purple blue, utterly beyond conception in the glory of intense colour, bringing only to her mind those most expressive, yet most inexpressive words, ‘the body of heaven in His clearness.’  She felt, what she had often heard said, that to all mountain tops is given somewhat of the glory that dwelt on Sinai.  That ineffable blue was more dazzling than even the fields beyond fields of marvellous white that met her eye on emerging from the dark gallery.

’I never wish so much that Lord Fitzjocelyn should see anything as that,’ said Tom Madison, when Mary, in her gratitude, was trying to say something adequate to the trouble she had given, though the beauty was beyond any word of admiration.

‘He would—­’ she began to answer, but the rest died away, only answered by Tom with an emphatic ‘He would!’ and then began the difficulties of getting down.

But Mary had the pleasure at the next pause of hearing Mr. Ward say, ’That is a very fine intelligent young fellow, worthy of his library.  I think your father has a prize in him!’

Mary’s eyes thanked Mr. Ward, with all her heart in them.  It was worth going up the Andes for such a sentence to put into a letter that Aunt Kitty would show to Louis.

Robson seemed anxious to monopolize the attention of the gentlemen, to the exclusion of Madison; and while Tom was thus thrust aside, Mary succeeded in having a conversation with him, such as she felt was a sort of duty to Louis.  She asked him the names of the various mountain-peaks in sight, whose bare crags, too steep to support the snow, here and there stood out dark in salient contrast to the white scenery, and as he gave them to her, mentioning the few facts that he had been able to gather respecting them, she was able to ask him whether he was in the habit of seeing anything approaching to society.  He smiled, saying that his nearest neighbours were many miles off—­an engineer conducting some far more extensive mining operations, whom he sometimes met on business, and an old Spanish gentleman, who lived in a valley far down the mountain side, with whom he sometimes smoked his cigar on a Sunday, if he felt inclined for a perpendicular promenade on a Peruvian causeway for nearly four miles.  Mary asked whether he often did feel inclined.  No, he thought not often; he had generally worked hard enough in the week to make his book the best company; but he liked now and then to see something green for a change after these bare mountains and rocks, and the old Don Manrique was very civil and agreeable.  Then, after a few minutes’ conversation of this kind, something of the old conscious abruptness of tone seemed to come over the young man, and looking down, he said bluntly, ’Miss Ponsonby, do you think there would be any objection to my coming into Lima just for Christmas?’

‘I suppose not; I cannot tell.’

Tom explained that all the miners would be making holiday, and the senior Cornishman might safely be left in charge of the works, while he only wished to spend Christmas-day itself in the city, and would be a very short time absent.  He blushed a little as he spoke, and Mary ventured to reply to what she gathered of his thought, ’No other day would suit you as well?’