ympathy. "It came on with the
evening, somehow. Never mind me. Cristina has made a cream-of-lettuce
bisque, and she will never forgive us if we do not eat every bit. Yes,
Ethan; of course I'll take mine. I only wish every bush and tree would
not drip, drip like a horrid kind of clock ticking; and the foghorns
over at the lighthouses _moo_ regularly every half minute. And I never
heard the waterfall over the dam so loud!"

"We've had a wet summer," Vere observed, soothingly tranquil as ever.
"The lake and creek are full. There is more water going over to make a
noise."

"Please do not be so frightfully sensible, Drawls. You know I mean a
different loudness. It sort of rises up and swims all over one, then
dies away."

"Even a fountain will seem to do that if a wind shifts the spray," I
suggested.

"Yes, Cousin Roger. But there is no wind tonight."

A discomfort stirred me at the simple reminder. I fancied Vere was
similarly affected. If something moved under the water----?

We changed the conversation to a pergola planned for building next
spring, that was to be overrun by grapevines and honeysuckle.

"The grapes shall hang through like an Italian picture," Phillida
anticipated, headache forgotten in her enthusiasm. She shook her hair
about her pink cheeks, leaning over to outline a pergola with four
spoons. "Here in the middle we must have a birdbath. Or no! The birds
might peck the grapes. We could have one of those big silver-colored
looking-balls on a pedestal to reflect wee views of the garden and lake
and sky, with people moving no bigger than dolls. Imagine a reflection
of Ethan like a Lilliputian _so_ high!"

So I was able to leave her eagerly hunting catalogues of garden
ornaments in her sewing-room, when the time came for me to keep my
rendezvous with Death or the lady. In spite of my warning gesture, Vere
followed me into the hall. His dark face was distressed and anxious.

"Let me go with you," he urged.

"No, thanks. Stay with Phil, and keep her too busy to suspect where I
am."

"If I'm doing wrong to let you go," he began.

"You cannot stop me. It is still too early for danger, I think. If you
like, you can stroll out on the lawn from time to time and look up at my
windows. As long as the lamps are lighted in the room, I am all right.
Nothing is happening."

"Your lamps were all three lighted when I found you last night," he
said.

The darkness had been only for my eyes, then? Certainly I