f a growing bitterness.

"Art grieving for England?" says I at last, "Yearning for home and
friends and some man belike that loves and is beloved again!"

"And why not, Martin?"

"Because 'tis vain."

"And yet 'twould be but natural."

"Aye indeed," says I gloomily and forgetting my supper, "for
contrasting all you have lost, home and friends and love, with your
present evil plight here in this howling wilderness, 'tis small wonder
you weep."

"But I am not weeping!" says she, flushing.

"Yet you well may," quoth I, "for here are you at the world's end and
with none but myself for company."

"Why, truly here is good cause for tears!" says she, flashing her eyes
at me.

"Aye!" I nodded. "'Tis a pity Fate hath chosen you so ill a companion."

"Indeed and so it is!" says she, and turns her back on me. And so we
sat awhile, she with her back to me and I gloomy and despondent
hearkening to the howling of the wind.

"You eat no supper!" says I at last.

"Neither do you!"

"I am not hungry!"

"Nor I!"

Myself (speaking after some while, humbly): Have I angered you?

She: Mightily!

Myself: Aye, but how?

She: By your idle, foolish talk, for if I grow thoughtful sometimes
why must you ever dream me repining against my lot? To-night,
hearkening to this dreadful tempest I was full of gratitude to God that
He had brought us to this safe harbourage and set me in your
companionship. And if my heart cry out for England sometimes 'tis
because I do love England. Yet my days here are too full of labour for
vain grieving and my labour, like my sleep, is joy to me. And there is
no man I love in England--or anywhere else.

Myself (and more humbly than ever): Why then I pray you forgive me,
comrade.

At this she looks at me over her shoulder, frowning and a little
askance.

"For indeed," says I, meeting this look, "I would have you know me ever
as your comrade to serve you faithfully, seeking only your friendship
and nought beyond; one you may trust unfearing despite my ungentle
ways."

And now I saw her frown was vanished quite, her eyes grown wondrous
gentle and her lips curving to a smile; and so she reached out her hand
to me.

And thus we two poor, desolate souls found great solace and comfort in
each other's companionship, and hearkening to the roar of this mighty
tempest felt the bonds of our comradeship only strengthened thereby.

When my lady was gone to bed I, remembering Adam's journal