eyes, by becoming hateful in the eyes of God and of each other?  Will she love us the better, if we come to her with hands stained in the blood of him whom she loves better than us?  Let us recollect ourselves rather, gentlemen; and be sure that our only chance of winning her, if she be worth winning, is to will what she wills, honor whom she honors, love whom she loves.  If there is to be rivalry among us, let it be a rivalry in nobleness, an emulation in virtue.  Let each try to outstrip the other in loyalty to his queen, in valor against her foes, in deeds of courtesy and mercy to the afflicted and oppressed; and thus our love will indeed prove its own divine origin, by raising us nearer to those gods whose gift it is.  But yet I show you a more excellent way, and that is charity.  Why should we not make this common love to her, whom I am unworthy to name, the sacrament of a common love to each other?  Why should we not follow the heroical examples of those ancient knights, who having but one grief, one desire, one goddess, held that one heart was enough to contain that grief, to nourish that desire, to worship that divinity; and so uniting themselves in friendship till they became but one soul in two bodies, lived only for each other in living only for her, vowing as faithful worshippers to abide by her decision, to find their own bliss in hers, and whomsoever she esteemed most worthy of her love, to esteem most worthy also, and count themselves, by that her choice, the bounden servants of him whom their mistress had condescended to advance to the dignity of her master?—­as I (not without hope that I shall be outdone in generous strife) do here promise to be the faithful friend, and, to my ability, the hearty servant, of him who shall be honored with the love of the Rose of Torridge.”

He ceased, and there was a pause.

At last young Fortescue spoke.

“I may be paying you a left-handed compliment, sir:  but it seems to me that you are so likely, in that case, to become your own faithful friend and hearty servant (even if you have not borne off the bell already while we have been asleep), that the bargain is hardly fair between such a gay Italianist and us country swains.”

“You undervalue yourself and your country, my dear sir.  But set your mind at rest.  I know no more of that lady’s mind than you do:  nor shall I know.  For the sake of my own peace, I have made a vow neither to see her, nor to hear, if possible, tidings of her, till three full years are past.  Dixi?”

Mr. Coffin rose.

“Gentlemen, I may submit to be outdone by Mr. Leigh in eloquence, but not in generosity; if he leaves these parts for three years, I do so also.”

“And go in charity with all mankind,” said Cary.  “Give us your hand, old fellow.  If you are a Coffin, you were sawn out of no wishy-washy elm-board, but right heart-of-oak.  I am going, too, as Amyas here can tell, to Ireland away, to cool my hot liver in a bog, like a Jack-hare in March.  Come, give us thy neif, and let us part in peace.  I was minded to have fought thee this day—­”