Chapter VII.

Chapter VII.I was invited to stay to luncheon by my lawyer, and I accepted the invitation.In the course of the conversation Van Beek said—“The country seat, Runenburg, will be at your disposal on the 31st of October next; but the house in town is let till the May following, and the tenants would like to stay on, if it be agreeable to you. They are very respectable people. How am I to act in the matter?”I stared at him in surprise and perplexity. Such a strange feeling came over me. I who have never possessed a stick or a stone in my life (in fact, I always felt it a relief when the quarter’s lodging bill was paid), now I had to decide about a house in town and a country seat.“I think, Mr. Van Beek, everything had better remain as it is until the question of my marriage with Miss Mordaunt is settled.”“The Jonker forgets that that condition is not binding.”“I look upon it as binding, though such may not be the legal interpretation of the will.”“Would you not like to see the house whilst you are in Utrecht? It is beautifully situated, and well worth a visit, I can assure you.”“No, thank you, sir; but I should like to see the house in which my aunt lived: from its surroundings I may be able to obtain a better idea of her character.”“Oh, with pleasure, Jonker! I thought I had already told you,” began Van Beek, somewhat embarrassed, “that the old lady had bequeathed it to me, on condition her maid should occupy it as long as she lives. It is a splendid legacy; that I do not deny. But consider, I have served her thirty years in all kinds of business, some of which cost me much trouble and loss of time. And I may remind you that there is no extra money set aside for my expenses as executor, whilst I am recommended to assist theheir in every way, and to serve him to the best of my ability by my counsel.”“My dear sir,” I rejoined, “it was to be expected that aunt would treat you generously. It is not my intention to dispute any of her bequests. It will be a sort of pilgrimage for me.”“We will drive there at once after luncheon. It is only half an hour’s distance from the town.”I must confess the interior of my aunt’s dwelling did not enable me to gather any new ideas of the strange personage who once occupied it. The old waiting-woman received us with coolness, and chanted the praises of her late mistress in pious terms. The young cook shed a torrent of tears, and was evidently astonished not to see me do the same; whilst the man-servant eyed me askance, as if he feared I had come there to cut off his legacy. The house was furnished in a moderately comfortable style, most of the furniture being of the good solid sort common in the reign of King William I., though there had been an attempt to imitate the style of the First French Empire. There was only one sofa in the house, and one armchairà la Voltaire, in which Miss Roselaer reposed herself for just one hour afterdinner every day. She must have been a clever, active woman up to the very last.“She was always making up her accounts or writing,” said her maid, “when she was not either reading or knitting.”“And what did she read?” I asked.“Mostly ‘unbelieving books’—those in the bookcase there; sometimes, but very seldom, the Bible.”The “unbelieving books” were French, German, and English classics. I pointed out to Van Beek that I should like to possess this small but well-selected library. All the books are beautifully though not showily bound, and they bear marks of assiduous reading. Among the “unbelieving books” are the works of Fénelon, Bossuet, and Pascal, peacefully assorted with those of Voltaire and the Encyclopædists, whilst Lavater, Gellert, Lessing, and Klopstock find a place by the side of Goethe and Schiller, and the plays of Iffland and Kotzebue.This was the first moment of unalloyed pleasure I have felt since I came into my fortune, when I once more cast my eyes over the library and beheld it with all the pride of ownership. I involuntarily put forthmy hand to snatch up one of the volumes, as if I thereby wished to signify I was taking possession. Van Beek smiled and twinkled his cunning little eyes; but the maid, who was standing by, looked at me as though I had committed a sacrilege.“I should rather have thought the Jonker would have preferred my lady’s Bible,” she said.“I should certainly like the Bible as well as the other books, Mrs. Jones—that is to say, unless you wish to keep it yourself as a memento.”“Oh no, Jonker! such a worldly, new-fashioned book I would not have in my possession. I can’t look upon it as God’s word; and I could never understand how my lady found edification in it.”“What’s the matter with the Bible?” I asked Van Beek as we left the house.“Nothing, absolutely nothing. It is an ordinary States-Bible, only not printed in the old-fashioned German type.”1Upon my word, I thought aunt must indeed havebeen pretty liberal-minded to have put up with so bigoted a servant for so many years.The next day I set out for the small town of Zutphen, which is within an easy drive of the Castle de Werve.1The strictly orthodox party in Holland will only make use of the version of the Bible approved by the States-General in the seventeenth century; the bigots insist upon its being printed in the German characters in use at the time when the first copies were issued.Chapter VIII.Castle de Werve, April, 1861.You see, my dear William, I have entered the fortress.But to resume my narrative. Van Beek gave me a letter of introduction to his friend Overberg, a lawyer in Zutphen, and I called upon this worthy man of the law as soon as I arrived in the town. This Overberg was the agent of my old Aunt Roselaer in these quarters, and it was through his good management of her affairs that she gradually obtained possession of Von Zwenken’s property, as the General usually borrowed money of Overberg. After all, the General was more fortunate than if he had fallen into the hands of usurers, who, speculating on his weakness, would have ruined him in a much shorter time. Overberg had advised the General to accept the offer of his sister-in-law—with what resultyou already know. For this reason he recommended me, if I wished to obtain a kindly reception at the Castle, not to present myself there as the heir to Miss Roselaer’s property; such an introduction being calculated to raise a prejudice against me from the first. Therefore I decided to present myself as a relation anxious to make the acquaintance of the family.Seizing the opportunity, I began to question Overberg about Miss Mordaunt.“I have only spoken to her once,” he said; “the General always comes to see me in person. She is never seen in the town now. Once, indeed, whilst the General was still commandant of the garrison here, she came to consult me on a matter personal to herself, but that is a long time ago.”The good-natured lawyer, though ignorant of my matrimonial plans, doubtless read disappointment in my face, for he resumed, as if to excuse the meagreness of his information—“You see, sir, the General then lived in grand style; and a wide distinction was also made in society between the military and thebourgeoisie. I was a widower, my time fully occupied, and I seldom wentinto society. Since my second marriage, however, we have parties and dinners enough—and that reminds me my wife has asoiréethis evening; several young ladies who know Miss Mordaunt are invited. Will you spend the evening with us? You can leave tomorrow early for the Werve. I will introduce you to the company as a gentleman looking out for a villa in our neighbourhood; for as you know, in a small town like ours, it is necessary to give a reason for your appearance among us, otherwise one will be invented—and such inventions are not always of a flattering kind. I can easily give the conversation a turn so as to cause it to fall on the family Von Zwenken, and you need only keep your ears open.”This idea took my fancy; I accepted the invitation with pleasure, for a little society would help me to pass the evening more agreeably than I could spend it at my hotel.We dined quietlyen famille, and Overberg and his wife—hospitable, jovial people—seemed to me to belie the French verse—“De petits avocats,Qui se sont fait des sous,En rognant des ducats.”Mr. Overberg is a shrewd, clever lawyer, who perfectly understands his business and the way to treat his clients politely and persuasively; he always discourages lawsuits, recommends delay and an attempt at an arrangement, and thus quietly brings about the desired result without, as it were, seeming to interfere. Aunt Sophia respected him highly for his discretion and foresight, though she took care never to let him see through her intentions, since he was not the man to take sharp and decisive measures. For any such business she employed Van Beek, who is a man to carry out the law to the letter, without feeling any pity for the sufferer.It was therefore in keeping with Overberg’s character that he recommended me to temporize with the General, to give him time to pay his debts, and not to drive such an old man to despair, though he was aforeigner. The good man little knew he was preaching to one who already shared his views, and whose inmost wish was to deal as gently as possible with Von Zwenken.I must acknowledge that what I heard at thesoiréedid not make a favourable impression on me. The past life of the young lady must have been a singularone, if there be any truth in the gossip I heard about her. I know much must be set down to slander in a small town, where people are at a loss what to talk about when not criticising their neighbours.But, however, you must judge for yourself from what follows.Among the ladies to whom I was introduced was a charming young widow with jet-black eyes and lively features; she is a niece of the Roselaers, I am told, and at first I felt very sorry her name was not Francis Mordaunt, the niece-elect of Aunt Sophia. However, when Overberg had drawn her out a little on the subject of the Von Zwenkens, I felt exceedingly glad to think our acquaintance would not extend beyond the present evening.I began to feel a most intense hatred against her, so unmercifully did she attack poor Francis.“Yes, they had been well acquainted when her grandfather was commandant of the garrison, and she herself had visited at the house of the Colonel. But no, friendship had never existed between her and the young lady; she was too eccentric and ill-mannered. Just imagine, Jonker, she came to our house one evening when she knew there was to be dancingand music. Yes, she dropped in, asnonchalantas possible, in a dark merino dress, fastened up to the neck, with a turn-down collar and a silk neckerchief—just for all the world like a boy. And her boots—they might have belonged to some plough-boy. Upon my word, I believe there werenailsin the soles; a non-commissioned officer would not have been so rude as to enter asalonin them.”“Perhaps she had made a mistake about the evening,” I said, by way of excuse.“Certainly not! She received her invitation a week beforehand. Surely that was time enough to get a ball-dress made. And it was not because she hadn’t got any other dresses; for two days afterwards she came to a house where we were invited to spend a quiet evening,en grande toilette, a low dress (as if she expected to be invited to dance), and resplendent with jewellery and diamonds. Now I ask you if that was not done to annoy us and to wound our feelings?”“It seems to me she took more trouble to do honour to the ladies than she had taken to please the gentlemen.”“The truth is, she was not at all complimentaryto the gentlemen,” rejoined a thin, elderly-looking spinster of an uncertain age, dressed in an old-fashioned style, who I should have thought would have been the last person to come to the defence of a sex that had so clearly neglected her.“And the gentlemen—no doubt they reciprocated hernonchalance?” I asked. “It is very probable she was left in the company of the elderly ladies all the evening to increase the number of ‘wall flowers.’”“Yes! but it was because she wished it,” replied the widow. “She would be sure of partners, though she were never such a fright. All the young officers are, as a matter of course, obliged ‘to do the amiable’ to the granddaughter of their colonel. Moreover, Francis Mordaunt is mistress of the art of attracting or repelling as it pleases her. Notwithstanding all her strange whims and caprices, she is never at a loss for a partner, and the moment she enters any ball-room she becomes the observed of all observers. The gentlemen flock round her; she is flattered, flirted with——”“Yes, flirted with, I grant you; but not respected, I’m sure,” interrupted the elderly spinster. “It is chiefly done to draw out her smart repartees, and theunladylike answers which have made her so famous (or rather infamous).”“In fact everybody is amused at her scathing replies.”“Which the ladies are afraid of,” said a gentleman, half jestingly, half reproachfully, “for as a rule they are as true as they are sharp.”“As a rule she makes the gentlemen the butt of her raillery.”“How strange then, indeed, that the ladies take her part so little!” I could not help remarking.“That isnotstrange, Jonker! The peculiar manner she has adopted to render herself noticeable is just the one our sex cannot suffer. In all her victories we saw a defeat; the good tone was lost.”“And how did the party pass off for Miss Mordaunt in that curious dress?” I inquired, for I had less interest in carrying on acombat d’espritwith the vicious little widow than in drawing out a more complete sketch of Francis’ character, though it might be coloured by slander.“Just as she wished it, I believe. In the early part of the evening she was somewhat neglected, andthis was evidently her wish, for she did nothing to prevent it; on the contrary, she had told the hostess that she had resolved not to dance, in such a loud and decided tone, that it would have been absurd for any one to invite her afterwards.”“She’s cunning enough,” put in the elderly spinster. “She only said that lest afterwards she should feel ashamed of herself at the close of the party, in case no one invited her to dance.”“In fact, it requires more moral courage than the gentlemen in these parts as a rule possess to lead out a lady dressed as she was,” interposed the widow again.“It appears that the custom of not sparing us gentlemen is catching,” whispered an officer, who had been introduced as Captain Sanders.I silently bowed, for I wished to listen to Mrs. X., who continued—“Finally, however, when thecotillonwas called, she must join, and the unfortunate leader of the dance had to sacrifice himself. Lieutenant Wilibald, her grandfather’s adjutant, was obliged to take her in tow, mustering up all his courage. After showing a good deal of resistance, which appeared seriouslymeant, she allowed herself to be led out, but did nothing to lighten her partner’s unpleasant task. On the contrary, she was so recalcitrant, so inattentive and so awkward, that she often caused confusion, and her partner had the greatest difficulty to rectify her mistakes. Indeed, the polite young officer was pitied by the whole company, and the more so because it was known that he was sacrificing himself to a sense of duty; for he was engaged to a charming young lady who had been prevented from attending the ball by a recent death in the family.”“Pardon, madame; permit me to say that your representation of the facts is not quite correct,” interrupted Captain Sanders, in whose favour I immediately became prepossessed on account of his serious and earnest look. “Allow me to set you right as to facts, for I am a friend of Lieutenant Wilibald’s, and I know he would be sorry if what you have said should go forth to the world as truth. It was by no means a disagreeable task for him to lead out Miss Mordaunt in any dress she chose to appear in, for he was too much in love with her to notice such small matters as dress. Yes, I venture to say, if it had depended on him alone he wouldnot have married the woman he has; but he was forced by circumstances, and Miss Mordaunt did her utmost to promote the marriage and to put him in possession of a fortune.”I inwardly thanked the Captain for his chivalrous defence of the absent, and I would gladly have taken him by the hand and done so publicly, but that this would have prevented my hearing more on the subject of Francis.“And has Miss Mordaunt been married since?” I asked, trying to put the question as disinterestedly as possible.“Why, no!” cried the elderly spinster with a triumphant smile. “So far as we know (and we know pretty well everything that happens in our circle), she has never had an offer.”“Ah! that is very strange; a young lady who seems to be possessed of so many attractions,” I observed.“That’s not at all strange,” interrupted the little widow, in a coquettish, sentimental tone. “It was never difficult for her to attract admirers and flatterers for the moment, but it is only by the heart that a woman wins true affection and esteem; and,with the Captain’s permission, no one could ever believe Francis Mordaunt to be in earnest, for she has no heart—she never cared for anything but horses and dogs.”“You forget her grandfather!” pleaded the Captain.“Well, yes, she has been his idol; but this very fact has turned out her ruin.”“How are we to understand that remark, madame?” asked Overberg, whose jovial face grew serious.“That he has left the girl far too much to her own whims and fancies.”“What shall I say,chère amie? He was afraid of her.” (It was the elderly spinster who again began the attack.) “He could roar at his officers, but he was afraid of a scene with Francis.”“Excuse me for once more contradicting you, miss. Colonel von Zwenken never roared at his officers—this I know by experience; but it is true he was conspicuous by his absence when Francis Mordaunt went into society. He suffered her to go out when she liked, and with whom she liked. Alas! he sat at the card table in his club whilst Francis by her thoughtlessness and certain peculiarities inher character, was rendering herself a victim to calumny and envious tongues.”“Bravo, Captain! it’s noble of you to defend the absent.”“I am only sorry I cannot do so without blaming another absent person; but what I say is known, and well known, in this circle.”“As well known as the eccentricities of Major Frank. Whatever Captain Sanders may say, we are not making her conduct appear worse than it is; we are only speaking of it as it struck us at the time.”“That everybody must acknowledge,” said an old lady, who had thus far listened with sparkling eyes. “Only remember what talk her conduct gave rise to when she met the stranger staying at the ‘Golden Salmon,’ by appointment, unknown to the Colonel, who had forbidden the man his house! Did she not set all our ideas of good breeding at defiance by walking in the plantation in open daylight with a perfect stranger.”“In fact, I am assured she pawned her diamonds to pay his hotel bill. She even wished to sell them, for she asked a friend of mine to buy them.”Overberg’s healthy, blooming face turned pale;but he said nothing. The Captain, however, spoke again—“It is only too true she would risk all to attain her ends, if she had once set her mind on a thing.”“And that for a person who went to a third-rate hotel—did not even give his own name, as it was said afterwards; and who certainly was a sharper or a coiner.”“If such had been the case, the police would have looked after him sharp,” interposed Overberg.“That is my opinion also,” said the Captain; “and I think Wilibald Smeekens was right. He said it was some one who had formerly committed a breach of military discipline, and whom she out of pity wished to assist in getting out of the country.”“Ahem! out of pity,” said the old lady. “Young ladies should be careful how they show such pity—carrying on an intrigue. I can assure you that at the time it was a question whether we ought not to banish her from our society.”“But no one dared to pronounce the sentence of banishment,” said the Captain, “for fear of the Colonel, who had it in his power to refuse the military music for the balls and open-air concerts insummer. And this he certainly would have done if he had known what was hatching against his granddaughter. But the ladies were more prudent; they pulled poor Francis to pieces behind her back.”“With this result,” added the elderly spinster, “that of her own accord she almost entirely withdrew from our society.”“No, there is another reason,” said the widow, with a significant shake of the head; “it was not our treatment, but her own conscience which pricked her after that affair with her coachman.”“Yes, you are quite right; that was a sad affair,” assented the Captain, to my painful surprise.The honourable man, who had evidently combatted calumny and slander, was now silenced. I wished to ask what had happened, but the words stuck in my throat; I felt as if they would choke me. The postmaster, however, who had just entered the room, put the question, which the tongues of the ladies were quivering with impatience to answer.“Unfortunately, no one knows the exact particulars,” began the elderly spinster, whose shrill, sharp voice made itself heard above the rest; “but it is generally believed she wished to make her coachmanelope with her. Possibly she might have succeeded, but the man was already married, and when that became known——”“She pitched him off the box whilst the horses were going at a furious rate,” put in the old lady, with a demoniacal smile of pleasure.“Others who are supposed to know, say she struck him dead with the whip,” added the little widow, who must have her say. “Horrible! most horrible!” she continued, turning up her eyes with mock sentimentality.Yes, horrible indeed, thought I, when both young ladies and old vie with each other in a wicked desire to give thecoup de grâceto one of their own sex who has erred, or, may be, only taken one false step in life.“I have been told,” murmured another voice, “that she fought with him; and the horses taking fright, he fell from the box under their feet.”“However it happened, the truth will never be known, for he now lies in the churchyard.”“Yes, now you’ve got the truth without any figures of speech,” jested the widow; “and with him the crime is buried, and hushed up for ever.”“With your permission, ladies, had there been a question of anything of that sort, the law would have taken its course,” observed Overberg; “and I know for certain it was never brought before a court.”“That I can believe,” answered the widow. “The magistrate is a great friend of the Colonel’s, plays cards with him every evening, and to palliate the affair, and silence public indignation, he made an official visit to the commandant’s house. Francis Mordaunt was examined, and, as might be expected beforehand, came out of the affair snow-white—at least, according to the magistrate’s report,” added the widow, with a satirical shrug of the shoulders.“But, madame,” interposed Overberg, evidently growing angry, “do you mean to say you suspect the impartiality of the magistrate?”“I suspect no one; I only tell you how the affair ended—namely, that it was hushed up, and the relations of the coachman bribed to keep quiet. Such people are easily frightened. One thing, however, is certain, and that is, Major Frank has not dared to show her face in our circle since; and besides this, it seems to have been the cause of her grandfather retiring from the service.”“He had attained the age to be put on the retired list,” said the Captain; “and with his pension he obtained the honorary rank of General.”“Be that as it may, the General retired from the world to Castle de Werve,” observed the old lady.“Where, now, Major Frank has the command,” put in the spinster.“And spends her time in riding and shooting,” added the little widow, turning up her nose superciliously.“I venture to contradict the latter part of the assertion with regard to the shooting,” said Overberg; “for the General has not renewed his shooting license and has leased the shooting over his own estates to a client of mine, who, however, leaves the hares and partridges in perfect peace.”This latter remark led to a long conversation amongst the gentlemen about the shooting and fishing in the neighbourhood, whilst the ladies set to work to sharpen their tongues on other absent victims.Chapter IX.Notwithstanding all my efforts to appear calm and unconcerned, Overberg observed that the hard judgment passed on Francis had made a deep impression on my mind. Taking me aside, he whispered in my ear—“We will talk this subject over to-morrow morning before your departure; in the meantime don’t let it trouble you. You know the proverb: ‘The devil’s not so black as he is painted.’”It was easy for him to talk; but, alas! he knew not yet the reasons I had for being so deeply interested in this young lady.I passed a restless night. In the morning, when the carriage I had ordered over-night drove up to the door, I was still debating in my own mind whether I should go to the Werve, or tell my driver to takeme to the nearest station and return to the Hague. After a few minutes, however, Overberg made his appearance, and accosted me in the following words—“I believe I have guessed your noble intention, which is to make the acquaintance of Miss Mordaunt, and, if she please you, to remove all difficulties in the most amiable manner possible. I cannot tell you how praiseworthy, how wise and sensible, your plan seems to me; but what surprises me is that the testatrix never suggested it to you, she being a woman of such clear and sound judgment in matters of this sort.”“She has given me such a hint—I will no longer try to conceal it from you—and it was my intention to follow her advice. But what I heard last night has quite changed my mind on that point.”“Nonsense! Never let gossip have any influence over you. Remember that people living in a small town are possessed by the evil spirit of slander, and furthermore, that they express their opinions in a very crude manner.”“That’s all well and good; but in a small town where every one is known by his neighbour, peoplewould not dare to calumniate and slander each other without grounds.”“I will not attempt to contradict your statement; but let me remind you that certain uncommon occurrences and eccentric acts on the part of a young lady may be explained in different ways, and why should you believe the worse account of them, coloured as it certainly is by envy, hatred, and malice. I willingly confess I could not contradict all that was said about Miss Mordaunt last night; my business has always been with her grandfather, who speaks of her in the highest terms. For this reason I could not foresee that the ladies would be so severe on her conduct. Otherwise I should have avoided the subject, and made inquiries for you of people less prejudiced and more trustworthy.”“Do you know any such people here?”“Such people can be found. Why, in my professional career, I have so often seen the most wicked accusations burst like a soap-bubble when submitted to the touchstone of cross-examination, that now I believe nothing which I have not seen with my own eyes, or for which I have not proofs equal to the same.”“Then with regard to the diamonds, you have some certain proofs?” I asked.“You are right; I was engaged in that business. The young lady required more money than the goldsmith was willing to advance on them; and they were never offered for sale unless he took such a liberty during the hour he had them in his possession. In her difficulties she came to me, her grandfather’s lawyer. I obtained the money from Miss Roselaer, as I always did for the General, and she refused either to take the diamonds or accept the interest on the money she lent; consequently the diamonds are still in my possession.”“And do you know for what purpose this money was required?”“It was to assist a person who dared not apply to the General (and, between you and me, the General had not a penny to assist any one with). What the relationship between them was I am unable to say. The stranger only stayed four days in the village, and I did not see him myself. Of course I have heard the flying reports. Some people say he was dressed like a gentleman, and had a gentleman’s manners; others, on the contrary, describe him asa rogue and a vagabond, who got drunk in the lowest public-houses in the place. This latter account may also be true, for, as you know, a woman’s sympathy is often bestowed on the most undeserving creatures.”“With regard to the coachman, you must allow her womanly sympathy does not show itself in a favourable light,” I interposed, with a certain bitterness in my tone.“I am unacquainted with the facts of that case. Still, I fancy it is far from such a bad case as the amiable ladies made it out to be; and in your place I should not suffer it to interfere with my projected visit to the Werve. Miss Mordaunt has been accused, in my presence, of brusque manners, imprudent behaviour, and so forth; but she is renowned for her plain and straightforward dealing, which has brought her into disrepute with her female friends, they preferring to say the most impertinent things in the blandest tone possible. I am sure you will find out the truth if you ask her a plain question. Besides, a single visit will not commit you to anything, and an interview with the General to arrange matters will be absolutely necessary.”There was no refuting Overberg’s line of argument.I confessed to myself that it would be unfair on my part to form an opinion until after a personal interview and further inquiries. So, accepting his advice, I stepped into the carriage, and ordered the driver to take the road to the Castle de Werve.The morning was raw and cold, without sun, and the air was so heavy that I did not know whether to expect snow or hail. At the toll-bar my driver made inquiries about a short cut through a lane planted with poplars, which would bring us out near the “fir wood.”As the country was very monotonous, and there was nothing to attract my attention, I sank into deep thought, and began arranging a plan for my conduct on first meeting with my cousin, a little speech to be made when I was presented to her, and so forth. But then it occurred to me that our best-laid schemes are generally thrown into confusion by the circumstances of the event: how much more likely was this to be the case in dealing with such a whimsical person as Francis? Accordingly, I gave up all such ideas as preparing myself for the occasion, resolving only to keep cool and act according to circumstances.In the midst of these thoughts the carriage suddenly came to a standstill, and the driver pointed out to me that the lane terminated in a half-circle—he had taken the lane on the wrong side of the wood. Whilst speaking we heard a horse galloping behind us, and in another moment it shot past us like lightning.“That’s Major Frank!” said the driver.“Major Frank,” I repeated, in a tone of anger and surprise. “Whom do you mean by that?”“Why, the young lady of the Castle. They call her so in our village, when she comes to see the boy.”Cutting short the conversation, I ordered him to find his way to the Castle as soon as possible. A few minutes later, however, he had got his carriage on such marshy ground that he was obliged to request me to walk until he could lead his horse on to a firmer place.Chapter X.Once on my legs I took a view of the surrounding country. We were on the outskirts of the wood, and separated from the ploughed cornfields by a half-dry ditch, luxuriantly overgrown with all kinds of marsh plants. On our right was a heath; on the left potato fields. There was not a soul to be seen, and on consulting my watch I found it was just twelve o’clock. Consequently all the farm labourers had gone home to their midday meal.Suddenly we heard a peal of resounding laughter quite close at hand, only the sound seemed to come somewhat from above us. I looked up in the direction of the undulating heath; and on the top of a sand-hill, overgrown with grass, stood the person who was enjoying our perplexity.“Major Frank!” exclaimed the driver in hisshrill tone of voice, his astonishment and annoyance causing him to show little respect.It was indeed Francis Mordaunt herself who was mocking us. Really, I could never have anticipated such a reception.As she stood there, some feet above me but still pretty near, I had a good view of her; and I cannot say that this first sight reconciled me to the person who had already caused me so many disagreeable emotions. Perhaps it was not her fault; but she was dressed in such a strange manner that at first sight I was doubtful whether a man or a woman stood before me. She had gathered up her riding-habit in a way that reminded me of Zouave trousers, and she had, besides, put on a wide cloak made of some long-haired material—which was doubtless very useful this sharp, cold spring day, but which, buttoned up to her throat, was not adapted to show off the beauty of her form if she was really well-shaped. Her head-gear consisted of a gray billy-cock hat with a soft, downward-bent brim, ornamented with a bunch of cock’s feathers negligently fastened with a green ribbon—just as if she really wished to imitate the wild huntsman of the fairy tale. And then, becauseit was rather windy, she had tied a red silk handkerchief over her hat and fastened it under her chin. She wore no veil. As far as I could judge of her appearance, she seemed to be rather delicately built and slim, with a fine Roman nose. Still, I was not in the humour to be agreeably impressed by a face convulsed with laughter, and bandaged up as if she had the toothache. Her laugh sounded to my ears like a provocation, and rendered me little inclined to be courteous to a woman who had so evidently forgotten all feminine self-respect.“Listen,” I cried—“listen for a moment, you who are rejoicing so much at your neighbour’s distress. You would do better to direct us on our way.”“There is no way. I should have thought you could see that. Any one who enters this wood except with the purpose of driving round it, does a very stupid thing.”“And you?”“I?” she laughed again. “I jumped my horse over the dry ditch yonder. Imitate me if you feel inclined, though I fear with your horse and carriage it will not be quite so easy. But where are you going to?”“To the Castle de Werve.”“To the Werve!” she repeated, descending the hill and approaching me as nearly as she could on the opposite side of the ditch. “What is your business at the Castle, sir?” she inquired, in quite another tone, no longer speaking like a “somebody” to a “nobody.”“To pay a visit to General von Zwenken, and his granddaughter, Freule Mordaunt.”“The General no longer receives visitors, and what you have to say to his granddaughter you can address to me. I am Freule Mordaunt.”“I can scarcely believe it; but, if so, may I request Freule Mordaunt to appoint a more suitable place than this. What I have got to say cannot be shouted across a ditch in the presence of a third person.”“Then you must drive back to the toll-bar. There they will direct you to the village, from which you can easily reach the Castle, if your visit is so very urgent.”“In order to give you time to get home and deny yourself to all visitors, my little Major,” I thought to myself. “But now’s my opportunity, and I will not let it slip me.”So, giving orders to the driver to go on to the village and wait for me there, I took my stout walking-stick, fixed it as firmly as I could in the muddy bottom of the ditch, and reached the opposite side I scarcely know how.“Bravo! well done!” cried Francis, clapping her hands with delight.As I approached I raised my hat, and she saluted with her riding-whip.“This is an amusing adventure, sir,” she said, again laughing; “if you still wish to go to Werve you must cross the heath.”“Is it a long walk?”“No, it is much shorter than by the high-road, but as you don’t know the way, you run the risk of getting lost again.”“You forget that I have a claim on your company for the rest of the way.”“A claim! how do you make that out?”“Miss Mordaunt promised me an interview; is it strange that I should seize the first occasion that offers?”“I don’t even know the way myself. My horse has lost a shoe, and I have left him at the game-keeper’s,so I shall have to get home as well as I can without assistance. Have you really business at the Castle? I can assure you the General has an aversion to visitors!”“I wish to make his acquaintance and yours, as I am staying in the neighbourhood, and I, remember, I am related to the family Von Zwenken by my mother’s side.”“So much the worse for you. At the Castle relationship is a bad recommendation.”“That I have already heard; but I am not a Roselaer, I am a Van Zonshoven, Freule—Leopold van Zonshoven,” I said, introducing myself.“I have never heard the name before. However, as you are not a Roselaer you perhaps stand a better chance of a kind reception. But is it quite certain you do not come to trouble the General about business?”“In that case I should have sent a lawyer, with orders not to inconvenience Miss Mordaunt.”“Then you would have done wrong,” she rejoined, becoming serious. “The General is over seventy, and has had a life full of trouble; and I will not try to conceal from you that he has many cares and difficultiesto contend with even now. It is for this reason I desire you to tell me without reserve the object of your visit. Perhaps I can find some means——”“I protest to you that my greatest desire is to assist you in sparing your grandfather all annoyance.”“The sentiment does you honour, but it leads me to doubt your relationship, for it is contrary to all our family traditions.”“There are exceptions to every rule, as you know, and I hope to prove myself an exception in your family traditions.”“Then you shall be welcome at the Werve also by exception, for as a rule we admit no new faces.”“That’s a pity; for I cannot think it isyourwish to live in such isolation.”“Quite my wish!” she interposed, with a certain haughtiness. “I have had sufficient experience of mankind to make me care little for their society.”“So young, and already such a misanthrope—afraid of the world!” I observed.“I am not so very young—I am turned twenty-six; and the campaign years, as grandfather calls them, count double. You may speak to me as thoughI were a woman of forty. I have quite as much experience of life.”“Ladies talk like that when they wish to be contradicted.”“Ladies!” she cried, with ineffable contempt. “I very earnestly request you not to include me in the category of beings commonly denominated ladies.”“In which category must I put you? For, to tell the truth, at first sight I did not know what to call you.”“I believe you,” she said, with a little laugh; “for to any one who does not know me I must appear very odd. But, tell me, what did you take me for at first sight—for an apparition of the wild huntsman?”“An apparition! Certainly not; that’s too ethereal. I took you for a sad reality—a gamekeeper suffering from toothache.”She seemed piqued for a moment, her cheeks coloured, and she bit her lips.“That’s rude,” she said at last, and glanced at me with scintillating eyes.“You asked for the truth,” I rejoined.“So I did; and you shall find I can endure thetruth. Give me your hand, cousin; I think we shall become good friends.”“I hope so, cousin. But don’t be generous by halves: let me touch your hand, and not that rough riding-glove.”“You are a fastidious fellow,” she said, shaking her head; “but you shall have your way. There.”And a beautiful white hand lay in mine, which I held a minute longer than was absolutely necessary. She did not seem to perceive it.“But call me Francis; I shall call you Leo. The endless repetition of cousin is so wearisome,” she said frankly.“Most willingly;” and I pressed her hand again.“Your driver will have told you he recognized Major Frank.”“That’s but too true; and don’t you, Francis, consider it a great insult that people dare to call you by such a name?”“Oh, I don’t mind it in the least! I know they have given me this nickname. I am neither better nor worse for it. I know, also, that I am pointed at as a Cossack or a cavalry officer by the people round, and am stared at because I dress to suit myown convenience, and not according to the latest fashions.”“But a woman should try to please others in her way of dressing. In my opinion, a woman’s first duty is to make herself agreeable. Can we not show our good taste even in the simplest and plainest attire?”She coloured a little.“Do you imagine, then, that I have no taste at all, because I have put on this shaggy cloak to protect me from the east winds?” she demanded sharply.“I do not judge from that single article of dress; I am referring to theensemble, and one gets a bad opinion of a young lady’s taste when she wraps up her face in an unsightly red handkerchief.”“Which gives her the appearance of a gamekeeper with the toothache,” she interposed, with a quick, bold air. “Well now, that’s easily remedied, if the wind will respect my billycock;” and hereupon she untied the handkerchief and unpinned her riding-habit.

Chapter VII.I was invited to stay to luncheon by my lawyer, and I accepted the invitation.In the course of the conversation Van Beek said—“The country seat, Runenburg, will be at your disposal on the 31st of October next; but the house in town is let till the May following, and the tenants would like to stay on, if it be agreeable to you. They are very respectable people. How am I to act in the matter?”I stared at him in surprise and perplexity. Such a strange feeling came over me. I who have never possessed a stick or a stone in my life (in fact, I always felt it a relief when the quarter’s lodging bill was paid), now I had to decide about a house in town and a country seat.“I think, Mr. Van Beek, everything had better remain as it is until the question of my marriage with Miss Mordaunt is settled.”“The Jonker forgets that that condition is not binding.”“I look upon it as binding, though such may not be the legal interpretation of the will.”“Would you not like to see the house whilst you are in Utrecht? It is beautifully situated, and well worth a visit, I can assure you.”“No, thank you, sir; but I should like to see the house in which my aunt lived: from its surroundings I may be able to obtain a better idea of her character.”“Oh, with pleasure, Jonker! I thought I had already told you,” began Van Beek, somewhat embarrassed, “that the old lady had bequeathed it to me, on condition her maid should occupy it as long as she lives. It is a splendid legacy; that I do not deny. But consider, I have served her thirty years in all kinds of business, some of which cost me much trouble and loss of time. And I may remind you that there is no extra money set aside for my expenses as executor, whilst I am recommended to assist theheir in every way, and to serve him to the best of my ability by my counsel.”“My dear sir,” I rejoined, “it was to be expected that aunt would treat you generously. It is not my intention to dispute any of her bequests. It will be a sort of pilgrimage for me.”“We will drive there at once after luncheon. It is only half an hour’s distance from the town.”I must confess the interior of my aunt’s dwelling did not enable me to gather any new ideas of the strange personage who once occupied it. The old waiting-woman received us with coolness, and chanted the praises of her late mistress in pious terms. The young cook shed a torrent of tears, and was evidently astonished not to see me do the same; whilst the man-servant eyed me askance, as if he feared I had come there to cut off his legacy. The house was furnished in a moderately comfortable style, most of the furniture being of the good solid sort common in the reign of King William I., though there had been an attempt to imitate the style of the First French Empire. There was only one sofa in the house, and one armchairà la Voltaire, in which Miss Roselaer reposed herself for just one hour afterdinner every day. She must have been a clever, active woman up to the very last.“She was always making up her accounts or writing,” said her maid, “when she was not either reading or knitting.”“And what did she read?” I asked.“Mostly ‘unbelieving books’—those in the bookcase there; sometimes, but very seldom, the Bible.”The “unbelieving books” were French, German, and English classics. I pointed out to Van Beek that I should like to possess this small but well-selected library. All the books are beautifully though not showily bound, and they bear marks of assiduous reading. Among the “unbelieving books” are the works of Fénelon, Bossuet, and Pascal, peacefully assorted with those of Voltaire and the Encyclopædists, whilst Lavater, Gellert, Lessing, and Klopstock find a place by the side of Goethe and Schiller, and the plays of Iffland and Kotzebue.This was the first moment of unalloyed pleasure I have felt since I came into my fortune, when I once more cast my eyes over the library and beheld it with all the pride of ownership. I involuntarily put forthmy hand to snatch up one of the volumes, as if I thereby wished to signify I was taking possession. Van Beek smiled and twinkled his cunning little eyes; but the maid, who was standing by, looked at me as though I had committed a sacrilege.“I should rather have thought the Jonker would have preferred my lady’s Bible,” she said.“I should certainly like the Bible as well as the other books, Mrs. Jones—that is to say, unless you wish to keep it yourself as a memento.”“Oh no, Jonker! such a worldly, new-fashioned book I would not have in my possession. I can’t look upon it as God’s word; and I could never understand how my lady found edification in it.”“What’s the matter with the Bible?” I asked Van Beek as we left the house.“Nothing, absolutely nothing. It is an ordinary States-Bible, only not printed in the old-fashioned German type.”1Upon my word, I thought aunt must indeed havebeen pretty liberal-minded to have put up with so bigoted a servant for so many years.The next day I set out for the small town of Zutphen, which is within an easy drive of the Castle de Werve.1The strictly orthodox party in Holland will only make use of the version of the Bible approved by the States-General in the seventeenth century; the bigots insist upon its being printed in the German characters in use at the time when the first copies were issued.

I was invited to stay to luncheon by my lawyer, and I accepted the invitation.

In the course of the conversation Van Beek said—

“The country seat, Runenburg, will be at your disposal on the 31st of October next; but the house in town is let till the May following, and the tenants would like to stay on, if it be agreeable to you. They are very respectable people. How am I to act in the matter?”

I stared at him in surprise and perplexity. Such a strange feeling came over me. I who have never possessed a stick or a stone in my life (in fact, I always felt it a relief when the quarter’s lodging bill was paid), now I had to decide about a house in town and a country seat.

“I think, Mr. Van Beek, everything had better remain as it is until the question of my marriage with Miss Mordaunt is settled.”

“The Jonker forgets that that condition is not binding.”

“I look upon it as binding, though such may not be the legal interpretation of the will.”

“Would you not like to see the house whilst you are in Utrecht? It is beautifully situated, and well worth a visit, I can assure you.”

“No, thank you, sir; but I should like to see the house in which my aunt lived: from its surroundings I may be able to obtain a better idea of her character.”

“Oh, with pleasure, Jonker! I thought I had already told you,” began Van Beek, somewhat embarrassed, “that the old lady had bequeathed it to me, on condition her maid should occupy it as long as she lives. It is a splendid legacy; that I do not deny. But consider, I have served her thirty years in all kinds of business, some of which cost me much trouble and loss of time. And I may remind you that there is no extra money set aside for my expenses as executor, whilst I am recommended to assist theheir in every way, and to serve him to the best of my ability by my counsel.”

“My dear sir,” I rejoined, “it was to be expected that aunt would treat you generously. It is not my intention to dispute any of her bequests. It will be a sort of pilgrimage for me.”

“We will drive there at once after luncheon. It is only half an hour’s distance from the town.”

I must confess the interior of my aunt’s dwelling did not enable me to gather any new ideas of the strange personage who once occupied it. The old waiting-woman received us with coolness, and chanted the praises of her late mistress in pious terms. The young cook shed a torrent of tears, and was evidently astonished not to see me do the same; whilst the man-servant eyed me askance, as if he feared I had come there to cut off his legacy. The house was furnished in a moderately comfortable style, most of the furniture being of the good solid sort common in the reign of King William I., though there had been an attempt to imitate the style of the First French Empire. There was only one sofa in the house, and one armchairà la Voltaire, in which Miss Roselaer reposed herself for just one hour afterdinner every day. She must have been a clever, active woman up to the very last.

“She was always making up her accounts or writing,” said her maid, “when she was not either reading or knitting.”

“And what did she read?” I asked.

“Mostly ‘unbelieving books’—those in the bookcase there; sometimes, but very seldom, the Bible.”

The “unbelieving books” were French, German, and English classics. I pointed out to Van Beek that I should like to possess this small but well-selected library. All the books are beautifully though not showily bound, and they bear marks of assiduous reading. Among the “unbelieving books” are the works of Fénelon, Bossuet, and Pascal, peacefully assorted with those of Voltaire and the Encyclopædists, whilst Lavater, Gellert, Lessing, and Klopstock find a place by the side of Goethe and Schiller, and the plays of Iffland and Kotzebue.

This was the first moment of unalloyed pleasure I have felt since I came into my fortune, when I once more cast my eyes over the library and beheld it with all the pride of ownership. I involuntarily put forthmy hand to snatch up one of the volumes, as if I thereby wished to signify I was taking possession. Van Beek smiled and twinkled his cunning little eyes; but the maid, who was standing by, looked at me as though I had committed a sacrilege.

“I should rather have thought the Jonker would have preferred my lady’s Bible,” she said.

“I should certainly like the Bible as well as the other books, Mrs. Jones—that is to say, unless you wish to keep it yourself as a memento.”

“Oh no, Jonker! such a worldly, new-fashioned book I would not have in my possession. I can’t look upon it as God’s word; and I could never understand how my lady found edification in it.”

“What’s the matter with the Bible?” I asked Van Beek as we left the house.

“Nothing, absolutely nothing. It is an ordinary States-Bible, only not printed in the old-fashioned German type.”1

Upon my word, I thought aunt must indeed havebeen pretty liberal-minded to have put up with so bigoted a servant for so many years.

The next day I set out for the small town of Zutphen, which is within an easy drive of the Castle de Werve.

1The strictly orthodox party in Holland will only make use of the version of the Bible approved by the States-General in the seventeenth century; the bigots insist upon its being printed in the German characters in use at the time when the first copies were issued.

1The strictly orthodox party in Holland will only make use of the version of the Bible approved by the States-General in the seventeenth century; the bigots insist upon its being printed in the German characters in use at the time when the first copies were issued.

Chapter VIII.Castle de Werve, April, 1861.You see, my dear William, I have entered the fortress.But to resume my narrative. Van Beek gave me a letter of introduction to his friend Overberg, a lawyer in Zutphen, and I called upon this worthy man of the law as soon as I arrived in the town. This Overberg was the agent of my old Aunt Roselaer in these quarters, and it was through his good management of her affairs that she gradually obtained possession of Von Zwenken’s property, as the General usually borrowed money of Overberg. After all, the General was more fortunate than if he had fallen into the hands of usurers, who, speculating on his weakness, would have ruined him in a much shorter time. Overberg had advised the General to accept the offer of his sister-in-law—with what resultyou already know. For this reason he recommended me, if I wished to obtain a kindly reception at the Castle, not to present myself there as the heir to Miss Roselaer’s property; such an introduction being calculated to raise a prejudice against me from the first. Therefore I decided to present myself as a relation anxious to make the acquaintance of the family.Seizing the opportunity, I began to question Overberg about Miss Mordaunt.“I have only spoken to her once,” he said; “the General always comes to see me in person. She is never seen in the town now. Once, indeed, whilst the General was still commandant of the garrison here, she came to consult me on a matter personal to herself, but that is a long time ago.”The good-natured lawyer, though ignorant of my matrimonial plans, doubtless read disappointment in my face, for he resumed, as if to excuse the meagreness of his information—“You see, sir, the General then lived in grand style; and a wide distinction was also made in society between the military and thebourgeoisie. I was a widower, my time fully occupied, and I seldom wentinto society. Since my second marriage, however, we have parties and dinners enough—and that reminds me my wife has asoiréethis evening; several young ladies who know Miss Mordaunt are invited. Will you spend the evening with us? You can leave tomorrow early for the Werve. I will introduce you to the company as a gentleman looking out for a villa in our neighbourhood; for as you know, in a small town like ours, it is necessary to give a reason for your appearance among us, otherwise one will be invented—and such inventions are not always of a flattering kind. I can easily give the conversation a turn so as to cause it to fall on the family Von Zwenken, and you need only keep your ears open.”This idea took my fancy; I accepted the invitation with pleasure, for a little society would help me to pass the evening more agreeably than I could spend it at my hotel.We dined quietlyen famille, and Overberg and his wife—hospitable, jovial people—seemed to me to belie the French verse—“De petits avocats,Qui se sont fait des sous,En rognant des ducats.”Mr. Overberg is a shrewd, clever lawyer, who perfectly understands his business and the way to treat his clients politely and persuasively; he always discourages lawsuits, recommends delay and an attempt at an arrangement, and thus quietly brings about the desired result without, as it were, seeming to interfere. Aunt Sophia respected him highly for his discretion and foresight, though she took care never to let him see through her intentions, since he was not the man to take sharp and decisive measures. For any such business she employed Van Beek, who is a man to carry out the law to the letter, without feeling any pity for the sufferer.It was therefore in keeping with Overberg’s character that he recommended me to temporize with the General, to give him time to pay his debts, and not to drive such an old man to despair, though he was aforeigner. The good man little knew he was preaching to one who already shared his views, and whose inmost wish was to deal as gently as possible with Von Zwenken.I must acknowledge that what I heard at thesoiréedid not make a favourable impression on me. The past life of the young lady must have been a singularone, if there be any truth in the gossip I heard about her. I know much must be set down to slander in a small town, where people are at a loss what to talk about when not criticising their neighbours.But, however, you must judge for yourself from what follows.Among the ladies to whom I was introduced was a charming young widow with jet-black eyes and lively features; she is a niece of the Roselaers, I am told, and at first I felt very sorry her name was not Francis Mordaunt, the niece-elect of Aunt Sophia. However, when Overberg had drawn her out a little on the subject of the Von Zwenkens, I felt exceedingly glad to think our acquaintance would not extend beyond the present evening.I began to feel a most intense hatred against her, so unmercifully did she attack poor Francis.“Yes, they had been well acquainted when her grandfather was commandant of the garrison, and she herself had visited at the house of the Colonel. But no, friendship had never existed between her and the young lady; she was too eccentric and ill-mannered. Just imagine, Jonker, she came to our house one evening when she knew there was to be dancingand music. Yes, she dropped in, asnonchalantas possible, in a dark merino dress, fastened up to the neck, with a turn-down collar and a silk neckerchief—just for all the world like a boy. And her boots—they might have belonged to some plough-boy. Upon my word, I believe there werenailsin the soles; a non-commissioned officer would not have been so rude as to enter asalonin them.”“Perhaps she had made a mistake about the evening,” I said, by way of excuse.“Certainly not! She received her invitation a week beforehand. Surely that was time enough to get a ball-dress made. And it was not because she hadn’t got any other dresses; for two days afterwards she came to a house where we were invited to spend a quiet evening,en grande toilette, a low dress (as if she expected to be invited to dance), and resplendent with jewellery and diamonds. Now I ask you if that was not done to annoy us and to wound our feelings?”“It seems to me she took more trouble to do honour to the ladies than she had taken to please the gentlemen.”“The truth is, she was not at all complimentaryto the gentlemen,” rejoined a thin, elderly-looking spinster of an uncertain age, dressed in an old-fashioned style, who I should have thought would have been the last person to come to the defence of a sex that had so clearly neglected her.“And the gentlemen—no doubt they reciprocated hernonchalance?” I asked. “It is very probable she was left in the company of the elderly ladies all the evening to increase the number of ‘wall flowers.’”“Yes! but it was because she wished it,” replied the widow. “She would be sure of partners, though she were never such a fright. All the young officers are, as a matter of course, obliged ‘to do the amiable’ to the granddaughter of their colonel. Moreover, Francis Mordaunt is mistress of the art of attracting or repelling as it pleases her. Notwithstanding all her strange whims and caprices, she is never at a loss for a partner, and the moment she enters any ball-room she becomes the observed of all observers. The gentlemen flock round her; she is flattered, flirted with——”“Yes, flirted with, I grant you; but not respected, I’m sure,” interrupted the elderly spinster. “It is chiefly done to draw out her smart repartees, and theunladylike answers which have made her so famous (or rather infamous).”“In fact everybody is amused at her scathing replies.”“Which the ladies are afraid of,” said a gentleman, half jestingly, half reproachfully, “for as a rule they are as true as they are sharp.”“As a rule she makes the gentlemen the butt of her raillery.”“How strange then, indeed, that the ladies take her part so little!” I could not help remarking.“That isnotstrange, Jonker! The peculiar manner she has adopted to render herself noticeable is just the one our sex cannot suffer. In all her victories we saw a defeat; the good tone was lost.”“And how did the party pass off for Miss Mordaunt in that curious dress?” I inquired, for I had less interest in carrying on acombat d’espritwith the vicious little widow than in drawing out a more complete sketch of Francis’ character, though it might be coloured by slander.“Just as she wished it, I believe. In the early part of the evening she was somewhat neglected, andthis was evidently her wish, for she did nothing to prevent it; on the contrary, she had told the hostess that she had resolved not to dance, in such a loud and decided tone, that it would have been absurd for any one to invite her afterwards.”“She’s cunning enough,” put in the elderly spinster. “She only said that lest afterwards she should feel ashamed of herself at the close of the party, in case no one invited her to dance.”“In fact, it requires more moral courage than the gentlemen in these parts as a rule possess to lead out a lady dressed as she was,” interposed the widow again.“It appears that the custom of not sparing us gentlemen is catching,” whispered an officer, who had been introduced as Captain Sanders.I silently bowed, for I wished to listen to Mrs. X., who continued—“Finally, however, when thecotillonwas called, she must join, and the unfortunate leader of the dance had to sacrifice himself. Lieutenant Wilibald, her grandfather’s adjutant, was obliged to take her in tow, mustering up all his courage. After showing a good deal of resistance, which appeared seriouslymeant, she allowed herself to be led out, but did nothing to lighten her partner’s unpleasant task. On the contrary, she was so recalcitrant, so inattentive and so awkward, that she often caused confusion, and her partner had the greatest difficulty to rectify her mistakes. Indeed, the polite young officer was pitied by the whole company, and the more so because it was known that he was sacrificing himself to a sense of duty; for he was engaged to a charming young lady who had been prevented from attending the ball by a recent death in the family.”“Pardon, madame; permit me to say that your representation of the facts is not quite correct,” interrupted Captain Sanders, in whose favour I immediately became prepossessed on account of his serious and earnest look. “Allow me to set you right as to facts, for I am a friend of Lieutenant Wilibald’s, and I know he would be sorry if what you have said should go forth to the world as truth. It was by no means a disagreeable task for him to lead out Miss Mordaunt in any dress she chose to appear in, for he was too much in love with her to notice such small matters as dress. Yes, I venture to say, if it had depended on him alone he wouldnot have married the woman he has; but he was forced by circumstances, and Miss Mordaunt did her utmost to promote the marriage and to put him in possession of a fortune.”I inwardly thanked the Captain for his chivalrous defence of the absent, and I would gladly have taken him by the hand and done so publicly, but that this would have prevented my hearing more on the subject of Francis.“And has Miss Mordaunt been married since?” I asked, trying to put the question as disinterestedly as possible.“Why, no!” cried the elderly spinster with a triumphant smile. “So far as we know (and we know pretty well everything that happens in our circle), she has never had an offer.”“Ah! that is very strange; a young lady who seems to be possessed of so many attractions,” I observed.“That’s not at all strange,” interrupted the little widow, in a coquettish, sentimental tone. “It was never difficult for her to attract admirers and flatterers for the moment, but it is only by the heart that a woman wins true affection and esteem; and,with the Captain’s permission, no one could ever believe Francis Mordaunt to be in earnest, for she has no heart—she never cared for anything but horses and dogs.”“You forget her grandfather!” pleaded the Captain.“Well, yes, she has been his idol; but this very fact has turned out her ruin.”“How are we to understand that remark, madame?” asked Overberg, whose jovial face grew serious.“That he has left the girl far too much to her own whims and fancies.”“What shall I say,chère amie? He was afraid of her.” (It was the elderly spinster who again began the attack.) “He could roar at his officers, but he was afraid of a scene with Francis.”“Excuse me for once more contradicting you, miss. Colonel von Zwenken never roared at his officers—this I know by experience; but it is true he was conspicuous by his absence when Francis Mordaunt went into society. He suffered her to go out when she liked, and with whom she liked. Alas! he sat at the card table in his club whilst Francis by her thoughtlessness and certain peculiarities inher character, was rendering herself a victim to calumny and envious tongues.”“Bravo, Captain! it’s noble of you to defend the absent.”“I am only sorry I cannot do so without blaming another absent person; but what I say is known, and well known, in this circle.”“As well known as the eccentricities of Major Frank. Whatever Captain Sanders may say, we are not making her conduct appear worse than it is; we are only speaking of it as it struck us at the time.”“That everybody must acknowledge,” said an old lady, who had thus far listened with sparkling eyes. “Only remember what talk her conduct gave rise to when she met the stranger staying at the ‘Golden Salmon,’ by appointment, unknown to the Colonel, who had forbidden the man his house! Did she not set all our ideas of good breeding at defiance by walking in the plantation in open daylight with a perfect stranger.”“In fact, I am assured she pawned her diamonds to pay his hotel bill. She even wished to sell them, for she asked a friend of mine to buy them.”Overberg’s healthy, blooming face turned pale;but he said nothing. The Captain, however, spoke again—“It is only too true she would risk all to attain her ends, if she had once set her mind on a thing.”“And that for a person who went to a third-rate hotel—did not even give his own name, as it was said afterwards; and who certainly was a sharper or a coiner.”“If such had been the case, the police would have looked after him sharp,” interposed Overberg.“That is my opinion also,” said the Captain; “and I think Wilibald Smeekens was right. He said it was some one who had formerly committed a breach of military discipline, and whom she out of pity wished to assist in getting out of the country.”“Ahem! out of pity,” said the old lady. “Young ladies should be careful how they show such pity—carrying on an intrigue. I can assure you that at the time it was a question whether we ought not to banish her from our society.”“But no one dared to pronounce the sentence of banishment,” said the Captain, “for fear of the Colonel, who had it in his power to refuse the military music for the balls and open-air concerts insummer. And this he certainly would have done if he had known what was hatching against his granddaughter. But the ladies were more prudent; they pulled poor Francis to pieces behind her back.”“With this result,” added the elderly spinster, “that of her own accord she almost entirely withdrew from our society.”“No, there is another reason,” said the widow, with a significant shake of the head; “it was not our treatment, but her own conscience which pricked her after that affair with her coachman.”“Yes, you are quite right; that was a sad affair,” assented the Captain, to my painful surprise.The honourable man, who had evidently combatted calumny and slander, was now silenced. I wished to ask what had happened, but the words stuck in my throat; I felt as if they would choke me. The postmaster, however, who had just entered the room, put the question, which the tongues of the ladies were quivering with impatience to answer.“Unfortunately, no one knows the exact particulars,” began the elderly spinster, whose shrill, sharp voice made itself heard above the rest; “but it is generally believed she wished to make her coachmanelope with her. Possibly she might have succeeded, but the man was already married, and when that became known——”“She pitched him off the box whilst the horses were going at a furious rate,” put in the old lady, with a demoniacal smile of pleasure.“Others who are supposed to know, say she struck him dead with the whip,” added the little widow, who must have her say. “Horrible! most horrible!” she continued, turning up her eyes with mock sentimentality.Yes, horrible indeed, thought I, when both young ladies and old vie with each other in a wicked desire to give thecoup de grâceto one of their own sex who has erred, or, may be, only taken one false step in life.“I have been told,” murmured another voice, “that she fought with him; and the horses taking fright, he fell from the box under their feet.”“However it happened, the truth will never be known, for he now lies in the churchyard.”“Yes, now you’ve got the truth without any figures of speech,” jested the widow; “and with him the crime is buried, and hushed up for ever.”“With your permission, ladies, had there been a question of anything of that sort, the law would have taken its course,” observed Overberg; “and I know for certain it was never brought before a court.”“That I can believe,” answered the widow. “The magistrate is a great friend of the Colonel’s, plays cards with him every evening, and to palliate the affair, and silence public indignation, he made an official visit to the commandant’s house. Francis Mordaunt was examined, and, as might be expected beforehand, came out of the affair snow-white—at least, according to the magistrate’s report,” added the widow, with a satirical shrug of the shoulders.“But, madame,” interposed Overberg, evidently growing angry, “do you mean to say you suspect the impartiality of the magistrate?”“I suspect no one; I only tell you how the affair ended—namely, that it was hushed up, and the relations of the coachman bribed to keep quiet. Such people are easily frightened. One thing, however, is certain, and that is, Major Frank has not dared to show her face in our circle since; and besides this, it seems to have been the cause of her grandfather retiring from the service.”“He had attained the age to be put on the retired list,” said the Captain; “and with his pension he obtained the honorary rank of General.”“Be that as it may, the General retired from the world to Castle de Werve,” observed the old lady.“Where, now, Major Frank has the command,” put in the spinster.“And spends her time in riding and shooting,” added the little widow, turning up her nose superciliously.“I venture to contradict the latter part of the assertion with regard to the shooting,” said Overberg; “for the General has not renewed his shooting license and has leased the shooting over his own estates to a client of mine, who, however, leaves the hares and partridges in perfect peace.”This latter remark led to a long conversation amongst the gentlemen about the shooting and fishing in the neighbourhood, whilst the ladies set to work to sharpen their tongues on other absent victims.

Castle de Werve, April, 1861.

You see, my dear William, I have entered the fortress.

But to resume my narrative. Van Beek gave me a letter of introduction to his friend Overberg, a lawyer in Zutphen, and I called upon this worthy man of the law as soon as I arrived in the town. This Overberg was the agent of my old Aunt Roselaer in these quarters, and it was through his good management of her affairs that she gradually obtained possession of Von Zwenken’s property, as the General usually borrowed money of Overberg. After all, the General was more fortunate than if he had fallen into the hands of usurers, who, speculating on his weakness, would have ruined him in a much shorter time. Overberg had advised the General to accept the offer of his sister-in-law—with what resultyou already know. For this reason he recommended me, if I wished to obtain a kindly reception at the Castle, not to present myself there as the heir to Miss Roselaer’s property; such an introduction being calculated to raise a prejudice against me from the first. Therefore I decided to present myself as a relation anxious to make the acquaintance of the family.

Seizing the opportunity, I began to question Overberg about Miss Mordaunt.

“I have only spoken to her once,” he said; “the General always comes to see me in person. She is never seen in the town now. Once, indeed, whilst the General was still commandant of the garrison here, she came to consult me on a matter personal to herself, but that is a long time ago.”

The good-natured lawyer, though ignorant of my matrimonial plans, doubtless read disappointment in my face, for he resumed, as if to excuse the meagreness of his information—

“You see, sir, the General then lived in grand style; and a wide distinction was also made in society between the military and thebourgeoisie. I was a widower, my time fully occupied, and I seldom wentinto society. Since my second marriage, however, we have parties and dinners enough—and that reminds me my wife has asoiréethis evening; several young ladies who know Miss Mordaunt are invited. Will you spend the evening with us? You can leave tomorrow early for the Werve. I will introduce you to the company as a gentleman looking out for a villa in our neighbourhood; for as you know, in a small town like ours, it is necessary to give a reason for your appearance among us, otherwise one will be invented—and such inventions are not always of a flattering kind. I can easily give the conversation a turn so as to cause it to fall on the family Von Zwenken, and you need only keep your ears open.”

This idea took my fancy; I accepted the invitation with pleasure, for a little society would help me to pass the evening more agreeably than I could spend it at my hotel.

We dined quietlyen famille, and Overberg and his wife—hospitable, jovial people—seemed to me to belie the French verse—

“De petits avocats,Qui se sont fait des sous,En rognant des ducats.”

“De petits avocats,

Qui se sont fait des sous,

En rognant des ducats.”

Mr. Overberg is a shrewd, clever lawyer, who perfectly understands his business and the way to treat his clients politely and persuasively; he always discourages lawsuits, recommends delay and an attempt at an arrangement, and thus quietly brings about the desired result without, as it were, seeming to interfere. Aunt Sophia respected him highly for his discretion and foresight, though she took care never to let him see through her intentions, since he was not the man to take sharp and decisive measures. For any such business she employed Van Beek, who is a man to carry out the law to the letter, without feeling any pity for the sufferer.

It was therefore in keeping with Overberg’s character that he recommended me to temporize with the General, to give him time to pay his debts, and not to drive such an old man to despair, though he was aforeigner. The good man little knew he was preaching to one who already shared his views, and whose inmost wish was to deal as gently as possible with Von Zwenken.

I must acknowledge that what I heard at thesoiréedid not make a favourable impression on me. The past life of the young lady must have been a singularone, if there be any truth in the gossip I heard about her. I know much must be set down to slander in a small town, where people are at a loss what to talk about when not criticising their neighbours.

But, however, you must judge for yourself from what follows.

Among the ladies to whom I was introduced was a charming young widow with jet-black eyes and lively features; she is a niece of the Roselaers, I am told, and at first I felt very sorry her name was not Francis Mordaunt, the niece-elect of Aunt Sophia. However, when Overberg had drawn her out a little on the subject of the Von Zwenkens, I felt exceedingly glad to think our acquaintance would not extend beyond the present evening.

I began to feel a most intense hatred against her, so unmercifully did she attack poor Francis.

“Yes, they had been well acquainted when her grandfather was commandant of the garrison, and she herself had visited at the house of the Colonel. But no, friendship had never existed between her and the young lady; she was too eccentric and ill-mannered. Just imagine, Jonker, she came to our house one evening when she knew there was to be dancingand music. Yes, she dropped in, asnonchalantas possible, in a dark merino dress, fastened up to the neck, with a turn-down collar and a silk neckerchief—just for all the world like a boy. And her boots—they might have belonged to some plough-boy. Upon my word, I believe there werenailsin the soles; a non-commissioned officer would not have been so rude as to enter asalonin them.”

“Perhaps she had made a mistake about the evening,” I said, by way of excuse.

“Certainly not! She received her invitation a week beforehand. Surely that was time enough to get a ball-dress made. And it was not because she hadn’t got any other dresses; for two days afterwards she came to a house where we were invited to spend a quiet evening,en grande toilette, a low dress (as if she expected to be invited to dance), and resplendent with jewellery and diamonds. Now I ask you if that was not done to annoy us and to wound our feelings?”

“It seems to me she took more trouble to do honour to the ladies than she had taken to please the gentlemen.”

“The truth is, she was not at all complimentaryto the gentlemen,” rejoined a thin, elderly-looking spinster of an uncertain age, dressed in an old-fashioned style, who I should have thought would have been the last person to come to the defence of a sex that had so clearly neglected her.

“And the gentlemen—no doubt they reciprocated hernonchalance?” I asked. “It is very probable she was left in the company of the elderly ladies all the evening to increase the number of ‘wall flowers.’”

“Yes! but it was because she wished it,” replied the widow. “She would be sure of partners, though she were never such a fright. All the young officers are, as a matter of course, obliged ‘to do the amiable’ to the granddaughter of their colonel. Moreover, Francis Mordaunt is mistress of the art of attracting or repelling as it pleases her. Notwithstanding all her strange whims and caprices, she is never at a loss for a partner, and the moment she enters any ball-room she becomes the observed of all observers. The gentlemen flock round her; she is flattered, flirted with——”

“Yes, flirted with, I grant you; but not respected, I’m sure,” interrupted the elderly spinster. “It is chiefly done to draw out her smart repartees, and theunladylike answers which have made her so famous (or rather infamous).”

“In fact everybody is amused at her scathing replies.”

“Which the ladies are afraid of,” said a gentleman, half jestingly, half reproachfully, “for as a rule they are as true as they are sharp.”

“As a rule she makes the gentlemen the butt of her raillery.”

“How strange then, indeed, that the ladies take her part so little!” I could not help remarking.

“That isnotstrange, Jonker! The peculiar manner she has adopted to render herself noticeable is just the one our sex cannot suffer. In all her victories we saw a defeat; the good tone was lost.”

“And how did the party pass off for Miss Mordaunt in that curious dress?” I inquired, for I had less interest in carrying on acombat d’espritwith the vicious little widow than in drawing out a more complete sketch of Francis’ character, though it might be coloured by slander.

“Just as she wished it, I believe. In the early part of the evening she was somewhat neglected, andthis was evidently her wish, for she did nothing to prevent it; on the contrary, she had told the hostess that she had resolved not to dance, in such a loud and decided tone, that it would have been absurd for any one to invite her afterwards.”

“She’s cunning enough,” put in the elderly spinster. “She only said that lest afterwards she should feel ashamed of herself at the close of the party, in case no one invited her to dance.”

“In fact, it requires more moral courage than the gentlemen in these parts as a rule possess to lead out a lady dressed as she was,” interposed the widow again.

“It appears that the custom of not sparing us gentlemen is catching,” whispered an officer, who had been introduced as Captain Sanders.

I silently bowed, for I wished to listen to Mrs. X., who continued—

“Finally, however, when thecotillonwas called, she must join, and the unfortunate leader of the dance had to sacrifice himself. Lieutenant Wilibald, her grandfather’s adjutant, was obliged to take her in tow, mustering up all his courage. After showing a good deal of resistance, which appeared seriouslymeant, she allowed herself to be led out, but did nothing to lighten her partner’s unpleasant task. On the contrary, she was so recalcitrant, so inattentive and so awkward, that she often caused confusion, and her partner had the greatest difficulty to rectify her mistakes. Indeed, the polite young officer was pitied by the whole company, and the more so because it was known that he was sacrificing himself to a sense of duty; for he was engaged to a charming young lady who had been prevented from attending the ball by a recent death in the family.”

“Pardon, madame; permit me to say that your representation of the facts is not quite correct,” interrupted Captain Sanders, in whose favour I immediately became prepossessed on account of his serious and earnest look. “Allow me to set you right as to facts, for I am a friend of Lieutenant Wilibald’s, and I know he would be sorry if what you have said should go forth to the world as truth. It was by no means a disagreeable task for him to lead out Miss Mordaunt in any dress she chose to appear in, for he was too much in love with her to notice such small matters as dress. Yes, I venture to say, if it had depended on him alone he wouldnot have married the woman he has; but he was forced by circumstances, and Miss Mordaunt did her utmost to promote the marriage and to put him in possession of a fortune.”

I inwardly thanked the Captain for his chivalrous defence of the absent, and I would gladly have taken him by the hand and done so publicly, but that this would have prevented my hearing more on the subject of Francis.

“And has Miss Mordaunt been married since?” I asked, trying to put the question as disinterestedly as possible.

“Why, no!” cried the elderly spinster with a triumphant smile. “So far as we know (and we know pretty well everything that happens in our circle), she has never had an offer.”

“Ah! that is very strange; a young lady who seems to be possessed of so many attractions,” I observed.

“That’s not at all strange,” interrupted the little widow, in a coquettish, sentimental tone. “It was never difficult for her to attract admirers and flatterers for the moment, but it is only by the heart that a woman wins true affection and esteem; and,with the Captain’s permission, no one could ever believe Francis Mordaunt to be in earnest, for she has no heart—she never cared for anything but horses and dogs.”

“You forget her grandfather!” pleaded the Captain.

“Well, yes, she has been his idol; but this very fact has turned out her ruin.”

“How are we to understand that remark, madame?” asked Overberg, whose jovial face grew serious.

“That he has left the girl far too much to her own whims and fancies.”

“What shall I say,chère amie? He was afraid of her.” (It was the elderly spinster who again began the attack.) “He could roar at his officers, but he was afraid of a scene with Francis.”

“Excuse me for once more contradicting you, miss. Colonel von Zwenken never roared at his officers—this I know by experience; but it is true he was conspicuous by his absence when Francis Mordaunt went into society. He suffered her to go out when she liked, and with whom she liked. Alas! he sat at the card table in his club whilst Francis by her thoughtlessness and certain peculiarities inher character, was rendering herself a victim to calumny and envious tongues.”

“Bravo, Captain! it’s noble of you to defend the absent.”

“I am only sorry I cannot do so without blaming another absent person; but what I say is known, and well known, in this circle.”

“As well known as the eccentricities of Major Frank. Whatever Captain Sanders may say, we are not making her conduct appear worse than it is; we are only speaking of it as it struck us at the time.”

“That everybody must acknowledge,” said an old lady, who had thus far listened with sparkling eyes. “Only remember what talk her conduct gave rise to when she met the stranger staying at the ‘Golden Salmon,’ by appointment, unknown to the Colonel, who had forbidden the man his house! Did she not set all our ideas of good breeding at defiance by walking in the plantation in open daylight with a perfect stranger.”

“In fact, I am assured she pawned her diamonds to pay his hotel bill. She even wished to sell them, for she asked a friend of mine to buy them.”

Overberg’s healthy, blooming face turned pale;but he said nothing. The Captain, however, spoke again—

“It is only too true she would risk all to attain her ends, if she had once set her mind on a thing.”

“And that for a person who went to a third-rate hotel—did not even give his own name, as it was said afterwards; and who certainly was a sharper or a coiner.”

“If such had been the case, the police would have looked after him sharp,” interposed Overberg.

“That is my opinion also,” said the Captain; “and I think Wilibald Smeekens was right. He said it was some one who had formerly committed a breach of military discipline, and whom she out of pity wished to assist in getting out of the country.”

“Ahem! out of pity,” said the old lady. “Young ladies should be careful how they show such pity—carrying on an intrigue. I can assure you that at the time it was a question whether we ought not to banish her from our society.”

“But no one dared to pronounce the sentence of banishment,” said the Captain, “for fear of the Colonel, who had it in his power to refuse the military music for the balls and open-air concerts insummer. And this he certainly would have done if he had known what was hatching against his granddaughter. But the ladies were more prudent; they pulled poor Francis to pieces behind her back.”

“With this result,” added the elderly spinster, “that of her own accord she almost entirely withdrew from our society.”

“No, there is another reason,” said the widow, with a significant shake of the head; “it was not our treatment, but her own conscience which pricked her after that affair with her coachman.”

“Yes, you are quite right; that was a sad affair,” assented the Captain, to my painful surprise.

The honourable man, who had evidently combatted calumny and slander, was now silenced. I wished to ask what had happened, but the words stuck in my throat; I felt as if they would choke me. The postmaster, however, who had just entered the room, put the question, which the tongues of the ladies were quivering with impatience to answer.

“Unfortunately, no one knows the exact particulars,” began the elderly spinster, whose shrill, sharp voice made itself heard above the rest; “but it is generally believed she wished to make her coachmanelope with her. Possibly she might have succeeded, but the man was already married, and when that became known——”

“She pitched him off the box whilst the horses were going at a furious rate,” put in the old lady, with a demoniacal smile of pleasure.

“Others who are supposed to know, say she struck him dead with the whip,” added the little widow, who must have her say. “Horrible! most horrible!” she continued, turning up her eyes with mock sentimentality.

Yes, horrible indeed, thought I, when both young ladies and old vie with each other in a wicked desire to give thecoup de grâceto one of their own sex who has erred, or, may be, only taken one false step in life.

“I have been told,” murmured another voice, “that she fought with him; and the horses taking fright, he fell from the box under their feet.”

“However it happened, the truth will never be known, for he now lies in the churchyard.”

“Yes, now you’ve got the truth without any figures of speech,” jested the widow; “and with him the crime is buried, and hushed up for ever.”

“With your permission, ladies, had there been a question of anything of that sort, the law would have taken its course,” observed Overberg; “and I know for certain it was never brought before a court.”

“That I can believe,” answered the widow. “The magistrate is a great friend of the Colonel’s, plays cards with him every evening, and to palliate the affair, and silence public indignation, he made an official visit to the commandant’s house. Francis Mordaunt was examined, and, as might be expected beforehand, came out of the affair snow-white—at least, according to the magistrate’s report,” added the widow, with a satirical shrug of the shoulders.

“But, madame,” interposed Overberg, evidently growing angry, “do you mean to say you suspect the impartiality of the magistrate?”

“I suspect no one; I only tell you how the affair ended—namely, that it was hushed up, and the relations of the coachman bribed to keep quiet. Such people are easily frightened. One thing, however, is certain, and that is, Major Frank has not dared to show her face in our circle since; and besides this, it seems to have been the cause of her grandfather retiring from the service.”

“He had attained the age to be put on the retired list,” said the Captain; “and with his pension he obtained the honorary rank of General.”

“Be that as it may, the General retired from the world to Castle de Werve,” observed the old lady.

“Where, now, Major Frank has the command,” put in the spinster.

“And spends her time in riding and shooting,” added the little widow, turning up her nose superciliously.

“I venture to contradict the latter part of the assertion with regard to the shooting,” said Overberg; “for the General has not renewed his shooting license and has leased the shooting over his own estates to a client of mine, who, however, leaves the hares and partridges in perfect peace.”

This latter remark led to a long conversation amongst the gentlemen about the shooting and fishing in the neighbourhood, whilst the ladies set to work to sharpen their tongues on other absent victims.

Chapter IX.Notwithstanding all my efforts to appear calm and unconcerned, Overberg observed that the hard judgment passed on Francis had made a deep impression on my mind. Taking me aside, he whispered in my ear—“We will talk this subject over to-morrow morning before your departure; in the meantime don’t let it trouble you. You know the proverb: ‘The devil’s not so black as he is painted.’”It was easy for him to talk; but, alas! he knew not yet the reasons I had for being so deeply interested in this young lady.I passed a restless night. In the morning, when the carriage I had ordered over-night drove up to the door, I was still debating in my own mind whether I should go to the Werve, or tell my driver to takeme to the nearest station and return to the Hague. After a few minutes, however, Overberg made his appearance, and accosted me in the following words—“I believe I have guessed your noble intention, which is to make the acquaintance of Miss Mordaunt, and, if she please you, to remove all difficulties in the most amiable manner possible. I cannot tell you how praiseworthy, how wise and sensible, your plan seems to me; but what surprises me is that the testatrix never suggested it to you, she being a woman of such clear and sound judgment in matters of this sort.”“She has given me such a hint—I will no longer try to conceal it from you—and it was my intention to follow her advice. But what I heard last night has quite changed my mind on that point.”“Nonsense! Never let gossip have any influence over you. Remember that people living in a small town are possessed by the evil spirit of slander, and furthermore, that they express their opinions in a very crude manner.”“That’s all well and good; but in a small town where every one is known by his neighbour, peoplewould not dare to calumniate and slander each other without grounds.”“I will not attempt to contradict your statement; but let me remind you that certain uncommon occurrences and eccentric acts on the part of a young lady may be explained in different ways, and why should you believe the worse account of them, coloured as it certainly is by envy, hatred, and malice. I willingly confess I could not contradict all that was said about Miss Mordaunt last night; my business has always been with her grandfather, who speaks of her in the highest terms. For this reason I could not foresee that the ladies would be so severe on her conduct. Otherwise I should have avoided the subject, and made inquiries for you of people less prejudiced and more trustworthy.”“Do you know any such people here?”“Such people can be found. Why, in my professional career, I have so often seen the most wicked accusations burst like a soap-bubble when submitted to the touchstone of cross-examination, that now I believe nothing which I have not seen with my own eyes, or for which I have not proofs equal to the same.”“Then with regard to the diamonds, you have some certain proofs?” I asked.“You are right; I was engaged in that business. The young lady required more money than the goldsmith was willing to advance on them; and they were never offered for sale unless he took such a liberty during the hour he had them in his possession. In her difficulties she came to me, her grandfather’s lawyer. I obtained the money from Miss Roselaer, as I always did for the General, and she refused either to take the diamonds or accept the interest on the money she lent; consequently the diamonds are still in my possession.”“And do you know for what purpose this money was required?”“It was to assist a person who dared not apply to the General (and, between you and me, the General had not a penny to assist any one with). What the relationship between them was I am unable to say. The stranger only stayed four days in the village, and I did not see him myself. Of course I have heard the flying reports. Some people say he was dressed like a gentleman, and had a gentleman’s manners; others, on the contrary, describe him asa rogue and a vagabond, who got drunk in the lowest public-houses in the place. This latter account may also be true, for, as you know, a woman’s sympathy is often bestowed on the most undeserving creatures.”“With regard to the coachman, you must allow her womanly sympathy does not show itself in a favourable light,” I interposed, with a certain bitterness in my tone.“I am unacquainted with the facts of that case. Still, I fancy it is far from such a bad case as the amiable ladies made it out to be; and in your place I should not suffer it to interfere with my projected visit to the Werve. Miss Mordaunt has been accused, in my presence, of brusque manners, imprudent behaviour, and so forth; but she is renowned for her plain and straightforward dealing, which has brought her into disrepute with her female friends, they preferring to say the most impertinent things in the blandest tone possible. I am sure you will find out the truth if you ask her a plain question. Besides, a single visit will not commit you to anything, and an interview with the General to arrange matters will be absolutely necessary.”There was no refuting Overberg’s line of argument.I confessed to myself that it would be unfair on my part to form an opinion until after a personal interview and further inquiries. So, accepting his advice, I stepped into the carriage, and ordered the driver to take the road to the Castle de Werve.The morning was raw and cold, without sun, and the air was so heavy that I did not know whether to expect snow or hail. At the toll-bar my driver made inquiries about a short cut through a lane planted with poplars, which would bring us out near the “fir wood.”As the country was very monotonous, and there was nothing to attract my attention, I sank into deep thought, and began arranging a plan for my conduct on first meeting with my cousin, a little speech to be made when I was presented to her, and so forth. But then it occurred to me that our best-laid schemes are generally thrown into confusion by the circumstances of the event: how much more likely was this to be the case in dealing with such a whimsical person as Francis? Accordingly, I gave up all such ideas as preparing myself for the occasion, resolving only to keep cool and act according to circumstances.In the midst of these thoughts the carriage suddenly came to a standstill, and the driver pointed out to me that the lane terminated in a half-circle—he had taken the lane on the wrong side of the wood. Whilst speaking we heard a horse galloping behind us, and in another moment it shot past us like lightning.“That’s Major Frank!” said the driver.“Major Frank,” I repeated, in a tone of anger and surprise. “Whom do you mean by that?”“Why, the young lady of the Castle. They call her so in our village, when she comes to see the boy.”Cutting short the conversation, I ordered him to find his way to the Castle as soon as possible. A few minutes later, however, he had got his carriage on such marshy ground that he was obliged to request me to walk until he could lead his horse on to a firmer place.

Notwithstanding all my efforts to appear calm and unconcerned, Overberg observed that the hard judgment passed on Francis had made a deep impression on my mind. Taking me aside, he whispered in my ear—

“We will talk this subject over to-morrow morning before your departure; in the meantime don’t let it trouble you. You know the proverb: ‘The devil’s not so black as he is painted.’”

It was easy for him to talk; but, alas! he knew not yet the reasons I had for being so deeply interested in this young lady.

I passed a restless night. In the morning, when the carriage I had ordered over-night drove up to the door, I was still debating in my own mind whether I should go to the Werve, or tell my driver to takeme to the nearest station and return to the Hague. After a few minutes, however, Overberg made his appearance, and accosted me in the following words—

“I believe I have guessed your noble intention, which is to make the acquaintance of Miss Mordaunt, and, if she please you, to remove all difficulties in the most amiable manner possible. I cannot tell you how praiseworthy, how wise and sensible, your plan seems to me; but what surprises me is that the testatrix never suggested it to you, she being a woman of such clear and sound judgment in matters of this sort.”

“She has given me such a hint—I will no longer try to conceal it from you—and it was my intention to follow her advice. But what I heard last night has quite changed my mind on that point.”

“Nonsense! Never let gossip have any influence over you. Remember that people living in a small town are possessed by the evil spirit of slander, and furthermore, that they express their opinions in a very crude manner.”

“That’s all well and good; but in a small town where every one is known by his neighbour, peoplewould not dare to calumniate and slander each other without grounds.”

“I will not attempt to contradict your statement; but let me remind you that certain uncommon occurrences and eccentric acts on the part of a young lady may be explained in different ways, and why should you believe the worse account of them, coloured as it certainly is by envy, hatred, and malice. I willingly confess I could not contradict all that was said about Miss Mordaunt last night; my business has always been with her grandfather, who speaks of her in the highest terms. For this reason I could not foresee that the ladies would be so severe on her conduct. Otherwise I should have avoided the subject, and made inquiries for you of people less prejudiced and more trustworthy.”

“Do you know any such people here?”

“Such people can be found. Why, in my professional career, I have so often seen the most wicked accusations burst like a soap-bubble when submitted to the touchstone of cross-examination, that now I believe nothing which I have not seen with my own eyes, or for which I have not proofs equal to the same.”

“Then with regard to the diamonds, you have some certain proofs?” I asked.

“You are right; I was engaged in that business. The young lady required more money than the goldsmith was willing to advance on them; and they were never offered for sale unless he took such a liberty during the hour he had them in his possession. In her difficulties she came to me, her grandfather’s lawyer. I obtained the money from Miss Roselaer, as I always did for the General, and she refused either to take the diamonds or accept the interest on the money she lent; consequently the diamonds are still in my possession.”

“And do you know for what purpose this money was required?”

“It was to assist a person who dared not apply to the General (and, between you and me, the General had not a penny to assist any one with). What the relationship between them was I am unable to say. The stranger only stayed four days in the village, and I did not see him myself. Of course I have heard the flying reports. Some people say he was dressed like a gentleman, and had a gentleman’s manners; others, on the contrary, describe him asa rogue and a vagabond, who got drunk in the lowest public-houses in the place. This latter account may also be true, for, as you know, a woman’s sympathy is often bestowed on the most undeserving creatures.”

“With regard to the coachman, you must allow her womanly sympathy does not show itself in a favourable light,” I interposed, with a certain bitterness in my tone.

“I am unacquainted with the facts of that case. Still, I fancy it is far from such a bad case as the amiable ladies made it out to be; and in your place I should not suffer it to interfere with my projected visit to the Werve. Miss Mordaunt has been accused, in my presence, of brusque manners, imprudent behaviour, and so forth; but she is renowned for her plain and straightforward dealing, which has brought her into disrepute with her female friends, they preferring to say the most impertinent things in the blandest tone possible. I am sure you will find out the truth if you ask her a plain question. Besides, a single visit will not commit you to anything, and an interview with the General to arrange matters will be absolutely necessary.”

There was no refuting Overberg’s line of argument.I confessed to myself that it would be unfair on my part to form an opinion until after a personal interview and further inquiries. So, accepting his advice, I stepped into the carriage, and ordered the driver to take the road to the Castle de Werve.

The morning was raw and cold, without sun, and the air was so heavy that I did not know whether to expect snow or hail. At the toll-bar my driver made inquiries about a short cut through a lane planted with poplars, which would bring us out near the “fir wood.”

As the country was very monotonous, and there was nothing to attract my attention, I sank into deep thought, and began arranging a plan for my conduct on first meeting with my cousin, a little speech to be made when I was presented to her, and so forth. But then it occurred to me that our best-laid schemes are generally thrown into confusion by the circumstances of the event: how much more likely was this to be the case in dealing with such a whimsical person as Francis? Accordingly, I gave up all such ideas as preparing myself for the occasion, resolving only to keep cool and act according to circumstances.

In the midst of these thoughts the carriage suddenly came to a standstill, and the driver pointed out to me that the lane terminated in a half-circle—he had taken the lane on the wrong side of the wood. Whilst speaking we heard a horse galloping behind us, and in another moment it shot past us like lightning.

“That’s Major Frank!” said the driver.

“Major Frank,” I repeated, in a tone of anger and surprise. “Whom do you mean by that?”

“Why, the young lady of the Castle. They call her so in our village, when she comes to see the boy.”

Cutting short the conversation, I ordered him to find his way to the Castle as soon as possible. A few minutes later, however, he had got his carriage on such marshy ground that he was obliged to request me to walk until he could lead his horse on to a firmer place.

Chapter X.Once on my legs I took a view of the surrounding country. We were on the outskirts of the wood, and separated from the ploughed cornfields by a half-dry ditch, luxuriantly overgrown with all kinds of marsh plants. On our right was a heath; on the left potato fields. There was not a soul to be seen, and on consulting my watch I found it was just twelve o’clock. Consequently all the farm labourers had gone home to their midday meal.Suddenly we heard a peal of resounding laughter quite close at hand, only the sound seemed to come somewhat from above us. I looked up in the direction of the undulating heath; and on the top of a sand-hill, overgrown with grass, stood the person who was enjoying our perplexity.“Major Frank!” exclaimed the driver in hisshrill tone of voice, his astonishment and annoyance causing him to show little respect.It was indeed Francis Mordaunt herself who was mocking us. Really, I could never have anticipated such a reception.As she stood there, some feet above me but still pretty near, I had a good view of her; and I cannot say that this first sight reconciled me to the person who had already caused me so many disagreeable emotions. Perhaps it was not her fault; but she was dressed in such a strange manner that at first sight I was doubtful whether a man or a woman stood before me. She had gathered up her riding-habit in a way that reminded me of Zouave trousers, and she had, besides, put on a wide cloak made of some long-haired material—which was doubtless very useful this sharp, cold spring day, but which, buttoned up to her throat, was not adapted to show off the beauty of her form if she was really well-shaped. Her head-gear consisted of a gray billy-cock hat with a soft, downward-bent brim, ornamented with a bunch of cock’s feathers negligently fastened with a green ribbon—just as if she really wished to imitate the wild huntsman of the fairy tale. And then, becauseit was rather windy, she had tied a red silk handkerchief over her hat and fastened it under her chin. She wore no veil. As far as I could judge of her appearance, she seemed to be rather delicately built and slim, with a fine Roman nose. Still, I was not in the humour to be agreeably impressed by a face convulsed with laughter, and bandaged up as if she had the toothache. Her laugh sounded to my ears like a provocation, and rendered me little inclined to be courteous to a woman who had so evidently forgotten all feminine self-respect.“Listen,” I cried—“listen for a moment, you who are rejoicing so much at your neighbour’s distress. You would do better to direct us on our way.”“There is no way. I should have thought you could see that. Any one who enters this wood except with the purpose of driving round it, does a very stupid thing.”“And you?”“I?” she laughed again. “I jumped my horse over the dry ditch yonder. Imitate me if you feel inclined, though I fear with your horse and carriage it will not be quite so easy. But where are you going to?”“To the Castle de Werve.”“To the Werve!” she repeated, descending the hill and approaching me as nearly as she could on the opposite side of the ditch. “What is your business at the Castle, sir?” she inquired, in quite another tone, no longer speaking like a “somebody” to a “nobody.”“To pay a visit to General von Zwenken, and his granddaughter, Freule Mordaunt.”“The General no longer receives visitors, and what you have to say to his granddaughter you can address to me. I am Freule Mordaunt.”“I can scarcely believe it; but, if so, may I request Freule Mordaunt to appoint a more suitable place than this. What I have got to say cannot be shouted across a ditch in the presence of a third person.”“Then you must drive back to the toll-bar. There they will direct you to the village, from which you can easily reach the Castle, if your visit is so very urgent.”“In order to give you time to get home and deny yourself to all visitors, my little Major,” I thought to myself. “But now’s my opportunity, and I will not let it slip me.”So, giving orders to the driver to go on to the village and wait for me there, I took my stout walking-stick, fixed it as firmly as I could in the muddy bottom of the ditch, and reached the opposite side I scarcely know how.“Bravo! well done!” cried Francis, clapping her hands with delight.As I approached I raised my hat, and she saluted with her riding-whip.“This is an amusing adventure, sir,” she said, again laughing; “if you still wish to go to Werve you must cross the heath.”“Is it a long walk?”“No, it is much shorter than by the high-road, but as you don’t know the way, you run the risk of getting lost again.”“You forget that I have a claim on your company for the rest of the way.”“A claim! how do you make that out?”“Miss Mordaunt promised me an interview; is it strange that I should seize the first occasion that offers?”“I don’t even know the way myself. My horse has lost a shoe, and I have left him at the game-keeper’s,so I shall have to get home as well as I can without assistance. Have you really business at the Castle? I can assure you the General has an aversion to visitors!”“I wish to make his acquaintance and yours, as I am staying in the neighbourhood, and I, remember, I am related to the family Von Zwenken by my mother’s side.”“So much the worse for you. At the Castle relationship is a bad recommendation.”“That I have already heard; but I am not a Roselaer, I am a Van Zonshoven, Freule—Leopold van Zonshoven,” I said, introducing myself.“I have never heard the name before. However, as you are not a Roselaer you perhaps stand a better chance of a kind reception. But is it quite certain you do not come to trouble the General about business?”“In that case I should have sent a lawyer, with orders not to inconvenience Miss Mordaunt.”“Then you would have done wrong,” she rejoined, becoming serious. “The General is over seventy, and has had a life full of trouble; and I will not try to conceal from you that he has many cares and difficultiesto contend with even now. It is for this reason I desire you to tell me without reserve the object of your visit. Perhaps I can find some means——”“I protest to you that my greatest desire is to assist you in sparing your grandfather all annoyance.”“The sentiment does you honour, but it leads me to doubt your relationship, for it is contrary to all our family traditions.”“There are exceptions to every rule, as you know, and I hope to prove myself an exception in your family traditions.”“Then you shall be welcome at the Werve also by exception, for as a rule we admit no new faces.”“That’s a pity; for I cannot think it isyourwish to live in such isolation.”“Quite my wish!” she interposed, with a certain haughtiness. “I have had sufficient experience of mankind to make me care little for their society.”“So young, and already such a misanthrope—afraid of the world!” I observed.“I am not so very young—I am turned twenty-six; and the campaign years, as grandfather calls them, count double. You may speak to me as thoughI were a woman of forty. I have quite as much experience of life.”“Ladies talk like that when they wish to be contradicted.”“Ladies!” she cried, with ineffable contempt. “I very earnestly request you not to include me in the category of beings commonly denominated ladies.”“In which category must I put you? For, to tell the truth, at first sight I did not know what to call you.”“I believe you,” she said, with a little laugh; “for to any one who does not know me I must appear very odd. But, tell me, what did you take me for at first sight—for an apparition of the wild huntsman?”“An apparition! Certainly not; that’s too ethereal. I took you for a sad reality—a gamekeeper suffering from toothache.”She seemed piqued for a moment, her cheeks coloured, and she bit her lips.“That’s rude,” she said at last, and glanced at me with scintillating eyes.“You asked for the truth,” I rejoined.“So I did; and you shall find I can endure thetruth. Give me your hand, cousin; I think we shall become good friends.”“I hope so, cousin. But don’t be generous by halves: let me touch your hand, and not that rough riding-glove.”“You are a fastidious fellow,” she said, shaking her head; “but you shall have your way. There.”And a beautiful white hand lay in mine, which I held a minute longer than was absolutely necessary. She did not seem to perceive it.“But call me Francis; I shall call you Leo. The endless repetition of cousin is so wearisome,” she said frankly.“Most willingly;” and I pressed her hand again.“Your driver will have told you he recognized Major Frank.”“That’s but too true; and don’t you, Francis, consider it a great insult that people dare to call you by such a name?”“Oh, I don’t mind it in the least! I know they have given me this nickname. I am neither better nor worse for it. I know, also, that I am pointed at as a Cossack or a cavalry officer by the people round, and am stared at because I dress to suit myown convenience, and not according to the latest fashions.”“But a woman should try to please others in her way of dressing. In my opinion, a woman’s first duty is to make herself agreeable. Can we not show our good taste even in the simplest and plainest attire?”She coloured a little.“Do you imagine, then, that I have no taste at all, because I have put on this shaggy cloak to protect me from the east winds?” she demanded sharply.“I do not judge from that single article of dress; I am referring to theensemble, and one gets a bad opinion of a young lady’s taste when she wraps up her face in an unsightly red handkerchief.”“Which gives her the appearance of a gamekeeper with the toothache,” she interposed, with a quick, bold air. “Well now, that’s easily remedied, if the wind will respect my billycock;” and hereupon she untied the handkerchief and unpinned her riding-habit.

Once on my legs I took a view of the surrounding country. We were on the outskirts of the wood, and separated from the ploughed cornfields by a half-dry ditch, luxuriantly overgrown with all kinds of marsh plants. On our right was a heath; on the left potato fields. There was not a soul to be seen, and on consulting my watch I found it was just twelve o’clock. Consequently all the farm labourers had gone home to their midday meal.

Suddenly we heard a peal of resounding laughter quite close at hand, only the sound seemed to come somewhat from above us. I looked up in the direction of the undulating heath; and on the top of a sand-hill, overgrown with grass, stood the person who was enjoying our perplexity.

“Major Frank!” exclaimed the driver in hisshrill tone of voice, his astonishment and annoyance causing him to show little respect.

It was indeed Francis Mordaunt herself who was mocking us. Really, I could never have anticipated such a reception.

As she stood there, some feet above me but still pretty near, I had a good view of her; and I cannot say that this first sight reconciled me to the person who had already caused me so many disagreeable emotions. Perhaps it was not her fault; but she was dressed in such a strange manner that at first sight I was doubtful whether a man or a woman stood before me. She had gathered up her riding-habit in a way that reminded me of Zouave trousers, and she had, besides, put on a wide cloak made of some long-haired material—which was doubtless very useful this sharp, cold spring day, but which, buttoned up to her throat, was not adapted to show off the beauty of her form if she was really well-shaped. Her head-gear consisted of a gray billy-cock hat with a soft, downward-bent brim, ornamented with a bunch of cock’s feathers negligently fastened with a green ribbon—just as if she really wished to imitate the wild huntsman of the fairy tale. And then, becauseit was rather windy, she had tied a red silk handkerchief over her hat and fastened it under her chin. She wore no veil. As far as I could judge of her appearance, she seemed to be rather delicately built and slim, with a fine Roman nose. Still, I was not in the humour to be agreeably impressed by a face convulsed with laughter, and bandaged up as if she had the toothache. Her laugh sounded to my ears like a provocation, and rendered me little inclined to be courteous to a woman who had so evidently forgotten all feminine self-respect.

“Listen,” I cried—“listen for a moment, you who are rejoicing so much at your neighbour’s distress. You would do better to direct us on our way.”

“There is no way. I should have thought you could see that. Any one who enters this wood except with the purpose of driving round it, does a very stupid thing.”

“And you?”

“I?” she laughed again. “I jumped my horse over the dry ditch yonder. Imitate me if you feel inclined, though I fear with your horse and carriage it will not be quite so easy. But where are you going to?”

“To the Castle de Werve.”

“To the Werve!” she repeated, descending the hill and approaching me as nearly as she could on the opposite side of the ditch. “What is your business at the Castle, sir?” she inquired, in quite another tone, no longer speaking like a “somebody” to a “nobody.”

“To pay a visit to General von Zwenken, and his granddaughter, Freule Mordaunt.”

“The General no longer receives visitors, and what you have to say to his granddaughter you can address to me. I am Freule Mordaunt.”

“I can scarcely believe it; but, if so, may I request Freule Mordaunt to appoint a more suitable place than this. What I have got to say cannot be shouted across a ditch in the presence of a third person.”

“Then you must drive back to the toll-bar. There they will direct you to the village, from which you can easily reach the Castle, if your visit is so very urgent.”

“In order to give you time to get home and deny yourself to all visitors, my little Major,” I thought to myself. “But now’s my opportunity, and I will not let it slip me.”

So, giving orders to the driver to go on to the village and wait for me there, I took my stout walking-stick, fixed it as firmly as I could in the muddy bottom of the ditch, and reached the opposite side I scarcely know how.

“Bravo! well done!” cried Francis, clapping her hands with delight.

As I approached I raised my hat, and she saluted with her riding-whip.

“This is an amusing adventure, sir,” she said, again laughing; “if you still wish to go to Werve you must cross the heath.”

“Is it a long walk?”

“No, it is much shorter than by the high-road, but as you don’t know the way, you run the risk of getting lost again.”

“You forget that I have a claim on your company for the rest of the way.”

“A claim! how do you make that out?”

“Miss Mordaunt promised me an interview; is it strange that I should seize the first occasion that offers?”

“I don’t even know the way myself. My horse has lost a shoe, and I have left him at the game-keeper’s,so I shall have to get home as well as I can without assistance. Have you really business at the Castle? I can assure you the General has an aversion to visitors!”

“I wish to make his acquaintance and yours, as I am staying in the neighbourhood, and I, remember, I am related to the family Von Zwenken by my mother’s side.”

“So much the worse for you. At the Castle relationship is a bad recommendation.”

“That I have already heard; but I am not a Roselaer, I am a Van Zonshoven, Freule—Leopold van Zonshoven,” I said, introducing myself.

“I have never heard the name before. However, as you are not a Roselaer you perhaps stand a better chance of a kind reception. But is it quite certain you do not come to trouble the General about business?”

“In that case I should have sent a lawyer, with orders not to inconvenience Miss Mordaunt.”

“Then you would have done wrong,” she rejoined, becoming serious. “The General is over seventy, and has had a life full of trouble; and I will not try to conceal from you that he has many cares and difficultiesto contend with even now. It is for this reason I desire you to tell me without reserve the object of your visit. Perhaps I can find some means——”

“I protest to you that my greatest desire is to assist you in sparing your grandfather all annoyance.”

“The sentiment does you honour, but it leads me to doubt your relationship, for it is contrary to all our family traditions.”

“There are exceptions to every rule, as you know, and I hope to prove myself an exception in your family traditions.”

“Then you shall be welcome at the Werve also by exception, for as a rule we admit no new faces.”

“That’s a pity; for I cannot think it isyourwish to live in such isolation.”

“Quite my wish!” she interposed, with a certain haughtiness. “I have had sufficient experience of mankind to make me care little for their society.”

“So young, and already such a misanthrope—afraid of the world!” I observed.

“I am not so very young—I am turned twenty-six; and the campaign years, as grandfather calls them, count double. You may speak to me as thoughI were a woman of forty. I have quite as much experience of life.”

“Ladies talk like that when they wish to be contradicted.”

“Ladies!” she cried, with ineffable contempt. “I very earnestly request you not to include me in the category of beings commonly denominated ladies.”

“In which category must I put you? For, to tell the truth, at first sight I did not know what to call you.”

“I believe you,” she said, with a little laugh; “for to any one who does not know me I must appear very odd. But, tell me, what did you take me for at first sight—for an apparition of the wild huntsman?”

“An apparition! Certainly not; that’s too ethereal. I took you for a sad reality—a gamekeeper suffering from toothache.”

She seemed piqued for a moment, her cheeks coloured, and she bit her lips.

“That’s rude,” she said at last, and glanced at me with scintillating eyes.

“You asked for the truth,” I rejoined.

“So I did; and you shall find I can endure thetruth. Give me your hand, cousin; I think we shall become good friends.”

“I hope so, cousin. But don’t be generous by halves: let me touch your hand, and not that rough riding-glove.”

“You are a fastidious fellow,” she said, shaking her head; “but you shall have your way. There.”

And a beautiful white hand lay in mine, which I held a minute longer than was absolutely necessary. She did not seem to perceive it.

“But call me Francis; I shall call you Leo. The endless repetition of cousin is so wearisome,” she said frankly.

“Most willingly;” and I pressed her hand again.

“Your driver will have told you he recognized Major Frank.”

“That’s but too true; and don’t you, Francis, consider it a great insult that people dare to call you by such a name?”

“Oh, I don’t mind it in the least! I know they have given me this nickname. I am neither better nor worse for it. I know, also, that I am pointed at as a Cossack or a cavalry officer by the people round, and am stared at because I dress to suit myown convenience, and not according to the latest fashions.”

“But a woman should try to please others in her way of dressing. In my opinion, a woman’s first duty is to make herself agreeable. Can we not show our good taste even in the simplest and plainest attire?”

She coloured a little.

“Do you imagine, then, that I have no taste at all, because I have put on this shaggy cloak to protect me from the east winds?” she demanded sharply.

“I do not judge from that single article of dress; I am referring to theensemble, and one gets a bad opinion of a young lady’s taste when she wraps up her face in an unsightly red handkerchief.”

“Which gives her the appearance of a gamekeeper with the toothache,” she interposed, with a quick, bold air. “Well now, that’s easily remedied, if the wind will respect my billycock;” and hereupon she untied the handkerchief and unpinned her riding-habit.

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