"This! In good sooth, no; this is but the beginning of success, only the times were unripe for rebellion, the leaders were unworthy of the cause. Think you these men will die in vain? In God’s name I tell you, no. A cause strengthened by such devotion cannot but succeed; for every drop of blood shed to-day there will spring up seeds of justice and resolution in the hearts of the survivors which shall blossom forth into a mighty power. I shall not see it, but thou mayest, for the day is not far off when justice, toleration and true religion shall once more flourish in this kingdom. Failure! Never! We are but the necessary martyrs, the runners of success. The cause of justice was never yet won save by a path of blood and tears." His enthusiasm communicated itself to Barbara. Her face glowed with eagerness; at that moment she had resolution to face block or scaffold that she also might die for the Cause. "Ah!" she cried, "this is the courage of which you spoke, the courage born of Faith." He bowed his head in assent, and there was silence between them while Barbara pondered on his words. Presently she continued: "And the third, the courage of Love? What mean you by that?" she asked. Instantly his face was transfigured by a smile of great tenderness. "I will show you," he answered gently. "Look." Barbara followed the direction of his eyes. In a far corner of the shed, apart from the rest of the prisoners, sat a man and a woman. She lay in the circle of his arm, her head dropped back upon his shoulder, and oblivious to all around them they sat gazing in one another’s eyes. Pale, ragged and unkempt, as were all the prisoners, yet beautiful in each other’s eyes, and transfigured by the light of perfect happiness, by the glory of their love. "It is their wedding-day," he continued softly. "I married them at seven o’clock this morning." "But who are they?" asked Barbara in bewilderment. "He is the son of the squire of Hardon, and an officer in Monmouth’s army; she, the daughter of a rich cloth-maker of Taunton, who joined the army and met his death at Sedgemoor. He lodged in her father’s house when the army was first quartered here. Later, she was attainted a rebel, and they met again, in prison. See now how mighty is love, that it will even force its way into such a desert as this. They have lived here together for three weeks as in a Paradise, and yesterday, feeling the time of separation draw near, they besought me to join them forever in God’s sight, as man and wife. I know not whether I rightly consented, yet who could refuse?" "And the future?" whispered Barbara eagerly. He shook his head.