ancing at the water, and although he was sure that she
had not seen him or heard his approach, she turned towards him quietly.
Then a momentary sense of astonishment held him in an embarrassed
scrutiny, for it was her picture at which he had gazed scarcely half an
hour before, and he would have recognized the face anywhere.

"Yes," she answered. "It is rather a long way around by the bridge, but
some of the stones seem to have disappeared since I last came this way."

She spoke, as Wyllard had expected, softly and quietly. Because he was
first of all a man of action, Wyllard forthwith waded into the river.
Then he turned and held out his hand to her.

"It isn't a very long step. You ought to manage it," he said.

The girl favored him with a swift glance of uncertainty. At first she
had supposed him to be one of the walking tourists or climbers who
usually invaded the valleys at Easter; but they were, for the most part,
young men from the cities, and this stranger's face was darkened by the
sun. There was also an indefinite suggestion of strength in the poise of
his lean, symmetrical figure, which could only have come from strenuous
labor in the open air. She noticed that while the average Englishman
would have asked permission to help her, or would have deprecated the
offer, this stranger did nothing of the kind. He stood with the water
frothing about his ankles, holding out his hand.

She had no hesitation about accepting Wyllard's aid, and, while he waded
through the river, she stepped lightly from stone to stone until she
came to a wide gap, where the stream was deep. She stopped a moment,
gazing at the foaming water, until the man's hand tightened on her
fingers, and she felt his other hand rest upon her waist.

"Now," he assured her, "I won't let you fall."

She was on the other side of the gap in another moment. Wondering
uneasily why she had obeyed the compelling pressure, but glad to see
that the stranger's face was perfectly unmoved, and that he was
evidently quite unconscious of having done anything unusual, she crossed
without mishap. When they stood on the shingle he dropped her hand.

"Thank you," she said. "I'm afraid you got rather wet."

The man laughed, and he had a pleasant laugh. "Oh," he replied, "I'm
used to it." There was a little silence and he asked: "Isn't there a
village with a hotel in it, a mile or two from here?"

"Yes," the girl answered, "this is the way. The path goes up to the