handsomest attraction of his acquaintance, and laughingly turned to warn
a bevy of beauties of the danger of running after so well favoured a
cavalier?

"It is all because I am a woman," said Barbara, with a little sigh. "I
suppose I ought to be happy, proud, pleased; and yet--"

She looked across the woods, far away into the blue distance where fancy
well might have its kingdom, and her thoughts became a day-dream. That
she was a woman, that the horizon of her mind had widened, that in
touching the great world she had understood things which before were a
sealed book to her, did not altogether account for the change. In her
day-dream she was conscious of a pair of grey eyes which seemed to look
into her soul; conscious of a voice--kindly, yet with something stern in
it--saying in her ear: "Can I be of service?" and again, "This is no
place for a woman."

It was strange that she should remember so vividly; strange, too, that
he had gone from her so quickly. Why had he done so? Who was he? Such
questions brought another in their train. Why had the voice of the
highwayman with the brown mask seemed familiar? She tried to remember
the exact figure of the man who had come to her rescue at Newgate, her
fair brow frowning a little with the endeavour, but only the look in his
eyes and the sound of his voice remained. Somehow the highwayman's voice
had seemed unnatural.

The opening and closing of a door startled her, and she turned quickly
to see her uncle crossing the terrace.

"It is surprising to find you alone in these days, Barbara. London has