lls with
their lining of rooms enclosing an interior court which was open to the
sky; the windows of the inner sides looked down upon a low-curbed well,
a clump of bananas, a rose-bush, and an ancient stone seat with a hook
above it, where had hung in his cage, until he died of old age, Mrs.
Thorne's northern canary, who had accompanied his mistress southward on
her wedding journey to Florida.

Viewed from without, the gray-white abode had a peculiarly dumb aspect.
On the north side there were no windows; on the south, east, and west
the windows of the lower story, few at best, were covered by solid
wooden shutters, which, being all kept closed, and having the same hue
as the walls, could scarcely be distinguished from them. The windows of
the upper story were more numerous, but almost as jealously guarded; for
though their shutters were here and there partially open, one could see
that in a trice they could all be drawn to and barred within, and that
then the old mansion would present an unbroken white wall to all points
of the compass. But once allowed to pass the door, solidly set in the
stone, without top or side lights, the visitor perceived that these
rooms with exterior windows darkened, opened widely upon the sunny court
within. Some of them, indeed, did more. The inner walls of the
ground-floor had been cut away in four places, leaving rounded open
arches with pillars supporting the second story, and, under these
arcades, there were chairs and tables and even a sofa visible, articles
which presented to Evert Winthrop's eyes, each time he came, a picture
of tropical and doorless confidence in the temperature which struck him
as delightful. These arcades were not so unprotected as they appeared to
be. Still, as the months went by, it could be said with truth that they
remained, for five-sixths of the year, thus widely open. Evert Winthrop
had spent his childhood and youth in New England, he had visited all
parts of the great West, in later years he had travelled extensively in
the Old World; but this was his first visit to that lovely southern
shore of his own country which has a winter climate more enchanting than
any that Europe can offer; to match it, one must seek the Madeira
Islands or Algiers. In addition to this climate, Winthrop was beginning
to discover that there were other things as well--old Spanish houses
like the one through which he was now passing, a flavor of tradition and
legend, tradition and l