A quiver shot through Ulric. He looked down at the steep slope and saw how very near it they were. Slowly he let go his hold on the bridle, very slowly, as though yielding to some irresistible force, he stepped to one side and let her pa.s.s.

Eugenie looked back involuntarily. He was standing there silent and still, his fiery eyes fixed on the ground; without a syllable of response or of leave-taking he let her go on her way unhindered.

CHAPTER XVI.

Eugenie drew a deep breath of relief, as Afra's swift pace soon carried her from that dangerous neighbourhood. Fearless as she was by nature, she had trembled. Our heroine would have been no woman, if, after such a scene, she had not known that which she had long suspected, namely, that the man's behaviour to herself, so enigmatical and full of contradictions, concealed some other and far more dangerous feeling than hate.

Once again he had yielded to her influence, but he had been on the very point of bursting his bonds. She had a proof now that, when once the barriers were broken down, he was no whit inferior in blind and raging fury to that "untamed element of Nature" to which she had likened him.

She had reached the valley, and, bearing in mind the warning she had received, was about to turn out of the main road, when she heard the sound of a horse's hoofs, and, looking round, saw that its rider was galloping towards her at a speed which soon brought him to her side.

"At last!" cried Arthur, out of breath and reining in his horse. "What imprudence to ride out alone to-day of all days! But, to be sure, you had no notion of the risk you ran."

Eugenie looked at him in surprise, as, panting and glowing from his hasty ride, he walked his horse by her side. He was not dressed for riding, he wore neither spurs nor gloves. He must have mounted just as he was, in his house-dress, and set out in her pursuit.

"I only heard of your fancy half-an-hour ago," he continued, mastering his excitement. "Frank and Anthony are looking for you in different directions, I was the only one to find the right track. They told me at the farm you had ridden by here a little while ago."

Eugenie did not inquire as to the reason of all this uneasiness; she knew it well enough, but the uneasiness itself surprised her a little.

He might simply have sent the servants out after her. No doubt, the idea that his wife might be insulted by the miners would be very distasteful to the proprietor of the works, and it was probably in his character as master of the place that he had rushed after her himself.

"I have been up there," said she, pointing to the goal of her expedition.

"Up on the heights? Where we took refuge from the storm that day? You have been up there?"

Eugenie grew crimson. Once again she saw in his eyes that strange gleam of light which had been absent from them for weeks, and then, why did he question her so eagerly, so breathlessly? Had he not long ago forgotten that hour, the remembrance of which still troubled her so often?

"I came upon the place accidentally," said she hurriedly, as though trying to acquit herself of blame. Her plea succeeded, and was at once followed by the desired result.

The light vanished from his eyes, and his voice was cold and steady again as he returned:

"Accidentally? Ah, yes, I might have known that such a mountain excursion as that would not form part of your plans. Afra always shows so much dislike to climbing. But you might also accidentally have taken the road to M----, and that was what I feared."

"And what was there to be afraid of there?" asked Eugenie, looking keenly at him, while together they left the broad high-road and entered a path which led through the woods.

Arthur tried to evade her look.

"Something unpleasant might have occurred there on this particular day.

Our miners have been up to the forges in the hills to try and stir up resistance there also. Hartmann's fulminating speeches have made them all red hot. I hear there were already disturbances up there yesterday, and a band of men, returning in an excited state from the scene of such disorders, may, unfortunately, be ready for anything. They must be on their way back now."

"I should have avoided the high road in any case," said Eugenie quietly. "I had been warned already."

"Warned! By whom?"

"By Hartmann himself. I met him not a quarter of an hour ago up in the forest."

This time it was Arthur's horse which reared violently. Its rider had startled it by a sudden twitch at the reins.

"Hartmann? And he dared to go near you--to address you, after all that has happened during the last few days?"

"He only did it to warn me, to offer me his escort and protection. I declined both. I thought it was due to you and your position."

"You thought it due to me," repeated Arthur in a cutting tone. "I am immensely indebted to you for such consideration, and you did well to take it into account; for, if you had allowed yourself to be escorted by him--much as I try to avoid giving any pretext for an open conflict--I should have had to make him feel that the author and chief instigator of the whole revolt must keep himself at a distance from my wife."

Eugenie was silent. She knew him now well enough to be aware that, in spite of his apparent coldness, he was greatly irritated; she understood the close setting of the lips and the slight tremor of the hand. Just so had he stood opposite her on the first evening of their arrival, only now she knew better what lay concealed behind that calm demeanour.

They rode on in silence through the sunny woods, the horses' hoofs falling noiselessly on the yielding moss. Here, as up yonder, the scent and breath of spring were everywhere; here as there, was the clear deep-blue sky, vaulting in the pine trees overhead, and here too the secret sorrow at her heart, but keener now and far more poignant than it had been up on the heights above.

The horses walked side by side in the narrow path; as they went, the heavy folds of Eugenie's habit brushed against the bushes, and her veil went fluttering back over Arthur's shoulder. Brought into such close neighbourhood as this, she could not fail to observe that her companion was looking terribly pale, now that the exertion of his hasty ride was over. True, he had never had the fresh, healthy colour of youth, but this was quite a different pallor from that of the young dandy who spent his evenings in heated salons and his nights in play, and then, wearied out and satiated, would lie all day long on the sofa, with the curtains closely drawn, because his weakened eyes could not endure the sunlight.

His present paleness came, no doubt, from the same source as the dark lines of care upon his brow, and the grave, almost sombre, expression of his face which formerly bore an expression of lazy indifference only. To most men such a change would have been unfavourable, but to Arthur Berkow it proved an infinite gain.

Eugenie now saw plainly for the first time that her husband had claims to be considered handsome. In earlier days she had not been willing to see this. His languid air and evident want of interest in all around him had outweighed for her those advantages which were now, all at once, brought out into bold relief by the new and unaccustomed stamp of energy imprinted on his countenance and entire bearing; an energy which possibly may have been long latent within him, but which, like so many other qualities had been repressed, and well-nigh crushed, by too early and too satiating an experience of life and its enjoyments. Ah, yes!

the world lying perdu beneath was indeed rising from its depths at last, roused by the sound of the approaching storm which alone ...!

Eugenie felt something like bitterness at the thought that she herself had had no share in this awakening, that hers was not the magic charm which had loosed the spell. He had broken through it of his own strength, and needed no help from a stranger's hand.

"I am sorry I had to spoil your ride," said Arthur, breaking the silence at last, but addressing her in his usual tone of distant politeness. "It is a glorious day."

"I am afraid you stand more in need of a ride in the open air than I."

The young wife's voice betrayed a perhaps unconscious anxiety. "You are looking pale, Arthur."

"I am not used to work," said he with a kind of bitter pleasantry.

"That comes from being so effeminate. I cannot do what the people I employ have to do every day of their lives."

"It seems to me, rather, that you are doing too much, you are pushing it to the very extreme," returned Eugenie, quickly. "All day long you hardly leave your study, and, at night, I see the light burning there until morning."

A sudden flush pa.s.sed over the young man's face.

"And how long is it since you have favoured the windows of my room with so much attention?" asked he with quiet sarcasm. "I did not suppose you knew of their existence."

She reddened a little now in her turn, but soon overcame her confusion, and answered with firmness:

"Since I have known that the danger you are so determined to make light of is drawing nearer day by day. Why did you deceive me as to the importance of this dispute and its possible consequences?"

"I did not wish to alarm you."

She made an impatient gesture.

"I am no timid child to be so carefully spared, and if there is anything threatening us"----

"Us!" interrupted Arthur. "Excuse me, the danger threatens me alone. I have never intended to treat you as a child; but I thought it my duty not to importune the Baroness Windeg with matters which must be quite indifferent to her, and which, before long, will be as completely removed from her as the name she now bears."

The tone of his reply was frigid in the extreme. It was her own tone, one she had often enough adopted towards him, when she found it necessary to remind him of her descent or of the compulsion to which she had yielded in marrying; and now it was used as a lesson to herself! Something like anger shot up into her dark eyes as she fixed them on her husband.

"So you decline giving me any information about your affairs for the future?"