"Yes, but they will follow us. Let us forward!"
"Whither?" I asked, for her tones nettled me. She spoke as though I were a servant.
"There is but one place," she replied sharply. "Your promise was to take me to Polperro."
"And when you get there?" I asked.
"Your work will be done then, sir."
"But the Killigrews will follow you to Polperro."
"I have friends there who will protect me. Let us waste no more time."
We rode forward without another word, although, to tell the truth, her discourteous mode of speech cooled my ardour. Apparently she did not remember that I had been scheming and fighting for her liberty. Evidently I was no more to her than a lad who might open a gate through which she might enter into liberty. What became of me in opening the gate, she cared not. This ill-agreed with my nature, although, when I remembered my promise to Peter Trevisa, I felt tongue-tied. The truth was, I wot not what to do. My bargain with Trevisa hung like a millstone around my neck, and the fact that I could not altogether shake off the thought that I meant to take the maid to Treviscoe made me ashamed to speak to her.
I do not pretend to be a hero such as story-tellers rave about, and I must confess that the thought of having Trevanion under easy circumstances became hourly more dear to me. All the same I wanted to act worthily of my name, and the thought of the helplessness of the women who rode near me made me anxious for their safety.
"We must ride through Wadebridge," I said at length.