"No, no," she answered earnestly, "it is very dangerous swimming here;
the place is full of sharp rocks, and there is a tremendous current."

"Well, then, what is to be done? Will your canoe carry two? If so,
perhaps you would kindly put me ashore?"

"Yes," she said, "it is a double canoe. But I dare not take you ashore
here; there are too many rocks, and it is impossible to see the ripple
on them in this mist. We should sink the canoe. No, you must get in and
I must paddle you home to Bryngelly, that's all. Now that I know where I
am I think that I can find the way."

"Really," he said, "you are very good."

"Not at all," she answered, "you see I must go myself anyhow, so I shall
be glad of your help. It is nearly five miles by water, you know, and
not a pleasant night."

There was truth in this. Geoffrey was perfectly prepared to risk a swim
to the shore on his own account, but he did not at all like the idea of
leaving this young lady to find her own way back to Bryngelly through
the mist and gathering darkness, and in that frail canoe. He would not
have liked it if she had been a man, for he knew that there was great
risk in such a voyage. So after making one more fruitless suggestion
that they should try and reach the shore, taking the chance of rocks,
sunken or otherwise, and then walk home, to which Beatrice would not
consent, he accepted her offer.

"At the least you will allow me to paddle," he said, as she skilfully