"This gentleman thought fit to hold the doorway, against me. I—I was—-er—about to remove him." Then he turned politely to Ralph, who had sunk wearily into a seat within the doorway, whence he smiled faintly up at Barbara as she came anxiously from an adjoining room to his side, to ascertain whether he had received any hurt. "I must apologise, sir," he said with grave politeness, "for so rudely forcing myself upon your company. ’Twas a misconception, which I trust you will pardon. But I fear I can never hope the lady will be equally forgiving." Barbara looked up with a bright smile. "Indeed, sir," she said softly, "we should rather be grateful to you, for the generous manner in which you conducted the attack. We owe you thanks for your courtesy in staying your men from firing upon the house when you discovered I was here, and for your chivalry in insisting upon fighting Sir Ralph single-handed." The little man flushed with pleasure. "Faith! madame," he cried gallantly; "’twas nothing. However hard pressed a man may be, nothing would excuse discourtesy to a lady. And for the rest, ’twas a most enjoyable fight whose interruption is condoned only by the acquaintance thus created." Captain Protheroe laughed lightly. "Zounds! Will, what would the colonel say to your new methods of rebel hunting, eh? He is ever the same, Mistress Barbara; he rides the country with a cumbersome escort, yet doth all the work himself." Captain Harrington again turned to his recent adversary, who still leaned back, with half-closed eyes. "I trust, sir," he said anxiously, "I have not been so excessively clumsy as to wound you in our affray. ’Tis a thing I never do, unless mortally." Ralph smiled faintly. "Rest assured, sir, your hand is still sure." "Sir Ralph Trevellyan is but recovering from a fever," interposed Barbara gently; "the encounter hath exhausted him." "I am well enough, Barbara," exclaimed Ralph, struggling to his feet. "Indeed, you are not," she answered firmly. "Sit still while I fetch some water." But now Captain Harrington was all contrition. He flew for water, he sent his men for wine. He hovered over Barbara with most assiduous attentions, while she ministered to her exhausted companion. "What may I do now?" implored the little officer, when Barbara had finished her task; "what may I do to further atone for my mistake? Where are you bound for now, eh?" "We are on our road to Durford; it lies north of Taunton, you know; but we can hardly set out to-night. Is there any place hereabouts fit to spend the night in?" asked Captain Protheroe doubtfully. "My quarters are but five minutes’ distance from here," cried Captain Harrington eagerly; "if I dared hope to be so greatly honoured." "Oh, no," cried Barbara quickly; "indeed, we cannot take your rooms." "Alack! madame, I feared ’twas too great an honour to hope for," sighed the little man mournfully. "After my error, too. And yet, if it might have been——"