The perilous point passed, unconsciously to both of them, they fell into
freer conversation, tacitly avoiding the subject of Mr. Hurlstone's past
reserve only as being less interesting. Hurlstone did not return Miss
Keene's confidences--not because he wished to deceive her, but that he
preferred to entertain her; while she did not care to know his secret
now that it no longer affected their sympathy in other things. It was a
pleasant, innocent selfishness, that, however, led them along, step by
step, to more uncertain and difficult ground.
In their idle, happy walk they had strayed towards the beach, and had
come upon a large stone cross with its base half hidden in sand, and
covered with small tenacious, sweet-scented creepers, bearing a pale
lilac blossom that exhaled a mingled odor of sea and shore. Hurlstone
pointed out the cross as one of the earliest outposts of the Church on
the edge of the unclaimed heathen wilderness. It was hung with strings
of gaudy shells and feathers, which Hurlstone explained were votive
offerings in which their pagan superstitions still mingled with their
new faith.
"I don't like to worry that good old Padre," he continued, with a light
smile, "but I'm afraid that they prefer this cross to the chapel for
certain heathenish reasons of their own.
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