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 my Lord Farquhart stands between us, but your poverty and my father’s will. How can we marry when you have nothing, when I would have less than nothing if I defied my father? No, I intend to marry Lord Farquhart, whatever he may be.”
Ashley’s eyes questioned her, but his lips did not move. And she, although she did not raise her eyes to his, knew what his asked. And yet, for several moments, she did not answer. Then, flinging the rings from her, she sprang to her feet.
“Why not take this chance that’s flung to us, Hal?” she cried. “Can’t you see what we have won? Why, Lord Farquhart’s life is forfeit to us so long as we hold his secret. A pretty dance we can lead him at the end of our own rope, and we’ll have but to twitch a finger to show him that we’ll transfer the end to the proper authority if he dares to interfere with our pleasures!”
“But, Barbara!” The man was, indeed, as shaken as his voice. He had found it hard enough to credit the evidence of ears and eyes that proved to him that Lord Farquhart was the Black Devil of the London highways, but harder yet was it to believe that Barbara, the unsophisticated country girl, was versed in all the knowledge and diplomacy of a London mondaine.
“Don’t ‘but Barbara’ me,” she cried, impatiently. “I’ll not be tied down any longer. I must be free, free, free! All my life long I’ve been in bondage to my father’s will. Now, in a fortnight’s time I can be free – controlled by no will but my own. Can you not see how this act of Lord Farquhart’s throws him into my power? How it gives me my freedom forever?”
“But you’d consent to marry this common highwayman?” Incredulity held each of Ashley’s words.
“Ay, I’d marry a common highwayman for the same gain.” The Lady Barbara’s violet eyes were black with excitement. “But Lord Farquhart’s not a common highwayman, as you call him. You know well enough that this Black Devil has never once stolen aught for himself. My Lord Farquhart, if he is, in reality, this gentleman highwayman, doubtless loves the excitement of the chase. ’Tis merely a new divertisement – a hunt, as it were, for men instead of beasts. In truth, it almost makes me love Lord Farquhart to find he has such courage, such audacity, such wit and spirit!”
“But what if he is caught?” demanded Ashley. “Think of the disgrace if he is caught.”
“Ah, but he won’t be caught,” she answered, gayly. “’Tis only your laggards and cowards that are caught, and Lord Farquhart has proved himself no coward. What can you ask of fortune if you’ll not trust the jade? How can you look for luck when you’re blind to everything save ill luck? Trust fortune! Trust to luck! And trust to me, to Lady Barbara Farquhart that’ll be in less than a fortnight!” She swept him a low curtsey and lifted laughing lips to his, but he still held back. “Trust me because I love you,” she cried, still daring him on. “Though I think you’ll make me a willing bride to Farquhart if you show the white feather now.”
“But you can see, can you not, that it’s because I love you that I fear for you?” Ashley’s tone was still grave.
“Well, but then there are two loves to back luck in the game,” she cried. Then she echoed the gravity in his voice. “What else can we do, Hal? Have you aught else to offer? Can you marry me? Can I marry you? There’s naught to fear, anyway. Lord Farquhart’ll tire of the game. What has he ever pursued for any length of time? And he’s been at this for six months or more. Nay, we can stop him, if we will. Is he not absolutely in our power?”
For a lady to win a lover to her way of thinking is easy, even though her way be diametrically opposed to his. Love blinds the eyes and dulls the ears; it lulls the conscience to all save its words. And Ashley yielded slowly, with little grace at first, wholly and absolutely at last, accepting his reward from the Lady Barbara’s pomegranate lips.
XI
To the Lady Barbara, the game that she had planned seemed easy, and yet, in her first interview with her fiancé, certain difficulties appeared. Lord Farquhart presented himself, as in duty bound, late that first afternoon. Lady Barbara received him with chilly finger tips, offering him her oval cheek instead of her lips. He, ignoring the substitute, merely kissed the tapering fingers.
“I am glad to see that you are none the worse for last night’s encounter,” he said.
Wondering why his voice rang strangely, she answered, gayly:
“Rather the better for it, I find myself, thank you.”
“You told your tale of highway robbery so well that it deceived even my ears.” Lord Farquhart spoke somewhat stiffly. “I had not realized that you were so accomplished an actor.”
“Ay, did I not tell it well?” Her agreement with him held but a faint note of interrogation.
“I failed to catch your meaning, though, if meaning there was,” he said. And now his tone was so indifferent that the Lady Barbara might have been forgiven for thinking that he cared not to understand her meaning.
“I think I expressed my meaning fairly well last night,” she answered, her indifference matching his.
“Shall we let it pass at that, then?” he asked. “At that and nothing more?” If the Lady Barbara did not care to explain her joke, why should he force her?
“Ay, let us call it a jest,” she answered, “unless the point be driven in too far. A too pointed jest is sometimes a blunt weapon, my Lord Farquhart.”
Lord Farquhart