red wealth or fame, I thought, if she did not approve? What
availed my striving, if she were not to share in the reward? I was in
this mood when I was bidden by Doctor Blair to sup at his house.

I went thither in much trepidation, for I feared a great company, in
which I might have no chance of a word from her. But I found only the
Governor, who was in a black humour, and disputed every word that fell
from the Doctor's mouth. This turned the meal into one long wrangle, in
which the high fundamentals of government in Church and State were
debated by two choleric gentlemen. The girl and I had no share in the
conversation; indeed, we were clearly out of place: so she could not
refuse when I proposed a walk in the garden. The place was all cool and
dewy after the scorching day, and the bells of the flowers made the air
heavy with fragrance. Somewhere near a man was playing on the
flageolet, a light, pretty tune which set her feet tripping.

I asked her bluntly wherein I had offended.

"Offended!" she cried, "Why should I take offence? I see you once in a
blue moon. You flatter yourself strangely, Mr. Garvald, if you think
you are ever in my thoughts."

"You are never out of mine," I said dismally.

At this she laughed, something of the old elfin laughter which I had
heard on the wet moors.

"A compliment!" she cried, "To be mixed up eternally with the weights
of tobacco and the prices of Flemish lace. You are growing a very
pretty courtier, sir."

"I am no courtier," I said. "I think brave things of you, though I have
not the words to fit them. But one thing I will say to you. Since ever
you sang to the boy that once was me your spell has been on my soul.
And when I saw you again three months back that spell was changed from
the whim of youth to what men call love. Oh, I know well there is no
hope for me. I am not fit to tie your shoe-latch. But you have made a
fire in my cold life, and you will pardon me if I dare warm my hands.
The sun is brighter because of you, and the flowers fairer, and the
birds' song sweeter. Grant me this little boon, that I may think of
you. Have no fears that I will pester you with attentions. No priest
ever served his goddess with a remoter reverence than mine for you."

She stopped in an alley of roses and looked me in the face. In the dusk
I could not see her eyes.

"Fine words," she said. "Yet I hear that you have been wrangling over
me with Mr. Charles Grey, and exchanging pistol