e Martinmas,
When nights were lang and mirk,
That wife's twa sons cam hame again,
And their hats were o' the birk.

"It did na graw by bush or brae,
Nor yet in ony shough;
But by the gates o' paradise
That birk grew fair eneugh."

The Wife of Usher's Well.

It is the evening of the 15th of February, 1587, and Mrs. Leigh (for
we must return now to old scenes and old faces) is pacing slowly up and
down the terrace-walk at Burrough, looking out over the winding river,
and the hazy sand-hills, and the wide western sea, as she has done every
evening, be it fair weather or foul, for three weary years. Three years
and more are past and gone, and yet no news of Frank and Amyas, and
the gallant ship and all the gallant souls therein; and loving eyes in
Bideford and Appledore, Clovelly and Ilfracombe, have grown hollow with
watching and with weeping for those who have sailed away into the West,
as John Oxenham sailed before them, and have vanished like a dream, as
he did, into the infinite unknown. Three weary years, and yet no word.
Once there was a flush of hope, and good Sir Richard (without Mrs.
Leigh's knowledge), had sent a horseman posting across to Plymouth, when
the news arrived that Drake, Frobisher, and Carlisle had returned with
their squadron from the Spanish Main. Alas! he brought back great news,
glorious news; news of the sacking of Cartagena, San Domingo, Saint
Augustine; of the relief of Raleigh's Virginian Colony: but no news of
the Rose, and of those who had sailed in her. And Mrs. Leigh bowed her
head, and worshipped, and said, "The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken
away; blessed be the name of the Lord!"

Her hair was now grown gray; her cheeks were wan; her step was feeble.
She seldom went from home, save to the church, and to the neighboring
cottages. She never mentioned her sons' names; never allowed a word to
pass her lips, which might betoken that she thought of them; but every
day, when the tide was high, and red flag on the sandhills showed that
there was water over the bar, she paced the terrace-walk, and devoured
with greedy eyes the sea beyond in search of the sail which never came.
The stately ships went in and out as of yore; and white sails hung off
the bar for many an hour, day after day, month after month, year after
year: but an instinct within told her that none of them were the sails
she sought. She knew that ship, ev