"Madame, I salute the bravest lady I have ever known." Barbara flushed crimson. "Nay, not so, sir," she answered, smiling bravely, "for there is yet a third story I have heard. For I have heard that in these last days it has been everywhere the custom for king’s officers stationed in our villages to take up their quarters in the houses of the rebels, driving forth the occupants and taking unto themselves all their goods. Yet Cicely and I have remained here undisturbed. So I knew well, sir, that in playing my part I had to deal with no Kirke or Jeffries but with a gentleman of heart and honour, in whom a woman could place her trust." "Can so small a matter win a woman’s trust?" he asked doubtfully. For an instant Barbara sat silent, twining her fingers together nervously, and breathing hard. She was preparing for her last great stake. Then she turned to him. Her eyes betrayed her fear, but her voice was firm: "Captain Protheroe, my brother lieth hid in the fisherman’s hut, three miles eastward along the coast from Watchet. From thence he will escape to-morrow morn in a vessel bound for Holland." He sprang to his feet and turned on her in sudden anger. "In Heaven’s name, madame, why have you told me this?" "Ah! sir, because an I had not you would have learned it elsewhere. This mad pedlar who hath escaped me, knows my secret; to-night he will betray it to you. So I prefer to tell you myself and throw myself on your mercy." "You play high, madame." "Aye, sir, to lose or to win all." He turned from her and paced the room angrily. So this was the result of his effort to punish the girl (fool that he was to try it), she flung herself on his mercy and challenged him to betray her confidence. Well, why should he not, seeing the confidence was given unasked. But his pride loathed the thought. He had never yet betrayed a woman’s trust; the chivalry of his nature had remained unsoiled by the cynicism and callousness of those among whom he lived, and that chivalry now forbade him to profit by her moment of confidence. That he, Miles Protheroe, should fall a prey to the fascinations of a woman! He laughed savagely at the thought. And yet that this girl fascinated him he could not deny. Not only by her beauty (he was too much a connoisseur of woman’s looks to be deeply moved by them), nor by her gaiety, infectious though it was; no, to him the charm lay chiefly in her manifest courage, for courage was his God, and she seemed the very personification of fearlessness. So he mused, warring betwixt pride, anger, and tenderness, while Barbara sat still, watching him with a desperate eagerness. "Are you a soldier only, or a man?" she pleaded. "An ye be the first, go do your work. But oh, an ye be a man, ye cannot sure betray a woman’s confidence." "You have taken an unfair advantage of me, madame, and you know it." "Aye, sir, ’tis true enough. Think not I feel no shame. But—Rupert is my brother."