ow and to the left, at the mouth of the
valley, whence the smoke of its hearths rose as incense. Half-way up the
winding track stood his little chapel in a grove of limes. And here on a
higher terrace of the basalt cliff, like an eyrie--or, perhaps more
fittingly, a swallow's nest--was perched the pastor's home. The lush
growth of an untamed jungle massed up to its step; beetling heights
menaced it from behind; and always, at all seasons, a rushing mountain
torrent in the ravine beside made its flimsy walls to thrill, disturbing
its peace with musical clamor.

That stream should have been indicted for trespass and disorder by the
worthy pastor's way of thinking. Somehow all the unruly and wayward
elements of his charge seemed to find expression in those singing
waters, which were not to be dammed or turned aside. From the
veranda-rail one might lean and toss anything--a passion-flower--into
the current and follow it as it danced away down the broken slide, lost
here and there amid mists and milky pools and the shadowing tangle of
lianas snatched at last through a chute and over a sheer outfall, to
reappear some minutes later as a spark in the fret of the surf far
below.

* * * * *

Standing there at the verge of the world, Miss Matilda watched the day's
end. For a time the bright gates stayed open at the end of an unrolled,
flaming carpet across the sea, then slowly drew in, implacably swung to,
while the belated spirit sprang hurrying forward--too late. With an
almost audible brazen clang they closed, and Miss Matilda drew back,
chilled, as the veranda shook to a heavy footfall....

"Ah, Captain Gregson--step up, sir!" Her father's voice was unctuous
with welcome as he hastened to meet the ponderous bulk that loomed
through the dusk. "Happily met, sir. You are just in time to join us at
prayers. I believe you must know my daughter--Matilda?"

It was strange to hear the pastor use such a tone with such a visitor,
and stranger still to see the assurance with which Captain Gregson
entered the parsonage, where he had never until now set foot.

"Evening, Pastor. Just a moment. That path--pretty tough on a chap who's
used--ship's deck as much as I have, d'y' see? Very kind, I'm sure. Very
kind and neighborly. And this--Miss Matilda, if I may say so bold....
Very proud to know you, ma'am. Proud and happy."

He made her his bow, plying a broad straw hat and a billowy handkerchief
of tusso