turned to the west.

Concha was directing his attention to the tremendous angular peak
rising above the tumbled hills. "That is Mount Tamalpais--the mountain
of peace. It was named by the Indians, not by us. Sometimes it is like
a great purple shadow, and at others the clouds fight about it like the
ghosts of big sea gulls." They were sailing past the rounded end of the
western inner point of the little bay. It was almost detached from the
bare ridge behind and half covered with oaks and willow trees. "That
is Point Sausalito. I have often looked at it through the glass and
longed for a merienda in the deep shade." She turned to Rezanov with
lips apart. "Could we not--oh, senor!--have our dinner on shore?"

"It is only for you to select the spot. We can sail many miles before
it is time for dinner, and you may find a place even more to your
liking. I fancy we can not go far here. It looks swampy and shallow.
Nothing could be less romantic than to stick in the mud."

"May I ask," said Concha demurely, "how you dare to run the risks of an
unknown sheet of water? I have heard it said that there is more than
one rock and shoal in this bay."

"I am not as rash as I may appear," replied Rezanov dryly, but smiling.
"In 1789 there was a chart of this bay, taken from a Spanish MSS.,
published in London; and I bought it there when I ran up from the
Nadeshda--anchored at Falmouth--three years ago. Davidov, who, you may
observe, is steering, oblivious to the charms of even Dona Carolina,
knows every sounding by heart."

"Oh!" Concha shrugged her shoulders. "The Governor, too, is very
clever. It will be a drawn battle. Perhaps I shall remain neutral
after all. It would be more amusing." The ship was turning, and she
waved her hand to the island between the deep arc of the hilly coast.
"I have heard so much of the beauty of that island," she said, "that I
have called it La Bellissima, but I never hoped to see anything but the
back of its head, from which the wind has blown all the hair. And now
I shall. How kind of you, senor!"

"How easily you are made happy!" he said, with a sigh. "You look like
a child."

"To-day I shall be one; and you the kind fairy god-father," she added,
with some malice. "How old are you, senor?"

"Forty-two."

"That is twenty-six years older than myself. But your excellency might
pass for thirty-five," she added politely. "We have all said it. And
now that you are not so pal