ean.

CHAPTER VI.

_The Pirate's Story._

I am the youngest son of a gentleman of the northern part of England.
My father's family is as good as any in the county, for without laying
claim to any title of nobility, our blood is as pure and our lineage
as ancient as the most boasted in England. I had but one brother, who
succeeded at our father's death to the broad lands and rich heritage
of our name. The accursed law of primogeniture, to which I owe all the
evil that has befallen me, of course debarred me from all share in the
family estate. I had refused to enter the army, the church or the
navy, though my inclinations were in favor of the latter profession;
yet a stronger claim than ambition or a roving life kept me on the
paternal estate. It was not that I envied my brother the possession of
the wide bounds over which he ruled, or that I found less happiness in
witnessing his, for I loved my brother, as God is my witness, here, in
my lonely cabin, with this great sea around me, and this broad sky
above me; here, though no eye may ever see these lines, I write, do I
repeat it, I loved my brother dearly and proudly. It was love that
kept me idle at home while other young men of England, belonging to
the same position in society as myself, and in the same unfortunate
category of younger sons, were carving out for themselves fame and
wealth in the service of their country.

Helen Burnett was the loveliest girl I have ever seen, and I loved her
with all the passionate devotedness of a young and ardent heart; she
was to me the light of life, for all was dark when I was not with her.
She was the only daughter of our village curate, and resided near our
family mansion. We had sported together beneath the venerable trees of
the park from the earliest days of childhood. Until I left home for
college she had seemed to me as a sister, and I had loved her as such
until, on returning home from a long absence at college, I found a
blushing and beautiful young woman where I had expected, forgetting
the rapid work of time, to meet with the same playful and lovely child
I had kissed at parting. She was, indeed, beautiful; tall, graceful,
and even commanding in figure, while the mildness of an angel reposed
in the glance of her deep-blue eyes, and the sweet smile that so often
visited her lips, while her pleasantly modulated voice was music
itself.

"A lyre of widest range,
Touched by all passion--did fall down a