r son did his devoir like a man, and met the stoutest
champion I ever countered, and spitted him like a sucking-pig. Else I
had not been here. But just when all was fair, and I was to see him safe
aboard ship for Rome, if not to Rome itself, met us that son of a--the
Lord Anthony of Burgundy, and his men, making for Flanders, then in
insurrection, tore us by force apart, took me where I got some broad
pieces in hand, and a broad arrow in my shoulder, and left my poor
Gerard lonesome. At that sad parting, soldier though I be, these eyes
did rain salt scalding tears, and so did his, poor soul. His last word
to me was, 'Go, comfort Margaret!' so here I be. Mine to him was, 'Think
no more of Rome. Make for Rhine, and down stream home.' Now say, for you
know best, did I advise him well or ill?"

"Soldier, take my hand," said Eli. "God bless thee! God bless thee!"
and his lip quivered. It was all his reply, but more eloquent than many
words.

Catherine did not answer at all, but she darted from the room and bade
Muriel bring the best that was in the house, and returned with wood in
both arms, and heaped the fire, and took out a snow-white cloth from
the press, and was going in a great hurry to lay it for Gerard's friend,
when suddenly she sat down and all the power ebbed rapidly out of her
body.

"Father!" cried Kate, whose eye was as quick as her affection.

Denys started up; but Eli waved him back and flung a little water
sharply in his wife's face. This did her instant good. She gasped, "So
sudden. My poor boy!" Eli whispered Denys, "Take no notice! she thinks
of him night and day." They pretended not to observe her, and she shook
it off, and hustled and laid the cloth with her own hands; but as she
smoothed it, her hands trembled and a tear or two stole down her cheeks.

They could not make enough of Denys. They stuffed him, and crammed him;
and then gathered round him and kept filling his glass in turn, while by
that genial blaze of fire and ruby wine and eager eyes he told all that
I have related, and a vast number of minor details, which an artist,
however minute, omits.

But how different the effect on my readers and on this small circle! To
them the interest was already made before the first word came from his
lips. It was all about Gerard, and he who sat there telling it them, was
warm from Gerard and an actor with him in all these scenes.

The flesh and blood around that fire quivered for their severed membe