ore, says he isn't sure the Injins ain't right when they
believe that the Pacific Ocean used to roll straight up to the Presidio,
and there wasn't any channel--and that reef of rocks was upheaved in
their time. But what's the use of it? it never really waked them up."
"Perhaps they're waiting for another kind of earthquake," Winslow had
responded sententiously.

In six weeks it had been forgotten, except by three people--Miss Keene,
James Hurlstone, and Padre Esteban. Since Hurlstone had parted with
Miss Keene on that memorable afternoon he had apparently lapsed into his
former reserve. Without seeming to avoid her timid advances, he met
her seldom, and then only in the presence of the Padre or Mrs. Markham.
Although uneasy at the deprivation of his society, his present shyness
did not affect her as it had done at first: she knew it was no longer
indifference; she even fancied she understood it from what had been her
own feelings. If he no longer raised his eyes to hers as frankly as he
had that day, she felt a more delicate pleasure in the consciousness of
his lowered eyelids when they met, and the instinct that told her
when his melancholy glance followed her unobserved. The sex of these
lovers--if we may call them so who had never exchanged a word of
love--seemed to be changed. It was Miss Keene who now sought him with a
respectful and frank admiration; it was Hurlstone who now tried to
avoid it with a feminine dread of reciprocal display. Once she had even
adverted to the episode of the cross. They were standing under the arch
of the refectory door, waiting for Padre Esteban, and looking towards
the sea.

"Do you think we were ever in any real danger, down there, on the
shore--that day?" she said timidly.

"No; not from the sea," he replied, looking at her with a half defiant
resolution.

"From what then?" she asked, with a naivete that was yet a little
conscious.

"Do you remember the children giving you their offerings that day?" he
asked abruptly.

"I do," she replied, with smiling eyes.

"Well, it appears that it is the custom for the betrothed couples to
come to the cross to exchange their vows. They mistook us for lovers."

All the instinctive delicacy of Miss Keene's womanhood resented the rude
infelicity of this speech and the flippant manner of its utterance. She
did not blush, but lifted her clear eyes calmly to his.

"It was an unfortunate mistake," she said coldly, "the more so as they
were y