“I am on my way to join General Lafayette.”
“But you will be captured. It is dangerous. The country is full of British soldiers.”
“So I know,” Erskine said dryly.
“When did you get here?”
“Twenty minutes ago. I would not have been welcome just then. I waited in the hedge. I saw you had company.”
“Did you see them?” she faltered.
“I even recognized one of them.” Barbara sank into a chair, her elbow on one arm, her chin in her hand, her face turned, her eyes looking outdoors. She said nothing, but the toe of her slipper began to tap the floor gently. There was no further use for indirection or concealment.
“Barbara,” Erskine said with some sternness, and his tone quickened the tapping of the slipper and made her little mouth tighten, “what does all this mean?”
“Did you see,” she answered, without looking at him, “that the crops were all destroyed and the cattle and horses were all gone?”
“Why did they spare the house?” The girl’s bosom rose with one quick, defiant intake of breath, and for a moment she held it.