corsage of her aunt's dress, when Lynde reached the steps. Mrs. Denham's
features expressed no very deep anxiety that he could discover. That was
clearly a fiction of Miss Ruth's. Lynde resumed his place on the front
seat, and the horses started forward. He was amused and vexed at the
inconsequence of his interview with Miss Denham, and did not know
whether to be wholly vexed or wholly amused. He had, at least, broken
the ice, and it would be easier for him to speak when another
opportunity offered. She had understood, and had not repulsed him; she
had merely evaded him. Perhaps he had been guilty of a mismove in
attempting to take her at a disadvantage. He was too discreet to dream
of proposing any more walks. A short cut was plainly not the most direct
way to reach Miss Denham.

She was in livelier spirits now than she had been in at any time during
the day. "The exercise has done you good, Ruth," remarked Mrs. Denham;
"I am sorry I did not accept Mr. Lynde's invitation myself." Mr. Lynde
was also politely sorry, and Miss Ruth contributed her regrets with an
emphasis that struck Lynde as malicious and overdone.

Shortly before arriving at St. Martin, Miss Ruth broached her Montanvert
project, which, as she had prophesied, was coldly received by the aunt.
Lynde hastened to assure Mrs. Denham that the ascent was neither
dangerous nor difficult. Even guides were not necessary, though it was
convenient to have them to lead the animals. On the way up there were
excellent views of the Flegere and the Brevent. There was a capital inn
at the summit, where they could lunch, and from the cliff behind the inn
one could look directly down on the Mer de Glace. Then Lynde fell back
upon his Murray and Baedeker. It was here that Professor Tyndall spent
many weeks, at different times, investigating the theory of glacier
motion; and the Englishman's hut, which Goethe mentions in his visit to