“Well,” said Scarlett, with a bright look at his wife, “I’ll promise one thing—when we’re tired, we’ll turn back.”
“Yes, dear; but there’s all the way to return.”
“Oh, the river takes us back itself, aunt,” said Lady Scarlett merrily. “Row up; and then float back.”
“Ah, well, my dears, I am in your hands,” said Aunt Sophia softly; “but don’t take me into danger, please.”
“All right, auntie—There’s one of the prettiest bits,” he added, pointing to where the trees on the right bank opened, showing a view of the hills beyond.—“Now, Jack, pull.”
Ten minutes’ sharp rowing brought them up to the stout piles that guarded the entrance to the lock, whose slimy doors were open; and as they approached, they could see the further pair, with the water hissing and spirting through in tiny streams, making a strange echo from the perpendicular stone walls that rose up a dozen feet on either side.
“Lock, lock, lock, lock!” shouted Scarlett in his mellow tones, as the boat glided in between the walls, and Aunt Sophia turned pale.
“They shut us up here, don’t they, James, and then let the water in?”
“Till we are on a level with the river above, and then open the other pair,” said Scarlett quietly. “Don’t be alarmed.”
“But I am, my dear,” said the old lady earnestly. “My nerves are not what they were.”