It was quite evident to Barbara that neither her uncle nor Lord Rosmore intended her to know what had happened that night; what line they would take to-morrow she could not guess, but she had already hinted to Lord Rosmore that in exchange for her promise he must leave Martin free at the Abbey with her. This he could not do if Martin and Gilbert Crosby had got away safely, and she believed they had done so. Barbara could not sleep. The most fantastic happenings seemed possible through the long hours of wakefulness. Martin might see his companion far enough upon the road to render his capture unlikely, and then return at once. If he came before Lord Rosmore departed, what excuse would be left her for not fulfilling her part of the bargain? Towards morning this fear began to dwarf all others, and an intense longing to be certain that Martin had not returned took possession of her. She was always an early riser; there would be no reason for comment if she were found upon the terrace soon after the sun had risen. She would have no need to find an excuse, because her habit was well known. It was a silent and beautiful world into which she stepped. The Abbey was still asleep, no sound came from the servants' quarters at present, nor the clink of a pail-handle from the stables. If they were waking in the village yonder, they were welcoming the new day in silence. Barbara's footfall on the stone flags of the terrace rang strangely loud in the morning air, and she went slowly, pausing to look across the woods and down into the stream. Hidden men might still be watching, or someone, whose night had been as wakeful as her own, might see her from one of the windows. She must act as though she had no thought beyond the full enjoyment of the early morning. Slowly, and with many pauses, she made her way towards the ruins, and passed in after standing at the door absorbed in contemplation of the beauty of the scene about her. She hummed the tune of a little ballad to herself, and sat down on the first convenient piece of fallen masonry. If men were watching this place she would give them ample opportunity to ask what her business there might be. Not a movement, not a sound disturbed her. The door into the tower stood open; she wondered what had become of the men who had groaned last night, and must have fallen on the narrow stairs; and she shuddered a little at the thought of some hastily contrived grave, quite close to her, perchance. She had no intention of entering the tower, only to show herself in the ruins; surely if Martin were in hiding there he would contrive some means to let her know. Still humming the ballad, slightly louder than before, she went a little farther into the ruins, and stopped by a piece of fallen stone-work which had constantly afforded her a resting-place. It was here that Gilbert Crosby had caught his foot and stumbled last night as he and Martin had run from their pursuers; it