"You must not. It will not be safe for you."
"Never fear, mistress. Lord Rosmore cannot remain here, and no one else
will care a jot whether Mad Martin comes or goes. Come, there must be no
more delay. You must be back in your room if they should chance to call
for you when they return from the ruins. Indeed, you must contrive to
let them know that you are there. You will wait for me, Mr. Crosby. Your
hand once more, mistress."
She stretched out her arm, and her hand was taken, but it was not Martin
who took it.
"Thank you for all you have done for me," whispered Crosby. "It is more
than you have knowledge of; as yet, it is almost beyond my own
comprehension. There will come happier times--quickly, I trust--then I
may thank you better. Then, I would have you remember something more of
Gilbert Crosby than that he came to you that day in Newgate."
Then lips were pressed upon her hand, homage and reverence in the touch.
"I shall think of you and pray for you," she answered.
"I am waiting, mistress," said Martin. "I am here; your hand is
difficult to find in the darkness."
It was the other arm Barbara stretched out, and so for an instant she
stood, both hands firmly held, linked to these two men.
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