t is Llanberis Pass, which all men knew the same."

Never did any gesture give a better welcome than the opening of that
door! We'd been too happy to know we were cold with the chill of the
mountains--half-seen shapes that hovered close, with white cascades like
ghosts flitting ever across their dimness; but when a glow of firelight
streamed out to greet us, suddenly we realized that we were shivering.

In the square hall, several men were talking together, men with Oxford
voices and open-air faces. In their midst was one man, much older,
grizzled and weather-beaten, not a gentleman in the conventional sense,
yet in listening to him the others had an air of deference, as if he
were a hero to the group. The four or five figures stood out like a
virile, impressionist sketch in black and brown on a red background; but
as we entered, welcomed by some pink-cheeked young hostess, the ruddy
light danced into our eyes. The men in front of the fire moved a little
as if to give place, and glances were thrown at us, while for an instant
the conversation flagged. Then the group was about to return to its own
interests, when suddenly, out from among the rest stepped the grizzled
man. He hesitated, as if uncertain whether or no to obey an impulse,
then came forward with a modest yet eager air.

"I can't be mistaken, sir, can I?" he asked. "It must be Mr. Pendragon--I
beg your pardon, Sir Li----"

"Why, Penrhyn!" cried Sir Lionel, not giving him time to finish; and
seizing one of the gnarled brown hands, he shook it as if he never meant
to stop. Both their faces had lighted up, and were beaming with joy. The
grizzled man seemed to have thrown off fifteen years in a minute, and
Sir Lionel looked like a boy of twenty-two. By this time everyone was
gazing--staring is too rude a word--and the other faces were beaming as
well, as if the most delightful thing had happened. I am sure that Sir
Lionel had forgotten the existence of us three females, and had rushed
back to the bright dawn of his youth. It was the light of that dawn I
saw on his face; and I found my heart beating with excitement, though I
didn't know why, or what it was all about.

"By Jove, Penrhyn, to think of your being the first man to greet me on
our old stamping-ground!" Sir Lionel exclaimed. "It seems too good to be
true. I've been thinking about you all day, and your face is a sight for
sore eyes."

"I'd rather see you, sir, than have a thousand pounds drop down on