"Sir Geoffrey! I’m not so sure I wouldn’t rather marry the highwayman!" cried Prue. "At any rate, I can not offer myself to him, and I doubt if he be in the mood to hurry me. Besides, there’s like to be a dissolution of Parliament, and then he’ll be in a worse plight than I am now. ’Tis true," she laughed, but not quite merrily, "there is Mr. Aarons, who was kind enough to place his hand and his money-bags at my feet, but the doors that are open to the poor Viscountess Brooke, might be slammed in the face of the rich Lady Prudence Aarons!" "Robin Freemantle would be better than Mr. Aarons," Peggie conceded. "Robin Freemantle, at this moment, will do better than any one else," said Prue. "I tell you, Peggie, my mind is made up. You may as well help me, for if you don’t, I’ll do it all alone—but you won’t desert me, will you, Peggie, dearest?" So, with tears and kisses and wiles most varied, but all through with a stubborn self-will that had often before subdued Peggie’s feeble scruples, Prue won her at last, not merely as a confidante, but as an accomplice. As soon as the whimsical creature found that there was nothing to fear from her cousin’s opposition, her spirits rose at the prospect of an adventure even more reckless and madcap than usual. She ran on with a thousand absurd suggestions, until Peggie, infected by her mood, offered to visit the prison at Newgate, and lay Prue’s proposal before the highwayman. "You know, you told him I was your maid," she said, "and ’tis one of a maid’s chief duties to carry messages for her mistress; messages of doubtful discretion especially. I can remind him of the meeting on Bleakmoor, and introduce myself as having witnessed the kiss which ignited a flame in your heart, that can only be quenched by a marriage _in extremis_." "Make use of what arguments you please, Peg, and for credential, take with you the purse he bestowed in charity on the poor widow, who now implores a still greater favor from him. Alack! the purse is well-nigh empty, but there’s enough left in it to bribe the jailers to admit a lady of high degree, who comes to find out if the condemned man can put her in the way to recover the jewelry she was robbed of on the Queen’s Highway." "To-day is Thursday, Prue," said Peggie, proceeding to prepare for her errand without delay. "Thou’lt not wed o’ Friday? ’Tis unlucky!" "Unlucky! Dost think there’s any luck, good or ill, about such a marriage?" cried Prue, dropping suddenly into a shuddering despondency. "Friday is as good a day as any for one’s undoing, and Saturday’s too long; ’twould give me time to change my mind." "There’s time enough for that now," quoth Peggie philosophically. "The banns are not yet asked, nor even the wooing sped. ’Twere wiser, perhaps, to repent to-day than regret to-morrow."