The chalet was on the outskirts of the wood, just where an Alpine meadow opened out. As Arthur drew near he looked up earnestly. No light shone from the little window. He trembled, but there was no time for delay; he knocked long and desperately, as one might do who had come on an errand of life and death.
Marie in her night-cap appeared at the window. Her face had a scared look; she shook her head and refused to let him in.
Arthur had forgotten, in his impatience to press on, that if those he sought should not be within, the old woman, obtuse at the best of times, might fail to recognize and refuse to admit him.
He was obliged to wait until his guide, a person well known to Marie, could come up with Laura. His decided summons brought out the old woman again; she obeyed her countryman, and opened the door after very little further delay.
They entered, and Arthur found that his fears had been only too well grounded. The chalet was empty. It was clear, further, from the excited signs made by the old woman as she told her story to the guide, that there had been some kind of quarrel, and that the enemies had gone out together.
Arthur wrung his hands. For the first time his heart failed him. Had Maurice been found only for this—either that his own life should fall a prey to his enemy, or that the stain of blood-guiltiness should rest for ever on his head?—for their departure, their long absence, the scared looks of the old woman, all pointed to one suspicion; the two men had left the solitary dwelling with no friendly motive actuating them. It was more than probable that a fierce conflict had taken place—that the meeting in the snows had been fatal to one, perhaps to both of them. And then—what then? He scarcely dared to think.
The old woman had lit Maurice's lamp in the interval. Its light shone upon the face of his child. She was gazing with lips parted, and eyes in which a certain instinct of some unknown horror was gleaming, into Arthur's face. She went up to him and touched his arm with her small hand. "Why does the old woman look at me like that?" she whispered, lifting up a pale, scared face. "And what have they done with mon père? He's not here." And she looked round inquiringly.
"I am afraid they have lost themselves in the snow," replied Arthur as calmly as he could. "Laura, we must leave you here and go out again to look for them."
"Them?" repeated she in a low tone. "Then my own papa is with him. But what's the matter? why do you all look so frightened? Is mon père dead? Oh, please, please, let me go to him!"
"Laura, you must be sensible. We cannot take you, my poor child! Stay here with Marie! Listen, dear! We may go into dangerous places; we may be lost."