her ankles in water. She uttered a little
cry and shivered. Then she laughed and sprang lightly onto dry soil,
making much of her companion's awkwardness. Wogan joined in the
laughter, finding therein as she did a cover and a cloak.

"We must walk to Ala," said he.

"It is as well," said she. "There was a time when cavaliers laid their
cloaks in the mud to save a lady's shoe-sole."

"Madam," said Wogan, "the chivalry of to-day has the same intention."

"But in its effect," said she, "it is more rheumatical."

Wogan searched in the carriage and drew out a coil of rope which he
slung across his shoulders like a bandolier. Clementina laughed at him
for his precautions, but Wogan was very serious. "I would not part with
it," said he. "I never travelled for four days without being put to it
for a piece of rope."

They left the postillion to make what he could of the berlin and walked
forward in the clear night to Ala. The shock of the tumble had alarmed
Mrs. Misset; the fatigue of the journey had strained her endurance to
the utmost. She made no complaint, but she could walk but slowly and
with many rests by the way. It took a long while for them to reach the
village. They saw the lights diminish in the houses; the stars grew
pale; there came a hint of morning in the air. The laughter at Wogan's
awkwardness had long since died away, and they walked in silence.

Forty-eight hours had passed since the berlin left Innspruck.
Twenty-four hours ago Clementina knew Wogan's secret. Now he was aware
that she knew it. They could not look into each other's faces, but their
eyes conversed of it. If they turned their heads sharply away, that
aversion of their gaze spoke no less clearly. There was a link between
them now, and a secret link, the sweeter on that account,
perhaps,--certainly the more dangerous. The cloud had grown much bigger
than a man's hand. Moreover, she had never seen James Stuart; she had
his picture, it is true, but the picture could not recall. It must
create, not revivify his image to her thoughts, and that it could not
do; so that he remained a shadowy figure to her, a mere number of
features, almost an abstraction. On the other hand the King's emissary
walked by her side, sat sleepless before her, had held her in his arms,
had talked with her, had risked his life for her; she knew him. What she
knew of James Stuart, she knew chiefly from the lips of this emissary.
On this walk to Ala he spoke of his master