s
in it.

Reeves was dizzy again with the shock of joy and thankfulness. He ran
down over the little stretch of sand still uncovered by the tide and
around to the rocks of the headlands against which the dory was
already grating. He sprang forward impulsively and caught the girl's
cold hands in his as she dropped the oars and stood up.

"Helen, you have saved me! How can I ever thank you? I--"

He broke off abruptly, for she was looking up at him, breathlessly and
voicelessly, with her whole soul in her eyes. He saw in them a
revelation that amazed him; he dropped her hands and stepped back as
if she had struck him in the face.

Helen did not notice the change in him. She clasped her hands together
and her voice trembled.

"Oh, I was afraid I should be too late! When I came in from the field
Aunt Hannah said you had not come back--and I knew it was tide
time--and I felt somehow that it had caught you in the cave. I ran
down over the marsh and took Joe Simmon's dory. If I had not got here
in time--"

She broke off shiveringly. Reeves stepped into the dory and took up
the oars.

"The kelpy would have been sure of its victim then," he said, trying
to speak lightly. "It would have almost served me right for
neglecting your warning. I was very careless. You must let me row
back. I am afraid you have overtasked your strength trying to cheat
the kelpy."

Reeves rowed homeward in an absolute silence. Helen did not speak and
he could not. When they reached the dory anchorage he helped her out.

"I think I'll go out to the Point for a walk," he said. "I want to
steady my nerves. You must go right home and rest. Don't be anxious--I
won't take any more chances with sea kelpies."

Helen went away without a word, and Reeves walked slowly out to the
Point. He was grieved beyond measure at the discovery he believed he
had made. He had never dreamed of such a thing. He was not a vain man,
and was utterly free from all tendency to flirtation. It had never
occurred to him that the waking of the girl's deep nature might be
attended with disastrous consequences. He had honestly meant to help
her, and what had he done?

He felt very uncomfortable; he could not conscientiously blame
himself, but he saw that he had acted foolishly. And of course he must
go away at once. And he must also tell her something she ought to
know. He wished he had told her long ago.

The following afternoon was a perfect one. Reeves was sketching on