Heads were turned and necks craned to see what had induced this
unexpected prophecy. Behind the distant coast-line the inner giants of
the Andes threw heavenward their rugged outlines, with many a peak and
glacier glinting in vivid colors against a sky so clear and blue that
they seemed strangely near.
"Yes, this wonderful atmosphere of ours is enchanting," said the
doctor, when assailed by a chorus of doubts. "But it carries its
deceptive smiles too far. The very beauty of the Cordillera is a sign
of storm. I am sorry to be a croaker; yet we are running into a gale."
"I shall ask the captain," pouted Isobel, rising.
The Count twisted his mustache. He knew that both ladies were in the
forbidden territory of the bridge when the fracas occurred.
"You, perhaps, are a good sailor?" said he, addressing Elsie.
"I am afraid to boast," she answered. "I have been in what was called
a Number Eight gale, whatever that may mean, and weathered it
splendidly, but I am older now."
"It cannot have been long ago, seeing that you recall it so exactly."
"It was six years ago, and I was seventeen then," said Elsie, her eyes
wandering to the purple and gold of the far-off mountains.
"But you are English. You are therefore at home on the rolling deep,"
murmured Monsieur de Poincilit, confidentially. She did not endeavor
to interpret his expressive glance, though he seemed to convey more
that he said.
"Not so much at home at sea as you are in my language," she replied,
and she turned to Dr. Christobal, whom she had already known slightly
in Valparaiso.
"Are you coming on deck?" she inquired. "I am sure you are a mine of
information on Chile, and I want to extract some of the ore while the
land is still visible. It is already assuming the semblance of a
dream."
"You are not saying a last farewell to Valparaiso, I hope?" said her
elderly companion, as they quitted the salon.
"I think so. I have no ties there, save those of sentiment. I shall
not return, unless, if a doubtful fortune permits, I am able some day
to revisit two graves which are dear to me."
There was a little catch in her voice, and the doctor was far too
sympathetic to endeavor forthwith to divert her sad thoughts.
"I knew your father," he said gently. "He was a most admirable man,
but quite unsuited to the environment of a new country, where the
dollar is god, and an unstable deity at that. He was swindled
outrageously by men who stand high in the community to-day. But you,
Miss Maxwell, with your knowledge of Spanish and your other
acquirements, should do better here than in Europe, provided, that is,
you mean to earn your own living."