The road was muddy, but they stepped out valiantly in their waterproofs and stout boots. The rain which hung threateningly above their heads did not daunt them, but gave a touch of romantic adventure to the expedition, as though it threatened to submerge them in an impending deluge. Once off the beaten road, and still toiling upwards, they occasionally missed the track, which was lost in a plashy bog, or under ferns dripping with rain, or struck across a wild growth of blue bilberries. They crossed the morass, using the rocks as stepping-stones; the old gentleman without help, and Eva with her hand in Frank's, fearing lest her little feet should slide on the smooth green moss. She laughed gaily, skipping from stone to stone with his help; sometimes suddenly slipping and supporting herself against his shoulder, and then again going on bravely, trying the stones with her stout stick. She felt as though she need take no particular heed, now that he was at her side; that he would support her if she stumbled; and they chatted eagerly as they went, almost leaping from rock to rock. "What sort of man is your friend, Mr. Westhove?" Eva suddenly inquired. Frank was a little startled; it was always an unpleasant task to give any information concerning Bertie, less on account of his past life than of his present position; his quiet sponging on himself, Frank, who, though enslaved by Bertie, knew full well that the situation was strange, to say the least of it, in the eyes of the world. "Oh, he is a man who has been very unfortunate," he said evasively, and he presently added: "Has he not made a pleasant impression on you?" Eva laughed so heartily that she was near falling into a pool of mud, if Frank had not firmly thrown his arm round her waist. "Eva, Eva!" cried her father, shaking his head, "pray be more careful!" Eva drew herself up with a slight blush. "What can I say?" she went on, pursuing the subject. "If I were to speak the whole truth--" "Of course." "But perhaps you will be vexed; for I can see very plainly that you are quite infatuated with your friend." "Then you do not like him?" "Well then--if you insist on knowing: the first day, when I made his acquaintance, I thought him insufferable. With you we got on famously at once, as an amusing travelling companion, but with him--but perhaps he has not travelled much?" "Oh yes, he has," said Frank, who could not help smiling. "Well, then, perhaps he was shy or awkward. However, I began to think differently of him after that; I don't think him insufferable now." It was strange, but Frank felt no particular satisfaction on hearing of the young lady's changed opinion; he made no reply.