He passed her arm through his, and led her through the library and across the corridor over to the opposite wing. A few minutes later he entered the drawing-room where the Colonel awaited him. Their interview was of short duration. Scarcely a quarter of an hour later Wilten left the Castle, and the Baron returned to his study, sitting down once more to his writing-table. He had said truly. It cost him a cruel pang to lose sight of Gabrielle, even for a few minutes, and yet he now remained absent from her a full hour. She could not be there at his side while he wrote to her that farewell letter.
The unexpected arrival of the young Baroness had caused some surprise at the Castle, especially as she came without her mother; but the old retainer, who had accompanied her, soon vouchsafed the necessary information. His Excellency had, by letter, summoned his ward and sister-in-law to him. Unfortunately, the latter had had a slight return of her illness, and was still too unwell to undertake the journey, so she sent the young lady on first, and would follow herself in the course of a few days. The Baroness, finding it impossible to detain her daughter, had imagined this pretext to give colour to the strange proceeding. She herself was really unwell; the news she had heard from Countess Selteneck had brought on one of her nervous attacks. This precluded any thought of her travelling, to the intense relief of Gabrielle, who well knew how unwelcome her mother would be to Raven at such a time. She accepted the pretext with all docility, and this simple, natural explanation found credence both at the house she was leaving and at the Castle.
Evening had now fully closed in. Gabrielle was still alone in her room, counting the minutes until Arno's return. Colonel Wilten's visit awakened no special surprise in her mind, for, before her departure, conferences between him and the Baron had been of very frequent occurrence. She had opened the window, and was leaning dreamily forward, looking out, when at length the longed-for step sounded at her door. She flew to meet her visitor, and he clasped her to him as though that brief hour had been as a separation of years.
"Now I am free," said the Baron, coming in; "altogether free, my Gabrielle. Now I am yours, and yours alone."
Gabrielle looked up at him. His countenance was paler than usual, but it wore an expression of grave, deep calm.
"The Colonel brought you no bad news?" she asked apprehensively.
"No: only some necessary information," replied Raven, very quietly, but withdrawing at once from the circle illumined by the lamp, and going up to the young girl at the window.
The air without was cool, but mild as on a spring evening, and the country around lay bathed in bright moonlight.
"I opened the window," said Gabrielle; "the room seemed so close, and it is such a beautiful evening."
"Yes, most beautiful," repeated the Baron, gazing out, apparently lost in thought. Then, turning suddenly to his young companion: "You are right," he said; "there is a stifling, oppressive feeling indoors to-day. I myself feel a longing for the open air, where one can breathe more freely. Shall we go down into the garden?"