good room on one of the lower floors, but asked, instead, to be lodged
in the attic next to me. So we arranged that each had a room opening
into a third that served us alike for drawing-room and armory.

Here we sat and talked, and now and then one would read aloud some
favorite passage, while the other kept his own place with finger
between the leaves. Here we discussed everything from court scandal to
religion, and settled to our own satisfaction, at least, many a great
problem with which the foolish world is still wrestling.

We told each other all our secrets, too, for all the world like a pair
of girls. Although Brandon had seen so much of life, having fought on
the continent ever since he was a boy, and for all he was so much a
man of the world, yet had he as fresh and boyish a heart as if he had
just come from the clover fields and daisies. He seemed almost
diffident, but I soon learned that his manner was but the cool
gentleness of strength.

Of what use, let me ask, is a friend unless you can unload your heart
upon him? It matters not whether the load be joy or sorrow; if the
former, the need is all the greater, for joy has an expansive power,
as some persons say steam has, and must escape from the heart upon
some one else.

So Brandon told me of his hopes and aspirations, chief among which was
his desire to earn, and save, enough money to pay the debt against his
father's estate, which he had turned over to his younger brother and
sisters. He, as the eldest, could have taken it all, for his father
had died without a will, but he said there was not enough to divide,
so he had given it to them and hoped to leave it clear of debt; then
for New Spain, glory and fortune, conquest and yellow gold. He had
read of the voyages of the great Columbus, the Cabots, and a host of
others, and the future was as rosy as a Cornish girl's cheek. Fortune
held up her lips to him, but--there's often a sting in a kiss.

_CHAPTER III_

_The Princess Mary_

Now, at that time, Mary, the king's sister, was just ripening into her
greatest womanly perfection. Her skin was like velvet; a rich, clear,
rosy snow, with the hot young blood glowing through it like the faint
red tinge we sometimes see on the inner side of a white rose leaf. Her
hair was a very light brown, almost golden, and fluffy, soft, and fine
as a skein of Arras silk. She was of medium height, with a figure that
Venus might have envied. Her feet and hands we