“A woman’s hand, — strength in weakness, veiled power, the star in the mist, guiding, beckoning, drawing upward!”

I laughed and threw the glove from me. “The star, a will-of-the-wisp; the goal, a slough,” I said.

As he sat opposite me a change came over his face, a change so great that I knew before I turned that she was in the room.

The bundle which I had carried for her from Jamestown was neither small nor light. Why, when she fled, she chose to burden herself with such toys, or whether she gave a thought to the suspicions that might be raised in Virginia if one of Sir Edwyn’s maids bedecked herself in silk and lace and jewels, I do not know, but she had brought to the forest and the tobacco fields the gauds of