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Then she thought that Bower must have recalled Stampa's history, and feared that perhaps the outspoken peasant might enter into a piquant account of some village scandal. A chambermaid in the hotel, questioned about Stampa, had told her that the daughter he loved so greatly had committed suicide. Really, she ought to be grateful to her companion for saving her from a passing embarrassment.
Perhaps the American meant to enlighten her during their projected walk to Vicosoprano. Stampa and the others approached. Together they climbed the little hill leading to the summit of the pass. In the village they said "Good night" to the two guides and Karl. Helen promised laughingly to make the acquaintance of Johann Klucker's cat at the first opportunity.
"Don't put it that way, because the whole credit of the relief expedition is due to Stampa. Say, Miss Wynton, may I square my small services by asking a favor?" "Oh, yes, indeed." "Well, then, if it lies in your power, keep Stampa and Bower apart. In any event, don't intervene in their quarrel." "So you are quite serious in your belief that there is a quarrel?"
This letter, joined to certain lurid statements made by Stampa, had induced Spencer to accept Mrs. de la Vere's invitation. Little as he cared to dine in Bower's company, it was due to Helen that he should not refuse. He was entangled neck and heels in a net of his own contriving. For very shame's sake, he could not wriggle out, leaving Helen in the toils.
It is a hard climb for experts in broad daylight. But I meant to beat you, Spencer. Stampa vowed you were in St. Moritz. And again I believed him! Think of it I was hoodwinked by an old peasant." "Hush! Try and forget things till your broken limb is fixed." "What does it matter? Confound it! you've won; so let me tell my story.
But he was looking at Stampa, and frowning in deep thought. The guide heard his slow, heavy tread, and turned. The two met. They exchanged no word, but went away together, the lame peasant hobbling along by the side of the tall, well dressed plutocrat. "How odd!" said Mrs. de la Vere. "How exceedingly odd!" "Now, what have you to say? We are safe from meddlers here." Bower spoke curtly.
Having disposed of Stampa and Millicent, practically between breakfast and lunch, there were no reasons why he should trouble further about them. The American threatened a fresh obstacle. He was winning his way with Helen altogether too rapidly. In the light of those ominous words at the luncheon table his close association with Stampa indicated a definite knowledge of the past. Curse him!
He himself was unnerved, a prey to wilder emotions than she could guess till later days brought a fuller understanding. It was a mad trick of fate that threw the girl into his embrace just then, for another far-flung sheet of fire revealed to her terrified vision the figures of Spencer and Stampa on the rocks beneath. With brutal candor, the same flash showed her nestling close to Bower.
"Have you never crossed ice during a snow storm?" asked Stampa. In a few minutes they were ready. The lightning flashes were less frequent, and the thunder was muttering far away amid the secret places of the Bernina. The wind was rising again. Instead of sleet it carried snowflakes, and these did not sting the face nor patter on the ice.
You were slim then an elegant, is it not? and many a time have I hobbled into the Hotel Mont Cervin to look at your portrait in a group lest I should forget your face. Yet I passed you just now! Great God! I passed you." A ferocity glared from Bower's eyes that might well have daunted Stampa.
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