The waiter’s reveille was very unwelcome next morning, but I rose and dressed and found Miss Finnock already in the parlor.

“Oh, the morning air is so bracing, is it not?” she said, as we left the hotel; “it buoys one up so; I feel so light-hearted and free early in the morning; I am as airy as a feather,” and she almost skipped in her youthful exuberance of spirits.

“You had better weigh,” I said, somewhat morosely, as we passed the old lame man and his scales.

I confess I was out of humor. Can you blame me? To be roused at such an hour, to parade over to see tiresome Indians, with a fidgety little woman, who was trying to captivate me, and whom I hated now. Would not her very flow of spirits be provoking?

“See yon dew-drops how they sparkle,” she exclaimed, pointing with a finger on which shone a diamond ring over her glove. “Nature, unlike the ladies, wears her jewels at morn.”

“Then the ladies are not natural,” I said emptily.

“Oh! I confess we are quite artificial in many respects, though not artful—at least I am not.”

“Really, Miss Finnock, do you confess to artificial aid in your beauty?”

“If I had any beauty it would be artificial, of course. You admire beauty, do you not—your lady love is so beautiful?”

“To whom do you refer as my lady love, Miss Finnock?”

“Why, the lady who called you away from me yesterday. Please tell me if you love her. Now, confide in me, won’t you?” and she looked up at me with an affected squint in her broad little eyes.

“I would trust you, Miss Finnock, but there is nothing to confide.”

“Then, of course, there is no love, as that is something of great importance.”

“Do you think so?” I said, vacantly, as we entered the camp ground. We spent half an hour strolling about, and after I had given five dollars for an old bead basket, that was said to have some Indian legend connected with it, and presented it to the little enthusiast, we turned back to our hotel. I was unusually dull, for I felt that it would be inconsistent with previous attentions and her expectations to introduce commonplace topics, and I had determined not even to hint at love. She seemed to notice my reticence, and tried to rally me.

“You do not seem as cheerful as usual, Mr. Smith. Can I have offended you in any way?”

“Thank you, Miss Finnock, for the hint that I am not entertaining,” I said, glad of anything to take up; “let us hasten our steps that you may be the sooner relieved of my presence.”

“Oh, how cruelly you misinterpret my meaning. The pleasure of your company is as great—I mean that——” she feigned confusion, “I like to be with you, but there is such a change in your manner since yesterday.”

“Is there?” I said, mechanically, and thoughtlessly continued: “I was hardly aware of it. I am sure my feelings have not changed.”

“Have they not?” she exclaimed eagerly; “neither have mine.”

‘Twas too far gone to correct, and so I said nothing. After another pause she tried to look roguish and said, “Did you not chastise the waiter for his interruption yesterday?”

What could I say but that I feared she had already rewarded him for so opportune an entrance.

“I regretted it as much as you possibly could,” she said, softly looking down at the beaten path.

It was abrupt, perhaps unkind, but I inquired if she would take a glass of water, as we were just then near the springs. She assented with a slightly reproachful look, and we approached the circular railing, which was surrounded by a throng of health-seeking drinkers, all eagerly waiting for the glasses from the long whirling dippers.

It was the same crowd that is always there. The stylish young lady, who puts her glass down after the third sip; the pale young man with the large Adam’s apple, which goes up and down his throat like the piston of a pump, carrying down whole gills of water at every gulp; the tall school girl, with her hair plaited in ribbons, leaning over to the glass and holding her dress back with one hand from its drippings; the fat bad child, his mother holding a glass to his mouth, and resting her hand on his head as if it was the faucet she had to hold open for the water to run down; and the delicate, meek boy, who has been brought to the springs by his father, who is now standing by, watching with deep interest and a notch stick the glasses he takes. Poor little fellow! standing with a Hogarth’s curve in his shoulders, both hands grasping the glass, he swigs away, while the veins and leaders in his neck swell and tighten, and the dark lines under his eyes grow deeper, and his eyelids redder, as they disappear behind the rising edge of the tumbler. He takes it down and blows out: “How many’s that, pa?” and receiving the plaudit, “Five, my dear boy,” is led away to the hotel, to spend the day in his room, instead of playing himself into health with other children.

When Miss Finnock and I had left the pagoda, and were walking up the hill towards the hotel, she made a pretence of pondering over something, and suddenly said:

“Mr. Smith, will you tell me something if I ask you?”

“Most assuredly, Miss Finnock, if it is in my power to do so.”

“Well, I want to know—no, I can’t ask you now, I’ll wait till we part at the hotel.”

When we ascended the steps I begged to know her question.

“Oh! I cannot tell, it sounds so silly,” she said, twirling the Indian basket with assumed bashfulness.

“I must bid you good morning, then,” I said, turning to leave.

“No, I will tell you; I don’t mind; I only wanted to know the remainder of the sentence you left unfinished yesterday.”

“I will tell you soon,” I replied, bowing and leaving her, for I knew not what else to say. Now I am in for it, I said to myself, as I walked across the street to Congress Hall, to breakfast with our family. I will consult Carlotta upon it and take her advice.

As unpleasant as my walk had been in some respects, it had imparted an appetite that made porterhouse steaks and omelettes souffle disappear with a celerity alarming to the proprietors. As we rose from the table Carlotta told me that she and Lola were going over to the lake, and insisted that I should join them. As I now felt no delicacy about obtruding, since she had informed me of the relation she sustained to him, I consented. Lola and I had scarcely finished our cigars when his carriage was announced, and, going up to our parlors we found Carlotta waiting, the picture of perfect loveliness, beneath a broad sun hat. The road was already filled with vehicles, and the dust was floating in clouds about our faces; Lola leaned forward and spoke to the driver; “Go ahead, Michael,” and with dizzy speed his splendid horses whirled us past every team, and we were breathing again the pure fresh air.

When we reached the lake house, and had refreshed with some ices, I went down and secured a boat for a sail. Lola said he preferred the bowling alley, and Carlotta and I took our places in the graceful little craft I had chosen. My experience on the Sound at home had made me a good sailor, and I dismissed the boatman.

Running up the sail and getting before the wind, so that there was no danger of a gybe, I lashed the rudder so as to direct our course across the lake, and took my seat by Carlotta under the awning. The scene and situation were enchanting. The purple hills held the crystal lake in their bosom, like an immense dew drop, while soft fleecy clouds floated off from their hazy tops like smoke from an altar. The glittering surface of the lake was crimped by the breeze into myriad ruffles, that rustled their little foam against our vessel’s side. Other boats were sailing far off, and with their glistening canvas looked like white herons flying hither and thither with a slow, objectless flight. Behind us was the lake-house, its verandahs thronged with people, its carriage way crowded with constantly arriving and departing vehicles, and at the water’s edge, a long walk-way extending out into the lake—all receding farther and farther from us. By my side was Carlotta, a bright glow on her cheeks, her beautiful eyes beaming with pleasure, and her magnificent hair caught up in an immense coil, that seemed oppressive in its weight as it was bewitching in its negligÉe. One glove was withdrawn and her sleeve pushed high up the swelling arm, while the dimpled hand dangled in the rippling waters, that reflected the smooth white fingers in crooked, dancing outlines. Out on the lake alone, and Heaven only knows how I loved her! yet I did not dare to disclose it. The very intimacy of our childhood, the relations we bore to each other in our family, the brilliancy of her career in society, and the constant adulation she received, all made me feel that she could regard my tame proposal of love with nothing less than ridicule. So, while my heart fluttered with its restrained emotion, I spoke carelessly and lightly, admiring the view with her, and quoting Wordsworth and Tupper with pedantic inaptitude. Leaving scenery we became more personal, and, after asking her secrecy, I told her of my affair with Miss Finnock and asked her advice.

“And you promised to finish the sentence soon?” she said, laughing, and flipping the water from her fingers’ ends as she drew on her glove; “what was its intended conclusion?”

“I was about to ask her that, if I were to offer my hand and heart, would she accept?” feeling a little ashamed of the commonplace phrases.

“A subjunctive courtship, truly,” she said, smiling, as she took off her hat and threw back her hair from her white forehead to catch the fresh breeze. “Well, you have, indeed, committed yourself. You have attached too much importance to the matter, by deferring it, to give it some trivial conclusion, such as, ‘were I to raise the piano would you play?’ or, if I call this evening, will you ride with me? You have promised, and her heart is beating high with expectation.”

“It will beat a long time before it is satisfied, then,” I said, somewhat morosely.

“Suppose you write her a note, and candidly inform her that your feelings have undergone a change,” she suggested archly.

“That would wound her feelings,” I said, “and I cannot do that.”

“But are you sure the lady loves you? That is a matter of some importance.”

“I have every reason to believe it.”

“I see nothing that you can do but wait the issue of events. Wouldn’t it be funny if you had to marry her, or be sued for a breach of promise?”

“Pardon me for not seeing the fun in either case,” I replied, shuddering at the bare idea of marrying her; “but see, here comes another boat!”

The large boat at the lake house had been manned, and was rapidly catching up with us, under the pressure of sails, and oars to which a couple of stout Irishmen were bending. As they drew nearer we saw that the occupants were Mr. Marshman and party. Miss Finnock was sitting in the prow of the boat, armed with an opera glass, which she now lowered from the hills to our boat. I fancied her eyes grew wider apart as she saw who my companion was. Their boat came swiftly on, foaming at her prow, and bearing down upon us like a pirate on a prize.

They were near enough now to bow, and I raised myself from my reclining position to touch my hat. Mr. Finnock was steering, and I saw he knew nothing about it.

As I had tied my rudder I did not unloose it, as I thought of course they would pass by. Such was Finnock’s intention, but attempting to bear to one side, he gave the rudder too strong a turn, and to correct that turned too much the other way, and their boat, at full speed, ran obliquely against us. Carlotta and Miss Finnock both had risen to their feet as they saw the impending collision, and were both precipitated into the water, between the boats, which separated as soon as they struck.

Carlotta had scarcely touched the water before I was by her side.

Did you ever see waves close over one you love? then you know the horror that stamped the whole scene upon my memory, indelible in its distinctness, and perfectly vivid in its minutest detail. Her frightened look, as the boats came together, her agonizing cry for help as she fell, the dull splash of the water, the eddies that curled above the place she sank, all are present still. I remember now how clear the water was, and how, as with one stroke of my hands, I reached the spot, I saw her dress floating scarce beneath the surface, and then her face, distorted in her convulsive struggles for life, slowly rising upward. To draw her head above the surface was the work of a second, and as soon as she had cleared the water from her eyes and mouth sufficiently to become conscious, I bade her take my hand, and with the other commenced to swim to the nearest boat. As soon as she realized the situation she regained her presence of mind, and clung to me tenderly, though not so as to impede my movements. The large boat was not more than a dozen feet from us, and the occupants, as is usual in such cases, were in a frenzy of salvation, throwing overboard for our assistance, everything that would float. One of their intended life-buoys—a heavy oar—struck me on the head, almost stunning me, but I shook the water from my eyes and struggled on. The next moment my feet became entangled in a web of garments, a bubbling shriek burst forth close at my ear, and my arms were pinioned by the frantic Miss Finnock, who rose near me.

“B-r-r-sh ok—ok—Oh! chtl-Mr. Smith k-k—tl save your-k—d-arling, tlsave me k-ok—Oh! tlsave-k-me. D-ts-earest tsave me;” and, sputtering and choking, she clung to my neck, dragging me down irresistibly. As soon as Carlotta saw my danger, she let go my hand, and said, in her trembling voice, “Save yourself, John!”

But all this occurred in half the time I have taken to write it, and the people in the boat had now recovered their senses. The two Irishmen were in the water, and Mr. Marshman and Finnock stood ready with ropes to aid them. Carlotta was first drawn on board, then Miss Finnock and myself. Mr. Marshman fortunately happened to have a flask of brandy along, so the ladies went to work on the ladies, the gentlemen on me, while the boat hands overhauled our little boat, took down the sail, and lashed it fast to the large one. At first I felt weak and dizzy, but after a while I was able to sit up, though I could not render much help to the others. Carlotta was very pale, and her loosened hair, rendered still more glossy by the water, hung in jetty masses around her marble features. She was conscious, though faint, and lay helplessly in Mrs. Marshman’s lap, occasionally raising her soft eyes to mine with an expression so full of grateful meaning that it thrilled me into life and activity. Miss Finnock had fainted, of course, and lay like one dead in Miss Stelway’s lap.

The pallor on her face did not tend to increase her beauty, and a large roll of wet hair was hanging to her own knot by a single hair-pin.

Finnock and Miss Stelway were chafing her hands, and trying to get some of the brandy between her lips. Mrs. Marshman suggested unfastening her clothing, but after Miss Stelway had stolen a hand under her bodice, she withdrew it hopelessly, as if there was rather too much to undo and cut.

Very soon Miss F. commenced gasping, like a fish on a sand bank, and opening and closing her eyes in the most approved stage-faint style. Miss Stelway kissed her forehead, and called her “dear Saph,” with a fine resuscitating effect, for little Sappho began to utter broken sentences in faint but nervous sudden tones, jerking the words out, as if she could not control them.

“Oh where—where—is he?” she said, looking straight up into Miss Stelway’s face. “She sunk—him—I know she—did. I saw—her cling-ing to him.”

With Miss Stelway’s assistance she sat up, and her eyes met mine. When, with an affected scream, she buried her face in Miss Stelway’s bosom, and sobbed.

“There, darling,” said Miss S., “compose yourself; we all are safe, and are nearly at the shore.”

“Oh, Nellie,” said Miss Finnock, between her sobs, “did—they—all—see my—feet?”

Those at the Lake House had seen the accident, and Herrara met us at the shore with his carriage. We drove rapidly back to the town, and were met by mother, with uplifted hands and a face full of horror. Afraid of forming a scene, I bade them good morning, and went over to my room to change my clothes. A strange happiness was at my heart, for Carlotta had pressed my hand, when we parted, with grateful fervor.