Then he bent over her tenderly, and gently took her hand. "Lady Cicely," he said softly, "what would you think of me, had I betrayed you to save Sir Rupert?" "Ah!" Her sobs were arrested. She looked at him a moment, then gave a long sigh of slow-dawning comprehension. "Yes, madame! Would you look upon me as worthy your contempt? Would you not rather be glad?" "Yes! Yes!" she whispered eagerly. "And for the rest," he continued gently, "’tis well enow, for Colonel Lovelace to write that love be little if honour be not more, yet there may be a love so self-forgetting that a man counts himself as nothing in comparison with it, and would gladly give his dearest part, even his honour, to serve his beloved. ’Twas with such a love, Lady Cicely, you loved your cousin, and by Heaven! she is worthy of it." Cicely smiled and shook her head. "These be somewhat indiscreet doctrines, sir," she said. "Nay, madame, when was love noted for discretion?" he answered, smiling at her. "And, moreover, if your act were a betrayal, ’twas a right courageous one. I warrant me, ’twas no easy task for you, madame, to play the traitor." She looked at him gratefully. "How is it you understand so well?" she asked. "I’ faith, Lady Cicely," he answered with a sudden smile, "I fear me my record is not overclean. Not a month since, in this very room, I entered into a bargain, hardly consistent with my honour." "And that, too, was for Barbara," she murmured softly. "Even so. She has required much of us, has she not?" he continued, smiling. "Yet whoso is greatly loved, to her must much be given." "And you do not regret it?" "Regret, madame?" "It hath cost you much." "Maybe, but it has won me more." Then he added, half to himself, "For whatsoever befall me now, in this world or the next, I have at least had my hour of heaven." There was a silence, broken only by Barbara’s voice, singing in the room above. Cicely rose to her feet. "She is coming, we must go to supper." Then she turned and laid her hand upon his arm—"You have been so good to me, Captain Protheroe," she said gently. "And what I may do in return, I gladly will. You love Barbara! Ah! I could tell you so much, so much, for who knows so well as a woman how women may be wooed. Could a man but have that knowledge, he might win every maid in Christendom. Therefore"—she smiled—"perchance ’tis better withheld. And for this present matter—certes! methinks you are doing very fairly well for yourself. Only remember ’Woman loveth a bold wooer.’ Let there be no despair. More love is lost by want of hope than ever was won by diffidence." "Alas! Lady Cicely! How can a man such as I hope greatly to succeed?" "Tut, sir, we women are for the most part easy of credence. An a man tell us oft enough and resolutely enough that we need him, we needs must be convinced at last." "Indeed, Lady Cicely, you give me hope. If ’twas e’en thus Sir Rupert won you——"