“Diana, I can't!” The words broke from her in a sob.
But whatever her interest in Mr. Wilding for her own sake, Diana's prime intent was the thwarting of Sir Rowland Blake. If Wilding were warned of what manner of feast was spread at Newlington's, Sir Rowland would be indeed undone.
“You think of Richard,” she exclaimed, “and you know that Richard is to have no active part in the affair—that he will run no risk. They have assigned him but a sentry duty that he may warn Blake and his followers if any danger threatens them.”
“It is not of Richard's life I am thinking, but of his honour, of his trust in me. To warn Mr. Wilding were... to commit an act of betrayal.”
“And is Mr. Wilding to be slaughtered with his friends?” Diana asked her. “Resolve me that. Time presses. In half an hour it will be too late.”
That allusion to the shortness of the time brought Ruth an inspiration. Suddenly she saw a way. Wilding should be saved, and yet she would not break faith with Richard nor ruin those others. She would detain him, and whilst warning him at the last moment, in time for him to save himself; not do so until it must be too late for him to warn the others. Thus she would do her duty by him, and yet keep faith with Richard and Sir Rowland. She had resolved, she thought, the awful difficulty that had confronted her. She rose suddenly, heartened by the thought.
“Give me your cloak and wimple,” she bade Diana, and Diana flew to do her bidding. “Where is Mr. Wilding lodged?” she asked.
“At the sign of The Ship—overlooking the Cross, with Mr. Trenchard. Shall I come with you?”
“No,” answered Ruth without hesitation. “I will go alone.” She drew the wimple well over her head, so that in its shadows her face might lie concealed, and hid her shimmering white dress under Diana's cloak.
She hastened through the ill-lighted streets, never heeding the rough cobbles that hurt her feet, shod in light indoor wear, never heeding the crowds that thronged her way. All Bridgwater was astir with Monmouth's presence; moreover, there had been great incursions from Taunton and the surrounding country, the women-folk of the Duke-King's followers having come that day to Bridgwater to say farewell to father and son, husband and brother, before the army marched—as was still believed—to Gloucester.