ll?"

"It is heavenly," I replied. "I should be content to sit here for
days."

"I am content," he said; "there is grander scenery than this around
Zermatt--grander by far. At the other end of the valley you will see
and you will glory in the towering masses of crag and snow which the
Matterhorn and Breithorn present. You will see miles of glaciers and
sparkling waterfalls and a thousand wonders of God's providing; but it
was too cold and massive and hard to suit the mood of a dying man. I
wanted Nature in a kindlier temper, so I sit by the window and commune
with her, and she is always friendly."

There was a stool in the room, and I drew it up and sat at his feet
with one arm upon his knee, as I used to sit for hours in the days of
old, before my father's death left me solitary; and when the squire
placed a caressing hand upon my shoulder I could have thought that, a
chapter had been re-opened in the sealed pages of my life.

"Who is this Dr. Grey," I inquired, "whose charming little wife met me
at the station, and told me you are not going to die for a long
time?--for which I love her."

He smiled. "Grey is an optimist, my dear, and a downright good fellow,
and he has picked up a prize in his wife. They are on their
wedding-tour, as anyone quite unversed in that lore can see at a
glance; and they ought to have left Zermatt a week ago or more but they
have cheerfully stayed on to minister to the physical and mental
necessities of an old man and a stranger. Not many would have done it,
for they are sacrificing one of the most attractive programmes that
Switzerland offers, for my sake."

"What a lot of good people there are in the world," I said. "I am
going to like Dr. Grey as much as I like his wife. He is a big,
strong, well-developed man, of course?"

"Why 'of course?'?" he asked.

"Husbands of tiny wives invariably are; the infinitely small seems to
have a remarkable affinity for the infinitely great."

"Well, he is certainly a strapping fellow, and he is devoted to the wee
woman he has made his wife. I believe, too, he will get on in his
profession."

"His wife says he is a very clever man indeed," I remarked.

"Does she? An unbiassed opinion of that kind is valuable. All the
same, he has done me good, not so much with physic--for I take the
Zermatt man's concoctions--as with his cheery outlook. I believe he
thinks I am a trickster."

"Do you know what I believe, sir?" I asked.

"No;