"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. ’Twas that same evening. Ralph was rapidly recovering health and spirits, and the three were seated together in his room, chatting merrily. Presently Mistress Fytch climbed the stair, and entered the room, her face beaming with pleasure. "Mistress Barbara, my dearie," she began. "There is a pedlar below." "A pedlar!" cried Barbara, springing up with an alacrity that drew a laugh from both her companions; "a pedlar!" "Aye, dearie. ’Twas Master Miles here bid me find one, saying you had need of matters for your journey. This fellow hath but just come to town, and they tell me he hath some rare stuffs to show, so I e’en bade him bring them here to-night." "Oh! Nannie, how good, how—how heavenly of you," cried Barbara with shining eyes. "I will go to him on the instant, I will buy of his best, I will. Oh! how I have grown to hate the very sight of this gown! To think that I need no longer wear it!" She clapped her hands in sheer delight.