She was back in a few minutes accompanied by a gorgeous vision of rich brocade and costly lace. These embellishments fitly set off a stately figure that had once been slenderer and a charming face that showed few of the ravages of time and, indeed, had more than replaced the graces of youth by the archness and gaiety time had but enhanced.
"Barbara, this is my friend Captain de Cliffe," said Prue. "We met in the North Country. Permit me to present him to you."
Lady Barbara's evident astonishment did not affect the ceremoniousness of her deep curtsey, to which Robin, not less surprised by Prue's manoeuver, responded with a gravely respectful salute.
"Methinks I have heard of your meeting with this gentleman—on Bleakmoor," said Barbara, with twinkling eyes. "I, myself, claim a distant kinship with the De Cliffes; what branch do you belong to, Captain?"
"I am an unworthy twig of the senior branch," replied Robin.
"Ah! that accounts for your strong resemblance to the late earl," said Barbara, seating herself near the window, and so compelling him to face the light, while she coolly scrutinized him. "And if the present earl were a handsome fellow, you would be like enough for brothers. As it is—"
"As it is, he hates me like a brother," said Robin negligently, "and in that the resemblance between us is not to be denied."
"Dear Barbara," cried Prue, "let me make a confession to you. Captain de Cliffe is also known as Robin Freemantle, the highwayman."
"And when I told you so t'other day, you pretended to be surprised," cried Barbara reproachfully. "Little did I ever expect that my Prue would so deceive me."
"'Twas not to deceive you, dear Barbara, but a roomful of curious gossips, all ready to fall upon poor little me and tear my secret to shreds. Scold me as much as you will, some other time, dearest Bab, but help us now!"