both excelled. Their apartments were in the quietest wing of the hotel,
and from the moment of their occupancy seemed to acquire all the charms
of home. The few guests admitted felt the atmosphere of poetry and peace
that pervaded the nest which Love, the worker of miracles, had built
himself even under that tumultuous roof. Strollers in the halls or along
the breezy verandas often paused to listen to the music of instrument or
voice which came floating out from these sequestered rooms. Frequent
laughter and the murmur of conversation proved that ennui was unknown,
and a touch of romance inevitably enhanced the interest wakened by the
beautiful young pair, always together, always happy, never weary of the
dolce far niente of this summer life.

In a balcony like a hanging garden, sheltered from the sun by blossoming
shrubs and vines that curtained the green nook with odorous shade,
Pauline lay indolently swinging in a gaily fringed hammock as she had
been wont to do in Cuba, then finding only pleasure in the luxury of
motion which now failed to quiet her unrest. Manuel had put down the
book to which she no longer listened and, leaning his head upon his
hand, sat watching her as she swayed to and fro with thoughtful eyes
intent upon the sea, whose murmurous voice possessed a charm more
powerful than his own. Suddenly he spoke:

"Pauline, I cannot understand you! For three weeks we hurried east and
west to find this man, yet when found you shun him and seem content to
make my life a heaven upon earth. I sometimes fancy that you have
resolved to let the past sleep, but the hope dies as soon as born, for
in moments like this I see that, though you devote yourself to me, the
old purpose is unchanged, and I marvel why you pause."

Her eyes came back from their long gaze and settled on him full of an