with our oars
that slip along the timbers; the arrows sing and streak past, their long
feathers grey like storks.

Then the ship by us turns off into the fog with a dash of oars that
sends the white spray flashing for a moment; it is a shadowy form in the
mist; a tall brown thing disappears beside it; we are alone on the
smooth water with the ship we have come to help.

The hillside is sprinkled with flowers, the setting sun draws our
attention from them. "Come," says Lord Erik to my lord, "let us go in."
They walk slowly over the darkening blossoms.

"Ever since you called out to me through the fog," says Lord Erik, "and
came on with me and became my guest, I have trusted you with all that I
care, or think, or am, and you have never before told me of this."

My lord smiled rather sadly at the handsome, eager, young face, where
the emotion of disappointment lay, like all emotions on those expressive
features, bare.

"We do not always speak so easily of what we like," he answered.

"Oh, it is like an old sail you speak of her--why do you not care?" And
the beardless mouth went down. "Does she not like you?" glancing at my
lord's strong limbs.

"Perhaps; girls do not usually love old men," my lord answered, looking
kindly, amusedly, at the boy.

"You old! You are not old! I think of you as something with me, you----"

"Try your success with women, my son," broke in my lord laughing; "you,
a young lord--come."

They went in.

A word about us. We were Eastern men from the island; my lord, old,
burned-out,--though not with years,--restless--deliberately--silent, kind,
secretive, and wise in some old-gained sad kind knowledge of men. So we
had cruised where my lord was quiet, seeming content, till in the fog
opportunity brought us new friends, at whose sunny, lonely town we were
guests. When my lord had told his host of the woman to whom he was
betrothed, idly, we men who stood by watching noticed them keenly, for
we were interested in my lord and the why of his choosing the maiden.
She, the daughter of a timid lord, her mother dead--a fair thing who gave
flowers to boys in fun.

This is what we were.

Now, whether it was the beer we drank that night, or whether the long
rest--though I think the long rest--the men began to speak in loud voices
with sea-tales. Now, the young lord, his slim right hand on the great
mug, laughed to my lord: "Let us go and make some sea-tales!" and
laughing, raised his mug to hi