Heads were turned and necks craned to see what had induced this

unexpected prophecy. Behind the distant coast-line the inner giants of

the Andes threw heavenward their rugged outlines, with many a peak and

glacier glinting in vivid colors against a sky so clear and blue that

they seemed strangely near.

"Yes, this wonderful atmosphere of ours is enchanting," said the

doctor, when assailed by a chorus of doubts. "But it carries its

deceptive smiles too far. The very beauty of the Cordillera is a sign

of storm. I am sorry to be a croaker; yet we are running into a gale."

"I shall ask the captain," pouted Isobel, rising.

The Count twisted his mustache. He knew that both ladies were in the

forbidden territory of the bridge when the fracas occurred.

"You, perhaps, are a good sailor?" said he, addressing Elsie.

"I am afraid to boast," she answered. "I have been in what was called

a Number Eight gale, whatever that may mean, and weathered it

splendidly, but I am older now."

"It cannot have been long ago, seeing that you recall it so exactly."

"It was six years ago, and I was seventeen then," said Elsie, her eyes

wandering to the purple and gold of the far-off mountains.

"But you are English. You are therefore at home on the rolling deep,"

murmured Monsieur de Poincilit, confidentially. She did not endeavor

to interpret his expressive glance, though he seemed to convey more

that he said.

"Not so much at home at sea as you are in my language," she replied,

and she turned to Dr. Christobal, whom she had already known slightly

in Valparaiso.

"Are you coming on deck?" she inquired. "I am sure you are a mine of

information on Chile, and I want to extract some of the ore while the

land is still visible. It is already assuming the semblance of a

dream."

"You are not saying a last farewell to Valparaiso, I hope?" said her

elderly companion, as they quitted the salon.

"I think so. I have no ties there, save those of sentiment. I shall

not return, unless, if a doubtful fortune permits, I am able some day

to revisit two graves which are dear to me."

There was a little catch in her voice, and the doctor was far too

sympathetic to endeavor forthwith to divert her sad thoughts.

"I knew your father," he said gently. "He was a most admirable man,

but quite unsuited to the environment of a new country, where the

dollar is god, and an unstable deity at that. He was swindled

outrageously by men who stand high in the community to-day. But you,

Miss Maxwell, with your knowledge of Spanish and your other

acquirements, should do better here than in Europe, provided, that is,

you mean to earn your own living."




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