"You needn't come all the way with me. Set me safe on the road, and go where your business calls you." "For what crime is this punishment?" I asked with a smile. "No, I'm serious. I'm not seeking a compliment from you. I see that you're sad. You have been very kind to me, Simon. You risked life and liberty to save me." "Well, who could do less? Besides, I had given my promise to my lord your father." She made no reply, and I, desiring to warn her against every danger, related what had passed at the cottage, omitting only Monmouth's loudmouthed threats against myself. At last, moved by some impulse of curiosity rather than anything higher, I repeated how the Duke had said that, sooner than lose her altogether, he would have married her, and how my Lord Carford had been still his humble servant in this project as in any other. She flushed again as she heard me, and plucked her tuft of grass. "Indeed," I ended, "I believe his Grace spoke no more than the truth; I've never seen a man more in love." "And you know well what it is to be in love, don't you?" "Very well," I answered calmly, although I thought that the taunt might have been spared. "Therefore it may well be that some day I shall kiss the hand of her Grace the Duchess." "You think I desire it?" she asked. "I think most ladies would." "I don't desire it." She sprang up and stamped her foot on the ground, crying again, "Simon, I do not desire it. I wouldn't be his wife. You smile! You don't believe me?" "No offer is refused until it's made," said I, and, with a bow that asked permission, I took a draught of the ale. She looked at me in great anger, her cheek suffused with underlying red and her dark eyes sparkling. "I wish you hadn't saved me," she said in a fury. "That we had gone forward to Calais?" I asked maliciously. "Sir, you're insolent." She flung the reproof at me like a stone from a catapult. But then she repeated, "I wouldn't be his wife." "Well, then, you wouldn't," said I, setting down the jug and rising. "How shall we pass the day? For we mustn't go to Dover till nightfall." "I must be all day here with you?" she cried in visible consternation. "You must be all day here, but you needn't be with me. I'll go down to the beach; I shall be within hail if need arises, and you can rest here alone." "Thank you, Simon," she answered with a most sudden and wonderful meekness. Without more, I took my way to the seashore and lay down on the sun-warmed shingle. Being very weary and without sleep now for six-and-thirty hours, I soon closed my eyes, keeping the pistol ready by my side. I slept peacefully and without a dream; the sun was high in heaven when, with a yawn and a stretching of my limbs, I awoke. I heard, as I opened my eyes, a little rustling as of somebody moving; my hand flew to the butt of my pistol. But when I turned round I saw Barbara only. She was sitting a little way behind me, looking out over the sea. Feeling my gaze she looked round.