‘You must not pretend to be an invalid,’ said Edgar cheerily; ‘come now, Daphne: why, there are not many girls can handle a pair of sculls as you do.’ ‘I didn’t say I was an invalid. In my boat I feel in my element, but listlessly creeping about these hills wearies me to death.’ ‘You are very different from me,’ answered Edgar reproachfully. ‘Your company is always enough for my happiness.’ ‘Then you shall have as much of my company as you please in the garden or on the lake. But pray let us be idle while we can. When Aunt Rhoda arrives we shall be goaded to all kinds of excursionising, dragged up every hill in the district.’ ‘I thought you wanted to climb mountains?’ ‘Yes, mountains; Mont Blanc, or the Matterhorn, or Monte Rosa—anything respectable. But to exhaust one’s energy in scaling green banks! Why, in Wales they would call the Col du Jaman a bank. However, when Aunt Rhoda arrive I shall be equal to the effort. Of course we shall have to do Chillon.’ ‘I thought you were so interested in Chillon.’ ‘Yes, as an image in my mind. I love to gaze at its dark towers from the distance, to send my fancies back to the Middle Ages, penetrate the gloomy prison and keep the captives company—but to go over the cells formally, in the midst of a little herd of tourists, staring over each other’s shoulders, and treading upon each other’s toes—to be shown by a snuffy old custodian the ring to which Bonnivard was chained, the grating out of which he could see the “little isle that in his very face did smile”—that is a kind of thing which I absolutely abhor.’ * * * * * Mrs. Ferrers had written to her brother, informing him that as she had been all her life longing for a glimpse of Swiss scenery, and that as so favourable an opportunity had now presented itself for the gratification of that desire, she had made up her mind to come straight to Montreux by herself.