Her heart sang in wild triumph, for pride lay dead within her and love was all in all. "He loves me," she sang, "he loves me. I go to tell him of my love." "And if he loves me not!" Her heart trembled at the thought; yet since her love was strong, she did not pause. "For," she thought, "I think, indeed, that he loves me. But an he do not, what then? I can but return alone. For what harm to him to know he has my love? ’Twill be no burden to him, rather an added triumph to his life. Surely he shall know I love him. Men do not shame to speak their love to women, is women’s love then so poor a thing that they must shame to speak of it to men?" So mused Barbara, deeming herself more or less than woman. Then on a sudden, turning the corner of a quiet lane, she saw him. Slowly he rode, his reins hanging loosely on his horse’s neck, his head bowed upon his breast in thought. And at the sight she drew rein and paused, her eyes wide with doubt and consternation. For, so strange is woman’s heart, at sight of him, there, close before her, all her resolution fled, and she could but stand at gaze, trembling at the thought of his near presence, shrinking in a horror of doubt, fear, shyness from what had, but a moment since seemed so simple, so natural an action. No. ’Twas beyond question impossible, she could not speak the words. So, at a sudden pride-awakening thought, she resolved, and had even then, turned her pony’s head and softly ridden away, but for the intervention of an unexpected occurrence. For while she paused in hesitation, a rabbit darted out of the hedge beside her, and the pony, restive at the check to their progress, on a sudden swerved aside, and ere she could fully recover her seat and regain tight control of the reins, had bolted along the road, in a senseless panic, past the astonished object of her thoughts. Then, since perforce it must be, slowly, reluctantly, with cheeks a flaming crimson, she turned to meet him. As for Captain Protheroe, suddenly interrupted in his reverie by the sight of the lady of his dreams flying past him in a whirl of hoof-thundering, hair-flying disorder, his astonishment knew no bounds. He reined up his horse and stood regarding her in amazement, half doubting the reality of the vision. "Mistress Barbara!" he exclaimed, "you here! What do you here?" But she trembled and flushed yet more at sight of his surprise. "I—I do but ride abroad, sir," she faltered; "may I not ride these roads as well as another?" "Assuredly," he answered gravely. But there was an eager gleam in his eyes, for he thought on the words of Lady Cicely, spoken ere he rode away: "I know nought of this affair," she said. "But I am a woman, Captain Protheroe, and ’tis we women who see the truth. And trust me, Barbara loves you, whether she yet know it herself or no."