"My sister Amy would tell you I had no ambitions, except to buy as many books as I wish, and not to have to work too hard," said Mark smiling, "but I think that would not be quite true. I have some, of a dull inferior kind, not beautiful ones like yours." "Do tell me what they are." He shook his head. "I couldn't; they're not for show; shabby things like unsuccessful poor relations, who would rather not have too much notice taken of them. In a few weeks I am going to drag them out of their retreat, brighten them up, inject some poetry into their veins, and then display them to your critical judgment." They were almost at a standstill now and neither of them was noticing it at all. As Mrs. Loring moved her seat the boat lurched somewhat to one side. Mark, to steady her, placed his hand over hers as it rested on the rail, and she did not withdraw it. Then he found the other hand that lay upon her knee, and took it in his own, scarcely knowing what he did. He looked into her face and found no anger there. "I wish to tell you more about myself," he stammered, "something not altogether creditable to me; but perhaps you will understand. Perhaps even if you don't understand you will forgive." She drew her hands gently away from his grasp. "I shall try to understand, you may rely on that!" she said. "I'm not going to trouble you with any very dreadful confessions," he said, "only it's better to hear things directly from the people concerned, and you are sure to hear a wrong version sooner or later."--Then stopping suddenly he exclaimed, "Hullo! we're stuck, I declare! look at that!" Robinette turned and saw that their boat was now scarcely surrounded with water at all. On every side, as if the flanks of some great whale were upheaving from below, there appeared stretches of glistening mud. Just in front of them, where there still was a channel of water, was an upstanding rock. "Shall we row quickly there?" she cried. "Then perhaps we can get out and pull the boat to the other side, where there is more water. What has happened?" "Oh, something not unusual," said Lavendar grimly, "that I'm a fool, and the sea-tide has ebbed, as tides have been known to do before. I'm afraid a man doesn't watch tides when he has a companion like you! Now we're left high, but not at all dry, as you see, till the tide turns."