ass into no other hands than
yours, that you would understand."

"That I would understand?" she questioned, and the damask roses had
already flown.

"How came they into Lord Farquhart's hands?" asked Ashley, but he was
vouchsafed no answer.

"That you would understand, my lady, and that he would be with you
himself this afternoon."

The servant was looking at the lady respectfully enough, but behind
the respect lurked curiosity, for even a servant may question the
drolleries and vagaries of his masters. And here, indeed, was a most
droll mass of absurdities.

But the lady was not looking at the servant at all. Rather was she
looking at Mr. Ashley, and something that she read in his narrowing
eyes, in the smile that curved but one corner of his lips, caused her
cheeks to blossom once again into damask roses--nay, not in damask
roses; rather were they peonies and poppies that dyed her cheeks. She
spoke no word at all, and only with a gesture of her hand did she
dismiss the servant, a gesture of the hand that held the withered rose
and the jeweled rings.

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