secret, centuries old, which it was vainly striving to tell in
articulate words.

The burden of the beauty lay upon me and saddened me. I wandered slowly
along the bank, watching the play of moonlight on the river. Suddenly I
saw a tiny boat that was moored to an overhanging willow, and floated
out the length of its chain towards the middle of the stream. I looked
around. Not a creature of any kind was visible. Then I thought to
myself: "How pleasant it would be to sit out there in the boat for a
little while. And surely no one could be angry with me for taking such a
liberty--not even the owner of the boat, if he were to find me there."

No sooner said than done. I went down to the edge of the river and drew
the boat inshore by the chain that held it. Then I stepped gingerly in,
half-frightened at my own temerity, and sat down. The boat glided slowly
out again to the length of its chain and then became motionless. But it
was motionless only for a moment or two. A splash in the water drew my
attention to the chain. It had been insecurely fastened to a branch of
the willow; my weight in the boat had caused it to become detached and
fall into the water, and with horrified eyes I saw that I had now no
means of getting back to the shore. Next moment the strength of the
current carried the boat out into mid-stream, and I began to float
slowly down the river.

I sat like one paralysed, unable either to stir or speak. The willows
seemed to bow their heads in mocking farewell as I glided past them. I
heard the faint baying of a dog on some distant farm, and it sounded
like a death-note in my frightened ears. Suddenly the spell that had
held me was loosened, and I started to my feet. The boat heeled over,
and but for a sudden instinctive movement backward I should have gone