There was little chance of encountering any one who knew him at this late season; yet there were still stragglers lingering among the Alps.

But when he saw himself again in a looking-glass, his face burned and blistered with the sun, and now almost past recognition, and his ragged hair and beard serving him better than any disguise, he was no longer afraid of being detected.

He began to wonder in mingled hope and dread whether Felicita would come out to seek him.

The message he had sent to her by Phebe could be interpreted by her alone.

Would she avail herself of it to find him out?
Or would she shrink from the toil and pain and danger of quitting England?
A few weeks more would answer the question.
Sometimes he was overwhelmed with terror lest she should be watched, and her movements tracked, and that behind her would come the pursuers he had so successfully evaded.