the sea which usually stirred the morning air of Todos Santos
was suspended, and a hush of expectation seemed to arrest land and
water. When Miss Keene and Mrs. Markham left the Presidio, the tide was
low, and their way lay along the beach past the Mission walls. A walk
of two or three miles brought them to the Indian village--properly a
suburban quarter of Todos Santos--a collection of adobe huts and rudely
cultivated fields. Padre Esteban and Mr. Hurlstone were awaiting them in
the palm-thatched veranda of a more pretentious cabin, that served as a
school-room. "This is Don Diego's design," said the Padre, beaming with
a certain paternal pride on Hurlstone, "built by himself and helped by
the heathen; but look you: my gentleman is not satisfied with it, and
wishes now to bring his flock to the Mission school, and have them
mingle with the pure-blooded races on an equality. That is the
revolutionary idea of this sans culotte reformer," continued the good
Father, shaking his yellow finger with gentle archness at the young man.
"Ah, we shall yet have a revolution in Todos Santos unless you ladies
take him in hand. He has already brought the half-breeds over to his
side, and those heathens follow him like dumb cattle anywhere. There,
take him away and scold him, Dona Leonor, while I speak to the Senora
Markham of the work that her good heart and skillful fingers may do for
my poor muchachos."

Eleanor Keene lifted her beautiful eyes to Hurlstone with an artless
tribute in their depths that brought the blood faintly into his cheek.
She was not thinking of the priest's admonishing words; she was thinking
of the quiet, unselfish work that this gloomy misanthrope had been
doing while his companions had been engaged in lower aims and listless
pleasures, and while she herself had been aimlessly fretting and
diverting herself. What were her few hours of applauded instruction with
the pretty Murillo-like children of the Fort compared to his silent and
unrecognized labor! Yet even at this moment an uneasy doubt crossed her
mind.

"I suppose Mrs. Brimmer and Miss Chubb interest themselves greatly in
your--in the Padre's charities?"

The first playful smile she had seen on Hurlstone's face lightened in
his eyes and lips, and was becoming.

"I am afraid my barbarians are too low and too near home for Mrs.
Brimmer's missionary zeal. She and Miss Chubb patronize the Mexican
school with cast-off dresses, old bonnets retrimmed, flan