielding Fellowes, who was behind her. Now
+Fellowes gently touched her arm.
+
+"Grant me your pardon, Mistress Lanison, and then let me pay the
+penalty," he said.
+
+She had thrust out her arm to keep him behind her, when the big door at
+the end of the hall opening on to the terrace was flung open, and on the
+threshold stood a tall figure, dark and distinct against the moonlit
+world beyond. His garments were of nondescript fashion, but his pose was
+not without grace. Under one arm he carried a fiddle, and the bow was in
+his hand. He raised it and waved it in a sort of benediction.
+
+"Give you greeting, ladies and gentlemen--and news besides. Monmouth has
+landed at Lyme, and all the West Country is aflame with rebellion."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+MAD MARTIN
+
+The sudden interruption served to relax the tension in the hall. There
+was the quick shuffling of feet, as though these men and women had
+suddenly been released from some power which had struck them motionless,
+and eager faces were turned towards the doorway. Barbara did not move.
+Her eyes were still fixed on Lord Rosmore's face, her arm was still
+outstretched to prevent a renewal of the fight.
+
+The man stood in the doorway for a moment with his bow raised, pleased,
+it seemed, with the sensation he had caused. He had spoken in rather a
+high-pitched voice, almost as if his words were set to a monotonous
+chant or had a poetic measure in them.
+
+"It is only that mad fool Martin Fairley," said Branksome.
+
+"What is this news?" Sir John asked. His anger seemed to have gone, and
+he spoke gently.
+
+"That depends," said Martin, advancing into the hall with a step which
+appeared to time itself with some unheard rhythm. "That depends on who
+it is who hears it. Good news for those who hate King James; bad for
+those who love priests and popery. How can such a mad fool as I am, Sir
+Philip Branksome, guess to which side so many gallant gentlemen and fair
+ladies may lean?"
+
+There was grace, and some mockery perhaps, in the low bow he made, his
+arms wide extended, the fiddle in one hand, the bow in the other; and
+then, slowly standing erect again, he appeared to notice Barbara for the
+first time.
+
+"Drawn swords!" he exclaimed, "and my lady of Aylingford between them.
+Another legend for the Abbey in the making--eh, Sir John? I must write a
+song upon it, or else Mr. Fellowes shall. If his sword is as facile as
+his pen, my Lord Rosmore, 'tis a marvel you are alive."
+
+"This fool annoys me, Sir John. I am not in the mood for jesting."
+
+"That, at least, is good news," said Martin, "for in this Monmouth
+affair there is no jest but real fighting to be done. Will you not save
+your strength for one side or the other?"
+
+"Peace, Martin," said Sir John. "We must hear more of this news of yours
+at once. And you, gentlemen, will you not put up your swords at my
+niece's request?"
+
+"I drew it to play a dishonourable part," said Fellowes. "I used it to
+defend a worthless life. Do you command its sheathing, Mistress Lanison?"
+
+"Yes," and she still looked at Lord Rosmore as she spoke.
+
+"Since Mr. Fellowes has apologised, and you have commanded, I have no
+alternative," said Rosmore. "If Mr. Fellowes resents my attitude he may
+find a time and an opportunity to force me to a better one."
+
+"Come, Martin, we must hear the whole story," said Sir John, and then he
+whispered to Rosmore as they crossed the hall together: "He is certain
+to be right, Martin invariably hears news, good or bad, before anyone
+else."
+
+"May we all hear it?" asked Mrs. Dearmer.
+
+"Why, surely," Martin Fairley exclaimed. "Monmouth was always
+interesting to ladies, and he may, as likely as not, set up his court at
+St. James's before another moon is at the full."
+
+They followed Sir John and Lord Rosmore back into the room which they
+had left so hurriedly a few moments ago, and as Martin Fairley went in
+after them he drew his bow across the strings of his fiddle, sounding
+just half a dozen quick notes in a little laughing cadenza.
+
+"He is going to sing his tale to us," said Branksome, rather bored with
+the whole proceeding.
+
+"He is quite mad," answered Mrs. Dearmer, "but I fancy Abbot John is
+somewhat afraid of him."
+
+The little sequence of notes made Barbara Lanison start, she had heard
+it so often. When she was a child Martin had told her fairy tales, and
+he constantly finished the story by playing just these notes, a sort of
+musical comment to the end of a tale in which prince and princess lived
+happily ever afterwards. When he had been thinking out some difficult
+point he would play this cadenza as a sign that he had come to a
+decision. Once when Barbara had been ill, and got well again, he had
+played it two or three times in rapid succession. If he declared he was
+busy when Barbara wanted to go to him, he would tell her she might come
+when she heard his fiddle laugh, and these notes were the laugh, always
+the same notes. They had evidently some meaning for him, and they had
+come to have a meaning for Barbara. They were a link between her and
+this strange mad friend of hers. When she heard them she always felt
+that Martin had something to tell her, or could help her in any
+difficulty she was in at the moment.
+
+"Mistress Lanison."
+
+She started. She was almost unconscious that the people who had
+surrounded her just now had gone and closed the door. She was alone in
+the hall with Sydney Fellowes, from whom a few moments ago she had cried
+out to be delivered.
+
+"Mistress Lanison, I ask your pardon for to-night. Forget it, blot it
+out of your memory, if you can. If some day you would deign to set me a
+task whereby I might prove my repentance, I swear you shall be humbly
+served. Against your will, perhaps, you have picked me out of the
+gutter. Please God, I'll keep out of it. Thank you for all you have done
+for me."
+
+He spoke hurriedly, giving her no opportunity to answer him, and then
+turned and left her, going out through the door which opened on to the
+terrace, and which still stood open. Had he waited Barbara would not
+have answered him, perhaps; she was not thinking of him, but of Martin
+Fairley and the laugh of his fiddle. The sound of Fellowes's retreating
+footsteps had died into silence before she turned and went out slowly on
+to the terrace, closing the door quietly behind her.
+
+The fiddle, with the bow beside it, lay on the table near its master, a
+strange master, whose moods were as varying as are those of an April
+day. Mad Martin he was called, and he was known and loved in all the
+villages for miles round Aylingford. He and his fiddle brought mirth to
+many a simple festival, and in time of trouble it was strange how
+helpful were the words and presence of this madman. Martin Fairley was
+not as other men, the village folk said, he was not sane and ordinary as
+they were, he was to be pitied, and must often be treated as a wayward
+child. Yet there were times when he seemed to see visions, when the
+invisible spirits of that world with which he was in touch whispered
+into his ear things of which men knew nothing. He was suddenly endowed
+with knowledge above his fellows, and the whole aspect of the man
+changed. At such times the villagers were a little afraid of him and
+spoke under their breath of magic and the black art. Even Sir John
+Lanison was not free from this fear of his strange dependent. He never
+spoke roughly to him, never checked him, never questioned his goings and
+comings. Sometimes, half-jestingly it seemed, he asked his advice, and
+whatever Martin said was always considered. As often as not the advice
+given took the form of a parable, and, no matter how absurd it sounded,
+Sir John invariably tried to understand its meaning.
+
+Martin Fairley had come to the Abbey one winter's night soon after
+Barbara Lanison had been brought there. He had come out of the woods,
+struggling against a hurricane of wind across one of the bridges, his
+fiddle cuddled in his arms for protection. He had begged for food and
+shelter, and then, warm and satisfied, he had played to the company
+gathered round the Abbey fire, had told them strange tales, and, with a
+light laugh, had declared that he was the second child to come to the
+good Sir John Lanison for care and protection, first the little niece,
+now the poor fool. Someone told Sir John that there was luck in keeping
+such a fool about the place, and whether it was that he believed it, or
+really felt pity for the homeless wanderer, Martin Fairley had been
+allowed to remain at the Abbey ever since, a willing slave to Barbara
+Lanison, an inconsequent person who must not be interfered with. Perhaps
+he was twenty years old when he came, strong and lithe of limb then, and
+to-day he was hardly changed, older-looking, of course, but still lithe
+in his movements. Mentally, his development had been curious. His powers
+had both increased and decreased. There were times when he was silent,
+depressed, when his mind was a complete blank, and whatever words he
+might utter were totally without meaning; but there were other times
+when his eyes were alight with intelligence, when his wit was as keen as
+a well-tempered blade, and his whole appearance one of resolute energy
+and competent action.
+
+He was keen to-night as he told the story of Monmouth's landing.
+
+"Lyme went mad at his coming," he said. "His address was read from the
+market cross, and the air rang again with shouts of 'Monmouth! and the
+Protestant faith!' As captain-general of that faith has he come, and the
+people flock to his blue standard and scatter flowers in his path. The
+Whig aristocracy will rise to a man, it is said, and London fly to arms.
+The King and his Parliament tremble and turn pale, and the train-bands
+of Devon are only awaiting the opportunity to join the Duke. All the
+West is in arms."
+
+"How did you hear the news?" asked Sir John.
+
+"It flies in all directions; you have only to listen."
+
+"We have heard nothing," said Rosmore contemptuously.
+
+"Ah, but these walls are thick," said Martin, "and wine makes people
+dull of hearing, while the company of fair ladies breeds disinclination
+to hear. Perhaps, too, you were making a noise over your play."
+
+"I am inclined to think it is all a tale," said Branksome. "Before this
+we have known you to dream prodigiously, Martin."
+
+"True. I dreamed last night as I lay on a bed of hay in a loft, with my
+fiddle for company, that all the gentleman at the Abbey had flown to
+fight for Monmouth."
+
+"A stupid dream," said a man who was a Whig, and whose mind was full of
+doubt as to what his course of action must be should Monmouth's landing
+be a fact.
+
+"And I come back to find two gentlemen fighting in the hall," Martin
+went on. "Were you trying to rob King James of a supporter, my lord?"
+
+Rosmore laughed.
+
+"No, Martin; I was endeavouring to punish a man for insulting a lady."
+
+"Truly the world is upside down when it falls to your lot to play such a
+part as that," was the answer.
+
+"How many men has Monmouth?" asked Sir John, silencing the laugh against
+Lord Rosmore.
+
+"They come by the hundreds, 'tis a labour to write down their names fast
+enough. From the ploughs, from the fields, from the shops they come;
+their tools turned into implements of war even as Israel faced the
+Philistines long ago. Men cut loose the horses from the carts and turn
+them into chargers; labourers bind their scythes to poles and carry
+reaping-hooks for swords; the Mendip miners shoulder their picks making
+a brave front; and here and there a clerk may wield a ruler for want of
+a better weapon. And night and day they drill, march, and countermarch.
+The cause is at their heart and no leader need feel shame at such a
+host."
+
+"A rabble," said Rosmore.
+
+"A rabble that will not run counts for much, my lord, and Monmouth is no
+mean general as those who fought at Bothwell Bridge know well."
+
+"You talk as though you were a messenger from Monmouth himself," said
+Rosmore. "Were you a witness of the landing?"
+
+"No, no; my fiddle and I have been to a wedding--besides, I am far too
+changeable a fellow to take sides," said Martin. "Were I for Monmouth
+to-night, I might wake to-morrow morning and find myself for King James.
+I shall make a song of victory so worded that it will serve for either
+side. Were I Monmouth's messenger I should have made certain of my
+company before telling my news. You may all be for the King; that would
+be to send you marching against Monmouth. He does not want such a
+messenger as I am. Do you march early to-morrow, Sir John?"
+
+"Not so soon as that, I think, Martin."
+
+"And you, Lord Rosmore?"
+
+"Is it worth while marching at all against such a rabble?" was the
+answer.
+
+Martin took up his fiddle.
+
+"You, Sir Philip, will hardly leave the ladies, I suppose? Like me, you
+are no fighting man."
+
+Sir Philip Branksome chose to consider himself a very great fighting
+man, and every acquaintance he had knew it. His angry retort was drowned
+in the laughter which assailed him on all sides, and by the time the
+laughter had ended Martin Fairley had left the room.
+
+"That madman knows too much," said Rosmore, turning to Sir John. "You
+give him too great licence. Had I anything to do with him I should slit
+that wagging tongue of his."
+
+"He talks too freely to be dangerous," said Sir John. "His news is
+doubtless true, and we--which side do we favour?"
+
+Mrs. Dearmer propounded a question.
+
+"Does it not depend upon which is the good? If popery, then Monmouth and
+the Protestants claim us; if Protestantism, then must we die for King
+James and all the evil he meditates."
+
+"A fair abbess reminding us of our rules," said Branksome. "Would not
+the most wicked course be to do nothing, and then side with the victor?"
+
+"That madman seems to have spoken shrewdly when he said you did not like
+fighting," said a girl beside him.
+
+"There is evil to be done whichever side we fight for," said Rosmore. "I
+see more personal advantage in fighting for King James, and should
+anyone be able to persuade Fellowes to throw in his lot with Monmouth he
+will do me a service. The world grows too small to hold us both."
+
+"At least I hope that all my lovers will not fall victims to the
+rabble," said Mrs. Dearmer. "Abbot John, you at least must stay at the
+Abbey to keep me merry."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Martin Fairley tucked his fiddle under his arm and went quickly down the
+terrace. As he approached the doorway leading into the ruined hall a man
+came out of the shadows.
+
+"My brother poet!" Martin exclaimed. "You have left the revel early,
+brother!"
+
+"Can you be serious, Martin, and understand me clearly?" asked Fellowes.
+
+"It happens that I am rather serious just now," was the answer.
+
+"Martin, I was a scoundrel to-night," said Fellowes, catching him by the
+arm. "I might plead wine as an excuse, but I will not, or love, which I
+dare not. All women are to be won, you know the roué's damnable creed. I
+was in despair; a few words from a pure woman's lips had convinced me of
+my unworthiness, and then I met Rosmore. He ridiculed me; suggested,
+even, that my love was returned, goaded me to play the lover wilfully
+and as a man who will not be beaten. Then the wine and the sham courage
+that is in it drove me on. I sent a lying message, and she came to the
+hall yonder. I would not let her go, and she cried out. In a moment they
+came hurrying in upon us, Rosmore with them. They would have turned it
+to comedy, laughed at her, applauded me; but Rosmore, Martin, drew his
+sword to defend her--he had played for the opportunity. Had any other
+man but Rosmore faced me I should say nothing, but he is worse even than
+I am. You saw the end."
+
+"She was shielding you," said Martin.
+
+"I know. I do not count, but Rosmore desires her, Martin. He thought to
+stand high with her by killing me to-night. She must never belong to
+Lord Rosmore. She will listen to you, Martin--she always does, she
+always has."
+
+"Would you make a Cupid's messenger of me, Mr. Fellowes?"
+
+"Fool! I tell you I am nothing. Save her from Rosmore, that is your
+mission. My sword, my life are at her service, she knows that, and
+probably would not use them, no matter what her peril might be; but you,
+some day, might use me on her behalf, without her knowledge. Take this
+paper; it is the name of my lodging in town. Keep it. Do you understand?
+To-morrow I leave the Abbey."
+
+"To join Monmouth?"
+
+"To try and do what is right," Fellowes answered, "and find a worthy
+death, if possible, to atone for an unworthy life."
+
+"A new day will change your mood," said Martin.
+
+"Think so if you will, only keep the paper, and save her from Rosmore."
+
+As he turned away Martin caught his arm.
+
+"There was once a man like you," he said, "a man who loved like you, who
+was a scoundrel like you. Suddenly an angel touched him, and in great
+pain he turned aside into a rugged, difficult path. At the end of it he
+shrank back at the sound of a voice, shrank back until he knew that the
+voice spoke words of praise and confidence and honour; and a hand, clean
+as men's hands seldom are, grasped his in friendship."
+
+The madman's hand was stretched out to him, and Fellowes took it.
+
+"The eyes of a fool often see into the future," said Martin. "I am
+grasping the hand of the man you are to be. I shall keep the paper."
+
+Fellowes went along the terrace without another word, and Martin went to
+the deep-set door in the tower by the Nun's Room. It was not locked
+to-night, and he climbed the narrow, winding stair quickly.
+
+A dim light was burning in the circular chamber, and as Martin entered
+Barbara rose from a chair to meet him. Swiftly he drew the bow across
+the fiddle strings.
+
+"The fiddle laughs at your trouble, child."
+
+"It must not be laughed at so easily, Martin. Your news to-night--"
+
+"Was just in time to save a very foolish man from my Lord Rosmore. I can
+guess what happened. The one insults you, the other pretends to defend
+you and--"
+
+"And my uncle wishes me to marry him; but that is not the trouble,
+Martin."
+
+"I should have called that trouble enough."
+
+"But listen," said Barbara, "this news of Monmouth's landing distresses
+me for a very strange reason."
+
+"Tell me," said Martin.
+
+Barbara told him of the man who had come to her rescue at Newgate, and
+repeated all that Lord Rosmore had said of him.
+
+"Do you think he can be such a man as that, Martin?"
+
+"If Lord Rosmore knows him then--"
+
+"If--but does he?"
+
+"Lord Rosmore knows a great many scoundrels, I have been told. What was
+the name of this one?"
+
+"He is not a scoundrel, Martin, I am sure, quite sure. A woman
+knows--how, I cannot tell, but she does. And then, even if he be a
+scoundrel, I would do him a service, if he can be found. That Monmouth
+is in England will be an excuse for taking him, even if he is innocent."
+
+"Still you do not tell me his name."
+
+"Gilbert Crosby," said Barbara.
+
+Martin sat in a corner where the shadows fell, and Barbara did not
+notice his sudden start of interest.
+
+"Crosby, Crosby," he said slowly. "There are Crosbys in Northamptonshire,
+and here in Hampshire, close by the borders of Wilts and Dorset, there
+is one; but a Gilbert Crosby--what is he like?"
+
+"I cannot tell. He made me ashamed to be in such a place, and I did not
+look much into his face. He had grey eyes, and a voice that was stern
+but kind."
+
+"An excellent picture!" cried Martin. "He should be as easy to find as a
+cat in winter time. Cats always go towards the fire, you know, and blink
+the dreamy hours away in the warmth of the blaze. Oh, we'll find this
+Gilbert Crosby, never fear; and when we find him, what shall we say? Our
+Lady of Aylingford is in love. Come with us."
+
+"You are foolish, Martin."
+
+"I was born so, they say, and therefore cannot help it, but, being a
+fool, I am convinced that folly is sometimes better than wisdom.
+To-night, like a fool, I will dream of this Gilbert Crosby, and learn in
+what direction he must be sought for; but now I must be wise and tell
+you that the hour grows late and that children should be in bed."
+
+"I fear that childhood, and with it happiness, is being left far behind
+me, Martin," Barbara said with a sigh.
+
+She could not see him clearly in the shadows, could not discern the
+strange light in his eyes, nor catch the hushed echo to her sigh which
+came from her crazy companion.
+
+"No, no; we are all children right to the end," he said suddenly. "There
+are moments when we know it and feel it, and, alas! there are times,
+too, when we are blind and feel quite old. Open your eyes and you'll
+know that childhood has you always by the hand, keeping love and purity
+and fair dreams blossoming in your heart. Come, I will take you along
+the terrace lest Mr. Fellowes or my Lord Rosmore or--Ah! how many more
+are there who would not give half their years and most of their fortune
+to stand in the shoes of this fool to-night."
+
+"Peace, Martin."
+
+"Do you hear her little fiddle?" and he laid his hand lovingly on the
+polished wood for a moment.
+
+"You must not laugh while I am away. Maybe we'll have a laugh together
+when I return, for the moon is too bright to go out on to my roof and
+get wisdom from the stars. Come, mistress."
+
+And they went down the narrow, winding stair together.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+KING MONMOUTH
+
+The day was dying slowly, the west still aglow after the sinking of the
+sun. Thin wreaths of mist were rising from the wide, deep trenches, or
+"rhines," as the country folk called them, which intersected and drained
+this moorland, making cultivation possible where once had been a great
+marshy pool with shifting islands here and there, and rush-covered
+swamps.
+
+Silence was over the land, broken now and again by the call of a bird,
+and presently by the quick beating of hoofs. A solitary horseman came
+rapidly along a road which skirted the edge of the moor. He was dusty
+with a long journey, and his horse came to a standstill at the first
+tightening of the rein. The rider had been in the saddle since early
+morning, and although he had not loitered on his journey, his eyes and
+ears had been keenly set all day, and, whenever practicable, he had
+chosen by-paths in preference to the main road. His was a mission which
+might bring him many dangers, and enemies even amongst those he sought
+to befriend.
+
+Before him lay the moorland, growing mistier and a little unreal in the
+failing light. To his left, clustering roofs round a church tower, was a
+village, so silent that none but the dead might have been its
+inhabitants. Not a labourer plodded homewards from his toil in the
+fields; not a horse, freed from its harness, grazed in the fields. To
+his right, sharply cutting the distant sky-line, rose a tall spire, a
+landmark for miles round.
+
+"The end of our journey," he murmured, patting the horse's neck, "and
+they won't thank us for coming."
+
+The horse appeared to understand, and started forward again, shaking
+himself as though to throw off his weariness. His rider had smiled a
+little sadly as he spoke, but now his face was set again, as one who
+rides upon an unpleasant mission but is not to be turned aside from
+fulfilling it, no matter what the cost may be.
+
+It was not long before he entered Bridgwater, and, had he not known that
+it was so, the aspect of the town would have shown him that he was in
+the midst of some great event. At no time would he be a man to pass
+unnoticed, but here his coming caused excitement. Words of welcome were
+flung at him, and anxious questions shouted after him. There was a
+feverish eagerness in the atmosphere, and if some faces which he saw at
+windows and in doorways had a look of fear in them, they were in the
+minority, and were not anxious to invite attention to themselves.
+
+"Duke!" one man exclaimed in answer to the rider's question. "He is no
+duke who is at the castle, but a king--King Monmouth. Yesterday, in the
+market-place at Taunton, they proclaimed him."
+
+"I had not heard," said the rider.
+
+"Do you come alone?" asked the man.
+
+"Quite alone."
+
+"Each man counts--may count for much--but you should have ridden in at
+the head of a troop. We'd have cracked our throats with roaring a
+welcome."
+
+The rider smiled, and passed on to the castle.
+
+Here was the centre of bustle and excitement, constant coming and going,
+hastily given orders, and general clamour. In the castle field was
+encamped an army of six thousand men, a rabble truly, and poorly armed,
+many having naught but their tools for weapons, but enthusiasts all,
+certain of the righteousness of their cause, prepared to die for the
+King they had made and whom they trusted and loved. There was order of a
+sort, but it seemed strangely like confusion to the horseman as he
+dismounted within the courtyard. Here again a welcome met him, but it
+was with difficulty he could get a message carried to King Monmouth.
+Would he not see Lord Grey who was in charge of the cavalry, or Master
+Ferguson who could tell him all he wanted to know--or Buyse, or Wade,
+or--
+
+"Monmouth, blockhead--and Monmouth only," was the angry retort. "And
+quickly, or you'll suffer for such laggard service."
+
+He spoke with such authority that there was whispered speculation who
+this stranger might be. Perhaps he was the first of those nobles who had
+promised to draw swords with them in the great cause. A messenger went
+quickly, and soon returned. The King would see him at once.
+
+As the stranger entered the chamber where half a dozen men were
+gathered, one man rose and came forward to meet him.
+
+"Gilbert Crosby!" he exclaimed. "Never was friend more welcome."
+
+His face, somewhat gloomy a moment before, was suddenly lit with a
+brilliant smile, so winning, so full of charming graciousness, that it
+was easy to understand the influence such a leader must have over the
+army of enthusiasts gathered in the town of Bridgwater. He was a
+handsome man, in appearance a born leader of men; and if Gilbert Crosby
+understood some of the shortcomings which lay underneath this attractive
+exterior, he could not remember them just now. There was the temptation
+to offer himself heart and soul to this man and forget the self-imposed
+mission on which he had come. He had been brought in contact with
+Monmouth some years ago, had begun, perhaps, by pitying, and had ended
+by giving him a friendship which was truer and stauncher than any other
+he had ever possessed. When, a few years since, Monmouth had been fêted
+throughout Somersetshire and Devon, Crosby had been much in his company,
+had entertained him modestly at his own manor, and had been at that
+sumptuous feast given in honour of the Duke by Thynne of Longleat.
+
+"Gentlemen, this is a very dear friend of mine," said Monmouth, turning
+and presenting him to the company, "Mr. Gilbert Crosby of Lenfield
+Manor, than whom we could not welcome a better gentleman."
+
+"Pardon, my lord, but--"
+
+"Ye've come to help a great cause," said a long, lean man, bent in the
+shoulder, and with lantern jaws which mouthed out his words in the
+strongest of Scotch accents. "I'm Ferguson. Ye've heard of me; and I'm
+saying it's a fight against the enemies of the Lord ye've come to wage."
+
+"I would not be misunderstood," said Crosby, turning to Monmouth; "I
+came to talk with you in private, not to fight."
+
+"I regret to hear you say so," Monmouth answered. "I am rather weary of
+advice, but come with me." And then, having taken a few steps towards a
+door leading to another room, he stopped. "No, Crosby; friendship must
+stand aside for a while. I must have no secrets from these comrades, who
+are with me heart and soul in this enterprise."
+
+"That's better--much better," said Ferguson. "Let us hear the man and
+his communication. It is no more than the right of those who are bearing
+the heat and burden of the day."
+
+"I would urge that our conversation be in private," said Crosby.
+
+"And I would urge otherwise," said Ferguson. "Such a desire for privacy
+has the savour of treachery about it."
+
+"Can a man be a traitor to a cause he has never espoused?" Crosby asked
+quietly.
+
+"Is it, then, that ye are afraid to speak before honest men?" Ferguson
+demanded roughly, the eruption with which his face was plentifully
+covered glowing a fiery red as he thrust his head forward like an angry
+vulture.
+
+"Afraid!"
+
+"Gentlemen! Gentlemen! I will have no quarrelling," said Monmouth. "I
+will go bail for my friend, even though he does not throw in his lot
+with us. I warrant he has naught but kindness in his heart for me, and
+that kindness has brought him to Bridgwater."
+
+"The gentleman can certainly not be accused of cowardice if he comes to
+vilify your friends," said one man. "That requires courage."
+
+"That is true, Grey," said Monmouth. "Speak freely, Crosby, as you would
+to me were we alone; or, if you regret coming, keep silent. You shall
+sup with us to-night, and to-morrow depart. We will force no man to
+raise a hand for us."
+
+"Why make promises until we have heard the man's communication?" growled
+Ferguson. "Those who are not for the Lord are for Baal; there is no
+middle course."
+
+"The purpose for which I came shall be fulfilled," said Crosby. "You
+gentlemen know nothing of me, nor I of you, except that you stand by the
+side of your new-made king. For that I can honour you; on your side,
+pray give me credit for honesty."
+
+"Words, words, like sounding brass and a tinkling cymbal," said
+Ferguson.
+
+"Most assuredly such words, with their specious promises, have had much
+to do with this enterprise," Crosby retorted; and then, turning to
+Monmouth, he went on earnestly: "You have been deceived by lying agents,
+such men as Wildman and Danvers. By this time you must know that London
+will not raise a finger nor spend a guinea to help you, and that there
+is not a single Whig nobleman who will draw a sword on your behalf."
+
+"You are full of news, sir," sneered Ferguson. "You must be deep in the
+councils of our enemies to know so much. And why limit yourself to
+Wildman and Danvers when you speak of liars and deceivers? I am
+Ferguson--everybody knows me. This is Lord Grey of Wark. Here stands
+Fletcher, and Wade and Anthony Buyse. Why not complete your accusation?"
+
+"You are deceived with your master, rather than deceivers," Crosby
+answered. "You are prepared to fight for the cause, therefore you stand
+apart. You know that what I say is true, my lord." And he turned to
+Monmouth again.
+
+"Finish what you have to say, Crosby."
+
+"Your enterprise is doomed to failure. Here in Somersetshire you are
+loved, and a few thousand men, confident that the whole country will
+acclaim you, are prepared to lay down their lives for you. The country
+is not going to open its arms to you. You can no longer be deceived upon
+that point. The train-bands of Wiltshire are mustering, the militia of
+Sussex and Oxfordshire are on the road. The Duke of Beaufort supports
+the crown, and the undergraduates of Oxford take up arms to oppose you.
+Feversham and Churchill march with the regular troops against you, and
+your army of yokels must go down like a field of corn before the
+reapers."
+
+"I take it that, had there been no doubt of our success, we should have
+had the pleasure of your company," said Ferguson.
+
+"No, you would not. I do not favour the rebellion you are raising, and I
+come on a self-imposed embassy to plead with my Lord Monmouth, first
+because of my friendship for him, secondly to urge that he will not
+fashion a scourge for the back of this simple West-Country folk."
+
+Monmouth's face had grown gloomy. He was too good a soldier not to know
+that what Crosby said was true, that his chance of success was of the
+feeblest kind. Not a single man of real importance had joined him;
+already there was regret that he had left his retreat in Brabant to lead
+such a desperate venture, and deep down in his heart, perhaps, he
+recognised in Ferguson his evil genius.
+
+"You are a veritable Job's comforter," he said with a forced smile. "You
+show us a crowd of difficulties, have you any advice how they may be
+overcome?"
+
+"Bid these men with their scythes and reaping-hooks disperse, and then
+leave England as quietly as you came."
+
+Such a solution had entered into Monmouth's mind already. It seemed more
+feasible now that a friend had spoken it.
+
+"You cannot!" exclaimed Lord Grey. "That would be base ingratitude to
+the men who are encamped without these walls. We have called them to
+arms, we must stand or fall with them."
+
+"I grant it sounds the more honest advice," said Crosby, "but, my lord,
+you have to choose between two evils; I only counsel you to take the
+lesser. A few will suffer, doubtless, if you abandon your enterprise,
+but if you press on with it the whole of the West Country will be
+persecuted. King James does not know how to forgive."
+
+"It is too late to turn back," said Monmouth. "Grey is right. These men
+look to me to lead them to victory. I will make the attempt. I have
+sworn it on the Holy Book."
+
+Crosby bowed his head and was silent. He could not deny that Monmouth's
+attitude was that of an honest man.
+
+"And what becomes of this gentleman who is so ready to help our enemies
+by giving us advice?" asked Ferguson.
+
+"To-night he sups with us, to-morrow he departs," Monmouth answered.
+
+"Is that wise? He has seen us in our stronghold, he has counted our
+numbers, he has knowledge of our weakness. He would be safer shut in
+this castle, safer still were he turned loose to the mercies of those
+men who are encamped yonder. I would make short work of all spies."
+
+"The gentleman is honest, but gives bad advice," said Grey.
+
+"I'm thinking we shall find him in the ranks of our enemies on the day
+of battle," Ferguson retorted.
+
+"Even so, he departs in peace to-morrow," said Monmouth.
+
+"I fight neither for you nor against you," Crosby answered. "Presently
+I may try to do something to help these peasants in their need, which
+will surely come. If in your hour of need, my Lord Monmouth, you should
+think there is safety at Lenfield Manor, I will do my best to find you
+a hiding-place there."
+
+"If I enter Lenfield Manor I trust it will not be as a fugitive from my
+enemies," said Monmouth. "Now, gentlemen, to supper."
+
+Gilbert Crosby had hardly expected anything else but failure, yet he was
+disappointed. Had he seen Monmouth privately he might have been able to
+persuade him better. Some honesty there might be in Monmouth's use of
+the Protestant faith to further his cause, but it was probably of very
+secondary consideration, while with those about him, and who were
+responsible for his actions, it was merely a tool to be used so long as
+it proved useful. With the peasantry who had flocked to the blue
+standard it was everything, and it was chiefly on their account that
+Crosby had journeyed to Bridgwater. He would have saved Monmouth if he
+could, but after all, Monmouth aspired to a throne and must take the
+risks; the people, on the other hand, had nothing to win and everything
+to lose, and, although Crosby would not take up arms with them, he was
+quite ready to sacrifice himself on their behalf. He was of that stock
+which had bred the Pyms and Hampdens of the Civil War. At the
+Restoration his father had retired to his Manor of Lenfield and had
+mixed no more in politics. Possibly the Restoration was for the general
+good of the country rather than the rule of that rabid section of the
+Puritans which had caricatured the original spirit in which an appeal to
+arms had been made, but Thomas Crosby remained a Puritan, and distrusted
+the Stuarts as much as he had ever done. In this atmosphere Gilbert
+Crosby had grown to manhood, and since his father's death five years ago
+had been master of Lenfield. If he were less of a Puritan than his
+father, he was just as opposed to all forms of popery, and had been
+quite sensible of the danger which must arise on the accession of James.
+He had been active amongst those who were firmly determined to struggle
+against the re-establishment of Roman Catholicism in England, but he had
+lent himself to no underhand plots against the King, and, although
+conscious that there existed an undercurrent of intrigue in favour of
+the Duke of Monmouth, neither he nor those with whom he was associated
+had expected Monmouth's landing. It was natural, perhaps, that men like
+Wildman and Danvers should believe that such an invasion would force the
+hands of all those who clung to the Protestant faith, but the body to
+which Crosby belonged looked to the Prince of Orange as leader should
+open rebellion become necessary; they might be at one with the
+West-Country peasantry in religion, but they were not likely to help the
+son of Lucy Walters to his father's throne. Gilbert Crosby was prepared
+to be his friend, but he was not prepared to be his subject.
+
+He had retired to his room and locked the door. He was to start early in
+the morning, and had taken leave of Monmouth, who had striven to appear
+in high spirits during supper. His forced gaiety had not deceived
+Crosby, whose heart was heavy as he paced the room thoughtfully for a
+time. Disaster was in the air, and Monmouth was but the shuttlecock of
+unscrupulous men.
+
+"I wish I could help him," he sighed, and then he drew from his neck a
+white ribbon. The ends were knotted together so that he could suspend it
+round his neck under his clothing, and it had rested there day and night
+ever since he had picked it up. He folded it in his hands and kissed it;
+so he had done every night, and there had come to him a vision--a
+hurrying crowd of men and women, careless of everything but pleasure and
+excitement, and a young girl shrinking back against the wall, strangely
+out of place there, and alone.
+
+"I wonder whether we shall ever meet again, and, if we do, whether I
+shall have the courage to show you the ribbon you dropped," he murmured.
+
+He had slipped the ribbon round his neck again when there was a hasty
+knock at the door, and when he opened it Lord Grey entered the room
+quietly.
+
+"I am glad to see you have not retired, Mr. Crosby. King Monmouth is
+afraid for you. Ferguson, a good man but a fanatic, is set upon
+detaining you at Bridgwater--has, perhaps, more sinister designs. He
+plots on his own account in this matter to take you in the morning, so
+you must needs leave to-night."
+
+"I would rather stay and settle the score with Ferguson," said Crosby.
+
+"One man, while Ferguson has a dozen enthusiasts at his back! It is
+impossible. Besides, Monmouth commands, and, in Bridgwater at least, his
+word is law."
+
+"I will go," Crosby answered.
+
+Grey led the way down numerous small passages and short flights of
+narrow steps until a small door was reached.
+
+"Your horse is here, but I will walk with you through the town. We can
+understand men coming in, we do not understand men going out."
+
+"I have already said I should prefer to stay and face Ferguson in the
+morning," Crosby returned.
+
+Grey laughed.
+
+"His rage will be wonderful to behold, but you must not be there to see
+it. He will fling texts of damnation after you, which, had they power to
+kill, would certainly prevent you reaching the end of your journey. His
+knowledge of such passages in the Bible is wonderful."
+
+They passed through the town quietly. It was sleeping.
+
+"Farewell, Mr. Crosby. I wish you could have remained with us."
+
+"And I wish that you had never been persuaded to try so mad a venture,"
+said Crosby.
+
+"The issue lies still in the balance," Grey returned.
+
+So Gilbert Crosby rode away from Bridgwater, and the mist was thick over
+Sedgemoor.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+SEDGEMOOR AND AFTERWARDS
+
+Lentfield Manor, on the borders of Dorsetshire, was a square house set
+against a background of woods, with an expanse of park land in front of
+it. There was no particular beauty about it; indeed, it had a dreary
+look, and evidences of economy were not wanting. Thomas Crosby, never at
+any time to be reckoned a wealthy man, had expended much in the cause of
+the Parliament, and had left his son Gilbert a comparatively poor man.
+Within, the house was spacious and comfortable, with many a hiding-place
+in it which had been turned to account before now, and, if the furniture
+had grown shabby and showed its age unmistakably, Gilbert had become so
+accustomed to it that he hardly noticed its deficiencies. Lenfield was
+the home he loved, and this fact touched it, and everything in it and
+about it, with magical colours. Lately he had had visions of a fair
+woman descending the low, broad stairs, smiling at him as she came; in
+fancy he had seen her flitting from room to room, filling them with
+laughter and sunshine. So much power had a length of white ribbon which
+had once belonged to such a woman.
+
+Crosby returned to Lenfield by many by-roads, more careful, even, than
+he had been when riding towards Bridgwater. Once he had turned aside to
+avoid a band of militiamen, for he had no desire to be questioned. This
+insurrection in the West would bring suspicion on many an innocent
+person, and Thomas Crosby had been so well known a Puritan that it would
+be well for his son to be found at home when he was inquired for. If
+King James persisted in his struggle for popery, there was a much
+greater rebellion than Monmouth's to come, infinitely more far-reaching.
+In that outburst Gilbert Crosby intended to play his part, but until
+then he would safeguard himself as much as possible. There would be
+refugees from Monmouth's ragged army presently, he must help them if he
+could, but he would play no part in active rebellion.
+
+An old man, who had been servant to the Crosbys when Gilbert was born,
+met him in the hall.
+
+"I've been anxious, Master Gilbert," he said, "very anxious indeed, and
+the Lord be praised that you've returned in safety. I began to fear you
+might have ridden West to join Monmouth."
+
+"Why should you think that, Golding?"
+
+"When one is anxious one thinks of all the worst things that could
+possibly happen."
+
+"It seems that they fight in a good cause, Golding."
+
+"Don't let a soul hear you say so, Master Gilbert. They've arrested two
+hundred or more in London already, honest merchants many of them, and
+they say the gaol at Oxford is full of prisoners. No Puritan is really
+safe in these days."
+
+"You've heard far more than I have, Golding. Who has brought you such
+news?"
+
+"A gentleman who came to see you yesterday," the man answered. "He
+called me a round-headed old scoundrel, but I think there was no malice
+in it."
+
+"Who was he?"
+
+"He gave no name, but he wrote you a letter. I told him you were in
+London, and that I was hourly expecting your return."
+
+"I did not say I had ridden to London," said Crosby.
+
+"No, Master Gilbert, but he asked me where you were, and I thought it
+best to be definite."
+
+"Where is this mysterious stranger's letter?"
+
+Gilbert Crosby looked at the writing on the outside, which told him
+nothing. The contents mystified him, and he had no knowledge of the man
+who signed it.
+
+"Sir," he read, "I have waited for you, having broken my journey to the
+West against these rebels on purpose to see you. This I have done, at
+some hazard to myself, at the bidding of one who honours me with
+commands. Since I cannot see you I must needs write, a dangerous
+proceeding, but your servant seems honest. Know then, sir, that you have
+enemies, men who will seek to find occasion to accuse you of disloyalty,
+and they may well find an easy opportunity now that Monmouth has landed.
+You are likely to be accused of helping his venture, and will know how
+best to secure yourself against such an accusation. For myself I know
+nothing of your aims, but the person who commands me believes you
+incapable of a base action, and would do you a service. This manor of
+yours is too near the West to be a safe place for you with an enemy so
+bent on your overthrow, and I am commanded to suggest that, for the
+present, you go to London and give no occasion for suspicion. The trust
+I have in my employer in this matter compels me to urge you to take heed
+of this letter, and moreover to offer you my help if at any time I can
+be of service to you.--Yours most obediently, Sydney Fellowes."
+
+"The danger I can understand," Crosby murmured, having read the letter a
+second time; "the meaning of this gentleman's warning is beyond my
+comprehension. I have no knowledge of him, and who can the person be who
+commands him?"
+
+"May I inquire if the communication is serious, Master Gilbert?" Golding
+asked presently.
+
+"No, no, a kindly message from a man who would do me a service," Crosby
+answered. "If I am inquired for, Golding, at any time, or by anyone,
+show no hesitation, but bring them to me at once; we have nothing to
+hide at Lenfield," and then, when the old man had gone, he added, "at
+present, at any rate."
+
+During the following days Crosby did not move abroad, did not leave the
+grounds of the manor except to walk into the village and gather any news
+he might. It was meagre enough, and was always to the effect that
+Monmouth was hard pressed. It was sadly told, too, for in the village
+the sympathy was with the Duke.
+
+Doubtless through the length and breadth of the land there was sympathy,
+but it had little power to help. It did not bring arms to the rebel
+camp; it did not bring the men Monmouth had expected to fly to his
+standard. He knew, no one better, that with such an army as he possessed
+there could be no real success. His one hope was that, by holding out
+and perchance by driving back the enemy in some skirmish which might get
+magnified into an important engagement, the men he so longed for--the
+great body of the Whigs--would be persuaded to flock to him. He did not
+let go this hope even after Crosby's visit to Bridgwater. The one thing
+he could not afford was to be inactive, so he marched to Glastonbury,
+then to Wells, then to Shepton Mallet, harassed the whole way by a
+handful of troops under Churchill, drenched by continuous and heavy
+rain. Then he turned to seize Bristol, but, checked at Keynsham, he
+turned towards Wiltshire. Bath shut its gates against him, and at Philip
+Norton Feversham was close upon his heels. For one wild moment he
+contemplated an advance on London, but fell back on Wells, and from
+there returned to Bridgwater. Ten days of constant marching had wearied
+an army ill-prepared for such toil, and nothing had been accomplished.
+
+This was the news that filtered through to Lenfield, and Crosby waited
+for the great disaster which he knew must come.
+
+Feversham, with the King's forces, lay encamped on Sedgemoor, and with
+him were some of the very men who had fought with Monmouth at Bothwell
+Bridge. As Monmouth surveyed the position of the enemy from the top of
+Bridgwater Church there leapt into his heart a wild hope that these men
+might desert and fight by his side in the day of battle. A desperate
+courage came to him. Feversham was not a general to inspire trust in his
+men; it was said that the camp was full of drunkenness. With drunken
+soldiers to command even Churchill might find ill-armed but enthusiastic
+peasants too much for him. The time to strike had come. Heaven itself
+lent aid to the rebels, for the night brought a thick fog over Sedgemoor
+as Monmouth left Bridgwater for the last time. Not a drum beat to the
+attack, not a shot was fired; only the word "Soho" was whispered that
+men might recognise their friends in the darkness.
+
+Two of the broad trenches which intersected the moor, and where the fog
+was thickest, were crossed in silence, but there was a third, protecting
+the camp, of which Monmouth knew nothing. The check brought confusion,
+and some man in his excitement fired a pistol. The battle had begun, and
+although the camp was taken by surprise, and drink made many heavy
+sleepers, the drums beat quickly to arms and the peasant warriors had
+little advantage. Grey's motley cavalry was scattered in a moment, and
+Lord Rosmore, who was amongst those who charged upon them, laughed
+aloud. This was a rabble, not an army.
+
+But while darkness lasted the peasants did not lose heart. Monmouth was
+in the midst of them, fighting with them, pike in hand. He might know
+that the battle was lost, might long for some friendly enemy to deal him
+his death blow. His enterprise would fail, but his end would be
+glorious. Men fell on every side of him, while he remained untouched,
+and ever the light grew stronger in the east. The light meant defeat;
+Monmouth knew it. Death would not come to him, and life suddenly seemed
+precious. They still fought, these soldiers of his; the scythes were red
+with blood; the Mendip miners still faced the enemy, and were cut down
+as they stood; and Monmouth in his flight turned for a moment to look
+back, and shuddered. His courage was gone. Fear took hold of him, and,
+hiding the blue riband and his George, he galloped away with Grey and
+Buyse, first towards the Bristol Channel, and then, turning, made
+towards Hampshire. He remembered that Gilbert Crosby had promised to
+find him a hiding-place, and if he could reach Lenfield he might be
+safe. The pursuers followed hard after him, Lord Rosmore amongst them,
+and he, too, thought of Lenfield Manor and Gilbert Crosby.
+
+No news reached the village on the Sunday or the Monday. Crosby waited
+anxiously. The last he had heard was that Feversham was on Sedgemoor and
+that a battle was imminent. He walked through the woods to the high
+road, and if he saw a peasant whose face was unfamiliar, waited for him
+lest he should prove a fugitive and bring news. On Tuesday Lenfield knew
+that Sedgemoor had been fought and lost, and that Monmouth was a
+fugitive. In which direction he had fled was not known, but Crosby
+hazarded a guess and rode some distance towards Cranbourne Chase.
+
+"Be careful, Master Gilbert," Golding whispered. "They've arrested men
+on less suspicion than you're giving occasion for."
+
+Crosby was quite aware of this, but he had made a promise. He had not
+been prepared to fight for a rebellious Monmouth, but he was prepared to
+risk much now that he was defeated and a fugitive. Still, he went
+carefully, not seeking danger, and soon had reason to be convinced that
+Monmouth had fled in the direction of Lenfield. Men of the Somerset
+Militia were beating the country, and Crosby barely escaped falling in
+with them.
+
+When he returned to the Manor at nightfall Golding was full of news.
+Lord Grey of Wark had been taken that morning, but Monmouth was still at
+large.
+
+"But he is surrounded, Master Gilbert; there is no escape for him."
+
+"No one has been to the Manor?" Crosby asked.
+
+"No; but there have been scouts in the neighbourhood all day. Luke the
+blacksmith saw them and told me. They don't expect Monmouth to come to
+Lenfield, do they, Master Gilbert?"
+
+"It seems certain that he has come in this direction, Golding."
+
+"Then stay you at home, Master Gilbert," pleaded the old man.
+
+"Nonsense. The presence of a few militia-men in the neighbourhood is no
+cause for fear. Tell them to let me have my horse at dawn."
+
+Crosby did not sleep that night. Monmouth might come under cover of the
+darkness, and he waited and listened through the long hours. At break of
+day he was in the saddle again, but did not ride far afield. He hardly
+left his own land, and it was evident that Lenfield was surrounded. In
+the afternoon he returned home, unconscious that Monmouth had been taken
+during the morning, found in a ditch clad in a shepherd's dress, and was
+already on his way to Ringwood.
+
+"Monmouth is taken," whispered Golding as Crosby dismounted.
+
+"How do you know that? Who told you?"
+
+"A man who came two hours ago. He is waiting."
+
+"Is he a friend, do you think, Golding?"
+
+"I do not know," Golding answered. "He said he would wait until you
+came, and then demanded to be taken to the stables, where he tended his
+own horse. A masterful man, Master Gilbert, but whether a friend or an
+enemy who can tell?"
+
+"We will soon see," said Crosby; and as he turned to go to this stranger
+Golding laid a hand on his arm.
+
+"If there is danger, Master Gilbert, call. I have lost some strength
+with the passing of years, but I have never lost my ability to shoot
+straight," and he just showed him the butt of a pistol in the pocket of
+his coat.
+
+Crosby patted him on the shoulder and went to his persistent and
+uninvited guest, wondering whether Monmouth were really taken, whether
+this might not be he.
+
+Men still surrounded Lenfield. It was whispered amongst them that,
+although Monmouth was a prisoner, there was another important traitor
+yet to capture. They had been told so by Lord Rosmore, under whose
+command they were. Now they were ordered to draw in closer, and to take
+anyone who attempted to escape.
+
+"Capture him if possible, but, if not, shoot him down," was Rosmore's
+command. Then, with a dozen men, he rode across the stretch of park land
+to the front entrance of the Manor. He made no attempt to surround it in
+such a manner that those within might take alarm. His men were in the
+woods, escape was impossible.
+
+There was some little delay in answering his summons, and then a servant
+came to the door.
+
+"Is your master, Mr. Gilbert Crosby, within?"
+
+"I think he is asleep, sir; but will you be pleased to enter?"
+
+The girl looked innocent enough, but Lord Rosmore was too well versed in
+artifice not to be cautious.
+
+"My horse is restive, as you see. Will you request your master to come
+out and speak with me for a moment?"
+
+The girl curtsied and departed with her message, leaving the door open.
+
+"He suspects nothing," Rosmore whispered to a man beside him.
+
+"I am not so certain," was the answer, "since the door is left so
+invitingly open. It would be natural to enter, and an ambush might await
+us within. That girl was over simple to be natural, it seemed to me."
+
+"Keep watch upon the windows above, some of you," said Rosmore in a low
+tone. "If this is a well-baited trap we are not such fools as to walk
+into it."
+
+The girl reappeared and came across the hall.
+
+"I cannot find my master," she said. "He will be in the gardens
+somewhere. Will you not come in and wait?"
+
+For a moment Rosmore hesitated, and then dismounted. He called to two or
+three men to come with him.
+
+"If you see him coming tell him we are within," he said to the others.
+"Now, my girl, we will see if we can find your master," and he caught
+her roughly by the arm. "Where is he hiding, eh?"
+
+"Hiding?"
+
+"Yes, pretty innocence; and unless you tell me quickly I shall have to
+bare these shoulders of yours and see what the taste of a whip can
+accomplish."
+
+At that moment there was a shout from the men without, and Rosmore
+rushed back to them. A horseman had suddenly ridden from the stables at
+the far end of the house.
+
+"Where's that scoundrel Rosmore?" he cried. "He would take Crosby of
+Lenfield, would he? Well, now is his chance; and in taking him he will
+capture an even more notorious person, whom, rumour says, he has long
+desired to meet."
+
+"Now I know!" Rosmore exclaimed as he flung himself into the saddle.
+"After him, and shout, all of you, to put the men in the woods on the
+alert."
+
+The horseman turned and galloped across the park in a slanting
+direction.
+
+"Don't ride too close, Rosmore," he shouted over his shoulder, "for I
+seldom miss the mark I aim at."
+
+He suddenly altered his course. It was deftly done, and served to gain
+him a few yards on his pursuers.
+
+"To the right and left to cut him off!" cried Rosmore. "We have him. The
+chase is over before it has well begun."
+
+Well might he say so, for the fugitive was galloping straight towards a
+stiff fence that few horses would face and few horsemen would hazard
+their necks over.
+
+He turned again and laughed, but rode straight on. The next moment, with
+inches to spare, the gallant animal had cleared the fence and dropped
+into the wood beyond.
+
+A cry of wonder came from the men who were following him, a curse from
+Lord Rosmore, for the rider was the highwayman Galloping Hermit, and
+wore the brown mask.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+"THE JOLLY FARMERS"
+
+For a few moments the very daring of the leap paralysed the hunters. The
+man had surely gone to his death, preferring an end of this sort to the
+one that most surely awaited him if he were captured. They had looked to
+see horse and rider crash downwards to destruction, or perchance fall
+backwards to be crushed and maimed past all healing; but when neither of
+these things happened a cry of astonishment, not unmingled with
+admiration, burst from a dozen throats. The shouting had brought men
+running from the other sides of the house; a few of them were in time to
+see the leap accomplished and to realise that Galloping Hermit had been
+in their midst; others saw only a straggling group of horsemen at fault,
+and looked in vain for the reason of the shouting. Lord Rosmore himself
+was too surprised to give orders as quickly as he might have done, and
+made up for the delay by swearing roundly at everybody about him.
+
+"Fools! What are you waiting for?" he cried savagely. "There are more
+ways into the wood than over that cursed fence."
+
+He turned to one man and gave him quick instructions concerning the
+watch to be kept on the Manor House, and then spurred his horse into the
+wood after the mounted men who had already started in pursuit.
+
+Either from actual knowledge, or conviction, the highwayman seemed to be
+certain that at this spot the woods surrounding Lenfield Manor would not
+be so carefully watched, that so stiff a fence would be deemed
+sufficient to make escape that way impossible. To the right and left of
+it, however, men were sure to be stationed; so, with a soothing word to
+his horse, he plunged into the depths of the wood along a narrow track,
+as one who knew his way perfectly and was acting on some preconceived
+plan. In a small clearing he halted, listening for the sounds of
+pursuit, and then pressed forward again until he presently came out upon
+the green sward bordering a road. Again he halted to listen, and,
+satisfied that the hunters were not too perilously close upon his heels,
+he cantered in the direction of the open country which lay to his right.
+He was now riding in a direction which made an angle with the way some
+of his pursuers had evidently taken; he knew the spot where the two ways
+met, and halted again when he reached it. Here a broad glade cut into
+the very heart of the wood, and down it came three horsemen at a trot,
+looking to right and left as they came, searching for their hidden
+quarry. Then they saw him at the end of the glade, and shouted as they
+put spurs into their horses. The shouts were answered from other parts
+of the wood, and the highwayman smiled underneath his mask as he patted
+his horse's neck.
+
+"We'll give them a hopeful chase for a while, my beauty; presently you
+shall stretch yourself and leave them behind, but it's a steady canter
+for a time. No, no; not even so fast as that. We are well out of pistol
+shot."
+
+Six men took up the chase, their faces set with grim determination. They
+were well mounted, and hopeful of success. They had every incentive to
+do their utmost.
+
+"There is a large reward offered for the capture of the wearer of the
+brown mask," said Lord Rosmore. "He is, besides, Gilbert Crosby, a
+rebel, and, further, I have a private account to settle with him. I
+double the reward."
+
+The men nodded. It would be strange if six of them could not compass the
+downfall of one. They rode on in silence, sometimes with increased hope
+as the distance between them and the highwayman lessened a little,
+sometimes with muttered curses when they realised that their horses were
+doing as much as they were able.
+
+"I think he tires a little," said one man presently, and Lord Rosmore
+saw that they had materially gained upon their quarry.
+
+"Where will this take us?" he asked.
+
+"We should strike the West Road soon," was the answer. "He'll have a
+hiding-hole somewhere near it, maybe."
+
+"He is too clever to lead us to it," said Rosmore. "He'll change his
+line presently, and we may have to separate. But his horse is tiring,
+that is certain. Press forward, lads; if we gain only inches it must
+tell in time."
+
+The day was drawing to a close. Evening shadows were beginning to steal
+up from behind distant woods. There would be light for a long while yet,
+but the chase must end before the shadows grew too deep, or the
+highwayman's chances would be many. The road took a wide circle through
+a plantation, and then ran straight across a stretch of common land,
+gradually mounting upwards to a distant ridge. As they galloped through
+the plantation the highwayman was lost sight of for a few moments round
+the bend in the road. The hunters pressed their horses forward at the
+top of their speed, conscious that in such a place the fugitive might
+quite possibly slip away from them; but when they came on to the
+straight road he was still in front of them, farther in front of them
+than he had been at any time during the chase. The highwayman turned to
+look back, and seemed to check his horse a little, but his advantage did
+not appear to decrease.
+
+"What a magnificent beast he rides!" exclaimed Rosmore. "We shall have
+to separate, and without his knowing it. The opportunity will come
+directly. Look! I thought as much."
+
+The highwayman had evidently only tried his horse's power. He was quite
+satisfied that he could distance his pursuers when he liked, and thought
+that the time had come. He was leaning forward in his saddle now, riding
+almost as a trick rider might do, but the effect was great. Possibly he
+contrived to shift his weight, for the horse suddenly bounded forward,
+breasting the hill to the ridge in splendid fashion. He might have been
+at the beginning of the race instead of nearing the end of it.
+
+"Playing with us all the time!" said one man with a curse.
+
+"That pace cannot last," Rosmore returned. "Keep after him. The moment
+he is over the ridge, you, Sayers and Watson, come with me. You others
+keep after him. He may be headed away from the road, which must lie just
+beyond the ridge. Perhaps we shall cut him off, for I have an idea he
+means to turn upon his track. Capture, or no capture, there's money for
+this day's work."
+
+As the highwayman disappeared over the ridge Lord Rosmore and his two
+men turned at right angles from the road and went across the common; the
+others continued the pursuit, but going not a whit faster than they were
+before. No amount of spurring served to lengthen the stride of their
+horses. To follow seemed hopeless, was hopeless unless the unexpected
+happened.
+
+"Let our horses walk for a few moments," said Rosmore. "You know this
+part of the country, Sayers; what should you say our direction is now?"
+
+"I don't know it over-well, my lord, but I should say we've got
+Salisbury almost straight behind us and Winchester some miles in that
+direction," and the man pointed a little to the right. "I should say
+we've been riding pretty well due north from Lenfield."
+
+"Then if the highwayman wanted to make Winchester he would have to cross
+us somewhere if we go straight forward?"
+
+"He would, my lord, but since we've been after him he's given no sign of
+making for Winchester," Sayers answered.
+
+"An inquiry in that direction may give us some information," said
+Rosmore. "I have an idea that the Brown Mask will be seen along the
+Winchester Road presently."
+
+"These horses will be no match for his."
+
+"They must carry us a little farther, but the pace may be easy," said
+Rosmore, shaking his jaded animal into a trot, and the two men rode side
+by side a few paces behind him. Strange to say, failure seemed to have
+improved Rosmore's temper rather than aggravated it. He had at least a
+score of witnesses to prove who Galloping Hermit was. A girl might be
+romantic enough to pity such a man, but it could hardly be that pity
+which is akin to love.
+
+"She has the pride of her race in her," he murmured. "I would not have
+it otherwise. There are a dozen ways to a woman's heart, and if need be
+I will try them all."
+
+The prospect appeared to please him, for he smiled. So for two hours
+they rode in the general direction of Winchester.
+
+"This is foolery," whispered Sayers to his companion. "I warrant the
+Brown Mask has gone to earth long ago. His lordship has more knowledge
+of this way than he pretends, I shouldn't wonder, and knows of a nest
+with a pretty bird in it. There may be other birds about to look after
+her, Watson. Such kind of hunting is more to my taste than the sort
+we've been sweated with to-day."
+
+They were presently traversing a road with a wood on one side and fields
+on the other, when a glimmer of light shone in front of them, and the
+barking of a dog, catching the sound of the approaching horsemen
+probably, awoke the evening echoes. Back against the trees nestled "The
+Jolly Farmers," an inn of good repute in this neighbourhood, both for
+the quality of its liquor and the amiable temper of its landlord. A
+guest had entered not five minutes ago, and was talking to the landlord
+in an inner parlour when the barking of the dog interrupted them.
+
+"Horses!" said the landlord. "They follow you so sharply that it is well
+to be cautious. This way, sir."
+
+He touched the wall where there certainly was no sign of a door, yet a
+door swung open inwards, disclosing a dark and narrow chamber. The guest
+entered it without question, and the landlord hurried out to meet the
+new arrivals.
+
+"You ride late, gentlemen."
+
+"And would sample your liquor, landlord," said Rosmore, dismounting and
+bidding his men do the same. "Have the horses looked to."
+
+The landlord called in a stentorian voice, and a lad came running from
+the rear of the premises.
+
+"Any other guests to-night, landlord?" Rosmore asked as he passed into
+the inn.
+
+"No, sir, and not much chance of them. They're having a sort of feast in
+the village yonder--dancing and such-like; and what business there is
+'The Blue Boar' will get--unless, mind you, a pair o' lovers is tempted
+to come up this way for the sake o' the walk."
+
+"How far is the village?"
+
+"Three-quarters of a mile by the road, half a mile by the path through
+the wood. But, bless you, sir, if the lovers were to come they'd get
+their refreshment out o' kisses and not trouble my ale."
+
+"What do you call this place?"
+
+"'The Jolly Farmers,' sir, and I'm called Tom Saunders, very much at
+your service."
+
+"A poor spot for an inn, surely?" said Rosmore.
+
+"There are better, and there are worse," was the answer. "We're in touch
+with the main road, and they are good enough to say that the
+entertainment is worth going a little out of the way for."
+
+"No doubt. We will judge for ourselves."
+
+"And, although I blush to mention it, folks have a kind of liking for
+Tom Saunders himself. It's often the landlord that makes the inn."
+
+If the landlord blushed, it made no appreciable difference to his rosy
+countenance, which grinned good-humouredly as he executed Lord Rosmore's
+orders.
+
+"Truly, it is good liquor," said Rosmore when he had sampled it. "Do you
+get good company to come out of their way to taste it?"
+
+"Ay, sir, at times, and a few soldiers lately. You and your two men here
+will be from the West, very like. I've heard of Sedgemoor fight. May one
+know the latest news?"
+
+"Who told you of Sedgemoor?"
+
+"I think it was the smith down in the village, or it might 'a been
+Boyce, the carpenter; anyway, it was somebody down yonder. They'd heard
+it from someone on the road."
+
+"Monmouth is taken," and Rosmore watched the landlord closely as he said
+it.
+
+"That'll be good news for King James," was the answer. "Would it be
+treason to say I'm sorry for them who've been foolish enough to take up
+arms?"
+
+"Too near it to be wise. Pity of that kind often leads a man to give
+help, and that's the worst kind of treason."
+
+"So I've heard say, but I never could understand the rights and wrongs
+of the law, nor, for that matter, the lawyers neither. I'd a lawyer here
+not many weeks back, and all his learning hadn't taught him to know good
+ale when he put his lips to it. What's the good of learning if it can't
+teach you that?"
+
+"Do you number him amongst your good company?" asked Rosmore.
+
+"I don't, but he'd reckon himself that way."
+
+"You'll be having other company before long asking you to find them
+hiding-places. The rebels are being hunted in every direction."
+
+"We're too far away," said the landlord. "Bless you, we're a sight o'
+miles from Bridgwater, and most o' these fellows ain't got horses to
+carry them. They won't trouble 'The Jolly Farmers,' sir."
+
+"And if they did?"
+
+"The bolts on the door are strong enough to keep them out."
+
+"The bolts, if used, are more likely to keep them out than the
+distance," said Rosmore; and, although the landlord still smiled, he was
+quite conscious of the doubt expressed concerning the use of the bolts.
+Rosmore paused for him to speak, but when he remained silent went on.
+"We are searching for a rebel now, one Gilbert Crosby. Do you reckon him
+amongst your good company?"
+
+"I might if I had ever heard of him," the landlord answered.
+
+"Who is in the house at this moment?" Rosmore asked.
+
+"A wench in the kitchen, and myself. My daughter is in the village at
+the merry-making, and the only other person about the place to-night is
+the boy who is looking after your horses."
+
+"I am sorry to inconvenience you, landlord, but I must make a search. If
+you're honest you will not mind the inconvenience."
+
+"Mind!" the landlord exclaimed. "I like to see a man do his duty,
+whatever that duty may be, and whatever the man's station may be."
+
+"Spoken honestly," said Rosmore. "Watson, you will stay here. Savers,
+come with me, and you come, too, landlord."
+
+The search was a thorough one, and although Rosmore keenly watched the
+landlord he could discover no sign of fear either in his face or
+attitude. Watson had nothing to report when they returned to the
+tap-room.
+
+"Tell me, landlord, what persons of quality have you in the near
+neighbourhood?"
+
+Saunders mentioned several names, amongst them Sir Peter Faulkner.
+
+"Are we near Sir Peter's? That is good hearing. He will give me a
+welcome and good cheer."
+
+"You take the road through the village," said Saunders. "It's less than
+five miles to Sir Peter's."
+
+"We'll get on our way, then," said Rosmore. Then he turned quickly upon
+the landlord. "Do you know Galloping Hermit, the highwayman?"
+
+"Well, by name. A good many have had the misfortune of meeting him on
+the West Road yonder. And, to tell the truth, sir, I believe I've seen
+him once--and without the brown mask, too."
+
+"When?" Rosmore asked sharply.
+
+"It may be three, perhaps four, months back. A horseman galloped up to
+the door, just at dusk, and called for ale. He did not dismount, and I
+took the drink to him myself. There was nothing very noticeable about
+him, only that his eyes were sharp and restless, and he held his head a
+little sideways as if he were listening. It was the horse that took my
+attention rather than the man. It was an animal, sir, you'd not meet the
+likes of in a week's journey. When the horse had galloped into the
+shadows of the night I said to myself, there goes the highwayman for a
+certainty."
+
+"And you've never seen him since?"
+
+"No, nor shall now, since he was hanged lately at Tyburn."
+
+"That was a mistake, landlord. Galloping Hermit is still alive. I have
+seen him to-night."
+
+"Alive!"
+
+"Ay, and the horse you describe fits with the animal he was riding."
+
+"I hope your honour was not robbed of much."
+
+"Of nothing, my good friend," laughed Rosmore, "except of the
+satisfaction of laying him by the heels."
+
+"Still alive, is he?" said the landlord. "I cannot credit it. Maybe 'tis
+someone else who wears the brown mask now, and trades on the other's
+fame."
+
+"It is not likely, and if it is so he must suffer for the other's sins,"
+said Rosmore; but the idea lingered with him as he rode away from the
+inn, followed by Watson and Sayers.
+
+As they passed through the village the sound of dancing to the music of
+a fiddle came from a large barn by the roadside, and a brisk trade was
+being done at an ale-house over the way. Lord Rosmore had small sympathy
+with the common folk and their amusements; besides, he was thinking
+deeply of the landlord's suggestion. Fate seemed to have thrust certain
+cards into his hand to play--cards which seemed to belong to two
+separate games, and which, if he could only join them into one, might
+bring him victory. How was he to join them? Somewhere there was a card
+missing, a link which must be supplied. Did the landlord's suggestion
+supply it? As he rode slowly forward the sound of the dancing and
+laughter was gradually hushed; only the far-carrying notes of the fiddle
+lingered a little longer. Lord Rosmore fancied he heard the notes long
+after it was possible for him to do so. Even as Sir Peter welcomed him
+presently they seemed to be sounding faintly in his ears.
+
+In the tap-room of "The Jolly Farmers" the landlord sat staring at the
+opposite wall for some time. He looked as if he were counting over and
+over again the glasses and tankards which hung or stood on shelves
+there, and could not get the number to his satisfaction. Once or twice
+he turned his head towards the door and listened, but appeared to catch
+no sound worthy of investigation. Once he got up and stepped lightly to
+the parlour beyond, and looked towards the secret door which he had
+opened for his guest, but he did not touch it. Satisfied that no sound
+came from that direction, he went back and stared at the glasses and
+tankards again. Presently he went to the inn door and looked out at the
+night. There was a soft breeze singing along the road, and a multitude
+of stars overhead. The breeze carried no other sound besides its own
+music.
+
+A good two hours passed after the departure of the horsemen before the
+landlord's usual energy returned. Then he went into the inner parlour
+and opened the secret door. A few moments elapsed before the guest
+stepped out. It seemed as if he were not quite certain of the landlord's
+honesty.
+
+"Well, has he come?" he asked.
+
+"No, but they have gone," the landlord answered. "Three horsemen who had
+ridden far looking for a rebel."
+
+"I must thank you for hiding me so securely. For your courtesy I should
+tell you my name. I am--"
+
+"Better let me stay in ignorance," said Saunders. "I am in no position
+to answer questions then."
+
+"As you will; and, truly, I am on an adventure of which I understand
+little and was warned to speak of sparingly. I was to make for this inn
+and inquire for a fiddler. How this fiddler fellow is to serve me I do
+not know."
+
+"Nor I," answered the landlord.
+
+At that moment a little cadence of notes, strangely like a laugh, fell
+upon their ears, and there came a fiddler into the tap-room.
+
+"Ale, Master Boniface, ale. I could get well drunk upon the generosity
+of your village yonder. See how they rewarded this fiddle of mine for
+making them dance." And he held out a handful of small coins. "Ale,
+then, and let it be to the brim. Has anyone inquired for a poor fellow
+like me?"
+
+"This gentleman," said the landlord.
+
+The fiddler looked steadily into the eyes of the guest for a moment, as
+if he were trying to recall his face, then he bowed.
+
+"Martin Fairley, sir, is very much at your service."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+FATE AND THE FIDDLER
+
+The stars were still bright in the deep vault above, the breeze still
+had a note of singing in it, but the sound of music and dancing was
+hushed in the village, and all the lights were out, when two horsemen
+came through a gateway on to the road some five miles away.
+
+Gilbert Crosby found himself in strange company. No sooner had this
+queer fiddler learned that search had been made at "The Jolly Farmers"
+than he refused to give any information, or listen to any explanation,
+until they had put some distance between themselves and the inn. He
+hurried out of the house, and in a few minutes returned with the
+information that he had two horses waiting in the wood behind. Crosby's
+mount was a good enough looking animal which seemed capable of carrying
+him far if not fast; his companion's horse was so lean and miserable
+that it seemed to bear a resemblance to the fiddle which Fairley had
+slung by a string across his back. In spite of its ill-condition Crosby
+wondered whether it would not be too much for the musician, who mounted
+awkwardly and seemed so intent on keeping his seat that he was not able
+to talk. He had grown more accustomed to the animal by the time they
+came out on to the high road. They had travelled chiefly at walking
+pace, by rough paths, and through woods where the tracks would have been
+difficult to find even in the daytime, and impossible at night save to
+one who knew them intimately.
+
+"So we strike the road as you declared we should," said Crosby. "You
+have great knowledge of the byways in this part of the country, Master
+Fairley."
+
+"I have travelled them, usually on foot, for many years," he answered.
+"My fiddle and I go and make music in all the villages round about;
+almost everybody knows me along the road. Should we be questioned, say
+you fell in with me and we continued together for company."
+
+"Trust me. I can keep a quiet tongue," Crosby returned. "Will you tell
+me now where we are going, and how it is you interest yourself in me?"
+
+"Better that you should tell me your part of the story first or I may be
+giving you stale news."
+
+"Truly, I have little to tell," Crosby said. "I am no rebel, though the
+charge might with some show of reason be brought against me. To-day--or
+yesterday rather, for it must be long after midnight--my house was
+secretly surrounded. My servant told me when I returned in the
+afternoon, and informed me also that a man was waiting to see me."
+
+"Who was it?" Fairley asked.
+
+"I must keep faith with him since so far he keeps faith with me. He bid
+me say nothing concerning him."
+
+A short ejaculation came from the fiddler. Perhaps his horse gave him
+trouble at that moment, but it seemed to Crosby that his companion did
+not believe him.
+
+"You doubt what I say?"
+
+"Did I say so?" asked Fairley. "I am used to strange tales, and I have
+only heard a part of yours. Finish it, Mr. Crosby."
+
+"The flight from Sedgemoor had let licence loose in the West, and I have
+reason to think that I am a victim of private vengeance. Be this as it
+may, my visitor had a scheme for my deliverance. He proposed facing the
+enemy who had now come to the door, arranged that I should give him a
+few minutes' start, and then make my way to the village from the back of
+the house. I should find a horse ready for me there, and he told me to
+ride to 'The Jolly Farmers,' where I was to await the coming of a
+fiddler who would direct me further. He was most insistent on the exact
+road I should follow, that I should leave my horse at a certain place in
+the village, and reach the inn on foot. My escape was cleverly
+arranged."
+
+"This man did you a service," said Fairley. "I wish I knew his name."
+
+"I cannot tell you. I can tell you nothing further about him; but now
+that I have escaped I feel rather as if I were playing a coward's part
+by running away."
+
+"Why? You are not a rebel."
+
+"True; yet I count for something in my own neighbourhood and might
+stretch out a protecting arm."
+
+"You were caught like a rat in a hole, and would have been powerless;
+whereas now you are free to fight your enemies, thanks to your strange
+visitor."
+
+"You speak of him as if you doubted his existence," said Crosby with
+some irritation.
+
+"Doubt! I do assure you I am one of those strange fellows who see and
+hear things which most folk affirm have no existence. I find doubting a
+difficult matter. With ill-luck I might get burnt for a wizard. I
+promise you there is more understanding in me than you would give me
+credit for, and certainly I should not call such a flight as yours
+cowardly."
+
+"I shall be able to judge the better perhaps when I have heard your part
+of the tale," said Crosby.
+
+"That is by no means certain, for my part is as vague as yours," Fairley
+answered. "You were in danger, that I knew, but the exact form of it I
+was ignorant of. I was instructed to find you and bring you to a place
+of safety, and was told that I should meet with you at 'The Jolly
+Farmers.'"
+
+"By this same man, I suppose?"
+
+"No. My instructions came from a woman."
+
+"A woman!"
+
+"Yes, and one who is evidently interested in your affairs," Fairley
+answered. "Does your memory not serve to remind you of such a woman?"
+
+Crosby did not answer the question. In the darkness of the road before
+him he seemed to see a vision.
+
+"What is this woman like?" He did not turn to look at his companion as
+he asked the question; he hardly seemed to know that he had spoken.
+
+"I cannot tell you; there are no words," said Fairley, in that curious
+monotone which the recital of verse may give, or which constant singing
+may leave in a minstrel's ordinary speech. "I cannot tell, but my fiddle
+might play her to you in a rhapsody that should set the music in your
+soul vibrating. There are women whose image cunning fingers may catch
+with brush and pigment and limn it on canvas; there are women whose
+image may be traced in burning words so that a vision of her rises
+before the reader or the hearer; and there are women whose beauty can
+only be told in music--the subtle music that lies in vibrating strings,
+music into which a man can pour his whole soul and so make the world
+understand. Such a woman is she who bid me find Gilbert Crosby and bring
+him into safety."
+
+"I know no such woman," Crosby answered. "It may seem strange to you,
+Master Fairley, but women have not entered much into my world. Tell me
+this woman's name."
+
+"Nay, I had no instructions to do so."
+
+"Shall I see her at the end of this journey?"
+
+"She hath caprices like all women; how can I tell?"
+
+"At least tell me whither we go."
+
+"If you can read the stars you may know our direction," was the answer.
+"Yonder is the Wain and the North Star, and low down eastwards is the
+first light of a new day. We may mend our pace a little if only this
+poor beast of mine has it in him to do so."
+
+It was no great pace they travelled even when they endeavoured to
+hasten. The fiddler's lean nag, either from ill-condition or over-work,
+or perchance both, could do little more than amble along, falling back
+into a walking pace at every opportunity. Perhaps it was as well, Crosby
+thought, for the fiddler seemed strangely uneasy in the saddle, and more
+than once apologised for his want of dexterity when he noticed his
+companion glance at him.
+
+"He's a sorry beast to my way of thinking, but to his thinking maybe I'm
+a sorry rider. Those who have great souls to carry often have poor knees
+for the gripping of a saddle."
+
+Crosby did not answer. The vision was still before him on the road, and
+he wondered whether Fate and this fiddler were leading him to his
+desire. Absorbed in his dream, he let his horse, which had no speed to
+boast of, suit his pace to that of the lean nag, and did not trouble to
+think how quickly they must be overtaken should there be any pursuit on
+the road behind them. So they rode forwards, their faces towards the
+growing dawn, and Gilbert Crosby was conscious of a new hope stirring in
+his soul, of an indefinable conviction that to-night was a pilgrimage, a
+journeying out of the past into the future.
+
+"He rides well surely who rides towards the coming day," said Fairley
+suddenly, breaking a long silence. Crosby felt that it was true, and
+that his own thoughts had found expression.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The night brought no vision to Barbara Lanison, only a restless turning
+to and fro upon her bed and a wild chaos of mingled doubts and fears
+which defied all her efforts to bring them into order. There were still
+many guests at the Abbey, but she saw little of them except at a
+distance. She had begged her uncle to excuse her presence, and he had
+merely bowed to her wishes without commenting upon them. He may have
+been angry with her, but since she had heard him laughing and jesting
+with his companions as they passed through the hall, or went along the
+terrace, she concluded that her absence did not greatly trouble him.
+There were guests at the Abbey now who hardly knew her, some who did not
+know her at all, and she was missed so little by Mrs. Dearmer and her
+friends that they no longer troubled to laugh at her. She was as she had
+been before her visit to London, only that now she understood more; she
+was no longer a child. She had not seen Sydney Fellowes again before his
+departure, but she had no anger in her heart against him. He had
+insulted her, but it was done under the influence of wine, and in
+reality he was perchance more genuinely her friend than any other guest
+who frequented the Abbey. Had he not said that this was no home for her?
+Lord Rosmore she had seen for a few moments before he had set out to
+join the militia marching westward. He was courtly in his manner when he
+bid her farewell, declared that she would know presently that he had
+only interfered to save her from a scoundrel, and he left her with the
+assurance that he was always at her command. Barbara hardly knew whether
+he were her friend or foe. Sir Philip Branksome had left Aylingford full
+of the doughty deeds which were to be done by him, but it was whispered
+that he was still in London, talking loudly in coffee-house and tavern.
+Judge Marriott had hurried back to town, thirsting to take a part in
+punishing these rebels, but before he went he had made opportunity to
+whisper to Barbara: "Should there be a rebel who has a claim on your
+sympathy, Mistress Lanison, though he be as black as the devil's dam,
+yet he shall go free if you come and look at me to plead for him. Gad!
+for the sake of your pretty eyes, I would not injure him though the King
+himself stood at my elbow to insist." Barbara could do no less than
+thank him, and felt that he was capable of perjuring himself to any
+extent to realise his own ends, and wondered if there were any
+circumstances which could bring her to plead for mercy to Judge
+Marriott.
+
+Mad Martin had gone, too, with his fiddle under his arm. "Folks will
+marry for all there is fighting in the West," he had said, "and my
+fiddle and I must be there to play for them." He had said no more about
+Gilbert Crosby, had probably forgotten by this time that she had ever
+mentioned the name with interest. Half dreamer, half madman, what could
+he do? With a fiddle-bow for his only weapon he was a poor ally, and yet
+he seemed to be the only true friend she possessed.
+
+Barbara was very lonely, and more and more she was persuaded that
+Aylingford Abbey was a different place from that which, through all her
+childhood until now, she had considered it. Something evil hung like a
+veil over its beauty, an evil that must surely touch her if she remained
+there. She was impelled to run away from it, yet whither could she go?
+Could she explain the evil? Could she put into words what she was afraid
+of? The world would laugh at her, even as Mrs. Dearmer did, or label her
+a wench of Puritan stock, as her aunt, Lady Bolsover, was inclined to
+do. She must talk to Martin, who had taught her so many things; but even
+Martin was away fiddling at some festival that rustics might dance.
+Barbara was disposed to resent his absence at a time when she wanted him
+so much.
+
+Yesterday she had heard some guests talking of the fight on Sedgemoor as
+they walked to and fro on the terrace below the window. Monmouth was
+defeated and flying for his life, and the heavy hand of King James would
+certainly fall swiftly on the country folk of the West. Would it fall
+upon the man who had come to her rescue at Newgate? Certainly it would
+be stretched out against him were he such a man as Lord Rosmore declared
+him to be.
+
+Wearied out with much thinking, Barbara fell asleep towards morning, and
+the sun was high, flooding the terrace with light and warmth, when she
+awoke.
+
+Later, she went across the ruins to the door in the tower. Martin might
+have returned in the night. The door was still locked. It was always
+locked when Martin was away from the Abbey, and he took the key with
+him.
+
+She went back slowly along the terrace, and, from sheer loneliness, she
+was tempted to forsake her solitude and join the guests. There was a
+group of them now at the end of the terrace, and Barbara's step had
+quickened in that direction when she heard Mrs. Dearmer laugh. She
+shuddered, and went no farther. Utter loneliness was far preferable to
+that woman's company.
+
+The day seemed to drag more heavily than any which had preceded it.
+Surely there had never been such long hours and so many hours in a day
+before! The sunshine was out of keeping with her mood, and it was almost
+a relief to her when the afternoon became overcast and the haze on the
+distant hills spoke of rain. The sound of rain was on the terrace
+presently, the stone flags grew dark with the wet, and the woods became
+sombre and deeply mysterious. A light still lingered in the west, low
+down and angry looking, but the night fell early over the Abbey. Candles
+had been burning in Barbara's room for a long time when a faint cadence
+of notes struck upon her ear. She knew it well, and the sound gladdened
+her so that she laughed as she threw open the window. Her laughter was
+like a musical echo of the notes.
+
+"Martin!" she said, leaning from the casement and looking down on the
+terrace; "Martin!"
+
+There was no answer. She looked to right and left, but only the shadows
+of the night lay still and unmoving. Had the sound been fancy? She
+closed the casement and shivered a little as though she had heard a
+ghost; then there came a knock at her door.
+
+She opened it quickly and stood back.
+
+"It is you, then?"
+
+"Did you not hear my fiddle smile? No, it was not a laugh to-night; I
+was afraid someone else might hear it. Will you come to the tower? I
+like to sit in my own room when I come back from making the folks laugh
+and dance and helping them to be happy."
+
+"Well, Martin, have you nothing to tell me?"
+
+Now that he had come back, advice was not what she asked for, but news.
+
+"We always have much to talk of--always--you and I."
+
+"But to-night, Martin, especially to-night. Ah! you have forgotten."
+
+"Very likely," he answered. "I do forget a great many things. But come
+to my room in the tower; I may remember when I get there."
+
+"No, Martin, not to-night," she said.
+
+"I may remember," he repeated; "and, besides, why should you be less
+kind to me? I always look forward to my own room and you."
+
+There was a tone of sadness in his voice, and she was angry with herself
+for occasioning it. Because she was sad, was that a reason why she
+should make this poor fellow miserable? Would he not do anything to
+serve her which fell within the power of the poor wits God had given
+him?
+
+"I will come," she said.
+
+"You must wrap a thick cloak about you," said Martin. "It is raining
+heavily."
+
+She left him for a moment and quickly returned, closely wrapped up.
+
+"Tread lightly," said Martin. "I always like to think that these
+evenings when you come to my tower are secret meetings, that the world
+must not know of them. I pretend sometimes that we are followed, and
+must go warily."
+
+"Foolish Martin!"
+
+They reached the terrace by a small door, and went quickly through the
+ruins to the tower. The door was still locked. Martin had evidently only
+just returned to the Abbey, and had not yet entered his tower.
+
+"Give me your hand up the stairs," he said.
+
+"Why, Martin, I must know every turn in them as well as you do," she
+answered.
+
+"It is my fancy to-night," he said. "Give me your hand. So. I have a
+dream of a valiant knight, famous in war and tourney, one whom fine
+ladies turn to glance after and desire that he should wear their favour.
+Only one fair maid heeds him not, and ever the knight's eyes look
+towards her. Whenever he draws his sword, or sets his lance in rest, he
+whispers her name; for him she is the one woman in all the world. And
+suddenly there comes to her the knowledge of his worth; I know not how
+it comes, but she understands, and then--The dream ends then, yet
+to-night it seems to linger for an instant. This dark stair leads to
+some beautiful palace. You are the woman of the dream, the most
+beautiful woman in the world; and for just a moment I stand a valiant
+knight--your knight--and welcome you to all I possess."
+
+His voice was little above a whisper. She could not see his face, but in
+the dark her hand was raised and lips touched it.
+
+"Martin!"
+
+"After all, it's a narrow winding stair, and leads to a meagre chamber
+where lives a poor fellow who loves his fiddle. Come."
+
+The room was in darkness, but Martin guided her to a chair.
+
+"Wait; we will have candles, four of them to-night, and we will pretend
+we keep high festival. See, mistress, how bright the room is; there are
+scarcely any dark shadows in it at all."
+
+She turned to look, and then a little cry came from her parted lips.
+Before her, his eyes fixed upon her, stood the man who had come to her
+rescue at Newgate.
+
+"You see, mistress, I did not forget," said Martin; and, taking up his
+fiddle from a table, he went out, closing the door softly behind him.
+There came a little cadence of notes--the laugh of the fiddle. Somehow
+there was the sound of wailing rather than of laughter in it to-night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+THE FUGITIVE AT AYLINGFORD
+
+Barbara Lanison suddenly remembered how much she had thought of the man
+who stood before her. For the first time she realised that not a day had
+passed but those grey eyes had seemed to look into hers, even as they
+did now; that the hours were few into which his image had not come. This
+meeting was so unexpected, she was so entirely unprepared for it, that
+she was taken at a disadvantage. It seemed to her that this man must
+surely know how much he had been in her thoughts, must be reading her
+like an open book. Her eyes fell, and the colour rushed into her cheeks.
+
+"Why has Martin gone?" she said, turning to the door to recall him, and
+whatever sense of confusion she experienced, there was a dignity in her
+movement, and a tone of annoyance in her voice, which showed Crosby that
+she was proud, and seemed to prove that just now she was angry as well.
+
+"Won't you at least let me thank you for your help?" he asked, taking a
+step towards her.
+
+"It was nothing," she answered. "By chance I learnt your name, by chance
+I heard you were in danger, and I sent you a warning. I was in your
+debt, and I like to pay what I owe."
+
+"You have done that with interest."
+
+"Tell me, why are you here?" she asked.
+
+"Indeed, madam, to answer that question I have need of Martin, too, for
+he brought me."
+
+"I do not understand, Mr. Crosby--you are Mr. Gilbert Crosby, are you
+not?"
+
+"Yes; and I do not understand, either," he answered. "I have been under
+the guidance of Fate and a fiddler, and it would appear that the
+fiddler, at any rate, has played some trick with me, for I do assure you
+that he made me suppose he was doing your bidding in bringing me here."
+
+"We call him 'Mad Martin,'" she said with a little laugh. "Will you tell
+me his tale? It should be interesting, though I fear it must greatly
+have misled you."
+
+She turned from the door as she spoke, and sat down by the table.
+Perhaps it was as well Martin had gone, for there was no guessing what
+he had told this stranger, nor how far he might call upon her to support
+his action were he asked suddenly for an explanation.
+
+"It would also be interesting to me to learn who you are, and where I
+am," said Crosby with a smile.
+
+"You do not know? You have forgotten?" Barbara exclaimed.
+
+"I have not so poor a memory as that," he answered, "and will you deem
+it presumptuous in me when I say that I hoped it might be you who had
+rendered me this service? I did not know until Martin lit those candles
+and you turned towards me. Within a few hours of my seeing you at
+Newgate I was called away from London. I had no opportunity of making
+inquiry about you."
+
+"There was no reason why you should," she answered.
+
+"You did not forbid me to do so."
+
+"Indeed, no. I had small chance to do that," Barbara returned. "You
+disappeared so quickly and mysteriously."
+
+"I had seen you to your friends--why should I wait?"
+
+"If for nothing else, to be thanked. I wondered whether you had
+recognised an enemy in the neighbourhood of my aunt's coach."
+
+He laughed, but whether at the suggestion, or at her method of trying to
+draw a confession from him, it was impossible to tell.
+
+"Did you see the highwayman and thank him, as you proposed?" Barbara
+asked.
+
+"I did, and now it seems he was not this famous Galloping Hermit, after
+all."
+
+For a moment she was silent, recollecting that she had speculated
+whether this man himself might not be the wearer of the brown mask.
+
+"I am Barbara Lanison," she said suddenly, "niece to Sir John Lanison of
+Aylingford Abbey."
+
+"Am I in Aylingford Abbey?" Crosby asked.
+
+"A queer little corner of it appropriated by Martin Fairley. You seem
+surprised, sir."
+
+"Indeed, I am. I have passed through many surprises during the last few
+hours, not the least of them being that this is Aylingford, and that you
+are astonished to see me."
+
+"Perhaps it would be well to tell me your story before Martin returns.
+You must not forget that he is half a madman, and sometimes talks
+wildly."
+
+Crosby told her the manner of his escape from Lenfield, as he had told
+it to Fairley; and if Barbara Lanison did not so obviously disbelieve it
+as the fiddler had done, her eyes were full of questioning. He explained
+how "The Jolly Farmers" had been searched, and how he and Martin had
+ridden away together in the night.
+
+"He told me that he had been bidden by a woman to bring me into a place
+of safety, and he brought me here. He would tell me nothing more."
+
+"He did not even try and picture the woman for you?"
+
+"Only his fiddle could do that, he declared."
+
+"You see how foolish he is," said Barbara.
+
+"I do not find any great sign of folly in that," Crosby answered.
+
+"I was thinking of your journey, sir. I told Martin to find you if he
+could and warn you; that was all I bid him do."
+
+"And my coming has displeased you," said Crosby. "I will go on the
+instant if it be your will."
+
+"No, no; it is my will that you tell me the remainder of the story."
+
+"There is no more to tell."
+
+"You have not told me who the man was who helped you to escape from your
+manor at Lenfield," said Barbara.
+
+"He desired me not to speak of him, and I must keep faith."
+
+"Yet he told you of Martin."
+
+"He spoke only of a fiddler," said Crosby.
+
+"Have I no means of persuading you to tell me his name?" she said,
+leaning a little across the table towards him, with a look of pleading
+in her eyes. Most men would have found the temptation difficult to
+resist.
+
+"I do not think you would try any means to make a man break his
+promise," Crosby said.
+
+The grey eyes looked straight into hers, and the voice had that little
+tone of sternness in it which she had noted that day at Newgate.
+
+"Perhaps not," she said; "but it is provoking. To have a nameless
+partner in such an affair as this is to have more mystery than I care
+for."
+
+"Did you ever hear of a Mr. Sydney Fellowes?"
+
+"So you have told me after all," she said, disappointment in her voice.
+He was not the strong man she supposed him to be--merely one a woman
+could cajole at her ease. She was too disappointed in him to realise at
+once how strange it was that he should speak of Sydney Fellowes.
+
+"No, this is another friend," he answered quietly, conscious of what was
+passing in her mind.
+
+"I know Mr. Fellowes," Barbara said, her brow clearing. "Not many days
+since he was here at the Abbey."
+
+"He came to see me, but since I was away from home he left a letter
+warning me that I had enemies. He, too, had been commissioned by someone
+to warn me."
+
+"Not by me," said Barbara. "Surely you must have been acting unwisely,
+Mr. Crosby, to have so many enemies?"
+
+"It is the number of my friends which astonishes me more," he returned.
+"I am wondering what it was you heard about me which made you send to
+help me."
+
+"It concerned the Duke of Monmouth, and was not to your credit," Barbara
+said.
+
+"Yet you have helped me."
+
+"I did not believe what was said. Besides, I was in your debt."
+
+"These are times when one must speak with caution if one would dwell in
+safety," said Crosby. "Whoever accused me of being a supporter of the
+Duke of Monmouth spoke falsely, yet it is possible that he believed
+himself justified. I went to see Monmouth at Bridgwater."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"With a hope that I might persuade him to turn back from certain ruin,
+and so mitigate the misery which he must bring upon the West Country. My
+pity was rather for the simple peasants than for Monmouth, perhaps; but
+I know the Duke well, and in the past have been his close friend. You
+see, your informant may have had some reason for his accusation."
+
+"Then you are for King James?" questioned Barbara. She could not help
+remembering that the man before her had been classed with those cowards
+who will betray friends and foes alike so that their own purposes are
+served and their own safety secured. Was Gilbert Crosby almost
+confessing to as much?
+
+"I stand apart, taking neither side," he answered. "Believe me, Mistress
+Lanison, I am only one of many in England to-day who do the same. They
+are loyal subjects so long as the King remains true to his coronation
+oath."
+
+"I suppose some might call them cowards and time-servers," she said. She
+was not deeply learned in politics, and was inclined to let the personal
+qualities of a man make her hero, no matter which side he fought for. To
+stand aside and take no part at all always seemed to her rather
+cowardly. It appeared such an easy way out of a difficulty.
+
+"Some undoubtedly do call them so," Crosby admitted with a shrug of his
+shoulders, "and perhaps the fact that they are able to hear the
+accusation and remain unmoved proves them brave men. Still, I feel
+something like a coward to-night."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"I am wondering whether I ought to have left Lenfield. It is probable
+that, had I remained, I should have been arrested, perhaps hanged on the
+nearest tree without trial or question; but, since I am free, my
+presence in the West might do something to help these poor folk who will
+most certainly suffer bitterly for the rebellion."
+
+"What can you do?"
+
+"Truly, I do not know. Assist a few miserable wretches to escape from a
+brutal soldiery, perhaps--that is all I can think of; but I may see
+other ways of helping once I am back again. Cannot you advise me? A
+woman often sees more clearly than a man."
+
+"To advise well, one must know more," said Barbara. "Of you I know
+little, except what I have heard, and, truly, that would give me a poor
+opinion of you."
+
+"You have said that you did not believe it."
+
+"Still, you have told me nothing to strengthen that belief," she
+returned quickly. "There is something more than merely a woman's
+curiosity in this, for, truly, I am set in the midst of difficulties.
+Listen! That is Martin on the stairs."
+
+"It is not your will that I leave Aylingford to-night, then?"
+
+"It is poor weather to start upon a journey. Besides, you are Martin's
+guest, not mine, and--"
+
+The door opened, and Martin entered.
+
+"It is late, mistress. I must see you along the terrace."
+
+"I had not thought of the time," Barbara said, rising quickly and
+folding her cloak round her.
+
+"There are certain hours in life one does not stay to count," Martin
+answered, "but they burn candles, for all that. See how much these have
+lessened since I lighted them."
+
+"I am glad, Martin, that you have brought your guest to a safe place,"
+said Barbara. "Good-night, Mr. Crosby. Perhaps to-morrow you will tell
+me more."
+
+The door closed, and Crosby was alone. Indeed, there was much more to
+tell, but the telling was not all for him to do. What was it Barbara
+Lanison had heard of him which had evidently impressed her unfavourably,
+although it was perhaps against her will, and who had told her these
+things? Then, too, this fiddler must be made to speak clearly, for he
+must surely know a great deal.
+
+Martin Fairley quickly returned, and closed and locked the door.
+
+"There must be some explanation between us," said Crosby. "This lady did
+not expect me."
+
+"Are you sure of that?"
+
+"She told me so."
+
+"Ah! that is a different matter," Fairley returned sharply. "What kind
+of a welcome did you expect? Have you done aught to win a more tender
+greeting?"
+
+"I have done much to anger her by coming here," answered Crosby.
+
+"You were not quarrelling when I entered just now. She spoke of
+to-morrow. Does a woman leave anything for the morrow if she has no
+interest in that morrow? You would make a poor lover, Master Crosby."
+
+"To my knowledge I have not been cast for the part."
+
+"We shall see," said Martin, "It's a poor fire that will not boil a
+kettle, and she's a poor woman who cannot make a man love her if she
+will. There's to-morrow, and after that you and I may talk a little more
+freely, perhaps. For to-night I only want sleep. I can fiddle from dusk
+to dawn and forget that I have not closed my eyes, but a night in the
+saddle--ah! my poor knees, Master Crosby! I was never meant for a
+horseman." And he laughed, the same notes in the laugh as came from the
+fiddle when it laughed.
+
+He was half a madman--Barbara Lanison had said so--and Crosby was
+convinced that there was little information to be got out of him, either
+then or at any other time.
+
+The next morning broke grey and sombre over Aylingford, yet Barbara woke
+to find the world brighter and more interesting than she had found it
+for a long time; perhaps it had never been quite so bright before. And
+yet there were clouds in it, wreaths of doubt which would not clear
+away. She must know more of this man Gilbert Crosby before she trusted
+him fully--and she wanted to trust him. Martin had told her many things
+in the past; she had meant to ask Martin whether she ought to stay at
+Aylingford; now she had a desire to take her fears to Gilbert Crosby. He
+had seemed so strong that day at Newgate; ever since then she had grown
+to believe more and more that he was a man to be relied upon in trouble,
+and last night--was she a little disappointed in him?
+
+"I have expected so much," she said to herself. "Perhaps a man is never
+all that a woman expects him to be."
+
+She went early to the tower, almost afraid that he might have gone in
+the night. He was there, and Martin left them much together that day. In
+the afternoon they sat side by side on one of the broken pieces of
+masonry in the ruins, while Martin lounged by the door opening on to the
+terrace; and there was little of Crosby's life that Barbara had not been
+told before the dusk came. She did not question that he had told her the
+truth. And much about herself Barbara told him, but not yet of the evil
+which hung over Aylingford. She could not tell him that yet, and there
+was time enough, for she had advised that he should remain at the Abbey
+for a little while.
+
+"I believe your enemies are private ones, and would only use this
+rebellion against you as a means to an end," she said. "When it is known
+that you took no part with Monmouth you will be free to deal with your
+enemies."
+
+"You are not angry that I came, then?"
+
+"No; and, besides, you may perchance do me a great service."
+
+"How? Only tell me how," he whispered, and there was a new note in his
+voice which sent a thrill into her very soul and yet made her shrink
+from him a little.
+
+"To-morrow--perhaps to-morrow I will tell you."
+
+So the clouds of doubt were driven away, and yet they returned again as
+she sat in her room that evening, for she would not go again to the
+tower until to-morrow. Someone might have seen her go in that direction
+and wondered why she had spent so many hours in the ruins. She was angry
+with herself for allowing such doubts to enter her mind, but, try as she
+would, she could not force them out.
+
+There came a knock upon her door presently, and a servant entered to
+request that she would go to Sir John.
+
+"He is in his own room," said the servant, "and bid me say that he was
+waiting for you."
+
+It was so unusual for her uncle to send for her that Barbara wondered
+what had happened to make her immediate presence necessary. Had Sir John
+found out that there was a visitor in the tower, and wished to question
+her? As she went she endeavoured to make up her mind what she should say
+if Gilbert Crosby's presence at Aylingford were the reason she was sent
+for.
+
+Sir John's room opened out of the great hall. It was of fair
+proportions, panelled from floor to ceiling and lighted by three long
+windows with leaded glass and stone mullions. At one end was a huge
+fireplace, looking cold and empty in summer-time, and over it, and
+elsewhere in the room, branches for candles were fixed in the wall. Only
+the candles over the fireplace were lighted to-night, and much of the
+room was in shadow. Curtains hung across the entrance door.
+
+"You sent for me," said Barbara as she parted them, and then she
+stopped, her hands still grasping the curtains.
+
+Her uncle rose from the writing table beside which he was seated,
+although it was evident he had not been writing; but it was not upon him
+her eyes were fixed, but upon the man who turned from the fireplace and
+bowed low to her.
+
+It was Lord Rosmore!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+BARBARA HELPS TO CLOSE A DOOR
+
+There was no doubt in Barbara's mind that the presence of Lord Rosmore
+at Aylingford boded no good to the man who was at that moment in the
+tower across the ruins. She was to be questioned concerning him. What
+was she to say that could be the truth while not harming him?
+
+In Lord Rosmore's mind there was no doubt that the woman before him,
+framed by the curtains which she held, was very beautiful, a possession
+much to be desired. There was nothing on earth he would not do to make
+her his own. It was a vow he had registered before; he registered it
+anew as he stood erect and Barbara advanced into the room.
+
+"You are back sooner than I expected from the West, Lord Rosmore," said
+Barbara.
+
+"Lord Rosmore comes upon a grave matter," said Sir John, and his face
+was serious enough to give his words ample meaning, "a matter that
+concerns us all. I fear there are days of trouble in front of us, and I
+am too old for such things."
+
+"Your uncle takes too melancholy a view of a circumstance which was
+beyond his control," said Rosmore.
+
+"Beyond it--yes, but can I prove that it was so?" asked Sir John.
+
+"There are many ways," said Rosmore. "Sir John, Mistress Barbara, would
+have you sent for, although I begged him not to disturb you. I had
+mentioned your name--I could hardly help doing so--but with no intention
+of dragging you into a matter with which you have really nothing to do."
+
+"Tell her, Rosmore," said Sir John. "She may have more concern in it
+than you imagine."
+
+"Rebellion brings many things in its train, Mistress Barbara--the
+hunting and punishment of those who rebel, for instance; unfortunately,
+some of this hunting has fallen to my lot," said Rosmore, and he had the
+air of gently concealing some of the horrors he had witnessed from his
+fair listener. "I was commanded to arrest one Gilbert Crosby, of
+Lenfield, and it was in speaking of him that I mentioned your name. You
+will remember that we spoke of him on one occasion."
+
+"I remember. It was you who told me his name," said Barbara; and,
+whatever fears were in her mind, she spoke with absolute indifference.
+
+"As I told you then, he is a man of most contemptible character,"
+Rosmore went on, "a cowardly enemy and a dangerous friend. And he is
+something more. We surrounded his house at Lenfield; we saw him enter,
+and then I rode to the door, demanding to see him. The servant went to
+call him, and returned to say she could not find him. A few moments
+later he appeared from the direction of the stables, mounted on the most
+splendid animal I have ever seen. Cantering across the open park, he
+eluded our pursuit by putting his horse at a fence that I should have
+sworn was impossible to take had I not seen that animal take it. It was
+a marvellous leap, and I grant you this man is no mean horseman; but,
+Mistress Barbara, his outward appearance was changed. For the time being
+he was no longer Gilbert Crosby, the rebel, but Galloping Hermit, the
+highwayman, and wore a brown mask."
+
+"I would I had seen the leap," said Barbara impulsively as a child might
+say it; and both men, who knew her love for horses, heard nothing but
+genuine excitement in her remark. It concealed her real thoughts. If
+this story were true, Gilbert Crosby had deceived her.
+
+"We followed him, but not over the fence," said Rosmore, "and a long,
+stern chase began. We had no horse amongst us to match the highwayman's.
+He could have left us behind sooner than he did, but he was playing a
+cunning game. I divided my men, and whilst some followed him, I and two
+stout fellows turned aside with the object of cutting him off when he
+doubled on his tracks, as I was convinced he would do."
+
+"You take a great while coming to the point," grumbled Sir John.
+
+"Indeed, uncle, I think Lord Rosmore tells the story most excellently,"
+said Barbara. "I am all excitement to know with what success you met."
+
+"We failed to take him," said Rosmore. "There was no choice left but to
+let him go, and I admit I was disappointed as I rode through the
+village, close to an inn we had searched, on my way to beg a night's
+entertainment from my friend, Sir Philip Faulkner. There was some kind
+of feast in the village, and in a barn by the roadside there was dancing
+going on to the scraping of a fiddle. I have no soul for music, but the
+notes of that fiddle haunted my sleep that night and all the next day as
+I rode back to Lenfield. At Lenfield I understood why. That little
+sequence of notes was familiar to me. You must often have heard it
+yourself. I was convinced that the fiddler was none other than Martin
+Fairley."
+
+"Martin!" exclaimed Barbara. "Surely he would not be so far afield?"
+
+"I asked myself the same question," said Rosmore, "and I acted promptly
+as well. I have often warned Sir John that there was method in Martin's
+madness, and in this case, at any rate, I was right. Yesterday Martin
+travelled back towards Aylingford in company with a stranger. Unless I
+am in error, that stranger was Gilbert Crosby, otherwise known as
+Galloping Hermit, and I have taken care to guard every road of escape
+from the Abbey to-night."
+
+"Certainly a wise precaution," said Barbara quietly; "but how does it
+concern me?"
+
+"Can you swear that you did not send Martin to bring this fellow to
+Aylingford?" said Sir John. "You certainly had some interest in this man
+Crosby, and Martin would try and do your bidding if you asked him to
+fetch you the moon."
+
+"My interest was surely natural," Barbara answered, "for I assure you I
+was in an unpleasant situation at Newgate when this man came to my
+rescue--Lord Rosmore has doubtless told you the circumstances--but I
+certainly did not send Martin to bring this man to Aylingford."
+
+She laughed lightly as though the mere suggestion were absurd. So far
+she could answer honestly, but she dreaded the next question.
+
+"I do not suppose my niece would do such a thing," returned Sir John,
+"but the world is hardly likely to have the same faith in her. I warrant
+even you have your doubts, Lord Rosmore."
+
+"I assure you, Mistress Barbara, your uncle has no reason to suggest
+such a thing," said Rosmore. "As I have said, I am told off for
+unpleasant duty, and that duty has brought me to Aylingford to arrest a
+rebel, and compels me also to arrest Martin for assisting a rebel."
+
+"Poor Martin! A madman!" said Barbara.
+
+"I have much doubt as to his madness," was the answer, "but you have
+only to persist, and those doubts shall vanish. If you desire it, Martin
+shall escape--you have my word for that."
+
+Barbara was alert. She was prepared to have traps set for her, and had
+no intention of stepping into them if she could help it.
+
+"That is generous of you, Lord Rosmore," she said, thanking him with a
+curtsy, "but I would not ask you to neglect your duty."
+
+"Nonsense, child," said Sir John, who seemed irritated by this bandying
+of words. "You talk ignorantly. For my part I am most anxious that Lord
+Rosmore should not do his whole duty. If he did, he would report
+Aylingford Abbey and ourselves suspect. I am most desirous that he
+should remember friendship as well as duty--indeed, I have already urged
+this upon him."
+
+"That is true, but Sir John is too anxious in this matter."
+
+"You know perfectly well that I am justified in that anxiety," Sir John
+returned. "The King is as bitter, even more bitter, against those who
+assist rebels than against the rebels themselves. This fool Martin has
+brought disaster to our doors, and we have got to meet it promptly. It
+is well that you should understand this clearly, Barbara," he went on,
+turning to his niece. "No one will believe that Martin has acted
+entirely by himself in this matter, and since you have confessed some
+interest in this fellow Crosby, you are suspect, let Lord Rosmore hide
+the fact as he will."
+
+"Bear me witness, this is your uncle's declaration, not mine," said
+Rosmore.
+
+"It is a hard fact, that is what concerns us," said Sir John; "and it
+becomes necessary to prove beyond question that we are heart and soul
+for King James. There is one way that you may easily do so, Barbara. You
+will remember a conversation I had with you recently concerning Lord
+Rosmore. He wished--"
+
+"I pray you, Sir John, this is not the moment to thrust my wishes upon
+your niece."
+
+"I say it is," was the sharp answer. "I have wit enough to see the
+safest road, and to take it. Since it is also a pleasant road, why
+should there be any hesitation or delay?"
+
+Rosmore shrugged his shoulders, and with a helpless glance at Barbara
+turned to contemplate the great iron dogs in the fireplace, kicking a
+log which lay there with some impatience. The conversation had taken a
+turn which was not to his liking, it seemed.
+
+"You remember the conversation to which I refer, Barbara?"
+
+"Perfectly, uncle."
+
+"Lord Rosmore has done us the honour to ask your hand in marriage. My
+own satisfaction may have made me a little too hasty in telling you. You
+were naturally unprepared, and, womanlike, were inclined to resent any
+idea of being forced into a marriage. Since then, however, you have had
+time to consider the matter. You may guess my own feelings concerning
+such an alliance. From the moment Lord Rosmore spoke to me I have seen
+nothing but advantage in it. Now, there is an additional reason why your
+answer should not be delayed. Affianced to Lord Rosmore, whose whole
+interests lie with the King, no one would dare suggest that you had had
+the slightest sympathy for a rebel, or that Aylingford had ever
+willingly opened its gates to a fugitive from Monmouth's rabble army.
+Martin's indiscretion puts you in danger. If by some careless word you
+are responsible for that indiscretion, which may very likely be the
+case, you are in grave danger. Rosmore is not here alone, and though he
+may be silent, other tongues will wag. Is it not so, my lord?"
+
+"I do not wish to bias your niece," Rosmore answered, without turning
+from the fireplace.
+
+Barbara was in a hard case. The man in the tower was trapped; Martin,
+too, would be arrested. By a word she could save Martin; possibly Lord
+Rosmore might be induced to let Crosby also slip through his fingers. If
+she consented to marry him she felt that she might persuade him to
+anything. The thought brought a quick reaction. If she could persuade
+him to anything, he was not a man to trust. Duty should come first, no
+matter how insidiously a woman might tempt. She did not trust Rosmore.
+She remembered the evil in his face that night in the hall when she had
+stood between him and Sydney Fellowes. She remembered Gilbert Crosby;
+his grey eyes seemed to look into hers at this moment. He must be
+saved--but how?
+
+"I think you exaggerate the danger, uncle," she said quietly. "Surely a
+madman's folly is not sufficient to condemn us?"
+
+"I have told you the truth. Ask Lord Rosmore."
+
+"Will you tell me, please?"
+
+"Sir John forces my hand," said Rosmore, turning quickly towards her.
+For an instant he seemed angry, but his face softened as he looked at
+her. "I am torn between love and duty. Sir John speaks truly. Another in
+my place to-night, one who had only his duty to consider, would probably
+arrest both you and your uncle on suspicion, and you would have to prove
+your innocence as best you might. King James is determined to trample
+out this rebellion, and even some innocent persons may suffer."
+
+Barbara did not speak when he paused. She had glanced at her uncle and
+wondered whether this might be some plot between these two to force her
+to this marriage. She distrusted her uncle as much as, if not more than,
+she did Lord Rosmore.
+
+"If I consent?" she said.
+
+Rosmore made a step towards her, and Sir John looked up quickly. They
+were suddenly as men who had played a desperate game and won.
+
+"I said 'If,'" and she shrank back a little, unconscious how beautiful
+she looked in that moment.
+
+"Consent to be my wife, and there is nothing that you can ask me that I
+will not do--nothing. Do you understand--nothing?"
+
+"And if I say 'No'?"
+
+Anger came back into Rosmore's face for an instant, but it was gone in a
+moment.
+
+"Even so I could not do my duty," he said slowly. "I should ask that
+another might take my place, and then--"
+
+"Then the heavy hand of the King upon us," said Sir John.
+
+"I must think. You cannot expect me to answer now, at once," said
+Barbara.
+
+"Duty may not wait," said Sir John.
+
+"You shall have my answer to-morrow, Lord Rosmore," Barbara said. "I
+must have the night to decide. Duty does not compel you to march Mad
+Martin from Aylingford to-night."
+
+"I will give you until to-morrow," he answered.
+
+Barbara curtsied low and turned to the door.
+
+Rosmore drew back the curtains for her, and as she passed out whispered:
+
+"I love you, sweetheart. Say 'Yes' to-morrow."
+
+"Will she consent, think you?" Sir John asked as Rosmore came slowly
+back across the room.
+
+"I think so; yes, I think so."
+
+"I spoke sufficiently?" questioned Sir John.
+
+"You were excellently diplomatic. Were she a woman easily frightened
+there would be no doubt of her answer. Your guests in the Abbey, Sir
+John, must not know of my presence here, nor that the place is watched
+to-night."
+
+"You are sure that Martin brought this man Crosby to Aylingford?"
+
+"Quite sure."
+
+"Why not take him to-night, quietly?" said Sir John. "If he is with
+Martin, he is probably in the old tower by the ruins. Is he most rebel
+or most highwayman?"
+
+"Why do you ask?"
+
+"Because, if he is most highwayman, you might influence Barbara's answer
+to-morrow by letting him escape."
+
+"I have thought of it, but--"
+
+"My niece and a highwayman! She may be romantic, my lord, but she is not
+a fool."
+
+"Gad! Sir John, you are lost here in Hampshire; you should be beside the
+King to advise him. If we let him go to-morrow, this knight of the road
+may easily meet with an accident. In my company it should not be
+difficult to find a man or two who can shoot straight. Your niece's
+romance might prove inconvenient to me if Galloping Hermit were still in
+the land of the living."
+
+"Settle that as you will," said Sir John, "but arrest him to-night."
+
+As soon as the door had closed behind her Barbara crossed the hall
+quickly; but she did not return to her own apartments. She had made her
+plans while she listened to her uncle and Lord Rosmore. Now, she hurried
+along a corridor to a small door opening on to the terrace, hardly ever
+used except by herself when she went to talk to Martin in the tower.
+Between it and the ruins there was not much of the terrace to travel,
+and the shadows were deep. The sharpest eyes might fail to see a moving
+figure amongst them. Barbara ran lightly, her skirts gathered from her
+feet, and, entering the ruins, went quickly to the tower. The door was
+shut, but not locked, and she mounted the winding stairs to Martin's
+room. It was in darkness.
+
+"Martin!" she called softly, but there was no answer.
+
+Had Crosby got knowledge of his danger, and gone? Even now he might be
+in the hands of his enemies, for were not all the ways of escape watched
+to-night? What could she do?
+
+She stood for a few moments undecided how to act. She must not be found
+there by her uncle or Lord Rosmore who might seek her there if by chance
+they discovered that she had not returned to her own rooms. Almost
+certainly they would have her watched to-night. Yet she must stay to
+warn Martin and Gilbert Crosby, if by chance they were still ignorant of
+their danger. It would never do for them to be caught in the tower, from
+which there was no hope of escape.
+
+There was a small landing outside the room. At the top of the winding
+stairs there was a door, fastened back by a clamp, and Barbara had never
+known this door to be shut. Another winding stair led to the flat roof
+of the tower, where Martin often spent hours, reading the future in the
+stars, he said. She went to the roof now, but it was empty, and she came
+down again quickly. Perhaps they were sitting in the ruins, and had not
+heard her. She would go and see. As she descended a sound came to
+her--running feet--and through one of the narrow slits which gave a dim
+light to the stairs in daytime she discerned two men crossing the ruins.
+It was so dark in the tower that she could see them easily. They were
+not half-way across when other men came running from the terrace, but
+the fugitives could easily have reached the tower and closed the door
+upon their pursuers had not one of them caught his foot and fallen. It
+was Gilbert Crosby; he did not know every stone as Martin did. He was on
+his feet again directly, but the advantage had been lost. Barbara went
+down a little farther until she was just hidden by the first bend in the
+stairs. There was the sudden clash of steel, and a pistol-shot rang out
+upon the night. All was confusion in the doorway just below her. Then
+two men came up slowly, and backwards, thrusting downwards as they came,
+and more than one groan told that the steel had done its work.
+
+"Be ready to rush when I give the word," Martin whispered; "then, at the
+top, make a stand--we must close the door there somehow."
+
+The stairs were too narrow for two men to fight side by side. Martin
+was a step or two below his companion, and it was no longer a fiddle bow
+which he held in his hand. It was doubtful whether he had ever used his
+bow so well as he used a sword to-night.
+
+Barbara leaned down.
+
+"I am here, Mr. Crosby. I came to warn you," she whispered. "I know the
+door. Tell Martin."
+
+She went up quickly. The clamp which held the door back at the head of
+the stairs was stiff, but with her weight thrown against the woodwork to
+ease the pressure she managed to unfasten it. The door creaked loudly as
+she drew it forward. Possibly Martin heard the noise, for a moment later
+he shouted, and he and Crosby rushed on to the landing.
+
+"Into the room, mistress," Martin whispered, as he swung the door to and
+shot the bolt. "It won't hold long, but long enough." Then he followed
+them quickly into his room and locked the door.
+
+Two men lay on the narrow stairs grievously hurt, and there was blood
+flowing from a cut on the face of another man as he threw himself
+against the door at the top, bent on settling a score rather than taking
+a rebel. He cursed and called to those below him.
+
+"It is a small matter," said Rosmore. "It shuts us out, but it shuts
+them in."
+
+"The door will not take much breaking down," said Sir John; "the rot of
+years must be in it."
+
+There was some delay while a heavy bar was found with which to attack
+the door, and a light to see by. The door at the head of the stairs soon
+yielded, but that of the room was another matter. It was of stout oak,
+and Sir John seemed to think that Martin might be persuaded to open it.
+
+"Martin! Martin!" he called, knocking as he did so. There was movement
+within, but no answer. "Martin! This riot is no concern of yours. Open!
+I have a message for you from Mistress Barbara."
+
+Again there was movement within, and someone spoke in a low voice, but
+Sir John got no answer.
+
+"Your madman is defiant," said Rosmore. "We shall have to teach him
+better manners. We must break in the door, Sir John."
+
+The first blow of the bar fell heavily, and there came a sudden answer,
+a quick sequence of notes--the laugh of the fiddle--then silence. Blow
+upon blow followed quickly, but there was no answering sound from
+within.
+
+"Beat where the lock is," said Rosmore. "It gives there, I think; and be
+on the defensive, Sir John. We have certainly one desperate man to deal
+with--I think two."
+
+With a crash the lock suddenly gave way, and the door swung open; but no
+rush of attack came out of the darkness. One man carried the light in
+and held it high above his head. There was no movement, no sound.
+
+The room was empty!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+THE WAY OF ESCAPE
+
+"That was warm work while it lasted," said Martin as he locked the door.
+"They will easily break the first door, but this, at any rate, is good
+stout oak, and will keep them out for a little while. Wait; I will light
+a candle."
+
+"We have no way of escape, so they may take what time they will," said
+Crosby, and then, as the candle shed a dim light in the room, he turned
+to Barbara. "How can I thank you?--yet I would you were not here. My
+coming to Aylingford has brought you grievous trouble."
+
+"There was trouble before you came; it does not seem to me much greater
+now," she answered.
+
+"Spoken like a philosopher," said Martin, laying his sword on the table
+beside the fiddle and the bow.
+
+"And, truly, Martin, you fight like a soldier," said Barbara.
+
+"The occasion makes the man, mistress. For the moment I was a soldier,
+and had forgotten the fiddle bow. But speak low; they will be upon the
+landing in a moment, and I would not have them know that you are here.
+Did anyone see you come to the ruins?"
+
+"I think not."
+
+"Good! There are more ways than one of cheating an enemy."
+
+"But we are caught here, Martin--here in the tower." And she put a hand
+upon the arm of this mad dreamer, as though she would rouse him to
+action, and cast an appealing glance at Crosby to add his efforts to
+hers.
+
+"I know, I know. We are locked in my tower. There is no place like it in
+Aylingford Abbey." And Martin sat down on a low stool by the open hearth
+and began pushing back the sticks and rubbish which lay there into a
+heap, as if it were his intention to light a fire.
+
+"Come, Master Fairley, rise once more to the occasion," said Crosby.
+
+"I'm sitting down to it this time," was the answer. "Riding made my
+knees sore, and fighting has put an ache in my back."
+
+"They have not gained the landing yet," urged Crosby. "Is there not a
+way to the roof? With a rope we might at least get Mistress Lanison to
+the ground in safety."
+
+"Yes, Martin, possibly we might all get down from the roof without being
+seen," said Barbara. "But every way of escape from the Abbey is watched
+to-night," she went on, turning to Crosby. "Lord Rosmore said so."
+
+"Then we gain little by climbing from the roof if we could do so, which
+we cannot," said Fairley. "First, I have no rope; secondly--ah! that
+will do for a second reason. They are upon the landing."
+
+As he spoke the door at the head of the stairs crashed open, and there
+was a rush of feet without.
+
+"Can you hide Mistress Lanison?" whispered Crosby to Martin, glancing
+round the room. "They are not likely to search if you and I open the
+door to them."
+
+Barbara started back, perhaps expecting the room door to burst in
+suddenly, perhaps to protest that she intended to share the danger,
+whatever it might be. Her ankle was suddenly seized and held tightly.
+
+"Have a care, mistress," said Martin in a low tone, and, looking down at
+him, Barbara saw that where the hearth-stone had been there was now a
+hole. "There is one way that is not watched to-night, I warrant--this
+way."
+
+He rose quickly from the stool and touched Crosby's arm.
+
+"Go first. There are steps. Take my sword as well as your own. Then you,
+mistress. I come last to shut this up again."
+
+There was a loud knock at the door. "Martin! Martin!"
+
+"Sir John!" he whispered, and held up his finger to command silence.
+
+"Martin! This riot is no concern of yours. Open! I have a message for
+you from Mistress Barbara."
+
+"Quickly! They do not know you are here," whispered Martin.
+
+Crosby went down into darkness, and held his hand to Barbara to steady
+her. Their heads had sunk below the floor level when the first blow was
+struck at the door. Martin had extinguished the candle and seized his
+fiddle. With his foot on the steps he drew the bow sharply across the
+strings--a little laugh. Then he went down, and at a touch the
+hearth-stone came slowly back into its ordinary position.
+
+After going down straight for a little way the stairs began to wind, and
+were so narrow that a man had only just room enough to pass. Crosby led
+the way carefully, leaning back a little lest Barbara should stumble in
+the darkness and fall. From behind, Martin whispered his instructions.
+They came presently to a landing which widened out, and here Martin took
+the lead.
+
+"Give me your hand, mistress. Carefully--there are six more steps," and
+Martin counted them as he went down. "So, we are now below the floor of
+the ruined hall. Mad Martin was not to be caught in a trap so easily."
+
+"And now which way do we go? We are still in the Abbey," said Barbara.
+
+"A man might stay here a long time undiscovered, but that is not my
+plan. Mr. Crosby shall be leaving the Abbey behind long before his
+enemies have given up hunting for him."
+
+"Martin, I must go too," said Barbara. "There are reasons--many
+reasons."
+
+"Many reasons why you must stay for the present," said Martin. "Trust
+me, mistress; it is more dangerous for you to leave the Abbey just now
+than to remain."
+
+"You do not understand, Martin. Lord Rosmore--"
+
+"Fairley is right," said Crosby. "We found that the Abbey was watched
+to-night. By one of the bridges on the other side of the stream we
+overheard two men talking. Cursing their vigil, they declared that
+Rosmore was bent on private revenge--that my arrest was of his own
+scheming. He has already had some of my servants sent to Dorchester, and
+I must ride there without delay to save them."
+
+"But you will be taken."
+
+"Would that be a reason for not going?"
+
+"No," she answered quickly. "No; you must go."
+
+"And you must do nothing to associate yourself with me in any way. It
+was a chance that Martin brought me here, more of my contriving than his
+--do you understand? All you know of Gilbert Crosby is that he once came
+to your assistance at Newgate."
+
+She did not answer immediately. In the darkness Crosby could hear a
+little quick intake of her breath and a slight rustle of her gown.
+
+"Does Martin go with you?" she asked after a pause.
+
+"A little way to put him on the road; then I shall return to
+Aylingford," Fairley said.
+
+"You must not. It will not be safe for you."
+
+"Never fear, mistress. Lord Rosmore cannot remain here, and no one else
+will care a jot whether Mad Martin comes or goes. Come, there must be no
+more delay. You must be back in your room if they should chance to call
+for you when they return from the ruins. Indeed, you must contrive to
+let them know that you are there. You will wait for me, Mr. Crosby. Your
+hand once more, mistress."
+
+She stretched out her arm, and her hand was taken, but it was not Martin
+who took it.
+
+"Thank you for all you have done for me," whispered Crosby. "It is more
+than you have knowledge of; as yet, it is almost beyond my own
+comprehension. There will come happier times--quickly, I trust--then I
+may thank you better. Then, I would have you remember something more of
+Gilbert Crosby than that he came to you that day in Newgate."
+
+Then lips were pressed upon her hand, homage and reverence in the touch.
+
+"I shall think of you and pray for you," she answered.
+
+"I am waiting, mistress," said Martin. "I am here; your hand is
+difficult to find in the darkness."
+
+It was the other arm Barbara stretched out, and so for an instant she
+stood, both hands firmly held, linked to these two men.
+
+Martin led the way quickly, and certainly, as one who had made the
+journey often and knew every step of it. At first there was a faint echo
+of their footfalls, speaking of a wide space about them, but they were
+soon in a passage which became gradually narrower, then they began to
+ascend, for a little way by a sharp incline, and afterwards by a winding
+staircase.
+
+"Martin," Barbara said suddenly, "I am in real danger. Lord Rosmore
+wishes to marry me. To-night he gave me his word that you should go
+free, and I think I could persuade him to let Mr. Crosby escape, if I
+consent to be his wife. I have until to-morrow morning to give him an
+answer."
+
+"To-morrow morning he will have no prisoners to bargain with," Fairley
+answered.
+
+"Nevertheless, he will want an answer. If he does not get the answer he
+wants, I am likely to be accused of helping rebels."
+
+"Is that what he threatens? You are not a woman to be frightened by
+threats. You must meet deceit with deceit. Answer neither 'Yea' nor
+'Nay' for a while. He will wait if you let him suppose your answer may
+be 'Yea.'"
+
+"My uncle is insistent," said Barbara.
+
+"Should you be pressed in such a fashion that there is no escape,
+mistress, say this to Sir John: 'It is a sacred trust; God requite you
+if you fail in it. When she is of age, give her that which is hers. She
+is free.' Tell him that these words were spoken to you out of the
+darkness, and then there followed a single word spoken low--'Beware!'
+Can you remember them? They must be exact. It is true you have heard
+them out of the darkness, and you will not say that Mad Martin spoke
+them."
+
+"And then, Martin?"
+
+"He will be afraid of you; but do not speak the words unless you are
+obliged. Let me hear you repeat them."
+
+Barbara said them carefully and correctly.
+
+"Good," said Martin. "You are armed with a weapon that can hardly fail,
+and you shall not be left long to fight the battle alone. Courage,
+mistress; there comes an end to the blackest hours, and surely into
+yours there has penetrated a beam of light. Is it not so?"
+
+"Perhaps, Martin."
+
+"Another step. So. Pass on, mistress, and good-night."
+
+Barbara's foot suddenly pressed a soft rug instead of the hard stone of
+the stairs; it was still dark, but not black as it had been; there was a
+faint stirring of the air about her, and then a scarcely audible sound
+behind her, which for a moment had no meaning for her. Then she saw the
+dim outline of a window above, and to her right, at some little
+distance, a narrow line of light. She was in the corridor out of which
+her own apartments opened, and behind her was the panelled wall!
+
+She went quickly to her room. The candles were burning as she had left
+them when bidden to go to her uncle. How swiftly the moments had passed
+since then, yet how much had happened in them! A kiss was still burning
+on her hand, and she raised the hand to her lips, blushing and accusing
+herself of folly as she did so. Then she threw the casement wide open
+and leaned out to listen.
+
+A murmur of sound came from the ruins. Had they forced the door and
+found the room empty? It was certain that there were men in the ruins.
+Suddenly there came another sound, the clatter of horses' hoofs on the
+stones of the courtyard. Were these new arrivals at the Abbey, or were
+men mounting in haste to scour the country for the fugitives? She must
+know, and yet Martin had said that she must let them understand that she
+was in her own room to-night.
+
+There were quick footsteps below her window.
+
+"I think they must be along the terrace, sir," said a servant; "both my
+master and Lord Rosmore."
+
+"I thought it was a haunted spot which no one cared for after dark," was
+the answer in a voice which sounded familiar to Barbara.
+
+"So it is, sir, but to-night there's something afoot which--" And then
+they passed out of Barbara's hearing. She leaned out of the window,
+looking towards the ruins, and saw a man with a torch come out on to the
+terrace. He shouted, and two or three other men joined him. The servant
+and the visitor went forward quickly, and entered the ruins as the
+shouting ceased. Still Barbara did not move; they must know she was in
+her room, Martin had said--and Mad Martin had proved himself wondrous
+wise and clever to-night. So she waited, and the moments were
+leaden-footed. Presently three men came from the ruins and along the
+terrace. Barbara heard her uncle's voice.
+
+"What is it?" she said, leaning down. "I am afraid."
+
+All three men stopped and looked up. The new arrival was Sydney
+Fellowes.
+
+"I am frightened at so much stir at this time of the night," she said.
+
+"It is nothing, Barbara," said Sir John.
+
+They had seen her. She need remain in her room no longer, and she flew
+along the corridor and down the stairs in time to meet them as they
+entered the hall.
+
+Fellowes bowed low to her. His dress was dusty. He had evidently ridden
+far.
+
+"Dare I hope that you have repented, and that to-morrow seems too long
+to wait?" said Rosmore.
+
+"There has been such riot I have had no time to think of other matters.
+What does it mean, uncle?"
+
+"That Mr. Fellowes has ridden from Lord Feversham, commanding Rosmore's
+presence in Dorsetshire."
+
+"So unless we capture this rebel of ours to-night, Mistress Lanison, I
+shall have to leave some of my men to do it," said Rosmore. "I must
+depart to-morrow morning, and you must--you will give me my answer
+before I go?"
+
+"It is news to me that Crosby of Lenfield has been named as a rebel,"
+said Fellowes.
+
+"It was news to me until I had my commands," said Rosmore.
+
+"Lord Feversham bid me tell you to return with all the men you could
+muster. I do not envy you your employment. Kirke's lambs are already too
+busy for my liking."
+
+"You go no further to-night, Mr. Fellowes?" said Sir John.
+
+"Yes, towards London. I bear despatches to the King at Whitehall. I have
+accomplished one part of my errand; I must hasten to complete the other.
+A stirrup cup as you suggested, Sir John, and then to horse. Good-night,
+Mistress Lanison."
+
+Fellowes and her uncle moved away, leaving Barbara with Rosmore.
+
+"You may sleep late to-morrow if you will give me my answer to-night,"
+he said.
+
+"I cannot force love, Lord Rosmore; I will not say 'Yes' without it."
+
+"It shall dawn with the speaking of one little word."
+
+"Wait until you return," pleaded Barbara. "How do I know that you will
+not take Martin to-night, and be unable to free him to-morrow."
+
+"You have my word."
+
+"Your word against my love; it is too unequal a bargain. If you ride
+with my promise to-morrow, you must leave Martin with me. He has been my
+mad playfellow ever since I can remember."
+
+"You have my word," said Rosmore, "it must suffice."
+
+"And to all my pleading you only answer with threats," said Barbara.
+"Indeed, my lord, that is a rough path to a woman's heart. There is
+still the night for me, and for you; I pray that you will have chosen
+another road before the morning."
+
+She turned and left him, all the coquette that was in her displayed to
+win him to a better mood. She had little hope of succeeding, but she was
+very sure that he should ride away with no promise of hers. There was
+another, by this time rapidly leaving Aylingford behind him she hoped,
+who bore with him, not her promise, he had not asked for that, but her
+thoughts and her prayers. If these were any shield from danger, surely
+he went in safety.
+
+It was quite evident to Barbara that neither her uncle nor Lord Rosmore
+intended her to know what had happened that night; what line they would
+take to-morrow she could not guess, but she had already hinted to Lord
+Rosmore that in exchange for her promise he must leave Martin free at
+the Abbey with her. This he could not do if Martin and Gilbert Crosby
+had got away safely, and she believed they had done so.
+
+Barbara could not sleep. The most fantastic happenings seemed possible
+through the long hours of wakefulness. Martin might see his companion
+far enough upon the road to render his capture unlikely, and then return
+at once. If he came before Lord Rosmore departed, what excuse would be
+left her for not fulfilling her part of the bargain? Towards morning
+this fear began to dwarf all others, and an intense longing to be
+certain that Martin had not returned took possession of her. She was
+always an early riser; there would be no reason for comment if she were
+found upon the terrace soon after the sun had risen. She would have no
+need to find an excuse, because her habit was well known.
+
+It was a silent and beautiful world into which she stepped. The Abbey
+was still asleep, no sound came from the servants' quarters at present,
+nor the clink of a pail-handle from the stables. If they were waking in
+the village yonder, they were welcoming the new day in silence.
+Barbara's footfall on the stone flags of the terrace rang strangely loud
+in the morning air, and she went slowly, pausing to look across the
+woods and down into the stream. Hidden men might still be watching, or
+someone, whose night had been as wakeful as her own, might see her from
+one of the windows. She must act as though she had no thought beyond the
+full enjoyment of the early morning. Slowly, and with many pauses, she
+made her way towards the ruins, and passed in after standing at the door
+absorbed in contemplation of the beauty of the scene about her. She
+hummed the tune of a little ballad to herself, and sat down on the first
+convenient piece of fallen masonry. If men were watching this place she
+would give them ample opportunity to ask what her business there might
+be. Not a movement, not a sound disturbed her. The door into the tower
+stood open; she wondered what had become of the men who had groaned last
+night, and must have fallen on the narrow stairs; and she shuddered a
+little at the thought of some hastily contrived grave, quite close to
+her, perchance. She had no intention of entering the tower, only to show
+herself in the ruins; surely if Martin were in hiding there he would
+contrive some means to let her know. Still humming the ballad, slightly
+louder than before, she went a little farther into the ruins, and
+stopped by a piece of fallen stone-work which had constantly afforded
+her a resting-place. It was here that Gilbert Crosby had caught his foot
+and stumbled last night as he and Martin had run from their pursuers; it
+was just here that the swords had first clashed, and the men had run
+eagerly together upon their prey; here, probably, a little later, Sydney
+Fellowes had given Lord Feversham's message to Lord Rosmore. Barbara
+would go no further. If men were watching they should see that she had
+no intention of entering the tower.
+
+As she sat down she saw close by the stone, half trampled into the loose
+dust which surrounded it, a piece of cloth or linen, cut sharply, it
+seemed. The work of one of those clashing swords, Barbara thought, as
+she stooped and drew it out of the dust, and then a little
+half-strangled cry escaped her. It was a piece of coarse silk, brown in
+colour. In her hand she held a brown mask!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+A WOMAN REBELS
+
+The Abbey awoke earlier than usual this morning. It would be some hours
+yet before Mrs. Dearmer, radiant from the hands of her maid, came forth
+to face the world and God's good sun, and there were men with heads
+racked from last night's deep potations who would still lie abed and
+curse their ill-luck; but there was noisy bustle in the stable yards,
+the champing of bits and jingling of harness, and in the servants'
+quarters a hurrying to and fro with eager haste, and a pungent
+atmosphere of cooking food. Lord Rosmore was starting for Dorsetshire
+within the hour, and his men were being fed with that liberality for
+which the Abbey was famous.
+
+Barbara sat on one of the stone seats let into the wall overlooking the
+stream. Lord Rosmore would see her there and come for his answer. She
+had no intention of trying to escape the interview; she had no doubt
+what answer she would give, yet there was trouble in her heart. The mask
+of brown silk which lay concealed in the bosom of her dress struck at
+the very roots of her belief in a man's truth and honour. Lord Rosmore
+had told her no falsehood, no made-up tale to suit his own purposes as
+she supposed, and it was impossible for her not to think less harshly of
+him as she saw him come out on to the terrace with her uncle. Sir John,
+with some jesting remark, walked slowly in the opposite direction, and
+Lord Rosmore came quickly towards her. He bowed low with that grace
+which had made him famous amongst men, and which no woman had ever
+attempted to deny him. There was not a cloud upon his brow, and a little
+smile played at the corners of his mouth as though he had already
+received his answer--the answer he desired.
+
+"On such a gracious morning as this am I to be made the happiest man on
+whom the sun shines, Mistress Lanison?"
+
+"I asked for a longer time, Lord Rosmore."
+
+"I wish I could give it," he returned. "There is nothing that I would
+rather do than stay here to convince you how true and deep my love is;
+but, alas! duty calls me away upon no pleasant mission."
+
+"But you will return," said Barbara.
+
+"Not for some weeks, I fear, and in them what may not happen? I would
+take my happiness with me--your promise--not wait in anxious doubt."
+
+"Love has not come to me yet; it might come when you return," Barbara
+said. "Without love I will not give my promise to any man."
+
+"Love will come," was the answer; "and, besides, love is not the whole
+of marriage. There are other reasons often--indeed, almost always--for
+giving a promise."
+
+"Is it bargaining, you mean?"
+
+"I would not call it by such a name," said Rosmore. "The alliance which
+satisfies parents and guardians, which sends a man and a woman walking
+side by side along a worthy road in the world, giving each to each what
+the other lacks, a good, useful comradeship which keeps at arm's length
+the world's cares, surely this makes a true marriage, and into it,
+believe me, love will come."
+
+"It may, Lord Rosmore, but I am not yet persuaded that the road is
+worthy, nor that such a comradeship between us could bring good. Believe
+me, you will be far wiser to give me time. Wait for your answer until
+you return."
+
+"I fear to find the bird stolen," he said.
+
+"I am not so desirable a possession as you imagine," she answered, with
+an effort to bring an element of banter into the interview.
+
+"You cannot see yourself at this moment, Mistress Lanison, or you would
+not say so. I must have your answer. Are there not many, many reasons
+why you should give me your promise?"
+
+"You will come to this lower level of bargaining," said Barbara.
+
+"I have no choice."
+
+"I have shown you a wise road to take," she answered; "wait until you
+come back from Dorsetshire."
+
+"I cannot wait."
+
+"Then if we bargain, Lord Rosmore, you must remember that there are
+always two sides to a bargain. You do not show me Martin Fairley a free
+man."
+
+"I can hardly set free a man I have not taken prisoner. Martin and the
+highwayman succeeded in getting away from the Abbey last night. Until we
+saw you leaning from your window, Sir John was absurd enough to declare
+that you must have warned them."
+
+"My uncle seems strangely anxious to make a rebel of me," said Barbara.
+"I hold to our bond. Martin Fairley is not here, therefore I give no
+promise this morning."
+
+"I do not remember agreeing to such a bargain," said Rosmore.
+
+"It pleases me," said Barbara, "and helps me to forget that you began by
+threatening me. I am not a woman to be frightened by a threat."
+
+"Then you will give me no promise?"
+
+"No; but if you persist I will give you an answer, and promise that it
+shall be a final one."
+
+"I would spare myself the indignity of a direct repulse," he said, "and
+I trust I am man enough not to let love blind my eyes to duty. I am
+afraid you must live to regret your decision, but I may yet find means
+to do you a service."
+
+He turned and left her, and, calling to Sir John that he must depart
+without delay, he left the terrace with her uncle, telling him, Barbara
+had no doubt, of the ill-success of his interview.
+
+What was the reason of her uncle's anxiety to force her into this
+marriage? Some power Lord Rosmore must surely hold over him. Sir John
+was afraid, and since he had not scrupled to suggest that she was in
+league with rebels, and in the same breath point out in how dangerous a
+position this rebellion placed her, there was no knowing to what lengths
+he might not go to achieve his ends.
+
+Later in the day Sir John sent her a courteous message. He did not
+demand her presence amongst his guests, but he requested it. Her
+continued absence had been much remarked and questioned, and there were
+many reasons why these comments should be silenced. Barbara answered
+that she would comply with his wishes; and that afternoon found her in
+the midst of a party on the terrace, listening to Mrs. Dearmer's coarse
+wit and endeavouring not to shudder at her laugh. It seemed quite
+evident that Sir John had not suggested to his guests that they should
+treat his niece in any special manner, and their conversation was less
+reticent than ever.
+
+"You blush very easily," laughed Mrs. Dearmer, "but that pleases the
+men. I used to be the same, and devoutly wish I had not lost the art."
+
+"Could you not regain it?" asked Barbara, and the question was followed
+by a burst of laughter, more at Mrs. Dearmer's expense than at her
+questioner's, perhaps.
+
+"I'm afraid not. What we gain by experience must be lost in some other
+direction. It is merely a question which you prefer, the gain or the
+loss."
+
+"My adorable madam, you go ill with mathematics," said one man,
+laughing. "Pray tell some tale that will again bring the colour to
+Mistress Lanison's cheek, for I vow she blushes most divinely."
+
+"At least, sir, the cause can have little connection with heaven," said
+Barbara.
+
+"Waste no words on him, my dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Dearmer. "He has been
+so long attached to the opposition that he has forgotten such a place as
+heaven exists. Tell me why you have deserted us lately. I held that it
+was indisposition, others declared it was temper, and others--can you
+guess what the others said?"
+
+"Was it something very unkind?" asked Barbara.
+
+She had walked away with Mrs. Dearmer and one or two others, amongst
+them a man named Heriot, to whom Barbara had hardly spoken, but whom she
+cordially disliked.
+
+"They said you had a lover," said Mrs. Dearmer.
+
+"It would have been kinder if they had given me a hundred, wouldn't it?
+That would, indeed, have been to praise me mightily and declare me
+irresistible."
+
+"You will not find women so generous as that," laughed Heriot. "I
+thought there was a more subtle meaning in the declaration. In a hundred
+lovers there might be safety, but in one--ah! it is the persistency of
+one which reduces the citadel."
+
+"I know many who might persist until they were leaning over their grave,
+and then not succeed," said Barbara, "and the citadel would not need to
+be very strongly guarded either."
+
+"That should hasten your retreat, Mr. Heriot," said Mrs. Dearmer, and
+then she drew Barbara a little farther away. "Tell me, are they right?
+Is there a lover?"
+
+"You may deny it if you are questioned," Barbara answered.
+
+"I will. I would not betray such a secret for the world. Does he climb
+to your window when the terrace is empty and silent, or is there some
+secret door by which he comes and no one ever the wiser?"
+
+"Is that what they say?" asked Barbara.
+
+"Yes, and more," and Mrs. Dearmer put her finger to her lips to warn
+Barbara that others were close to them and might not keep her secret so
+faithfully as she would.
+
+Barbara did not then understand all that was implied, but within a day
+or two she was conscious that her name was being flung from lip to lip
+with a laugh and a jest, that, no matter how innocent her words or her
+actions might be, an evil meaning was twisted out of them and applauded.
+Even her uncle laughed and seemed to agree when Heriot declared that a
+woman who was shy in her love affairs was always the most dangerous, and
+suggested that Mrs. Dearmer must look to her laurels now that Mistress
+Lanison had taken the field against her. To deny the insinuations, or to
+resent them, was only to make these men and women coarser, and increase
+the laughter and ribaldry, so Barbara decided to stay away again. This
+time, however, Sir John did not leave her alone. He sent a peremptory
+message demanding her presence.
+
+"Tell Sir John I refuse to come, and if he would know my reason I will
+tell him here."
+
+The servant hesitated.
+
+"Sir John is out of temper, mistress. Would it not be better to--"
+
+"You have my answer," said Barbara.
+
+Many minutes had not elapsed before there were quick steps along the
+corridor, and Sir John burst into the room. The servant had spoken
+mildly when he said his master was out of temper, and Barbara's answer
+to his message had made him furious. He slammed the door and faced his
+niece.
+
+"What is the meaning of this gross impertinence, girl? When I bid you do
+a thing you will do it; do you understand me? I have had more than
+enough of your vapours."
+
+"And I, sir, more than enough of your guests."
+
+"Do you dare to flout me?" he said with an oath.
+
+"I dare anything when you forget what is my due from my guardian. For
+some purpose of your own you seem anxious to accuse me of being a rebel,
+and drag me into this ribald crew to have my ears assailed with all
+manner of indecencies, and to hear my own honour called in question."
+
+"You're a fool, girl."
+
+"Wise enough to determine that either Mrs. Dearmer and her companions
+must leave Aylingford, or I shall."
+
+"Curse your impudence!" said Sir John, and before Barbara was aware of
+his intention, he had seized her wrist and commenced to drag her towards
+the door, "Curse your impudence! We will see who is master at
+Aylingford. I shall have what guests I choose, and, by heaven, you shall
+treat them as I demand! You may flout Lord Rosmore, but I will see to it
+that you obey me."
+
+"You hurt my wrist, sir."
+
+"If it brings you to reason, it is perhaps the easiest way for you," he
+retorted. "Guests that are good enough for me shall be good enough for
+you."
+
+"And if they say I am a scheming light o' love, you, sir, will no doubt
+find means to prove that they are right."
+
+"Gad! your own prudery is doing that. Perhaps I might not have to make
+much inquiry to find that they had seen far more than I have. Much might
+go on in these rooms and the rest of the Abbey be none the wiser."
+
+Barbara's free hand was suddenly raised to strike him, but she let it
+fall to her side again. He held her wrist the tighter, and laughed in
+her face.
+
+"It is well for you that your daring stops short of that," he sneered.
+
+"Last night I heard words spoken out of the darkness," said Barbara.
+"'It is a sacred trust,' said a voice; 'God requite you if you fail in
+it. When she is of age give her that which is hers. She is free.
+Beware.'"
+
+There was magic in the words. Sir John let go her wrist and started
+backwards with a curious, muffled sound in his throat. His face was
+suddenly white with fear, and his trembling hands were linked together,
+straining at each other. Barbara did not move, and in her motionless
+attitude and the fixed gaze in her eyes the man seemed to perceive an
+added terror.
+
+"Who spoke them?" he stammered.
+
+"A voice out of the darkness."
+
+"They--they recall--what am I saying? Have your own way to-night; we
+shall both talk more calmly to-morrow."
+
+"To-morrow cannot undo to-night, sir. I have decided to ask Lady
+Bolsover to let me visit her for a while. Two days ago I received a
+letter from her asking me to go to her again."
+
+"I will see. We will talk of it to-morrow."
+
+"There is naught to do, sir, but arrange for my journey to town."
+
+It was almost as one suddenly stricken with a palsy that Sir John left
+the room and stumbled along the corridor. As he passed a man drew
+hastily back into the shadows, and then went light-footedly to Barbara's
+door. She had already locked it. He knocked.
+
+"I have nothing more to say," said Barbara.
+
+The man chanted a little stave in a low voice, and the door flew open.
+
+"Martin!"
+
+"You are in trouble, mistress, you need not tell me. Much I overheard,
+the rest I can guess. Lord Rosmore has departed. I met him on the road,
+at least he passed along the road, and I stood in the wood by the side
+to see him pass. Mr. Crosby is already busy in Dorsetshire, and I return
+to hear you are going to London."
+
+"Yes, Martin."
+
+"Dark hours, indeed," he said, "but there is the beam of light."
+
+"It has gone out. Ah, Martin, you are a dreamer and look at the world
+through a veil of cloud, while I am a woman prone to trust too easily.
+We are easy to deceive, you and I."
+
+"Yes, dreamer as I am, I have recognised much of the falsehood," said
+Martin.
+
+"You like Mr. Gilbert Crosby?"
+
+"One grows to like a man when you have fought by his side in an awkward
+corner."
+
+"You would trust him?"
+
+"Don't you?" asked Martin.
+
+"He told me something of himself, but it was told to deceive. I found
+that in the ruins, just where he stumbled last night. He dropped it,"
+and Barbara held out the brown mask which she had drawn from her dress.
+
+Martin took it and turned it this way and that.
+
+"He did not tell me that he was Galloping Hermit the highwayman," she
+said.
+
+"Very strange," said Martin. "Another might have dropped it. Many men
+tramped that spot that evening. Sir John, Lord Rosmore, and a dozen
+others."
+
+"Yes, and later, Mr. Fellowes," said Barbara. "He came with a despatch
+calling Lord Rosmore back into Dorsetshire."
+
+"Might not Mr. Fellowes have dropped it?" Martin asked.
+
+"He might. You may find many possibilities, but not probabilities."
+
+"The famous mask," mused Fairley, "and you find it, mistress. For my
+part I have had a kindly thought for the wearer. There are tales about
+him which make him different from other highwaymen."
+
+"Yes, Martin, I know, but I had almost--ah! you would not understand."
+
+"I saw the beam of light, and it has now gone out, you say. This wisp of
+brown silk has extinguished it. But consider, might there not be some
+great purpose for a man taking to the road?"
+
+"There might, Martin."
+
+"I have heard, mistress, of a great noble who wore fool's motley that he
+might the better stand between his King and danger. I have heard of one
+who lay bound in chains for years that his friend might be saved. Men
+have died for others ever since this world was young."
+
+"True, Martin."
+
+"So Galloping Hermit may have some purpose which, did we but know it,
+would make him a hero to crown rather than a scoundrel to hang. His
+heart may beat honestly; the eyes which looked from these holes--"
+
+"Were grey, Martin," and there was a catch in Barbara's voice which her
+companion was quick to notice.
+
+"Courage, mistress, the beam of light is still shining. We must get rid
+of this."
+
+"No, give it me. I may see him again and give it to him."
+
+"And perhaps be mistaken after all," said Martin. "The highwayman has
+long since provided himself with another mask, so we may destroy this."
+
+"No, Martin."
+
+"Why keep so dangerous a trifle? See, it burns."
+
+He took the candle and the mask to the hearth, and made sure that no
+tell-tale particle of the silk remained.
+
+"Mistress, it is gone. Be wise, forget that you ever found it," and
+Martin trampled the ashes into dust.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+
+BARBARA LANISON IN TOWN
+
+Londoners had crowded towards Tower Hill from an early hour, had seized
+every point of vantage, or looked down from high windows and roofs upon
+that little square of space which was kept clear and strongly guarded.
+To a few, perhaps, it was mere sight-seeing, an excitement, a means of
+passing a holiday; but to the majority it was a day of mourning, a time
+for silence and tears. Ill-fated rebellion was to be followed by the
+judicial murder of a popular idol. There had been tales current of this
+man's cowardice. He had crawled at the King's feet, begging slavishly
+for his life, had been willing to resign honour and liberty, his creed,
+and his very manhood so that he might escape the fate awaiting him. He
+had begged and petitioned for the intercession of every person who might
+have the power to say a word in his favour. He had shown himself a
+craven in every possible way, so it was said. This silent crowd,
+however, had no certain knowledge of the truth of these rumours; they
+might be, probably were, false reports to belittle him in the minds of
+the populace. What this waiting multitude remembered was that James,
+Duke of Monmouth, was a soldier of distinction and was doomed to die a
+martyr for the Protestant faith.
+
+Ten o'clock had sounded some time since, when there was a sudden
+movement in the crowd, a backward pressure by the ranks of guards, and a
+man, saluting as he passed, walked up that narrow, human lane to the
+little square and mounted the scaffold with a firm tread. A great hush
+fell, broken only by the sounds of sobbing. This man a coward! Every
+look, every action, gave the lie to such an accusation. Two Bishops
+stood by him and spoke to him, but their words were inaudible to the
+greater part of the crowd; and Ketch, the headsman, stood silently by
+the block, a man hated and execrated from the corridors of Whitehall to
+the filthiest purlieus of the town.
+
+"I die a Protestant of the Church of England."
+
+These words were clear enough, and against them the Bishops seemed to
+protest, but in what words the crowd could not hear, and only those
+close about the scaffold heard Monmouth's confession that he was sorry
+the rebellion had ever happened, since it had brought ruin on those who
+loved him. Then for a while he knelt in prayer, and said "Amen!" even to
+the Bishops' petition for a blessing upon the King, but it was
+grudgingly said, and after a pause. Why, indeed, should he pray for a
+King whose heart was of stone and who was incapable of showing
+compassion?
+
+The silent crowd watched him with bated breath, dimly seeing through
+tears that he spoke to the executioner as he ran his finger along the
+edge of the axe, and then he laid his head upon the block. The axe fell
+once, twice, and again, yet there was not an end.
+
+Then the silence was broken. A wild fury roared from every side.
+
+"Fling Ketch to us!" cried the mob, pressing in upon the guards.
+
+Two more blows were struck by the frightened, cursing headsman. The
+martyrdom was accomplished, but the angry and nauseated crowd had gone
+mad, and, but for the guards, would have worked their will on Ketch and
+perchance on others who had had part in this butchery. It was a raging
+crowd, ripe for anything, fiercely lusting to wreak its revenge on
+someone; but it was a crowd without a leader. Had a strong man at that
+moment assumed command of it, Monmouth's death might have brought
+success to the rebellion he had raised. Had a leader been found at that
+moment, a short hour might have seen the storming of Whitehall by the
+populace, and the King in the hands of his merciless enemies. No strong
+man arose, and James was left in peace to plan further vengeance on all
+those who had taken part in the rebellion, or shown pity to the
+vanquished.
+
+Two days afterwards Barbara Lanison arrived in town, and received a most
+cordial welcome from her aunt, Lady Bolsover. She did not pester her
+niece for reasons why she had left Aylingford, it was only natural that
+any right-minded person would prefer London; nor did Barbara enlighten
+her. Before Barbara had been in the house an hour her aunt had given her
+a lively account of Monmouth's execution, and the horrors of it lost
+nothing in the telling.
+
+"Surely you were not there!" Barbara exclaimed.
+
+"No, I was not. I was tempted to venture, but I decided that it was
+wiser to keep away. I should certainly have shown sympathy with the poor
+man, and to do so would be dangerous. I assure you, Barbara, all the
+news in town lately has concerned this rebellion, and--let me whisper
+it, for it comes near treason to say it--half London has been in two
+minds whether to cast in its lot with Monmouth or with the King. There
+is no denying the fact that the King is not popular, and, to put no fine
+point on it, has the temper and cruelty of the devil."
+
+Lady Bolsover was genuinely pleased to have her niece with her again.
+After her own fashion she liked Barbara, and the presence of so
+attractive a person in her house was likely to re-establish the number
+and importance of her visitors, who, truth to tell, had not been so
+assiduous in their attentions since Barbara left her. The good lady was
+full of schemes for making the hours pass pleasantly, of course for her
+niece's sake, and, having assured herself that Barbara was still
+heart-whole, she was prepared to welcome to her house in St. James's all
+the eligible men she could entice there.
+
+"I taught you a good deal last time, my dear; I'll see if I cannot get
+you married this."
+
+Barbara smiled. She was anxious to please her aunt, and showed no desire
+to interfere with Lady Bolsover's schemes. It was such a relief to be
+free from the Abbey that Barbara experienced a reaction, and was
+inclined to enjoy herself. There were many things she would willingly
+forget. The brown mask had been reduced to ashes, but its destruction
+had not altered her opinion, nor had Martin succeeded in convincing her
+that she had not been grossly deceived. She had been threatened by Lord
+Rosmore, she had been insulted by her uncle and the men and women who
+were his companions, but, worst of all, she had been deceived by the man
+who had for so long occupied her thoughts and whom she had trusted.
+
+The opportunity to forget her troubles in a round of pleasure was soon
+forthcoming. At a sign a dozen men were ready to throw themselves at her
+feet, and a score more were only restrained by the apparent hopelessness
+of their case. She was a queen and her courtiers were many; music and
+laughter were the atmosphere about her; her slightest wish immediately
+became a command, and she became the standard by which others were
+judged. Barbara was young and enjoyed it, as any young girl would. There
+were moments when her laughter and merry voice had no trace of trouble
+in them, when it would have been difficult to believe that a cloud had
+ever hung in her life; but there were other times when her eyes looked
+beyond the gay crowd by which she was surrounded, when her attention
+could not be fixed, and when her face had sadness in it. She was
+conscious of sorrow and tears under all the music and laughter.
+
+Sometimes ugly rumours came, brought by a court gallant, or some young
+soldier who had returned from the West. Feversham had been called to
+London and loaded with honours, for "winning a battle in bed," as a wit
+said, and the brutal Colonel Kirke and his "lambs" were left in
+Somersetshire, free to commit any atrocities they pleased. If only half
+the stories were true, then had the West Country been turned into a
+hell, and Barbara hated the King who allowed such cruelty. She became a
+rebel at heart, and for the first time since she had found the mask in
+the ruins thought less harshly of Gilbert Crosby. There could be no
+reason to excuse his being a highwayman, but at least he had gone West
+to give what help he could to the suffering. How had he sped? The
+question set Barbara thinking, and, in spite of herself, Gilbert Crosby
+was in those thoughts all through a wakeful night.
+
+Barbara saw nothing of Lord Rosmore, whether he was in London or not she
+did not hear; but once Sydney Fellowes came to her aunt's, and Barbara
+was glad to see him, although she hardly had a word with him. She was
+surrounded at the time, and Fellowes made no effort to secure her
+attention. He evidently considered himself in disgrace still, although
+Barbara had forgiven him, and had ceased to associate him with the evil
+which was at Aylingford Abbey.
+
+It was not so easy to dissociate Judge Marriott from Aylingford. He came
+constantly to Lady Bolsover's, and on each occasion seemed to consider
+himself of more importance. So far as Barbara could judge he knew
+nothing of her reason for leaving the Abbey. He asked no questions, but
+delivered himself of many clumsy compliments framed to express his
+delight that the most charming creature on earth had brought sunshine
+again to town. It was impossible to make Judge Marriott understand that
+his attentions were not wanted, and Barbara, who had no desire to make
+an enemy of him, endured them as best she could. It was from him that
+she first heard that Judge Jeffreys was going to the West.
+
+"He takes four other judges with him; I am one of them. Rebellion must
+be stamped out by the law. Jeffreys will undoubtedly come to great
+honour, and it will be strange if your humble servant, his most intimate
+friend, does not pick up some of the crumbs."
+
+"Will the law be as cruel as the soldiers have been?" Barbara asked.
+
+"A dangerous question, Mistress Lanison; I would not ask it of anyone
+else were I you. Remember the law deals out justice, not cruelty."
+
+"Yet even justice may be done in a cruel fashion."
+
+"The sufferer always thinks it cruel," said Marriott.
+
+"And often those who look on," Barbara returned.
+
+"I have no doubt that Jeffreys will do his duty and carry out the King's
+command. Why should you trouble your pretty head with such matters?"
+
+"There are women who will suffer," she said. "It would be unwomanly not
+to think of them."
+
+"And some man, some special man, who interests you, eh, Mistress
+Barbara?"
+
+"Why should you think so?"
+
+"Because I can read a woman like an open book," laughed Marriott. "Her
+thoughts line her face as the print does a page, while the looks in her
+eyes are like the notes on the margin."
+
+"You read amiss if you think I am interested in a rebel awaiting
+judgment."
+
+"I will confess that you are more difficult to understand than most
+women," said Marriott, "and it is not for want of study on my part. Do
+you remember what I said to you on the terrace at Aylingford?"
+
+"Indeed, I have not treasured up all your words," she laughed.
+
+"I swore that if there were a rebel you were interested in, he should go
+free at your pleading. I am in the humour to-night to listen very
+eagerly."
+
+"There is no special person, Judge Marriott, but I would plead for them
+all," she answered. "Be merciful, for it is surely in your power. These
+people are ignorant countryfolk, led away by smooth tongues, and never
+counting the cost. They are men of the plough and the scythe, with
+little thought beyond these things, and they have wives and little
+children. Be merciful, Judge Marriott. Think of me, if you will, when
+the fate of a woman lies in your hands, and to the day of my death you
+shall hold a warm corner in my heart."
+
+"I will, I swear it, and you--"
+
+"Lady Bolsover is beckoning to me," said Barbara, and left him.
+
+It was the day after this conversation with Judge Marriott that Martin
+Fairley came to see her for the second time since she had left
+Aylingford. To Barbara he seemed strangely out of place in town, the air
+he assumed of being exactly like other men ill-suited him, and he seemed
+at a loss without his bow and fiddle. His dress, too, was strictly
+conventional, and it appeared to affect the manner of his conversation.
+He was as a man in bonds.
+
+"In London again, Martin!" Barbara exclaimed.
+
+"To see that you are not in trouble, mistress," he answered, and it
+would have been difficult for a stranger to tell whether he was a lover,
+or a trusted servant of long standing; there was something of both in
+his manner.
+
+"It is a long way to come."
+
+"It is lonely at the Abbey," he said.
+
+"Do you think you are safe there, Martin? Would it not be better to go
+away for a time?"
+
+"Since you are not there, mistress, I lock the door of the tower at
+nights."
+
+"But Sir John knows you are at the Abbey, and you cannot lock yourself
+in the tower all day," said Barbara.
+
+"Your uncle is a little afraid of me. He is superstitious, and unless he
+has someone beside him to lend him courage, he will not molest me.
+Besides, there have been many festivals where my fiddle was wanted; I
+have not been much at the Abbey."
+
+"You have been towards the West?" said Barbara eagerly.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And you have heard--"
+
+"Yes, mistress. I have heard how they suffer."
+
+"Have you heard aught of Mr. Crosby?"
+
+"Once or twice. I have seen one or two men who have said they escaped
+the soldiers by his help. He is doing all a man can do, I think, but for
+a fortnight I have heard nothing."
+
+"Do you know that Judge Jeffreys goes West directly?"
+
+"For the Assizes, yes. God help the prisoners! An unjust judge,
+mistress, a fawning servant of a brutal and revengeful King."
+
+"Hush, Martin!" Barbara whispered. "It may be dangerous to speak the
+truth."
+
+As if to prove the warning necessary, there came a knock at the door.
+
+"There is a young woman asking to see you," said the servant. "She would
+give no name, but declared you would see her if I said Lenfield."
+
+"Lenfield!" and her eyes met Martin's quickly. "Bring her up at once."
+
+"Mistress, she may talk more freely if she is atone with you," said
+Martin. "There is a screen there, may I use it?"
+
+Barbara nodded, and was alone when the woman entered the room.
+
+"You are Mistress Lanison?" she asked, dropping a curtsy.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"My name is Harriet Payne, and I was a servant at Lenfield Manor when my
+master, Mr. Gilbert Crosby, escaped. Some of us, Golding the butler and
+myself amongst others, were arrested and taken to Dorchester."
+
+"Yes, and then--"
+
+"I cannot tell by what means, but my master procured my release and bid
+me go to my home, a little village in Dorsetshire. I cannot tell all the
+master has done, but I know that they have tried to catch him for a long
+time. He has been helping people to escape, they say. You don't know
+what it has been like in the West, mistress."
+
+"Something of it, I know," said Barbara.
+
+"One night Mr. Crosby came to my mother's cottage to see me," the girl
+went on. "He told me something of his danger, and said that if anything
+happened to him, or if I were in danger, I was to go to Aylingford Abbey
+and ask for you; if I could not see you I was to ask for Martin the
+fiddler."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"I was soon in trouble, mistress, and went to Aylingford. You were not
+there, nor was the fiddler. I was asked what I wanted, but I would not
+say. I suppose the servant went to ask his master, for Sir John Lanison
+himself came out to me."
+
+"You did not tell him who you were?"
+
+"I just said I was in trouble, and asked where I could find you. He
+laughed and said I wasn't the first young woman who had got into
+trouble, and he said--"
+
+"You need not repeat it," said Barbara; "it was doubtless something
+insulting about me."
+
+"Indeed it was, mistress, but he told me where I should find you."
+
+"I do not know how I am to help you," said Barbara. "What do you want me
+to do?"
+
+"It is not help for myself I want, but for Mr. Crosby. They had followed
+him to mother's cottage that night and waited. As he went out they
+caught him. He is a prisoner in Dorchester!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+PREPARED FOR SACRIFICE
+
+Harriet Payne had made up her mind that she was the bearer of a lover's
+message; she expected her news to have a startling effect upon the woman
+she had travelled so far to see, but she was disappointed. There came no
+cry from suddenly parted lips, there was no sign of agitation about
+Barbara as her hands idly played with the folds of her gown for a few
+moments; it seemed doubtful whether she realised the full meaning of the
+message.
+
+"What does your master expect me to do?" she asked, looking up after a
+pause.
+
+Harriet Payne may have rehearsed a scene in which she would be called
+upon to soothe a stricken woman and speak comfort to a breaking heart.
+She had supposed that love was the same the world over, whether it went
+in silk brocade or coarse homespun. She had apt phrases ready to meet
+the expected, plenty of well-prepared sympathy to bestow, but she had no
+answer for this quiet, deliberate manner, and remained silent.
+
+"Perhaps you can help me to a decision by telling me more," said
+Barbara. "You need not be afraid to speak."
+
+"By Mr. Crosby's manner I thought you had some power, madam; I imagined
+that if you knew my master's position you would be able to help him."
+
+"Who has accused Mr. Crosby of having anything to do with rebels?"
+Barbara asked.
+
+"I cannot tell, but there is no doubt as to what he has done. It is well
+known that he has helped many of the rebels into safe hiding. There is
+another who is doing the same, a highwayman called 'Galloping Hermit.'
+You may have heard of him."
+
+"Is he, too, in Dorsetshire?"
+
+"The country people speak of him; now he is here, now there, but--"
+
+"Do you think your master and this highwayman are the same person?"
+asked Barbara, and with more eagerness than she had asked her other
+questions.
+
+"I have heard other people wonder whether they were, but I do not
+believe it; still, if Mr. Crosby is 'Galloping Hermit,' he is a man to
+be proud of. I would--"
+
+"Yes, yes, I know," said Barbara; "but you can hardly expect me to take
+much interest in a highwayman."
+
+"No, madam, of course not. I was not thinking of the highwayman, but of
+my master. It is on his account that I have journeyed to see you."
+
+"It was good and honest of you to come," said Barbara. "I must think
+what I can do. Are you remaining in London?"
+
+"I have a cousin in the city who is married to a mercer's assistant; I
+shall remain with her for a day or two," the girl answered.
+
+"Come to-morrow about noon; I shall have decided something then."
+
+"And if not you could help me to find this fiddler, perhaps?" said the
+girl.
+
+When she had gone Martin came from behind the screen, and Barbara looked
+at him, her eyes full of questions.
+
+"Yes, mistress, I fear her story is true. What she says of Mr. Crosby's
+doings is correct, also it is a fact that Galloping Hermit has been in
+Dorsetshire."
+
+"You have seen him?"
+
+"I have heard of him."
+
+"I must try and help him though he is a highwayman," said Barbara.
+"There can be no longer any doubt, Martin, that the two are one."
+
+"Yet you will help him? How?"
+
+"There is a way, a hard way, and I am not yet certain what it may mean
+to me, but it shall be done; yes, it shall be done."
+
+As she turned to a window and looked down into the square, Martin saw
+that there were tears in her eyes.
+
+"Tell me, mistress. You have told me your troubles before now, and it
+has not been always in vain."
+
+"I will tell you later, Martin.".
+
+"Perhaps it will be too late then," he answered. "Count the cost,
+mistress; is a highwayman worth the price?"
+
+"That girl was right," said Barbara, turning a glowing face to Martin.
+There were tears in her eyes, but they had not fallen. "She was right;
+even a highwayman is a man to be proud of when he helps the suffering
+from their brutal persecutors, as this Galloping Hermit is doing. I
+would sacrifice much even for a highwayman, and when he is Gilbert
+Crosby, too--ah! Martin, I have had dreams, pleasant dreams. I am awake
+now, they are only a memory, but, if need be, I will pay for them to the
+uttermost farthing."
+
+"You will not tell me the price?"
+
+"When I know it, and that will be to-morrow. Come to-morrow afternoon,
+Martin, unless you are going back to Aylingford at once."
+
+"I shall come," he answered; but listen, mistress, there are more ways
+than one of helping Gilbert Crosby. Do not pay too high a price. I wish
+you would tell me with whom you are bargaining."
+
+"To-morrow, Martin, and until then--"
+
+"You would be alone," said Martin quietly, and then his figure suddenly
+stiffened, his hands were clenched until the muscles in them stood out
+like whipcord, and his speech was quick and fierce. "Understand,
+mistress, no word you speak, no promise you may be compelled to give,
+binds me. No matter how fettered you may be, I am free to do as I will,
+and God help the man who seeks to work you evil!"
+
+Barbara had seen him in many moods, known him as dreamer, jester,
+counsellor, and philosopher, always with an air of unreality in what he
+did and said, always "Mad Martin," yet with strange wisdom and cunning
+in his madness at times. In this mood she had never seen him before. His
+face, indeed, the whole man, was changed. Madness must have got the
+upper hand entirely for a moment.
+
+"Why, Martin, you--"
+
+But he had gone. She had been too astonished to speak at once, and the
+door had closed before she could finish her sentence. The mood seemed to
+pass quickly, too, for looking from the window, Barbara saw him cross
+the square, the familiar figure, in spite of the conventional garments
+which he wore in town and which suited him so ill. He could never be the
+real Martin Fairley away from that tower in the ruins at Aylingford,
+Barbara thought.
+
+Not without reason was Fairley's warning, for if a woman will make a
+sacrifice she seldom counts the full cost. She must give generously,
+with both hands wide open, or not at all. Barbara did not think of the
+highwayman, but of Gilbert Crosby, and for him she was determined to
+sacrifice herself. Dreams she had had, dreams which ended in happiness;
+now such an ending was impossible, but the man who had inspired those
+dreams was still worthy the sacrifice. It was a woman's argument,
+absolutely conclusive to a woman. She had the power to help, and she
+meant to use that power.
+
+There was a brilliant company that night at Lady Bolsover's, and
+probably Barbara Lanison had never appeared more fascinating. She had
+been very careful to wear what became her best; she was bent on
+conquest, and so that she conquered fully and completely she recked
+little how. Her beauty and her ready wit quickly gathered a crowd about
+her, and not one of her enthusiastic admirers guessed that under her
+merry speech and laughter was an anxious, sorrowful heart and a wealth
+of restrained tears. One or two, whose love and hope had made their
+understanding of her keener, may have noticed that her eyes were sharp
+to mark each new guest who entered the room. There was someone she
+expected and for whom she was waiting. One man beside her looked at her
+quickly when Sydney Fellowes entered the room, possibly he had reason to
+suppose that Fellowes loved her and might prove no mean rival, but it
+seemed evident that he was not the man expected to-night. Sydney
+Fellowes bowed over her hand presently, murmured some conventional
+phrase, and passed on; but from a corner, and unobserved, he watched
+her. When she passed into another room he followed her at a distance,
+and took note of every man and woman with whom she talked. He saw that
+she was restless, for who was there who could understand her moods
+better than he did? How often had he sat beside her, learning to read
+her thoughts in the blue eyes which were more beautiful than any other
+eyes in the world.
+
+She was standing in the doorway between two rooms when he saw her start
+suddenly, and, following the direction of her eyes, he saw Sir John
+Lanison. He had just entered the room, and was explaining his presence
+to his sister, Lady Bolsover, who was evidently surprised to see him. He
+turned to greet several acquaintances, and then, seeing his niece,
+advanced towards her. He looked at her a little curiously, realising for
+the first time, perhaps, how beautiful she was. Barbara's face hardened
+for a moment, but the next instant she smiled. This man was her enemy,
+all the more dangerous because he was also her guardian, but it would be
+wise to keep him in ignorance of how fully she understood him.
+
+"Your arrival is unexpected, sir."
+
+"Yet not altogether unwelcome, I trust," said Sir John, treating her
+with studied courtliness, a manner he could use to perfection. "I was
+obliged to come to town, and could not refrain from coming to see you.
+You may guess why, perchance?"
+
+"Has it to do with a young person in trouble?" asked Barbara.
+
+Sir John looked puzzled for a moment. "Oh, you mean that girl who came
+to the Abbey. Did she really travel all the way to London to see you? I
+am surprised. She did not tell me her story, but I told her where you
+were to be found, never supposing that she would come to you."
+
+"She came, and I have heard her story," said Barbara.
+
+"It bears a close relationship to many another young woman's story, I
+wager," said Sir John with a smile. "Truly, I was not much impressed
+with her. If I may be allowed to speak a word of warning, I should say
+beware of her. She could lie easily, I fancy, with never a blush or the
+flicker of an eyelid to betray her. No, it was not about her I wished to
+see you."
+
+"Then, sir, I cannot guess," said Barbara.
+
+"I wished to apologise," said Sir John. "As I grow older my ill temper
+gains on me, I fear. Thwarted, I am senseless enough at times to become
+like a bullying schoolboy, and I say the first outrageous things which
+come to my tongue--conduct worthy only of a harridan. It was so that
+night at Aylingford. You were entirely right, I was entirely wrong.
+Forgive me, Barbara."
+
+"I forgive, yes, but you must not expect me to forget so readily," she
+answered. "Forgetfulness can only come with time, Sir John, you must
+understand that."
+
+"Perfectly. I do not expect to enjoy the luxury of being ill-tempered
+without having to pay the price for it. I only ask that you may not make
+the price too heavy. When you choose to return to the Abbey you shall
+find a welcome."
+
+Sir John did not wait for any answer, nor had Barbara the opportunity of
+thinking over what he had said just then, for the moment her uncle left
+her another claimed her attention.
+
+Still Sydney Fellowes watched her. It was evidently not her uncle for
+whom she had been waiting. It seemed as evident that she was doomed to
+disappointment to-night. Fellowes was one of the last to leave, and it
+was impossible that any other guest could arrive now.
+
+Barbara dismissed her maid quickly, almost impatiently, that night. She
+wanted to be alone. She expected to have done so much this evening,
+expected that she would have known her fate by now. She had faced the
+worst, she was prepared to pay the price, whatever it might be, always
+with a hope that it would not be as bad as she anticipated. Everything
+was yet to do, the uncertainty was still hers; the delay gave her lonely
+hours in which to realise all that this sacrifice might involve, and
+involuntarily she shrank from it. She was not less resolved, however,
+and there was an added incentive in the fact that the difficulties in
+her way were greater than she had expected. Sir John's arrival could
+have only one meaning; he must know, or had guessed, the real reason of
+Harriet Payne's coming to the Abbey, and had immediately travelled to
+town to ensure that, if he could possibly prevent it, no help should be
+given to Gilbert Crosby. His apology made no impression upon her, and
+she believed him capable of committing any villainy to get his own way.
+Surely, after what had happened at Aylingford, she had ample reason for
+her opinion. How was she to meet his designs and defeat them? There was
+only one way, the full sacrifice of herself. She looked critically at
+herself in the mirror, dashed the tears from her eyes, and smiled,
+touched her hair that the curls might fall most becomingly, and turned
+her head this way and that, coquetting with her own reflection.
+
+"Can I smile so winningly that a man will think possession of me cheaply
+bought at any price?" she murmured. "I think so, I believe so. I will
+make the bargain. Whatever beauty I have shall be staked against your
+villainy, Sir John; and I think the woman will win."
+
+She was strong in her determination, yet she sobbed herself to sleep.
+
+Not having been a frequent visitor at Aylingford Abbey in recent years,
+Lady Bolsover knew nothing about the company so constantly assembled
+there, nothing about her brother's pursuits and interests. That he must
+have fallen behind the times and become uninteresting, she took for
+granted; nothing else was to be expected of one who resided constantly
+in the country, she argued; yet she admitted to herself that Sir John
+looked a fine gentleman as he passed amongst her guests, and was rather
+surprised to find how full he was of town graces. After all, he was the
+owner of Aylingford, a circumstance which marked him as a man of
+importance, and some of the scandal which had been attached to his name
+as a younger man had not died out. She heard one woman inquire who he
+was, and, receiving an answer, say quickly, "_the_ Sir John Lanison, do
+you mean?" The interest displayed rather pleased Lady Bolsover, for
+surely fame, however obtained, was preferable to insignificance and
+nonentity. She therefore received her brother very graciously when he
+called on the following morning, and felt very contented that he should
+have chanced last night upon such a brilliant evening, and must realise
+how big a position his sister filled in the social world of London. If
+she had been inclined to despise him for burying himself at Aylingford,
+she was conscious that he had never looked upon her as a very important
+person.
+
+Sir John was full of flattery this morning. He regretted that his niece
+had a headache, but it enabled him to have his sister to himself.
+
+"A few days here, amongst men and women of wit and standing, would cure
+you of your absurd love of the country," said Lady Bolsover.
+
+"At least it has done wonders for my niece," he answered.
+
+"Surely you have not come to drag her back into exile!"
+
+Sir John smiled. It was evident that Barbara had not entered into an
+explanation of her reasons for leaving the Abbey.
+
+"No, I think she is in very good hands for the present. She appears to
+have many admirers."
+
+"Can you wonder at it? She is as pretty as a picture, and when such a
+picture has an exceedingly heavy golden frame--"
+
+"My dear Peggy, you hit the centre of the target with the first shaft.
+For most of these admirers the frame is the chief attraction. In this
+fact arises the difficulty of my guardianship."
+
+"Barbara has spirit; you must not draw the rein too tightly or she will
+kick over the traces," said Lady Bolsover.
+
+"Exactly, and show herself a true Lanison," said Sir John. "I propose to
+let the reins hang very loosely indeed. Let her have her own way. She
+will find it so uninteresting not to meet with any opposition that she
+will probably end in doing exactly as I wish."
+
+"And to whom have you decided to marry her?"
+
+Sir John held up his hand with his fingers apart.
+
+"There are at least five to choose from," he said.
+
+"All country bumpkins who affect outrageous clothes and delight in muddy
+boots?" inquired his sister.
+
+"On the contrary, they are all lovers of the town, whole-heartedly for
+King James, and with those convenient morals which go so far to make a
+gallant gentleman."
+
+"You pique my curiosity."
+
+"Then I do you a service, and would not spoil it by satisfying that
+curiosity," said Sir John. "Watch Barbara, and you may see my little
+comedy in the playing, for some of these five are not infrequently your
+guests."
+
+Lady Bolsover found her brother entertaining, and it was late in the
+afternoon when he spoke of taking his leave.
+
+"I will let Barbara know; she will like to see you before you go."
+
+A servant was sent to inform Mistress Lanison of her uncle's departure,
+and in a few minutes he returned to say that Mistress Lanison was out.
+
+"Out! Where?"
+
+"I have made inquiries, my lady, but no one seems to know," said the
+servant. "Madam went out with her maid quite early this morning, but
+returned shortly afterwards. A young person who came to see her
+yesterday came again to-day, just after noon, and it seems that Mistress
+Lanison went out with her. The maid left the house barely an hour ago."
+
+Lady Bolsover looked at her brother, who glanced swiftly at the servant.
+Lady Bolsover understood, and told the servant to go.
+
+"What can have happened?" she said as the door was closed.
+
+"Nothing serious, I warrant, my dear Peggy. Like all you women, Barbara
+is enjoying some harmless intrigue. Do you mind that day at Aylingford
+when I horsewhipped your first admirer? How old were you then?"
+
+"But Barbara is--"
+
+"Young," said Sir John, "and to indulge a frolic has taken advantage of
+the loose rein. You will find her in her room presently, with her head
+still aching, but slightly better, and to-night she will be as radiant
+as a young Diana."
+
+"I trust so."
+
+"Take my word for it. Long residence in the country has not made me
+forget that I once understood women very well." And with a smile Sir
+John departed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+
+BARBARA'S SELF-SACRIFICE
+
+There were few coaches and lackeys in the square when Sydney Fellowes
+left Lady Bolsover's. Hastily taking leave in the hall of an
+acquaintance who seemed inclined to bear him company, he hurried away,
+too much absorbed in his thoughts to think of the dangers of the streets
+for a lonely man at that hour of the night. He went quickly to Pall
+Mall, and entered a coffee-house there. A man at once rose from a corner
+to attract his attention. It was Martin Fairley.
+
+"She evidently expected someone to-night," said Fellowes in a low tone
+as they sat down together, "but I cannot guess who, nor whether it was
+man or woman. Of one thing I am certain, whoever she expected, Mistress
+Lanison was disappointed."
+
+"Who was there?"
+
+"Sir John Lanison for one, Martin. No, his niece did not expect him, nor
+Lady Bolsover either. His arrival was a surprise to both of them."
+
+"And to me," Martin answered; "but it is bad news. What brings him from
+Aylingford? Can Rosmore be in town?"
+
+"No, that is impossible," returned Fellowes. "He is busy with
+preparations for the assizes, and is in command of the military force
+placed at the disposal of Judge Jeffreys. For the present Rosmore is
+tied to the West. I would he might find a speedy grave there."
+
+"Sir John comes like an ill-omened bird; I wish I knew his reason," said
+Martin thoughtfully. "Did he speak with his niece?"
+
+"A few words only, and there was the courtesy as of strangers between
+them. I could not hear what was said, but it was nothing that had any
+special interest for Mistress Lanison. Her expression did not change."
+
+"Do you imagine you can read her so easily?"
+
+"Ah, Martin, I know; there is no imagination in it. Were I cunning with
+a brush and colour, I could paint you a thousand of her expressions and
+tell you the thoughts which lay behind them all. I am a lover, remember,
+with all a lover's quick perception, although the lady I worship thinks
+no more of me than of the soiled glove she casts aside."
+
+Martin looked at him for a moment in silence, and then laid his hand on
+his arm.
+
+"Soiled gloves go in pairs, Master Fellowes."
+
+"You mean--"
+
+"There is small difference sometimes between a lover and a madman. Had I
+my fiddle with me I might play to you all that I mean."
+
+Fellowes drummed with his fingers on the little table before him for a
+moment, and then seemed to shake himself out of a dream.
+
+"There must be too few women in the world, Martin, when the desires of
+so many men are for one. To-morrow--what must be done to-morrow?"
+
+"I shall see her to-morrow afternoon; until then I cannot tell what is
+to be done. A message will find you at your lodging?"
+
+"Yes, I shall wait. If I do not hear, I shall make some excuse for being
+at Lady Bolsover's again in the evening."
+
+Outside the coffee-house they separated. Where Martin went at nights
+Fellowes did not know, nor did he inquire. Fairley could find him, if
+necessary, and that was enough.
+
+Neither did Barbara know where Martin lived, or she would surely have
+sent him a message next day, for long before noon she had made up her
+mind to act without delay.
+
+The coming of Sir John was as ill-omened to her as it was to Martin. In
+some manner, she was convinced, his presence in London nearly concerned
+her, and much might depend on her promptness in carrying out the
+resolution she had made. So she awoke with a convenient headache, and
+had the news conveyed to her aunt. Then, assured that she would be left
+undisturbed, she dressed very carefully, anxious to look her best, and
+even practised her most winning smiles before her mirror. Her maid, who
+could be trusted and was a child of intrigue by nature, loyally assisted
+her mistress, and they were able to leave the house together without
+hindrance. Calling a coach, they were driven to the Temple, where Judge
+Marriott had his lodging. Barbara had determined to appeal to him. If he
+would, he certainly could save Gilbert Crosby, and, if she hoped so to
+entreat him that the reward he asked for his help should not be too
+heavy, she was prepared to pay whatever price he demanded. In
+imagination she saw herself his wife, and though she shuddered at the
+thought she never contemplated stopping the coach and going back to St.
+James's Square, her mission unfulfilled.
+
+"Judge Marriott has left London," said the servant when Barbara inquired
+for him.
+
+"When does he return?"
+
+The servant did not know. It seemed evident that his general
+instructions were to be reticent concerning his master's going and
+coming.
+
+"I must see him without delay on a matter of the gravest importance--the
+gravest importance to him," said Barbara, and she was surely speaking
+nothing but the truth, for the easy winning of her must be of great
+moment to any man. "Can you tell me where I shall find him? Has he gone
+to Aylingford Abbey?"
+
+The man thought not, but his imagination did not appear to help him
+further than that.
+
+"It is most important," repeated Barbara, and in her hand was a golden
+bribe.
+
+"I ought not to give any information," said the man, "but you say it is
+important to my master. He has set out for Dorchester to deal with some
+of the rebel prisoners there."
+
+"You are sure he goes first to Dorchester?"
+
+"Quite certain, madam."
+
+Barbara was deeply thoughtful as the coach drove back to St. James's
+Square. An unforeseen obstacle was placed in the way of her
+self-sacrifice, an obstacle so great that it did not seem possible to
+overcome it. Was Judge Marriott's absence of her uncle's contriving? It
+did not seem probable, but she was in the mood to connect him with all
+disaster, and when, on returning to the house, she learnt that Sir John
+was there with Lady Bolsover, her suspicions seemed confirmed. Barbara
+was the more determined to defeat his schemes. She would certainly have
+sent to Martin had she known where to find him, but as it was she was
+obliged to act for herself.
+
+Harriet Payne came at noon, with a sad and gloomy countenance.
+
+"What is it?" Barbara asked. "Is there further and worse news?"
+
+"No, nothing further."
+
+"Your face has a wealth of trouble in it."
+
+"Indeed, madam, and is it any wonder?" the girl asked. "I am so
+helpless, and I could wish to be so strong. Every hour counts, and what
+can I do?"
+
+"You have travelled far to ask my help, that is something."
+
+"Yes, madam; but yesterday you gave me little hope, and even that little
+is gone. In this matter you are as helpless as I am."
+
+Barbara laughed, a little hardly perhaps, remembering in which direction
+her power lay.
+
+"Had I been powerless, do you suppose your master would have sent you to
+me? I have had to decide whether I shall use that power."
+
+"And you will use it?"
+
+"I have already tried to do so this morning, and failed."
+
+"Here? In London?"
+
+"Yes. In which direction did you imagine my power lay?"
+
+"I could not tell, but I thought--I thought it must be in Dorchester
+where my master is a prisoner. Madam, there are powerful men in the West
+who may be bribed, who are being bribed every day. I thought it was with
+them you would have to deal."
+
+"The man I hoped to see in London is gone to the West," said Barbara.
+
+"Then--"
+
+"Yes, I intend to follow him, and at once. In this enterprise you will
+be of more service to me than my own maid. Will you go with me?"
+
+"Gladly, madam," and the girl's face brightened at once. "I have made
+the journey to London more than once, and know that at the house where
+the coach stops a carriage and horses can be procured."
+
+"You are beginning to make yourself useful at once," Barbara returned.
+"Wait here for me. I have to give my maid instructions, and then we will
+start without delay."
+
+Barbara told her maid to be on the watch for Martin Fairley, and to tell
+him that she had gone to Dorchester.
+
+"He will understand why," she said; "and as I shall not want you with
+me, and yet do not want you to be questioned, you had better return to
+the Abbey as soon as you have seen Martin. Be sure and do not let anyone
+hear you give the message."
+
+The girl had friends in London, and asked if she might spend a day or
+two with them before returning to Aylingford.
+
+"It will fit my plan excellently," Barbara answered. "Leave this house
+as soon as you possibly can after seeing Martin, and if your friends
+will have you, stay with them until I send for you. You will be well out
+of the way of questions."
+
+"No questions would make me betray you," said the girl.
+
+"I know, but your face is a tell-tale one," Barbara answered. "You have
+the virtue of not being able to lie easily."
+
+The girl was honest, and it was no fault of hers that she failed to
+deliver her message to Martin Fairley. She saw him come to the house,
+and hurried down to him, meaning to catch him in the square and speak to
+him where none could overhear her, and so carry out her mistress's
+instructions to the letter. But Fairley had departed quickly, and was
+nowhere to be seen. For some time she waited for his return, and when he
+did not come, thought it best to fulfil the other part of her
+instructions and leave the house at once.
+
+The servants at Lady Bolsover's knew nothing of Martin Fairley, not even
+his name. He had twice been admitted to see Mistress Lanison, but, for
+all the servants knew, he was some tradesman with whom she had dealings.
+Many such came to Lady Bolsover's. As Martin came to the door that day
+one servant called to another to fetch a coach for Sir John Lanison,
+and, hearing that Sir John was in the house, Martin departed quickly,
+saying that he would come at a more convenient hour. He did not want Sir
+John to know that he was in London, but he was curious to know upon what
+mission Sir John had come to town. Here was an opportunity to satisfy
+his curiosity which he had not counted upon, and he turned swiftly into
+the first alley which presented itself, and waited. He was so intent on
+watching for Sir John that he failed to notice Barbara's maid, who on
+her side was not anxious to attract too much attention either from those
+who might be at the windows of the house or from idlers in the square.
+
+Fairley had to wait nearly an hour, and then Sir John came. He took no
+notice of the coach, had no doubt given the servants some instructions
+concerning it, but walked leisurely across the square with the air of a
+man at peace with himself and all the world. Whatever plot might be on
+foot, it had received no check, and Fairley argued the worst from that
+handsome, smiling face.
+
+"He is delighted with some great villainy," he said to himself as he
+came from his hiding-place and followed him.
+
+Sir John Lanison was conscious that some attention was paid to him as he
+passed. He was a fine gentleman, and retained a little of that
+old-fashioned grace which had been the admiration of the town a couple
+of decades ago, when foolish women had looked upon him almost as a hero
+of romance, and men had thought twice before raising the anger of so
+accomplished a swordsman. A remembrance of former triumphs, with perhaps
+a little sigh to keep it company, came to him as he went towards the
+Haymarket, but certainly no thought of Martin Fairley was in his mind.
+His destination was a hostelry where he was evidently known, and there
+was a rush to do his bidding. He was travelling to Aylingford to-morrow,
+and must needs have the best coach and horses procurable. He was going
+alone; yes, and would start at an early hour. His orders were received
+with bows and much obsequiousness.
+
+"Tell me, landlord, have you sent out a coach in that direction to-day?"
+
+"Not to Aylingford, sir."
+
+"But in that direction. The road does not only lead to the Abbey."
+
+"Why, yes, sir; a coach started for the West early this afternoon," was
+the answer.
+
+"In these days the traffic sets more this way," said Sir John. "What
+kind of passengers were they?"
+
+"Two women; one closely veiled, but if her face were equal to her
+figure, to hide it was cheating mortals out of a pleasure. The other was
+a maid, a pert little baggage who ordered us about somewhat."
+
+"Going to Exeter?"
+
+"No, to Dorchester."
+
+Sir John nodded, and the smile of satisfaction seemed permanent.
+
+"You observe closely, landlord. I warrant you could describe the
+mistress's clothing for all you were so ordered about by the maid."
+
+The landlord grinned, and proved his observation by a somewhat close
+description.
+
+"I get asked such questions sometimes," he said, "when a mistress runs
+away, or a rebel makes hastily for the sea-coast and safety. It is well
+to be observant."
+
+Sir John laughed, and having demanded that the post-boys supplied
+to-morrow should not be of the sort who see a highwayman in every broken
+tree trunk by the wayside, he departed.
+
+The conversation had been overheard by a crowd of loafers in the
+adjoining room, who had suspended their drinking to watch this fine
+gentleman to whom the landlord was so attentive. Then the clatter and
+conversation began again, and only one man was interested enough to seek
+further information. He had only entered a few moments ago; now he
+approached the landlord.
+
+"I heard your description just now; it interested me."
+
+The landlord looked at Fairley from head to foot, and then brought his
+eyes to bear keenly on his face.
+
+"You are not known to me."
+
+"But I am to the lady, unless I mistake not. You spoke of runaway
+mistresses, and truly I think that shot at a venture found its mark."
+
+"You would follow her?"
+
+"If your answer to a question or two satisfies me, I will ride without
+delay the best horse you have."
+
+The questions were asked, and Martin was so satisfied that he was
+impatient to be gone.
+
+"So that I am well paid it's no odds to me," said the landlord. "I made
+the lady no promise, and she's not the first who has grown tired of her
+husband, nor will she be the last."
+
+"She may thank you for giving me the information," Fairley answered.
+"Ink and paper quickly, landlord; I must write a letter before I go."
+
+By the time the horse was ready the letter was written.
+
+"Find a messenger for this, landlord, and see that it is delivered
+without delay. There is payment for the messenger; tell him he will
+receive a like sum from the gentleman to whom this is addressed."
+
+There was a certain awkwardness about Martin Fairley as he rode out of
+the yard, enough to show that he was not so accomplished a horseman as
+some men; yet he had improved in his riding since he had borne Gilbert
+Crosby company from "The Jolly Farmers" that night.
+
+The letter was delivered to Sydney Fellowes before Fairley had gone many
+miles upon his journey.
+
+"I believe Mistress Lanison is on her way to Dorchester, and I am
+following," Fellowes read. "What plan is in her mind I cannot tell, but
+since it seems to give Sir John much satisfaction, I argue that some
+trap lies in the way. It is possible that I may be mistaken, so will you
+go to Lady Bolsover's to-night and make sure that Mistress Lanison has
+gone. If she has, and you can come, make all haste to Dorchester. There
+is a little tavern called 'The Anchor' in West Street. No one of
+consequence would use it, so you shall find word of me there."
+
+Not many hours later Sydney Fellowes was also riding towards the West.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+
+THE JOURNEY TO DORCHESTER
+
+There was an atmosphere of unrest about the inn at Witley this evening.
+An hour ago a coach had arrived, and the best rooms were in requisition
+for the travellers, a lady and her maid. It was whispered amongst the
+loungers in the common room that she was a great lady, in spite of the
+fact that she travelled in a hired coach, but this idea was perhaps due
+to the fact that the maid was imperious, and demanded attention in a
+manner that carried weight. The servant of an ordinary person would
+hardly have been so dictatorial.
+
+Even before the arrival of the coach the inn had been far more alive
+than usual, for a company of troopers had galloped up to it late in the
+afternoon making inquiry concerning a fugitive. He might be alone, but
+probably had a companion with him. Both men were minutely described, and
+it would seem that the capture of the companion would be likely to give
+the greater satisfaction.
+
+No one at the inn had either seen or heard anything of them, and the
+troop had given up the pursuit. After refreshment, and a noisy halt of
+half an hour, the men had returned by the way they had come, leaving two
+of their company behind. These two were in the common room when the
+coach arrived, and, like everyone else in the house, were mightily
+interested in the lady and her maid. When the bustle had subsided a
+little they called for more ale and settled themselves comfortably in a
+corner.
+
+"Well, for my part I'm not sorry the fellow got away," said one man,
+stretching out his legs easily. "We've enough prisoners to make examples
+of already."
+
+"One more or less makes no matter," was the answer, "but it's wonderful
+how many have managed to slip through our fingers by the help of this
+fellow Crosby. I'd give something to lay him by the heels."
+
+"Aye, that would mean gold enough in our pockets to jingle."
+
+"And we shall get him presently," the other went on. "He is known to
+many of us now that he does not always hide himself behind the brown
+mask."
+
+"If there were no money in it, I wouldn't raise a hand against him,"
+said his companion, "for I've a sneaking fondness for the fellow. He's
+got courage and brains, and they've got the better of us up to now. Mark
+me, we shan't take him easily when the opportunity does offer. He'll
+make a corpse of one or two of us in the doing it."
+
+"More guineas for those who are left," was the answer. "The other affair
+trots nicely," and he winked slowly over the tilted edge of his tankard.
+
+"Wait!" said the other. "The netting of such fish may be sport enough,
+but there are handsome fish which are the devil to handle, and the taste
+of them is poison. Hist!"
+
+His companion turned quickly at the warning, and through the open door
+saw the maid, who attended the great lady, in the passage without. She
+inquired for the landlord, who came quickly, and at the same time the
+trooper got up and crossed the room, giving no explanation to his
+companion.
+
+"Must we start early to reach Dorchester to-morrow?" the maid inquired
+of the landlord.
+
+"Yes, very early. The roads--"
+
+"The roads are good, mistress," volunteered the trooper. "I have ridden
+over them to-day."
+
+"You may be able to tell me better than the landlord, then," said the
+girl, and for some minutes they talked in a low tone as they stood in
+the doorway of the inn.
+
+"A fine night, mistress," said the man as the girl was about to leave
+him. "With the moon up like this, lovers should be abroad. It's but a
+hundred yards to the open fields; will you come?"
+
+"With you!" exclaimed the girl scornfully, looking him up slowly from
+his boots to his eyes.
+
+"Why not?" The maid's eyes were attractive, her figure was neat, and the
+man had sufficient ale in him to make him bold. For an instant they
+looked at each other; then the girl laughed derisively.
+
+"When the master grows tired, the man may prove useful, and the man has
+a fancy for sampling the wares forthwith," said the trooper as he caught
+hold of the girl and would have kissed her. Perhaps he did not expect
+any great resistance, and was unprepared, but at any rate she slipped
+from his embrace, dealing him a resounding box upon the ears as she did
+so.
+
+"You shall be punished further before many hours are over," said the
+girl as she ran lightly up the stairs.
+
+The man growled an oath as he stood with his hand to his assaulted ear.
+
+"Did I not say that some were the devil to handle?" remarked his
+companion, who had come to the common-room door, and was smiling grimly.
+
+"I grant she takes first trick, and with a heavy hand for so small a
+person, but the game is only commencing. One more draught of ale to
+drink success to the end of it, and then to horse."
+
+As the troopers rode out of Witley presently a horseman drew back into
+the shadow of some trees by the roadside to let them pass.
+
+"The remaining two," he murmured. "That's well; they have given up the
+pursuit," and he turned and went at a brisk canter across country.
+
+The maid said nothing about the trooper to her mistress; she only told
+her that an early start would have to be made.
+
+"Very well, Harriet, I shall want nothing more to-night, and will put
+myself to bed."
+
+But Barbara Lanison was in no haste to seek sleep. She was tired, bodily
+tired, but mentally she was wakeful. There were some hours still before
+she could reach Dorchester, and many more hours might elapse before she
+could get speech with Judge Marriott. Having determined to make the
+sacrifice, she was eager that it should be over and done with, that she
+should know the full extent of the sacrifice. And perhaps, at the back
+of her mind, there was a little fear of herself. The question would
+arise, again and again, no matter how she tried to suppress it, was she
+justified in acting as she intended to do? Who was this man for whom she
+was prepared to give so much? A notorious highwayman, upon whose head
+there was a price. Yes, it was true, but he was also Gilbert Crosby, the
+man who had taken possession of her thoughts since the first moment she
+had seen him, the man who had sheltered and helped the peasantry fleeing
+from an inhuman persecution, and who must now pay for his courage with
+his life unless she pleaded for him. Was she justified? The question
+sounded in her ears when she fell asleep; she heard it when she awoke
+next morning. Yes, and mentally she flung back the answer, yes, for to
+her Gilbert Crosby was something more than a brave man, and was dear to
+her in spite of everything. He was the man who had set an ideal in her
+heart, he was the man she loved. Hardly to herself would she admit it,
+but it was love that sent her to the West.
+
+It was still early when the coach rolled out of Witley, but it was not
+early enough, nor was the pace fast enough, to satisfy Barbara. She
+became suddenly fearful of pursuit which might stop her from reaching
+Dorchester. She began to dread some breakdown which might delay her and
+cause her to arrive too late.
+
+"Shall we be in time?" she asked more than once, turning to Harriet
+Payne.
+
+"Yes, madam, you need have no fear. The assizes have not yet begun in
+Dorchester."
+
+Pursuit was behind, but it was the pursuit of a friend. Whether it was
+the fault of the horseman or his mounts, disaster rode with Martin
+Fairley. To begin with, his horse cast a shoe, and by the time a smith
+was found and his work done, an hour had been wasted. Before the end of
+the first stage the horse collapsed; there was considerable difficulty
+in getting a remount, and the animal procured was a sorry beast for
+pace. Martin fretted at the delay, and cursed the adverse fates which so
+hindered him. Once he was within three miles of the coach, and then his
+horse went dead lame. Hours were lost before he could get another horse
+and resume the journey, and during those hours much might have happened.
+
+The coach had left only an hour when he arrived at the inn at Witley.
+
+"Yes, the travellers were a lady and her maid," the landlord told him.
+
+"Going to Dorchester?" Martin asked.
+
+"Yes. They started early."
+
+"Has anyone inquired for them?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Some breakfast, landlord--ale and bread and cheese will do--and a horse
+at once."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"And for heaven's sake give me a horse with four sound legs and with
+wind enough in its bellows to stand a gallop."
+
+Fairley was soon in the saddle again, and this time with a better horse
+under him. His spirits rose as the miles were left rapidly behind, and
+as he turned each bend in the road he looked eagerly for a dust cloud
+before him proclaiming that his pursuit was nearly at an end.
+
+Barbara sat silently in the corner of the carriage, Harriet Payne sat
+upright, looking from the window. It was Harriet who first noticed that
+the post-boy was suddenly startled, and that, in looking back, he had
+almost allowed the horses to swerve from the roadway.
+
+"What is it?" she called from the window, as she looked back along the
+road they had come.
+
+The post-boy pointed with his whip. Barbara looked hastily from the
+other window. There was much dust from their own wheels, but, beyond,
+there was another cloud surrounding and half concealing a horseman who
+was fast overtaking them.
+
+"Looks like a highwayman," said the post-boy.
+
+"Better a highwayman than some others who might have followed us," said
+Barbara, leaning back in her corner again. "Tell the boy to go on
+quietly, Harriet. This may be a very worthy gentleman who has need of
+haste."
+
+A few minutes later the horseman galloped up to the window.
+
+"Martin! You!" Barbara exclaimed.
+
+"Had I not been delayed upon the journey I should have caught you before
+this. I wish I had."
+
+"Why, Martin? Do you suppose I am to be turned from my purpose?"
+
+Fairley rode beside the open window, and Barbara leaned forward to talk
+with him.
+
+"I do not know your purpose," he said, "but I fear a trap has been set
+for you."
+
+"A trap!" Harriet exclaimed.
+
+"Why do you think so, Martin?" Barbara asked.
+
+Fairley told her how he had followed Sir John to the hostelry in the
+Haymarket.
+
+"You see, mistress, he knew where you would hire. He went direct to this
+place and made his inquiries as though he knew beforehand what answers
+he would receive. His smile was so self-satisfied that I scented
+danger."
+
+"And you see we are safe, nothing has happened."
+
+"Not yet," was the answer. "There is presently a by-road I know of, and
+by your leave we will take it."
+
+Barbara felt a little quick tug at her sleeve, and turned to Harriet.
+
+"Do not give him leave. I do not trust him," whispered the girl.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Some who seem to be your friends are no friends to Mr. Crosby."
+
+"This is no friend to be afraid of," laughed Barbara. "Were you not told
+to seek a fiddler at Aylingford if you failed to find me? This is he!"
+
+"A fiddler!" Harriet exclaimed. She had evidently not expected the
+fiddler to be a man of this sort, and was not satisfied.
+
+Barbara turned to the window again. "Tell me what you fear, Martin. I
+must not be hindered in reaching Dorchester, but take this by-road you
+talk of if you think it safer."
+
+"It will be a wise precaution, and will not delay us long upon the
+journey." He rode forward a little, and spoke to the post-boy.
+
+"He will delay us, I know he will," said Harriet. "I have no faith in
+him, and it may just make the difference in saving my master."
+
+"Don't be foolish, girl. Your master has no better friend in the world."
+
+"I cannot help it, but I do not believe it," sobbed the girl.
+
+"You have told me the assizes have not begun in Dorchester. We shall not
+be too late."
+
+"But they have hanged and shot men without waiting for a trial. I know;
+I have seen them. They hate my master, and were they to learn you were
+hurrying to his rescue, they would kill him before you came."
+
+"I am doing my best," said Barbara.
+
+"Keep to the high road, mistress," urged the girl.
+
+Barbara turned from her impatiently, and Martin came back to the window.
+
+"What is your purpose when you arrive in Dorchester?" he asked.
+
+"I cannot tell you."
+
+Martin made a little gesture to indicate Harriet Payne.
+
+"I have told no one, and shall not do so until my purpose is
+accomplished," said Barbara.
+
+"Mistress, I have some knowledge of things in the West. My fiddle and I
+hear many things, and I might give you useful news."
+
+"You cannot help me in this, Martin."
+
+"I am under no oath not to thwart you should the price you are prepared
+to pay be too large."
+
+"That is why I do not tell you, Martin."
+
+Fairley asked no further question, but rode on by the carriage in
+silence. He believed that she was going to bargain with Lord Rosmore,
+and his brain was full of schemes to frustrate her, or at least to
+prevent her fulfilling the bargain, even if it were made. It was not
+necessary to be honest in dealing with such a scoundrel, he argued, and
+even if it were wise to let the bargain be struck, he would see to it
+that Lord Rosmore should not profit by it.
+
+"This is the road," he said to the post-boy, and the carriage swung
+round into what was little more than a lane.
+
+Harriet Payne gave a little cry, and looked from the window.
+
+"I thought we were over, but we are off the road. Forbid this way,
+mistress; I pray you forbid it."
+
+For an instant Barbara wondered whether this was a scheme of Martin's to
+keep her from her purpose but the idea was absurd. He was as anxious
+that Gilbert Crosby should be rescued as she was. She commanded Harriet
+to keep quiet.
+
+Progress was slower now, for this side road was heavy, and the coach
+came near to being overturned more than once.
+
+"It will be better presently," said Martin, but it was a long time
+before his prophecy came true, and when it did, the improvement was not
+very great.
+
+"I wouldn't have come if I had known," growled the post-boy.
+
+"You'll go where you're told," said Martin, "and the more words about
+it, the less pay."
+
+They had travelled slowly for an hour or more, along a winding road
+between thick copses and high-hedged fields, when Martin suddenly
+brought his horse to a standstill and listened.
+
+"Stop!" he said to the post-boy, and immediately the grinding wheels
+were still.
+
+There was the quick thud of hoofs behind them, coming so rapidly that
+there was no hope of escape if they were pursued. Barbara leaned
+forward, looking at Martin as he unfastened the holster and half drew
+out a pistol; but Harriet Payne had thrust her head from the other
+window.
+
+"I knew it! He has betrayed us!" she said shrilly.
+
+"The devil take that wench!" growled Martin.
+
+Two men rode round the bend in the road, then two more, then others, a
+score of them at least. With an oath Martin let the pistol fall back
+into the holster. The odds were too great. His head sunk a little, and
+he looked strangely limp in his saddle.
+
+"Fire at them! Be a man and defend us!" shrieked Harriet, but Martin did
+not move.
+
+Barbara looked at him with wondering eyes; she was still looking at him
+when the coach was surrounded.
+
+"Your servants, Mistress Lanison," said a man at the door. "We are sent
+to bring you to Dorchester."
+
+"By whom?"
+
+"I had my orders from my superior; I cannot say who first gave them."
+
+"I am travelling to Dorchester."
+
+"We must be your escort, madam."
+
+"Am I a prisoner?"
+
+"One that shall be well treated by us and by all, I trust. This rogue
+here has led you off the road. A little further from the highway and I
+suppose you would have robbed them, you scoundrel."
+
+"No, sir, I only thought the dust would be less this way," Fairley
+answered meekly.
+
+Another man looked keenly at Martin, and then laughed.
+
+"Surely this is that fiddler fellow we know something of?"
+
+"Yes, sir," said Martin, crooking his arm as though a fiddle were in it,
+and in a timid voice he sang a few notes, like a wail, but they had
+often seemed a laugh to Barbara. She could not tell which they were now.
+"My fiddle is lost, or I would play for you, so long, so sweetly, that
+you would see flagons of ale around you, and think you tasted them too."
+
+"I would the fiddle were found, then," said one.
+
+"Having lost it, you carry pistols instead."
+
+"Yes, sir, every gentleman does so, but there's many dare not use them.
+I didn't use them. You'll remember that, for it's to my credit, and let
+me go."
+
+The man removed the pistols from his holster.
+
+"They're dangerous toys for a fool."
+
+"Truly, I feel much happier without them," said Martin.
+
+"Coward!" said Harriet Payne from the window as the coach was turned.
+"Coward!"
+
+Barbara said nothing.
+
+"Please let me ride by the other window," pleaded Martin. "This wench
+has no music in her soul, and does not like me."
+
+"You shall ride behind," was the answer.
+
+"Thank you, sir; I shall not see her then. She is not beautiful to look
+at."
+
+The man laughed.
+
+"Look to this fool, some of you, and give him a cuff if he grows
+sleepy."
+
+"Sleepy! Never in good company," said Martin.
+
+The post-boy whipped up the horses, and the carriage went slowly back
+towards the main road, surrounded by its escort.
+
+Barbara was still bound for Dorchester, but a prisoner. Would she now be
+able to get speech with Judge Marriott?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+
+THE HUT IN THE WOOD
+
+The grinding of wheels, the sharp stroke of horses' hoofs, and the
+voices of men lessened and died into silence. No sound disturbed the
+narrow, winding lane which twisted its way now between neglected and
+forlorn looking fields, presently through woods of larch and pine, again
+across some deserted piece of common land. One might have followed the
+lane for hours without meeting a soul, without hearing a human sound
+beyond the echoes of one's own footsteps sent back from the depth of a
+copse. For miles it went, turning now this way, now that, until a
+stranger would wonder whither it was leading him, and speculate whether,
+at the end, he might not find himself on the same high road which he had
+left long ago. At one part, for a mile or more, the lane skirted a
+forest, where, down short vistas, could be seen deeper depths beyond,
+solemn gloom which might serve to hide in, or might contain lurking
+danger. Old cart ruts here and there made short incursions into it,
+their limit marked by a small clearing and a few tree stumps, showing
+that timber had been brought out; but no such track gave any sign of
+penetrating far, and offered little temptation to explore. There was a
+track, however, so casual in its departure from the lane that a stranger
+would hardly have noticed it, which ran deeply into the forest, losing
+itself at intervals in a small clearing, but going on again, although
+anyone but those who had knowledge of it might miss it a score of times,
+and wander hopelessly amongst tangled undergrowths and into swampy
+depressions. This track presently crossed a larger clearing, where was a
+hut set up by charcoal burners long ago. Time had cracked and warped its
+planks, but pieces had been nailed across weak places, giving the hut a
+botched and tumble-down appearance but keeping it weather-tight. The hut
+was divided into a shed for tools and storage, or perhaps for stabling a
+horse upon occasion, and a larger chamber which served as a dwelling.
+From a hole in the roof of this part a thin wreath of smoke was curling
+upwards towards the overhanging trees, losing itself in their foliage.
+Twilight came early here, and the great world seemed shut out
+altogether.
+
+Presently the door of the hut opened, but he was no charcoal-burner who
+stood on the threshold, listening and looking up at the sky above the
+clearing. His hair was white, his figure a little bent, and there was an
+anxious look upon his face, a permanent expression rather than one
+caused by any tardy arrival this evening. The man he waited for was too
+erratic in his goings and comings to make a few hours', or even a day's,
+delay a cause of wonder.
+
+He went back into the hut, but in half an hour or so came to the door
+again. He was not a woodsman used to distinguishing sounds at a long
+distance, and the sound that presently reached him was close by. In
+another moment a man, leading a horse, came out of the gloomy shadows
+into the clearing.
+
+"Master Gilbert! Master Gilbert! You're late. Thank God you're back once
+more. I've a hare in the pot which begins to smell excellently."
+
+"I'll do justice to your cooking, Golding, never fear. I'll look to the
+mare first; she's had a trying day."
+
+He led the animal into the small shed, and for some time was busy making
+her comfortable for the night.
+
+"Ah! the smell is appetising," he said as he joined Golding, "and I am
+ravenous."
+
+"And in good spirits, surely."
+
+"Yes, we baulked them again, Golding. Yesterday afternoon we made in the
+direction of Witley, and had as narrow a squeak of capture as I want to
+experience. A troop was before us on the road, and one fellow with the
+eyes of a lynx sighted us. The poor fellow I was helping was a bit of a
+coward--no, I won't call him that, but constantly being hunted had taken
+the heart out of him, and he was inclined to give up the struggle. I
+urged him on, and we made for Witley, openly, and as if we were
+confident of a hiding-place in the town. Fortune favoured us, and we
+pulled up short in a hollow, the troop riding by us in desperate haste.
+Hot footed they poured into Witley, but for some reason which I did not
+understand they went no further. Half an hour afterwards they came back,
+all but two of them. I had counted them as they passed. Those two
+remained in Witley until long after nightfall, then they rode back, and
+my man had a free country before him."
+
+"You'll run the risk once too often, Master Gilbert."
+
+"That is probable, but, by Jove! I shall have done some good with my
+life. This was the thirty-eighth man I've helped out of the clutches of
+these devils."
+
+"And I was the first," said Golding. "It's wonderful how you schemed to
+get me out of Dorchester, Master Gilbert."
+
+"And it's marvellous how you manage to make this hut a home that one is
+glad to get back to, Golding."
+
+"Maybe we'll get back to Lenfield presently, Master Gilbert, and you'll
+then shudder at the thought of what you had to put up with here."
+
+"It will be some time before there will be safety for me at Lenfield,"
+said Crosby.
+
+"And meanwhile a hare's no such bad fare, if the preparing and cooking
+of it does present some difficulties in a place like this," said Golding
+as he replenished his master's plate.
+
+Crosby had eaten little in the last twenty-four hours, and was silent
+for some time.
+
+"Thirty-eight is something, but it's a drop in the ocean," he said
+presently. "I wish I could open the prison doors in Dorchester before
+the assizes commence. There'll be murder enough done there in a few
+days, Golding."
+
+"That is beyond your power, Master Gilbert," and the old man said it as
+if he feared his master would make the attempt.
+
+"Yes, I am powerless. I wonder what became of that girl, Golding."
+
+"Do you mean Harriet Payne?"
+
+"I had forgotten her name for the moment," said Crosby. "When I came to
+Dorchester after they had arrested you, I found out where you were, but
+I could hear nothing about her. I would give a great deal to set her
+free."
+
+"Yes, Master Gilbert."
+
+"It is frightful for a woman to be in the clutches of these devils, and
+when that fiend Jeffreys comes to Dorchester, God help the women he
+judges! I wonder what has become of the girl."
+
+"She may have been released."
+
+"Why should they release her when they would think it was within her
+power to betray me?"
+
+Golding shrugged his shoulders. "It was only a suggestion," he said.
+
+"What is in your mind?" Crosby asked.
+
+"An unjust thought, Master Gilbert. Since thirty years ago the one woman
+I ever thought of jilted me, I've had no love for any woman. I'm afraid
+of them and unjust in my thoughts of them. My opinion concerning women
+is of no value."
+
+"What were you thinking about Harriet Payne?"
+
+"She was a bit flighty, Master Gilbert, and rather given to look down on
+the other servants. That kind of girl is open to flattery."
+
+"And then, Golding?"
+
+"Then! Well, I'm no judge of women, but it seems to me that once they're
+fond of flattery you can make them do almost anything. She was a
+good-looking girl, was Harriet Payne, and if some young slip of a dandy
+got hold of her--well, she might make a bargain with him and get
+released that way."
+
+"Was she that kind of girl?"
+
+"I'm not saying so; I'm only putting it as a possibility," Golding
+answered. "Such bargains have been made, Master Gilbert, if the tales
+they tell be true."
+
+Crosby clenched his teeth suddenly, and struck his fist irritably on his
+knee. One such tale he had heard, told of the brutal Colonel Kirke, a
+woman's honour sacrificed to save her lover, and sacrificed in vain. He
+was prepared to believe any villainy of such a man, and there were many,
+little better than Kirke, free to work their will in the West Country
+to-day. He was conscious of the ribbon about his neck, he remembered
+that handclasp in the hidden chamber below Aylingford Abbey, and thanked
+Heaven that the fair woman who had done so much to help him was in
+London.
+
+"Such thoughts make me sick, Golding," he said after a long pause. "I
+feel that I must rush into the midst of such villains and strike, strike
+until I am cut down. Sometimes there comes the belief that if a man had
+the courage to charge boldly into such iniquity, God Himself would fight
+beside him and give him victory."
+
+"There peeps out the Puritan faith of your fathers, Master Gilbert. It's
+a good faith, but over confident of miracles. You'd be foolish throwing
+your life away trying the impossible when there is so much you are able
+to do well."
+
+"I argued like that only a few hours since," said Crosby. "But, for all
+that, there's a taste of cowardice left behind in the mouth. I should
+have been back early this afternoon but for the fact that this troop I
+spoke of was still hanging about the highway yonder."
+
+"They did not see you!" Golding said in alarm. "They will not track you
+here?"
+
+"They were not watching for me. I take it the men were ordered not to
+follow us beyond Witley, but to wait for other prey that was expected. I
+did not see how it happened, nor where, only the result. They had
+captured a coach, and were guarding it on the way to Dorchester. What
+unfortunate travellers it contained I do not know, I was at too great a
+distance to see. But in the midst of the villains there was a captured
+horseman, and they seemed to be ill-treating him. I touched the mare
+with the spur, thinking to go to his aid, but drew rein again
+immediately. There was at least a score of men to 'do battle with."
+
+"A wise second thought," said Golding.
+
+"Leaving a taste in my mouth," said Crosby. "I thought I heard
+something, Golding."
+
+"It was the mare in the shed."
+
+"I heard her, but something else besides, I fancy," and, with Golding at
+his heels, he went out of the hut to listen. There were stars in the sky
+over the clearing. The night had fallen, and strange sounds came from
+the gloomy depths of the forest, sounds which might well set an
+unaccustomed ear intent to catch their meaning. Gilbert Crosby may not
+have been able to account for all of them, but they did not trouble him.
+It was another sound he waited and listened for.
+
+"There is nothing, Master Gilbert," Golding whispered.
+
+"Wait."
+
+Golding saw that a pistol was in his master's hand, so he took one
+slowly from his pocket and tried to look into the darkness.
+
+It was well that Gilbert Crosby saw the coach from such a distance, that
+he could not catch a glimpse of the travellers. Had he known who the
+travellers were, the spurs would have been driven deep into the mare's
+flanks and there would have been no drawing rein; had he even recognised
+the horseman who was being ill-treated he would not have paused to count
+the cost. A trooper or two might have gone down before his fierce
+attack, but a score of men, trained in fighting and on the alert, cannot
+be scattered by one. Gilbert Crosby would have been flung lifeless on
+the roadside, or overpowered and carried a prisoner to Dorchester.
+
+The two women sat silently in the coach. Harriet Payne sobbed quietly.
+She was tired of abusing Martin, weary of telling her mistress that they
+ought to have kept to the high road and safety. At first she had broken
+out at intervals with her wailing, and Barbara's commands to be silent
+had not much effect.
+
+Barbara did not answer her, did not look at her. Her own thoughts and
+fears were trouble enough. A trap had been laid for her, doubtless it
+was of her uncle's contriving, and it was unlikely that she would be
+able to send even a message to Judge Marriott. Her mission was doomed to
+failure, and she was in the hands of her enemies. What could they compel
+her to do? Was marriage with Lord Rosmore the only way out? She would
+never take that way. Though they accused her of treason, though death
+threatened her, she would never marry him. To Judge Marriott she was
+prepared to sacrifice herself, but to Lord Rosmore never, not even to
+save the life of the man she loved. There had been moments when an
+alliance with Rosmore had not appeared so dreadful to her, moments when
+her disappointment concerning Gilbert Crosby had helped to make Rosmore
+less repugnant to her; but from the moment she had determined to
+sacrifice herself these two men stood in clear and definite antagonism.
+The one she loved, the other she hated. Why she should so love and so
+hate she could not have explained fully, but the love and hate were
+facts, and she made no attempt to reason about them.
+
+She heard Martin's voice at intervals, complaining, garrulous, and then
+suddenly jesting, jests not meant for her ears, but fitted to the rough
+company in the midst of which he rode. Poor Martin, she thought, Mad
+Martin. This might make him mad indeed, drive from him entirely that
+strange wit he had and which he used so wonderfully at times. He had
+been her playfellow, and her teacher, too, in many things, yet he was
+one of God's fools. There was compensation in that surely.
+
+Barbara winced presently when Martin's voice was raised in higher
+complaint.
+
+"What are you trying to do, you fool?" cried a gruff voice.
+
+"I want to see that my mistress is happy. She would like me to ride
+beside her window; and I will, too."
+
+It was probably at this moment that Gilbert Crosby caught sight of the
+cavalcade, and thought the prisoner was being vilely ill-used. Well
+might he think so, for Martin attempted to force his way through the
+troopers and get to the window.
+
+"She's used to me," he literally screamed. "See what an ugly fellow is
+beside the window now! Truth, I never saw so many ugly men together. Let
+me pass!"
+
+"Peace, Martin, I am all right!" Barbara called from the window, fearful
+that these men might do him an injury.
+
+"Take that idiot further back!" roared the voice of the man in command
+of the troop. "He does naught but frighten the lady."
+
+Martin received a cuff on the head, and was hustled to the rear, a man
+riding on either side of him.
+
+"Who was the gentleman who struck me?" whined Martin, rubbing his head.
+
+"Sayers. His is a good hand for dusting off flies," laughed one of the
+men beside him, willing to get some sport out of this madman.
+
+"Flies! To judge by my head he must have fancied he saw a bullock before
+him. Lucky I dodged somewhat, or I'd have no head for flies to settle
+on. And who is the gentleman with the voice of thunder?"
+
+"That's Watson."
+
+"It's a good voice, but there's no music in it. You have never heard him
+sing, eh?"
+
+"Aye, but I have. He can roar a fine stave about wine and women."
+
+"I'll go and ask him to favour us," said Martin, jerking his horse
+forward.
+
+"Stay where you are," and the man's hand shot out to the horse's bridle.
+
+"Very well, very well, if you like my company so much. It's a strange
+thing that they should put wine and women into the same song."
+
+"Strange, you fool! Strong enough and beautiful enough, are they not
+both intoxicating?"
+
+"I know not," Martin answered. "I have no experience of strong women."
+
+"Strong wine and beautiful women," I said.
+
+"Did you. I am rather dull of hearing."
+
+"You're a dull-witted fellow altogether to my thinking."
+
+"It is most true, sir. I am so dull that I cannot see the wit in your
+conversation."
+
+"I can cuff almost as vigorously as Sayers," said the man a little
+angrily, when his companion on the other side of Martin laughed.
+
+"I will believe it without demonstration," said Martin, cringing in his
+saddle. "You frighten me, and now I have lost my stirrups. I am no rider
+to get on without them. I shall fall. Of your kindness, gentlemen, find
+me my stirrups."
+
+"Plague on you for a fool," said one.
+
+"A blessing on you if you get my feet into the stirrups."
+
+"Stop, then, a moment."
+
+Martin pulled up, and the cavalcade went on. The two men, one on either
+side, brought their horses close to Martin's, and bent down to find the
+stirrups. Martin suddenly gave both horses the spur in the flanks with a
+backward fling of his heels, and at the same time struck each man a
+heavy blow on his lowered head. The horses sprang aside, one rider
+falling in the roadway, the other stumbling with his animal into the
+ditch by the roadside. The next instant Martin had whipped round his own
+horse, and was galloping back along the road.
+
+It had been the work of a few seconds, and a few seconds more elapsed
+before the cavalcade came to a standstill.
+
+Then a voice roared orders, half a dozen shots sang about the fugitive,
+and there were galloping horses quickly in pursuit.
+
+Expecting the shots, Martin had flung himself low on the horse's neck.
+The animal, frightened by the swinging stirrups and driven by the spur,
+plunged madly along the road. So long as the road was straight, Martin
+let the horse go, but at the first bend, when there was no chance of his
+pursuers seeing him, he checked the animal a little, slipped from his
+back, and with a blow sent him careering riderless along the road.
+
+"He'll make a fine chase for them, and should find his way back to
+Witley," said Martin as he crouched down in a ditch which divided the
+road from a wood. Cracking branches might have betrayed him had he
+entered the wood just then. Half a dozen horsemen passed him, galloping
+in pursuit, and when the sounds had died away, and he was convinced that
+no others followed, he crawled from the ditch and went straight before
+him into the wood. At a clearing he stopped and looked at the stars,
+then continued his way along a narrow track that went towards the
+south-west, in which direction lay Dorchester. He had no mind to enter
+the town as a prisoner, but he meant to reach it all the same, and as
+soon as possible.
+
+For an hour he pushed forward, and then came suddenly to the edge of a
+clearing of some size. He stopped. He saw nothing, he was not sure that
+he heard anything, but the air seemed to vibrate with some presence
+besides his own.
+
+Perhaps he had heard the low sound which the opening door of the hut
+made.
+
+"You're a dead man if you move," said a voice out of the darkness.
+
+Fairley started and made a step forward, but stopped in time.
+
+"I should know that voice. I am Martin Fairley."
+
+"Fairley!"
+
+Crosby hurried forward to meet him.
+
+"Have you been a prisoner in Dorchester?" Martin asked.
+
+"A prisoner! No."
+
+"The devil take that wench!"
+
+"What wench?" Crosby asked.
+
+"Give me something to drink and a mouthful of food. The story may be
+told in a few words, and then we must get to Dorchester."
+
+"Martin! Why? Surely she--"
+
+"Yes; she will be there within an hour or so. That is why we go to
+Dorchester to-night."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+
+SCARLET HANGINGS
+
+Barbara's prison was an old house in a narrow street of Dorchester, the
+ground floor of which had been turned into temporary barracks for
+soldiers and militiamen. The prisoner passed to rooms on the upper floor
+through a rough, gaping crowd, and in some faces pity shone through
+brutality for a moment. Something worse than death might await so fair a
+traitor.
+
+The rooms to which she was taken were sparsely furnished and rather
+dark, the windows looking out upon a blank wall, two rooms
+communicating, but with only a single entrance from the passage without.
+The most hopeful would have seen little prospect of escape, and the most
+spirited might wonder if depression could be successfully conquered in
+such surroundings. Half a dozen soldiers had followed them up the
+stairs, but only Watson, whose stentorian voice seemed to fit him to
+command a troop of ruffians, entered the room with them.
+
+"There are so many prisoners in Dorchester that we have to make shift to
+find room for them," he said, as though to make apology for the
+accommodation.
+
+"Indeed, I might be much worse lodged," Barbara answered.
+
+Harriet Payne looked round the rooms in dismay, but said nothing.
+
+"May I know what charge is brought against me?" asked Barbara.
+
+"With that I have naught to do," Watson answered. "I'm a soldier, not a
+lawyer, madam. My orders are to keep you in safe custody until your
+presence is required, and I am told to see that you have everything in
+reason to make you comfortable."
+
+"It would appear that I have friends in Dorchester."
+
+"It is not unlikely, madam; as for this young person," he went on,
+looking at Harriet, "she will see to your wants and may pass in and out.
+I suppose, therefore, that nothing is known against her beyond the fact
+that she is found in your company."
+
+"Your temporary mistress is evidently a dangerous person, Harriet,"
+Barbara said with a smile. "Had I not forced you to make this perilous
+journey with me, you would have been better off."
+
+This deliberate attempt to dissociate her from any treasonable intention
+rather startled Harriet Payne.
+
+"At least you shall find the comfort of having a maid with you, madam,"
+she said quickly.
+
+"If the young person will come with me, I will show her where certain
+things you may require can be found," said Watson. "There will be a
+sentry constantly in the passage, madam, so if you hear footsteps in the
+night you need not fear."
+
+Barbara made no answer to this indirect warning that any thought of
+flight was hopeless, and Harriet followed Watson out of the room.
+
+"It was well done," he whispered as they went down the passage, leaving
+a sentry by the locked door.
+
+"I was not looking for your praise."
+
+"It is given gratis," the man answered, "and in the same spirit I'll
+give you a warning: don't attempt the impossible, whatever happens. A
+woman like her yonder might succeed in wheedling any man, or woman."
+
+"I want neither your praise nor your warning," said Harriet.
+
+"And I'm not looking for another clout on the ear, mistress, such as you
+gave me at Witley, though, for that matter, I like a woman of spirit. If
+you're in want of a comforter later on, you may reckon on Sam Watson."
+
+"And Sam Watson had best be careful, or he may find himself in hot water
+with his master," Harriet answered with a toss of her head.
+
+For herself, Barbara Lanison had little thought, but her fears for
+others troubled her. As a prisoner her power to help Gilbert Crosby was
+grievously lessened. Doubtless she herself was to be accused of treason,
+and Judge Marriott might be afraid to say a word at her bidding, or
+perchance he would refuse if the power to make the sacrifice she
+intended were taken from her. Death might be her punishment for treason,
+and if so, where was Judge Marriott's reward? There was another
+contingency: he might be able to save her, and he would certainly use
+his efforts to this end instead of troubling about Crosby, no matter
+what pleading she might use. As a prisoner she was, indeed, of little
+use to Gilbert Crosby. She must see Judge Marriott and do her best, but
+her hope of success was small. Who had brought this disaster upon her?
+Surely her guardian, and Barbara's hands clenched in impotent rage to
+think that he had outwitted her. Yet he could not be alone in the
+matter, for it was not probable that he had openly accused her himself.
+Had Rosmore anything to do with it? It was a new thought to Barbara. She
+knew her uncle for a villain, but about Lord Rosmore she was undecided.
+True, he had threatened her, but he also loved her, she could not doubt
+that in his own fashion he did so. Would a man place the woman he loved
+in such jeopardy as that in which she was placed? Barbara could not
+believe it possible; besides, how should Lord Rosmore know that she was
+on her way to Dorchester? The coming of Harriet Payne to Aylingford had
+aroused Sir John's suspicions, but there was no circumstance which would
+lead Rosmore to suppose that she intended journeying to the West.
+
+Martin Fairley also troubled her. Had he made good his escape, or had he
+been retaken and confined somewhere else in the town? She had asked the
+man Watson as the cavalcade had started again, and his gruff reply was
+that the fool would be left dead in the ditch by the roadside. She did
+not believe Martin was dead; in fact, Martin puzzled her. He could not
+have had a hand in her betrayal, yet, at the very moment when courage
+was most needed, he had been a coward. Probably he had saved himself,
+but he had deserted her. The one person upon whose fidelity she would
+have staked her honour had utterly forsaken her at a supreme moment.
+Full as her mind was of Gilbert Crosby, the failure of this half-witted
+companion depressed her as, perhaps, nothing else could have done.
+
+Had he really deserted her? The question came through the long, wakeful
+hours of the night. It came with the memory of that little cadence of
+notes, the same notes in which his fiddle laughed. He had sung them in a
+foolish fashion when the men surrounded the coach; had he meant to speak
+to her by them? The thought brought hope and sleep, sleep giving
+strength, hope bringing new courage when the day came.
+
+"To help Mr. Crosby I must Speak with Judge Marriott, who is in
+Dorchester," she told Harriet Payne. "You must find him and ask him to
+come to me."
+
+"Will he come, madam?"
+
+"I think so."
+
+"Alas, you have need of help yourself now."
+
+"Perhaps not such need as may appear. To arrest me does not prove me
+guilty of treason."
+
+"It is not only the guilty who are suffering."
+
+"Out upon you, girl, for whining so easily," said Barbara. "Courage
+lends help against every ill, even against death itself. You will find
+where Judge Marriott is lodged, and tell him where I am."
+
+"They may not let me have speech with the judge."
+
+"You must contrive, use art, use--Ah, you are a woman, and need no
+lesson from me."
+
+So Harriet Payne went upon her mission, and Barbara was impatient until
+her return. Disappointment was upon the girl's face when she came back.
+It had been easy to find out the judge's lodgings, but impossible to get
+speech with him. He was too engaged to see anyone that day.
+
+"I must try again to-morrow," said the girl.
+
+"Yes, and the next day and the next," said Barbara. "Did anyone carry a
+message for you?"
+
+"I contrived so far, but whether it came to the judge's ears or not I
+cannot tell."
+
+"I'll ask this man Watson to take a message," said Barbara.
+
+"Not yet," said the girl. "That might be dangerous. Wait until I have
+entirely failed"; and, to prove how dangerous it might be, she began to
+tell her mistress some of the gloomy forebodings which were whispered
+about the town.
+
+Dorchester was in terror, and spoke its fears with bated breath. There
+were three hundred prisoners awaiting judgment, and the dreaded Jeffreys
+was coming; the cruel, the brutal, the malignant judge whose fame, like
+an evil angel, came before him, speaking of death. There was to be no
+pity, no mercy. If Alice Lisle, for no greater fault than compassion for
+two fugitives, was condemned with all the barbarity that the inhuman law
+could render possible; if the appeal of clergy, of ladies of high
+degree, of counsellors at Whitehall, of Feversham himself, could only
+move the King to grant that she should be beheaded instead of burned
+alive, what hope for the prisoners in Dorchester who would have no such
+powerful appeal made in their favour?
+
+The Court was already prepared, its hangings of scarlet. Judge Marriott,
+busily awaiting his learned brother, chuckled at the innovation. It was
+like Jeffreys--an original thing, a stroke of genius. Men quaked because
+of those scarlet hangings; this was to be no ordinary assizes, but a
+marked occasion which should put fear into the souls of all who should
+even think upon rebellion. Some man, in an awed undertone, spoke of it
+as a bloody assizes, and the name passed from lip to lip until it
+reached Judge Marriott's lodging. He chuckled still more, and said to
+those about him that Jeffreys would act up to the name, here and
+wherever else in this cursed West Country there were prisoners to be
+punished.
+
+Bloody Assizes! It was almost the first articulate sound that Lord
+Rosmore heard as he galloped into the town, a troop of men about him,
+and those who watched him pass knew that the judge must be on his way
+from Winchester. Rosmore laughed, but his thoughts were complex, schemes
+ran riot in his brain. Immediately upon entering his lodging he sent for
+Watson and Sayers, and was restless until they came.
+
+He looked quickly towards the door as it opened.
+
+"The lady is safe in Dorchester," said Watson.
+
+"And the fugitive?"
+
+"We followed him to Witley. We should have run him to earth, only your
+orders were not to go beyond Witley."
+
+"This cursed fellow Crosby, what of him?"
+
+"He was with this fugitive."
+
+"And you let him go!" exclaimed Rosmore, stamping his foot passionately.
+
+"We obeyed orders, sir, and it is well we did so. We, Sayers and I, were
+in Witley when the coach arrived. I had speech with Mistress Payne."
+
+A grim smile overspread Sayers' face as he remembered the box on the ear
+his companion had received, but he saw that Lord Rosmore was in no mood
+to relish such a tale just now, and held his tongue.
+
+"I told her something of what was to happen, and the place," said
+Watson, "but had I not known at what hour the coach was to start, and
+when we might expect it at the spot chosen, we should have been
+outwitted. In the morning that fiddler from Aylingford caught the coach,
+and in some manner had got wind that a trap was set. He persuaded the
+lady to take a by-road. I waited, and then, marvelling at the delay,
+ordered the troop to ride forward to meet the coach. At the corner where
+this by-way turns from the high road, we found a handkerchief lying on
+the grass--Mistress Payne's handkerchief. Had it not been for such a
+signal we had ridden past, and might have failed to catch them."
+
+"Fairley! Then you have him too?"
+
+"We had, sir, but he escaped."
+
+"Escaped!"
+
+"I have the two men who let him go under arrest," Watson answered. "One
+so badly hurt by the fall from his horse that it will be weeks before he
+can fling his leg across saddle again."
+
+"You fools! The girl has more sense in her finger than you can muster in
+the whole of your carcasses. How did he get away?"
+
+"By a trick," said Sayers. "He was taken to the rear to keep him from
+his mistress, and, on pretence of losing his stirrups, got the men
+beside him to come close, when he spurred their horses, striking the men
+at the same time. He was round in a minute and galloping back upon the
+road. Half a dozen of us went in pursuit, when the shots fired after him
+failed to stop him. We went the whole way back to Witley, and there, at
+the inn, found the horse lathered with foam. The animal had entered the
+yard riderless!"
+
+"What fools I have to serve me!" said Rosmore, laughing derisively.
+"Apart from the woman, it would have been failure from beginning to
+end."
+
+The derision hurt Watson.
+
+"Care must be taken even of her, my lord."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"There is generally a tender spot in a woman somewhere, and Mistress
+Lanison may chance to find it in Harriet Payne."
+
+"Mistress Payne is to be trusted, Watson. I'll see to that."
+
+"She would turn her wits against you, my lord, if she thought she were
+deceived. That's as sure as the coming of the Sabbath."
+
+"Do you suppose, Watson, I throw away the skin before I have used all
+the fruit? Send the girl to me to-night."
+
+The men saluted and turned.
+
+"And Watson, you might put a little misery into your face and
+commiserate with Mistress Lanison on her position. It might interest her
+to hear the story of Alice Lisle of Winchester. She is high-spirited,
+and I would have that spirit broken."
+
+"I will play Jeremiah, sir, like any Puritan."
+
+"And Sayers, keep your eyes open in Dorchester. Crosby and this fiddler
+are too cunning not to be dangerous. I warrant they are not far away
+from Mistress Lanison. By Heaven! if you let her slip through your
+fingers now, you shall suffer for it!"
+
+Bloody Assizes! Along West Street the name travelled to the "Anchor
+Inn," that hostelry of mean repute in Dorchester, and to a small upper
+room where three men sat. They leaned towards each other as they spoke.
+
+"I have failed to find out where they have taken her." said one. "It
+must have been dark when they entered Dorchester; I can find no one who
+remembers such a cavalcade in the streets. I am at a loss how to
+discover her prison."
+
+"Think, Martin."
+
+"I have never been so barren of schemes as I am how. Have you no
+suggestion, Crosby?"
+
+"I want to kill Rosmore."
+
+"And you, Mr. Fellowes?"
+
+"Here I may be of service. I am known as a soldier and a King's man," he
+answered. "My presence in Dorchester will not be called in question, and
+I may learn what is the real plot on foot. Until we know it, we can
+hardly scheme to prevent it."
+
+"An excellent plan," said Martin. "There is another scheme half-born
+within me. I will let it mature to-night. Courage, comrades. Three
+honest men are worth many scoundrels. Three lovers of one woman, for so
+we are in our different fashions."
+
+"That is true," said Crosby.
+
+"Quite true," murmured Fellowes.
+
+"And we strive together," said Martin, letting his hand fall on the
+table. It was covered immediately by the other men's hands.
+
+"Heart and soul for Mistress Lanison," said Fellowes.
+
+"Heart and soul," said Crosby.
+
+"Three honest and true men," murmured Fairley, and tears were in his
+eyes. "A triple alliance."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+
+LORD ROSMORE DICTATES TERMS
+
+Lord Rosmore thought little about the assizes as he supped alone and
+drank his wine, unconscious of the many times he filled and emptied the
+glass. The hunting of fugitives was not to his taste, unless the
+fugitive chanced to be his personal enemy. He was sick at some of the
+cruelties he had been forced to witness; he hated and despised Judge
+Jeffreys, and almost shuddered at the thought of the punishment which
+was about to fall upon the crowd of ignorant peasants imprisoned in
+Dorchester. Had he been judge he would have treated them leniently, and
+probably no fear of the King's displeasure would have made him act
+otherwise; but for the furtherance of his own desires he had another
+standard of morality. It was not a standard made to suit the present
+circumstances, but one that had guided him through life, the primitive
+ideal that what a man desires he must fight for and take as best he may.
+From his youth upwards he had coveted little that he had not obtained;
+the success was everything, the means used did not trouble him. If fair
+ones failed, foul ones were resorted to, and his conscience troubled him
+not at all. If, without hindrance to himself, he could return some
+service for one rendered, he did so, and with a certain class of men and
+women won for himself a name for generosity. To withstand him, however,
+no matter in how small a thing, to baulk his aims and desires, directly
+or indirectly, was to turn him into an implacable enemy, the more
+dangerous because no scruple of honour would weigh with him or direct
+his actions. At the present moment he knew three persons were opposed to
+him--Gilbert Crosby; the fiddler, Martin Fairley; and Barbara Lanison.
+Had the first two been in his hands he would have destroyed them. If, to
+accomplish this, false witnesses had to be found, he would have found
+them, and would have slept not one whit the less at night. He hated them
+both, and was still scheming for their downfall. Had circumstances so
+chanced that these two were powerless to be of further danger to him, he
+would still have hated them, would still have crushed them at the first
+opportunity. He was not a man to forgive an injury.
+
+Truly, they were almost powerless to baulk him now, he argued, as he
+drained his glass again. What could two men do in Dorchester at the
+present moment, with the town full of soldiers, and Jeffreys at hand to
+deal out summary justice? The brown mask no longer hid a person of
+mystery; the features of Gilbert Crosby were known to dozens of men who
+had been outwitted by him. He would not dare to walk the streets by day.
+As for this fiddler fellow, what power had he to cajole rough soldiery?
+He might work upon the superstition of Sir John Lanison at Aylingford,
+might play upon the heartstrings of a woman, but these hard-drinking,
+hard-swearing men were not likely to fall victims to his fooleries. Even
+if he discovered where his mistress was lodged, he would not be able to
+come near her.
+
+"I have played the trump card and taken the trick," laughed Rosmore.
+"Now comes the taming of Mistress Lanison. I should hate her for defying
+me did I not desire her so much."
+
+What he chose to think love was perhaps not far removed from hate. He
+longed to possess, to bend to his will, to have the woman who stood for
+so much in the estimation of so many men. Self-gratification controlled
+him, the desire that men should once again know how useless it was to
+attempt rivalry with him. He had a reputation to maintain, and he would
+maintain it at all hazards. He had begun to weigh carefully in his mind
+the plans he had formed, when the door opened.
+
+"Ah! you loveable little trickster!" he exclaimed as Harriet Payne
+entered. "Come and let me thank you. Gold and trinkets I have none
+to-night; but--"
+
+"I do not want them," she said.
+
+"Love and kisses, my love and kisses," he said, drawing her on to his
+knee. "I've spent wakeful nights thinking of you; now I am happy again."
+
+After a while she disengaged herself a little from his embrace.
+
+"Playing the traitor is not pleasant," she said.
+
+"It is a despicable game," he answered, filling a glass with wine and
+handing it to her. "Drink confusion to all traitors."
+
+"That would be to curse myself."
+
+"You are so clever that I wonder you should think me capable of asking
+you to do a treacherous action, even for love of me," said Rosmore. "You
+shall know my great scheme now that you have so well earned full
+partnership in it. But tell me the whole story first. I heard of the
+dropped handkerchief. That was excellently conceived."
+
+Harriet told him of her visit to Barbara Lanison in London, repeating
+almost word for word what had been said. She told him of the journey to
+Dorchester, almost acted for his benefit the part of sobbing and
+frightened woman which she had played so well, and Rosmore laughed and
+applauded her.
+
+"Excellent! Most excellent!"
+
+"And now?" said the girl, "what is to happen? What is in store for her
+now she is in Dorchester? You swore to me that I should not be bringing
+her into the hands of Judge Jeffreys. Into whose hands have I delivered
+her?"
+
+"Into mine," said Rosmore.
+
+"For what purpose?"
+
+"To save her from herself. It is a long story, but you shall have it
+presently. I shall still want your help."
+
+"You do not love her?" the girl questioned almost fiercely, "There are
+those about you who believe that I am your plaything, useful to do your
+bidding, only to be thrown aside when you have no more need of me."
+
+"Who has dared to say so? Tell me!" Rosmore was splendid in his sudden
+wrath, and Harriet Payne was a little frightened.
+
+"Nay, I will not injure anyone. It is natural for a man to think so
+seeing what you are and what I am."
+
+Rosmore turned her towards a mirror on the wall.
+
+"Learn, mistress, to value yourself at something nearer your true worth.
+I see in the mirror as dainty a piece of womanhood as this fair land,
+with all its treasures of beauty, holds. Hast heard of Trojan Helen,
+that woman who was a world's desire, whose beauty made men sigh for her
+until they fell ill with their desire; for whom two nations fought,
+pouring out their noblest blood for her possession through ten long
+years, and at the end dooming a city to flames and massacre? I would not
+have you so like this ancient Helen that all the world should be my
+rival, for then could I not hope to have my arms about you as now they
+are; but as she was fair, so are you; as beside her all women were
+naught, so to me are all women naught beside you. Kiss me, and, if you
+will not tell me who has done me such slander, at least know this that
+they were lying words which he spoke."
+
+She kissed him, contented.
+
+"Then you will not treat her harshly?" the girl said. "Mistress Lanison
+is a true, brave woman; I would not have her hurt in any way."
+
+"It is my desire to help her, as I will show you presently," Rosmore
+returned. "Tell me what she has said to you. Two women in adversity ever
+grow confidential."
+
+"I do not know whether she loves Mr. Crosby--I think there are barriers
+which even love cannot break down--but she is willing to make some great
+sacrifice for him, that is why she consented to come to the West. No
+sooner were we lodged in Dorchester than she sent me with a message to
+Judge Marriott praying him to go to her."
+
+"And you delivered the message."
+
+"I made pretence of doing so, but told her that I could not get speech
+with the judge."
+
+"You are as wise as you are fair," said Rosmore. "I must see Marriott at
+once. He is a blundering fool, this judge, and might ruin everything.
+Tell me, have you seen Mr. Crosby since he fled from Lenfield?"
+
+"And you threatened to have my shoulders bared and whipped!" laughed the
+girl. "No, I have not seen him since then."
+
+"It was the bare shoulders I thought of, not the whipping, you witch."
+
+"Now, tell me your purpose concerning Mistress Lanison," said the girl.
+
+"She is a woman in love," said Rosmore, "and loves not as her guardian
+would have her do. It is the usual way of women who have guardians. Had
+you such an ogre to direct your actions and you loved me, he would be
+certain to have some other lover for you and would hate me. This is
+Mistress Lanison's case, and although she does not like me, I would do
+her a service and outwit her guardian. I would--"
+
+He stopped suddenly. There were footsteps in the passage, and Harriet
+slipped from his knee and was standing sedately at a little distance
+from him when the door opened and a servant entered.
+
+"Judge Marriott is asking to see you, my lord."
+
+"I was thinking of him. Bring him in." Then, as the servant departed, he
+turned to Harriet: "Come this way, into this other room."
+
+"Your room!" she exclaimed. "I would not have anyone find me here."
+
+"No one shall enter unless they kill me first upon the threshold. Have
+no fear. You could not leave the house unseen by Judge Marriott, and I
+would not have him see you for the world. He is foul-mouthed and
+foul-minded. Let the curtain fall close, so, to keep from you as much of
+his conversation as possible."
+
+Lord Rosmore crossed the room to meet his guest as the door opened.
+
+"This assize work makes one thirsty, Rosmore, and, hearing you had
+arrived, a longing came over me to drink a bottle with you."
+
+"You are welcome. Within a few minutes I should have been knocking at
+your door had you not come."
+
+"Good! Then we may have an hour's peace. The town's astir, Rosmore;
+there'll be great doings in Dorchester. Do you hear what that wag
+Jeffreys has done? He has had the court hung with scarlet to mark the
+occasion. He does not mean his lesson to die quickly out of the memory."
+
+"That is what they mean, then, by 'Bloody Assizes.' I heard the name
+whispered as I entered the town."
+
+"Oh, they were quick enough to see that this was no ordinary
+dispensation of law," laughed Marriott. "The dogs are sleepless and
+trembling to-night, I warrant."
+
+"Aye, it is certainly the King's turn now, and I would he were making
+better use of his opportunity."
+
+"What a glutton you are, Rosmore. There are over three hundred prisoners
+in Dorchester alone."
+
+"And most of them might be released," was the answer. "Such clemency
+would do more for the King" than will be accomplished by this revengeful
+spirit."
+
+"Since when have you turned sentimental?"
+
+"I think I was born with a horror of wholesale injustice."
+
+Marriott laughed, then grew serious.
+
+"We are old friends, Rosmore, and there is no danger in free speech
+between us, but it would not be wise to say such things in the hearing
+of Jeffreys."
+
+"Even Jeffreys may have a weak spot to touch which would be to compel
+him to silence. Most men have."
+
+"They hide it successfully as a rule."
+
+"Or think so," said Rosmore. "Amongst these three hundred prisoners are
+there any of importance?"
+
+The judge shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Not in our world. I dare say in this neighbourhood there are a few with
+some standing."
+
+"You have had no personal appeals made to you?"
+
+"Many, but none which counted," and then Marriott dropped his voice to a
+whisper. "The escape of anyone you are interested in might be arranged."
+
+"I might even contrive that without your assistance, eh, Marriott,"
+laughed Rosmore. "He who holds the key can easiest open the door. Don't
+look so astonished, man. It is an open secret that, from the King
+downwards, personal aims enter into this rebellion. Jeffreys has his, a
+stretching out towards power; you have yours, which are no concern of
+mine; I have mine, which are nothing to you."
+
+"You are too honest, and perhaps you bark too loudly," said the judge,
+glancing round the room.
+
+"I take care to examine walls well before I live between them," said
+Rosmore; "but see for yourself. This curtain hangs before the door of my
+bedroom, this before a window looking into a side street," and he drew
+the curtains aside for a moment to show that he spoke truly.
+
+Marriott nodded and drank more wine.
+
+"We can talk quite freely," said Rosmore, seating himself again at the
+table opposite to his guest. "There is a woman you have promised to help
+should she ask you."
+
+"No; you are mistaken."
+
+"Think, Marriott. The promise may have been made at Aylingford Abbey."
+
+"Do you mean Mistress Lanison?"
+
+Rosmore nodded his head slowly.
+
+"Ah, yes, I did make some kind of promise," said Marriott. "A gallantry,
+Rosmore, and I would make my words good if I had the chance."
+
+"And the bribe?" Rosmore asked.
+
+"As you have just said, that can be no concern of yours."
+
+"That is not so certain. It happens that you have the chance. Mistress
+Lanison is in Dorchester--a prisoner."
+
+Marriott sprang to his feet.
+
+"The devil! Who had her arrested?"
+
+Rosmore shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"I do not know, but the fact remains, she is a prisoner. This I can tell
+you, she journeyed to the West to appeal to you on behalf of Gilbert
+Crosby, and was arrested on the way."
+
+"But Crosby has not been captured?"
+
+"Don't you think you and I could make up our minds that he has?" said
+Rosmore.
+
+"I do not see the necessity. My influence will have to be exerted to
+procure her release. I shall have kept my word, and--"
+
+"And the reward?" asked Rosmore.
+
+"It will not be so great that it will be beyond her power to pay," was
+the answer.
+
+"Shall I make a guess?" said Rosmore. "If your influence is exerted,
+Barbara Lanison becomes the wife of Judge Marriott. Ah! I see I have hit
+near the mark. I have another plan. You shall write me two orders, one
+for the release of Mistress Lanison, the other for the release of
+Gilbert Crosby. The execution of these orders shall be at my discretion
+as to time. They may be given because of your love for her, if you will,
+but you must be self-sacrificing and claim no reward."
+
+"My dear Rosmore, if you are serious, your impudence is colossal, if you
+are in jest, I fail to see the point of it."
+
+"I have not come to the point, for jest it is, and one you may profit
+by. Sit down again and fill your glass--we can enjoy the joke together.
+Although you do not ask for any reward, you get one--five hundred or a
+thousand guineas, the exact amount we can decide, but at any rate a
+goodly sum for two scraps of paper. I should advise you to close with
+such an offer."
+
+"Still the jest does not appeal to me."
+
+"No?"
+
+"You want Mistress Lanison--"
+
+"Released," Rosmore interrupted sharply.
+
+"She shall be, but in my own fashion."
+
+"In mine, I think," said Rosmore quietly.
+
+Marriott rose to his feet again, his face purple with anger. A string of
+oaths and invectives poured suddenly from his lips.
+
+"You are not in court, Marriott, and I am not a prisoner," said Rosmore
+quietly. "Do you happen to remember a prisoner who was tried some months
+ago? Was his name Josiah Popplewell?"
+
+The judge was suddenly silent, and his purple face became livid.
+
+"He was a rich merchant in the City, I fancy, full of crime and treason,
+and, moreover, very wealthy. His wealth was tempting to--let us say to
+those in high authority, and there was plenty of evidence against him,
+manufactured, perhaps, but still apparently irrefutable. At the crucial
+moment, however, there came forward a witness who, in the clearest
+manner, was able to prove that the evidence was false, and Popplewell
+got off. That is the case from the world's point of view. But there was
+another side to it. This witness was well paid, and by whom do you
+think? By the judge himself, who accepted an immense bribe from the
+prisoner. I wonder what the King would have to say if he knew, or in
+what estimation Judge Jeffreys would hold his learned brother? Do you
+remember the case?"
+
+"A pretty story. I wonder if you could prove it?"
+
+"Easily. The witness named Tarrant is in my employment. He declares that
+the judge made an effort to have him accidentally killed, not unwisely,
+perhaps, for the man has in his possession a scrap of writing which
+would ruin the judge."
+
+"It is a lie."
+
+"I have seen the writing," said Rosmore. "I could lay the case before
+Jeffreys whilst he is in Dorchester. That might make a sensation.
+Amongst the gibbeted wretches we might see hanging one of the judges who
+had been sent to punish them; that would be more original than a court
+hung with scarlet."
+
+Marriott sat down slowly.
+
+"Your glass is empty, let me fill it," said Rosmore. "Shall we say five
+hundred guineas for the two orders, no further questions asked, and
+presently, when the prisoners are in safety, the return of that
+incriminating scrap of paper?"
+
+"You swear that--"
+
+"My dear Marriott, I have not mentioned the name of the judge, why tell
+me what you chance to know of the story?"
+
+"You shall have the orders," Said Marriott.
+
+"Here are paper, ink, and pen."
+
+Rosmore watched him as he wrote.
+
+"Will that suffice?" Marriott asked.
+
+"It is worded exactly as I would have it."
+
+"So Mistress Lanison--"
+
+"Did we not say no further questions?" asked Rosmore, smiling. "What
+should you say if I made a match between her and this notorious
+highwayman, Gilbert Crosby?"
+
+"You must catch him first."
+
+"Should you see him in Dorchester, you will do me a service by having
+him arrested. With this paper I can have him released at a convenient
+time. You are going? There is still wine in the bottle."
+
+"Just enough for you to drink to the success of your night's work," said
+Marriott savagely.
+
+"And to your health," Rosmore answered as he crossed the room with his
+guest.
+
+As the door was closed, Harriet Payne took hold of the curtain to draw
+it aside, but paused in the act of doing so. Her eyes, wide open and
+fixed, stared at the curtains which hung on the opposite wall across the
+window. A hand, a man's hand, grasped them. Then they parted silently,
+and fell together again, slowly and silently.
+
+Rosmore did not wish to be disturbed again, but the lock was stiff and
+the key difficult to withdraw. With a sigh of satisfaction he turned
+presently, but the Sigh became a sudden gasp of astonishment.
+
+Against the background of the window curtains stood Gilbert Crosby!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+
+THE LUCK OF LORD ROSMORE
+
+Harriet Payne did not move. The curtain over the door concealed her, but
+it hung a little apart at one side, and she could see into the room,
+could see both men as they stood facing each other. For a while there
+was absolute silence, then Rosmore made a quick movement towards a side
+table on which lay a pistol.
+
+"Stop, or you are a dead man!" said Crosby.
+
+Rosmore stopped. He knew too much about his unwelcome guest to imagine
+that he would not be as good as his word. He paused a moment, then went
+to the table on which were the remains of the supper.
+
+"I have no fear that you will shoot an unarmed man, Mr. Crosby," he said
+quietly. "I have heard many things against you, but never that you were
+a coward. I marvel that you have the courage to walk abroad in
+Dorchester, and wonder, even more, that you come into this room."
+
+Crosby also walked to the table, and so they stood erect on either side
+of it, face to face, man to man, deadly enemies feeling each other's
+strength.
+
+"We may come to the point at once, Lord Rosmore. Where is Mistress
+Barbara Lanison?"
+
+"I hear that she is a prisoner in Dorchester."
+
+"By your contriving."
+
+"It is natural you should think so, seeing the position I hold in the
+West Country at the present time."
+
+"I do not think, I know," Crosby answered. "By a trick, and through a
+lying messenger, you induced her to travel to Dorchester and had her
+arrested on the journey."
+
+"Let us suppose this to be the case, is it not just possible that there
+may be a legitimate reason for such a trick?"
+
+"I am ready to listen," said Crosby.
+
+"Always supposing that your knowledge is correct, is it not possible
+that Mistress Lanison may foolishly believe herself enamoured of a
+certain somewhat notorious person, and that those who have her
+well-being at heart think it necessary to protect her from this
+notorious person until she becomes more sensible?"
+
+Harriet Payne watched him as he spoke. There was a smile upon his
+handsome face such as any honest man's might wear when dealing with an
+excitable and imaginative opponent. Then, as Crosby spoke, she looked at
+him.
+
+"I will tell you the truth," he said, speaking in a low, clear, and
+incisive tone. "You would yourself marry Barbara Lanison, and, having
+established a hold over her guardian, you have attempted to force her to
+such an alliance by threats. At every turn in the game you have been
+foiled. You have failed to impress Mistress Lanison; you failed in a
+villainous endeavour to defend her against a drunken man who was acting
+on your suggestion; you failed to capture me at Lenfield when you had no
+warrant but your own will for attempting such a capture."
+
+"You have sat at the feet of an excellent taleteller, sir, or else you
+have a prodigious imagination of your own."
+
+Harriet Payne's eyes were fixed upon Rosmore. She watched him, and
+looked no more at Crosby.
+
+"Failing in these endeavours, you made other schemes," Crosby went on.
+"Having taken a servant girl from Lenfield, you make use of her. She was
+an honest girl, I believe, not ill-intentioned towards me, but in your
+hands she was as clay. How you have deceived her, or what promises you
+have made to her, I do not know, I can only guess, but, to serve your
+own purposes, you have made a liar and a cheat of her. She has brought
+Mistress Lanison to Dorchester for you, that you may once more attempt
+to force a marriage which is distasteful to the lady. That is the story
+up to this moment."
+
+"You appear to know the lady's secrets as well as mine."
+
+"No, not as well as I know yours," Crosby answered. "Had I done so, I
+might have outwitted you and have prevented her coming to Dorchester."
+
+"For a man who so easily believes every tale he hears, you are an
+exceedingly self-reliant person."
+
+"And fortunate, too," said Crosby, "since I have an opportunity of
+showing you the end of the story."
+
+"A prophet, by gad!" exclaimed Rosmore.
+
+"I entered this room in time to hear your transaction with Judge
+Marriott," said Crosby. "Now the story ends in one of two ways. You have
+two orders of release, one for Mistress Lanison, one for me. I know
+their value, or you would not have been so anxious to get them, and I
+have at least one friend in Dorchester who can execute those orders
+without any question being raised. Those orders you will deliver to me,
+here and now."
+
+"May I know how else the story might end?" Rosmore asked contemptuously.
+
+"With your death," was the quiet answer. "Oh, no, not murder; death in
+fair fight. You are hardly likely to scream for help, I take it; you
+have yourself carefully locked the door, and no one is likely to pass
+along the alley outside that window. You may choose which way the story
+shall end."
+
+"You so nearly make me laugh at you, Mr. Crosby, that I find the utmost
+difficulty in quarrelling with you. The orders I shall not part with,
+and I am half minded to call for help."
+
+"You would not need it when it arrived," Crosby answered.
+
+"And you would hang to-morrow."
+
+"You have worked so secretly that I hardly think suspicion would fall
+upon me. I could go as quietly as I came, and no one be any the wiser."
+
+"You shall be humoured, Mr. Crosby. I never thought to cross blades with
+a man ripe for Tyburn Tree, but the blade can be snapped afterwards."
+
+"It is the way I should prefer the story to end," Crosby returned.
+
+Rosmore pushed back the table, then the swords rang from their
+scabbards.
+
+The girl behind the curtain did not move. She had watched Rosmore's face
+to try and learn whether Crosby's story were true. She travelled from
+doubt to belief, then back to doubt again, and now as the swords crossed
+she was fascinated, held there, it seemed, by some power outside
+herself, unable to move, powerless to cry out. She knew not what to
+believe. Lord Rosmore had not admitted the truth of the story, still he
+had not denied it. He had fenced with it. Harriet Payne had been at
+Lenfield long enough to understand the estimation in which her master,
+Gilbert Crosby, was held; he was not a man to lie deliberately, and she
+dared not face him, knowing the part she had played. She had played it
+because she loved this other man, but, dispassionately described as
+Crosby had told it, the offence she had committed seemed far greater
+than she had imagined. If Rosmore had deceived her! The thought burnt
+into her soul and sent the hot blood to her cheeks. Was she merely a
+silly wench, as were hundreds of others, won by a smooth tongue,
+stepping easily down into shame at the bidding of the first man whose
+words had enough flattery in them? Was there truth in what the trooper
+Watson had suggested? So, with her hand strained against her side, and
+leaning forward a little, she watched the play of the swords.
+
+Rosmore was not smiling now. He was a master of fence, had proved it a
+dozen times, more than once had sent his man to his account. He had
+never yet faced an antagonist whose skill was quite equal to his own.
+Even to-night he would not admit to himself that he had found his equal.
+He remembered that he had drunk much wine, yet, before this, he had not
+fought the worse upon such a quantity. He had known sudden encounters
+over dice and cards when the settlement followed hard upon the quarrel,
+as well as more formal duels, and in none had he been beaten. Truly this
+Crosby was no mean opponent, but no glow of satisfaction at meeting a
+worthy foeman came to Lord Rosmore. This must be a fight to the death,
+and twice in quick succession he attempted a thrust, a famous thrust of
+his, which had so often carried death with it. Now it was parried,
+easily it seemed, and barely could he turn aside the answering point
+which flashed towards him. For a few moments he was entirely on the
+defensive, with never an opening to attack.
+
+Gilbert Crosby's actual experience was not equal to his skill. Once only
+had he fought a duel, and had wounded his man on that occasion. He was
+confident of his skill as he faced Lord Rosmore, but he knew that he
+must lack something of that assurance which comes to the persistent
+duellist, that detachment of self which so often helps to victory. He
+was conscious of a certain anxiety which made him more than usually
+cautious. He fought as a man who must, not as one who glories in it, and
+it was well for Rosmore, perhaps, that it was so. It was for Barbara
+Lanison that he fought, the conviction in his mind that now or never
+must she be saved. No other way seemed open. It was of her he
+thought--of all she must have suffered, of the despicable trickery which
+had been practised upon her, of the fate which awaited her if she were
+not rescued. He loved her, that was as sure as that he lived, but it was
+not his love he thought of just then. As Rosmore once more attacked him
+fiercely the idea of defeat came to him for an instant. For himself he
+cared not, but what would it mean for her! The fight must end. It should
+end soon in the only possible way, honesty triumphant over villainy.
+
+Lord Rosmore's thoughts wandered, too. The end did not really trouble
+him; he had never known defeat--why should it come to him now? Other men
+had parried a difficult thrust twice, and had failed to do so the third
+time; yet he remembered Barbara Lanison's speculation when he had spoken
+of breaking his sword after killing the highwayman. What would the
+highwayman do, she had wondered, if he should prove the victor, and
+Rosmore found himself wondering what Crosby would do in the event of
+such an end. Then he remembered Harriet Payne. What was the girl doing
+behind the curtain? Why had she not rushed into the room, as he had
+fully expected she would do? Had she swooned at the sight of the
+fighting? That he fought in an unrighteous cause he did not think about.
+For him right meant the attainment of what he desired, and his head was
+scheming as he parried Crosby's attack. The fight must end quickly. It
+was very certain that the wine he had taken was telling upon his
+endurance. He almost wished that the girl would scream for help; he was
+half inclined to call for it himself. It would be an easy way to bring
+the end. Lord Rosmore was not himself to-night.
+
+Harriet stood motionless and watched. In her ignorance she thought that
+each thrust must end it, so impossible did it seem to turn aside, now
+this flashing blade, now that; but presently it was evident, even to
+her, that the fight was fiercer. The panting breaths came quicker, the
+blades rang more sharply. She wondered that the house had not been
+aroused, wondered that those passing in the streets had not heard this
+quarrel of steel with steel, and sought to know the reason. Then for the
+first time through long, long minutes her eyes wandered. The power which
+held her immovable and speechless was lessening, but the tension was not
+gone yet. Her eyes wandered, and her ears heard something besides the
+ringing steel. The curtains over the window shook a little, stirred by a
+breath of wind from the alley without. Then the window must have been
+left open! How was it no one without had heard the noise?
+
+Crosby's back was to the window; he could not see that the curtains
+stirred, his ear caught no sound to startle him.
+
+Rosmore, although he faced the window, saw nothing, heard nothing. His
+eyes were fixed upon those of his enemy, who was growing fiercer, more
+deadly every moment. The end was coming. Rosmore knew it, and felt
+weary. Every moment his enemy's point came nearer. It was parried this
+time and that, and again; but still it came. It touched him that time,
+not enough to scratch even, still it touched him! Next time! No, once
+more it was turned aside, and then it touched him again. It was nothing,
+but there was blood on his arm. In a moment that blade which had begun
+to dazzle him would be in his heart.
+
+The curtains stirred again, floating out slightly into the room.
+Harriet's eyes turned to Rosmore, and saw the blood on his arm. She knew
+that this was the end. Then the curtains parted swiftly, and Crosby's
+blade fell with a clatter to the floor. For an instant he was struggling
+in the grasp of two men who had rushed upon him from behind, and was
+then borne to the ground. It was at this moment, too, that Harriet flung
+back the curtain from the door and stood in the room. Perhaps she
+expected Rosmore to make one late thrust at the falling man.
+
+For a moment there was silence.
+
+"Tie this handkerchief round my arm, mistress," said Rosmore; "the
+honours have gone against me."
+
+She did as she was told.
+
+"Shall we secure him, sir?"
+
+"Yes, Sayers, but gently. I would not have him hurt. Forgive me, Crosby,
+I had no hand in this interruption; but, since it comes, I am glad to
+take advantage of it. What brought you here, Sayers?"
+
+"Chance," was the answer. "We were wondering where the alley led to, saw
+the window unfastened, and heard the steel."
+
+"Thank you, Harriet," said Rosmore, as she finished binding up his arm.
+"Help Mr. Crosby to a chair, Sayers. Give me that pistol on the table
+yonder. Here is the key of the door--catch; shut the window, one of you.
+Now go, and wait in the passage until I call you."
+
+"Shall I go?" said Harriet.
+
+"No; stay."
+
+"You may well want to go, girl," said Crosby. "You have betrayed an
+innocent woman into the hands of her enemies, and for reward--what has
+this man promised you for reward?"
+
+"Will you listen to me a moment, Mr. Crosby?" said Rosmore.
+
+"Your confederates have made it impossible for me to refuse."
+
+"That is unworthy of you," Rosmore answered. "I assure you I had no
+knowledge of their presence until I had made up my mind that your point
+was in my heart. I am glad they came for my own sake. I should have been
+a dead man had they been a moment later. I admit my defeat. Technically
+I am in your debt. If these bottles on the table are some excuse for me,
+I yet own that to-night the better man won."
+
+"It hardly looks like it, does it?"
+
+"Life is full of queer chances," said Rosmore, smiling. "You could find
+only two ways of ending your story. You see there is at least a third."
+
+"It but delays the true ending," Crosby answered.
+
+"No; believe me, I see in it a happy ending to the tale, but the tale is
+not quite as you imagine it. It is true that I take a sincere interest
+in Mistress Lanison, and I grieve to think that she has somewhat
+misjudged me, even as you have. You have also spoken some hard words
+against my valued companion here, Mistress Payne. Few men can see eye to
+eye, Crosby. You know Mistress Payne only as in your service--an
+honourable service, I know, yet one she was not intended for. I have
+seen her in different circumstances. Will you favour me by taking back
+the hard words you have said?"
+
+"Yes, when she can prove her innocence, when she can prove that she has
+not betrayed another woman into your hands."
+
+"I think I can prove that," said Rosmore. "Finding Mistress Payne here
+to-night may lead you to surmise many things. Strange to say, I was
+beginning to explain matters to her when we were interrupted, first by
+Judge Marriott, then by you. That is so, is it not?"
+
+"Yes," Harriet answered in a whisper.
+
+"The explanation may be made for your benefit, too, Mr. Crosby, but
+first let me assure you that Barbara Lanison is a woman I would
+befriend, and is nothing more to me. Mistress Payne has done me the
+honour to see in me a worthy man. As soon as this detestable work of
+taking inhuman revenge on poor peasants is over, Mistress Payne will
+become Lady Rosmore--my wife."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+
+LORD ROSMORE AS A FRIEND
+
+A wave of colour swept into Harriet's face as Rosmore turned to her with
+a smile. Doubt and uncertainty had been hers a moment ago, and the sting
+of Crosby's words had hurt her; now this open declaration clothed her
+with a pleasant confusion, vindicated her presence in these rooms, and
+it was natural, perhaps, that there should be gratification in her heart
+that her former master should understand how important a person she had
+become.
+
+Crosby remained silent. Was Rosmore speaking the truth? Could such a man
+marry such a woman? It seemed impossible, and yet where love rules the
+impossible constantly happens. He had grown so used to seeing Harriet
+Payne a serving maid at his manor at Lenfield that he had thought of her
+in no other position. As he looked at her now, standing with her hand in
+Rosmore's, he was bound to admit that she made a pretty figure, that
+many an eye might turn upon her with pleasure, that she certainly looked
+something more than a mere serving maid.
+
+"Have you no congratulations to offer, Mr. Crosby?" said Rosmore. "Will
+you not withdraw some of the hard words you have spoken against this
+lady?"
+
+"I cannot forgive even your future wife for deceiving Mistress Lanison."
+
+"You will presently, when you understand that Mistress Lanison has been
+saved from the intrigues of her uncle and guardian. For the rest, her
+happiness lies chiefly in your hands, and you may find me more useful as
+a living friend than I should have proved as a dead enemy. Gad! you look
+as if you doubted it. No man is such a villain as he is painted, and,
+being a lover myself, I sympathise with all lovers. Perhaps you are
+right to be cautious, wise not to trust me until I have proved myself.
+For a day or two you must be my guest, and you will forgive me if I,
+too, am cautious. You know my position in the West, and, truth to tell,
+I have used it in somewhat unwarrantable fashion on Mistress Lanison's
+behalf. I cannot afford to let you loose in Dorchester while you still
+think me an enemy. You must not blame me, then, if I have you guarded so
+that you must remain my guest even against your will. It will only be
+for a day or two. To-morrow we will go into my scheme in detail, and in
+the meanwhile I would remind you that your capture would rejoice the
+hearts of many. You will be wise to accept quietly the asylum I offer
+you in this house."
+
+"I hope I shall live to thank you for your generosity," said Crosby.
+
+"Indeed, I hope so," Rosmore answered, and he called to the men who were
+waiting without. "Make Mr. Crosby comfortable in one of the rooms
+upstairs. He is my guest, Sayers, and is to be well treated. That I have
+such a visitor is not to be spoken of, but you must see that he remains
+my guest. I do not ask for your parole, Mr. Crosby, because I do not
+believe you would give it, but I ask you to be wise for--for the sake of
+Mistress Lanison. Unfasten those bonds, Sayers--we do not keep prisoners
+here."
+
+"I do not understand you, Lord Rosmore," said Crosby, standing up. "It
+may be that I shall know you better to-morrow."
+
+"You will have slept, I trust, and clearer vision often comes with the
+new day. Good-night."
+
+With a slight inclination of the head Crosby left the room with his two
+gaolers, for gaolers they surely were, although he had been called a
+guest. One of the triple alliance had grievously failed in his endeavour
+to help the woman who was in such sore distress; would the others fail
+as ignominiously?
+
+"Are you satisfied?" asked Rosmore, turning to Harriet. "This pretty
+head of yours must have thought of hating me as you heard my character
+so basely spoken of."
+
+"I am a woman, and was suspicious."
+
+"And now, though still a woman, have no evil thoughts about me. I
+warrant you, this fellow Crosby will hardly be gracious enough to thank
+me when I place the woman he loves in his arms."
+
+"You have not told me your scheme." "Scheme!" Rosmore exclaimed. "My
+head is full of schemes, and one comes uppermost at this moment. It is
+natural since it concerns you. I cannot let you serve another any
+longer. There are many rooms in this house; you shall stay here. Nay,
+let this kiss stop all remonstrance. I will send at once for some decent
+woman in the town who shall be your maid for the present, and Mistress
+Lanison shall have someone to wait on her in your place. I cannot have
+the lady who is to be my wife stooping even to serve Mistress Lanison.
+Rosmores ever looked eye to eye with their fellows, and long ancestry
+and loyalty have given them privileges even in the presence of the King.
+Are you angry that I already teach you something of what my love means?"
+
+"Angry? No; proud."
+
+"Come, then. Let us see what is the best this house can do for you."
+
+"Am I to be guarded like your other guest?" she asked demurely.
+
+"Aye, far more strongly guarded, for at every exit Love shall stand
+sentinel."
+
+She leaned towards him, and he kissed her again, even as a man will kiss
+the woman he worships. Then they went out.
+
+Barbara Lanison was sorely troubled when Harriet Payne did not return.
+The girl had gone to try once more to get speech with Judge Marriott,
+and her mistress waited for her impatiently. So much depended on her
+success, and never for a single instant had Barbara doubted her loyalty.
+As the hours passed and the girl did not return she grew anxious. The
+town was in the hands of rough soldiers, whose licence, if even half the
+stories she had heard were true, had gone unpunished. The officers were
+no better than their men, and there must be a thousand dangers for a
+girl like Harriet Payne in the streets of Dorchester. Barbara blamed
+herself for letting her run into such danger, and, as she thought more
+of her, thought less of the mission upon which she had sent her.
+
+It was late when the door opened and Watson came in. Barbara had crossed
+the room hurriedly, supposing that it was Harriet, but stopped, seeing
+who her visitor was.
+
+"I have just heard that your maid will not return," Said Watson.
+
+"Where is she?"
+
+The man shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"How can I know? She has probably found freedom more attractive than
+this place."
+
+"Tell me the truth," said Barbara.
+
+"I know no more than that she will not return. That was the bald message
+she sent, with a suggestion that someone else must be found to serve
+you. To-night, it is too late to search the town for a woman willing to
+undertake the duty, but to-morrow--"
+
+"I want no other maid," said Barbara. "There is some reason why the girl
+does not return to me, and you know that reason."
+
+"I can guess."
+
+"It is easy to understand," Barbara returned. "The streets of Dorchester
+are not safe for any honest woman to-day."
+
+"That may be so, madam, but I do not think it is the reason of Mistress
+Payne's desertion. I think fear has stepped in. At the best she did not
+seem to me a courageous person, at the worst she would be an easy
+coward. At any moment Judge Jeffreys may arrive in the town, and it
+would seem that he has less pity on those who help rebels than on the
+rebels themselves; I think that is why your maid does not return."
+
+Barbara did not answer. The coming of Judge Jeffreys must seal the fate
+of Gilbert Crosby. So important a prisoner would be quickly tried and
+speedily executed. Her mission had failed.
+
+"Yes, I believe that is the reason," Watson went on after a pause. His
+conscience awoke for a moment and pricked him sharply, but the breaking
+of this woman's spirit meant money in his pocket, and his manner of life
+had made him an easy victim to such a temptation. Had Barbara shown fear
+and pleaded with him, she might have prevailed and gained a friend; as
+she did not, the man found a certain brutal satisfaction in doing his
+best to destroy her courage by carrying out his master's instructions.
+"I have no doubt that is the reason," he repeated with some emphasis,
+"and I hardly care to blame her. It is a good thing to keep out of the
+way of Judge Jeffreys. Have you heard about Lady Alice Lisle and what
+they did to her lately at Winchester?"
+
+"I have heard of her," said Barbara.
+
+"She was no rebel, I take it," said Watson, "She only assisted a couple
+of fugitives, and for that paid the penalty."
+
+Barbara looked at him questioningly, and he entered into details,
+sparing her nothing of the history of this fiendish judicial murder, and
+contrived to let her see that her own case was not unlike Lady Lisle's.
+Barbara did not move, uttered no sound during the recital. When Watson
+had finished she looked at him.
+
+"It is a marvel to me that rebellion has been confined to the West," she
+said quietly. "Were I a strong man, I should be in revolt at such
+injustice."
+
+"You would be as others, afraid to speak."
+
+"There are some who are not afraid," she answered.
+
+"Aye, and will dangle from a gibbet for their pains. May a rough trooper
+give you a word of advice?"
+
+She bowed her head slowly.
+
+"If you have friends, make petition to them," said Watson. "Be humble,
+and endeavour to escape standing before Judge Jeffreys."
+
+"Can you tell me of what I shall be accused?" Barbara asked.
+
+"No, but means will be found to destroy you. I hear the gossip, and I
+draw my conclusions."
+
+"Can you suggest anyone to whom I can apply?"
+
+Watson had no suggestion to make, but he promised that any message she
+might send should be delivered.
+
+"I thank you for the advice and for the promise," said Barbara. "I can
+think of no friend in Dorchester, and I am not sure that being a rebel
+is not the more honourable position to-day."
+
+"It means death."
+
+"Well? Are there not worse things than death?"
+
+"Truly, I think not. From all other ills a man may perchance recover,
+but from death--never."
+
+Barbara smiled. It was not likely that this man would understand.
+
+"Think over my advice to-night," said Watson. "There are many in
+Dorchester who might help you. Think to-night, and give me the names of
+some friends to-morrow. I shall know whether they are in the town, and
+would help you. To-morrow also I will seek for a new maid to serve you."
+
+"Spare yourself that trouble," Barbara said as he went to the door. "So
+short a service as I shall require is not worth anyone's taking."
+
+Watson was a soldier, and in his way a good soldier. He would have faced
+death at a moment's notice so long as he was well paid for doing so, and
+would be loyal to those he served, unless perchance a very heavy bribe
+were offered him and there was a reasonable probability of safety in
+accepting it. He had risen to some authority amongst his fellows, and
+did not think meanly of himself. He was convinced that his treatment of
+Barbara Lanison had been diplomatic, whereas his whole manner and
+conversation had put her upon her guard. He had succeeded in convincing
+her that he was laying a trap for her indiscretion, and that to trust
+him would be only playing into the hands of her enemies. In the morning
+she had thought of no friend to mention to him, and had decided not to
+trust him even with a message to Judge Marriott. Such a message was more
+likely to be used against her than on her behalf. Shrugging his
+shoulders, Watson departed, and did not disturb her again until the
+evening. Then he entered the room quietly, and dropped his voice to a
+whisper.
+
+"I have found you a friend," he said, "a powerful friend who runs some
+risk to serve you. Take my advice, and treat him courteously."
+
+"Who is he?"
+
+Watson did not answer, but went to the door. A closely-cloaked figure
+entered, and Watson went out, closing the door. Then the cloak was
+thrown back.
+
+"Lord Rosmore!" Barbara exclaimed.
+
+"At your service, but speak low. I come secretly. This trooper found me
+out, but I had already been scheming on your behalf. He was able to help
+me in my one remaining difficulty."
+
+She drew back from him.
+
+"I have not asked for your help," she said.
+
+"I know. You have misunderstood me, Mistress Lanison, and I grant you
+have had some reason. I would have won you if I could, and, as many
+another lover has done, I have thought all ways honest. I was wrong. I
+ask your pardon."
+
+"What is the purpose of this visit?" she asked. She knew that she was a
+helpless prisoner, she knew that this man was powerful in the West, yet
+she stood before him, looking straight into his eyes, defying him to
+frighten her or to bend her to his will.
+
+"To help you."
+
+"I have no need of your help," she answered.
+
+"I have more than words to prove my sincerity, yet I would justify
+myself a little. I have loved you; even now I may think that your coming
+to the West was foolish, that the man you have jeopardised yourself to
+save is hardly worthy, but--"
+
+"You have beaten me, Lord Rosmore," said Barbara quietly. "I am
+convinced that I owe my position here in Dorchester to you and to my
+uncle. It may save you trouble and time if I tell you that your success
+ends here. I would rather die the death of a traitor than marry you."
+
+"I know that," he returned just as quietly. "Love plays the fool with us
+all, even making Mistress Lanison of Aylingford Abbey fall a victim to
+the worship of a highwayman. To help him you are even willing to
+sacrifice yourself to a brute like Judge Marriott."
+
+"I have indeed been betrayed by those I trusted," said Barbara.
+
+"It is the common fortune, and help conies, as it often does, from those
+we distrust and hate," was the answer. "Marriott would have let you
+sacrifice yourself, but he would have done little else. It makes me sick
+to think that I should have a rival in such a man. But let that pass.
+You were doomed to failure, for it is my business to know everything
+that happens in the West just now."
+
+"Again I say, Lord Rosmore, that between us there can be no terms."
+
+"Still, you must listen to me; so far you are in my power. Your
+infatuation for Galloping Hermit seemed to me so impossible a thing that
+I confess I have done my utmost to save you. You are not to be saved;
+therefore I will help you. What your sacrifice could never have done, my
+knowledge of Marriott's vile character has accomplished. I have in my
+possession two orders--one for your release, one for the release of
+Gilbert Crosby."
+
+A quick intake of her breath showed Barbara's sudden excitement. For an
+instant the good news was everything, the next moment she remembered
+from whom it came. Either the news was untrue, or there would be
+conditions.
+
+"I can see that you do not trust me," said Rosmore, reading the look in
+her eyes. "These are the orders signed by Judge Marriott."
+
+She looked at the papers which he held out.
+
+"Even these shall not tempt me to make terms."
+
+"There are no conditions except that you and your lover leave
+Dorchester--together," he said with a short laugh. "He will probably
+hasten to get out of the country as soon as possible, since he has
+become too notorious to live in it in safety, unless he still prefers
+the excitement of the road to the quiet peacefulness of your love."
+
+"Is this some new trickery?" she asked.
+
+"Perhaps there is some little revenge in it," he answered. "There comes
+a time when a scorned lover may cease to care for the woman who flouts
+him, and will remember that the world holds fairer women. When he finds
+this fairer love he is happy, but a spirit of retaliation may remain. I
+think this is my case. To be the wife of a notorious highwayman would
+not appeal to many women; most women would prefer to be Lady Rosmore,
+whatever the drawbacks to such a position might be. Mistress Lanison
+will go her own way, and I should be more than human if I did not hope
+that she may live to regret it. There is no trickery, and no condition
+except that you leave Dorchester together. Once safely in his hands, I
+can trust Gilbert Crosby not to let you escape him."
+
+"I ought to thank you, Lord Rosmore, but--"
+
+"But you may live to curse me for my help. It is possible, probable
+even. You have three days to think it over. Escape will not be possible
+until then."
+
+"There is some scheme against me," said Barbara passionately. "You and
+my guardian have--"
+
+"I said I had more than words to prove my sincerity," said Rosmore,
+going to the door. He went out. "I will give you an hour," Barbara heard
+him say, and then another closely-cloaked figure entered and the door
+was shut and locked.
+
+"Gilbert!" she cried, and the next moment she was sobbing in his arms.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+
+LOVE AND FEAR
+
+Gilbert!
+
+It was the first time she had called him by his name, and surely on her
+lips there was unexpected music in it. She had come into his arms and,
+with a sob, had nestled there as if she had found safety and content.
+Her face was hidden against him, and he kissed her hair reverently, not
+daring to attempt to turn her face to him. His possession of her was so
+sudden that he was as a man who dreams a dream, half conscious that it
+is a dream, which he would not have broken. Until he was in the room
+Crosby could not believe that the promise which Rosmore had made would
+be fulfilled. He could not believe that Barbara was close to him, that
+he would see her. He had listened to Rosmore as he unfolded his scheme
+for their escape, trying to detect the direction of his villainy, never
+for an instant believing that he was sincere; and, after all, he had
+done as he had promised, he had brought him to Barbara Lanison. The
+woman he loved was in his arms. It was wonderful, wonderfully true! The
+rest would happen in its due time. Life with love in it was to be his.
+The man he hated had proved a friend. So he kissed the beautiful fair
+hair and waited for Barbara to look up, that he might read her heart
+through her eyes and kiss her lips.
+
+Barbara did not look up. Almost unasked she had crept into the arms that
+opened to her, quickly and without question. From the first moment she
+had seen Gilbert he had been more to her than any other man, and, if she
+had not dared to admit it even to herself, she knew she loved him. Had
+she not come to the West to save him? Had she not been ready to
+sacrifice herself for him? She, too, had placed no trust in Lord
+Rosmore, yet the unexpected had happened. He had brought Gilbert Crosby
+to her. They were to escape together. She and Galloping Hermit, the
+notorious wearer of the brown mask, were to go together! He was a man, a
+true man, she had said it, she meant it, but--Ah, strive to forget them
+as she would, Rosmore's words had left a sting behind them. For all he
+was a man, he was a highwayman, and she was Barbara Lanison, of
+Aylingford Abbey! She did not look up as she gently disengaged herself
+from his arms.
+
+"Tell me everything," she said quietly. "We have only an hour. I heard
+him tell you so when you came in."
+
+If Crosby was disappointed, if at that moment the desire to hold her in
+his arms and kiss her lips was almost beyond his control, he let her go
+without protest. It was for him to do her will, and how should he, who
+had never squandered spurious love, know the ways of a woman with a man.
+She sat down, leaning a little forward in her chair, her hands clasped
+in her lap. She did not look at him as he stood beside her, telling her
+shortly and quickly what he had done in the West. He told her how Martin
+Fairley had found him in the wood, and how they had come to Dorchester
+on the night of her capture.
+
+"You had not been a prisoner at all?" she asked.
+
+"No, you were brought to the West by a lie; but I shall never forget
+that you came, and why you came. What did you think you could do?"
+
+"I thought I could help you."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Judge Marriott had once made me a promise that if I asked him he would
+contrive the escape of anyone I--anyone I was interested in."
+
+"Such a man would not make a promise for nothing."
+
+"No."
+
+"What was his reward to be?"
+
+"I hoped he would let me off," Barbara said, covering her face with her
+hands, "but he wanted me to marry him. That would have been his price,
+and I should have paid it."
+
+"Oh, my dear, don't you know I would rather have died a score of
+deaths?"
+
+"And then, when you came to Dorchester?" she asked. She did not look at
+him; her head was lowered and her hands clasped in her lap again.
+
+"We tried to find you, Martin and Fellowes and I."
+
+"Sydney Fellowes?" she said.
+
+"It was a triple alliance," said Crosby. "What the others have done
+since I parted with them I do not know. I sought out Rosmore," and then
+he told her of the duel and of Harriet Payne. "I should have killed him
+that night had we been undisturbed a moment longer, and then I might
+never have found you."
+
+"Harriet Payne to be Lady Rosmore, is it possible?" said Barbara. "Do
+you suppose Lord Rosmore is honest with her or with us?"
+
+"How can I think otherwise now? He has brought me to you when he could
+so easily have kept us apart. Why should he not fulfil the rest of his
+promise?"
+
+"Has he told you his scheme?" she asked.
+
+"Yes. In three days we are to leave Dorchester together. I shall wait
+with a coach just outside the town, on the road which leads down to the
+River Frome, and you are to join me there. It is not far from this
+house, and you will be safely guarded on your way to me. Then--"
+
+Crosby paused, hoping to see her look up with the light of love in her
+eyes. She remained with her head lowered.
+
+"Then we shall be free," he said. "And it is for you to command which
+road we take, and how far we journey upon it together."
+
+She moved a little restlessly. In this one short hour, which was
+slipping away so fast, she had to decide upon what her future was to be.
+She loved, but she was the daughter of a proud race, whose blood mingled
+with the best blood of which England could boast. The man beside her was
+more to her than any other man could ever be, yet he was the highwayman,
+"Galloping Hermit," the notorious wearer of the brown mask, the man upon
+whose head a price was set, and who would surely perish miserably at
+Tyburn if he fell into the hands of his enemies. Great provocation might
+have made him a knight of the road, romance had succeeded in setting him
+apart from his brethren, but was she justified in loving such a man,
+could she give herself into his keeping? And she dared not tell him all
+that was in her heart, for she knew instinctively how he would answer
+her. She knew that he would sacrifice himself for her without a moment's
+hesitation; she believed that, without her, life would be of little
+worth to him. Their love was a strange thing, binding them together in
+silence. He had never said that he loved her; knowing what he was he had
+not dared to speak, perhaps, yet he had opened his arms and she had gone
+to him without a question. What words were needed to tell such a love as
+this? Her lover must be saved at any cost, and afterwards--
+
+The silence seemed long as these thoughts sped through her mind. She was
+conscious that his eyes were fixed upon her, felt that he understood
+something of the doubts which troubled her.
+
+"I do not trust Lord Rosmore," she said.
+
+"Nor should I if I could conceive any advantage he could gain from his
+present action," Crosby answered. "He knows that I am a valuable
+prisoner. He might reasonably hope that he is now in a position to bring
+pressure upon you. He and I have stood face to face, letting cold steel
+settle our quarrel. I say it not boastingly, but I should have killed
+him. He admitted defeat, although I was robbed of victory. Under all the
+evil that is in him may there not be some generosity? I am inclined to
+think this is his reason for helping us."
+
+"He gave me another reason," said Barbara quietly.
+
+"Tell me."
+
+"Revenge. I should live to regret leaving Dorchester with Gilbert
+Crosby, who would never let me go, once I was in his hands. I have
+scorned him for a--"
+
+"For me," said Crosby. "True, I have no such name as Rosmore has, I
+cannot offer you a tithe of what he can give you. My most precious
+possession is my love, but in love he is bankrupt beside my wealth.
+True, too, that I will not easily let you go, but you shall choose your
+own path. We will seek safety together, and then--then if along the road
+I would have you take you see difficulties and dangers, if in your mind
+there stands a single shadow which you fear, you shall take your own way
+unhindered and alone. If you will it, I will pass out of your life and
+you shall never hear of me again. Can you not trust me?"
+
+"You know I do; you should not even ask the question, but--ah, Gilbert,
+cannot you understand the trouble that is mine?"
+
+"Yes, dearest; I know, I know," he said, falling on his knees beside
+her. "Chance brought me into your life, chance gave us a few sweet hours
+together, yet how little can you know of me. We are not like other
+lovers who have told each other their secrets, who have dreamed long
+dreams together. Only to-night you have been in my arms for the first
+time. I have never told you that I love you, yet you know it."
+
+"Yes, I know it," she whispered.
+
+"And yet you are afraid. I do not blame you, my dearest; you know so
+little about me, but you shall question me once we are free."
+
+"And you will answer all my questions?"
+
+"All of them, even if the answer should bring a blush of shame to my
+cheek," he said.
+
+"And if--if I asked you to give up something, to begin a new life, to
+forsake old friends, old associations?"
+
+"I shall live only for you," he said.
+
+Then for the first time she looked straight into his eyes. What was the
+question in them? She was waiting, for some answer--what was it?
+
+"You must be lenient with me," he said. "When a man answers all a
+woman's questions, it is because he worships her, only because of that,
+and then he understands how poor a thing, how unworthy he is. I shall
+answer them all, you must be lenient and forgive."
+
+She still looked at him, but did not speak.
+
+"I may argue with you, use all the power I have to win your forgiveness,
+use all the depths of my love to show you that our way henceforth must
+be together. Be sure I shall not easily let you go. Rosmore was wrong,
+you shall be free to choose; but I will use every artifice I have to
+make you choose to stay with me. It has never seemed to me that words
+were necessary. Love came to me as the sunshine and the wind come, given
+to me, a free gift from Heaven. One moment I was without it, ignorant of
+it, and the next it was a part of my life. Before, to live had seemed a
+great thing, to be a man, to do a man's work was enough; afterwards,
+life could not be life without love. Rob me of love now, and you leave
+me nothing."
+
+"When was the moment, Gilbert?"
+
+"When I saw you shrinking from the crowd as it poured out of Newgate,"
+he whispered.
+
+"Even then?" she said.
+
+"Yes; and I did not know who you were, Barbara. It did not seem to
+matter. Love had come--I thought to us both. I could not understand that
+it should come to me so suddenly, so wonderfully, and not come to you
+also. A little waiting, and then you would be mine. It must happen so.
+And then came my token and talisman. See how close it has clung to me."
+
+With fingers that trembled a little, he drew out the white ribbon which
+was fastened about his neck. She touched it, looked at it and at him.
+
+"It fell from your throat, or waist, when you moved to come with me. I
+caught it as it fluttered to the ground and hid it. I have worn it ever
+since. I have kissed it night and morning, and it has brought the vision
+of you to my waking eyes and into my dreams. I have seen you going from
+room to room in my old home at Lenfield, I have seen you descending the
+stairs, so vividly that I have found myself holding out my arms to you.
+Sometimes when the days were dark, and I was troubled, an awful sadness
+has crept into my soul. Doubts have come. Should I ever see you in those
+rooms, on those stairs? And then, dearest, I have touched this ribbon
+and hope has come again like sunshine after storm. Aye, you shall
+question me as you will, but be very sure I shall not easily let you
+go."
+
+Barbara stood up suddenly. Her hands were in his, and she made him rise
+from his knees. She stood before him, her eyes looking into his.
+
+"And, Gilbert, when you have ridden in the night, alone, have you
+thought of me then?"
+
+"Since love came I have never ridden alone," he answered. "No matter if
+the stars were clear, or the night had wind and rain in it, you have
+been beside me. At times, lately, a hundred difficulties have stood in
+my path. It seemed impossible that I could win safety for some poor
+wretch of a fugitive, so impossible that I might have given up the task
+in despair only that you seemed to speak to me, encouraging me. No; I
+have never been alone since love came."
+
+"I am glad," she said.
+
+"And you love me, Barbara?"
+
+"Yes--yes, I must love you, I cannot help it, but--" and then she
+stopped, for there were sounds of footsteps in the passage. "Is the hour
+gone so soon? Kiss me, Gilbert; I love you. No matter who you are, or
+what you have done, I love you. I am yours, always; no other shall kiss
+me or hold me in his arms. But, remember, I have your promise, I may
+take which road I choose, alone and unhindered if I will it so," and
+then, as the door opened, she pushed him gently from her, and they were
+standing apart when Rosmore entered.
+
+"It has seemed a long hour, Mistress Lanison, to a waiting man. To
+you--"
+
+"Long enough to hear the plan you have made for my escape," said
+Barbara.
+
+"For your escape and Mr. Crosby's," said Rosmore, laying some stress
+upon his words.
+
+"For which we both thank you," she went on. "For my part I have had,
+perhaps, unjust thoughts concerning you, your present generosity makes
+me understand that in many ways I have misjudged you. Please forgive
+me."
+
+"You certainly have misjudged me in many ways, Mistress Lanison, and, as
+I have said, you may not have much cause to thank me for what I do now."
+
+"I have decided to run the risk."
+
+"You have yet three days in which to alter your decision if you so
+wish," Rosmore returned. "The delay is necessary. The road will be freer
+and safer then, and the town too much occupied with Judge Jeffreys to
+pay much attention to anyone else. Mr. Crosby has told you the place of
+meeting. The trooper Watson will follow you and see you safely into Mr.
+Crosby's company, and then freedom and happiness. Until then you must
+not meet. I must think of myself, and bringing Mr. Crosby here is a
+risk. Should you, even at the eleventh hour, change your mind, I will
+let Mr. Crosby know. Once upon the road, no one is likely to stop you,
+especially if you go southwards, as I presume you will; but in case of
+accident, there is Judge Marriott's order for your release. With that in
+your possession, I know of none who would refuse to let you pass."
+
+Barbara took the paper.
+
+"And there is your order, Mr. Crosby. It is time we went. Your servant,
+Mistress Lanison," and Rosmore bent low over her hand.
+
+"Thank you," she said in a whisper. Crosby in his turn bent over her
+hand, his lips touching it.
+
+"Until you come to me," he said, "God keep you."
+
+A swift pressure of his fingers was her only answer. Then the door
+opened and shut again, the key was turned in the lock, and she was
+alone.
+
+As Gilbert Crosby had been brought there, in a coach and blindfolded, so
+he left, and went back with Lord Rosmore to his lodgings.
+
+"In view of your kindness in helping us, the bandage hardly seemed
+necessary," said Crosby, as he took it off, when they had entered
+Rosmore's room, the same room in which they had fought.
+
+"You might grow weary of waiting, and attempt to see her. Lovers are
+like that, and often spoil the best-laid schemes," Rosmore laughed. "Oh,
+I am thinking chiefly of myself. Jeffreys has no profound love for me,
+and would rejoice to catch me tripping. You are no longer my guest, Mr.
+Crosby. I have done my part, and your presence here is a danger to me.
+You are free to go. Perhaps you had better tell me where you are to be
+found during the next three days. Women are sometimes as changeful as a
+gusty wind, and Mistress Lanison might alter her decision."
+
+Although astonished at being set at liberty at once, Crosby was not so
+off his guard as to mention "The Anchor" in West Street. He gave the
+address of Fellowes' lodging. It was the only other place he knew where
+a message could reach him.
+
+"Good-bye, then," said Rosmore. "You will be wise to keep within doors
+until you leave Dorchester for good. There are many who know Gilbert
+Crosby, and once in the hands of Jeffreys you would have short shrift."
+
+"Thank you. I shall take care. I believe you have proved a friend, Lord
+Rosmore," and Crosby held out his hand.
+
+For a moment Rosmore hesitated.
+
+"No; we will not shake hands," he said. "If I have found consolation, I
+cannot forget who you are and that you have robbed me of Mistress
+Lanison. To clasp your hand would mean to wish you good luck, and I
+cannot do that. I want her to know that she has chosen badly. You and I
+could never be friends, Mr. Crosby."
+
+"As you will; yet I would repay your kindness if ever the opportunity
+should offer."
+
+Rosmore shrugged his shoulders as he crossed the room and Crosby went
+out, Sayers joining him in the passage and seeing that no one hindered
+his going.
+
+For a few minutes Rosmore remained in deep thought, and then Harriet
+Payne came in.
+
+"You look strangely ill-tempered," was her greeting.
+
+"My face must be a poor index to my thoughts," he answered, with quick
+yet forced gaiety. "I have just finished a good work."
+
+"What is that?"
+
+"Making two people happy. Come and kiss me, and I'll tell you all about
+it." Yet all her kisses and arts of pleasing could not keep the
+thoughtfulness out of his face as he told her how Barbara Lanison and
+Gilbert Crosby were to leave Dorchester together.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+
+THE TRIPLE ALLIANCE
+
+There was little danger of anyone recognising Gilbert Crosby as he
+passed through the streets of the town. A swinging lantern might
+illumine his face for a moment, or the beam of light from some
+unshuttered window might have betrayed him to some watching enemy, but
+everyone in the houses and in the streets had enough to think about
+to-night. Judge Jeffreys had come to Dorchester. To-morrow his ferocious
+voice would be dooming dozens to death in that court with the scarlet
+hangings. The Bloody Assizes would have commenced in earnest, and there
+were few families in Dorchester which had not one relative or friend
+waiting in the prisons to be tried for rebellion. There was already
+mourning in the city, and the soldiers were in readiness lest
+desperation should drive to riot. Crosby might have gone with less care
+than he did and yet passed unnoticed.
+
+In the upper room at "The Anchor" he found Fellowes, who sprang up at
+his entrance.
+
+"Gad! I had lost all hope," he exclaimed. "I have been searching the
+town for you. I thought Rosmore must have caught you."
+
+"He did. A miracle has happened. Where is Fairley?"
+
+"I have not seen him since we parted the other night," Fellowes
+answered. "I have picked up some information, but have had no one to
+tell it to."
+
+"And I have seen Mistress Lanison."
+
+"Seen her!"
+
+"Seen her and spoken to her. It is a miracle, I tell you." And Crosby
+gave him the history of his dealings with Lord Rosmore, omitting no
+detail from the moment he had stepped into the room and overheard part
+of the conversation with Judge Marriott to his leaving Rosmore's lodging
+less than an hour ago.
+
+"It is well that you did not tell him of this place," said Fellowes.
+
+"You do not trust him?"
+
+"No. Do you?"
+
+"I cannot see how he is possibly to profit out of such a plan," said
+Crosby.
+
+"The devil tempts in the same way," answered Fellowes. "If we could
+always see through the devil's plans we should less often fall a victim
+to his wiles. If an angel came and bid me trust Rosmore, I should have
+no faith in the angel."
+
+"Let us find the weak places in the scheme if we can," said Crosby.
+
+"There is one I see at once," said Fellowes. "You are taken blindfold to
+Mistress Lanison's prison. You do not know in what part of the town she
+is. You cannot watch the house. Why the delay of three days?"
+
+"I am inclined to think Rosmore has been generous this time," Crosby
+persisted.
+
+"If by some strange chance he has, there are three days in which he may
+repent of his generosity," was the answer. "I have seen Marriott. He
+told me of his interview with Rosmore, and that the orders had been
+stolen from him, he did not explain how. Rosmore has no fiercer enemy at
+the moment than the judge. Marriott knew nothing of Mistress Lanison's
+capture; indeed, he declared that he did not believe she was in
+Dorchester. One thing he was certain of, that Rosmore intended to force
+her to marry him."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Perhaps by letting her appear before Jeffreys, allowing her to be
+accused and condemned, and then rescuing her at his own price. This is
+Marriott's idea."
+
+"She would not pay the price."
+
+"And I fear Marriott would not be powerful enough to save her, although
+he says he could, if Rosmore took this course. The outlook is black,
+man, black as hell, and only one feeble ray of light can I bring into
+it. Marriott has promised to help me to open her prison doors should she
+be condemned. To his own undoing I believe he will keep that promise, so
+great is his hatred of Rosmore."
+
+"What can we do?" said Crosby, pacing the room with short, nervous
+strides. "It is damnable to be so helpless."
+
+"Wait; there is nothing else to do. Marriott is doing his best to find
+out where Mistress Lanison is imprisoned. He is to let me know. If we
+can find that out we may yet beat this devil Rosmore."
+
+"He may be honest in this," said Crosby.
+
+"We will have the coach waiting," Fellowes answered, "but I do not
+believe Rosmore is ever going to help you to use it. I wish Martin were
+here."
+
+"Where can he have gone?"
+
+"Working somewhere for his mistress," said Fellowes. "That is certain
+unless he is dead. You recollect he said he had a half-formed scheme in
+his mind. Next morning I found a message here that he might be absent
+for a day or two."
+
+"Some forlorn hope," said Crosby.
+
+"Perhaps, but Martin's forlorn hopes have a way of proving useful. You
+will lie low here, I suppose, Crosby? I will get back to my lodgings,
+and if I hear from Marriott I will come to you at once--or from Rosmore.
+It may be part of his design to make you think Mistress Barbara has
+changed her mind."
+
+"If he sent such a message I should know he was lying."
+
+"Don't leave here, Crosby. Much may depend on my being able to find you
+at a moment's notice, and Martin may return at any time. You and I have
+only discovered how great our difficulties are. Let us hope Martin will
+have found the way out of them."
+
+Would he? Crosby wondered, when he was left alone. In what direction
+could Martin be seeking a solution to the problem? Not in Dorchester,
+surely, or he would have come to the "Anchor" tavern. Where else? In
+London? At Aylingford? Yes, perhaps at Aylingford; an appeal to
+Barbara's guardian. If Martin Fairley had attempted such a forlorn hope
+as this it was unlikely that he would bring much help with him when he
+returned. Hour after hour Crosby sat there alone, now staring vacantly
+at the opposite wall, now pacing the narrow room like a caged and
+impotent animal. The dawn found him asleep in his chair.
+
+News travelled slowly. Messengers, with instructions not to spare their
+horses, might ride to London, to the King at Whitehall, yet Lady Lisle
+had been executed at Winchester before the story of her trial was known
+in parts of Hampshire even. If one were far from the main road, where
+news might be had from the driver or guard of a coach, information could
+only come from some wandering pedlar to a remote village, and might or
+might not be true. Vague stories were told, and forgotten as soon as
+told. Men and women, with a hard living to earn, cared little what was
+happening fifty or a hundred miles away, unless a son or brother or
+friend had had part in the rebellion. At the village of Aylingford no
+one appeared to have this personal interest, and they were ignorant of
+the fact that at least one messenger had ridden to the Abbey with news
+for Sir John. He had come at nightfall, had been with Sir John for an
+hour, and had then departed. He had not lingered in the servants'
+quarters to whisper something of his news, nor had Sir John mentioned
+his coming to his guests. There were not many guests at Aylingford just
+now, and Mrs. Dearmer yawned openly, and confessed herself bored. She
+seemed to have taken up her abode permanently at the Abbey, playing the
+hostess, and to some extent ruling Sir John.
+
+"I vow, Abbot, you're less lively than a ditch in a dry summer," she
+said to him the day after the messenger had been.
+
+"What shall we do to make us merry? You have only to command," he
+answered.
+
+"Plague on it, I am at a loss to know. In all our present company
+there's not a wit worth listening to, nor a woman with sufficient vice
+or virtue to make her interesting. I feel like turning saint for the
+sake of a new sensation."
+
+"There are some things even you cannot do, and turning saint is one of
+them."
+
+"I would have said as much for you," she returned. "But this morning
+your face has already begun to play the part. It might belong to the
+painted window of a chapel."
+
+"Is it so uninteresting?" laughed Sir John. "Truly, you and I must
+devise some wickedness to pass the time until kindred spirits return to
+the Abbey. Half the monks of Aylingford are in the West, and the nuns
+find it dull without them."
+
+"Next week we will go to town," said Mrs. Dearmer. "I love you, Abbot
+John, with all the wickedness that is in me, but truly you have grown
+dull lately."
+
+No one was better qualified to pass judgment on Sir John than Mrs.
+Dearmer. To her he was dull, perhaps the worst crime a man can be guilty
+of in the eyes of such a woman, yet the accusation did not trouble him
+now as much as it would have done at another time. He was restless, and
+if his conscience was too moribund to have the power of pricking, he had
+become introspective. Fear and superstition took hold of him, and he
+could not shake himself free. The news which the messenger had brought
+him was good news, yet, even as the man had delivered it, a candle had
+guttered and gone out, and Sir John saw a warning of disaster in the
+fact. He was constantly on the watch for such omens, and saw them within
+the house and without. He met a new kitchen wench who looked at him with
+eyes askew, sure sign of evil. Three crows with flapping wings settled
+at dusk upon the terrace wall and called to him as he passed. A vase of
+quaint workmanship, brought from the East Indies by his brother,
+Barbara's father, split suddenly in twain, and Sir John trembled as with
+an ague at so sure a premonition of evil as this. There were moments
+when he could not bear to be shut in a room, when the confinement
+between four walls seemed to stifle him, and like a half suffocated man
+he would stagger on to the terrace and gasp for breath.
+
+He promised Mrs. Dearmer that next week he would go with her to town,
+and all that day he tried to prove that he was not dull. The effort was
+successful until the evening, and then came the feeling of suffocation
+and the need for deep draughts of air. With a muttered excuse he left
+his guests to their play and laughter, and hurried to the terrace.
+
+The night was still, not a breeze stirred in the trees, and the light of
+a young moon was upon the terrace, casting faint, motionless shadows
+over greensward and stone flags. For a little while Sir John stood
+looking down into the stream, which seemed asleep to-night. Upon it the
+shadows quivered, but scarce a ripple of music came from underneath its
+banks. A man might well feel some regrets for the past on such a night
+of peace, might well hear the small voice of conscience distinctly, but
+with Sir John there was only superstition and fear.
+
+Motionless shadows on the terrace, and yet Sir John turned suddenly, as
+though he were conscious of movement, and his eyes rested upon a shadow
+in the angle of a wall. He had not noticed it before; now for a little
+space it seemed like other shadows, but Sir John was not deceived. It
+moved, coming out from the wall and towards him, and a man stood there.
+
+"Martin!"
+
+Sir John was not a coward, but a sigh of relief escaped him when he
+realised that this was no phantom, but a thing of flesh and blood--only
+Mad Martin.
+
+"I have waited for you, Sir John."
+
+"The doors were not locked against you, though they well might have
+been. Where do you spring from to-night, and what have you been doing?"
+
+"Wandering and dreaming."
+
+"In a mad mood, eh?"
+
+"Yes, when I see things and hear voices," said Martin in a sing-song
+tone, as though he were dreaming now and unconscious of the words his
+lips uttered. "I heard my mistress calling me. Where is she, Sir John?"
+
+"In London, Martin."
+
+"No; she was, but not now. She was calling from a dark room, and the
+door was locked. I could see the room, a miserable room, but I could not
+see her, only hear her. She was in the power of Lord Rosmore."
+
+Sir John bent forward to see Fairley's face more clearly in the
+moonlight. He had known him in this mood before, known him to give
+strange but good advice while in this state. He was satisfied that
+Martin was unconscious now, and was eager to question him.
+
+"What will happen, Martin?"
+
+"I cannot see."
+
+"But why come to the Abbey?"
+
+"She sent me to you. I know not why, but I have waited. I heard her say
+that I must not be seen. She thought you could save her."
+
+"How?"
+
+Martin put his arm across his eyes for a moment.
+
+"It is all a mist, and the voices are muffled," he said. "You would know
+what Lord Rosmore would do, and would tell me."
+
+"It will be good for her to marry Lord Rosmore," said Sir John.
+
+"Not good for her, but good for you," was the answer; "she said that.
+She said you were afraid of him, that you must do as he willed. It was
+very clear in my dreams."
+
+"Why should I fear him?"
+
+"So many questions give me pain. I was dreaming; I cannot remember
+everything. One thing is clear. She called to me that you might be free
+from Lord Rosmore if you knew a secret which the Abbey holds."
+
+"Do you know it, Martin?"
+
+"Yes; she told me, and it is a secret."
+
+"What is it, Martin?"
+
+"A secret, but I was to tell you if you helped her."
+
+"Stop this foolery!" said Sir John, seizing his arm sharply. "You shall
+be locked up until this wayward niece of mine is safely married."
+
+"Married! Would you die, master?"
+
+"Die?"
+
+"Surely. The stars showed it me long ago. Two planets in conjunction,
+that was the marriage, and then across the night sky the flash of a
+meteor, dead and cold in a moment."
+
+"Curse your dreams and the stars!"
+
+"Listen!" said Fairley. "Cannot you hear the music of chinking money?
+Look, master! I see gems like eyes--white and red and blue--diamonds,
+rubies, and sapphires. That is all part of the secret, that and the
+Nun's Room."
+
+"Tell me the secret," said Sir John.
+
+"If you help my mistress."
+
+"I know nothing."
+
+"I have forgotten the secret," Martin whispered.
+
+He moved away slowly and then stopped.
+
+"Master, why not be rich? What is it to you and me what happens to
+Mistress Barbara, so we can be rich? I would be rich, too. If Lord
+Rosmore has power over you, money and jewels will buy freedom. It is
+true, somewhere in the Abbey the wealth of the Indies has been buried. I
+know it."
+
+"Then tell me, Martin."
+
+"You fool, you fool, you have made me forget, but I shall remember if
+you will only let me. In dreams, when we promise and do not fulfil, we
+forget everything. You must help my mistress, or I cannot remember. See,
+I have a proof. Once, long ago, I found that in the Nun's Room; I
+thought it was glass, but Mistress Barbara's voice says it is a diamond.
+Take it, master, you will know."
+
+It was a diamond which Sir John held between his finger and thumb. In
+the moonlight the colours sparkled, such deep, clear colours as never
+came from glass. It was a stone that had been set; how had it come into
+the Nun's Room? Sir John's pulses quickened. If he told what he knew,
+what harm would be done?
+
+"It is a diamond, Martin."
+
+"One among hidden hundreds. Help the mistress, master, and let us be
+rich. You must give me a little of all we find, so that I may always
+have a fire in winter and can eat and drink when I like; that is to be
+rich, indeed."
+
+"I will tell you what I know, Martin, but how can it help Barbara?"
+
+"She has command of my thoughts, as you speak she will hear; but a
+warning, master--you must speak the truth. I shall not know the truth
+from a lie, but she will, and if you lie we shall not find the
+treasure."
+
+"Barbara went to Dorchester to try and save the highwayman, Gilbert
+Crosby," said Sir John. "It was Rosmore's device to send her word that
+Crosby was a prisoner, and on the way she was captured, not by the
+King's troops as a rebel, but by men in Rosmore's pay. She is in no real
+danger, but she does not know this. She will not be brought before
+Jeffreys or any other judge, but she will be treated as though this were
+to be her fate. Rosmore will save her, do you understand, and in her
+gratitude she will give him his reward."
+
+"How will he save me?" came the question in a monotonous voice, and Sir
+John started, for it did not seem as if Martin had asked it.
+
+"The day of the trial will be fixed--it may be to-day or to-morrow, I
+cannot tell; but the night before she will be smuggled into a waiting
+coach and driven here to Aylingford."
+
+"Must she promise to marry Lord Rosmore first?"
+
+"Probably. Yes, he will certainly make her promise that before he helps
+her. It is not a hard promise to make, Martin; Lord Rosmore is a better
+mate than 'Galloping Hermit.'"
+
+Martin sighed and rubbed his eyes. He looked round him and then at Sir
+John.
+
+"I thought I was speaking to Mistress Barbara," he said. "Ah, I
+remember, I was. We have helped her, Sir John. How she will use that
+help does not matter. Is she to give a promise to Rosmore? I wonder what
+will happen if she will not give it?"
+
+"I do not know. Such is Lord Rosmore's plan, but circumstances might
+make him alter it."
+
+"And if he fails he may denounce her and leave her to her fate," said
+Martin. "She won't be the only woman to suffer, and, whichever way it
+ends, we have something else to think of--riches."
+
+"Is it true about this treasure, Martin?" said Sir John.
+
+"True! As true as that Lady Lisle was foully executed at Winchester for
+just such a crime as Mistress Barbara may be accused of if she will make
+no promise to Lord Rosmore."
+
+"That is a horrible thought," said Sir John, shrinking from him.
+
+"We mustn't think. Those who would get rich quickly must act. Come."
+
+He led the way along the terrace towards the ruins, and Sir John
+followed him almost as if he expected to see movement in the motionless
+shadows about him. The prospect of finding this hidden wealth, and all
+it would mean to him, shut out every other thought. The legend of buried
+treasure at the Abbey was not a new one. The monks who had lived in it
+had grown wealthy--why should they not have left their wealth behind
+them? Martin was mad, but in his madness he had strange visions; Sir
+John was satisfied that he had had many proofs of this, and he followed
+him now, never doubting that the treasure existed and would be found.
+
+They came to the opening of the Nun's Room.
+
+"The creepers in this corner are a natural ladder, Sir John."
+
+"But we cannot go down into it, Martin."
+
+"How else shall we get the riches?"
+
+"Those who enter the Nun's Room die within the year," said Sir John,
+trembling.
+
+"A tale made to keep the curious from looking for the treasure," Martin
+answered. "I have gone down many times, but I searched in vain, not
+having the key to the secret. To-night I have it. I will go first," and,
+kneeling down, he grasped the creepers, which grew strongly here, and
+lowered himself quickly.
+
+Sir John was not so agile, but he went down after him. He would have
+accomplished a far more difficult feat rather than remain behind.
+
+"I wonder whether Mistress Barbara will make that promise?" said Martin,
+as Sir John came to the floor beside him.
+
+"I wonder."
+
+"If she doesn't, death. If she does, Rosmore will have a wife; the poor
+highwayman will doubtless hang at Tyburn; but we shall be rich. That
+matters, nothing else does."
+
+"Nothing else, Martin," and, indeed, Sir John was too excited to be
+troubled by any other thought.
+
+Martin guided him across the room.
+
+"Feel, Sir John. This is the ledge where they say the Nun slept;
+creepers hang over it, and behind these creepers--listen, Sir John,
+listen!" and he knocked sharply against the stone wall. "Hollow! It's
+true! This is no solid wall as it seems. Feel, Sir John, your finger on
+the edge of this great slab. A doorway built up, and not so long ago.
+Listen! Hollow! It's true, it's true!" and Martin jumped and clapped his
+hands like a child.
+
+"Yes, it's hollow, sure enough," said Sir John.
+
+"Light and a pick. We'll be in the treasure chamber before morning.
+Wait, Sir John, I'll get them."
+
+"Stop, Martin; where are you going?"
+
+"For a light and a pick," and he climbed out by the creepers in the
+corner. "I know the treasure has been hidden there. I have seen it in my
+dreams."
+
+"Be quick, Martin."
+
+"I shall make more haste than I have ever done in my life before," he
+answered, bending over the edge by the corner. "Poor Rosmore! poor
+highwayman! Only a wife and a gibbet for them. But for us--"
+
+"Stop talking, Martin, and let us get to work," came the answer from
+below.
+
+"I wonder whether Mistress Barbara will make a promise?" And Martin cut
+and wrenched at the creepers where they clung to the stone floor and
+fallen masonry at the top.
+
+"What are you doing?" said Sir John.
+
+"Freeing myself from the creepers. That's done. I'll hasten, Sir John,
+never fear."
+
+Something moved in the dark, sunken room, scraping and sliding.
+
+"Martin!"
+
+Sir John could hear the sound of his footsteps quickly lessening in the
+distance, but there was no answer to his call.
+
+"Martin!"
+
+Still no answer, and the sound of the footsteps had gone. Sir John, with
+his hands stretched out before him, crossed to the corner where he had
+come down. His hands came in contact with a tangle of creepers, hanging
+loose, from the wall. The ladder was broken!
+
+Martin Fairley went swiftly to the terrace and on to one of the stone
+bridges over the stream. Then he paused and listened.
+
+"He will have to cry loudly to be heard to-night. Grant that he may find
+no escape until morning."
+
+Then he crossed the bridge and went swiftly through the woods.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+
+THE FLIGHT
+
+Dorchester was in mourning. If there had been any hope that Mercy and
+Justice would go hand in hand, if there were a lingering belief that
+Judge Jeffreys might not be so cruel as it was said, such hopes and
+beliefs were quickly dispelled the moment that court with its scarlet
+hangings was opened. Even Judge Marriott shrank a little as his learned
+brother bullied and laughed and swore at the prisoners, bidding them
+plead guilty as their only hope of escape, and then condemning them to
+the gibbet with the ferocity of a drunken fiend. Pity crept into the
+hard faces of rough soldiers; the devilishness of this judge appalled
+even them.
+
+Since she had no maid to attend to her, Watson took Barbara her food;
+but, although he had received no instructions to discontinue his efforts
+to break her courage by detailing the horrors of the punishment which
+was being administered to rebels, he spoke of them no more. He pitied
+this fair woman, and was deeply impressed with her bravery. He was not
+wholly in his master's confidence, and believed that his prisoner was in
+grave danger. He did not doubt that under certain conditions she might
+be saved, but she was not the woman from whom promises could be forced,
+and no one could know better than Watson did how ruthless his master was
+in clearing obstacles out of his path, how cruel he was when he became
+revengeful. He knew that Gilbert Crosby had been allowed an interview
+with Barbara Lanison, but was ignorant of the purpose. He did not know
+that her escape had been arranged for, nor that he was to have a part in
+it; and there were times when he weighed against each other his pity for
+the woman and his fear of Lord Rosmore, finding it so difficult to tell
+which outbalanced the other that he went a step further and thought out
+plans for getting Mistress Lanison away from Dorchester. Not one of his
+schemes could possibly have succeeded, but the trooper found a
+satisfaction in making them.
+
+Barbara was speedily aware of the change in Watson's manner towards her,
+but she was not astonished. It was natural under the changed conditions
+of her imprisonment. Every hour brought her freedom nearer, and the man
+knew this, she supposed, and treated her accordingly. Concerning her
+escape she did not question him, but she did ask him whether Judge
+Jeffreys had arrived, and if the Assizes had begun.
+
+"Truth, madam, my duty keeps me in this house, and I know little of what
+is happening in the town."
+
+"Nor how the prisoners will be treated?" Barbara asked.
+
+"Some say this and some say that," Watson replied evasively, "and I have
+enough to do without thinking about the lawyer's work. When I hear
+lawyers talk I can't tell right from wrong. You have to be trained to
+understand the jargon."
+
+So Barbara Lanison heard nothing of the mourning that was in the town,
+and had naught to do during the long waiting hours but think of the
+future and all that it meant to her. She was going with Gilbert Crosby,
+but he had promised that, once they were in safety, she should choose
+her own way. Would she take his road? She loved him. The fact was so
+absorbing that nothing else seemed to matter; yet she had many lonely
+hours for thought, and it would have been strange indeed if none of the
+circumstances of her life, of her position, had demanded her
+consideration. To trust this lover with her future meant the snapping of
+every tie which bound her to the past; it must mean, in the world's
+eyes, bringing contempt upon her name. She faced the truth bravely. It
+seemed an impossible thing that Barbara Lanison of Aylingford should
+marry Galloping Hermit the highwayman. Such a thing might appeal as a
+romantic tale, but in the real world it meant disgrace. In another land
+love might be hers, such love, perchance, as few women have ever had,
+but could it obliterate the past? Would she ever be able to forget that
+the man beside her, his face hidden behind the brown mask, had waited,
+pistol in hand, upon the high road, to rob passing travellers? All men
+were not cowards, nor did they travel unprepared for danger; there must
+have been times when the pistols had spoken in the silence of the night,
+when some hapless traveller had died upon the roadside. Surely there was
+blood upon the hands of the man she loved! The thought bowed her head,
+and her hands clasped as if a spasm of sudden pain had seized her. No
+repentance in the long years to come, not all the good that might be
+done in them, could wipe out the past. And then she tried to find
+excuses for that past, some reason that could justify the life he had
+chosen. Some very definite reason there must have been. The artificial
+glamour of the life would not attract such a man as Gilbert Crosby. He
+must have imagined that justice was on his side, that there was some
+wrong to right, to make him defy all the laws of life and property and
+become a menace and a terror to his fellows.
+
+Stories concerning Galloping Hermit had already passed into legend. His
+greatest exploits always seemed to be against those who were cruel in
+their dealings with others, who were unjust, or those whose lives were
+notoriously bad; and there were many tales of courtesy, of
+consideration, of help, which were totally out of keeping with the
+ordinary career of a highwayman. Barbara remembered his treatment of
+Judge Marriott, remembered what he had said. He was, the world said it,
+quite apart from all other highwaymen; nevertheless, there was a price
+upon his head, and the shadow of Tyburn lay dark across his path. And
+yet he was Gilbert Crosby, the man she loved, the man who was blessed
+and nightly prayed for in many a humble home in this West Country. What
+did the world hold for her that she should thrust such a man out of her
+life? Which way was she to choose--that which led Lack in her uncle's
+world, with its Rosmores, its Branksomes, its Marriotts, its Mistress
+Dearmers, and its shams of love which was vice, and of life which was
+moral death; or that which led to quiet obscurity with the man she
+loved, a sinner, but repentant, in whose worship she could trust, and
+whose touch thrilled her very soul? Had she not almost promised
+already--to take her way with him?
+
+The second day of her waiting had ended, darkness had come; to-morrow
+night she would go. At about this hour galloping horses would be
+hurrying her away from Dorchester. Her thoughts were full of to-morrow,
+when the key turned quietly in the lock and Watson entered.
+
+"Good news, madam. I only heard it an hour ago, and was never more
+pleased in my life."
+
+"What news?"
+
+"That you are to leave Dorchester, and with Mr. Crosby. Craving your
+pardon, madam, I know something of your reason for coming to the West;
+and, for all I'm so rough a fellow, I'm fond o' lovers."
+
+"Thank you," said Barbara, for the man was evidently pleased.
+
+"And it comes sooner than you expected," said Watson. "The road is safe,
+and you are to go to-night."
+
+"To-night!"
+
+"Yes, now. Mr. Crosby will already be waiting on the road which leads
+down to the river. I am to see you safely there."
+
+"But to-night? Are you sure there is no mistake?"
+
+"Quite sure. We must go at once."
+
+Barbara went quickly into the inner room, and in a few moments returned
+closely wrapped in an ample cloak.
+
+"Draw the hood down over your head," said Watson. "The less left for
+prying eyes to see the better. You have the papers signed by Judge
+Marriott?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"One word, madam. No one will hinder us in this house. At the door into
+the street turn to the right. I shall walk close behind you. Do not
+hurry. Do not stop if anyone should speak to you, and do not answer
+them. Walk forward as if I had nothing to do with you."
+
+"I understand."
+
+"Pardon, but the hood does not quite hide your hair. Such hair might
+betray you if we should meet enemies to-night, for I never saw its
+like."
+
+Barbara readjusted the hood, and wondered if Gilbert Crosby admired her
+hair as this trooper did.
+
+Watson opened the door, and they went down the passage together. Two men
+on the top of the stairs stood aside to let them pass; the street door
+was open, and Barbara turned to the right, walking alone, the soldier
+close behind her.
+
+It was a narrow street, and dark, only a light gleaming out here and
+there from an unshuttered window; but there were many people abroad,
+whispering together, and Barbara heard sobbing, once coming through an
+open window, once from a woman who passed her quickly.
+
+"Twenty-nine," she heard one man say in hoarse tones, "the first fruits
+of this bloody vengeance."
+
+"Curse him! May hell reward him," said his companion.
+
+Barbara shuddered as she passed on, although she did not realise what
+the words meant.
+
+Then a man stood in her path for a moment.
+
+"A fine night, mistress," he cried. "Twenty-nine of them by the
+roadside, the chains creaking and the moonlight touching the white
+faces. Never such a thing in Dorchester before. A damned judge, but what
+a show!" And then, with a laugh, he ran past her. The voice and the
+laughter were those of a maniac.
+
+Barbara knew now. Judge Jeffreys had commenced his work. Must she pass
+those hideous signs of it?
+
+"Turn to the right," said Watson behind her.
+
+She turned, as she was told, into a quieter street, and hurried a
+little. To be free from this horrible place, it was her only thought.
+Before she had gone far the houses began to straggle; she was at the
+edge of the town. The moon was just rising, and by its misty light
+Barbara saw that the open country was before her. A little further on,
+the road began to dip, and there, in the shadow of a belt of trees,
+stood a carriage. There were no gibbets with their twenty-nine victims
+along this road; that sight she was spared.
+
+Watson came to a standstill.
+
+"Mr. Crosby waits, madam. Good fortune go with you."
+
+"Thank you," she said, and pressed some coins into the man's hand. "Some
+day, perhaps, I may thank you better."
+
+The soldier saluted as she went forward, watching her, but not following
+her.
+
+The post-boy was already in his place, and it was evident that the
+horses were impatient to be gone. A groom stood beside the carriage.
+
+"Mr. Crosby is here, madam," the man said as he opened the door. "There
+is no time to lose."
+
+Barbara entered the coach quickly, and literally fell into the arms of
+the man who was awaiting her, for as the door was shut the horses
+bounded forward.
+
+"Gilbert!"
+
+The hood had fallen from her fair hair as she turned and leaned towards
+him, and at this moment there was no doubt in her mind which way she
+would choose. Then with a cry she shrank back into the corner of the
+coach. It was not Gilbert Crosby beside her, but Lord Rosmore!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+
+OUT OF DORCHESTER
+
+Watson went back into Dorchester humming the chorus of a tavern song. It
+mattered not to him that twenty-nine rebels swung on their gibbets, but
+it was an intense relief to him that Mistress Barbara Lanison was safely
+out of the town. He doubted whether he could have seen her condemned in
+silence, and to speak might have meant that he would speedily swing by
+the roadside, so he was glad for himself as well as for her. Watson was
+totally unconscious that he had helped to deliver his prisoner into the
+hands of Lord Rosmore. He had received definite instructions to see that
+she safely reached the coach in which Gilbert Crosby was awaiting her;
+he was not to attend her to the door of the coach lest the post-boy and
+groom should become suspicious, but to wait and see that she drove away
+in safety. These instructions he had fulfilled to the letter, and glad
+to have been concerned in such a happy escape, he went back singing.
+
+From first to last Lord Rosmore had carefully matured his scheme. He had
+entrusted Watson with one part of it, Sayers with another, and drew a
+veil over the whole by openly showing and avowing his love for Harriet
+Payne. He might have enemies in the town, but what power had they? Fear
+closed Judge Marriott's mouth; the fiddler, Martin Fairley, had vanished
+into some hole to hide himself; Crosby was waiting patiently for the
+fulfilment of his promise; and Sydney Fellowes, who, to his surprise, he
+learnt was also in Dorchester, could do little against him. Still, it is
+ever the little weaknesses which are the danger-points in great
+enterprises, and Rosmore realised that Fellowes' presence in Dorchester
+might bring all his plans to the ground. Great was his satisfaction,
+therefore, when Barbara entered the coach and the horses started on
+their journey.
+
+At that moment Fellowes was listening to Martin Fairley's account of his
+visit to Aylingford. Martin had entered the town half an hour before,
+and had gone straight to Fellowes' lodging. During his absence the
+meeting-place at "The Anchor" in West Street might have been discovered,
+and Martin could not afford to run any risk to-night. To both men it
+seemed evident that Crosby's reliance in Rosmore's promise was futile.
+It was possible, even probable, that Sir John Lanison might not know all
+Rosmore's plans, or might not have told everything he knew, but all
+faith in Rosmore must fall like a building of cards.
+
+"That road to the river must be watched, Fellowes," said Martin.
+
+"I'll go at once."
+
+"And I will get to 'The Anchor' and see Crosby."
+
+They were leaving the house when a woman met them, inquiring for Mr.
+Gilbert Crosby.
+
+"What do you want with him?" Martin asked.
+
+"Ah, you are the fiddler, but you are a coward." And Harriet Payne's
+cloak fell apart as she turned to Fellowes. "Are you Mr. Crosby's
+friend?"
+
+Martin gave him a quick sign.
+
+"Yes. Is he in danger? Come in and tell me."
+
+"Did you know that he was to have escaped from Dorchester with Mistress
+Lanison to-morrow night?" said Harriet as Fellowes closed the door.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"He's fooled--fooled from first to last. She has gone to-night. She left
+Dorchester, not an hour ago, with Lord Rosmore. He has lied to her and
+to me," and the girl's eyes blazed with fury as she spoke.
+
+"Gone! Willingly, do you mean?"
+
+"Willingly!" exclaimed the girl. "She hates him; she was wiser than I
+was. I loved him. She is in his power to-night."
+
+"Which road did they take?" asked Fellowes.
+
+"That which goes towards the river, afterwards I do not know. If you are
+men follow him. Avenge Mistress Lanison and me."
+
+"You have lied before this," said Martin quietly. "With a lie you
+brought Mistress Lanison to the West. You played Lord Rosmore's game for
+him. How do we know that you are speaking the truth now?"
+
+"I hate him! Love turned to hate--do you know what that means?" said the
+girl, turning upon him like some wild animal. "To-night I waited for him
+and he did not come. Servants saw me and laughed; then one man, jeering
+at me, told me the truth. He has gone with her, and every moment you
+waste he is speeding from you. More, to make himself doubly secure, men
+will come here at midnight asking for Mr. Crosby. They will pretend to
+come from Mistress Lanison, and then capture him. A hasty trial, and
+then the gibbet."
+
+"We'll follow," said Martin.
+
+"And kill him--kill him!" said the girl. "And if you have any thought
+for a deceived woman, let him know that I sent you."
+
+A few moments later Martin and Fellowes were in the street, talking
+eagerly as they went. Martin's head was not barren of schemes to-night.
+
+"You understand, Fellowes. To Crosby first. Tell him everything. Bid him
+not spare his horse, nor pass a coach without knowing who rides in it.
+Then let him hasten to 'The Jolly Farmers,' Tell him to wait there for
+me as he did once before. On no account must he leave it. Then start on
+your road, and leave Dorchester behind you as fast as horse can gallop.
+One of us shall find Rosmore before the dawn."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Heavy clouds sailed majestically across the face of the moon. Now the
+long road lay dimly discernible in the pale misty light, now for a time
+it was dark, so that a coach might have driven unawares on to the
+greensward, or a stranger stumbled into the ditch by the roadside.
+Lonely trees shivered at intervals with a sound like sudden rain, and
+from the depths of distant woods came notes of low wailing, as though
+sad ghosts mourned in a hushed chorus. Hamlets were asleep, and not a
+light shone from wayside dwellings. Yet into a tired man's dreams there
+came the rhythmic beat of a horse's hoofs, far distant, then nearer,
+nearer, and dying again into silence. A late rider, and with this
+half-conscious thought, and an uneasy turning on the pillow perhaps,
+sleep again. On another road, beating hoofs suddenly came to the ears of
+a wakeful woman; someone escaping in the night, perhaps, and she
+murmured a prayer; she had a son who had fought at Sedgemoor. The
+grinding of coach wheels on one road, followed by the barking of dogs;
+and a woodcutter asleep in his hut, which lay at the edge of a forest
+track, was startled by the thud of hoofs, and, springing quickly from
+his hard couch, peeped from the door. Nothing to be seen, but certainly
+the sound of a horse going quickly away. There was naught in his hut to
+bring him a visit from a highwayman.
+
+A man, riding in haste towards Dorchester, with papers and money in his
+pocket which might save his son from Judge Jeffreys, halted suddenly.
+Meeting him came another galloping horseman, and suddenly the moonlight
+showed him.
+
+"Have you passed a coach upon the road?"
+
+The galloping horseman drew rein, and the anxious father trembled. Horse
+and rider might have been of one piece; every movement of man and animal
+was perfect, and the man wore the dreaded brown mask.
+
+"No, I have not seen a coach." And the father, remembering vaguely that
+this notorious highwayman was said to have helped many to escape from
+the West, burst out in pleading. "Oh, sir, have mercy. My son lies a
+prisoner in Dorchester, and the money I have may be his salvation."
+
+"Pass on, friend. Good luck go with you." And with a clatter of hoofs the
+brown mask rode on.
+
+Galloping Hermit was on the road to-night, but a score of travellers,
+carrying all the wealth they possessed, might have passed him in safety.
+He was out to stop one coach wherein sat a villain, and a fair woman
+whom he loved. Surely she must be shrinking back in her corner, so that
+even the hem of her gown might not be soiled by the touch of the man
+beside her.
+
+Lord Rosmore had not attempted to justify himself as the coach started
+upon its journey; he had only told her that escape was impossible, that
+the post-boy was in his pay and had his instructions. Barbara had called
+him a villain through her closed teeth, and then had shrunk into her
+corner, drawing the hood of the cloak closely over her head. She
+realised that for the moment she was helpless, that her captor was on
+his guard, but an opportunity might come presently. The more she
+appeared to accept the situation, the less watch was he likely to keep
+on her. It was a natural argument, perhaps, but far removed from fact.
+Never for an instant did Lord Rosmore cease to watch her. This time he
+meant to bend her to his will, if not one way, then another; fair means
+had failed, therefore he would use foul. For a long while he was silent,
+and then he began to explain why he had acted as he had done. Again he
+showed her how impossible a lover was Gilbert Crosby, and he painted the
+many crimes of a highwayman in lurid colours. He knew she must have
+thought of these things, and he declared that the day would come when
+she would thank him for what he had done to-night.
+
+Barbara did not answer him, and there was a long silence as the coach
+rolled steadily on.
+
+Then Lord Rosmore ventured to excuse himself. He spoke passionately of
+his love for her. His way with women was notorious; seldom had he loved
+in vain, and women whose ears had refused to listen to all other lovers
+had fallen before his temptations; yet never had woman heard such
+burning words as he spoke in the darkness of the coach to Barbara
+Lanison. He was commanding and humble by turns, his voice was tremulous
+with passion, yet not a word did Barbara speak in answer.
+
+Rosmore lapsed into silence again, and he trembled a little with the
+passion that was in him. Love her he certainly did in his own way, and
+he bit his lip and clenched his hands, furious at his failure. It took
+him some time to control himself.
+
+"There are many reasons why you should marry me," he said presently.
+"Some of them I have given, but there are others why you must marry me."
+
+He gave her time to answer, but she neither spoke nor moved. Her
+indifference maddened him.
+
+"Your uncle is wholly in my power, you must have guessed that. A word
+from me, and this fellow Crosby hangs. Sir John is afraid, and you
+cannot suppose that I have left Crosby in Dorchester to go or come as
+he likes. He cannot move without my help. I wonder if you realise what
+your persistent refusal of me will mean. You may drive me to harsh
+measures, and make a devil of me. Thwart me, and I stand at nothing. I
+will bring your uncle to the hangman, and Crosby shall rot in chains at
+four cross-roads."
+
+Barbara moved slightly, but she tightly shut her lips that she might not
+be tempted to speak. He thought her movement was one of contempt, and
+turned upon her savagely.
+
+"And there is yet another way," he hissed, bending towards her. "I swear
+to God I will use it rather than let you go. A careless word or two
+shall easily suffice to smirch your fair fame. Ah! that has power to
+rouse you, has it? I will do it, and for very shame you shall have to
+listen to me."
+
+Still she did not answer him. Silence had served her well. He had shown
+himself to her in all the blackness of his soul. He might kill her, but
+there were worse things than death. She would remain silent. And the
+coach rolled on, now in darkness, now in the misty light of the moon.
+
+There was a dip in the road that every coach-driver knew, a sudden stiff
+descent into a thick wood, the trees arching and mingling their
+branches, almost like a lofty green tunnel, and then a sharp ascent.
+Drivers usually let their horses go, so that the impetus of the descent
+would help to carry them up the opposite incline, for the road was
+loose, and, with a full load of passengers, the climb tested the
+strength of the best teams. Lonely Bottom it was called, and well named,
+for there was no more deserted spot along the road.
+
+The highwayman checked his horse to a walking pace when he came to this
+dip, and went slowly down, and slowly climbed the opposite ascent. He
+patted the mare's neck, and spoke to her in whispers.
+
+"Well done, my beauty! Unless all the fates are against us we have got
+in front of the coach. The glory is yours. I know no other that could
+have carried me as you have done to-night. We shall win, lass, and then
+you shall take life easier."
+
+The mare seemed to understand as she climbed out of the hollow and
+appeared ready to gallop on again; but her rider drew her on the
+greensward beside the road, just beyond the wood, and dismounted. He had
+no doubt that the coach was behind him. He had come by short cuts across
+country, along bridle-paths which shortened the journey. He had not
+struck the road long before he met the traveller going towards
+Dorchester who said that no coach had passed him. He leaned against the
+trunk of a tree, which years ago had been struck and killed by
+lightning, and his thoughts were busy as he looked to the priming of his
+pistols and made sure that certain papers he carried were secure in a
+leathern case, which he slipped back into the pocket of his ample, caped
+coat. His plans were mature. His presence there would be a complete
+surprise. He could not fail so long as the coach came, and it would
+come. Yet, in spite of this conviction, he began to grow anxious and
+restless as the time passed slowly and no sound broke the stillness of
+the night. It was not the first time he had waited by the roadside
+listening for his victim. Excitement he had experienced before to-night,
+but never such anxiety, nor such restlessness. To-night's adventure was
+a thing apart. A woman's happiness depended on his success, a woman with
+a crown of golden hair like an aureole about her, who must even now be
+shrinking from the villain in whose company she travelled.
+
+Presently he started. Most men would have discovered no new sound upon
+the night air, but his ears were experienced and keen. For a moment he
+stood beside the mare, his hand upon her neck, then he sprang lightly to
+the saddle.
+
+"The time has come, my hearty. Here is our place, in the shadow."
+
+Out of the silence grew the sound of distant wheels grinding the road,
+and the beating of horses' hoofs. A coach travelling rapidly. Each
+moment the sounds became more distinct, and then loud as the horses
+plunged down the incline into Lonely Bottom. At a gallop they breasted
+the climb out, but the clatter of hoofs quickly grew uneven as the
+weight told. The post-boy was using the whip vigorously as they drew to
+the top, and then the coach suddenly came to a standstill. The window
+rattled down, and a head was thrust out.
+
+"Move, and you're a dead man!"
+
+The coach had drawn out of the shadows into the moonlight, and Lord
+Rosmore started back, so close was the pistol to his head. He looked
+along it, and along the man's extended arm, and into his face, and a
+half-smothered cry broke from his lips. He had been caught unawares.
+Physically he was no coward, but the sight of the brown mask seemed to
+paralyse him.
+
+"You!"
+
+"Open the door and get out. Quickly, or, by heaven, you shall fall out
+with a bullet through your brain."
+
+From this man Lord Rosmore knew he could expect no mercy, knew that he
+was likely to be as good as his word, and he got out.
+
+"Down with you," said the highwayman to the post-boy. "Take this rope,
+and see that you fasten this gentleman securely to that tree yonder. One
+loose knot that may give him a chance of escape, and I'll see to it that
+you never throw your leg across the back of a horse again."
+
+Covering them with his pistol, he watched this operation performed.
+
+"See that he has no firearms," and the lad hastened to do as he was
+told.
+
+The highwayman carefully examined the cord, and made sure that the
+captive could not get free without help. Then he went to the door of the
+coach.
+
+"You are safe, Mistress Lanison."
+
+"Gilbert!" she whispered.
+
+"Pitch anything that belongs to this fellow into the road."
+
+A coat was thrown out.
+
+"Curse you both!" said Rosmore. "By God! if I live you shall pay for
+your work to-night!"
+
+"Is he to pay the price, mistress?" said the highwayman. "You know what
+you have suffered at his hands. What things have his vile lips
+threatened you with to-night? His life is in your hands. Speak, and the
+world shall be well rid of him."
+
+"Oh, no, Gilbert, no!"
+
+"I almost wish you had said 'Yes.' Mount!" he called to the post-boy.
+
+A string of oaths came from Lord Rosmore.
+
+"Silence!" the highwayman shouted, but the oaths did not cease. Then a
+sharp report rang out upon the night, and a cry came from the captive.
+
+"Oh, Gilbert, you have killed him!"
+
+"That was a cry of fear, mistress. The bullet is in the tree a good four
+feet above his head," said the highwayman as he closed the coach door.
+
+"You must travel for the rest of the journey alone, but have no fear. I
+ride by the coach to see you into safety. Forward, post-boy! Good-night,
+Lord Rosmore. A woman betrayed you, even as you have betrayed many
+women. Thank fate that your life lay in the hands of Mistress Lanison,
+and not in hers. She would have bid me shoot straight. Good-night."
+
+For a moment the highwayman let his horse paw the ground in front of the
+man bound helplessly to the tree. Then he laughed, as a man will who
+plays a winning game, and rode after the coach.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+
+THE LEATHER CASE
+
+Her rescue had been so sudden, so unexpected, that it was difficult for
+Barbara to realise that she was alone in the coach, that she need no
+longer shrink away from a man she hated, that her ears were no more
+assailed by threats and vile insinuations. The relief was so intense
+that for a little while she revelled in her liberty, and cried a little
+for very joy. Why did not the man who had delivered her come to the door
+of the coach and talk to her? Not as he had done just now, calling her
+Mistress Lanison and seeming not to hear when she had called him
+Gilbert, but as he had spoken to her that other night in her prison in
+Dorchester. She leaned forward to listen. Yes, he was on the road behind
+her, she could hear the steady canter of his horse; why did he not ride
+where she could see him? He must know that she would want him close
+beside her. Did he know it? He wore the brown mask to-night, and, oh,
+the difference it made! With that silken disguise, and with his coat
+close fastened at the throat, she would never have recognised him in the
+moonlight had she not known who he was. Involuntarily she shuddered a
+little at the thought that he was indeed two men, so distinct that even
+she, had she not known, would have failed to see her lover in the wearer
+of the brown mask. Why did he not come to the window, come as himself,
+without that hideous disguise which distressed her and brought so many
+horrible fancies and fears into her mind? Should she call to him? She
+was much tempted to do so, but surely he knew what was best for her
+to-night. There might be other enemies upon the road, she was safer
+perhaps in the charge of the brown mask than she would have been had he
+ridden beside her as Gilbert Crosby.
+
+The coach rolled steadily on through the night, now in the shadow of
+dark woods, now across a stretch of common land where the misty
+moonlight seemed to turn the landscape into a dream world, silent and
+empty save for the sound of the grinding wheels and the steady beating
+of the horses' hoofs. The long monotony of the sound became a lullaby to
+the girl, tired in body and mind. Last night, and the night before, she
+had slept little; now, with a sense of security, she closed her eyes,
+only that she might think the more clearly. There were many things she
+must think of. Gilbert Crosby would not easily let her go, this she
+knew, and to-morrow, perhaps, she would have to answer his question,
+would have to decide which way she would take. The lullaby of the
+grinding wheels became softer, more musical; the corner of the coach
+seemed to grow more comfortable; once she started slightly, for she
+seemed to have stepped suddenly back into her prison in Dorchester, then
+she smiled, knowing that she was free, that Lord Rosmore was bound and
+helpless, that Gilbert Crosby was near her. The smile remained upon her
+lips, but she did not move again. She was asleep. Even the jolting upon
+the rougher by-road along which the coach was driven presently did not
+rouse her. She did not see the dawn creeping out of the east, she was
+not conscious that the highwayman came to the window and looked at her,
+that he stopped the coach for a moment, nor did she feel the touch of
+gentle hands as he folded her cloak more closely about her lest the
+chill breath of the morning air should hurt her.
+
+The dawn came slowly, very slowly, to the man bound securely to the tree
+by the roadside. When the sound of the wheels had died away, Lord Rosmore
+struggled to free himself, but the post-boy had done his work too well.
+Every knot was securely fastened and out of reach. Once or twice he
+shouted for help, and the only answer was an echo from the woods. Unless
+a chance traveller came along the road he could not get released until
+the day broke. It was wasting strength to shout, and he wanted all his
+strength to help him through the strain of the night. All his will was
+bent on not allowing his cramped position to so weaken him that
+to-morrow he would be unable to pursue his enemy. Crosby had outwitted
+him for the moment, but to-morrow the game might be in his hands again,
+and he must retain his strength to play it. Many a man would have lost
+consciousness during the night, but Lord Rosmore's determined spirit and
+fierce lust for revenge helped him. He would not allow his limbs to grow
+stiff, the cords gave a little, and every few minutes he twisted himself
+into a slightly different position. He would not close his weary eyes,
+but set his brain to work out a scheme for Crosby's downfall. The coach
+would certainly make for the coast presently. Some delay there must be
+before reaching it, and further delay before a vessel could be found to
+carry the fugitives into safety. Crosby could not possibly be prepared
+for what had happened, and time must be wasted in making up his mind how
+to use to the best advantage the trick in the game which had fallen to
+him. Galloping Hermit, the highwayman, must be cautious how he went, and
+caution meant delay at every turn. He would not easily escape.
+
+So the dawn found Lord Rosmore with aching limbs but with a clear brain,
+and he looked about him, as far as he was able, wondering from which
+direction help would most likely come. On the ground, at a little
+distance from him, lay a heavy coat, just as Barbara had thrown it from
+the coach last night, and a growling oath came from Rosmore's dry lips.
+He wished with all his heart that he had delivered her into Judge
+Jeffreys' hands in Dorchester. She would have been just such a delicate
+morsel as the loathsome brute would have gloated over. How easily, too,
+he might have had Crosby hanged in chains. He had been a fool to let
+love influence him. Then his eyes turned slowly to the ground
+immediately in front of him. The turf was cut and trampled where the
+highwayman had been, by the impatient hoofs of his pawing horse, and
+there lay in the very centre of the trampled patch a leather case. It
+must have fallen from Crosby's pocket last night. Had the highwayman
+unwittingly left behind him a clue that would be his ruin?
+
+The thought excited the helpless man, and he began to listen for coming
+succour, and once or twice he shouted, but it was only a feeble sound,
+for his throat was parched, and his tongue had swollen in his mouth.
+
+Chance came to his aid at last; a dog bounding from the woods not far
+distant saw him, and racing to the tree tore round and round it, barking
+furiously, bringing a man out into the open to see what so excited the
+animal. The woodman hastened forward.
+
+"Eh, master, but what's been adoing?"
+
+"Highwayman--last night," said Rosmore feebly. Now that help was at hand
+his strength seemed to dwindle to nothing.
+
+The man cut the cords so vigorously that Rosmore stumbled forwards and
+fell. For an instant he was powerless to move, and then with an effort
+he crawled a few inches until his hand touched the leather case.
+
+"The coat," he muttered. "The pocket--a flask."
+
+The liquid revived him, and he drew himself painfully into a sitting
+posture.
+
+"'Galloping Hermit'--the brown mask--last night," he said.
+
+"The brown mask!" exclaimed the man in a low tone, looking round as if
+he expected to see the famous highwayman. "Your horse gone too."
+
+"It was a coach. I want a horse. Where can I get one?"
+
+"Lor', master, you couldn't get into the saddle."
+
+"Where can I get one?" Rosmore repeated, speaking like a man who was
+breathless from long running.
+
+"There's the village over yonder, two miles away."
+
+"Lend me your arm. So," and Rosmore drew himself to his feet. "Earn a
+guinea or two and help me to the village."
+
+"Can you walk at all?" asked the man.
+
+"The stiffness will go by degrees. Slowly to begin with, that's it. Two
+miles, eh? It will be the longest two miles I've ever walked, but it's
+early. They won't escape easily. By gad! they shall suffer!"
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Both of them, the man and the woman."
+
+"The woman!"
+
+"Curse you, you nearly let me fall," said Rosmore. "Don't talk. I can't
+talk."
+
+At a little tavern in the village Lord Rosmore ate and drank, and while
+he did so he carefully examined the contents of the leather case. There
+was a key and several papers closely written upon. Rosmore's eyes
+brightened as he read, and the papers trembled in his hand with
+excitement. All his thoughts were thrust into one channel, one idea and
+purpose took possession of him. Soon after noon he painfully mounted a
+horse which the landlord had procured for him and rode slowly away. He
+was in no fit condition to take a long journey, so it was fortunate that
+he had time to spare and could go quietly. He thought no more of Barbara
+Lanison or Gilbert Crosby, he might follow them to-morrow; but to-day,
+to-night, he had other work to do, and he laughed softly to himself as
+he felt the leather case secure in his pocket. Some tricks in the game
+he had lost, but the winning trick was his.
+
+It was dark when he reached the woods which lay on the opposite bank of
+the stream below Aylingford. He tethered his horse to a tree and went on
+foot towards one of the bridges which led to the terrace, and there he
+waited, leaning against the stone wall, looking at the house. Lights
+shone from a few of the windows, but the Abbey did not look as if it
+were full of guests. There was, perhaps, the more need to exercise
+caution. The balmy air of the night might tempt visitors on to the
+terrace if the play did not prove exciting, and if the talk became stale
+and wearisome. So Rosmore waited. He did not intend to enter the house,
+and a little delay was of no consequence. Only one man besides himself
+could know the secret which the leather case held, and that other man
+was far away from Aylingford.
+
+Most of the windows in the Abbey were dark when Rosmore crossed the
+bridge to the terrace and walked lightly towards the ruins, careful to
+let the shadows hide him as much as possible. Entering the ruins, he
+drew the case from his pocket and took out the key. By Martin's tower he
+stood for a moment to listen, but no sound came to startle him, and he
+fitted the key into the lock. The door opened easily, and Rosmore
+entered, closing it again and locking it on the inside. Gently as he did
+it, the sound echoed weirdly up the winding stairs. The door at the top,
+and that of Martin's room, hung broken on their hinges. Nothing had been
+done to them since the night they were forced open in the attempt to
+capture Gilbert Crosby; nor did it appear that Martin had occupied his
+room since then. The piece of candle was still upon the shelf, fastened
+to it with its own grease, and Lord Rosmore lit it. Then he drew the
+papers from the case, and turned to one portion of the writing. He had
+already studied it carefully, but he read it once again, and, bending
+down to the hearth, felt eagerly along the coping which surrounded it.
+His fingers touched a slight projection, which he pressed inwards and
+downwards. It moved a little, but some few moments elapsed before he
+succeeded in making the exact motion necessary, when the front portion
+of the hearth was depressed and slid back silently.--Taking the piece of
+candle in his hand, Rosmore stepped into the opening and went cautiously
+down the narrow twisting stairs, without attempting to shut the secret
+entrance. The instructions contained in the leather case were exact,
+even to a rough calculation of the value of the treasure hidden below
+the Abbey ruins. Rosmore came at last to a wide chamber, bare wall on
+one side, but on the other three sides were a series of arches, some of
+them framing recesses merely which were not uniform in depth, some of
+them forming entrances into other rooms. The corner arch at the further
+end was the one mentioned in the papers, and Rosmore went slowly across
+the stone floor, the feeble light of the candle casting weird shadows
+about him. For the first time the eeriness of the place forced itself
+upon him. These stone walls must have sheltered many a secret besides
+the one he had come to solve. Unholy deeds might well have happened
+here, and into his memory came crowding many a legend he had heard of
+Aylingford Abbey. Phantoms of the past might yet haunt these dark
+places, and to the man breaking into this silence alone ghosts were easy
+to believe in. Phantoms of the present might be there, too, for to-day
+vice was the ruling spirit of the Abbey, and there were those who
+declared that evil might take shape and in an appointed hour deal out
+punishment to its votaries.
+
+Rosmore found an effort necessary to retain his courage as he went
+towards the opposite corner. The light, held above his head, fell
+quivering into the recess there, and touched a great oak coffer,
+massively made, and heavily bound with iron. It was exactly as the
+papers said, and therein lay the treasure, gold and jewels--the wealth
+of the Indies, as the writing called it. He stood for a moment looking
+at the recess, and then, as he took a hasty step forward, he started,
+and a sharp hiss of indrawn breath came from his lips. A sudden sound
+had struck upon his ear, a grating noise, then silence, then light
+footsteps. In a moment Rosmore had blown out the candle, his one idea
+being to hide himself; fear caught him, the darkness was so great. Who
+was it? What was it coming towards him with those stealthy steps? Nearer
+they came, and from one of the arches a faint glimmer of light, as
+though the old walls were growing luminous, and a man carrying a lantern
+entered the chamber and stood there, raising the lantern above his head.
+It was Sir John Lanison. A little sigh of relief escaped from Rosmore.
+He had only flesh and blood to deal with, a man full of foolish
+superstition. He, too, must have come seeking treasure, but which way
+had he come, and how had he found the courage to embark on such an
+adventure? Must two participate in this treasure after all! No, however
+great it might be, Rosmore wanted it all. He would not share it with any
+man. A word growled in the darkness would terrify the superstitious Sir
+John; he would flee as though ten thousand devils were at his heels, or
+perchance the sudden terror might kill him. The alternative did not
+trouble Lord Rosmore, and he smiled as Sir John came slowly towards him,
+holding the lantern close to the floor that he might not step into some
+hole. As the light came close to his motionless figure, Rosmore uttered
+a low cry, weird enough to startle the bravest man. It may have startled
+Sir John, but he did not shriek out in fear nor turn to flee. He raised
+the lantern sharply, and it hardly trembled in his hand.
+
+"Rosmore!" he exclaimed.
+
+Rosmore was so taken back by this strange courage that he did not answer
+at once, and the two men stood with the raised lantern lighting both
+their faces.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Martin Fairley had left him down in the Nun's Room, Sir John had
+been terrified. He had shouted for help to no purpose, and he was not
+released until early on the following morning. How he came to be there
+he did not explain. He went to his own room, and gave instructions that
+he was not to be disturbed. Once alone, his mind became active, and he
+shook himself free from his fear. Wealth was within his grasp. That
+Martin had run away and left him did not shake his belief. Martin was a
+madman, not responsible for his actions from one moment to another, but
+in his trance he had seen this treasure, therefore it was there, Sir
+John argued. More, the entrance to it lay behind the Nun's hard couch;
+only a stone slab blocked the entrance. Greed took the place of fear,
+and it may be that Sir John was a little off his mental balance, and
+forgot to think of fear. He was certainly cunning enough to make plans
+and to carry them out secretly. He left his room unseen, and the Abbey
+by a small door seldom used; and, having secured a pick and a length of
+rope while the stable men were at their dinner, he went to the Nun's
+Room. He would chance anyone coming into the ruins and hearing him at
+work, and nobody did come. He fastened the rope round a piece of fallen
+masonry which was firmly embedded in the ground and lowered himself. He
+worked all the afternoon, and the stone slab was loose before he climbed
+out of the Nun's Room again. Then he went back and mixed with his guests
+for an hour or two, so that they might not grow anxious about him and
+come to look for him. Escaping from them with an excuse that he could
+not play to-night, and must retire early, he went again to the ruins and
+resumed his work by the light of a lantern. He had succeeded in gaining
+an entrance, the hidden treasure was a fact; his one idea was to get
+possession of it, and, absorbed in this thought, other sensations were
+dormant for the time being. He was so savage that anyone else should
+know the secret that he forgot to be afraid. When the lantern showed him
+who his rival was, there was no need to be afraid, for Lord Rosmore
+would assume that they could be partners in this as they had been in
+much else, and Sir John smiled, for he intended to free himself from
+such a partnership. He had a pistol with him, and since Rosmore had
+evidently come to the Abbey secretly, no one would be likely to look for
+him there.
+
+"There are evidently two ways to the treasure, Sir John?" said Rosmore
+after a pause.
+
+"And we have found them," was the answer. "It is lucky that no one else
+forestalled us. The treasure first. We may count it, and tell each other
+how we found it afterwards."
+
+Lord Rosmore turned to the recess, and Sir John went eagerly forward
+with the lantern. The exact position of the treasure he had not known,
+but catching sight of the iron-bound box, he determined that no one
+should share its contents with him. He set down the lantern.
+
+"The key in the lock!" he exclaimed. "It was foolish to leave it in the
+lock."
+
+"Who would come to this infernal tomb?" said Rosmore.
+
+"Two of us have come," said Sir John, as he turned the key and raised
+the heavy lid.
+
+A few crumpled pieces of paper, one or two torn pieces of cloth, an
+empty canvas bag, half of a broken jewel case, and in one corner the
+glitter of two or three links of a gold chain. This was all the great
+chest contained!
+
+"You forgot that bit of chain when you removed the treasure, Sir John,"
+said Rosmore, pointing to it.
+
+"Liar! Robber! Where is it?"
+
+Rosmore laughed; perhaps he was unconscious that he did so.
+
+The empty chest seemed to have paralysed his brain for a moment. He
+could not think. He could not devise a scheme for forcing the truth from
+his rival.
+
+Sir John had only one idea--revenge. This man had robbed him. The
+treasure was gone, but the thief was before him. With an oath he sprang
+forward, there was a flash in Rosmore's face, and a report which echoed
+back from every side sharply. The bullet missed its mark, chipping the
+stone wall behind. Then the two men were locked together in a silent,
+deadly struggle. Lord Rosmore was the stronger and the younger man, but
+he had not recovered from the cramped position in which he had spent the
+long hours of last night, and perhaps Sir John was mad and had something
+of a madman's strength. Neither could throw the other off, nor gain the
+advantage. Fingers found throats, and gripped and pressed inwards with
+deadly meaning. Never a word was spoken. The lamp was overturned and
+went out, each man holding to his adversary the tighter lest he should
+escape in the darkness. Shuffling feet and gasping breaths, then a heavy
+fall, then silence.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Daylight crept down into the Nun's Room and into Martin's room, with its
+gaping hearth, but no one came out through the hole behind the Nun's
+hard bed, nor climbed the narrow stairs into the tower room. The day
+passed, and the night, and another dawn came. The door of the tower was
+still locked on the inside, and the rope was still hanging into the
+sunken room. That morning the rope was seen when the ruins were
+searched, and presently two of the guests climbed down and entered the
+underground chamber, carrying lanterns and walking carefully.
+
+Sir John Lanison and Lord Rosmore were both dead. Both faces were
+discoloured and told of a horrible struggle. It looked as if Rosmore had
+succumbed first, for he lay on his back, his arms flung out. Sir John
+was lying partly across his body; it seemed as though his fingers had
+just relaxed their hold on Rosmore's throat.
+
+Why this awful tragedy? One of the guests noticed the iron-bound chest,
+and, looking in, saw the broken gold chain gleaming in the lantern
+light.
+
+"A treasure!" he exclaimed, holding it up. "All that is left of it!"
+
+Then they looked at the dead men, so suggestive in their ghastly
+attitude, and they thought they understood. Those old monks, thinking
+perhaps that they would one day return to their old home, must certainly
+have buried a treasure under the walls of Aylingford.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+
+SAFETY
+
+The door of "The Jolly Farmers" had only just been opened to the
+business of a new day when Gilbert Crosby came by a narrow track through
+the woods on to the road. His horse was jaded, and bore evidences of
+having been hard ridden.
+
+At the inn door Crosby dismounted, and the landlord came hurrying out
+to welcome his early visitor. He looked at the horse, and then shouted
+towards the stables.
+
+"It's evident you are going no further on that animal at present. Shall
+I hide him in the place I have in the woods yonder? Have you given them
+the slip, or are they close upon your heels?"
+
+"There is no need to hide him," said Crosby, as he entered the inn. "It
+would seem that you remember me."
+
+"Aye, faces have a way of sticking in my memory. I had to conceal you
+one night when you came inquiring for a fiddler."
+
+"This morning I am come to look for him again."
+
+"His appointment?" asked the landlord.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then you may wait contentedly. I never knew him to fail. If he failed I
+should say he had met his death on the way. Death is the only thing that
+would stand between his promise and its fulfilment. Come into the inner
+room. We might get other early visitors, and the door in the wall might
+be useful."
+
+"And food--what about food at this early hour? I am well-nigh starving."
+
+"I'll see to that, and I take it that a draught of my best ale will take
+the dust out o' your throat pleasantly. That beast of yours has done a
+long spell from stable to stable, I warrant."
+
+"From Dorchester," said Crosby.
+
+"And that's a place you're well out of, since Jeffreys must be there by
+this time."
+
+Crosby nodded, and the landlord drew the ale and busied himself with
+ordering his guest's breakfast.
+
+Crosby had but half appeased his hunger when the sound of wheels was
+upon the road. As he hurried out the landlord stopped him.
+
+"Carefully, sir. Better let me see who it is."
+
+"Quickly, then! It is a coach, and I must know who rides in it."
+
+The tired horses came to a halt before the door, and by the coach was a
+horseman, the dust of a long journey upon his horse, upon his clothes,
+even upon the brown mask which concealed his face. Then the window of
+the coach was lowered, and a head was thrust out, a head shining with
+golden curls which the hood did not wholly conceal. Only a few minutes
+ago Barbara had roused from her long sleep, startled for a little space
+that the walls of her prison at Dorchester were not about her. The
+knowledge that she was free, that she had escaped from Lord Rosmore,
+quickly brought the colour to her cheeks, and her eyes were bright and
+full of questions as she looked at the man in the mask.
+
+"Barbara!"
+
+She turned with a sharp little cry of bewilderment. The landlord,
+standing at the inn doorway, had been thrust aside, and Gilbert Crosby
+was beside her. He lifted her from the coach, yet even when he had set
+her on the ground he did not release her.
+
+"Gilbert, I do not understand--I thought--" and her eyes turned towards
+the masked horseman.
+
+"I know not who you really are, sir," said Crosby. "I know that you are
+called 'Galloping Hermit,' I know that I am so deeply your debtor that I
+can never hope to repay. At Lenfield a little while ago you saved my
+life, to-day you bring me what is more than life."
+
+"And a message," said the highwayman. "Word from a certain fiddler you
+expected to find here. He will not come. It has fallen to my lot to
+rescue this lady from a scoundrel, and I do not think he will attempt to
+follow you. There are horses to be had from the landlord here, and in
+half an hour you may be on the road for Southampton. The fiddler bids
+you not to wait for him, but, on the road, to stop at a house named 'The
+Spanish Galleon,' There you will find a friend who has secured your safe
+departure from the country."
+
+"You will not tell me who you are?" said Crosby, whose keen eyes were
+trying to penetrate the disguise.
+
+"'Galloping Hermit,' Mr. Crosby."
+
+"While fresh horses are being harnessed, Mistress Lanison will have a
+hasty breakfast, at least share the meal with us."
+
+"Daylight is dangerous for me. I ride safely only in the night. A
+tankard of ale, landlord, and then for a hiding hole."
+
+Barbara gently put Crosby's arm away from her, and went to the
+horseman's side.
+
+"Whoever you may be, I thank you from the bottom of my heart," she said.
+"You cannot know all that you are to me. You have been constantly in my
+thoughts; I will not tell you why, but I have shuddered to think what
+must sometimes have happened when you rode in the night. Might not the
+brown mask cease to exist? Some day I may be in England again, may be
+strong to help if need should come. Take this ring of mine. The man who
+brings it to me, though many years should pass between now and then,
+shall never ask of me in vain. Burn the mask, sir, and learn that you
+are too honest a gentleman for such a trade."
+
+The man took the ring.
+
+"Mistress Lanison, I have stopped my last coach," he said. "It was a
+good ending since it saved you from a scoundrel. Do not think too
+harshly of the past. It has had more honesty in it than you would
+imagine. For love of a woman I took to the road; for love of a woman the
+road shall know me no more. Ah, landlord, the ale! To you, mistress, and
+to you, Mr. Crosby. May God's blessing be with you to the end."
+
+He drank, and tossing the empty tankard to the landlord, turned his
+horse and galloped back along the road.
+
+For half an hour or more the coach stood before the door of "The Jolly
+Farmers," and then, with fresh horses, started briskly on its journey to
+Southampton. At the inn the landlord had waited upon his guests so
+attentively that they could say little to each other, but in the coach
+they were alone, shut away with their happiness from all the prying
+world. With her golden head upon his shoulder, Barbara told Crosby all
+that she had feared, all her doubts. There were so many things to make
+her certain that he was "Galloping Hermit."
+
+"I know," he answered. "It has suited my purpose sometimes while I have
+been helping men to escape out of the West Country to let my enemies
+suppose that I was; but it never occurred to me that you would think so.
+Now I understand some of your words which troubled me, hurt me, almost.
+Are you content to take the way with me, dearest? I have not forgotten
+my promise."
+
+"Gilbert, I am ashamed now that I ever asked you to make it," she said,
+clinging close to him. "Kiss me, and forgive me. I think I should have
+gone with you even if you had been 'Galloping Hermit.'"
+
+Awaiting them, and beginning to grow anxious, they found Sydney Fellowes
+at "The Spanish Galleon." Crosby was not surprised, although he had half
+expected to see Martin Fairley.
+
+As Fellowes bent over her hand, Barbara thanked him.
+
+"Gilbert has told me how much you have done for me," she said. "I have
+heard of the triple alliance Surely no woman ever had better friends
+than I."
+
+"I wish Martin were here," said Crosby.
+
+"We must talk of him presently," said Fellowes. "An hour for rest and
+food, then you must be on the road again. I must come with you as far as
+Southampton. It is my part to bid you farewell out of this country. I
+hope before long it may be my part to welcome you back."
+
+When they had started again, Fellowes took some papers from his pocket.
+
+"These are for you, Mistress Lanison, to read at your leisure. I had
+them from Martin Fairley to give to you."
+
+"I wish I could have seen Martin to thank him too."
+
+"That is impossible."
+
+"Impossible! Why? Surely he is not dead?"
+
+"No; yet I do not think you will ever see him again. Have you never
+guessed his secret, Mistress Lanison?"
+
+"Secret?"
+
+"Nor you, Crosby?"
+
+"Surely Martin cannot be 'Galloping Hermit'!" Barbara exclaimed.
+
+"He is. You will find the whole history in those papers," said Fellowes.
+"I knew soon after that night at Aylingford, the night Rosmore and I
+fought in the hall. It is a strange history. He came to Aylingford
+shortly after you were brought there as a child, a chance derelict it
+seemed, and not a little mad at times. But his coming was no chance. He
+knew your father, and came to be near you and watch over you. In a sense
+Martin was always a dreamer, but he was never a madman. He played a part
+to get a lodging within the Abbey, and he has played that part in your
+interest ever since. Many things which must have set you wondering at
+times you will understand when you read these papers. He soon discovered
+what manner of man your uncle was, and the kind of company the Abbey
+gave shelter to. It was worse than you have imagined--a whirlpool of
+vice and debauchery. Such vice is expensive, and a long run of bad luck
+at play might easily bring a man to the verge of ruin. Your uncle came
+to the brink of the precipice, his appetite for vice and play still
+insatiated. Your fortune was in his keeping, and he used it."
+
+"Then I have nothing!" exclaimed Barbara, turning to Gilbert, "and I
+have been thinking and planning that--"
+
+"My dear, your money was nothing to me."
+
+"I know, but--"
+
+"Better let me finish the story, Mistress Lanison," said Fellowes. "In
+some way, I cannot tell you how, Lord Rosmore discovered what your uncle
+was doing. He therefore obtained a hold over Sir John, which hold he
+used for the purpose of forcing himself upon you, meaning to marry you.
+I do not doubt that, in a way, he loved you, but he wanted your money
+too, for Rosmore has squandered his possessions for years past, and must
+be near the end of his tether. Martin declares that it is only money he
+wants."
+
+"Has he been using my fortune, too?"
+
+"No, except those large sums which he has won from your uncle from time
+to time. Possibly, in the firm belief that your money would some day be
+his, he may have checked your uncle's recklessness, and he has never let
+Sir John know his position. Sir John was usually an unlucky player, in
+the long run he invariably lost, and there has hardly been a guest at
+the Abbey who has not enriched himself. This fact set Martin Fairley
+scheming. He became 'Galloping Hermit,' the notorious wearer of the
+brown mask, and plundered travellers with amazing success. It has been
+said of him that he never made a mistake, that the plunder he took was
+always large. His victims, too, were always those who had bad
+reputations; and, one thing more, Mistress Lanison, his victims have
+always won largely at Aylingford Abbey. Where Sir John squandered your
+fortune, Martin compelled Sir John's guests to disgorge on the high
+road. He knew when they were worth robbing. As 'Galloping Hermit' he got
+back a considerable part of your fortune--from the very persons who
+profited by Sir John's ill use of it. For my part, I cannot call that
+robbery. His plunder he stored at the Abbey, somewhere near the Nun's
+Room. You and Crosby escaped from Martin's tower one night that way.
+While you have been a prisoner in Dorchester, Martin has been to
+Aylingford, and, playing upon Sir John's superstition, showed him one
+way of breaking into the secret chamber where a treasure was hidden, and
+in exchange heard what Lord Rosmore intended to do with you. You were to
+be smuggled back to Aylingford. You will find all the history of his
+robberies very clearly stated in those papers, but of the history of the
+last few weeks, his rapid movements, his changes of character, his
+pretence of poor horsemanship, you will find no mention. Crosby will be
+able to tell you much of this. Having rescued you, Martin wanted
+completely to secure your safety, and believing that Rosmore's greed was
+far greater than his love for you, he conceived a plan which no doubt he
+carried out and which I hope was successful. He had carefully placed in
+a leather case papers containing his secret, together with the key of
+his tower, and full instructions of how his hiding-place was entered.
+This case he intended to drop where Rosmore could see it. He believed
+that Rosmore would hurry to Aylingford before he made any attempt to
+find you. We are close to Southampton, and safe so far, so Martin's idea
+of Rosmore may have been a correct one."
+
+"And Martin's money?" asked Barbara.
+
+"Your money," Fellowes corrected. "It was moved from the Abbey some
+little time ago, and is hidden at 'The Jolly Farmers.' Since you must be
+out of England for a while, Martin thought you might like to give me
+instructions concerning it."
+
+"Mad Martin," murmured Barbara.
+
+"Mad. Yes, in one way, perhaps," said Fellowes. "That way you will not
+learn from those papers. He was a man, and near him you grew to be a
+woman. Poor Martin! He was mad enough to love you."
+
+Barbara put her hand into Crosby's. She remembered what the highwayman
+had said that morning, she remembered how she had once stood in the dark
+passage under Aylingford, one hand in Gilbert's, one in Martin's; two
+men who loved her and had braved so much for her. And then she looked at
+Fellowes, whose face was turned from her. He had said nothing of what he
+had done, but she remembered that night in the hall.
+
+"Three men; Gilbert and Martin, yes, and you, Mr. Fellowes," she said
+softly, putting her other hand into his. "It was a triple alliance, and,
+indeed, never was woman better served."
+
+That night Gilbert Crosby and Barbara Lanison left England, and a few
+weeks later were married in Holland, in which country they found their
+first home together. When, a little later, England rose in revolt
+against King James, some of the negotiations with the Prince of Orange
+were conducted by Crosby, and he accompanied the Prince when he landed
+at Torbay, receiving later a baronetcy for his services. He became of
+some importance at the Court of William and Mary, but his happiest hours
+were those spent at his manor at Lenfield. There his dreams had
+fulfilment. Barbara flitted from room to room, as, in his visions, she
+had so often seemed to do; many a time he watched her slowly descending
+the broad stairs and held out his arms to her.
+
+Sometimes a shade of sorrow would rest upon her brow.
+
+"I was thinking of Martin," she said, when her husband questioned her.
+
+Martin had never come to Lenfield. Gilbert could find out nothing about
+him. There were still highwaymen on the road, but nowadays no one was
+ever stopped by "Galloping Hermit" in his brown mask.
+
+"I wonder what became of him," said Barbara; but she never knew.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+
+ALONG THE NORTH ROAD
+
+On the North Road there is a small inn, rather dilapidated and not
+attractive to travellers. Its customers are yokels from the neighbouring
+village, but occasionally a gentleman may be found warming himself at
+the open hearth and drinking the best that the house contains. Such a
+gentleman invariably rides a good horse, and is the recipient of
+open-mouthed admiration from the yokels. No gentleman but a highwayman
+would be there, they believe.
+
+Only one man remained in the bar to-night, a jovial fellow of the farmer
+type, a lover of horses by his talk, and he was wont to boast that he
+had made the fortune of more than one gentleman of the road by the
+animal he had sold him.
+
+"Shut the door, landlord. I'll wait a bit, and have another tankard of
+ale. I'm expecting a visitor."
+
+"Who may that be?"
+
+"One you know well enough, but perhaps you haven't seen him for some
+time."
+
+In a few minutes there was a sharp knock at the door, and, when the
+landlord opened it, there entered a man wearing a brown mask and
+carrying a shapeless parcel under his arm.
+
+"'Galloping Hermit!'" exclaimed the landlord, and it was evident that he
+was pleased to see his visitor.
+
+"So you got my message," said the highwayman to the farmer.
+
+"Aye, but I doubt if I've got a horse to sell that you would care to
+ride. What's become o' that mare o' yourn?"
+
+"She's in the stables--I've just put her there. I want you to take her."
+
+"Buy her? Well, I'll look at her, but buying and selling are two
+different things."
+
+"Do you suppose I'd sell her?" was the answer. "No; I want you to take
+her and keep her--keep her until she dies, and then bury her in the
+corner of some quiet field. You're honest, and will do it if you say you
+will; and here's gold to pay you well for your trouble. She's done her
+work, and the last few days have finished her. She had to help me save a
+woman in the West Country, and it's broken her."
+
+"I'll do it," said the farmer. "And you'll be wanting another horse?"
+
+"Not yet. When I do you shall hear from me. Will you take the mare
+to-night? If I looked at her again I do not think I could let her go."
+
+"Aye, it's like that with horses, we know," said the sympathetic farmer.
+"I'll take her to-night."
+
+The landlord went to the stables with him, and when he returned found
+the highwayman standing in deep thought before the fire.
+
+"I'm tired, friend. Is there a hole I can sleep in until daylight?"
+
+"Of course."
+
+"I must start at daybreak."
+
+"What! Without a horse?"
+
+"Yes, and without this," he said, taking off his brown mask, showing the
+landlord his features for the first time. "To-night 'Galloping Hermit'
+ceases to exist."
+
+He kicked the dying embers into a blaze, and dropped the mask into the
+fire.
+
+"That's the end of it. Show me this sleeping hole of mine," he said,
+taking up his parcel from the floor. "What clothes I leave in it you may
+have. I shall not want them any more."
+
+With the dawn a man came out of the inn. He looked at the sky, and up
+the road, and down it. Under his arm he carried a fiddle and a bow.
+There fell from his lips a little cadence of notes, soft, low, not a
+laugh, nor yet a sigh, yet with something of content in it.
+
+"For the love of a woman," he murmured, and then he went along the road
+northwards, his figure slowly lessening in the distance until it
+vanished over the brow of the hill which the morning sunlight had just
+touched.
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Brown Mask, by Percy J. Brebner
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BROWN MASK ***
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