"Dear me," says Monica, blankly, feeling impressed in spite of herself, "I do think I am the most unfortunate person alive. Do you know," lifting her eyes to his, "I didn't sleep a wink last night, thinking of this row on the river to-day, and now it comes to nothing! That is just like my luck always. I was so bent on it; I wanted to get round that corner over there," pointing to it, "to see what was at the other side, and now I can't do it." It seems to the young man looking at her, as though her glance is reproachful, and as if she connects him, innocent as he is, with her disappointment.
"There is no reason why you shouldn't," he is beginning, anxiously, when she contradicts him.
"After all," she says, doubtfully, bending over to look into the clear bed of the river, "I don't believe, if things came to the worst, and I did get swamped, I should be drowned."
"Certainly not, if you could swim, or if there was any one watching over your welfare from the banks that could."
"Well, I can't," confesses Monica, with a sigh; "and unless you," with an irrepressible laugh that shows all her white and even teeth, "will promise to run along the banks of the river all the afternoon to watch over me, I don't think there is much chance of my escaping death."
"I shouldn't mind in the least being on guard in such a cause," says the stranger, politely, with the same carefully suppressed smile upon his lips (which are very handsome) as had moved them a while ago. "Command me if you will; but I would have you remember that, even though I should come to the rescue, it would not save you an unpleasant ducking, and—and your pretty gown," with a glance that is almost affectionate at the white Indian cotton, "would be completely ruined."
"Even that dire idea doesn't daunt me," says Monica, gayly: "you forgot that the more limp I am the more æsthetic I shall look. Well," with a sudden relapse into melancholy, "I suppose I must give it up, and not go round the corner to-day."
"But why not?" exclaims he, eagerly. "My boat is at your service. Do take it. I have quite done with it, I have indeed, and it is lighter than it looks."
"Too heavy for me, I am afraid," says Monica with a sigh.
"Is it? Then," with desperate boldness, "let me row you."