"Certainly not. I am not so sensitive to the weather as you imagine."

She bit her lips. It is not pleasant to be fought with one's own weapons, but far more than this it angered her to see him expose himself thus to wind and weather, just for the sole purpose of teaching her a lesson. True, this sort of defiance seemed to her supremely absurd; she did not really suffer by his persistency, and she did not very much care if he caught cold or fell ill through it or not. Still it irritated her that he should stand there calmly and keep his place in spite of the storm, with an effort, perhaps, but still keep it, while, but half an hour before, he had been lying, sleepy and shivering, in the cushions of the comfortable carriage and appearing painfully affected by every breath of air which found its way through the windows. Were storm and tempest really needed that he might prove to her he was not quite the weakling she had hitherto considered him to be?

Arthur hardly looked just now as if he had the intention of proving anything to her. He stood with folded arms, gazing at the chain of wooded hills, a commanding view of which was to be had from this eminence. As his eyes turned slowly from one summit to another, Eugenie suddenly made the startling discovery that they were very handsome. It was a great surprise to her; up to this time she had only known that the half-closed lids veiled two sleepy, tired-looking orbs which she had not troubled herself to examine more narrowly. When, by any chance, he raised them, he did it slowly, in a lazy fashion, as if it cost him an effort which he felt would be ill repaid, and yet this look of his was well worthy of notice. To judge by the expression of his face, one would have expected the usually drooping lashes to cover eyes of a cold pale blue, but instead of this they proved to be brown, clear and deep, though lacking animation, and it seemed as if they might yet light up with energy and pa.s.sion, as if in their depths a whole world lay perdu, long forgotten and sunk out of sight, yet awaiting only the magic word which should break the spell and call it up afresh to life and action.

Once more there flashed into the young wife's mind the thought which had crossed it when, at their entrance into the woods, he had turned from her so suddenly, the suspicion of all the havoc made, of the great wrong done, by the education his father had given him, a wrong too great to be justified or ever to be redressed.

They stood together alone up there upon the hill. The forest lay before them with its veil of mist, closely wreathed in the grey shadows which clung to the sombre firs, waved from their crests in long gauzy stripes, floated ghost-like over the earth. And over the hills yonder the same misty veil hovered and fluttered, now torn asunder, now rushing together in one compact ma.s.s, clothing alike the hill-tops and steaming valleys. One continual surging and swelling, ebbing and flowing; mountains and woods seeming, at one time, to open forth their innermost depths, then again to close, withdrawing themselves from every mortal eye.

All around the storm howled and raged, tearing through the great secular pines as through a cornfield. The mighty trunks groaned as they swayed up and down, and bent their lofty crests murmuring before the wind, whilst overhead chased in disordered flight the great, seething formless ma.s.ses of grey cloud. Such a storm as can only burst forth in the heart of the mountains--yet in all its uproar, it brought a message of spring. She came riding on its rustling wings, not sunnily smiling as on the plains below, but in rough wild humour. It was her breath which swelled the hurricane, her cry which resounded through all the clamour.

In these great disturbances of Nature may be traced a promise of the glowing sunshine and scent of flowers, so soon to be spread through the earth, a prevision of all those creative forces at work, struggling to bring their thousand germs forth to the light of day. And they heard her cry and answered her, those murmuring forests, those precipitous brooks and vaporous valleys. In all this commotion and fury and foam, there was yet Nature's shout of gladness as she threw off the last chains of winter, her hail of rejoicing as she greeted the coming deliverer. The spring is at hand!

There is something mysterious in such an hour. The legends of those mountain parts allot to it a peculiar romantic charm. They tell how the spirit of the hills travels through his kingdom at such times, and uses his power for a blessing or a curse to the lives of all tarrying within his dominions. "To meet then is to cleave together, to part then is to part for all eternity." For those two standing on the height together, there was indeed no question of such meeting. They were bound by the closest tie which can unite two human beings, and yet they were as far apart, as strange one to the other, as though worlds lay between them.

The silence had lasted some time. Eugenie broke it first.

"Arthur."

He started as from a dream and turned to her.

"Yes?"

"It is so cold up here--Will you not .... lend me your cloak now?"

Again the bright flush rose to the young man's face, as he looked at her in speechless astonishment. He knew she was so proud, she would rather have been frozen by the icy wind than condescend to beg for the once despised covering; yet she did so now in the hesitating tone, and with the downcast eyes, of one confessing a fault.

In a minute he was at her side, and holding out the cloak to her. She allowed him to put it round her shoulders in silence, but when he was about to return to his former post, he met a glance of dumb yet earnest reproach. Arthur still hesitated for one second, but had she not almost asked for forgiveness? He, too, allowed himself to be disarmed, and remained standing by her.

A great rampart of fog had risen out of the valley and closed in round them, fastening them to the spot. Mountains and woods disappeared in the grey vapour. Only the mighty pines towered high above it, and looked gravely down on the two human beings who had come to them for protection and a refuge. Overhead the dark branches rustled and whispered noisily as with a thousand mysterious voices, and ever and anon struck in the fuller-toned chords of the forest. It became painfully oppressive up here in the midst of this fog, beneath all this eerie fluttering and stir.

Eugenie started up all at once, as if she must extricate herself from some danger, from some toils which held her enchained.

"The fog gets thicker and thicker," said she anxiously; "and the weather more dreadful than ever. Do you think there would be any danger for us on the road?"

Arthur looked at the swelling ma.s.ses of vapour, and stroked the drops from his damp hair.

"I am not well enough acquainted with our mountains to know how far their storms may be dangerous. If it were the case, would you be afraid?"

"I am not fearful, but one always hesitates when it is a question of life."

"Always? I should have thought our life, the life we have led for the last month, was not of a nature to make any one afraid of risking it.

You especially have cause to feel this."

She looked down.

"So far as I know, I have annoyed you by no complaints."

"Oh, no. Nothing like a complaint has escaped your lips. If you could only force some colour into your cheeks as easily! You would do it, I know, if you could, but there even your power of will fails. Do you think it can afford me any great pleasure to see that my wife is drooping away at my side, and that just because a hard fate has driven her there?"

This time the hot glow mounted to Eugenie's face; it was not called up by the reproach contained in his words, but by the strange expression he had used towards her for the first time.

"My wife" he had said. Yes, she had certainly been married to him, but it had never yet occurred to her that he could have the right to call her "his wife."

"Why do you touch upon this subject again?" asked she, turning away. "I hoped after that one necessary explanation it would be done with for ever."

"Because you seem to be in error and to fancy that I shall hold you all your life long in chains which, truly, are as oppressive to me as they ever were to you."

His tone was cold in the extreme, but Eugenie looked quickly up at him.

She could read nothing in his countenance, however. Why were those eyes instantly veiled whenever she attempted to search their meaning? Was it that they would not submit to be questioned, or that they feared to betray themselves?

"You allude to--to a separation?"

"Do you imagine I could look upon the union between us as lasting after the expression of--of esteem, which I was forced to hear from your mouth on that first evening?"

Eugenie was silent.

Over their heads the pine-branches rustled and waved hither and thither once more. The voice of the forest, exhorting, remonstrating, was wafted down to this wedded pair about to utter the word which should separate them, but neither he nor she would understand the meaning.

"We are neither of us free enough to lay all considerations on one side," continued Arthur, in the same tone. "Your father and mine are both too well known, each in his own sphere, our marriage attracted too much attention for us to be able to dissolve it immediately, without affording inexhaustible matter for gossip to the whole town, and making ourselves ridiculous as the hero and heroine of a hundred stories.

People do not separate after four-and-twenty hours, or even after a week, without some appreciable cause; for appearances' sake they bear with one another for a year or so, in order to declare, with some show of likelihood, that there is incompatibility of temper. I had hoped we could have borne to live so long together, but it seems that our strength is not equal to the task. If we go on in this way, we shall both of us succ.u.mb."

The arm which Eugenie had wound round the trunk of the great tree trembled slightly, but her voice was steady as she answered.

"I do not succ.u.mb so easily when I have once taken a task upon me; and, as for you, I really did not think you were in the least affected by our painful position."

In his brown eyes there flashed once more that rapid lightning-like gleam which vanished as quickly, leaving no trace behind it. His look was quiet and expressionless as before, when he replied after a short pause.

"You really think so? Well, it does not signify whether I am affected by it or not. I should not have touched upon the subject, if I had not seen the necessity of rea.s.suring you by a promise that our marriage should be dissolved as soon as circ.u.mstances permit. Perhaps now I shall not see you look so white as you have done for the last few days, and perhaps you will believe now what you have, so far, looked upon as a lie, namely, that I had no knowledge of the machinations by which your hand was obtained for me, but imagined that it was given voluntarily and of your own free will.

"I believe you, Arthur," said she in a low voice. "I do believe you now."

Arthur received this first mark of his wife's confidence with a smile of exceeding bitterness. It came to him at the very moment he was giving her up.

"The fog begins to clear," said he, changing the subject, "and the storm seems to abate too for a few minutes. We must take advantage of it to get down. In the valley below we shall be protected, and shall soon reach the farm, where, I hope, they will be able to lend us a carriage. Will you follow me?"

The way was steep and slippery, but Arthur seemed wishful to-day of giving his whole nature the lie. He walked down the hill with a firm sure tread, while Eugenie, with her thin boots and long dress, impeded still further by the cloak, could hardly advance. He saw that he must come to her a.s.sistance, but on such a road he could not simply offer her his arm. He must, of necessity put it well round her if his help were to be of any avail, and that ... that would hardly do!

The husband hesitated to render his wife a service which he would have done to any stranger; and that which a stranger, under the circ.u.mstances, would have at once accepted, the wife felt averse to receiving from her husband.

After some moments of indecision he did finally place his arm round her waist. She quivered a little at his touch, but neither of them spoke while making the descent, which lasted about ten minutes. At every step they took downwards Eugenie's face grew whiter. It appeared to be intolerable to her that his arm should thus support her, that she should be forced to lean on his shoulder, so near him that she could feel his breath on her face. Yet he did what he could to spare her. He never glanced at her once. All his attention seemed directed to the road, which, certainly, was of a nature to make care and prudence needful to prevent their both sliding down it unawares. But, quiet as he seemed, there was that same treacherous little twitch about the young man's lips, and, when at last they reached the valley below, he released his wife from his arms with a long, deep-drawn breath, which showed he had been anything but calm during their strange little journey.

Already the farm-buildings were visible glinting through the trees, and they hastened down the path which led to them, as though feeling that on no account must they remain longer alone together. Overhead the storm raged afresh, and high up on the hill the fog thickened again round the stout old pine which had spread its branches protectingly over these two, and given them shelter in the hour of which the old legends say:

"To meet then is to cleave together, to part then is to part for all eternity."