Part 19

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."

"And what then? How shall we enter? Will not the gates be shut?"

"I think not. An they be 'tis no great matter to have them opened. They make small difficulty of letting any enter, 'tis in getting out the trouble lies."

"Aye! 'tis ever easier to go into a trap than to get out again," muttered Ralph doubtfully.

"Oh, Ralph! what words of ill omen!" cried Barbara with a shudder.

"In truth, I see not why we should go to Wells at all. Why not ride straight to the coast?" he queried, discontentedly.

"Simply because Mistress Barbara cannot lie out in any hole and corner, until we have the luck to find a vessel bound for Holland. She is not as we are," answered Captain Protheroe sharply. "In Wells she will be at least comfortably housed."

"But indeed I am strong. I can endure hardship," cried Barbara eagerly. "Think not of that. Let us to the coast an it be indeed the safer plan."

"On my honour, Mistress Barbara, I believe the boldest plan is ever the safest. I know that the coast is strictly guarded, escape in these garments would be impossible; we have 'fugitive' writ large upon us. But who would dream of seeking us in Wells? Where should we be safer than under the protecting care of my Lord Jeffreys himself?"

So they acquiesced, and galloped on rapidly through the gathering darkness. But half-a-mile from the town they halted, and dismounting, drove their horses into the fields, deeming it wiser to enter the town on foot. Half-an-hour later they were safely sheltered in an old rambling house, situated in the lower part of the towns where Mistress Fytch dwelt.

*CHAPTER XX*

Mistress Fitch was a quiet old dame who, unlike the majority of her kind, concerned herself but little with her neighbours. Her connection with the Protheroe family had imbued her with a certain show of pride, and the gossips in their turn--finding that she displayed a disposition to resent their advances, and finding, moreover, that the old lady's uneventful existence furnished no scope for their curiosity--had ceased to interest themselves in her and her affairs.

She lived in a house larger, indeed, than her needs, where one room was ever kept prepared for the occupation of her beloved Master Miles, should he chance to be in the neighbourhood. The main feature of her life indeed was a devotion to her foster-son; nothing he could do ever came amiss to her, and she had the most absolute confidence in his judgments.

Accordingly, when he and his companions arrived late one night, and abruptly informed the old lady that they must take up their abode with her for a while, it required only a word or two of explanation of the circumstances of their position to satisfy the old lady, and to cause her to set about her preparations for their accommodation.

They found but little difficulty in concealing their presence in the house. Lest an arrival had been noted, Mistress Fytch was instructed, if questioned, to speak of a visit from her nephew and niece from Taunton; but their entry into the house had been at a late hour, when the neighbours had already retired to rest, and as a matter of fact none had marked them.

They dared not venture forth save after nightfall and then with extreme caution, but, although at times the hours hung somewhat heavily on their hands, the rest and the peaceful atmosphere of the house were very welcome after the turmoil of the past week.

Barbara soon found full occupation for her time. With intent to relieve Mistress Fytch, she took into her own hands the greater part of the housework, and busied herself about parlour and kitchen with all the delight of a child engaged in a new amusement. She had certainly slight knowledge of the art of cookery, but it was never her nature to anticipate difficulties, and she applied herself to her new tasks with the same grave resolution, the same hopeful self-confidence that she was ever wont to bring to bear upon all her undertakings.

Some of her experiments certainly horrified poor Mistress Fytch, but the old lady speedily grew to love the girl, despite her whimsies, and despairing of controlling so determined an assistant, she let her have her way.

But Barbara had also another task to her hand. For Ralph, his strength exhausted by exposure and starvation, was laid low with a fever, and for two days lay delirious, dependent on her care. She nursed him with unwearying tenderness, though the duty was no light one, and she shrank in dread at his raving, which wrung her heart sorely. For ever his talk was of Barbara, Barbara his perfect woman, Barbara whom he worshipped with his heart and soul. And as she listened to his words, and learned the story of his years-long devotion, her heart grew heavy with pity and she redoubled her tenderness towards him, crying to herself that she was cruel, cruel, to have nought to give him in return.

Even when the delirium passed, and he was on the speedy road to recovery, her self-reproach, her gratitude, led her in cruel kindness still to continue her tender ministrations, and as he watched her waiting upon him, hovering over him, ever watchful to supply his wants, it seemed to him that Mistress Fytch's simple rooms were changed to a veritable paradise, and those few short days passed like a glimpse of heaven.

But for Miles Protheroe life during those days was alternate heaven and hell.

For howsoever rapturously a man may love a woman, regarding constantly her courage, her beauty or even her disdain, yet is his love made more devout when he may watch her, moving simple, gracious, sweet, about her household work. Then first is revealed to him the full influence of her nature. No haughty queen, no unapproachable goddess she, but the bright light of a man's life, the very homemaker, glorifying by the beauty of her gracious presence the humblest tasks.

Captain Protheroe thus day by day grew to love Barbara more, but with the growth of his love his despair increased at sight of her devotion to Sir Ralph.

As she listened perforce to the sick man's ravings, he would steal from the room with despairing heart and maddened thought, that another could pour out to her so freely the words which he might not speak.

So the days passed, until preparation for their escape from the country could be perfected. Captain Protheroe had not been idle in searching for news of a vessel bound for Holland. There was a certain old shipmaster, John Quelch, whom he had known since boyhood, and to him he resolved to turn for help, for Master Quelch, he knew well, was a frequent visitor to Wells, where his sister kept an inn. Accordingly at the inn he ventured secretly to seek news of him, and there, luck being with him, he discovered the man himself, and confided to him his difficulties. Master Quelch owed something to the captain's kindness in former days, and having readily promised his help, two days later brought the welcome news that his brother's vessel, the _Roaring George_, was shortly to sail from Listoke and the skipper would take them on board. He further suggested that they journey to the coast as his companions, and thus there would be less danger of interruption on their way, since such journeys of seamen and their relatives were frequent betwixt Wells and the sea, and he was a man well known upon the road.

The fugitives accepted the offer right willingly, and this matter being arranged, time again hung heavily on Captain Protheroe's hands until the day arrived for departure. It was easy for Barbara to wait, busy with her many duties; it was easy for Ralph, still weak from his fever; but he had nought to do save sit hour-long watching Barbara at her work, and wondering wherein exactly lay the magic of her charm. All her ways fascinated him, and he could not keep his eyes from following her every movement.

This persistent watch upon her doings for a time annoyed and embarrassed Barbara. She felt sadly conscious of a want of habitude in her work, and feared lest a critical brain lurked behind his observant glance. She endeavoured to appear perfectly confident even with the results of her cookery, but 'twas at times a trying effort. Yet, finding no comments were offered, and her failures passed unnoticed, she grew emboldened to meet him glance for glance, and what she read in his eyes was so unmistakable that it brought the blush to her cheek, and the mischievous smile to her lips, and, for women are at best but mortal, sent her about her work with added daintiness and allurement.

But at length he could no longer satisfy himself with watching in silence; the force of his love, hopeless though he feared it to be, overpowered his prudence; he could not restrain his tongue.

Barbara was in the kitchen, concerned with the making of a pasty. She was alone, nor aware of his presence in the next room, and as she worked she sang a plaintive little song concerning the mystery of love. Thus it ran:

"Oh! what is love? Some say it is but sorrow, Passion unholden, joy a three-part pain. Here for to-day but gone for aye to-morrow, Leaving behind a memory and a stain, If this be so, my heart it shall not move. Let me not love. Let me not love.

"Oh! what is love? Some say 'tis but a dreaming Born in the Spring-time of a single sigh. Blazing in glory, earth an Eden seeming, Dying of passion as the roses die. If this be so, if love a vision prove, Let me not love. Let me not love.

"Oh! what is love? A worship all undying. Faith looks to faith, and heart to heart has fled. Faith is fulfilled, no more the soul goes sighing. Love is for aye, and time itself is dead. If this be so, if earth a heaven may prove. Ah! give me love. Ah! give me love."

Scarcely was the song ended when Captain Protheroe strode abruptly into the room, and crossing to her side seized her almost roughly by the arm.

"Mistress Barbara," he asked hoarsely, "know you aught of what you sing?"

She paused, silent, wondering at his tone.

"Ah! Mistress Barbara," he continued more gently; "would it were mine to teach you the meaning of your words."

But, though she dearly loved to read that look upon his face, yet at his words a spirit of mischief possessed her; and, maiden-like, loving him she loved to show him cruelty that she might hereafter prove the kinder in atonement. So drawing from him she turned to place her pasty in the oven, at the same time asking mischievously:

"What! Wouldest teach me that love is sorrow, sir?"

He smiled at her and shook his head.

"Nay, that was not all your song, Mistress Barbara."

"A worship all undying," she repeated softly. Then she turned to him demurely.

"Captain Protheroe, how long is't since you saw the lady of whom you spake to me in the forest, she who was once your queen?"

He started back angrily.

"Mistress Barbara! Who hath been spreading scandalous stories concerning me?" he cried in a fury of indignation.

She stared at him in amazement.

"Nay, sir, none that I know on," she faltered.

"Then what----"

"I did but wonder how long a man's 'worship undying' lives," she answered mischievously.

He eyed her keenly for a moment, then he laughed.

"Sure a man can scarce be writ down inconstant because he remain not true to his childhood's love."

"Yet some men have proved themselves so constant," she murmured softly.

"That should be easy, madame, to one who hath known you all his life," he answered quickly, disarming her by his gallantry. Then he continued: "'Twould indeed go hard with me, must I forfeit all other loves for that one, seeing the lady hath been wed for more than ten years."

"She is wed! Ah!" Then she looked at him curiously. "You loved her once?" she asked gently.

"Love!" he cried quickly. "What should a boy of eighteen know of love? Oh! he may dream he loves, but he knows nought of life; to him all women are angels. But when a man loves, a man who knows his world, who hath seen both what is good and evil in woman, who hath outgrown his illusions; when he loves---- Ah! madame, what must a man feel, who, having learned to detect the flaw in every gem, yet finds one perfect pearl; who, having come to fear that purity in woman is but a dream of youth, yet meets one to restore to him his hope. Ah! truly, a boy may love a perfect woman, but a man must worship her with all his soul."

There was silence between them. Presently he continued more lightly.

"That, Mistress Barbara, is a man's love; what do you know of a woman's?"

"A woman's love!" she began dreamily. Then on a sudden she sprang to her feet with a sudden cry.

"Oh! my pasty, my pasty! I had altogether forgot it."

She flew to open the oven-door, but alas! it was too late, the pasty was a cindered crust. She drew it out and laid it on the table, then turned to Captain Protheroe with a look of deep reproach. To her indignation he was laughing heartily at the disaster.

"Oh! 'tis too bad!" she cried indignantly. "'Twas you who made me forget it."

"'Pon my honour, Mistress Barbara, I am very sorry," he answered penitently; "is't indeed ruined. Could we not scrape it or--or in some other means----"

"No," she answered in melancholy tone; "'tis useless. I must e'en set to work upon another."

"But I may stay and talk to you?" he pleaded.

"Certes, no," she cried sharply; "'twould but cause me to forget again. Prithee, leave me alone, I do better so. Indeed I will not have you here. Go!"

She frowned angrily, and he fled from her in despair, nor marked the blank look of disappointment on her face when he obeyed her, nor the sigh with which she turned again to work. For man will never understand that he was not born to obey woman, and that woman, true to nature, does not require obedience at his hands.