The Lady Barbara, in the midst of her interview with Mr. Ashley, was
disturbed by Lord Farquhart's servant bearing her rings and the rose
that had been stolen the night before. Her confusion expressed itself
in deep damask roses on the cheeks that had, indeed, been lily white
before.
"Lord Farquhart returns these to me?" she cried in her amazement.
"Yes, my lady, he said that they were to pass into no other hands than
yours, that you would understand."
"That I would understand?" she questioned, and the damask roses had
already flown.
"How came they into Lord Farquhart's hands?" asked Ashley, but he was
vouchsafed no answer.
"That you would understand, my lady, and that he would be with you
himself this afternoon."
The servant was looking at the lady respectfully enough, but behind
the respect lurked curiosity, for even a servant may question the
drolleries and vagaries of his masters. And here, indeed, was a most
droll mass of absurdities.
But the lady was not looking at the servant at all. Rather was she
looking at Mr. Ashley, and something that she read in his narrowing
eyes, in the smile that curved but one corner of his lips, caused her
cheeks to blossom once again into damask roses--nay, not in damask
roses; rather were they peonies and poppies that dyed her cheeks. She
spoke no word at all, and only with a gesture of her hand did she
dismiss the servant, a gesture of the hand that held the withered rose
and the jeweled rings.
There was a long silence in the boudoir. My Lady Barbara was playing
nervously with the rings Lord Farquhart's servant had returned to her.
Mr. Ashley was watching the girl.
"So my Lord Farquhart masqueraded as our gentleman of the highways?"
Mr. Ashley's voice was full of scorn.
A quick gleam shone in Barbara's eyes. Her breath fluttered.
"Masqueraded!" she whispered.
There was another silence, and then Mr. Ashley spoke again, his voice,
too, but little above a whisper.
"You mean, Barbara, that Lord Farquhart _is_ this gentleman of the
highways?"
"Oh, why, why do you say so?" she stammered.
"Ah, Barbara, Barbara, why do you not deny it if it is deniable?" His
voice rang with triumph.
But he was answered only by the Lady Barbara's changing color, by her
quivering lips.
"Why do you not admit it, then?" he asked again.
"Why should I admit it or deny it?" she asked, faintly. "What do I
know of Lord Farquhart's movements, save that I am to marry him in
less than a fortnight's time?"
"To marry Lord Farquhart!" Mr. Ashley laughed aloud. "To marry a
highwayman whose life is forfeit to the crown! Say rather that you are
free for all time from Lord Farquhart! Say rather, sweetheart, that
_we_ are free!"
"But why do you take it so easily for granted that my cousin is this
highwayman?" asked Barbara.
"Why, it has long been whispered that this highwayman was some one of
London's gallants seeking a new amusement. Surely it is easy to fit
that surmise to Lord Farquhart. 'Twould be easy with even less
assistance than Lord Farquhart has given us."
"But what would it profit us to be rid of Lord Farquhart--granting
that he is this--this gentleman of the highways?" The Lady Barbara's
eyes were still on her rings. She did not lift them to the man who
stood so near her.
"Profit us!" he cried. "It would give you to me. It would permit you
to marry me--if Lord Farquhart were out of the way. What else stands
between us?"
"No," she murmured, in a low, faint voice, her eyes still on the
jewels in her hands. "'Tis not my Lord Farquhart stands between us,
but your poverty and my father's will. How can we marry when you have
nothing, when I would have less than nothing if I defied my father?
No, I intend to marry Lord Farquhart, whatever he may be."
Ashley's eyes questioned her, but his lips did not move. And she,
although she did not raise her eyes to his, knew what his asked. And
yet, for several moments, she did not answer. Then, flinging the rings
from her, she sprang to her feet.
"Why not take this chance that's flung to us, Hal?" she cried. "Can't
you see what we have won? Why, Lord Farquhart's life is forfeit to
_us_ so long as we hold his secret. A pretty dance we can lead him at
the end of our own rope, and we'll have but to twitch a finger to show
him that we'll transfer the end to the proper authority if he dares to
interfere with our pleasures!"
"But, Barbara!" The man was, indeed, as shaken as his voice. He had
found it hard enough to credit the evidence of ears and eyes that
proved to him that Lord Farquhart was the Black Devil of the London
highways, but harder yet was it to believe that Barbara, the
unsophisticated country girl, was versed in all the knowledge and
diplomacy of a London _mondaine_.
"Don't 'but Barbara' me," she cried, impatiently. "I'll not be tied
down any longer. I must be free, free, free! All my life long I've
been in bondage to my father's will. Now, in a fortnight's time I can
be free--controlled by no will but my own. Can you not see how this
act of Lord Farquhart's throws him into my power? How it gives me my
freedom forever?"
"But you'd consent to marry this common highwayman?" Incredulity held
each of Ashley's words.
"Ay, I'd marry a common highwayman for the same gain." The Lady
Barbara's violet eyes were black with excitement. "But Lord
Farquhart's not a common highwayman, as you call him. You know well
enough that this Black Devil has never once stolen aught for himself.
My Lord Farquhart, if he is, in reality, this gentleman highwayman,
doubtless loves the excitement of the chase. 'Tis merely a new
divertisement--a hunt, as it were, for men instead of beasts. In
truth, it almost makes me love Lord Farquhart to find he has such
courage, such audacity, such wit and spirit!"
"But what if he is caught?" demanded Ashley. "Think of the disgrace if
he is caught."
"Ah, but he won't be caught," she answered, gayly. "'Tis only your
laggards and cowards that are caught, and Lord Farquhart has proved
himself no coward. What can you ask of fortune if you'll not trust the
jade? How can you look for luck when you're blind to everything save
ill luck? Trust fortune! Trust to luck! And trust to me, to Lady
Barbara Farquhart that'll be in less than a fortnight!" She swept him
a low curtsey and lifted laughing lips to his, but he still held back.
"Trust me because I love you," she cried, still daring him on. "Though
I think you'll make me a willing bride to Farquhart if you show the
white feather now."
"But you can see, can you not, that it's because I love you that I
fear for you?" Ashley's tone was still grave.
"Well, but then there are two loves to back luck in the game," she
cried. Then she echoed the gravity in his voice. "What else can we do,
Hal? Have you aught else to offer? Can you marry me? Can I marry you?
There's naught to fear, anyway. Lord Farquhart'll tire of the game.
What has he ever pursued for any length of time? And he's been at this
for six months or more. Nay, we can stop him, if we will. Is he not
absolutely in our power?"
For a lady to win a lover to her way of thinking is easy, even though
her way be diametrically opposed to his. Love blinds the eyes and
dulls the ears; it lulls the conscience to all save its words. And
Ashley yielded slowly, with little grace at first, wholly and
absolutely at last, accepting his reward from the Lady Barbara's
pomegranate lips.