that she would betray him? And yet by betraying him she could escape this hateful marriage! But – was he trying to frighten her so that she would refuse to marry him – so that she alone would incur old Gordon’s wrath – so that he would still be free to love and have his Sylvia?
Here she clinched her small fists and declared that, highwayman or not, she’d marry him! She would show him that he could not disdain her for any Sylvia. And then a tiny imp with immature horns and a budding tail whispered something in her ear, and she laughed again, and again there was no melody in the sound.
“Ay, I’ll show him,” she said aloud. “It will not be so hard to marry him now. I fancy he will find it difficult to make objections to my comings and goings.”
All this, perhaps, will prove that the Lady Barbara knew more of London life than its gossip. Also it might prove that there were other ingredients in the Lady Barbara’s character than dutiful submission to her father’s commands. Undoubtedly, it shows that the devil’s children are as subtle as the devil himself.
And yet, when the Lady Barbara called for her maid and while she waited for her, she looked at the hand the highwayman had kissed so often the night before. She blushed faintly and smiled slightly. But that only shows that every lover has a chance to win, that Lord Farquhart, offering love, might have wooed successfully. But to the maid, the lady said only:
“When Mr. Ashley comes, I will see him. To anyone else say that I desire to be left to myself.”
Lord Farquhart’s awakening on that same morning was the most curious, the most unpleasant, of them all. It occurred even later in the day than the others, and there was no laughter of any kind on his lips. Rather were they framing curses. Another day and night of freedom were gone. His marriage to the Lady Barbara Gordon was a day nearer. How could he laugh? Why should he not curse?
Suddenly his eyes fell on a tabouret that stood near his bed. On it lay a withered rose and half a dozen jeweled rings. The rose he had never seen before. The rings he was almost sure he had seen on Lady Barbara’s hands.
Hurriedly summoning a servant, he demanded an explanation of how the articles had come there.
The man, also unrefreshed by his night’s sleep, admitted that he had found the flower and the jewels in Lord Farquhart’s coat, that he had placed them on the tabouret himself.
“In my coat? In what coat?” demanded Lord Farquhart.
“In your lordship’s riding coat,” stammered the servant. “In the coat that you wore yesterday when we rode to The Jolly Grig. It seemed safer to me to place the jewels near your lordship’s bed than to leave them in the coat.”
And now it was Lord Farquhart’s turn to rub his eyes. He wondered if he was indeed awake. And then the curses that had shaped his lips passed the threshold and poured forth in volumes upon the head of the luckless servant, who was in no wise to blame, and finally upon the Lady Barbara herself. For to Lord Farquhart’s mind came no other solution of the mystery than that the Lady Barbara had met with no highwayman at all, that the whole story of the hold up had been but a silly country girl’s joke gotten up by herself and her servants. Doubtless it was a joke on him that she had planned, and he had been too dull to see its point. The upshot of his thoughts and the end of his ravings were a command to the servant to return the articles forthwith to the Lady Barbara Gordon, to the lady herself, in person, and to say to her that Lord Farquhart would wait upon her late that afternoon.
X
The Lady Barbara, in the midst of her interview with Mr. Ashley, was disturbed by Lord Farquhart’s servant bearing her rings and the rose that had been stolen the night before. Her confusion expressed itself in deep damask roses on the cheeks that had, indeed, been lily white before.
“Lord Farquhart returns these to me?” she cried in her amazement.
“Yes, my lady, he said that they were to pass into no other hands than yours, that you would understand.”
“That I would understand?” she questioned, and the damask roses had already flown.
“How came they into Lord Farquhart’s hands?” asked Ashley, but he was vouchsafed no answer.
“That you would understand, my lady, and that he would be with you himself this afternoon.”
The servant was looking at the lady respectfully enough, but behind the respect lurked curiosity, for even a servant may question the drolleries and vagaries of his masters. And here, indeed, was a most droll mass of absurdities.
But the lady was not looking at the servant at all. Rather was she looking at Mr. Ashley, and something that she read in his narrowing eyes, in the smile that curved but one corner of his lips, caused her cheeks to blossom once again into damask roses – nay, not in damask roses; rather were they peonies and poppies that dyed her cheeks. She spoke no word at all, and only with a gesture of her hand did she dismiss the servant, a gesture of the hand that held the withered rose and the jeweled rings.
There was a long silence in the boudoir. My Lady Barbara was playing nervously with the rings Lord Farquhart’s servant had returned to her. Mr. Ashley was watching the girl.
“So my Lord Farquhart masqueraded as our gentleman of the highways?” Mr. Ashley’s voice was full of scorn.
A quick gleam shone in Barbara’s eyes. Her breath fluttered.
“Masqueraded!” she whispered.
There was another silence, and then Mr. Ashley spoke again, his voice, too, but little above a whisper.
“You mean, Barbara, that Lord Farquhart is this gentleman of the highways?”
“Oh, why, why do you say so?” she stammered.
“Ah, Barbara, Barbara, why do you not deny it if it is deniable?” His voice rang with triumph.
But he was answered only by the Lady Barbara’s changing color, by her quivering lips.
“Why do you not admit it, then?” he asked again.
“Why should I admit it or deny it?” she asked, faintly. “What do I know of Lord Farquhart’s movements, save that I am to marry him in less than a fortnight’s time?”
“To marry Lord Farquhart!” Mr. Ashley laughed aloud. “To marry a highwayman whose life is forfeit to the crown! Say rather that you are free for all time from Lord Farquhart! Say rather, sweetheart, that we are free!”
“But why do you take it so easily for granted that my cousin is this highwayman?” asked Barbara.
“Why, it has long been whispered that this highwayman was some one of London’s gallants seeking a new amusement. Surely it is easy to fit that surmise to Lord Farquhart. ’Twould be easy with even less assistance than Lord Farquhart has given us.”
“But what would it profit us to be rid of Lord Farquhart – granting that he is this – this gentleman of the highways?” The Lady Barbara’s eyes were still on her rings. She did not lift them to the man who stood so near her.
“Profit us!” he cried. “It would give you to me. It would permit you to marry me – if Lord Farquhart were out of the way. What else stands between us?”
“No,” she murmured, in a low, faint voice, her eyes still on the jewels in her hands. “’Tis not
