him as he slept,
with some strengthening lotion, made certain learned signs, and spoke
a few cabalistic words, and, sure enough, so strong were the healing
remedies and incantations that the next morning Brandon was another
man, though very far from well and strong. The Moor recommended
nutritious food, such as roast beef and generous wine, and, although
this advice was contrary to the general belief, which is, with
apparent reason, that the evil spirit of disease should be starved and
driven out, yet so great was our faith in him that we followed his
directions, and in a few days Brandon had almost regained his old-time
strength.

I will ask you to go back with me for a moment.

During the week, between Brandon's interview with Mary in the
ante-room of the king's bed-chamber and the tragedy at Billingsgate,
he and I had many conversations about the extraordinary situation in
which he found himself.

At one time, I remember, he said: "I was safe enough before that
afternoon. I believe I could have gone away and forgotten her
eventually, but our mutual avowal seems to have dazed me and paralyzed
every power for effort. I sometimes feel helpless, and, although I
have succeeded in keeping away from her since then, I often find
myself wavering in my determination to leave England. That was what I
feared if I allowed the matter to go to the point of being sure of her
love. I only wanted it before, and very easily made myself believe it
was impossible, and not for me. But now that I know she loves me it is
like holding my breath to live without her. I feel every instant that
I can hold it no longer. I know only too well that if I but see her
face once more I shall breathe. She is the very breath of life for me.
She is mine by the gift of God. Curses upon those who keep us apart."
Then musingly and half interrogatively: "She certainly does love me.
She could not have treated me as she did unless her love was so strong
that she could not resist it."

"Let no doubt of that trouble you," I answered.

"A woman like Mary cannot treat two men as she treated you. Many a
woman may love, or think she loves many times, but there is only one
man who receives the full measure of her best. Other women, again,
have nothing to give but their best, and when they have once given
that, they have given all. Unless I have known her in vain, Mary, with
all her faults, is such a woman. Again I say, let no doubt of that
trouble you."

Bran