"You must know that I am walking in the Governors garden, that hath only a lane between it and the gaol." Her eyes were downcast, her cheeks pure rose. "When did you first love me?" I demanded. "Lady Wyatt must have guessed why Master Rolfe alone went not to the bear-baiting, but joined us in the garden. She said the air was keen, and fetched me her mask, and then herself went indoors to embroider Samson in the arms of Delilah." "Was it here at Jamestown, or was it when we were first wrecked, or on the island with the pink hill when you wrote my name in the sand, or----" "The _George_ will sail in three days, and we are to be taken back to England after all. It does not scare me now." "In all my life I have kissed you only once," I said. The rose deepened, and in her eyes there was laughter, with tears behind. "You are a gentleman of determination," she said. "If you are bent upon having your way, I do not know that I--that I--can help myself. I do not even know that I want to help myself." Outside the wind blew and the sun shone, and the laughter from below the fort was too far away and elfin to jar upon us. The world forgot us, and we were well content. There seemed not much to say: I suppose we were too happy for words. I knelt beside her, and she laid her hands in mine, and now and then we spoke. In her short and lonely life, and in my longer stern and crowded one, there had been little tenderness, little happiness. In her past, to those about her, she had seemed bright and gay; I had been a comrade whom men liked because I could jest as well as fight. Now we were happy, but we were not gay. Each felt for the other a great compassion; each knew that though we smiled to-day, the groan and the tear might be to-morrow's due; the sunshine around us was pure gold, but that the clouds were mounting we knew full well. "I must soon be gone," she said at last. "It is a stolen meeting. I do not know when we shall meet again." She rose from the settle, and I rose with her, and we stood together beside the barred window. There was no danger of her being seen; street and square were left to the wind and the sunshine. My arm was around her, and she leaned her head against my breast. "Perhaps we shall never meet again," she said. "The winter is over," I answered. "Soon the trees will be green and the flowers in bloom. I will not believe that our spring can have no summer." She took from her bosom a little flower that had been pinned there. It lay, a purple star, in the hollow of her hand. "It grew in the sun. It is the first flower of spring." She put it to her lips, then laid it upon the window ledge beside my hand. "I have brought you evil gifts,--foes and strife and peril. Will you take this little purple flower--and all my heart beside?" I bent and kissed first the tiny blossom, and then the lips that had proffered it. "I am very rich," I said.