CHAPTER XVIIINot until evening did Barbara emerge from her retirement. She found Sir Ralph seated by the spring, mightily refreshed with his sleep, but gazing somewhat gloomily at his surroundings.He greeted her appearance, however, enthusiastically."Ah! Barbara, that is well," he cried joyously. "Methought you had vanished entirely. Come, sit here and talk. I have a thousand things to say to thee, now we are alone. This is like old times again, is it not?"Barbara assented absently. She was wondering whither Captain Protheroe had vanished. She paid small heed to the look of admiration in her companion's eyes."You haven't forgotten the old days, have you, Barbara?" he questioned, with a suspicion of tenderness in his voice."Of course not," she answered gaily. "My memory is scarce so short. Why 'tis but five years since you were with us.""And I have thought on you every day since we parted, Barbara," he continued softly.Barbara started, there was no doubt as to the tenderness of the tone. She was on her guard."Indeed, a most profitless proceeding," she answered sharply.There was a pause during which Ralph feasted his eyes upon his companion's face. Then he continued in a meditative voice."Do you remember, Barbara, how Rupert and I were wont to play we were knights tilting for our lady's favour? You were ever my mistress then.""You had no choice," she answered laughing. "Rupert took all others unto himself.""Yet had you still been mine, Barbara, were there a thousand others, you alone. I wore your favour, and vowed to serve thee all my days. You have not forgotten that, Barbara? The day I took my vow?""Alack-a-day," murmured Barbara to herself. "Here now is Ralph gone crazy. Ah, me! what shall I do? And 'tis five years since we met. Can a man indeed remain so faithful?"She looked at him doubtfully, but the look in his eyes left no room for doubt. Then she grew angry at the folly and the wilfulness of man, who seeks ever for love where it may not be found. Yet her anger was slight, seeing no woman is ever angry at love, however unsought, and she pitied him and liked him the more for his love.So she answered lightly, striving to drive him from his course."We played many games in those days, Ralph, I cannot mind them all."But he leaned across and laid his hand upon hers. "'Twas not merely a game to me, Barbara, surely you know that? You knew that when we parted, Barbara."Then springing to his feet, he burst out eagerly: "Oh! Barbara, I swear I have thought on you each day these five long years. And now to find you again! You were lovely as a child, and I loved you. You are ten times more lovely now; why may I not love you still? And loving you, why may I not tell you so, as in the old days.""Because—because—Oh! 'tis folly. We were but children then, and——""Then let us be children again, Bab," he answered softly. "See, the forest has brought us together again, and——"But Barbara sprang to her feet, too angry with herself and shamed for having conjured up, in former days, this love which she could not still, and womanlike, angry with him for persisting in a love which pained her. For even the best of women look upon the heart of man as an unbreakable toy. They tread upon it unthinkingly."Indeed the forest has done nothing of the sort," she retorted angrily. "Do not be so foolish, Ralph, or I will talk with you no more. 'Tis unfair to tease me with matters that are past and done with."He looked at her gravely."I am not foolish, Bab, and 'tis not past and done with yet," he answered stubbornly."Then, 'tis high time it was. Look you, Ralph, I am glad you are here, 'tis good to see you again, but an you pester me with such talk, I shall—I shall—— I won't have it, Ralph; 'tis unfair."He looked at her doubtfully, not knowing what to make of her anger. Then he submitted with a quietness that surprised her. Yet he deemed his cause not hopeless, only unripe."I am sorry I angered you, Barbara," he answered quietly. "We will talk no more on the matter. Yet, perchance I seemed somewhat sudden. But I have always longed for you, Barbara, and when you came to me suddenly, in the wood, 'twas as tho' Paradise had opened to me again."Barbara answered nothing. She had seated herself again by the stream and was now plucking the grass and dropping it bit by bit into the rippling water, pondering the while why love may not beget love, and blaming herself for her ungracious acceptance of a constancy of homage a woman should be proud to win.Presently Ralph sat down again by her side, and eyeing her for a minute doubtfully, he began with some hesitation:"Barbara!""Well?""Who is this fellow?""What fellow, pray?""Why, this Protheroe. Where did you meet with him, eh!""I—I knew him first at Durford. He was quartered there with some troops, and rendered us some courtesy.""Hum! I like him not.""'Tis a pity," she answered drily."No," he continued gravely; "and I like not that you should be wandering thus in his company. Why not send him away now, Barbara?""Certainly not.""But wherefore not?" he urged."Because I do not choose," she answered tartly. "Besides 'twould be foul ingratitude. He saved me from prison.""That is no reason why you should burden him with your protection now I am here. Indeed, Barbara, 'twere wiser to—to thank him, and leave him now.""I will not. 'Twere most ungracious. And, prithee, how should we fare without him?""Well enow, I warrant. See here, Barbara, he may be honourable enow——""He is.""Yes, but he is not one of us. He is but a soldier of fortune, and I like not that you should have to do with such an one. 'Twas vastly unseemly that you and he should be trapesing the country alone together, and I only hope no harm comes o't.""And 'tis vastly impertinent of you, Ralph Trevellyan, to suppose that I cannot guard my honour and my own good name," she broke out hotly; for the suggestion in his words startled her, and stung her to the quick. "How dare you speak thus? Upon my word, Ralph, you may be an old friend, but, certes, you presume on the fact.""Good Heavens! Barbara. What is the matter? I only suggested——""Then do not do so again. Captain Protheroe is a most honourable gentleman. 'Tis base of you to distrust him.""Well! Don't be angry, Barbara," he pleaded quickly. "You know in Rupert's absence——""You put yourself in Rupert's place, eh? It suits you ill. Rupert hath both greater knowledge of me, and greater trust in me than thou hast, it would appear.""Now, Barbara, dear——Damnation!"He dropped her hand and turned aside angrily, for a rustling of leaves and crackling of twigs announced the return of the third member of the party.Barbara greeted him brightly; she was relieved at his return."Whither have you wandered, sir? You have been absent for hours.""I have been fishing, madame; behold my success."He crossed to her side, and with an air of deep pride laid before her three tiny trout."Is that all?" she asked doubtfully, fearing lest a smile might hurt his feelings."All!" he cried indignantly. "Why, what would you more? There is one apiece.""Assuredly, but——" then she noted the twinkle in his eyes and burst into a merry laugh."Indeed, sir; you have kept your promise nobly. Yet I think we must thank the fates that we are not entirely dependent for our supper upon your skill.""Ingratitude, thy name is woman! Here have I lain, arm deep in water, for three mortal hours, to catch these—er—tempting morsels, and all I meet with is contempt. Never again, Mistress Barbara.""And have you not even the story of some monster who hath escaped you, to comfort your heart?" she queried solemnly. "I believe Rupert ever derived much solace from such illusions when he could produce no more substantial triumph.""Alas, madame, I fear illusions are but little to my taste. But since you scorn my offerings, we had best make as good a meal as we can of the somewhat stale viands which remain to us, and then if you are rested, we ought to make a move."So they supped, and bidding farewell to the hollow, presently set out on their tramp.Their way led for some time through the wood, and when they finally emerged in the open country the night had already fallen.But Captain Protheroe knew the country well, he led them unerringly through meadows and along lonely and deserted bye-lanes, never pausing to doubt his path.They were, in truth, an ill-assorted party, these three, so strangely thrown together by Fortune, to tramp the night through. For the two men were divided by every difference of life, rank, opinion, and character; they were followers of different leaders, supporters of widely opposed causes, and but two months before they had been adversaries in one of the bloodiest battles of their time. And to this was yet added that fatal gulf twixt man and man, which even a lifelong friendship can scarce hope to bridge across—love for the same woman.By all tokens they should have hated each other, and assuredly they did.And Barbara? She had in hand a task which called for all the gentleness and tact of her nature. For with her lay the task of keeping these two at least in outward friendship, seeing from the one she could not, from the other she would not part. And yet, with neither, was her heart at ease. She could not rebuff Ralph, lest he in despair be again driven to desperate ends; moreover, the affection of a lifelong friendship, the gratitude for a constant love, above all, the loneliness of her position, forbade her be ungracious to one who loved so well. Yet even while she showed him kindness, her heart reproached her, knowing she was but leading him to hope for more. For 'tis ever so with women, their tenderness towards all misery leading them to be kind when they should be cruel, far more often than cruel when they should be kind.'Twixt Captain Protheroe and herself, checking the free flow of her spirit, lay the ever-widening barrier of her pride. For when she discerned the tenderness in his voice, or worship in his eyes, while her heart leaped towards him in the sweet simplicity of her love, her pride cried to her to beware, telling her that it was nought but pity for her weakness. The words of Ralph had done their part, bringing, like the words of the serpent, evil to the breast of Eve. For an it were in truth so unseemly, this wandering with him alone which before had seemed to her so sweet, so natural, what then would men say of that embrace in the prison, given, indeed, in all simplicity, yet given unsought? Nay, but what mattered it what men said? what would he think? Would he think her light o' love? Her heart burned at the thought. So she mused ever, growing morbid in her weariness, with the strain of those last fearful days. So she mused, scorning him in a fierce defiance lest perchance he deem her simple, shrinking from him in a fierce shame, lest he deem her unashamed.Thus her troubled thoughts strove within her brain, but to all outward seeming she was as before, gay, gracious, natural as a child.Only in her terror lest she seem to ask for love, she devoted herself more and more to Sir Ralph, whose love was assured, chatting with him of days gone by, laughing over the remembrance of childish mischiefs.And for a time Captain Protheroe submitted to be set aside, striding on ahead in gloomy silence, thinking on the journey of the previous night, and cursing the Fates for sending them this interloper to part their company.But after a while his heart accused him of cowardice, thus to stand aside and leave to a mere foolish boy, so he deemed their guest, the winning of a treasure that he yearned to make his own.Truly he had not over-many pleasant recollections to recall to her mind, yet one he had sweet to him, since the knowledge of it lay between their two hearts alone. So suddenly, as they walked, he fell back a pace or two, and in a pause turned to her with the question:"Where learned you the art of fence, Mistress Barbara?"She started and blushed. Then answered with a spice of mischief:"My master is beside me. Ralph initiated me in the art, and hath even greater skill than I, but we cannot all be experts," with a saucy glance. "Of late years I have practised mostly with Rupert."He saw the mischief in her face, but forgave it freely."Methought I recognised a trick or two of Jules Berin when we crossed blades. Has your brother studied with him?""No, but of his pupil. What know you of Jules Berin?" she asked quickly, a note of suspicion in her voice.He laughed, and answered unheeding:"Faith, I have been often to Paris, and we always have a bout together. For a soldier picks up many tricks in his wanderings, and, indeed, I have studied the art both in France, Italy, and the Low Countries. 'Tis one of the finest pleasures in the world"—he continued with enthusiasm—"to be pitted against a skilled adversary, straining every effort of wrist, eye and nerve."There was a moment's silence. Then Barbara demanded quietly:"Then where learned you the trick of disarming yourself, sir?"He started."Madame?""Was it a trick or no? I had not deemed it so before, yet now I fear—— Confess, sir."He laughed softly. "Alas, madame, you have entrapped me. I must confess to the trick. I learned it then, madame, when I learned many other matters 'twould scarce interest you to hear of."Barbara sighed and smiled."See how we poor women may be deceived by our own vanity. For ever since our meeting I have deemed myself a most excellent swordswoman, and gloried in my skill.""But so indeed you are," he protested eagerly. "And when we have the opportunity, I will teach you passes that perchance none save I and half a dozen others understand."But here Barbara must turn again to Ralph, who was listening jealously to the conversation which he could in no wise comprehend. Skilfully she drew him on to talk, and presently the two men were engaged in a deep discussion of their favourite pastime, waxing for the nonce almost friendly over their eager comparison of rival styles of fence.So they talked, merrily enough, well-nigh forgetting they were fugitives in fear of their lives. For brave hearts do not brood on distresses, but rather despise them, defying the oppressions of crabbed Fortune, and reaping gladness even from the sorrows she has sown.They walked the night through, halting at times to rest, jet for the most part pushing on as rapidly as possible, that their wanderings might be the sooner ended. Many a time, when the night had grown old, and the silence of weariness had fallen upon them, did Captain Protheroe glance anxiously at the girl at his side, for he knew nothing of the powers of a woman, and doubted whether he were not pushing her strength too far. But she answered him ever with a bright smile and quickened pace, though her limbs ached and her body was heavy with fatigue. For she would in no wise endure to be a drag upon his purpose, and he, marvelling at her endurance, let her be. Yet he was very tender towards her, wrapping her in his cloak whenever they halted for a rest, fetching her fresh water to drink, doing all in his power to ease her journey; and all without question or explanation, but with a gentle, quiet courtesy that softened even her pride, and led her to submit to his ministrations with a sweet gladness.Onward they journeyed, until with the first grey tinge of morning light they found themselves upon a wide moor, intersected by deep ditches, stretching wild and drear before them in the cold light of the dawning. Here and there on the wide expanse loomed dark and shadowy the outline of some village, the clustering houses pressing round the sheltering tower of the church. Here and there the light gleamed coldly on the dead waters of some still dank morass; it was a scene well suited to the corpse-like grey of dawn, a scene of utter desolation.The two men glanced quickly at one another as the growing light revealed each minute more distinctly their surroundings.Then with one accord they turned to Barbara.She was gazing about her in astonishment."What place is this?" she questioned. "'Tis like a field of the dead.""And so it is, Barbara," answered Ralph quietly. "This is Sedgemoor."She shuddered fearfully."Truly a scene well fitted to the death of such a cause," she muttered. "One would call it the haunt of devils. Why did you bring me here?"Captain Protheroe shrugged his shoulders. "It lay upon our way, madame, and I fear I thought no more on the matter. The world has many battlefields——""But none as this one—to us." Then she continued more brightly, "Whither go we, then?"Captain Protheroe pointed across the plain to one oil the villages just emerging from the mist."Yonder is our destination, Mistress Barbara. 'Tis the village of Chedzey. In that village is an inn, an inn so atrocious that neither officer nor man of the royal troops would ever willingly put head inside the door. I lay there once, in ignorance, and had hoped never again to be so led astray. But times have changed, and it must be our refuge.""But how? Surely the folk will suspect. Our dress——""I purpose to go there as an officer of the royal army, who hath made an important capture of two desperate rebels, yourself and Sir Ralph, to wit. The capture was made this morning before daybreak. I have sent my men on to Wells to fetch an escort; we remain all day at the inn, and at night, our escort not arriving, we set out to meet them on foot. What think you of the scheme?""'Tis a mighty lame story," muttered Sir Ralph scornfully."Zounds, man, then devise a better," was the angry retort. "What matter the story an we carry it off with a high hand? These rustics are simple enow, and they know better than to carp or question the words of an officer of the king. Besides, we cannot lie out here all day, and Mistress Barbara requires rest and food before she set off on another tramp.""As you will then," answered Ralph somewhat sulkily, "But the danger is great.""Of course the danger is great. What then? In a great game a man must play high if he stands in to win. What say you, madame?""That I fear you are a gambler, sir," she answered quickly, eager to dispel the quarrel. "But since there seems no alternative, why talk further? Let us to Chedzey and trust to fortune.""We must needs wait a little space. 'Tis somewhat early hours for calling."So they sat to rest, and watched the golden light sweep up the sky and shade softly into the pale rose of the sunrise.Presently Barbara turned to Captain Protheroe."Tell me a little how the battle was ordered," she commanded."Faith, madame, that is no easy task," he laughed. "A man hath little time to note much of a fight save his own men and those immediately opposing him. And the greater part was fought in darkness, to boot. But—yonder at Chedzey lay our camp, the militia was at Middlezey and the cavalry with the general over there at Western Zeyland. 'Twas a night attack, you must know, and should have been a surprise, but the Duke's army, being stopped by the Bussex Rhine—yonder it lies.""What! That little ditch to stop an army?""Aye! But 'twas flooded then, full twenty feet across. And they made such a to-do being held up by a strange river that our outposts discovered them and we soon turned out. We couldn't get across at them, but drew up our men on the far side of the ditch and fired across. We were twenty feet apart, mind you, but their fellows fired too high and there was small slaughter on our side the ditch. Later we bridged the Rhine and got fairly at them, and then our cavalry came round from Western Zeyland and then 'twas soon over. There was no doubt of victory from the beginning, and but for the darkness and some confusion at first the fight had not lasted so long. The peasants fought bravely enow, I confess,—I would I had the training of some of them,—but the attack was bungled. Nothing was provided for, their guides led them astray, their ammunition was lost, they had no competent leaders, and not knowing whether to advance or retire, they stood still and were cut down like grass. The leadership was a disgrace. Lord Grey and the cavalry ran away, at the first shot, and the Duke and most of his officers directly after.""By Heavens, sir! I will endure no more."Sir Ralph stood beside them, his hand clapped to his sword-hilt, his face crimson, his eyes blazing with fury."I will endure no more o' this!" he cried. "Is it not enough, sir, that you force yourself upon this lady's company, but you must needs poison her ears with lies concerning your damned victory, with dastardly slanders against myself and my friends? By Heaven, sir, but you shall answer for those words ere the world be a day older."Captain Protheroe stared for a moment in amazement. Then he gave a quick exclamation of annoyance and embarrassment."Peste!" he muttered. "I had entirely forgotten you were o' the other party.""Maybe, sir, but that is no excuse for your words."The officer rose to his feet, looking annoyed and troubled."My words! I am sorry they offend you. Had I but remembered your presence I had not spoken so rashly, perchance. But—the words are spoken, and"—with a shrug, "i' faith, I cannot alter facts.""Facts! The whole story is a dastardly lie.""Sir!""And you shall give me satisfaction.""With the greatest pleasure, sir, as soon as I can come by a sword. I shall enjoy nothing more."Barbara gazed desperately from one angry man to the other, hesitating what best to do. Then she stepped between them with quiet dignity."Ralph! Captain Protheroe! Gentlemen! You forget yourselves, I think."Captain Protheroe flushed and bowed stiffly. "Your pardon, madame," he said coldly.Sir Ralph looked moodily at the girl.The danger was not yet past."Captain Protheroe," she continued, with the same quiet air of command, "I have dropped my—my kerchief in yonder ditch, I think. Will you have the goodness to go in search of it."He stared at the audacity of the request, for as Barbara had never approached the place she indicated, his search promised to be a somewhat fruitless one. But meeting her resolute glance he turned without a word, and strode down into the deep tangle of gorse and bracken that covered the bottom of that dried-up ditch.Then Barbara turned to Ralph, and used all her arts to bring him to a more peaceable frame of mind."Indeed, Ralph," she urged, "'tis sheer folly to be so enraged; you could scarce be more so had you run away in good truth. He meant not to offend thee, I am sure on't. He spoke but what he knew. Doubtless all the royal side think thus of the fight.""But 'tis a sheer lie to say we ran away at the first shot, or for that matter, ran away at all. A foul, dastardly lie.""Oh, hush, Ralph. He speaks but as he has heard, and doubtless he believes it to be true. Anyhow, 'tis nought to fight about.""You don't understand, Barbara," persisted the enraged man impatiently. "What should you know of a man's honour, and when it behooves him to fight for it? I tell you he must answer for his words.""And I tell you you must not fight. Think, Ralph, suppose you killed each other, I should be alone."There were tears of desperation in her eyes; he was moved to pity."There, there! Barbara, don't you be troubled," he said, patting her hand with an air of humouring kindness. "I promise you we will not fight yet, not at least till you are in safety. I doubt not 'twill need both our wits to get out of this pother. A quarrel does not stale with delay, we'll postpone it till more favourable date."And with that Barbara was for the present content. She had staved off the fight; who could tell what the future might bring?So they turned to seek Captain Protheroe, but he was not in sight, neither did he answer to their call. But hurrying to the edge of the fosse they peered down and saw him, on his knees, in a tangle of bracken, all his attention riveted upon a small packet which he held in his hands.Barbara called to him eagerly."I have found my kerchief, 'tis needless to seek further. What have you there?"Then he rose to his feet, and climbed up to her side. The two on the bank stared at him in amazement; his eyes blazed with a strange light, and his voice trembled with excitement."Mistress Barbara! Sir Ralph! What think you I have found? Nay, you would never dream it. 'Tis a miracle of wonder. 'Tis well-nigh inconceivable.""But what is it? What mean you?" they cried in amaze.His hand shook with eagerness as he held out his prize. 'Twas a small letter-case in green silk, richly embroidered in gold; a maze of scrolls, in the centre of which were the letters J. M. entwined beneath a coronet sewn with pearls. Barbara looked at it in doubt; what might be there to cause such desperate eagerness."J. M.," she questioned. "That is——""James, Duke of Monmouth, madame, who else? And were there a doubt, the contents dispel it.""The contents?""Aye. I have already searched it. It contains five letters, so precious, madame, that it would seem he bore them ever about his person. How they came here is a mystery; he must have lost them in the hurry of his flight. 'Twas indeed irony of fate that he should lose them just in the time of need.""But what are these letters?" interrupted Ralph impatiently."Three are from Lady—from a woman.""You did not read them!" interposed Barbara quickly."Nay, madame, they are sacred. We will leave them to the grave Nature herself has prepared."He tore them in pieces and scattered them slowly into the ditch. Then as the last scrap of paper settled into the shadow of the gorse, he muttered softly:"There lies, I doubt not, the story of a hopeless love.""But the others!" interposed Ralph sharply."The others!" Here Captain Protheroe laughed quickly, all the excitement returning to his face. "Ah! the old fox, how he duped us! These other letters are from no less a person than George Jeffreys, Lord Chief Justice of England.""From Jeffreys, and to the Duke?""Even so. Faith! I knew the scare at the Duke's invasion was great, but I never dreamed 'twas so serious as to lead so cautious a toad as Jeffreys thus far to commit himself.""Read!" commanded Barbara, in a maze of thought.So Captain Protheroe again unfolded the letters and read their contents aloud, while his companions listened with breathless eagerness.To his Grace the Duke of Monmouth by the hand of my Secretary Stephen Jewars:YOUR GRACE.—Concerning the matters upon which Mr. Ferguson hath already spoken with me, I do assure your Grace that I am your Grace's most devoted servant in this affair, and I do earnestly pray that your Grace's present undertaking may meet with success. The time is well nigh ripe for the attempt. The nation hath been much discontented with the manner of the late elections, and the speech of Master Edward Seymour (of which doubtless your Grace hath heard), is the subject of conversation throughout the town, having awakened much thought in the minds of the people. His present Majesty sits but unsteadily upon the throne, and his power will be yet more greatly shaken when he hath carried out that which is in his mind. For 'tis his fixed intention to forward by all means the cause of the Papish religion so abhorrent to the people of England, and to this end he purposeth as soon as may be to seek to bring about the repeal of the Habeas Corpus and the abolition of the Test Act. It needeth but the introduction of such measures to awaken in all power the indignation of this people, and to turn their eyes at once to him who alone is at hand to save them from tyranny and oppression, your Grace's self. Therefore, your Grace, I do most humbly beseech you to delay yet a little while, this undertaking, till His Majesty shall have so deeply committed himself in defence of his religion that his person shall have become abhorred of all the people, and your Grace shall indeed be welcomed as the saviour of an unhappy nation. And to this end, I will with all diligence seek to abuse the mind of His Majesty with regard to the will of his subjects, and so urge him more speedily on his course.I rely upon your Grace's sacred promise, to preserve this letter a secret even from your Grace's most intimate followers, for rumour is many tongued, and as you will readily conceive should a breath of suspicion light upon me, my power to assist your Grace with information of the Council Chamber will be forever destroyed.Ever your Grace's most devoted servant,GEORGE JEFFREYS."This second is dated June, written after the Duke's landing, when all London was in a ferment as to what should befall."YOUR GRACE.—I do greatly rejoice to hear what manner of welcome hath been accorded your Grace. Only a consciousness that I may better serve your Grace in my present post holds me back from hastening to your side. But I must warn your Grace that many preparations are about to be made to withstand your progress. General Feversham will start for the West in three days, and with him all the forces collected in this neighbourhood; General Churchill hath already departed thither with the Blues. His Majesty hath further summoned home such regiments as are at present abroad in the Dutch service, but their loyalty is greatly questioned, and 'tis also feared that the militia of Devon and Somerset will at the first encounter go over to the side of your Grace.It were wise, an it meet with your Grace's approval to strike rapidly for London, avoiding encounter with General Feversham (of whose route I will keep your Grace informed). For here be few troops and those of doubtful loyalty, and the late arrests in the City have won for your Grace many waverers.Again relying upon your Grace's promise to keep this matter secret I remain deeply grateful to your Grace for your most generous offers, and I pray Heaven to send your Grace all success in this undertaking.Ever your Grace's most devoted servant,GEORGE JEFFREYS."So they run. Treason clear enow, is't not?""Pah! the traitor!" cried Ralph furiously. "And now, having himself conspired against the King, yet he goes free and sits high, judging his fellow conspirators.""And such judgments," cried Barbara. "Such wicked, brutal judgments. Oh! 'tis unbearable.""And yet, Mistress Barbara, methinks his lordship is himself in no very enviable position. I doubt not he would give much to know the whereabouts of these letters. And when he sits in court, and rolls out his bloody sentences, I dare swear his own head feels somewhat unsteady on his shoulders.""That which we overheard in the inn at Taunton, was not that also part of his treachery?""By Heavens, yes. This explains his dealings with Ferguson. Doubtless Ferguson acted as go-between; he knew the secret and he is no man to spare his friend an he can use him. It was indeed highly important Ferguson should leave the country in safety.""But why did not Duke Monmouth betray him?" asked Barbara."Because the Duke was no traitor," answered Ralph sharply."Possibly," answered the captain drily. "And otherwise, he had lost the proofs. Men say the Duke wrote to his Majesty, claiming to have some secret to confide in him after his arrest; is't possible he referred to this treachery of Jeffreys? But 'twould have been useless to bring such accusation without proof.""Well, here are the proofs. Now what were best to do?" began Ralph eagerly."Nothing.""Nothing! What! when you hold in your hands such perfect revenge, wouldest leave the scoundrel free to guard his neck in safety?""The safety of Jeffreys' neck is a matter of small importance to me compared with the safety of my own. Jeffreys is a man in power. There are, certainly, other men in power, who would give substantial consideration for the possession of this knowledge and who would joyfully work his ruin. Sunderland or my Lord Halifax, for example. There are such men, I say, but unfortunately, it is—er—far from convenient for me to appear before them at present. No, we are outlaws flying from the justice of the country, and the faster we fly, the wiser we shall be. Let us get safely to Holland, there will be time enough for revenge when our own necks are in safety."Ralph submitted reluctantly. 'Twas natural that to him, whose own friends and followers had suffered so horribly at the hands of the lord chief justice, revenge should appear more sweet than life itself, but he recognised the truth of his companion's words, and for Barbara's sake, if for no other, consented to leave the matter in Captain Protheroe's hands.The sun was now risen, and the clear light revealed the pallor of Barbara's face, the dark rings of weariness round her eyes. Reproaching himself for having so long forgotten her, Captain Protheroe proposed they should at once repair to the village.Their preparations were soon completed. The captain buckled on Ralph's sword, tied the latter's hands behind him, and drawing Barbara's arm through his they marched forward.CHAPTER XIXThe village of Chedzey was little more than a collection of mean cottages, the largest of which was the inn. The inhabitants were already stirring, and the wife of the innkeeper was standing at her door when the party approached.She stared in amazement and pity at Barbara's tattered garments and weary face, and cast a scowl in the direction of the officer whom she recognized as one of the hated Tangiers regiment, lately the scourge of the countryside. To his demand for beds and breakfast she answered sulkily that he must seek further, the house could provide him nothing, and even when he sharply urged his commands, she advanced grumbling objections and refused to move from the doorway.But upon this her husband appeared, in fear at sight of the officer, and sharply bade her hold her peace, and let the strangers enter."Art mad, wife?" he whispered. "Wouldest have the house burned about our ears, that thou darest to thwart one o' Kirke's officers? Stand by, and let him have his way.""Thou wast ever a chicken-hearted fool, John," retorted the woman scornfully. "This is an honest house, and not for such wastrels as they o' the royal army. But have your way and don't blame me an you like not your customers.""Pardon, your honour," cried the man, bowing low before the captain. "The woman's tongue runs out of all holding. Peace, jade, and get you in, or 'twill be the worse for you."With an angry glance at her husband the woman withdrew, and the host led the way upstairs into a poorly-furnished parlour, where after some little delay breakfast was served, no very tempting meal, but welcome indeed to the famished travellers.Judging that where most is told, least is surmised, Captain Protheroe gave mine host a detailed account of the capture of his prisoners, adding such realistic details as most appealed to his sense of fitness. His horse, he said had been shot by the rebel, hence his journeying to the village on foot, his only trooper having been despatched to Wells for fresh horses and escort.Barbara and Ralph listened with great interest to the dramatic account of the latter's desperate struggle, with difficulty refraining from applause at the close of his picturesque statement.But the woman's eyes filled with tears, when she learned the nature of her guests, and when later she conducted Barbara to her chamber, she hung over her with a thousand tender offices, bathing her tired feet, brushing out her tossed hair, doing all in her power to increase the comfort of the weary girl."Eh! my dearie, my dearie," she cried pityingly. "What will they do to thee? And so young, too, as thou art. But 'tis a black-hearted crew they are, and no denying it. My heart bleeds for thee, my beauty. Curse them! Curse them to hell, say I. Nay, my tongue runs wildly, I know, but who could help it. Look you, my pretty, I have a son, even such as thy brother yonder, but younger by some years. To the fight he would go, I could not hold him back. And I sat here all that bloody night, hearkening to the firing, dreaming that each shot bore his death. He came not back. Then I went out to search; I sought night and day among the slain, but he was not there. So I blessed Heaven, and waited his return. But he comes not, nor sends, and I know not where he lies; at times 'twould seem I can bear no more, but must e'en go seek him through the world, till I find him. Ah, my lamb! my son, my bonny son, where art thou?"Thus she wailed, and Barbara, despite her weariness, comforted her as best she might, praying to Heaven for pity on this sorrow no earthly hand could soothe.Presently the woman recovered, and with many apologies, rose to leave the room, yet she turned once again before she reached the door."My dearie, it seems not possible to aid thee, yet be sure, an I can do aught for thee, I will do it. And who can say? A chance may offer. I will watch. Now sleep, I will weary thee no more."In order to give more realism to the story of his capture, and also to prevent their disturbance, Captain Protheroe chose to rest in the parlour, out of which both the sleeping chambers led. As luck would have it, they were the sole visitors to the inn, a little-frequented place, and were consequently left to sleep in peace throughout the day. They were full wearied, and it was not until five in the evening that Captain Protheroe roused his companions, and summoning mine host, gave orders that dinner be presently served.The three adventurers were thoroughly refreshed by their long rest, their spirits were high, and when they assembled at the meal they were all prepared to play to the utmost advantage their several parts in the game of chance upon which they had embarked.Therefore, while mine host prepared the table, Captain Protheroe, remembering his story, enquired most particularly whether his escort had not yet arrived, expressing great indignation when he learned that it was yet to be expected.Barbara laughed mockingly behind mine host's fat back while this conversation was toward. Her amusement increased as the game proceeded. She longed to add dramatic touches of her own, but prudently refrained. Nevertheless, she challenged the officer mischievously with her eyes, and he, accepting the challenge, cursed the lazy trooper roundly, rated mine host, and bade him keep sharp lookout lest the escort, missing the house, ride past unheeding.So they sat down to dinner, mocking at Fortune, jesting over the gulf which yawned at their feet.And Fortune, in revenge for their confidence, turned her wheel.For, as danger oft shows least when nearest to hand, scarcely had they commenced their meal when the sound of approaching horses broke upon their ears, and two minutes later after a confusion of shouts, the door was burst open, and mine host hurried into the room."Your honour!" he cried joyously. "All is well. Your honour's escort has arrived."Ralph dropped his knife with a rude clatter, and half started from his seat, while a quick gasp of fear escaped from Barbara's white lips.Captain Protheroe paused for a moment, his glass to his lips; cool soldier though he was, his hand trembled and the red wine splashed over the brim and stained his sleeve.Then he turned on mine host with a sudden oath:"What mean you by this intrusion, blockhead?" he thundered. "Shut the door and say your say. What is't?""The escort, your honour," stammered mine host. "'Twas even as your honour supposed. They had mistaken the place, and would have ridden past, had I not hailed them, saying your honour was even here. They wait in the street below.""Let them wait, we cannot set out yet, before we have dined," retorted the captain sharply. "See the men have drink, and leave us. Shut the door behind you," he shouted as mine host left the room, "'tis most infernally cold here."Directly the door was closed, all three sprang to the window. 'Twas even as the man had said. In the street below six mounted troopers were drawn up; but their leader was not in sight, he stood talking to mine host at the door."Heaven help us!" cried Ralph desperately. "What to do now, I wonder. What in heaven and earth can we do?"Barbara was silent, her eyes fixed on Captain Protheroe's face.He strode the room fiercely as his custom was, in thought. Then he gave a short laugh."So much for vainglorious boastings," he muttered. "Out of our own mouths we are betrayed. Certes, the game is against us now. We could hold the room—but that were folly. And escape is not to be thought on. Yet—Pah! what a fool! No. I see nought to be done, save wear a bold countenance, and play out the game to the end. 'Tis a wise maxim when the luck turns. And it may be the men have not yet heard——"Again the door was opened and mine host entered once more; the joyous importance had died from his face; he looked depressed and dubious."Your honour!" he began nervously, "I seem, in my zeal to obey your commands, to have mistaken the matter. These men are not your honour's escort, but a party of dragoons riding from Bridgewater to Wells. Nevertheless, seeing the escort does not yet arrive, and learning your honour's difficulty, they put themselves at your honour's service. And their honourable commander craves the honour of waiting upon your honour in your honour's room."A moment's perceptible silence, then with a curt "'Tis well, bring him here," mine host was dismissed.The three fugitives waited in silence for the man's return. Only when the soldier's footstep sounded on the stairs, Captain Protheroe leaned forward and laid his hand on Barbara's arm."Do not be afraid, Mistress Barbara." he said quickly. "We will win safe through this somehow. Trust us."And Barbara, with trembling lips, smiled bravely back at him."I am not afraid," she said simply.Then mine host, with many obsequious bows, ushered in the visitor.The officer was a big, blustering fellow, coarse of face, and rough in manner. He strode noisily into the room, and on seeing the captain burst into a boisterous laugh."Ha, Protheroe, my boy! Well met. The fellow below couldn't tell me your name or I warrant you I'd have been up here long before. What's all this about your escort, eh? Lost your horse, two captures, and the fool of a trooper not yet returned. Ha, ha! Protheroe, you go well to work. 'Tis good I came this way, you'd scarce fancy passing the night here, eh? We are riding to Wells and can take you on with us.""Good!" answered the captain quickly. "But we've no hurry to start yet awhile. Sit down and drink, man, the night's young enough yet, and my men may still come. Look you, fellow,"—to mine host,—"set out more wine, and then begone and see to the men below. And harkee, don't come crashing in like a wild bull again; if we want you I will call. And if my men arrive, let them wait below. Now begone."Then he turned to his guest."Come, Jonas, sit down, and drink; there's no need to start for another hour."Captain Jonas was standing in the centre of the room, hat in hand, bowing elaborately to Barbara, and ogling her the while with his great protruding eyes."By Jove, Protheroe!" he drawled, "is this your capture. Zounds! What a prize. You're a hard man to keep such a beauty in limbo. Best put yourself under my protection, mistress; I'll keep you safe. I'll not swear to set you free, but at least I'll wager that pretty face shall never waste in prison."Checking swiftly an angry movement from Ralph, Barbara curtsied with quiet dignity, and moved again to her seat at the table."Oh, ho! a lady, eh? Who is she, Protheroe?" asked Captain Jonas in an audible whisper.Captain Protheroe shrugged his shoulders."Pah! Only a rebel. Come, drink, man, and tell Us news. Where do you hail from?""Bridgewater! As dead and drear a hole as ever man was quartered in. Praise be to the devil we're moving on to Wells, and in a month we'll be quit o' this cursed west country, where there is neither a pretty woman—saving your presence, madame—nor a decent bottle of wine for a man to solace himself withal. I thought you were at Taunton, Protheroe!""I was—till yesterday. Is there no news from your way?""By-the-way, Protheroe!" he exclaimed with a sudden burst of laughter, setting down his glass and slapping his knee. "How could I have forgot it! I' faith there is news, news o' the queerest, and you are the very man it concerns.""Ah! What then?""A fellow came over from Taunton yesterday morning with the wildest tale. Some cock-and-bull story of your arrest, and then later of a prison-breaking, and your disappearance with some woman. But 'twas but a half-drunk trooper, and as I was over in Taunton on Monday and heard nought o' the matter, I beat the fellow as a slanderer of the King's service. 'Twas all a lie, I suppose."Captain Protheroe glanced quickly at the speaker. Then he leaned across the table and poured out a fresh glass of wine."Well, no, not entirely a lie," he answered coolly. "I was arrested, a jest of the colonel's, some wager with my Lord Jeffreys. I was released in the morning, of course. The prison-breaking is true, too, 'twas the same night. But a tale grows like a mushroom in the telling. Heard any news from town?""What should I hear in a hole like Bridgewater?" answered Captain Jonas indignantly.Then he turned to Barbara, at whom he had been staring with insulting openness ever since his entrance."I could swear I have seen your face before, madame, but I can't for the life of me recollect where. 'Tisn't a face one forgets soon, neither," he continued, ogling her afresh."My poor face is honoured by your recollection, sir," answered the girl coolly. "It must be some time ago that we met. Since my escape I have necessarily had little converse with the King's officers."The man laughed loudly."I don't doubt it, madame. Your escape, eh? So you broke prison, did you? Was that long since?"Barbara bit her lip in irritation at her slip."Some while since, sir. But few words make least mischief, so, an't please you, I'll keep my story for the crown lawyers to devise. You can hear it then, an you care to attend my trial.""By Jove, madame, you have courage," laughed the man admiringly. "Come, what is your name?""That also, sir, 'tis the lawyer's business to discover," she answered calmly.The soldier laughed once more, and turning to Captain Protheroe, he entered forthwith into a keen discussion as to the merits of the new regiments the King was then raising and the possibility of the formation of a large standing army in the country.The three conspirators drew sighs of relief at the change of subject, and for some little time there was peace, while the new arrival chattered, drank, and ogled Barbara, and they waited with anxious hearts for the next move in the game.Suddenly Captain Jonas broke off abruptly in the middle of a dissertation concerning the absolute demand for more careful training of cavalry, and after staring for a moment fixedly at the girl, he burst into a quick laugh."By Jove! I have it," he shouted. "'Twas in court at Taunton, I saw you, madame, and not later than Monday last. I saw your trial. What a fool I am! And the name, the name? What was it now? Ha, ha! madame, I'll have it in a minute, we'll not leave it to the lawyers to devise.""Well! Lydia Philbeg, an you must have it," answered Barbara calmly.But Captain Jonas shook his head."Softly, madame, it ran not so. Philbeg! No, I swear that was not the name.""What a pother about a name," interrupted Captain Protheroe impatiently. "Leave the girl in peace, an she wishes to be unknown. Fill your glass, man, and pass the bottle. 'Tis poor stuff, but what can one expect in such a hole? Where are you quartered in Wells, eh?""We put up at the Green Buck. 'Tis not much of a place, but the wine is fair, and old Dame Barbara has—By Heavens! the very name. That's queer now. Barbara——Barba—Barbara Winslow or I'm a Dutchman! Your health, Mistress Barbara Winslow. Ha, ha! I knew I'd remember it soon. We toasted you after the trial, before I rode back to quarters. Lydia Philbeg, forsooth! Ha, ha! madame, I've got you now!""'Well, I hope to goodness you're satisfied now, Jonas," answered the Captain impatiently. "What a man you are for hunting a hare to death!"But a sudden gravity had come over Captain Jonas."Barbara Winslow!" he muttered. "Zounds! Protheroe, that's queer. 'Tis the very name of the woman they said you had run off with from Taunton gaol."Captain Protheroe set down his glass suddenly. He saw suspicion dawning in his companion's eyes. "Hang it all, Jonas! The fellow must have been a d—— an infernal fool. Mistress Winslow escaped indeed, and I was posted after her in pursuit, and caught her this morning. That's the length of the story. Why, devil take you, man, if I had run off with her, should I be here now? Not unless I was a greater fool than—than you are."But suspicion still hardened in the soldier's eyes."Then did the lady escape alone?" he questioned cunningly."I bore Mistress Winslow company," interrupted Ralph quietly.Captain Jonas turned to him sharply."You?" he asked contemptuously. "And who may you be?"The youth drew himself up haughtily."I am Sir Ralph Trevellyan," he answered, eyeing the captain defiantly."Ralph Trevellyan. Why that's the name o' the fellow who escaped us at Burrows' Farm, four days syne. Burrows' son told me so himself, under the whip. You never saw the inside of Taunton gaol, my friend.""Tut! man," interposed Captain Protheroe lightly. "Let them have their little romance. We can prove their identity well enow, so a lie more or less is no matter, and seems to cheer their spirits mightily. Fill your glass, and tell us the latest about the fair Arabella."Captain Jonas darted a sharp glance at the speaker. Captain Protheroe leaned back in his chair, and met the suspicious glance with a lazy smile. But behind his nonchalant demeanour his wits worked shrewdly, and he never for an instant took his eyes from his companion's face.There was a slight pause. Then in an altered voice Captain Jonas asked:"Where did you take them, Protheroe?""Peste! What a man you are for detail. If you must have the story, I ran them to earth between four and five this morning, in hiding in Mart Mill three miles south of Bridgewater."A strange light crept into Captain Jonas' eyes. There was dead silence for a moment before he answered in a strange voice:"That is strange, Protheroe. I drew that cover myself this morning at four o'clock, and I'll be sworn it was empty."Then suddenly dashing down his glass, he sprang to his feet."By Heavens, Protheroe!" he shouted fiercely, "I believe you've been lying to me from beginning to end."But he got no further. Ere Captain Protheroe could snatch his sword from its sheath, Ralph was at the man's throat, burying his fingers deep in the soft flesh.Captain Jonas was a strong man, and despite the suddenness of the attack, he fought with desperate fury. They swayed together, tottered, fell; rolling over in a wild indistinguishable mass of struggling limbs. There was no sound, save only Ralph's quick breathing and now and again a choking, inarticulate cry from Captain Jonas. Over again they rolled, and now the man's struggles were weaker. Ralph's grip had told."Oh! are you killing him?" whispered Barbara, watching the struggle in horror."No, he's not dead yet," gasped Ralph. "Out of the way, Barbara, while we finish him.""Ah, no! You will not kill him now!" she gasped."There will be no need if he is quiet," answered the captain quickly. "But we must get him out of the way as soon as we can. Give me a cloth to gag him."Quickly Barbara tore off her kerchief, and together the men gagged his mouth, and strapped his arms with his own sword-belt. They rifled his pockets of money, and took sword and pistol, for necessity knows no law.Meanwhile Captain Protheroe devised his plan."We must get out of here as soon as possible," he urged, "or these cursed troopers will be down on us. And 'twere useless to slip away secretly, 'twould but arouse suspicion, and bring mine host to the search. We must play high again and carry it off by a bold show. What then? The gallant captain is drunk, he would have been so in another hour, had he been left in peace. We will put him to bed, and bid the men leave him undisturbed. Then we take three of the troopers' horses and ride off, leaving them to follow. when their officer is returned to his senses. What say you?""But is there no risk——" began Barbara."Good Heavens! madame, of course there are, a thousand risks, but we have no time to stop and count them. Once let the men discover us, and it's all over. Now to bed with this gentleman. We must wait a little to give him a reasonable time to get drunk, and then—away."They carried Captain Jonas into one of the bed chambers, tied him securely to the bed with one of the sheets, and covering him over well, they left him, locking the door behind them.Then they sat down to wait, their hearts leaping at every footstep, watching the light fade in the west, and listening to the distant sounds of the troopers carousing at the back of the house.But after half an hour they could endure no more. Ralph's nerves were shaken by the struggle, for his strength was not yet returned after his wound, and Barbara was trembling from head to foot. So Captain Protheroe resolved to wait no longer, but to make their escape while they could.Accordingly they descended the stairs, and summoning mine host, they paid their reckoning generously, telling him at the same time that the captain had gone to sleep and must in no wise be disturbed.Mine host showed no surprise. He knew his wines, and doubtless was accustomed to the speedy overthrow of his guests. Moreover, it was not often that his house met with such patrons, and he blessed Heaven secretly for his good fortune in sending him a second officer in need of a night's shelter.Then, with some misgivings Captain Protheroe summoned one of the troopers, and bade him bring up three of the horses. But the man was half-fuddled with drink, and only stared stupidly at the officer. So they thrust him aside and unhitched the horses themselves, and the cool, leisurely manner in which they went about the business disarmed suspicion, and none made a motion to gainsay them.Captain Protheroe lifted Barbara into the saddle. She was perforce obliged to ride astride. He felt her tremble in his arms, but her face was calm and firm.The woman came out of the house with a cloak and wrapped it round her.Barbara stooped down quickly."The troopers!" she whispered; "keep them here. I may escape from him, but from the troopers never."The woman patted her hand tenderly."Trust me, my dearie," she answered softly. "An wine can make them drunk they shan't move till morning. God keep thee safe, my dearie.""And bring your son to you again.""I ride to Wells," said Captain Protheroe as he mounted. "If my men arrive send them after me. Tell Captain Jonas I hope to meet him there anon. Good-even."They clattered off into the darkness."Was that wise?" whispered Barbara when they had left the village behind them. "Will they not seek us in Wells?"The captain smiled sagely."Truth is often expedient, Mistress Barbara, because no one believes it. Captain Jonas is one if those crafty fools who if they would ride secretly to Wells say loudly: 'I ride to Taunton,' and follow the road a mile or so before they double back, chuckling at their wisdom. I trust him to judge me by himself.""Is not horse-stealing a capital offence?" queried Ralph cheerfully.Captain Protheroe laughed."I' faith, I have committed so many capital offences during the last three days, that one more or less is of small moment. Prison-breaking, petty larceny, assault and robbery, and horse-stealing; 'tis a lively record.""We are well out of the last danger," sighed Barbara."By Heavens! Yes. I thought not to get off so easily. My only plan was to make the fellow drunk, or to lead Mistress Barbara to feign illness when 'twas time to set out, and so we remain behind. But the stars are on our side, we have not only routed the enemy, but got off with their supplies and transport, into the bargain. We should be at Wells by nine o'clock."
CHAPTER XVIII
Not until evening did Barbara emerge from her retirement. She found Sir Ralph seated by the spring, mightily refreshed with his sleep, but gazing somewhat gloomily at his surroundings.
He greeted her appearance, however, enthusiastically.
"Ah! Barbara, that is well," he cried joyously. "Methought you had vanished entirely. Come, sit here and talk. I have a thousand things to say to thee, now we are alone. This is like old times again, is it not?"
Barbara assented absently. She was wondering whither Captain Protheroe had vanished. She paid small heed to the look of admiration in her companion's eyes.
"You haven't forgotten the old days, have you, Barbara?" he questioned, with a suspicion of tenderness in his voice.
"Of course not," she answered gaily. "My memory is scarce so short. Why 'tis but five years since you were with us."
"And I have thought on you every day since we parted, Barbara," he continued softly.
Barbara started, there was no doubt as to the tenderness of the tone. She was on her guard.
"Indeed, a most profitless proceeding," she answered sharply.
There was a pause during which Ralph feasted his eyes upon his companion's face. Then he continued in a meditative voice.
"Do you remember, Barbara, how Rupert and I were wont to play we were knights tilting for our lady's favour? You were ever my mistress then."
"You had no choice," she answered laughing. "Rupert took all others unto himself."
"Yet had you still been mine, Barbara, were there a thousand others, you alone. I wore your favour, and vowed to serve thee all my days. You have not forgotten that, Barbara? The day I took my vow?"
"Alack-a-day," murmured Barbara to herself. "Here now is Ralph gone crazy. Ah, me! what shall I do? And 'tis five years since we met. Can a man indeed remain so faithful?"
She looked at him doubtfully, but the look in his eyes left no room for doubt. Then she grew angry at the folly and the wilfulness of man, who seeks ever for love where it may not be found. Yet her anger was slight, seeing no woman is ever angry at love, however unsought, and she pitied him and liked him the more for his love.
So she answered lightly, striving to drive him from his course.
"We played many games in those days, Ralph, I cannot mind them all."
But he leaned across and laid his hand upon hers. "'Twas not merely a game to me, Barbara, surely you know that? You knew that when we parted, Barbara."
Then springing to his feet, he burst out eagerly: "Oh! Barbara, I swear I have thought on you each day these five long years. And now to find you again! You were lovely as a child, and I loved you. You are ten times more lovely now; why may I not love you still? And loving you, why may I not tell you so, as in the old days."
"Because—because—Oh! 'tis folly. We were but children then, and——"
"Then let us be children again, Bab," he answered softly. "See, the forest has brought us together again, and——"
But Barbara sprang to her feet, too angry with herself and shamed for having conjured up, in former days, this love which she could not still, and womanlike, angry with him for persisting in a love which pained her. For even the best of women look upon the heart of man as an unbreakable toy. They tread upon it unthinkingly.
"Indeed the forest has done nothing of the sort," she retorted angrily. "Do not be so foolish, Ralph, or I will talk with you no more. 'Tis unfair to tease me with matters that are past and done with."
He looked at her gravely.
"I am not foolish, Bab, and 'tis not past and done with yet," he answered stubbornly.
"Then, 'tis high time it was. Look you, Ralph, I am glad you are here, 'tis good to see you again, but an you pester me with such talk, I shall—I shall—— I won't have it, Ralph; 'tis unfair."
He looked at her doubtfully, not knowing what to make of her anger. Then he submitted with a quietness that surprised her. Yet he deemed his cause not hopeless, only unripe.
"I am sorry I angered you, Barbara," he answered quietly. "We will talk no more on the matter. Yet, perchance I seemed somewhat sudden. But I have always longed for you, Barbara, and when you came to me suddenly, in the wood, 'twas as tho' Paradise had opened to me again."
Barbara answered nothing. She had seated herself again by the stream and was now plucking the grass and dropping it bit by bit into the rippling water, pondering the while why love may not beget love, and blaming herself for her ungracious acceptance of a constancy of homage a woman should be proud to win.
Presently Ralph sat down again by her side, and eyeing her for a minute doubtfully, he began with some hesitation:
"Barbara!"
"Well?"
"Who is this fellow?"
"What fellow, pray?"
"Why, this Protheroe. Where did you meet with him, eh!"
"I—I knew him first at Durford. He was quartered there with some troops, and rendered us some courtesy."
"Hum! I like him not."
"'Tis a pity," she answered drily.
"No," he continued gravely; "and I like not that you should be wandering thus in his company. Why not send him away now, Barbara?"
"Certainly not."
"But wherefore not?" he urged.
"Because I do not choose," she answered tartly. "Besides 'twould be foul ingratitude. He saved me from prison."
"That is no reason why you should burden him with your protection now I am here. Indeed, Barbara, 'twere wiser to—to thank him, and leave him now."
"I will not. 'Twere most ungracious. And, prithee, how should we fare without him?"
"Well enow, I warrant. See here, Barbara, he may be honourable enow——"
"He is."
"Yes, but he is not one of us. He is but a soldier of fortune, and I like not that you should have to do with such an one. 'Twas vastly unseemly that you and he should be trapesing the country alone together, and I only hope no harm comes o't."
"And 'tis vastly impertinent of you, Ralph Trevellyan, to suppose that I cannot guard my honour and my own good name," she broke out hotly; for the suggestion in his words startled her, and stung her to the quick. "How dare you speak thus? Upon my word, Ralph, you may be an old friend, but, certes, you presume on the fact."
"Good Heavens! Barbara. What is the matter? I only suggested——"
"Then do not do so again. Captain Protheroe is a most honourable gentleman. 'Tis base of you to distrust him."
"Well! Don't be angry, Barbara," he pleaded quickly. "You know in Rupert's absence——"
"You put yourself in Rupert's place, eh? It suits you ill. Rupert hath both greater knowledge of me, and greater trust in me than thou hast, it would appear."
"Now, Barbara, dear——Damnation!"
He dropped her hand and turned aside angrily, for a rustling of leaves and crackling of twigs announced the return of the third member of the party.
Barbara greeted him brightly; she was relieved at his return.
"Whither have you wandered, sir? You have been absent for hours."
"I have been fishing, madame; behold my success."
He crossed to her side, and with an air of deep pride laid before her three tiny trout.
"Is that all?" she asked doubtfully, fearing lest a smile might hurt his feelings.
"All!" he cried indignantly. "Why, what would you more? There is one apiece."
"Assuredly, but——" then she noted the twinkle in his eyes and burst into a merry laugh.
"Indeed, sir; you have kept your promise nobly. Yet I think we must thank the fates that we are not entirely dependent for our supper upon your skill."
"Ingratitude, thy name is woman! Here have I lain, arm deep in water, for three mortal hours, to catch these—er—tempting morsels, and all I meet with is contempt. Never again, Mistress Barbara."
"And have you not even the story of some monster who hath escaped you, to comfort your heart?" she queried solemnly. "I believe Rupert ever derived much solace from such illusions when he could produce no more substantial triumph."
"Alas, madame, I fear illusions are but little to my taste. But since you scorn my offerings, we had best make as good a meal as we can of the somewhat stale viands which remain to us, and then if you are rested, we ought to make a move."
So they supped, and bidding farewell to the hollow, presently set out on their tramp.
Their way led for some time through the wood, and when they finally emerged in the open country the night had already fallen.
But Captain Protheroe knew the country well, he led them unerringly through meadows and along lonely and deserted bye-lanes, never pausing to doubt his path.
They were, in truth, an ill-assorted party, these three, so strangely thrown together by Fortune, to tramp the night through. For the two men were divided by every difference of life, rank, opinion, and character; they were followers of different leaders, supporters of widely opposed causes, and but two months before they had been adversaries in one of the bloodiest battles of their time. And to this was yet added that fatal gulf twixt man and man, which even a lifelong friendship can scarce hope to bridge across—love for the same woman.
By all tokens they should have hated each other, and assuredly they did.
And Barbara? She had in hand a task which called for all the gentleness and tact of her nature. For with her lay the task of keeping these two at least in outward friendship, seeing from the one she could not, from the other she would not part. And yet, with neither, was her heart at ease. She could not rebuff Ralph, lest he in despair be again driven to desperate ends; moreover, the affection of a lifelong friendship, the gratitude for a constant love, above all, the loneliness of her position, forbade her be ungracious to one who loved so well. Yet even while she showed him kindness, her heart reproached her, knowing she was but leading him to hope for more. For 'tis ever so with women, their tenderness towards all misery leading them to be kind when they should be cruel, far more often than cruel when they should be kind.
'Twixt Captain Protheroe and herself, checking the free flow of her spirit, lay the ever-widening barrier of her pride. For when she discerned the tenderness in his voice, or worship in his eyes, while her heart leaped towards him in the sweet simplicity of her love, her pride cried to her to beware, telling her that it was nought but pity for her weakness. The words of Ralph had done their part, bringing, like the words of the serpent, evil to the breast of Eve. For an it were in truth so unseemly, this wandering with him alone which before had seemed to her so sweet, so natural, what then would men say of that embrace in the prison, given, indeed, in all simplicity, yet given unsought? Nay, but what mattered it what men said? what would he think? Would he think her light o' love? Her heart burned at the thought. So she mused ever, growing morbid in her weariness, with the strain of those last fearful days. So she mused, scorning him in a fierce defiance lest perchance he deem her simple, shrinking from him in a fierce shame, lest he deem her unashamed.
Thus her troubled thoughts strove within her brain, but to all outward seeming she was as before, gay, gracious, natural as a child.
Only in her terror lest she seem to ask for love, she devoted herself more and more to Sir Ralph, whose love was assured, chatting with him of days gone by, laughing over the remembrance of childish mischiefs.
And for a time Captain Protheroe submitted to be set aside, striding on ahead in gloomy silence, thinking on the journey of the previous night, and cursing the Fates for sending them this interloper to part their company.
But after a while his heart accused him of cowardice, thus to stand aside and leave to a mere foolish boy, so he deemed their guest, the winning of a treasure that he yearned to make his own.
Truly he had not over-many pleasant recollections to recall to her mind, yet one he had sweet to him, since the knowledge of it lay between their two hearts alone. So suddenly, as they walked, he fell back a pace or two, and in a pause turned to her with the question:
"Where learned you the art of fence, Mistress Barbara?"
She started and blushed. Then answered with a spice of mischief:
"My master is beside me. Ralph initiated me in the art, and hath even greater skill than I, but we cannot all be experts," with a saucy glance. "Of late years I have practised mostly with Rupert."
He saw the mischief in her face, but forgave it freely.
"Methought I recognised a trick or two of Jules Berin when we crossed blades. Has your brother studied with him?"
"No, but of his pupil. What know you of Jules Berin?" she asked quickly, a note of suspicion in her voice.
He laughed, and answered unheeding:
"Faith, I have been often to Paris, and we always have a bout together. For a soldier picks up many tricks in his wanderings, and, indeed, I have studied the art both in France, Italy, and the Low Countries. 'Tis one of the finest pleasures in the world"—he continued with enthusiasm—"to be pitted against a skilled adversary, straining every effort of wrist, eye and nerve."
There was a moment's silence. Then Barbara demanded quietly:
"Then where learned you the trick of disarming yourself, sir?"
He started.
"Madame?"
"Was it a trick or no? I had not deemed it so before, yet now I fear—— Confess, sir."
He laughed softly. "Alas, madame, you have entrapped me. I must confess to the trick. I learned it then, madame, when I learned many other matters 'twould scarce interest you to hear of."
Barbara sighed and smiled.
"See how we poor women may be deceived by our own vanity. For ever since our meeting I have deemed myself a most excellent swordswoman, and gloried in my skill."
"But so indeed you are," he protested eagerly. "And when we have the opportunity, I will teach you passes that perchance none save I and half a dozen others understand."
But here Barbara must turn again to Ralph, who was listening jealously to the conversation which he could in no wise comprehend. Skilfully she drew him on to talk, and presently the two men were engaged in a deep discussion of their favourite pastime, waxing for the nonce almost friendly over their eager comparison of rival styles of fence.
So they talked, merrily enough, well-nigh forgetting they were fugitives in fear of their lives. For brave hearts do not brood on distresses, but rather despise them, defying the oppressions of crabbed Fortune, and reaping gladness even from the sorrows she has sown.
They walked the night through, halting at times to rest, jet for the most part pushing on as rapidly as possible, that their wanderings might be the sooner ended. Many a time, when the night had grown old, and the silence of weariness had fallen upon them, did Captain Protheroe glance anxiously at the girl at his side, for he knew nothing of the powers of a woman, and doubted whether he were not pushing her strength too far. But she answered him ever with a bright smile and quickened pace, though her limbs ached and her body was heavy with fatigue. For she would in no wise endure to be a drag upon his purpose, and he, marvelling at her endurance, let her be. Yet he was very tender towards her, wrapping her in his cloak whenever they halted for a rest, fetching her fresh water to drink, doing all in his power to ease her journey; and all without question or explanation, but with a gentle, quiet courtesy that softened even her pride, and led her to submit to his ministrations with a sweet gladness.
Onward they journeyed, until with the first grey tinge of morning light they found themselves upon a wide moor, intersected by deep ditches, stretching wild and drear before them in the cold light of the dawning. Here and there on the wide expanse loomed dark and shadowy the outline of some village, the clustering houses pressing round the sheltering tower of the church. Here and there the light gleamed coldly on the dead waters of some still dank morass; it was a scene well suited to the corpse-like grey of dawn, a scene of utter desolation.
The two men glanced quickly at one another as the growing light revealed each minute more distinctly their surroundings.
Then with one accord they turned to Barbara.
She was gazing about her in astonishment.
"What place is this?" she questioned. "'Tis like a field of the dead."
"And so it is, Barbara," answered Ralph quietly. "This is Sedgemoor."
She shuddered fearfully.
"Truly a scene well fitted to the death of such a cause," she muttered. "One would call it the haunt of devils. Why did you bring me here?"
Captain Protheroe shrugged his shoulders. "It lay upon our way, madame, and I fear I thought no more on the matter. The world has many battlefields——"
"But none as this one—to us." Then she continued more brightly, "Whither go we, then?"
Captain Protheroe pointed across the plain to one oil the villages just emerging from the mist.
"Yonder is our destination, Mistress Barbara. 'Tis the village of Chedzey. In that village is an inn, an inn so atrocious that neither officer nor man of the royal troops would ever willingly put head inside the door. I lay there once, in ignorance, and had hoped never again to be so led astray. But times have changed, and it must be our refuge."
"But how? Surely the folk will suspect. Our dress——"
"I purpose to go there as an officer of the royal army, who hath made an important capture of two desperate rebels, yourself and Sir Ralph, to wit. The capture was made this morning before daybreak. I have sent my men on to Wells to fetch an escort; we remain all day at the inn, and at night, our escort not arriving, we set out to meet them on foot. What think you of the scheme?"
"'Tis a mighty lame story," muttered Sir Ralph scornfully.
"Zounds, man, then devise a better," was the angry retort. "What matter the story an we carry it off with a high hand? These rustics are simple enow, and they know better than to carp or question the words of an officer of the king. Besides, we cannot lie out here all day, and Mistress Barbara requires rest and food before she set off on another tramp."
"As you will then," answered Ralph somewhat sulkily, "But the danger is great."
"Of course the danger is great. What then? In a great game a man must play high if he stands in to win. What say you, madame?"
"That I fear you are a gambler, sir," she answered quickly, eager to dispel the quarrel. "But since there seems no alternative, why talk further? Let us to Chedzey and trust to fortune."
"We must needs wait a little space. 'Tis somewhat early hours for calling."
So they sat to rest, and watched the golden light sweep up the sky and shade softly into the pale rose of the sunrise.
Presently Barbara turned to Captain Protheroe.
"Tell me a little how the battle was ordered," she commanded.
"Faith, madame, that is no easy task," he laughed. "A man hath little time to note much of a fight save his own men and those immediately opposing him. And the greater part was fought in darkness, to boot. But—yonder at Chedzey lay our camp, the militia was at Middlezey and the cavalry with the general over there at Western Zeyland. 'Twas a night attack, you must know, and should have been a surprise, but the Duke's army, being stopped by the Bussex Rhine—yonder it lies."
"What! That little ditch to stop an army?"
"Aye! But 'twas flooded then, full twenty feet across. And they made such a to-do being held up by a strange river that our outposts discovered them and we soon turned out. We couldn't get across at them, but drew up our men on the far side of the ditch and fired across. We were twenty feet apart, mind you, but their fellows fired too high and there was small slaughter on our side the ditch. Later we bridged the Rhine and got fairly at them, and then our cavalry came round from Western Zeyland and then 'twas soon over. There was no doubt of victory from the beginning, and but for the darkness and some confusion at first the fight had not lasted so long. The peasants fought bravely enow, I confess,—I would I had the training of some of them,—but the attack was bungled. Nothing was provided for, their guides led them astray, their ammunition was lost, they had no competent leaders, and not knowing whether to advance or retire, they stood still and were cut down like grass. The leadership was a disgrace. Lord Grey and the cavalry ran away, at the first shot, and the Duke and most of his officers directly after."
"By Heavens, sir! I will endure no more."
Sir Ralph stood beside them, his hand clapped to his sword-hilt, his face crimson, his eyes blazing with fury.
"I will endure no more o' this!" he cried. "Is it not enough, sir, that you force yourself upon this lady's company, but you must needs poison her ears with lies concerning your damned victory, with dastardly slanders against myself and my friends? By Heaven, sir, but you shall answer for those words ere the world be a day older."
Captain Protheroe stared for a moment in amazement. Then he gave a quick exclamation of annoyance and embarrassment.
"Peste!" he muttered. "I had entirely forgotten you were o' the other party."
"Maybe, sir, but that is no excuse for your words."
The officer rose to his feet, looking annoyed and troubled.
"My words! I am sorry they offend you. Had I but remembered your presence I had not spoken so rashly, perchance. But—the words are spoken, and"—with a shrug, "i' faith, I cannot alter facts."
"Facts! The whole story is a dastardly lie."
"Sir!"
"And you shall give me satisfaction."
"With the greatest pleasure, sir, as soon as I can come by a sword. I shall enjoy nothing more."
Barbara gazed desperately from one angry man to the other, hesitating what best to do. Then she stepped between them with quiet dignity.
"Ralph! Captain Protheroe! Gentlemen! You forget yourselves, I think."
Captain Protheroe flushed and bowed stiffly. "Your pardon, madame," he said coldly.
Sir Ralph looked moodily at the girl.
The danger was not yet past.
"Captain Protheroe," she continued, with the same quiet air of command, "I have dropped my—my kerchief in yonder ditch, I think. Will you have the goodness to go in search of it."
He stared at the audacity of the request, for as Barbara had never approached the place she indicated, his search promised to be a somewhat fruitless one. But meeting her resolute glance he turned without a word, and strode down into the deep tangle of gorse and bracken that covered the bottom of that dried-up ditch.
Then Barbara turned to Ralph, and used all her arts to bring him to a more peaceable frame of mind.
"Indeed, Ralph," she urged, "'tis sheer folly to be so enraged; you could scarce be more so had you run away in good truth. He meant not to offend thee, I am sure on't. He spoke but what he knew. Doubtless all the royal side think thus of the fight."
"But 'tis a sheer lie to say we ran away at the first shot, or for that matter, ran away at all. A foul, dastardly lie."
"Oh, hush, Ralph. He speaks but as he has heard, and doubtless he believes it to be true. Anyhow, 'tis nought to fight about."
"You don't understand, Barbara," persisted the enraged man impatiently. "What should you know of a man's honour, and when it behooves him to fight for it? I tell you he must answer for his words."
"And I tell you you must not fight. Think, Ralph, suppose you killed each other, I should be alone."
There were tears of desperation in her eyes; he was moved to pity.
"There, there! Barbara, don't you be troubled," he said, patting her hand with an air of humouring kindness. "I promise you we will not fight yet, not at least till you are in safety. I doubt not 'twill need both our wits to get out of this pother. A quarrel does not stale with delay, we'll postpone it till more favourable date."
And with that Barbara was for the present content. She had staved off the fight; who could tell what the future might bring?
So they turned to seek Captain Protheroe, but he was not in sight, neither did he answer to their call. But hurrying to the edge of the fosse they peered down and saw him, on his knees, in a tangle of bracken, all his attention riveted upon a small packet which he held in his hands.
Barbara called to him eagerly.
"I have found my kerchief, 'tis needless to seek further. What have you there?"
Then he rose to his feet, and climbed up to her side. The two on the bank stared at him in amazement; his eyes blazed with a strange light, and his voice trembled with excitement.
"Mistress Barbara! Sir Ralph! What think you I have found? Nay, you would never dream it. 'Tis a miracle of wonder. 'Tis well-nigh inconceivable."
"But what is it? What mean you?" they cried in amaze.
His hand shook with eagerness as he held out his prize. 'Twas a small letter-case in green silk, richly embroidered in gold; a maze of scrolls, in the centre of which were the letters J. M. entwined beneath a coronet sewn with pearls. Barbara looked at it in doubt; what might be there to cause such desperate eagerness.
"J. M.," she questioned. "That is——"
"James, Duke of Monmouth, madame, who else? And were there a doubt, the contents dispel it."
"The contents?"
"Aye. I have already searched it. It contains five letters, so precious, madame, that it would seem he bore them ever about his person. How they came here is a mystery; he must have lost them in the hurry of his flight. 'Twas indeed irony of fate that he should lose them just in the time of need."
"But what are these letters?" interrupted Ralph impatiently.
"Three are from Lady—from a woman."
"You did not read them!" interposed Barbara quickly.
"Nay, madame, they are sacred. We will leave them to the grave Nature herself has prepared."
He tore them in pieces and scattered them slowly into the ditch. Then as the last scrap of paper settled into the shadow of the gorse, he muttered softly:
"There lies, I doubt not, the story of a hopeless love."
"But the others!" interposed Ralph sharply.
"The others!" Here Captain Protheroe laughed quickly, all the excitement returning to his face. "Ah! the old fox, how he duped us! These other letters are from no less a person than George Jeffreys, Lord Chief Justice of England."
"From Jeffreys, and to the Duke?"
"Even so. Faith! I knew the scare at the Duke's invasion was great, but I never dreamed 'twas so serious as to lead so cautious a toad as Jeffreys thus far to commit himself."
"Read!" commanded Barbara, in a maze of thought.
So Captain Protheroe again unfolded the letters and read their contents aloud, while his companions listened with breathless eagerness.
To his Grace the Duke of Monmouth by the hand of my Secretary Stephen Jewars:
YOUR GRACE.—Concerning the matters upon which Mr. Ferguson hath already spoken with me, I do assure your Grace that I am your Grace's most devoted servant in this affair, and I do earnestly pray that your Grace's present undertaking may meet with success. The time is well nigh ripe for the attempt. The nation hath been much discontented with the manner of the late elections, and the speech of Master Edward Seymour (of which doubtless your Grace hath heard), is the subject of conversation throughout the town, having awakened much thought in the minds of the people. His present Majesty sits but unsteadily upon the throne, and his power will be yet more greatly shaken when he hath carried out that which is in his mind. For 'tis his fixed intention to forward by all means the cause of the Papish religion so abhorrent to the people of England, and to this end he purposeth as soon as may be to seek to bring about the repeal of the Habeas Corpus and the abolition of the Test Act. It needeth but the introduction of such measures to awaken in all power the indignation of this people, and to turn their eyes at once to him who alone is at hand to save them from tyranny and oppression, your Grace's self. Therefore, your Grace, I do most humbly beseech you to delay yet a little while, this undertaking, till His Majesty shall have so deeply committed himself in defence of his religion that his person shall have become abhorred of all the people, and your Grace shall indeed be welcomed as the saviour of an unhappy nation. And to this end, I will with all diligence seek to abuse the mind of His Majesty with regard to the will of his subjects, and so urge him more speedily on his course.
I rely upon your Grace's sacred promise, to preserve this letter a secret even from your Grace's most intimate followers, for rumour is many tongued, and as you will readily conceive should a breath of suspicion light upon me, my power to assist your Grace with information of the Council Chamber will be forever destroyed.
GEORGE JEFFREYS.
"This second is dated June, written after the Duke's landing, when all London was in a ferment as to what should befall."
YOUR GRACE.—I do greatly rejoice to hear what manner of welcome hath been accorded your Grace. Only a consciousness that I may better serve your Grace in my present post holds me back from hastening to your side. But I must warn your Grace that many preparations are about to be made to withstand your progress. General Feversham will start for the West in three days, and with him all the forces collected in this neighbourhood; General Churchill hath already departed thither with the Blues. His Majesty hath further summoned home such regiments as are at present abroad in the Dutch service, but their loyalty is greatly questioned, and 'tis also feared that the militia of Devon and Somerset will at the first encounter go over to the side of your Grace.
It were wise, an it meet with your Grace's approval to strike rapidly for London, avoiding encounter with General Feversham (of whose route I will keep your Grace informed). For here be few troops and those of doubtful loyalty, and the late arrests in the City have won for your Grace many waverers.
Again relying upon your Grace's promise to keep this matter secret I remain deeply grateful to your Grace for your most generous offers, and I pray Heaven to send your Grace all success in this undertaking.
GEORGE JEFFREYS.
"So they run. Treason clear enow, is't not?"
"Pah! the traitor!" cried Ralph furiously. "And now, having himself conspired against the King, yet he goes free and sits high, judging his fellow conspirators."
"And such judgments," cried Barbara. "Such wicked, brutal judgments. Oh! 'tis unbearable."
"And yet, Mistress Barbara, methinks his lordship is himself in no very enviable position. I doubt not he would give much to know the whereabouts of these letters. And when he sits in court, and rolls out his bloody sentences, I dare swear his own head feels somewhat unsteady on his shoulders."
"That which we overheard in the inn at Taunton, was not that also part of his treachery?"
"By Heavens, yes. This explains his dealings with Ferguson. Doubtless Ferguson acted as go-between; he knew the secret and he is no man to spare his friend an he can use him. It was indeed highly important Ferguson should leave the country in safety."
"But why did not Duke Monmouth betray him?" asked Barbara.
"Because the Duke was no traitor," answered Ralph sharply.
"Possibly," answered the captain drily. "And otherwise, he had lost the proofs. Men say the Duke wrote to his Majesty, claiming to have some secret to confide in him after his arrest; is't possible he referred to this treachery of Jeffreys? But 'twould have been useless to bring such accusation without proof."
"Well, here are the proofs. Now what were best to do?" began Ralph eagerly.
"Nothing."
"Nothing! What! when you hold in your hands such perfect revenge, wouldest leave the scoundrel free to guard his neck in safety?"
"The safety of Jeffreys' neck is a matter of small importance to me compared with the safety of my own. Jeffreys is a man in power. There are, certainly, other men in power, who would give substantial consideration for the possession of this knowledge and who would joyfully work his ruin. Sunderland or my Lord Halifax, for example. There are such men, I say, but unfortunately, it is—er—far from convenient for me to appear before them at present. No, we are outlaws flying from the justice of the country, and the faster we fly, the wiser we shall be. Let us get safely to Holland, there will be time enough for revenge when our own necks are in safety."
Ralph submitted reluctantly. 'Twas natural that to him, whose own friends and followers had suffered so horribly at the hands of the lord chief justice, revenge should appear more sweet than life itself, but he recognised the truth of his companion's words, and for Barbara's sake, if for no other, consented to leave the matter in Captain Protheroe's hands.
The sun was now risen, and the clear light revealed the pallor of Barbara's face, the dark rings of weariness round her eyes. Reproaching himself for having so long forgotten her, Captain Protheroe proposed they should at once repair to the village.
Their preparations were soon completed. The captain buckled on Ralph's sword, tied the latter's hands behind him, and drawing Barbara's arm through his they marched forward.
CHAPTER XIX
The village of Chedzey was little more than a collection of mean cottages, the largest of which was the inn. The inhabitants were already stirring, and the wife of the innkeeper was standing at her door when the party approached.
She stared in amazement and pity at Barbara's tattered garments and weary face, and cast a scowl in the direction of the officer whom she recognized as one of the hated Tangiers regiment, lately the scourge of the countryside. To his demand for beds and breakfast she answered sulkily that he must seek further, the house could provide him nothing, and even when he sharply urged his commands, she advanced grumbling objections and refused to move from the doorway.
But upon this her husband appeared, in fear at sight of the officer, and sharply bade her hold her peace, and let the strangers enter.
"Art mad, wife?" he whispered. "Wouldest have the house burned about our ears, that thou darest to thwart one o' Kirke's officers? Stand by, and let him have his way."
"Thou wast ever a chicken-hearted fool, John," retorted the woman scornfully. "This is an honest house, and not for such wastrels as they o' the royal army. But have your way and don't blame me an you like not your customers."
"Pardon, your honour," cried the man, bowing low before the captain. "The woman's tongue runs out of all holding. Peace, jade, and get you in, or 'twill be the worse for you."
With an angry glance at her husband the woman withdrew, and the host led the way upstairs into a poorly-furnished parlour, where after some little delay breakfast was served, no very tempting meal, but welcome indeed to the famished travellers.
Judging that where most is told, least is surmised, Captain Protheroe gave mine host a detailed account of the capture of his prisoners, adding such realistic details as most appealed to his sense of fitness. His horse, he said had been shot by the rebel, hence his journeying to the village on foot, his only trooper having been despatched to Wells for fresh horses and escort.
Barbara and Ralph listened with great interest to the dramatic account of the latter's desperate struggle, with difficulty refraining from applause at the close of his picturesque statement.
But the woman's eyes filled with tears, when she learned the nature of her guests, and when later she conducted Barbara to her chamber, she hung over her with a thousand tender offices, bathing her tired feet, brushing out her tossed hair, doing all in her power to increase the comfort of the weary girl.
"Eh! my dearie, my dearie," she cried pityingly. "What will they do to thee? And so young, too, as thou art. But 'tis a black-hearted crew they are, and no denying it. My heart bleeds for thee, my beauty. Curse them! Curse them to hell, say I. Nay, my tongue runs wildly, I know, but who could help it. Look you, my pretty, I have a son, even such as thy brother yonder, but younger by some years. To the fight he would go, I could not hold him back. And I sat here all that bloody night, hearkening to the firing, dreaming that each shot bore his death. He came not back. Then I went out to search; I sought night and day among the slain, but he was not there. So I blessed Heaven, and waited his return. But he comes not, nor sends, and I know not where he lies; at times 'twould seem I can bear no more, but must e'en go seek him through the world, till I find him. Ah, my lamb! my son, my bonny son, where art thou?"
Thus she wailed, and Barbara, despite her weariness, comforted her as best she might, praying to Heaven for pity on this sorrow no earthly hand could soothe.
Presently the woman recovered, and with many apologies, rose to leave the room, yet she turned once again before she reached the door.
"My dearie, it seems not possible to aid thee, yet be sure, an I can do aught for thee, I will do it. And who can say? A chance may offer. I will watch. Now sleep, I will weary thee no more."
In order to give more realism to the story of his capture, and also to prevent their disturbance, Captain Protheroe chose to rest in the parlour, out of which both the sleeping chambers led. As luck would have it, they were the sole visitors to the inn, a little-frequented place, and were consequently left to sleep in peace throughout the day. They were full wearied, and it was not until five in the evening that Captain Protheroe roused his companions, and summoning mine host, gave orders that dinner be presently served.
The three adventurers were thoroughly refreshed by their long rest, their spirits were high, and when they assembled at the meal they were all prepared to play to the utmost advantage their several parts in the game of chance upon which they had embarked.
Therefore, while mine host prepared the table, Captain Protheroe, remembering his story, enquired most particularly whether his escort had not yet arrived, expressing great indignation when he learned that it was yet to be expected.
Barbara laughed mockingly behind mine host's fat back while this conversation was toward. Her amusement increased as the game proceeded. She longed to add dramatic touches of her own, but prudently refrained. Nevertheless, she challenged the officer mischievously with her eyes, and he, accepting the challenge, cursed the lazy trooper roundly, rated mine host, and bade him keep sharp lookout lest the escort, missing the house, ride past unheeding.
So they sat down to dinner, mocking at Fortune, jesting over the gulf which yawned at their feet.
And Fortune, in revenge for their confidence, turned her wheel.
For, as danger oft shows least when nearest to hand, scarcely had they commenced their meal when the sound of approaching horses broke upon their ears, and two minutes later after a confusion of shouts, the door was burst open, and mine host hurried into the room.
"Your honour!" he cried joyously. "All is well. Your honour's escort has arrived."
Ralph dropped his knife with a rude clatter, and half started from his seat, while a quick gasp of fear escaped from Barbara's white lips.
Captain Protheroe paused for a moment, his glass to his lips; cool soldier though he was, his hand trembled and the red wine splashed over the brim and stained his sleeve.
Then he turned on mine host with a sudden oath:
"What mean you by this intrusion, blockhead?" he thundered. "Shut the door and say your say. What is't?"
"The escort, your honour," stammered mine host. "'Twas even as your honour supposed. They had mistaken the place, and would have ridden past, had I not hailed them, saying your honour was even here. They wait in the street below."
"Let them wait, we cannot set out yet, before we have dined," retorted the captain sharply. "See the men have drink, and leave us. Shut the door behind you," he shouted as mine host left the room, "'tis most infernally cold here."
Directly the door was closed, all three sprang to the window. 'Twas even as the man had said. In the street below six mounted troopers were drawn up; but their leader was not in sight, he stood talking to mine host at the door.
"Heaven help us!" cried Ralph desperately. "What to do now, I wonder. What in heaven and earth can we do?"
Barbara was silent, her eyes fixed on Captain Protheroe's face.
He strode the room fiercely as his custom was, in thought. Then he gave a short laugh.
"So much for vainglorious boastings," he muttered. "Out of our own mouths we are betrayed. Certes, the game is against us now. We could hold the room—but that were folly. And escape is not to be thought on. Yet—Pah! what a fool! No. I see nought to be done, save wear a bold countenance, and play out the game to the end. 'Tis a wise maxim when the luck turns. And it may be the men have not yet heard——"
Again the door was opened and mine host entered once more; the joyous importance had died from his face; he looked depressed and dubious.
"Your honour!" he began nervously, "I seem, in my zeal to obey your commands, to have mistaken the matter. These men are not your honour's escort, but a party of dragoons riding from Bridgewater to Wells. Nevertheless, seeing the escort does not yet arrive, and learning your honour's difficulty, they put themselves at your honour's service. And their honourable commander craves the honour of waiting upon your honour in your honour's room."
A moment's perceptible silence, then with a curt "'Tis well, bring him here," mine host was dismissed.
The three fugitives waited in silence for the man's return. Only when the soldier's footstep sounded on the stairs, Captain Protheroe leaned forward and laid his hand on Barbara's arm.
"Do not be afraid, Mistress Barbara." he said quickly. "We will win safe through this somehow. Trust us."
And Barbara, with trembling lips, smiled bravely back at him.
"I am not afraid," she said simply.
Then mine host, with many obsequious bows, ushered in the visitor.
The officer was a big, blustering fellow, coarse of face, and rough in manner. He strode noisily into the room, and on seeing the captain burst into a boisterous laugh.
"Ha, Protheroe, my boy! Well met. The fellow below couldn't tell me your name or I warrant you I'd have been up here long before. What's all this about your escort, eh? Lost your horse, two captures, and the fool of a trooper not yet returned. Ha, ha! Protheroe, you go well to work. 'Tis good I came this way, you'd scarce fancy passing the night here, eh? We are riding to Wells and can take you on with us."
"Good!" answered the captain quickly. "But we've no hurry to start yet awhile. Sit down and drink, man, the night's young enough yet, and my men may still come. Look you, fellow,"—to mine host,—"set out more wine, and then begone and see to the men below. And harkee, don't come crashing in like a wild bull again; if we want you I will call. And if my men arrive, let them wait below. Now begone."
Then he turned to his guest.
"Come, Jonas, sit down, and drink; there's no need to start for another hour."
Captain Jonas was standing in the centre of the room, hat in hand, bowing elaborately to Barbara, and ogling her the while with his great protruding eyes.
"By Jove, Protheroe!" he drawled, "is this your capture. Zounds! What a prize. You're a hard man to keep such a beauty in limbo. Best put yourself under my protection, mistress; I'll keep you safe. I'll not swear to set you free, but at least I'll wager that pretty face shall never waste in prison."
Checking swiftly an angry movement from Ralph, Barbara curtsied with quiet dignity, and moved again to her seat at the table.
"Oh, ho! a lady, eh? Who is she, Protheroe?" asked Captain Jonas in an audible whisper.
Captain Protheroe shrugged his shoulders.
"Pah! Only a rebel. Come, drink, man, and tell Us news. Where do you hail from?"
"Bridgewater! As dead and drear a hole as ever man was quartered in. Praise be to the devil we're moving on to Wells, and in a month we'll be quit o' this cursed west country, where there is neither a pretty woman—saving your presence, madame—nor a decent bottle of wine for a man to solace himself withal. I thought you were at Taunton, Protheroe!"
"I was—till yesterday. Is there no news from your way?"
"By-the-way, Protheroe!" he exclaimed with a sudden burst of laughter, setting down his glass and slapping his knee. "How could I have forgot it! I' faith there is news, news o' the queerest, and you are the very man it concerns."
"Ah! What then?"
"A fellow came over from Taunton yesterday morning with the wildest tale. Some cock-and-bull story of your arrest, and then later of a prison-breaking, and your disappearance with some woman. But 'twas but a half-drunk trooper, and as I was over in Taunton on Monday and heard nought o' the matter, I beat the fellow as a slanderer of the King's service. 'Twas all a lie, I suppose."
Captain Protheroe glanced quickly at the speaker. Then he leaned across the table and poured out a fresh glass of wine.
"Well, no, not entirely a lie," he answered coolly. "I was arrested, a jest of the colonel's, some wager with my Lord Jeffreys. I was released in the morning, of course. The prison-breaking is true, too, 'twas the same night. But a tale grows like a mushroom in the telling. Heard any news from town?"
"What should I hear in a hole like Bridgewater?" answered Captain Jonas indignantly.
Then he turned to Barbara, at whom he had been staring with insulting openness ever since his entrance.
"I could swear I have seen your face before, madame, but I can't for the life of me recollect where. 'Tisn't a face one forgets soon, neither," he continued, ogling her afresh.
"My poor face is honoured by your recollection, sir," answered the girl coolly. "It must be some time ago that we met. Since my escape I have necessarily had little converse with the King's officers."
The man laughed loudly.
"I don't doubt it, madame. Your escape, eh? So you broke prison, did you? Was that long since?"
Barbara bit her lip in irritation at her slip.
"Some while since, sir. But few words make least mischief, so, an't please you, I'll keep my story for the crown lawyers to devise. You can hear it then, an you care to attend my trial."
"By Jove, madame, you have courage," laughed the man admiringly. "Come, what is your name?"
"That also, sir, 'tis the lawyer's business to discover," she answered calmly.
The soldier laughed once more, and turning to Captain Protheroe, he entered forthwith into a keen discussion as to the merits of the new regiments the King was then raising and the possibility of the formation of a large standing army in the country.
The three conspirators drew sighs of relief at the change of subject, and for some little time there was peace, while the new arrival chattered, drank, and ogled Barbara, and they waited with anxious hearts for the next move in the game.
Suddenly Captain Jonas broke off abruptly in the middle of a dissertation concerning the absolute demand for more careful training of cavalry, and after staring for a moment fixedly at the girl, he burst into a quick laugh.
"By Jove! I have it," he shouted. "'Twas in court at Taunton, I saw you, madame, and not later than Monday last. I saw your trial. What a fool I am! And the name, the name? What was it now? Ha, ha! madame, I'll have it in a minute, we'll not leave it to the lawyers to devise."
"Well! Lydia Philbeg, an you must have it," answered Barbara calmly.
But Captain Jonas shook his head.
"Softly, madame, it ran not so. Philbeg! No, I swear that was not the name."
"What a pother about a name," interrupted Captain Protheroe impatiently. "Leave the girl in peace, an she wishes to be unknown. Fill your glass, man, and pass the bottle. 'Tis poor stuff, but what can one expect in such a hole? Where are you quartered in Wells, eh?"
"We put up at the Green Buck. 'Tis not much of a place, but the wine is fair, and old Dame Barbara has—By Heavens! the very name. That's queer now. Barbara——Barba—Barbara Winslow or I'm a Dutchman! Your health, Mistress Barbara Winslow. Ha, ha! I knew I'd remember it soon. We toasted you after the trial, before I rode back to quarters. Lydia Philbeg, forsooth! Ha, ha! madame, I've got you now!"
"'Well, I hope to goodness you're satisfied now, Jonas," answered the Captain impatiently. "What a man you are for hunting a hare to death!"
But a sudden gravity had come over Captain Jonas.
"Barbara Winslow!" he muttered. "Zounds! Protheroe, that's queer. 'Tis the very name of the woman they said you had run off with from Taunton gaol."
Captain Protheroe set down his glass suddenly. He saw suspicion dawning in his companion's eyes. "Hang it all, Jonas! The fellow must have been a d—— an infernal fool. Mistress Winslow escaped indeed, and I was posted after her in pursuit, and caught her this morning. That's the length of the story. Why, devil take you, man, if I had run off with her, should I be here now? Not unless I was a greater fool than—than you are."
But suspicion still hardened in the soldier's eyes.
"Then did the lady escape alone?" he questioned cunningly.
"I bore Mistress Winslow company," interrupted Ralph quietly.
Captain Jonas turned to him sharply.
"You?" he asked contemptuously. "And who may you be?"
The youth drew himself up haughtily.
"I am Sir Ralph Trevellyan," he answered, eyeing the captain defiantly.
"Ralph Trevellyan. Why that's the name o' the fellow who escaped us at Burrows' Farm, four days syne. Burrows' son told me so himself, under the whip. You never saw the inside of Taunton gaol, my friend."
"Tut! man," interposed Captain Protheroe lightly. "Let them have their little romance. We can prove their identity well enow, so a lie more or less is no matter, and seems to cheer their spirits mightily. Fill your glass, and tell us the latest about the fair Arabella."
Captain Jonas darted a sharp glance at the speaker. Captain Protheroe leaned back in his chair, and met the suspicious glance with a lazy smile. But behind his nonchalant demeanour his wits worked shrewdly, and he never for an instant took his eyes from his companion's face.
There was a slight pause. Then in an altered voice Captain Jonas asked:
"Where did you take them, Protheroe?"
"Peste! What a man you are for detail. If you must have the story, I ran them to earth between four and five this morning, in hiding in Mart Mill three miles south of Bridgewater."
A strange light crept into Captain Jonas' eyes. There was dead silence for a moment before he answered in a strange voice:
"That is strange, Protheroe. I drew that cover myself this morning at four o'clock, and I'll be sworn it was empty."
Then suddenly dashing down his glass, he sprang to his feet.
"By Heavens, Protheroe!" he shouted fiercely, "I believe you've been lying to me from beginning to end."
But he got no further. Ere Captain Protheroe could snatch his sword from its sheath, Ralph was at the man's throat, burying his fingers deep in the soft flesh.
Captain Jonas was a strong man, and despite the suddenness of the attack, he fought with desperate fury. They swayed together, tottered, fell; rolling over in a wild indistinguishable mass of struggling limbs. There was no sound, save only Ralph's quick breathing and now and again a choking, inarticulate cry from Captain Jonas. Over again they rolled, and now the man's struggles were weaker. Ralph's grip had told.
"Oh! are you killing him?" whispered Barbara, watching the struggle in horror.
"No, he's not dead yet," gasped Ralph. "Out of the way, Barbara, while we finish him."
"Ah, no! You will not kill him now!" she gasped.
"There will be no need if he is quiet," answered the captain quickly. "But we must get him out of the way as soon as we can. Give me a cloth to gag him."
Quickly Barbara tore off her kerchief, and together the men gagged his mouth, and strapped his arms with his own sword-belt. They rifled his pockets of money, and took sword and pistol, for necessity knows no law.
Meanwhile Captain Protheroe devised his plan.
"We must get out of here as soon as possible," he urged, "or these cursed troopers will be down on us. And 'twere useless to slip away secretly, 'twould but arouse suspicion, and bring mine host to the search. We must play high again and carry it off by a bold show. What then? The gallant captain is drunk, he would have been so in another hour, had he been left in peace. We will put him to bed, and bid the men leave him undisturbed. Then we take three of the troopers' horses and ride off, leaving them to follow. when their officer is returned to his senses. What say you?"
"But is there no risk——" began Barbara.
"Good Heavens! madame, of course there are, a thousand risks, but we have no time to stop and count them. Once let the men discover us, and it's all over. Now to bed with this gentleman. We must wait a little to give him a reasonable time to get drunk, and then—away."
They carried Captain Jonas into one of the bed chambers, tied him securely to the bed with one of the sheets, and covering him over well, they left him, locking the door behind them.
Then they sat down to wait, their hearts leaping at every footstep, watching the light fade in the west, and listening to the distant sounds of the troopers carousing at the back of the house.
But after half an hour they could endure no more. Ralph's nerves were shaken by the struggle, for his strength was not yet returned after his wound, and Barbara was trembling from head to foot. So Captain Protheroe resolved to wait no longer, but to make their escape while they could.
Accordingly they descended the stairs, and summoning mine host, they paid their reckoning generously, telling him at the same time that the captain had gone to sleep and must in no wise be disturbed.
Mine host showed no surprise. He knew his wines, and doubtless was accustomed to the speedy overthrow of his guests. Moreover, it was not often that his house met with such patrons, and he blessed Heaven secretly for his good fortune in sending him a second officer in need of a night's shelter.
Then, with some misgivings Captain Protheroe summoned one of the troopers, and bade him bring up three of the horses. But the man was half-fuddled with drink, and only stared stupidly at the officer. So they thrust him aside and unhitched the horses themselves, and the cool, leisurely manner in which they went about the business disarmed suspicion, and none made a motion to gainsay them.
Captain Protheroe lifted Barbara into the saddle. She was perforce obliged to ride astride. He felt her tremble in his arms, but her face was calm and firm.
The woman came out of the house with a cloak and wrapped it round her.
Barbara stooped down quickly.
"The troopers!" she whispered; "keep them here. I may escape from him, but from the troopers never."
The woman patted her hand tenderly.
"Trust me, my dearie," she answered softly. "An wine can make them drunk they shan't move till morning. God keep thee safe, my dearie."
"And bring your son to you again."
"I ride to Wells," said Captain Protheroe as he mounted. "If my men arrive send them after me. Tell Captain Jonas I hope to meet him there anon. Good-even."
They clattered off into the darkness.
"Was that wise?" whispered Barbara when they had left the village behind them. "Will they not seek us in Wells?"
The captain smiled sagely.
"Truth is often expedient, Mistress Barbara, because no one believes it. Captain Jonas is one if those crafty fools who if they would ride secretly to Wells say loudly: 'I ride to Taunton,' and follow the road a mile or so before they double back, chuckling at their wisdom. I trust him to judge me by himself."
"Is not horse-stealing a capital offence?" queried Ralph cheerfully.
Captain Protheroe laughed.
"I' faith, I have committed so many capital offences during the last three days, that one more or less is of small moment. Prison-breaking, petty larceny, assault and robbery, and horse-stealing; 'tis a lively record."
"We are well out of the last danger," sighed Barbara.
"By Heavens! Yes. I thought not to get off so easily. My only plan was to make the fellow drunk, or to lead Mistress Barbara to feign illness when 'twas time to set out, and so we remain behind. But the stars are on our side, we have not only routed the enemy, but got off with their supplies and transport, into the bargain. We should be at Wells by nine o'clock."