Virginia always had confided in Constance. That desire to communicate, so natural in youth, was strong in the girl. In Hazel, she had been met with a sort of pity, till she ceased to touch upon girlish secrets with her altogether, but in Constance she found one who would not chide even folly, and so these two were, by the nature of things, very close friends. "There, dear heart," soothingly said Constance, "rest awhile, for I know the pain must be severe." Rutley was an involuntary witness to this bit of feminine sympathy, and, no doubt, recalled it to memory in the events that were to come. His immediate concern, however, expressed itself in a cold, matter-of-fact manner. "Oftentimes," he said, "the protection supplied by nature to the human eye seems insufficient, and consequent suffering must be endured. I trust Miss Thorpe will soon find relief." "Oh! I am sure the pain is only temporary," half rebelliously replied Virginia, drawing away from Constance, and rapidly recovering her self-possession, as she brushed the tears from her eyes. "There," she said, "it is passing away now, and I can see quite distinctly already. Why, how like your lordship resembles a past acquaintance," she remarked, as she eyed him critically. "Indeed, if the acquaintance you mention was not consigned to the gallows, it might be no sin to resemble him," responded Rutley, stroking his Vandyke beard. "Oh! his offense was quite serious, poor fellow! Some shady bond transaction with an investment association, in which he, and one Jack Shore, were the officers. I have heard that the directors agreed not to prosecute them on condition that they left the city and never returned." "In England, were it not for the color of my hair, I should have been taken often for the Marquis of Revelstoke," and to the girl's dismay, he stiffened up and directed on her a most austere and frigid look, then deliberately fixed the monocle to his eye, and remarked, as his frame faintly quivered, as with a slight chill--"It's deuced draughty, don't-che-know!" He then removed the monocle, and suddenly resumed his habitually suave manner. Picking up a binocle, which lay on the table, he turned to look toward Mt. Hood--"Sublime!" he exclaimed. "It is very beautiful and white today," remarked Constance. "Indeed," assured Rutley, "it seems close enough to touch with my outstretched hand." "My lord's arm would need to be thirty miles long," smiled Mrs. Thorpe, who was then ascending the steps. "A long reach," responded Rutley, lowering the glass. "The illusion is due to our clear atmosphere," replied Mrs. Thorpe. "I presume so," agreed Rutley. "At times the air is phenomenally clear. One day this past Summer I fancied I could make out the 'Mazamas,' who were then ascending the mountain," quietly remarked Virginia.