nsive downward glance that no other windows of the hotel-front
were open. The young man seemed tremendously moved, far too much so to
talk. Thorpe ventured once some remarks about the Mexican mountains,
which were ever so much bigger, as he remembered them, but Alfred paid
no heed. He continued to gaze across the lake, watching in rapt silence
one facet after another catch the light, and stand out from the murky
gloom, radiantly white, till at last the whole horizon was a mass of
shining minarets and domes, and the sun fell full on his face. Then,
with a long-drawn sigh, he turned, re-entered the room, and threw
himself into a chair.

"It's too good!" he declared, with a half-groan. "I didn't know it would
be like that."

"Why nothing's too good for us, man," his uncle told him.

"THAT is," said the boy, simply, and Thorpe, after staring for a moment,
smiled and rang the bell for breakfast.

When Julia made her appearance, a few minutes later, the table was
already laid, and the waiter was coming in with the coffee.

"I thought we'd hurry up breakfast," her uncle explained, after she
had kissed him and thanked him for the sunrise he had so successfully
predicted--"because I knew you'd both be crazy to get out."

He had not over-estimated their eagerness, which was so great, indeed,
that they failed to note the excessive tranquility of his own demeanour.
He ate with such unusual deliberation, on this exciting morning, that
they found themselves at the end of their repast when, apparently, he
had but made a beginning.

"Now you mustn't wait for me at all," he announced to them then. "I'm a
little tired this morning--and I think I'd just like to lie around and
smoke, and perhaps read one of your novels. But you two must get your
things on and lose no time in getting out. This is the very best time of
day, you know--for Alpine scenery. I'd hate to have you miss any of it."

Under his kindly if somewhat strenuous insistence, they went to their
rooms to prepare for an immediate excursion. He was so anxious to have
them see all there was to be seen that, when Julia returned, properly
cloaked and befurred, and stood waiting at the window, he scolded a
little.

"What on earth is that boy doing?" he exclaimed, with a latent snarl in
his tone which was novel to her ear. "He'll keep you here till noon!"

"He's shaving, I think. He won't be long," she replied, with great
gentleness. After a moment's pause, she turned from