The Market-Place

ruary, Thorpe journeyed with his ni

artment. The girl from time to time rubbed the steam from the window with a napkin out of the lunc

ng to Baedeker: 'As the train proceeds we enjoy a view of the Simmen-Thal and Freiburg mountains to the l

pale, neutral-tinted wall of mist which obscured the view. "But hang it all-it

erposed, "the head-porter told me it w

r. "It's a great winter resort, I'm told, and it rather stands to reason,

ravelling in Switzerland," said

right," he assured her. The young people smiled back at him, and with this he rearranged his feet in a new posture on the opposite seat, lighted anot

improving-but he was getting tired of talking to nobody but waiters, and still more so of having nothing to do which he could not as well leave undone if he chose. After a few days more of Switzerland-for they had already gazed with blank faces at this universal curtain of mist from such different points of view as Lucerne, Interlaken, and Thun-it was clear to hi

cheerful placidity, to look at the things they bade him observe, and to pay the bills. Perhaps in all things their tastes had not been his tastes. He would have liked more of Paris, he fancied, and less of the small

belief that, between themselves, they did not deem him quite good enough. He had been wise enough, then, to have it out with the girl-she was the one to whom he felt it easiest to talk frankly-and had discovered,

they pointed out to their uncle the distinction between Gothic and Romanesque arches; they explained what was the matter with the Anabaptists; they told him that the story of the Bishop and the rats at Bingen was a baseless myth, and that probably there had never been any such man as William Tell. Nor did they

ll the time. The face was unduly thin, perhaps, but this, and the wistful glance of the large grey eyes in repose, made up an effect that Thorpe found touched him a good deal. Even when she was in visibly high spirits, the look in these eyes seemed to him to be laying claim to his protection. She could be merry upon occasion, in a gentle and tranquil way, and as her self-confidence expanded under the shelter of their growing intimacy, she disclosed to her uncle plenty of initiativ

d seemed to allege against him, Thorpe failed to detect any signs. The young man was never very late in the morning, and, beside his tireless devotion to the task of hunting up old pictures in out-of-the-way places, did most of the steward's work of the party with intelligence and precision. He studied the time-tables, audited the hotel-bills, looked after the luggage, got up the street-maps of towns and the like, to such good purpose that they never lost a train, or a bag, or themselves. Truly, an excellent youn

owever, to prevent any tendency to separation. They took their uncle one day to see where William the Silent was assassinated, and the next to observe how Rembrandt's theory of guild portrait-painting differed from Van der Helst's, with a common enthusiasm. He scru

the funny people go past-and thence, by Bruges and Antwerp, to Holland, where nobody could have imagined there were as many pictures as Thorpe saw with his

remembered best by their different beers. They spent Christmas at Vienna, where Julia had heard that its observance was peculiarly insisted upon, and then they saw the Tyrol in its heaviest vesture of winter snows, and beautiful old Basle, where Alfred was crazier about Holbei

from London which had produced no such effect. Through Semple, he had followed in outline the unobtrusive campaign to secure a Special Set

remaining away from London; there were, indeed, numerous reasons for a prompt return. But he was loth to deprive the youngsters of that descent into

nd fluttering, which puzzled the recipient a good deal; it was a long time before even the signature unravelled itse

eting wonder from whom it could be that he had heard so much about it, but it occurred to neither her nor her brother to question his entire good faith. Their uncle had displayed, hitherto, a most comforting freedom from discrimination among European towns; he had, indeed, assured them many times that they were all one to him. That he should suddenly turn up no

had cried then. "The Cas

!" said Thorpe

humouredly accepted their banter. He drew a serious long breath of relief, howev

d him. He was annoyed with himself for suffering it to get such a hold upon his mind. What was there in it, anyway? There was a big hotel there, and he and his youngsters were t

he had met at home. It would not in any way surprise her-this chance encounter of which he thought so much. Were there sufficient grounds for imag

she produced such an impression upon him. He reasoned this out satisfactorily to himself. These beautiful women, trained from childhood for the conquest of a rich husband, must have cultivated an extraordinary delicacy of consciousness, in such matters. They must have developed for themselves what might be called a sixth sense-a pow

er-did it at all follow that in February, amid the distractions of a fashionable winter-resort, and probably surrounded by hosts of friends, she would pay any attention to him whatever? The abject fear that s

sible, diverted his unsettled attention. A new perception of how much he liked them and enjoyed having them with him, took hold of his tho

upon it, it made hi

He would take a house without delay, and they should live with him. He could not

part of this household. He said to himself with frankness that he didn't want her, and there had been nothing to indicate that her children would pine for her. She showed good sense when she said that her place was in the shop, and in her ancestral home over the shop. No doubt there would be a certain awkwardness, visible to others if not to themselves, about her living in one part of

and then grimacing in comic vexation at the deadly absence of landscape outside. Was there ever a sweeter or more lovable girl in this world? Would there have to be some older woman to manage the house, at the beginning? he wondered. He should like it immensely if that could be avoided. Julia looked

serable that would make everything. Very likely she would never do any such thing; he had observed in her no shadow of a sign that a thought

at he was a good fellow. On this latter point, it was only the barest justice to Julia's tastes and judgment to take it for granted that he would be a good fellow. Yet the uncle felt uneasily that this would alter things for

skyline; a farmhouse grotesquely low for its size, crouching under big shelving galleries heaped with snow; an opening in front, to the right, where vaguely there seemed to be a valley into which they would descend-he saw these things. They remained in his mind afterward as a part of something else that

ve to conjure up once more the apparition. Nothing satisfactory came of the effort. Upon consideration, he grew uncertain as to whether he had seen anything at all. At the most it was a kind of half-dream which had visited him. He yawned

ains using you, now?" he

ke of Geneva, and the surrounding mountains, is suddenly disclosed.' That's where we are now-or were a minute ago. You ca

ome to that," Thorpe insisted, with jocose perver

d. "I want to see something like th

unlight tomorrow," he said, for p

See? just beyond the village. Yes, it is wate

recisely like everything else: it's of no colour at all. And they always paint it su

es, and welcomed a drowsy mood. As he went off to sleep, the jolting racket of the train m