"Come, come!" he protested roughly, "this is useless, madame. I have already once this evening had the pleasure of seeing your tears; I know their value. Besides, you should bear in mind your character; tears are ill-suited to doublet and hose." Still she sobbed on, unheeding. He moved impatiently and hummed a tune which quickly wandered away into incoherence. "I would I knew if it were counterfeit," he muttered. Still she wept, with quick-drawn breath, and short, gasping, helpless sobs, very terrible to a man’s ears. He took two steps towards her, and then paused. "No," he muttered. "I will not. She hath already duped me twice, I will be hanged if I let her do so again. ’Tis but counterfeit." He turned from her resolutely and seating himself with his back to her waited stolidly until she should see fit to relinquish this last design. Minute after minute passed. Soon the sobs died away. "Ah, good!" he thought with a smile. "So my lady has decided to try another plan." He waited impatiently for her next move. There was no sound in the room save an occasional sobbing gasp. At last he could wait no longer, but rising quickly hurried to her side. Her eyes were closed and she lay very still. Then he listened for the regular breathing. There was no doubt of the matter, she was asleep, asleep as peacefully as an infant. "So it was no counterfeit," he muttered slowly; "she hath sobbed herself to sleep. What a brute she must think me! What a brute I am!" He stood close beside her gazing down at the graceful yielding figure, at the dark lashes curling on to the flushed, tear-stained cheeks, at the rosy half-opened mouth, at the loose mass of hair framing her perfect face. His breath came fast, his heart beat quickly. Suddenly he turned from her and hurried from the room, locking the door behind him. Away from the room, away from the Inn, away to the river-bordered meadow behind. And there he paced the night through, puffing unconsciously at an unlighted pipe, until the first rays of dawn softened the sky. Before he set out he crept once more into the room where Barbara still lay asleep. He paused first to throw a cloak gently over the form of the sleeping girl, then he turned to pick up his sword and collect his papers. But ere he left the room he hesitated once more, and turning strode into the far corner. Here he knelt down and searched eagerly for a certain knot of scarlet ribbon, which being found, he folded carefully and with a short half-shamed laugh, placed in the pocket of his doublet. So Captain Protheroe and his men rode from the village. But Barbara slept on peacefully, while the sunbeams stole into the room and played with her dark curls. And there an hour later Phoebe found her, when, in answer to a message sent by the captain ere he left, she came down from the Manor House to search for her missing lady. *CHAPTER IX*