"Well, well," murmured Mrs. Alston, "I never saw Jack in such a mood before. It is quite as unaccountable as Miss Tyne's recklessness. I wonder what is the matter with HIM." Ackland was speedily driven back from his walk by the rain, which fact he did not regret, for he found himself exhausted and depressed. Seeking a retired piazza in order to be alone, he sat down with his hat drawn over his eyes and smoked furiously. Before very long, however, he was startled out of a painful revery by a timid voice saying: "Mr. Ackland, won't you permit me to thank you?" He rose. Miss Van Tyne stood before him with outstretched hand. He did not notice it, but bowing coldly, said: "Please consider that you have thanked me and let the subject drop." "Do not be so harsh with me," she pleaded. "I cannot help it if you are. Mr. Ackland, you saved my life." "Possibly." "And possibly you think that it is scarcely worth saving." "Possibly your own conscience suggested that thought to you." "You are heartless," she burst out indignantly. He began to laugh. "That's a droll charge for you to make," he said. She looked at him steadfastly for a moment, and then murmured: "You are thinking of your friend, Mr. Munson." "That would be quite natural. How many more can you think of?" "You are indeed unrelenting," she faltered, tears coming into her eyes; "but I cannot forget that but for you _I_ should now be out there"--and she indicated the sea by a gesture, then covered her face with her hands, and shuddered. "Do not feel under obligations. I should have been compelled to do as much for any human being. You seem to forget that I stood an even chance of being out there with you, and that there was no more need of the risk than there was that my best friend's life should be blight--" "You--you out there?" she cried, springing toward him and pointing to the sea. "Certainly. You cannot suppose that having once found you, I could come ashore without you. As it was, my strength was rapidly giving way, and were it not for the rope--" "Oh, forgive me," she cried passionately, seizing his hand in spite of him. "It never entered my mind that you could drown. I somehow felt that nothing could harm you. I was reckless--I didn't know what I was doing--I don't understand myself any more. Please--please forgive me, or I shall not sleep to-night." "Certainly," he said lightly, "if you will not refer to our little episode again." "Please don't speak in that way," she sighed, turning away. "I have complied with your request." "I suppose I must be content," she resumed sadly. Then turning her head slowly toward him she added hesitatingly: "Will you forgive me for--for treating your friend--" "No," he replied, with such stern emphasis that she shrank from him and trembled. "You are indeed heartless," she faltered, as she turned to leave him.