"Well, then, he had taken counsel first with a godly matron, in whose judgment he trusted." "Mistress White?" "Ay." "I would I had known it that day." And with no farther good-by the Captain turned and strode down the hill ill pleased. The next day rose warm and misty. The veiled sun seemed smiling behind the soft vapors, and the earth throbbing with the sweet hopes of spring smiled back at him. The leaves of willow, and alder, and birch, and maple, and elm, uncurled their delicate fronds and shyly held out hands of welcome to the south wind; the birds sang clear and sweet in the woods, and the delicate springs of sweet water answered back with rippling laughter and joyous dance. "A goodly scene, a veritable garden of the Lord," said William Bradford standing outside the elder's door, and gazing down upon the valley of Town Brook, and across at the wood-covered hillside beyond. Standish, whom he addressed, was just coming out of the house, after his breakfast, and without reply laid his hand upon the younger man's arm and led him up the hill. "Whither bound this fair morning my Captain?" asked Bradford, in whose blood the brave morning air worked like wine. "First to fetch my snaphance, and then I will have thee into the wood for a stroll to enjoy thy fine day, and to hold counsel with thy friend." "And that is ever to mine own advantage," replied Bradford with affectionate honesty. Standish glanced at him with the rare sweetness sometimes lighting the rigor of his soldierly face, and as they had reached the door of the cabin nestled beneath the Fort, where John Alden and his friend abode, Standish entered, leaving the future governor to feast his eyes upon the wider view outspread at his feet. Climbing still further to the platform of the Fort, he stood lost in reverie, his eyes fixed upon the lonely Mayflower, sole occupant of the harbor, as she clumsily rode at anchor tossing upon the flood tide. "We shall miss the crazy craft when she is gone," said Standish rejoining him. "Ay. She is the last bit of Old England," replied Bradford, musingly. For a few moments the two men stood intently gazing upon the vessel, each heart busy with its own thoughts, then, as by a common impulse turned, descending the side of the hill toward the lower spring, and passed into the forest. "What is thy matter for counsel, friend?" asked Bradford finding that Standish strode on in what seemed gloomy silence. "Yon ship." "The Mayflower?" "What other? She brought a hundred souls to these shores some six months agone." "Ay, and now we are fifty." "Fifty alive, and fifty under the sea, or on yon headland where to-day we level the mounds over their poor bodies and plant wheat to cheat the salvages." "'T is too true, good friend, and well I wot that the delight of thine eyes lies buried there"-- "And thine beneath the waters of our first harbor," interrupted Standish harshly, for the proud, tender heart could not bear even so light a touch.