"Nonsense, child," said Sir John, who seemed irritated by this bandying of words. "You talk ignorantly. For my part I am most anxious that Lord Rosmore should not do his whole duty. If he did, he would report Aylingford Abbey and ourselves suspect. I am most desirous that he should remember friendship as well as duty--indeed, I have already urged this upon him." "That is true, but Sir John is too anxious in this matter." "You know perfectly well that I am justified in that anxiety," Sir John returned. "The King is as bitter, even more bitter, against those who assist rebels than against the rebels themselves. This fool Martin has brought disaster to our doors, and we have got to meet it promptly. It is well that you should understand this clearly, Barbara," he went on, turning to his niece. "No one will believe that Martin has acted entirely by himself in this matter, and since you have confessed some interest in this fellow Crosby, you are suspect, let Lord Rosmore hide the fact as he will." "Bear me witness, this is your uncle's declaration, not mine," said Rosmore. "It is a hard fact, that is what concerns us," said Sir John; "and it becomes necessary to prove beyond question that we are heart and soul for King James. There is one way that you may easily do so, Barbara. You will remember a conversation I had with you recently concerning Lord Rosmore. He wished--" "I pray you, Sir John, this is not the moment to thrust my wishes upon your niece." "I say it is," was the sharp answer. "I have wit enough to see the safest road, and to take it. Since it is also a pleasant road, why should there be any hesitation or delay?" Rosmore shrugged his shoulders, and with a helpless glance at Barbara turned to contemplate the great iron dogs in the fireplace, kicking a log which lay there with some impatience. The conversation had taken a turn which was not to his liking, it seemed. "You remember the conversation to which I refer, Barbara?" "Perfectly, uncle."