And, anyhow, it doesn’t matter to us. “One hardly knows—all the time. There was no railway beyond Frutigen in those days; they sent their baggage by post to Kandersteg, and walked along the mule path to the left of the stream to that queer hollow among the precipices, Blau See, where the petrifying branches of trees lie in the blue deeps of an icy lake, and pine-trees clamber among gigantic boulders. At this juncture, Sir Cecil and his followers appeared at the threshold. Haven’t I ever told you about them?” Michelle asked. He renewed his supplications to Sharples, but with no better success than heretofore; and the greater part of the night was passed by him and the poor widow, whose anxiety, if possible, exceeded his own, in the most miserable state imaginable. If ever the denouement came—if ever the Hand reached him—Ruth would then understand why he had rebuffed all her tender advances. His absence was thought by the charitable to be from grief.
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