She did not trust Rosmore.
She remembered the evil in his face that night in the hall when she had
stood between him and Sydney Fellowes. She remembered Gilbert Crosby;
his grey eyes seemed to look into hers at this moment. He must be
saved--but how?
"I think you exaggerate the danger, uncle," she said quietly. "Surely a
madman's folly is not sufficient to condemn us?"
"I have told you the truth. Ask Lord Rosmore."
"Will you tell me, please?"
"Sir John forces my hand," said Rosmore, turning quickly towards her.
For an instant he seemed angry, but his face softened as he looked at
her. "I am torn between love and duty. Sir John speaks truly. Another in
my place to-night, one who had only his duty to consider, would probably
arrest both you and your uncle on suspicion, and you would have to prove
your innocence as best you might. King James is determined to trample
out this rebellion, and even some innocent persons may suffer."
Barbara did not speak when he paused. She had glanced at her uncle and
wondered whether this might be some plot between these two to force her
to this marriage. She distrusted her uncle as much as, if not more than,
she did Lord Rosmore.
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