The composition of the party left Marcia and Halleck necessarily to each other, and she accepted this arrangement in a sort of passive seriousness; but Halleck saw that her thoughts wandered from her talk with him, and that her eyes were always turning with painful anxiety to Bartley. After their lunch, which left them with the whole afternoon before them, Marcia said, in a timid effort to resume her best leadership of the affair, “Bartley, don't you think they would like to see the view from the Devil's Backbone?” “Would you like to see the view from the Devil's Backbone?” he asked in turn of Mrs. Macallister. “And _what_ is the Devil's Backbone?” she inquired. “It's a ridge of rocks on the bluff above here,” said Bartley, nodding his head vaguely towards the bank. “And _how_ do you get to it?” asked Mrs. Macallister, pointing her pretty chin at him in lifting her head to look. “Walk.” “Thanks, then; I shall try to be satisfied with me own backbone,” said Mrs. Macallister, who had that freedom in alluding to her anatomy which marks the superior civilization of Great Britain and its colonial dependencies. “Carry you,” suggested Bartley. “I dare say you'd be very sure-footed; but I'd quite enough of donkeys in the hills at home.” Bartley roared with the resolution of a man who will enjoy a joke at his own expense. Marcia turned away, and referred her invitation, with a glance, to Olive. “I don't believe Miss Halleck wants to go,” said Mr. Macallister. “I couldn't,” said Olive, regretfully. “I've neither the feet nor the head for climbing over high rocky places.” Marcia was about to sink down on the grass again, from which she had risen, in the hopes that her proposition would succeed, when Bartley called out: “Why don't you show Ben the Devil's Backbone? The view is worth seeing, Halleck.” “Would you like to go?” asked Marcia, listlessly. “Yes, I should, very much,” said Halleck, scrambling to his feet, “if it won't tire you too much?” “Oh, no,” said Marcia, gently, and led the way. She kept ahead of him in the climb, as she easily could, and she answered briefly to all he said. When they arrived at the top, “There is the view,” she said coldly. She waved her hand toward the valley; she made a sound in her throat as if she would speak again, but her voice died in one broken sob. Halleck stood with downcast eyes, and trembled. He durst not look at her, not for what he should see in her face, but for what she should see in his: the anguish of intelligence, the helpless pity. He beat the rock at his feet with the ferule of his stick, and could not lift his head again. When he did, she stood turned from him and drying her eyes on her handkerchief. Their looks met, and she trusted her self-betrayal to him without any attempt at excuse or explanation. “I will send Hubbard up to help you down,” said Halleck. “Well,” she answered, sadly.