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He appeared not to see her when she came down to breakfast. After the meal was over he sat on the piazza engrossed in the morning paper. An excursion party for the mountains was forming. He merely bowed politely as she passed him to join it, but he ground his teeth as he saw Merriweather and Hackley escorting her away. When they were out of sight he tossed the paper aside and went down to the river, purposing to row the fever out of his blood. He was already satisfied how difficult his tactics would be should he continue to see her, and he determined to be absent all day, to so tire himself out that exhaustion would bring early sleep on his return.

Weary and leaden-spirited enough he was, as late in the afternoon he made his way back, but firm in sudden resolve to depart on an early train in the morning and never voluntarily to see the obdurate lady of his affections again.

Just as the sun was about sinking he approached a small wooded island about half a mile from the boat-house, and was surprised to notice a rowboat high and dry upon the beach. “Some one has forgotten that the tide is going out,” he thought, as he passed; but it was no affair of his.

A voice called faintly, “Mr. Scofield!”

He started at the familiar tones, and looked again. Surely that was Miss Madison standing by the prow of the stranded skiff! He knew well indeed it was she; and he put his boat about with an energy not in keeping with his former languid strokes. Then, recollecting himself, he became pale with the self-control he purposed to maintain, “She is in a scrape,” he thought; “and calls upon me as she would upon any one else to get her out of it.”

Weariness and discouragement inclined him to be somewhat reckless and brusque in his words and manner. Under the compulsion of circumstances she who would never graciously accord him opportunities must now be alone with him; but as a gentleman, he could not take advantage of her helplessness, to plead his cause, and he felt a sort of rage that he should be mocked with an apparent chance which was in fact no chance at all.

His boat stranded several yards from the shore. Throwing down his oars, he rose and faced her. Was it the last rays of the setting sun which made her face so rosy, or was it embarrassment?

“I’m in a dilemma, Mr. Scofield,” Miss Madison began hesitatingly.

“And you would rather be in your boat,” he added.

“That would not help me any, seeing where my boat is. I have done such a stupid thing! I stole away here to finish a book, and– well–I didn’t notice that the tide was running out. I’m sure I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Scofield put his shoulder to an oar and tried to push his craft to what deserved the name of shore, but could make little headway. He was glad to learn by the effort, however, that the black mud was not unfathomable in depth. Hastily reversing his action, he began pushing his boat back in the water.

“Surely, Mr. Scofield, you do not intend to leave me,” began Miss Madison.

“Surely not,” he replied; “but then, since you are so averse to my company, I must make sure that my boat does not become as fast as yours on this ebb-tide, otherwise we should both have to wait till the flood.”

“Oh, beg pardon! I now understand. But how can you reach me?”

“Wade,” he replied coolly, proceeding to take off his shoes and stockings.

“What! through that horrid black mud?”

“I couldn’t leap that distance, Miss Madison.”

“It’s too bad! I’m so provoked with myself! The mud may be very deep, or there may be a quicksand or something.”

“In which case I should merely disappear a little earlier;” and he sprang overboard up to his knees, dragged the boat till it was sufficiently fast in the ooze to be stationary, then he waded ashore.