"My name is Harriet Payne, and I was a servant at Lenfield Manor when my master, Mr. Gilbert Crosby, escaped. Some of us, Golding the butler and myself amongst others, were arrested and taken to Dorchester."

"Yes, and then--"

"I cannot tell by what means, but my master procured my release and bid me go to my home, a little village in Dorsetshire. I cannot tell all the master has done, but I know that they have tried to catch him for a long time. He has been helping people to escape, they say. You don't know what it has been like in the West, mistress."

"Something of it, I know," said Barbara.

"One night Mr. Crosby came to my mother's cottage to see me," the girl went on. "He told me something of his danger, and said that if anything happened to him, or if I were in danger, I was to go to Aylingford Abbey and ask for you; if I could not see you I was to ask for Martin the fiddler."

"Well?"

"I was soon in trouble, mistress, and went to Aylingford. You were not there, nor was the fiddler. I was asked what I wanted, but I would not say. I suppose the servant went to ask his master, for Sir John Lanison himself came out to me."

"You did not tell him who you were?"

"I just said I was in trouble, and asked where I could find you. He laughed and said I wasn't the first young woman who had got into trouble, and he said--"

"You need not repeat it," said Barbara; "it was doubtless something insulting about me."

"Indeed it was, mistress, but he told me where I should find you."

"I do not know how I am to help you," said Barbara. "What do you want me to do?"

"It is not help for myself I want, but for Mr. Crosby. They had followed him to mother's cottage that night and waited. As he went out they caught him. He is a prisoner in Dorchester!"

CHAPTER XVI

PREPARED FOR SACRIFICE

Harriet Payne had made up her mind that she was the bearer of a lover's message; she expected her news to have a startling effect upon the woman she had travelled so far to see, but she was disappointed. There came no cry from suddenly parted lips, there was no sign of agitation about Barbara as her hands idly played with the folds of her gown for a few moments; it seemed doubtful whether she realised the full meaning of the message.

"What does your master expect me to do?" she asked, looking up after a pause.

Harriet Payne may have rehea.r.s.ed a scene in which she would be called upon to soothe a stricken woman and speak comfort to a breaking heart.

She had supposed that love was the same the world over, whether it went in silk brocade or coa.r.s.e homespun. She had apt phrases ready to meet the expected, plenty of well-prepared sympathy to bestow, but she had no answer for this quiet, deliberate manner, and remained silent.

"Perhaps you can help me to a decision by telling me more," said Barbara. "You need not be afraid to speak."

"By Mr. Crosby's manner I thought you had some power, madam; I imagined that if you knew my master's position you would be able to help him."

"Who has accused Mr. Crosby of having anything to do with rebels?"

Barbara asked.

"I cannot tell, but there is no doubt as to what he has done. It is well known that he has helped many of the rebels into safe hiding. There is another who is doing the same, a highwayman called 'Galloping Hermit.'

You may have heard of him."

"Is he, too, in Dorsetshire?"

"The country people speak of him; now he is here, now there, but--"

"Do you think your master and this highwayman are the same person?"

asked Barbara, and with more eagerness than she had asked her other questions.

"I have heard other people wonder whether they were, but I do not believe it; still, if Mr. Crosby is 'Galloping Hermit,' he is a man to be proud of. I would--"

"Yes, yes, I know," said Barbara; "but you can hardly expect me to take much interest in a highwayman."

"No, madam, of course not. I was not thinking of the highwayman, but of my master. It is on his account that I have journeyed to see you."

"It was good and honest of you to come," said Barbara. "I must think what I can do. Are you remaining in London?"

"I have a cousin in the city who is married to a mercer's a.s.sistant; I shall remain with her for a day or two," the girl answered.

"Come to-morrow about noon; I shall have decided something then."

"And if not you could help me to find this fiddler, perhaps?" said the girl.

When she had gone Martin came from behind the screen, and Barbara looked at him, her eyes full of questions.

"Yes, mistress, I fear her story is true. What she says of Mr. Crosby's doings is correct, also it is a fact that Galloping Hermit has been in Dorsetshire."

"You have seen him?"

"I have heard of him."

"I must try and help him though he is a highwayman," said Barbara.

"There can be no longer any doubt, Martin, that the two are one."

"Yet you will help him? How?"

"There is a way, a hard way, and I am not yet certain what it may mean to me, but it shall be done; yes, it shall be done."

As she turned to a window and looked down into the square, Martin saw that there were tears in her eyes.

"Tell me, mistress. You have told me your troubles before now, and it has not been always in vain."

"I will tell you later, Martin.".

"Perhaps it will be too late then," he answered. "Count the cost, mistress; is a highwayman worth the price?"

"That girl was right," said Barbara, turning a glowing face to Martin.

There were tears in her eyes, but they had not fallen. "She was right; even a highwayman is a man to be proud of when he helps the suffering from their brutal persecutors, as this Galloping Hermit is doing. I would sacrifice much even for a highwayman, and when he is Gilbert Crosby, too--ah! Martin, I have had dreams, pleasant dreams. I am awake now, they are only a memory, but, if need be, I will pay for them to the uttermost farthing."

"You will not tell me the price?"