my part am sure enough."

"Of what, man, of what?"

"Of seeing the lady Eve ere long."

"In this world or the next, Dick?"

"In this. I don't reckon of the next, mayhap there we shall be blind and
not see. Besides, of what use is that world to you where it is written
that they neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are as the
angels? You'll make no good angel, I'm thinking, while as for the lady
Eve, she's too human for it as yet."

"Why do you think we shall see her on earth?" asked Hugh, ignoring these
reflections.

"Because he who is called the Helper said as much, and whatever he may
be he is no liar. Do you not remember what Red Eve told you when she
awoke from that dream of hers, which was no dream? And do you not
remember what Sir Andrew told you as to a certain meeting in the
snow--pest upon it!" and he wiped some of the driving flakes from his
face--"Sir Andrew, who is a saint, and, therefore, like Murgh, can be no
liar?"

"If you think thus," said Hugh in a new voice, "why did you not say so
before?"

"Because I love not argument, master, and if I had, you would ever have
reasoned with me from Avignon to Yarmouth town and spoilt my sleep of
nights. Oh! where is your faith?"

"What is faith, Dick?"

"The gift of belief, master. A very great gift, seeing what a man
believes is and will be true for him, however false it may prove for
others. He who believes nothing, sows nothing, and therefore reaps
nothing, good or ill."

"Who taught you these things, Dick?"

"One whom I am not likely to forget, or you, either. One who is my
master at archery and whose words, like his arrows, though they be few,
yet strike the heart of hidden truth. Oh, fear not, doubtless sorrow
waits you yonder," and he pointed toward Dunwich. "Yet it comes to
my lips that there's joy beyond the sorrows, the joy of battle and of
love--for those who care for love, which I think foolishness. There
stands a farm, and the farmer is a friend of mine, or used to be. Let us
go thither and feed these poor beasts and ourselves, or I think we will
never come to Dunwich through this cold and snow. Moreover," he added
thoughtfully, "joy or sorrow or both of them are best met by full men,
and I wish to look to your harness and my own, for sword and axe are
rusted with the sea. Who knows but that we may need them in Dunwich, or
beyond, when we meet with Murgh, as he promised that we should."

So they rode up to the house and found D