Hastily swinging myself up, I got astride the lowest branch, which projected out over the water. I had distanced the boat by some hundred yards, and as I sat there I watched its drift, one minute full of hope, and the next as miserably uncertain. My obvious intention was to crawl out upon the branch until it bent with my weight, and so let myself into, or as near the boat as possible. It was close now, so close that I could see the gleam of Lisbeth’s hair and the point of the little tan shoe. With my eyes on this, I writhed my way along the bough, which bent more and more as I neared the end. Here I hung, swaying up and down and to and fro in a highly unpleasant manner, while I waited the crucial moment.
Never upon this whole round earth did anything creep as that boat did. There was a majestic deliberation in its progress that positively maddened me. I remember to have once read an article
somewhere upon the “Sensibility of Material Things,” or something of the sort, which I had forgotten long since, but as I hung there suspended between heaven and earth, it came back to me with a rush, and I was perfectly certain that, recognising my precarious position, that time-worn, ancient boat checked its speed out of “pure cussedness.”
But all things have an end, and so, little by little the blunt bow crept nearer until it was in the very shade of my tree. Grasping the branch, I let myself swing at arm’s length; and then I found that I was at least a foot too near the bank. Edging my way, therefore, still further along the branch, I kicked out in a desperate endeavour to reach the boat, and, the bough swaying with me, caught my toe inside the gunwale, drew it under me, and loosing my grasp, was sprawling upon my hands and knees, but safe aboard.
To pick myself up was the work of a moment, yet scarcely had I done so, when Lisbeth opened her eyes, and sitting up, stared about her.
“Why - where am I?” she exclaimed.
“On the river,” I answered cheerfully. “Glorious afternoon, Lisbeth, isn’t it?”
“How-in-the-world did you get here?” she inquired.
“Well,” I answered, “I might say I dropped in as it were.” Lisbeth brushed the hair from her temples, and turned to me with an imperious gesture.
“Then please take me back at once,” she said.
“I would with pleasure,” I returned, “only that you forgot to bring the oars.”
“Why, then, we are adrift!” she said, staring at me with frightened eyes, and clasping her hands nervously.
“We are,” I nodded; “but, then, it’s perfect weather for boating, Lisbeth!” And I began to look about for something that might serve as a paddle. But the stretchers had disappeared long since - the old tub was a sheer hulk, so to speak. An attempt to tear up a floor board resulted only in a broken nail and bleeding fingers; so I presently desisted, and rolling up my sleeves endeavoured to paddle with my hands. But finding this equally futile, I resumed my coat, and took out pipe and tobacco.
“Oh, Dick! is there nothing you can do?” she asked, with a brave attempt to steady the quiver in her voice.
“With your permission, I’ll smoke, Lisbeth.”
“But the weir!” she cried; “have you forgotten the weir?”
“No,” I answered, shaking my head; “it has a way of obtruding itself on one’s notice - “
“Oh, it sounds hateful - hateful!” she said with a shiver.
“Like a strong wind among trees!” I nodded, as I filled my pipe. We were approaching a part of the river where it makes a sharp bend to the right; and well I knew what lay beyond - the row of posts, painted white, with the foam and bubble of seething water below. We should round that bend in about ten minutes, I judged; long before then we might see a boat, to be sure; if not - well, if the worst happened, I could but do my best; in the meantime I would smoke a pipe; but I will admit my fingers trembled as I struck a match.
“It sounds horribly close!” said Lisbeth.
“Sound is very deceptive, you know,” I answered.
“Only last month a boat went over, and the man was drowned!” shuddered Lisbeth,
“Poor chap!” I said. “Of course it’s different at night - the river is awfully deserted then, you know, and - “
“But it happened in broad day light!” said Lisbeth, almost in a whisper. She was sitting half turned from me, her gaze fixed on the bend of the river, and by chance her restless hand had found and begun to fumble with the severed painter.
So we drifted on, watching the gliding banks, while every moment the roar of the weir grew louder and more threatening.
“Dick,” she said suddenly, “we can never pass that awful place without oars!” and she began to tie knots in, the rope with fingers that shook pitifully.
“Oh, I don’t know!” I returned, with an assumption of ease I was very far from feeling; “and then, of course, we are bound to meet a boat or something - “
“But suppose we don’t?”
“Oh, well, we aren’t there yet - and er - let’s talk of fish.”
“Ah, Dick,” she cried, “how can you treat the matter so lightly when we may be tossing down there in that awful water so very soon! We can never pass that weir without oars, and you know it, and - and - oh, Dick, why did you do it - how could you have been so mad ?”
“Do what?” I inquired, staring.
With a sudden gesture she rose to her knees and fronted me.
“This!” she cried, and held up the severed painter. “It has been cut! Oh, Dick! Dick! how could you be so mad.”
“Lisbeth !” I exclaimed, “do you mean to say that you think - “
“I know!” she broke in, and turning away, hid her face in her hands. We were not so very far from the bend now, and seeing this, a sudden inspiration came upon me, by means of which I might prove her mind towards me once and for all; and as she kneeled before me with averted face, I leaned forward and took her hands in mine.
“Lisbeth,” I said, “supposing I did cut the boat adrift like a - a fool - endangering your life for a mad, thoughtless whim - could you forgive me?”
For a long moment she remained without answering, then very slowly she raised her head:
“Oh. Dick!” was all she said, but in her eyes I read the wonder of wonders.
“But, Lisbeth,” I stammered, “could you still love me - even - even if, through my folly, the worst should happen and we - we - “
“I don’t think I shall be so very much afraid, Dick, if you will hold me close like this,” she whispered.
The voice of the weir had swelled into a roar by now, yet I paid little heed; for me all fear was swallowed up in a great wondering happiness.
Dick,” she whispered, “you will hold me tight, you w ill not let me go when - when - “
“Never,” I answered; “nothing could ever take you from me now.” As I spoke I raised my eyes, and glancing about beheld something which altered the whole aspect of affairs - something which changed tragedy into comedy all in a moment - a boat was coming slowly round the bend.
“Lisbeth, look up!” With a sigh she obeyed, her clasp tightening on mine, and a dreadful expectation in her eyes. Then all at once it was gone, her pale cheeks grew suddenly scarlet, and she slipped from my arms; and thereafter I noticed how very carefully her eyes avoided mine.
The boat came slowly into view, impelled by one who rowed with exactly that amount of splashing which speaks the true-born Cockney. By dint of much exertion and more splashing, he presently ranged alongside in answer to my hail.
“Wo’t - a haccident then?” he inquired.
“Something of the sort,” I nodded. “Will you be so kind as to tow us to the bank yonder?”
“Hanythink to hoblige!” he grinned, and having made fast the painter, proceeded to splash us to terra-firma. Which done, he grinned again, waved his hat, and splashed upon his way. I made the boat secure and turned to Lisbeth. She was staring away towards the weir.