"She wishes to be taken to the house of John Polperro." "And you will take her there?" I was silent, for I remembered the promise I had made to Peter Trevisa. Again he scanned my features closely. "Love you this maid?" he asked sternly. "I love no maid!" I replied scornfully. "Then what is your purpose? Oh, I know your history, Roger Trevanion. I know that for years you have taken no woman to your heart. I know that you have lived in poverty for years. Would you wed her for her possessions?" "I would wed no woman for her possessions," I replied angrily. "Women are naught to me." "So I have been told. Then do you help her from pure chivalry? Is it your purpose to take her to the place she desires to go? Have you faced imprisonment and death without thought of reward?" "What is that to you?" I asked. "This," he replied. "You need my help, and I must be assured that you mean all that a gentleman should mean before I extend it further." "Gentleman!" I cried, "what know you of the feelings of a gentleman? You a droll, a travelling tale-teller!" This I said with a purpose, for I desired to see further into the heart of the man. I saw too that I had not spoken in vain. His eyes flashed angrily, and he placed his hand on his left hip as though he carried a sword there. "As good a gentleman as you," he cried angrily, and for the moment he had lost control over himself. "I have a name as good as yours, my family--" he stopped, feeling doubtless that he had been betrayed into saying more than he intended. "If you are a gentleman," I replied, "you will know that a man does not tell all that is in his heart to every passing stranger. You evidently have your secret, you do not tell it to me." "True," he replied quietly. "I spoke hastily, Roger Trevanion. I know too that the word of a Trevanion is to be trusted, thus I will not question it." Then he waited for some time in silence, his eyes occasionally scanning the wild moors around, and again resting upon me. "I am waiting," he said presently. "For what?" "Your word." "What word?" "The word that your motives are honourable. That you seek only to carry out the maid's wishes. That you will take her to the house of John Polperro, and then, if she wishes, leave her as a gentleman should." I did not answer. I could not. "I wait," he said presently. "I am not accustomed to pledge my word and tell my purposes to strangers," I replied. "I must consider." "And I must consider," he retorted. "What?" "Whether I tell the lady Nancy not to trust you. Whether I shall send word to the Killigrews telling of your whereabouts, or throw you on the rocks beneath us!" I laughed in his face, and yet as I looked at his lean sinewy body, and saw the flash of his eyes, my laughter died on my lips. I felt sure that he could not easily carry out his threat, but I saw I should be a fool if I made him my enemy.