cessary, frankly tell him that she could not accept his
acquaintance. On the whole, this course seemed best, though an
involuntary sympathy with her victim made her wish that it were all
over.

In the afternoon Mrs. Morris, as usual, took her summer siesta; Dick
had found a friend, and was whirling somewhere behind a pair of fast
horses; and, finally, Bertha, bored by the society in the ladies'
parlor, took her hat and a book and walked over to Goat Island. She
made the circuit of its forests and flashing water views, and finally
selected a shady seat on its western side, whence she could look out on
the foamy stairs of the Rapids. The unnecessary book lay in her lap; a
more wonderful book than any printed volume lay open before her.

Who shall dare to interpret the day-dream of a maiden? Soothed by the
mellow roar of the waters, fascinated by the momentary leaps of spray
from the fluted, shell-shaped hollows of the descending waves, and
freshened by the wind that blew from the cool Canadian shore, she
nursed her wild weeds of fancy till they blossomed into brighter than
garden-flowers. Meanwhile a thunder-cloud rose, dark and swift, in the
west. The menaces of its coming were unheard, and Bertha was first
recalled to consciousness by the sudden blast of cold wind that
precedes the ram.

When she looked up, the gray depth of storm already arched high over
the Canadian woods, and big drops began to rap on the shingly bank
below her. A little further down was a summer-house--open to the west,
it is true, but it offered the only chance of shelter within view. She
had barely reached it before a heavy peal of thunder shattered the
bolts of the rain, and it rushed down in an overwhelming flood.
Mounted on the bench and crouched in the least exposed corner, she was
endeavoring, with but partial success, to shelter herself from the
driving flood, when a man, coming from the opposite end of the island,
rushed up at full speed.

"Here," he panted, "Miss Morris, take this umbrella! I saw you at a
distance, and made haste to reach you. I hope you're not wet." The
spacious umbrella was instantly clapped over her, and the inevitable
Chiropodist placed himself in front to steady it, fully exposed to the
rain.

Bertha was not proof against this gallant self-sacrifice. In the
surprise of the storm--the roar of which, mingled with that of the
Fall, made a continuous awful peal--the companionship of any human
being was