to paddle about in the lazy water. Presently she reached the eddies,
which, since a child, she has always called the 'rings of the
water-witches,' wherever she learned that term. Her cousin Violette was
standing in the doorway as she saw Annette move off, and she cried
out to her to beware of the eddies; but my sister, wayward and
reckless as it is her habit to be in such matters, merely replied
with a laugh; and then as the canoe began to turn round and round in
the gurgling circles she cried out.

"I am in the rings of the water-witches. C'est bon! bon! C'est
magnifique! O I wish you were with me, Violette, ma chere. It is so
delightful to go round and round." A little way beyond, not more than
twice the canoe's length, rushed by roaring, the full tide of the
river.

"Beware, Annette, beware, for the love of heaven, of the river. If
you get a little further out, and these eddies must drag you out, you
will be in the mad current, and no arm can paddle the canoe to land
out of the flood. Then, dear, there is the fall below, and the fans
of the mill. Come back, won't you! But my sister heeded not the
words. She only laughed, and began dipping water from the eddies with
the paddle-blade, as if it were a spoon she had in her hand. 'I am
dipping water from the witches-rings,' she cried. 'How the drops
sparkle! Every one is a glittering jewel. I wish you were here with
me, Violette!' Suddenly and in an altered tone, she cried, 'Mon Dieu!
My paddle is gone.' The paddle had no sooner glided out into the
rushing, turbulent waters than the canoe followed it, and Annette saw
herself drifting on to her doom. Half a mile below was the fall, and
at the side of the fall, went ever and ever around with tremendous
violence, the rending fans of the water-mill. Annette knew full well