But he talked with Miss Lane, he walked with Miss Newcomb; and did the civil thing to a handful of new visitors; went to picnics, teas, and such like merrymakings; and through it all found himself pining for Cherry, and wondering what they were all about at home. In the very midst of the frolic, with bright eyes and soft hands on every side, the refrain of the old song would keep coming up: "O this is no' my ain lassie! Fair though the lassie be." Such a mood works differently with different men; with Magnus it wrought in a very becoming fashion. For the high mark put upon the three girls far away, set the standard for his behaviour to those near by. "Help them," Cherry had said. And so, over his ordinary good manners and winning ways, there had come that grave air of chivalry, that deference to women _because_ they were women, which sets off a man's own manhood as nothing else can. His heart was elsewhere, but his best service was theirs to command. Now and then he ventured a reproof. "You must not do that," he said one day to Miss Lane; receiving an instant "Thank you!" which spoke her good stuff. And even when he came between Miss Saucy and some lawless escapade with a firm: "You shall not do that!" the words were so courteous and earnest that the girl yielded with: "There, there--I won't. Hush up!" It was kind work to do, and the giving pleasure was always pleasant; but for his own delights Magnus fell back into his solitary woodside walks, with now and then a long pull upon the river. Up and down the shining current; fighting the wind, breasting the tide; tossed with mimic billows, or shivering a mirror of blue; so he went. Now coasting along at oar's length from the shore, where the hills rose up in castellated masses of rock and the cool shadow lay deep; then resting on his oars, and gazing through the peerless north gateway at the flood of sunset over Newburgh Bay. Sometimes showing it all to Cherry, "on their wedding trip"; or again, sent back here as Commandant, with Cherry the fair Frau Commander of the Post. And then-- A faint strain of music broke in upon his dream; the oars hung motionless, dripping their bright drops. A soldier's funeral was passing slowly up the winding Camptown road; the grave notes of the band coming clear and soft across the water; the flag drooped midway. Magnus reverently bared his head. Then he sat listening. There was so little tide that a dip of the oars now and then kept the boat in place; and Magnus sat there motionless, until the third volley rang out among the echoes, and to the usual lively racket the men came marching home. "Yes!" he said to himself, as he began to pull down stream again. "When the time comes for Old Glory to wrap me up, let them bring me here and lay me there, to sleep among the hills."