And who was the handsome man, with the long, black, flowing hair,
and a pale face, standing by Sophie's side--his Sophie--in a suit
of soiled brocade and tarnished lace, with a Ramilie cocked hat
under his arm and a pistol in his hand? The leader of these robbers,
the very man who had stopped him on the king's highway three hours
ago and taken every stiver which he had brought away from Barnet;
who had, with the help of these other scoundrels getting mad drunk
on his brandy, taken away his horse and left him bound to a gate
by the roadside because he would not be quietly robbed, but must
make a fuss over it and fight and kick in a most unbecoming fashion,
and without any regard for the numbers by whom he had been assailed.

"I did not think you could sing like that," said the captain,
quietly and in a low voice, when Sophie had finished her song, and
a great shout of approval was echoing throughout the farm and many
hundred yards beyond it.

"You have not got the horses ready," said Sophie, becoming aware
that he was still at her side. "You said--you promised--"

"I could not leave you while you were singing Did you know that
was my mother's song?"

"How should I know that?"

"No--no. But how strange--how--ah! there is your brother at the
door. I have had the honour of meeting Master Pemberthy of Finchley
earlier this evening, I think. A brave young gentleman; you should
be proud of him."