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every sleeping thing around him； the deep and passionless repose
that seemed to drop from the bending boughs of the venerable trees；
the cool； restful； earthy breath of the shadowed mold beneath him；
touched only by a faint jessamine…like perfume as of a dead
passion； lulled the hurried beatings of his heart and calmed the
feverish tremor of his limbs。 He allowed himself to sink back
against the wall； his hands tightly clasped before him。 Gradually；
the set； abstracted look of his eyes faded and became suffused； as
if moistened by that celestial mist。 Then he rose quickly； drew
his sleeve hurriedly across his lashes； and began slowly to creep
along the wall again。
Either the obscurity of the shrubbery became greater or he was
growing preoccupied； but in steadying himself by the wall he had；
without perceiving it； put his hand upon a rude door that； yielding
to his pressure； opened noiselessly into a dark passage。 Without
apparent reflection he entered； followed the passage a few steps
until it turned abruptly； turning with it； he found himself in the
body of the Mission Church of Todos Santos。 A swinging…lamp； that
burned perpetually before an effigy of the Virgin Mother； threw a
faint light on the single rose…window behind the high altar；
another； suspended in a low archway； apparently lit the open door
of the passage towards the refectory。 By the stronger light of the
latter Hurlstone could see the barbaric red and tarnished gold of
the rafters that formed the straight roof。 The walls were striped
with equally bizarre coloring； half Moorish and half Indian。 A few
hangings of dyed and painted cloths with heavy fringes were
disposed on either side of the chancel； like the flaps of a wigwam；
and the aboriginal suggestion was further repeated in a quantity of
colored beads and sea…shells that decked the communion…rails。 The
Stations of the Cross； along the walls； were commemorated by
paintings； evidently by a native artistto suit the same barbaric
taste； while a larger picture of San Francisco d'Assisis； under the
choir； seemed to belong to an older and more artistic civilization。
But the sombre half…light of the two lamps mellowed and softened
the harsh contrast of these details until the whole body of the
church appeared filled with a vague harmonious shadow。 The air；
heavy with the odors of past incense； seemed to be a part of that
expression； as if the solemn and sympathetic twilight became
palpable in each deep； long…drawn inspiration。
Again overcome by the feeling of repose and peacefulness； Hurlstone
sank upon a rude settle； and bent his head and folded arms over a
low railing before him。 How long he sat there； allowing the subtle
influence to transfuse and possess his entire being； he did not
know。 The faint twitter of birds suddenly awoke him。 Looking up；
he perceived that it came from the vacant square of the tower above
him； open to the night and suffused with its mysterious radiance。
In another moment the roof of the church was swiftly crossed and
recrossed with tiny and adventurous wings。 The mysterious light
had taken an opaline color。 Morning was breaking。
The slow rustling of a garment； accompanied by a soft but heavy
tread； sounded from the passage。 He started to his feet as the
priest； whom he had seen on the deck of the Excelsior； entered the
church from the refectory。 The Padre was alone。 At the apparition
of a stranger； torn and disheveled； he stopped involuntarily and
cast a hasty look towards the heavy silver ornaments on the altar。
Hurlstone noticed it； and smiled bitterly。
〃Don't alarm yourself。 I only sought this place for shelter。〃
He spoke in Frenchthe language he had heard Padre Esteban address
to Mrs。 Brimmer。 But the priest's quick eye had already detected
his own mistake。 He lifted his hand with a sublime gesture towards
the altar； and said；
〃You are right！ Where should you seek shelter but here？〃
The reply was so unexpected that Hurlstone was silent。 His lips
quivered slightly。
〃And if it were SANCTUARY I was seeking？〃 he said。
〃You would first tell me why you sought it；〃 said Padre Esteban
gently。
Hurlstone looked at him irresolutely for a moment and then said；
with the hopeless desperation of a man anxious to anticipate his
fate；
〃I am a passenger on the ship you boarded yesterday。 I came ashore
with the intention of concealing myself somewhere here until she
had sailed。 When I tell you that I am not a fugitive from justice；
that I have committed no offense against the ship or her
passengers； nor have I any intention of doing so； but that I only
wish concealment from their knowledge for twenty…four hours； you
will know enough to understand that you run no risk in giving me
assistance。 I can tell you no more。〃
〃I did not see you with the other passengers； either on the ship or
ashore；〃 said the priest。 〃How did you come here？〃
〃I swam ashore before they left。 I did not know they had any idea
of landing here； I expected to be the only one； and there would
have been no need for concealment then。 But I am not lucky；〃 he
added； with a bitter laugh。
The priest glanced at his garments； which bore the traces of the
sea； but remained silent。
〃Do you think I am lying？〃
The old priest lifted his head with a gesture。
〃Not to mebut to God！〃
The young man followed the gesture； and glanced around the barbaric
church with a slight look of scorn。 But the profound isolation；
the mystic seclusion； and； above all； the complete obliteration of
that world and civilization he shrank from and despised； again
subdued and overcame his rebellious spirit。 He lifted his eyes to
the priest。
〃Nor to God；〃 he said gravely。
〃Then why withhold anything from Him here？〃 said the priest gently。
〃I am not a CatholicI do not believe in confession；〃 said
Hurlstone doggedly； turning aside。
But Padre Esteban laid his large brown hand on the young man's
shoulder。 Touched by some occult suggestion in its soft contact；
he sank again into his seat。
〃Yet you ask for the sanctuary of His housea sanctuary bought by
that contrition whose first expression is the bared and open soul！
To the first worldly shelter you soughtthe peon's hut or the
Alcalde's casayou would have thought it necessary to bring a
story。 You would not conceal from the physician whom you asked for
balsam either the wound； the symptoms； or the cause？ Enough；〃 he
said kindly； as Hurlstone was about to reply。 〃You shall have your
request。 You shall stay here。 I will be your physician； and will
salve your wounds； if any poison I know not of rankle there； you
will not blame me； son； but perhaps you will assist me to find it。
I will give you a secluded cell in the dormitory until the ship has
sailed。 And then〃
He dropped quietly on the settle； took the young man's hand
paternally in his own； and gazed into his e