Bee had seen little of Ivor during their descent. The two girls had been together in front; Ivor coming behind with the guides; Rob taking turns with either. Nor did she see more of him this last evening. He had talked freely to her of his adventure, by the Oeschinen Lake; but he made no efforts to be thrown more in her path.
He recognised by this time the fact that he was very much drawn to Bee; that he had begun to look upon her as altogether different and apart from other girls; and he could not forget how she had haunted his imagination during this terrible time in the bergshrund. If not yet in love, he was fast nearing that condition.
But two strong reasons withheld him from immediate action. For one thing—she had saved his life; and it would not do to risk letting her think that he sought her out of gratitude. For another—she must be aware that he might have overheard Miss Smith's remark outside the Hut; and there again he sensitively feared that she would perhaps imagine his conduct to have been inspired by those careless words. His suit would have to come freely, naturally, spontaneously—if ever he did seek her.
Ivor put it thus cautiously to himself. Then, with a glow, he altered the words. "When I seek her—!" he said.
The farewell between himself and Bee next morning was entirely simple and commonplace. Bee said sadly in her mind—"I may never see him again!"
And Ivor went off to his room with a book, which he found supremely uninteresting. To make matters worse, he saw little of his hitherto constant friend. For the change in their plans which could mean nothing for Bee meant much to Rob, and something to Patricia. The two thereafter were perpetually coming together. They had endless talks, and Rob was captivated.
Patricia as usual welcomed with warmth another worshipper at her shrine. She lived for admiration, and she did not know how to get on without it. With her numerous devotees, both masculine and feminine, the question might always be asked whether what she really cared for was the person, or the person's devotion for herself. But she certainly did like Rob, and had liked him from the first. His personality took more hold upon her than was generally the case.
Mrs. Norman allowed matters to drift for three or four days, then suddenly awoke to the fact that this might mean something serious. Rob's absorption in her niece was patent to the most casual observer; and Patricia too showed signs of being for once touched. Mrs. Norman did not wish for the responsibility of an "affair," while Patricia was with her. Mr. Royston might be all that one could wish as a man, but a curate without private means or prospects would hardly meet with Mrs. Framley's approval. So she promptly decided to move on elsewhere, and she gave out this intention.
Patricia was not given to sulks, for sulks are not becoming; but she actually did treat her aunt to something not far removed from one of Magda's "November fogs" during the week that followed. Not of course in public, where she always smiled, but in private.
For obvious reasons Rob said nothing about Patricia, when he wrote to Magda; and for reasons perhaps less obvious, despite what she had said to her aunt, Patricia was equally silent. Beatrice followed the same course, simply because she did not write. Her last three letters to Magda had had no reply; and though hers was not a resentful nature, and she was slow to take offence, she had resolved to wait till she should hear.