an abandoned craft, aged
and deserted, aground down the marsh with only its mast rising above the
waste."

"_Bien_! there it is," said Carrington; "and now the question is, how to
get to it."

"You two giants will have to go," said Keith, finding a comfortable
seat. "I see a mile or two of tall wading before us, and up to your
shoulders is over my head. I went duck-shooting with that man last year,
senora. 'Come on,' he cried--'splendid sport ahead, old fellow; come
on.'

"'Is it deep?' I asked from behind. I was already up to my knees, and
could not see bottom, the water was so dark.

"'Oh, no, not at all; just right,' he answered, striding ahead. 'Come
on.'

"I came; and went in up to my eyes."

But the senora did not smile.

"You know Carrington is taller than I am," explained Keith, amused by
the novelty of seeing his own stories fall flat.

"Is he?" said the Sister vaguely.

It was evident that she had not observed whether he was or not.

Carrington stopped short, and for an instant stared blankly at her. What
every one noticed and admired all over the country wherever he went,
this little silent creature had not even seen!

"He will never forgive you," said Keith laughing, as the two tall forms
strode off into the marsh. Then, seeing that she did not comprehend in
the least, he made a seat for her by spreading his light coat on the
Appalachian chain, and, leaning back on his elbow, began talking to her
about the marsh. "Breathe in the strong salt," he said, "and let your
eyes rest on the green, reedy expanse. Supposing you were painting a
picture, now--does any one paint pictures at your convent?"

"Ah, yes," said the little nun, rousing to animation at once. "Sister
St. James paints pictures the most beautiful on earth. She painted for
us Santa Inez with her lamb, and Santa Rufina of Sevilla, with her palms
and earthen vases."

"And has she not taught you to paint also?"

"Me! Oh, no. I am only a Sister young and of no gifts. Sister St. James
is a great saint, and of age she has seventy years."

"Not requisites for painting, either of them, that I am aware," said
Keith. "However, if you were painting this marsh, do you not see how the
mast of that boat makes the feature of the landscape the one human
element; and yet, even that abandoned, merged as it were in the desolate
wildness of the scene?"

The Sister looked over the green earnestly, as if trying to see all that
he suggested. Keith ta