She made no effort at concealing these evidences of emotion, doubtless believing them sufficiently hidden by the gloomy shadows.

Nor did she appear to glance at me, keeping her own gaze directly ahead, where the dark, swirling waters merged into the mystery of the North.
We were none of us in talkative mood--although I heard De Noyan, behind me, humming a light French air, as though perfectly free from trouble--and I have no recollection of exchanging a word for more than an hour.

We merely continued to pull sturdily against the downward rush of the stream, the deep silence of the night broken only by the dripping of uplifted blades, or the occasional far-off hooting of an owl upon the bank to our left.

The pressure of the river's current was scarcely perceptible close against the shore, so we made fair progress.
Yet it was hard work, neither of us being accustomed to such exercise, the heavy oars feeling awkward to the hand.

The grim uncertainty of the future, coupled with our solitary surroundings, exercised a depressing influence upon the spirits of each, although differing widely in degree, according to our several natures.