One stormy night, never to burn again.
For miles and miles,[377] which way you went, the fame
Of Lysle would greet your ear; his courtesies,
His open house and hospitalities,
Were themes discussed no less than were his quick
Resentment of a fancied slight, his fierce,
Hot temper, when aroused, or swiftness to
Avenge a wrong. But those who knew his child,
Who saw her pure, white brow, her gold brown hair,
And read the truth within her hazel eyes,