ay. The place at large
had an empty air; most of the inmates of the hotel were dispersed on
the lake, on the hills, in picnics, excursions, visits to the
Borromean Islands. My guide was so far right as that Linda was in
the summer-house, but she was there alone. On finding this the case
I stopped short, rather awkwardly--I might have been, from the way I
suddenly felt, an unmasked hypocrite, a proved conspirator against her
security and honour. But there was no embarrassment in lovely Linda; she
looked up with a cry of pleasure from the book she was reading and held
out her hand with engaging frankness. I felt again as if I had no right
to that favour, which I pretended not to have noticed. This gave no
chill, however, to her pretty manner; she moved a roll of tapestry
off the bench so that I might sit down; she praised the place as a
delightful shady corner. She had never been fresher, fairer, kinder; she
made her mother's awful talk about her a hideous dream. She told me
her mother was coming to join her; she had remained indoors to write
a letter. One couldn't write out there, though it was so nice in other
respects: the table refused to stand firm. They too then had pretexts
of letters between them--I judged this a token that the situation was
tense. It was the only one nevertheless that Linda gave: like Archie she
was young enough to carry it off. She had been used to seeing us always
together, yet she made no comment on my having come over without him. I
waited in vain for her to speak of this--it would only be natural; her
omission couldn't but have a sense. At last I remarked that my nephew
was very unsociable that morning; I had expected him to join me, but he
hadn't seemed to see the attraction.

"I'm very glad. You can tell him that if you like," said Linda Pallant.

I wondered at her. "If I tell him he'll come at once."

"Then don't tell him; I don't want him to come. He stayed too long last
night," she went on, "and kept me out on the water till I don't know
what o'clock. That sort of thing isn't done here, you know, and every
one was shocked when we came back--or rather, you see, when we didn't! I
begged him to bring me in, but he wouldn't. When we did return--I almost
had to take the oars myself--I felt as if every one had been sitting up
to time us, to stare at us. It was awfully awkward."

These words much impressed me; and as I have treated the reader to
most of the reflexions--some of them perhaps