"Cis," she asked with some slight hesitation, "thinkest thou that Captain Protheroe knows aught of my arrest?" "Knows aught!" cried Cicely in astonishment. "Why, Barbara, child, who else hath accused thee?" "Nay, nay; I will not believe that of him," answered Barbara stoutly. "Believe what thou wilt, I tell thee it is the truth. Thinkest thou he would tamely endure to be duped as thou hast duped him, without some revenge? Oh! I tell thee as I have ever done, the fellow is to be mistrusted, and to take such revenge on thee were but his nature." "In truth, Cicely, you do not know him," pleaded Barbara. "He is not—I would trust him." "Why, Barbara! Hath the man bewitched thee that thou art so ready in his defence?" cried Cicely, looking at her curiously. "What hath he done to win such trust? Or dost thou deem, perchance, that thou hast bewitched him, and so bound him to thy cause? I’ faith, coz, I warn thee, trust not too much to the power of thine eyes; all men be not so easily ensnared." But Barbara answered not, only sighed lightly and stared thoughtfully into the gathering darkness, her eyes wide with wonder and with doubt. The distance from Durford to Taunton is scarce twelve miles, and ’twas little past noon when they set out on their journey, but the progress of the cart was slow, owing to the bad roads. A horse, too, cast a shoe, and they must needs stop at the next village to seek a smith. The escort halted more than once for refreshment, and in fine it was night before they reached their destination. Perhaps the darkness was not without its compensation. At the cross roads were scenes ill-suited to a woman’s eyes, traces of that wholesale butchery which for many weeks had devastated the fairest county of the West. Gaunt figures swinging in their chains from the sign-posts, tokens of the merciless punishment meted out to those even suspected of rebellion, had been no cheering welcome to such travellers as they. When they entered Taunton the streets were almost deserted, and the dwelling houses closed and in darkness, but the windows of the White Hart Inn, the headquarters of the royal troops, blazed with light, and the shouts of laughter and snatches of song from within indicated that the soldiery were holding revelry, heedless alike of the hallowedness of the Sabbath, of the misery of the townsfolk, and of the despair of hundreds of prisoners who lay awaiting their doom in the crowded gaols of the town. As the cavalcade passed before the Inn an officer lounged into the light of the doorway, and stared carelessly at the passing company. Barbara with a gasp of astonishment half rose to her feet, but Cicely’s hand restrained her, and reluctantly she sank down beside her cousin. The cart passed, leaving Captain Protheroe to continue his inspection of the night all unconscious of whom the vehicle conveyed. *CHAPTER X*