heir footsteps on the stone, and, rising, went to
meet them. "It hath been a wonderful night," he said. "Look, how great
is the ring about the moon! and the air after the storm blows from far
countries.... They have come to me one after another--all the men of the
_Cygnet_, and the _Phoenix_, and the land force. Henry Sedley sat beside
me, with his arm about my shoulder; and Captain Robert Baldry and I have
clasped hands, foregoing our quarrel. And the crew of the _Sea Wraith_
went by like shadows. I know not if I did wrongly by them, but if it be
so I will abide God's judgment between us when I, too, am dead. And I am
not yet for the Low Countries, Arden! I am for England--England,
England!"

They leaned against the parapet and looked out upon the now gleaming
sea, the rack of the clouds and the broken cohorts of the stars. They
looked out to the glistening line where the water met the east.
"Homeward to-morrow!" said Arden, and Ferne asked, "What are thy ships,
John?" and Nevil answered, "The one is the _Mere Honour_, the other I
have very lately renamed the _Cygnet_. Wilt be her captain, Mortimer,
from here to Plymouth Port?"

* * * * *

The Countess of Pembroke, in mourning for her parents, was spending a
midsummer month in leafy Penshurst. It was a drowsy month, of roses
fully blown and heavy lilies, of bees booming amongst all honey flowers,
of shady copses and wide sunlit fields; and it was a quiet month because
of the Countess's mourning and because Philip Sidney was Governor of
Flushing. Therefore, save for now and then a messenger bringing news
from London or Wilton or from that loved brother in the Netherlands, the
Countess, her women, and a page or two made up the company at Penshurst.
The pages and the young gentlewomen (all under the eye of an aged
majordomo) moved sedately in the old house, pacing soberly the gardens
beneath the open casements; but when they reached the sweet rusticity of
the outward ways, fruit-dropping orchards and sunny spaces, they were
for lighter spirits, heels, and wits. With laughter young hand caught at
young hand, and fair forms circled swiftly an imaginary May-pole. Tall
flowers upon the Medway's brim next took their eye, and they gathered
pink and white and purple sheaves; then, limed by the mere joy of work,
caught up and plied the rakes of the haymakers. The meadows became
lists, their sudden employment a joust-at-arms, and some slender youth