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Updated: May 24, 2025
He passed out of the cabin as Hurlstone glanced, half mechanically, at the package before him. Suddenly his cheek reddened; he stopped, looked hurriedly at the retreating form of Perkins, and picked up a manuscript from the packet. It was in his wife's handwriting. A sudden idea flashed across his mind, and seemed to illuminate the obscure monotony of the story he had just heard.
Even thus transient and superficial was his feeling, thought Hurlstone. "I have some news for you," said Perkins affably, "which may alter your decision about returning. My friends ashore," he continued, "judging from the ingenuous specimen which has just visited me, are more remarkable for their temporary zeal and spasmodic devotion than for prudent reserve or lasting discretion.
Like most sentimental egotists, Hurlstone was exceedingly intolerant of that quality in others, and he turned for relief to his own thoughts of Eleanor Keene and his own unfortunate passion. HE could not have written poetry at such a moment! But the cabin-door opened, and Senor Perkins appeared.
"'Yes, said I, 'I have taken to living by my wits. "'I am delighted to hear it, for your advice at present would be exceedingly valuable to me. We have had some very strange doings at Hurlstone, and the police have been able to throw no light upon the matter. It is really the most extraordinary and inexplicable business.
They run the whole concern, and they give out that it's owing to them that we're given parole of the town, and the privilege of spending our money and working these mines. Who'd have thought that sneak Hurlstone would have played his cards so well? It makes me regularly sick to hear him called 'Don Diego."
Far better that the ship which takes her away should bring back my successor and one more worthy Todos Santos than I." He stopped, his eyes dimmed, he buried his face in his hands. "You have done right, Father Esteban," said Hurlstone, gently putting his arm round the priest's shoulders, "and I swear to you your secret is as safe as if you had never revealed it to me.
For an instant the floating veil of fog around her, and the rhythmical movement of the boat, seemed a part of her mysterious ride, and she raised her head with a faint cry for Hurlstone. "It's all right, my dear," said Mrs. Markham, soothingly; "he's ashore with the Padre, and everything else is all right too.
You must really give ME the pleasure of spreading the glad tidings of your safety among the passengers, who have been so terribly alarmed." "They will undoubtedly be relieved," said Hurlstone, with ironical bitterness. "You wrong them," returned the Senor, with gentle reproach; "especially the ladies."
"But WHAT has happened?" said Hurlstone, interposing to relieve his companion. "We fancied something" "Something! he says something! ah, that something was a temblor! An earthquake! The earth has shaken himself. Look!" She pointed with her fan to the shore, where the sea had suddenly returned in a turbulence of foam and billows that was breaking over the base of the cross they had just quitted.
To say that this pleased the gentle optimism of the Senor is unnecessary. Even while his companion writhed under the sting of this enforced compassion, the good man beamed philosophically upon him. "Take care, or I shall end this cursed farce in my own way," said Hurlstone ominously, his eyes again filming with a vague desperation.
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