to the summit,
and go back by the Tip-top House. It does not look so from a little
distance, but there is a rough, zigzag sort of path on one side of the
amphitheatre, and I found this, and scrambled up. When I reached the top
the sun was shining, and although there was nothing around me but piles
of granite rocks, without any sign of a path, I knew that I had my
bearings so that I could either reach the house or a path leading to it.
I stretched myself out to rest a few moments, and suddenly the scene
was completely shut in by a fog. [Irene put out her hand and touched
King's.] I couldn't tell where the sun was, or in what direction the hut
lay, and the danger was that I would wander off on a spur, as the lost
usually do. But I knew where the ravine was, for I was still on the edge
of it."

"Why," asked Irene, trembling at the thought of that danger so long
ago--"why didn't you go back down the ravine?"

"Because," and King took up the willing little hand and pressed it to
his lips, and looked steadily in her eyes--"because that is not my
way. It was nothing. I made what I thought was a very safe calculation,
starting from the ravine as a base, to strike the Crawford bridle-path
at least a quarter of a mile west of the house. I hit it--but it shows
how little one can tell of his course in a fog--I struck it within a
rod of the house! It was lucky for me that I did not go two rods further
east."

Ah me! how real and still present the peril seemed to the girl! "You
will solemnly promise me, solemnly, will you not, Stanhope, never to go
there again--never--without me?"

The promise was given. "I have a note," said King, after the promise was
recorded and sealed, "to show you. It came this morning. It is from Mrs.
Bartlett Glow."

"Perhaps I'd rather not see it," said Irene, a little stiffly.

"Oh, there is a message to you. I'll read it."

It was dated at Newport.

"MY DEAR STANHOPE,--The weather has changed. I hope it is more
congenial where you are. It is horrid here. I am in a bad humor,
chiefly about the cook. Don't think I'm going to inflict a letter
on you. You don't deserve it besides. But I should like to know
Miss Benson's address. We shall be at home in October, late, and I
want her to come and make me a little visit. If you happen to see
her, give her my love, and believe me your affectionate cousin,
PENELOPE."

The next day they explored the wonders of t