high, northerly bluff, the house and its garden were
exposed to the untempered heat of the cloudless sun refracted from the
rocky wall behind it. Some tarpaulin and ropes lying among the rocks
were sticky and odorous; the scrub oaks and manzanita bushes gave out
the aroma of baking wood; occasionally a faint pot-pourri fragrance from
the hot wild roses and beach grass was blown along the shore; even the
lingering odors of Bunker's vocation, and of Mrs. Bunker's cooking, were
idealized and refined by the saline breath of the sea at the doors and
windows. Mrs. Bunker, in the dazzling sun, bending over her peas
and lettuces with a small hoe, felt the comfort of her brown holland
sunbonnet. Secure in her isolation, she unbuttoned the neck of her gown
for air, and did not put up the strand of black hair that had escaped
over her shoulder. It was very hot in the lee of the bluff, and very
quiet in that still air. So quiet that she heard two distinct reports,
following each other quickly, but very faint and far. She glanced
mechanically towards the sea. Two merchant-men in midstream were shaking
out their wings for a long flight, a pilot boat and coasting schooner
were rounding the point, but there was no smoke from their decks. She
bent over her work again, and in another moment had forgotten it. But
the heat, with the dazzling reflection from the cliff, forced her to
suspend her gardening, and stroll along the beach to the extreme limit
of her domain. Here she looked after the cow that had also strayed
away through the tangled bush for coolness. The goats, impervious to
temperature, were basking in inaccessible fastnesses on the cliff
itself that made her eyes ache to climb. Over an hour passed, she was
returning, and had neared her house, when she was suddenly startled to
see the figure of a man between her and the cliff. He was engaged in
brushing his dusty clothes with a handkerchief, and although he saw her
coming, and even moved slowly towards her, continued his occupation
with a half-impatient, half-abstracted air. Her feminine perception was
struck with the circumstance that he was in deep black, with scarcely a
gleam of white showing even at his throat, and that he wore a tall black
hat. Without knowing anything of social customs, it seemed to her that
his dress was inconsistent with his appearance there.

"Good-morning," he said, lifting his hat with a preoccupied air. "Do you
live here?"

"Yes," she said wondering