terra-firma. Which done, he grinned again, waved his hat, and splashed upon his way. I made the boat secure and turned to Lisbeth. She was staring away towards the weir. 

 "Lisbeth," I began. 

 "I thought just now that—that it was the end!" she said, and shivered. 

 "And at such times," I added, "one sometimes says things one would not have said under ordinary circumstances. My dear, I quite understand-quite, and I'll try to forget—you needn't fear." 

 "Do you think you can?" she asked, turning to look at me. 

 "I can but try," I answered. Now as I spoke I wasn't sure, but I thought I saw the pale ghost of the dimple by her mouth. 

 We walked back side by side along the river-path, very silently, for the most part, yet more than once I caught her regarding me covertly and with a puzzled air. 

 "Well?" I said at last, tentatively. 

 "I was wondering why you did it, Dick? Oh, it was mean! cruel! wicked! How could you?" 

 "Oh, well"—and I shrugged my shoulders, anathematising the Imp mentally the while. 

 "If I hadn't noticed that the rope was freshly cut, I should have thought it an accident," she went on. 

 "Naturally!" I said. 

 "And then, again, how came you in the boat?" 

 "To be sure!" I nodded. 

 "Still, I can scarcely believe that you would willfully jeopardise both our lives—my life!" 

 "A man who would do such a thing," I exclaimed, carried away by the heat of the moment, "would be a—a—" 

 "Yes," said Lisbeth quickly, "he would." 

 "—And utterly beyond the pale of all forgiveness!" 

 "Yes," said Lisbeth, "of course." 

 Prev. P 67/113 next