But it was not fated that I should go to London.

Medicine was not the only thing that I studied in those days, however.  Squire Bozard of Ditchingham, the same who told my father of the coming of the Spanish ship, had two living children, a son and a daughter, though his wife had borne him many more who died in infancy.  The daughter was named Lily and of my own age, having been born three weeks after me in the same year.  Now the Bozards are gone from these parts, for my great-niece, the granddaughter and sole heiress of this son, has married and has issue of another name.  But this is by the way.

From our earliest days we children, Bozards and Wingfields, lived almost as brothers and sisters, for day by day we met and played together in the snow or in the flowers.  Thus it would be hard for me to say when I began to love Lily or when she began to love me; but I know that when first I went to school at Norwich I grieved more at losing sight of her than because I must part from my mother and the rest.  In all our games she was ever my partner, and I would search the country round for days to find such flowers as she chanced to love.  When I came back from school it was the same, though by degrees Lily grew shyer, and I also grew suddenly shy, perceiving that from a child she had become a woman.  Still we met often, and though neither said anything of it, it was sweet to us to meet.

Thus things went on till this day of my mother’s death.  But before I go further I must tell that Squire Bozard looked with no favour on the friendship between his daughter and myself—­and this, not because he disliked me, but rather because he would have seen Lily wedded to my elder brother Geoffrey, my father’s heir, and not to a younger son.  So hard did he grow about the matter at last that we two might scarcely meet except by seeming accident, whereas my brother was ever welcome at the Hall.  And on this account some bitterness arose between us two brothers, as is apt to be the case when a woman comes between friends however close.  For it must be known that my brother Geoffrey also loved Lily, as all men would have loved her, and with a better right perhaps than I had—­for he was my elder by three years and born to possessions.  It may seem indeed that I was somewhat hasty to fall into this state, seeing that at the time of which I write I was not yet of age; but young blood is nimble, and moreover mine was half Spanish, and made a man of me when many a pure-bred Englishman is still nothing but a boy.  For the blood and the sun that ripens it have much to do with such matters, as I have seen often enough among the Indian peoples of Anahuac, who at the age of fifteen will take to themselves a bride of twelve.  At the least it is certain that when I was eighteen years of age I was old enough to fall in love after such fashion that I never fell out of it again altogether, although the history of my life may seem to give me the lie when I say so.  But I take it that a man may love several women and yet love one of them the best of all, being true in the spirit to the law which he breaks in the letter.