Raven leaned back in his seat, and the former silence set in again. Gabrielle nestled more closely into her corner; she, who in the old days could not have sat for the space of a quarter of an hour without breaking forth into a flow of merry chatter, now showed no inclination whatever to renew the conversation. A mighty change had come over the girl, a change which could not be said exactly to date from George's departure; before that, long before, there had arisen within her an enigmatic unknown something against which she had battled from the first, and which she had so long taken for the constraint of shyness and fear. This strange new state of mind had nothing in common with the joyous, happy sensation which had warmed her heart like sunshine when George first confessed his love to her, when with all the fervour of his heart he prayed for her love in return, and she, smiling and flushing with pleasure and excitement, spoke the word he pleaded for. Often enough she recalled the memory of that hour, fleeing to it as to some protecting influence--sometimes it would happen that she called on it in vain. At such moments George's image, which she strove firmly to grasp and to retain, would recede into the background, fading gradually away. If separation and absence were alone to blame for this, why did not absence work a like effect with regard to that other figure which rose before her, grave and sombre, ever more and more distinctly in proportion as the former vision waned? During the whole of the past fortnight that face had been with Gabrielle.
Neither the flattering homage paid her by the young officer, nor the thought of her absent lover, had had power to scare away the one remembrance which by degrees was usurping absolute sway over her mind and feelings. It was as though some sorcerer's spell had cast the young girl's whole nature into bonds. The old merry light-heartedness, the wilful high spirits, the childish caprices--all these had vanished, and in their place had come dim, problematic sensations more nearly akin to pain than pleasure; a constant flux and reflux of emotions which Gabrielle did not understand, but which troubled her exceedingly. She still wrestled half unconsciously against this dread unknown; for as yet she did not divine, would not divine the nature of the peril which menaced her youthful attachment and George's happiness; she only felt that both were in danger, and that the danger did not come from without.
Swiftly, steadily, the carriage rolled on its way towards the town, which still lay at some considerable distance, all wreathed around in mist. The broad valley and its encircling hills were already robed in russet, for here, among the mountains, autumn entered on its dominion earlier than out in the open plain. As yet the trees and bushes stood clothed in all their wealth of leaves, but their fresh verdure had long ago disappeared. Everywhere nature had decked herself in rich and varied hues, ranging from darkest brown to brightest ochre, with here and there a flame of brilliant red or a dash of purple, deluding the eye with the semblance of flowers still blooming in among the thickets; though, in truth, there was nothing here but dying foliage sending forth one last bright gleam of colour before it fell a prey to the chill wind now rustling through the forests, and sweeping with its cutting blasts over the bare fields and pastures. The river, swollen with the late rains, rushed in mad haste on its course, its dark and turgid torrent rolling onwards with a low, sullen roar. The mountains had wrapped themselves in their veil of mist, which, tattered in places and fluttering, would now enshroud, and now reveal, the jagged peaks above. Lower down, among the wooded hills, the clouds pursued their fantastic evolutions, rising out of the deep vaporous ravines and sinking from view again in endless unrest; while, in the west, the sun slowly declined, camped around by a dark phalanx of storm-cloud which the great orb illumined with a ruddy glow, but which even it was powerless to break.
This same landscape had once presented a very different aspect to the two who were now sitting side by side, mute and reserved as strangers. Then the valley had lain before them flooded in sunlight, bright with a golden haze, its blue mountains and glistening distances telling of a "Paradise" beyond; while from beneath the cool deep shade of the limes came the sparkle of the fountain and the mysterious rippling murmur of its waters, calling up those sweet, dangerous dream-visions! To-day the only sound heard was the low roar of the river, as they drove along its banks. The horizon was masked in thick fog; the mountains, all girt around with clouds, looked down menacingly, and the sun, bereft of its warmth and radiance, burned with a lurid fire, staining the sky a deep blood-red, as it flamed its parting greeting to the earth.
The Baron's eyes were moodily fixed on the setting sun and the great masses of cloud striving together for the mastery. At length, with a strong effort, as it seemed, he roused himself from his thoughts, and broke the long silence.
"The sky denotes a storm," he said, turning to his young companion; "but it will probably not come upon us until night, and I hope we shall be safely housed in R---- before dusk."
"They say the town is very disturbed just now," observed Gabrielle, with an anxious, inquiring look up at her companion, which, however, he did not appear to notice.
"There have been some rather noisy demonstrations of late, certainly," he replied. "But the troubles are not of a serious nature, and will soon be over. You need feel no uneasiness."
"But they say that this movement is directed principally, if not entirely, against you," continued Gabrielle, in a faltering voice.
Raven frowned.