And if, at the close of her eventful life, one gleam of sunshine opened for a while, when her boy Richard returned to her bosom from his Spanish prison, to be knighted for his valor, and made a privy councillor for his wisdom; yet soon, how soon, was the old cloud to close in again above her, until her weary eyes should open in the light of Paradise. For that son dropped dead, some say at the very council-table, leaving behind him naught but broken fortunes, and huge purposes which never were fulfilled; and the stormy star of that bold race was set forever, and Lady Hawkins bowed her weary head and died, the groan of those stolen negroes ringing in her ears, having lived long enough to see her husband's youthful sin become a national institution, and a national curse for generations yet unborn. I know not why she opened her heart that night to Adrian Gilbert, with a frankness which she would hardly have dared to use to her own family. Perhaps it was that Adrian, like his great brothers, Humphrey and Raleigh, was a man full of all lofty and delicate enthusiasms, tender and poetical, such as women cling to when their hearts are lonely; but so it was; and Adrian, half ashamed of his own ambitious dreams, sate looking at her a while in silence; and then-- “The Lord be with you, dearest lady. Strange, how you women sit at home to love and suffer, while we men rush forth to break our hearts and yours against rocks of our own seeking! Ah well! were it not for Scripture, I should have thought that Adam, rather than Eve, had been the one who plucked the fruit of the forbidden tree.” “We women, I fear; did the deed nevertheless; for we bear the doom of it our lives long.” “You always remind me, madam, of my dear Mrs. Leigh of Burrough, and her counsels.” “Do you see her often? I hear of her as one of the Lord's most precious vessels.” “I would have done more ere now than see her,” said he with a blush, “had she allowed me: but she lives only for the memory of her husband and the fame of her noble sons.” As he spoke the door opened, and in walked, wrapped in his rough sea-gown, none other than one of those said noble sons. Adrian turned pale. “Amyas Leigh! What brings you hither? how fares my brother? Where is the ship?” “Your brother is well, Mr. Gilbert. The Golden Hind is gone on to Dartmouth, with Mr. Hayes. I came ashore here, meaning to go north to Bideford, ere I went to London. I called at Drake's just now, but he was away.” “The Golden Hind? What brings her home so soon?” “Yet welcome ever, sir,” said Mrs. Hawkins. “This is a great surprise, though. Captain John did not look for you till next year.” Amyas was silent. “Something is wrong!” cried Adrian. “Speak!” Amyas tried, but could not. “Will you drive a man mad, sir? Has the adventure failed? You said my brother was well.” “He is well.” “Then what--Why do you look at me in that fashion, sir?” and springing up, Adrian rushed forward, and held the candle to Amyas's face.