When Knighthood Was in Flower

by Charles Major

  _CHAPTER VII_

  _Love's Fierce Sweetness_

  After we had all returned to Greenwich the princess and Brandon weretogether frequently. Upon several occasions he was invited, withothers, to her parlor for card playing. But we spent two evenings,with only four of us present, prior to the disastrous events whichchanged everything, and of which I am soon to tell you. During thesetwo evenings the "Sailor Lass" was in constant demand.

  This pair, who should have remained apart, met constantly in and aboutthe palace, and every glance added fuel to the flame. Part of the timeit was the princess with her troublesome dignity, and part of the timeit was Mary--simply girl. Notwithstanding these haughty moods, anyonewith half an eye could see that the princess was gradually succumbingto the budding woman; that Brandon's stronger nature had dominated herwith that half fear which every woman feels who loves a strongman--stronger than herself.

  One day the rumor spread through the court that the old French king,Louis XII, whose wife, Anne of Brittany, had just died, had askedMary's hand in marriage. It was this, probably, which opened Brandon'seyes to the fact that he had been playing with the very worst sort offire; and first made him see that in spite of himself, and almostwithout his knowledge, the girl had grown wonderfully sweet and dearto him. He now saw his danger, and struggled to keep himself beyondthe spell of her perilous glances and siren song. This modern Ulyssesmade a masterful effort, but alas! had no ships to carry him away, andno wax with which to fill his ears. Wax is a good thing, and no oneshould enter the Siren country without it. Ships, too, are good, withmasts to tie one's self to, and sails and rudder, and a gust of windto waft one quickly past the island. In fact, one cannot take too manyprecautions when in those enchanted waters.

  Matters began to look dark to me. Love had dawned in Mary's breast,that was sure, and for the first time, with all its fierce sweetness.Not that it had reached its noon, or anything like it. In truth, itmight, I hoped, die in the dawning, for my lady was as capricious as aMay day; but it was love--love as plain as the sun at rising. Shesought Brandon upon all occasions, and made opportunities to meet him;not openly--at any rate, not with Brandon's knowledge, nor with anyconnivance on his part, but apparently caring little what he or anyone else might see. Love lying in her heart had made her a little moreshy than formerly in seeking him, but her straightforward way oftaking whatever she wanted made her transparent little attempts atconcealment very pathetic.

  As for Brandon, the shaft had entered his heart, too, poor fellow, assurely as love had dawned in Mary's, but there was this difference:With our princess--at least I so thought at the time--the sun of lovemight dawn and lift itself to mid-heaven and glow with the ferventardor of high noon--for her blood was warm with the spark of hergrandfather's fire--and then sink into the west and make room foranother sun to-morrow. But with Brandon's stronger nature the sunwould go till noon and there would burn for life. The sun, however,had not reached its noon with Brandon, either; since he had set hisbrain against his heart, and had done what he could to stay theall-consuming orb at its dawning. He knew the hopeless misery such apassion would bring him, and helped the good Lord, in so far as hecould, to answer his prayer, and lead him not into temptation. As soonas he saw the truth, he avoided Mary as much as possible.

  As I said, we had spent several evenings with Mary after we came homefrom Windsor, at all of which her preference was shown in everymovement. Some women are so expressive under strong emotion that everygesture, a turn of the head, a glance of the eyes, the lifting of ahand or the poise of the body, speaks with a tongue of eloquence, andsuch was Mary. Her eyes would glow with a soft fire when they restedupon him, and her whole person told all too plainly what, in truth, itseemed she did not care to hide. When others were present she wouldrestrain herself somewhat, but with only Jane and myself, she couldhardly maintain a seemly reserve. During all this time Brandonremained cool and really seemed unconscious of his wonderfulattraction for her. It is hard to understand why he did not see it,but I really believe he did not. Although he was quite at ease in herpresence, too much so, Mary sometimes thought, and strangely enoughsometimes told him in a fit of short-lived, quickly repented angerthat always set him laughing, yet there was never a word or gesturethat could hint of undue familiarity. It would probably have met arebuff from the princess part of her; for what a perversity, bothroyal and feminine, she wanted all the freedom for herself. In short,like any other woman, she would rather love than be loved, that is,until surrender day should come; then of course....

  After these last two meetings, although the invitations camefrequently, none was accepted. Brandon had contrived to have hisduties, ostensibly at least, occupy his evenings, and did honestlywhat his judgment told him was the one thing to do; that is, remainaway from a fire that could give no genial warmth, but was sure toburn him to the quick. I saw this only too plainly, but never a wordof it was spoken between us.

  The more I saw of this man, the more I respected him, and this curbingof his affections added to my already high esteem. The effort wasdoubly wise in Brandon's case. Should love with his intense naturereach its height, his recklessness would in turn assert itself, andthese two would inevitably try to span the impassable gulf betweenthem, when Brandon, at least, would go down in the attempt. Histrouble, however, did not make a mope of him, and he retained a greatdeal of his brightness and sparkle undimmed by what must have been anache in his heart. Though he tried, without making it too marked, tosee as little of Mary as possible, their meeting once in a while couldnot be avoided, especially when one of them was always seeking tobring it about. After a time, Mary began to suspect his attempts toavoid her, and she grew cold and distant through pique. Her manner,however, had no effect upon Brandon, who did not, or at least appearednot to notice it. This the girl could not endure, and lacking strengthto resist her heart, soon returned to the attack.

  Mary had not seen Brandon for nearly two weeks, and was growinganxious, when one day she and Jane met him in a forest walk near theriver. Brandon was sauntering along reading when they overtook him.Jane told me afterwards that Mary's conduct upon coming up to him waspretty and curious beyond the naming. At first she was inclined to bedistant, and say cutting things, but when Brandon began to growrestive under them and showed signs of turning back, she changed frontin the twinkling of an eye and was all sweetness. She laughed andsmiled and dimpled, as only she could, and was full of bright glancesand gracious words.

  She tried a hundred little schemes to get him to herself for amoment--the hunting of a wild flower or a four-leaved clover, or theexploration of some little nook in the forest toward which she wouldlead him--but Jane did not at first take the hint and kept close ather heels. Mary's impulsive nature was not much given to hinting--sheusually nodded and most emphatically at that--so after a few failuresto rid herself of her waiting lady she said impatiently: "Jane, in thename of heaven don't keep so close to us. You won't move out of reachof my hand, and you know how often it inclines to box your ears."

  Jane did know, I am sorry for Mary's sake to say, how often the fairhand was given to such spasms; so with this emphasized hint she walkedon ahead, half sulky at the indignity put upon her, and half amused ather whimsical mistress.

  Mary lost no time, but began the attack at once.

  "Now, sir, I want you to tell me the truth; why do you refuse myinvitations and so persistently keep away from me? I thought at firstI would simply let you go your way, and then I thought I--would not.Don't deny it. I know you won't. With all your faults, you don't telleven little lies; not even to a woman--I believe. Now there is a finecompliment--is it not?--when I intended to scold you!" She gave afluttering little laugh, and, with hanging head, continued: "Tell me,is not the king's sister of quality sufficient to suit you? Perhapsyou must have the queen or the Blessed Virgin? Tell me now?" And shelooked up at him, half in banter, half in doubt.

  "My duties--," began Brandon.

  "Oh! bother your duties. Tell me the truth."
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br />   "I will, if you let me," returned Brandon, who had no intentionwhatever of doing anything of the sort. "My duties now occupy my timein the evening----"

  "That will not do," interrupted Mary, who knew enough of a guardsman'sduty to be sure it was not onerous. "You might as well come to it andtell the truth; that you do not like our society." And she gave him avicious little glance without a shadow of a smile.

  "In God's name, Lady Mary, that is not it," answered Brandon, who wason the rack. "Please do not think it. I cannot bear to have you saysuch a thing when it is so far from the real truth."

  "Then tell me the real truth."

  "I cannot; I cannot. I beg of you not to ask. Leave me! or let meleave you. I refuse to answer further." The latter half of thissentence was uttered doggedly and sounded sullen and ill-humored,although, of course, it was not so intended. He had been so perilouslynear speaking words which would probably have lighted, to theirdestruction--to his, certainly--the smoldering flames within theirbreast that it frightened him, and the manner in which he spoke wasbut a tone giving utterance to the pain in his heart.

  Mary took it as it sounded, and, in unfeigned surprise, exclaimedangrily: "Leave you? Do I hear aright? I never thought that I, thedaughter and sister of a king, would live to be dismissed by a--bya--any one."

  "Your highness--" began Brandon; but she was gone before he couldspeak.

  He did not follow her to explain, knowing how dangerous such anexplanation would be, but felt that it was best for them both that sheshould remain offended, painful as the thought was to him.

  Of course, Mary's womanly self-esteem, to say nothing of her royalpride, was wounded to the quick, and no wonder.

  Poor Brandon sat down upon a stone, and, as he longingly watched herretiring form, wished in his heart he were dead. This was the firsttime he really knew how much he loved the girl, and he saw that, withhim at least, it was a matter of bad to worse; and at that rate wouldsoon be--worst.

  Now that he had unintentionally offended her, and had permitted her togo without an explanation, she was dearer to him than ever, and, as hesat there with his face in his hands, he knew that if matters went onas they were going, the time would soon come when he would throwcaution to the dogs and would try the impossible--to win her for hisown. Caution and judgment still sat enthroned, and they told him nowwhat he knew full well they would not tell him after a shorttime--that failure was certain to follow the attempt, and disastersure to follow failure. First, the king would, in all probability, cutoff his head upon an intimation of Mary's possible fondness for him;and, second, if he should be so fortunate as to keep his head, Marycould not, and certainly would not, marry him, even if she loved himwith all her heart. The distance between them was too great, and sheknew too well what she owed to her position. There was but one thingleft--New Spain; and he determined while sitting there to sail withthe next ship.

  The real cause of Brandon's manner had never occurred to Mary.Although she knew her beauty and power, as she could not help but knowit--not as a matter of vanity, but as a matter of fact--yet love hadblinded her where Brandon was concerned, and that knowledge failed togive her light as to his motives, however brightly it might illuminethe conduct of other men toward whom she was indifferent.

  So Mary was angry this time; angry in earnest, and Jane felt theirritable palm more than once. I, too, came in for my share of her illtemper, as most certainly would Brandon, had he allowed himself tocome within reach of her tongue, which he was careful not to do. Anangry porcupine would have been pleasant company compared with Maryduring this time. There was no living with her in peace. Even the kingfought shy of her, and the queen was almost afraid to speak. Probablyso much general disturbance was never before or since collected withinone small body as in that young Tartar-Venus, Mary. She did not tellJane the cause of her vexation, but only said she "verily hatedBrandon," and that, of course, was the key to the whole situation.

  After a fortnight, this ill-humor began to soften in the glowingwarmth of her heart, which was striving to reassert itself, and thedesire to see Brandon began to get the better of her sense of injury.

  Brandon, tired of this everlasting watchfulness to keep himself out oftemptation, and, dreading at any moment that lapse from strength whichis apt to come to the strongest of us, had resolved to quit his placeat court and go to New Spain at once. He had learned, upon inquiry,that a ship would sail from Bristol in about twenty days, and anothersix weeks later. So he chose the former and was making hisarrangements to leave as soon as possible.

  He told me of his plans and spoke of his situation: "You know thereason for my going," he said, "even if I have never spoken of it. Iam not much of a Joseph, and am very little given to running away froma beautiful woman, but in this case I am fleeing from death itself.And to think what a heaven it would be. You are right, Caskoden; noman can withstand the light of that girl's smile. I am unable to tellhow I feel toward her. It sometimes seems that I can not live anotherhour without seeing her; yet, thank God, I have reason enough left toknow that every sight of her only adds to an already incurable malady.What will it be when she is the wife of the king of France? Does itnot look as if wild life in New Spain is my only chance?"

  I assented as we joined hands, and our eyes were moist as I told himhow I should miss him more than anyone else in all the earth--exceptingJane, in mental reservation.

  I told Jane what Brandon was about to do, knowing full well she wouldtell Mary; which she did at once.

  Poor Mary! The sighs began to come now, and such small vestiges of herill-humor toward Brandon as still remained were frightened off in ahurry by the fear that she had seen the last of him.

  She had not before fully known that she loved him. She knew he was themost delightful companion she had ever met, and that there was anexhilaration about his presence which almost intoxicated her and madelife an ecstasy, yet she did not know it was love. It needed but thethought that she was about to lose him to make her know her malady,and meet it face to face.

  Upon the evening when Mary learned all this, she went into her chambervery early and closed the door. No one interrupted her until Janewent in to robe her for the night, and to retire. She then found thatMary had robed herself and was lying in bed with her head covered,apparently asleep. Jane quietly prepared to retire, and lay down inher own bed. The girls usually shared one couch, but during Mary'sill-temper she had forced Jane to sleep alone.

  After a short silence Jane heard a sob from the other bed, thenanother, and another.

  "Mary, are you weeping?" she asked.

  "Yes."

  "What is the matter, dear?"

  "Nothing," with a sigh.

  "Do you wish me to come to your bed?"

  "Yes, I do." So Jane went over and lay beside Mary, who gently put herarms about her neck.

  "When will he leave?" whispered Mary, shyly confessing all by herquestion.

  "I do not know," responded Jane, "but he will see you before he goes."

  "Do you believe he will?"

  "I know it;" and with this consolation Mary softly wept herself tosleep.

  After this, for a few days, Mary was quiet enough. Her irritable moodhad vanished, but Jane could see that she was on the lookout for someone all the time, although she made the most pathetic little effortsto conceal her watchfulness.

  At last a meeting came about in this way: Next to the king'sbed-chamber was a luxuriously furnished little apartment with awell-selected library. Here Brandon and I often went, afternoons, toread, as we were sure to be undisturbed.

  Late one day Brandon had gone over to this quiet retreat, and havingselected a volume, took his place in a secluded little alcove halfhidden in arras draperies. There was a cushioned seat along the walland a small diamond-shaped window to furnish light.

  He had not been there long when in came Mary. I can not say whethershe knew Brandon was there or not, but she was there and he was there,which is the only thing to the point, and finding him, she steppe
dinto the alcove before he was aware of her presence.

  Brandon was on his feet in an instant, and with a low bow was backinghimself out most deferentially, to leave her in sole possession if shewished to rest.

  "Master Brandon, you need not go. I will not hurt you. Besides, ifthis place is not large enough for us both, I will go. I would notdisturb you." She spoke with a tremulous voice and a quick, uneasyglance, and started to move backward out of the alcove.

  "Lady Mary, how can you speak so? You know--you must know--oh! I begyou--" But she interrupted him by taking his arm and drawing him to aseat beside her on the cushion. She could have drawn down the Colossusof Rhodes with the look she gave Brandon, so full was it of command,entreaty and promise.

  "That's it; I don't know, but I want to know; and I want you to sithere beside me and tell me. I am going to be reconciled with you,despite the way you treated me when last we met. I am going to befriends with you whether you will or not. Now what do you say to that,sir?" She spoke with a fluttering little laugh of uneasynon-assurance, which showed that her heart was not nearly so confidentnor so bold as her words would make believe. Poor Brandon, usually soready, had nothing "to say to that," but sat in helpless silence.

  Was this the sum total of all his wise determinations made at the costof so much pain and effort? Was this the answer to all his prayers,"Lead me not into temptation"? He had done his part, for he had doneall he could. Heaven had not helped him, since here was temptationthrust upon him when least expected, and when the way was so narrow hecould not escape, but must meet it face to face.

  Mary soon recovered her self-possession--women are better skilled inthis art than men--and continued:

  "I am not intending to say one word about your treatment of me thatday over in the forest, although it was very bad, and you have actedabominably ever since. Now is not that kind in me?" And she softlylaughed as she peeped up at the poor fellow from beneath thosesweeping lashes, with the premeditated purpose of tantalizing him, Isuppose. She was beginning to know her power over him, and it wasnever greater than at this moment. Her beauty had its sweetestquality, for the princess was sunk and the woman was dominant, withflushed face and flashing eyes that caught a double luster from theglowing love that made her heart beat so fast. Her gown, too, was thebest she could have worn to show her charms. She must have knownBrandon was there, and must have dressed especially to go to him. Shewore her favorite long flowing outer sleeve, without the close fittinginner one. It was slit to the shoulder, and gave entrancing glimpsesof her arms with every movement, leaving them almost bare when shelifted her hands, which was often, for she was as full of gestures asa Frenchwoman. Her bodice was cut low, both back and front, showingher large perfectly molded throat and neck, like an alabaster pillarof beauty and strength, and disclosing her bosom just to its shadowyincurving, white and billowy as drifted snow. Her hair was thrown backin an attempt at a coil, though, like her own rebellious nature, itcould not brook restraint, and persistently escaped in a hundredlittle curls that fringed her face and lay upon the soft white nape ofher neck like fluffy shreds of sun-lit floss on new cut ivory.

  With the mood that was upon her, I wonder Brandon maintained hisself-restraint even for a moment. He felt that his only hope lay insilence, so he sat beside her and said nothing. He told me longafterwards that while sitting there in the intervals between herspeech, the oddest, wildest thoughts ran through his brain. Hewondered how he could escape. He thought of the window, and thatpossibly he might break away through it, and then he thought offeigning illness, and a hundred other absurd schemes, but they allcame to nothing, and he sat there to let events take their own courseas they seemed determined to do in spite of him.

  After a short silence, Mary continued, half banteringly: "Answer me,sir! I will have no more of this. You shall treat me at least with thecourtesy you would show a bourgeoise girl."

  "Oh, that you were only a burgher's daughter."

  "Yes, I know all that; but I am not. It can't be helped, and you shallanswer me."

  "There is no answer, dear lady--I beg you--oh, do you not see--"

  "Yes, yes; but answer my question; am I not kind--more than youdeserve?"

  "Indeed, yes; a thousand times. You have always been so kind, sogracious and so condescending to me that I can only thank you, thankyou, thank you," answered Brandon, almost shyly; not daring to lifthis eyes to hers.

  Mary saw the manner quickly enough--what woman ever missed it, muchless so keen-eyed a girl as she--and it gave her confidence, andbrought back the easy banter of her old time manner.

  "How modest we have become! Where is the boldness of which we used tohave so much? Kind? Have I always been so? How about the first time Imet you? Was I kind then? And as to condescension, don't--don't usethat word between us."

  "No," returned Brandon, who, in his turn, was recovering himself, "no,I can't say that you were very kind at first. How you did fly out atme and surprise me. It was so unexpected it almost took me off myfeet," and they both laughed in remembering the scene of their firstmeeting. "No, I can't say your kindness showed itself very strongly inthat first interview, but it was there nevertheless, and when LadyJane led me back, your real nature asserted itself, as it always does,and you were kind to me; kind as only you can be."

  That was getting very near to the sentimental; dangerously near, hethought; and he said to himself: "If this does not end quickly I shallhave to escape."

  "You are easily satisfied if you call that good," laughingly returnedMary. "I can be ever so much better than that if I try."

  "Let me see you try," said Brandon.

  "Why, I'm trying now," answered Mary with a distracting little pout."Don't you know genuine out-and-out goodness when you see it? I'mdoing my very best now. Can't you tell?"

  "Yes, I think I recognize it; but--but--be bad again."

  "No, I won't! I will not be bad even to please you; I have determinednot to be bad and I will not--not even to be good. This," placing herhand over her heart, "is just full of 'good' to-day," and her lipsparted as she laughed at her own pleasantry.

  "I am afraid you had better be bad--I give you fair warning," saidBrandon huskily. He felt her eyes upon him all the time, and hisstrength and good resolves were oozing out like wine from anill-coppered cask. After a short silence Mary continued, regardless ofthe warning:

  "But the position is reversed with us; at first I was unkind to you,and you were kind to me, but now I am kind to you and you are unkindto me."

  "I can come back at you with your own words," responded Brandon. "Youdon't know when I am kind to you. I should be kinder to myself, atleast, were I to leave you and take myself to the other side of theworld."

  "Oh! that is one thing I wanted to ask you about. Jane tells me youare going to New Spain?"

  She was anxious to know, but asked the question partly to turn theconversation which was fast becoming perilous. As a girl, she lovedBrandon, and knew it only too well, but she knew also that she was aprincess, standing next to the throne of the greatest kingdom onearth; in fact, at that time, the heir apparent--Henry having nochildren--for the people would not have the Scotch king's imp--and thepossibility of such a thing as a union with Brandon had never enteredher head, however passionate her feelings toward him. She also knewthat speaking a thought vitalizes it and gives it force; so, althoughshe could not deny herself the pleasure of being near him, of seeinghim, and hearing the tones of his voice, and now and then feeling thethrill of an accidental touch, she had enough good sense to know thata mutual confession, that is, taking it for granted Brandon loved her,as she felt almost sure he did, must be avoided at all hazards. It wasnot to be thought of between people so far apart as they. The brinkwas a delightful place, full of all the sweet ecstasies and thrillingjoys of a seventh heaven, but over the brink--well! there should be no"over," for who was she? And who was he? Those two dreadfully stubbornfacts could not be forgotten, and the gulf between them could not bespanned; she knew that only too well. No
one better.

  Brandon answered her question: "I do not know about going; I think Ishall. I have volunteered with a ship that sails in two or three weeksfrom Bristol, and I suppose I shall go."

  "Oh, no! do you really mean it?" It gave her a pang to hear that hewas actually going, and her love pulsed higher; but she also felt asense of relief, somewhat as a conscientious house-breaker might feelupon finding the door securely locked against him. It would take awaya temptation which she could not resist, and yet dared not yield tomuch longer.

  "I think there is no doubt that I mean it," replied Brandon. "I shouldlike to remain in England until I can save enough money out of theking's allowance to pay the debt against my father's estate, so that Imay be able to go away and feel that my brother and sisters are securein their home--my brother is not strong--but I know it is better forme to go now, and I hope to find the money out there. I could havepaid it with what I lost to Judson before I discovered him cheating."This was the first time he had ever alluded to the duel, and thethought of it, in Mary's mind, added a faint touch of fear to herfeeling toward him.

  She looked up with a light in her eyes and asked: "What is the debt?How much? Let me give you the money. I have so much more than I need.Let me pay it. Please tell me how much it is and I will hand it toyou. You can come to my rooms and get it or I will send it to you. Nowtell me that I may. Quickly." And she was alive with enthusiasticinterest.

  "There now! you are kind again; as kind as even you can be. Be sure, Ithank you, though I say it only once," and he looked into her eyeswith a gaze she could not stand even for an instant. This was growingdangerous again, so, catching himself, he turned the conversationback into the bantering vein.

  "Ah! you want to pay the debt that I may have no excuse to remain? Isthat it? Perhaps you are not so kind after all."

  "No! no! you know better. But let me pay the debt. How much is it andto whom is it owing? Tell me at once, I command you."

  "No! no! Lady Mary, I cannot."

  "Please do. I beg--if I cannot command. Now I know you will; you wouldnot make me _beg_ twice for anything?" She drew closer to him as shespoke and put her hand coaxingly upon his arm. With an irresistibleimpulse he took the hand in his and lifted it to his lips in alingering caress that could not be mistaken. It was all so quick andso full of fire and meaning that Mary took fright, and the princess,for the moment, came uppermost.

  "Master Brandon!" she exclaimed sharply, and drew away her hand.Brandon dropped the hand and moved over on the seat. He did not speak,but turned his face from her and looked out of the window toward theriver. Thus they sat in silence, Brandon's hand resting listlesslyupon the cushion between them. Mary saw the eloquent movement awayfrom her and his speaking attitude, with averted face; then theprincess went into eclipse, and the imperial woman was ascendant oncemore. She looked at him for a brief space with softening eyes, and,lifting her hand, put it back in his, saying:

  "There it is again--if you want it."

  Want it? Ah! this was too much! The hand would not satisfy now; itmust be all, all! And he caught her to his arms with a violence thatfrightened her.

  "Please don't, please! Not this time. Ah! have mercy, Charl--Well!There!... There!... Mary mother, forgive me." Then her woman spiritfell before the whirlwind of his passion, and she was on his breastwith her white arms around his neck, paying the same tribute to thelittle blind god that he would have exacted from the lowliest maidenof the land. Just as though it were not the blood of fifty kings andqueens that made so red and sweet, aye, sweet as nectar thricedistilled, those lips which now so freely paid their dues in coinedbliss.

  Brandon held the girl for a moment or two, then fell upon his kneesand buried his face in her lap.

  "Heaven help me!" he cried.

  She pushed the hair back from his forehead with her hand and as shefondled the curls, leaned over him and softly whispered:

  "Heaven help us both; for I love you!"

  He sprang to his feet. "Don't! don't! I pray you," he said wildly, andalmost ran from her.

  Mary followed him nearly to the door of the room, but when he turnedhe saw that she had stopped, and was standing with her hands over herface, as if in tears.

  He went back to her and said: "I tried to avoid this, and if you hadhelped me, it would never--" But he remembered how he had alwaysdespised Adam for throwing the blame upon Eve, no matter how much shemay have deserved it, and continued: "No; I do not mean that. It isall my fault. I should have gone away long ago. I could not help it; Itried. Oh! I tried."

  Mary's eyes were bent upon the floor, and tears were falling over herflushed cheeks, unheeded and unchecked.

  "There is no fault in any one; neither could I help it," she murmured.

  "No, no; it is not that there is any fault in the ordinary sense; itis like suicide or any other great, self-inflicted injury with me. Iam different from other men. I shall never recover."

  "I know only too well that you are different from other men, and--andI, too, am different from other women--am I not?"

  "Ah, different! There is no other woman in all this wide, long world,"and they were in each other's arms again. She turned her shoulder tohim and rested with the support of his arms about her. Her eyes werecast down in silence, and she was evidently thinking as she toyed withthe lace of his doublet. Brandon knew her varying expressions so wellthat he saw there was something wanting, so he asked:

  "Is there something you wish to say?"

  "Not I," she responded with emphasis on the pronoun.

  "Then is it something you wish me to say?"

  She nodded her head slowly: "Yes."

  "What is it? Tell me and I will say it."

  She shook her head slowly: "No."

  "What is it? I cannot guess."

  "Did you not like to hear me say that--that I--loved you?"

  "Ah, yes; you know it. But--oh!--do you wish to hear me say it?"

  The head nodded rapidly two or three times: "Yes." And the blackcurving lashes were lifted for a fleeting, luminous instant.

  "It is surely not necessary; you have known it so long already, but Iam only too glad to say it. I love you."

  She nestled closer to him and hid her face on his breast.

  "Now that I have said it, what is my reward?" he asked--and the fairface came up, red and rosy, with "rewards," any one of which was wortha king's ransom.

  "But this is worse than insanity," cried Brandon, as he almost pushedher from him. "We can never belong to each other; never."

  "No," said Mary, with a despairing shake of the head, as the tearsbegan to flow again; "no! never." And falling upon his knees, hecaught both her hands in his, sprang to his feet and ran from theroom.

  Her words showed him the chasm anew. She saw the distance between themeven better than he. Evidently it seemed farther looking down thanlooking up. There was nothing left now but flight.

  He sought refuge in his own apartments and wildly walked the floor,exclaiming, "Fool! fool that I am to lay up this store of agony tolast me all my days. Why did I ever come to this court? God pityme--pity me!" And he fell upon his knees at the bed, burying his facein his arms, his mighty man's frame shaking as with a palsy.

  That same night Brandon told me how he had committed suicide, as heput it, and of his intention to go to Bristol and there await thesailing of the ship, and perhaps find a partial resurrection in NewSpain.

  Unfortunately, he could not start for Bristol at once, as he had givensome challenges for a tournament at Richmond, and could furnish nogood excuse to withdraw them; but he would not leave his room, noragain see "that girl who was driving him mad."

  It was better, he thought, and wisely too, that there be noleave-taking, but that he should go without meeting her.

  "If I see her again," he said, "I shall have to kill some one, even ifit is only myself."

  I heard him tossing in his bed all night, and when morning came hearose looking haggard enough, but with his determination to run awayand see
Mary no more, stronger than ever upon him.

  But providence, or fate, or some one, ordered it differently, andthere was plenty of trouble ahead.