He could not kiss Ruth because the acquired conscience—struggling on its way to limbo—made the idea repellant. He was not Meysey Hill, but an Englishman of business, and he had only a small income. 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.
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