t a bit toward the Porto, leaving the elders, in Pietro's
gondola, to take the more direct way home. And so it came about that
presently the Colonel found himself, floating with the Signora down the
quiet _rio_ by which they had entered the _vignoli_. So elderly was the
aspect of the gondola with its three gray heads to one black one, that
the very dogs refrained from barking, and in the grateful hush, broken
only by the dip of the oar, and the not all unmelodious creak of
Pietro's heavy boots, the liquid note of the blackbird sounded sweet and
clear.

The reflection crossed the Colonel's mind that this was the first time,
in all these weeks, that he had been alone with the Signora. He
wondered, in a self-distrustful way, what would come of it. It was
certainly very sweet to him to have her there beside him, quite to
himself. He wondered whether it struck her that it was an intimate,
confidential sort of situation. He was sitting a little forward, as his
habit was, and as he glanced under the awning, at the pretty, rural bit
of country that bordered the canal, it was easy to include her face in
his survey from time to time.

They chatted for a while of this and that indifferent topic, but it was
clear that they were both preoccupied and they soon fell silent. The
Colonel indeed, was nervously sensible that fate was closing in about
him, and that he might, at any moment, be betrayed into a false step.
For, despite his practical, Yankee common-sense, the old soldier was
something of a fatalist, and in the one most critical relation of his
life, he had always felt himself subject to mysterious and irresistible
influences.

Presently, as they came out upon the sparkling waters of the lagoon, the
Signora spoke. There was something in her voice that caused the Colonel
to turn, at the first word, and as he looked into her face, he pleased
himself with noting a new animation, that seemed a direct reflex of the
light that played upon the waters. Had he not long ago discovered that
mystic kinship?

"Geof and I are very grateful to you," she was saying, "for bringing
those charming girls of yours to Venice."

"You like them!" he exclaimed. "I knew you would. Nice girls, both of
them. It has been a great thing for them, having you here, and Geof.
Geof's a capital fellow."

She turned upon her companion a questioning, yet on the whole a pretty
confident look. "Colonel Steele," she asked, "should you greatly mind if
one of yo