he night in a tumultuous uproar. "Did you ever hear such talk!"
Though the very wives who caught allusions to themselves laughed as
loudly as any one at the most happy scores. It was one carnival of free
language, where truth ran riot with slander.

"_Lanudos!_ Worse than _lanudos_! I know where the curate is going to
stay to-night! Johnnie will take good care of her, don't worry, my lad!
Moo-oo! Moo-oo!" And this mooing of cattle was supposed to evoke the
image of well-horned oxen in the minds of those brave sailors who were
thus being cheered on their way out into peril. But then the stones
began to come, whistling like bullets and striking sparks on the rocks
where the serenaders were seeking cover. The greatest uproar was at the
end of the Breakwater near which every boat had to pass on its way out
from the basin. And when the volleys of jest would slacken from the
shore, provocation would come from the boats themselves. The sailors
seemed offended if their team went past without attention. "And you've
nothing to say to us, eh!" some stentorian voice of an old tar would
call. "_Lanudos! Lanudos!_" the answer would come in a storm of
shouting, while the "cats" on board would begin to blow on the conches,
which the boats used at sea in time of dark or fog.

On one of the rocks, in the full midst of a noisy crowd, and quite
indifferent to the flying stones, stood Dolores, alone. The women who
had gone down to the shore with her kept farther back away from the line
of fire. Yet she was not quite alone. For a man had sauntered carelessly
in her direction and finally stopped behind her. The splendid creature
felt the warmth of Tenet's breath upon her neck, and her skin tingled
under that burning contact. She turned her head and caught one fiery
glance from his hungry eyes. And the bandaged hand, which had been
drawing feigned groans of pain a few hours before, sought hers in the
darkness. Free at last! For once, free! Free from fear of surprise, from
thoughts of danger! Neither the Rector nor his son would be at home!

But a sudden shouting of redoubled violence awakened them from their
swooning dream of guilty anticipation. "The Rector! There he goes! _Flor
de Mayo!_ 'Mayflower'!" And the most rousing of all the send-offs was
for him. It was not only the young ones this time. Grown-ups, men and
women, joined in the scathing jollity. For Dolores, the beautiful,
Dolores, the bewitching, had her enemies in that throng of j