which, by some fantastic transmission, merged into his reveries. What he
saw was an ancient building--just such a humble pile of stone and rough
mortar as one might see on some lone cliff of the AEgean or on abandoned
isles of the equatorial sea. The gloom of a windowless vault was behind
the girl, but the filtered sunshine of late September fell on her head.
It brightened the white kerchief, and the bodice and skirt of a faint
pink, throwing the face into a pleasing shadow where the hand curved over
the forehead. She stood like some Diana of a ruined temple looking out
into the staring day.

At once his pulses beat faster, for to him a woman was ever the fountain
of adventure, and an unmanageable heart sent him headlong to the oasis
where he might loiter at the spring of feminine vanity, or truth, or
impenitent gaiety, as the case might be. In proportion as his spirits
had sunk into sour reflection, they now shot up rocket-high at the sight
of a girl's joyous pose of body and the colour and form of the picture
she made. In him the shrewdness of a strong intelligence was mingled
with wild impulse. In most, rashness would be the outcome of such a
marriage of characteristics; but clear-sightedness, decision, and a
little unscrupulousness had carried into success many daring actions of
his life. This very quality of resolute daring saved him from disaster.

Impulse quickened his footsteps now. It quickened them to a run when the
hand was dropped from the girl's forehead, and he saw again the face
whose image and influence had banished sleep from his eyes the night
before.

"Guida!" broke from his lips.

The man was transfigured. Brightness leaped into his look, and the