At Love's Cost - Page 129/342

"Thank you, thank you!" he said, with so much of admiration and

gratitude in his voice, that, as if to apologise for it, he said: "I'm

fond of music. But I'm forgetting your tea! Shall we pull back to the

Ferry Hotel and get some?"

"I'm in your hands," she replied, languidly.

He turned-the boat and pulled back along the centre of the lake in

silence. Suddenly she bent forward.

"There is something in the water," she said; "something alive."

"It's a--yes, it's a dog," he said. "That is what you saw drop over the

steamer. By George! the poor little chap looks in distress: seems as if

he were nearly done. Can you steer?" he asked, sharply.

"Oh, yes," she replied, languidly. "Why?"

"Because I'm going for him, and it will help me if you can steer

straight for him. He looks nearly played out."

"Why should you trouble--it's a long way off; it will be drowned before

you can get to it," she said.

"I'll have to go for it anyway," he said, cheerfully; and he began to

row hard.

Distance is deceptive on a lake, and the dog was farther off than they

thought; but Stafford put his back into it as hard as he had done in

his racing days, and Maude Falconer leant back and watched him with

interest, and something even stronger than interest, in her masked

eyes. He had turned up the sleeves of his flannel shirt, and the

muscles on his arms were standing out under the strain, his lips were

set tightly, and there was the man's frown of determination on his

brow.

"It has gone down: it's no use," she said. "You may as well stop and

rest."

He looked over his shoulder.

"No! He has come up again!" he exclaimed: it was noticeable that he

called the dog "he," while she spoke of it as "it." "We shall get him

in time. Keep the boat straight!"

The words were uttered in a tone of command, and they moved her as the

touch of his hand had done; and she set her mind upon the task as she

had never before set it upon anything.

Reaching well forward, pulling with the long, steady stroke of the

practised oarsman, Stafford sent the boat along like an arrow, and

presently he drove it up to the spot where the dog strove in its death

straggle.