Nora tiptoed across the heavy carpet.
"Hildegarde," she whispered, "are you better?"
The closed eyes opened full and looked at her.
"Yes, I am better. It is nothing. I fainted—only a little time after you had gone—and since then I have not been well." She stopped, her gaze, curiously intense and steadfast, still fixed on Nora's face. Her sentences had come in jerks in a rough, dry voice. She now stretched out her hand and caught Nora's arm.
"You enjoyed your ride?" she whispered. "Nothing happened?"
Troubled by the steady eyes and the feverish clasp, which seemed to burn through to her very bone, Nora answered hastily and with a forced carelessness.
"Nothing very much. Bruno bolted with me in the woods, and I do not know what might have happened if Herr von Arnim had not come to my rescue. It was all my fault."
Hildegarde turned her flushed face a little on one side.
"I knew something had happened," she said almost to herself. "It all came over me when I fainted. I knew everything."
Nora made no answer. She was thankful for the half-light, thankful that the large, dark eyes had closed as though in utter weariness. They had frightened her just as the conclusive "I know everything" had done by their infallible mysterious knowledge. "And even if you do know everything," she thought, "why should I mind?—why should I be afraid?" Nevertheless, fear was hammering at her heart as she turned away. Frau von Arnim took her by the hand.