who would have done the like."

She looked down on me from the rock with the old quizzing humour in her
eyes.

"If gratitude irks you, sir, what would you have?"

"All," I cried; "and yet, Heaven knows, I am not worth it. I am no man
to capture a fair girl's heart. My face is rude and my speech harsh,
and I am damnably prosaic. I have not Ringan's fancy, or Grey's
gallantry; I am sober and tongue-tied and uncouth, and my mind runs
terribly on facts and figures. O Elspeth, I know I am no hero of
romance, but a plain body whom Fate has forced into a month of
wildness. I shall go back to Virginia, and be set once more at my
accompts and ladings. Think well, my dear, for I will have nothing less
than all. Can you endure to spend your days with a homely fellow like
me?"

"What does a woman desire?" she asked, as if from herself, and her
voice was very soft as she gazed over the valley. "Men think it is a
handsome face or a brisk air or a smooth tongue. And some will have it
that it is a deep purse or a high station. But I think it is the honest
heart that goes all the way with a woman's love. We are not so blind as
to believe that the glitter is the gold. We love romance, but we seek
it in its true home. Do you think I would marry you for gratitude,
Andrew?"

"No," I said.

"Or for admiration?"

"No," said I.

"Or for love?"

"Yes," I said, with a sudden joy.

She slipped from the rock, her eyes soft and misty. Her arms were about
my neck, and I heard from her the words I had dreamed of and yet scarce
hoped for, the words of the song sung long ago to a boy's ear, and
spoken now with the pure fervour of the heart--"My dear and only love."

Years have flown since that day on the hills, and much has befallen;
but the prologue is the kernel of my play, and the curtain which rose
after that hour revealed things less worthy of chronicle. Why should I
tell of how my trade prospered mightily, and of the great house we
built at Middle Plantation; of my quarrels with Nicholson, which were
many; of how we carved a fair estate out of Elspeth's inheritance, and
led the tide of settlement to the edge of the hills? These things would
seem a pedestrian end to a high beginning. Nor would I weary the reader
with my doings in the Assembly, how I bearded more Governors than one,
and disputed stoutly with His Majesty's Privy Council in London. The
historian of Virginia--now by God's grace a notable land--may,
perhaps, take note o