"I have but one heart, madame."
"True, sir; but what limit to the times it may be offered?"
"Ah! Mistress Barbara, you know naught of the matter, for you yourself have no heart at all."
"And I marvel that you should still have one, considering how frequently you have lost it."
"I vow——"
"Hush!"
The jingle of accoutrements sounded round the corner of the road, and at the same moment they became aware of horses slowly approaching, a sound which hitherto they had been too much engrossed in their conversation to heed.
"Alack! 'Tis the troopers," whispered Barbara. "Back, ere it be too late."
But the time for escape had passed; for even as she spoke, and before Sir Peter had fully grasped the situation, the troopers had rounded the corner of the road, and were face to face with the fugitive.
They could scarcely be described as an imposing-looking force. Since daybreak they had been out scouring the country for rebels, beating the woods, ransacking the barns, following a wild-goose chase after false information extracted from the sullen country-folk, and were now returning to the village, worn out, dejected, and mud-stained. It would have been difficult to find a more forlorn-looking crew, even among the unfortunate men whom they hunted.