Yea, thou didst, with laughing glance, Bid him lead thee to the dance, Bid him break for thee a lance. Silently would he comply, Or with half-averted eye Watch thee gaily pass him by. Yet he ever hovered near, Lest the dawn of woe or fear, Pain or trouble should appear. Once in hour of sorest strife For thy lord he risked his life. Didst thou know it--thou the wife? Once within the rushing river Garments white an instant quiver, 'Twas thy child--a pause, a shiver. All around in blank dismay Watch her swiftly whirled away-- He won back the millstream's prey; Placed her on the margent green, Saw her maidens o'er her lean, Parted ere his face was seen. Death and life for thee were given, For thy sake a heart was riven. Was it hard--the yielded breath? Harder far the living death. True the love which won thee first-- Truer that in silence nursed. Now he rests where flowers bloom-- Wilt thou crownless leave his tomb?" Not with tears, but still and calm, On his grave she laid the palm. [Illustration] ABOUT PEGGY SAVILLE. BY JESSIE MANSERGH (Mrs. G. de Horne Vaizey), Author of "A Girl in Springtime," "Sisters Three," etc. CHAPTER III. A fortnight later Peggy Saville arrived at the vicarage. Her mother brought her, stayed for a couple of hours, and then left for the time being, but as she was to pay some visits in the neighbourhood it was understood that this was not the final parting, and that she would spend several afternoons with her daughter before sailing for India. On this occasion, however, none of the young people saw her, for they were out during the afternoon, and were just settling down to tea in the schoolroom when the wheels of the departing carriage crunched down the drive. "Now for it!" cried Maxwell, and they looked at one another in silence, knowing full well what would happen next. Mrs. Asplin would think an introduction to her young friends the best distraction for the strange girl, after her mother's departure, and the next item in the programme would be the appearance of Miss Peggy herself. Esther rearranged the scattered tea-things; Oswald felt to see if his necktie was in position, and Robert hunched his shoulders and rolled his eyes at Mellicent in distracting fashion. Each one sat with head cocked on one side, in an attitude of eager attention. The front door banged, footsteps approached, and Mrs. Asplin's high, cheerful tones were heard drawing nearer and nearer. "This way, dear," she was saying. "They are longing to see you." The listeners gave a simultaneous gulp of excitement, the door opened, and--Peggy entered! She was not in the least what they had expected. This was neither the fair, blonde beauty of Maxwell's foretelling, nor the small, black-haired elf described by Mellicent. The first glance was unmitigated disappointment.