And, as she gazed,
Barnabas spoke again and motioned with his pistol hand.
"Get back into the chaise, my lady."
"No!" she answered, and, though her face was hidden now, he knew
that she was weeping. "I'm going on, now--to Ashleydown, to save
Ronald, to redeem the promise I gave our mother; I must, I must, and
oh--nothing matters to me--any more, so let me go!"
"My lady," said Barnabas, in the same weary tone, "you must get back
into the chaise."
"And let Ronald die--and such a death! Never! oh never!"
Barnabas sighed, slipped the pistol into his pocket and dismounted,
but, being upon his feet, staggered; then, or ever she knew, he had
caught her in his arms, being minded to bear her to the chaise. But
in that moment, he looked down and so stood there, bound by the spell
of her beauty, forgetful of all else in the world, for the light of
the lanterns was all about them, and Cleone's eyes were looking up
into his.
"Barnabas," she whispered, "Barnabas, don't let me go!--save me
from--that!"
"Ah, Cleone," he murmured, "oh, my lady, do you doubt me still? Can
you think that I should fail you?
"Oh, my dear, my dear--I've found a way, and mine is a better way
than yours.
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