the snow-peaks of the Rockies. It is the gateway of the mountains, fair
and widely spaced, as becomes their dignity.

Delaine, however, was not observing the scenery. He was entirely
absorbed by reflection on his own affairs. The party had now been
stationary for three or four days at Banff, enjoying the comforts of
hotel life. The travelling companion on whom Delaine had not calculated
in joining Lady Merton and her brother--Mr. George Anderson--had taken
his leave, temporarily, at Calgary. In thirty-six hours, however, he had
reappeared. It seemed that the construction work in which he was
engaged in the C---- valley did not urgently require his presence; that
his position towards the railway, with which he was about to sever his
official connection, was one of great freedom and influence, owing, no
doubt, to the services he had been able to render it the year before. He
was, in fact, master of his time, and meant to spend it apparently in
making Lady Merton's tour agreeable.

For himself, Delaine could only feel that the advent of this stranger
had spoilt the whole situation. It seemed now as though Elizabeth and
her brother could not get on without him. As he leant over the railing
of the balcony, Delaine could see far below, in the wood, the flutter of
a white dress. It belonged to Lady Merton, and the man beside her was
George Anderson. He had been arranging their walks and expeditions for
the last four days, and was now about to accompany the English
travellers on a special journey with a special engine through the
Kicking Horse Pass and back, a pleasure suggested by the kindness of the
railway authorities.

It was true that he had at one time been actively engaged on the
important engineering work now in progress in the pass; and Lady Merton