presence." Then there was
nothing more said about Mr Bott.

It was evening, and while they were still sitting among their letters
and newspapers, there came a shout along the water, and the noise of
many voices from the bridge. Suddenly, there shot down before them
in the swift running stream the heads of many swimmers in the river,
and with the swimmers came boats carrying their clothes. They went
by almost like a glance of light upon the waters, so rapid was the
course of the current. There was the shout of voices,--the quick
passage of the boats,--the uprising, some half a dozen times, of
the men's hands above the surface; and then they were gone down the
river, out of sight,--like morsels of wood thrown into a cataract,
which are borne away instantly.

"Oh, how I wish I could do that!" said Lady Glencora.

"It seems to be very dangerous," said Mr Palliser. "I don't know how
they can stop themselves."

"Why should they want to stop themselves?" said Lady Glencora. "Think
how cool the water must be, and how beautiful to be carried along so
quickly, and to go on, and on, and on! I suppose we couldn't try it?"

As no encouragement was given to this proposition, Lady Glencora did
not repeat it; but stood leaning on the rail of the balcony, and
looking enviously down upon the water. Alice was, of course, thinking
of that other evening, when perhaps the same swimmers had come down
under the bridge and before the balcony, and where George Vavasor was
sitting in her presence. It was, I think, on that evening, that she
made up her mind to separate herself from Mr Grey.

On the day after that, Mr Palliser and his party went on to Lucerne,
making that journey, as I have said, by slow stages; taking
Schaffhausen and Zurich in their way. At Lucerne, they established
themselves for some time, occupying nearly a dozen rooms in the great
hotel which overlooks the lake. Here there came to them a visitor, of
whose arrival I will speak in the next chapter.

CHAPTER LXX

At Lucerne

I am inclined to think that Mr Palliser did not much enjoy this
part of his tour abroad. When he first reached Lucerne there was no
one there with whom he could associate pleasantly, nor had he any
occupation capable of making his time run easily. He did not care for
scenery. Close at his elbow was the finest to be had in Europe; but
it was nothing to him. Had he been simply journeying through Lucerne
at the proper time of the year for su