True, he had threatened her, but he also loved her, she could not doubt
that in his own fashion he did so. Would a man place the woman he loved
in such jeopardy as that in which she was placed? Barbara could not
believe it possible; besides, how should Lord Rosmore know that she was
on her way to Dorchester? The coming of Harriet Payne to Aylingford had
aroused Sir John's suspicions, but there was no circumstance which would
lead Rosmore to suppose that she intended journeying to the West.
Martin Fairley also troubled her. Had he made good his escape, or had he
been retaken and confined somewhere else in the town? She had asked the
man Watson as the cavalcade had started again, and his gruff reply was
that the fool would be left dead in the ditch by the roadside. She did
not believe Martin was dead; in fact, Martin puzzled her. He could not
have had a hand in her betrayal, yet, at the very moment when courage
was most needed, he had been a coward. Probably he had saved himself,
but he had deserted her. The one person upon whose fidelity she would
have staked her honour had utterly forsaken her at a supreme moment.
Full as her mind was of Gilbert Crosby, the failure of this half-witted
companion depressed her as, perhaps, nothing else could have done.
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