The creek that ran between Fairview and the glebe lands was narrow and deep; upon it, moored to a stake driven into a bit of marshy ground below the orchard, lay a crazy boat belonging to the minister. To this boat, of an early, sunny morning, came Audrey, and, standing erect, pole in hand, pushed out from the reedy bank into the slow-moving stream. It moved so slowly and was so clear that its depth seemed the blue depth of the sky, with now and then a tranquil cloud to be glided over. The banks were low and of the greenest grass, save where they sank still lower and reeds abounded, or where some colored bush, heavy with bloom, bent to meet its reflected image. It was so fair that Audrey began to sing as she went down the stream; and without knowing why she chose it, she sang a love song learned out of one of Darden’s ungodly books, a plaintive and passionate lay addressed by some cavalier to his mistress of an hour. She sang not loudly, but very sweetly; carelessly, too, and as if to herself; now and then repeating a line twice or maybe thrice; pleased with the sweet melancholy of the notes, but not thinking overmuch of the meaning of the words. They died upon her lips when Hugon rose from a lair of reeds and called to her to stop. “Come to the shore, ma’m’selle!” he cried. “See, I have brought you a ribbon from the town. Behold!” and he fluttered a crimson streamer. Audrey caught her breath; then gazed, reassured, at the five yards of water between her and the bank. Had Hugon stood there in his hunting dress, she would have felt them no security; but he was wearing his coat and breeches of fine cloth, his ruffled shirt, and his great black periwig. A wetting would not be to his mind. As she answered not, but went on her way, silent now, and with her slender figure bending with the motion of the pole, he frowned and shrugged; then took up his pilgrimage, and with his light and swinging stride kept alongside of the boat. The ribbon lay across his arm, and he turned it in the sunshine. “If you come not and get it,” he wheedled, “I will throw it in the water.” The angry tears sprang to Audrey’s eyes. “Do so, and save me the trouble,” she answered, and then was sorry that she had spoken. The red came into the swarthy cheeks of the man upon the bank. “You love me not,” he said. “Good! You have told me so before. But here I am!” “Then here is a coward!” said Audrey. “I do not wish you to walk there. I do not wish you to speak to me. Go back!” Hugon’s teeth began to show. “I go not,” he answered, with something between a snarl and a smirk. “I love you, and I follow on your path,--like a lover.” “Like an Indian!” cried the girl. The arrow pierced the heel. The face which he turned upon her was the face of a savage, made grotesque and horrible, as war-paint and feathers could not have made it, by the bushy black wig and the lace cravat.