But long as the way was they enjoyed every rough step of it. For one thing it was a brighter day of mixed cloud and sunshine, which wrought most wonderful atmospheric effects on the soaring peaks and sweeping mountain-sides. Their road wound along the flanks of the Silvretta. Below them the Inn foamed white among its gray boulders. Innumerable valleys, each with its thread of rushing white water, debouched on either side and gave them wonderful peeps at the monarchs behind--the Oetztalers, the Ortlers, and the Silvrettas. Running water was everywhere--gray glacier streams and sparkling falls, and every here and there, on spurs of hills and vantage points, were the grim ruins of castles that had played their parts in the days of the Grey Leaguers and the Ten Droitures. But all this delectable outward circumstance was no more than exquisite setting for that which was within them, and each of these reacted on the other. Never had they found such charm in their surroundings before. Never before had surroundings so charming had such effect upon their spirits and feelings. They went along hand in hand at times like country lovers, and more than once their hearts broke into song as spontaneous as the lark’s, from simple joy of living. Lois’s voice, in the full rounded beauty of its two years’ careful cultivation at the Conservatorium, was a revelation to Ray and thrilled him to the depths. “My dear,” he said deeply, one time, “You have a gift of the gods. It would be a sin against humanity to deprive the world of it.” “Oh, you will let me sing even after we are married.” “Let you!... Am I a traitor to my kind? Let you, indeed! You will lift men’s souls with that voice. The world has need of you, my child, and what am I to say it nay?” “You’re the world to me. I’m glad it pleases you.” And maybe the menacing war-cloud, which could not be entirely excluded from their minds, but served to brighten their radiant enjoyment of that perfect day. Stars shine brightest in a winter-black sky. VIII They took the road very early again next morning, and turning their backs on the ruined castle of Süss and the triple peaks of Piz Mezdi, climbed steadily up past the long snow-galleries till they came to the mouth of the dreary Grialetsch Valley, with ragged Piz Vadret at its head; and there, with their backs against the road-mender’s hut, they sat for a long half-hour’s rest and the chance of passing a few words, for the road had claimed their breath as they climbed. It was all so lonely, so peaceful, so aloof from the storm and stress of life, and so altogether delightful, that it was only now and again that the appalling reason for their being there obtruded itself upon them. And whenever it did so it came with something of a shock.