Which Tells How Barnabas, In His Folly, Chose the Harder Course

Now, as she spoke, her hands came out to him with a swift gesture,
full of passionate entreaty. And the lanterns made a shining glory
of her hair, and showed him the deep wonder of her eyes, the quick
surge of her round, young bosom, the tender quiver of the parted
lips as she waited his answer; thus our Barnabas beholding the
witchery of her shy-drooping lashes, the scarlet lure of her mouth,
the yielding warmth and all the ripe beauty of her, fell suddenly
a-trembling and sighed; then, checking the sigh, looked away again
across the dim desolation of the country-side, and clenched his hands.

"My lady," said he, his voice hoarse and uncertain, "why do
you--tempt me? I am only--an amateur gentleman--why do you tempt me
so?" As he spoke he wheeled his horse and motioned to the flinching
postboy. "Turn!" he commanded.

"No!" cried Cleone.

"Turn!" said Barnabas, and, as the post-boy hesitated, levelled his
pistol.

But now, even as the postilion chirruped to his horses, the chaise
door was flung open and Cleone sprang down into the road; but even so,
Barnabas barred her way.

"Let me pass!" she cried.

"To Chichester?"

"Yes--God help me. Since you force me to it! Let me go!"

"Get back into the chaise, my lady."

"No, no! Let me pass, I go to save my brother--"

"Not this way!"

"Oh!" she cried passionately, "you force it upon me, yes--you! you!
If you won't help me, I must go to him! Dear heaven! there is no
other way, let me go--you must--you shall!"