t to was known only to himself. But they think that he
must have perished on the mountains, for he disappeared suddenly last
August. His little hut is falling into ruins; it was too poor a place
for anybody but him."

"I must go there; where is it?" she inquired, turning abruptly away from
the grave, without a tear or a prayer, he observed. The spell that had
bound her seemed broken; and she looked agitated and hurried. There was
more vigor and decision in her face and manner than he could have
believed possible a few moments before. She was no longer a marble image
of despair.

"If Madame will go quite through the village," he answered, "it is the
last house on the way to Stans. But it cannot be called a house; it is
a ruin. It stands apart from all the rest, like an accursed spot; for no
person will go near it. If Madame goes, she will find no one there."

With a quick yet stately gesture of farewell, Felicita turned away, and
walked swiftly down the little path, not running, but moving so rapidly
that she was soon out of sight. By and by, when he had had time to think
over the interview and to recover from his surprise, he followed her,
but he saw nothing of her; only the miserable hovel where poor Jean
Merle had lived, into which she had probably found an entrance.

Felicita had learned something of what she had come to discover. Jean
Merle had been living in Engelberg until the last summer, though now he
had disappeared. Perished on the mountains! oh! could that be true? It
was likely to be true. He had always been a daring mountaineer when
there was every motive to make him careful of his life; and now what
could make it precious to him? There was no other reason for suddenly
breaking off the thread of his life here in Engelberg; for Felicita had
never imagined it possible that he would return to England. If he had
disappeared he must have perished on the mountains.

Yet there was no relief to her in the thought. If she had heard in
England that he was dead there would have been a sense of deliverance,
and a secret consciousness of real freedom, which would have made her
future course lie before her in brighter and more tranquil light. She
would at least be what she seemed to be. But here, amid the scenes of
his past life, there was a deep compunction in her heart, and a profound
pity for the miserable man, whose neighbors knew nothing about him but
that he had disappeared out of their sight. That she should c