en the dinner-bell rang she passed her husband's door without, as
usual, knocking, and went down alone.

In the hall she noticed some of the English party of the mountain hut.
They did not greet her, conceiving an immediate interest in the
barometer; but she could feel them staring at her very hard. She sat down
to wait, and at once became conscious of the boy coming over from the
other side of the room, rather like a person walking in his sleep. He
said not a word. But how he looked! And her heart began to beat. Was
this the moment she had longed for? If it, indeed, had come, dared she
take it? Then she saw her husband descending the stairs, saw him greet
the English party, heard the intoning of their drawl. She looked up at
the boy, and said quickly: "Was it a happy day?" It gave her such
delight to keep that look on his face, that look as if he had forgotten
everything except just the sight of her. His eyes seemed to have in them
something holy at that moment, something of the wonder-yearning of Nature
and of innocence. It was dreadful to know that in a moment that look
must be gone; perhaps never to come back on his face--that look so
precious! Her husband was approaching now! Let him see, if he would!
Let him see that someone could adore--that she was not to everyone a
kind of lower animal. Yes, he must have seen the boy's face; and yet his
expression never changed. He noticed nothing! Or was it that he
disdained to notice?

VII

Then followed for young Lennan a strange time, when he never knew from
minute to minute whether he was happy--always trying to be with her,
restless if he could not be, sore if she talked with and smiled at
others; yet, when he was with her, restless too, unsatisfied, suffering
from his own timidity.

One wet morning, when she was playing the hotel piano, and he listening,
thinking to have her to himself, there came a young German
violinist--pale, and with a brown, thin-waisted coat, longish hair, and
little whiskers--rather a beast, in fact. Soon, of course, this young
beast was asking her to accompany him--as if anyone wanted to hear him
play his disgusting violin! Every word and smile that she gave him hurt
so, seeing how much more interesting than himself this foreigner was!
And his heart grew heavier and heavier, and he thought: If she likes him
I ought not to mind--only, I DO mind! How can I help minding? It was
hateful to see her smiling, and the young beast b