There was one little excursion to Grindelwald and its glacier, and
later an ascent of the Schynige Platte. Even a desperate horror of
the rack and pinion railway up and down the steep mountain did not
daunt the incomparable chaperone. (True, she closed her eyes and
shrank as far away from the edge of eternity as possible, but she
stuck manfully to her post.) He dined with them on the two evenings,
and with them heard the concerts.
There were times when he was perplexed, and uncertain of her. At no
time did she relax into what might have been considered a receptive
or even an encouraging mood. He watched eagerly for the love-light
that he hoped to surprise in her eyes, but it never appeared. She was
serene, self-contained, natural. That momentary dissolving on her
part when she sat with him in the shadows was the only circumstance
he had to base his hopes upon. She had betrayed herself then by word
and manner, but now she had her emotions well in hand.
Her lovely eyes met his frankly and without the faintest sign of
diffidence or self-consciousness.
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