and
disconcerted and confused by the scarcely intelligible information he
had acquired, Key could with difficulty maintain his composure. "The
caballero is tired of his long pasear," said the Lady Superior gently.
"We will have a glass of wine in the lodge waiting-room." She led the
way from the reception room to the outer door, but stopped at the sound
of approaching footsteps and rustling muslin along the gravel walk.
"The second class are going out," she said, as a gentle procession of
white frocks, led by two nuns, filed before the gateway. "We will wait
until they have passed. But the senor can see that my children do not
look unhappy."

They certainly looked very cheerful, although they had halted before
the gateway with a little of the demureness of young people who know
they are overlooked by authority, and had bumped against each other
with affected gravity. Somewhat ashamed of his useless deception, and
the guileless simplicity of the good Lady Superior, Key hesitated and
began: "I am afraid that I am really giving you too much trouble," and
suddenly stopped.

For as his voice broke the demure silence, one of the nearest--a young
girl of apparently seventeen--turned towards him with a quick and an
apparently irresistible impulse, and as quickly turned away again. But
in that instant Key caught a glimpse of a face that might not only have
thrilled him in its beauty, its freshness, but in some vague
suggestiveness. Yet it was not that which set his pulses beating; it
was the look of joyous recognition set in the parted lips and sparkling
eyes, the glow of childlike innocent pleasure that mantled the sweet
young face, the frank confusion of suddenly realized expectancy and
longing. A great truth gripped his throbbing heart, and held it still.
It was the face that he had seen in the hollow!

The movement of the young girl was too marked to escape the eye of the
Lady Superior, though she had translated it differently. "You must not
believe our young ladies are all so rude, Don Preble," she said dryly;
"though our dear child has still some of the mountain freedom. And
this is the Senor Rivers's sister. But possibly--who knows?" she said
gently, yet with a sudden sharpness in her clear eyes,--"perhaps she
recognized in your voice a companion of her brother."

Luckily for Key, the shock had been so sudden and overpowering that he
showed none of the lesser symptoms of agitation or embarrassment. In
this