'The prospect will be very lovely from this point when the fog has blown off,' said Lord Mountclere faintly, for climbing and chattering at the same time had fairly taken away his breath. He leant against the masonry to rest himself. 'The air is clearing already; I fancy I saw a sunbeam or two.' 'It will be lovelier above,' said Ethelberta. 'Let us go to the platform at the base of the fleche, and wait for a view there.' 'With all my heart,' said her attentive companion. They passed in at a door and up some more stone steps, which landed them finally in the upper chamber of the tower. Lord Mountclere sank on a beam, and asked smilingly if her ambition was not satisfied with this goal. 'I recollect going to the top some years ago,' he added, 'and it did not occur to me as being a thing worth doing a second time. And there was no fog then, either.' 'O,' said Ethelberta, 'it is one of the most splendid things a person can do! The fog is going fast, and everybody with the least artistic feeling in the direction of bird's-eye views makes the ascent every time of coming here.' 'Of course, of course,' said Lord Mountclere. 'And I am only too happy to go to any height with you.' 'Since you so kindly offer, we will go to the very top of the spire--up through the fog and into the sunshine,' said Ethelberta. Lord Mountclere covered a grim misgiving by a gay smile, and away they went up a ladder admitting to the base of the huge iron framework above; then they entered upon the regular ascent of the cage, towards the hoped- for celestial blue, and among breezes which never descended so low as the town. The journey was enlivened with more breathless witticisms from Lord Mountclere, till she stepped ahead of him again; when he asked how many more steps there were. She inquired of the man in the blue blouse who accompanied them. 'Fifty- five,' she returned to Lord Mountclere a moment later. They went round, and round, and yet around. 'How many are there now?' Lord Mountclere demanded this time of the man. 'A hundred and ninety, Monsieur,' he said. 'But there were only fifty-five ever so long ago!' 'Two hundred and five, then,' said the man. 'Perhaps the mist prevented Mademoiselle hearing me distinctly?' 'Never mind: I would follow were there five thousand more, did Mademoiselle bid me!' said the exhausted nobleman gallantly, in English. 'Hush!' said Ethelberta, with displeasure. 'He doesn't understand a word,' said Lord Mountclere. They paced the remainder of their spiral pathway in silence, and having at last reached the summit, Lord Mountclere sank down on one of the steps, panting out, 'Dear me, dear me!' Ethelberta leaned and looked around, and said, 'How extraordinary this is. It is sky above, below, everywhere.'