tle of the bigotry
of his brethren. As he turned from the heights, made his way along the
cliff and down Mountain Street, his thoughts were still upon the same
subject. He suddenly paused.

"He will marry the sword," he said, "and not the woman."

How far he was right we may judge if we enter the house of Governor
Nicholls at New York one month later.

CHAPTER XVIII

MAIDEN NO MORE

It was late mid-summer, and just such an evening as had seen the
attempted capture of Jessica Leveret years before. She sat at a window,
looking out upon the garden and the river. The room was at the top of
the house. It had been to her a kind of play-room when she had visited
Governor Nicholls years before. To every woman memory is a kind of
religion; and to Jessica as much as to any, perhaps more than to most,
for she had imagination. She half sat, half knelt, her elbow on her
knee, her soft cheek resting upon her firm, delicate hand. Her beauty
was as fresh and sweet as on the day we first saw her. More, something
deep and rich had entered into it. Her eyes had got that fine
steadfastness which only deep tenderness and pride can give a woman: she
had lived. She was smiling now, yet she was not merry; her brightness
was the sunshine of a nature touched with an Arcadian simplicity. Such
an one could not be wholly unhappy. Being made for others more than for
herself, she had something of the divine gift of self-forgetfulness.

As she sat there, her eyes ever watching the river as though for some
one she expected, there came from the garden beneath the sound of
singing. It was not loud, but deep and strong:

"As the wave to the shore, as the dew to the leaf,
As the breeze to the flower,
As the scent of a rose to the heart of a child, 343
As the rain to the dusty land--
My heart goeth out unto Thee--unto Thee!
The night is far spent and the day is at hand.

"As the song of a bird to the call of a star,
As the sun to the eye,
As the anvil of man to the hammers of God,
As the snow to the north
Is my word unto Thy word--to Thy word!
The night is far spent and the day is at hand."

It was Morris who was singing. With growth of years had come increase of
piety, and it was his custom once a week to gather about him such of the
servants as would for the reading of Scripture.

To Jessica the song had no religious significance. By the time it had
passed through the atmosp