had the discipline been relaxed. She never attempted
to rebel openly. Her fear of her mother had become an integral part of
herself. Her spirit shrank before her fits of violence. But for her
father and Billy she sometimes thought that home would be an impossible
place.

But her affection for her father was of a very intense order. Lazy,
self-indulgent, supremely easy-going, yet possessed of a fascination that
had held her from babyhood, such was Guy Bathurst. Despised at least
outwardly by his wife and adored by his daughter, he went his indifferent
way, enjoying life as he found it and quite impervious to snubs.

"I never interfere with your mother," was a very frequent sentence on his
lips, and by that axiom he ruled his life, looking negligently on while
Dinah was bent without mercy to the wheel of tyranny.

He was fond of Dinah,--her devotion to him made that inevitable--but he
never obtruded his fondness to the point of interference on her behalf;
for both of them were secretly aware that the harshness meted out to her
had much of its being in a deep, unreasoning jealousy of that very
selfish fondness. They kept their affection as it were for strictly
private consumption, and it was that alone that made life at home
tolerable to Dinah.

For upon one point her father was insistent. He would not part with her
unless she married. He did not object to her working at home for his
comfort, but the idea of her working elsewhere and making her living was
one which he refused to consider. With rare self-assertion, he would not
hear of it, and when he really asserted himself, which was seldom, his
wife was wont to yield, albeit ungraciously enough, to his behest.

Besides Dinah was undoubtedly useful at home, and would certainly grow
out of hand if she left her.

Not very willingly had she agreed to let her go upon this Alpine jaunt
with the de Vignes, but Billy had been so keen, and the invitation would
scarcely have been extended to him alone.

The whole idea had originated between the heads of the two families,
riding home together after a day's hunting. Dinah had chanced to come
into the conversation, and the Colonel, comparing her with that of his
own daughter and being stirred to pity, had suggested that the two
children might like to join them on their forthcoming expedition.
Bathurst had at once accepted the tentative proposal, and had blurted
forth the whole matter to his assembled family on his return with