ll he, indeed?" said Rene, laughing. "Ah, I am quite out of
breath."

"Then rest a little." As they halted, a swift skater, seeking the
loneliness of the river below the town, approaching, spoke to Margaret,
and then said: "Ah, Mr. Schmidt, what luck to find you! You were to give
me a lesson. Why not now?"

"Come, then," returned Schmidt. "I brought you hither, Rene, because it
is safer away from clumsy learners, and where we are the ice is safe. I
was over it yesterday, but do not go far. I shall be back in a few
minutes. If Margaret is tired, move up the river. I shall find you."

"Please not to be long," said Margaret.

"Make him tell you when your wicked Delaware was not my friend, and
another was. Make him tell."

As he spoke, he was away behind young Mr. Morris, singing in his lusty
bass snatches of German song and thinking of the ripe mischief of the
trap he had baited with a nice little Cupid. "I want it to come soon,"
he said, "before I go. She will be curious and venture in, and it will
be as good as the apple with knowledge of good and--no, there is evil in
neither."

She was uneasy, she scarce knew why. Still at rest on the ice, she
turned to De Courval. "Thou wilt tell me?" she said.

"I had rather not."

"But if I ask thee?"

"Why should I not?" he thought. It was against his habit to speak of
himself, but she would perhaps like him the better for the story.

"Then, Miss Margaret, not because he asked and is willing, but because
you ask, I shall tell you."

"Oh, I knew thou wouldst. He thought thou wouldst not and I should be
left puzzled. Sometimes he is just like a boy for mischief."

"Oh, it was nothing. The first day I was here I saved him from drowning.
A boat struck his head while we were swimming, and I had the luck to be
near. There, that is all." He was a trifle ashamed to tell of it.

She put out her hand as they stood. "Thank thee. Twice I thank thee, for
a dear life saved and because thou didst tell, not liking to tell me. I
could see that. Thank thee."

"Ah, Pearl," he exclaimed, and what more he would have said I do not
know, nor had he a chance, for she cried: "I shall thank thee always,
Friend de Courval. We are losing time." The peril that gives a keener
joy to sport was for a time far too near, but in other form than in
bodily risk. "Come, canst thou catch me?" She was off and away, now
near, now far, circling about him with easy grace, merrily laughing as
he sped after