"Barbara is very indiscreet," said Prue, smiling a little. "Besides, she has the most beautiful hands in the world!" "Are they beautiful? I was thinking too much of her kind words to notice aught else. Yet she warned me that my love for you is hopeless, and indeed she is right. I must leave England in a few hours, perhaps for ever—" "And what right has Barbara to think our love other than hopeless? She knows nothing about it! I have a good mind," cried Prue, "to tell her all and see what she says then! But no! she would think me a fool for throwing myself away upon a man who loves me so little that he can bear to talk of leaving me for a day, let alone for ever—" "I love you more than my own life and soul," said Robin, "more than anything except honor and duty; but their call I dare not disobey. My life does not belong to myself, but to the cause of my king, and a felon’s death may end it at any moment. It would be infamous for me to hold you bound by such a marriage as ours—" "Do you know me so little as to suppose that I would hold myself bound by it if I wished for freedom?" she retorted. "I did think you loved me, but I see it is not so; a man who loved me would fling discretion to the winds and busy himself with plans for keeping me whether I would or no. Out on such scruples! I will not be set free. If there is anything infamous about our marriage, the infamy is mine, and I take the consequences and glory in them. Leave me now, if honor and duty call you. We are young and who knows what may happen? The king who calls you away now, will bring you back in triumph some day, then, perhaps, it may be Beachcombe’s turn to be hunted and driven from his country." Then suddenly remembering the cause of Lord Beachcombe’s fierce pursuit, she brought out the little packet, somewhat crumpled, but otherwise intact. "I had almost forgotten to return this," she said; "I found it after you had escaped by the river on Tuesday and methinks ’tis for this he seeks you." Robin took the packet and glanced at the superscription. "’Tis indeed this," he exclaimed. "By a miracle it fell into your hands instead of his. Prithee keep it, dear one; there is that in this envelope in exchange for which Beachcombe would give all his earthly possessions, and mayhap, some day when I am not here to protect you, it may be worth much to you to hold the secret that compelled him to take me out of Newgate, and has kept him thirsting for my life ever since." "I am but a weak woman," said Prue, smiling archly, as she replaced the precious packet in her bosom. "Can you trust me with such a secret?" "’Tis the secret of my birth," said Robin gravely, "and belongs as much to my wife as to me." "I discovered that secret for myself this afternoon," Prue began, but Barbara, thinking she had given the lovers ample time to make up their quarrel, now came back on hospitable thoughts intent, and the trio, in a very pleasant mood, sat down to supper.