"Late to-night or early to-morrow. He rested a few hours in London, while I rode through, else I shouldn't have been here before him."

"And why are you come, my lord?" she asked.

"To serve you, madame," he answered simply.

She drew herself up, saying haughtily,

"You were not so ready to serve me at Dover."

Carford was not disconcerted by an attack that he must have foreseen; he had the parry ready for the thrust.

"From the danger that I knew I guarded you, the other I did not know."

Then with a burst of well-feigned indignation he cried, "By Heaven, but for me the French King would have been no peril to you; he would have come too late."

She understood him and flushed painfully.

"When the enemy is mighty," he pursued, "we must fight by guile, not force; when we can't oppose we must delay; we must check where we can't stop. You know my meaning: to you I couldn't put it more plainly. But now I have spoken plainly to the Duke of Monmouth, praying something from him in my own name as well as yours. He is a n.o.ble Prince, madame, and his offence should be pardoned by you who caused it. Had I thwarted him openly, he would have been my enemy and yours. Now he is your friend and mine."

The defence was clever enough to bridle her indignation. He followed up his advantage swiftly, leaving her no time to pry for a weak spot in his pleading.

"By Heaven," he cried, "let us lose no time on past troubles. I was to blame, if you will, in execution, though not, I swear, in intention. But here and now is the danger, and I am come to guard you from it."

"Then I am much in your debt, my lord," said she, still doubtful, yet in her trouble eager to believe him honest.

"Nay," said he, "all that I have, madame, is yours, and you can't be in debt to your slave."

I do not doubt that in this speech his pa.s.sion seemed real enough, and was the more effective from having been suppressed till now, so that it appeared to break forth against his will. Indeed although he was a man in whom ambition held place of love, yet he loved her and would have made her his for pa.s.sion's sake as well as for the power that he hoped to wield through her means. I hesitate how to judge him; there are many men who take their colour from the times, as some insects from the plants they feed on; in honest times they would be honest, in debauched they follow the evil fashion, having no force to stand by themselves.

Perhaps this lord was one of this kidney.

"It's an old story, this love of mine," said he in gentler tones. "Twice you have heard it, and a lover who speaks twice must mourn once at least; yet the second time I think you came nearer to heeding it. May I tell it once again?"

"Indeed it is not the time----" she began in an agitated voice.

"Be your answer what it may, I am your servant," he protested. "My hand and heart are yours, although yours be another's."

"There is none--I am free--" she murmured. His eyes were on her and she nerved herself to calm, saying, "There is nothing of what you suppose.

But my disposition towards you, my lord, has not changed."

He let a moment go by before he answered her; he made it seem as though emotion forbade earlier speech. Then he said gravely,

"I am grieved from my heart to hear it, and I pray Heaven that an early day may bring me another answer. G.o.d forbid that I should press your inclination now. You may accept my service freely, although you do not accept my love. Mistress Barbara, you'll come with me?"

"Come with you?" she cried.

"My lady will come also, and we three together will seek your father in Cornwall. On my faith, madame, there is no safety but in flight."

"My mother lies too sick for travelling. Didn't you hear it from my father?"

"I haven't seen my lord. My knowledge of his letter came through the Duke of Monmouth, and although he spoke there of my lady's sickness, I trusted that she had recovered."

"My mother cannot travel. It is impossible."

He came a step nearer her.

"Fontelles will be here to-morrow," he said. "If you are here then----!

Yet if there be any other whose aid you could seek----?" Again he paused, regarding her intently.

She sat in sore distress, twisting her hands in her lap. One there was, and not far away. Yet to send for him crossed her resolution and stung her pride most sorely. We had parted in anger, she and I; I had blamed my share in the quarrel bitterly enough, it is likely she had spared herself no more; yet the more fault is felt the harder comes its acknowledgment.

"Is Mr Dale in Hatchstead?" asked Carford boldly and bluntly.

"I don't know where he is. He brought me here, but I have heard nothing from him since we parted."

"Then surely he is gone again?"

"I don't know," said Barbara.

Carford must have been a dull man indeed not to discern how the matter lay. There is no better time to press a lady than when she is chagrined with a rival and all her pride is under arms to fight her inclination.

"Surely, or he could not have shewn you such indifference--nay, I must call it discourtesy."

"He did me service."

"A gentleman, madame, should grow more, not less, a.s.siduous when he is so happy as to have put a lady under obligation."

He had said enough, and restrained himself from a further attack.

"What will you do?" he went on.

"Alas, what can I do?" Then she cried, "This M. de Fontelles can't carry me off against my will."

"He has the King's commands," said Carford. "Who will resist him?"

She sprang to her feet and turned on him quickly.

"Why you," she said. "Alone with you I cannot and will not go. But you are my--you are ready to serve me. You will resist M. de Fontelles for my sake, ay, and for my sake the King's commands."

Carford stood still, amazed at the sudden change in her manner. He had not conceived this demand and it suited him very ill. The stroke was too bold for his temper; the King was interested in this affair, and it might go hard with the man who upset his plan and openly resisted his messenger. Carford had calculated on being able to carry her off, and thus defeat the scheme under show of ignorance. The thing done, and done unwittingly, might gain pardon; to meet and defy the enemy face to face was to stake all his fortune on a desperate chance. He was dumb.

Barbara's lips curved into a smile that expressed wonder and dawning contempt.

"You hesitate, sir?" she asked.

"The danger is great," he muttered.

"You spoke of discourtesy just now, my lord----"

"You do not lay it to my charge?"

"Nay, to refuse to face danger for a lady, and a lady whom a man loves--you meant that, my lord?--goes by another name. I forgive discourtesy sooner than that other thing, my lord."