of no such meeting. The girl was always alone, her lover gone away
from her across the sea or into the wilds.

Oh long on the mountain he tarries, he tarries:
Why tarries the youth with the bright yellow hair:
Oh long on the mountain he tarries, he tarries:
Why seeks he the hill when his flock is not there?

That was what he heard her sing, until it seemed to him that her
singing was a cry to be taken away from these melancholy surroundings
of sea and shore, and carried to the secure and comfortable South,
to be cherished and tended and loved. Why should this girl be left
to live a cruel life up in these wilds, and to go through the world
without knowing anything of the happy existence that might have been
hers? It was well for harder and stronger natures to withstand the
buffetings of wind and rain, and to be indifferent to the melancholy
influences of the lonely sea and the darkness of the northern
winters; but for her--for this beautiful, sensitive, tender-hearted
girl--surely some other and gentler fate was in store. What he, at
least, could do he would. He would lay his life at her feet; and if
she chose to go away from this bleak and cruel home to the sunnier
South, would not he devote himself, as never a man had given himself
to a woman before, to the constant duty of enriching her life with all
the treasures of admiration and respect and love?

It was getting late, and presently Sheila retired. As she bade
"Good-night" to him, Lavender fancied her manners was a little less
frank toward him than usual, and her eyes were cast down. All the
light of the room seemed to go with her when she went.