"Heaven have mercy on me!" Tregurtha thought wildly, as he stood rooted to the spot, marveling meanwhile why he did not cast himself into the deep pool before him. The inevitable moment came; the damsel lifted her large dark eyes and saw him. "Oh, I beg--I beg--I _beg_ your pardon!" almost roared Tregurtha in the excess of his manly bashfulness. What did the maid? Blushed crimson first, and stared at the intruder with a speechless horror, letting drop, by instinct, her pretty overskirt. Then she turned quickly, seized the branch of a large oak-tree and tried to raise herself by it to the opposite bank, where, once arrived, she could have vanished in a second through the wood. Alas! as she clung to the bough, the traitor broke, and down went the maiden, with a shivering cry, under the surface of the water. Well, at any rate, here was an occasion where a man need not feel an idiot, nor like Actæon before the wrath of Artemis. Tregurtha felt a sense of positive relief as he plunged in after the lady, and dragged her out and on to her much-desired bank, all breathless, faint, and frightened. "I wonder now what on earth you would like me to do for you?" Tregurtha asked, depositing his burden respectfully upon a mossy seat. "Oh--ah!--thank you. I think you had better perhaps go," the maiden answered, panting still for breath, and shaking her dripping hair. "You are faint. You would like--at least, no, not some water--you have had enough, and I--I dare not offer you some whisky. There's your poor hat still in the water. Oh, gracious! to think of my spoiling all your pleasure in this way." Tregurtha seized upon the hat, squeezing the water out of it (much to the detriment of its shape) as if it were the juice from an orange. Reduced to a pulp of straw and muslin, he brought it to its mistress, who, smiling, said, "This hat has seen many a wild frolic, but I sadly fear this most embarrassing, though amusing, incident has finished my companion, and it will cover my foolish head no more. I must go home, or I shall catch a cold." "But pray accept my apologies--my most sincere and humblest apologies," began Tregurtha. "I beg you will not mention---- Oh dear, dear!" The damsel burst suddenly into uncontrollable, resistless laughter. "Please _could_ you keep away, right round the corner, until I fetch my boots? I am so sorry to have interrupted you in your, no doubt, successful fishing." Here she glanced inquiringly at the line caught and mazily entangled in the alder bush. "Good-morning, sir." Tregurtha blushed deeply, bowed and strode away as though avenging Fate were at his heels--away over the meadow, through its little gate, along the road, down to the river again, where Roscoria stood coolly, immersed in hopes of monster trout. "Well, old fellow; why, you've been wading! Fish gone?" asked Louis. "Fish be ---- I've had such an experience, Roscoria. I have seen a lady!"