Hinton and Miss Belmont slunk off, and I was preparing to follow them, when the unhappy little woman sobbed out, “Oh, Doctor, please, please don't go! Stay and tell me what to do. Tom's so nasty--if you laugh, Tom dear, I'll kill you.” So I stayed, and while we were consulting what was best to do Van Zandt came quietly into the summer house, his face and tightly-closed lips ashen, and his eyes the eyes of a strong man in pain. Nell rushed at him, exclaiming: “My poor Harry, my darling brother! I am so sorry; try to forgive me!” He put her away from him with no show of anger, but very coldly, and then, very evenly and in an emotionless, mechanical sort of way, he said: “I have asked Miss Solander to be my wife. She refused me. I hope you are satisfied. I give you my word of honor that I will never forgive you, nor speak to you, until she accepts your apology and my love--and that will be never,” he added, heavily, and half under his breath. There was no doubt that he meant it and would stick to it, and his sister, who knew he never broke his word, after one appealing look at him, threw herself in her husband's arms and sobbed miserably. I followed the boy and took an old man's privilege. He listened patiently and thanked me affectionately, but it was of no use. Then I tried to find Miss Viola, and came across Nell on the same quest; but no one saw her until the next afternoon. Monday was cloudy and windy, a real gray day. The races were to begin at 3 o'clock, and the entire community was gathered on the shore of the lake. Both Miss Solander and Van Zandt were entered, and I knew their pride would make them show up. The first race was for ladies in Long Lake boats over a half mile course and return, six entries, a handicap of one hundred yards on Miss Solander and fifty on Mrs. Claggett. Viola beat it handsomely and then rowed directly across to the island, where she would have a good view of the sailing race, though I think her object was more to escape the crowd. [Illustration: 0332] After an interval of a few minutes three canoes, manned by Hinton, Van Zandt and another man, came up to the starter's boat. The canoes got away together, Van Zandt to leeward. They had gone perhaps a quarter of a mile when a squall from the opposite shore struck them, and the canoe with the violet pennant (Harry's) went over like a flash, the other two, with loose sheets, running before the wind. Mrs. Northrup screamed, and so did several other women; but Van Zandt was a capital swimmer, and I expected every moment to see him on the bottom of the canoe.