“No; thank you; not to-night.”  Then shyly glancing toward me:  “Perhaps Sir Edwin will teach me when he learns.  It is his business, you know.”

Would I?  If a month, night and day, would conquer it, the new dance was as good as done for already.  That was the first real mark of favor I ever had from Jane.

We now had some songs from Mary and Jane; then I gave one, and Brandon sang again at Mary’s request.  We had duets and quartets and solos, and the songs were all sweet, for they came from the heart of youth, and went to the soul of youth, rich in its God-given fresh delight in everything.  Then we talked, and Mary, and Jane, too, with a sly, shy, soft little word now and then, drew Brandon out to tell of his travels and adventures.  He was a pleasing talker, and had a smooth, easy flow of words, speaking always in a low, clear voice, and with perfect composure.  He had a way of looking first one auditor and then another straight in the eyes with a magnetic effect that gave to everything he said an added interest.  Although at that time less than twenty-five years old, he was really a learned man, having studied at Barcelona, Salamanca and Paris.  While there had been no system in his education, his mind was a sort of knowledge junk-shop, wherein he could find almost anything he wanted.  He spoke German, French and Spanish, and seemed to know the literature of all these languages.

He told us he had left home at the early age of sixteen as his uncle’s esquire, and had fought in France, then down in Holland with the Dutch; had been captured by the Spanish and had joined the Spanish army, as it mattered not where he fought, so that there was a chance for honorable achievement and a fair ransom now and then.  He told us how he had gone to Barcelona and Salamanca, where he had studied, and thence to Granada, among the Moors; of his fighting against the pirates of Barbary, his capture by them, his slavery and adventurous escape; and his regret that now drowsy peace kept him mewed up in a palace.

“It is true,” he said, “there is a prospect of trouble with Scotland, but I would rather fight a pack of howling, starving wolves than the Scotch; they fight like very devils, which, of course, is well; but you have nothing after you have beaten them, not even a good whole wolf skin.”

In an unfortunate moment Mary said:  “Oh, Master Brandon, tell us of your duel with Judson.”

Thoughtful, considerate Jane frowned at the princess in surprise, and put her finger on her lips.

“Your ladyship, I fear I can not,” he answered, and left his seat, going over to the window, where he stood, with his back toward us, looking out into the darkness.  Mary saw what she had done, and her eyes grew moist, for, with all her faults, she had a warm, tender heart and a quick, responsive sympathy.  After a few seconds of painful silence, she went softly over to the window where Brandon stood.