ith a suspicious upward glance
from the fire.

"I don't mean Bob," said I, "or anything you may think I did for him or
you. I said just now that I didn't want to speak of it and no more I do.
Yet, as a matter of fact, I do want to speak to you about the lady in
that case."

Catherine's face betrayed the mixed emotions of relief and fresh alarm.

"You don't mean to say the creature--? But it's impossible. I heard from
Bob only this morning. He wrote so happily!"

I could not help smiling at the nature and quality of the alarm.

"They have seen nothing more of each other, if that's what you fear,"
said I. "But what I do want to speak about is this creature, as you call
her, and no one else. She has done nothing to deserve quite so much
contempt. I want you to be just to her, Catherine."

I was serious. I may have been ridiculous. Catherine evidently found me
so, for, after gauging me with that wry but humourous look which I knew
so well of old, for which I had been waiting this afternoon, she went
off into the decorous little fit of laughter in which it had invariably
ended.

"Forgive me, Duncan dear! But you do look so serious, and you _are_ so
dreadfully broad! I never was. I hope you remember that? Broad minds and
easy principles--the combination is inevitable. But, really though,
Duncan, is there anything to be said for her? Was she a possible
person, in any sense of the word?"

"Quite a probable person," I assured Catherine.

"But I have heard all sorts of things about her!"

"From Bob?"

"No, he never mentioned her."

"Nor me, perhaps?"

"Nor you, Duncan. I am afraid there may be just a drop of bad blood
there! You see, he looked upon you as a successful rival. You wrote and
told me so, if you remember, from some place on your way down from the
mountains. Your letter and Bob arrived the same night."

I nodded.

"It was so clever of you!" pursued Catherine. "Quite brilliant; but I
don't quite know what to say to your letting my baby climb that awful
Matterhorn; in a fog, too!"

And there was real though momentary reproach in the firelit face.

"I couldn't very well stop him, you know. Besides," I added, "it was
such a chance."

"Of what?"

"Of getting rid of Mrs. Lascelles. I thought you would think it worth
the risk."

"I do," declared Catherine, on due consultation with the fire. "I really
do! Bob is all I have--all I want--in this world, Duncan; and it may
seem a dreadful thing to say,