the shore, and therefore he would almost
certainly have been able to scramble out.

There were still one or two things I did not quite understand, however,
so, whilst we ate a fairly hearty meal off the remainder of my whiting,
I plied her with a question or two, and by-and-by we got very friendly
and cheerful, and I quite disliked the idea of going out into the misty
morning to make arrangements for giving up my fair and charming visitor.

As for Miss Burfield (as I now must call her), her spirits rose with my
hopeful words, and as the food had its effect on her physically.

But in my mind was a sinister fear, which I carefully kept from her.

I had heard no shouts, no sound of any search, either in the night nor
since daybreak, which seemed strange; and it had occurred to me that
_if_ the young fellow had been drowned this would be explained, for
those on the wherry might know nothing, thinking their visitors had
reached the shore, while those ashore might think they had stopped
overnight on board on account of the fog, and so no search would be
made, no alarm taken.

I asked whose was the boat they were in and which I had secured,
wondering if it would be missed.

"It belonged to a man in the village," she said. "We borrowed it because
the man who works the wherry for the Smalls was away for the night, and
we thought we would save Mr. Small the trouble of rowing us ashore so
late at night in his own boat."

"Was the owner waiting up for you to bring the boat back?" I asked.

"No, we promised to tie it up safely, so that he need not worry about
it," she answered.

So, there again, they would not be missed till the man failed to find
his boat, which might not be for hours yet. It seemed to me that I might
have the terrible duty of breaking the bad news of the loss of the young
man, instead of, as I had thought, the good tidings of the finding of
the lost girl.

But that remained to be proved, and I could only hope for the best.

In any case my duty was now plain, and with a few cheering words to my
companion, telling her that I was going to the village to report her
safety, and to send a messenger to her home that they might come and
fetch her, and would be back as soon as possible with (I hoped) the good
news of her brother's safety, I set off, early as it was, and rowed
myself ashore in the dinghy. I was glad to see that the fog was thinning
even then, and by the time I had landed and run along the towing