It was not so easy to dissociate Judge Marriott from Aylingford. He came constantly to Lady Bolsover's, and on each occasion seemed to consider himself of more importance. So far as Barbara could judge he knew nothing of her reason for leaving the Abbey. He asked no questions, but delivered himself of many clumsy compliments framed to express his delight that the most charming creature on earth had brought sunshine again to town. It was impossible to make Judge Marriott understand that his attentions were not wanted, and Barbara, who had no desire to make an enemy of him, endured them as best she could. It was from him that she first heard that Judge Jeffreys was going to the West. "He takes four other judges with him; I am one of them. Rebellion must be stamped out by the law. Jeffreys will undoubtedly come to great honour, and it will be strange if your humble servant, his most intimate friend, does not pick up some of the crumbs." "Will the law be as cruel as the soldiers have been?" Barbara asked. "A dangerous question, Mistress Lanison; I would not ask it of anyone else were I you. Remember the law deals out justice, not cruelty." "Yet even justice may be done in a cruel fashion." "The sufferer always thinks it cruel," said Marriott. "And often those who look on," Barbara returned. "I have no doubt that Jeffreys will do his duty and carry out the King's command. Why should you trouble your pretty head with such matters?" "There are women who will suffer," she said. "It would be unwomanly not to think of them." "And some man, some special man, who interests you, eh, Mistress Barbara?" "Why should you think so?" "Because I can read a woman like an open book," laughed Marriott. "Her thoughts line her face as the print does a page, while the looks in her eyes are like the notes on the margin." "You read amiss if you think I am interested in a rebel awaiting judgment." "I will confess that you are more difficult to understand than most women," said Marriott, "and it is not for want of study on my part. Do you remember what I said to you on the terrace at Aylingford?" "Indeed, I have not treasured up all your words," she laughed. "I swore that if there were a rebel you were interested in, he should go free at your pleading. I am in the humour to-night to listen very eagerly." "There is no special person, Judge Marriott, but I would plead for them all," she answered. "Be merciful, for it is surely in your power. These people are ignorant countryfolk, led away by smooth tongues, and never counting the cost. They are men of the plough and the scythe, with little thought beyond these things, and they have wives and little children. Be merciful, Judge Marriott. Think of me, if you will, when the fate of a woman lies in your hands, and to the day of my death you shall hold a warm corner in my heart." "I will, I swear it, and you--" "Lady Bolsover is beckoning to me," said Barbara, and left him.