“How that old buffer does detest me,” he reflected. “I begin to think he is bent on marrying his pretty ward to that beast Wylie, and is afraid I shall spoil sport. A likely thing when she will give me nothing but snubs the moment I show a spark of sentiment. Is it possible though that such a girl can care for a regular man of the world thirty years older than herself? I’ll never believe it. There’s a mystery somewhere. I shall stay here and watch how things go.” Evereld greeted him pleasantly, but not at all warmly when she encountered him after table d’ hôte. She could have liked him extremely if his attentions had been a little less overwhelming, or if she could have told him of Ralph. As it was, he frightened her, and she was too much of a novice to know the best way to steer her course. She invariably fled for refuge to her old friend, Bruce Wylie, little dreaming that by so doing she might confirm the gentle hints which Sir Matthew and Lady Mactavish began to drop cautiously among their acquaintance in the hotel. People enjoy few things more during their idle holiday hours in a health resort than watching any little drama that may happen to be taking place before them. Evereld with her sweet innocent face turning to the old friend of her childhood and apparently encouraging him in every way while she sedulously snubbed the young Oxonian, was a spectacle that greatly pleased and edified the English visitors at the Rigi Vaudois. It began to be rumoured that Mr. Lewisham was only running after her money, that Bruce Wylie saw it all plainly enough, but that he was practically sure that little Miss Ewart was attached to him. That in fact an engagement might be declared at any moment. Something of this sort reached the ears of Dick Lewisham, and so angered him that he determined to find out the truth for himself. It happened that there was a dance in the hotel that evening, He knew that Evereld would not refuse to dance with him, and having secured her as his partner for the first _pas de quatre_, he afterwards persuaded her to come out on to the terrace. The garden was deserted, and Dick Lewisham plunged straight into the subject which was filling his mind. He was a very honest, outspoken sort of fellow, and he began to fancy that Evereld would not so openly encourage Bruce Wylie had she known that people were beginning to comment on it. “Miss Ewart,” he said abruptly. “These little English colonies are always hot-beds of gossip. And in this case the gossip I have just heard tends to explain your marked coldness to me. I think there is no need for me to tell you of my love--of----” “Oh, stop, stop,” said Evereld, “I can’t let you say that. I tried so hard to show you that I couldn’t care.” Her distress struck him speechless for a moment; instinctively they walked on to a more sheltered corner of the garden. “It is true then--you already care for--this other.”