en within him that passionate love of
the country common to the Swiss which an English Alpine climber can
never feel. His mother's land had filled him with an ardent flame,
smouldering at times amid the absorbing interests of his somewhat
prominent place in English life, but every now and then breaking out
into an irrepressible longing for the sight of its white mountains and
swift, strong streams. It was at once the safest and the most dangerous
of refuges. He would be certainly sought for there; but there he could
most effectually conceal himself. He flew thither with his burden of
sin and shame.

Roland adopted at once the dress of a decent artisan of the Jura--such a
man as he had known in his boyhood as a watchmaker of Locle or the
Doubs. For a few days he stayed in Geneva, lodging in such a street as a
Locle artisan would have chosen; but he could not feel secure there, in
spite of his own certainty that his transformation was complete. A
restless dread haunted him. He knew well that there are in every one
little personal traits, tricks of gesture, and certain tones of voice
always ready to betray us. It was yet too early in the year for many
travellers to be journeying to Switzerland; but already a few straggling
pioneers of the summer flight were appearing in the larger towns, and
what would be his fate if any one of them recognized him? He quitted
Geneva, and wandered away into the mountain villages.

It was May-time, and the snow-line was still lingering low down on the
steep slopes, though the flowers were springing into life up to its
very margin, seeming to drive it higher and higher every day. The High
Alps were still fast locked in midwinter, and with untrodden wastes and
plains of snow lying all around them. The deserted mountain farms and
great solitary hotels, so thronged last summer, were empty. But in the
valleys and the little villages lying on the warm southern slopes, or
sheltered by precipitous rocks from the biting winds, there was
everywhere a joyous stir of awakening from the deep sleep of winter. The
frozen streams were thawed and ran bubbling and gurgling along their
channels, turning water-wheels and filling all the quiet places with
their merry noise. The air itself was full of sweet exhilaration. In the
forests there was the scent of stirring sap and of the up-springing
wild-flowers, and the rosy blossoms of the tender young larch-trees
shone like jewels in the bright sunshine. The mount