You now; what do they tell me of you? Hush! You are on your way to
London, they tell me--yes--yes, to London town; you are rich, and
shall feast with princes, but youth is over-confident, and thus
shall you sup with beggars. They tell me you came here to-night--oh,
Youth!--oh, Impulse!--hasting--hasting to save a wanton from herself."
"Fool!" exclaimed Barnabas, turning upon the speaker in swift anger;
for my lady's hand had freed itself from his clasp, and she had
drawn away from him.
"Fool?" repeated the man, shaking his head, "nay, sir, I am only mad,
folk tell me. Yet the Wise Ones make me their confidant, they tell
me that she--this proud lady--is here to aid an unworthy brother, who
sent a rogue instead."
"Brother!" exclaimed Barnabas, with a sudden light in his eyes.
"Who else, sir?" demands my lady, very cold and proud again all at
once.
"But," stammered Barnabas, "but--I thought--"
"Evil of me!" says she.
"No--that is--I--I--Forgive me!"
"Sir, there are some things no woman can forgive; you dared to
think--"
"Of the rogue who came instead," said Barnabas.
"Ah!--the rogue?"
"His name is Chichester," said Barnabas.
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