But Hemstead lingered a moment, to watch the light, with increasing uneasiness. In his silent abstraction at the table it was evident to Lottie that his mind was dwelling upon the problem of the mysterious glimmer far out upon the river. Before the meal was over, he abruptly excused himself, but soon returned as if relieved, and said, "It is no more to be seen." "I told you how it was," said Mr. Dimmerly. "The man floated down as far as he wished, and now has pulled ashore." The explanation fully satisfied the rest, and sounded plausible to Hemstead; and the evening promised to pass quietly and uneventfully away. Mrs. Marchmont's parlor was a picture of cosey elegance. Bel, and Addie with her mother and uncle, made a game of whist at one table; while Hemstead in subdued tones read the latest magazine at another. De Forrest was half-dozing in his chair, for the article was rather beyond him; and while Lottie's fair face was very thoughtful, it might be questioned whether the thought was suggested by the reader or by what he read. But the article was finished, and for the relief of change Hemstead paced the room a few moments, and then half-aimlessly went to the window and looked out toward the river. His abrupt exclamation startled them all. "There is the light again!" A moment later he stood, bare-headed, upon the piazza, straining his eyes out into the darkness. "I feel impressed that there is something wrong,--that some one is in danger," he said to Lottie, who had followed him. "You will take cold standing here without your hat," she said. "So will you. Where is your hat, that you should talk prudence to me?" But the others were more thoughtful of themselves, and were well protected as they now also came out upon the piazza. "Well, it is a little queer," said Mr. Dimmerly. "I suppose one ought to go and see what it means," said Bel, hesitatingly. "But then there are those better able to go than any one from here." "Hush!" said Hemstead. Far and faint there seemed to come a cry for help across the darkness. "That is enough," he cried; "some one is in distress and danger. Come, Mr. De Forrest. The case has lost all its quixotic elements, and you may now emulate the Chevalier Bayard himself." "O, please don't go, gentlemen!" cried Lottie. "See, the night is very dark; the wind is rising; the water must be very rough. You may just throw away your own lives in the vain attempt to save utter strangers." "Miss Marsden is right," said De Forrest, as if greatly relieved. "The attempt is perfectly foolhardy, and I am not a fool. If some one is in a boat that is fast in the ice, he has only a few more miles to drift before coming opposite a large town, where there are many better able to help than we are." "Hush!" cried Hemstead; "do you hear that?" Faint and far away, as a response to De Forrest's words, came again more clearly the cry for help. "That is enough," again said Hemstead, excitedly; and he started for his hat.