"Not a bit of it; but I should like to make this stipulation with you: that as you and I seem to be pitted against each other in this little contest, we shall fight it all out behind Miss Pat's back. I prefer that she shouldn't know what a--" and I hesitated. "Oh, give me a name, won't you?" she pleaded mockingly. "What a beautiful deceiver you are!" "Splendid! We will agree that I am a deceiver!" "If it gives you pleasure! You are welcome to all the joy you can get out of it!" "Please don't be bitter! Let us play fair, and not stoop to abuse." "I should think you would feel contrite enough after that ugly business of this afternoon. You didn't appear to be even annoyed by that Italian's effort to smash the launch." She was silent for an instant; I heard her breath come and go quickly; then she responded with what seemed a forced lightness: "You really think that was inspired by--" she suddenly appeared at a loss. "By Henry Holbrook, as you know well enough. And if Miss Pat should be murdered through his enmity, don't you see that your position in the matter would be difficult to explain? Murder, my dear young woman, is not looked upon complacently, even in this remote corner of the world!" "You seem given to the use of strong language, Mr. Donovan. Let us drop the calling of names and consider just where you put me." "I don't put you at all; you have taken your own stand. But I will say that I was surprised, not to say pained, to find that you played the eavesdropper the very hour you came to Annandale." A moment's silence; the water murmured in the reeds below; an owl hooted in the Glenarm wood; a restless bird chirped from its perch in a maple overhead. "Oh, to be sure!" she said at last. "You thought I was listening while Aunt Pat unfolded the dark history of the Holbrooks." "I knew it, though I tried to believe I was mistaken. But when I saw you there on Tippecanoe Creek, meeting your father at the canoe-maker's house, I was astounded; I did not know that depravity could go so far." "My poor, unhappy, unfortunate father!" she said in a low voice; there was almost a moan in it. "I suppose you defend your conduct on the ground of filial duty," I suggested, finding it difficult to be severe. "Why shouldn't I? Who are you to judge our affairs? We are the unhappiest family that ever lived; but I should like you to know that it was not by my wish that you were brought into our councils. There is more in all this than appears!" "There is nothing in it but Miss Pat--her security, her peace, her happiness. I am pledged to her, and the rest of you are nothing to me. But you may tell your father that I have been in rows before and that I propose to stand by the guns." "I shall deliver your message, Mr. Donovan; and I give you my father's thanks for it," she mocked. "Your father calls you Rosalind--before strangers!" I remarked.