aware that it would not do for him to arrive without them. The
thought goaded him from his seat, and he joined the upward procession of
his fellow-sick, as it met another procession straggling downward; the
ways branched in all directions, with people on them everywhere, bent
upon building up in a month the health which they would spend the rest
of the year in demolishing.

He came upon his charges unexpectedly at a turn of the path, and Miss
Triscoe told him that he ought to have been with them for the view from
the Hirschensprung. It was magnificent, she said, and she made Burnamy
corroborate her praise of it, and agree with her that it was worth the
climb a thousand times; he modestly accepted the credit she appeared
willing to give him, of inventing the Hirschensprung.

XXXI.

Between his work for Stoller and what sometimes seemed the
obstructiveness of General Triscoe, Burnamy was not very much with
Miss Triscoe. He was not devout, but he went every Sunday to the pretty
English church on the hill, where he contributed beyond his means to the
support of the English clergy on the Continent, for the sake of looking
at her back hair during the service, and losing himself in the graceful
lines which defined, the girl's figure from the slant of her flowery
hat to the point where the pewtop crossed her elastic waist. One happy
morning the general did not come to church, and he had the fortune to
walk home with her to her pension, where she lingered with him a moment,
and almost made him believe she might be going to ask him to come in.

The next evening, when he was sauntering down the row of glittering
shops beside the Tepl, with Mrs. March, they overtook the general and
his daughter at a place where the girl was admiring some stork-scissors
in the window; she said she wished she were still little, so that she
could get them. They walked home with the Triscoes, and then he hurried
Mrs. March back to the shop. The man had already put up his shutters,
and was just closing his door, but Burnamy pushed in, and asked to look
at the stork-scissors they had seen in the window. The gas was out, and
the shopman lighted a very dim candle, to show them.

"I knew you wanted to get them for her, after what she said, Mrs.
March," he laughed, nervously, "and you must let me lend you the money."

"Why, of course!" she answered, joyfully humoring his feint. "Shall I
put my card in for the man to send home to her with them?"