Here everything was unchanged, except that the ditches were more thickly strewn with the sodden leaves of fringing oaks and sycamores.

Giving his horse to a servant in the court-yard, he did not enter the patio, but, crossing the lawn, stepped upon the long veranda.

The rain was dripping from its eaves and striking a minute spray from the vines that clung to its columns; his footfall awoke a hollow echo as he passed, as if the outer shell of the house were deserted; the formal yews and hemlocks that in summer had relieved the dazzling glare of six months' sunshine had now taken gloomy possession of the garden, and the evening shadows, thickened by rain, seemed to lie in wait at every corner.

The servant, who had, with old-fashioned courtesy, placed the keys and the "disposition" of that wing of the house at his service, said that Dona Maria would wait upon him in the salon before dinner.

Knowing the difficulty of breaking the usual rigid etiquette, and trusting to the happy intervention of Maruja--though here, again, custom debarred him from asking for her--he allowed the servant to remove his wet overcoat, and followed him to the stately and solemn chamber prepared for him.