Bruce Wylie saw the blush and was pleased. He entirely misunderstood it, and might have proposed to her at that very minute, had not some very dirty little children besieged them just then with the usual request for money. The straggling street of Vernayaz was not the place for a private conversation, he would wait till later in the day. After a merry lunch at the hotel with Minnie and Major Gillot they all went together to see the Gorge de Trient, and here he contrived to fall behind on the pretext of pointing out some particularly striking effect to Evereld as they threaded their way through the awful ravine with its foaming white torrent and its towering heights above. But his effort was useless, for something in the majesty of this great rock, cleft so strangely, had filled Evereld with awe; she was thinking her own thoughts and was quite unresponsive to all his attempts to draw her into conversation. “It feels like a church,” she said once as they paused for a few minutes, and Bruce Wylie anxious not to jar upon her in any way, relapsed into silence. Emerging at length from the cool shade of the Gorge de Trient, they returned to the hotel, Major Gillot ordered coffee, and Bruce Wylie took the opportunity to draw him aside and suggest a change of programme. “Sir Matthew gave me leave to take Evereld on to Finshauts if she liked the idea,” he said. “Let us all meet at the station. But don’t wait for us if we chance to be late. Lady Mactavish might be anxious. I will bring her on by the next train in any case.” “All right,” said the Major, paying no very great heed to the words, and well pleased to be left with Minnie for the rest of the time. “Evereld,” said Bruce Wylie, rejoining the ladies, “I don’t know what you will say to the notion, but it seems to me very hot down in this place, and we have still some hours before us. I find there is a most beautiful drive to a place called Finshauts up in the mountains, with a very fine view of Mont Blanc. Shall you and I make a pilgrimage up there and leave Miss Mactavish and Major Gillot to enjoy this garden in peace?” “I think it would be lovely,” said Evereld, her eyes lighting up. “I have been longing to get to the top ever since we came here.” Bruce Wylie was pleased that she should fall in with the idea, and went off at once to order a carriage, but perhaps her delighted acquiescence troubled him a little, for he made several attempts to justify his scheme to his own conscience.