Very unlike the Gabrielle Harder of the old days, truly, this pale, mute maiden, leaning against the window-frame with hands convulsively clasped, and gazing out as though her eager eyes must penetrate the growing darkness. This anxious, despairing vigil consummated the silent work of the last few weeks. It took from her, once and for ever, the old childish dream, destroyed the illusion by which she had so long deceived herself and others. In and about her all had been sunshine, until the moment when a single glance had discovered to her the depths of a passion new to her experience. In that moment the first shadow fell on her path, a shadow that had darkened it ever since. The bright "butterfly" nature which once fluttered heedlessly on its way, unmindful of care or sorrow, vanished when the sunshine faded from her life; and beneath the spell of that magic gaze a new being arose, an ardent, impassioned young creature who was to take her share of the struggle and pain which form humanity's sad heritage. As Gabrielle waited, trembling for a life she knew to be in peril, she came to understand what that life was to her--all that in this terrible hour she had at stake. It was useless longer to seek to delude herself.
The second hour was creeping by. Half of it had already passed, and still no sign, no news of the Governor, Gabrielle had opened the window, hoping to hear the sound of the carriage which, as she expected, would bring him; but the road lay solitary and deserted, and the flame of the gas-lights flickered uneasily, and sometimes almost died out beneath the fierce gusts of wind, which was rising to a hurricane.
At last the longed-for sound was heard; not the roll of carriage-wheels, certainly, but the voices and tread of several persons now becoming dimly visible through the obscurity. They came on nearer and nearer, and a half-suppressed cry of joy escaped Gabrielle's lips. She had recognised Raven's figure advancing towards the Castle in the company of some half-dozen gentlemen; and a few minutes later the party stepped into the circle of light surrounding the portico.
"I thank you, gentlemen," said the Governor, coming to a halt. "You see it was quite unnecessary to enforce your escort on me. There has been no attempt to molest us on our road. As I told you, the tumult has spent itself--for to-night."
"Yes; but nothing save your Excellency's timely appearance would have dispersed the rioters,"--this in the impressive voice of Councillor Moser, who was standing next his chief. "They were about to storm the gaol and to set the prisoners free when you came up so unexpectedly--so providentially, I may say. I saw with admiration how your Excellency, by mere authority of word and look, tamed that rebellious mob, and reduced the rioters to order--a result which the Superintendent here, with his whole staff of police to back him, had vainly striven to obtain."
The Superintendent, who formed one of the group, seemed to take this observation in rather ill part; for he replied, with a spice of unmistakable spitefulness:
"Well, you were in a good position at your window, no doubt, to see how matters went, besides having the satisfaction of feeling yourself in perfect security, while Baron von Raven and I were in the thick of the fight."
"I saw that it would be impossible for me to reach his Excellency's side," declared the Councillor; "otherwise I should have----"
"No, no," the Baron interrupted him; "that would have been a most unnecessary venture on your part, whereas the Superintendent and I were only fulfilling our duty. Well, we have settled as to the measures to be taken. I hope they will suffice to preserve order during the night. Colonel Wilten will be back to-morrow, and I shall confer with him at once, and decide on some means of preventing any recurrence of such scenes. If, contrary to our previsions, any disturbance should occur, have the goodness to let me know. Good-evening, gentlemen."
He bowed slightly to his companions, and stepped into the hall. Gabrielle closed the window gently. She meant to leave the study at once--the Baron should not find her there--but it was too late for a retreat. He must have mounted the stairs in great haste, for already his steps might be heard in one of the adjoining rooms, and his voice asking: