he blossoms seemed to hush themselves to the enjoyment of their own
sweetness. The sky was clear, but there was no moon. A beautiful planet,
however, bright enough to cast a shadow, hung in the southwestern sky,
and its mysterious light touched Miriam's face, and cast a dim rectangle
of radiance on the white matting that carpeted the floor of her room.
It was the planet Venus,--the star of love. Miriam thought it would be
a pleasant place to live in. But one need not journey to Venus to find a
world where love is the ruling passion. Circumstances over which she
has no control may cause such a world to come into existence in a girl's
heart.

She left the window at last, and got into bed, where she soon presented
an image of perfect repose. Meanwhile, in a dark corner of the
court-yard at the rear, a dark, pyramidal object abode without motion.
It might have been taken for a heap of blankets piled up there. But if
you examined it more narrowly you would have detected in it the vague
outlines of a human figure, squatting on its haunches, with its head
resting on its knees, and its arms clasped round them,--somewhat as
figures sit in Egyptian hieroglyphics, or like Aztecan mummies in the
tomb. So still was it, it might itself have been a mummy. But ever and
anon a blinking of the narrow eyes in the bronze countenance told that
it was no mummy, but a living creature. In fact, it was none other than
the aged and austere Kamaiakan, who, for reasons best known to himself,
chose to spend the hours usually devoted to rest in an attitude that
no European or white American could have maintained with comfort longer
than five minutes.

An hour--two hours--passed away. Then Kamaiakan noiselessly arose,
peered about him cautiously for a few moments, and passed out of the
court-yard through the open gate. He turned to the left, and, stealing
beneath Miriam's windows, paused there for an instant and made certain
gestures with his arms. Anon he continued his way to the garden, and was
soon concealed by the thick shrubbery.

History requires us to follow him. The garden extended westward, and
was quite a spacious enclosure: one not familiar with its winding paths
might easily lose himself there on a dark night. But Kamaiakan knew
where he was going, and the way thither. He now stalked along more
swiftly, taking one turn after another, brushing aside the low-hanging
boughs, and passing the loveliest flowers without a glance. He was as
on