“Oh, darling boy, don’t!  Seven hundred pounds, is it?  If that can save us, you shall have it, Randal, you shall indeed!”

“Is that the truth?” says Gower.  He seats himself suddenly upon the seat opposite to her, and with a countenance not one whit the less draped in gloom, pulls from his pocket a cheque-book, a pen, and a tiny little ink case.

“I hardly know if there is yet time,” says he, “but if you will sign this, I shall do my best to get back to a life that is apparently dear to you, though not”—­mournfully—­“to me.”

Miss Gower takes the pen, plunges it into the ink, and writes her name.  It is not until to-morrow that she remembers that the cheque was drawn out in every way, except for her signature.

“Ah, we may yet reach the shore alive!” says Mr. Gower, in a depressing tone, putting in the plug.

When they reach it, he gives his arm to his aunt, and, in the tenderest fashion, helps her along the short pathway that leads to the house.

In the hall quite a large number of people are assembled, and everyone runs toward them.

“Why, we thought you were lost,” says Mrs. Chichester.

“Yes, so we were very nearly,” says Mr. Gower, shaking his head and advancing into the hall with the languid airs of one who has just undergone a strange experience.

“But how—­how?” They all crowd round him now.

“Poor aunt and I were nearly drowned,” says Mr. Gower pathetically.  He takes a step forward, and the water drips from his trousers.  He looks back at Miss Gower.  “Weren’t we?” says he.

“But you are dripping!” cries Tita, “whilst Miss Gower seems quite dry.  Dear Miss Gower,” turning anxiously to that spinster, “I hope you are not wet.”

“Ah! she was so nice, so nice," says Randal sweetly, “that she wouldn’t let me do much for her.  But if you will just look under her petticoats I am afraid you will——­”

“Randal!” cries Miss Gower indignantly.

After this the spinster is hurried upstairs by many willing hands and is put to bed.  Tita, on her way down from seeing her made comfortable, meets Randal redressed and dry and comfortable in the library.

“What does all this mean?” says she.  “When you spoke this morning of taking Miss Gower out on the lake I—­I did not suspect you of anything—­but now——­”

“Well, now, you shall hear the truth,” says Gower.  Whereupon he gives her a graphic account of the scene on the lake.

“I knew she’d take that fence,” says he.  “And I was right; there wasn’t even a jib.”

“I wonder you aren’t ashamed of yourself,” says Tita indignantly.

“Don’t wonder any more.  I am ashamed of myself.  I’m so ashamed that I’m going at once to pay my debts.”

“Oh, I like that!”

“Well, I am.  I shall give my landlady five pounds out of her account.”

“And the account?”