Faust, on the contrary, freed from the string which had entangled him, proceeded merrily, and reached the shore ere Lewis had performed half the distance. Depositing the boat in triumph at the feet of one of the bystanders, the generous animal only stopped to shake the wet from his ears, and then plunging in again swam to meet his master. It was perhaps fortunate that he did so, for Lewis’s strength was rapidly deserting him, his clothes appearing to drag him down like leaden weights. Availing himself, of the dog’s assistance, he placed one arm across its back, and still paddling with the other, he was partly dragged and partly himself swam forward, till his feet touched ground, when, letting the animal go free, he waded through the shallow water and reached the bank, exhausted indeed, but in safety. Rejecting the many friendly offers of assistance with which he was instantly overwhelmed, he wrang the water from his dripping hair, stamped it out of his boots, and hastily resuming his coat and waistcoat, was about to quit a spot where he was the observed of all observers, when Lord Bellefield, after exchanging a few words with his companion, made a sign to attract Lewis’s attention, and having succeeded in so doing, said, “That is a fine dog of yours, sir; will you take a twenty pound note for him?” Lewis’s countenance, pale from exhaustion, flushed with anger at these words; pausing a moment, however, ere he replied, he answered coldly, “Had he been for sale, sir, I should scarcely have risked drowning in order to save him; I value my life at more than twenty pounds.” Then turning on his heel, he whistled Faust to follow him, and walked away at a rapid pace in the direction of Hyde Park Corner. Amongst the carriages that immediately drove off was one containing two ladies who had witnessed the whole proceeding; and as it dashed by him, Lewis, accidentally looking up, caught a glimpse of the bright eager face of Annie Grant! CHAPTER IX.--WHEREIN RICHARD FRERE AND LEWIS TURN MAHOMETANS. Lewis rather expected a lecture from Richard Frere on account of his aquatic exploit; but he need not have made himself uneasy on the subject, for the only remark his friend volunteered was: “Well, you know, if the dog could not be saved without, of course you were obliged to go in and fetch him. I should have done the same myself, though I hate cold water as I hate the old gentleman, and never could swim in my life.” When they had concluded dinner, Frere inquired suddenly: “By the way, do you mean to come with me to-night?” “Before I can answer that question,” returned Lewis, “you must condescend to inform me where you are going, and what you mean to do when you get there.”