sight of the lady of his dreams flying past him in a whirl of
hoof-thundering, hair-flying disorder, his astonishment knew no bounds.
He reined up his horse and stood regarding her in amazement, half
doubting the reality of the vision.
"Mistress Barbara!" he exclaimed, "you here! What do you here?"
But she trembled and flushed yet more at sight of his surprise.
"I--I do but ride abroad, sir," she faltered; "may I not ride these
roads as well as another?"
"Assuredly," he answered gravely. But there was an eager gleam in his
eyes, for he thought on the words of Lady Cicely, spoken ere he rode
away:
"I know nought of this affair," she said. "But I am a woman, Captain
Protheroe, and 'tis we women who see the truth. And trust me, Barbara
loves you, whether she yet know it herself or no."
And he had ridden away, deeming the words but gentle folly, spoken to
ease his pain. But now, as he looked upon her flushed cheek, and
downcast eyes, he thought on them again, and his heart beat quickly.
Then he looked at the pony, sweating with the fury of the ride, and he
smiled, thinking:
"Assuredly, 'twas even me she came to seek."
He dismounted and standing beside her, after a pause asked quietly:
"Madame, why did you ride after me?"
"I--I----"
"Have you nought to say to me?"
Then she gathered her courage, and turned on him to escape his
questionings.
"Why did you leave us so discourteously?" she asked.
"Alas! madame," he murmured, "I lacked courage to bid you farewell."
"But, now----"
"Now, Mistress Barbara! Think you it were easier now to bid farewell,
now, while I look upon your face? Ah, no! in truth, I cannot leave you
now. For, ah! Mistress Barbara----" he broke out passionately, laying
his hands on hers--"I love you--I love you, and to leave you is to go
from the joys of heaven out into the darkness of death. Ah! Barbara,
if you know mercy, bid me not leave you now."
[Illustration: "'AH! BARBARA, IF YOU KNOW MERCY, BID ME NOT LEAVE YOU
NOW'"]
He paused, then as she sat dumbstricken by the force of his passion, he
continued with a sudden bitterness:
"And yet how should I stay, seeing my love is nought to you. Better to
leave you now. For in truth, a man must not ask too much of Heaven.
But to leave you--to see your face no more! Ah! madame, madame, what is
this you have done to me, seeing I cannot leave you now, and yet I dare
not stay?"
There was silence. Then Barbara, turning away her face, said slowly:
"Captain Protheroe! I supposed you and Ralph fought concerning the
affair on Sedgemoor. I--I knew of no other cause of quarrel betwixt
you."
Captain Protheroe raised his head with a quick hope. "Ah?" he questioned
breathlessly.
"Yes. And"--she continued hurriedly--"in this quarrel Ralph was in the
wrong. I--I do not wish you to leave me."
A moment he paused. Then he answered in a low restrained voice:
"While I can serve you I will remain. But, an you need me no more, I
pray you then, in pity, turn away your face and let me go."
But Barbara turned her head and looked at him, and she whispered softly,
so softly that he but caught the words ere they died away:
"Nay, sir, but what an I need thee all my days?" And having so spoken
again she turned away her head.
The birds' chorus rose loud and triumphant in the human silence that
followed, while he took her hands in his and pressed them to his lips.
Then he tried to see her face, but 'twas still turned from him, he could
but see one crimson cheek and the curling lashes resting upon it. He
sighed softly, but smiled withal.
"Mistress Barbara," he pleaded, "have I not told you your eyes are like
unto the clear depths of the heavens? Alas! why are the heavens so oft
veiled from the gaze of man?"
She answered not, but turned her head slightly, and he saw a smile was
playing round her lips.
"Is it lest by too long contemplation of their beauty, a man should lose
himself in longing?" he asked again.
Then Barbara turned her head and faced him, but still her lashes
drooped, and she whispered very softly:
"Nay, but rather lest by too long contemplation a man should learn their
secret."
"Ah, Barbara," he pleaded; "be merciful. Show me the secret of the
heavens."
So she raised her eyes to his, and far in their depths he read her
secret.
And she, stooping, gave her face to his kisses, and her life to him for
all its span.