The colour on the fair face deepened a shade:  the little chin was raised a full inch, and the voice became perceptibly icy.

“I must go, sir.  I hope I have thanked you as far as I can, and—­”

“And what?”

“Forgive me that I was about to offer you money.”

The hat’s brim bent now, but under it I could see the honest eyes full of pain.

“Forgive you!” I cried.  “Who am I to forgive you?  You were right:  I am no better than a beggar.”

The red lips quivered and broke into a smile; a tiny dimple appeared, vanished and reappeared; the hat’s brim nodded again, and then the eyes sparkled into laughter—­

“A sturdy beggar, at any rate.”

It was the poorest little joke, but love is not exacting of wit.  Again we both laughed, but this time with more relief, and yet the embarrassment that followed was greater.

“Must you go?” I asked as I bent down to pull the boat in.

“I really must,” she answered shyly; and then as she pulled out a tiny watch at her waist—­“Oh!  I am late—­so late.  I shall keep mother waiting and make her lose the train.  What shall I do?  Oh, pray, sir, be quick!”

A mad hope coursed through me; I pointed to the boat and said—­

“I have made it so wet.  If you are late, better let me row you.  Where are you going?”

“To Streatley; but I cannot—­”

“I also am going to Streatley.  Please let me row you:  I will not speak if you wish it.”

Over her face, now so beautifully agitated, swept the rarest of blushes.  “Oh no, it is not that, but I can manage quite well”—­her manner gave the lie to her brave words—­“and I shall not mind the wet.”

“If I have not offended you, let me row.”

“No, no.”

“Then I have offended.”

“Please do not think so.”

“I shall if you will not let me row.”

Before my persistency she wavered and was conquered.  “But my boat?” she said.

“I will tow it behind”—­and in the glad success of my hopes I allowed her no time for further parley, but ran off for my own boat, tied the two together, and gently helped her to her seat.  Was ever moment so sweet?  Did ever little palm rest in more eager hand than hers in mine during that one heavenly moment?  Did ever heart beat so tumultuously as mine, as I pushed the boat from under the boughs and began to row?

Somehow, as we floated up the still river, a hush fell upon us.  She was idly trailing her hand in the stream and watching the ripple as it broke and sparkled through her fingers.  Her long lashes drooped down upon her cheek and veiled her eyes, whilst I sat drinking in her beauty and afraid by a word to break the spell.

Presently she glanced up, met my burning eyes, and looked down abashed.

“Forgive me, I could not help it.”