He had been very devoted to Gertrude Athol ever since her appearance upon the scene, and had constituted himself her escort upon almost every occasion, while there were times when his manner toward her bordered strongly upon that of a lover.
Clifford had been quick to observe this, and was secretly indignant at the growing intimacy, for he had by no means forgotten the statement which Wentworth had made to him regarding his relations with a certain little lady who was traveling in Europe. He watched them this afternoon as they sauntered slowly down the road in the direction of a pretty little nook, familiarly known as “The Glen,” Philip carrying Miss Athol’s sun-umbrella with an air of proprietorship, while little Minnie skipped on before them, bright and happy as a bird.
“What a sweet little fairy that child is!” Clifford murmured, as his eyes rested fondly upon her, for, strange as it may seem, a strong friendship had sprung up between himself and Miss Minnie, who never came to the hotel without seeking him out to have a social little chat with him.
He continued to watch the trio until they disappeared around a bend in the road, when he went back into the office, and resumed some clerical work connected with his duties.
“The Glen” referred to was, in fact, something of a misnomer, for it was nothing more or less than a quiet nook on a small plateau, carpeted with moss, almost entirely surrounded by a luxuriant growth of great pines, and overlooking a picturesque valley and strong, rugged mountains beyond.
It was almost on the edge of a precipice, and not far from the very point where Clifford came so near losing his life only a short time before.
Upon arriving at their destination, Philip spread the rug he carried upon the ground, close by a big boulder, and the three sat down, removing their hats and making themselves generally comfortable. Then Philip opened one of the books he had brought—a new novel that was creating quite a sensation—and began reading aloud to his companion.
But Miss Minnie did not relish any such prosaic way of spending her afternoon, and, becoming lonely and restless, began to wander about to see what of interest she could find for herself. At first Philip tried to keep her beside them, but, finding that she would not be quiet, and fretted constantly at the restraint imposed upon her, finally gave her permission to play about, provided she would not go beyond a certain limit.
She soon found amusement in gathering ferns, with here and there a bright leaf from some sumac bushes growing near the road at a point where she was perfectly safe, and the two young people returned to their book and gave themselves up to the enjoyment of the hour.