jug and turned to watch.
Then I perceived what went on; white feet were visible in the shallow
water, twinkling in and out as the tide rolled up and back.

"I had best employ myself in making breakfast ready," said I, turning my
back. But she called out to me again, saying how delightful was the cool
water. So I looked, and saw her gay and merry. Her hat was in her hand
now, and her hair blew free in the breeze. She had given herself up to
the joy of the moment. I rejoiced in a feeling which I could not share;
the rebound from the strain of the night left me sad and apprehensive. I
sat down and rested my head on my hands, waiting till she came back.
When she came, she would not take the food I offered her, but stood a
moment, looking at me with puzzled eyes, before she seated herself near.

"You're sad," she said, almost as though in accusation.

"Could I be otherwise, Mistress Barbara?" I asked. "We're in some
danger, and, what's worse, we've hardly a penny."

"But we've escaped the greatest peril," she reminded me.

"True, for the moment."

"We--you won't be married to-night," she laughed, with rising colour,
and turning away as though a tuft of rank grass by her had caught her
attention and for some hidden reason much deserved it.

"By God's help we've come out of that snare," said I gravely.

She said nothing for a moment or two; then she turned to me again,
asking,

"If your friend furnishes money, can we reach London in two days?"

"I'm sorry," I answered, "but the journey will need nearer three, unless
we travel at the King's pace or the Duke of Monmouth's."

"You needn't come all the way with me. Set me safe on the road, and go
where your business calls you."

"For what crime is this punishment?" I asked with a smile.

"No, I'm serious. I'm not seeking a compliment from you. I see that
you're sad. You have been very kind to me, Simon. You risked life and
liberty to save me."

"Well, who could do less? Besides, I had given my promise to my lord
your father."

She made no reply, and I, desiring to warn her against every danger,
related what had passed at the cottage, omitting only Monmouth's
loudmouthed threats against myself. At last, moved by some impulse of
curiosity rather than anything higher, I repeated how the Duke had said
that, sooner than lose her altogether, he would have married her, and
how my Lord Carford had been still his humble servant in this project as
in any other. She flushed