Like many who are not afraid of the ocean, she held
ponds and lakes in abhorrence, and fear kept her from going with us.
Harry Lothrop offered to stay with her, and take lines to fish from the
bridge. She assented, and, after we pushed off, they strolled away.
The lake was as smooth and white as silver beneath the afternoon sun
and a windless sky; it was bordered with a mound of green bushes,
beyond which stretched deep pine woods. There was no shade, and we soon
grew weary. Jack Parker caught all the fish, which flopped about our
feet. A little way down, where the lake narrowed, we saw Laura and
Harry Lothrop hanging over the bridge.
"They must be interested in conversation," I thought; "he has not
lifted his line out of the water once."
Redmond, too, looked over that way often, and at last said,--
"We will row up to the bridge, and walk back to the house, if you,
Maurice, will take the boat to the little pier again."
"Oh, yes," said Maurice.
We came to the bridge, and Laura reached out her hand to me.
"Why, dear!" she exclaimed, "you have burnt your face. Why did you,"
turning to Redmond, "paddle about so long in the hot sun?"
Her words were light enough, but the tone of her voice was savage.
Redmond looked surprised; he waved his hand deprecatingly, but said
nothing.
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