Lynde had dismounted after the rain set in and was walking beside the girl’s mule.  Once, as an unusually heavy clap of thunder burst over their heads, she had impulsively stretched out her hand to him; he had taken it, and still held it, covered by a fold of the waterproof, steadying her so.  He was wet to the skin, but Ruth’s double wraps had preserved her thus far from anything beyond the dampness.

“Are you cold?” he asked.  Her hand was like ice.

“Not very,” she replied in a voice rendered nearly inaudible by a peal of thunder that shook the mountain.  A ball of crimson fire hung for a second in the murky sky and then shot into the valley.  The guide glanced at Lynde, as much as to say, “That struck.”

They were rapidly leaving the wind above them; its decrease was noticeable as they neared the Caillet.  The rain also had lost its first fury, and was falling steadily.  Here and there bright green patches of the level plain showed themselves through the broken vapors.  Ruth declined to halt at the Caillet; her aunt would be distracted about her, and it was better to take advantage of the slight lull in the storm, and push on.  So they stopped at the hut only long enough for Lynde to procure a glass of cognac, a part of which he induced the girl to drink.  Then they resumed their uncomfortable march.

When Lynde again looked at his companion he saw that her lips were purple, and her teeth set.  She confessed this time to being very cold.  The rain had at length penetrated the thick wrappings and thoroughly chilled her.  Lynde was in despair, and began bitterly to reproach himself for having undertaken the excursion without Mrs. Denham.  Her presence could not have warded off the storm, but it would have rendered it possible for the party to postpone their descent until pleasant weather.  Undoubtedly it had been his duty to leave Miss Ruth at the inn and return alone to Chamouni.  He had not thought of that when the guide made his suggestion.  There was now nothing to do but to hurry.

The last part of the descent was accomplished at a gait which offered the cautious mules no chance to pick their steps.  Lynde’s animal, left to its own devices, was following on behind, nibbling the freshened grass.  But the road was not so rough, and the stretches protected by the trees were in good condition.  In less than three quarters of an hour from the half-way hut, the party were at the foot of the mountain, where they found a close carriage which Mrs. Denham had thoughtfully sent to meet them.  Benumbed with the cold and cramped by riding so long in one position, the girl was unable to stand when she was lifted from the saddle.  Lynde carried her to the carriage and wrapped her in a heavy afghan that lay on the seat.  They rode to the hotel without exchanging a word.  Lynde was in too great trouble, and Ruth was too exhausted to speak.  She leaned back with her eyes partially closed, and did not open them until the carriage stopped.  Mrs. Denham stood at the hall door.