for my churlish speech, and feared it had given her offence.
But here I was wrong, for presently she said again:

"Is she the little maid who talks to you at home in French, and whom you
carried in your arms. Tell me more of her, Humphrey."

To please her I obeyed. And somehow, as I recalled all the gentle ways
of my sweet little mistress, and the quaint words she had spoken, and,
in fancy, saw once again her bright face, and remembered how she had
always taken my part and chased away the clouds from my brow--somehow I
knew not how, the memory seemed very pleasant to me; and I called to
mind more yet, and wondered with myself how little I had had her in my
thoughts since last we parted that cruel day in Kingston street.

As I talked, the maiden listened, her eyes stealing now and again to
where Ludar lay wrestling with his mighty happiness in the prow, and
then returning, half frightened, half pitying, to encourage me to tell
her more. Which I did. And then, when all was said, she asked again:

"And why does she not love you?"

"Indeed," replied I, "I never asked her. Nor do I know if I love her
myself."

She smiled at that.

"May I answer for you? No? At least I love her, Humphrey, and for her
sake and yours she shall be a sister to me and--"

"And Ludar," said I, as she stopped short.

"Yes, to me and Ludar."

Then we fell to talk about Ludar, and so the day wore on, till, as the
sun stood over our heads, we breasted the fair Island of Raughlin.

Here Ludar, with gloomy face, came astern to tell a story.

'Twas neither brief nor merry; but, as he told it with flashing eyes and
voice which rose and fell with the dashing waves, we listened with
heaving bosoms. 'Twas of a boy, who once played with his comrades on
that self-same Island of Raughlin. How in the pleasant summer time he
had learned from his noble brothers to draw the bow, and, child as he
was, to brandish the spear. How maidens were there, some of whom he
called his sisters; and how they sang the wild legends of the coast and
told him tales of lovers and fairies and heroes. And how, now and again
a white boat came over from the mainland, and on it a noble warrior,
gigantic in form, with his yellow locks streaming in the breeze, and the
sun flashing on his gilded collar and naked sword. That noble man was
the boy's father, and the scarcely less noble form at his side, less by
a head than his sire, yet taller by a head than most of his