Lady Merivale leaned forward and gave a sudden start.
"Look, look!" she cried in terror-stricken tones. "What is that?" She
pointed to a sheet of spray rising and falling a few yards from them, or
rather below them. Adrien turned his head to see the cause of her alarm,
and his very heart seemed to stop beating.
"Sit still," he cried, "for Heaven's sake. You have steered us near the
weir!"
With all his strength he started to row back. The strain was tremendous.
That line of silver spray marked their fall to instant and certain
death. No aid was possible; the solitude of the woods and lands was as
absolute as if they had been in an unknown country. All he could do was
to keep the woman in whose safety he was concerned quiet, if not
reassured, while he exerted every nerve in his body to withdraw the
little craft from the danger line.
"Cling to the boat," he shouted loudly, for the falling water rang in
his ears with a deafening roar.
As he spoke, the frail craft capsized, and its occupants were plunged
into the foaming, churning water. Leroy made a frantic grasp at his
companion's dress, but missed it. A second later, he saw, in the midst
of the foam, her slight form being carried down to the weir.
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