It was after midnight. She congratulated herself on having fixed one o’clock as the hour for the meeting. She would have just time to reach the little cataract. She had not gone far before her slippers were in a dreadful state and her legs wet to the knees. “The excitement’s the only thing that can save me from the cold of my life,” thought she. Colds were serious matters with her--disfiguring, desperately uncomfortable, slow to take leave. Long before she reached the lower end of the lake she could feel that her dress was a bedraggled wreck, high though she had held it. As she went along the rough shore path she glanced from time to time at the meeting place on the opposite side. The moon made everything distinct; he was not there. Had it taken her longer to come than she thought, and had he gone? Or had he disregarded her note? Or had he not yet got it? “I don’t believe I’ll dare come again,” she said to herself despondently. But she knew that she would. She crossed the brook on the stones that fretted it. She reached the place where she could see the grass worn by his working at his easel, the mud of the lake’s brim creased by the keel of her canoe. She looked all round, straining her eyes into the dimness under the trees. “Chang!” she called. She gazed, listened, waited. “Chang!” she called again, a sob in her voice. From the deep shadow of the maple tree immediately in front of her came Roger’s voice: “Some one is coming toward us in a boat.” “Don’t move!” she exclaimed in an undertone. “No matter what happens, don’t show yourself. I must speak quickly,” she hurried on. “That money you said you had--you must sell out whatever it’s invested in and put it in Government bonds--right away. Will you? Promise me!” “I can’t,” replied he. “It’s in bonds of the Wauchong Railroad, that’s just gone into the hands of a receiver.” Beatrice gasped. “Oh!” she cried. But she must not delay. “My father did it,” she hurried on, “because he wants to ruin you and drive you out of the country.” Roger laughed quietly. “Don’t worry, Rix. I’m all right.” “I’ve got so much to say. I must see you again----” “No. This is good-by. I read about your engagement, and I was glad you had made up your mind to do the sensible thing. I hope you’ll be happy--and you will be. I’ll send you the picture as a wedding present.” “Chang--don’t believe that,” cried she imploringly. “I _must_ see you. As soon as I can I’ll let you know. I’m watched. But I’ll give them the slip and----” “You’ll do nothing stealthy--not with my help,” answered he. “I’ll not come again----” The clash of oar in lock struck both silent. A rowboat glided from the shadows, thrust its nose far up the muddy shore. Beatrice immediately recognized her father the only occupant. He stood up, looking round. He said in a voice of suspiciously pleasant intonation, “I see Wade hasn’t come yet. Well, I’ll wait and take you back. The walking’s bad--especially in that kind of dress.”