“I have been through fire and water for them, dear Barbara, and will go again if need be. Last Wednesday night these papers were given me in sacred trust to safely keep or destroy. It were better had I destroyed them. As you know, my regiment is about to take the field. I have but just changed my lodgings, and had no place of security for them. So since then I have carried them upon my person, until I could place them safely.” And then he told her how they had been taken from him by Mornay, and how he had recovered them, to his surprise and delight, somewhat moist but perfectly legible, from the doublet in the boat which was sunk by the vessel in the river. She listened to him with eyes that spoke volumes of her interest and wonder. When that was done she asked him more of the secret. And he told her how her guardian had so long kept it from her, and how Captain Cornbury had carried the story to Mornay. He broke off suddenly and went over to where she stood. “Barbara, can you not put this matter from your mind? Will you ruin our day with this silly business? Have you no word for me? Have you no thought for me--no answer to the question that is forever on my lips, in my eyes and heart?” She looked around at him, her clear eyes smiling up with an expression he could not fathom. The level brows were calm and judicial--the eyes, though smiling, were cognizant and searching. “The lips--yes, Stephen,” said she, in a tantalizing way; “the eyes--a little, perhaps; but the heart”--she dropped her eyes and turned her head away--“the heart of man is a mystery.” But Captain Ferrers was undaunted. He took in his the hand that hung at her side. “Why, Barbara,” he said, “have I not given you all my devotion? Can you not learn--” She drew a little away from him. “I am but a dumb scholar.” “Then do not add deafness to your failings. Listen to me. I have asked you again and again the same question. Answer me now, Barbara. Promise me that you will--” She had turned around and faced him, looking him full in the eyes. “What would you do for me if I promised you what you wish?” “By my love! anything--anything in my power to win, anything in my gift to bestow.” She smiled gayly. “Very well,” she said, “I shall begin at once. First, I shall want the papers in your possession.” His face clouded; he dropped her hand and fell back a pace or two. “The proofs--” “The very same,” she said, coolly. “My trust!” he exclaimed. “I have sworn to keep them secret or destroy them!” She turned away pettishly. “So much for your love, Captain Ferrers. You swear to give me anything. The first favor I ask, you refuse.” “But my honor, Barbara. You would not have me break oath with the dead?” “Will you give me the papers?” she asked again, imperturbably. He looked at her uncertainly. “And if I do not give them to you?” “Then you may go.” She pointed imperiously to the door. “You are cruel. And if I _do_ give them?” Her face lighted.