Thence the usual route is followed by the arête, now ice, now rock, not only narrow but steeply ascending. If the leader, as he cuts steps up the knife-edge of ice, should slip and fall, the instant duty of his companion on the rope is to fling himself over on the opposite side, where his weight would counterbalance that of his friend, and so prevent both from being dashed to pieces three thousand feet below. For such prompt action, in such a position, no little nerve is requisite; yet not to do it spells a double fatality. Both Ivor and Rob were men of calm nerve and quick decision.
While traversing the arête, no thinking about Beatrice could be allowed himself by Ivor; and he was hardly conscious of the scenery. Nothing but close and exclusive regard to each successive planting of the feet ensures safety, as, steadying himself with his ice-axe, a climber moves slowly upward and onward, till the summit is gained.
They stood there at length, side by side, triumphant,—just in time to revel in the magnificent sight of a cloudless panorama of peaks, each with its own wealth of golden light and azure shade, its morning glories and fleeting shadows, its crumpled and rifted glaciers, its uncountable revelations of beauty. Silent and entranced, they drank in the loveliness with supreme enjoyment; though perhaps neither could quite banish from his mind a recollection of that nerve-testing "knife-edge," which had soon to be descended.
Coming down such a mauvais pas is, as everybody knows, always far worse than going up it. Doubtless, it was as well that the Blümlisalphorn does not lend itself to a picnic or a lengthy rest upon the summit; for muscles are apt to stiffen with delay. A few minutes were all that could be safely spared.
As they gazed, neither of the two was thinking only and exclusively of the view.
In Rob's mind, together with the mountain glory, lay the picture of a girl's face, fair and smiling, which he could not banish. Patricia had laid her spell upon him; and even while his attention was most taken up with the perils of the way, that face remained. It sprang up now with a fresh insistence.
"If ever I marry—" he found himself saying, as his eyes roved from height to height, from glacier to glacier—"If ever I marry, she shall be my wife!" He was not conscious of haste in this decision—if a dream may be called a decision; and he did not even remember his words to Magda about not being a marrying man. He had not then "seen the girl." To-day he had seen her.
Ivor also, while his glance wandered hither and thither, was haunted by a presence. His chivalry had been troubled on behalf of Bee; and the thought of what she must go through, when she became aware of his nearness the evening before, pressed upon his mind. So soon as active exertion ceased, the burden made itself felt; and he began again to picture her state of mind.
If he did not really care for Bee, more than he was yet aware, it might seem singular that he should be so much disturbed. This view of the question did occur, and he had no answer ready—yet still he was disquieted. When, however, the moment arrived for starting; when the "knife-edge" had once more to be tackled—then he put her out of his thoughts; and then, too, Rob had for the time to forget Patricia. All their attention, all their nerve, were required.
Chip, chip, went the leader's axe, as he improved the steps made on their ascent; and when one was clean-cut, the nail-studded boot slid forward, and found good hold. Again the axe was at work; and the other boot crept to its place. So each in turn advanced; and never did the two climbers move together; and never was the rope that bound them in a bond of comradeship allowed to sag. Its tautness was their only insurance against the disaster which must otherwise have followed upon a slip. But, happily, no slip occurred.