woman had spattered him
with insults, snared him on a strained plea, bargained away his life
for the body of a spy. Yesterday she had shuddered at the thought of
any link of kinship between them, as she might have shuddered at
kinship with a wronger of women, a killer of children, a coward. Yet
to-day, as she stood there, sunshine on her hair, sunshine in her
eyes, a fairy lady standing in that circle of solemn yews, he could
find in his heart no regret for anything that had brought him to her
presence. He would take gladly what she offered gayly, two days of
friendship with so radiant a maid--and then? He left that thought
unanswered to reply to Brilliana.

"Madam," he said, with a very ceremonious bow, "I will pretend that
we are going to be friends till the end of my life."

Brilliana clapped her hands like a child that has been promised some
coveted comfit.

"You are brave at make-believe. In the mean time let us keep each
other company a little. Surely it is dull for a man of action to be
a prisoner, and for my own part I mope sadly now that my little war
is well over."

She had seated herself as she spoke, and she motioned to Evander to
take his place by her side. When she paused he asked:

"Are you so strenuous an amazon?"

She answered him very earnestly:

"I miss the splendid music of the siege, the stir of arms, the bustle
of giving order, the alertness of expectation. I did not think a
woman's life could be tuned to so high a diapason. Just think of it!
Yesterday, and for many yesterdays, I was a leaguered lady, a
priestess of battles; I stood for the King; existence was one fierce
ecstasy. To drop from that brisk spin and whetted edge of life into
this housewife's twilight is all one with being some sea-old admiral
and drowning in a canal."

The daughters of Israel could not have thrown more sadness into their
voice, Evander thought, as they sang by the waters of Babylon. If her
face was fair in animation, it seemed still more fair in sadness.

"Has the Lady of Harby no employment," he asked, gently, "to spur the
trudging time?"

Brilliana laughed rather cheerlessly.

"Oh, mercy, yes! Can she not overwatch the gardener to see that he
planteth the right sort of herbs and flowers at the new of the moon,
at moon full, and at moon old? She can chat with Mistress Cook of
sallets and fricassees and fritters; she can count the linen; she can
preserve quinces; she can distil you aqua composita or impe