ing of a Mystery

"There was the secret . . .
Hid in . . . grey, young eyes."
--ALICE MEYNELL.

"Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more."
--WALT WHITMAN.

In my opinion it is a sign of strength rather than of weakness, to
change one's mind with a good grace. For my part, I find pleasure in
the experience, feeling refreshed by it, as if I had had a bath, and
got into clean linen after a hot walk. Changing the mind gives also
somewhat the same sensation as waking in the morning with the
consciousness that no one on earth has ever seen this day before; or
the satisfaction one has on breaking an egg, the inside of which no
human eye has beheld until that moment. A change of mind bestows on
one for the time being a new Ego; therefore I did not grudge myself my
delight in the once despised Rhone Valley. Nevertheless, I was glad
that the Mule of Brig had been one with which I could conscientiously
decline to associate. My resolve not to take a pack-mule there had
become so fixed, that to have uprooted it would have seemed a
confession of failure. Besides, the need to go on to Martigny had
given an excuse for another day with Jack, Molly, and Mercedes.

I had been as happy as a man whose duty it is to be broken-hearted,
may dare to be. But the next morning came at Martigny, and with my
bath the news that the five promised men with their five mules awaited
my choice.

I had secretly hoped that the day might be mule-less till evening, for
in that case Jack and Molly would probably stay on, and I should not
be left alone in the world until to-morrow.

However, it was not to be. I gave myself the satisfaction of keeping
the mules waiting, on the principle of always doing unto others what
they have done unto you; and after a leisurely toilet, I went down to
hold the review.

Four men, with four mules, started forward eagerly, jostling each
other, at sight of me accompanied by the landlord. But one held back a
little, with a modest dignity, as if he were too proud to push himself
into notice, or too generous to exalt himself at the expense of
others. He was a slim, dark man of middle height, past thirty in age,
perhaps, with a look of the soldier in the bearing of his shoulders
and head. He had very short black hair; high cheekbones, where the
rich brown of his skin was touched with russet; deep-set, thoughtful
eyes, and a melancholy droop o