a maid of honor. The Puritan dress in which I first saw her was a thing of the past; she clothed herself now like the parrakeets in the forest, — or liker the lilies of the field, for verily she toiled not, neither did she spin.

Rolfe and I rose from our seats. “Mistress Percy,” I said, “let me present to you a right worthy gentleman and my very good friend, Master John Rolfe.”

She curtsied, and he bowed low. He was a man of quick wit and had been at court, but for a time he could find no words. Then: “Mistress Percy’s face is not one to be forgotten. I have surely seen it before, though where” —

Her color mounted, but she answered him indifferently enough. “Probably in London, amongst the