“THE CHILDREN OF PAUL'S” 143

hose of grayish blue, with puffed and slashed trunks of
velvet so blue as to be almost black. The sleeveless jerkin
was of the same dark color, trellised with roses embroidered
in silk, and loose from breast to broad lace collar so that
the waistcoat of dull gold silk beneath it might show. A
cloak of damask with a silver clasp, a buff-leather belt
with a chubby purse hung to it by a chain, tan-colored
slippers, and a jaunty velvet cap with a short white plume,
completed the array. Everything, too, had been laid
down with perfume, so that from head to foot he smelt as
sweet and clean as a drift of rose-mallows.

“My soul!” cried Carew, stepping back and snapping
his fingers with delight. “Thou art the bravest skylark
that ever broke a shell! Fine feathers—fine bird—my
soul, how ye do set each other off!” He took Nick by
the shoulders, twirled him around, and, standing off again,
stared at him like a man who has found two pound ster-
ling in a cast-off coat.

“T can na pay for them, sir,” said Nick, slowly.

“There ’s nought to pay—it is a gift.”

Nick hung his head, much troubled. What could he
say; what could he think? This man had stolen him
from home,—ay, made him tremble for his very life a
dozen times,—and with his whole heart he knew he hated
him—yet here, a gift!

“Yes, Nick, it is a gift—and all because I love thee, lad.”

“Tove me?”

“Why, surely! Who could see thee without liking, or
hear thy voice and not love thee? Love thee, Nick?