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It may save you trouble and time if I tell you that your success ends here. I would rather die the death of a traitor than marry you." "I know that," he returned just as quietly. "Love plays the fool with us all, even making Mistress Lanison of Aylingford Abbey fall a victim to the worship of a highwayman. To help him you are even willing to sacrifice yourself to a brute like Judge Marriott."
"Believe me, Mistress Lanison, I am only one of many in England to-day who do the same. They are loyal subjects so long as the King remains true to his coronation oath." "I suppose some might call them cowards and time-servers," she said. She was not deeply learned in politics, and was inclined to let the personal qualities of a man make her hero, no matter which side he fought for.
Barbara Lanison could not be unconscious of the sensation she caused a woman never is but she sometimes studied the reflection in her mirror, and tried to discover the reason. Quite honestly she failed. She was not dissatisfied with the reflection, in its way it was pleasing, she admitted, but she had not supposed that it was of the kind that would appeal to men, and to such a variety of men.
She leaned towards him, and he kissed her again, even as a man will kiss the woman he worships. Then they went out. Barbara Lanison was sorely troubled when Harriet Payne did not return. The girl had gone to try once more to get speech with Judge Marriott, and her mistress waited for her impatiently. So much depended on her success, and never for a single instant had Barbara doubted her loyalty.
A stirrup cup as you suggested, Sir John, and then to horse. Good-night, Mistress Lanison." Fellowes and her uncle moved away, leaving Barbara with Rosmore. "You may sleep late to-morrow if you will give me my answer to-night," he said. "I cannot force love, Lord Rosmore; I will not say 'Yes' without it." "It shall dawn with the speaking of one little word."
He bowed low with that grace which had made him famous amongst men, and which no woman had ever attempted to deny him. There was not a cloud upon his brow, and a little smile played at the corners of his mouth as though he had already received his answer the answer he desired. "On such a gracious morning as this am I to be made the happiest man on whom the sun shines, Mistress Lanison?"
She faced the truth bravely. It seemed an impossible thing that Barbara Lanison of Aylingford should marry Galloping Hermit the highwayman. Such a thing might appeal as a romantic tale, but in the real world it meant disgrace. In another land love might be hers, such love, perchance, as few women have ever had, but could it obliterate the past?
"We will be monks and nuns of the devil," some genius in wickedness had cried one evening, and the suggestion had been hailed with delight. This was their foundation, so they had called themselves ever since, and Sir John Lanison delighted to be the "Abbot" of such a community.
"And Sam Watson had best be careful, or he may find himself in hot water with his master," Harriet answered with a toss of her head. For herself, Barbara Lanison had little thought, but her fears for others troubled her. As a prisoner her power to help Gilbert Crosby was grievously lessened.
By killing him I should have done a public service, and, for my own honour, I should have snapped the sword I had been compelled to stain with the blood of so contemptible a person. You smile, Mistress Lanison. Why?" "At your vindictiveness, and at a thought which came into my mind." "May I know it?"
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