He leant forward, and looked up at the old castle outlined against the sky. A breeze was springing up with the suddenness of all atmospheric changes in these latitudes, and the old trees creaked and groaned, while the leaves had already that rustling brittleness of sound that betokens the approach of autumn.
As they crossed the broad valley the wind increased, sweeping up the course of the Aliso in wild gusts. It was blowing a gale before the horses fell to a quick walk up the hill; and Mademoiselle Brun's small figure, planted in the middle of the road, was the first indication that the driver had of the presence of the two women, though the widow Andrei, who accompanied them and carried their travelling-bags, had already called out more than once.
“The Abbé Susini?” cried Mademoiselle Brun, in curt interrogation.
In reply, the driver pointed to the inside of the carriage with the handle of his whip.
“You are alone?” said mademoiselle, in surprise.
The light of the lantern shone brightly on her, and on the dimmer form of Denise, silent and angry in the background; for Denise had allowed her inclination to triumph over her pride, which conquest usually leaves a sore heart behind it.
“But, yes!” answered the abbé; alighting quickly enough.
He guessed instantly that Denise had changed her mind, and was indiscreet enough to put his thoughts into words.
“So mademoiselle has thought better of it?” he said; and got no answer for his pains.
Both Mademoiselle Brun and Denise were looking curiously at the interior of the carriage from which the priest emerged, leaving it, as they noted, empty.