ring
curiosity. And these people looked upon HER as a superior being!

From the deep embrasure of the window she could see the tops of the pear
and olive trees, in the misty light of an invisible moon that suffused
the old Mission garden with an ineffable and angelic radiance. To her
religious fancy it seemed to be a spiritual effusion of the church
itself, enveloping the two gray dome-shaped towers with an atmosphere
and repose of its own, until it became the incarnate mystery and passion
where it stood.

She was suddenly startled by a moving shadow beside the wall, almost
immediately below her--the figure of a man! He was stealing cautiously
towards the church, as if to gain the concealment of the shrubbery
that grew beside it, and, furtively glancing from side to side, looked
towards her window. She unconsciously drew back, forgetting at the
moment that her light was extinguished, and that it was impossible
for the stranger to see her. But she had seen HIM, and in that instant
recognized Mr. Hurlstone!

Then he HAD come ashore, and secretly, for the other passengers believed
him still on the ship! But what was he doing there?--and why had he not
appeared with the others at the entertainment? She could understand
his avoidance of them from what she knew of his reserved and unsocial
habits; but when he could so naturally have remained on shipboard, she
could not, at first, conceive why he should wish to prowl around the
town at the risk of detection. The idea suddenly occurred to her that
he had had another attack of his infirmity and was walking in his sleep,
and for an instant she thought of alarming the house, that some one
might go to his assistance. But his furtive movements had not the serene
impassibility of the somnambulist. Another thought withheld her; he had
looked up at her window! Did he know she was there? A faint stirring of
shame and pleasure sent a slight color to her cheek. But he had gained
the corner of the shrubbery and was lost in the shadow. She turned from
the window. A gentle sense of vague and half maternal pity suffused her
soft eyes as she at last sought her couch and fell into a deep slumber.

Towards daybreak a wind arose over the sleeping town and far outlying
waters. It breathed through the leaves of the Mission garden, brushed
away the clinging mists from the angles of the towers, and restored
the sharp outlines of the ruined fortifications. It swept across the
unruffled sea to wher