"It grows towards morning?" said she.

"In two hours we shall have the dawn," he replied; and there was a

silence between them.

"You found this cabin open?" said Wogan.

"The door was latched. I loosed a shutter. The night is very still."

"One might fancy there were no others alive but you and me across all

the width of the world."

"One could wish it," she said beneath her breath, and crossed to the

window where she stayed, breathing the fresh night. The sigh, however,

had reached to Wogan's ears. He took his pistols from his belt, and to

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engage his thoughts, loaded the one which had been fired at him. After a

little he looked up and saw that Clementina's eyes dwelt upon him with

that dark steady look, which held always so much of mystery and told

always one thing plainly, her lack of fear. And she said suddenly,-"There was trouble at Peri. I climbed from the window. I had almost

forgotten. As I ran down the road past the open court, I saw a little

group of men gathered about the foot of the staircase! I was in two

minds whether to come back and load your pistols or to obey you. I

obeyed, but I was in much fear for you. I had almost forgotten, it seems

so long ago. Tell me! You conquered; it is no new thing. Tell me how!"

She did not move from the window, she kept her eyes fixed upon Wogan

while he told his story, but it was quite clear to him that she did not

hear one half of it. And when he had done she said,-"How long is it till the morning?"

Wogan had spun his tale out, but half an hour enclosed it, from the

beginning to the end. He became silent again; but he was aware at once

that silence was more dangerous than speech, for in the silence he could

hear both their hearts speaking. He began hurriedly to talk of their

journey, and there could be no more insidious topic for him to light

upon. For he spoke of the Road, and he had already been given a warning

that to the romance of the Road her heart turned like a compass-needle

to the north. They were both gipsies, for all that they had no Egyptian

blood. That southward road from Innspruck was much more than a mere

highway of travel between a starting-place and a goal, even to these two

to whom the starting-place meant peril and the goal the first

opportunity of sleep.




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