"Yes, my—brother," but her voice faltered at the word, and she went on through the wood, but slowly now, and with head still drooping. And so, at last, they came out of the shadows into the soft radiance of the moon, and thus Barnabas saw that she was weeping; and she, because she could no longer hide her grief, turned and laid a pleading hand upon his arm.
"Pray, think of him as kindly as you can," she sighed, "you see—he is only a boy—my brother."
"So young?" said Barnabas.
"Just twenty, but younger than his age—much younger. You see," she went on hastily, "he went to London a boy—and—and he thought Mr. Chichester was his friend, and he lost much money at play, and, somehow, put himself in Mr. Chichester's power. He is my half-brother, really; but I—love him so, and I've tried to take care of him—I was always so much stronger than he—and—and so I would have you think of him as generously as you can."
"Yes," said Barnabas, "yes." But now she stopped again so that he must needs stop too, and when she spoke her soft voice thrilled with a new intensity.
"Will you do more? You are going to London—will you seek him out, will you try to—save him from himself? Will you promise me to do this—will you?"
Now seeing the passionate entreaty in her eyes, feeling it in the twitching fingers upon his arm, Barnabas suddenly laid his own above that slender hand, and took it into his warm clasp.
"My lady," said he, solemnly, "I will." As he spoke he stooped his head low and lower, until she felt his lips warm upon her palm, a long, silent pressure, and yet her hand was not withdrawn.
Now although Barnabas had clean forgotten the rules and precepts set down in the "priceless wollum," he did it all with a graceful ease which could not have been bettered—no, not even by the Person of Quality itself.
"But it will be difficult," she sighed, as they went on together.
"Ronald is very headstrong and proud—it will be very difficult!"