But the mere fact of anything being hidden from herself aroused another side of her nature, calling into play a spirit of self-assertive inquisitiveness. The secret and all who were concerned in it became at once in her eyes "fair game;" and she could know no rest till, by hook or by crook, she had discovered that which was hidden. Towards this end she would strain every nerve; nor would she be scrupulous in her methods. Not to be told what another might know, amounted to a personal grievance. Until the evening of the Petit Chamossaire expedition, she had looked upon Maurice as her own property. She was not so clear-sighted as she imagined. "Nothing ever escapes me!" was a pet phrase with her; yet a good deal did escape her. Once aroused, however, she could be sagacious enough. On the return of the two that evening, towards the close of table d'hôte, fresh from their day of intercourse, he must indeed have been nonobservant who should have seen nothing unusual in Maurice's look, however carefully repressed,—who should not have detected an unwonted brightness in Doris's eyes, and noted her soft brilliancy of colouring. The girl looked lovely,—no less! It was useless for them to expatiate on their ramble, on the views they had enjoyed, on the wondrous after-glow. No sunset hues on rocky heights had brought that look! "I know better!" Mrs. Brutt said to herself, and she waited to be informed. But she was not informed. It dawned upon her that, whatever might have passed, she was not to be told. Then she became angry. Since they did not choose to confide in her, she would find out for herself. With newly-quickened attention, she became aware of Maurice's absorption in Doris; of Doris's dreamy abstraction when he was absent; and also, not seldom, of a troubled expression in the girl's face. She observed too how each would quietly slip away after breakfast,—no doubt for a tête-à-tête elsewhere. "So very deceitful!" she said to herself. "So wrong of them!" All had happened rapidly, in few days. On this morning it occurred to her that, by an early call at the châlet, she might learn something. Before starting, she had seen Doris go down the village street, and perhaps the two might meet at the châlet. Finding her theory wrong, she had to hunt elsewhere. "Really, so underhand!" she repeated. Meeting on the road one of her new cronies, an English-speaking German lady, she expressed a wish to find her young charge; and the German lady pointed to a narrow path, ascending slantwise. "I haf seen her go dere sometimes." Mrs. Brutt thanked her, and proceeded to investigate. Using her eyes in all directions, she followed the path, seeing nought of beauty in mountain or valley; for her mind was taken up with one idea,—to find out whether Maurice and Doris had gone this way.