"It is ten years since my wife died," he continued, in a low voice, his worn old face softening, "and yet I have not recovered from her death. I think each day that I miss her more and more, and there is an aching void in my heart that naught can fill. It was only a few days ago that I came upon a little piece of needlework that she had sewed upon and left unfinished, and though thou wouldst not believe it, I fell upon my knees in front of that bit of cloth, and burst into tears. Dear, patient Jane! It is only when we have lost the gem that we prize it most. A noble woman, my boy, is God's best gift to man, a bad one his worse curse. A woman, true and sweet, can raise a man's life towards heaven; can be a benediction to him that will last as long as life; and an unfaithful and nagging woman is as near a hell on earth as man ever gets. "How stand thy chances with the maid?" he asked, raising his head with a smile upon his rugged face. "She weds Lord Dunraven," I answered quickly, for he had touched a wound yet fresh and bleeding. "Pardon me," he replied. "I would not have asked, had I known. But never give up, my lad, fight on until the last shot in the locker. 'None but the brave deserve the fair,' I have often heard, and if that be true thou wilt win her. If rumor can be believed, the lady is the fairest of Eve's daughters, and as for thyself, I know that thou art 'the bravest of the brave.'" "Thou dost overrate me," I answered, with a gloomy laugh, which I endeavored to make cheerful. "And what of the Spaniard?" he said. "Does he love the maid, too?" "Yes," I answered. "He, too, is in the same boat." He laughed as he arose and made ready to leave. "I pity the maid," he said. "Between you she is in a pretty fix; whichever way she turns she must run into one of you--a pirate, a rascal, and a gentleman. Were I in her shoes, it would not take me long to make my choice," and he chuckled as he looked at me. I smiled back at him. "Would that thou couldst make up her mind for her," I said. "If that were the case, I would lose no sleep over the situation." "Lose no sleep as it is," he answered; "'twill all come out right in the end. 'Truth is mighty and will prevail,' I once heard a wise man say, and he spoke truly--but I must go. Is there aught that thou dost wish?" "Naught," I answered, "save if any of my friends should call to see me, I would wish to see them. Not that any of them will come," I said somewhat bitterly, for the lash will sting sometimes. "Thou knowest how the rats desert the sinking ship."