With this half apology, the good woman opened a side door and went into Barbara Stafford's room. The man looked after her with eyes full of impatient yearning. He rose from his chair and stole softly toward the door, listening; but no sound answered his expectations, and he had scarcely returned to his seat when Goody Brown came back with the bowl of bread and milk in her hand. She sat it down in the hearth, and turning to her visitor, said, in a half whisper, "She's sound asleep." "Madam," said the traveller, "will you give me a cup of milk? I have been so long at sea--" "Well, now, I shouldn't wonder!" cried the dame, interrupting him. "I'll go right down to the spring-house and get it." She took a pitcher from the table and went out. The moment her shadow left the threshold stone the young man started up and softly opened the door of Barbara Stafford's room. He paused a moment, with the latch in his hand, hesitating and breathless, for the lady lay before him in a profound sleep. The face was turned toward him; one hand rested under her cheek, the other fell upon the blue and white counterpane. Her thick golden hair rolled in coils and waves over the pillow. The young man's eyes grew misty, the breath broke almost in a sob on his lips. He crept softly toward the bed, fell upon his knees, and gazed upon the lady with passionate sorrow that might have disturbed an angel in its first heavenly rest. But she did not move. The deep slumber of exhaustion held her faculties locked. A coil of hair, loosened by its own weight, rolled downward and swept across her arm. Still she did not move. He gathered the tresses gently between his hands, laid them against his cheek, and pressed wild kisses upon them. Then he heard a sound. It was Goody Brown's footsteps coming up from the spring-house. With rash desperation he took that white hand in his, covered it with kisses soft as the fall of thistledown, dropped it and glided from the room. Goody Brown found her guest sitting in his old place near the fire, looking grieved and sad, but with a warm flush on his cheeks. He took the milk that she offered; drank a little, it seemed with difficulty, and, laying a piece of money on the table, turned to go. "If you'd jest as lieves wait a minit," said the housewife, blushing like a girl. "I hain't had a chance to ask a single question. They all went off so sudden; but my old man was aboard the vessel." "What, your husband?" "Jes so, Jason Brown; mebby you know something about him?" The stranger gave a glance at the person he had left whittling in the far distance and smiled uneasily. "Yes, I know him," he said. "He came safely ashore with the ship." "Then she's got to the wharf?" questioned the woman. "Yes." "Then he'll be along by-and-by," said the wife, ashamed of taking so much interest in the subject. "Much obleeged to you for telling me." Thus dismissed the stranger left the house and went back to the place where he had left Jason Brown.