the spot, was that at the end of a very short time Archie proposed to
her to take a turn with him in his boat, which awaited us at the foot of
the steps. She looked at her mother with a smiling "May I, mamma?" and
Mrs. Pallant answered "Certainly, darling, if you're not afraid." At
this--I scarcely knew why--I sought the relief of laughter: it must have
affected me as comic that the girl's general competence should suffer
the imputation of that particular flaw. She gave me a quick slightly
sharp look as she turned away with my nephew; it appeared to challenge
me a little--"Pray what's the matter with YOU?" It was the first
expression of the kind I had ever seen in her face. Mrs. Pallant's
attention, on the other hand, rather strayed from me; after we had been
left there together she sat silent, not heeding me, looking at the lake
and mountains--at the snowy crests crowned with the flush of evening.
She seemed not even to follow our young companions as they got into
their boat and pushed off. For some minutes I respected her mood; I
walked slowly up and down the terrace and lighted a cigar, as she had
always permitted me to do at Homburg. I found in her, it was true,
rather a new air of weariness; her fine cold well-bred face was pale; I
noted in it new lines of fatigue, almost of age. At last I stopped in
front of her and--since she looked so sad--asked if she had been having
bad news.

"The only bad news was when I learned--through your nephew's note to
Linda--that you were coming to us."

"Ah then he wrote?"

"Certainly he wrote."

"You take it all harder than I do," I returned as I sat down beside her.