look ingenuous, but perhaps that's deceptive, in a way. I mean that I
didn't quite understand you until you told us about your adventures in
Scotland."

"Ah!" said Foster, "Carmen once said something like that, but she was
blunt. She told me I wasn't quite such a fool as I look. However, I
haven't much ground for boasting about my exploits. The main results
were that I got myself suspected by the police, warned off Daly, and
made Lawrence's father think I had murdered him. Now I'd much rather
look a simpleton than a homicide!"

Lucy laughed, but her eyes were soft. "We all make mistakes, Mr.
Foster, but your object was good. Besides, I feel that you will carry
it out."

Foster hesitated for a few moments, studying the girl. She had courage
and he liked the way she took care of his comrade. In some respects,
Lawrence needed to be guarded.

"I hoped you would stop when your mother went," he said.

She nodded. "Yes; I knew you had something to say."

"It's important. But first of all, I expect you had a bad time when
Lawrence didn't come back from the mountain."

"I shall not forget it," Lucy said with a shudder. "While I waited and
wondered why he didn't come I thought the anxiety intolerable, but it
was worse after we met Walters and the drunken guide. He wanted to
join us, but I knew he was somehow to blame."

"Afterwards you had to wait alone upon the glacier. That wouldn't make
you think any better of him."

"It did not," Lucy agreed, with a hard, fixed look. "I--you see,
Lawrence was my lover--I spent two or three hours in agonizing
suspense. I knew what I should feel when I stopped, but couldn't go on
with the others, because I might have kept them back. It was freezing
hard and now and then a little snow fell, but I scarcely noticed this;
I was listening, as I hope I shall never listen again. Sometimes the
ice cracked and a snow-bridge fell into the crevasse, but that was all,
and afterwards the silence was awful. It seemed as if the men would
never come. I couldn't go to meet them because of the crevasse; I
dream about the horrible black opening yet. Lawrence was on the other
side, out of my reach; he might be slowly freezing on the _couloir_,
and I couldn't help. But I knew he was suffering for Walters'
negligence or perhaps his treachery."

Foster made a sign of sympathetic comprehension. "You hate him for
this?"

"Yes," said Lucy frankly; "but not altogether because I'm vind