"Were you afraid?" he asked presently.
"Dreadfully," said Mona simply. "In fact," she added after a pause, "I am ashamed now to think how unnerved I allowed myself to get."
"Why—you had some cause. Few men would have strictly enjoyed the situation. How far had you gone?"
"I don't quite know. About a mile round the corner, I think. I was among the trees and did not notice the mist. By the way—did you get to the Jördalsnut?"
"No: I left my portmanteau at the inn, and started with that intention; but I went in for a bit of scrambling on this side of the valley, and then the mist drove me home. I am very glad it drove me to your assistance—not but what you would have got on all right without me."
"I can't tell you how glad I am. I really don't know what I should have done," and she raised her eyes to his with a frank look of gratitude.
He started, almost imperceptibly. There was a curious charm in that honest un-selfconscious glance, but there was something more than that.
"You are not travelling alone, are you?" he asked, after a minute's silence.
"No, I am with my uncle and aunt. Sir Doug—my uncle usually walks with me,—not that I think a chance accident like this is any argument against my going about alone if I choose."
There was no answer. He was looking at her in an interested way, as if meditating the question profoundly.