Observing her abstraction, as also her frequent turning to look down the river—but without suspicion of what is causing it—Miss Lees at length inquires,—
“What’s the matter with you, Gwen?”
“Oh, nothing,” she evasively answers, bringing back her eyes to the boat, and once more giving attention to the oars.
“But why are you looking so often below? I’ve noticed you do so at least a score of times.”
If the questioner could but divine the thoughts at that moment in the other’s mind, she would have no need thus to interrogate, but would know that below there is another boat with a man in it, who possesses that unseen something, like ether or electricity, and to catch sight of whom Miss Wynn has been so oft straining her eyes. She has not given all her confidence to the companion.
Not receiving immediate answer, Ellen again asks—
“Is there any danger you fear?”
“None that I know of—at least, for a long way down. Then there are some rough places.”
“But you are pulling so unsteadily! It takes all my strength to keep in the middle of the river.”
“Then you pull, and let me do the steering,” returns Miss Wynn, pretending to be in a pout; as she speaks starting up from the thwart, and leaving the oars in their thole pins.