ame, yet no wind, and the sun shone as placidly as if
Captain Charles Brandon were not fuming with impatience on the poop of
the Royal Hind. Three o'clock and no wind. The captain said it would
come with night, but sundown was almost at hand and no wind yet.
Brandon knew this meant failure if it held a little longer, for he
was certain the king, with Wolsey's help, would long since have
guessed the truth.

Brandon had not seen the princess since morning, and the delicacy he
felt about going to her cabin made the situation somewhat difficult.
After putting it off from hour to hour in hope that she would appear
of her own accord, he at last knocked at her door, and, of course,
found the lady in trouble.

The thought of the princess going on deck caused a sinking at his
heart every time it came, as he felt that it was almost impossible to
conceal her identity. He had not seen her in her new male attire, for
when she threw off her riding habit on meeting him the night before,
he had intentionally busied himself about the horses, and saw her only
after the great cloak covered her as a gown. He felt that however well
her garments might conceal her form, no man on earth ever had such
beauty in his face as her transcendent eyes, rose-tinted cheeks, and
coral lips, with their cluster of dimples; and his heart sank at the
prospect. She might hold out for a while with a straight face, but
when the smiles should come--it were just as well to hang a placard
about her neck: "This is a woman." The tell-tale dimples would be
worse than Jane for outspoken, untimely truthfulness and
trouble-provoking candor.

Upon entering, Brandon found Mary wrestling with the problem of her
complicated male attire; the most beautiful picture of puzzled
distress imaginable. The port was open and showed her rosy as the morn
when she looked up at him. The jack-boots were in a corner, and her
little feet seemed to put up a protest all their own, against going
into them, that ought to have softened every peg. She looked up at
Brandon with a half-hearted smile, and then threw her arms about his
neck and sobbed like the child that she was.

"Do you regret coming, Lady Mary?" asked Brandon, who, now that she
was alone with him, felt that he must take no advantage of the fact to
be familiar.

"No! no! not for one moment; I am glad--only too glad. But why do you
call me 'Lady'? You used to call me 'Mary.'"

"I don't know; perhaps because you are alone."