Then I saw that an Alpine rope was coiled across one of the strong shoulders clad in rough tweed, and that the great stout boots were strikingly trimmed with huge bright nails.
"It's like Sir Lionel to put the praise on me," protested the dear old thing, flushing up like a boy. "Why, he was the best amateur" (he pronounced the word quaintly and I loved him for it) "I ever see, or ever expect to see. If he'd gone on as he began, he'd a' broken the noses of some of us guides. Pity he had to go to furrin' parts! And I'll be bound he never told you, ladies, of his first ascent of Twll Ddu, or how he pulled me up out of the torrent by sheer strength, when my fingers were that cold I couldn't grip the hand-holds? I'd 'a' fallen clear to the bottom of the Devil's Kitchen if't hadn't been for Mr. Pendragon, as he was then. And what d' you think, ladies, he says, when I accused him o' savin' my life?"
"What?" I begged to know, forgetting to give my elders a chance to speak first.
"'Tommy rot.' That's his very words. I've never forgot 'em. 'Tommy rot.'"
He beamed on us, and every one in the hall laughed, except perhaps Emily, who smiled doubtfully, not sure whether or no it was to her brother's credit to have remarked "Tommy rot" in such a crisis. But after that, we were all friends, we, and Owen Penrhyn, and the other men, too; for though we didn't really talk to them till dinner, I knew by their eyes that they admired Sir Lionel immensely, and wanted to know us all.
At dinner there was splendid climbing talk, and we heard further tales of Sir Lionel's prowess; among others of a great jump he had made from one rock of Trifaen to the other, with only a little square of rock to light upon, just on the edge of a sheer precipice; a record feat, according to the old guide. And while the men and we women listened, the wind outside raged so wildly that now and then it seemed as if a giant fell against the house and afterward dashed pebbles against it in his fury. Then again the wind-giant would rush by the hotel in his hundred-horse-power motor-car, tooting his horn as he went. It was nice sitting there in the comfortable dining-room, listening to the climbing stories, while the wind roared and couldn't get at us, and the whole valley was full of marching rain!
Now I am writing in my bedroom, close to a gossipy little fire, which is a delightful companion, although August has still a day to run. Mrs. Senter is having her beauty sleep, I suppose; and I should think Mrs. Norton is reading Young's "Night Thoughts." I know she takes the book about with her. The men are still in the hall downstairs, very happy, if one can judge by the laughter that breaks out often; and I am as happy as I can be with the thought of Dick probably appearing at Chester day after to-morrow night. But I won't let myself think of that too much, because it isn't certain that he will get back then, and it is certain that there will be some word from you, which may change everything. You see what faith your girl has in you! But wouldn't she be ungrateful if she hadn't?
There is one other thing which has been bothering me in odd moments, though, and I wish I had asked your advice about that, too, in the letter to be answered at Chester; but the idea hadn't occurred to me then. It suddenly sprang into my mind last night when I was lying in bed, not able to go to sleep.
Ought I to repeat to Ellaline what Mrs. Senter told me about the money? I don't mean the part about the poor child's father and mother. No one but a thorough Pig of the Universe would tell a daughter perfectly unnecessary horrors, like those; but about her not being an heiress in her own right, and depending on Sir Lionel for everything except two hundred a year?
If I were really in her place, instead of pretending to be, I should want to know, and shouldn't thank anyone for keeping the truth from me. It would be unbearable to accept generosity from a man, thinking I might be as extravagant as I liked, with my own money. But it is difficult to make up my mind, on account of the fiancé. You, being French yourself, know how it is with French officers who fall in love with a girl who has no dot, or only a small one. Most of them, if poor themselves, would slap their foreheads and despair, but think it their duty to their country to forget the girl.