lley. The autumn fogs and the dense rain-clouds were
gathering again. But it was nothing to him that the snowy crests of the
surrounding mountains were once more shrouded from view, or that the
torrents and waterfalls which he could not see were thundering and
roaring along their rocky channels with a vast effluence of waters. He
saw and heard no more than the dead man who bore his name. He was
insensible to hunger or fatigue. Except for Felicita's presence in the
village behind him he would have felt himself in another world; in a
beamless and lifeless abyss, where there was no creature like unto
himself; only eternal gloom and solitude.

It was quite dark before he passed again through the village on his way
to Felicita's hotel. The common light of lamps, and the every-day life
of ordinary men and women busy over their evening meal, astonished him,
as if he had come from another state of existence. He lingered awhile,
looking on as at some extraordinary spectacle. Then he went on to the
hotel standing a little out of and above the village.

The place, so crowded in the summer, was quiet enough now. A bright
light, however, streamed through the window of the salon, which was
uncurtained. He stopped and looked in at Felicita, who was sitting alone
by the log fire, with her white forehead resting on her small hand,
which partly hid her face. How often had he seen her sitting thus by the
fireside at home! But though he stood without in the dark and cold for
many minutes, she did not stir; neither hand nor foot moved. At last he
grew terrified at this utter immobility, and stepping through the hall
he told the landlady that the English lady had business with him. He
opened the door, and then Felicita looked up.

CHAPTER XVI.

PARTING WORDS.

Roland advanced a few paces into the gaudy salon, with its mirrors
reflecting his and Felicita's figures over and over again, and stood
still, at a little distance from her, with his rough cap in his hand. He
looked like one of the herdsmen with whom he had been living during the
summer. There was no one else in the large room, but the night was
peering in through half a dozen great uncurtained windows, which might
hold many spectators watching them, as he had watched her a minute ago.
She scarcely moved, but the deadly pallor of her face and the dark
shining of her tearless eyes fixed upon him made him tremble as if he
had been a woman weaker than herself.

"It is done,