"You--are not hurt?" she inquired anxiously.

"Hurt?" said Barnabas, "no, not hurt, Mistress Clemency, not hurt, I

thank you; but I think I have grown a--great deal--older."

"I saw it all, through the window, and yet I--don't know why you are

alive."

"I think because I was so very much--afraid," said Barnabas.

"Sir," said she, with her brown hands clasped together, "was it

for--if it was for--my sake that you--quarrelled, and--"

"No," said Barnabas, "it was because of--another."

Now, when he said this, Clemency stared at him wide-eyed, and, all

in a moment, flushed painfully and turned away, so that Barnabas

wondered.

"Good-by!" said she, suddenly, and crossed to the door, but upon the

threshold paused; "I did pray for you," she said, over her shoulder.

"Ah!" said Barnabas, rising, "you prayed for me, and behold, I am

alive."

"Good-by!" she repeated, her face still averted.

"Good-by!" said Barnabas, "and will you remember me in your

prayers--sometimes?"

"My prayers! Why?"

"Because the prayers of a sweet, pure woman may come between man

and evil--like a shield."

"I will," said she, very softly. "Oh, I will," and so, with a swift

glance, was gone.

Being come out of the inn, Barnabas met with his valet, John Peterby.

"Sir," he inquired, "what now?"

"Now," said Barnabas, "the Tenterden coach, and London."




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