udden change in her manner. He had
not conceived this demand and it suited him very ill. The stroke was too
bold for his temper; the King was interested in this affair, and it
might go hard with the man who upset his plan and openly resisted his
messenger. Carford had calculated on being able to carry her off, and
thus defeat the scheme under show of ignorance. The thing done, and done
unwittingly, might gain pardon; to meet and defy the enemy face to face
was to stake all his fortune on a desperate chance. He was dumb.
Barbara's lips curved into a smile that expressed wonder and dawning
contempt.

"You hesitate, sir?" she asked.

"The danger is great," he muttered.

"You spoke of discourtesy just now, my lord----"

"You do not lay it to my charge?"

"Nay, to refuse to face danger for a lady, and a lady whom a man
loves--you meant that, my lord?--goes by another name. I forgive
discourtesy sooner than that other thing, my lord."

His face grew white with passion. She accused him of cowardice and
plainly hinted to him that, if he failed her, she would turn to one who
was no coward, let him be as discourteous and indifferent as his sullen
disposition made him. I am sorry I was not there to see Carford's face.
But he was in the net of her challenge now, and a bold front alone would
serve.

"By God, madame," he cried, "you shall know by to-morrow how deeply you
wrong me. If my head must answer for it, you shall have the proof."

"I thank you, my lord," said she with a little bow, as though she asked
no more than her due in demanding that he should risk his head for her.
"I did not doubt your answer."

"You shall have no cause, madame," said he very boldly, although he
could not control the signs of his uneasiness.

"Again I thank you," said she. "It grows late, my lord. By your
kindness, I shall sleep peacefully and without fear. Good-night." She
moved towards the door, but turned to him again, saying, "I pray your
pardon, but even hospitality must give way to sickness. I cannot
entertain you suitably while my mother lies abed. If you lodge at the
inn, they will treat you well for my father's sake, and a message from
me can reach you easily."

Carford had strung himself to give the promise; whether he would fulfil
it or not lay uncertain in the future. But for so much as he had done he
had a mind to be paid. He came to her, and, kneeling, took her hand; she
suffered him to kiss it.

"There is nothing I would