“I have anticipated the lady’s wants; I always do,” said Mr. Carruthers; and he wrapped round my head and shoulders a beautiful Indian shawl belonging to Lady Mills. “Take her in quickly, Tom. I should never forgive myself if she caught cold,” said kind old Sir Jonas anxiously, standing at the door of the grape-house with his knife still in his hand. “Nor should I,” muttered Mr. Carruthers. “Now run, Miss Christie.” I was not a bit cold, and I told him so; but he said, “Never mind--won’t do to run risks,” and put his arm in mine, and made me run as fast as I could until we were round the corner of a wall, out of Sir Jonas’s sight. “And now,” said he, “we’ll run another way.” And he took me down a long path between apple and pear trees until we got to a side-gate that I had not seen before. “I am going to take you for a walk,” said he. “But it is so late, and I am dressed so queerly.” “Never mind. You are not sleepy, are you?”--and he looked down into my face. “No, your eyes are quite bright and--wide awake. And nobody goes to bed here till they are sleepy, which is a very good plan. As for your dress, I think it very becoming--very becoming--quite Oriental. And, as it is too late for anybody else to be about, and too dark for them to see you if they were, I am the only person you need consult.” So we went through the gate and by a narrow foot-path over the grass down to the river. We stopped when we got there, by the boat-house, and Mr. Carruthers said it would be a lovely night for a sail. “Just down there to the broad,” said me, “and along that path of moonlight, up to those trees and back again. Wouldn’t it be jolly?” “Yes, if it were not Sunday,” I said timidly. No other objection occurred to me. He looked down at me, as if hesitating about something, and then said-- “You are right. You see I respect your scruples, if I do not share them;” and he took out his watch. “It is just a quarter to twelve. By the time I have got the boat ready it will be Monday morning, and then there will be nothing against it.” He had one foot in the boat before I could do more than say-- “But, Mr. Carruthers, it is so late. What would Lady Mills say?” “I’ll make it all right with Lady Mills; and you are such a good little girl that nobody will think anything of what you do.” I did not understand this speech so well then as I did later; but it gave me a sense of uneasiness, which however was but momentary, for he talked and made me laugh until he had the boat ready, and we heard the big church-clock strike out twelve. “Now, unless that clock is fast, our consciences are free. Give me your hand. Step carefully. There you are.” I was in the boat, smiling with pleasure, yet ready to cry out at every movement, for I had never been on the water before. “There isn’t much wind; but I think there is enough to bring us back, so I’ll just scull down stream to the broad. Take the lines--so--and pull whichever one I tell you.”