It was a bad throat, a God-given touch of bronchitis or whatnot, that had sent the great young man south. This was known through Willie Kerr, and other private sources. Also, that he would remain with his Payne cousins through the following week; and in December might possibly return from the Carolinas or Florida for a few days' riding with the Hunt Club. Meantime he was here: and it was but Saturday, mid-evening, and a whole beautiful Sunday lay ahead.... From the piazza, after a turn or two, Miss Heth and Mr. Canning sauntered on to a little summer-house, which stood on the hotel front-lawn, not far from the piazza end. She had hesitated when he commended the pretty bower; but it was really the discreetest spot imaginable, under the public eye in all directions, and undoubtedly commanding a perfect view of the moonlight on the water, precisely as he pointed out. In this retreat, "What a heavenly night!" exclaimed Miss Heth. Canning, still standing, looked abroad upon a scene of dim beauty, gentle airs, and faint bright light. "Now that you say it," he replied, "it is. But depend on it, I should never have admitted it quarter of an hour ago." "Oh! But isn't it rather tedious to deny what's so beautifully plain?" "Should you say that tedious is the word? A better man than I denied his Lord." "Yes," said Carlisle, not absolutely dead-sure of the allusion, "but he was frightened, wasn't he, or something?" "And I was lonely. Loneliness beats fear hollow for making the world look out of whack." "Doesn't it? And is there a lonesomer place on the globe than a summer resort out of season?" "But we were speaking of fifteen minutes ago, were we not?" said Canning, and sat down beside her on the rustic bench. The walls of this little summer-house were largely myth, and lattice for the rest. Through the interstices the dim brightness of the moon misted in, and the multitudinous rays from the hotel. There reached them the murmur of voices, the languorous lap of water. A serene and reassuring scene it surely was; there was no menace in the night's silvern calmness, no shadow of stalking trouble.... Carlisle imagined Mr. Canning to be capable of a rapid advance at his desire, and was opposed on principle to such a course of events. Still, she was saying, a moment or two later: "And in the Payne fort on the Three Winds Road--I suppose you never feel lonely there?" "Why fort, if one might know?" "I've been told that you were awfully well barricaded there, prepared to stand any sort of siege." Canning seemed quite amused. He declared, on the contrary, that neglect and unpopularity were his portion in a strange land. "I'm an invalid on sick-leave," said he, "and my orders are to go to bed. Please don't smile, for it's all quite true ..." He appeared to develop a certain interest in the moonlit talk. He proceeded in a voice and manner no longer purely civil: