to make for the sea.  I staggered on to dry land to follow him the easier, and dragged at my watch to time the fish; a quarter to eight.  But the slim chain had broken, and the watch, as I hastily thrust it back, missed my pocket and fell into the water.  There was no time to stoop for it; the fish started afresh, tore up the pool as fast as he had gone down it, and, rushing behind the torrent, into the eddy at the top, leaped clean out of the water.  He was 70 lbs. if he was an ounce.  Here he slackened a little, dropping back, and I got in some line.  Now he sulked so intensely that I thought he had got the line round a rock.  It might be broken, might be holding fast to a sunken stone, for aught that I could tell; and the time was passing, I knew not how rapidly.  I tried all known methods, tugging at him, tapping the butt, and slackening line on him.  At last the top of the rod was slightly agitated, and then, back flew the long line in my face.  Gone!  I reeled up with a sigh, but the line tightened again.  He had made a sudden rush under my bank, but there he lay again like a stone.  How long?  Ah!  I cannot tell how long!  I heard the church clock strike, but missed the number of the strokes.  Soon he started again down-stream into the shallows, leaping at the end of his rush—­the monster.  Then he came slowly up, and ‘jiggered’ savagely at the line.  It seemed impossible that any tackle could stand these short violent jerks.  Soon he showed signs of weakening.  Once his huge silver side appeared for a moment near the surface, but he retreated to his old fastness.  I was in a tremor of delight and despair.  I should have thrown down my rod, and flown on the wings of love to Olive and the altar.  But I hoped that there was time still—­that it was not so very late!  At length he was failing.  I heard ten o’clock strike.  He came up and lumbered on the surface of the pool.  Gradually I drew him, plunging ponderously, to the gravelled beach, where I meant to ‘tail’ him.  He yielded to the strain, he was in the shallows, the line was shortened.  I stooped to seize him.  The frayed and overworn gut broke at a knot, and with a loose roll he dropped back towards the deep.  I sprang at him, stumbled, fell on him, struggled with him, but he slipped from my arms.  In that moment I knew more than the anguish of Orpheus.  Orpheus!  Had I, too, lost my Eurydice?  I rushed from the stream, up the steep bank, along to my rooms.  I passed the church door.  Olive, pale as her orange-blossoms, was issuing from the porch.  The clock pointed to 10.45.  I was ruined, I knew it, and I laughed.  I laughed like a lost spirit.  She swept past me, and, amidst the amazement of the gentle and simple, I sped wildly away.  Ask me no more.  The rest is silence.”

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