She strode haughtily past him and disappeared into her bower. Captain Protheroe looked after her with a long, low whistle of astonishment and dismay. Then he shook his head solemnly and drew out his pipe. "The longer a man lives," he remarked to that trusty confidant, "the more surely he learns that the only safe method of dealing with women is to preserve an absolute silence. Thus only may he chance to escape offence, for they can interpret it as they will." *CHAPTER XVIII* Not until evening did Barbara emerge from her retirement. She found Sir Ralph seated by the spring, mightily refreshed with his sleep, but gazing somewhat gloomily at his surroundings. He greeted her appearance, however, enthusiastically. "Ah! Barbara, that is well," he cried joyously. "Methought you had vanished entirely. Come, sit here and talk. I have a thousand things to say to thee, now we are alone. This is like old times again, is it not?" Barbara assented absently. She was wondering whither Captain Protheroe had vanished. She paid small heed to the look of admiration in her companion’s eyes. "You haven’t forgotten the old days, have you, Barbara?" he questioned, with a suspicion of tenderness in his voice. "Of course not," she answered gaily. "My memory is scarce so short. Why ’tis but five years since you were with us." "And I have thought on you every day since we parted, Barbara," he continued softly. Barbara started, there was no doubt as to the tenderness of the tone. She was on her guard. "Indeed, a most profitless proceeding," she answered sharply. There was a pause during which Ralph feasted his eyes upon his companion’s face. Then he continued in a meditative voice. "Do you remember, Barbara, how Rupert and I were wont to play we were knights tilting for our lady’s favour? You were ever my mistress then." "You had no choice," she answered laughing. "Rupert took all others unto himself." "Yet had you still been mine, Barbara, were there a thousand others, you alone. I wore your favour, and vowed to serve thee all my days. You have not forgotten that, Barbara? The day I took my vow?" "Alack-a-day," murmured Barbara to herself. "Here now is Ralph gone crazy. Ah, me! what shall I do? And ’tis five years since we met. Can a man indeed remain so faithful?" She looked at him doubtfully, but the look in his eyes left no room for doubt. Then she grew angry at the folly and the wilfulness of man, who seeks ever for love where it may not be found. Yet her anger was slight, seeing no woman is ever angry at love, however unsought, and she pitied him and liked him the more for his love. So she answered lightly, striving to drive him from his course. "We played many games in those days, Ralph, I cannot mind them all." But he leaned across and laid his hand upon hers. "’Twas not merely a game to me, Barbara, surely you know that? You knew that when we parted, Barbara."