"Yes," she said; then after a minute, in which she gazed at the princely form in unwilling admiration, Jaquelina added, half-pityingly: "All that you might have been!"
"Yes, all that I might have been," he said, in a saddened and softened voice. "Are you a student of Whittier, Miss Meredith? Do you believe with him that
"'Of all sad words of tongue or pen
The saddest are these: It might have been'?"
Jaquelina gazed in astonishment at him. A sudden sense of the strangeness of her position rushed over her.
She was here alone in the outlaw's cave, and he was talking sentiment to her.
She clasped her slim hands together, and the dark eyes looked at him pleadingly as she answered:
"I am too young and untutored to discuss these things with you, sir, and my mind is distracted by thoughts of home. Release me, if you please. If you will only show me the outlet of the cave I will find my way home. My friends will be alarmed at my continued absence."
"Do you hear the storm?" he asked. "It is pitchy dark, the rain and wind are fearful, and you are several miles from home."
"It is no matter," said the girl, desperately. "Only release me, and I will find my home if I have to crawl there. I am more afraid of you and your outlaw band than I am of the night and the darkness."