Romance Island

office. The impossibility of it all delighted St. George rather more than the reality, for there is no pastime, as all the world knows, quite like that of practising the impos

nce of having been released f

ered American of letters who had begun his life there had once imparted to St. George, "is a place where a man with the temperament of a savant and a recluse may bring his American vice of commercialism and worship of the uncommon, and let them have it out. Newspapers have no other use-except the one I began on." When St. Geo

, the guest. He waved both arms at the foreman who ventured to tell him of

"I depend on you. The chief is interested in

ead-lines of the Holland story, for he was a close friend of the bishop's, and St. George knew his ways; but

d that it is the one unexpected Fate and the one apostate Chance who open great good luck of any sort. So, though the journey to Westchester County was al

sitors' days up t

d the warden's voice suggested

ant very much to see one of your people-

mptly. "The Sentinel knows perfectly tha

have a mysterious boarder who talks Patagonian or somethin

very language in South America," said the

. George, "is no one allowed the

y,"-cr

pardon, that

he had had a sceptre would have used it at table, he wa

," said St. George. "W

ck. I'm sorry, Mr. St. George, b

. George crie

the Reformatory town. It was a little after ten o'clock when he rang the b

that would have frowned and threatened of its own accord, even without the printed warnings pasted to its panels stating

the business of snapping up a drawbridge in lieu of a taste for any other exclusiveness peered at

. George; "has the Read

te was padlocked, and outside this wall the door to the warden's office stood open. St. George saw that a meeting was in progress there, and the sight di

George with his buckle eyes, and shambled thro

iraculous opening of the barred door. St. George breathlessly footed across the rotunda and down the dim opposite hall. There was a mistake, that was evident; but for the moment St. George was going to propose no reform. Their s

blinking his little buckle eyes, "first doo

rcumstance, slipped something in the o

eaving; almost in the same instant, with that soft lift and touch which makes a woman's gown seem sewed with vowels and sibilants, they all arose and came tapping across the bare floor. A

dame," he said, "is th

ential stooping of shoulders to betray how his heart w

its possessor has trained a large family of children-"I am so glad that you can be with us to-day. I am Mrs. Manner

answered as well as he could

and Mrs. Manners turned. She had a fashion of smiling enc

, "this is Mr. St.

lying end of the name of the woman nearest him, and muttered to them all. The one

wonderful meeting. I wish you might have been with us. Fortuna

d him as did this. And too, though there had been occasions when silence or an evasion would have meant bread to him, the temptation to both was never so strong as at that moment. It cost St. George an effort

y reached the stairs, "that you have

ing her little lamp-shade of a hat at him, "we make ever

Sentinel," St. George per

tly understand. We all understand," she assured him, going over some papers in one hand and pr

t seemed to crack i

ervently, accenting her emph

to have the spirit of the old ones, no matter what any one says," she informed St. George earnestly as they reached an open d

et with a starched noise, like dead leaves blowing, and St. George eagerly scanned their faces. There were women of several nationalities, though they all looked raceless in the ugly uniforms which those same boards of directors consider de rigueur for the soul that is to be won back to the normal. A little negress, with a spirit that soared free of boards of directors, had tried to tie her closely-clipped wool with bits of coloured string; an Italian woman had

ncied, and of the peculiar litheness which needs no motion to be manifest. Her clear skin was of wonderful brown; and her eyes, large and dark, with something of the ori

rs? We have to select our pieces most carefully," she confided to St. George, "so to be sure that Soul's Prison or Hands Red as Crims

He was in a fever of anticipation and enth

"I would like to speak with one of

, she let fall an abstracted assent and hurried to the waiting organist. Immediately St. George stepped quie

nd highly-bred and filled with repose, like the surprising repose of breathing arrested in marble. There was that about her, however, which would have made one, constituted to perceive only the arbitrary balance of things, feel almost afraid; while one of high organization would inevitably have been smitten by some sense of the incalculably higher organization of her nature, a nature which breathed forth an influence, lai

ce, "that I can help you. Will you let me h

s were filled with distre

she had only the same answer. "Can you not tell me where y

orge patiently. "New York?

ppeal. Then swiftly she caught up a hymn book, tore at its fly-leaf, and made the movement of

g as distressed as a nut can look, nodded, and Mrs. Manners shook her head and they meant the same thing. Then St. George saw the attendant in the red waist descend from the platform and make her way toward him, the little American flag rising and falling on her breast. He unhe

deferential stooping of the shoulders. "The women ar

hat one might call her very facial expression nasal; she smil

est for 'em. I'll have to request you"-St. George vaguely

eorge

men inmates wore white, the managers claiming that the effect upon their conduct was perceptible, that they were far more self-respecting, an

woman tartly, "a big expense and a sight of

y wished that she

stly, "nothing could be simpler a

t looked cur

u'll excuse me, I hope, but visitors ain'

s vanquished

d, "pray forgive me. I will

which he had counted she gave her own hand, slipping in his the folded paper. Her eyes, with

r contained he could not even conjecture; but there was a paper and it did contain something which he had a pleasant premonition w

an announcement; and St. George fancied that she must preside at her tea-urn

for you and for us all. We have with us to-day Mr. St. Ge

unted both for his admittance to the home and for his welcome by the women upon their errand of mercy. He had simply been very naturally mistaken for a stranger from New York who had not arrived. But

aid gravely, "that I am not the gentleman who was to sing fo

broke into a low, crooning plantation melody. The song, like much of the Southern music, had in it a semi-barbaric chord that the college men had loved, something-or so one might have said who took the canoe-music seriously-of the wildness and fierceness of old tribal loves and plaints and unremembered wooings with a desert background: a gallop of hoof-beats, a quiver of noon light above saffron sand-

bag for something unknown, "our secretary will thank you formally. It was she

eorge pleasantly, "but I've been uncommonly glad to do what I

te from her bag and put it back agai

r, younger," she observed, her eyes already

who was of womankind who clasp their hands when they praise, stood thus beside him until he took h

George found the warden in stormy confere

ou. I know your voice. You called me up this morning f

d the pale blond youth, waving

nterposed courteously, "I will vouch for him. I ha

apology and brows of tardy suspicion,

id St. George,

ibitions, he eagerly unfolded the precious paper. It bore a