cliffs were dimly visible behind us. I pulled the boat round, and
set her head for home. Barbara sat in the stern, pale and still,
exhausted by the efforts and emotion of the night. The great peril and
her great salvation left her numb rather than thankful; and in truth, if
she looked into the future, her joy must be dashed with sore
apprehension. M. de Perrencourt was gone, the Duke of Monmouth remained;
till she could reach her father I was her only help, and I dared not
show my face in Dover. But these thoughts were for myself, not for her,
and seeking to cheer her I leant forward and said,

"Courage, Mistress Barbara." And I added, "At least we shan't be
married, you and I, in Calais."

She started a little, flushed a little, and answered gravely,

"We owe Heaven thanks for a great escape, Simon."

It was true, and the knowledge of its truth had nerved us to the attempt
so marvellously crowned with success. Great was the escape from such a
marriage, made for such purposes as King Louis had planned. Yet some
feeling shot through me, and I gave it voice in saying,

"Nay, but we might have escaped after the marriage also."

Barbara made no reply; for it was none to say, "The cliffs grow very
plain."

"But that wouldn't have served our turn," I added with a laugh. "You
would have come out of the business saddled with a sore encumbrance."

"Shall you go to Dover?" asked Barbara, seeming to pay no heed to all
that I had been saying.

"Where God pleases," I answered rather peevishly. "Her head's to the
land, and I'll row straight to land. The land is safer than the sea."

"No place is safe?"

"None," I answered. But then, repenting of my surliness, I added, "And
none so perilous that you need fear, Mistress Barbara."

"I don't fear while you're with me, Simon," said she. "You won't leave
me till we find my father?"

"Surely not," said I. "Is it your pleasure to seek him?"

"As speedily as we can," she murmured. "He's in London. Even the King
won't dare to touch me when I'm with him."

"To London, then!" I said. "Can you make out the coast?"

"There's a little bay just ahead where the cliff breaks; and I see Dover
Castle away on my left hand."

"We'll make for the bay," said I, "and then seek means to get to
London."

Even as I spoke a sudden thought struck me. I laid down my oars and
sought my purse. Barbara was not looking at me, but gazed in a dreamy
fashion towards where the Castle rose on its clif