"My prayers! Why?"
"Because the prayers of a sweet, pure woman may come between man and evil—like a shield."
"I will," said she, very softly. "Oh, I will," and so, with a swift glance, was gone.
Being come out of the inn, Barnabas met with his valet, John Peterby.
"Sir," he inquired, "what now?"
"Now," said Barnabas, "the Tenterden coach, and London."
CHAPTER XXIV
WHICH RELATES SOMETHING OF THE "WHITE LION" AT TENTERDEN
Of all the lions that ever existed, painted or otherwise, white lions, blue lions, black, green, or red lions, surely never was there one like the "White Lion" at Tenterden. For he was such a remarkably placid lion, although precariously balanced upon the extreme point of one claw, and he stared down at all and sundry with such round, inquiring eyes, as much as to say:
"Who are you? What's your father? Where are you going?" Indeed, so very inquisitive was he that his very tail had writhed itself into a note of interrogation, and, like a certain historical personage, was forever asking a question. To-night he had singled out Barnabas from the throng, and was positively bombarding him with questions, as: