Far away is the lonely sea. This
friendly river may laugh or brawl as it will, but there is peace for it
at last; its varying voices must eventually disappear in the dull, slow
tumult of the distant world. And yet it seemed to him to complain as it
went by--to appeal to him; and yet why to him, if he, too, was summoned
away from this still solitude and sucked into a murmuring ocean still
more awful than the sea?
"Well done, Miss Honnor!" old Robert called out.
Suddenly startled from his idle reverie, Lionel beheld the line being
swiftly taken across to the other side of the river, sending up a little
spurt of spray as it cleft the current.
"A good one this time, Robert, isn't it?" she cried.
"Ay, I'm thinking that's a good fish," old Robert made answer, as he
rose from the bank and came down to her side.
"And there's a fair field and no favor," she continued. "Plenty of room
for him--and he doesn't seem inclined to tug."
No, this was not a "jiggering" fish; but he was a pretty lively
customer, for all that, as they were soon to find out. For, after having
rested for a minute or so, he made a wild rush up-stream, still on the
other side, that took a dangerous length of line out and kept her
running after him, and winding up when possible as well as she was able.
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