"No," she panted. "We are nearly there. I am better now." And she strained the child closer to her, as though she feared I might take it from her by force. "Well, if you will not trust me," I answered, "let your friend carry it for a time. I can see you are tired out." Through the mist she bent forward, and peered into my face, her eyes scarcely a foot from mine. The scrutiny seemed to satisfy her. She drew a long breath and held out her burden. "No," she said; "you shall take him. I will trust you." I took the little wrapped-up thing as gently as I could. "You shall not repent it, if I can help it, Mistress----" "Bertram," she said. "Mistress Bertram," I repeated. "Now let us get on and lose no time." A walk of a hundred yards or so brought us clear of the houses, and revealed before us, in place of all else, a yellow curtain of fog. Below this, at our feet, yet apparently a long way from us, was a strange, pale line of shimmering light, which they told me was the water. At first I could hardly believe this. But, pausing a moment while my companions whispered together, dull creakings and groanings and uncouth shouts and cries, and at last the regular beat of oars, came to my ears out of the bank of vapor, and convinced me that we really had the river before us. Mistress Bertram turned to me abruptly. "Listen," she said, "and decide for yourself, my friend. We are close to the wharf now, and in a few minutes shall know our fate. It is possible that we may be intercepted at this point, and if that happen, it will be bad for me and worse for any one aiding me. You have done us gallant service, but you are young; and I am loath to drag you into perils which do not belong to you. Take my advice, then, and leave us now. I would I could reward you," she added hastily, "but that knave has my purse." I put the child gently back into her arms. "Good-by," she said, with more feeling. "We thank you. Some day I may return to England, and have ample power----" "Not so fast," I answered stiffly. "Did you think it possible, mistress, that I would desert you now? I gave you back the child only because it might hamper me, and will be safer with you. Come, let us on at once to the wharf." "You mean it?" she said. "Of a certainty!" I answered, settling my cap on my head with perhaps a boyish touch of the braggart. At any rate, she did not take me at once at my word; and her thought for me touched me the more because I judged her--I know not exactly why--to be a woman not over prone to think of others. "Do not be reckless," she said slowly, her eyes intently fixed on mine. "I should be sorry to bring evil upon you. You are but a boy." "And yet," I answered, smiling, "there is as good as a price upon my head already. I should be reckless if I stayed here. If you will take me with you, let us go. We have loitered too long already."