at deal."

"Nature has nothing to do with literature, I mean the literature we call
polite," Dr. Kirby protested, still fierily (while Mrs. Rutherford
admired his ardor). But the clergyman had nodded his head in approval, a
butterfly could certainly mean a great deal; he himself had long been of
the opinion that they possessed reasoning powers--he had so seldom been
able to capture one.

The explorers now left the sofa and cairn, and started down the beach,
Garda and Winthrop first, Mr. Moore and Margaret following. It seemed
natural to everybody that Winthrop should be with Garda, he had been
with her so much; his manner, however, had in it so little of admiration
(as admiration was understood in Gracias) that this had occasioned no
remark. Manuel (whose admiration had the local hues) cherished
resentment against this northerner, but it was not the resentment of
jealousy; Manuel, indeed, did not dream that he had occasion for
jealousy. He was sure that Mrs. Thorne yearned for him, that her highest
aspirations regarding a son-in-law could go no further; but there need
be no haste, he must see something of the world first. He had made a
beginning (so he flattered himself) by seeing something of it in that
charming though rather silent Mrs. Harold. As for Torres, that dark
youth could never have conceived the possibility of admitting any one to
a serious rivalry with himself--any one, at least, outside of Spain. Who
was this Wintup? Only an American; even Manuel was but an
American-Spaniard, as any one could see. But Garda was all Duero,
Spanish to the finger-tips; Garda understood him. And this in itself was
no small matter--to understand a Torres; many persons, even when thrown
with them daily, had lived all their lives without accomplishing that.
Garda understood herself also; she might delay, have little freaks; but
in the end it was impossible that she should be content with anything
less than a Torres, if there were one in attendance upon her graceful
steps,--as there certainly would be.

For a time the four pedestrians kept together. "See the pelicans on the
bar," said Garda. "The wish of my life has been to go out there and
chase them with a stick."

"Why should you wish to do that, my child?" said the clergyman. "Surely
there are many occupations more interesting, as well as more
instructive."

"Shouldn't you love to be a curlew?" said the girl, going to him and
putting her arm in his. "The sickle-bill, you