Suddenly she sat erect, looked, rubbed her eyes, looked again, then
sprang to her feet and went out into the driving rain. A spot of white,
a larger one of black, two moving pin-points of light, was what she saw.
The white was Rodney's shirt, the black the canoe, the pin-points the
reflection from the two-bladed paddle as, recklessly, he forced his way
with it into the teeth of the storm. He wanted her, after all.

So, with a racing heart and flushed cheeks, she watched him. It was not
until he had come much nearer that she went white with the realization
of his danger--not until she could see how desperately it needed all his
strength and skill to keep his little cockle-shell from broaching to
and being swamped.

[Illustration: "Oh, my dear! I didn't know!"]

She went as far to meet him as she could--out to the end of the point,
and then actually into the water to help him with the half-filled boat.

They emptied it and hauled it up on the beach. Then, looking up at him a
little tremulously, between a smile and tears, she saw how white he was,
caught him in her arms and felt how he was trembling.

"I thought you were gone," he said, but couldn't manage any more than
that because of a great shuddering sob that stopped him.

"Don't!" she cried. "Don't.--Oh, my dear! I didn't know!"

Presently, back in the shelter again, she drew his head down on her
breast and held him tight.