"Where is he? What have you done with him?" Cicely repeated, holding Eve with a grasp of iron. Eve could not talk. But she felt the agony in the mother's cry. "Safe," she articulated. Cicely relaxed her hold. Eve sank to her knees; thence to the floor. Cicely seemed to understand; she brought a pillow with business-like swiftness, and placed it under Eve's head; then she waited. Eve's eyes were closed; her throat and chest labored so, as she lay with her head thrown back, that Cicely bent down and quickly took out the little arrow-pin, and unbuttoned the top buttons of her dress. This relieved Eve; the convulsive panting grew quiet. But with her first long breath she was on her feet again. "Come!" she said. She opened the door and left the lodge, hurrying down to the beach; thence she ran westward along the shore to the point where the canoes were kept. Cicely ran by her side without speaking; they had no need of words. Reaching the boats, Eve began to push one of them towards the water. "Call Mr. Hollis;--go up to the edge of the wood and call," she said to Cicely, briefly. "Gone fishing," Cicely responded, helping to push the boat on the other side. At this moment some one appeared--one of the Irishmen. "Take him and follow in that other canoe," said Eve. "We want all the help we can get." As they pushed off rapidly--three minutes had not passed since they left the lodge--Priscilla Mile came hurrying down to the shore; she had been taking her daily exercise--a brisk walk of half an hour, timed by her watch. "Mrs. Morrison, Mrs. Morrison, where are you going? Take me with you." Cicely did not even look at her. "Go on," she said to the man. Eve was paddling rapidly; the second canoe followed hers. When Mrs. Mile found that the two boats kept on their course, she went back to the lodge, put on her bonnet and shawl, and set off down the beach in the direction in which they were going, walking with steady steps, the shawl compactly pinned with two strong shawl-pins representing beetles. As soon as they were fairly afloat, Cicely called: "Where is Jack? Tell me about it." "Presently," answered Eve, without turning her head. "No. _Now_!" said the mother, peremptorily. "He is out on the lake, in the canoe." "Alone?" "Yes." "Oh! and it's getting towards night! Row faster; what is the matter with you?" (This to the Irishman.) "Eve, wait; how far out is he?" "It's very calm," Eve answered. "But in the dark we can never find him," wailed the mother, in a broken voice. Eve made swift, tireless strokes. The Irishman could not keep up with her. It was growing towards night, as Cicely had said; the days were shorter now; clouds were gathering too, though the air and water remained strangely still; the night would be dark. "Your arms are like willow twigs, you have no strength," said Cicely to the Irishman. "Hurry!"