Ethan had no eyes for the sudden shadow on the sweet face. He began to stride up and down again, angrily, eagerly, looking out through the tracery of the wistaria as an animal might through the bars of its cage. "Well, here I am!" Val stood smiling as he turned. "Oh, good! Let us sit down." "On the black benches? Never!" She gathered her skirts round her with a gesture of comic horror. "Here, then"--he spread out a large white handkerchief--"sit on this." "And you?" "Sit down!" he commanded. She took the place meekly, with hands crossed in mockery, and laughing eyes, but her pale cheeks flushed. "Now, you are to promise me something," he said, standing before her with folded arms. "Oh, I've always got to promise you things. What have you ever promised me?" His moody eyes caressed the upturned face. "What do you want me to promise?" he said, more gently. "Will you do it?" "I--a--" "You _see_!" "I only want to know what it is." She looked away. "Tell me what _you_ want first," she said. Instead of answering, her cousin turned and walked to the end of the dripping veranda, where the wind had blown the rain in several feet across the boards. She watched him furtively, biting her upper lip the while, catching it cruelly with her sharp white teeth to still its trembling. She watched him turn slowly, come back a few paces, raising his eyes as he was passing the first of the long room windows, and stop short with a queer, guilty start. He nodded gravely to the watchful eyes within and continued his walk, only more rapidly, muttering to himself, "The old lioness!" Val had an impulse to go and look through the window nearest her, but something held her where she was. Presently, as Ethan paced back and forth, a pale shine came through the panes, mixing uncertainly with the evening light. Venie must have taken in the big bronze lamp. Yes, one could hear her now letting down the blinds. Val was glad she had resisted the impulse to look in. Ethan had stopped his restless pacing, as soon as the blinds were drawn. "I have asked her," he said, with a motion of the head towards the long room, "to let me attend to the roof, and a few little things like that." He paused, and looked sharply at the shrouded windows. "She says you take a great deal upon yourself," Val smiled. "Oh, she does! Well, I shall take more. I am going to take the liberty of giving you five hundred dollars, to do what you can here without her knowing; and when's it's gone I shall give you as much again, and you're not to tell anybody. Promise." "I couldn't do that." "Why not?" "Simply, I couldn't. I know so well what she'd say--'It's against all our traditions.' And the money you are offering--" "Well?"