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Updated: May 24, 2025
He glanced from Hurlstone to Miss Keene. "Then you have consented?" he whispered. Hurlstone cast a rapid glance at Eleanor Keene. "I consent!" The telegraph operator at the Golden Gate of San Francisco had long since given up hope of the Excelsior.
"My dear young friend," he said, "have you forgotten that on a far more important occasion to YOU, I showed no desire to pry into your secret?" Hurlstone made a movement of deprecation. "Nor have I any such desire now. But for the sake of our coming to an understanding as friends, let me answer the question for you.
"Heaven only knows what disguises they assume. Why, Hurlstone and the priest are already as thick as two peas; and you can't make me believe they didn't know of each other before we came here. He was the first one ashore, you remember, before the mutiny; and where did he turn up? at the Mission, of course! And have you forgotten that sleepwalking affair all Jesuitical!
Miss Keene involuntarily clutched the air with her little hand, that had been resting on the settee between them, and the young man caught it in his own. "Equally?" he repeated, with an assumed playfulness that half veiled his anxiety. "Equally from the beaming Senor Perkins, who smiles on all, to the gloomy Mr. Hurlstone, who smiles on no one?" She quickly withdrew her hand, and rose.
Hurlstone were awaiting them in the palm-thatched veranda of a more pretentious cabin, that served as a school-room.
"All that was finite of this gifted woman was lately forwarded by Adams's Express Company from San Juan, to receive sepulture among her kindred at Keokuk, Iowa." "Did she say she was from that place?" asked Hurlstone, with half automatic interest. "The Consul says she gave that request to the priest." "Then you were not with her when she died?" said Hurlstone absently.
And then . . . Ah, yes . . . What then? Hurlstone glanced once more around him. He thought of the quiet night; of the great peace that had fallen upon him since he had entered the garden, and the promise of a greater peace that seemed to breathe with the incense from those venerable walls.
Hurlstone pointed out the cross as one of the earliest outposts of the Church on the edge of the unclaimed heathen wilderness. It was hung with strings of gaudy shells and feathers, which Hurlstone explained were votive offerings in which their pagan superstitions still mingled with their new faith.
But that the God of Liberty and Justice awakening in the breasts of certain patriots to wit, the heroic Senor Diego Hurlstone and the invincible Dona Leonor the courage and discretion to resist the tyranny and injustice of their oppressors, caused them to mutiny and abandon the vessel rather than become accomplices, in the company of certain neutral and non-combatant traders and artisans, severally known as Brace, Banks, Winslow, and Crosby; and certain aristocrats, known as Senoras Brimmer and Chubb.
I was called to South America by the Macedonian cry of 'Quinquinambo! I still corresponded with her. When I returned to Quinquinambo I received letters from her, dated from San Francisco. I feel that my words could only fail, my dear Hurlstone, to convey to you the strength and support I derived from those impassioned breathings of aid and sympathy at that time.
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