"You don't understand, Barbara," persisted the enraged man impatiently. "What should you know of a man's honour, and when it behooves him to fight for it? I tell you he must answer for his words."
"And I tell you you must not fight. Think, Ralph, suppose you killed each other, I should be alone."
There were tears of desperation in her eyes; he was moved to pity.
"There, there! Barbara, don't you be troubled," he said, patting her hand with an air of humouring kindness. "I promise you we will not fight yet, not at least till you are in safety. I doubt not 'twill need both our wits to get out of this pother. A quarrel does not stale with delay, we'll postpone it till more favourable date."
And with that Barbara was for the present content. She had staved off the fight; who could tell what the future might bring?
So they turned to seek Captain Protheroe, but he was not in sight, neither did he answer to their call. But hurrying to the edge of the fosse they peered down and saw him, on his knees, in a tangle of bracken, all his attention riveted upon a small packet which he held in his hands.
Barbara called to him eagerly.
"I have found my kerchief, 'tis needless to seek further. What have you there?"
Then he rose to his feet, and climbed up to her side. The two on the bank stared at him in amazement; his eyes blazed with a strange light, and his voice trembled with excitement.
"Mistress Barbara! Sir Ralph! What think you I have found? Nay, you would never dream it. 'Tis a miracle of wonder. 'Tis well-nigh inconceivable."