from Europe. I do not know that they have ever been, or
whether they ever will go, now. There are still a few exotic places that
Kathleen Withrow has not seen, and Habakkuk can wait. After all, the
years are very brief in Habakkuk's sight. Even if she never needs him
again, I do not think he will mind.

FOOTNOTE:

[8] Copyright, 1919, by Charles Scribner's Sons. Copyright, 1921, by
Katharine Fullerton Gerould.

THE JUDGMENT OF VULCAN[9]

#By# LEE FOSTER HARTMAN

From _Harper's Magazine_

To dine on the veranda of the Marine Hotel is the one delightful
surprise which Port Charlotte affords the adventurer who has broken from
the customary paths of travel in the South Seas. On an eminence above
the town, solitary and aloof like a monastery, and nestling deep in its
garden of lemon-trees, it commands a wide prospect of sea and sky. By
day, the Pacific is a vast stretch of blue, flat like a floor, with a
blur of distant islands on the horizon--chief among them Muloa, with its
single volcanic cone tapering off into the sky. At night, this smithy of
Vulcan becomes a glow of red, throbbing faintly against the darkness, a
capricious and sullen beacon immeasurably removed from the path of men.
Viewed from the veranda of the Marine Hotel, its vast flare on the
horizon seems hardly more than an insignificant spark, like the glowing
cigar-end of some guest strolling in the garden after dinner.

It may very likely have been my lighted cigar that guided Eleanor
Stanleigh to where I was sitting in the shadows. Her uncle, Major
Stanleigh, had left me a few minutes before, and I was glad of the
respite from the queer business he had involved me in. The two of us had
returned that afternoon from Muloa, where I had taken him in my
schooner, the _Sylph_, to seek out Leavitt and make some inquiries--very
important inquiries, it seemed, in Miss Stanleigh's behalf.

Three days in Muloa, under the shadow of the grim and flame-throated
mountain, while I was forced to listen to Major Stanleigh's persistent
questionnaire and Leavitt's erratic and garrulous responses--all this,
as I was to discover later, at the instigation of the Major's
niece--had made me frankly curious about the girl.

I had seen her only once, and then at a distance across the veranda, one
night when I had been dining there with a friend; but that single vision
of her remained vivid and unforgettable--a tall girl of a slender
shapeliness, crowned by a mass o