“Indeed I think you had better not meet him with your eyes as red as that,” said Minnie with a laugh. “There’s no need for you to see him till dinner-time, for he has gone down to Montreux to talk over the arrangements for tomorrow with Mamma and Lady Mount Pleasant.” There was something comforting in Minnie’s kindly manner, though Evereld vehemently dissented in her own mind from all her arguments. She obeyed her, however, and stopped crying, and even found temporary comfort in the afternoon tea which has a way of tasting so supremely good when made by oneself abroad. Later on they walked down the Gorge de Chaudron, where already the trees were arraying themselves in the lovely tints of early autumn. The two lovers walked a little ahead. Evereld followed slowly and thoughtfully, regaining her habitual strength and quietness of mind as she walked, by slow degrees. There was something in her face which puzzled Bruce Wylie when he met her again that evening at dinner. She looked older, even he could have fancied thinner, since the morning. He left her unmolested till the meal was over, but joined her directly afterwards in the entrance hall, where in the evening people were wont to lounge and chat unceremoniously. He was discussing thought-reading with a young American girl and skilfully inveigled Evereld into the conversation. In old times she had always felt an interest in experiments of this sort; to-night she felt that not for the world would she permit Bruce Wylie to touch her. “Let us show Miss Upton the experiment we tried at Zermatt,” said Bruce Wylie. “It was a brilliant success there.” “I would rather not to-night,” said Evereld colouring. “I am tired.” “Oh, try just once,” he said persuasively. But she shook her head. “I must appeal to your guardian,” he said, laughing. “Sir Matthew, we want you to persuade your ward to do the pin-finding trick.” Rightly or wrongly, Evereld was convinced that if she now yielded her mind up to him he might abuse his power over her and weaken her resistance to his other wishes. She stood at bay conscious that many eyes were turned upon her, determined not to yield, yet puzzled as to how she was to proceed. “Why Evereld, dear,” said Sir Matthew in his hearty penetrating voice, “of course you will oblige us all. You are a capital hand at this sort of thing.” She turned to the pretty American girl, feeling that her only chance was to appeal to her. She seemed a clever, observant girl, surely she could be made to understand without words. “I am so sorry,” she said, “to be obliged to say ‘no’ to-night. But I am tired and am going up to bed. Won’t you try the thought-reading?” Her clear blue eyes looked straight into the bright eyes of little Miss Upton, saying as plainly as eyes could express the thought, “Help me out of this dilemma.” And the American responded instantly to the appeal.