Mistress Wilding met him with unsmiling, but not ungentle face.
"Not yet gone, Sir Rowland ?" she asked him, and a less sanguine man had been discouraged by the words.
"It may be forgiven me that I tarry at such a time," said he, "when we consider that I go, perhaps--to return no more." It was an inspiration on his part to assume the role of the hero going forth to a possible death.

It invested him with noble, valiant pathos which could not, he thought, fail of its effect upon a woman's mind.

But he looked in vain for a change of colour, be it never so slight, or a quickening of the breath.

He found neither; though, indeed, her deep blue eyes seemed to soften as they observed him.
"There is danger in this thing that you are undertaking ?" said she, between question and assertion.
"It is not my wish to overstate it; yet I leave you to imagine what the risk may be." "It is a good cause," said she, thinking of the poor, deluded, humble folk that followed Monmouth's banner, whom Blake's fine action was to rescue from impending ruin and annihilation, "and surely Heaven will be on your side." "We must prevail," cried Blake with kindling eye, and you had thought him a fanatic, not a miserable earner of blood-money.

"We must prevail, though some of us may pay dearly for the victory.