“I am glad you did not, if seeing me would have prevented you from claiming my assistance,” answered Mr. Buckstone, as he shook the salt water from his curly locks. “I would not have had you expose yourself in this manner on any consideration,” continued the lady, who had seated herself when the artist climbed into the boat. “Do not complain of me for what I have done, for I assure you it has been a greater pleasure to me than to you.” “You are very kind, sir, but I must regret that you adopted this method of assisting me.” “What other method could I have adopted?” asked Mr. Buckstone, not a little puzzled by the protest of the rescued damsel. He was a man of the world, and though he had been in the habit of hearing ladies pretend to object to the trouble they might have caused, he felt that they regarded any sacrifices of time or comfort as expressions of devotion, highly flattering and complimentary to them. He believed that the gentleman who incurred the greatest risk for a lady had the sincerest admiration for her. In the present instance, Mr. Buckstone realized that the lady actually regretted the annoyance and discomfort which she had caused him. “Gentlemen do not usually put to sea like seals and porpoises,” replied the lady, with a soothing smile, the first he had seen, and which rendered his case even more desperate than before. “How do they put to sea?” “In boats.” “But I had no boat.” “Perhaps you might have found one at the salt works beyond the Point.” “Perhaps I might--who knows!” replied Mr. Buckstone with a rather vacant expression on his handsome face, for the idea of resorting to a boat when a lady was in peril, looked absolutely preposterous to him, especially if the boat had to be searched for before it could be found. “I beg you will not think I am ungrateful,” continued the lady, noticing the shade of discontent that appeared on the face of the artist. “By no means, madam.” “I am really very grateful to you; and I was only sorry to have caused you so much trouble and discomfort. I was not in great danger----” “Not in great danger?” interposed Mr. Buckstone, puzzled by the lady’s apparent intention to underrate his services. “Did you think I was?” “I certainly did.” “Then I am all the more obliged to you for your kind exertions in my favor.” “Don’t mention it; but you will excuse me if I say I think you are the coolest lady it was ever my good fortune to meet.” “Indeed, you misunderstand me entirely,” protested she, a slight flush mantling her cheeks, while she looked exceedingly troubled and annoyed. “I am very, very grateful to you.” “O, I do not doubt that.” “You think that I am cool, but I assure you my heart is warm with thankfulness. I am just as much obliged to you as though I had been in peril of my life, and all the more so because you so regarded my situation.”