," I said to
Walkirk, as we were eating our dinner.

"Who?" he asked. "Oh, the people who came over this morning? Quite
likely they saw us when we were sailing this way. We passed their island
at no great distance. There is no reason why they should object. Your
soft hat and flannel shirt would not prevent them from seeing that you
were a gentleman."

I nodded, and sat silent for a time.

"Walkirk," said I, "suppose we sail over to those people this afternoon?
It might be interesting."

"Very good," he answered, turning suddenly to watch a sea gull, which
had made a great swoop toward us, as if attracted by the odors of our
meal; "that will be an excellent thing to do."

In making our way, that afternoon, in the direction of the Tangent, our
course was not mathematically correct, for the wind did not favor us,
and it was impossible to sail in a right line; but the sun was still
high when we reached the larger island, and made the boat fast to a
little pier.

This island was much more attractive than the one on which we were
camping. The ground receded from the beach in rolling slopes covered
with short grass, and here and there were handsome spreading trees. On a
bluff, a few hundred yards from the pier, stood a low, picturesque
house, almost surrounded by a grove. The path to the house was plainly
marked, and led us along the face of a little hill to a jutting point,
where it seemed to make an abrupt turn upward. As we rounded this point,
we saw on a rocky ledge not far ahead of us a lady dressed in white. She
was standing on the ledge, looking out over the water, and apparently
very much engaged with her own thoughts, for she had not yet perceived
our approach.

At the first glance I saw that the figure before us was not the Sand
Lady. This was a tall and graceful woman, carrying no weight of years.
She held her hat in her hand, and her dark hair was slightly blown back
from a face which, seen in profile against the clear blue sky, appeared
to me to be perfect in its outline. We stopped involuntarily, and at
that moment she turned toward us. Her face was one of noble beauty, with
great dark eyes, and a complexion of that fine glow which comes to women
who are not quite brunettes.

Walkirk started, and seized my arm. "Good heavens," he whispered, "it is
Mother Anastasia!"

As we now advanced toward the lady, I could scarcely believe what I had
heard; certainly I could not comprehend it. Here was one of the