Then Sir Humphrey echoed me.
"The militia will be upon us presently," he shouted in her ear above the din. "Ride home as fast as you may."
She looked from one to the other of us, and laughed gayly and shook her head, and her golden curls flew to the wind, and she touched Merry Roger with her whip and he bounded ahead, and we had all we could do to keep pace, he being fresh. Then Parson Downs pelted to her side and besought her to turn, and so did Captain Jaynes, though he was half laughing with delight at her spirit, and his bright eyes viewed her in such wise that I could scarce keep my fingers from his throat. But Mary Cavendish would hear to none, and no way there was of turning her, lest we dragged her from her saddle.
Again I rode close and spoke so that no one beside her could hear.
"Go home, I pray you, if you love me," I said.
But she looked at me with a proud defiance, and such a spirit of a man that I marvelled at her.
"'Tis no time to talk of love, sir," said she. "When a people strike for liberty, they stop not for honey nor kisses."
Then she cried again, "Remember Nathaniel Bacon!" And again that wild shout echoed her silver voice.
But then I spoke again, catching her bridle rein as I rode.
"Then go, if not because you love me, because I love thee," I said close to her ear with her golden hair blowing athwart my face.