Slowly the light of hope died in the captain's eyes, and left there only a great yearning. He drooped his head for one long minute in silence, then drew himself up and slowly sheathed his sword.
"Yes," he said quietly; "I have been mistaken." Then he turned to Barbara, and his voice was full of tenderness.
"Mistress Barbara," he said, "a man should not be blamed, if having once looked on heaven he become blind to things of earth. Forgive me the mistake. In this, in all things, I remain ever your devoted servant. Your happiness is mine, I—I am content."
He turned and walking slowly out of the meadow, disappeared amongst the trees.
"What does he mean?" asked Barbara wonderingly, staring after his retreating figure.
But she had no time for further conjecture.
Directly Captain Protheroe disappeared, Ralph snatched her in his arms, and covered her face with kisses.
"Oh! my darling, my darling," he cried; "is it indeed so? In truth I dared to hope it, overbold that I am. But now—to be convinced! Ah! Barbara, mine! mine!"
So he cried in the intervals of his kisses. But he stopped abruptly in the midst of his ecstasy, becoming suddenly conscious that the lady was struggling in his embrace, struggling violently, passionately, to be free.
He freed her, gazing at her in surprise, as she stood confronting him, her face crimson with anger.