Her voice broke piteously over the last words. She was worn out with the terror and excitement of the day, and could scarce keep down her tears. She bit her lips, and her breast heaved with a strangled sob. He drew near and stared down at her gloomily. "So because you are a woman and this rebel chances to be your brother, my honour must go bail for his life! Do you understand, Mistress Barbara, what you ask of me?" For an instant she hesitated. Then she raised her head and turned to him proudly: "Yes, sir, I understand, and—I ask it." He bowed. "So be it, madame, your brother is safe from me." He turned coldly, and taking up his hat, walked to the door. Barbara followed him timidly. "Captain Protheroe," she pleaded softly. "Honour may be one of the first virtues, but there is a greater even than Honour,—Charity." But now his anger mastered him, he would not relent. "It may be so, madame," he answered curtly. "But in your presence I find the defence of my Honour more than I can well attend to. I bid you good-night." And turning abruptly he left the house. Barbara remained gazing after him, her cheek slowly flushing with rage and shame. "And has not a woman honour too?" she cried at last fiercely. "Am I not dishonoured enough already by this night’s work that he must needs fling his taunts in my face? There be women, perchance, who will play with men’s honour as lightly as they throw the dice, and he may think it a little thing for me to ask this of him, but oh, were it not for Rupert I had sooner have died than thus have shamed myself." Flinging herself back into a chair she gnawed her clasped hands, and beat her foot upon the ground in silent fury. Half an hour later the door opened softly and Cicely stole cautiously into the room, Cicely with dishevelled hair, red eyelids, and her face alight with eagerness and terror. "Barbara! Barbara!" she cried, coming eagerly forward, on seeing the room unoccupied save by her cousin. "The village is all astir, the troopers are busy looking to their horses, and David Marlow hath heard that on his return to the Inn, the Captain gave orders that they be ready to start on some expedition at three o’clock in the morning. Think you, Barbara, he can have heard even now of Rupert’s hiding-place? Or think you they will intercept his return. He left me but half an hour since. Speak, cannot you?" Barbara looked up slowly, her face very pale. "Aye, he hath heard, I told him myself." "Barbara! Art thou mad, child?" "Indeed I verily believe I am," she answered in a dazed voice. Then collecting her thoughts she told her cousin all that had passed in her interview with the captain. "Think you, Cicely," she continued nervously, "after that it were possible that he has betrayed me?"