Sometimes ugly rumours came, brought by a court gallant, or some young soldier who had returned from the West. Feversham had been called to London and loaded with honours, for "winning a battle in bed," as a wit said, and the brutal Colonel Kirke and his "lambs" were left in Somersetshire, free to commit any atrocities they pleased. If only half the stories were true, then had the West Country been turned into a hell, and Barbara hated the King who allowed such cruelty. She became a rebel at heart, and for the first time since she had found the mask in the ruins thought less harshly of Gilbert Crosby. There could be no reason to excuse his being a highwayman, but at least he had gone West to give what help he could to the suffering. How had he sped? The question set Barbara thinking, and, in spite of herself, Gilbert Crosby was in those thoughts all through a wakeful night.
Barbara saw nothing of Lord Rosmore, whether he was in London or not she did not hear; but once Sydney Fellowes came to her aunt's, and Barbara was glad to see him, although she hardly had a word with him. She was surrounded at the time, and Fellowes made no effort to secure her attention. He evidently considered himself in disgrace still, although Barbara had forgiven him, and had ceased to associate him with the evil which was at Aylingford Abbey.
It was not so easy to dissociate Judge Marriott from Aylingford. He came constantly to Lady Bolsover's, and on each occasion seemed to consider himself of more importance. So far as Barbara could judge he knew nothing of her reason for leaving the Abbey. He asked no questions, but delivered himself of many clumsy compliments framed to express his delight that the most charming creature on earth had brought sunshine again to town. It was impossible to make Judge Marriott understand that his attentions were not wanted, and Barbara, who had no desire to make an enemy of him, endured them as best she could. It was from him that she first heard that Judge Jeffreys was going to the West.
"He takes four other judges with him; I am one of them. Rebellion must be stamped out by the law. Jeffreys will undoubtedly come to great honour, and it will be strange if your humble servant, his most intimate friend, does not pick up some of the crumbs."
"Will the law be as cruel as the soldiers have been?" Barbara asked.
"A dangerous question, Mistress Lanison; I would not ask it of anyone else were I you. Remember the law deals out justice, not cruelty."
"Yet even justice may be done in a cruel fashion."
"The sufferer always thinks it cruel," said Marriott.
"And often those who look on," Barbara returned.
"I have no doubt that Jeffreys will do his duty and carry out the King's command. Why should you trouble your pretty head with such matters?"