"Ralph Trevellyan!" she repeated again doubtfully.
Then glancing down quickly at the pistol still in his hand, she cried reproachfully, "Oh, Ralph!"
He understood her meaning, and flushed hotly.
"And why not, Barbara?" he questioned defiantly. "What else remained to do? I am sick of this life, and here in this cursed forest is neither food nor shelter. It had to be death one way or another, better thus than on the scaffold."
"But not now, Ralph," she pleaded; "surely not now."
He took her hand and kissed it.
"Not now, Barbara, if you have need of me."
"Oh! indeed I have great need," she answered quickly. "For I am a fugitive even as thou, a rebel tried and condemned, and but yesterday escaped from Taunton gaol."
His face gleamed with anger.
"What! Did they dare! The fiends! But tell me how it befell, Barbara."