"Don’t buy the whole pack, Barbara," cried Ralph cheerily as she hurried away; "or we must charter a special vessel to carry your wardrobe to Holland!" "You grow well too fast, Ralph," was the laughing reply. "I must needs put you on bread and water an you wax too impertinent." She shut the door behind her, and tripped down the stairs humming a merry tune, all a woman’s inexplicable joy of purchase dancing in her eyes. The visitor was in the parlour, into which opened alike the door of the staircase and the door of the street. He was standing with his back towards her, busily unstrapping his pack, but turned upon her entrance. On a sudden her cheeks grew white as her kerchief, and her eyes filled with fear. It was none other than Simon!—For a moment she hoped wildly that he might not recognise her or, even recognising her, might not be aware of her arrest and trial, but the hope was destined soon to fade. For an instant the man stared at her in amazement, then a quick gleam of satisfaction flashed across his face, and he broke into a low chuckle. "Mistress Barbara Winslow!" he cried with an ugly grin at the trembling girl. "I come from Taunton, Mistress Winslow, from Taunton, where there be those who mightily desire your presence. There’s an empty cell in Taunton gaol for your ladyship, there’s an idle whipping-post awaiting you there, Mistress Barbara Winslow!" Again he chuckled and rubbed his hands with malicious glee. Barbara’s first impulse was to cry for help, and so bring down the two men from above stairs to her aid. But with an effort she controlled herself, for she perceived on the instant what must be the result. The pedlar was but a step from the street door; at her first alarm he would make his escape, and returning speedily with the guard, would secure not herself alone, but her friends. Her wit seemed to desert her now, in her greatest need; she could devise no plan of escape to insure the safety of the three. As yet the others might be safe, the man knew nothing of their presence in the house. Was it not better, braver, to go with him at once, surrender herself, since clearly Heaven willed not her escape, and so shield her companions from the danger that threatened them? For had Captain Protheroe rescued her from prison (she gave poor Rob little credit for his share) only that she should, by cowardice, betray him now? And Ralph! Had she saved him from death in the forest, only to insure for him a death a thousand times more horrible? Ralph, so weak, so lightly despairing, who loved her so truly. Yes, she might still save these two who had done so much for her. She would not shrink from the sacrifice. Her mind was made up. "God wills it," she said. "You have found me. I will go with you." "That is wisdom, mistress," grinned the man. "’Tis not here as at Durford." Quickly he put up again his pack, and shouldering it, laid his hand upon her arm.