"Nay, till he came to live in this hut alone older by many a year. Since
then he is older than me by fifty. I had not thought of marriage before
he went away. Squire's son, soldier, or pillman, what were they to me!
He needed me. They came, did they? Well, and if they came?"

"And since the Egyptian went?"

A sort of sob came into her throat. "He does not need me, but he may--he
will one day; and then I shall be ready. But now--"

Old Soolsby's face turned away. His house overlooked every house in the
valley beneath: he could see nearly every garden; he could even recognise
many in the far streets. Besides, there hung along two nails on the wall
a telescope, relic of days when he sailed the main. The grounds of the
Cloistered House and the fruit-decked garden-wall of the Red Mansion were
ever within his vision. Once, twice, thrice, he had seen what he had
seen, and dark feelings, harsh emotions, had been roused in him.

"He will need us both--the Egyptian will need us both one day," he
answered now; "you more than any, me because I can help him, too--ay,
I can help him. But married or single you could help him; so why waste
your days here?"

"Is it wasting my days to stay with my father? He is lonely, most lonely
since our Davy went away; and troubled, too, for the dangers of that life
yonder. His voice used to shake when he prayed, in those days when Davy
was away in the desert, down at Darfur and elsewhere among the rebel
tribes. He frightened me then, he was so stern and still. Ah, but that
day when we knew he was safe, I was eighteen, and no more!" she added,