ro thought so, decidedly.

When the February sun had stopped blazing down directly overhead, and a
few white afternoon clouds had floated over from the east to shade his
shining, so that man could bear it, the four started inland toward the
backbone ridge, on whose summit there ran an old trail southward, made
by the fierce Creeks three centuries before. Right up into the dazzling
light soared the great eagles--straight up, up to the sun; their
unshrinking eyes fearlessly fixed full on his fiery ball.

"It would be grander if we did not know they had just stolen their
dinners from the poor hungry fish-hawks over there on the inlet," said
Carrington.

Sister St. Luke had learned to walk quite rapidly now. Her little black
gown trailed lightly along the sand behind her, and she did her best to
"step out boldly," as Keith directed; but it was not firmly, for she
only succeeded in making a series of quick, uncertain little paces over
the sand-like bird tracks. Once Keith had taken her back and made her
look at her own uneven footsteps. "Look--no two the same distance
apart," he said. The little Sister looked and was very much mortified.
"Indeed, I _will_ try with might to do better," she said. And she did
try with might; they saw her counting noiselessly to herself as she
walked, "One, two; one, two." But she had improved so much that Keith
now devoted his energies to teaching her to throw back her head, and
look about her. "Do you not see those soft banks of clouds piled up in
the west?" he said, constantly directing her attention to objects above
her. But this was a harder task, for the timid eyes had been trained
from childhood to look down, and the head was habitually bent, like a
pendant flower on its stem. Melvyna had deliberately laid hands upon
the heavy veil and white band that formerly encircled the small face.
"You cannot breathe in them," she said. But the Sister still wore a
light veil over the short dark hair, which would curl in little rings
upon her temples in spite of her efforts to prevent it; the cord and
heavy beads and cross encircled her slight waist, while the wide
sleeves of her nun's garb fell over her hands to the finger tips.

"How do you suppose she would look dressed like other women?" said
Carrington one day. The two men were drifting in their small yacht,
lying at ease on the cushions, and smoking.

"Well," answered Keith slowly, "if she was well dressed--very well I
mean, say in the Fren