women, who gazed at it uncomprehendingly.

``Thank you for your trouble and your good supper,'' Hope said in
Spanish, ``and may no evil come to your house.''

The woman and her daughters followed her to the carriage, bowing
and uttering good wishes in the extravagant metaphor of their
country; and as they drove away, Hope waved her hand to them as
she sank closer against Clay's shoulder.

``The world is full of such kind and gentle souls,'' she said.

In an hour they had regained the main road, and a little later
the stars grew dim and the moonlight faded, and trees and bushes
and rocks began to take substance and to grow into form and
outline. They saw by the cool, gray light of the morning the
familiar hills around the capital, and at a cry from the
boys on the box-seat, they looked ahead and beheld the harbor of
Valencia at their feet, lying as placid and undisturbed as the
water in a bath-tub. As they turned up the hill into the road
that led to the Palms, they saw the sleeping capital like a city
of the dead below them, its white buildings reddened with the
light of the rising sun. From three places in different parts of
the city, thick columns of smoke rose lazily to the sky.

``I had forgotten!'' said Clay; ``they have been having a
revolution here. It seems so long ago.''

By five o'clock they had reached the gate of the Palms, and their
appearance startled the sentry on post into a state of