Lascelles, she supposed, in the event of their being upset, would endeavour to save her.  But Bertie!  He would drown before her eyes, for the water was deep, and the shore for some time had been only a nearly perpendicular rock.  Probably Lascelles so laden might be unable to land even her.  Looking upon Du Meresq as doomed, that contingency did not disturb her.  Drowning, she had heard, was a pleasant death.  It didn’t look so though, with that cruel steel water lapping thirstily for its prey.  After the one supreme moment when she sunk with her love, would they rise again in the land where there is neither marrying nor giving in marriage, with the Platonic serenity of spirits, all earthly passion etherealized away?

She looked up; Lascelles was baling out the water with his hat.  “Du Meresq, you had better haul down the sail and take the paddle,” said he significantly.

“Our only chance is to make Coonwood,” returned the other; “there’s no landing nearer.  We should never get there paddling.  I must keep up the sail and run for it.”

He glanced at Cecil as he spoke, who met his eyes with a calm, strange smile.

A muttered consultation between Du Meresq and Lascelles alone broke the silence for some time.  The latter continued to bale, rejecting Cecil’s offer of assistance, only entreating her to continue perfectly still.  The canoe was almost level with the water.  “It must come very soon now,” she thought, and, shutting her eyes, tried to realize the great change approaching.

Her favourite day-dream of sailing away to a new strange country with Bertie recurred to her.  What if this was to be the fulfilment of it, and they were to explore for ever an unknown land beyond the skies!  But would it be so?  No sooner should the frail bark sink from under them than she would feel Lascelles clutch her in a desperate grip, and be dragged through the water, and placed alive, though half-suffocated, on the shore.  But Du Meresq would be sucked down in the blue lake, and travel to that bourn alone.

Cecil shuddered, and formed a rapid resolve.  “Who was Lascelles that he should separate them?  Let him save himself if he thought it worth while.  Whatever was Bertie’s fate should be hers also.”

Thus determined, Cecil waited for the end.  She had only to elude Lascelle’s grasp at the critical moment, and her fate was as certain as Du Meresq’s.  She gave a regretful thought to her father; but he had other children, and Cecil had no strong family ties.

As she waited in a state of half exaltation, a quiet little thought crept in,—­how was it, after all this time, the boat still lived?  Why they could not be far from Coonwood!  Lascelles was still baling, but Bertie, from improved dexterity in the management of the sail, evaded the waves more successfully.

Cecil continued to watch, and the tension of her mind yielded to a flutter of hope as she saw the water no longer gained on them.