nd romance in you! I should want a warm bed, and
then--to-morrow--to-morrow--we will sit on the terrace and watch the
calm old sun go down into the calm old sea, with not a thought for the
torn old earth--

HAMILTON. Rachael! I did not come here to jest.

RACHAEL. I must go to my mother! She is alone! _What_ have I done?

HAMILTON. Stay where you are! Do you mean that you wish you had not
opened the door?

RACHAEL (she hesitates a moment, then raises her eyes to his, and
answers distinctly). No! (She is leaning on the table, which she has
deliberately kept between them. Hamilton throws himself into his chair,
and, leaning forward, clasps her wrists with his hands.)

HAMILTON. This hurricane is the end of all things, or the beginning.

RACHAEL (she throws her head back, with a gesture of triumph). The
beginning!

HAMILTON. Yes, the storm has come as a friend, not as an enemy, no
matter which way--no matter which way. (He speaks hoarsely and slowly.
There is a silence, during which they stare at each other until both are
breathless, and the table, under the pressure of Hamilton's arms, slowly
slips aside.)

RACHAEL. Hark!

HAMILTON. Yes; the storm returns.

[Without further warning, the hurricane bursts out of the west with the
fury of recuperated power. The house trembles. The slaves screech in the
cellar. A deluge of water descends on the roof. The confusion waxes
louder and louder, until it seems as if the noise alone must grind all
things to dust. Hamilton thrusts aside the table, and takes Rachael
violently in his arms. Her laugh of delight and triumph blends curiously
with the furious noise of the hurricane.]

X

Talbot of Ursula

(This story first appeared in the _Anglo-Saxon Review_, and is
republished by kind permission of Mrs. George Cornwallis-West)

I

The Senora as usual had written a formal little note in the morning
asking John Talbot to eat his birthday dinner at the Rancho de los
Olivos. Although he called on the Senora once a week the year round, she
never offered him more than a glass of angelica or a cup of chocolate on
any other occasion; but for his natal day she had a turkey killed, and
her aged cook prepared so many hot dishes and _dulces_ of the old time
that Talbot was a wretched man for three days. But he would have endured
misery for six rather than forego this feast, and the brief embrace of
home life that accompanied it.

The Senora and the padre of the Mission w