At this spot the stream ran with such rapidity,
that a boat which was fastened to the stern, had broken away, and the
ladies became, in a degree, panic-struck, when they saw their only
means of communication with the shore quickly floating away from them.

It was now for me to do my best to capture it, though when I had
fastened it to my skiff, it was with great difficulty that I could
stem the stream with it, and reach them. Having at length succeeded in
this, the instant I arrived, in addition to innumerable thanks, many
fair and braceleted wrists were now proffering full and fizzing
bumpers of champagne, while others showered various fruits into my
skiff.

Without any hesitation, I emptied a respectable number of glasses of
their contents; and having declined the rest, they were reluctantly
withdrawn, with the exception of one. I thought I might as well take
that; I looked at its fair and kind donor, and--there was Miss Curzon!
As I raised the glass to my lips, I glanced across its brim, and again
the same depression of the slender figure--the same expression and
mixture of fixed seriousness!

Now, then, I at last had a certainty of gleaning some tidings of her.
I saw Maberly standing by her side, and, the next morning, I
questioned him closely, but warily, upon the subject.

"I was rather lucky, last night, Maberly," I observed.

"Yes," he replied; "it was no common person who gave you that glass of
wine. Do you not think she was very lovely?"

"There were several lovely persons," I answered.

"You know whom I mean."

"O yes," I prudently answered; "she was sitting on a sofa, close to
the steerage, and gave me--bless her!--the first glass of wine."

"Thank you," said Maberly; "that was my sister."

"Then she was a very nice-looking person," I replied.

"Don't you recollect, now, the girl who held out the last glass to
you?"

"Perfectly; but is she the person you admire so?"

"Oh! you know, you're near-sighted, or you would have thought so."

"And who is she, after all?"

"I am not quite certain that I know her name," said Maberly; "but I
suppose it is the same as her uncle's, Mr. St. Quentin, with whom she
lives there, at the Grange, by Old Windsor."

I said but little more, and withdrew, by no means dissatisfied with
the information I had gained.

CHAPTER X.

When I look back at this period of my life, though it must be with a
feeling of disapprobation--and when I coldly say disapprob