hung
on his neck for a moment and then cried a little softly, while Lancelot
spoke to her with those words of grave encouragement which seemed beyond
his years. Then he wished us good-night, and I saw him to the door, and
stood watching his tall form stepping briskly up the street in the clear
starlight.

The girl I spoke of but now, she in the play-book who lived like a man
in the greenwood, says--or bears witness that another said--that none
ever loved who loved not at first sight. This was true in my case. For
that unhappy business with the girl Barbara, though it was love sure
enough, was not such gracious love as that day entered into me and has
ever since dwelt with me.

Of course I had much to tell my mother and she listened, as interested
as a child in a fairy tale to all that had been said and done in the
Noble Rose. But most of all she seemed surprised to hear that a girl was
going to sea with us. She questioned me suddenly when I had made an end
of my story:

'What do you think of this maid Marjorie, Raphael?'

I felt at the mention of her name that the blood ran red in my face and
I was glad to think that the light in the room was not bright enough to
betray me, for I felt shy and angry at my shyness and knew that my
cheeks flamed for both reasons. But I tried to say unconcernedly that
truly Captain Amber was much blessed in such a niece and Lancelot in
such a sister. Yet while I answered I felt both hot and cold, as I have
felt since with the ague in the Spanish Islands.

We spoke no more of Marjorie that evening but at night I lay long hours
awake thinking of her, and when at last I fell asleep I slipped into
dreams of her, with her yellow hair, and the yellow flowers in her
girdle and the kindness of Heaven in her steadfast eyes.

There are many kinds of love in the world, as there are many kinds of
men and many kinds of women, but my love for Marjorie Amber was of the
best kind that a man can feel, and it made a man of me.

I have lived a wild life and a vagrant life, I know; but, anyway, my way
of life has been a clean way. I have never been a brawler nor a sot, and
I have never struck a man to his hurt unless when peril forced me. I
have never fought in wantonness or bad blood, but only out of some
necessity that would not be said nay to. And, indeed, there have been
times when I have let a man live to my own risk. So I hope when my ghost
meets elsewhere with the ghosts of my enemies that they