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Unwavering tenacity of purpose was his chief characteristic. "Meanwhile," he said, "let us talk of the weather." "A most seasonable topic. It was altogether novel this morning to wake and find the world covered with snow." "If the Maloja is your world, you must have thought it rather chilling," he laughed. "Yes, cold, perhaps, but fascinating. I went for a walk.
She flushed a little. Spencer was gazing down into the gorge of the Orlegna. The brawling torrent chimed with his own mood; but his set face gave no token of the storm within. He only said quietly, "How good it must be to have you as a friend!" "I have no reason to feel other than friendly to Mr. Bower," she protested hotly. "It was the rarest good fortune for me that he came to Maloja.
After much secret pondering and some shy confidences intrusted to Mrs. de la Vere, she had resolved to tell him that if he left the Maloja at once an elastic phrase in lovers' language and came to her in London next month, she would have an answer ready. She persuaded herself that there was no other honorable way out of an embarrassing position.
Little by little it grew brighter, however; and in about an hour more, when he reached the place before the tavern upon the Maloja, where he used to stand with his father and gaze down the mountain road, the sunny light of morning lay upon the mountains, and the tips of the fir-trees were all touched with gold. Rico seated himself upon the edge of the roadside.
One minute I was in London, meaning to go north. The next I was hurrying to buy a ticket for St. Moritz." "But " She meant to continue, "you arrived here the same day as I did." Somehow that did not sound quite the right thing to say. Her tongue tripped; but she forced herself to frame a sentence. "It is odd that you, like myself, should have hit upon an out of the way place like Maloja.
Nowhere do the Alps exhibit their full stature, their commanding puissance, with such majesty as in the gates of Italy; and of all those gates I think there is none to compare with Maloja, none certainly to rival it in abruptness of initiation into the Italian secret. Below Vico Soprano we pass already into the violets and blues of Titian's landscape.
He could form no idea of how far it really was to the Maloja; and indeed it seemed very long to him, after he had been going for two good hours.
The accident threw her late, but only by some two hours. Instead of arriving at Maloja in brilliant sunshine, it was damp and chilly when she entered the hotel. A bank of mist had been carried over the summit of the pass by a southwesterly wind. Long before the carriage crawled round the last great bend in the road the glorious panorama of lake and mountains was blotted out of sight.
The mere sense of aloofness among so many millions of people brought with it the knowledge that she was one of them, a human atom plunged into a heedless vortex the moment she passed from her house into the street. Here in Maloja things were different.
She was surprised to find how many of her fellow passengers were bound for Maloja. Some she had encountered at various stages of the journey all the way from London, while many, like Mrs. Vavasour, had joined the train in Switzerland.
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