CHAPTER XV.
It was quite early morning. Mountains and woods were sparkling in the dewy freshness of the young spring day, and the air was full of balmy odours, as Eugénie Berkow rode alone and unattended along the forest path. She was an excellent horsewoman and passionately fond of riding, yet here in the country she had indulged in it much less frequently than had been her wont.
At first the weather had not permitted of any long excursions, later on she had lacked all inclination for it; but the chief reason, no doubt, was that her beautiful mare had been a present from her husband in the days of his courtship, and that her dislike to the donor was habitually transferred to everything that came directly from him. On her wedding day it had cost her a struggle to put on the costly diamonds which had been his bridal gift, and, since that day, they had never been taken from their cases.
In the midst of the luxury and splendour which had surrounded her since her marriage, she had moved as one constrained and ill at ease. Even the beautiful creature, which had cost a fabulous sum, and had excited the admiration of the whole city when Eugénie appeared on it for the first time, riding by her betrothed's side, was neglected by its mistress in a remarkable manner, and altogether given over to the care of the domestics.
These latter were, therefore, not a little surprised when her ladyship that morning ordered Afra to be saddled, and intimated to the servant who was preparing to accompany her that she wished to ride alone. Though her commands caused no little wonder, they were, of course, obeyed, and she set out on her journey without any attendant.
Arthur, naturally, knew nothing of it. She saw him now more rarely than ever, for he frequently excused himself from dining with her, and their lives were so entirely separate, that it was a most unusual thing for one to know what the other intended doing on such and such a day.
Eugénie trotted quickly through the forest, without meeting a human being. It was, indeed, most solitary up here in the woods, but the freshness and beauty of the morning, the very solitude itself, had a reviving effect upon the young wife, who for several days had not been beyond the park-gates.
The works lay idle; an unnatural calm brooded over the whole settlement, contrasting with its usual restless activity, for now the centre of action was transferred to the master's study, which the latter but rarely left.
The officials came and went, conferences were held, books and papers were examined; Schäffer was continually on the road between the capital and the estates; letters and despatches flew backwards and forwards; but a shade of sombre gravity hung over all this zeal and busy movement, as though some misfortune were looming in the distance, which they were striving to avert or, at all events, preparing to meet.
Eugénie knew, of course, that a disagreement existed with the work-people; Arthur had told her so himself, and had added that the matter was of no importance and would very soon be settled. He had spoken very quietly and coolly, and had only begged her, if she went out to drive, to avoid the miners' villages as much as possible, a somewhat irritable spirit being abroad just now. The officials must have received hints not to alarm her ladyship, for when Eugénie endeavoured to learn from them something more definite, she was always met by a polite evasive answer, or by some comforting assurance.