welt clearly and distinctly upon my ear. Still half asleep, I
sank back again and listened.

"Flower of the May,
Saw ye one pass?
'Love passed to-day
While the dawn was,
O, but the eyes of him shone as a glass.'"

The low, delicate notes came tremulous through the thicket.
The blackbird was hushed, the trees overhead swayed soundlessly, and
when the voice fell and paused, so deep was the silence that
involuntarily I held my breath and waited. Presently it broke out
again--

"Bird of the thorn,
What his attire?
'Lo! it was torn,
Marred with the mire,
And but the eyes of him sparkled with fire.'"

Again the voice died away in soft cadences, and again all was
silence. I rose once more upon my elbow, and gazed into the green
depths of the wood; but saw only the blackbird perched upon a twig
and listening with head askew.

"Flower of the May,
Bird of the--"

The voice quivered, trailed off and stopped. I heard a rustling of
leaves to the right, and then the same voice broke out in prose, in
very agitated and piteous prose--"Oh, my boat! my boat! What shall I
do?"

I jumped to my feet, caught a glimpse of something white, and of
two startled but appealing eyes, then tore down to the bank.
There, already twenty yards downstream, placidly floated the boat,
its painter trailing from the bows, and its whole behaviour pointing
to a leisurely but firm resolve to visit Pangbourne.

My own boat was close at hand. But when did hot youth behave with
thought in a like case? I did as ninety-nine in a hundred would do.
I took off my coat, kicked off my shoes, and as the voice cried,
"Oh, please, do not trouble," plunged into the water. The refractory
boat, once on its way, was in no great hurry, and allowed itself to
be overtaken with great good-humour. I clambered in over the stern,
caught up the sculls which lay across the thwarts, and, dripping but
triumphant, brought my captive back to shore.

"How can I thank you?"

If my face was red as I looked up, it must be remembered that I had
to stoop to make the boat fast. If my eyes had a tendency to look
down again, it must be borne in mind that the water from my hair was
dripping into them. They gazed for a moment, however, and this was
what they saw:--

At first only another pair of eyes, of dark grey eyes twinkling with
a touch of merriment, though full at the same time of honest
grati