The next day Brandon was installed as one of the captains of the king’s guard, under his uncle, but with no particular duties, except such as should be assigned him from time to time.  He was offered a 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 were small, and apparently made for the sole purpose of driving mankind distracted.  In fact, that seemed to be the paramount object in her creation, for she had the world of men at her feet.  Her greatest beauty was her glowing dark brown eyes, which shone with an ever-changing luster from beneath the shade of the longest, blackest upcurving lashes ever seen.