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very quiet in that still air。 So quiet that she heard two distinct
reports； following each other quickly； but very faint and far。
She glanced mechanically towards the sea。 Two merchant…men in
midstream were shaking out their wings for a long flight； a pilot
boat and coasting schooner were rounding the point； but there was
no smoke from their decks。 She bent over her work again； and in
another moment had forgotten it。 But the heat； with the dazzling
reflection from the cliff； forced her to suspend her gardening； and
stroll along the beach to the extreme limit of her domain。 Here
she looked after the cow that had also strayed away through the
tangled bush for coolness。 The goats； impervious to temperature；
were basking in inaccessible fastnesses on the cliff itself that
made her eyes ache to climb。 Over an hour passed； she was
returning； and had neared her house； when she was suddenly startled
to see the figure of a man between her and the cliff。 He was
engaged in brushing his dusty clothes with a handkerchief； and
although he saw her coming； and even moved slowly towards her；
continued his occupation with a half…impatient； half…abstracted
air。 Her feminine perception was struck with the circumstance that
he was in deep black； with scarcely a gleam of white showing even
at his throat； and that he wore a tall black hat。 Without knowing
anything of social customs； it seemed to her that his dress was
inconsistent with his appearance there。
〃Good…morning；〃 he said； lifting his hat with a preoccupied air。
〃Do you live here？〃
〃Yes；〃 she said wonderingly。
〃Anybody else？〃
〃My husband。〃
〃I mean any other people？ Are there any other houses？〃 he said
with a slight impatience。
〃No。〃
He looked at her and then towards the sea。 〃I expect some friends
who are coming for me in a boat。 I suppose they can land easily
here？〃
〃Didn't you yourself land here just now？〃 she said quickly。
He half hesitated； and then； as if scorning an equivocation； made a
hasty gesture over her shoulder and said bluntly； 〃No； I came over
the cliff。〃
〃Down the cliff？〃 she repeated incredulously。
〃Yes；〃 he said； glancing at his clothes； 〃it was a rough scramble；
but the goats showed me the way。〃
〃And you were up on the bluff all the time？〃 she went on curiously。
〃Yes。 You seeI〃he stopped suddenly at what seemed to be the
beginning of a prearranged and plausible explanation； as if
impatient of its weakness or hypocrisy； and said briefly； 〃Yes； I
was there。〃
Like most women； more observant of his face and figure； she did not
miss this lack of explanation。 He was a very good…looking man of
middle age； with a thin； proud； high…bred face； which in a country
of bearded men had the further distinction of being smoothly
shaven。 She had never seen any one like him before。 She thought
he looked like an illustration of some novel she had read； but also
somewhat melancholy； worn； and tired。
〃Won't you come in and rest yourself？〃 she said； motioning to the
cabin。
〃Thank you；〃 he said； still half absently。 〃Perhaps I'd better。
It may be some time yet before they come。〃
She led the way to the cabin； entered the living rooma plainly
furnished little apartment between the bedroom and the kitchen
pointed to a large bamboo armchair； and placed a bottle of whiskey
and some water on the table before him。 He thanked her again very
gently； poured out some spirits in his glass； and mixed it with
water。 But when she glanced towards him again he had apparently
risen without tasting it； and going to the door was standing there
with his hand in the breast of his buttoned frock coat； gazing
silently towards the sea。 There was something vaguely historical
in his attitudeor what she thought might be historicalas of
somebody of great importance who had halted on the eve of some
great event at the door of her humble cabin。
His apparent unconsciousness of her and of his surroundings； his
preoccupation with something far beyond her ken； far from piquing
her； only excited her interest the more。 And then there was such
an odd sadness in his eyes。
〃Are you anxious for your folks' coming？〃 she said at last；
following his outlook。
〃Ioh no！〃 he returned； quickly recalling himself； 〃they'll be
sure to comesooner or later。 No fear of that；〃 he added； half
smilingly； half wearily。
Mrs。 Bunker passed into the kitchen； where； while apparently
attending to her household duties； she could still observe her
singular guest。 Left alone； he seated himself mechanically in the
chair； and gazed fixedly at the fireplace。 He remained a long time
so quiet and unmoved； in spite of the marked ostentatious clatter
Mrs。 Bunker found it necessary to make with her dishes； that an
odd fancy that he was scarcely a human visitant began to take
possession of her。 Yet she was not frightened。 She remembered
distinctly afterwards that； far from having any concern for
herself； she was only moved by a strange and vague admiration of
him。
But her prolonged scrutiny was not without effect。 Suddenly he
raised his dark eyes； and she felt them pierce the obscurity of her
kitchen with a quick； suspicious； impatient penetration； which as
they met hers gave way； however； to a look that she thought was
gently reproachful。 Then he rose； stretched himself to his full
height； and approaching the kitchen door leaned listlessly against
the door…post。
〃I don't suppose you are ever lonely here？〃
〃No； sir。〃
〃Of course not。 You have yourself and husband。 Nobody interferes
with you。 You are contented and happy together。〃
Mrs。 Bunker did not say； what was the fact； that she had never
before connected the sole companionship of her husband with her
happiness。 Perhaps it had never occurred to her until that moment
how little it had to do with it。 She only smiled gratefully at the
change in her guest's abstraction。
〃Do you often go to San Francisco？〃 he continued。
〃I have never been there at all。 Some day I expect we will go
there to live。〃
〃I wouldn't advise you to；〃 he said； looking at her gravely。 〃I
don't think it will pay you。 You'll never be happy there as here。
You'll never have the independence and freedom you have here。
You'll never be your own mistress again。 But how does it happen
you never were in San Francisco？〃 he said suddenly。
If he would not talk of himself； here at least was a chance for
Mrs。 Bunker to say something。 She related how her family had
emigrated from Kansas across the plains and had taken up a
〃location〃 at Contra Costa。 How she didn't care for it； and how
she came to marry the seafaring man who brought her hereall with
great simplicity and frankness and as unreservedly as to a superior
beingalbeit his attention wandered at times； and a rare but
melancholy smile that he had apparently evoked to meet her
conversational advances became fixed occasionally。 Even his dark
eyes； which had obliged Mrs。 Bunker to put up her hair and button
her collar； rested upon her without seeing her。
〃Then your husband's name is Bunker？〃 he said when she paused at
last。 〃That's one of those Nantucket Quaker namessailors and
whalers for generationsand yours； you say； was MacEwan。 Well；
Mrs。 Bunker； YOUR family came from Kentucky to Kansas only lately；
though I suppose your father calls himself a Free…States man。 You
ought to know something of farming and cattle； for your ancestors
were old Scotch Covenanters who emigrated a hundred years ago； and
were great stock raisers。〃
All this seemed only the natural omniscience of a superior being。
And Mrs。 Bunker perhaps was not pained to learn that her husband's
family was of a lower degree than her own。 But the stranger's
knowledge did not end there。 He talked of her husband's business
he explained the vast fishing resources of the bay and coast。 He
showed her how the large colony of Italian fishermen were inimical
to the interests of California and to her husbandparticularly as
a native American trader。 He told her of the volcanic changes of
the bay and coast line； of the formation of the rocky ledge on
which she lived。 He pointed out to her its value to the Government
for defensive purposes； and how it naturally commanded the entrance
of the Golden Gate far better than Fort Point； and that it ought to
be in its hands。 If the Federal Government did not buy it of her
husband； certainly the State of California should。 And here he
fell into an abstraction as deep and as gloomy as before。 He
walked to the window； paced the floor with his hand in his breast；
went to the door； and finally stepped out of the cabin； moving
along the ledge of rocks to the shore； where he stood motionless。
Mrs。 Bunker had listened to him with parted lips and eyes of
eloquent admiration。 She had never before heard anyone talk like
THATshe had not believed it possible that any one could have such
knowledge。 Perhaps she could not understand all he said； but she
would try to remember it after he had gone。 She could only think
now how kind it was of him that in all this mystery of his coming；
and in the singular sadness that was oppressing him； he should try
to interest her。 And thus lo