"I cannot tell by what means, but my master procured my release and bid me go to my home, a little village in Dorsetshire. I cannot tell all the master has done, but I know that they have tried to catch him for a long time. He has been helping people to escape, they say. You don't know what it has been like in the West, mistress." "Something of it, I know," said Barbara. "One night Mr. Crosby came to my mother's cottage to see me," the girl went on. "He told me something of his danger, and said that if anything happened to him, or if I were in danger, I was to go to Aylingford Abbey and ask for you; if I could not see you I was to ask for Martin the fiddler." "Well?" "I was soon in trouble, mistress, and went to Aylingford. You were not there, nor was the fiddler. I was asked what I wanted, but I would not say. I suppose the servant went to ask his master, for Sir John Lanison himself came out to me." "You did not tell him who you were?" "I just said I was in trouble, and asked where I could find you. He laughed and said I wasn't the first young woman who had got into trouble, and he said--" "You need not repeat it," said Barbara; "it was doubtless something insulting about me." "Indeed it was, mistress, but he told me where I should find you." "I do not know how I am to help you," said Barbara. "What do you want me to do?" "It is not help for myself I want, but for Mr. Crosby. They had followed him to mother's cottage that night and waited. As he went out they caught him. He is a prisoner in Dorchester!" CHAPTER XVI PREPARED FOR SACRIFICE Harriet Payne had made up her mind that she was the bearer of a lover's message; she expected her news to have a startling effect upon the woman she had travelled so far to see, but she was disappointed. There came no cry from suddenly parted lips, there was no sign of agitation about Barbara as her hands idly played with the folds of her gown for a few moments; it seemed doubtful whether she realised the full meaning of the message. "What does your master expect me to do?" she asked, looking up after a pause. Harriet Payne may have rehearsed a scene in which she would be called upon to soothe a stricken woman and speak comfort to a breaking heart. She had supposed that love was the same the world over, whether it went in silk brocade or coarse homespun. She had apt phrases ready to meet the expected, plenty of well-prepared sympathy to bestow, but she had no answer for this quiet, deliberate manner, and remained silent. "Perhaps you can help me to a decision by telling me more," said Barbara. "You need not be afraid to speak." "By Mr. Crosby's manner I thought you had some power, madam; I imagined that if you knew my master's position you would be able to help him." "Who has accused Mr. Crosby of having anything to do with rebels?" Barbara asked.