“But if you had?” she said. On this side stood the instruments with which the latter piece of pleasantry had been effected,—namely, a bucket filled with paint and a brush: on that was erected a trophy, consisting of a watchman's rattle, a laced hat, with the crown knocked out, and its place supplied by a lantern, a campaign wig saturated with punch, a torn steen-kirk and ruffles, some halfdozen staves, and a broken sword. What she did not know, and what she was never to know, was that the divine fire was hers. A mate? A brother-lover to tromp about the world with? “I cannot. “You know,” he muttered, “you know quite well that your troubles are far more likely to weigh upon me than my own.
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