It is not far from this
house, and you will be safely guarded on your way to me. Then--"
Crosby paused, hoping to see her look up with the light of love in her
eyes. She remained with her head lowered.
"Then we shall be free," he said. "And it is for you to command which
road we take, and how far we journey upon it together."
She moved a little restlessly. In this one short hour, which was
slipping away so fast, she had to decide upon what her future was to be.
She loved, but she was the daughter of a proud race, whose blood mingled
with the best blood of which England could boast. The man beside her was
more to her than any other man could ever be, yet he was the highwayman,
"Galloping Hermit," the notorious wearer of the brown mask, the man upon
whose head a price was set, and who would surely perish miserably at
Tyburn if he fell into the hands of his enemies. Great provocation might
have made him a knight of the road, romance had succeeded in setting him
apart from his brethren, but was she justified in loving such a man,
could she give herself into his keeping? And she dared not tell him all
that was in her heart, for she knew instinctively how he would answer
her.
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