“Are you enjoying yourself?” asked Catherine’s companion suddenly, and there was a new accent in his voice, that was an imperative summons to her subdued emotions.
“Immensely!” she replied, sighing.
“Then why sigh?” he asked, laughing; and then, looking down, he saw that her eyes were full of tears.
“I believe you are tired!” he exclaimed remorsefully. “Suppose we sit down and have a little rest.”
“No, really, I am not at all tired; only everything is so perfect.”
“Then let us prolong perfection,” he answered. “We are nearly at the top now, and we shall soon find the others again. Here is a comfortable place; you can lean against this rock, and I will put a stone for your feet.”
But at that moment, there was a sudden sound of falling rock, a rush of loosened stones and gravel, and just within an ace of her shoulder a huge fragment of rock broke away, and was hurled down the slope beneath them, followed by a mass of mingled snow and débris.
His arm went quickly round her, and drew her from the spot.
“My darling! What an escape! And you didn’t even scream!” he said, not withdrawing his arm. “There, don’t tremble; it’s all right,” he continued, soothing her as he would a frightened child, and for a moment his lips rested on hers.
This recalled Catherine to her senses.