CHAPTER XII.Her father and mother instantly acceded to Elizabeth's request; and she hastened back to the castle to carry to Miss Mertens their cordial invitation. The governess, when Elizabeth entered her room, was leaning with folded hands against the wall. At her feet stood a trunk half packed, closets and wardrobes were wide open, and the chairs were heaped with books, dresses, and linen. The young girl hastened to her friend, threw her arms around her, and looked into her face, which, while it bore traces of tears, was beaming with happiness."I am so astounded by the sudden change in my lot," said Miss Mertens, after Elizabeth had offered her congratulations, "that I am obliged to close my eyes how and then and collect my senses. Only this morning everything seemed so dark before me,—I actually could not tell where to go,—the ground seemed slipping from under my feet. And just in the midst of my anxiety a home is suddenly provided for me. A man whom I esteem thoroughly, but whose regard for the poor governess I had never suspected, will be forever faithful to me, and I can fulfill the warmest desire of my heart and have my dear good mother to live with me! What will she say when she receives the news,—she, who has suffered so much in thinking that I must battle with the storms of life alone, and that she could not recall me to her loving heart!"She told Elizabeth that in a few weeks Reinhard would go to England for her mother. His employer had himself proposed the journey, and insisted upon defraying all the expenses. Whenever Miss Mertens mentioned Herr von Walde the tears filled her eyes,—she declared that all the wrong done her by the baroness was more than overbalanced by his kindness and generosity; he could not endure to have any one beneath his roof suffer injustice. Elizabeth completed the measure of her happiness by the invitation which she brought. Miss Mertens had intended to go to the little village inn until she could find lodgings."But now we will go to your house together as soon as possible," she said, her face beaming with joy. "The baroness, a short time ago, sent me my salary, requesting that I would not again enter her presence, and Bella passed through my room without even looking at me,—that grieves me, grieves me very deeply, for I have cherished her like the apple of my eye. Her health used to be very delicate, and while her mother has been absent, attending the court balls, I have sat by her bedside and watched her feverish slumbers night after night. Now it is all forgotten,—but I only meant to let you know that I need not take leave of either of them."While Miss Mertens went to bid good-by to Fräulein von Walde and a few others in the house who were fond of her, Elizabeth packed up a travelling bag for her. The new inmate of Gnadeck only took a few necessary articles with her; the rest of her possessions were sent to the future apartments of the betrothed pair.It was an amusement for Elizabeth to arrange Miss Mertens' books in a bookcase in one of these apartments. Herr von Walde had allowed all the furniture in the rooms to remain for the use of their new inhabitants. Many of these books were most interesting; she not only glanced at their title pages, but, as she stood there, ran over several pages. Miss Mertens and her affairs were all forgotten for the moment as if they had never existed. While she was buried in Goethe's appearance in the crowd at the coronation of Joseph II., a fresh rose fell over her shoulder upon the pages of the book Elizabeth started, but instantly smiled, shook off the rose, and went on reading. Miss Mertens, who was doubtless standing behind her, should not exult in any effect of her teasing. But she suddenly uttered a low cry,—a white, well-formed man's hand appeared and was gently laid upon hers. She turned round,—not Miss Mertens, but Hollfeld, was standing behind her and spreading out his arms with a smile, as if to seize the startled girl.Instantly her alarm was converted into indignation; but before she could breathe a word, a harsh commanding voice cried out: "Emil, everybody is looking for you. Your superintendent from Odenberg is here to see you upon business of importance. Pray go to him instantly!"Beside Elizabeth was an open window. Outside of it stood Herr von Walde, with his arms leaning upon the broad sill looking in. It was his voice which banished Hollfeld on the instant in great embarrassment. What an angry expression there was upon the uncovered forehead, in the compressed lips, and in the eyes that flashed upon Hollfeld's retreating figure as it vanished through the opposite door!At last his glance returned to Elizabeth, who had hitherto stood still, but who now, recovering from her two-fold fright, was about to retreat into the recesses of the apartment."What are you doing here?" he asked, brusquely; his voice had not lost its former harsh tone. Elizabeth, deeply wounded by the manner and style of his address, was about to return a defiant answer, when she suddenly recollected that she was in his house, and therefore she simply answered:"I am arranging Miss Mertens' books.""There was another answer upon your lips,—I saw it, and I wish to know what it was.""Well, then,—I was about to say that I do not reply to questions asked in such a manner.""And why did you suppress this reproof?""Because it occurred to me that you have the right to command here.""I am glad,—it is well that you think thus,—for I should like just at this moment to exercise this obvious right of mine: tread upon that rose which lies languishing there at your feet.""That I shall not do,—it has done no wrong." She picked up the rose, a beautiful half-open centifolia, and laid it upon the window-sill. Herr von Walde took the flower, and without more ado tossed it away over the lawn."There let it die a poetic death," he said with a sneer, "let the grasses bend above it, and the evening dews shed sympathetic tears over the poor victim."The rigid expression had passed away from his features, but there was still the same inquisitorial look in his eyes, and his voice was not much gentler, as he asked:"What were you reading when it was my misfortune to interrupt you?""Goethe's 'Wahrheit und Dichtung.'""Do you know the book?""Only selections from it.""Well, how do you like the touching story of Gretchen?""I do not know it.""You have it open in your hands.""No, I was reading the coronation of Joseph II., at Frankfort.""Let me see it."She handed him the open book."It is even so! But look how ugly that is! Just where Goethe describes the emperor ascending the throne, there is an ugly green spot. Doubtless you pressed the green rose leaves too tenderly upon the leaf of the book; the Emperor, Goethe, and Miss Mertens will hardly forgive you for it.""That spot is old—I did not touch the rose.""But you smiled at sight of it.""Because I thought it came from Miss Mertens.""Ah, there is something touching in this friendship! It must have been a great disappointment when, instead of your friend, you saw my cousin's handsome face behind you.""Yes.""'Yes.' How that sounds! I like laconic brevity, but it must not be ambiguous. What does that 'yes' mean? It sounds neither sweet nor bitter; and then your face!—why is that defiant frown there between your eyebrows?""Because I think that there are limits to every right.""I did not know that I was making use of my right just at present.""But you will know it if you will ask yourself whether you would address me thus harshly in my father's house."Herr von Walde grew pale. He compressed his lips, and retreated a few paces. Elizabeth took the book which he had laid upon the window-sill, and went to the bookcase to close it."Under the same circumstances, I should have spoken exactly so in your father's house," he said, after awhile, somewhat more gently, as he again approached the window. "You make me impatient. Why do you answer so ambiguously? How could I tell from that simple syllable whether the disappointment of which you spoke were a disagreeable or a pleasant one? Well?"He leaned far across the window-sill, and looked full into her face, as though to read the answer upon her lips; but she turned away with irritation. Hateful thought! How could any one suppose that Hollfeld could ever be agreeable to her? Did not her face, her whole bearing towards the man, show how thoroughly disagreeable she thought him?At this moment Miss Mertens entered the room to seek Elizabeth. She had completed all her preparations, and was quite ready to leave the house. With a sigh of relief, Elizabeth hastened to her, while Herr von Walde left the window and paced to and fro several times on the lawn. When he again approached, Miss Mertens went towards him, and courtesied profoundly. She told him that she had in vain endeavoured to obtain access to him several times that day, and that she rejoiced to have an opportunity to thank him for his kindness and thoughtfulness.He made a deprecating gesture, and offered his congratulations upon her betrothal. He spoke very calmly. Again his whole presence breathed an atmosphere of dignity and reserve, so that Elizabeth could not understand how she had ever found the courage to remind this man of the laws of common politeness. The eyes that had flashed so passionately now looked serenely into Miss Mertens' face. The deep, gentle tones of his voice obliterated all remembrance of the cutting irony that had rendered it so sharp a few moments before, when it had given to his words such an accent of irritation, and had sounded as if designed only to wound and avenge.That Herr von Walde was filled with bitterness towards his cousin, Elizabeth had already noticed once before that day. But why should she be made to suffer whenever he encountered him? Was not Hollfeld's continual intrusiveness sufficient annoyance to her? Why should she be made the victim of an irritation for which Helene alone was to blame? A sharp pang shot through her as she remembered how tenderly and forgivingly Herr von Walde had taken his sister in his arms, never casting a single look of reproach upon her when Hollfeld's visits had been alluded to. She, the poor piano-player, who was of necessity forced to endure Hollfeld's presence, must be the scapegoat. Or had he perhaps seen how Hollfeld had thrown the rose upon her book, and was his aristocratic pride wounded that his cousin should pay such homage to an untitled maiden? This thought flashed upon Elizabeth as an explanation of everything. Yes, thus only could his conduct be explained. She was to crush the poor flower, that all proof might be destroyed that Herr von Hollfeld had for one moment forgotten his aristocratic descent. That was the reason why he had suddenly spoken in such a harsh tone of command,—a tone which only those heard from him who had committed some fault, and why she was called upon to explain the impression which Hollfeld's sudden appearance had made upon her. At this moment she would have liked to confront him, and tell him frankly how odious his high-born cousin was to her,—that so far from feeling honoured by his attentions, she looked upon them as nothing less than insults. But it was too late. Herr von Walde was discussing Reinhard's journey to England with Miss Mertens so calmly and kindly that it would have been ridiculous, in the midst of such a discussion, suddenly to resume the thread of the previous stormy conversation. Besides, he did not once look at her again, although she stood tolerably near to Miss Mertens."I am really half persuaded to go with him," he said in conclusion to the governess. "Reinhard shall return with your mother, for I intend to give him the entire charge of Lindhof here, and I will pass the winter in London, and go to Scotland in the spring.""And not return for years?" Miss Mertens interrupted him, anxiously. "Has Thuringia, then, no attraction for you?""Oh, yes; but I suffer here, and you know that prompt and active treatment will often cure where cautious, cowardly delay might bring danger. I hope much from the air of Scotland."The last words were spoken in a tone meant to be gay, but the lines between his brows were stronger than ever, and caused Elizabeth to doubt much whether his cheerfulness were genuine.He shook hands with Miss Mertens, and walked slowly away, soon disappearing behind a clump of trees."There it is," said the governess, sadly; "instead of bringing a lovely young wife home to Lindhof, as I hoped he would, he is going away again, and perhaps will not return for years. He is restless, and no wonder, when one thinks of the comfortless home that he has. Baroness Lessen he cannot endure, and yet he is forced to see her daily at his fireside, for his sister, whom he loves so tenderly, has declared to him, that in the society of this woman she is able to forget the bitter trials of her life. And his cousin, too, is an unbidden guest. Herr von Walde's nature is too frank and open to allow him to conceal his dislikes; but these people are made of iron and steel,—the indifference of the master of the house never affects them in the least; they have neither eyes nor ears when he hints at their leaving. And as for Herr von Hollfeld, he seems to me a very insignificant creature, and very repulsive. I cannot conceive how he could have won Fräulein von Walde's heart.""Do you know that too?" asked Elizabeth."Ah, child, that has been a secret known to everybody for a long time. She loves him as truly and deeply as only a woman can love. But this unfortunate attachment, on which she now lives and breathes as in sunlight, will one of these days cast the darkest shadow that has yet fallen upon her sorrowful existence. All this Herr von Walde comprehends; but he cannot open the eyes of his sister without inflicting a mortal wound, and so he sacrifices everything to his fraternal tenderness, and leaves the home where he is made so unhappy."During this conversation, Miss Mertens and Elizabeth had left the castle, and were now ascending the mountain path. Reinhard, who had been to the village, soon joined them. Miss Mertens told him of her interview with Herr von Walde, and all that he had said about going to England."He has not yet mentioned it to me," said Reinhard; "but he often looks as if he longed to leave Lindhof. Such a household! The master of the house is considered by his relatives in the light of a fifth wheel to a coach,—he maintains them, and they show their gratitude by estranging his sister's heart from him. Good Heavens! if I could only take his place for two days, I would soon exorcise the evil spirit and not a trace of it should ever appear again. However, I hope that Herr von Hollfeld will at least soon return to Odenberg for a few days. His superintendent has just arrived with the intelligence that the housekeeper has left,—no one stays there long—my gentleman is too stingy. And several other matters are in disorder there."When they reached Castle Gnadeck, the guest was most cordially welcomed by the Ferbers. How comfortable and homelike did Miss Mertens' room seem to its new inmate! It shone with neatness; the counterpane and table-covers were spotless, a beautiful Schwarzwald clock was ticking softly just above the prettily arrayed writing-table, and a vase of roses and mignonette upon the window-sill filled the air with fragrance. Through the open door could be seen the dwelling-room of the family. There the table was already laid, and Elizabeth lighted the spirit-lamp beneath the tea-kettle, while Miss Mertens was arranging in drawers and wardrobe the few articles that she had brought with her.In the mean while the forester, with his long pipe and Hector, had arrived, and Reinhard also stayed, so that a merry circle was soon assembled. The forester was in a particularly happy humour. Elizabeth sat beside him, and did her best to join in his gaiety; but it had never seemed so difficult to her before, and he, who had an acute perception of the most delicate modulations of her voice, soon perceived it."Holla, Gold Elsie, what is the matter with you?" he cried, suddenly. "All is not right here." He took her by the chin and looked into her eyes. "I see,—there is a veil over your eyes, and over your heart, too! Zounds! what a sudden change! And what does this sad nun's face mean?"Elizabeth blushed deeply beneath his scrutinizing gaze. She did all that she could to parry his questions by jest and laughter, but she did not succeed very well, and at last there was nothing for her but to seat herself at the piano, where he never teased nor laughed at her.How much good it did her heavy heart to give it voice in full rolling chords, as the sound floated sadly out into the gathering twilight,—telling of the gloom that had fallen upon her at the thought of Herr von Walde's again leaving Thuringia! Where now were all her dreamings and all her endeavours to read the meaning of that mysterious warning that had of late breathed through her melodies? It rung out clearly now in mighty tones, at the sound of which all the former gentle breathings of her inward emotions died away in an inaudible whisper. A fairy land, full of golden promise, was revealed before her; her enchanted eyes gazed rapturously upon the fair landscape,—but never, never might she tread that magic ground, for nothing could bridge the abyss at her feet. The veil beneath which her heart had hitherto lain in blissful self-ignorance was rent, and with joy and pain unspeakable she knew—that she loved.She did not know how long she had been playing. But she was suddenly aroused from her utter forgetfulness of the world without by a bright gleam of light falling directly on the pale bust of Beethoven. Her mother had just lighted the large lamp, and Elizabeth saw her uncle sitting near her on the broad window-seat. He must have entered noiselessly. As her hands dropped from the keys, he gently smoothed her hair with his hand."Do you know, child," he said, after the last faint sound had died away, and his voice trembled with emotion, "if I had not already seen that something was the matter, I should soon have learned it from your playing,—it was tears, nothing but tears!"CHAPTER XIII.Miss Mertens' presence lent an additional charm to the circle at Gnadeck. For the first time for long, dreary years the governess found herself an object of interest and affection, and at home. Her gentle nature, so long chilled and repressed, now showed itself, and, combined with her varied culture, made her a most attractive addition to the household. She longed to be of use whenever she could, and took great pains with little Ernst, who had a lesson every day in French and English; while Elizabeth, too, gathered all the advantage that she could from her visitor, and studied diligently, knowing that it was the best resource to ward off sad reveries.In the mean while, the practisings at Castle Lindhof went on as before. Hollfeld, who had only been absent at Odenberg for one day, was still an enthusiastic auditor, trying by every means in his power to obtain a private interview with Elizabeth. Once or twice he had cunningly contrived that, in the intervals of rest, Helene should leave the room to find something that he wanted, but he gained nothing by these manoeuvres, for Elizabeth always left the room at the same time to procure a glass of water. His attempts to meet her upon her return to her home she frustrated also, for Miss Mertens and little Ernst were always awaiting her at the borders of the park. This perpetual frustration of his endeavours at last made him impatient and less cautious. He no longer held his hand before his face. His looks were entirely unguarded, and it was only owing to her near-sightedness that Helene was spared a most painful discovery. Thus Elizabeth's visits to the castle grew more and more annoying, and she was thankful that the fête day was at last close at hand, since with that celebration the daily practisings would, at all events, be discontinued.The day before Herr von Walde's birthday, Reinhard announced at Gnadeck that a guest had already arrived at Castle Lindhof."That scatter-brain completes our misery," he said, with vexation."Who is she?" said Miss Mertens and Frau Ferber, laughing at the same moment."Oh, she is said to be a friend of Fräulein von Walde,—a lady from court at L——. She is to assist in the ordering of the fête. Heaven help us all, for she turns everything upside down.""Ah, it must be Fräulein von Quittelsdorf," cried Miss Mertens, still laughing. "Yes, indeed, there is quicksilver in her veins. She is terribly frivolous, but she is not really bad at heart."Later in the afternoon Reinhard accompanied Elizabeth to Lindhof. As she approached the castle, Herr von Walde's horse was led up to the great entrance on the southern front of it. He himself immediately issued from the glass door, riding-whip in hand, and descended the steps. Elizabeth had not seen him since the afternoon when he had treated her with such harsh want of consideration. She thought he looked very pale and stern.Just as he was mounting, a young lady, dressed in white, came out upon the steps. She was extremely pretty, and with much grace she hastened down to pat the horse upon the neck and give him a lump of sugar.Fräulein von Walde, who also appeared leaning upon Hollfeld's arm, stood at the top of the steps, and kissed her hand in token of farewell to her brother."Is not that young lady Fräulein von Quittelsdorf?" asked Elizabeth.Reinhard assented, with a wry face."She is certainly very pretty," said the young girl. "Herr von Walde seems much interested," she added, in a lower tone, as the rider leaned from his saddle, and appeared to be listening intently to what the young lady was saying."Oh, he does not wish to be rude, and therefore gives her a moment's attention. She would talk the moon out of the sky, and, I verily believe, would seize and hang upon the horse's bridle if she saw any danger of his leaving before she had finished what she had to say."In the mean time they had reached the vestibule. Here Elizabeth took leave of Reinhard, and betook herself to the music-room, where she found Fräulein von Walde and Hollfeld. The former retired for a moment to her dressing-room, to arrange her curls, that were somewhat out of order, and Hollfeld took advantage of this moment to approach Elizabeth, who had retired to the recess of a window, and was turning over the leaves of a music-book."We were provokingly disturbed the other day," he whispered."We?" she asked, with emphasis, retreating a step or two. "I, indeed, had reason to complain of being disturbed. I was much provoked, I assure you, by the interruption of my reading.""Oh, every inch a queen!" he cried jestingly, but in a low tone of voice. "I certainly did not intend to offend you,—on the contrary, do you not know what that rose meant?""It would most certainly say that it would a thousand times rather be left to perish upon its stalk than be plucked for such idle purposes.""Cruel girl! You are hard as marble. Can you not guess, then, what lures me hither daily?""Admiration, doubtless, for our great composers.""You are wrong.""Then the hope of improving your musical taste.""Oh, no! That would not bring me a step hither. For me, music is only a bridge——""From which you might easily fall into cold water.""And would you allow me to drown?""Most certainly—yes. I am not ambitious of a medal from the Humane Society," replied Elizabeth, dryly.Fräulein von Walde returned. She seemed surprised to find the pair conversing, for until this moment there had never been a word exchanged between them. She looked keenly at Hollfeld, who could not control his feeling of annoyance, and then seating herself at the piano, began to prelude, while Elizabeth arranged the notes. Hollfeld took his usual place, and leaned his head upon his hand with a melancholy air. But never had his gaze rested upon Elizabeth with such glowing and passionate intentness. She repented having entered into conversation with him. Her endeavour to repulse him by coldness and severity appeared to have had quite a contrary effect. Repugnance and fear overcame her at sight of him, and, notwithstanding the thought of her uncle's probable smile of triumph, the determination rather to resign the practisings entirely than to subject herself any longer to these insolent glances, gained ground in her mind.The hour was nearly ended, when Fräulein von Quittelsdorf entered in haste. In her arms she carried a little creature in a long, white, infant's cloak, pressing its head down upon her shoulder with one hand."Frau Oberhofmeisterin von Falkenberg sends her compliments," she said with formality,—"regrets excessively that a cold will prevent her presence to-morrow, but she takes the liberty of sending her lovely, blooming grandchild——"Here the creature in her arms made desperate exertions, and, with a loud howl, jumped down upon the ground, and ran under a chair, dragging the long robe after it."Ah, Cornelie, you are too childish," cried Fräulein von Walde, with a laugh of amusement and vexation, as Ali's distressed face, surrounded by a baby's cap, peeped out from beneath the chair. "If our good Falkenberg could hear of this, you would play no more tricks at the court of L——."Bella, who had also just entered, shrieked with laughter, only endeavouring to control herself when her mother, amazed at the noise, appeared and represented to her how unbecoming such loud merriment was. The baroness, smiling, shook a threatening forefinger at Fräulein von Quittelsdorf when Helene told her what had happened, and then approached Elizabeth."Perhaps Fräulein von Walde has not told you," she said rather graciously, "that all invited to the fête to-morrow will assemble at four o'clock in the large saloon. Pray be punctual. The concert will not be over until near six. I tell you this that your parents may not expect you at home before that time."At these words, Helene looked down upon the keys of the piano in great confusion, while Fräulein von Quittelsdorf took her stand beside the baroness, and stared Elizabeth impertinently in the face. Beautiful as were the black eyes that were fastened upon her, Elizabeth was annoyed by their steady stare. She bowed to the baroness, assuring her that she would be punctual, and then looked full and gravely at the fair impertinent. The effect was instantaneous. Fräulein von Quittelsdorf looked away, and, in some confusion, turned upon her heel like a spoiled child. Just then she discovered Herr von Hollfeld in the recess of the window."How, Hollfeld," she cried, "are you here, or is it your spirit? What are you doing here?""I am listening, as you see.""You are listening? Ha, ha, ha! And of coarse enjoying such indigestible food as Mozart and Beethoven! Don't you remember telling me, four weeks ago, at the last court concert, that you always suffered from dyspepsia after listening to classical music?"She laughed boisterously."Ah, pray let nonsense go now, dearest Cornelie," said the baroness, "and aid me in this programme for the fête with your inventive genius. And you, dear Emil, would do me a great favour if you would come too. You know that I am obliged now to enforce my authority by the presence of a masculine supporter."Hollfeld arose with visible reluctance."Oh, take me too, pray! Would you be so cruel as to leave me here alone until tea-time?" cried Helene, reproachfully, as she stood up. She looked displeased, and it seemed to Elizabeth that she noticed, for the first time, an envious expression in the lovely blue eyes as they looked at the tripping feet of Cornelie, who, without another word, had taken Hollfeld's arm, and was leaving the room. Elizabeth closed the piano, and took a hasty leave.In all the passages of the castle through which she went there was hurry and bustle. The servants were carrying baskets of china, glass, and silver to the rooms adjoining the grand saloon. From the subterranean regions of the kitchens there streamed a fragrant odour, and through the open door of one of the servants' rooms were seen heaps of green garlands and wreaths.And he in whose honour all were exerting themselves to-day was riding alone in the forest, gloomily devising ways and means for fleeing from the joyless, unquiet life in his home.Elizabeth went down to the village to execute a commission for her father. A few days before, a violent storm in the night had so shaken the ruinous jutty in the corner of the garden that there was danger that the slightest jar might send it toppling down upon the garden, burying beneath its fragments the beds and paths which had just been so laboriously arranged. Two Lindhof masons had promised to take down the ruin the following Monday, but as the forester had declared that he knew from experience that small reliance was to be placed upon their promises, Elizabeth was to remind them of their engagement, and impress upon them the urgent necessity for keeping it.The result of her expedition was favourable. One of the workmen swore by all that was Holy that he would be upon the spot, and she was now wandering through the quiet, lonely path towards her home. About midway upon the path leading from the village to the forest Lodge, a much narrower path branched off, and ascended the mountain to Castle Gnadeck. It was seldom used, and might have escaped stranger eyes, for in some places it was overgrown with low bushes, and fallen leaves lay so thick among the gnarled roots of the trees that it seemed never to have been trodden by the foot of man. Elizabeth loved the path, and now chose it for her return home.She had never encountered a human being here, but to-day she had not penetrated far into the green twilight before she observed, about twenty paces in front of her, towards the right, just by the trunk of an enormous beech tree, something like an arm slowly projected and then dropped. She could distinctly perceive this movement, as just at that spot the trees separated, and encircled a light spot of grass which shone like an oasis in the dark forest. Elizabeth advanced noiselessly and slowly, but as she arrived opposite to the beech tree she suddenly stood still in terror.A man was leaning against the tree. His back was turned towards her; his head was uncovered save by masses of coarse, uncombed hair. For one moment he stood motionless, apparently listening, then advanced a step, raised his right arm, and pointed the barrel of a pistol towards the light spot in the forest, after awhile letting his arm fall again by his side."He is practising at a mark," thought Elizabeth, but she only thought so to compose herself, for an indescribable terror had at once taken possession of her; she did not know whether to run backward or forward in order to escape observation, and so she stood still, rooted to the spot.Suddenly the noise of a horse's hoofs struck upon her ear. The man started and stood erect as though electrified. A few moments afterwards a horseman appeared where the forest was more open. The horse walked slowly over the soft turf; its rider, lost in thought, had dropped the bridle upon its neck. The man with the pistol rapidly advanced a couple of paces; raised his arm in the direction of the horseman, and at the same moment turned his head so that Elizabeth instantly recognized the former superintendent, Linke, his features deadly pale and distorted with rage and hate, while the horseman, who was slowly coming within range of the deadly weapon, was Herr von Walde. An instantaneous transformation took place in Elizabeth. The girlish terror that had caused her to tremble at sight of the villain, gave place to a wondrous courage and an incomprehensible calmness and self-control at the thought that she was destined to come to the rescue here. She glided noiselessly through the trees and stood suddenly, as if she had risen from the earth, beside Linke, who, his eyes riveted upon his victim, had no suspicion of her approach. With all the strength of which she was mistress she seized his arm and threw it up. The pistol was discharged with a loud report, and the ball whistled through the air and lodged in the trunk of a tree; as the startled wretch fell upon the ground, a woman's loud scream for help rang through the forest. The assassin tottered to his feet and plunged into the thicket. In the mean time the horse had reared and plunged with fright, but, speedily controlled by its rider, came galloping across the clearing to the spot where Elizabeth was leaning against a beech tree, pale as death. The danger was past, and her feminine nature was reasserting itself. She trembled in every limb, but a happy smile illuminated her countenance when she saw Herr von Walde coming towards her safe and unharmed.At sight of her he leaped from his horse; but she, who had just manifested such extraordinary self-possession, screamed with fright and turned suddenly as she felt two hands laid upon her shoulders from behind,—Miss Mertens' agitated face was close to her own."Good God! Elizabeth," cried the governess, breathlessly, "what have you done! he might have killed you!"Herr von Walde pushed through the underbrush that separated them from him."Are you wounded?" he asked Elizabeth, hurriedly and earnestly.She shook her head. Without another word he raised her from the ground and carried her to the fallen trunk of a tree, where he gently placed her. Miss Mertens sat down beside her and leaned the girl's head upon her shoulder."Now pray tell me what has happened," said Herr von Walde to the governess."No, no," cried Elizabeth in terror; "not here, let us go,—the murderer has escaped,—perhaps he is lurking among the bushes, and may yet accomplish his design.""Linke was about to murder you, Herr von Walde," said Miss Mertens, in a trembling voice."Miserable wretch! that shot then was for me," he calmly observed. He turned and went into the thicket where Linke had disappeared. Elizabeth almost lost her self control, and was on the point of following him when he returned."Reassure yourself," he said to her; "there are no traces of him to be seen; he will not shoot again to-day. Come, I beg you, Miss Mertens, tell me all about it."It appeared that knowing that Elizabeth was going to the village, the governess had gone to meet her in the narrow forest path. As she was slowly descending the mountain she saw all that Elizabeth had seen. The villain's intentions were plain, but she had been so paralyzed by fright that she had not been able to move nor cry out. She stood fastened to the spot with deadly terror, when suddenly Elizabeth, whom she had not seen, stood behind the assassin. In her horror at her friend's danger, the cry for help escaped her which had been heard simultaneously with the report of the pistol. She related all this hurriedly, and in conclusion added: "Where did you get the courage, Elizabeth, to seize the man? I shudder at the mere thought of touching him, and should have screamed loudly instead.""If I had screamed," replied Elizabeth, simply, "Linke might have accomplished his purpose, in his involuntary start of alarm."Herr von Walde listened quietly but intently to Miss Mertens' account. Only when she described how Elizabeth had seized the murderer's arm, did his face lose colour for an instant, as he riveted a keen, anxious glance upon the girl, to assure himself that she had actually escaped the danger unhurt. He leaned over her, took her right hand and pressed it to his lips, and Elizabeth plainly perceived that his hand trembled.Miss Mertens, who observed how this expression of gratitude confused Elizabeth and called up a burning blush in her cheeks, left her seat, and picking up the pistol Linke had thrown from him in his flight, handed it to Herr von Walde."Horrible!" he murmured. "The wretch would have murdered me with one of my own weapons."Elizabeth now arose, and assured Miss Mertens that all traces of her fright had vanished, and that she was quite able to resume her walk towards Gnadeck. They would both have taken leave of Herr von Walde, but he tied his horse to the terrible beech tree, and said, lightly:"We know well that Linke's nature is most revengeful; he may perhaps hate her to whom I owe my life even more than he hates me. I cannot permit you to proceed without a protector."They ascended the mountain. Miss Mertens hastened on, that she might incite Herr von Walde to greater speed, in order to take steps for the apprehension of the criminal as quickly as possible; but her exertions were all in vain. He walked slowly by the side of Elizabeth, who, after a few moments of conflict with herself, begged him, in a gentle, timid tone, not to go back alone to his horse, but to send for him from Castle Lindhof.He smiled. "Belisarius is wild and obstinate; you know him already," he said. "He obeys no one but myself, and would never allow any one but his master to take him home. Besides, I assure you, that cowardly wretch will attempt nothing further to-day. And if he should, I bear a charmed life. Has not my happy star risen to-day in my heavens?"He stood still. "What do you think," he asked, suddenly, in a low tone, and his eyes flashed as he looked at her, "shall I listen to the delicious hope that it may shine upon me for the rest of my life?""If it is to tempt you to run repeated risks, it were certainly better not to place such unconditional faith in your star.""And yet I run the greatest risk of all in trusting such a hope," he murmured, half to himself, as his face darkened."I do not understand you," said Elizabeth, surprised."It is quite natural that you should not," he replied, bitterly. "Your wishes and hopes lie in quite another direction. Notwithstanding all our stern self-discipline, we are sometimes overmastered by a beautiful dream. No, no, say nothing more! I am punished already, for I am awaking."He quickened his pace, and walked by Miss Mertens' side, while Elizabeth followed more slowly, lost in wonder at the harsh tone which he had suddenly assumed, and which so wounded her. He spoke not another word; and when at last the walls of the old castle appeared through the trees, he took his leave, coldly and shortly, and descended the mountain.Miss Mertens looked after him in surprise. "Incomprehensible man!" she said at last, and shook her head. "Even though he attaches but little value to his life, as would seem to be the case, surely a word or two of gratitude at parting from you would not be superfluous, when he knows that you have risked your life for his sake.""I see no necessity for anything of the kind," rejoined Elizabeth. "You attach altogether too much importance to what I have done. I simply fulfilled my duty to my neighbour; and would," she added, with a strange defiance in her tone and manner, "have done the same if the case had been reversed, and Linke's had been the threatened life. I hope sincerely that Herr von Walde understands this, for to his haughty nature the feeling of obligation to another must be intensely painful, and I would not for the world be that other."At this moment anxiety and anger were striving within her for the mastery. In thought she followed Herr von Walde, and shuddered with horror as she remembered that perhaps he was just passing some spot where the assassin was lying in wait for him; then she reminded herself, as she quickened her steps, of what utter folly it was to waste so much thought and feeling upon a man who persistently turned the roughest side of his nature towards her. Even in intercourse with the baroness, who was so utterly distasteful to him, he preserved his repose of manner, never for one moment forgetting the laws of common courtesy, although he invariably maintained his convictions with the greatest decision. He had never been seen by those about him except when surrounded by an atmosphere of the serenest dignity. It was only when talking with her that he did not appear to consider it worth his while to control himself. How violent and bitter he could be then! How his eyes flashed as he waited impatiently for her replies, when they were not prompt and decided! And he required besides that she should understand him almost before he spoke, and yet was often utterly incomprehensible even when he did speak. Perhaps every one else was cleverer than she, and could more easily comprehend his manner of speaking, which was such a riddle to her. Was it unwise to determine to avoid all intercourse with him for the future? Certainly not. Well, fortunately, his departure was at hand. Fortunately? The structure of self-deception, which her pride and defiance had erected, crumbled to ruins at this thought; yes, it so utterly vanished, that, to Miss Mertens' surprise, she turned and walked quickly down the path that led to Castle Lindhof. She must satisfy herself that he reached his home in safety. Miss Mertens followed her to a grove whence they could see the door where he usually dismounted, and they were greatly relieved when he shortly emerged from the forest.
CHAPTER XII.
Her father and mother instantly acceded to Elizabeth's request; and she hastened back to the castle to carry to Miss Mertens their cordial invitation. The governess, when Elizabeth entered her room, was leaning with folded hands against the wall. At her feet stood a trunk half packed, closets and wardrobes were wide open, and the chairs were heaped with books, dresses, and linen. The young girl hastened to her friend, threw her arms around her, and looked into her face, which, while it bore traces of tears, was beaming with happiness.
"I am so astounded by the sudden change in my lot," said Miss Mertens, after Elizabeth had offered her congratulations, "that I am obliged to close my eyes how and then and collect my senses. Only this morning everything seemed so dark before me,—I actually could not tell where to go,—the ground seemed slipping from under my feet. And just in the midst of my anxiety a home is suddenly provided for me. A man whom I esteem thoroughly, but whose regard for the poor governess I had never suspected, will be forever faithful to me, and I can fulfill the warmest desire of my heart and have my dear good mother to live with me! What will she say when she receives the news,—she, who has suffered so much in thinking that I must battle with the storms of life alone, and that she could not recall me to her loving heart!"
She told Elizabeth that in a few weeks Reinhard would go to England for her mother. His employer had himself proposed the journey, and insisted upon defraying all the expenses. Whenever Miss Mertens mentioned Herr von Walde the tears filled her eyes,—she declared that all the wrong done her by the baroness was more than overbalanced by his kindness and generosity; he could not endure to have any one beneath his roof suffer injustice. Elizabeth completed the measure of her happiness by the invitation which she brought. Miss Mertens had intended to go to the little village inn until she could find lodgings.
"But now we will go to your house together as soon as possible," she said, her face beaming with joy. "The baroness, a short time ago, sent me my salary, requesting that I would not again enter her presence, and Bella passed through my room without even looking at me,—that grieves me, grieves me very deeply, for I have cherished her like the apple of my eye. Her health used to be very delicate, and while her mother has been absent, attending the court balls, I have sat by her bedside and watched her feverish slumbers night after night. Now it is all forgotten,—but I only meant to let you know that I need not take leave of either of them."
While Miss Mertens went to bid good-by to Fräulein von Walde and a few others in the house who were fond of her, Elizabeth packed up a travelling bag for her. The new inmate of Gnadeck only took a few necessary articles with her; the rest of her possessions were sent to the future apartments of the betrothed pair.
It was an amusement for Elizabeth to arrange Miss Mertens' books in a bookcase in one of these apartments. Herr von Walde had allowed all the furniture in the rooms to remain for the use of their new inhabitants. Many of these books were most interesting; she not only glanced at their title pages, but, as she stood there, ran over several pages. Miss Mertens and her affairs were all forgotten for the moment as if they had never existed. While she was buried in Goethe's appearance in the crowd at the coronation of Joseph II., a fresh rose fell over her shoulder upon the pages of the book Elizabeth started, but instantly smiled, shook off the rose, and went on reading. Miss Mertens, who was doubtless standing behind her, should not exult in any effect of her teasing. But she suddenly uttered a low cry,—a white, well-formed man's hand appeared and was gently laid upon hers. She turned round,—not Miss Mertens, but Hollfeld, was standing behind her and spreading out his arms with a smile, as if to seize the startled girl.
Instantly her alarm was converted into indignation; but before she could breathe a word, a harsh commanding voice cried out: "Emil, everybody is looking for you. Your superintendent from Odenberg is here to see you upon business of importance. Pray go to him instantly!"
Beside Elizabeth was an open window. Outside of it stood Herr von Walde, with his arms leaning upon the broad sill looking in. It was his voice which banished Hollfeld on the instant in great embarrassment. What an angry expression there was upon the uncovered forehead, in the compressed lips, and in the eyes that flashed upon Hollfeld's retreating figure as it vanished through the opposite door!
At last his glance returned to Elizabeth, who had hitherto stood still, but who now, recovering from her two-fold fright, was about to retreat into the recesses of the apartment.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, brusquely; his voice had not lost its former harsh tone. Elizabeth, deeply wounded by the manner and style of his address, was about to return a defiant answer, when she suddenly recollected that she was in his house, and therefore she simply answered:
"I am arranging Miss Mertens' books."
"There was another answer upon your lips,—I saw it, and I wish to know what it was."
"Well, then,—I was about to say that I do not reply to questions asked in such a manner."
"And why did you suppress this reproof?"
"Because it occurred to me that you have the right to command here."
"I am glad,—it is well that you think thus,—for I should like just at this moment to exercise this obvious right of mine: tread upon that rose which lies languishing there at your feet."
"That I shall not do,—it has done no wrong." She picked up the rose, a beautiful half-open centifolia, and laid it upon the window-sill. Herr von Walde took the flower, and without more ado tossed it away over the lawn.
"There let it die a poetic death," he said with a sneer, "let the grasses bend above it, and the evening dews shed sympathetic tears over the poor victim."
The rigid expression had passed away from his features, but there was still the same inquisitorial look in his eyes, and his voice was not much gentler, as he asked:
"What were you reading when it was my misfortune to interrupt you?"
"Goethe's 'Wahrheit und Dichtung.'"
"Do you know the book?"
"Only selections from it."
"Well, how do you like the touching story of Gretchen?"
"I do not know it."
"You have it open in your hands."
"No, I was reading the coronation of Joseph II., at Frankfort."
"Let me see it."
She handed him the open book.
"It is even so! But look how ugly that is! Just where Goethe describes the emperor ascending the throne, there is an ugly green spot. Doubtless you pressed the green rose leaves too tenderly upon the leaf of the book; the Emperor, Goethe, and Miss Mertens will hardly forgive you for it."
"That spot is old—I did not touch the rose."
"But you smiled at sight of it."
"Because I thought it came from Miss Mertens."
"Ah, there is something touching in this friendship! It must have been a great disappointment when, instead of your friend, you saw my cousin's handsome face behind you."
"Yes."
"'Yes.' How that sounds! I like laconic brevity, but it must not be ambiguous. What does that 'yes' mean? It sounds neither sweet nor bitter; and then your face!—why is that defiant frown there between your eyebrows?"
"Because I think that there are limits to every right."
"I did not know that I was making use of my right just at present."
"But you will know it if you will ask yourself whether you would address me thus harshly in my father's house."
Herr von Walde grew pale. He compressed his lips, and retreated a few paces. Elizabeth took the book which he had laid upon the window-sill, and went to the bookcase to close it.
"Under the same circumstances, I should have spoken exactly so in your father's house," he said, after awhile, somewhat more gently, as he again approached the window. "You make me impatient. Why do you answer so ambiguously? How could I tell from that simple syllable whether the disappointment of which you spoke were a disagreeable or a pleasant one? Well?"
He leaned far across the window-sill, and looked full into her face, as though to read the answer upon her lips; but she turned away with irritation. Hateful thought! How could any one suppose that Hollfeld could ever be agreeable to her? Did not her face, her whole bearing towards the man, show how thoroughly disagreeable she thought him?
At this moment Miss Mertens entered the room to seek Elizabeth. She had completed all her preparations, and was quite ready to leave the house. With a sigh of relief, Elizabeth hastened to her, while Herr von Walde left the window and paced to and fro several times on the lawn. When he again approached, Miss Mertens went towards him, and courtesied profoundly. She told him that she had in vain endeavoured to obtain access to him several times that day, and that she rejoiced to have an opportunity to thank him for his kindness and thoughtfulness.
He made a deprecating gesture, and offered his congratulations upon her betrothal. He spoke very calmly. Again his whole presence breathed an atmosphere of dignity and reserve, so that Elizabeth could not understand how she had ever found the courage to remind this man of the laws of common politeness. The eyes that had flashed so passionately now looked serenely into Miss Mertens' face. The deep, gentle tones of his voice obliterated all remembrance of the cutting irony that had rendered it so sharp a few moments before, when it had given to his words such an accent of irritation, and had sounded as if designed only to wound and avenge.
That Herr von Walde was filled with bitterness towards his cousin, Elizabeth had already noticed once before that day. But why should she be made to suffer whenever he encountered him? Was not Hollfeld's continual intrusiveness sufficient annoyance to her? Why should she be made the victim of an irritation for which Helene alone was to blame? A sharp pang shot through her as she remembered how tenderly and forgivingly Herr von Walde had taken his sister in his arms, never casting a single look of reproach upon her when Hollfeld's visits had been alluded to. She, the poor piano-player, who was of necessity forced to endure Hollfeld's presence, must be the scapegoat. Or had he perhaps seen how Hollfeld had thrown the rose upon her book, and was his aristocratic pride wounded that his cousin should pay such homage to an untitled maiden? This thought flashed upon Elizabeth as an explanation of everything. Yes, thus only could his conduct be explained. She was to crush the poor flower, that all proof might be destroyed that Herr von Hollfeld had for one moment forgotten his aristocratic descent. That was the reason why he had suddenly spoken in such a harsh tone of command,—a tone which only those heard from him who had committed some fault, and why she was called upon to explain the impression which Hollfeld's sudden appearance had made upon her. At this moment she would have liked to confront him, and tell him frankly how odious his high-born cousin was to her,—that so far from feeling honoured by his attentions, she looked upon them as nothing less than insults. But it was too late. Herr von Walde was discussing Reinhard's journey to England with Miss Mertens so calmly and kindly that it would have been ridiculous, in the midst of such a discussion, suddenly to resume the thread of the previous stormy conversation. Besides, he did not once look at her again, although she stood tolerably near to Miss Mertens.
"I am really half persuaded to go with him," he said in conclusion to the governess. "Reinhard shall return with your mother, for I intend to give him the entire charge of Lindhof here, and I will pass the winter in London, and go to Scotland in the spring."
"And not return for years?" Miss Mertens interrupted him, anxiously. "Has Thuringia, then, no attraction for you?"
"Oh, yes; but I suffer here, and you know that prompt and active treatment will often cure where cautious, cowardly delay might bring danger. I hope much from the air of Scotland."
The last words were spoken in a tone meant to be gay, but the lines between his brows were stronger than ever, and caused Elizabeth to doubt much whether his cheerfulness were genuine.
He shook hands with Miss Mertens, and walked slowly away, soon disappearing behind a clump of trees.
"There it is," said the governess, sadly; "instead of bringing a lovely young wife home to Lindhof, as I hoped he would, he is going away again, and perhaps will not return for years. He is restless, and no wonder, when one thinks of the comfortless home that he has. Baroness Lessen he cannot endure, and yet he is forced to see her daily at his fireside, for his sister, whom he loves so tenderly, has declared to him, that in the society of this woman she is able to forget the bitter trials of her life. And his cousin, too, is an unbidden guest. Herr von Walde's nature is too frank and open to allow him to conceal his dislikes; but these people are made of iron and steel,—the indifference of the master of the house never affects them in the least; they have neither eyes nor ears when he hints at their leaving. And as for Herr von Hollfeld, he seems to me a very insignificant creature, and very repulsive. I cannot conceive how he could have won Fräulein von Walde's heart."
"Do you know that too?" asked Elizabeth.
"Ah, child, that has been a secret known to everybody for a long time. She loves him as truly and deeply as only a woman can love. But this unfortunate attachment, on which she now lives and breathes as in sunlight, will one of these days cast the darkest shadow that has yet fallen upon her sorrowful existence. All this Herr von Walde comprehends; but he cannot open the eyes of his sister without inflicting a mortal wound, and so he sacrifices everything to his fraternal tenderness, and leaves the home where he is made so unhappy."
During this conversation, Miss Mertens and Elizabeth had left the castle, and were now ascending the mountain path. Reinhard, who had been to the village, soon joined them. Miss Mertens told him of her interview with Herr von Walde, and all that he had said about going to England.
"He has not yet mentioned it to me," said Reinhard; "but he often looks as if he longed to leave Lindhof. Such a household! The master of the house is considered by his relatives in the light of a fifth wheel to a coach,—he maintains them, and they show their gratitude by estranging his sister's heart from him. Good Heavens! if I could only take his place for two days, I would soon exorcise the evil spirit and not a trace of it should ever appear again. However, I hope that Herr von Hollfeld will at least soon return to Odenberg for a few days. His superintendent has just arrived with the intelligence that the housekeeper has left,—no one stays there long—my gentleman is too stingy. And several other matters are in disorder there."
When they reached Castle Gnadeck, the guest was most cordially welcomed by the Ferbers. How comfortable and homelike did Miss Mertens' room seem to its new inmate! It shone with neatness; the counterpane and table-covers were spotless, a beautiful Schwarzwald clock was ticking softly just above the prettily arrayed writing-table, and a vase of roses and mignonette upon the window-sill filled the air with fragrance. Through the open door could be seen the dwelling-room of the family. There the table was already laid, and Elizabeth lighted the spirit-lamp beneath the tea-kettle, while Miss Mertens was arranging in drawers and wardrobe the few articles that she had brought with her.
In the mean while the forester, with his long pipe and Hector, had arrived, and Reinhard also stayed, so that a merry circle was soon assembled. The forester was in a particularly happy humour. Elizabeth sat beside him, and did her best to join in his gaiety; but it had never seemed so difficult to her before, and he, who had an acute perception of the most delicate modulations of her voice, soon perceived it.
"Holla, Gold Elsie, what is the matter with you?" he cried, suddenly. "All is not right here." He took her by the chin and looked into her eyes. "I see,—there is a veil over your eyes, and over your heart, too! Zounds! what a sudden change! And what does this sad nun's face mean?"
Elizabeth blushed deeply beneath his scrutinizing gaze. She did all that she could to parry his questions by jest and laughter, but she did not succeed very well, and at last there was nothing for her but to seat herself at the piano, where he never teased nor laughed at her.
How much good it did her heavy heart to give it voice in full rolling chords, as the sound floated sadly out into the gathering twilight,—telling of the gloom that had fallen upon her at the thought of Herr von Walde's again leaving Thuringia! Where now were all her dreamings and all her endeavours to read the meaning of that mysterious warning that had of late breathed through her melodies? It rung out clearly now in mighty tones, at the sound of which all the former gentle breathings of her inward emotions died away in an inaudible whisper. A fairy land, full of golden promise, was revealed before her; her enchanted eyes gazed rapturously upon the fair landscape,—but never, never might she tread that magic ground, for nothing could bridge the abyss at her feet. The veil beneath which her heart had hitherto lain in blissful self-ignorance was rent, and with joy and pain unspeakable she knew—that she loved.
She did not know how long she had been playing. But she was suddenly aroused from her utter forgetfulness of the world without by a bright gleam of light falling directly on the pale bust of Beethoven. Her mother had just lighted the large lamp, and Elizabeth saw her uncle sitting near her on the broad window-seat. He must have entered noiselessly. As her hands dropped from the keys, he gently smoothed her hair with his hand.
"Do you know, child," he said, after the last faint sound had died away, and his voice trembled with emotion, "if I had not already seen that something was the matter, I should soon have learned it from your playing,—it was tears, nothing but tears!"
CHAPTER XIII.
Miss Mertens' presence lent an additional charm to the circle at Gnadeck. For the first time for long, dreary years the governess found herself an object of interest and affection, and at home. Her gentle nature, so long chilled and repressed, now showed itself, and, combined with her varied culture, made her a most attractive addition to the household. She longed to be of use whenever she could, and took great pains with little Ernst, who had a lesson every day in French and English; while Elizabeth, too, gathered all the advantage that she could from her visitor, and studied diligently, knowing that it was the best resource to ward off sad reveries.
In the mean while, the practisings at Castle Lindhof went on as before. Hollfeld, who had only been absent at Odenberg for one day, was still an enthusiastic auditor, trying by every means in his power to obtain a private interview with Elizabeth. Once or twice he had cunningly contrived that, in the intervals of rest, Helene should leave the room to find something that he wanted, but he gained nothing by these manoeuvres, for Elizabeth always left the room at the same time to procure a glass of water. His attempts to meet her upon her return to her home she frustrated also, for Miss Mertens and little Ernst were always awaiting her at the borders of the park. This perpetual frustration of his endeavours at last made him impatient and less cautious. He no longer held his hand before his face. His looks were entirely unguarded, and it was only owing to her near-sightedness that Helene was spared a most painful discovery. Thus Elizabeth's visits to the castle grew more and more annoying, and she was thankful that the fête day was at last close at hand, since with that celebration the daily practisings would, at all events, be discontinued.
The day before Herr von Walde's birthday, Reinhard announced at Gnadeck that a guest had already arrived at Castle Lindhof.
"That scatter-brain completes our misery," he said, with vexation.
"Who is she?" said Miss Mertens and Frau Ferber, laughing at the same moment.
"Oh, she is said to be a friend of Fräulein von Walde,—a lady from court at L——. She is to assist in the ordering of the fête. Heaven help us all, for she turns everything upside down."
"Ah, it must be Fräulein von Quittelsdorf," cried Miss Mertens, still laughing. "Yes, indeed, there is quicksilver in her veins. She is terribly frivolous, but she is not really bad at heart."
Later in the afternoon Reinhard accompanied Elizabeth to Lindhof. As she approached the castle, Herr von Walde's horse was led up to the great entrance on the southern front of it. He himself immediately issued from the glass door, riding-whip in hand, and descended the steps. Elizabeth had not seen him since the afternoon when he had treated her with such harsh want of consideration. She thought he looked very pale and stern.
Just as he was mounting, a young lady, dressed in white, came out upon the steps. She was extremely pretty, and with much grace she hastened down to pat the horse upon the neck and give him a lump of sugar.
Fräulein von Walde, who also appeared leaning upon Hollfeld's arm, stood at the top of the steps, and kissed her hand in token of farewell to her brother.
"Is not that young lady Fräulein von Quittelsdorf?" asked Elizabeth.
Reinhard assented, with a wry face.
"She is certainly very pretty," said the young girl. "Herr von Walde seems much interested," she added, in a lower tone, as the rider leaned from his saddle, and appeared to be listening intently to what the young lady was saying.
"Oh, he does not wish to be rude, and therefore gives her a moment's attention. She would talk the moon out of the sky, and, I verily believe, would seize and hang upon the horse's bridle if she saw any danger of his leaving before she had finished what she had to say."
In the mean time they had reached the vestibule. Here Elizabeth took leave of Reinhard, and betook herself to the music-room, where she found Fräulein von Walde and Hollfeld. The former retired for a moment to her dressing-room, to arrange her curls, that were somewhat out of order, and Hollfeld took advantage of this moment to approach Elizabeth, who had retired to the recess of a window, and was turning over the leaves of a music-book.
"We were provokingly disturbed the other day," he whispered.
"We?" she asked, with emphasis, retreating a step or two. "I, indeed, had reason to complain of being disturbed. I was much provoked, I assure you, by the interruption of my reading."
"Oh, every inch a queen!" he cried jestingly, but in a low tone of voice. "I certainly did not intend to offend you,—on the contrary, do you not know what that rose meant?"
"It would most certainly say that it would a thousand times rather be left to perish upon its stalk than be plucked for such idle purposes."
"Cruel girl! You are hard as marble. Can you not guess, then, what lures me hither daily?"
"Admiration, doubtless, for our great composers."
"You are wrong."
"Then the hope of improving your musical taste."
"Oh, no! That would not bring me a step hither. For me, music is only a bridge——"
"From which you might easily fall into cold water."
"And would you allow me to drown?"
"Most certainly—yes. I am not ambitious of a medal from the Humane Society," replied Elizabeth, dryly.
Fräulein von Walde returned. She seemed surprised to find the pair conversing, for until this moment there had never been a word exchanged between them. She looked keenly at Hollfeld, who could not control his feeling of annoyance, and then seating herself at the piano, began to prelude, while Elizabeth arranged the notes. Hollfeld took his usual place, and leaned his head upon his hand with a melancholy air. But never had his gaze rested upon Elizabeth with such glowing and passionate intentness. She repented having entered into conversation with him. Her endeavour to repulse him by coldness and severity appeared to have had quite a contrary effect. Repugnance and fear overcame her at sight of him, and, notwithstanding the thought of her uncle's probable smile of triumph, the determination rather to resign the practisings entirely than to subject herself any longer to these insolent glances, gained ground in her mind.
The hour was nearly ended, when Fräulein von Quittelsdorf entered in haste. In her arms she carried a little creature in a long, white, infant's cloak, pressing its head down upon her shoulder with one hand.
"Frau Oberhofmeisterin von Falkenberg sends her compliments," she said with formality,—"regrets excessively that a cold will prevent her presence to-morrow, but she takes the liberty of sending her lovely, blooming grandchild——"
Here the creature in her arms made desperate exertions, and, with a loud howl, jumped down upon the ground, and ran under a chair, dragging the long robe after it.
"Ah, Cornelie, you are too childish," cried Fräulein von Walde, with a laugh of amusement and vexation, as Ali's distressed face, surrounded by a baby's cap, peeped out from beneath the chair. "If our good Falkenberg could hear of this, you would play no more tricks at the court of L——."
Bella, who had also just entered, shrieked with laughter, only endeavouring to control herself when her mother, amazed at the noise, appeared and represented to her how unbecoming such loud merriment was. The baroness, smiling, shook a threatening forefinger at Fräulein von Quittelsdorf when Helene told her what had happened, and then approached Elizabeth.
"Perhaps Fräulein von Walde has not told you," she said rather graciously, "that all invited to the fête to-morrow will assemble at four o'clock in the large saloon. Pray be punctual. The concert will not be over until near six. I tell you this that your parents may not expect you at home before that time."
At these words, Helene looked down upon the keys of the piano in great confusion, while Fräulein von Quittelsdorf took her stand beside the baroness, and stared Elizabeth impertinently in the face. Beautiful as were the black eyes that were fastened upon her, Elizabeth was annoyed by their steady stare. She bowed to the baroness, assuring her that she would be punctual, and then looked full and gravely at the fair impertinent. The effect was instantaneous. Fräulein von Quittelsdorf looked away, and, in some confusion, turned upon her heel like a spoiled child. Just then she discovered Herr von Hollfeld in the recess of the window.
"How, Hollfeld," she cried, "are you here, or is it your spirit? What are you doing here?"
"I am listening, as you see."
"You are listening? Ha, ha, ha! And of coarse enjoying such indigestible food as Mozart and Beethoven! Don't you remember telling me, four weeks ago, at the last court concert, that you always suffered from dyspepsia after listening to classical music?"
She laughed boisterously.
"Ah, pray let nonsense go now, dearest Cornelie," said the baroness, "and aid me in this programme for the fête with your inventive genius. And you, dear Emil, would do me a great favour if you would come too. You know that I am obliged now to enforce my authority by the presence of a masculine supporter."
Hollfeld arose with visible reluctance.
"Oh, take me too, pray! Would you be so cruel as to leave me here alone until tea-time?" cried Helene, reproachfully, as she stood up. She looked displeased, and it seemed to Elizabeth that she noticed, for the first time, an envious expression in the lovely blue eyes as they looked at the tripping feet of Cornelie, who, without another word, had taken Hollfeld's arm, and was leaving the room. Elizabeth closed the piano, and took a hasty leave.
In all the passages of the castle through which she went there was hurry and bustle. The servants were carrying baskets of china, glass, and silver to the rooms adjoining the grand saloon. From the subterranean regions of the kitchens there streamed a fragrant odour, and through the open door of one of the servants' rooms were seen heaps of green garlands and wreaths.
And he in whose honour all were exerting themselves to-day was riding alone in the forest, gloomily devising ways and means for fleeing from the joyless, unquiet life in his home.
Elizabeth went down to the village to execute a commission for her father. A few days before, a violent storm in the night had so shaken the ruinous jutty in the corner of the garden that there was danger that the slightest jar might send it toppling down upon the garden, burying beneath its fragments the beds and paths which had just been so laboriously arranged. Two Lindhof masons had promised to take down the ruin the following Monday, but as the forester had declared that he knew from experience that small reliance was to be placed upon their promises, Elizabeth was to remind them of their engagement, and impress upon them the urgent necessity for keeping it.
The result of her expedition was favourable. One of the workmen swore by all that was Holy that he would be upon the spot, and she was now wandering through the quiet, lonely path towards her home. About midway upon the path leading from the village to the forest Lodge, a much narrower path branched off, and ascended the mountain to Castle Gnadeck. It was seldom used, and might have escaped stranger eyes, for in some places it was overgrown with low bushes, and fallen leaves lay so thick among the gnarled roots of the trees that it seemed never to have been trodden by the foot of man. Elizabeth loved the path, and now chose it for her return home.
She had never encountered a human being here, but to-day she had not penetrated far into the green twilight before she observed, about twenty paces in front of her, towards the right, just by the trunk of an enormous beech tree, something like an arm slowly projected and then dropped. She could distinctly perceive this movement, as just at that spot the trees separated, and encircled a light spot of grass which shone like an oasis in the dark forest. Elizabeth advanced noiselessly and slowly, but as she arrived opposite to the beech tree she suddenly stood still in terror.
A man was leaning against the tree. His back was turned towards her; his head was uncovered save by masses of coarse, uncombed hair. For one moment he stood motionless, apparently listening, then advanced a step, raised his right arm, and pointed the barrel of a pistol towards the light spot in the forest, after awhile letting his arm fall again by his side.
"He is practising at a mark," thought Elizabeth, but she only thought so to compose herself, for an indescribable terror had at once taken possession of her; she did not know whether to run backward or forward in order to escape observation, and so she stood still, rooted to the spot.
Suddenly the noise of a horse's hoofs struck upon her ear. The man started and stood erect as though electrified. A few moments afterwards a horseman appeared where the forest was more open. The horse walked slowly over the soft turf; its rider, lost in thought, had dropped the bridle upon its neck. The man with the pistol rapidly advanced a couple of paces; raised his arm in the direction of the horseman, and at the same moment turned his head so that Elizabeth instantly recognized the former superintendent, Linke, his features deadly pale and distorted with rage and hate, while the horseman, who was slowly coming within range of the deadly weapon, was Herr von Walde. An instantaneous transformation took place in Elizabeth. The girlish terror that had caused her to tremble at sight of the villain, gave place to a wondrous courage and an incomprehensible calmness and self-control at the thought that she was destined to come to the rescue here. She glided noiselessly through the trees and stood suddenly, as if she had risen from the earth, beside Linke, who, his eyes riveted upon his victim, had no suspicion of her approach. With all the strength of which she was mistress she seized his arm and threw it up. The pistol was discharged with a loud report, and the ball whistled through the air and lodged in the trunk of a tree; as the startled wretch fell upon the ground, a woman's loud scream for help rang through the forest. The assassin tottered to his feet and plunged into the thicket. In the mean time the horse had reared and plunged with fright, but, speedily controlled by its rider, came galloping across the clearing to the spot where Elizabeth was leaning against a beech tree, pale as death. The danger was past, and her feminine nature was reasserting itself. She trembled in every limb, but a happy smile illuminated her countenance when she saw Herr von Walde coming towards her safe and unharmed.
At sight of her he leaped from his horse; but she, who had just manifested such extraordinary self-possession, screamed with fright and turned suddenly as she felt two hands laid upon her shoulders from behind,—Miss Mertens' agitated face was close to her own.
"Good God! Elizabeth," cried the governess, breathlessly, "what have you done! he might have killed you!"
Herr von Walde pushed through the underbrush that separated them from him.
"Are you wounded?" he asked Elizabeth, hurriedly and earnestly.
She shook her head. Without another word he raised her from the ground and carried her to the fallen trunk of a tree, where he gently placed her. Miss Mertens sat down beside her and leaned the girl's head upon her shoulder.
"Now pray tell me what has happened," said Herr von Walde to the governess.
"No, no," cried Elizabeth in terror; "not here, let us go,—the murderer has escaped,—perhaps he is lurking among the bushes, and may yet accomplish his design."
"Linke was about to murder you, Herr von Walde," said Miss Mertens, in a trembling voice.
"Miserable wretch! that shot then was for me," he calmly observed. He turned and went into the thicket where Linke had disappeared. Elizabeth almost lost her self control, and was on the point of following him when he returned.
"Reassure yourself," he said to her; "there are no traces of him to be seen; he will not shoot again to-day. Come, I beg you, Miss Mertens, tell me all about it."
It appeared that knowing that Elizabeth was going to the village, the governess had gone to meet her in the narrow forest path. As she was slowly descending the mountain she saw all that Elizabeth had seen. The villain's intentions were plain, but she had been so paralyzed by fright that she had not been able to move nor cry out. She stood fastened to the spot with deadly terror, when suddenly Elizabeth, whom she had not seen, stood behind the assassin. In her horror at her friend's danger, the cry for help escaped her which had been heard simultaneously with the report of the pistol. She related all this hurriedly, and in conclusion added: "Where did you get the courage, Elizabeth, to seize the man? I shudder at the mere thought of touching him, and should have screamed loudly instead."
"If I had screamed," replied Elizabeth, simply, "Linke might have accomplished his purpose, in his involuntary start of alarm."
Herr von Walde listened quietly but intently to Miss Mertens' account. Only when she described how Elizabeth had seized the murderer's arm, did his face lose colour for an instant, as he riveted a keen, anxious glance upon the girl, to assure himself that she had actually escaped the danger unhurt. He leaned over her, took her right hand and pressed it to his lips, and Elizabeth plainly perceived that his hand trembled.
Miss Mertens, who observed how this expression of gratitude confused Elizabeth and called up a burning blush in her cheeks, left her seat, and picking up the pistol Linke had thrown from him in his flight, handed it to Herr von Walde.
"Horrible!" he murmured. "The wretch would have murdered me with one of my own weapons."
Elizabeth now arose, and assured Miss Mertens that all traces of her fright had vanished, and that she was quite able to resume her walk towards Gnadeck. They would both have taken leave of Herr von Walde, but he tied his horse to the terrible beech tree, and said, lightly:
"We know well that Linke's nature is most revengeful; he may perhaps hate her to whom I owe my life even more than he hates me. I cannot permit you to proceed without a protector."
They ascended the mountain. Miss Mertens hastened on, that she might incite Herr von Walde to greater speed, in order to take steps for the apprehension of the criminal as quickly as possible; but her exertions were all in vain. He walked slowly by the side of Elizabeth, who, after a few moments of conflict with herself, begged him, in a gentle, timid tone, not to go back alone to his horse, but to send for him from Castle Lindhof.
He smiled. "Belisarius is wild and obstinate; you know him already," he said. "He obeys no one but myself, and would never allow any one but his master to take him home. Besides, I assure you, that cowardly wretch will attempt nothing further to-day. And if he should, I bear a charmed life. Has not my happy star risen to-day in my heavens?"
He stood still. "What do you think," he asked, suddenly, in a low tone, and his eyes flashed as he looked at her, "shall I listen to the delicious hope that it may shine upon me for the rest of my life?"
"If it is to tempt you to run repeated risks, it were certainly better not to place such unconditional faith in your star."
"And yet I run the greatest risk of all in trusting such a hope," he murmured, half to himself, as his face darkened.
"I do not understand you," said Elizabeth, surprised.
"It is quite natural that you should not," he replied, bitterly. "Your wishes and hopes lie in quite another direction. Notwithstanding all our stern self-discipline, we are sometimes overmastered by a beautiful dream. No, no, say nothing more! I am punished already, for I am awaking."
He quickened his pace, and walked by Miss Mertens' side, while Elizabeth followed more slowly, lost in wonder at the harsh tone which he had suddenly assumed, and which so wounded her. He spoke not another word; and when at last the walls of the old castle appeared through the trees, he took his leave, coldly and shortly, and descended the mountain.
Miss Mertens looked after him in surprise. "Incomprehensible man!" she said at last, and shook her head. "Even though he attaches but little value to his life, as would seem to be the case, surely a word or two of gratitude at parting from you would not be superfluous, when he knows that you have risked your life for his sake."
"I see no necessity for anything of the kind," rejoined Elizabeth. "You attach altogether too much importance to what I have done. I simply fulfilled my duty to my neighbour; and would," she added, with a strange defiance in her tone and manner, "have done the same if the case had been reversed, and Linke's had been the threatened life. I hope sincerely that Herr von Walde understands this, for to his haughty nature the feeling of obligation to another must be intensely painful, and I would not for the world be that other."
At this moment anxiety and anger were striving within her for the mastery. In thought she followed Herr von Walde, and shuddered with horror as she remembered that perhaps he was just passing some spot where the assassin was lying in wait for him; then she reminded herself, as she quickened her steps, of what utter folly it was to waste so much thought and feeling upon a man who persistently turned the roughest side of his nature towards her. Even in intercourse with the baroness, who was so utterly distasteful to him, he preserved his repose of manner, never for one moment forgetting the laws of common courtesy, although he invariably maintained his convictions with the greatest decision. He had never been seen by those about him except when surrounded by an atmosphere of the serenest dignity. It was only when talking with her that he did not appear to consider it worth his while to control himself. How violent and bitter he could be then! How his eyes flashed as he waited impatiently for her replies, when they were not prompt and decided! And he required besides that she should understand him almost before he spoke, and yet was often utterly incomprehensible even when he did speak. Perhaps every one else was cleverer than she, and could more easily comprehend his manner of speaking, which was such a riddle to her. Was it unwise to determine to avoid all intercourse with him for the future? Certainly not. Well, fortunately, his departure was at hand. Fortunately? The structure of self-deception, which her pride and defiance had erected, crumbled to ruins at this thought; yes, it so utterly vanished, that, to Miss Mertens' surprise, she turned and walked quickly down the path that led to Castle Lindhof. She must satisfy herself that he reached his home in safety. Miss Mertens followed her to a grove whence they could see the door where he usually dismounted, and they were greatly relieved when he shortly emerged from the forest.