Margaret Maliphant

								

landscape, I fixed my thoughts upon that one little spot with all the
concentration of my nature, and fell to weaving a romance far more
brilliant than anything I had read, or than anything that had yet
suggested itself to me in my quiet every-day life. The days of gay
tournaments, and fierce hand-to-hand combats, and warriors clad in
suits of mail, were no longer; but still, to fight for one's country's
fame, to win one's bread by adventure and glory, to kill one's
country's foes and save the lives of her sons, was the grandest thing
that could be, I thought; and this Captain Forrester did.
As I dreamed, my eyes grew dim thinking of the wife who must send her
lover from her, perhaps forever--even though it be to glorious deeds;
and as I dreamed, the dog-cart gave a jolt over a stone, and I awoke
from my foolish fancies to see that Captain Forrester's hard driving
had taken all the mischief out of the mare, and that she was trotting
along quite peaceably, while he let the reins hang loose upon her neck,
and turned round to talk to my sister Joyce. And as we passed the clump
of tall elms at the foot of the cliff, and began slowly to climb the
hill towards the village, I looked out across the cold expanse of white
marsh-land to the calm sea beyond, and wondered whether it were true
what the books said that the peace of a perfect love could only be won
through trouble and heartache. Anyway, the trouble must be worth the
reward, since we all admired those who fought for it, and most of us
entered the lists ourselves. But no doubt the trouble and the fighting
was always on the man's side, and as I caught a glimpse of Joyce's
blushing profile and of the Captain's eager gaze, I said to myself that
Joyce was beautiful, and that Joyce was sweet, and that Joyce would
have a lover to whom no trouble in the whole world would be too much
for the sake of one kiss from her lips.

CHAPTER III.

I had jumped down as we ascended the hill, and had walked by the side
of the cart. Captain Forrester had turned round now and then to say
a word to me, making pleasant general remarks upon the beauty of the
country and the healthiness of the situation. But he did it out of mere
politeness, I knew. When we reached the top of the hill, he gave the
reins to Joyce and got down.
"You'll be all right now, won't you?" said he, helping me in. "I won't
come to the door, for I'm due at home;" and he nodded in the direction
of the Manor.
Then he must be staying in our village.
I said aloud, laughing, "Well, we could hardly get into trouble between
this and our house, could we?"
"Hardly," laughed he back again, looking down the road to the right,
which led to the ivied porch of our house.
How well he seemed to know all about us! Was he the squire's guest as
well as his friend? If so, Joyce would see him again.
"Won't you come in and see my father and mother?" said I.