at times, refrain from showing some of
the well-informed Swiss that I met how carelessly and sinfully their
countrymen were treating the forests. They complained that the
independence of the cantons and the unrestrained liberty of individuals
rendered it useless to make any attempt to protect the forests.

I made the acquaintance of many worthy men, and that, after all, is
always the greatest acquisition.

We met the widow of our cousin who had fallen at Koeniggratz. She was
exceedingly gay, was surrounded by a train of admirers, and flaunted in
elegant attire. She nodded to us formally and seemed to take no pride
in her citizen relatives.

I must report another occurrence.

On the very last morning, Richard had succeeded in plucking a large
bunch of edelweiss. He was coming down the mountain where the wagon was
waiting for us. Just then another wagon arrived, and in it was Annette
with her maid.

Richard offered the flowers to Annette.

"Were you thinking of me when you plucked them?" she asked.

"To be truthful, I was not."

"Thanks for the flowers--and for your honesty."

"I did not know, when plucking them, for whom they were; but I am glad
to know that now they are yours."

"Thanks; you are always candid."

We continued our journey. On the way, Richard said, "Our cousin, the
Baroness, is quite a new character; she ought to be called 'the
watering-place widow.' She travels from one watering-place to another,
wears mourning or half-mourning, is quite interesting, and always has a
crowd buzzing around her. It were a great pity if Annette were to turn
out in the same way."

I replied, "If she were to marry, which indeed, were greatly to be
desired, she would no longer be 'the watering-place widow.'"

He made no answer, but bit off the end of a cigar which he had been
holding in his hand for some time.

On our way home, we rested in the shadow of a rock on a high Alpine
peak, and there I found a symbol of what was passing between Annette
and Richard--a forget-me-not growing among nettles.

CHAPTER II.

I reached home refreshed and invigorated. The china-asters that she had
planted were blooming. Martella had decorated her grave with the
loveliest flowers, and maintained that the wild bees affected that spot
more than any other. Her memory gradually began to present itself to me
as overgrown with flowers.

I went to attend the winter session of the Parliament,