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remained motionless； staring after her straight； retreating figure。
Unable to follow closely either the meaning of her words or the
logic of her reasoning； he nevertheless comprehended the sudden
change in her manner； her voice； and the frigid resurrection of a
nature he had neither known nor suspected。 He looked blankly at
the collapsed hammock； as if he expected to find in its depths
those sinuous graces； languid fascinations； and the soft； half
sensuous contour cast off by this vanishing figure of propriety。
In the eight months of their enforced intimacy and platonic
seclusion he had learned to love this naive； insinuating woman；
whose frank simplicity seemed equal to his own； without thought of
reserve； secrecy； or deceit。 He had gradually been led to think of
the absent husband with what he believed to be her own feelingsas
of some impalpable； fleshless ancestor from whose remote presence
she derived power； wealth； and importance； but to whom she owed
only respect and certain obligations of honor equal to his own。 He
had never heard her speak of her husband with love； with sympathy；
with fellowship； with regret。 She had barely spoken of him at all；
and then rather as an attractive factor in her own fascinations
than a bar to a free indulgence in them。 He was as little in her
way ashis children。 With what grace she had adapted herself to
hisDon Ramon'slifeshe who frankly confessed she had no
sympathy with her husband's！ With what languid enthusiasm she had
taken up the customs of HIS country； while deploring the habits of
her own！ With what goddess…like indifference she had borne this
interval of waiting！ And yet this womanwho had seemed the
embodiment of romancehad received the announcement of his
sacrificethe only revelation he allowed himself to make of his
hopeless passionwith the frigidity of a duenna！ Had he wounded
her in some other unknown way？ Was she mortified that he had not
first declared his passionhe who had never dared to speak to her
of love before？ Perhaps she even doubted it！ In his ignorance of
the world he had； perhaps； committed some grave offense！ He should
not have let her go！ He should have questioned； implored her
thrown himself at her feet！ Was it too late yet？
He passed hurriedly into the formal little drawing…room； whose
bizarre coloring was still darkened by the closed blinds and
dropped awnings that had shut out the heat of day。 She was not
there。 He passed the open door of her room； it was empty。 At the
end of the passage a faint light stole from a door opening into the
garden that was still ajar。 She must have passed out that way。 He
opened it； and stepped out into the garden。
The sound of voices beside a ruined fountain a hundred yards away
indicated the vicinity of the party； but a single glance showed him
that she was not among them。 So much the betterhe would find her
alone。 Cautiously slipping beside the wall of the house； under the
shadow of a creeper； he gained the long avenue without attracting
attention。 She was not there。 Had she effectively evaded contact
with the others by leaving the garden through the little gate in
the wall that entered the Mission enclosure？ It was partly open；
as if some one had just passed through。 He followed； took a few
steps； and stopped abruptly。 In the shadow of one of the old pear…
trees a man and woman were standing。 An impulse of wild jealousy
seized him； he was about to leap forward； but the next moment the
measured voice of the Comandante； addressing Mrs。 Markham； fell
upon his ear。 He drew back with a sudden flush upon his face。 The
Comandante of Todos Santos； in grave； earnest accents； was actually
offering to Mrs。 Markham the same proposal that he； Don Ramon； had
made to Mrs。 Brimmer but a moment ago！
〃No one；〃 said the Comandante sententiously； 〃will know it but
myself。 You will leave the ship at Acapulco； you will rejoin your
husband in good time； you will be happy； my child； you will forget
the old man who drags out the few years of loneliness still left to
him in Todos Santos。〃
Forgetting himself； Don Ramon leaned breathlessly forward to hear
Mrs。 Markham's reply。 Would she answer the Comandante as Dona
Barbara had answered HIM？ Her words rose distinctly in the evening
air。
〃You're a gentleman； Don Miguel Briones； and the least respect I
can show a man of your kind is not to pretend that I don't
understand the sacrifice you're making。 I shall always remember it
as about the biggest compliment I ever received； and the biggest
risk that any manexcept oneever ran for me。 But as the man who
ran that bigger risk isn't here to speak for himself； and generally
trusts his wife； Susan Markham； to speak for himit's all the same
as if HE thanked you。 There's my hand； Don Miguel： shake it。
Wellif you prefer itkiss it then。 Theredon't be a foolbut
let's go back to Miss Keene。〃
CHAPTER IV。
A GLEAM OF SUNSHINE。
While these various passions had been kindled by her compatriots in
the peaceful ashes of Todos Santos； Eleanor Keene had moved among
them indifferently and； at times； unconsciously。 The stranding of
her young life on that unknown shore had not drawn her towards her
fellow…exiles； and the circumstances which afterwards separated her
from daily contact with them completed the social estrangement。
She found herself more in sympathy with the natives； to whom she
had shown no familiarity； than with her own people； who had mixed
with them more or less contemptuously。 She found the naivete of
Dona Isabel more amusing than the doubtful simplicity of that
married ingenue Mrs。 Brimmer； although she still met the young
girl's advances with a certain reserve。 She found herself often
pained by the practical brusqueness with which Mrs。 Markham put
aside the Comandante's delicate attentions； and she was moved with
a strange pity for his childlike trustfulness； which she knew was
hopeless。 As the months passed； on the few occasions that she
still met the Excelsior's passengers she was surprised to find how
they had faded from her memory； and to discover in them the
existence of qualities that made her wonder how she could have ever
been familiar with them。 She reproached herself with this
fickleness； she wondered if she would have felt thus if they had
completed their voyage to San Francisco together； and she recalled；
with a sad smile； the enthusiastic plans they had formed during the
passage to perpetuate their fellowship by anniversaries and
festivals。 But she； at last； succumbed； and finally accepted their
open alienation as preferable to the growing awkwardness of their
chance encounters。
For a few weeks following the flight of Captain Bunker and her
acceptance of the hospitality and protection of the Council； she
became despondent。 The courage that had sustained her； and the
energy she had shown in the first days of their abandonment；
sudden