"As you please. An you care to do so, of a certainty I would not prevent you," she answered angrily, but her voice faltered. Here was the opportunity she had told herself she desired, the opportunity to free him from her dependence. But now her pride wavered, and despite her angry words, she prayed he might not go.
But he also had pride, pride now stung by jealousy. Without a word he turned on his heel, and strode from the glade.
Barbara stared after his retreating figure in dismay, but she could not call him back. She turned fiercely upon Sir Ralph.
"And pray what right had you, Ralph, to quarrel with Captain Protheroe?" she cried in a fury.
"Tut! Barbara," he answered coaxingly. "We shall do better without him. I doubt not the fellow is but a spy."
"He is no spy," she answered, stamping her foot in her rage. "He is a most brave, a most chivalrous gentleman. And—and I would to Heaven he had not left me."
She turned angrily away from her astonished companion—and found herself face to face with the captain himself.
The gloom had vanished from his face, and he looked down at her with a smile in his eyes.
"I pray you pardon me, Mistress Barbara," he began; "I did not willingly play the eavesdropper. I returned to fetch my cloak. But now——" he paused, and looked down at her whimsically. "Now, may I stay?"
In vain Barbara endeavoured to preserve her anger, gazing back haughtily into his laughing eyes; she was too delighted to see him again, and presently her lips twitched, and the dimple appeared.