Another minute brought him to a broad gate, flanked by high stone pillars. A well-kept drive-way swept curving back to a large white house, a house a little too pretentious to entirely please Ethan. On one side,――the side, as he knew, nearest the lotus pool,――an uncovered porch jutted out, and from this steps led to a white pergola. The latter was a recent addition and as yet the grapevines had not succeeded wholly in covering its nakedness. From one of the windows on the lower floor of the house a dull orange glow emanated. [Illustration] “They’ve got a fire there,” said Ethan, “and she’s sitting in front of it. Wish I was!” He settled the collar of his raincoat closer about his neck to keep out the drops, and sighed. “You know,” he went on then, somewhat defiantly, addressing himself apparently to the residence, “there’s no reason why I shouldn’t walk right up the drive, ring the bell and ask for――for Mr. Devereux. I’ve got the best excuse in the world. And once inside it would be odd if I didn’t see Her. I’ve half a mind to do it! Only――perhaps she’d rather I wouldn’t. And――I won’t.” He took a final survey of the premises and turned away with another sigh. Before he had reached the Inn the clouds had broken in the south and a little wind was shaking the raindrops from the leaves along the road. [Illustration] “A good sailing breeze,” he thought. “And, by the bye, this is Saturday. I ought to be at Stillhaven helping Vin win that race. I suppose I’ve disappointed him. However, a fellow can’t be in two places at once; he ought to know that.” IX. The little breeze had held all night, and this morning the trees and shrubs were quite dry again, but looking better for their bath. It was Sunday, and as the canoe floated into the harbor of the lotus pool a distant church bell was ringing. Perhaps, he told himself with a sudden sinking of the heart, he was doomed to another day without sight of Clytie; for it might be that the family would drive to church. But the first fair look about him dispelled his forebodings. She was standing at the border of the pool throwing crumbs of bread to the swans. She saw him at almost the same moment and smiled. [Illustration] “Don’t come any nearer, please,” she said. “You’ll scare them.” He dipped his paddle obediently and sat silent in the rocking craft until the last crumb had been distributed and she had brushed the crumbs from her outstretched hands. Stooping, she picked a book from the grass and faced him. [Illustration: SHE WAS THROWING CRUMBS OF BREAD TO THE SWANS.] “May I come ashore?” he asked. “You are already trespassing dreadfully,” she objected. “‘In for a penny, in for a pound,’” he replied, sending the canoe forward. “‘Might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb.’ And if I could think of any other proverbs applicable to the matter I’d quote them.” He jumped out and pulled the bow of the canoe onto the turf.