from the bank, and the next instant a great bunch of red roses
whirled past me and fell into her lap. "Sweets to the sweet, you
know," said Master Jeremy Sparrow genially. "Goodwife Allen
will never miss them."

I was in two minds whether to laugh or to swear, - for I had never
given her flowers, - when she settled the question for me by raising
the crimson mass and bestowing it upon the flood.

A sudden puff of wind brought the sail around, hiding his fallen
countenance. The wind freshened, coming from the bay, and the
boat was off like a startled deer. When I next saw him he had
recovered his equanimity, and, with a smile upon his rugged
features, was waving us a farewell. I looked at the beauty opposite
me, and, with a sudden movement of pity for him, mateless, stood
up and waved to him vigorously in turn.



CHAPTER IV IN WHICH I AM LIKE TO REPENT AT LEISURE


WHEN we had passed the mouth of the Chickahominy, I broke the
silence, now prolonged beyond reason, by pointing to the village
upon its bank, and telling her something of Smith's expedition up
that river, ending by asking her if she feared the savages.

When at length she succeeded in abstracting her attention from the
clouds, it was to answer in the negative, in a tone of the supremest
indifference, after which she relapsed into her contemplation of