with mirth. Laughing, she chose a little bunch of
the lilies and worked them into my coat.

"Richard, you silly goose!" she said; "I dote upon seeing you in a
temper."

I stood between anger and God knows what other feelings, now starting
away, now coming back to her. But I always came back.

"You have ever said you would marry an earl, Dolly," I said sadly. "I
believe you do not care for any of us one little bit."

She turned away, so that for the moment I could not see her face, then
looked at me with exquisite archness over her shoulder. The low tones of
her voice were of a richness indescribable. 'Twas seldom she made use of
them.

"You will be coming to Oxford, Richard."

"I fear not, Dolly," I replied soberly. "I fear not, now. Mr. Carvel is
too feeble for me to leave him."

At that she turned to me, another mood coming like a gust of wind on the
Chesapeake.

"Oh, how I wish they were all like you!" she cried, with a stamp of her
foot. "Sometimes I despise gallantry. I hate the smooth compliments of
your macaronies. I thank Heaven you are big and honest and clumsy and--"

"And what, Dorothy?" I asked, bewildered.

"And stupid," said she. "Now take me back, sir."

We had not gone thirty paces before we heard a hearty bass voice
singing:

"'It was a lover and his lass,
With a hey, with a ho, with a hey nonino.'"

And there was Colonel Sharpe, straying along among the privet hedges.

And so the morning of her sailing came, so full of sadness for me. Why
not confess, after nigh threescore years, that break of day found me
pacing the deserted dock. At my back, across the open space, was the
irregular line of quaint, top-heavy shops since passed away, their
sightless windows barred by solid shutters of oak. The good ship
Annapolis, which was to carry my playmate to broader scenes, lay among
the shipping, in the gray roads just quickening with returning light.
How my heart ached that morning none shall ever know. But, as the sun
shot a burning line across the water, a new salt breeze sprang up and
fanned a hope into flame. 'Twas the very breeze that was to blow Dorothy
down the bay. Sleepy apprentices took down the shutters, and polished
the windows until they shone again; and chipper Mr. Denton Jacques, who
did such a thriving business opposite, presently appeared to wish me a
bright good morning.

I knew that Captain Waring proposed to sail at ten of the clock; but
after breakfastin