But there was fish for dinner that night, savoury spitchcocked eels, and regal carp with wine sauce, the latter being declared by every one present, from Aunt Sophia to Prayle, to be the poorest, muddiest, most insipid dish ever placed upon a table.

It was about nine that night that just before Lady Scarlett sent a message to the study, which was half full of smoke, and while Prayle had gone for a stroll to watch the stars, as he said, making Scales look a little glum as he left the room, that Sir James cried suddenly – “Jack, old man, I’ll never brag again.”

“Why?”

“I’ve got the most awful of pains in my back, and it seems to run right up my spine. What the dickens is it? Have you been giving me a dose?”

“No,” said Scales grimly; “that comes of emptying the pond.”

“Not going to be anything, is it?”

“Well,” said the doctor, “I don’t know, but a cold will settle sometimes upon the nerves.”

“Oh! hang it, man, don’t talk about one’s nerves. Here, come along, I shall forget it. Let’s go and have some tea.”

Volume One – Chapter Eight.
Jack Scales Meets His Fate

“That’s what I like in the country,” said Jack Scales to himself, as he thrust his hands into his pockets and strolled down one of the garden paths. “Humph! Five o’clock, and people snoring in bed, when they might be up and out enjoying this lovely air, the sweet dewy scent of the flowers, and the clear sunshine, and be inhaling health with every breath they draw. Bah! I can’t understand how people can lie in bed – in the country. There is reason in stopping in peaceful thought upon one’s pillow in town till nine. – Ah, gardener, nice morning.”

“Beautiful morning, sir,” said John Monnick, touching his hat, and then going on with his task of carefully whetting a scythe, and sending a pleasant ringing sound out upon the sweet silence of the time.

“Grass cuts well, eh?” said the doctor.

“Yes, sir; crisp, as if there was a white frost on.”

“Ah, let’s try,” said the doctor. “I haven’t handled a scythe for a good many years now.”

“No, sir; I s’pose not,” said Monnick, with a half-contemptuous smile. “Mind you don’t stick the pynte into the ground, sir, and don’t ee cut too deep. I like to keep my lawns regular like.”

“Why don’t you have a machine?” said the doctor, taking the scythe, and sweeping it round with a slow measured swish that took off the grass and the dewy daisies to leave a velvet pile.

“Machine, sir? Oh, there’s two in the potting shed; but I don’t want no machines, sir. Noo-fangled things, that breaks a man’s back to push ’em along. You has to put yourself in a onnat’ral-like position to work ’em, and when you’ve done it, the grass don’t look like as if it had been mowed. – Well, you do s’prise me, sir; I didn’t know as you could mow.”

“Didn’t you, Monnick?” said the doctor, pausing to take the piece of carpet with which the old man wiped the blade, using it, and then reaching out his hand for the long gritty whetstone, with which he proceeded to sharpen the scythe in the most business-like way. “Ah, you never know what a man can do till you try him. You see, Monnick, when I was a young fellow, I often used to cut the Rectory lawns at home.”

“He’s a clever one,” muttered the old man, watching intently the rubber, as it was passed with quite a scientific touch up and down and from side to side of the long curved blade. “Man who can mow like that must, be a good doctor. I’ll ask him about my ’bago.”

“There, I’m going for a walk. I’m out of condition too, and mowing touches my back.”

“Do it now, sir?” said the old man, smiling. “Hah! that’s where it lays hold o’ me in a rheumaticky sort o’ way, sir. You couldn’t tell me what’d be good for it, sir, could you? I’ve tried the iles, but it seems as if it was getting worse.”

“Oh, I’ll give you something, Monnick,” said the doctor, laughing; “but, you know, there’s a touch of old age in your complaint.”

“Eh, but I’m afraid there is, sir; but thank you kindly, and you’ll forgive me making so bold as to ask.”

“Of course, of course. Come to me after breakfast. – And look here, I want to get on the open heathy part, among the gorse and fir-trees. Which road had I better take?”

“Well, sir, if you don’t mind the wet grass, you’d best go acrost the meadows out into the lane, turn to the left past the church, take the first turning to the right, and go straight on.”

“Thanks; I shall find my way. Don’t forget. I daresay I can set you right.” And the doctor went off at a swinging pace, crossed the meadows, where the soft-eyed cows paused to look up at him, then leaped a gate, walked down the lane, had a look at the pretty old church, embowered in trees, and had nearly reached the open common-land, when the sharp cantering of a horse roused him from his pleasant morning reverie.

He looked round, to see that the cantering horse was ridden by a lady, whose long habit and natty felt hat set off what seemed in the distance to be a very graceful figure; while the oncoming group appeared to be advancing through an elongated telescopic frame of green leaves and drooping branches, splashed with gold and blue.

“Here’s one sensible woman, at all events. What a splendid horse!” His glance was almost momentary. Then, feeling that he was staring rudely, he went on with his walk, continuing his way along the lane, and passing a gate that opened at once upon the furzy common-land.

Suddenly the horse was checked a short distance behind him, and an imperious voice called out: “Here! – hi! – my man.”

John Scales, M.D., felt amused. “This is one of the haughty aristocrats we read about in books,” he said to himself, as he turned and saw a handsome, imperious-looking woman of eight-and-twenty or so, beckoning to him with the handle of her whip.

“The goddess Diana in a riding-habit by Poole, and superbly mounted,” muttered the doctor as he stared wonderingly. He saw that the lady’s hair was dark, her cheeks slightly flushed with exorcise; that there was a glint of very white teeth between two scarlet lips; that the figure was really what he had at the first glance imagined – well formed and graceful, if slightly too matured; and his first idea was to take off his hat and stand uncovered in the presence of so much beauty; his second, as he saw the curl of the lady’s upper lip, and her imperious glance, to thrust his hands lower in his pockets and return the haughty stare.

“Here, my man, come and open this gate.”

As she spoke. Scales saw her pass her whip into her bridle hand, draw off a tan-coloured gauntlet glove, and a white and jewelled set of taper fingers go towards the little pocket in her saddle.

“Why, confound her impudence! she takes me for a yokel, and is going to give me a pint of beer,” said the doctor to himself; and he stood as if turned into stone.

“Do you hear!” she cried again sharply, and in the tones of one accustomed to the greatest deference. “Come and open this gate.”

John Scales felt his dignity touched, for he too was accustomed to the greatest deference, such as a doctor generally receives. For a moment he felt disposed to turn upon his heel and walk away; but he did not, for he burst into a hearty laugh, and walked straight up to the speaker, the latter flushing crimson with anger at the insolence, as she mentally called it, of this stranger.

“How dare you!” she exclaimed. “Open that gate;” and she retook her whip with her ungloved hand to point onward, while her highly bred horse pawed the ground, and snorted and tossed its mane, as if indignant too.

“How dare I, my dear?” said the doctor coolly, as he mentally determined not to be set down.

“Sir!” exclaimed the lady with a flash of her dark eyes that made the recipient think afterwards that here was the style of woman who, in the good old times, would have handed him over to her serfs. “Do you know whom you are addressing?”

“Not I,” said the doctor; “unless you are some very beautiful edition in animated nature of the huntress Diana.”

“Sir!”

“And if you were not such a handsome woman, I should leave you to open the gate yourself, or leap the hedge, which seems more in your way.”

“How dare you!” she cried, utterly astounded at the speaker’s words.

“How dare I?” said the doctor, smiling. “Oh, I’d dare anything now, to see those eyes sparkle and those cheeks flush. There,” he continued, unfastening the gate and throwing it back; “the gate’s open. Au revoir.”

The lady seemed petrified. Then, giving her horse a sharp cut, he bounded through on to the furzy heath, and went off over the rough ground like a swallow.

The doctor stood gazing after them, half expecting to see the lady turn her head; but she rode straight on till she passed out of sight, when he refastened the gate.

“She might have given me the twopence for that pint of beer,” he said mockingly. “Why, she has!” he cried, stooping and picking up a sixpence that lay upon the bare earth close to the gate-post. “Well, come, I’ll keep you, my little friend, and give you back. We may meet again some day.”

It was a trifling incident, but it seemed to affect the doctor a good deal, for he walked on amidst the furze and heath, seeing no golden bloom and hearing no bird-song, but giving vent every now and then to some short angry ejaculation. For he was ruffled and annoyed. He hardly knew why, unless it was at having been treated with such contemptuous disdain.

“And by a woman, too,” he cried at last, stopping short, “of all creatures in the world. Confound her impudence! I should just like to prescribe for her, upon my word.”

Volume One – Chapter Nine.
Aunt Sophia on Boats

The encounter completely spoiled the doctor’s walk, and he turned back sooner than he had intended, meeting Aunt Sophia and Naomi Raleigh in the garden, and accompanying them in to the breakfast-table, where the incident was forgotten in the discussion that ensued respecting returns to town. Of these, Scarlett would hear nothing, for he had made his plans. He said they were to dine at five; and directly after, the boat would be ready, and they would pull up to the lock, and then float down home again by moonlight.

“Well,” said Scales, with a shrug of the shoulders, “you are master here.”

“No, no,” replied his host; “yonder sits the master;” and he pointed to his wife.

“How many will the boat hold safely, dear?” said Lady Scarlett.

“Oh, a dozen, easily. Eighteen, if they would all sit still and not wink their eyes. We shan’t be above seven, so that’s all right.”

“You need not expect me to go,” said Aunt Sophia sharply. “I’m not going to risk my life in a boat.”

“Pooh! auntie; there’s no risk,” cried Scarlett. “You’d better come.”

“No; I shall not!” said the lady very decisively.

“Why, auntie, how absurd!” said Scarlett, passing his arm round her waist. “Now, what is the very worst that could happen?”

“Why, that boat would be sure to upset, James, and then we should all be drowned.”

“Now, my dear old auntie,” cried Scarlett, “the boat is not at all likely to upset; in fact I don’t think we could upset her; and if she were, it does not follow that we should be drowned.”

“Why, we should certainly be, boy,” cried Aunt Sophia. – “Naomi, my dear, of course you have not thought of going?”

“Yes, aunt, dear; I should like to go very much,” said Naomi.

“Bless the child! Why?”

“The river is lovely, aunt, with the shadows of the trees falling upon it, and their branches reflected on its surface.”

“O yes; very poetical and pretty at your age, child,” cried Aunt Sophia. “You never see the mud at the bottom, or think that it is wet and covered with misty fog in winter. Well, I suppose you must go.”

“Really, Miss Raleigh, we will take the greatest care of her,” said Prayle.

“I really should like to take the greatest care of you,” muttered the doctor.

“Well, I suppose you must go, my dear,” said Aunt Sophia.

“Oh, thank you, aunt!” cried the girl gleefully.

“Now, look here, James,” said Aunt Sophia; “you will be very, very careful?”

“Of course, auntie.”

“And you won’t be dancing about in the boat or playing any tricks?”

“No – no – no,” said Scarlett, at intervals. “I faithfully promise, though I do not know why.”

“You don’t know why, James?”

“No, auntie. I never do play tricks in a boat. No one does but a madman, or a fool. Besides, I don’t want to drown my little wifie.”

“Now, James, don’t be absurd. Who ever thought you did?”

“No one, aunt,” said Lady Scarlett. “But you will go with us, will you not?”

“No, my dear; you know how I hate the water. It is not safe.”

“But James is so careful, aunt. I’d go anywhere with him.”

“Of course you would, my child,” said Aunt, Sophia shortly. “A wife should trust in her husband thoroughly and well.”

“So should a maiden aunt in her nephew,” said Scarlett, laughing. “Come, auntie, you shan’t be drowned.”

“Now, James, my dear, don’t try to persuade me,” said the lady, pulling up her black lace mittens in a peculiar, nervous, twitchy way.

“I’ll undertake to do the best for you, if you are drowned, Miss Raleigh,” said the doctor drily. “I’m pretty successful with such cases.”

“Doctor Scales!” cried Aunt Sophia.

“Fact, my dear madam. An old friend of mine did the Royal Humane Society’s business for them at the building in Hyde Park; and one very severe winter when I helped him, we really brought back to life a good many whom you might have quite given up.”

“Doctor, you horrify me,” cried Aunt Sophia. – “Naomi, my child, come away.”

“No, no: nonsense!” cried Scarlett. “It’s only Jack’s joking way, auntie.”

“Joke!” cried the doctor; “nonsense. The ice was unsafe; so of course the idiots insisted upon setting the police at defiance, and went on, to drown themselves as fast as they could.”

“How dreadful!” said Prayle.

“Very, for the poor doctors,” said Scales grimly. “I nearly rubbed my arms out of the sockets.”

“Kitty, dear, you stay with Aunt Sophia, then,” said Scarlett. “We won’t be very long away.”

“Stop!” cried Aunt Sophia sternly. “Where is it you are going?”

“Up to the lock and weir,” said Scarlett. “You and Kitty can sit under the big medlar in the shade till we come back.”

“The lock and weir?” cried Aunt Sophia sharply. “That’s where the water comes running over through a lot of sticks, isn’t it?”

“Yes, aunt, that’s the place.”

“And you’ve seen it before?”

“Scores of times, dear.”

“Then why do you want to go now?”

“Because it will be a pleasant row.”

“Nonsense!” said Aunt Sophia shortly, “pulling those oars and making blisters on your hands. Well, you must have your own way, I suppose.”

“All right, aunt. You won’t think it queer of us to desert you?”

“Oh, you’re not going to desert me, James.”

“Kitty will stay with you.”

“No; she will not,” said the old lady, “I’m not going to deprive her of her treat.”

“I shan’t mind, indeed, aunt,” cried Lady Scarlett.

“Yes you would; and you shall not be disappointed, for I shall go too.”

“You will, aunt?” cried Scarlett.

“Yes; if you promise to be very careful. And you are sure the boat is safe?”

“As safe as being on this lawn, my dear aunt. You trust to me. I am glad you are going.”

Aunt Sophia looked at the frank manly face before her, saw the truth in the eager eyes, and her thin, yellow, careworn countenance relaxed into a smile.

“Well, I’m going, James, because I don’t want to disappoint your little wife,” she said to him in a low tone; “but I don’t see what pleasure it can give you to have a disagreeable old woman with you in the boat.”

They had moved off a little way from the others now, Scarlett having kept his arm round the old lady’s waist, evidently greatly to her gratification, though if it had been hinted at, she would have repudiated the fact with scorn.

“Don’t you, auntie?” he said seriously. “Well, I’ll tell you.” He paused, then, and seemed to be thinking.

“Well?” she said sharply; “why is it? Now you are making up a flowery speech.”

“No,” he said softly. “I was thinking of how precious little a young fellow thinks of his mother till she has gone. Auntie, every now and then, when I look at you, there is a something that brings her back so much. That’s why I like to have you with me in this trip.”

Aunt Sophia did not speak; but her hard sharp face softened more and more as she went into the house, to come out, ten minutes later, in one of the most far-spreading Tuscan straw-hats that ever covered the head of a maiden lady; and the marvel to her friends was that she should have been able to obtain so old-fashioned a production in these modern times.

Volume One – Chapter Ten.
Up to the Weir

“That’s the style. Hold her tight, Monnick. – Now, auntie, you first. Steady; that’s the way. You won’t swamp her.”

“But it gives way so, James, my dear,” said Aunt Sophia nervously.

“There you are. Sit down at once. Never stand up in a boat. – Is the cushion all right? That’s the way. – Now, Naomi. – Hand her in, Jack. – Come along, Kitty.”

Lady Scarlett gave her hand to her husband as soon as Naomi Raleigh was in, and stepped lightly from the gunwale to one thwart, and then took her place beside Aunt Sophia, Naomi being on the other.

“Arthur, old fellow, you’d better sit behind them and ship the rudder. Shorten the lines, and you can steer. – Ready, Jack?” he said as Prayle stepped into the boat and sat down on a thwart behind the ladies.

“Oh!” cried Aunt Sophia with a little scream; “take him out; he’s too heavy. He’ll sink the boat.”

“Ha-ha-ha!” laughed the doctor.

“It’s all right, auntie, I tell you,” cried Scarlett, making the boat dance up and down as he stepped in, and, stripping off his flannel jacket, rolled up his sleeves over his arms.

The doctor stepped in and imitated his friend, both standing up, the muscular specimens of humanity, though wonderfully unlike in aspect.

“Now, you told me it was dangerous to stand up in a boat, James,” cried Aunt Sophia. “Pray, pray, take care. And look, look – the boat has broken loose!” For the gardener had dropped the chain into the forepart, and it was drifting slowly with the stream.

“All, so she has,” cried Scarlett merrily; “and if we don’t stop her, she’ll take us right to London before we know where we are.”

“But do, pray, sit down, my dear.”

“All right, auntie,” said Scarlett, dropping into his place, the doctor following suit.

“Oh, oh!” cried Aunt Sophia, catching tightly hold of her companions on each side; “the boat’s going over.”

“No, no, aunt, dear,” said Lady Scarlett; “it is quite safe.”

“But why did it rock?” cried the old lady tremulously. “And look, look; there are only two of them there, and we are four at this end! We shall sink it, I’m sure.”

“Now, auntie, it’s too bad of you to set up for a stout old lady, when you are as light as a cork,” cried Scarlett, dropping his oar with a splash. – “Ready, Jack?”

“Ready, ay, ready,” said the doctor, following suit; but his oar only swept the sedge.

“Gently,” said Scarlett; “don’t break the oar. – That’s better; now you have it,” he said, as the head of the gig turned more and more, the doctor’s oar took a good hold of the water; and in a few moments they were well out from the shore, the steady vigorous strokes sending them past the sloping lawn of the Rosery, which looked its best from the river.

“There, aunt, see how steadily and well the boat goes,” said Lady Scarlett.

“Yes, my dear, but it doesn’t seem at all safe.”

“Place looks pretty from the water, doesn’t it, Arthur?” shouted Scarlett.

“Delightful. A most charming home – charming, charming,” said Prayle, lowering his voice with each word, till it was heard as in a whisper by those on the seat in front.

“Don’t feel afraid now, do you, auntie?” cried Scarlett to Aunt Sophia.

“N-not quite so much, my dear. But won’t you make yourself very hot and tired?”

“Do him good, ma’am,” said the doctor; “and me too. – Gently, old fellow, or you’ll pull her head round. I’m not in your trim.”

Scarlett laughed, and pulled a little less vigorously, so that they rode on and on between the lovely banks, passing villa after villa, with its boat-house, lawn, and trimly kept garden. Then came a patch of trees laving their drooping branches in the stream; then a sweep of wood, climbing higher and higher into the background on one hand; while on the other the hills receded, leaving a lawn-like stretch of meadow-land, rich in the summer wild-flowers, and whose river-edge was dense with flag and sedge and willow-herb of lilac pink. The marsh-marigold shone golden, and the water-plantains spread their candelabra here and there. Great patches of tansy displayed their beautifully cut foliage; while in sheltered pools, the yellow water-lilies sent up their leaves to float upon the calm surface, with here and there a round green hall in every grade of effort to escape from the tightening scales to form a golden chalice on the silvery stream.

By degrees the beauty of the scene lulled Aunt Sophia’s fears to rest, and she found sufficient faith in the safety of the boat to loosen her clutch upon the ladies on either side, to admire some rustic cottage, or the sweep of many-tinted verdure, drooping to the water’s edge; while here and there, at a word from Scarlett, the rowers let the boat go forward by its own impetus, slowly and more slowly, against the stream, so that its occupants could gaze upon some lovely reach. Then as they sat in silence, watching the beauty spread around, the boat grew stationary, hung for a moment on the balance, and began drifting back, gliding with increasing pace, till the oars were clipped again.

“The evening is so lovely,” said Scarlett, breaking a long silence, “that I think we might go through the lock.”

“Right,” cried the doctor. “I am just warming to my work.”

“I think it would be delightful,” said Lady Scarlett.

“Oh, yes,” said Naomi. “Those islands are so beautiful.”

“I don’t think any part could be more beautiful than where we are,” said Aunt Sophia, rather shortly.

“Oh, yes, it is, aunt, dear,” said Scarlett. “There you trust to me.”

“Well, it seems I must, for we women are very helpless here.”

“Oh, you may trust us, aunt. We won’t take you into any danger.”

As they were speaking the boat was rowed round a sharp curve to where the river on each side was embowered in trees, and stretching apparently like a bridge from side to side was one of the many weirs that cross the stream; while from between its piles, in graceful curves a row of little waterfalls flowed down, each arc of water glistening golden and many-tinted in the evening sun.

“There!” cried Scarlett. – “Easy, Jack. – What do you think of that, aunt, for a view?”

“Yes,” said the old lady thoughtfully; “it is very sweet.”

“A very poet’s dream,” said Prayle softly, as he rested his elbow on the gunwale of the boat, his chin upon his hand.

“It is one of my husband’s favourite bits,” said Lady Scarlett, smiling in the face of him she named. – “Look, Naomi; that is the fishing-cottage, there on the left.”

“I have not seen the weir for years – twenty years,” said Aunt Sophia thoughtfully; “and then it was from the carriage, as we drove along the road.”

“Not half so good a view as this,” said Scarlett. – “Now, then, we’ll go through the lock, row up for a mile by the Dell woods, and then back.”

“But you will be tired, my dear,” said Aunt Sophia, whom the beauty of the scene seemed to have softened; and her worn sharp face looked wistful and strange.

“Tired?” said Lady Scarlett, laughing. “Oh, no, aunt; he’s never tired.”

“Well,” said Scarlett, with a bright look at his wife, “I’ll promise one thing – when we’re tired, we’ll turn back.”

“Yes, dear; but there’s all the way to return.”

“Oh, the river takes us back itself, aunt,” said Lady Scarlett merrily. “Row up; and then float back.”

“Ah, well, my dears, I am in your hands,” said Aunt Sophia softly; “but don’t take me into danger, please.”

“All right, auntie – There’s one of the prettiest bits,” he added, pointing to where the trees on the right bank opened, showing a view of the hills beyond. – “Now, Jack, pull.”

Ten minutes’ sharp rowing brought them up to the stout piles that guarded the entrance to the lock, whose slimy doors were open; and as they approached, they could see the further pair, with the water hissing and spirting through in tiny streams, making a strange echo from the perpendicular stone walls that rose up a dozen feet on either side.

“Lock, lock, lock, lock!” shouted Scarlett in his mellow tones, as the boat glided in between the walls, and Aunt Sophia turned pale.

“They shut us up here, don’t they, James, and then let the water in?”

“Till we are on a level with the river above, and then open the other pair,” said Scarlett quietly. “Don’t be alarmed.”

“But I am, my dear,” said the old lady earnestly. “My nerves are not what they were.”

“Of course not,” said the doctor kindly. – “I wouldn’t go through, old fellow,” he continued to Scarlett. “Let’s paddle about below the weir.”

“To be sure,” said Scarlett, as he saw his aunt’s alarm. “I brought you out to enjoy yourselves. – Here – hi!” he cried, standing up in the boat, and making Aunt Sophia lean forward, as if to catch him and save him from going overboard. – “All right, auntie. – Hi! – catch!” he cried to the lock-keeper, throwing him a shilling. “We won’t go through.”

The man did not make an effort to catch the money, but stooped in a heavy dreamy manner to pick it up, staring stolidly at the occupants of the boat.

Aunt Sophia uttered a sigh of relief, one that seemed to be echoed from behind her, where Arthur Prayle was seated, looking of a sallow sickly grey, but with his colour rapidly coming back as they reached the open space below the weir, where the water at once seemed to seize the boat and to sweep it downwards, but only to be checked and rowed upwards again towards the weir.

“There, auntie, look over the side,” cried Scarlett. “Can you see the stones?”

“Yes, my dear,” said Aunt Sophia, who was evidently mastering a good deal of trepidation. “Is it all shallow like this?”

“Oh, no. Up yonder, towards the piles, there are plenty of holes fifteen and twenty feet deep, scoured out by the falling water when it comes over in a flood. See how clear and bright it is.”

Aunt Sophia sat up rigidly; but her two companions leaned over on each side to look down through the limpid rushing stream at the stones and gravel, over which shot away in fear, shoal after shoal of silvery dace, with here and there some bigger, darker fish that had been lying head to stream, patiently waiting for whatever good might come.

“Yes, my dears, it is very beautiful,” said Aunt Sophia. “But you are going very near the falling water, James. It will be tumbling in the boat.”

“Oh, we’ll take care of that, auntie,” said Scarlett merrily. “Trust to your boatman, ma’am, and he will take you safe. – What say, Arthur?”

“I say, are there any large fish here?”

“Large fish, my boy? Wait a moment. – Pull, Jack.” They rowed close up to a clump of piles, driven in to save the bank from the constant washing of the stream. – “Now, look down, old fellow,” continued Scarlett, “close in by the piles. It’s getting too late to see them well. It ought to be when the sun is high. – Well, what can you see?”

“A number of dark shadowy forms close to bottom,” said Prayle.

“Ay, shoals of them. Big barbel, some as long as your arm, my lad – ten and twelve pounders. Come down some day and we’ll have a good try for them.”

“Don’t go too near, dear,” cried Aunt Sophia.

“All right, auntie. – Here, Jack, take the boat-hook, and hold on a moment while I get out the cigars and matches. – Ladies, may we smoke? Our work is done.”

“A bad habit, James,” said Aunt Sophia, shaking her head at him.

“But he has so few bad habits, aunt,” said Lady Scarlett, smiling.

“And you encourage him in those, my dear,” said Aunt Sophia. – “There sir, go on.”

“Won’t you have a cigar, Arthur?”

“Thank you; no,” said Prayle, with a grave smile. “I never smoke.”

“Good young man!” said the doctor to himself as he lit up.

“Man after your own heart, aunt,” said Scarlett merrily, as he resumed his oar; and for the next half-hour they rowed about over the swiftly running water, now dyed with many a hue, the reflections from the gorgeous clouds that hovered over the ruddy sinking sun. The dancing wavelets flashed and sparkled with orange and gold: the shadows grew more intense, beneath the trees; while in one portion of the weir, where a pile or two had rotted away, the water ran down in one smooth soft curve, like so much molten metal poured from some mighty furnace into the hissing, boiling stream below.

“I never saw it so beautiful before,” cried Scarlett excitedly. “It is lovely indeed. – Look, aunt. – Why, Arthur, it was worth a journey to see.”

“The place is like one seen in some vision of the night,” said Prayle softly.

“Hah! yes,” exclaimed the doctor thoughtfully; “it is enough to tempt a man to give up town.”

“Do, old fellow, and you shall have us Impatients,” cried Scarlett, “We never want a doctor, and I hope we never shall.”

“Amen to that!” said Scales, in a low, serious tone. “Ah!” he continued, “what a pity it seems that we have so few of these heavenly days.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Scarlett. “Makes us appreciate them all the more.”

“I think these things are best as they are,” said Prayle in his soft dreamy tenor. “Yes; all is for the best.”

Lady Scarlett looked at him uneasily, and Aunt Sophia tightened her lips.

“I should like to duck that fellow, and fish him out with the boat-hook,” thought the doctor.

Then the conversation ceased. Words seemed to be a trouble in the beauty of that evening scene, one so imprinted in the breasts of the spectators that it was never forgotten. The boat was kept from floating down with the quick racing current by a sharp dip of the oars just given now and then, while every touch of the long blue blades seemed to be into liquid gold and silver and ruddy gems. The wind had sunk, and, saving the occasional distance – softened lowing from the meads, no sound came from the shore; but always like distant thunder, heard upon the summer breeze, came the never-ceasing, low-pitched roar of the falling water at the weir.