the high and noble
lady of my house!

And love makes, as fully as may be in this world, security about her
steps, which yet it would not hamper.

Driven in her state carriage, robed in velvet and sable, she is royal;
yet not so queenly, not so matchless, as when walking, pitiful, lonely,
and strong against misfortune, by the Basin shores, with her child
upheld upon her arm, and the old shawl.

One evening I found her by the window, gazing out wistfully where the
wind was tossing the rain, which ceased now and then in strange
intermittent gusts, still wild of the tempest.

She looked up at me with a smile, trustful, but earnest and pathetic.

"I want to go out in the storm," she said.

"Then go, child," I answered her. "Your possessions are wide, and, as
we of the Basin say, you are not made of sugar, to melt; neither," I
added, "are you like Lot's wife."

She showed her fine teeth over that old tender and beloved
reminiscence, but the wistful look, and sad, was still in her eyes.

"And--I would like to put on the old shawl again, just this once," she
said.

"Oh," said I, "that is another thing. That is priceless, and I have
it, as you know, locked among my treasures. Still, this once, yes."
And I brought it to her.

Still smiling at me, as pleading for her fancy, she held it at her
throat as of old.

I made haste to resume my reading with seeming preoccupation apart, for
I thought she wished to go alone.

"Aren't you coming?" said she, wistfully again, and paled and turned to
me.

The look in her eyes--she wanted me! Oh, how my heart leaped--a trick
taught it at the Basin, which now it will never get over.

But, sly as Captain Leezur, I hid my delight in the folds of my great
overcoat.

Long we walked together. "What inspired you to this? This is best of
all," I said.

"Why?" said Vesty, glowing and beautiful.

"Because now I see again that you are 'Vesty.' And my Lady of M----
was a possible dream always. But Vesty seemed unattainable.

"That rose color," I added, looking at her cheeks, "I never saw
anywhere except at certain sunsets--you know where."

For we of the Basin--however wilfully inclined sometimes, as Captain
Pharo--at heart bow down to our wives, and make love to them, long,
long after we are married: quite, indeed, until death do us part, as
all true Basins should.

"Paul!" said Vesty. Now "Paul" was really my name, with considerable
before and after it, but never mind