and with a shrug of the shoulders he turned his back on it. He dro

tulantly. "I was up too late last night. No, m

f April, 1897-such a morning as one finds at its best in the western suburbs of mighty London. The trees were in fresh leaf and bud, the crocuses were bloo

thought Jack, as he yawned and extended his arms. "Wha

s beguiling shape to lead him to a turning-point of his life-to steer him into the thick of troubled and restless waters, of gray clouds and threatening storms. He discarded his

mories of the past. He lingered for a moment by the stately house immortalized by Thackeray in Vanity Fair, and pictured Amelia Sedley rolling out of the gates in her father's carriage, while Becky Sharpe hurled the offending

wall of Devonshire House on his right, and on his left, far over hedges and orchards, the riverside houses of Barnes. He was almost sorry when he reached Maynard's boat-house, where he kept a

d not do it half ju

nd camp-chair. His vigorous strokes sent him rapidly by Strand-on-the-Green, that secluded bit of a village which so few Londoners have taken the trouble to search out. A narrow paved quay, fringed

ed under Kew Bridge, shot by Kew Gardens and ancient Brentford, and turned around off

w near Maynard's. "I should miss the river if I took a studio in town. I'll hav

p-stream within fifty yards of him, but at a safe distance to his right. The same glimpse revealed a pretty picture midway between himself and the vessel-a young girl approaching in a light Canadian canoe. She could not have been more than twenty, and the striking beauty of he

is fair young English maiden, if it did not weaken the citadel of his heart, at least made that o

en so lovely a face," he tho

houts and warning cries. He saw green waves approaching, flung up in the wake of the passing vessel. As he dropped the oars and leapt anxiously to his feet the frail canoe, unfitted to e

rd with desperate strokes. He saw the upturned canoe, the floating paddle, the half-submerge

lly long, and a hundred cheering voices rent the air as the young artist rose to view, keeping himself afloat

arply. "You are in no danger-I

e approaching from different directions. A grizzled waterman and his companion picked up the two and pulled them across to

a sovereign. A motherly woman took the half-dazed girl upstairs, and Jack was led into the oak-panelled parlor of the ol

said Jack. "But I hope you will attend to the

we all know Miss Madge Foster hereabouts. Sh

d better be

r at present, sir. Her father is in to

aid Jack. "I suppose the

him at once," the landlord promised.

he inn. An authoritative voice opened a way between them, and a man pushed through to the par