from one's
own countrywomen."

Barbara blushed and turned away.

The young man, who was soberly clad, had dark, almost black hair, and
dark eyes. His mouth was perhaps too loose, but he was prepossessing. A
certain melancholy, an air of bafflement, seemed to overshadow him.
Barbara's sympathy was his at that moment, and he knew it.

"There is a hiding-place in the house," he said, after a pause; "your
father has told me of it."

Barbara started; but at these words, her last suspicion vanished.
"There is," she replied simply.

"Then will you lodge me there?" the stranger answered. "The gravest
issues depend upon the success with which my visit here is kept secret.
So far, I believe I have eluded suspicion and pursuit, but these
Roundheads are cunning as jackals. And, dear preserver, might I crave
some food and drink?"

"Alas!" exclaimed Barbara, "I have delayed hospitality too long. But,
you see," she added, smiling, "such visitors are rare at Myddelton
Hall. Our gates fly wide to welcome my father's friends when we know of
their approach, I assure you, sir."

The stranger bowed, and, smiling in reply, lost for the moment his air
of melancholy.

"Your hiding-place is close at hand," she said, and looked again at the
ring.

It was certainly her father's; she had often seen it on his hand. And
Bevis, too! No, there could be no longer any doubt as to the
stranger's genuineness. At least, if there were, she banished it
forthwith, for, moving swiftly to the door, she locked it, and then,
crossing the room to the fireplace, held up the light and revealed a
portrait of an elderly man in Elizabethan costume.

"My great-grandfather," she said, "with whom, as I will show you,
liberties have been taken."

So saying, she climbed on a chair, and, reaching upward, pressed her
finger against the portrait's right eye. As she did so, a spring was
set in motion, and the picture slid upwards, taking the top line of the
heavy oak frame with it, and leaving the remaining three sides in their
place, disclosing a cavity in the wall.

"Climb in there," Barbara said, handing the candle to the stranger,
"and turn sharp to the right, and then to the left, and you will come
to an iron door, which rises and falls like a portcullis. The handle is
of no use, but on the ceiling you will see the motto, _'Nil
desperandum,'_ which you must take as counsel offered to yourself.
Press the space in the centre of the D, and the door will open