{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_60612/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_60612","id":"gutenberg_60612","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/60612","summary":null,"tags":["Category: American Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Novels","Category: Romance","Classicism in literature","Man-woman relationships -- Fiction"],"text":"A MAID IN ARCADY\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: \u201cI SHALL WRITE AN ADVERTISEMENT MYSELF,\u201d HE SAID.]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: title page]\n\n\n\n\n                               A MAID IN\n                                ARCADY\n\n\n                                  BY\n                          RALPH HENRY BARBOUR\n\n                    AUTHOR OF \u201cKITTY OF THE ROSES\u201d\n                         \u201cAN ORCHARD PRINCESS\u201d\n                                 ETC.\n\n\n                        _With Illustrations by_\n                         FREDERIC J. von RAPP\n\n\n                         PHILADELPHIA & LONDON\n                       J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY\n                                 1906\n\n\n\n\n                            COPYRIGHT, 1906\n\n                      BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY\n\n\n                      Published, September, 1906\n\n\n                     _Electrotyped and Printed by\n           J. B. Lippincott Company, Philadelphia, U. S. A._\n\n\n\n\nILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\n                                                           PAGE\n\n \u201cI shall write an advertisement myself,\u201d he said\n                                            _Frontispiece_\n\n The stream sulked in a deep, pellucid pool                  10\n\n Who would have thought to find a Grecian goddess under\n   New England skies?                                        20\n\n Slowly she raised her white arms                            23\n\n \u201cI think I have explained matters, don\u2019t you?\u201d              52\n\n \u201cI hope you like my pool?\u201d inquired a voice                 61\n\n She was throwing crumbs of bread to the swans              113\n\n She went to him and placed her hands on his shoulders      139\n\n \u201cWill you?\u201d he repeated                                    213\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nA MAID IN ARCADY\n\n\n\n\nI.\n\n\nThe clear water of the little river, in which the willows were mirrored\nquiveringly, shallowed where a tiny bar of silver-white sand thrust the\nripples aside. Thus confined, the stream sulked for a moment in a deep,\npellucid pool, and then, with sudden rush and gurgle, swept through a\nminiature narrows and swirled about the naked roots of the willows.\n\n[Illustration: THE STREAM SULKED IN A DEEP, PELLUCID POOL.]\n\nWith a quick plunge of the paddle Ethan guided the canoe past the\nthreatening bar. A drooping branch swept his face caressingly as the\ncraft gained the quiet water beyond. Here, as though repentant of its\nimpatience, the river loitered and lapped about a massive granite\nbowlder, tugging playfully at the swaying ferns and tossing scintillant\ndrops upon the velvety moss. To the left, the fringe of woodland which,\nin friendly gossip, had followed the little river for a quarter of a\nmile, parted where a second stream, scarcely more than a brook, flowed\nplacidly into the first. Reinforced, the river widened a little and\nwent slowly, musically on under the drooping branches, alternately\nsun-splashed and shadowed, until it disappeared at a distant turn. But\nthe canoe did not follow. Instead it rocked lazily by the bowlder,\nwhile the ripples broke gently against its smooth sides.\n\nTo the bole of an old willow which dropped its leaves in autumn upon\nthe white sand-bar was nailed a weather-gray board, on which faded\nletters stated:\n\n                           PRIVATE PROPERTY!\n\n                            NO TRESPASSING!\n\n[Illustration]\n\nEthan observed the warning meditatively. In view of his later course of\naction let us credit him with that hesitation. At length, with a faint\nsmile on his face, he turned the nose of the canoe toward the smaller\nstream and his back to the sign.\n\nTo have observed him one would scarcely have believed him capable of\ndeliberately committing the dire crime of trespass. There was something\nabout his good-looking face which bespoke honesty. At least, it would\nhave been difficult to credit him with underhand methods; it seemed\neasier to believe that if he ever did commit a crime it would be in\nsuch a superbly open and above-board fashion as to rob it of half its\niniquity. Not that there was anything of classical beauty about his\nface. His eyes were a shade of brown, his nose was perhaps a trifle too\nshort to reach the standard of the Grecians, his mouth, unhidden by any\nmustache, did not to any great extent suggest a Cupid\u2019s bow. His chin\nwas aggressive. For the rest, he had the usual allowance of hair of a\nnot uncommon shade of brown, and showed, when he laughed which was by\nno means infrequently\u2015\u2015a set of very white and very capable looking\nteeth. And yet I reiterate my former adjective; good-looking he was;\ngood-looking in a healthy, frank, happy and rather boyish way that was\neminently satisfying.\n\nIf the sign on the old willow was right, and he really was trespassing,\nI have no excuse to offer, or at least none that my conscience will\nallow me to suggest. I can\u2019t plead ignorance for him, for the simple\nreason that he had seen the sign and read it and that he knew all about\ntrespass\u2015\u2015or as much as was taught in the three-year course at the\nHarvard Law School, which he had finished barely a fortnight ago.\n\nMeanwhile he has been sending the canoe quietly along the winding water\npath, dipping the paddle with easy, rhythmic swings of his shoulders,\npushing the blade astern through the clear water and swinging it,\nflashing and dripping, back for the next stroke. He had tossed his\nlight cloth cap into the bottom of the canoe and had laid his coat\nover a thwart. The summer morning sunlight, slanting through the\nbranches, wove quickly vanishing patterns in gold upon his brown hair.\nThe tiny breeze, just a mere breath from the southwest, fragrant with\nthe odor of damp, sun-warmed soil and greenery, stirred the sheer white\nshirt he wore and laid it in folds under the raised arm.\n\nThe brook was rather shallow; everywhere the pebbled bottom was\nvisible. It was a whimsical brook, full of sudden turns and twistings;\nrounding tiny promontories of alder and sheepberry, dipping into quiet\nbays where bush honeysuckles were dripping sweetness from their pale\nyellow funnels, skirting curving beaches of white sand where standing\narmies of purple flags held themselves stiffly at attention and\nrestrained the invasion of the eager, swaying fern-rabble.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nHe had gone several hundred yards by this time against the slow\ncurrent, and now there was evident a change in the foliage lining\nthe banks, even in the banks themselves. Artifice had aided nature.\nPink and white and yellow lilies dotted the stream, while at a little\ndistance a slender, graceful stone bridge arched from shore to shore.\nWoodbine clustered about it and threw cool, trembling leaf-shadows\nagainst the sunlit stones. The arch framed a charming vista of the\nbrook beyond. The canoe slipped noiselessly under the bridge and the\nstrip of shadow rested gratefully for an instant on Ethan\u2019s face. On\nthe left there was a momentary break in the foliage and a brief glimpse\nof a wide expanse of velvety turf. Then another turn, the canoe\nbrushing aside the broad lily-pads, and the end of the journey had\ncome, and, sitting with motionless paddle, he gazed spellbound.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nII.\n\n\nThe banks of the stream fell suddenly away on either side and the\ncanoe glided slowly and softly into a miniature lake. It was perhaps\ntwenty yards across at its widest place and much more than that in\nlength. Occasionally a far-reaching branch threw trembling shadows on\nthe water, but for the most part the trees stood back from the margin\nof the pool and allowed the fresh green turf to descend unhampered to\nthe water\u2019s edge. At a point farthest from where Ethan had entered\na little cascade tumbled. On all sides the ground sloped slightly\nupward, and in one place a group of larches crowned the summit of a\nknoll and mingled their delicate branches far above the neighboring\nmaples. Almost concealed among them an uncertain gleam of white caught\nat moments through the trees to the right suggested a building of\nsome sort\u2015\u2015perhaps the marble temple of the divinity, who, seated on\nthe bank with her bare sandaled feet crossed before her, observed the\nintruder with calm, dreamy, almost smiling unconcern.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n[Illustration]\n\nIt was a beautiful scene into which Ethan had floated. Overhead was\na blue sky against which a few soft white clouds hung seemingly\nmotionless as though, like Narcissus, they had become enamored of their\nreflections in the pool there below. On a tiny islet in the pool,\ndwarf willows caressed the water with the tips of their pendulous\nbranches. Further on a trio of white swans sunned themselves, and\nabout the margin the bosom of the pool was carpeted with lily-pads and\nstarred with a multitude of fragrant blooms, white, rose-hued, carmine,\npale violet, sulphur-colored and blue. The gauze wings of darting\ndragon-flies caught the sunlight, insects hovered above the flower-cups\nand in the branches around many a feathered cantatrice was singing her\nheart out. And for background there was always the varied green of\nencircling trees.\n\nYes, it was very beautiful, but Ethan had no eyes for it. With paddle\nstill suspended between gunwale and water he was staring in a fashion\nat once depicting surprise, curiosity, and admiration at the figure on\nthe grass. And what wonder? Who would have thought to find a Grecian\ngoddess under New England skies? Ethan\u2019s thoughts leaped back to\nmythology and he sought a name for her. Diana? Minerva? Venus? Iris?\nPenelope?\n\nAnd all the while\u2015\u2015a very little while despite the telling\u2015\u2015his eyes\nranged from the sandaled feet to the warm brown hair with its golden\nfillet. A single garment of gleaming white reached from the feet to\nthe shoulders where it was caught together on either side with a metal\nclasp. The arms were bare, youthfully slender, aglow in the sunlight.\nAnd yet it was to the eyes that his gaze returned each time. \u201cMinerva!\u201d\nhis thoughts triumphed, \u201c\u2018Minerva, goddess azure-eyed!\u2019\u201d And yet in the\nnext instant he knew that while her eyes were undeniably blue she\nwas no wise Minerva. Such youthful softness belonged rather to Iris or\nDaphne or Syrinx.\n\n[Illustration: WHO WOULD HAVE THOUGHT TO FIND A GRECIAN GODDESS UNDER\nNEW ENGLAND SKIES?]\n\nAnd all the while\u2015\u2015just the little time it took for the canoe to\nglide from the stream well into the pool\u2015\u2015she had been regarding\nhim tranquilly with her deep blue eyes, her bare arms, stretching\ndownward to the grass, supporting her in an attitude suggesting recent\nrecumbency. And now, as the craft brushed the lily-pads aside, she\nspoke.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\u201cDo you not fear the resentment of the gods?\u201d she asked gravely. \u201cIt is\nnot wise for a mortal to look upon us.\u201d\n\n\u201cI crave your mercy, O fair goddess,\u201d he answered. \u201cBlame rather this\ntiny argosy of mine which, propelled by hands invisible, has brought me\nhither. I doubt not that the gods hold me in enchantment.\u201d He mentally\npatted himself on the back; it wasn\u2019t so bad for an impromptu!\n\nShe leaned forward and sunk her chin in the cup of one small hand,\nviewing him intently as though pondering his words.\n\n\u201cIt may be so,\u201d she answered presently. \u201cWhat call you your frail\nvessel?\u201d\n\n\u201cFrom this hour, Good Fortune.\u201d Her gaze dropped.\n\n\u201cWill you deign to tell me your name, O radiant goddess?\u201d he continued.\nShe raised her eyes again and he thought a little smile played for a\nmoment over her red lips.\n\n\u201cI am Clytie,\u201d she answered, \u201ca water-nymph. I dwell in this pool. And\nyou, how are you called?\u201d\n\nHe answered readily and gravely: \u201cI am Vertumnus, clad thus in\nmortal guise that I may gain the presence of Pomona. Long have I wooed\nher, O Nymph of the Pool.\u201d\n\n\u201cI too love unrequited,\u201d she answered sadly. \u201cApollo has my heart.\nThough day by day I watch him drive his fiery chariot across the\nheavens he sees me not.\u201d\n\nShe arose and turned her face upward to the sun. Slowly she raised her\nwhite arms and stretched them forth in tragic appeal.\n\n[Illustration: SLOWLY SHE RAISED HER WHITE ARMS.]\n\n\u201cApollo!\u201d she cried. \u201cApollo! Hear me! Clytie calls to you!\u201d\n\nSuch a passion of melancholy longing spoke in her voice that Ethan\nthrilled in spite of himself. Unconsciously his gaze followed hers\nto the blazing orb. The light dazzled his eyes and blinded him for a\nmoment. When he looked again toward the bank it was empty, but between\nthe trees, along the slope, a white garment fluttered and was lost to\nsight.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\u201cClytie!\u201d he called in sudden dismay. And again.\n\n\u201cClytie!\u201d\n\nA wood-thrush in a nearby tree burst into golden melody. But Clytie\nanswered not.\n\n\n\n\nIII.\n\n\nThe Roadside Inn at Riverdell sprawls its white length along the old\npost-road over which many years ago the coaches swayed and rattled\nbetween New York and Boston. The Roadside, known in those days as\nPeppit\u2019s Tavern, has changed but little. The front room over the porch,\nhas held notable guests: Washington, Hancock, Adams, Lafayette and many\nmore. On the tap-room windows you may still find the diamond-etched\ninitials of by-gone celebrities. And much of the old-time atmosphere\nremains.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThe room into which Ethan had his bag taken after his return from his\nadventure in Arcady was low-ceilinged and dim. The two small windows,\none overlooking the dilapidated orchard at the rear and the little\nriver beyond, the other revealing the murmuring depths of a big elm,\nafforded little light. The floor was delightfully uneven; Ethan went\ndownhill to the washstand and uphill again to the old mahogany bureau.\nThe wide fire-place held a pair of antique andirons coveted by many\na visitor, and the narrow shelf above was adorned with an equally\ndesirable brass candlestick and a couple of opaque white glass vases\nwhich, ancient as they were, post-dated the shelf itself by half a\nhundred years. The bedstead, of mahogany, with rolling footboard, had\nmade concessions to modernity. The pegs along the side, from which\nropes had once been stretched, remained, but an up-to-date wire spring\nand hair mattress had superseded the olden furnishings.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nEthan lighted a cigarette, unstrapped his bag and took out a leathern\nportfolio. With this on his knee, he sat at one of the open windows and\nscrawled a note.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n    \u201cDear Vin, I am sending my man Farrell on to you with the\n    machine with orders to place it at your disposal. Make what use\n    you can of it. I think it is all right now, though it went back\n    on us this morning about two miles north of here. Funny place\n    for it to bust, wasn\u2019t it; looks as though it meant me to pay\n    a visit here, eh? Well, I\u2019m humoring it. I\u2019ve decided to stay\n    here for a day or two at the Roadside. I want to brush up a bit\n    on mythology. Very interesting subject, mythology, Vin. Just\n    when I\u2019ll follow the machine I can\u2019t say yet; possibly in a\n    day or two. Make my excuses to your mother and sisters; invent\n    any old story you like. You might say, for instance, that\n    Vertumnus, fickle god, has transferred his affections from\n    Pomona to a water-nymph. But you needn\u2019t if you\u2019d rather not. I\n    don\u2019t care what you say. Expect me when you see me.\n\n                                \u201cYours,\n\n                                                          \u201cETHAN.\u201d\n\nWith a smile as he thought of his friend\u2019s perplexity on reading the\nnote, Ethan folded it and tucked it into an envelope. Then addressing\nit to \u201cMr. Vincent Graves, The Boulders, Stillhaven, Mass.,\u201d he sealed\nit, dropped it into his pocket and made his way downstairs to dinner.\n\nAfter dinner a big blue touring-car chugged its way southward along the\nshaded road, with Farrell at the wheel and Ethan\u2019s note in Farrell\u2019s\npocket. Ethan watched it disappear. Then, drawing a chair to the edge\nof the porch, he set himself in it, put his heels on the railing,\nstuffed his hands into his pockets and asked himself with a puzzled\nsmile why he had done it.\n\n\n\n\n\nIV.\n\n\nThe grass grew tall and lush under the gnarled old apple-trees back\nof the Inn, and the straggling footpath which led to the landing was\na path only in name. By the time he had gained the river Ethan\u2019s\nimmaculate white shoes were slate-colored with dew. The canoe rested\non two poles laid from crotches of the apple trees, which overhung the\nstream. Ethan lifted it down and dropped it into the water. With paddle\nin hand he stepped in and pushed off down-stream.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nOn his left the orchard and garden of the Inn marched with him for a\nway, giving place at length to a neck of woodland. On his right, seen\nbetween the twisted willows, stretched a pleasant view of meadows and\ntilled fields in the foreground, and, beyond, the gently rising hills,\nwooded save where along the base the encroaching grasslands rose and\ndipped. A couple of sleepy-looking farmhouses were nestled in the\nmiddle-distance and the faint _whir-r-r_ of a mowing machine floated\nacross the meadows. In the high grass daisies were sprinkled as thickly\nas stars in the Milky Way, and buttercups thrust their tiny golden\nbowls above the pendulous plumes of the timothy, foxtail, and fescue.\nThe blue-eyed grass, too, was all abloom, like miniatures of the blue\nflags which congregated wherever the spring floods had inundated the\nmeadows.\n\nThe sand-bar came in sight and the little river began to fuss and\nfret as it gathered itself for what it doubtless believed to be an\nawe-inspiring rush. The canoe bobbed gracefully through the rapids and\nswung about in the pool below. Ethan winked soberly at the sign on the\nwillow tree and dipped his paddle again. The canoe breasted the lazy\ncurrent of the brook.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nIt was just such a day as yesterday. The little breeze stirred the\nrushes along the banks and brought odors of honeysuckle. Fleecy white\nclouds seemed to float on the unshadowed stretches of the stream. On\none side a sudden blur of deep pink marked where a wild azalea was\nablossom. Again, a glimpse of white showed a viburnum sprinkling the\nground with its tiny blooms. Cinnamon ferns were pushing their pale\nbronze \u201cfiddle-heads\u201d into the air. Now and then a wood lily displayed\na tardy blossom. Near the stone bridge a kingfisher darted downward to\nthe brook, broke its surface into silver spray and arose on heavy wing.\n\nOnce past the bridge and with only a single winding of the brook\nbetween him and the lotus pool, Ethan trailed his paddle for a moment\nwhile he asked himself whether he really expected to find the girl\nwaiting for him. Of course he didn\u2019t, only\u2015\u2015well, there was just\na chance\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015! Nonsense; there was not the ghost of a chance! Oh,\nvery well; at least there was no harm in his paddling to the lotus\npool\u2015\u2015barring that he was trespassing! He smiled at that. He smiled at\nit several times, for some reason or other. Then he dipped his paddle\nagain and sent the \u201cGood Fortune\u201d gliding swiftly over the sunlit\nwater of the pond. And when he looked there she was, seated on the\nbank, just as\u2015\u2015and he realized it now\u2015\u2015he had expected all along that\nshe would be!\n\n[Illustration]\n\nBut it was not Clytie he saw; not unless the fashions have changed\nconsiderably and water-nymphs may wear with perfect propriety white\nshirtwaist suits and tan shoes. It was not impossible, he reasoned;\nfor all he knew to the contrary, the July number of the Goddesses\u2019\nHome Journal\u2015\u2015doubtless edited by Minerva\u2015\u2015might prescribe just\nsuch garments for informal morning wear. At all events, being less\n_bizarre_ than the flowing peplum of yesterday, Ethan\u2015\u2015whose tastes\nin attire were quite orthodox\u2015\u2015liked it far better. The effect was\nquite different, too. Yesterday she might have been Clytie; to-day\nreason cried out against any such possibility; she was a very\nmodern-appearing and extremely charming young lady of, apparently,\ntwenty or twenty-one years of age, with a face, at present seen\nin profile, piquant rather than beautiful. The nose was small and\ndelicate, the mouth, under a short lip, had the least bit of a pout\nand the chin was softly round and sensitive. This morning she wore her\nhair in a pompadour, while at the back the thick braids started low on\nher neck and coiled around and around in a perfectly delightful and\nabsolutely puzzling fashion. Ethan liked her hair immensely. It was\nlight brown, with coppery tones where the sunlight became entangled.\nShe was seated on the sloping bank, her hands clasped about her knees\nand her gaze turned dreamily toward the cascade which sparkled and\ntinkled at the upper curve of the pool. As the canoe had made almost\nno sound in its approach, she was, of course, ignorant of Ethan\u2019s\npresence. And yet it may be mentioned as an interesting if unimportant\nfact that as he gazed at her for the space of half a minute a rosy\ntinge, all unobserved of him, crept into her cheeks. He laid his paddle\nsoftly across the canoe, and,\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\n\n\u201cGreetings, O Clytie!\u201d he said.\n\nShe turned to him startledly. A little smile quivered about her lips.\n\n\u201cGood morning, Vertumnus,\u201d she answered. Perhaps his gaze showed a\ntrifle too much interest, for after a brief instant hers stole away. He\npicked up the paddle and moved the canoe closer to the shore.\n\n\u201cI\u2019m very glad to find you have not yet taken root,\u201d he said gravely.\n\n\u201cTaken root?\u201d she echoed vaguely.\n\n\u201cYes, for that was your fate at the last, wasn\u2019t it? If I am not\nmistaken you sat for days on the ground, subsisting on your tears and\nwatching the sun cross the heavens, until at last your limbs became\nrooted to the ground and you just naturally turned into a sunflower. At\nleast, that\u2019s the way I recollect it.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, but you shouldn\u2019t tell me what my fate is to be,\u201d she answered\nsmilingly.\n\n\u201cForearmed is forewarned; no, I mean the other way around!\u201d he replied.\n\u201cMaybe if you just keep your feet moving you\u2019ll escape that fate. It\nwould be awfully uncomfortable, I should say! Besides, pardon me if it\nsounds rude, sunflowers are such unattractive things, don\u2019t you think\nso?\u201d\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\u201cYes, I\u2019m afraid they are. The fate of Daphne or Lotis or Syrinx would\nbe much nicer.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat happened to them, please?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, Daphne was changed to a laurel; have you forgotten?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, but how about the other ladies?\u201d\n\n\u201cLotis became a lotus and Syrinx a clump of reeds. Pan gathered some\nand made himself pipes to play on.\n\n    \u201c\u2018Poor nymph!\u2015\u2015Poor Pan!\u2015\u2015how he did weep to find\n      Naught but a lovely sighing of the wind\n      Along the reedy stream; a half-heard strain\n      Full of sweet desolation\u2015\u2015balmy pain.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cShelley, for a dollar,\u201d he said questioningly.\n\nShe shook her head smilingly. \u201cKeats,\u201d she corrected.\n\n\u201cOh, I have a way of getting them mixed, those two chaps.\u201d He paused.\n\u201cDo you know, it sounds odd nowadays to hear anyone quote poetry?\u201d\n\n\u201cI suppose it does; I dare say it sounds very silly.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot a bit of it! I like it! I wish I could do it myself. All I know,\nthough, is\n\n    \u201c\u2018The Lady Jane was tall and slim,\n        The Lady Jane was fair,\n      And Sir Thomas, my lord, was stout of limb,\n        But his breath was short, and\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2019\n\nand so on. I used to recite that at school when I was a youngster;\nknew it all through; and I think there were five or six pages of it.\nI was quite proud of that, and used to stand on the platform Saturday\nmornings and just gallop it off. I think the humor appealed to me.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt must have been delightful!\u201d she laughed. \u201cBut you haven\u2019t got even\nthat quite right!\u201d\n\n\u201cHaven\u2019t I? I dare say.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, Sir Thomas was _her_ lord, not _my_ lord, and it was his cough\nthat was short instead of his breath.\u201d\n\n\u201cShows that my memory is failing at last,\u201d he answered. \u201cBut, tell me,\ndo you know every piece of poetry ever written?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, not so many. I happen to remember that, though. Besides, we\ndwellers on Olympus hold poetry in rather more respect than you\nmortals.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou forget that I am Vertumnus,\u201d he answered haughtily.\n\n\u201cOf course! And you puzzled me with that yesterday, too. I had to go\nhome and hunt up a dictionary of mythology to see who Vertumnus was.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2015\u2015I trust you found him fairly respectable?\u201d he asked. \u201cTo tell the\ntruth, I don\u2019t recollect very much about him myself; and some of those\nold chaps were\u2015\u2015well, a bit rapid.\u201d\n\n\u201cVertumnus was quite respectable,\u201d she replied. \u201cIn fact, he was quite\na dear, the way he slaved to win Pomona. I never cared very much about\nPomona,\u201d she added frankly.\n\n\u201cI\u2015\u2015I never knew her very well,\u201d he answered carelessly.\n\n\u201cI think she was a stick.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou forget,\u201d he said gently, \u201cthat you are speaking of the lady of my\naffections.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, I am so sorry!\u201d she cried contritely. \u201cPlease forgive me!\u201d\n\n\u201cIf you will let me smoke a cigarette.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy not? Considering that I am on shore and you on the water it hardly\nseems necessary\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, of course it\u2019s your own private pool,\u201d he said. \u201cI thought\nperhaps nymphs objected to the odor of cigarette-smoke around their\nhabitations.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis nymph doesn\u2019t mind it,\u201d she answered.\n\nHe selected a cigarette from his case very leisurely. He had had\nseveral opportunities to see her eyes and was wondering whether they\nwere really the color they seemed to be. He had thought yesterday\nthat they were blue, like the sky, or a Yale flag or\u2015\u2015or the ocean in\nOctober; in short just _blue_. But to-day, seen from a distance of some\nfifteen feet, and examined carefully, they appeared quite a different\nhue, a\u2015\u2015a violet, or\u2015\u2015or mauve. He wasn\u2019t sure just what mauve was,\nbut he thought it might be the color of her eyes. At all events, they\nweren\u2019t merely blue; they were something quite different, far more\nwonderful, and infinitely more beautiful. He would look again just as\nsoon as he had the cigarette lighted, and\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\n\n\u201cWere you surprised to find me here this morning?\u201d she asked suddenly.\nThere was no hint of coquetry in her tone and he stifled the first\nreply occurring to him.\n\n\u201cI\u2015\u2015no, I wasn\u2019t\u2015\u2015for some reason,\u201d he answered honestly. \u201cI dare say I\nought to have been.\u201d\n\n\u201cI came on purpose to meet you,\u201d she said calmly.\n\n\u201cEr\u2015\u2015thank you\u2015\u2015that is\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015!\u201d\n\n\u201cI wanted to explain about yesterday. You see I didn\u2019t want you to\nthink I was just simply insane. There was\u2015\u2015method in my madness.\u201d\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\u201cBut I didn\u2019t think you insane,\u201d he denied, depositing the burnt\nmatch carefully on a lily-pad and raising his gaze to hers. \u201cI\nthought\u2015\u2015that\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, go on,\u201d she prompted. \u201cTell me what you did think when you found\nme here in that\u2015\u2015that _thing_!\u201d\n\n\u201cI thought I was in Arcadia and that you were just what you said you\nwere, a water-nymph.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh,\u201d she murmured disappointedly; \u201cI thought you were really going to\ntell me the truth.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will, then. Frankly, I didn\u2019t know what to think. You said you were\nClytie, and far be it from me to question a lady\u2019s word. I was stumped.\nI tried to work it out yesterday afternoon and couldn\u2019t, and so I came\nback to-day in the hope that I might have the good fortune to see you\nagain.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt was rather silly,\u201d she answered. \u201cAnd I ought to have run away\nwhen I saw your canoe coming. But it was so unexpected and sudden,\nand I was bored and\u2015\u2015and I wondered what you would look like when I\ntold you I was a water-nymph!\u201d She laughed softly. \u201cOnly,\u201d she went\non in a moment, with grievance in her tones, \u201cyou didn\u2019t look at all\nsurprised! I might just as well have said \u2018I am Mary Smith\u2019 or\u2015\u2015or\n\u2018Laura Devereux!\u2019\u201d\n\n(\u201cAha!\u201d quoth Ethan to himself, \u201cI am learning.\u201d)\n\n\u201cYou were very disappointing,\u201d she concluded severely.\n\n\u201cI am sorry, really. I realize now that I should have displayed\nastonishment and awe. Perhaps if you had said you were Laura\u2015\u2015Laura\nDevereux, was it?\u2015\u2015I would have really shown some emotion.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy?\u201d she questioned.\n\n\u201cWell, don\u2019t you think\u2015\u2015Laura, now, is\u2015\u2015I\u2019m afraid I can\u2019t just\nexplain.\u201d He was watching her intently. She was studying her clasped\nhands. \u201cI suppose what I meant was that Laura is such an attractive\nname, so\u2015\u2015so musical, so melodious! And then coupled with Devereux it\nis even\u2015\u2015even\u2015\u2015er\u2015\u2015more so!\u201d\n\n\u201cIs it?\u201d She didn\u2019t look at him and her tone was almost icy.\n\n(\u201cI fancy that\u2019ll hold you for awhile,\u201d he said to himself. \u201cMy boy,\nyou\u2019re inclined to be a little too fresh; cut it out!\u201d)\n\n\u201cI never thought Laura especially melodious,\u201d she said.\n\n\u201cPerhaps you are prejudiced,\u201d he suggested amiably.\n\n\u201cWhy should I be?\u201d she asked, observing him calmly. He hesitated and\npaid much attention to his cigarette.\n\n\u201cOh, no reason at all, I suppose,\u201d he answered finally. He looked up\nin time to surprise a little mocking smile in her eyes. Nonsense! He\u2019d\nshow her that she couldn\u2019t bluff him down like that! \u201cTo be honest,\u201d he\ncontinued, \u201cwhat I meant was that some folks take a dislike to their\nown names; in which case they are scarcely impartial judges.\u201d He looked\nacross at her challengingly. She returned the look serenely.\n\n\u201cSo you think that is my name?\u201d she asked.\n\n\u201cIsn\u2019t it?\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t see why you should think so,\u201d she parried. \u201cI might have found\nit in a novel. I\u2019m sure it sounds like a name out of a novel.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut you haven\u2019t denied it,\u201d he insisted.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t intend to,\u201d she replied, the little tantalizing smile\nquivering again at the corners of her mouth. \u201cBesides, I have already\ntold you that my name is Clytie.\u201d\n\nHe tossed the remains of his cigarette toward where one of the swans\nwas paddling about. The long neck writhed snake-like and the bill\ndisappeared under the water. Then with an insulted air and an angry bob\nof the tail, the swan turned her back on Ethan and sailed hurriedly\nback to her family.\n\n\u201cI understand,\u201d he said. \u201cI will try not to forget hereafter that this\nis Arcadia, that you are Clytie and that I am Vertumnus.\u201d\n\n\u201cThank you, Vertumnus,\u201d she said. \u201cAnd now I must tell you what I came\nhere to tell. You must know, sir, that I am not in the habit of sitting\naround on the grass in broad daylight dressed\u2015\u2015as I was yesterday. If\nI did I should probably catch cold. Yesterday morning we\u2015\u2015a friend and\nI\u2015\u2015dressed up in costume and took each other\u2019s pictures up there under\nthe trees. Afterwards the fancy took me to come down here and\u2015\u2015and\n\u2018make believe.\u2019 And then you popped on to the scene all of a sudden.\u201d\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\u201cI see. Very rude of me, I\u2019m sure. Of course, as we are in Arcady, and\nyou are a nymph and I a\u2015\u2015a god, I don\u2019t understand at all what you are\ntalking about; but I _would_ like to see those pictures!\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019m afraid you never will,\u201d she laughed.\n\n\u201cI\u2019m not so sure,\u201d he said thoughtfully. \u201cStrange things happen\nin\u2015\u2015Arcady.\u201d\n\n\u201cWeren\u2019t you the least bit surprised when you saw me? And when\nI\u2015\u2015acted so silly?\u201d\n\n\u201cI certainly was! Really, for a while\u2015\u2015especially after you had gone\u2015\u2015I\nwas half inclined to think that I had been dreaming. You did it rather\nwell, you know,\u201d he added admiringly.\n\n\u201cDid I?\u201d She seemed pleased. \u201cDidn\u2019t it sound terribly foolish when I\nspouted that about Apollo?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot a bit! I\u2015\u2015I half expected the sun to do something when you raised\nyour hands to it; I don\u2019t know just what; wink, perhaps, or have an\neclipse.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou\u2019re making fun of me!\u201d she said dolefully.\n\n\u201cBut I am not, truly! However, I don\u2019t think you treated your audience\nvery nicely. To get me sun-blind and then steal away wasn\u2019t kind. When\nI looked around you had simply disappeared, as though by magic, and\nI\u2015\u2015\u201d he shivered uncomfortably\u2015\u2015\u201cI felt a bit funny for a moment.\u201d\n\n\u201cReally?\u201d She positively beamed on him, and Ethan felt a sudden warmth\nat his heart. \u201cI suppose every person has a sneaking desire to act,\u201d\nshe went on. \u201cI know I have. Ever since I was a little girl I\u2019ve loved\nto\u2015\u2015to \u2018make believe.\u2019 That\u2019s why I did it yesterday.\u201d\n\n\u201cHave you ever considered a stage career?\u201d he asked gravely. She leaned\nher chin in one small palm and observed him doubtfully.\n\n\u201cI never seem to know for certain,\u201d she complained, \u201cwhether you are\nmaking fun of me or not. And I don\u2019t like to be made fun of\u2015\u2015especially\nby\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d\n\n\u201cStrangers? I don\u2019t blame you, Miss\u2015\u2015Clytie. I wouldn\u2019t like it\nmyself.\u201d\n\nShe continued to study him perplexedly, a little frown above her\nsomewhat impertinent nose. Ethan smiled composedly back. He enjoyed it\nimmensely. The sunlight made strange little golden blurs in her eyes.\nThey were very beautiful eyes; he realized it thoroughly; and he didn\u2019t\ncare how long she allowed him to look into them like this. Only, well,\nit was a bit disquieting to a chap. He could imagine that invisible\nwires led from those violet orbs of hers straight down to his heart.\nOtherwise how account for the tingling glow that was pervading the\nlatter? Not that it was unpleasant; on the contrary\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\n\n\u201cI beg your pardon?\u201d he stammered.\n\n\u201cI merely said that I had no idea of the stage,\u201d she replied distantly,\ndropping her gaze.\n\n\u201cOh!\u201d He paused. It took him a moment to get the sense of what she had\nsaid through his brain. Plainly, Arcadian air possessed a quality not\ncontained in ordinary ether, and its effect was strangely deranging\nto the senses. \u201cOh!\u201d he repeated presently, \u201cI am glad you haven\u2019t. I\nshouldn\u2019t want you to\u2015\u2015er\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d\n\nBut that didn\u2019t appear to be just the right thing to say, judging from\nthe sudden expression of reserve which settled over her countenance.\nEthan shook himself awake.\n\n\u201cIt is time for me to go,\u201d she said, getting to her feet. Ethan made an\nabsurdly futile motion toward assisting her. \u201cI think I have explained\nmatters, don\u2019t you?\u201d\n\n[Illustration: \u201cI THINK I HAVE EXPLAINED MATTERS, DON\u2019T YOU?\u201d]\n\n\u201cYou have explained,\u201d he answered judicially, \u201cbut there is much\nmore that would bear, that even demands elucidation.\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t see that there is,\u201d she replied a trifle coldly.\n\n\u201cOh, of course, if you prefer to have me place my own interpretation\non\u2015\u2015things\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat things?\u201d she demanded curiously.\n\n\u201cWhat things?\u201d he repeated vaguely. \u201cOh, why\u2015\u2015er\u2015\u2015lots,\u201d he ended\nlamely.\n\nShe turned her back.\n\n\u201cGood morning,\u201d she said.\n\nHe took a desperate resolve.\n\n\u201cGood morning. Now that I know who you are\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d\n\n\u201cYou don\u2019t know who I am!\u201d she retorted, facing him defiantly.\n\n\u201cPardon me, but\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d\n\n\u201cI didn\u2019t say my name was\u2015\u2015that!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd I know more besides,\u201d he added mysteriously.\n\n\u201cYou don\u2019t!\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, very well.\u201d He smiled superiorly.\n\n\u201cHow could you?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou forget that we gods have powers of\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! Well, tell me, then.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot to-day,\u201d he answered gently. \u201cTo-morrow, perhaps.\u201d\n\nHe raised his paddle and turned the canoe about.\n\n\u201cBut you will not see me to-morrow,\u201d she said, stifling the smile that\nthreatened to mar her severity.\n\n\u201cYou are not thinking of leaving Arcady?\u201d he asked in surprise. \u201cWhere,\npray, could you find a more delightful pool than this? Observe those\nswans! Observe the lilies! Besides, even in Arcady one doesn\u2019t move so\nlate in the season.\u201d\n\n[Illustration]\n\nShe regarded him for a moment with intense gravity. Then,\n\n\u201cYou really think so?\u201d she asked musingly.\n\n\u201cI really do.\u201d\n\nHe waited, wondering at himself for caring so much about her decision.\nAt last,\n\n\u201cPerhaps you are right,\u201d she said. \u201cGood morning.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd I, shall see you to-morrow?\u201d he cried eagerly.\n\nShe turned under the first tree. The green shadows played over her hair\nand dappled her white gown with tremulous silhouettes.\n\n\u201cThat,\u201d she laughed softly, tantalizingly, \u201cis in the hands of the\ngods.\u201d\n\nHer dress showed here and there through the trees for a moment and\nthen was lost to sight. Ethan heaved a sigh. Then he smiled. Then he\nseized the paddle and shot the canoe toward the outlet.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d he muttered, \u201cI know how this god will vote!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nV.\n\n\nEthan laid aside his paddle and mopped his face with his handkerchief.\nThe canoe, left to its own devices, poked its nose against the meadow\nbank and allowed its stern to float slowly around in the languid\ncurrent. He gazed across the fields over which the heat-waves danced\nand shimmered and addressed himself to his cigarette case.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\u201cProvidence,\u201d he said, \u201cshowed great wisdom when it arranged that the\nPilgrims should land on the coast of Massachusetts. \u2018From what I\u2019ve\nseen of these folks and what I\u2019ve heard about them,\u2019 says Providence,\n\u2018I don\u2019t believe they\u2019re going to be much of an acquisition to the\nNew World. But I\u2019ll give \u2019em a fair show. I\u2019ll see that they land\nat Plymouth and if they can survive a Massachusetts winter _and_ a\nMassachusetts summer I\u2019ll have nothing more to say. Those of them alive\na year from now will be entitled to prizes in the Endurance Test and\nwill have qualified to become Hardy Pioneers and build up the country.\u2019\u201d\n\nHe mopped his face again, lighted a cigarette and took up his paddle.\n\n\u201cOne would think that this state might show moderation at some season\nof the year,\u201d he added disgustedly. \u201cBut not content with her Old\nFashioned Winters, Backward Springs and Early Falls she has to try and\nwrest the Hot Weather blue ribbon from Arizona! No wonder they say a\nBostonian isn\u2019t contented in Heaven; doubtless he finds the weather\nfrightfully equable and monotonous!\u201d\n\nHe righted the canoe and went on, with a glance at the sky above the\nhills.\n\n\u201cWe\u2019re probably in for a jolly good thunder-storm this afternoon,\u201d he\nmuttered.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nBy the time he had reached the entrance to the brook his forehead was\nagain beaded with perspiration and his thin neglig\u00e9e shirt showed a\ndisposition to cling to his shoulders. It was one of those intensely\nhot and exceedingly humid days which the early summer so often visits\nupon New England. Even the birds seemed to feel the heat and instead of\nsinging and darting about across the shadowed stream were content to\nflutter and chirp drowsily amidst the branches. The hum of the insects\nheld a lethargic tone that somehow, like a locust\u2019s clatter in August,\nseemed to increase the heat. Ethan went slowly up the winding stream\nwith divided opinions on the subject of his own sanity. To sit in a\ncanoe in the broiling sun on a morning like this merely to talk to a\ngirl was rank idiocy, he told himself. Then he recalled her eyes, her\ntantalizing little laugh, the soft tones of her voice, the provocative\nghost of a smile that so often trembled about her red lips, and owned\nthat she was worth it. After he had slipped under the stone footbridge\nit suddenly occurred to him that perhaps the girl would object quite\nas strongly as he to making a martyr of herself in the interests of\npolite conversation! Perhaps she wouldn\u2019t come at all! In which case\nhe would have had his journey for naught\u2015\u2015and possibly a sunstroke\nthrown in! The more he considered that possibility the more reasonable\nit became, until, when he had shot the canoe into the little pond, and\nsaw that the bank was empty of aught save a pair of the swans who were\nstretching their wings in the sunlight, he was not surprised.\n\n\u201cShe certainly has more sense than I have,\u201d he muttered.\n\nNot a breath of air stirred the leaves of the encircling fringe of\ntrees. The little lake was like an artist\u2019s palette set with all the\ntender greens and pinks and whites and yellows of summer.\n\n\u201cI hope you like my pool?\u201d inquired a voice.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cI HOPE YOU LIKE MY POOL?\u201d INQUIRED A VOICE.]\n\nEthan turned from his survey of the scene and saw that the girl was\nstanding under the shade of a willow a little distance up the slope.\nShe was all in white, as yesterday, but a broad-brimmed hat of soft\nwhite straw hid her hair and threw a shadow over her face. Ethan raised\nhis own less picturesque panama and bowed.\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s looking fine to-day, I think,\u201d he answered. \u201cPerhaps just a\nlittle bit ornate, though. There\u2019s such a thing as over-decorating even\na lotus pool.\u201d\n\nHe turned the bow of the canoe toward the bank, swung it skilfully\nand stepped ashore. The girl watched him silently. When he had pulled\nthe nose of the craft onto the grass and dropped his paddle he walked\ntoward her. A little flush crept into her cheeks, but her eyes met his\ncalmly.\n\n\u201cThis is all dreadfully wrong, you know,\u201d she said gravely. He stopped\na few feet away and fanned himself with his hat.\n\n\u201cYes, very warm, isn\u2019t it?\u201d he agreed affably.\n\n\u201cIn the first place,\u201d she went on severely, \u201cyou are trespassing.\u201d\n\n\u201cI beg your pardon?\u201d he asked as though he had not comprehended.\n\n\u201cI said you are trespassing.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! Yes, of course. Well, really, you couldn\u2019t expect me to sit out\nthere in that hot sun, could you now? I\u2015\u2015I have a rather delicate\nconstitution.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut you were trespassing before! Coming up here only makes it worse.\u201d\n\n\u201cBetter, I call it,\u201d he answered, turning to look back unregretfully at\nthe pool.\n\n\u201cAnd then\u2015\u2015then it is equally wrong for me to stay here and talk to\nyou.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh come now!\u201d he objected. \u201cNymphs in my day were not so conventional!\u201d\n\n\u201cSo I shall leave you,\u201d she continued, unheeding and turning away.\n\n\u201cThen I shall go with you.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou wouldn\u2019t dare!\u201d she cried.\n\n\u201cWhy not? Really, Miss Clytie, I am fairly respectable and I know of\nno reason why you shouldn\u2019t be seen in my company. I have never done\nmurder and never stolen less than a million dollars at a time. To be\nsure, I hope to become a practising attorney in the course of a year or\nso, but as yet my honor is unsullied.\u201d\n\nShe hesitated, her eyes turned in the direction of the house.\n\n\u201cBesides,\u201d he added hastily, \u201cI was going to tell you what I know about\nyou.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen,\u201d she answered reluctantly, \u201cI\u2019ll stay\u2015\u2015a minute.\u201d\n\n\u201cThank you. And shall we be comfortable during that minute? \u2018Come, let\nus sit upon the ground and tell sad stories of the death of kings.\u2019\u201d\n\nShe shook her head.\n\n\u201cPlease!\u201d he begged. \u201cYou will never be able to stand during all I have\nto tell you. Besides, you forget my delicate physique; I have been\nrepeatedly warned against over-exertion.\u201d\n\nShe sank gracefully to the grass in a billowing of white muslin,\nsmiling and frowning at once as though annoyed by his persistence,\nyet too amiable to refuse. All of which produced its effect, Ethan\nrealizing that she was doing him a great favor and becoming duly\ngrateful. He followed her example, seating himself on the turf in front\nof her, paying, however, less attention to the disposition of his feet.\nUnconsciously his hand sought a pocket, then dropped away again. She\nlaughed softly.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\u201cPlease do,\u201d she said.\n\n\u201cYou\u2019re sure you don\u2019t mind?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot at all,\u201d she answered. So he produced his cigarette case and\nthen his match-box and finally blew a breath of gray smoke toward the\nmotionless branches overhead.\n\n\u201cFeel better?\u201d she asked sympathetically.\n\n\u201cMuch, thank you.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen you may begin.\u201d\n\n\u201cBegin\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015?\u201d\n\n\u201cTell me what you know about me.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! To be sure. Well, let me see. In the first place, your name is\nLaura Devereux. I am right?\u201d\n\nShe smiled mockingly.\n\n\u201cI haven\u2019t agreed to tell you that.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! But I know I am. I haven\u2019t asked any questions, for that would\nhave been taking an unfair advantage, I fancy. But I happened to\noverhear yesterday afternoon at the Inn that a family by the name\nof Devereux had taken The Larches. And, as I have been in Riverdell\nbefore, I know where The Larches is\u2015\u2015are\u2015\u2015. Would you say is or are?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am only a listener.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen I shall say am, to be on the safe side; I know where The Larches\nam. You are living at The Larches.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, I\u2015\u2015I am merely staying there.\u201d\n\n\u201cFor the summer; exactly. That\u2019s what I meant. When you are at home\nyou live in Boston. I won\u2019t tell you how I discovered that, but it was\nquite fairly.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo I\u2015\u2015are you sure I am a Bostonian?\u201d\n\n\u201cHm! Now that you mention it\u2015\u2015I am not. Perhaps your family moved to\nBoston from somewhere else?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes?\u201d\n\n\u201cFrom\u2015\u2015let me see! Pennsylvania? But no, you don\u2019t talk like a\nPennsylvanian. Maryland? No again. Where, please?\u201d\n\n\u201cBut I haven\u2019t acknowledged the correctness of any of your premises\nyet,\u201d she objected.\n\n\u201cBut you don\u2019t dare tell me I\u2019m wrong,\u201d he challenged.\n\n\u201cAt least, I am not going to tell you so,\u201d she answered.\n\n\u201cThat is as good as an admission!\u201d\n\n\u201cVery well,\u201d she replied serenely. \u201cAnd now that you know so much about\nme\u2015\u2015that is all, by the way?\u201d\n\n\u201cSo far,\u201d he replied.\n\n\u201cThen don\u2019t you think I ought to know something about you?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am flattered that you care to.\u201d He laid a hand over his heart and\nbowed profoundly.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\u201cMy curiosity is of the idlest imaginable,\u201d she responded cruelly.\n\n\u201cI regret that bow,\u201d he said. \u201cHowever, I shall tell you anyhow. I am\nlike the prestidigitateur in that I have nothing to conceal. And,\u201d he\nadded ruefully, \u201cmighty little to reveal. My name is Parmley, surnamed\nEthan. I am holding nothing back there, for I have no middle name. It\nhas been a custom in our family since the days of the disreputable old\nNorman robber from whom we are descended to exclude middle names. I\nwas born in this same Commonwealth of Massachusetts of well-to-do and\nhonest parents, both of whom have been dead for some years. I was an\nonly child. Pray, Miss Devereux, consider\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d\n\n\u201cIf you don\u2019t mind,\u201d she interrupted, \u201cI\u2019d rather you didn\u2019t call me\nthat. I haven\u2019t owned to it, you know.\u201d\n\n\u201cPardon me! I was about to ask you, Miss Clytie, to consider that fact\nwhen weighing my faults. As a child I was intensely interesting; I\nhave gathered as much from my mother. I passed successfully through\nthe measles, mumps, scarlet fever and whooping-cough. I also had the\npostage-stamp, bird-egg and autograph manias. Later I wriggled my way\nthrough a preparatory school\u2015\u2015a sort of hot-house for tender young\nsnobs\u2015\u2015and later managed, by the skin of my teeth and a condition or\ntwo, to enter college. As it has been the custom for the Parmleys to\ngo to Harvard, I went there too. I am boring you frightfully?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo.\u201d\n\n\u201cI succeeded in completing a four-year course in five. Some chaps do\nit in three, but I didn\u2019t want to appear arrogant. I took it leisurely\nand finished in five. Then, as there had never been a lawyer in the\nfamily, I decided to study law. I entered the Harvard Law School and\ngraduated a few weeks ago. I am now spending a hard-earned vacation. In\nSeptember I am to enter a law firm in Providence as a sort of dignified\noffice-boy.\n\n\u201cI am the possessor of some worldly wealth, not a great deal, but\nenough for one of my simple tastes. I am even a member of the landed\ngentry, since I own a piece of land with a house on it. I also own an\nautomobile, and it is that I have to thank for this pleasant meeting.\u201d\n\nShe smiled a question.\n\n\u201cI left Boston bright and early Monday morning with Farrell. Farrell\ncalls himself a chauffeur, in proof of which he displays a license\nand a badge. If it wasn\u2019t for that license and that badge I\u2019d never\nsuspect it. Farrell\u2019s principal duty seems to be to hand me wrenches\nand screw-drivers and things when I lie on my back in the road and\ntake a worm\u2019s-eye view of the machine. All went as nice as you please\nuntil we reached a spot some two miles north of this charming hamlet.\nThere things happened. I won\u2019t weary you with a detailed list of\nthe casualties. Suffice it to say that I walked into Riverdell and\nFarrell followed an hour later leaning luxuriously back in the car\nand watching that the tow-rope didn\u2019t snap. I ate a supplementary\nbreakfast at the Inn while Farrell entertained the blacksmith, and\nthen, having nothing better to do, I dropped the canoe into the water\nand paddled downstream. Ever since I stole my first apple forbidden\nterritory has possessed an unholy fascination for me, and that is why,\nperhaps, I roamed up the brook and stumbled, as it were, into Arcady.\u201d\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\u201cWhat color is your machine?\u201d she asked.\n\n\u201cExceedingly blue.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd\u2015\u2015isn\u2019t it almost repaired?\u201d\n\n\u201cEr\u2015\u2015almost, yes.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is taking a long while, seems to me.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, its malady was grave. I think it had tonsillitis, judging from\nthe sounds it made.\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed? But it seemed to go very well.\u201d\n\n\u201cI beg your pardon?\u201d\n\n\u201cI said that it seemed to go very well.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have seen it?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, it passed the house yesterday at about two o\u2019clock.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere are a great many blue cars in the world,\u201d he defended.\n\n\u201cHas it returned yet?\u201d she asked, unheeding.\n\n\u201cNo. The fact is, I was on my way to Stillhaven to visit friends there,\nso I sent the car on for them to use. I have observed that, failing my\npresence, the car does fairly well for my friends.\u201d\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\u201cWhat a pessimist! And you are staying in Riverdell?\u201d\n\n\u201cFor a few days, yes; at the Roadside.\u201d\n\n\u201cRiverdell should feel flattered to find that you prefer it to\nStillhaven as a summer resort.\u201d She gathered her skirts together with\none hand and started to rise. Ethan jumped to his feet and enjoyed the\nintoxicating felicity of feeling her hand in his.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\u201cThank you,\u201d she murmured, smoothing her gown. Then, with a return of\nthat provoking, mocking little smile, \u201cWould it be a terrible blow to\nyour vanity,\u201d she asked, \u201cif I were to tell you that your guesses are\nall wrong?\u201d\n\n\u201cTerrible,\u201d he answered anxiously.\n\n\u201cThen I won\u2019t tell you,\u201d she said soothingly.\n\n\u201cBut\u2015\u2015but\u2015\u2015they\u2019re not wrong, are they?\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2018Where ignorance is bliss\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2019\u201d she murmured.\n\n\u201cBut I\u2019d rather know! Tell me the worst, please!\u201d\n\nShe shook her head smilingly.\n\n\u201cGood-bye,\u201d she said.\n\n\u201cAren\u2019t you going to let me see you again?\u201d he asked dolefully. Again\nshe shook her head.\n\n\u201cI have had the offer of a new pool,\u201d she said, \u201cone with all modern\nimprovements, and I think I shall move.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut\u2015\u2015now, look here, it isn\u2019t fair! What am I to do? It\u2019s evident\nyou\u2019ve never spent a holiday in Riverdell, or else you\u2019d appreciate my\nplight. There\u2019s nothing to do save paddle around on that idiotic little\nriver. And every time I\u2019m afraid the water will leak out when I\u2019m not\nwatching it and leave me high and dry. If only for charity, please let\nme come here and see you now and then\u2015\u2015just for a moment! I\u2019ll be very\ngood, really; I\u2019ll even agree to stay in the canoe and frizzle before\nyour eyes!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou speak,\u201d she answered perplexedly, \u201cas though I had invited you\nto come to Riverdell, or at least as though I were to blame for your\nremaining here!\u201d\n\nHe resisted the words that sprang to his lips.\n\n\u201cI beg your pardon then. I wouldn\u2019t for the world imply anything so\nabsolutely criminal. But I am here and I am bored; and surely you\nhaven\u2019t so many excitements, so many engagements in the mornings but\nthat you can spend a few moments communing with nature here at the\npool? Of course, I don\u2019t recommend myself as an excitement; perhaps\nI\u2019m more of a narcotic; but I\u2019ll do anything in my power to amuse you!\nI\u2019ll\u2015\u2015I\u2019ll even tell you fairy stories or sing to you; and I\u2019ve never\ndone either in my life!\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is indeed an inducement then,\u201d she laughed. \u201cBut\u2015\u2015good-bye.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou won\u2019t?\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you think it likely?\u201d she asked a trifle haughtily.\n\n\u201cNot when you look like that,\u201d he answered dismally.\n\n\u201cGood-bye,\u201d she said again, moving away.\n\n\u201cGood morning,\u201d he answered. His eyes were on the ground where she had\nbeen sitting. He took a step forward. From there he watched her pass\nup the slope under the trees. At the last she turned back and looked\nregretfully at the pool shimmering in the noontide heat.\n\n\u201cI shall be sorry to leave it,\u201d she said softly, yet distinctly.\n\u201cPerhaps\u2015\u2015I shall change my mind.\u201d\n\nThen she went on, passing from shadow to sunlight, until the trees hid\nher. When she was quite out of sight Ethan lighted a cigarette, smiling\nthe while. Then he flicked aside the charred match, lifted his left\nfoot, stooped and picked up a little white wad which, as he gently\nshook it out, became a dainty white handkerchief. He looked at it,\nheld it to his nose, touched it to his lips, folded it carefully and\nclumsily and placed it in his pocket. Then he turned toward the pool\nand the canoe.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\u201cShe\u2019s a coquette,\u201d he muttered, \u201can arrant coquette. But\u2015\u2015but she\u2019s\nsimply\u2015\u2015ripping!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nVI.\n\n\nEthan finished his second cigarette and tossed it hissing into the\npool. The nearest swan immediately paddled over to investigate. Ethan\nsighed exasperatedly.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\u201cGo ahead, then, you old idiot!\u201d he muttered. \u201cYou won\u2019t like it any\nbetter than you liked the last one; they\u2019re out of the same box; but\ntry it if you want to. There, I told you so! Oh, that\u2019s it; blame me\nnow! Blessed if you aren\u2019t almost human!\u201d\n\nHe looked for the twentieth time toward where the corner of the white\npergola gleamed through the trees and for the twentieth time turned his\ngaze disappointedly away again. He had been there almost three-quarters\nof an hour, and he wasn\u2019t going to stay another minute! If she didn\u2019t\nwant to come, all right! Only she wouldn\u2019t get her handkerchief if she\ndidn\u2019t! He had begun to doubt this morning whether she had dropped\nthat article on purpose, as he had suspected yesterday. If it had\nbeen an accident she had probably returned already and searched for\nit, and he could not base his hopes of seeing her on the score of the\nhandkerchief. It was quite evident, anyhow, that she wasn\u2019t coming.\nThat farewell remark of hers which he had translated to his own liking\nmeant nothing, after all. He would throw his things into his bag and go\non to Stillhaven after dinner. He had been a comical ass to fool around\nhere like this tagging after a girl who didn\u2019t want to be bothered\nwith him and risking dyspepsia at the Inn! And what the deuce was he\nthinking about women for, anyway? Hadn\u2019t he taken a solemn vow on the\noccasion of his first, last and only affair to leave them severely\nalone? He grinned reminiscently.\n\nThat had been a desperate affair, brief and tragic. It had occurred\nin his freshman year. _She_ was a \u201csaleslady\u201d in a florist\u2019s shop on\nthe Avenue. She had cheeks like one of the bridesmaid roses she sold,\na tip-tilted nose, sparkling gray eyes and a mass of black hair which\nstood up from her forehead in a mighty rolling billow and smelled\nheadily of violet perfume when she pinned a carnation to his coat. It\nhad been love at first sight with Ethan, and he had seldom appeared\nin public without a flower in his button-hole. He remembered with\nsomething between a shudder and a sigh the exaltation of pride and joy\nwith which he had accompanied her to the theatre that first time! When\nhe had returned from his Christmas vacation to find her engaged to\nthe red-haired drug-clerk on the next corner he had promptly become a\nconfirmed misogynist. During the seven years which had elapsed between\nthat time and this he had relented somewhat, had gone through more than\none mild flirtation and had kept his heart. There had been so many,\nmany other things to occupy him that love had remained unconsidered.\nAnd now, what was he doing here, sitting in a canoe in a lily pond when\nhe ought of right to be at Stillhaven helping Vincent sail the \u201cSea\nLark\u201d in the club races? Wasn\u2019t he making a fool of himself again? Then\nsomething white moved toward him between the trees and the question\nwent unanswered.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\u201cI think I must have lost a handkerchief here yesterday,\u201d she announced\nby way of greeting and explanation.\n\n\u201cA handkerchief?\u201d he cried. \u201cLet me help you search.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, don\u2019t bother! It doesn\u2019t matter, of course, only\u2015\u2015I thought that\nif it was here I\u2019d get it.\u201d\n\nBut Ethan was already out of the canoe.\n\n\u201cEr\u2015\u2015what was it like?\u201d he asked.\n\n\u201cRather plain, I think; just a narrow lace edge.\u201d\n\nThey looked diligently over the grass. Plainly it was not there. She\nraised her head, brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead and\nlaughed.\n\n\u201cI\u2019m always losing them,\u201d she said apologetically.\n\n\u201cPerhaps,\u201d he suggested, \u201cit might be well to offer a reward.\u201d\n\n\u201cA splendid idea!\u201d she cried. \u201cWe\u2019ll post it on this tree here. Have\nyou a piece of paper? And a pencil?\u201d\n\n\u201cBoth.\u201d He tore the front from an envelope and handed her his pencil.\nShe accepted them and set herself down on the grass.\n\n\u201cOh, dear, what shall I write on? The canoe paddle? Thanks. Now let me\nsee. What shall I say?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou must start by writing \u2018Lost!\u2019 in big letters at the top. That\u2019s\nit.\u201d Ethan\u2019s r\u00f4le of adviser carried delicious privileges. It allowed\nhim to kneel quite close behind her and observe the pink lobe of one\nsmall ear from a position of disquieting proximity.\n\n\u201cAnd then what?\u201d\n\n\u201cI beg your pardon!\u201d he said, with a start. \u201cWhy, then\u2015\u2015er\u2015\u2015let me see.\n\u2018Lost\u2019\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d\n\n\u201cI have that,\u201d she said demurely.\n\n\u201cA small handkerchief belonging\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d\n\n\u201cHow did you know it was small?\u201d she asked with smiling interest.\n\n\u201cThey always are,\u201d he answered. \u201cWhere was I?\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2018A small handkerchief belonging\u2019\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d\n\n\u201cThat doesn\u2019t sound quite shipshape. Let\u2019s try again. \u2018Lost, a small\nlady\u2019s\u2019\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d\n\nThey laughed together as though it was a most novel and excellent joke.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t care to advertise my smallness,\u201d she objected.\n\n\u201cWell, once more now. \u2018Lost, a small handkerchief with a funny little\nlace border and an embroidered D in the left-hand lower corner.\nFinder\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cAn embroidered D?\u201d she asked puzzledly.\n\n\u201cWasn\u2019t it a D?\u201d\n\n\u201cPerhaps it was,\u201d she allowed. She leaned a little farther forward, for\nthe brief glance she had cast toward him had revealed the fact that his\nhead was startlingly near. \u201cAnd\u2015\u2015and the reward?\u201d she asked a trifle\nconstrainedly.\n\n\u201cFinder may keep same for his honesty!\u201d\n\n\u201cBut\u2015\u2015but that\u2019s ridiculous!\u201d she cried. \u201cWhat\u2019s the use of advertising\nat all?\u201d\n\n\u201cTo save the finder from committing theft,\u201d he answered soberly. \u201cThink\nof his conscience!\u201d\n\n\u201cHow do you know it\u2019s a \u2018him\u2019?\u201d she asked carelessly.\n\n\u201cI used the masculine gender merely in a\u2015\u2015er\u2015\u2015general way.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh!\u201d\n\n\u201cYes. Have you written that?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, what\u2019s the good of it? If the finder is dishonest enough to keep\nit he may look after his own conscience!\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s unchristian,\u201d he answered sadly.\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll do this, though,\u201d she said. \u201cIf the finder will produce it I will\nallow him to keep it on one condition.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd that?\u201d he asked suspiciously.\n\n\u201cIf there is a D on it he may have it. Otherwise\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d\n\nThe finder produced it, unfolded it and looked at the \u201cleft-hand lower\ncorner.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell?\u201d she asked, smilingly. He frowned.\n\n\u201cIt\u2015\u2015it looks more like an H,\u201d he answered.\n\n\u201cIt is an H! Now may I have it?\u201d\n\n\u201cBut it ought to be a D,\u201d he said. \u201cH stands neither for Devereux,\nLaura, nor Clytie.\u201d\n\n\u201cI never said it did!\u201d\n\n\u201cThis is quite plainly not your property,\u201d he went on, refolding it.\n\u201cBeing unable to find the owner, I shall retain possession of it.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut it\u2019s mine!\u201d she cried.\n\n\u201cYours? What does the H stand for, then?\u201d\n\nShe hesitated and flushed.\n\n\u201cI never said my name was Laura Devereux,\u201d she murmured.\n\n\u201cNo, but you see I happen to know that it is.\u201d He replaced the\nhandkerchief in his pocket. Then he reached forward and took the paper\nand envelope from her lap. \u201cI shall write an advertisement myself,\u201d he\nsaid.\n\nShe watched him while he did so, biting her lip in smiling vexation.\nWhen it was done he passed the composition across to her.\n\n    \u201cFOUND!\u201d\n\n    \u201cA lady\u2019s lace-bordered handkerchief bearing the initial H in\n    one corner. Owner may recover same by proving ownership and\n    rewarding finder. Apply to Vertumnus, care Clytie, Lotus Pool,\n    Arcadia, between ten and twelve.\u201d\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\u201cWhat\u2019s the reward?\u201d she asked. He shook his head thoughtfully.\n\n\u201cI haven\u2019t decided yet. Something\u2015\u2015rather nice, I fancy.\u201d\n\nA faint flush crept into her cheeks and she turned her gaze toward the\npool.\n\n\u201cIt is much cooler to-day,\u201d she said.\n\n\u201cYes, last night\u2019s thunder-storm cleared the air,\u201d he replied, in a\nsimilar conversational tone. She glanced at the tiny watch hanging at\nher belt. Then she murmured something and sprang lightly to her feet\nbefore Ethan could go to her assistance.\n\n\u201cYou are not going?\u201d he asked in dismay.\n\nShe nodded gravely.\n\n\u201cBut it\u2019s quite early!\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t think it right to associate with dishonesty,\u201d she answered\nseverely. \u201cYou know very well that that handkerchief is mine!\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, I do,\u201d he answered. \u201cThat is, I saw you drop it yesterday.\nProbably it belongs really to someone else. Unless\u2015\u2015\u201d he smiled\u2015\u2015\u201cunless\nyou bought it at a bargain sale? In which case the initial didn\u2019t really\nmatter, I suppose.\u201d\n\n\u201cWill you give it to me?\u201d she asked unsmilingly.\n\n\u201cBut it\u2019s such a little thing!\u201d he pleaded earnestly. \u201cYou have so many\nmore that surely the loss of this one won\u2019t inconvenience you. And\nI\u2015\u2015I\u2019ve taken a fancy to it.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s a convenient excuse for theft!\u201d she answered.\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s the only one I have to offer,\u201d he replied humbly.\n\n\u201cBut\u2015\u2015it\u2019s so absurd!\u201d she cried impatiently. \u201cWhat can you want with\nit?\u201d\n\nHe was silent a moment. She glanced furtively at his face and then\nmoved a few steps toward the house.\n\n\u201cI wonder if you really want me to tell you?\u201d he mused.\n\n\u201cTell me what?\u201d she asked uneasily.\n\n\u201cWhy I want to keep it.\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t think I am\u2015\u2015especially interested,\u201d she answered coldly. \u201cAre\nyou going to return it?\u201d\n\n\u201cMaybe; in a moment. You don\u2019t want to hear the reason?\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2015\u2015Oh, well, what is the reason?\u201d she asked impatiently.\n\n\u201cA very simple one. As a handkerchief merely it doesn\u2019t attract me\nespecially. I have seen more beautiful ones, I think\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d\n\n\u201cWell!\u201d she gasped.\n\n\u201cMy desire to keep it arises from the simple fact that it is yours,\nClytie.\u201d\n\nShe strove to meet his gaze with one exhibiting the proper amount of\nhaughty resentment. But the attempt was a failure. After the first\nglance her eyes fell, the blood crept into her face and she turned\nquickly away.\n\n\u201cMay I keep it, please?\u201d he asked softly.\n\nShe went swiftly up the little slope under the trees.\n\n\u201cClytie!\u201d he called. She paused, without turning, to listen.\n\n\u201cMay I keep it?\u201d\n\nClytie dropped her head and passed quickly from sight.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nVII.\n\n\nEthan stretched his arms, chastely clad in striped blue and white\nmadras, yawned expansively, kicked his legs loose from the sheet in\nwhich they were entangled, and awoke; awoke to find the sunlight\ndancing across the room and making radiant blurs of his brushes on the\nold mahogany bureau; awoke to find a robin fervently launching his\nbrief ballad in through the window from the branches just outside;\nawoke to find himself in a new and very wonderful world, a world\npopulated by a girl with violet eyes, a reiterating robin, and himself!\n\n[Illustration]\n\nHe was in love!\n\nKnowledge of the fact came to him with a heart-clutching abruptness.\nHe had gone to sleep last night without premonition; he awoke now to\na startling illumination of mind. Whence had the tidings come? From\nthe dancing sunlight streaming across the old boards? From the scented\nbreeze that stirred the leaves out there? From the perfervid gossip\nof the swelling throat? Who could tell? And yet there it was, that\nknowledge, as real as the green summer earth awaiting him, as much a\npart of his life as the breath he drew!\n\nHe lay for a long while with his hands clasped under his head and\ngazed out into the beautiful green and golden and azure world, with a\nhappy smile on his face, thinking new and ineffable thoughts. It is a\nglorious thing to find oneself really, wholly in love for the first\ntime, glorious, wonderful, absorbing....\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThe robin ceased his p\u00e6an and was silent, with his head cocked\nattentively. Perhaps his ears were better than yours or mine and he\nheard a song sweeter and more triumphant than any of his own, for after\na moment of listening he spread his wings and floated down across\nsunlit spaces to the orchard.\n\nI wonder if the safety razor was not invented for the man in love.\nCertain it is that Ethan could never have used any other sort this\nmorning. At times, driven by a mad impatience to be out and away, he\nshaved frantically, as though he feared that Nature would roll up\nher landscape and be gone ere he could reach it; at times he stood\nmotionless, gazing unseeingly at the tip of his nose reflected in the\nold mirror. Now he whistled blithely, only to stop in the middle of\na note and relapse into a silent gravity. In short, he exhibited all\nthe symptoms, mental and physical, usually accompanying his disease;\ntemperature increased, pulse at once full and fluttering, respiration\nerratic, pupils of the eyes slightly dilated, mind apparently affected.\n\nHe dressed with unusual care, bewailing the fact that his choice of\ngarments was limited to two suits. Neither blue serge nor gray homespun\nseemed fitted for the occasion; his heart hankered after purple and\nfine linen. But at last he was dressed and was hurrying down the\ncreaking staircase to a late breakfast. Forty minutes later he was\nfloating amidst the lilies of Arcady.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThat line of stars, dear reader, is the typographic equivalent of\nthree wasted hours in the life of Ethan Parmley,\u2015\u2015three empty unhappy\nhours spent in and about a silly old puddle smelling like an apothecary\nshop (I am using his own language now) with only a trio of idiotic\nswans to talk to. The Nymph of the Violet Eyes came not.\n\nAnd yet he saw her that day, after all; caught a fleeting glimpse of\nher that at once assuaged and sharpened his hunger. He was on the porch\nof the Inn after dinner smoking, morosely, when a smart trap swept by\nfrom the direction of The Larches. It contained a coachman and two\nladies. One of the ladies had violet eyes, though, as her head was\nturned away from him and partly hidden by a white parasol, he could not\nhave proved it at the moment. As for the other, he couldn\u2019t have said\nwhether she was young or old, fair or dark. The pair of glistening,\nwell-groomed bays left Ethan scant time for observation. In a twinkling\nthe carriage and its precious burden were gone. And although he never\nleft the porch for more than a minute at a time all the rest of that\ninterminable summer afternoon he found no reward. There were other\nroads leading to The Larches.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThe evening mail brought him a note from Vincent Graves:\n\n    \u201cFarrell showed up here Monday with the car and your note. I\n    tried to find out from him what you were up to, but he either\n    didn\u2019t know or exercised a discretion I never credited him\n    with. I hope it is nothing more than sunstroke; folks have been\n    known to recover from that with their minds almost as good as\n    new. Anyhow, I am coming over in a few days to see for myself.\n    I know all about mythology\u2015\u2015accent on the _myth_. But look\n    here, no poaching on my preserves! I finished third yesterday\n    on time-allowance; would have done better if I hadn\u2019t carried\n    away my jib at the outer mark. No wind to speak of. Can\u2019t\n    you come on for Saturday\u2019s race? We\u2019ve had the car out once\n    or twice. There\u2019s something wrong with it. Farrell has it in\n    hospital to-day. My compliments to her, but tell her I need you\n    here.\n\n                                \u201cYours,\n\n                                                      \u201c_Vincent_.\u201d\n\nAfter supper Ethan drew a chair to the open window of his room, set the\nlamp precariously on the bureau where the light would fall upon the\nportfolio in his lap, and replied to Vincent:\n\n    \u201cMy dear Vincent (he wrote), life moves sweetly in Arcadia.\n    Clytie, she who beside her blossom-starred pool has so long\n    gazed, enamored, upon the fiery Apollo, now hearkens to the\n    wooing tones of green-garlanded Vertumnus. No more she fills\n    the leafy hollow with her tears and soft reproaches, but\n    reclined where shading branches defy the sun god\u2019s fiercest\n    rays, she smiles betimes upon Vertumnus. And he, bathing his\n    heart in the warm blue pools of her eyes, forgets and forswears\n    the too-coy Pomona. So, friend, runs the drama of Clytie the\n    dawn-eyed Nymph of the Lotus Pool; of Apollo, radiant and\n    unapproachable Lord of the Sun; and of Vertumnus, humble and\n    enamored God of the Seasons. Friend, for love of me, petition\n    fair Venus to aid my cause!\n\n    \u201cAnd now Jove be with you! The night wind steals sweetly\n    through Arcadia\u2019s moonlit glades and bears to my nostrils the\n    heart-stirring fragrance of lily and of lotus. It is Clytie\u2019s\n    breath upon my cheek. Ah, my friend, I weep for you that you\n    can never know the love of a god for a nymph in Arcady! May\n    Somnus, gentlest of the gods, send thee sweet dreams. Farewell.\n\n                                                     \u201cVERTUMNUS.\u201d\n\n    \u201cAnd now, having read this over, I see clearly that it is\n    beyond your understanding, my friend, and so it may be that it\n    will never reach your eyes.\u201d\n\nIt never did.\n\n\n\n\nVIII.\n\n\nIt sometimes rains even in Arcady.\n\nWhen Ethan arose the next morning he found that Apollo was taking a\nrest and that Jupiter was having things all his own way. At the foot\nof the orchard the little river was foaming and boiling with puny\nferocity. The grass was beaten and drenched and the foliage was adrip.\nBut in the shelter of the elm outside the window a robin chirped\ncheerfully, thinking doubtless of gustatory joys to come.\n\n\u201cWell, you\u2019re taking it philosophically, my friend,\u201d muttered Ethan,\n\u201cand I might as well follow your example, even though I have a soul\nabove fat worms. It\u2019s got to stop sometime, and I might as well make\nthe best of it meanwhile. Still,\u201d he added ruefully, \u201ca whole day in\nthis ramshackle old ark doesn\u2019t appeal to me much.\u201d\n\nHe dressed leisurely, ate breakfast slowly, and afterward sought to\nkill time with a book by a window in the tap-room. The volume, a\npaper-clad novel left by some former guest, answered well enough. It\nis doubtful if he could have given undivided attention to the most\nengrossing story ever written. The rain, streaking down the tiny panes,\ncaught strange hues from the old glass and the light from the crackling\nlogs in the fire-place. Sometimes they were green like tender new apple\nleaves in May, sometimes blue like rain-drenched violets, like\u2015\u2015no, not\nlike but, rather, reminiscent of, certain eyes! Ah, there was food for\nthought! The novel was turned face-downward on his knee, the cigarette\ndrooped thoughtfully from the corner of his mouth and his hands went\ndeep into his pockets. Those eyes! Rain-drenched violets? By jove,\nyes! No simile, no comparison could be better! Rain-drenched violets\ntouched by the yellow light of the sun stealing back through gray\nclouds! Rather an elaborate description, he thought with a smile at his\nsentimentalism. The smile deepened as he recalled the infinitesimal\nblue circle under the left eye, a little blue vein showing with\ncharming distinctness against the warm pallor of the skin like a vein\nin soft-toned marble. It was a little thing to recall, little in all\nways, but it seemed to him a veritable triumph of the memory! By half\nclosing his eyes he could almost see it.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n_Slam!_\n\nThe paper-covered novel fell to the floor and lay fluttering its leaves\nin helpless appeal. He rescued it and sought his place again, smiling\nwith real amusement over his foolishness.\n\n\u201cI\u2019m certainly behaving like an idiot,\u201d he thought. \u201cI never knew\nbeing in love was so\u2015\u2015so deuced unsettling. First thing I know, if\nI don\u2019t keep a pretty steady hand on the reins, I\u2019ll be writing\npoetry or roaming around the place cutting hearts and initials in the\ntree-trunks! H\u2019m; let me see now; where was I? Ah, here we have it!\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\u201c\u2018Garrison laid the diamond trinket gently back on the desk and puffed\nslowly at his cigar. Presently he turned with disconcerting abruptness\nto Mrs. Staniford. \u201cThere is no possibility of mistake?\u201d he asked.\n\u201cNone,\u201d was the firm reply. \u201cYou could swear to the identity of this\njewel in court?\u201d \u201cYes.\u201d Garrison whipped a small round, black object\nfrom his pocket and settled it against his eye. Then he took up the\ntrinket again and bent over it closely. \u201cMy dear madam,\u201d he said\nsoftly, \u201cif you did that you would be making a grave mistake.\u201d \u201cWhat\ndo you mean?\u201d she cried fiercely. \u201cI mean,\u201d was the smiling response,\n\u201cthat this is not one of your jewels,\u2015\u2015unless\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d \u201cWell?\u201d she\nprompted impatiently. \u201cUnless, my dear madam, you wear paste!\u201d A sharp\ninvoluntary exclamation of surprise startled them. They turned quickly.\nLord Burslem was crossing the library with white, set face.\u2019\n\n\u201cPshaw! I knew all along the things were paste,\u201d sighed Ethan.\n\u201cSingleton is Mrs. Staniford\u2019s son by a former marriage and she has\npinched the stones and given them to him to get him out of a scrape,\nsomething to do with that lachrymose Miss Deene, maybe; at least,\nsomething she knows about. Laurence is as innocent as the untrodden\nsnow, or whatever the correct simile is, and if I keep on to the last\nchapter I\u2019ll find out that fact. But I prefer to believe him guilty. He\nwore a gardenia in his buttonhole, and that settles it. I can\u2019t stand\nfor a man who wears gardenias. I insist that he is guilty.\u201d\n\nHe tossed the book half-way across the room, arose, stretched his long\narms above his head and stared out of the window. The rain was falling\nstraight down from the dark sky in a manner that would doubtless have\npleased Isaac Newton greatly, showing as it did so perfectly the\nattraction of gravitation. The drops were of immense size, and when one\nstruck the window pane it spread itself out into a very pool before\nit trickled down to the sash. Ethan watched for awhile, then yawned,\nglanced at his watch and lounged in to dinner.\n\nAbout three o\u2019clock the sky lightened somewhat and the torrential\ndownpour gave way to a quiet drizzle. He donned a raincoat and sought\nthe road. It was not bad walking, for the surface was well drained, and\nhe had put three-quarters of a mile behind him before he had considered\neither distance or destination. Then, looking around and finding the\nhighway lined on the right by an ornamental iron fence through which\nshrubs thrust their wet leaves, he smiled and shrugged his shoulders.\n\n\u201cI didn\u2019t mean to come here,\u201d he said to himself, \u201cbut now that I\u2019m\nhere I might as well go on and tantalize myself with a look at the\nhouse.\u201d\n\nAnother minute brought him to a broad gate, flanked by high stone\npillars. A well-kept drive-way swept curving back to a large white\nhouse, a house a little too pretentious to entirely please Ethan.\nOn one side,\u2015\u2015the side, as he knew, nearest the lotus pool,\u2015\u2015an\nuncovered porch jutted out, and from this steps led to a white pergola.\nThe latter was a recent addition and as yet the grapevines had not\nsucceeded wholly in covering its nakedness. From one of the windows on\nthe lower floor of the house a dull orange glow emanated.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\u201cThey\u2019ve got a fire there,\u201d said Ethan, \u201cand she\u2019s sitting in front of\nit. Wish I was!\u201d\n\nHe settled the collar of his raincoat closer about his neck to keep out\nthe drops, and sighed.\n\n\u201cYou know,\u201d he went on then, somewhat defiantly, addressing himself\napparently to the residence, \u201cthere\u2019s no reason why I shouldn\u2019t walk\nright up the drive, ring the bell and ask for\u2015\u2015for Mr. Devereux. I\u2019ve\ngot the best excuse in the world. And once inside it would be odd if I\ndidn\u2019t see Her. I\u2019ve half a mind to do it! Only\u2015\u2015perhaps she\u2019d rather I\nwouldn\u2019t. And\u2015\u2015I won\u2019t.\u201d\n\nHe took a final survey of the premises and turned away with another\nsigh. Before he had reached the Inn the clouds had broken in the south\nand a little wind was shaking the raindrops from the leaves along the\nroad.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\u201cA good sailing breeze,\u201d he thought. \u201cAnd, by the bye, this is\nSaturday. I ought to be at Stillhaven helping Vin win that race. I\nsuppose I\u2019ve disappointed him. However, a fellow can\u2019t be in two places\nat once; he ought to know that.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nIX.\n\n\nThe little breeze had held all night, and this morning the trees and\nshrubs were quite dry again, but looking better for their bath. It was\nSunday, and as the canoe floated into the harbor of the lotus pool a\ndistant church bell was ringing. Perhaps, he told himself with a sudden\nsinking of the heart, he was doomed to another day without sight of\nClytie; for it might be that the family would drive to church. But the\nfirst fair look about him dispelled his forebodings. She was standing\nat the border of the pool throwing crumbs of bread to the swans. She\nsaw him at almost the same moment and smiled.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t come any nearer, please,\u201d she said. \u201cYou\u2019ll scare them.\u201d\n\nHe dipped his paddle obediently and sat silent in the rocking craft\nuntil the last crumb had been distributed and she had brushed the\ncrumbs from her outstretched hands. Stooping, she picked a book from\nthe grass and faced him.\n\n[Illustration: SHE WAS THROWING CRUMBS OF BREAD TO THE SWANS.]\n\n\u201cMay I come ashore?\u201d he asked.\n\n\u201cYou are already trespassing dreadfully,\u201d she objected.\n\n\u201c\u2018In for a penny, in for a pound,\u2019\u201d he replied, sending the canoe\nforward. \u201c\u2018Might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb.\u2019 And if I\ncould think of any other proverbs applicable to the matter I\u2019d quote\nthem.\u201d He jumped out and pulled the bow of the canoe onto the turf.\n\n\u201cYou won\u2019t mind, however, if I decline to stay and be hung with you?\u201d\nshe asked.\n\n\u201cOn the contrary, I should mind very much. In fact, I demand that you\nremain and go bail for me in case I\u2019m apprehended.\u201d\n\n\u201cI fear I couldn\u2019t afford it,\u201d she answered.\n\n\u201cDoubtless your word would serve,\u201d he said. \u201cPerhaps, if you told them\nthe excellent character I bear, you might get me off scot-free.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut I don\u2019t think I know enough about your character.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere\u2019s something in that,\u201d he allowed. \u201cPerhaps you had better\nobserve me closely for the next hour or two. One can learn a great deal\nabout another person\u2019s character by observation.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow can I do that if I go to church?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou can\u2019t. That\u2019s one reason why you\u2019re not going to church.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! And\u2015\u2015are there other reasons?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes.\u201d\n\n\u201cPerhaps you had better give a few of them. I don\u2019t think the first one\nis especially convincing.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, another one is that I haven\u2019t seen you for three days.\u201d\n\nShe shook her head gravely.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\u201cGo on, please.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot good enough? Well, then, another reason is that you haven\u2019t seen\nme for three days.\u201d\n\nShe laughed amusedly.\n\n\u201cWorse and worse,\u201d she said.\n\n\u201cI didn\u2019t think you\u2019d care much for that argument,\u201d he responded\ncheerfully. \u201cIt was somewhat in the nature of an experiment, you see.\nBut the real unanswerable reason is this: I have missed seeing you\nvery much, I have been very dull, you are naturally kind-hearted and\nwould not unnecessarily cause pain or disappointment, and I beg of you\nto give me a few moments of your cheerful society! Is that\u2015\u2015better?\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t particularly care for it.\u201d\n\n\u201cMiss Devereux\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat have I told you?\u201d she warned.\n\n\u201cI beg pardon! But\u2015\u2015now, really, please let me call you by a Christian\nname! I\u2015\u2015I\u2019d like to graduate from mythology.\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t think it would be proper for you to call me by my Christian\nname,\u201d she answered demurely.\n\n\u201cA Christian name, I said,\u201d he answered patiently. \u201cTell me why you\ndon\u2019t want me to address you as Miss Devereux, please.\u201d\n\n\u201cBecause\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d She stopped and dropped her gaze. \u201cWe\u2019ve never been\nproperly introduced, have we?\u201d\n\n\u201cTrue! Allow me, pray! Miss Devereux, may I present Mr. Parmley? Mr.\nParmley, Miss Devereux!\u201d He stepped forward, smiling politely and\nmurmuring his pleasure, and ere she knew what was happening he was\nshaking hands with her. \u201cAwfully glad to meet you, Miss Devereux!\u201d he\nassured her cordially.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nShe backed away, striving to draw her hand from his, and laughing\nmerrily.\n\n\u201cIs that what you call a proper introduction?\u201d she asked.\n\n\u201cWell, it\u2019s the best I could do under the circumstances,\u201d Ethan\nanswered. \u201cHaving no mutual acquaintances handy, you see\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t you think\u2015\u2015you might let go now?\u201d she asked, her laughter dying\ndown to a nervous smile.\n\n\u201cLet go?\u201d he echoed questioningly.\n\n\u201cPlease! You have my hand!\u201d\n\nHe looked down at it in mild surprise; then into her face.\n\n\u201cIsn\u2019t that the strangest thing? I was never so surprised\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015!\u201d\n\n\u201cBut\u2015\u2015Mr. Parmley, please let go,\u201d she begged.\n\n\u201cYou don\u2019t mean to say that I still have it?\u201d He tried to seem at ease\nand to speak carelessly, but his heart was pounding as though striving\nto do the Anvil Chorus all by itself, and his voice wasn\u2019t quite steady.\n\n\u201cI do,\u201d she answered coldly, biting her lip a little. A disk of red\nburned in each cheek. Her eyes were fixed on his imprisoning hand.\n\u201cBesides, you are hurting me,\u201d she added, falling back upon the fib\nwhich is a woman\u2019s last resource in such a quandary. But he shook his\nhead soberly.\n\n\u201cPardon me, but that\u2019s impossible. You will observe that my hand is\nquite loose about yours. Accuse me of unlawful detention, if you wish,\nbut not of cruelty.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut\u2015\u2015but it is my hand,\u201d she protested faintly.\n\n\u201cWell, that is nothing to boast of,\u201d he replied smiling somewhat\ntremulously. She had kept her eyes from him all along and he was\ndetermined to see them before he gave up. \u201cLook at mine; it\u2019s twice as\nbig!\u201d\n\nThe brown lashes fluttered for an instant and Ethan nerved himself for\nthe shock of looking into those violet eyes. He didn\u2019t know what was\ngoing to happen, he assured himself in a sudden delicious panic, and\nhe didn\u2019t much care. Probably he would do something awfully rude,\nsomething that would frighten and anger her, something for which she\nwould never forgive him! Perhaps the sudden trembling of his hand about\nhers warned her, for the lashes lay still again. A moment of silence\nfollowed, during which Ethan\u2019s heart threatened to choke him. Then all\nat once the little warm hand ceased tugging and lay limp and inert in\nhis. She turned her head and looked toward the trees and the shade.\n\n\u201cIf we are going to hold hands for any length of time,\u201d she remarked\ncoolly, \u201cperhaps we had better sit down and be comfortable.\u201d\n\nEthan released her instantly, while a wave of burning color swept\nacross his face. He felt terribly small and ridiculous! He realized\nthat he had taken it for granted that she had been experiencing\nemotions similar to his own, and instead of that she had been only\nbored and\u2015\u2015and exasperated! He followed her laggingly up the slope,\nsavagely calling himself names and meditating a retirement in such\norder as was still possible. She seated herself comfortably on the\ngrass with her back against the smooth round trunk of a maple and\npatted down her skirts. Then she glanced up at him calmly.\n\n\u201cDo you realize,\u201d she asked, \u201cthat you have made me late for church?\u201d\n\nHe was grateful for that ready change of subject and piqued that she\nshould be so little disconcerted. His own heart was still dancing.\n\n\u201cI am an humble instrument of Providence,\u201d he answered as lightly as he\ncould, dropping to the ground at a respectful distance from the tips\nof her small shoes.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\u201cThat sounds a little sacrilegious,\u201d she said. \u201cBesides\u2015\u2015_humble_?\u201d\n\n\u201cHumble, yes,\u201d he answered. \u201cI can\u2019t think of a better word, unless it\nis \u2018abashed.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cBut why do you call yourself an instrument of Providence? Because you\nlive there?\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2018That sounds a little sacrilegious,\u2019\u201d he quoted. \u201cI meant that if you\nhad gone to church you would have made yourself very warm and possibly\nreturned with a headache. I have saved you from that.\u201d\n\n\u201cThank you! But of course if it hadn\u2019t been for the introduction I\ncouldn\u2019t have stayed!\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is understood,\u201d he responded with becoming gravity. She smiled\nacross as though amused by some thought, and Ethan felt vaguely\nuncomfortable.\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s possible,\u201d she said thoughtfully, \u201cthat you might have found a\nmutual acquaintance after all to perform the ceremony for you.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, I dare say; one usually can if one hunts long enough. It\u2019s a\ncommon enough process, and not especially difficult. For instance, I\nask, \u2018You are acquainted in Boston, Miss Dev\u2015\u2015Miss Unknown!\u2019 You reply\n\u2018Slightly, Mr. Parmley.\u2019 \u2018Perhaps you know the Smiths?\u2019 \u2018Smith, Smith?\nN\u2015\u2015no, I don\u2019t think so. Are they friends of the Joneses?\u2019 \u2018I dare\nsay; I\u2019ve never met the Joneses. Come to think of it, though, there\nwere some Joneses visiting the Robinsons at Nahant last summer; he is\na banker, I think; there were two daughters and a son just entering\ncollege,\u2019 \u2018Oh, were you at Nahant?\u2019 you inquire. \u2018Then perhaps you\nmet the Browns there?\u2019 \u2018Yes.\u2019 \u2018Really? Isn\u2019t that jolly? Did you know\nGwendolin?\u2019 \u2018Well, rather!\u2019 I reply in a tone insinuating that it\nwas rather desperate while it lasted. \u2018Isn\u2019t that odd?\u2019 you exclaim.\n\u2018Yes, funny how small the world is, isn\u2019t it?\u2019 I remark with startling\noriginality. Then we\u2019re acquainted. Yes, it\u2019s simplicity itself.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt certainly sounds so!\u201d she laughed. \u201cLet us try it!\u201d\n\n\u201cVery well.\u201d\n\nShe frowned intently for a moment, then,\n\n\u201cAre you acquainted in Stillhaven, Mr. Parmley?\u201d she asked.\n\n\u201cWhy, yes,\u201d he answered, in surprise.\n\n\u201cThen perhaps you know the\u2015\u2015the Penniwells?\u201d\n\n\u201cSorry to say I don\u2019t,\u201d he replied, laughing.\n\n\u201cNo? They live in the next house to the hotel.\u201d\n\n\u201cHotel? Ah, I think I\u2019ve met the Hotels! Was there a son about my age,\nwith\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t be absurd!\u201d she laughed. \u201cWe\u2019ll never get on if you don\u2019t go by\nthe rules.\u201d\n\n\u201cI thought I was,\u201d he answered.\n\n\u201cLet me see! Oh, yes, the Graveses, do you know them?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, yes; do you?\u201d he answered interestedly.\n\n\u201cI\u2019ve met them.\u201d\n\n\u201cVincent is a great friend of mine,\u201d he said eagerly. \u201cI was on my way\nto visit them for a while when\u2015\u2015when I stopped here.\u201d\n\n\u201cReally?\u201d she cried. \u201cHow small the world is, after all!\u201d\n\nThey laughed together. Then,\n\n\u201cAnd you know Vin?\u201d he asked.\n\n\u201cYes, I\u2015\u2015I\u2019ve met him,\u201d she replied. Her tone hinted of embarrassment.\n\n\u201cOh!\u201d said Ethan thoughtfully. Had he discovered the explanation of\nVincent\u2019s puzzling warning? Was the girl before him the \u201cpreserves\u201d\nreferred to by his friend? Ethan\u2019s heart sank for a moment. Nonsense!\nShe had plainly implied that she knew him only slightly, in which case\nshe didn\u2019t belong any more to Vin than to him. \u201cYou don\u2019t know him very\nwell, then?\u201d he questioned anxiously.\n\n\u201cAren\u2019t you a\u2015\u2015well, just a weeny bit inquisitive?\u201d she asked smilingly.\n\n\u201cIt may sound so,\u201d he acknowledged, \u201cbut, you see, it means a good deal\nto me; it\u2019s rather important.\u201d\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\u201cImportant?\u201d she repeated wonderingly.\n\n\u201cYes, you see\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d But of course he couldn\u2019t explain why it was\nimportant. So he floundered helplessly a moment. \u201cYes\u2015\u2015that is\u2015\u2015well,\nthey are very good friends of mine, Vin especially, and\u2015\u2015\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, you feared perhaps I wasn\u2019t a proper person for them to know?\u201d\n\n\u201cGood heaven, no!\u201d\n\n\u201cThen I don\u2019t see\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015!\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t blame you,\u201d he said discouragedly. \u201cReally, I was only talking\nnonsense. I\u2015\u2015I thought that if you knew them well, and I knew them\nwell, then we\u2015\u2015we might know each other well!\u201d\n\nShe gazed at him sorrowfully a moment. Then she shook her head\ndisappointedly.\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d she said, \u201cno, that wasn\u2019t at all what you meant. I suppose even\nstudying for the law has its effect.\u201d\n\nHe laughed embarrassedly.\n\n\u201cMay I see what you are reading?\u201d he asked.\n\nShe lifted the volume from her lap, gravely took a folded handkerchief\nfrom between the leaves where it had been doing duty as a mark, and\nhanded him the book.\n\n\u201cI\u2019m sorry you can\u2019t trust me,\u201d he laughed.\n\n\u201cSo am I,\u201d was the regretful response. \u201cIt is terrible to have a friend\nboth a\u2015\u2015a prevaricator and a\u2015\u2015a\u2015\u2015a\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d\n\n\u201cEmbezzler,\u201d he suggested helpfully. \u201cYes, it is bad. \u2018Love Sonnets\nfrom the Portuguese,\u2019\u201d he continued, reading the title. \u201cMay I ask if\nyou were going to take this to church with you?\u201d\n\n\u201cI hadn\u2019t thought of it. I suppose, like most men, you consider them\nsilly and sentimental,\u201d she challenged.\n\nHe shook his head.\n\n\u201cSweet and sentimental, rather,\u201d he replied.\n\n\u201cYou could hardly be expected to care for them, I suppose,\u201d she said.\n\u201cYour tastes, if I recollect aright, run rather toward \u2018The Ingoldsby\nLegends\u2019!\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is indeed unkind,\u201d he murmured sorrowfully. \u201cNo, I am very fond\nof these, this one especially; if it were not Sunday I would read it.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat has Sunday got to do with it?\u201d she asked.\n\n\u201cPerhaps nothing,\u201d was the reply. \u201cI dare say it is only my Puritanism\ncropping out. You know we New Englanders find it very difficult\nto reconcile pleasure with religion. I can fancy the ghost of my\ngreat-great-great-grandfather, in sugar-loaf hat and with beruffed\nneck, standing over there in the shadows, holding his hands aloft in\nholy horror at the sight of me sitting here on Sunday morning with a\nvolume of love-poems in my hands.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat nonsense!\u201d she cried indignantly. \u201cIsn\u2019t love just as holy as\u2015\u2015as\nanything? Isn\u2019t\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d She stopped abruptly and Ethan, lifting his head,\nfound her gazing toward him with something almost like horror in her\nwide eyes.\n\n\u201cWhat is it?\u201d he cried anxiously.\n\nShe shook her head and dropped her gaze to the hands folded on her\nknees.\n\n\u201cNothing,\u201d she said very quietly. She laughed softly, uncertainly.\n\u201cWill you give me my book, please?\u201d she asked.\n\n\u201cOf course,\u201d he answered, still puzzled. Then, as he started to hand it\nto her, it opened at the fly-leaf and he drew it back. \u201cLaura Frances\nDevereux,\u201d he read aloud. He smiled quizzically as he returned the\nvolume.\n\n\u201cThat proves nothing,\u201d she replied defiantly. \u201cI\u2015\u2015I might have borrowed\nit.\u201d\n\n\u201cTrue, circumstantial evidence is not absolutely conclusive,\nunless\u2015\u2015unless there is a good deal of it!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou may think what you choose,\u201d she answered lightly. She looked at\nher watch and prepared to rise. This time Ethan was ready. She gave him\nher hand and he helped her to her feet. The hand drew itself gently but\ndeterminedly out of his and he let it go without a struggle.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\u201cMust you go?\u201d he asked.\n\nShe nodded. Then she laughed.\n\n\u201cIf you only knew what trouble I have getting here you\u2019d appreciate\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d\nShe broke off, reddening a little.\n\n\u201cI do appreciate,\u201d he said earnestly. \u201cAnd I thank you very much for\nyour kindness this morning to a very undeserving chap. I\u2015\u2015do you know,\nMiss Devereux, I came within an ace of calling at The Larches yesterday\nafternoon?\u201d\n\nShe looked up quickly.\n\n\u201cYes, I went for a walk in the afternoon and found myself at the gate\nover there. I could see that you had a fire in the library and\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d\n\n\u201cBut how did you know it was the library?\u201d she asked.\n\n\u201cWhy\u2015\u2015er\u2015\u2015wasn\u2019t it? I supposed it was. Anyhow, it looked dreadfully\ntempting. I pictured you sitting in front of it, and I very nearly paid\na call.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019m glad you didn\u2019t,\u201d she breathed.\n\n\u201cWhy?\u201d\n\n\u201cBecause\u2015\u2015why, you don\u2019t know me!\u201d\n\n\u201cI should have asked for your father and introduced myself.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, you certainly don\u2019t lack assurance!\u201d she gasped.\n\n\u201cIt would have been all right,\u201d he assured her cheerfully.\n\n\u201cYou wouldn\u2019t have found him, though,\u201d she said dryly.\n\n\u201cThen I would have asked for Mrs. Devereux, and, failing her, Miss\nDevereux. You see, yesterday I was a bit desperate,\u201d he added smilingly.\n\n\u201cDesperate! I should say foolhardy!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy? Because I wanted to see you? Look here, please; why shouldn\u2019t I\ncall on you at the house? As I\u2019ve told you, I\u2019m fairly respectable.\nAnd\u2015\u2015and I want to see you\u2015\u2015more often! I suppose it sounds dreadfully\ncheeky,\u201d he went on softly, \u201cbut I want you to like me, and it doesn\u2019t\nseem to me that I get a fair show.\u201d\n\nThe color came and went in her cheeks and the violets were hidden from\nhim.\n\n\u201cIt certainly does sound\u2015\u2015cheeky, as you call it,\u201d she said after a\nmoment, rather unsteadily. \u201cConsidering that you have seen me but four\ntimes.\u201d\n\n\u201cFive, if you please. Besides, I don\u2019t see that that matters. In fact,\nI rather think the mischief was done the first time!\u201d\n\nHe captured her hand and for a moment it only fluttered in his grasp.\nThen it tried for liberty, but unsuccessfully. A moment passed, and,\n\n\u201cAre you making love to me, Mr. Parmley?\u201d she asked, with a little\namused laugh. It was like a cold douche, but he resisted his first\nimpulse to release her.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\u201cYes, I am,\u201d he answered stoutly. \u201cThat\u2019s just what I\u2019m doing! And I\u2019m\ngoing to keep on doing it until I\u2019m convinced that there\u2019s no hope for\nme. Please don\u2019t struggle,\u201d he continued, capturing her other hand\nalso. \u201cI\u2019ll let you go in just a moment. Maybe I\u2019m behaving a good deal\nlike a bully, but I\u2019m head-over-heels in love with you, Laura, and\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, no! Please!\u201d she cried, with a little catch in her voice.\n\n\u201cWhat\u2015\u2015what have I done?\u201d he asked anxiously.\n\n\u201cI\u2015\u2015You mustn\u2019t call me that!\u201d\n\n\u201cVery well, I won\u2019t\u2015\u2015yet. But I think of you as Laura\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t want you to!\u201d\n\n\u201cThen I\u2019ll try not to,\u201d he answered gently. \u201cBut\u2015\u2015couldn\u2019t you make me\nvery happy by telling me that I\u2019ve got a chance with you, dear? Just\nthe ghost of a chance?\u201d\n\nThe bowed head shook negatively.\n\n\u201cYou won\u2019t? Or\u2015\u2015you can\u2019t?\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2015\u2015I won\u2019t,\u201d she whispered.\n\nHe uttered a cry and strove to draw her toward him, but she resisted\nwith all her strength.\n\n\u201cPlease! _Please!_\u201d she gasped.\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll\u2015\u2015try not to,\u201d he said ruefully. \u201cBut I may call at the house?\nYou\u2019ll let me do that, won\u2019t you?\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2015\u2015suppose so,\u201d she murmured faintly.\n\n\u201cTo-day?\u201d he cried. \u201cTo-morrow?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, no! Wait, please; let me think.\u201d She raised a pair of troubled\neyes to his for an instant. \u201cI must see you again first. I have\nsomething to tell you; something which may make a difference.\nPerhaps\u2015\u2015perhaps you won\u2019t want to see me again\u2015\u2015then!\u201d\n\nHe laughed disdainfully.\n\n\u201cTry me! And when will you tell me this\u2015\u2015this wonderful news? To-morrow\nmorning? Here?\u201d\n\nShe nodded and strove to release her hands. After a moment of\nindecision he let them go. She stood before him motionless an instant.\nThen she raised her head slowly and he saw that her eyes were wet. With\nan inarticulate cry of pain and longing he started forward, but she\nheld a hand against him.\n\n\u201cPlease!\u201d she said again, imploringly. His outstretched arms dropped\nto his sides. \u201cIf I shouldn\u2019t come\u2015\u2015to-morrow\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d she began.\n\n\u201cBut you\u2019ve promised!\u201d\n\n\u201cI know.\u201d She nodded assent. \u201cBut\u2015\u2015but if I shouldn\u2019t\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d\n\n\u201cBut you will!\u201d he cried. \u201cI shall be here, dear! Don\u2019t fail me! If you\ndon\u2019t come I\u2019ll go to the house!\u201d\n\n\u201cThen I must,\u201d she said with a little smile. \u201cAnd now\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d She went to\nhim and placed her hands on his shoulders and felt him tremble under\nher touch. She raised her eyes, violets darkened and dewy with unshed\ntears, to his. \u201cWill you do one thing for me?\u201d\n\n[Illustration: SHE WENT TO HIM AND PLACED HER HANDS ON HIS SHOULDERS.]\n\nHis eyes answered.\n\n\u201cThen, please,\u2015\u2015\u201d she dropped her head in sudden shame\u2015\u2015\u201ckiss me\nonce\u2015\u2015and let me go.\u201d\n\nHis arms closed about her hungrily, but she held back.\n\n\u201cPromise!\u201d she whispered \u201cPromise to let me go!\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d he groaned, \u201cI promise.\u201d\n\nFor an instant he was looking far, far down into dim, wonderful violet\ndepths....\n\nThen he was alone. He turned unseeingly toward the canoe and trod upon\nthe book which lay forgotten on the grass. Stooping, he rescued it and\ndropped it into his pocket.\n\n\u201cI\u2019m getting to be an awful thief!\u201d he murmured tremulously.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nX.\n\n\nA glorious golden afternoon, a scintillant silvery night, and\nthen\u2015\u2015Dawn\u2019s pink finger-tips aquiver on the edges of the hills and\nthe bursting forth of a new day to the exultant overture of Nature\u2019s\norchestra.\n\nEthan looked forth from the open window on to the most beautiful sight\ngiven to the eyes of mortals,\u2015\u2015the fresh, sparkling morning world\nof summer seen through the magnifying lenses of love. The orchard\nwas fresh and vivid with the tender greens of sun-shot leaves and\ngrass, and dark and cool with pools of pleasant shadow. Dew-gems\nshimmered under the caressing breeze and the tips of the spreading,\nreaching branches nodded and whispered together. Beyond, the little\nsilver-voiced river laughed amongst its shallows and flashed in\nthe sunlight. From the marshland came the happy gurgle of a flock\nof red-winged blackbirds, while fainter, yet sweet and clear, the\nlight-hearted tinkle of the bobolink floated across from the rising\nmeadows. Sleek, well-conditioned robins balanced amidst the apple-trees\nand sang contentedly between groomings of their red waistcoats. And\nlouder, clearer, gladder sang Ethan\u2019s heart.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nDear reader, have you ever been young and in love on a summer morning?\nDo you recollect how intoxicating was the soft, sweet breeze that\nentered through the open window? How like liquid gold the sunshine\nspread across the sill and dripped upon the floor? How every bird-note\nwas but a different rendering of the one sweet name? How eager and\nimpatient you were to be out in the good green world and how loth to\ncease your dreaming long enough to dress? What a vastly important thing\nwas the selection of a tie or a ribbon? I hope that you remember these\nthings if you have forgotten all else!\n\nThe lotus pool never glowed more brilliantly, never sparkled more\nradiantly than it did this morning. It was not difficult to imagine\nthat those floating cups held the colors into which Nature dipped her\nbrushes ere she painted the summer flowers. The lazy, luxury-loving\nswans were dozing in the sunlight on their tiny island. The cascade\nplashed and tinkled over moss and stone. The fringing trees blew\nwelcome shade upon the grassy sides of the little basin. And Ethan,\nlifting his dripping paddle as the canoe rippled its way across\nthe mirror-like surface, drew a deep breath of the scented air and\nexperienced a sudden bewildering joy of life, an almost paganish\nexultation. It seemed to him this morning that the world and he drew\nbreath together.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nIt was early when he floated into Arcady and there were no violet eyes\nto greet him. But his impatience was soothed by the happiness which\nremembrance gave him. He dreamed there in the sunshine, lighting a\ncigarette now and then and letting it burn itself out unnoticed between\nhis fingers. White clouds floated across the blue sky and across the\nsurface of the pool. Dragon-flies, their metallic-lustred wings ablaze,\ndarted and turned. Birds sang and insects buzzed, the breeze gossiped\nto the leaves and the moments passed. When he finally awoke fully from\nhis dreaming and looked wonderingly at his watch the morning was almost\ngone. He turned disappointed eyes toward the brief vista afforded by\nthe jealous trees. No glimpse of white drapery rewarded him. She had\nsaid that she might not come. Why? Vaguely troubled, he propelled the\ncanoe to the bank and stepped out. Under the shade of the willow made\nforever sacred by their meetings he threw himself down and waited while\nthe long hand of his watch crept laggingly half-way around the dial.\nBut patience had flown, and when the time he had set himself had passed\nhe jumped to his feet and set off up the lawn under the trees.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nPresently the corner of the white pergola sprang into view. Then the\ntrees thinned away and he was looking across an open, sun-bathed\nstretch of lawn at the gleaming house. And as he looked, himself a\nscarcely noticeable figure against the green shadows of the grove,\nthe front veranda of the house became suddenly peopled with a girl in\na white frock and a man in gray flannels. They came together through\nthe doorway and paused side by side at the top of the steps. Even at\nthat distance Ethan recognized them only too well. The man had taken\nthe girl\u2019s hand and was speaking to her. Ethan watched for an instant\nonly, yet in that instant he saw with a sudden sinking of the heart how\nthe girl\u2019s head, the sunlight aglint on the brown hair, lifted itself\nwith a little gesture of intimate happiness to her companion. Then, in\na sickening panic lest he might see more, Ethan turned quickly and\nplunged back into the shadows.\n\nAll the way back to the Inn, with every stroke and lift of the paddle,\na refrain hammered ceaselessly at his brain: \u201cNo poaching on my\npreserves! No poaching on my preserves!\u201d What an ass he had been not to\nunderstand! He hated Vincent as he had never hated anyone in his life,\nrealizing all the while the absolute injustice of it. Why hadn\u2019t he\nguessed from Vincent\u2019s note how the land lay? He might have known that\nVincent could have referred to no one but Her. But why couldn\u2019t the\nfool have come out honestly and told him? A week ago, even three days\nago would have been time! Then, in the next moment, he knew that that\nwas not so, that it had always been too late, always since that first\nmeeting! Yet why, if she were Vincent\u2019s, had she allowed him to love\nher? Why had she virtually acknowledged her love for him? Why\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\n\n[Illustration]\n\nHe remembered that kiss with a sudden choking, clutching sensation\nat his throat. Had she meant nothing by that? Nothing? No, she had\nmeant all, everything that he had hoped! She did love him, and neither\nVincent Graves nor anyone else could have her! But that exultation was\nshort-lived. What she had meant was of little moment; she belonged to\nVincent by promise if by naught else, and Vincent was his friend.\n\nThings were suddenly greatly simplified. His tangled thoughts smoothed\nthemselves out and he gave a sigh that was partly of relief. At least\nhis duty was plain. \u201cNo poaching on my preserves!\u201d He had only to heed\nthat warning and take himself out of the way. That thought steadied\nhim down and his pulses ceased their deafening pounding. It wouldn\u2019t\nbe easy, that duty! He knew that well enough, although at this moment\nhe was viewing it almost calmly. When the present excitement passed he\nwould find it hard going!\n\nThe prospect of facing Vincent troubled him more than anything else\nas he drew the canoe from the water and laid it on its rack under the\ntrees. Vincent was probably even now awaiting him up there on the\nporch. For a moment he thought of taking the canoe again and stealing\noff up the stream for a ways and then walking across to the station\nand taking the train for\u2015\u2015anywhere out of all this! But it would be a\nsneaking, cowardly thing to do. Besides, sooner or later Vincent and\nhe must meet, and as well now as any time. He lighted a cigarette with\nfingers that trembled a little and walked up through the orchard.\n\nAs he had expected, Vincent Graves was awaiting him on the porch. He\nwas a tall, dark, fine-looking fellow, with a deep, pleasant voice and\na remarkable, careless ease of manner; just the sort of a chap, Ethan\ntold himself, that any sensible girl would fall in love with. Vincent\ndid not see him for a moment, and in that moment Ethan had opportunity\nto study his friend with a new interest, view him from a novel point.\nBut he found he could not be coldly critical; Vincent was Vincent,\nwholly admirable and lovable; and Ethan\u2019s heart warmed under a sudden\ninrush of affection as he went forward with outstretched hand.\n\n\u201cHello, Vin!\u201d he said.\n\nVincent swung about, seized the hand and grasped it warmly.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\u201cWhy, you old chump!\u201d he responded, smiling broadly. \u201cAren\u2019t you\nashamed to look me in the eye? What have you been doing with yourself?\nHow\u2019s mythology?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhen did you come up?\u201d asked Ethan, echoing the smile.\n\n\u201cThis morning. Stopped at\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d He looked at Ethan with a quick lowering\nof the eyebrows. \u201cLook here, what\u2019s the matter with you? You have\nthe cheerful, care-free countenance of a gentleman strolling to the\ngallows! Been ill?\u201d\n\n\u201cIll?\u201d laughed Ethan. \u201cCertainly not; never felt better in my life.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf you felt any better you\u2019d scream, eh? Well, you\u2019ve been up to\nsomething, Ethan, and you can lie yourself black in the face for all I\ncare. You\u2019re going back with me this evening; that\u2019s settled. I came\nover in your machine and for a wonder it didn\u2019t even spring a leak. I\nleft it at The Larches,\u201d he went on in response to Ethan\u2019s questioning\nsurvey of the driveway and stable-yard. \u201cI stopped there and made a\ncall.\u201d He paused, smiling mysteriously.\n\n\u201cOh,\u201d said Ethan.\n\n\u201cYes, I\u2015\u2015look here, let\u2019s take a walk. What time is it? What? Oh,\ndinner be blowed! Come on, I want to talk a bit. Hang it, Eth, I\u2019ll\nhave to talk or bust up like one of your tires!\u201d\n\n\u201cAll right,\u201d answered Ethan, without enthusiasm. \u201cSmoke?\u201d\n\nVincent accepted a cigarette and when they had lighted up they passed\ndown the steps and along the road, under the arching elms, Vincent\u2019s\nhand on his friend\u2019s shoulder.\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s largely your fault, old chap,\u201d he said presently. He chuckled to\nhimself a moment before continuing. \u201cYou see, I got uneasy about your\nsudden and mysterious affection for this rural paradise. I\u2019ve never\nheard you enthuse about it before; in fact I remember several violently\ndisparaging remarks on the subject of Riverdell. So when you wrote\nthat you were stopping here a while to study mythology I got scared.\nUnderstand?\u201d\n\n\u201cPerfectly! What are you jawing about?\u201d\n\n\u201cLord, you\u2019re dense! I\u2019ll explain in words of one\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d\n\n\u201cThanks.\u201d\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\u201cYou see, Eth, you\u2019re a very captivating beggar; you have a wonderful\nway with the fair sex. For instance, there was that girl at college\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d\n\n\u201cCut it out,\u201d growled Ethan.\n\n\u201cStill touchy? Well, I wasn\u2019t taking any chances. Being interested over\nthis way myself I thought I\u2019d better take a run over and look after\nthings. Thought maybe you were making love to my girl; poaching, you\nknow. Couldn\u2019t have blamed you, old chap, for she\u2019s just about the\nswellest thing you ever saw.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo you came up to head me off, eh?\u201d inquired Ethan uninterestedly.\n\n\u201cExactly. And found to my surprise that you hadn\u2019t been near the honey.\nYou don\u2019t know what you\u2019ve missed, Eth. They\u2019re awfully nice folks, the\nwhole push; and they\u2019d have been tickled to death to have you call. Why\ndidn\u2019t you?\u201d\n\n\u201cConsideration for your future happiness, Vin,\u201d answered the other\ncalmly.\n\n\u201cAnd you haven\u2019t been near the place?\u201d\n\n\u201cI got as far as the gate one day when taking a walk.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, will you tell me what in blazes you\u2019ve been doing here for the\nlast week?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo.\u201d\n\nVincent studied him silently a moment.\n\n\u201cAll right, old chap; I don\u2019t want to be rudely inquisitive.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou\u2019re not; only don\u2019t bother your head about me. I\u2019m off to-day,\nanyhow.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, you\u2019re coming with me. The mater made me swear by the graves of\nmy ancestors that I\u2019d fetch you back. And I\u2019ve also promised to bring\nyou to dinner to-night at the Devereuxs\u2019.\u201d\n\n\u201cSorry, Vin.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou won\u2019t?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou\u2019ve guessed it.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy not? Look here, I want you to meet Laura!\u201d\n\nEthan winced.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s nice of you, Vin, but really I can\u2019t. I\u2019ve simply got to be\nin Boston this evening. Tell them, please, that I\u2019m very sorry, will\nyou? And that I hope to have the pleasure some other time. Make it all\nright, like a good chap.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell. But you\u2019re coming over to Stillhaven later, aren\u2019t you?\u201d\n\n\u201cMaybe; perhaps in a week or two.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s rotten! Look here, Eth, can\u2019t I get in on this? I don\u2019t know\nwhat\u2019s up, and I won\u2019t ask, but if I can help you any way\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d\n\n\u201cOf course, old man. If you could I\u2019d say so. But there isn\u2019t anything\nwrong. I\u2019ll explain later. It\u2019s all right.\u201d\n\n\u201cDoubt it. But you know best, I dare say.\u201d\n\nThey turned by mutual consent and strolled back toward the Inn.\nPresently Vincent broke the silence again.\n\n\u201cBy the way, I haven\u2019t told you quite all, Eth; I\u2019m engaged.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe deuce you are!\u201d Ethan simulated intense surprise.\n\n\u201cYep!\u201d Vincent grinned triumphantly.\n\n\u201cWho to, you idiot?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, haven\u2019t I told you? To Laura Devereux. They\u2019re the folks I\u2019ve\nbeen talking about. They have The Larches. You knew that!\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, but\u2015\u2015when did it happen?\u201d\n\n\u201cAbout an hour or so ago. I didn\u2019t mean to do it to-day, but\u2015\u2015hang\nit, Eth, I just simply had to! She\u2019s the best girl in the world, old\nchap, and the prettiest too. I want you to see her. When you do you\u2019ll\nunderstand. I told her about you and she wants me to bring you up\nto-night.\u201d\n\n\u201cI hope you\u2019ll be mighty happy, Vin.\u201d They shook hands there in\nthe empty road very gravely in spite of their smiling faces. \u201cAnd\ncongratulate her, too, old man. You\u2019re rather a good sort\u2015\u2015at times.\nAnd of course I\u2019ll get you to take me to see her just as soon as I come\nback. I\u2019ll have to get on the good side of her so she\u2019ll let me come\nand see you once in a while when you\u2019re married. When\u2019s it to be?\u201d\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t be an ass!\u201d grunted Vincent. \u201cAs for when, well, we haven\u2019t\nsettled that yet. Maybe it won\u2019t be until Spring; I fancy she would\nrather wait until then. And I ought to get things fixed up a bit first,\ntoo,\u201d he added vaguely.\n\n\u201cOh, it won\u2019t take you long to burn a few letters and photographs,\u201d\nanswered Ethan flippantly.\n\n\u201cGo to the deuce! Do we eat now?\u201d\n\nAfter dinner they sat together on the porch until such time as Vincent\nthought he might venture to return to The Larches, and Ethan listened\npatiently and with attempted enthusiasm to his friend\u2019s mild ravings.\nVincent was ludicrously happy.\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s all so darned funny!\u201d he kept repeating. \u201cA few hours ago I was\nscared to death for fear she wouldn\u2019t have me, and now\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd now you\u2019re a goner,\u201d finished Ethan.\n\n\u201cLaugh if you want to,\u201d replied Vincent happily. \u201cI expected you would.\nI thought you\u2019d cut up worse than you have, old chap. My time will\ncome!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhen it does, you let me know,\u201d scoffed Ethan.\n\n\u201cLook here, I wish you\u2019d give up this Boston business and go along with\nme to-night, Eth. I\u2015\u2015there\u2019s a reason.\u201d\n\n\u201cNonsense, you\u2019re beyond reason. Besides, I can\u2019t give it up, Vin.\nSorry; wish I could.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, go to blazes! You could if you wanted to. Look here, I lay you any\nodds you like that you\u2019ve been caught yourself! You\u2019ve met some girl\nhere and she\u2019s gone home and you\u2019re tagging after! You ought to have\nmore pride, Eth!\u201d\n\n\u201cI dare say, Mr. Solomon. By the way, I don\u2019t want to hurry you, but\nit\u2019s nearly half after two, and\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d\n\n\u201cThe deuce it is!\u201d Vincent leaped to his feet and Ethan laughed loudly\nand cruelly. Vincent viewed him in amazement a moment and then joined.\n\n\u201cTalk about tagging!\u201d chuckled Ethan.\n\n\u201cYou haven\u2019t seen her, you old scoffer,\u201d responded his friend.\n\nAt a little after three Ethan tossed his luggage into the car, climbed\nin beside the unruffled Farrell and swung the big blue monster toward\nBoston. And while it ate up the long miles Ethan, his hands on the\nwheel, scowled miserably ahead and honestly strove to forget that he\nhad ever stumbled into Arcady.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nXI.\n\n\nA few days later Ethan walked into the office of the law firm in\nProvidence, hung his hat on a hook in the closet and blandly inquired\nfor his desk. The members of the firm discussed it later in the privacy\nof the inner office.\n\n\u201cLooks as though he might be in earnest, anyway,\u201d suggested the senior.\n\u201cApparently not afraid of work, eh?\u201d\n\n\u201cSomething funny about it,\u201d replied the junior, who was a bit of a\npessimist. \u201cIt isn\u2019t like a fellow of his sort to give up his summer\nand buckle down to reading law in July.\u201d He shook his head with\nmisgivings. \u201cIt won\u2019t last, mark my word.\u201d\n\nBut it did. Business was slack throughout the hot weather and Ethan\nhad plenty of time for reading; and he made the most of it. Several\nletters came from Vincent reminding him of his promise and urging\nhim to come down to Stillhaven for a while. But always Ethan pleaded\npress of duties, until Vincent, whose own law shingle had been hanging\nout for a year and who had yet to find business pressing, felt more\nconvinced than ever that his friend had, to use his own expression,\n\u201ccome a cropper somehow!\u201d\n\n[Illustration]\n\nIn September Vincent ran down and spent Sunday. Ethan didn\u2019t press him\nto come again, for his conversation was not of a sort calculated to\nreconcile a disappointed lover to his lot. The Devereuxs were still at\nRiverdell, but were returning to their Boston apartments the last of\nthe month.\n\n\u201cShe hasn\u2019t forgiven you for not calling,\u201d warned Vincent, \u201cand you\u2019ll\nhave to eat dirt when you do see her, old chap.\u201d\n\nEthan expressed entire willingness to grovel, but flatly refused to\nset a date for the proceedings. Vincent departed somewhat huffed, and\nfor some time there was a perceptible coolness between them. Ethan\nregretted it, but he wasn\u2019t ready yet to trust himself in the r\u00f4le of\nVincent\u2019s friend.\n\nHis first vacation since he had gone to work came early in October.\nThen a letter from a real estate agent who had the renting of his\nproperty made a journey to Riverdell advisable. He left Providence,\nwith Farrell, in the car one Friday morning, intending to stay in\nRiverdell over Saturday, and at two o\u2019clock swung the machine in\nthrough the big gate of The Larches. It had been a glorious brisk day,\nthey had made record time and Ethan\u2019s spirits had been high. But now,\nas they rumbled slowly up the circling driveway, old memories were\nasserting themselves and buoyancy gave place to depression. The maples\nwere aflame in the afternoon sunlight, the Virginia creeper about the\nporches was radiantly crimson, and along the gleaming white pergola\nbunches of purple grapes were still aglow. But for all this The Larches\nhad a lonesome look. The windows on the lower floor were shuttered and\ntold eloquently of desertion.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nEthan\u2019s summons at the bell went unanswered for a time. Then footsteps\nsounded on the marble tiles inside and the big door swung open,\nrevealing a comfortably stout, double-chinned woman who wiped her\ndamp, red hands on her blue calico apron.\n\n\u201cWhy, Mr. Ethan!\u201d she exclaimed.\n\n\u201cYes, it\u2019s I, Mrs. Billings,\u201d he replied. \u201cFarrell, take the car around\nto the stable and I\u2019ll have William open up for you.\u201d\n\n[Illustration]\n\nHe stepped into the dimly lighted hall, already filled with the chill\nof approaching winter, and looked about him. Everything was apparently\nthe same in spite of its recent occupancy. The house had been rented\nfurnished, and plainly the Devereuxs had been satisfied to leave things\nas they had found them. He took off his coat and tossed it on to the\nbig old-fashioned mahogany couch. Mrs. Billings, the housekeeper, was\nstill chattering volubly.\n\n\u201cIf we\u2019d known you was coming, sir, we\u2019d have had the blinds open and\nthe fires lighted.\u201d\n\n\u201cNever mind,\u201d answered Ethan. \u201cHave your husband build a fire in the\nlibrary and in my room. I shan\u2019t be here beyond Sunday morning. You\ncan give me my meals in the library. I had a letter from Stearns a day\nor so ago telling me that the Devereuxs had left and asking whether\nI wanted to rent for the winter. I don\u2019t believe I do. I don\u2019t think\nI shall rent again at all. Well how have you been, you and that\ngood-for-nothing husband of yours?\u201d\n\n\u201cNicely, sir, for myself, thank you. And Jonas, he isn\u2019t one of the\ncomplaining sort, sir, but he do have the rheumatism something awful in\nwet weather. And how has your health been, Mr. Ethan?\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019ve been frightfully healthy, thank you. Where\u2019s your husband?\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll call him, sir, at once. He\u2019s out somewheres on the grounds, sir.\nAnd I\u2019ll have a fire lit in no time, sir. He\u2019ll be very pleased to see\nyou, sir, will Jonas.\u201d She stopped at the end of the hall and sank her\nvoice to a hoarse whisper. \u201cI fear he\u2019s getting old and failing, Mr.\nEthan,\u201d she said despondently. \u201cIt\u2015\u2015it\u2019s his head sir.\u201d\n\n\u201cEh?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, sir. Along in June it was, Mr. Ethan, or maybe early in the month\nfollowing, sir, that he came in quite excited like and wild, saying as\nhe had seen you with his own eyes over toward the grove there. Yes,\nsir. \u2018Jonas,\u2019 says I, \u2018it\u2019s the sun.\u2019 \u2018No, \u2019taint,\u2019 says he. \u2018I saw him\nwith my own eyes,\u2019 says he, \u2018a-standing under the trees. And when I\nlooked again he was gone,\u2019 he says. It gave me quite a shock, sir, as\nyou might say.\u201d\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\u201cNaturally. And since then you have observed no other symptoms?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, sir, not particular, but he do seem a heap fonder of his victuals\nthan he used to, and I\u2019ve heard tell as that\u2019s a sure sign of a failing\nintellect, Mr. Ethan.\u201d\n\n\u201cIn the case of your victuals, Mrs. Billings,\u201d replied Ethan, \u201cI\u2019d say\nit was an indication of wisdom.\u201d\n\nThe housekeeper bridled and beamed.\n\n\u201cBut, really,\u201d continued Ethan, smiling, \u201cI wouldn\u2019t worry about\nBillings. The fact is, I was down here for a day or so about the time\nyou speak of.\u201d\n\n\u201cHere, sir? And you never came to see us, sir?\u201d\n\n\u201cThere\u2015\u2015er\u2015\u2015there were reasons, Mrs. Billings. And now how about that\nfire? And send your husband out to unlock the carriage house, please.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, sir, directly, sir. And Jonas really saw you, Mr. Ethan, same as\nhe said he did?\u201d\n\n\u201cI think it more than likely, Mrs. Billings.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, that\u2019s a great load off my mind, sir. Softening of the brain do\nbe so unfortunate!\u201d\n\nLater, just at dusk, Ethan emerged from the library on to the broad\ncement-paved porch at the side of the house. Pausing to light a\ncigarette, he passed down the stone steps to the pergola and traversed\nits length. Fallen leaves rustled softly under his feet and the purple\nclusters showed the effects of the frost. Once out of the arbor, his\nsteps led him almost unconsciously across the open lawn, russet now\nand streaked with the long sombre shadows of the trees. He found\nhimself swayed by two desires; one to see the lotus pool again, the\nother to avoid it. He went on through the twilight grove, filled with\na gentle\u2015\u2015I had almost said pleasant\u2015\u2015sadness. Underfoot the ground\nwas carpeted with the red leaves of the maples. Here and there a white\nbirch stood like a pale gold flame in the dying sunlight. The dark\ngreen larches alone held themselves unchanged.\n\nThe pool was sadly different. Yellowing lily-pads floated upon the\nsurface, but no blossoms caught the slanting rays of the sun. Ethan sat\ndown under the willow, took his knees into his arms and puffed blue\nsmoke-wreaths into the amber light. Presently a shadow presence came\nand sat beside him. The presence had violet eyes and red, red lips that\nsmiled wistfully. He didn\u2019t turn his head, for he knew that if he did\nhe would find himself again alone. And presently they talked.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\u201cYou were very cruel,\u201d he said sadly.\n\n\u201cI didn\u2019t mean to be,\u201d she answered.\n\n\u201cNo, I don\u2019t think you did. You\u2015\u2015you just didn\u2019t think, I suppose. It\nwas all a bit of good fun with you. But\u2015\u2015it played the deuce with me.\u201d\n\n\u201cDid it?\u201d she asked regretfully.\n\n\u201cBut I\u2019m not blaming you\u2015\u2015now,\u201d he went on. \u201cI did at first. It seemed\nneedlessly cruel and heartless. But I understand now that it was all\nmy fault. You see, dear, I took it for granted, I thought, that\nyou\u2015\u2015cared\u2015\u2015the way I did. It was my silly conceit.\u201d\n\nHe thought he heard a little sob beside him, but he resisted the\ntemptation to turn and look.\n\n\u201cIf only there hadn\u2019t been that kiss,\u201d he continued dreamily.\n\u201cThat\u2015\u2015I\u2019ve never quite understood that. Sometimes\u2015\u2015I dare say it\u2019s my\nconceit again\u2015\u2015but sometimes I can\u2019t help thinking that you did care\u2015\u2015a\nlittle\u2015\u2015just then! That is the hardest to forgive, dear,\u2015\u2015and forget,\nthat kiss. If it wasn\u2019t for the memory of that I think I could stand it\nbetter. Why did you do it? _Why?_\u201d\n\nThere was no answer save the sighing of a little breeze which crept\ndown the slope in a floating shower of dead leaves.\n\n\u201cAh, but I want to know!\u201d he insisted doggedly. \u201cWas it just in fun?\nWas it merely in pity? It couldn\u2019t have been, I tell you! You never\nkissed me like that for pity, dear! There was love in your eyes,\nsweetheart; I saw it; fathoms deep in that purple twilight! Love, do\nyou hear? You can\u2019t deny it, you can\u2019t! And you trembled in my arms!\nWhy did you do it?\u201d he asked sharply.\n\nHe turned impetuously,\u2015\u2015and sighed. He was all alone. The presence had\nfled.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nHe tossed aside the dead cigarette in his hand and shivered. The breeze\nwas growing as the day passed, a chill October breeze laden with the\nheavy, melancholy aroma of dying leaves. He arose and retraced his\nsteps to the house.\n\n\n\n\nXII.\n\n\nEthan drank the last drop of excellent black coffee in the tiny cup and\nswung his chair about so that he faced the cheerfully crackling logs\nin the library fire-place. He had enjoyed his dinner, and he began to\nfeel delightfully restful and drowsy. The day spent in the open air,\nwith the wind rushing past him, the hearty repast and now the dancing\nflames were all having their natural effect. He reached lazily for his\ncigarette case, his gaze travelling idly over the high mantel above\nhim. Then his hand had dropped from his pocket and he was on his feet,\npeering intently at a small photograph tucked half out of sight behind\none of the old Liverpool pitchers which flanked the clock. A moment\nafter he had it in his hands and was bending over it in the glare of\nthe light from the chandelier.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nIt was evidently an amateur production, but it was good for all that.\nAnd Ethan was troubling his head not at all as to its origin or its\nmerits or defects. It was sufficient for him that it showed a small,\ngraceful figure in white against a background of foliage, and that the\neyes which looked straight into his from under the waving hair with\nits golden fillet were Hers. It was Clytie. One hand rested softly on\na flower-clustered spray of azalea, one bare sandaled foot gleamed\nforth from under the straight white folds of the peplum and the lips\nwere parted in a little startled smile. Ethan devoured it eagerly while\nhis heart glowed and ached at once. He remembered telling her that he\nwould like to see those pictures, and remembered her laughing response:\n\u201cI\u2019m afraid you never will!\u201d And now he was looking at one of them\nafter all! And he was still looking when the gardener entered with the\nreplenished wood-basket.\n\n\u201cWhere did this come from, Billings?\u201d Ethan asked carelessly.\n\nBillings set down his burden and crossed to the table. He was a small\nman, well toward sixty, with his weather-beaten face shrivelled into\ninnumerable tiny, kindly wrinkles. In spite of his years, however, he\nshowed no signs of the mental degeneration which his wife had feared.\nHe came and looked near-sightedly at the card which Ethan held out.\n\n\u201cWhy, sir, Lizzie came across that in one of the upstair rooms when\nshe was cleaning up after the folks went away and she put it on the\nmantel here, thinking maybe it was valuable and they\u2019d send back for\nit.\u201d\n\n\u201cI see.\u201d Ethan laid it on the table, his eyes still upon it. \u201cI don\u2019t\nthink they\u2019ll want it. Doubtless Miss Devereux has plenty more.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, sir; they took a good many, sir, between them.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey? Oh, she had a friend with her?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, sir. Miss Hoyt. I remember when they was taking those, sir. It\nwas early in the summer, soon after they came. The young ladies they\ndressed themselves up in those queer things\u2015\u2015sort o\u2019 like sheets, they\nwas, sir\u2015\u2015\u201d the gardener\u2019s voice became faintly apologetic, as though\nhe had not quite approved of such doings\u2015\u2015\u201cand went out on the lawn one\nforenoon. They got me to cut away a bit of the branches, sir, right\nhere.\u201d Billings indicated the upper left-hand corner of the picture.\n\u201cShe said she had to have more light. It wasn\u2019t much, sir; just a few\nold twigs; no harm done, sir.\u201d\n\n\u201cOf course not. It was\u2015\u2015Miss Devereux asked you?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, sir; Miss Laura they called her. A very pleasant young lady, sir.\u201d\n\n\u201cVery pleasant, Billings,\u201d assented Ethan with a sigh.\n\n\u201cYou know her, then, sir?\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2015\u2015hardly that; I\u2019ve met her.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, sir.\u201d Billings turned toward the fire. \u201cShall I drop another log\non, sir?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, I shall be going to bed very shortly.\u201d\n\n\u201cVery well, sir.\u201d Billings mended the fire, replaced the tongs and\nstood carefully erect again, chuckling reminiscently. Then finding\nEthan\u2019s eyes on him questioningly he said: \u201cshe took me, sir, too, with\nher camery.\u201d\n\n\u201cReally? I should like to see the picture.\u201d\n\n\u201cThank you, sir. It\u2019s in the kitchen. Shall I fetch it? Lizzie says\nit\u2019s a very speakin\u2019 likeness, sir, excepting that I was sort o\u2019 took\nby surprise, so to say, and had no time to spruce up.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, bring it in by all means.\u201d\n\nThe gardener hurried away and Ethan turned again to the picture. When\nBillings returned Ethan said carelessly:\n\n\u201cBy the way, if your wife asks about this you can tell her I\nhave\u2015\u2015er\u2015\u2015taken charge of it. Ah, this is the picture, eh? Why, I\u2019d\ncall that excellent, Billings, excellent! Truly, a very speaking\nlikeness. You say Miss Devereux took this?\u201d\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\u201cYes, sir, the same day they was taking the others, sir. I had lopped\noff the branches and was standin\u2019 by watching, sir, and after she had\ntaken that one there, sir, she said to me: \u2018Billings, would you mind if\nI took\u2019\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d\n\n\u201cNot after she\u2019d taken this, Billings,\u201d interrupted Ethan, in the\ninterests of accuracy. \u201cShe didn\u2019t take this one, of course.\u201d\n\n\u201cI beg pardon, Mr. Ethan?\u201d\n\n\u201cNever mind. I only said you didn\u2019t mean that it was after she had\ntaken this one; it was another one you meant.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, no, sir, it was that very one, sir. I had just lopped off the\nbranches\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d\n\n\u201cYou don\u2019t mean that she took her own picture, surely?\u201d asked Ethan\nwith a smile.\n\n\u201cNo, sir.\u201d\n\n\u201cExactly.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt was that one you have there, sir, she took.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis one? Now, look here, Billings, let\u2019s get this straightened out\nwhile we\u2019re at it. Do you mean that Miss Devereux\u2015\u2015mind, I\u2019m talking of\n_Miss Devereux_\u2015\u2015do you mean that Miss Devereux took this photograph I\nhave in my hands?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, sir, that\u2019s the one. I had just lopped\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d\n\n\u201cNever mind the lopping,\u201d interrupted Ethan with smiling impatience.\n\u201cBut tell me how she did it.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, sir, she stood her camery up a little ways off, sir; it had three\nlittle legs onto it, sir; and she pressed a little rubber ball, and\nthe camery went \u2018click,\u2019 sir, like that, sir,\u2015\u2015\u2018click!\u2019 and\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, yes, but\u2015\u2015now look here, how far off was the camera from\u2015\u2015from\nthis place, where you had lopped the branches?\u201d\n\n\u201cAbout twenty feet, sir, maybe.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, will you kindly, tell me how Miss Devereux managed to squeeze\nthe little rubber ball and get into the picture at the same time?\u201d\n\n\u201cSir?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat I mean is,\u201d answered Ethan patiently, \u201chow could she have been\nhere\u2015\u2015\u201d tapping the photograph he held\u2015\u2015\u201cand at the camera the same\ninstant?\u201d\n\nThat was evidently a poser. Billings scratched the back of his head\ndubiously. Finally,\n\n\u201cBut she wasn\u2019t there, sir!\u201d he explained.\n\n\u201cWasn\u2019t where? At the camera?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, sir; I mean no, sir. She wasn\u2019t there!\u201d He pointed at the picture.\n\n\u201cWasn\u2019t here!\u201d exclaimed Ethan. \u201cThen how\u2015\u2015hang it, man, but here\u2019s her\npicture!\u201d\n\n\u201cBeg pardon, Mr. Ethan?\u201d Billings looked both pained and puzzled, and\nshot a quick look of inquiry at the dinner table.\n\n\u201cI say here\u2019s her picture, you idiot!\u201d repeated Ethan.\n\n\u201cWhose picture, sir?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, Miss Devereux\u2019s!\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, sir.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat do you mean by \u2018no, sir?\u2019 I say\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d\n\nA light broke upon Mr. Billings.\n\n\u201cI beg your pardon, Mr. Ethan,\u201d he explained hurriedly. \u201cI see your\nmistake, sir, but you said as how you\u2019d met the young lady, and I\nthought you understood as how that wasn\u2019t her, sir.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat? Who?\u201d\n\n\u201cWasn\u2019t Miss Devereux, sir.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you mean that this isn\u2019t Miss Devereux here in this picture?\u201d cried\nEthan.\n\n\u201cYes, sir; that is, no, sir. That isn\u2019t her, Mr. Ethan.\u201d\n\n\u201cIsn\u2019t\u2015\u2015! Then who is it?\u201d\n\n\u201cMiss Hoyt, sir. I thought you under\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d\n\nEthan took Billings by the arms and forced him into a chair.\n\n\u201cYou sit there and answer my questions, Billings,\u201d he commanded\nexcitedly. He held the photograph before the gardener\u2019s alarmed face.\n\n\u201cWho is this in the picture?\u201d\n\n\u201cMiss Hoyt, sir, as I was telling you\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d\n\n\u201cNonsense! You\u2019re mistaken, man! Look close; take it in your hands!\nDon\u2019t answer until you\u2019ve looked at it well. Where are your spectacles?\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t wear any, sir,\u201d was the dignified reply. \u201cMy eyes, Mr. Ethan,\nare just as clear as ever they were, sir. Why, I can see\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, yes, I beg your pardon, Billings, but I have most particular\nreasons for wanting to be certain about this! Now\u2015\u2015take a good look at\nit!\u2015\u2015now who is she?\u201d\n\n\u201cMiss Hoyt, sir, and if you was to put me in jail the next minute, sir,\nI wouldn\u2019t say different! No, sir, not if my life was depending on it,\nsir!\u201d\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\u201cAnd it\u2019s not Miss Devereux?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, sir, nor never was! Why, Mr. Ethan, Miss Devereux, as you must\nrecall, sir, is quite tall and slim, like\u2015\u2015like a young birch,\nsir,\u2015\u2015with very dark hair. And Miss Hoyt, sir, as you can see\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d\n\nEthan planted himself with his back to the fire and lighted a cigarette\nwith trembling fingers.\n\n\u201cBillings,\u201d he said softly, \u201cI\u2019ve been a damned fool!\u201d\n\n\u201cYes\u2015\u2015that is, I can\u2019t believe it, sir,\u201d was the respectful answer. But\nBillings\u2019 expression said otherwise.\n\n\u201cNow I want you to tell me all you know about Miss Hoyt,\u201d said Ethan.\n\u201cBy the way, what was her first name?\u201d\n\n\u201cCicely, sir; Miss Cicely Hoyt.\u201d\n\n\u201cCicely,\u201d repeated Ethan softly. \u201cIt just suits her!\u201d\n\n\u201cBeg pardon, sir?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, never mind. Where does she live?\u201d\n\nBillings thought in silence a moment.\n\n\u201cEllington, sir,\u201d he answered triumphantly, evidently pleased at his\npowers of memory.\n\n\u201cWhere the deuce is that, though?\u201d\n\n\u201cAbout the centre of the state, sir, I think.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis state, do you mean? Massachusetts?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, sir, Massachusetts.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd she was a friend of Miss Devereux\u2019s?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, sir. I gathered as how they went to school together. And Miss\nHoyt\u2019s father, sir, died a while back and left her and her mother\nvery poorly off, sir. And the young lady is employed in a library at\nEllington, as I understand it, sir, and her mother is there, too, sir.\u201d\n\n\u201cIn the library?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, sir, in Ellington. They used to live in Ohio, I believe.\u201d\n\nEthan was silent a moment, smoking furiously. Then,\n\n\u201cTell Farrell to come in here at once, Billings. And I\u2019m much obliged\nfor what you\u2019ve told me. Oh, wait, Billings! Throw another log on the\nfire first. I don\u2019t want it to go out; you and I have got lots to talk\nabout to-night!\u201d\n\nFarrell came speedily.\n\n\u201cDo you know where Ellington, Massachusetts, is?\u201d asked Ethan.\n\n\u201cYes, sir.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow long a run is it?\u201d\n\nFarrell produced a road map from his coat pocket and bent over it under\nthe light.\n\n\u201cWell, Mr. Parmley, I don\u2019t know how the roads are now, sir, but\nsupposing they\u2019re in fair condition we\u2019d ought to do it in about two\nand half hours.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen if we left here at seven in the morning we\u2019d get to Ellington by\nnoon?\u201d\n\n\u201cCouldn\u2019t help it, sir, barring accidents.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere mustn\u2019t be any accidents,\u201d answered Ethan, a bit unreasonably.\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll do my best, sir.\u201d\n\n\u201cBe ready to leave, then, promptly at seven!\u201d\n\n\u201cVery well, sir.\u201d\n\nFarrell went out and as the door closed softly behind him Ethan, the\nphotograph in his hands, threw himself into the chair before the fire\nand beamed blissfully at the flames.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nXIII.\n\n\nThe library was filled with the pallid twilight of a rainy day. Since\nearly morning the summit of Mount Tom, a dozen miles to the westward,\nhad been enveloped in ponderous, leaden clouds, and for two hours past\nthe storm, travelling along the Connecticut Valley, had been deluging\nthe slopes with autumnal ferocity.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThrough the rain-drenched windows a cold white light entered, flooding\nthe stack room with its iron tiers of slumbering volumes, and, here\nat the barrier-like counter, illumining faintly the rebellious brown\nhair of the girl who, with pen in hand, bent over the pile of catalogue\ncards. The library was very still, so still that the sibilation of\nthe moving pen sounded portentously loud. Now and then the rustle of\na turning leaf or the scraping of feet on the floor came from around\nthe corner of the arched doorway where sat a solitary occupant of the\nreading room. Save for these two the library was deserted. The hands\nof the clock above the commemorative tablet pointed to a quarter past\ntwelve and the stack-boy and the assistant librarian had both gone to\ntheir luncheons.\n\nA more prolonged scraping of feet, followed by the sound of a moving\nchair, caused the girl at the desk to raise her head and pause at her\nwork. A little frown of annoyance gathered and then gave place to a\nsmile of humorous resignation as footfalls sounded on the echoing\nsilence. From the reading room emerged a tall, thin youth of about\ntwenty, a youth with a pale, cadaverous face lighted by a pair of\npatient, contemplative brown eyes which looked strangely incongruous\nand out of place. He carried two books which he laid apologetically on\nthe counter.\n\n\u201cExcuse me, Miss Hoyt,\u201d he said gently.\n\n\u201cYes, Mr. Winkley?\u201d she asked, looking up.\n\n\u201cI am very sorry to trouble you, but could you let me have Burton\u2019s\nAnatomy of Melancholy?\u201d\n\n\u201cHave\u2015\u2015What did you say, please?\u201d she asked startledly.\n\n\u201cBurton\u2019s Anatomy of Melancholy, please,\u201d he repeated in his patient\nvoice. She turned hurriedly and disappeared into the stack room. Once\nout of sight she leaned against one of the cases and laughed silently\nand hysterically.\n\n\u201cOh,\u201d she thought, \u201cif he doesn\u2019t stop it and go away I shall have\nto\u2015\u2015to\u2015\u2015I shall go crazy!\u201d\n\nPresently, with a final gasp, she brushed the back of her hand across\nher eyes and went on down the concrete aisle in search of the volume.\nOut at the counter, the youth, left to himself, watched her while she\nwas in sight and then leaned across to peer at the neatly arranged\ncards. She had left her handkerchief beside her work. With a timorous\nglance about him, he reached forward, picked it up and with a quick,\nvehement movement pressed it to his thin, unsmiling lips. He held it so\na moment, his brown eyes staring widely through the rain-bleared window\nas though beholding visions. Then, as her steps came back toward him,\nhe laid the handkerchief again in its place, straightened himself and\nwaited.\n\n\u201cHere it is, Mr. Winkley,\u201d she said soberly.\n\n\u201cThank you. I am sorry to trouble you,\u201d he answered gravely.\n\n\u201cIt is only what I am here for,\u201d she answered coldly, taking up her\npen once more. He remained for an instant looking at the bent head.\nThen, lifting the Anatomy of Melancholy from the counter, he turned and\nwalked slowly and quite noiselessly back to his table. But as he went\nthe ghost of a sigh trembled across the silence.\n\nThe girl raised her head with a despairing glance toward the reading\nroom, jabbed her pen viciously into the ink-stand and went on with\nher writing. The clock overhead ticked slowly and softly. The rain\n_swished_ past the windows.\n\nBut presently a new sound made itself heard. Dim at first, it grew\ninsistently until the girl heard it and again lifted her head and\nlistened with a new light in her violet eyes.\n\n_Chug-chug, chug-chug-chug, chug-chug!_\n\n[Illustration]\n\nAutomobiles are not common in Ellington, especially after the summer\ncolony departs, and the approach of this one brought a tinge of color\nto the soft cheeks and a flutter to the heart of the librarian. So\noften during the past three months she had listened with straining ears\nto the panting of an automobile on the road below! Usually the sound\nhad died away again in the distance, and she had told herself, sighing,\nthat she was very glad. But to-day the sounds increased every instant.\nThe _chug-chug_ was slower now and more labored; the car had left the\nvillage road and was climbing the circling gravelled drive to the\nlibrary. Every beat brought an answering beat from her heart.\n\nOh, it was foolish! she told herself angrily. And she didn\u2019t want it\nto happen! She hoped it wouldn\u2019t! Resolutely she began her work again,\nbut the noise of the approaching machine seemed to fill the world\nwith a tumult of sound. Then, close at hand, the measured _chugs_\nsuddenly became hurried and incoherent, as though the intruding monster\nwas violently incensed at being stopped. Then\u2015\u2015silence, appalling,\nportentous! With white face the girl bent closer to her desk, her\npen tracing quivering figures and letters. The outer door opened and\nclosed again with a muffled jar. She heard the _swish ... swish_ of\nthe inner doors as they swung inward and back. Firm footfalls sounded\non the oaken floor. Very different they were from the soft tread of\nthe library habitu\u00e9, and there was a determined, resolute character to\nthem that put the brown-haired librarian in a panic. Oh, how she wished\nthat she had fled while there had been time! She no longer doubted; the\nunexpected, which all along had been the expected, had happened; the\nthing which she had feared, and always hoped for, had come to pass. The\nsteps came nearer, straight from the doorway, scorning the longer and\nquieter paths provided by the cocoa-fibre matting. The brown head still\nbent over the desk. Then the footsteps stopped. A terrible silence fell\nover the room. There was no help for it.\n\nSlowly, reluctantly the girl raised her head.\n\n\n\n\nXIV.\n\n\nHad they lived in the Age of Stone that meeting might have proved far\nmore interesting for purposes of description. As it was, both being\nfairly conventional characters of the Twentieth Century, the affair was\ndisappointingly commonplace.\n\n\u201cHow do you do, Miss Hoyt?\u201d he asked, smiling calmly and reaching a\nhand across the counter. And,\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\u201cWhy, Mr. Parmley!\u201d she replied, laying her own hand for an instant in\nhis.\n\nA close observer, and both you and I, patient reader, pride ourselves\nupon being such, would have noticed, perhaps, that in spite of the\ncommonplace words and the unembarrassed manners, the man\u2019s cheeks\nheld an unaccustomed tinge of color and the girl\u2019s face was more than\nordinarily pale. And could we have enjoyed a physician\u2019s privilege of\nexamining the heart-action at that moment we would have straightened\nourselves up with very knowing smiles.\n\n\u201cI\u2019ve come,\u201d he said, as the soft hand drew itself away from his, \u201cto\nreturn a book. Is this the right place?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d she replied brightly.\n\n\u201cThank you. I don\u2019t know very much about libraries; I always avoid them\nas much as possible as being rather too exciting.\u201d He took a small book\nfrom the pocket of his coat and laid it on the counter. \u201cI\u2019m afraid\nthere\u2019s a good deal to pay on it. It\u2019s been out quite a while.\u201d\n\nA tinge of color came into her cheeks as she took the volume. It was a\ncopy of \u201cLove Sonnets from the Portuguese.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, I\u2019ll let you off,\u201d she answered gayly. \u201cWe sometimes remit the\nfines when the excuse is good.\u201d\n\n\u201cThank you. My excuse is excellent. I only yesterday discovered the\nidentity of the loaner.\u201d\n\n\u201cOnly yesterday?\u201d she asked carelessly, but with quickening heart.\n\n\u201cTo be exact, at about eight o\u2019clock last evening.\u201d He dropped his\nvoice and leaned a little further across the barrier. \u201cYou see, Miss\nHoyt, you fooled me very nicely.\u201d\n\n\u201cExcuse me, Mr. Parmley, you fooled yourself. I told you\u2015\u2015at least, I\nnever said I was Laura Devereux.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, you didn\u2019t, but\u2015\u2015I wonder why I was so certain you were! If I\nhadn\u2019t been\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d\n\n\u201cI beg your pardon, Miss Hoyt, but will you please let me have\nSwinburne\u2019s Poems?\u201d\n\nIt was the solitary reader. The girl disappeared into the stack\nroom, leaving the two men to a furtive and, on one part at least,\namused examination of each other. The pale youth, however, showed no\namusement; rather his look expressed suspicion and resentment. Ethan,\nunable longer to encounter that baleful glare without smiling, turned\nhis head. Then the librarian came with the desired book.\n\n\u201cThank you, Miss Hoyt!\u201d said the reader. With a final glance of dawning\nenmity at Ethan he returned to his solitude. Ethan looked inquiringly\nat Cicely.\n\n\u201cHe\u2019s perfectly awful!\u201d she replied despairingly. \u201cHe stays here hours\nand hours at a time. I don\u2019t believe he ever eats anything. And he\ncalls for books incessantly, from Plutarch\u2019s Lives to\u2015\u2015to Swinburne! I\nthink he is trying to read right through the catalogue. And a while ago\nhe came for\u2015\u2015what do you think?\u2015\u2015The Anatomy of Melancholy!\u201d\n\nEthan smiled gently.\n\n\u201cI wouldn\u2019t be too hard on him,\u201d he said. \u201cThe poor devil is\nhead-over-heels in love with you.\u201d\n\nThe phrase brought recollections\u2015\u2015and a blush.\n\n\u201cNonsense! He\u2019s just a boy!\u201d she answered.\n\n\u201cBoys sometimes feel pretty deeply\u2015\u2015for the while,\u201d he replied. \u201cAnd\njudging from his present line of reading, I\u2019d say that the while hasn\u2019t\npassed yet.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s so silly and tiresome!\u201d she said. \u201cHe gets terribly on my\nnerves. He\u2015\u2015he sighs\u2015\u2015in the most heartbreaking way!\u201d She laughed a\nlittle nervously. Then a moment of silence followed.\n\n\u201cClytie,\u201d he began,\u2015\u2015\u201cI am going to call you that to-day, for I haven\u2019t\ngot used to thinking of you as Cicely yet\u2015\u2015do you know why I came?\u201d\n\n\u201cTo return the book,\u201d she answered smilingly.\n\n\u201cNo, not altogether. I came to ask you something.\u201d\n\n\u201cI ought to feel flattered, oughtn\u2019t I? It\u2019s quite a ways here from\nProvidence, isn\u2019t it?\u201d\n\n\u201cSupposing we don\u2019t pretend,\u201d he answered gravely. \u201cWe\u2019ve gone too\nfar to make that possible, don\u2019t you think? And I\u2019ve had a beast of\na summer,\u201d he added inconsequently. \u201cI thought\u2015\u2015do you know what I\nthought, dear?\u201d\n\n\u201cHow should I?\u201d she asked weakly.\n\n\u201cI thought you were Laura Devereux, and that day when you didn\u2019t come\nI went for you and saw you and Vincent on the porch. And afterwards\nhe told me he was engaged to Miss Devereux, and\u2015\u2015don\u2019t you see what\nit meant to me? And yesterday I found out, quite by accident, and\u2015\u2015\u201d\nhe reached across and seized her hand with a little laugh of sheer\nhappiness\u2015\u2015\u201cI haven\u2019t slept a wink since! I\u2015\u2015I thought I\u2019d never get\nhere; the roads were quagmires!\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, why did you come?\u201d she asked miserably.\n\n\u201cWhy? Good Heaven, don\u2019t you know, girl?\u201d He leaned across and she felt\nhis lips on the hand still clasped in his.\n\n\u201cYes, yes, I know,\u201d she cried. \u201cBut\u2015\u2015you mustn\u2019t love me! You won\u2019t\nwhen I\u2019ve told you!\u201d\n\n\u201cTry me!\u201d he said softly.\n\n\u201cI\u2019m going to. But\u2015\u2015I can\u2019t if you have my hand.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf I let it go may I have it again?\u201d he asked playfully.\n\n\u201cYou won\u2019t want it,\u201d was the grim answer. \u201cWhen you know what I am\nreally, you\u2015\u2015won\u2019t want\u2015\u2015ever to see me\u2015\u2015again.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s nonsense,\u201d he answered stoutly. But a qualm of uneasiness\noppressed him.\n\nShe moved away from the counter until she was out of reach of his\nimpatient hands.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\u201cI meant you to fall in love with me,\u201d she said evenly, looking at him\nwith wide eyes and white face. \u201cI meant you to propose to me. I wanted\nto\u2015\u2015to marry you.\u201d\n\nHe reached impetuously toward her with a smothered word of endearment,\nbut she held up a hand.\n\n\u201cWait! You don\u2019t understand! I\u2015\u2015I didn\u2019t care for you. I was tired of\nbeing poor and\u2015\u2015and of this!\u201d She swept her glance about the bare and\nsilent library. \u201cWe used to have money,\u201d she went on, speaking rapidly.\n\u201cWe lived in Ohio then, when father was alive. Then I came east to\ncollege. I met Laura there. We were friends almost at once, although\nshe was in the class ahead of me. I never finished, for my father\ndied and left us almost without a cent. I left college and Laura\u2019s\nfather secured me work here. I studied hard and last year they made me\nlibrarian. Then mother came east to live here with me. Laura was always\nkind. When my vacation came I went to visit her there at The Larches.\nThen you\u2015\u2015I met you.\u201d\n\nShe paused and dropped her gaze.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d he said softly. \u201cAnd then?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou said you had some property and you\u2015\u2015you seemed nice and kind. I\nwas so weary of it all. I wanted\u2015\u2015oh, you know? I wanted to have money,\nenough to live decently somewhere else than here in this tomb they call\na town. I didn\u2019t care. I set out to make you\u2015\u2015like me. I went back\nthere to the pool each day for just that, until\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\u201cWell? Until?\u201d he urged, smiling across at her.\n\n\u201cThat is all,\u201d she answered.\n\n\u201cAnd it was all absolutely mercenary? You never cared for me?\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019ve told you,\u201d she answered.\n\n\u201cAnd\u2015\u2015that last day, dear? It was the same? You didn\u2019t care then\neither?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, what does it matter what happened afterwards?\u201d she cried\nagitatedly. \u201cIt was what I had done, don\u2019t you see? It was the\nmeanness, the\u2015\u2015the shamefulness of it!\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, but this \u2018afterward\u2019? What of that?\u201d\n\n\u201cNothing,\u201d she answered firmly.\n\nSilence fell for a moment. They looked across at each other steadily,\nshe meeting his smile defiantly. Then the color crept up from throat to\ncheeks and her eyes dropped.\n\n\u201cDear,\u201d he said gently, \u201cI don\u2019t care what happened before that\n\u2018afterward.\u2019 I loved you from the first moment, but I\u2019m not going to\nresent it if it took you longer to discover my irresistible charms.\nWhy, hang it all, I\u2019m proud you should have thought me worth marrying\neven for my money! But \u2018afterward,\u2019 dear? When I kissed you? You\ncan\u2019t make me believe there was no love then, Cicely. And it is still\n\u2018afterward,\u2019 and it always will be! Dear, Arcadia is waiting for you.\nThe lotus pool is lonely without you. And so am I, Cicely, Cicely dear!\u201d\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\u201cOh, I knew you would try to forgive me,\u201d she cried miserably. \u201cThat is\nwhy I\u2015\u2015didn\u2019t want you to come. Because after awhile you would remember\nand\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d\n\n\u201cCicely!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you\u2019d hate me!\u201d\n\n\u201cCicely! Look at me, dear! I want you to\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d\n\nSoft footfalls reached them. The pale youth was approaching, his arms\nladen with books. Ethan bit his lip and fell silent.\n\n\u201cI beg your pardon, Miss Hoyt, but would you mind giving me\u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\u201d\n\nEthan stepped toward him.\n\n\u201cHere,\u201d he said hurriedly, \u201chere\u2019s just what you\u2019re after. It\u2019s no\ntrouble at all.\u201d He forced the \u201cLove Sonnets from the Portuguese,\u201d\ninto the youth\u2019s hands and turned him gently but firmly away from the\ncounter. The youth looked from the book to Ethan.\n\n\u201cHow\u2015\u2015how did you know?\u201d he stammered resentfully.\n\n\u201cNever mind how, my boy. You\u2019ve got it. Run along.\u201d\n\nAfter a moment of indecision, of many silent looks of inquiry and dark\nsuspicion, the youth trod softly away again. Ethan looked at Cicely\nand they smiled together. Then she sank into her chair at the desk and\nlaughed helplessly, and cried a little, too. And Ethan said no word\nuntil she had pressed the handkerchief to her eyes and turned toward\nhim again. Then,\n\n\u201cWill you come back to your lotus pool, O Clytie?\u201d he asked softly.\n\n\u201cWouldn\u2019t it be rather cold and damp this weather?\u201d she asked with a\nlittle trembling laugh.\n\n\u201cI am going to have it steam-heated,\u201d he answered gravely. \u201cI was there\nyesterday, Clytie, and it looked very forlorn without you, dear.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou were there?\u201d she asked wonderingly.\n\n\u201cYes. I forgot to tell you, didn\u2019t I? The Larches is mine, dear, and\nthe lotus pool shall be yours for life, if you\u2019ll let me come sometimes\nand sit beside you under the trees on the bank. Will you?\u201d\n\nShe dropped her eyes.\n\n\u201cWill you?\u201d he repeated.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cWILL YOU?\u201d HE REPEATED.]\n\nShe moved nearer, with lowered head, and laid her hands palms up on the\noaken counter. He took them and drew her toward him. She raised a rosy\nface toward him, the violet eyes darting fearfully toward the reading\nroom. Ethan paused and looked thoughtful.\n\n\u201cIn nice libraries,\u201d he said, \u201cthey have what they call the open\nstacks. Is it so here?\u201d\n\nShe shook her head.\n\n\u201cBut\u2015\u2015there might be exceptions?\u201d\n\n\u201cThere might,\u201d she answered softly.\n\n\u201cAnd do you think the librarian would permit me to be an exception?\u201d\n\nShe nodded, blushing and provoking.\n\nHe turned, walked to the end of the counter and pushed aside the\nswinging gate. At the door of the stack room he paused.\n\n\u201cI would like,\u201d he said, \u201cto find that book of mythology wherein are\nrelated the loves of Clytie and Vertumnus. Could you show me where to\nfind it?\u201d\n\nShe darted a glance toward the entrance to the reading room. Then she\nfollowed him.\n\n\u201cI believe,\u201d she murmured, as her hand stole into his, \u201cI believe it is\nin the farthest corner.\u201d\n\nTheir footfalls died away down the concrete aisle. From the reading\nroom came the sound of a softly turned leaf. Then the library was very\nsilent.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n Transcriber\u2019s Notes:\n\n \u2015\u2015Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).\n\n \u2015\u2015Except for the frontispiece, illustrations have been moved to\n   follow the text that they illustrate.\n\n \u2015\u2015Punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently corrected.\n\n \u2015\u2015Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved.\n\n \u2015\u2015Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved.","title":"A Maid in Arcady","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":25353}