ut few people study cameos. He was older than his companion, and "one
of those quiet fellows, you know," said the world. The two had never
done or been anything remarkable in their lives. Keith had a little
money, and lived as he pleased, while Carrington, off now on a vacation,
was junior member of a firm in which family influence had placed him.
Both were city men.

"You absolutely do not know how to walk, senora," said Keith. "I will be
doctor now, and you must obey me. Never mind the crabs, and never mind
the jelly-fish, but throw back your head and walk off briskly. Let the
wind blow in your face, and try to stand more erect."

"You are doctor? They told me, could I but see one, well would I be,"
said the Sister. "At the convent we have only Sister Inez, with her
small and old medicines."

"Yes, I think I may call myself doctor," answered Keith gravely. "What
do you say, Carrington?"

"Knows no end, Miss, Miss--Miss Luke--I should say, Miss St. Luke. I am
sure I do not know why I should stumble over it when St. John is a
common enough name," answered Carrington, who generally did his thinking
aloud.

"No end?" repeated the little Sister inquiringly. "But there is an end
in this evil world to all things."

"Never mind what he says, senora," interrupted Keith, "but step out
strongly and firmly, and throw back your head. There now, there are no
crabs in sight, and the beach is hard as a floor. Try it with me: one,
two; one, two."

So they treated her, partly as a child, partly as a gentle being of an
inferior race. It was a new amusement, although a rather mild one
Carrington said, to instruct this unformed, timid mind, to open the
blinded eyes, and train the ignorant ears to listen to the melodies of
nature.

"Do you not hear? It is like the roll of a grand organ," said Keith as
they sat on the door-step one evening at sunset. The sky was dark; the
wind had blown all day from the north to the south, and frightened the
little Sister as she toiled at her lace-work, made on a cushion in the
Spanish fashion, her lips mechanically repeating prayers meanwhile; for
never had they such winds at the inland convent, embowered in its
orange-trees. Now, as the deep, low roll of the waves sounded on the
shore, Keith, who was listening to it with silent enjoyment, happened to
look up and catch the pale, repressed nervousness of her face.

"Oh, not like an organ," she murmured. "This is a fearful sound; but an
organ is