ghtly? The answering blood leapt in Anderson. She _had_ missed
him, though she would not show it.

Delaine began to question him about Saskatchewan. The Englishman's forms
of conversation were apt to be tediously inquisitive, and Anderson had
often resented them. To-day, however, he let himself be catechised
patiently enough, while all the time conscious, from head to foot, of
one person only--one near and yet distant person.

Elizabeth wore a dress of white linen, and a broad hat of soft blue. The
combination of the white and blue with her brown hair, and the pale
refinement of her face, seemed to him ravishing, enchanting. So were the
movements of her hands at work, and all the devices of her light
self-command; more attractive, infinitely, to his mature sense than the
involuntary tremor of girlhood.

"Hallo! What does Stewart want?" said Philip, raising himself in his
hammock. The hunter who had been the companion of his first unlucky
attempt at fishing was coming towards them. The boy sprang to the
ground, and, vowing that he would fish the following morning whatever
Elizabeth might say, went off to consult.

She looked after him with a smile and a sigh.

"Better give him his head!" laughed Anderson. Then, from where he stood,
he studied her a moment, unseen, except by Delaine, who was sitting
among the moss a few yards away, and had temporarily forgotten the
Cippus of Palestrina.

Suddenly the Canadian came forward.

"Have you explored that path yet, over the shoulder?" he said to Lady
Merton, pointing to the fine promontory of purple piny rock which jutted
out in front of the glacier on the southern side of the lake.

She shook her head; but was it not still too early and too hot to walk?
Anderson persisted. The path was in shade, and would repay climbing. She
hesitated--and yielded; making a show of asking Delaine to come with
them. Delaine also hesitated, and refrained; making a show of preferring
the "Archaeological Review." He was left to watch them mount the first
stretches of the trail; while Philip strolled along the lake with his
companion in the slouch hat and leggings, deep in tales of bass
and trout.

Elizabeth and Anderson climbed a long sloping ascent through the pines.
The air was warm and scented; the heat of the sun on the moistened earth
was releasing all its virtues and fragrances, overpowering in the open
places, and stealing even through the shadows. When the trees broke or
receded,