There was a peculiar fairyism about Ennore. It seemed to nestle in all its sylvan beauty on the borders of an inland lake whose slopes were fringed by cocoanut palms, dense glossy shrubs, and odoriferous spice plants; while graceful bamboos flung their interlacing tendrils all about. Great water-lilies spread themselves over the surface of the water, and the water-fowl floated or skimmed over its sparkling ripples. A trim, white-sailed boat, with an ancient, white-bearded serang in attendance, was always at the disposal of the bungalow guests. Afloat on the placid waters of the lake and sheltered by its leafy borders, every object tended to convince one that it was entirely an inland sheet of water, till suddenly you might, perchance, be startled by the shrill cry of a sea-gull, or the fierce roll of the near breakers would fall on your astounded ear. You would then glance across the sunny ripples of the lake, and perceive with amazement that a strip of sand was all that divided the peaceful backwater from the great Bay of Bengal; so white and thin were its grains that they might be put through an hour-glass without refinement, and so narrow was the strip that, in a minute, a child could run across it. On one side light zephyrs dance on the tiny ripples; on the other, the waters roll in mighty waves dashed to the shore in tossing, writhing floods of whitest foam. At the upper end of this long stretch of smooth sand stands the gallant little bungalow with its trim, green-painted _persiennes_, trellised verandahs, and its breezy "up-stair" room, surrounded by some sturdy date palms, and sheltered from the elements by a belt of hardy jungle trees which break the fury of the gales. The one ample sitting-room of the bungalow from which branched various bedrooms and dressing-rooms, seemed to Hester the most English-looking room of a certain type which she had seen since coming to the East. Perhaps it suggested the old-fashioned inn-parlour more than anything intimately domestic. On its walls hung numerous quaint-coloured prints of English hunting scenes. Its sofas, planted against the walls, offered luxurious rest; while its big dining-table and rows of chairs gave it a hospitable air. The many windows at each end of the long room disclosed impartially the inland beauties of the backwater, and the expanse of the great restless ocean. On one side of the building the favoured small guests, who found themselves making holiday at the bungalow, might float their mimic ships in safety; and on the other, beyond the mass of seething foam, the stateliest ships of the world might be seen sailing over the great deep.