She recognised in him the "sinister" individual of Bex; but she promptly dropped that adjective, and substituted "delightful." He was really such a clever young fellow!—so observant!—so thoughtful!— so sympathetic! Such penetration! He had read her whole constitution at a glance-positively at one glance. Mrs. Brutt prided herself on the abnormal complexity of her make, transcending the complexities of less distinguished beings; and she felt that never before had it been so truly perused. Perhaps this came near the mark. Maurice had penetrating eyes, and he read her in more ways than one. If he took particular pains to ingratiate himself with the widow, it was hardly for her own sake. CHAPTER XVIII On the Mountain "YES, we think you can do it." Maurice spoke aloud, scanning the girl with thoughtful eyes. "Pressford is sure. You are a born climber. But you must make up your mind to obey orders implicitly." He spoke in a tone of half apology, having found in her by this time an impulsive tendency to insist on her own way. Her face glowed. "I'll be sure. Oh, I promise—anything you like. If only I may go! Is the Glückhorn a good height?" "About twelve thousand feet. It's a peak of medium difficulty; not beyond a beginner of your calibre. Pressford has never been up it; but he has made full inquiries. There's only one really stiff bit; and we'll have you up that between us. Given a fine day, it will be all right." Then he went into the question of preparations. Under the combined skill of Maurice and Mrs. Pressford, Ramsay was by this time on the high road to convalescence. He had narrowly escaped a dangerous operation; but he had escaped it; and Maurice could at last venture on a long day's absence. Mrs. Brutt offered no objections to the proposed ascent. She was completely captured by the young surgeon's attentions to herself; and she nursed the agreeable delusion that his kindness to Doris was solely on her account. She flattered herself that he found her as "delightful" as she found him. Really, she repeatedly said, he had done so much for her!—it was quite amazing!—she began to feel like a different being. She almost believed that she might herself climb one of the mountains. Well, not the Glückhorn, exactly, but another, just a trifle easier. She could assure Mr. Maurice that she had been in the past a capital climber, quite light-footed—in fact, gazelle-like. And with Mr. Maurice's help— Maurice listened with praiseworthy patience; but he did not encourage the notion of gazelle-like friskiness in perilous places. A timely reference to the beloved topic of her varying temperature turned the conversation into a safer channel.