"Mr. Hemstead has seen a light upon the river, and bodes from it some vague danger to some vague, indefinite people. Come, Mr. Hemstead, come away, or before we know it you will be off on the quixotic attempt to rescue what uncle calls a 'hardy water-rat,' that all the water of the river could not drown."
"O, I see," sneered De Forrest; "Mr. Hemstead wishes to get cheaply, standing here within and in good company, the credit of being willing to attempt a perilous rescue."
"You are jumping at conclusions very rapidly, Julian, and not very charitable ones either," said Lottie, reproachfully.
"Come, Mr. De Forrest," said Hemstead, quietly, "we will test this question of cheapness. I will go with you to investigate that light."
"Nonsense!" replied the exquisite. "As Miss Marsden suggested, Don
Quixote may be your model knight, but he is not mine."
"Now I didn't suggest any such thing," said Lottie, decidedly vexed.
"Come, young people, tea is waiting," called Mrs. Marchmont.
"Well, I did," said De Forrest to Lottie, aside; "and what's more, I believe it's true," and he placed her reluctant hand upon his arm, and drew her to the supper-room.
But Hemstead lingered a moment, to watch the light, with increasing uneasiness. In his silent abstraction at the table it was evident to Lottie that his mind was dwelling upon the problem of the mysterious glimmer far out upon the river. Before the meal was over, he abruptly excused himself, but soon returned as if relieved, and said, "It is no more to be seen."
"I told you how it was," said Mr. Dimmerly. "The man floated down as far as he wished, and now has pulled ashore."