fternoon
and many another, I had found myself, time and again, adream with
Helena's face before me. I saw it now--a face I had not seen these
three years, since the time when first I had come hither with the
purpose of forgetting.

Jimmy was back in his part again, and doing nobly. "Ha!" said he. "So,
fellow, pondering on a fair one, didst not hear the approach of our
good ship, the _Sea Rover_?"

"In good sooth, I did not," I answered; "and as for these other
matters, I swear on my blade's point I have spoken the truth."

Our conversation languished for the moment. Illusion lay in the
balance. The old melancholy impended above me ominously.

CHAPTER III

IN WHICH I AM A CAPTIVE

"What ho! Jean Lafitte," said I at length, rousing myself from the old
habit of reverie, of which I had chiefest dread; "and you, Henri
L'Olonnois, scourges of the main, both of you, listen! I have a plan
to put before you, my hearties."

"Say on, Sirrah!" rejoined the younger pirate, so promptly and so
gravely that again I had much to do to refrain from sudden mirth.

"Why then, look ye," I continued. "The sun is sinking beneath the
wave, and the good ship rides steady at her anchor. Meantime men must
eat! and yonder castle amid the forest offers booty. What say ye if we
pass within the wood, and see what we may find of worth to souls bold
as ours?"

"'Tis well!" answered L'Olonnois; and I could see assent in Lafitte's
eyes. In truth I could discover no great preparations for a long
voyage in the open hold of the _Sea Rover_, and doubted not that both
captain and crew by this time were hungry. Odd crumbs of crackers and
an empty sardine can might be all very well at the edge of the
village of Pausaukee (I judged they could have come no greater
distance, some twelve or fifteen miles); but they do not serve for so
long a journey as lies between Pausaukee and the Spanish Main.

They rose as I did, and we passed beyond the clump of tall birches,
along the edge of my mowing meadow, and through the gate which closes
my woodland path--to me the loveliest of all wood-trails, so gentle
and so silent is it always, and so fringed, seasonably, with ferns and
flowers. Thus, presently, we saw the blue smoke rising above my lodge,
betokening to me that my Japanese factotum, Hiroshimi, now had my
dinner under way.

To me, it was my customary abode, my home these three years; but they
beside me saw not the rambling expanse of my leisurel