A glorious golden afternoon, a scintillant silvery night, and then—Dawn’s pink finger-tips aquiver on the edges of the hills and the bursting forth of a new day to the exultant overture of Nature’s orchestra.

Ethan looked forth from the open window on to the most beautiful sight given to the eyes of mortals,—the fresh, sparkling morning world of summer seen through the magnifying lenses of love. The orchard was fresh and vivid with the tender greens of sun-shot leaves and grass, and dark and cool with pools of pleasant shadow. Dew-gems shimmered under the caressing breeze and the tips of the spreading, reaching branches nodded and whispered together. Beyond, the little silver-voiced river laughed amongst its shallows and flashed in the sunlight. From the marshland came the happy gurgle of a flock of red-winged blackbirds, while fainter, yet sweet and clear, the light-hearted tinkle of the bobolink floated across from the rising meadows. Sleek, well-conditioned robins balanced amidst the apple-trees and sang contentedly between groomings of their red waistcoats. And louder, clearer, gladder sang Ethan’s heart.

Dear reader, have you ever been young and in love on a summer morning? Do you recollect how intoxicating was the soft, sweet breeze that entered through the open window? How like liquid gold the sunshine spread across the sill and dripped upon the floor? How every bird-note was but a different rendering of the one sweet name? How eager and impatient you were to be out in the good green world and how loth to cease your dreaming long enough to dress? What a vastly important thing was the selection of a tie or a ribbon? I hope that you remember these things if you have forgotten all else!

The lotus pool never glowed more brilliantly, never sparkled more radiantly than it did this morning. It was not difficult to imagine that those floating cups held the colors into which Nature dipped her brushes ere she painted the summer flowers. The lazy, luxury-loving swans were dozing in the sunlight on their tiny island. The cascade plashed and tinkled over moss and stone. The fringing trees blew welcome shade upon the grassy sides of the little basin. And Ethan, lifting his dripping paddle as the canoe rippled its way across the mirror-like surface, drew a deep breath of the scented air and experienced a sudden bewildering joy of life, an almost paganish exultation. It seemed to him this morning that the world and he drew breath together.

It was early when he floated into Arcady and there were no violet eyes to greet him. But his impatience was soothed by the happiness which remembrance gave him. He dreamed there in the sunshine, lighting a cigarette now and then and letting it burn itself out unnoticed between his fingers. White clouds floated across the blue sky and across the surface of the pool. Dragon-flies, their metallic-lustred wings ablaze, darted and turned. Birds sang and insects buzzed, the breeze gossiped to the leaves and the moments passed. When he finally awoke fully from his dreaming and looked wonderingly at his watch the morning was almost gone. He turned disappointed eyes toward the brief vista afforded by the jealous trees. No glimpse of white drapery rewarded him. She had said that she might not come. Why? Vaguely troubled, he propelled the canoe to the bank and stepped out. Under the shade of the willow made forever sacred by their meetings he threw himself down and waited while the long hand of his watch crept laggingly half-way around the dial. But patience had flown, and when the time he had set himself had passed he jumped to his feet and set off up the lawn under the trees.

Presently the corner of the white pergola sprang into view. Then the trees thinned away and he was looking across an open, sun-bathed stretch of lawn at the gleaming house. And as he looked, himself a scarcely noticeable figure against the green shadows of the grove, the front veranda of the house became suddenly peopled with a girl in a white frock and a man in gray flannels. They came together through the doorway and paused side by side at the top of the steps. Even at that distance Ethan recognized them only too well. The man had taken the girl’s hand and was speaking to her. Ethan watched for an instant only, yet in that instant he saw with a sudden sinking of the heart how the girl’s head, the sunlight aglint on the brown hair, lifted itself with a little gesture of intimate happiness to her companion. Then, in a sickening panic lest he might see more, Ethan turned quickly and plunged back into the shadows.

All the way back to the Inn, with every stroke and lift of the paddle, a refrain hammered ceaselessly at his brain: “No poaching on my preserves! No poaching on my preserves!” What an ass he had been not to understand! He hated Vincent as he had never hated anyone in his life, realizing all the while the absolute injustice of it. Why hadn’t he guessed from Vincent’s note how the land lay? He might have known that Vincent could have referred to no one but Her. But why couldn’t the fool have come out honestly and told him? A week ago, even three days ago would have been time! Then, in the next moment, he knew that that was not so, that it had always been too late, always since that first meeting! Yet why, if she were Vincent’s, had she allowed him to love her? Why had she virtually acknowledged her love for him? Why——

He remembered that kiss with a sudden choking, clutching sensation at his throat. Had she meant nothing by that? Nothing? No, she had meant all, everything that he had hoped! She did love him, and neither Vincent Graves nor anyone else could have her! But that exultation was short-lived. What she had meant was of little moment; she belonged to Vincent by promise if by naught else, and Vincent was his friend.

Things were suddenly greatly simplified. His tangled thoughts smoothed themselves out and he gave a sigh that was partly of relief. At least his duty was plain. “No poaching on my preserves!” He had only to heed that warning and take himself out of the way. That thought steadied him down and his pulses ceased their deafening pounding. It wouldn’t be easy, that duty! He knew that well enough, although at this moment he was viewing it almost calmly. When the present excitement passed he would find it hard going!

The prospect of facing Vincent troubled him more than anything else as he drew the canoe from the water and laid it on its rack under the trees. Vincent was probably even now awaiting him up there on the porch. For a moment he thought of taking the canoe again and stealing off up the stream for a ways and then walking across to the station and taking the train for—anywhere out of all this! But it would be a sneaking, cowardly thing to do. Besides, sooner or later Vincent and he must meet, and as well now as any time. He lighted a cigarette with fingers that trembled a little and walked up through the orchard.

As he had expected, Vincent Graves was awaiting him on the porch. He was a tall, dark, fine-looking fellow, with a deep, pleasant voice and a remarkable, careless ease of manner; just the sort of a chap, Ethan told himself, that any sensible girl would fall in love with. Vincent did not see him for a moment, and in that moment Ethan had opportunity to study his friend with a new interest, view him from a novel point. But he found he could not be coldly critical; Vincent was Vincent, wholly admirable and lovable; and Ethan’s heart warmed under a sudden inrush of affection as he went forward with outstretched hand.

“Hello, Vin!” he said.

Vincent swung about, seized the hand and grasped it warmly.

“Why, you old chump!” he responded, smiling broadly. “Aren’t you ashamed to look me in the eye? What have you been doing with yourself? How’s mythology?”

“When did you come up?” asked Ethan, echoing the smile.

“This morning. Stopped at——” He looked at Ethan with a quick lowering of the eyebrows. “Look here, what’s the matter with you? You have the cheerful, care-free countenance of a gentleman strolling to the gallows! Been ill?”

“Ill?” laughed Ethan. “Certainly not; never felt better in my life.”

“If you felt any better you’d scream, eh? Well, you’ve been up to something, Ethan, and you can lie yourself black in the face for all I care. You’re going back with me this evening; that’s settled. I came over in your machine and for a wonder it didn’t even spring a leak. I left it at The Larches,” he went on in response to Ethan’s questioning survey of the driveway and stable-yard. “I stopped there and made a call.” He paused, smiling mysteriously.

“Oh,” said Ethan.

“Yes, I—look here, let’s take a walk. What time is it? What? Oh, dinner be blowed! Come on, I want to talk a bit. Hang it, Eth, I’ll have to talk or bust up like one of your tires!”

“All right,” answered Ethan, without enthusiasm. “Smoke?”

Vincent accepted a cigarette and when they had lighted up they passed down the steps and along the road, under the arching elms, Vincent’s hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“It’s largely your fault, old chap,” he said presently. He chuckled to himself a moment before continuing. “You see, I got uneasy about your sudden and mysterious affection for this rural paradise. I’ve never heard you enthuse about it before; in fact I remember several violently disparaging remarks on the subject of Riverdell. So when you wrote that you were stopping here a while to study mythology I got scared. Understand?”

“Perfectly! What are you jawing about?”

“Lord, you’re dense! I’ll explain in words of one——”

“Thanks.”

“You see, Eth, you’re a very captivating beggar; you have a wonderful way with the fair sex. For instance, there was that girl at college——”

“Cut it out,” growled Ethan.

“Still touchy? Well, I wasn’t taking any chances. Being interested over this way myself I thought I’d better take a run over and look after things. Thought maybe you were making love to my girl; poaching, you know. Couldn’t have blamed you, old chap, for she’s just about the swellest thing you ever saw.”

“So you came up to head me off, eh?” inquired Ethan uninterestedly.

“Exactly. And found to my surprise that you hadn’t been near the honey. You don’t know what you’ve missed, Eth. They’re awfully nice folks, the whole push; and they’d have been tickled to death to have you call. Why didn’t you?”

“Consideration for your future happiness, Vin,” answered the other calmly.

“And you haven’t been near the place?”

“I got as far as the gate one day when taking a walk.”

“Well, will you tell me what in blazes you’ve been doing here for the last week?”

“No.”

Vincent studied him silently a moment.

“All right, old chap; I don’t want to be rudely inquisitive.”

“You’re not; only don’t bother your head about me. I’m off to-day, anyhow.”

“Yes, you’re coming with me. The mater made me swear by the graves of my ancestors that I’d fetch you back. And I’ve also promised to bring you to dinner to-night at the Devereuxs’.”

“Sorry, Vin.”

“You won’t?”

“You’ve guessed it.”

“Why not? Look here, I want you to meet Laura!”

Ethan winced.

“That’s nice of you, Vin, but really I can’t. I’ve simply got to be in Boston this evening. Tell them, please, that I’m very sorry, will you? And that I hope to have the pleasure some other time. Make it all right, like a good chap.”

“Well. But you’re coming over to Stillhaven later, aren’t you?”

“Maybe; perhaps in a week or two.”

“That’s rotten! Look here, Eth, can’t I get in on this? I don’t know what’s up, and I won’t ask, but if I can help you any way——”

“Of course, old man. If you could I’d say so. But there isn’t anything wrong. I’ll explain later. It’s all right.”

“Doubt it. But you know best, I dare say.”

They turned by mutual consent and strolled back toward the Inn. Presently Vincent broke the silence again.

“By the way, I haven’t told you quite all, Eth; I’m engaged.”

“The deuce you are!” Ethan simulated intense surprise.

“Yep!” Vincent grinned triumphantly.

“Who to, you idiot?”

“Why, haven’t I told you? To Laura Devereux. They’re the folks I’ve been talking about. They have The Larches. You knew that!”

“Yes, but—when did it happen?”

“About an hour or so ago. I didn’t mean to do it to-day, but—hang it, Eth, I just simply had to! She’s the best girl in the world, old chap, and the prettiest too. I want you to see her. When you do you’ll understand. I told her about you and she wants me to bring you up to-night.”

“I hope you’ll be mighty happy, Vin.” They shook hands there in the empty road very gravely in spite of their smiling faces. “And congratulate her, too, old man. You’re rather a good sort—at times. And of course I’ll get you to take me to see her just as soon as I come back. I’ll have to get on the good side of her so she’ll let me come and see you once in a while when you’re married. When’s it to be?”

“Don’t be an ass!” grunted Vincent. “As for when, well, we haven’t settled that yet. Maybe it won’t be until Spring; I fancy she would rather wait until then. And I ought to get things fixed up a bit first, too,” he added vaguely.

“Oh, it won’t take you long to burn a few letters and photographs,” answered Ethan flippantly.

“Go to the deuce! Do we eat now?”

After dinner they sat together on the porch until such time as Vincent thought he might venture to return to The Larches, and Ethan listened patiently and with attempted enthusiasm to his friend’s mild ravings. Vincent was ludicrously happy.

“It’s all so darned funny!” he kept repeating. “A few hours ago I was scared to death for fear she wouldn’t have me, and now——”

“And now you’re a goner,” finished Ethan.

“Laugh if you want to,” replied Vincent happily. “I expected you would. I thought you’d cut up worse than you have, old chap. My time will come!”

“When it does, you let me know,” scoffed Ethan.

“Look here, I wish you’d give up this Boston business and go along with me to-night, Eth. I—there’s a reason.”

“Nonsense, you’re beyond reason. Besides, I can’t give it up, Vin. Sorry; wish I could.”

“Oh, go to blazes! You could if you wanted to. Look here, I lay you any odds you like that you’ve been caught yourself! You’ve met some girl here and she’s gone home and you’re tagging after! You ought to have more pride, Eth!”

“I dare say, Mr. Solomon. By the way, I don’t want to hurry you, but it’s nearly half after two, and——”

“The deuce it is!” Vincent leaped to his feet and Ethan laughed loudly and cruelly. Vincent viewed him in amazement a moment and then joined.

“Talk about tagging!” chuckled Ethan.

“You haven’t seen her, you old scoffer,” responded his friend.

At a little after three Ethan tossed his luggage into the car, climbed in beside the unruffled Farrell and swung the big blue monster toward Boston. And while it ate up the long miles Ethan, his hands on the wheel, scowled miserably ahead and honestly strove to forget that he had ever stumbled into Arcady.