“Very well,” said Bruce Wylie. “At Glion we will advance to the next stage. It will be a more amusing one than the present, and will need skilful management. I must think things over. By the bye, she never mentions Ralph Denmead, her old playfellow. Have you lost sight of him?”
“She told me last Christmas that he was going most likely on some tour in Scotland. Here she comes, we will just ask her, but you need fear nothing in that quarter. It was just a natural childish friendship between the two. They know each other’s faults too well to fall in love.”
“I see that young Oxonian is persecuting her,” observed Bruce Wylie, watching a sunburnt undergraduate who had taken to following Evereld about on all occasions. She did not seem to be at all responsive, and her face lighted up most satisfactorily when she perceived Sir Matthew, while her companion was visibly chagrined.
“Watching the afterglow?” said Sir Matthew, as they approached.
“It’s hardly worth watching to-night,” said the Oxonian sulkily, as he noticed the alacrity with which Evereld moved towards Bruce Wylie. What the girl could see in this conceited fellow he could not imagine.
“We were just speaking of Ralph Denmead, Evereld,” said Sir Matthew. “Have you heard of him lately?”
“Yes, I hear from him now and then, and I saw him not so very long ago,” said Evereld. “He was with Macneillie’s Company when they were at Southbourne.” By a strong effort of self-control she kept both voice and manner perfectly calm and natural.
“Yes, he seems getting on very well. The Herefords knew something of Mr. Macneillie and they breakfasted with us sometimes. He has been very kind to Ralph.”
“Well I’m glad the boy has fallen on his feet,” said Sir Matthew. “I suppose there was a touch of genius about him, but he was not the least fit for the Indian Civil Service. Are you staying at Zermatt much longer?” he added, turning to young Dick Lewisham who was still one of the group.
“I am leaving to-morrow,” he replied, “and shall get on as far as Villeneuve, I think.”
“Ah yes, a charming hotel there,” said Sir Matthew, “and the lake in September is delightful.”
Having comfortably disposed of Mr. Lewisham in this fashion he was far from pleased when on the morning after their arrival at Glion he encountered him in the garden of the Rigi Vaudois.