And when I had got into dry clothes and had swallowed a draught of hot tea I felt somewhat rested. So I went out and sat me down on the seat under my pine. From that place I could see the west, and the clouds were somewhat broken and driving fast, but no glimpse of the sun yet, though he must be near his setting. And out upon the water lay the yacht, at anchor in a spot that was sheltered, and she was well down by the head. About her, like a flock of crows, were some small boats. And I looked no more upon the yacht, but I gazed at the tree like a spire, that should show against the sun’s disk as he set, and I thought with bitterness on what I had done; and my thoughts were the thoughts of Ahab. In the bitterness of my heart I spoke aloud. “Hast thou found me, O mine enemy?” And, even as I spoke, I heard behind me the light step that I knew and loved, and there was Eve. And she sat upon the seat beside me. I looked at her questioning. “Is it well?” I asked. She smiled up at me. “It is well,” she answered; and my bitterness fell from me as a garment, and I marveled that it was so. And so we sat and saw the twilight fail, early, and the night fall. And out upon the water, a light marked where the yacht lay at her anchor, and the light bowed slowly, up and down; for there yet was a swell coming in, although the wind had fallen. And peace fell upon my spirit, and a great content. * * * * * Under my great pine is a pleasant place for a man--or for a Daughter of the Rich, as I make bold to guess--with a heart at ease. And for a certain rich man it might, indeed, be pleasant under my pine,--I did not know. But I was to find out, for a week had gone by since I hauled him ashore like any drifting mess of seaweed, and with no more life in him, as it seemed, than in the weed; his legs and his arms trailing in the water. And, Eve asking it, I invited him to my clambake that I made to pleasure Old Goodwin. From my seat against the tree he might look out upon my clam beds. But it might well be that he would not care for clam beds; for every Rich man is not an Old Goodwin. And he might see, too, the place where he so nearly lost his life. And it might well be that he would not care for that, either. But he should have the chance. And, to make the tale complete, I had asked Mrs. Goodwin, too.