Page:Alice Lauder.pdf/229

Could that be a phantom flitting over the dense shadowed glades, dark as a mausoleum? Was that the face of the Erl-king’s daughter looking up from the whirling stream? No, it is only the green, green shadows of the woods in the water. This beautiful river has no history. The cloud and its shadows are the only visitors to the precipices, and so silent it is that one could almost hear the passing footfall of that white feathery summer-cloud, as it drifts for a moment over the abyss and is seen no more. Yet in spite of all this tranquil charm of scenery, Arthur Campbell was not altogether at ease, in the rôle of sole guardian to his pretty and erratic friend, on this expedition. He had naturally supposed, though without thinking much about it, that Mrs. Austin would be accompanied by one or two of her usual following and comrades in arms, if not by the whole party, and had felt rather taken aback that morning when she stepped on board, bright and blooming, and accompanied only by her maid—a pert little person rather younger and less judicious than her mistress, though without her personal attractions. Mrs. Austin, however, was in great form, and as jolly as a sand-boy, as she herself assured him on her arrival. She noticed his rather blank expression, too, and begged him not