I don't think I really convinced her; she seemed to give in to my will through utter weariness. "Perhaps you're right," she faltered. "I can't argue with you anyhow. I--I'm too tired." With a sudden remorse for my lack of consideration, I helped her tenderly down the ladder. Everything in the dinghy was soaking, and, in spite of her remonstrances, I insisted on removing my coat and spreading it on the wet seat. "I won't try and talk to you while I'm rowing," I said. "There's a pretty stiff stream running, and I shall want all my energy to get back to the island. Besides, the quieter we keep the better." She nodded her head to show that she understood, and, having cast off the painter, I took my place at the oars. The first few strokes were a bit painful on account of my damaged knuckles, which started bleeding afresh the moment I closed my hands. They soon ceased to smart, however; and, keeping the same course as before, I plugged steadily along, until the mouth of the creek opened up dimly on my left-hand side. A short but strenuous battle with the current brought me safely across to the landing-stage, where I grabbed hold of the chain and waved a triumphant greeting to Christine. "Welcome!" I said "Welcome to Greensea Island!" She smiled back at me, such a wan, pathetic little smile that I impulsively leaned over and pressed her hand. "My own dear," I whispered, "you have just got to be happy. Remember, you are coming home for the first time." I felt her fingers squeeze mine gently in return; then with a sudden trace of shyness she pushed them away and got up quickly from her seat. "You must be wet through," she said, "and as for your poor coat--" She held it up with an expression of penitent dismay. "You will have to go and change everything directly we get to the house." "Oh, it won't hurt me," I protested. "I've been drenched so often that I can't catch a cold even if I try." I steadied the boat while she stepped out, and then, jumping ashore myself, led the way forward in the direction of the shrubbery. As we entered the path, and the gloom of the trees closed in about us, she slipped her arm through mine. "It's not a very cheerful place, is it?" she said with a slight shiver. "Don't judge us too quickly," I returned. "Wait till we reach the house. Things will seem quite different as soon as you've had a cup of tea." She smiled again, this time a little more happily, and without any further attempt at talking I piloted her through the rest of the shrubbery and opened the iron gate which led on to the lawn. The vague outline of the roof and chimneys were just visible opposite. "That's my ancestral home," I said. "Unfortunately it's not looking its best to-day." Christine made no reply; she had let go my arm and stood quite still beside me, gazing ahead into the mist with a strange and eager interest.