Chapter XXV.“Poor Charles Felters was quite thunderstruck at the reception I gave him. His gay partner of last evening’s dance had changed into a veritable fury. I told him plainly I didn’t care a jot for him. He hesitated, he stammered, and couldn’t make up his mind to go. I was expecting Lord William every moment to take leave of me, and I would not have them meet. In my confusion my eyes rested on a ‘trophy of arms’ with which my father had decorated one side of the room. Scarcely knowing what I was about, I seized a foil, handed it to my would-be lover, and taking another myself, I took up my position on guard, exclaiming—“‘The man who wins my love shall win it with the sword.’“The miserable ninny never even observed that the foils were buttoned, but, throwing down his, rushed out of the room in the greatest alarm.”“I have heard of this feat of arms, Francis,” I said, laughing; “and, moreover, that Felters is still running away from you.”“‘Voilà comme on écrit l’histoire.’ I have myself heard he made a voyage round the world to escape from me; but the truth is he only made a tour up the Rhine, fell in with the daughter of a clergyman, and married her. She has made him a happy man, and he is now the father of a family; nevertheless, all his relations bear me the most intense hatred, and lose no opportunity of serving me a malicious turn. I still held my foil in my hand when Lord William entered the room. His look was sufficient to show me his disapprobation.“‘If your father had taken my advice, Francis,’ he said, ‘he would have waited some little time before informing you of the intentions of Felters; still there was no reason for your acting in this way.For shameto treat a poor fellow, who perhaps never had a foil in his hand before, in such a manner. But, well! I have always hesitated about putting you tothe test; permit me now, however, to take the place of the miserable fugitive.’“And without waiting for an answer he picked up Felters’ foil, and cried—“‘En garde!’“I literally did not know what I was doing. I would not decline his challenge, and I determined to show him that he was not fencing with an inexperienced girl. He handled his foil with a lightness and firmness of hand I had little expected to find in a man of letters, confining himself, however, to parrying my attacks only; and yet this he did so skilfully that I was unable to touch him. I exhausted myself in my desperate efforts, but I would not ask for quarter.“‘You see such exercise requires more than the arm of a woman,’ he said coolly.“My wild despair and anger seemed to give me strength, and falling in upon him I broke my foil upon his breast. He, with a smile, had neglected to parry this attack, and I saw a thin stream of blood trickle down his shirt-front. Now I was overwhelmed with sorrow and repentance. Sir John and grandfather immediately came upon the scene.“‘It is nothing, gentlemen,’ he said to them, ‘only a scratch; a little satisfaction which I owed to Miss Francis, and which will perhaps cure her of her taste for such unladylike weapons.’“‘I will never, never more touch them,’ I cried in terror when I saw his pocket-handkerchief, which he had applied to the wound, saturated with blood.“And I have kept my word, though it has not prevented my obtaining a wide reputation as a duellist. Neither Charles Felters nor the servant of Lord William could hold their tongues, though the latter had been forbidden by his master to say a word on the subject. I was reminded very unpleasantly, next time I appeared in the town, that the affair had become public property. Lord William would not allow us to send for a surgeon, but had the wound dressed by his own servant; and, fortunately, it turned out to be less dangerous than I feared at first. I sought my own room, and hid myself there with all the remorse of a Cain. I resolved to throw myself at his feet and beg his pardon. But the reaction to my excited state of feelings had now set in, and I fell exhausted on a sofa, where I slept for several hours a feverish kindof sleep. When I awoke Lord William was gone. After this I was seriously ill; and on my recovery my grandfather took me as soon as possible to the Werve for the fresh country air. Sir John told me, when I was quite well, that Lord William had certainly given proof of his good-nature to allow me to touch him; for while at Eton he had been considered one of the best fencers in the school, and just before quitting England he had fought a duel with an officer in the Horse Guards, and wounded him in a manner that report said was likely to be fatal.“My answer to this was that I had never suspected Lord William of being a duellist.“‘That he never was; but in this instance his honour was at stake. He could not leave the insult of this captain unpunished. Perhaps, however, he would have acted more justly if he had put his wife to death; and though an English jury would certainly have brought him in guilty of murder, yet, considering the great provocation he had received, public opinion would have sympathized with him in the highest degree. Now he is reconciled to her again, at least in outward appearance; but he has written to me that he is going to make a tour all over the world.’”“And you have never since heard of this ‘My lord?’” I asked Francis, to whose story I had listened with as much sorrow as attention.“Never; and I don’t even know his family name to this day. Changes now followed in rapid succession. My father died suddenly; my grandfather was promoted in rank, and we removed to Zutphen, where I proposed to begin a new life. But though we break with our antecedents, it is impossible to sponge out the past. However, more of this hereafter. I must attend to the other gentlemen, otherwise I shall be accused of neglecting my duties. I will tell you more of this history at another time if it interests you; for it is a relief to me to confide it to a friend. Only never begin the subject yourself, as there are moments when I cannot bear to think of it.”“I promise you this, Francis,” I replied, pressing her hand.It would be impossible for me to recount all the feelings which passed through my mind in listening to Francis’s trials. I will not weary you, dear William, for I acknowledge I felt sad and irritable. And yet I tried to think these were her “campaign years,” as she calls them, though it was evident her heart had sufferedlong before she attained her twenty-fifth birthday. If she had told me of deception, so common in the world, of an engagement broken off, of a misplaced affection, such things would not have troubled my peace of mind. What affected me was to think this Englishman had won the place in her affections which I wished to be the first to occupy—that place which permits a man to inspire a woman with confidence, and exercise over her an influence authoritative and beneficial. Time had done much to cool her love for him, but she had not forgotten him; and it was certainly a devotion to his memory which rendered her so indifferent to the merits of other men. I wondered if she had told me all this history in order to make me comprehend the improbability of my being able to replace her ideal. Had she not told me on the heath, on our first meeting, that if she suspected I came to demand her hand in marriage, she would leave me there and then? I felt myself diminishing in her estimation. And there was a portrait of William III. hanging over the mantelpiece which seemed to say to me, ironically, “Too late, too late!”Yet again I asked myself whether I was not growingjealous of a vain shadow. Eight years had passed since these events. She was no longer a little girl, who could imagine she saw a Romeo in her mentor who was a long way on the wrong side of forty. Who could say that the comparison, which she could not fail to make now, would be to my disadvantage?I determined not to remain in this perplexity. At the risk of committing an imprudence, I made up my mind to ask her whether she regarded the loss of her Lord William as irreparable. It was necessary for me to know what chance of success was left me.This night I slept little, for I was rolling over in my mind all sorts of extravagant declarations which I intended to make to my cousin next day. This, however, was the day preceding the General’s birthday, and Francis was fully occupied with the Captain in making all sorts of preparations; so that during the whole day I never once could find a suitable moment to begin the subject. The master of the village school would bring up to the Castle his best pupils to recite verses made for the occasion; the clergyman and the notables would also come to offer their congratulations.Francis sent me to the post-office to fetch a registered letter for her.1General von Zwenken was in a bad humour because Rolf had no time to amuse him, and finding myself rather in the way I went off to my room to write.Here in the afternoon I found on my table a little Russian leather case, on which my initials had been embroidered above the wordSouvenir. Inside I found a bank-note equivalent to the sum Francis had borrowed of me; on the envelope which inclosed it she had written, in a bold hand, the wordMerci, her name, and the date. The case itself was not new. Poor dear girl! she must have sat up half the night to work my initials in silk, as a surprise. I now felt more than ever how dear she was become to me, and I promised myself not to temporize any longer. Then the idea occurred to me: If I can get her permission, I will ask her hand of the General to-morrow after I have congratulated him on his birthday.This idea threw me into a transport of joy. I got up from my chair with the intention of seeking mycousin and bringing matters to a crisis at any risk. My hand was already on the handle of the door, when I thought I heard a tap at the window. Immediately a hoarse voice called several times—“Francis! Francis!”Astonished, and wishing to know who this could be, I stood motionless. The voice cried again—“Francis, if you don’t open the window I will break the sash all to pieces.”1In Holland one is obliged to fetch a registered letter; they are never delivered by the postman.Chapter XXVI.As, for very good reasons, Francis gave no answer, a vigorous arm forced open the window, and a man sprang into the room, seemingly quite indifferent about any damage he might have caused.“What is your business with Miss Mordaunt?” I asked, advancing towards the intruder.“A stranger here?” he answered, with an expression of surprise; “I thought they never had visitors now.”“I think the manner of your entrance is much more astonishing, and I am the person surprised.”“Well, yes, my entrance issomewhat irregular,” he replied, in the most familiar style possible; “however,Mr. Unknown, I am neither a thief nor a housebreaker. I have entered in this way because I wished no one but Francis to know of my arrival, and I wassure I should find her here; but, now I am here, allow me to rest myself whilst I reflect a little upon the best means of obtaining an interview with her.”And he threw himself at full length on the old sofa, which creaked under his weight.“Ah! ah!” he continued, examining the walls, “the family portraits are gone—eaten away, no doubt, by the moths and the damp.”It was quite clear to me the stranger was not here for the first time. Though his manners were free, there was something gentlemanly in his personal appearance. Still his dress was fantastic. He wore a short velvet jacket with metal buttons, and a silk handkerchief loosely tied around his neck; tight trousers of a grey pearl colour, and polished riding-boots with spurs, and a soft felt hat.“You’ve got nothing to drink here?” he asked, after a pause of some minutes. “I have ridden for three hours, and my throat is almost choked with sand and dust.”He spoke Dutch with a foreign accent. His age seemed to be about fifty, though he might be younger. His lively, active features were never at rest for a moment; his greenish-grey eyes, the fine wrinkles onhis high sunburnt forehead, and the paleness of his cheeks, all marked him as the adventurer endued with strong passions—an impression that was increased by his thick-set face, large nose, and the tufted mustachios hanging over his thick, sensual lips. I could not refuse him a glass of water, unwelcome as I found his presence. As I handed it to him I said—“You seem to know this house well.”“Yes, and that’s no wonder; I played many a prank here in my boyhood. But you, sir, who are you? An adjutant of the Colonel’s, or aprotégéof Francis’s?”“I think I have the best right to question you, and to ask who you are?”“That’s true enough; and I would tell you with pleasure, but it’s a secret which concerns others besides myself. Call me Mr. Smithson—it’s the name I am known by at present.”“Very well. Now what is your business here, Mr. Smithson?”“I wish you to tell Francis I am here.”“Do you think the news will be agreeable to her?” I demanded.“I cannot say, but she will come all the same.”“Here, into my room?”“Bah! our Major Frank is no prude.”“Mr. Smithson, I give you fair warning that if you say a single word derogatory to the character of Miss Mordaunt, I shall instantly make you take the same way out of this room by which you entered it.”“Oh! oh! Mr. Unknown, I am a first-rate boxer. But easy, man, easy! For I should be the last person in the world to say an offensive word about Francis. Now, since you know her, you ought to be aware that she would never refuse to assist a person in distress out of a sense of prudery. Just you ask her to come here to see—not Smithson, because she does not know me under that name, but a relation of hers, who calls himself Rudolf.”“And if she refuses to come?”“Oh, you make too many difficulties. Ah! is it possible you are her——I should have thought Francis Mordaunt more capable of commanding a batalion than of bowing herself under the yoke of marriage. But, after all, women do change their minds. Then you are the happy mortal?”“A truce to your suppositions,” I answered himin a firm voice; “I am here as a relation, a grand-nephew of the General’s; my name is Leopold van Zonshoven.”“Well, upon my word! Probably we are cousins, for I am also related to the General. Francis will not refuse to come, I assure you—especially if you tell her that I do not come to ask for money; on the contrary, I bring some with me.”Hereupon he drew from his pocket a purse containing a number of clean, new greenbacks.“Tell her what you have seen; it will set her mind at ease, and possibly yours also—for you seem as yet only half-and-half convinced that I am not a highwayman.”I no longer hesitated; but took the precaution to lock my door on the outside, lest he should follow me, and surprise Francis before I had warned her. Having reached her room I knocked gently, and she answered “Come in.” It was the first time I had penetrated so far, and I began in a serious tone—“Something very singular has happened, my dear cousin——”“It is not an accident you come to announce to me, I hope?” she exclaimed.“No, but a visit which will not prove agreeable, I am afraid.”“A visit at this time of the day! Who is it?”“A person who says he is a relation of the family, and refuses to give any name but that of Rudolf.”She knit her eyebrows.“Good heavens! Unfortunate man! Here again!”I explained to her how he had forced his way in at the window, and offered to make him retrace his steps if she desired it.“No, there must be no disturbance,” she said, in a state of agitation. “My grandfather must not even suspect he is here. I will go with you, Leopold; this once you must excuse me if I do anything you consider in bad form. How dare he show his face here? I can do nothing more for him. You will stand by me, won’t you?”I took her hand and led her to my room. Rudolf lay on the sofa, fast asleep. When he saw Francis standing before him, he jumped up as if to embrace her, but she drew back. He did not seem hurt, but he lost his tone of assurance.“I understand, Francis, that my return is not a joyful surprise to you.”“You have broken your promise. You gave me your word of honour you would stay in America. At any rate, you ought never to have set foot in your native country again——”“Don’t judge me without having heard——”“Is it not tempting fortune to come back here to the Werve, where you may so easily be recognized?”“Oh, don’t make yourself uneasy on that score, my dear. I have taken precautions; and as for breaking my promise, I beg your pardon on my bended knees.”And he made a gesture as if he would fall on his knees before her.“Don’t be theatrical,” she said severely, and again retreated some steps from him.“Heaven forbid! On the boards, to gain a livelihood, it is another thing; but in your presence, before you, Francis, whom I honour and love, I wish to justify my conduct. You may condemn me afterwards, if you like. It was really my intention never to appear before your eyes again. Alas! man is but the puppet of fortune, and I have not been able to swim against the stream. I have had all sorts of adventures—but can I tell you all now?” headded, looking significantly at me. “To tell you the truth, I had reckoned on our being alone.”“Stay, Leopold,” she said, in answer to an inquiring look I gave her.“Francis,” resumed Rudolf, with tears in his eyes, “you know you need no protector where I am.”“I know that, but I will not again expose myself to calumny for your sake. As for your security, Rudolf, I can answer for my cousin Van Zonshoven’s discretion. You may tell him who you are without fear.”“It is a question of life and death,” he said in French, with a most indifferent shrug of the shoulders, and he again stretched himself at full length on the sofa. “The least indiscretion, and my life will be forfeited. What of that? I run the risk of breaking my neck every day.”And then, turning towards me, he began to sing, or rather to try to sing, with a voice quite hoarse, and with a theatricalpose, the following lines out of the opera “The Bride of Lammermoor”—“Sache donc qu’en ce domaineD’où me chasse encor ta haine,En seigneur j’ai commandé.At least,” he put in, “during the absence of the Baron, for I was heir-presumptive—a presumption which, alas! is destined never to be changed into certitude——”Francis, visibly affected by his jesting style, interrupted him, and said to me—“Rudolf von Zwenken, my grandfather’s only son.”“It would cost my charming niece too great an effort to say ‘My uncle.’ It is my own fault. I have never been able to inspire people with the necessary respect for me. Well, now, Cousin van Zonshoven, you know who I am, but there is one point I must rectify: Rudolf von Zwenken no longer exists—he is civilly dead.”“And morally,” murmured Francis.“And if he were to rise again under that name,” he continued, without heeding Francis’s interruption, “he would commit something like suicide, for he would be arrested and shot.”“And knowing that, after all that has been done to put you beyond danger, you show yourself in this place again! It is inexplicable,” cried Francis.“But, my dear, who told you I had come to showmyself here? It is true we give representations in the provinces; but the person who appears in public is Mr. Smithson, so well begrimed that Baron von Zwenken himself would not recognize his own son.”“That’s very fortunate, for it would be the death of him,” retorted Francis, harshly.“How you exaggerate, dearest.Monsieur mon perenever had so much affection for me. He shall never know Mr. Smithson. His son Rudolf, however, seeks an interview with him, and requests you, Francis, to assist in bringing it about.”“It is useless, sir; you may neither see nor speak to your father again.”“Can you be so hard-hearted, Francis?”“My duty obliges me, and I must have some regard for the feelings of your father in the first place.”“But, my dear child, try to understand me. I only wish to kiss his hand and beg his pardon. With this object I have run all risks, and imposed on myself all kinds of fatigue. I have just ridden hard for three hours, hidden myself in the old ruins, climbed the garden wall at the risk of breaking anarm or a leg; then, seeing a light here, I broke in—and all this for nothing! No,my darling, this cannot be; you will still be my good angel, and arrange the meeting I so much desire——”“I sayNo; and you know when I have once said a thing I mean it.”Chapter XXVII.Rudolf, after a pause, began once more—“You have a good heart, Francis. Ah! I know your reasons. You think I am returned again like the prodigal son, with an empty purse, ‘after eating of the husks which the swine did eat.’ It is just the contrary.”“Don’t be profane, Rudolf,” said Francis, severely.“But it is true—I bring money with me, over two hundred dollars in clean greenbacks, as a commencement of restitution, an earnest of my reform. What do you think my father would say if he found them to-morrow morning on his pillow? Don’t you think he would receive me with open arms?”“No, Rudolf, certainly not. You have broken your word of honour, and for this your father will never forgive you. Don’t talk of restitution. Whatis this sum in comparison with what you have cost him, and all the suffering you have caused him and me? Such sacrifices as we had made gave us the right to hope you would leave us in peace—forget us.”Rudolf bowed down his head and heaved a deep sigh. I could not help pitying the unfortunate man. I should have liked to say something in his favour; but the cold, haughty, nay, contemptuous attitude of Francis seemed to impose silence on me. There must be some reason, I felt sure, for her inexorable severity; consequently I remained a passive spectator.At length Rudolf roused himself from his despondency, drank off a glass of water, and, turning towards Francis, said in his most serious tone—“Just listen, Miss Mordaunt. It appears to me that, under the pretext of acting as guardian to my father, you oppose a reconciliation between us, without even consulting his wishes; and it is strange that a niece, a granddaughter only, should usurp the position of the eldest son, and refuse to listen to the returning prodigal.”“Don’t talk to me about your prodigal son,” criedFrancis, angrily; “you are not the prodigal son. It is only a passing whim, and you will be carried away again to-morrow by some new idea as you always were.”“Don’t you be afraid you will lose anything by it,” he said in a bitter tone; “you know I shall never lay claim to my father’s property, even though we were reconciled.”“Must I then be suspected of cupidity, and by you indeed!” exclaimed Francis, in the greatest indignation.“I should never accuse you of anything of the sort. On the contrary, I am only too sensible of your generosity. I only mentioned this to set you at ease about any consequences which might result from my reconciliation with my father. To the world I am Richard Smithson, American citizen; but let me have the pleasure of being for the few minutes I stay here Rudolf von Zwenken, who would speak to his old father once more, and take a last farewell of him. How can you oppose such a desire?”“Your last farewells signify nothing; you always come back again.”“But if, in spite of your opposition, I go at once and seek my father in the large drawing-room—I have not forgotten my way about the house—who shall hinder me?”“Do as you like; only I warn you you will find Rolf, who knows you, with grandfather; and Rolf knows his orders, which he will carry out like an old soldier.”“The devil take Rolf! What’s the old ruffian doing here?” spitefully exclaimed Rudolf.“The old ruffian does all he can to cheer the declining years of your father, whom you have rendered unhappy by your conduct.”“My misery would not be complete without your contumely,” sobbed Rudolf. “I came here so cheerful and well disposed.”“Mr. Rudolf,” I said, “allow me to arrange an interview for you with the General, since Miss Mordaunt declines.”“Don’t you trouble yourself, Jonker van Zonshoven,” retorted Francis, in her most cold and haughty tone. “I do not decline, but I know it is impossible, and therefore better to say nothing. Rudolf well remembers I threw myself at the feet ofmy grandfather, and besought him not to send his son into exile unforgiven, and it only added to the pain and sorrow of the scene. Don’t forget, either, that you yourself caused the report of your death to be spread abroad. The old man believed it, and I have since heard him say it was a comfort to him. His fears lest you should be arrested, tried, and condemned, were only set at rest when he heard the news. Would you renew his distress, and put him to these tortures again?”“It is true, too true—you are right,” said Rudolf, quite breaking down.“But you shall not leave the house without some refreshment,” returned Francis in a kind tone, now she felt her victory to be certain; “I will go and fetch you something to eat immediately. Cousin Leopold will allow you to have supper and to repose yourself in his room.”Whereupon she left the room, and I was left alone with this singular cousin of mine.“Bah!” he said, “our Major is not to be trifled with. What eyes she gave me! I felt as if she would pierce me through and through; and yet she has a good heart—there’s not one in a thousand like her.”“I think she might have shown a little more of its tenderness towards a relation,” I interposed.“What shall I say? She knows only my evil deeds as she has heard them recounted by my father. When chance or misfortune has thrown us two together, it has always been under circumstances which could not dispose her in my favour. I have cost her both trouble and money—nay, I even fear her reputation has been called in question on my account. When I was in trouble she came to my assistance, regardless of what public gossip might say. It was at Zutphen. My father’s door was shut upon me. She agreed to meet me in a lane outside the town, a public promenade little frequented at certain hours of the day—in fact, very seldom except on Sundays. But we were discovered; certain idlers took it into their heads to play the spy on us, and Heaven only knows what sort of reports they set flying about the town. The generous girl had pawned her diamonds in order to assist me, unknown to her grandfather. This act of devotion was of course interpreted to her disadvantage. You may think it would be more noble on her part not to remind me of what she has suffered when she sees me again;but, my dear sir, a perfect woman is as scarce a thing as a horse without a defect. Though she were to scratch and to bite me, I would still bow my head in submission to her——”The entrance of Francis with a bottle of wine, bread and meat, &c., interrupted what he had to say further. He attacked the eatables with a most voracious appetite.When he had somewhat allayed his hunger, he began—“Francis, my darling, where am I to pass the night? I cannot go into that part of the house occupied by the General and Rolf, that’s certain. I would go into the stable and sleep in the hay, but that I am afraid the coachman might recognize me.”“We have no coachman now,” replied Francis, quite pale.“What! You have sent away Harry Blount?”“Harry Blount is dead.”“Dead! Why he would scarcely be thirty years of age. I taught him to ride——but Francis, my angel, you are quite pale; have you also sold your beautiful English saddle-horse?”“No, Tancredo is stabled at farmer Pauwelsen’s;but it is the recollection of Harry Blount which causes me to turn pale. I—it is dreadful—I was the cause of his death.”“Nonsense; come, come! In a moment of passion?” (here he made the gesture of a man who horse-whips another). “I did so more than once, but that does not kill a man—and you will not have murdered him.”“Nevertheless, I was the cause of the brave fellow’s death. It occurred during a carriage drive. We had sold the beautiful greys——”“What! that splendid pair. My poor father!”“We had a new horse which we wished to run with the only one left us. Harry wanted to try them himself for the first time, but I took it into my head I would drive them. I got on the box by his side, seized the reins, and, as soon as we were on a piece of level road, they went like the wind. I was proud of my skill, and was rejoicing in my triumph; but still Harry shook his head, and recommended me to be prudent. The sky became clouded, and a thunderstorm threatened us. In my folly, I urged the horses on still faster, though they were already taking the bits between their teeth. Harry became alarmed, and tried to take the reins out of my hands;but I resisted, and would not give them up. In an instant the thunder began to roll, and lightning struck right across our way; the horses took fright and began to rear on their hind-legs. Blount jumped off the box to go to their heads, but tripped, and they passed over his body. In despair, I also jumped from the box at the risk of my life, and the violence of the shock caused me to swoon. When I was again conscious, I saw the unfortunate Blount lying on the road, crushed, with scarcely a breath of life left in him. Within an hour he was a corpse.”Here Francis burst into tears, and covered her face.“It is a pity, Francis, a great pity,” replied Rudolf. “For your sake, I would that I had been the victim of this accident rather than Blount. You would have had one burden less to bear. Don’t take it so to heart, my child. I have seen others fall from their horses never to rise again alive. What can we do? Wait till our turn comes, and not make life miserable by thinking too much about it. But,” said he, “you have not yet told me where I am to sleep. Must I go back to the ruin? It is a cold place, and doubly so when I think of the parental castle close by.”“The truth is, I cannot offer you a room, Rudolf. There is not one suitable for the purpose.”“But why cannot Rudolf share mine?” I asked; “I will give up my bed to him.”“No,” he replied quickly; “I will be content with the sofa, if Francis will consent to my staying here.”“Very well,” she answered; “only you must promise that to-morrow, before daybreak, you will be far away. It is your father’s birthday, and there will be many visitors at the Castle.”“I will start early, I promise you, Francis.”“Well, I will once more trust to your word of honour. And now good-bye. It is time for me to go; otherwise my absence will be remarked upon by the gentlemen of the house.”“Take this purse, Francis; it is a little commencement of restitution; I would I could offer you more, but I have not yet become a veritable Yankee uncle. I have not discovered a gold mine. Accept at least what I can return to you.”And he spread out the American greenbacks before her.“Are they real ones, Rudolf?” she asked in a grave tone.“By heavens, Francis, what do you mean by such a question? I have committed many follies in my life—I have been a fool, a ne’er-do-weel, a spendthrift, I am a deserter—but a forger of false bank-notes! Francis, could you suspect me of such infamy?”“I wish I had only suspicions, Rudolf; unfortunately I have the proofs.”“The proofs!” he cried, in a sorrowful tone of voice; “but that’s impossible.”“What am I to think of the false letters of exchange in which you forged your father’s signature? We have got them under lock and key, these terrible proofs, and they have cost us dear. I have pardoned this fault with the rest, Rudolf; but facts are facts.”“It is impossible, I tell you!” he answered with firmness. “There must be some terrible mistake in this case, and I trust you will assist me in clearing it up. If my father believes that of me, I am not surprised he should rejoice at my death, nor am I astonished you despise me. However, I solemnly protest to you by all that’s dear to me, I am innocent, Francis.”“Yet these bills were presented to Baron von Zwenken, and we paid them to prevent a lawsuit.It could not have affected you very much, for you were in America; but my grandfather would have been obliged to retire from the army.”“Francis, you are possessed of good, sound sense. How dared I have committed such an offence just at the time I was in hiding near Zutphen, at the moment when you were so generously raising funds for my enterprise in America; nay, at the moment when my sincerest desire was to carry my father’s forgiveness with me into exile? Show me these accursed bills, and I will prove my innocence.”“They are in the General’s possession; I cannot get at them to show you them.”“If we had them here, I would soon prove to you that it is impossible for me, with my wretched handwriting, to imitate the fine and regular hand of my father. What is your opinion, Mr. Leopold?”“I believe what you say,” I answered.“Ah, that’s a relief; it does me good!” he murmured, his eyes filling with tears. “My father has been accustomed to spend his leave in fashionable watering-places; is it not possible for him there to have made the acquaintance of some wretch wicked enough to serve him such a turn?”“For the last few years the General has not been from home, except one winter which he spent in Arnheim.”“Can Rolf have done it?”“No, don’t suspect Rolf; he never had any education, but he’s the honestest man living, and he would pluck out an eye rather than cause the old General any trouble.”“Then I don’t know whom to suspect. Now take these notes, Francis—they are real, I assure you; take them as a proof you still believe my word.”“I believe you, Rudolf; but I think you have more need of them than I have.”“Never mind me; I have a good position now: first rider in the Great Equestrian Circus of Mr. Stonehouse, of Baltimore, with a salary of two hundred dollars a month—is it not splendid? You see I have not lost my old love for horses. Formerly they cost me much money; now they bring me in a living.”“Well, Rudolf, you might have sunk lower; your business demands courage and address. But I will not accept your money; I never take back what I have given. To-morrow morning we shall see eachother again. You need not jump from the balcony and scale the garden wall; I will let you out myself.”“Ah! you wish to make sure of my departure——”“I have already said I would trust to your promise. Good night, gentlemen.”Chapter XXVIII.She was scarcely out of the room, when Rudolf, who had drained the bottle, began in his usual tone of banter—“I don’t know whether I ought to congratulate you, Mr. Leopold, but I am firmly convinced our charming Major has found her colonel.”I only shrugged my shoulders; for I felt a repugnance to making Francis a subject of conversation with such a fellow.“Do you imagine I have no eyes? I know the women, I can assure you. I have come across all sorts, and all sizes and colours, in my vagabond life; and my niece, though she were a thousand times Major Frank, is still a woman—a woman with a man’s heart, as good Queen Bess used to say ofherself. I don’t know what you intend to do, but it appears to me you have only to propose—‘Et bientôt on verra l’infanteAu bras de son heureux vainqueur.’She is smitten by you, that’s certain! Why, she’s like a thoroughbred horse. With much patience, much attention, and a firm hand that knows when to be gentle, so one succeeds. As for myself, I was always too rash, too impatient.These gracious devilssoon perceive it, and once they know it, you are thrown—there’s no help for you. After all, perhaps I am mistaken,” he said, seeing I remained silent; “otherwise I would add that I hope you are rich. Her grandfather is ruined——”“And by whom?” I interposed; a little hard upon him, I confess, but his volubility had become insupportable.“By whom? that’s the question. I have contributed my share, I acknowledge, yet not more than my own fortune which came to me from my mother, as the eldest and only son. John Mordaunt could tell us something if he were alive. He got his wife’s fortune when they were married, and Francis ought to have had something when she came of age; thatis if anything were left, for they lived in style—yes, a style that would have run through any amount. I was sent off to the Werve with my tutor, for I had begun to understand and to make observations. After the death of my sister I was never invited to the house of John Mordaunt. But perhaps it will not interest you to listen to my old stories?”“Certainly, I should much like to hear an account of your adventures.”“Well, then, my father was the first cause of my misfortunes, for he opposed my wishes in everything. I wanted to be an officer; and my father would not let me go to the military college at Breda because he was prejudiced against it. He insisted upon my studying law at Leyden: this, he said, would lead to a fortune. Ah, I have found a fortune!” he repeated, with a bitter laugh. “Since I was sent to study for my father’s pleasure, I thought it only right to seek my own; and, as he made me a fair allowance, I was soon noted as the wildest and most extravagant of students. I kept my horses and a Tilbury, and ran up enormous bills. Still I attended those lectures which interested me, and I had just put on a ‘coach’ for the final examinations, when myfather lost a lawsuit against my Aunt Roselaer. The supplies were stopped, and I left college without having passed my examination as Master in the Law. My father’s interests obtained for me a place in the financial world, but with the condition I should marry a rich heiress. The misfortune was, the heiress in question was of an over-ripe age, with a nose too red for my taste, and I neglected her. My father grew furious, and declared he would discard me. Moreover, I could not settle down to the regular routine of a counting-house for several hours a day, and sometimes extra work in the evening after dinner. I found in the office an old clerk, a regular old stager, who had sat on the same stool at the same desk for twenty years without a chance of promotion. This is my man, I thought, and I left the responsibility in his hands, whilst I amused myself with my friends at the club. But one fine day, when I was out picnicing with a party of friends, my worthy clerk started off with the cash-box. I was of course held responsible, and my father’s guarantee was forfeited.“I dare say the whole of Francis’ remaining fortune was swallowed up by this affair and a lawsuit arisingout of it. What could I do now? I had a good voice, and I proposed to go to some music academy abroad, and return as an opera singer. My father would not consent to this, and told me the best thing I could do was to enlist in the ranks as a common soldier. I caught at this idea in the hope of being promoted to the position of an officer at no distant date; but I had never been habituated to discipline. I was sent to a small fortress on the frontiers; Rolf was my lieutenant, and he did not spare me either hard work or picket duty. To cut it short, I had enlisted for five years, and I did not stay five months. One fine morning I walked off altogether. I was caught, and I wounded an under-officer in self-defence; the charge against me was as clear as the light of day. But I succeeded in breaking out of prison. I own I was not very strictly guarded, and Francis, as I afterwards learnt, had done her utmost to facilitate my escape. Again I was free as the air; but I must live. I tried everything. I gave lessons in French and in Latin to little German boys, and I taught the little Fräuleins music and singing; I was even appointed private singer to an Austrian princess, who was deaf, and imagined thatmy voice resembled Roger’s. I wandered about with a travelling opera company, and sang myself hoarse in the open air. I have been coachman to a baron, and travelled for a house in the wine trade, but when they wanted to send me to Holland I had to give up the post. Afterwards I was waiter at an inn, billiard-marker, valet to the secretary of a Polish count, who, appreciating my ability at the noble game of billiards, took me to Warsaw, and hastened to initiate me into his plans for the ‘Independence of Poland.’ As a matter of course, his enterprise was unsuccessful; but he got sent to Siberia, and I myself was kept in prison for some weeks because I refused to give evidence against him. Again I found myself thrown on the wide world without a penny in my pocket. But I will not weary you with a recital of all I have done and suffered. Perhaps the best thing, and the simplest, for me to have done, would have been to plunge into the Rhine and stay at the bottom; but I have always had a repugnance to suicide, and, besides, I have always been blest with a fund of good spirits and health. I now made a tour of the German watering-places from north to south, getting along as best Icould, and changing my name very often. Once I was imprisoned with a Moldavian prince accused of murder, but I was let go, as I could prove my connection with the prince was posterior to the crime. A report then got abroad in Holland that I was dead, and I skilfully manœuvred to obtain credence for it. At last, weary of my adventurous life, I heard how a member of our family had succeeded in America, and I decided to try my luck there; but I must have money. I flattered myself that after ten years my father would consent to do something for me. I wrote to Francis. The answer was not encouraging. My father threatened, if I dared to cross the frontier, he would hand me over to a court-martial. I thought Francis said this only to frighten me. I came to Zutphen, well disguised, and there I was convinced she had told me the truth. Francis, poor soul, was the only person who took pity on me, and you know already what it cost her. And when I think she could believe me to be guilty of forgery! Oh, the fact is I would not make her more unhappy by telling her what I suspect——”“What then?”“Listen; I have my weaknesses, but I have neverbeen ruled by passions. I am not ‘passion’s slave.’ Wine, play, and pleasant company have run away with my money, and in some respects I am no more than a great baby; but a real passion, a tyrannical passion, capable of making me a great man or a great malefactor, such a passion I have never known. Some one in our family, on the contrary, has been ruled by such a passion; and many things I observed in my boyhood without thinking much about them. But you are a discreet man, otherwise Francis would not confide in you as she has done; and, besides, you are a relation of the family—it is better you should be warned.”After a pause—“Know then that amongst all the trades I tried in Germany, I have had the honour to becroupierin a gaming-house.There, unrecognized by my unfortunate father, I have seen him play with a violence of passion of which you can form no idea; and, believe me, in spite of all my faults, it is in that way both his own and Francis’s fortune have been lost. I would have thrown myself at his feet, and besought him not to precipitate himself deeper into this abyss; but my position prevented me. Still, Iwatched him without his knowing it, and I soon found out for a certainty that he borrowed money of a Dutch banker, to whom he gave bills on Francis’s property;—and, you see, rather than confess this to her, he has accused me——”“But such conduct is abominable!”“Ah! passions do not reason. I was far away, and my name was already sullied. I only desire to clear myself in Francis’s opinion. But to conclude my history: I was not more lucky in the New World than I had been in Europe; I was shipwrecked and lost my all before I could land at New York. I then went to the far West without meeting with anything which promised me a future; in short, I felt quite happy when I made the acquaintance of Mr. Stonehouse, who engaged me to accompany his circus to Europe. And so it has come about that I once more tread my native earth under the protection of the American flag. Once so near the Werve, I was seized with an irresistible desire to see the old place again. My satisfaction and reception have not been very flattering, as you have witnessed; but I will keep my promise to Francis, cost me what it may. And now good night.”Without awaiting my answer he threw himself at full length on the sofa, and soon gave me auricular evidence that he was enjoying the profoundest slumber. I had nothing better to do than follow his example. When I opened my eyes in the morning he had disappeared, but he had left his pocket-book and the notes on the table.After mature reflection I came to the conclusion that his surmises were right, and that the father had defamed his own son to escape the remonstrances of a granddaughter.
Chapter XXV.“Poor Charles Felters was quite thunderstruck at the reception I gave him. His gay partner of last evening’s dance had changed into a veritable fury. I told him plainly I didn’t care a jot for him. He hesitated, he stammered, and couldn’t make up his mind to go. I was expecting Lord William every moment to take leave of me, and I would not have them meet. In my confusion my eyes rested on a ‘trophy of arms’ with which my father had decorated one side of the room. Scarcely knowing what I was about, I seized a foil, handed it to my would-be lover, and taking another myself, I took up my position on guard, exclaiming—“‘The man who wins my love shall win it with the sword.’“The miserable ninny never even observed that the foils were buttoned, but, throwing down his, rushed out of the room in the greatest alarm.”“I have heard of this feat of arms, Francis,” I said, laughing; “and, moreover, that Felters is still running away from you.”“‘Voilà comme on écrit l’histoire.’ I have myself heard he made a voyage round the world to escape from me; but the truth is he only made a tour up the Rhine, fell in with the daughter of a clergyman, and married her. She has made him a happy man, and he is now the father of a family; nevertheless, all his relations bear me the most intense hatred, and lose no opportunity of serving me a malicious turn. I still held my foil in my hand when Lord William entered the room. His look was sufficient to show me his disapprobation.“‘If your father had taken my advice, Francis,’ he said, ‘he would have waited some little time before informing you of the intentions of Felters; still there was no reason for your acting in this way.For shameto treat a poor fellow, who perhaps never had a foil in his hand before, in such a manner. But, well! I have always hesitated about putting you tothe test; permit me now, however, to take the place of the miserable fugitive.’“And without waiting for an answer he picked up Felters’ foil, and cried—“‘En garde!’“I literally did not know what I was doing. I would not decline his challenge, and I determined to show him that he was not fencing with an inexperienced girl. He handled his foil with a lightness and firmness of hand I had little expected to find in a man of letters, confining himself, however, to parrying my attacks only; and yet this he did so skilfully that I was unable to touch him. I exhausted myself in my desperate efforts, but I would not ask for quarter.“‘You see such exercise requires more than the arm of a woman,’ he said coolly.“My wild despair and anger seemed to give me strength, and falling in upon him I broke my foil upon his breast. He, with a smile, had neglected to parry this attack, and I saw a thin stream of blood trickle down his shirt-front. Now I was overwhelmed with sorrow and repentance. Sir John and grandfather immediately came upon the scene.“‘It is nothing, gentlemen,’ he said to them, ‘only a scratch; a little satisfaction which I owed to Miss Francis, and which will perhaps cure her of her taste for such unladylike weapons.’“‘I will never, never more touch them,’ I cried in terror when I saw his pocket-handkerchief, which he had applied to the wound, saturated with blood.“And I have kept my word, though it has not prevented my obtaining a wide reputation as a duellist. Neither Charles Felters nor the servant of Lord William could hold their tongues, though the latter had been forbidden by his master to say a word on the subject. I was reminded very unpleasantly, next time I appeared in the town, that the affair had become public property. Lord William would not allow us to send for a surgeon, but had the wound dressed by his own servant; and, fortunately, it turned out to be less dangerous than I feared at first. I sought my own room, and hid myself there with all the remorse of a Cain. I resolved to throw myself at his feet and beg his pardon. But the reaction to my excited state of feelings had now set in, and I fell exhausted on a sofa, where I slept for several hours a feverish kindof sleep. When I awoke Lord William was gone. After this I was seriously ill; and on my recovery my grandfather took me as soon as possible to the Werve for the fresh country air. Sir John told me, when I was quite well, that Lord William had certainly given proof of his good-nature to allow me to touch him; for while at Eton he had been considered one of the best fencers in the school, and just before quitting England he had fought a duel with an officer in the Horse Guards, and wounded him in a manner that report said was likely to be fatal.“My answer to this was that I had never suspected Lord William of being a duellist.“‘That he never was; but in this instance his honour was at stake. He could not leave the insult of this captain unpunished. Perhaps, however, he would have acted more justly if he had put his wife to death; and though an English jury would certainly have brought him in guilty of murder, yet, considering the great provocation he had received, public opinion would have sympathized with him in the highest degree. Now he is reconciled to her again, at least in outward appearance; but he has written to me that he is going to make a tour all over the world.’”“And you have never since heard of this ‘My lord?’” I asked Francis, to whose story I had listened with as much sorrow as attention.“Never; and I don’t even know his family name to this day. Changes now followed in rapid succession. My father died suddenly; my grandfather was promoted in rank, and we removed to Zutphen, where I proposed to begin a new life. But though we break with our antecedents, it is impossible to sponge out the past. However, more of this hereafter. I must attend to the other gentlemen, otherwise I shall be accused of neglecting my duties. I will tell you more of this history at another time if it interests you; for it is a relief to me to confide it to a friend. Only never begin the subject yourself, as there are moments when I cannot bear to think of it.”“I promise you this, Francis,” I replied, pressing her hand.It would be impossible for me to recount all the feelings which passed through my mind in listening to Francis’s trials. I will not weary you, dear William, for I acknowledge I felt sad and irritable. And yet I tried to think these were her “campaign years,” as she calls them, though it was evident her heart had sufferedlong before she attained her twenty-fifth birthday. If she had told me of deception, so common in the world, of an engagement broken off, of a misplaced affection, such things would not have troubled my peace of mind. What affected me was to think this Englishman had won the place in her affections which I wished to be the first to occupy—that place which permits a man to inspire a woman with confidence, and exercise over her an influence authoritative and beneficial. Time had done much to cool her love for him, but she had not forgotten him; and it was certainly a devotion to his memory which rendered her so indifferent to the merits of other men. I wondered if she had told me all this history in order to make me comprehend the improbability of my being able to replace her ideal. Had she not told me on the heath, on our first meeting, that if she suspected I came to demand her hand in marriage, she would leave me there and then? I felt myself diminishing in her estimation. And there was a portrait of William III. hanging over the mantelpiece which seemed to say to me, ironically, “Too late, too late!”Yet again I asked myself whether I was not growingjealous of a vain shadow. Eight years had passed since these events. She was no longer a little girl, who could imagine she saw a Romeo in her mentor who was a long way on the wrong side of forty. Who could say that the comparison, which she could not fail to make now, would be to my disadvantage?I determined not to remain in this perplexity. At the risk of committing an imprudence, I made up my mind to ask her whether she regarded the loss of her Lord William as irreparable. It was necessary for me to know what chance of success was left me.This night I slept little, for I was rolling over in my mind all sorts of extravagant declarations which I intended to make to my cousin next day. This, however, was the day preceding the General’s birthday, and Francis was fully occupied with the Captain in making all sorts of preparations; so that during the whole day I never once could find a suitable moment to begin the subject. The master of the village school would bring up to the Castle his best pupils to recite verses made for the occasion; the clergyman and the notables would also come to offer their congratulations.Francis sent me to the post-office to fetch a registered letter for her.1General von Zwenken was in a bad humour because Rolf had no time to amuse him, and finding myself rather in the way I went off to my room to write.Here in the afternoon I found on my table a little Russian leather case, on which my initials had been embroidered above the wordSouvenir. Inside I found a bank-note equivalent to the sum Francis had borrowed of me; on the envelope which inclosed it she had written, in a bold hand, the wordMerci, her name, and the date. The case itself was not new. Poor dear girl! she must have sat up half the night to work my initials in silk, as a surprise. I now felt more than ever how dear she was become to me, and I promised myself not to temporize any longer. Then the idea occurred to me: If I can get her permission, I will ask her hand of the General to-morrow after I have congratulated him on his birthday.This idea threw me into a transport of joy. I got up from my chair with the intention of seeking mycousin and bringing matters to a crisis at any risk. My hand was already on the handle of the door, when I thought I heard a tap at the window. Immediately a hoarse voice called several times—“Francis! Francis!”Astonished, and wishing to know who this could be, I stood motionless. The voice cried again—“Francis, if you don’t open the window I will break the sash all to pieces.”1In Holland one is obliged to fetch a registered letter; they are never delivered by the postman.
“Poor Charles Felters was quite thunderstruck at the reception I gave him. His gay partner of last evening’s dance had changed into a veritable fury. I told him plainly I didn’t care a jot for him. He hesitated, he stammered, and couldn’t make up his mind to go. I was expecting Lord William every moment to take leave of me, and I would not have them meet. In my confusion my eyes rested on a ‘trophy of arms’ with which my father had decorated one side of the room. Scarcely knowing what I was about, I seized a foil, handed it to my would-be lover, and taking another myself, I took up my position on guard, exclaiming—
“‘The man who wins my love shall win it with the sword.’
“The miserable ninny never even observed that the foils were buttoned, but, throwing down his, rushed out of the room in the greatest alarm.”
“I have heard of this feat of arms, Francis,” I said, laughing; “and, moreover, that Felters is still running away from you.”
“‘Voilà comme on écrit l’histoire.’ I have myself heard he made a voyage round the world to escape from me; but the truth is he only made a tour up the Rhine, fell in with the daughter of a clergyman, and married her. She has made him a happy man, and he is now the father of a family; nevertheless, all his relations bear me the most intense hatred, and lose no opportunity of serving me a malicious turn. I still held my foil in my hand when Lord William entered the room. His look was sufficient to show me his disapprobation.
“‘If your father had taken my advice, Francis,’ he said, ‘he would have waited some little time before informing you of the intentions of Felters; still there was no reason for your acting in this way.For shameto treat a poor fellow, who perhaps never had a foil in his hand before, in such a manner. But, well! I have always hesitated about putting you tothe test; permit me now, however, to take the place of the miserable fugitive.’
“And without waiting for an answer he picked up Felters’ foil, and cried—
“‘En garde!’
“I literally did not know what I was doing. I would not decline his challenge, and I determined to show him that he was not fencing with an inexperienced girl. He handled his foil with a lightness and firmness of hand I had little expected to find in a man of letters, confining himself, however, to parrying my attacks only; and yet this he did so skilfully that I was unable to touch him. I exhausted myself in my desperate efforts, but I would not ask for quarter.
“‘You see such exercise requires more than the arm of a woman,’ he said coolly.
“My wild despair and anger seemed to give me strength, and falling in upon him I broke my foil upon his breast. He, with a smile, had neglected to parry this attack, and I saw a thin stream of blood trickle down his shirt-front. Now I was overwhelmed with sorrow and repentance. Sir John and grandfather immediately came upon the scene.
“‘It is nothing, gentlemen,’ he said to them, ‘only a scratch; a little satisfaction which I owed to Miss Francis, and which will perhaps cure her of her taste for such unladylike weapons.’
“‘I will never, never more touch them,’ I cried in terror when I saw his pocket-handkerchief, which he had applied to the wound, saturated with blood.
“And I have kept my word, though it has not prevented my obtaining a wide reputation as a duellist. Neither Charles Felters nor the servant of Lord William could hold their tongues, though the latter had been forbidden by his master to say a word on the subject. I was reminded very unpleasantly, next time I appeared in the town, that the affair had become public property. Lord William would not allow us to send for a surgeon, but had the wound dressed by his own servant; and, fortunately, it turned out to be less dangerous than I feared at first. I sought my own room, and hid myself there with all the remorse of a Cain. I resolved to throw myself at his feet and beg his pardon. But the reaction to my excited state of feelings had now set in, and I fell exhausted on a sofa, where I slept for several hours a feverish kindof sleep. When I awoke Lord William was gone. After this I was seriously ill; and on my recovery my grandfather took me as soon as possible to the Werve for the fresh country air. Sir John told me, when I was quite well, that Lord William had certainly given proof of his good-nature to allow me to touch him; for while at Eton he had been considered one of the best fencers in the school, and just before quitting England he had fought a duel with an officer in the Horse Guards, and wounded him in a manner that report said was likely to be fatal.
“My answer to this was that I had never suspected Lord William of being a duellist.
“‘That he never was; but in this instance his honour was at stake. He could not leave the insult of this captain unpunished. Perhaps, however, he would have acted more justly if he had put his wife to death; and though an English jury would certainly have brought him in guilty of murder, yet, considering the great provocation he had received, public opinion would have sympathized with him in the highest degree. Now he is reconciled to her again, at least in outward appearance; but he has written to me that he is going to make a tour all over the world.’”
“And you have never since heard of this ‘My lord?’” I asked Francis, to whose story I had listened with as much sorrow as attention.
“Never; and I don’t even know his family name to this day. Changes now followed in rapid succession. My father died suddenly; my grandfather was promoted in rank, and we removed to Zutphen, where I proposed to begin a new life. But though we break with our antecedents, it is impossible to sponge out the past. However, more of this hereafter. I must attend to the other gentlemen, otherwise I shall be accused of neglecting my duties. I will tell you more of this history at another time if it interests you; for it is a relief to me to confide it to a friend. Only never begin the subject yourself, as there are moments when I cannot bear to think of it.”
“I promise you this, Francis,” I replied, pressing her hand.
It would be impossible for me to recount all the feelings which passed through my mind in listening to Francis’s trials. I will not weary you, dear William, for I acknowledge I felt sad and irritable. And yet I tried to think these were her “campaign years,” as she calls them, though it was evident her heart had sufferedlong before she attained her twenty-fifth birthday. If she had told me of deception, so common in the world, of an engagement broken off, of a misplaced affection, such things would not have troubled my peace of mind. What affected me was to think this Englishman had won the place in her affections which I wished to be the first to occupy—that place which permits a man to inspire a woman with confidence, and exercise over her an influence authoritative and beneficial. Time had done much to cool her love for him, but she had not forgotten him; and it was certainly a devotion to his memory which rendered her so indifferent to the merits of other men. I wondered if she had told me all this history in order to make me comprehend the improbability of my being able to replace her ideal. Had she not told me on the heath, on our first meeting, that if she suspected I came to demand her hand in marriage, she would leave me there and then? I felt myself diminishing in her estimation. And there was a portrait of William III. hanging over the mantelpiece which seemed to say to me, ironically, “Too late, too late!”
Yet again I asked myself whether I was not growingjealous of a vain shadow. Eight years had passed since these events. She was no longer a little girl, who could imagine she saw a Romeo in her mentor who was a long way on the wrong side of forty. Who could say that the comparison, which she could not fail to make now, would be to my disadvantage?
I determined not to remain in this perplexity. At the risk of committing an imprudence, I made up my mind to ask her whether she regarded the loss of her Lord William as irreparable. It was necessary for me to know what chance of success was left me.
This night I slept little, for I was rolling over in my mind all sorts of extravagant declarations which I intended to make to my cousin next day. This, however, was the day preceding the General’s birthday, and Francis was fully occupied with the Captain in making all sorts of preparations; so that during the whole day I never once could find a suitable moment to begin the subject. The master of the village school would bring up to the Castle his best pupils to recite verses made for the occasion; the clergyman and the notables would also come to offer their congratulations.
Francis sent me to the post-office to fetch a registered letter for her.1General von Zwenken was in a bad humour because Rolf had no time to amuse him, and finding myself rather in the way I went off to my room to write.
Here in the afternoon I found on my table a little Russian leather case, on which my initials had been embroidered above the wordSouvenir. Inside I found a bank-note equivalent to the sum Francis had borrowed of me; on the envelope which inclosed it she had written, in a bold hand, the wordMerci, her name, and the date. The case itself was not new. Poor dear girl! she must have sat up half the night to work my initials in silk, as a surprise. I now felt more than ever how dear she was become to me, and I promised myself not to temporize any longer. Then the idea occurred to me: If I can get her permission, I will ask her hand of the General to-morrow after I have congratulated him on his birthday.
This idea threw me into a transport of joy. I got up from my chair with the intention of seeking mycousin and bringing matters to a crisis at any risk. My hand was already on the handle of the door, when I thought I heard a tap at the window. Immediately a hoarse voice called several times—
“Francis! Francis!”
Astonished, and wishing to know who this could be, I stood motionless. The voice cried again—
“Francis, if you don’t open the window I will break the sash all to pieces.”
1In Holland one is obliged to fetch a registered letter; they are never delivered by the postman.
1In Holland one is obliged to fetch a registered letter; they are never delivered by the postman.
Chapter XXVI.As, for very good reasons, Francis gave no answer, a vigorous arm forced open the window, and a man sprang into the room, seemingly quite indifferent about any damage he might have caused.“What is your business with Miss Mordaunt?” I asked, advancing towards the intruder.“A stranger here?” he answered, with an expression of surprise; “I thought they never had visitors now.”“I think the manner of your entrance is much more astonishing, and I am the person surprised.”“Well, yes, my entrance issomewhat irregular,” he replied, in the most familiar style possible; “however,Mr. Unknown, I am neither a thief nor a housebreaker. I have entered in this way because I wished no one but Francis to know of my arrival, and I wassure I should find her here; but, now I am here, allow me to rest myself whilst I reflect a little upon the best means of obtaining an interview with her.”And he threw himself at full length on the old sofa, which creaked under his weight.“Ah! ah!” he continued, examining the walls, “the family portraits are gone—eaten away, no doubt, by the moths and the damp.”It was quite clear to me the stranger was not here for the first time. Though his manners were free, there was something gentlemanly in his personal appearance. Still his dress was fantastic. He wore a short velvet jacket with metal buttons, and a silk handkerchief loosely tied around his neck; tight trousers of a grey pearl colour, and polished riding-boots with spurs, and a soft felt hat.“You’ve got nothing to drink here?” he asked, after a pause of some minutes. “I have ridden for three hours, and my throat is almost choked with sand and dust.”He spoke Dutch with a foreign accent. His age seemed to be about fifty, though he might be younger. His lively, active features were never at rest for a moment; his greenish-grey eyes, the fine wrinkles onhis high sunburnt forehead, and the paleness of his cheeks, all marked him as the adventurer endued with strong passions—an impression that was increased by his thick-set face, large nose, and the tufted mustachios hanging over his thick, sensual lips. I could not refuse him a glass of water, unwelcome as I found his presence. As I handed it to him I said—“You seem to know this house well.”“Yes, and that’s no wonder; I played many a prank here in my boyhood. But you, sir, who are you? An adjutant of the Colonel’s, or aprotégéof Francis’s?”“I think I have the best right to question you, and to ask who you are?”“That’s true enough; and I would tell you with pleasure, but it’s a secret which concerns others besides myself. Call me Mr. Smithson—it’s the name I am known by at present.”“Very well. Now what is your business here, Mr. Smithson?”“I wish you to tell Francis I am here.”“Do you think the news will be agreeable to her?” I demanded.“I cannot say, but she will come all the same.”“Here, into my room?”“Bah! our Major Frank is no prude.”“Mr. Smithson, I give you fair warning that if you say a single word derogatory to the character of Miss Mordaunt, I shall instantly make you take the same way out of this room by which you entered it.”“Oh! oh! Mr. Unknown, I am a first-rate boxer. But easy, man, easy! For I should be the last person in the world to say an offensive word about Francis. Now, since you know her, you ought to be aware that she would never refuse to assist a person in distress out of a sense of prudery. Just you ask her to come here to see—not Smithson, because she does not know me under that name, but a relation of hers, who calls himself Rudolf.”“And if she refuses to come?”“Oh, you make too many difficulties. Ah! is it possible you are her——I should have thought Francis Mordaunt more capable of commanding a batalion than of bowing herself under the yoke of marriage. But, after all, women do change their minds. Then you are the happy mortal?”“A truce to your suppositions,” I answered himin a firm voice; “I am here as a relation, a grand-nephew of the General’s; my name is Leopold van Zonshoven.”“Well, upon my word! Probably we are cousins, for I am also related to the General. Francis will not refuse to come, I assure you—especially if you tell her that I do not come to ask for money; on the contrary, I bring some with me.”Hereupon he drew from his pocket a purse containing a number of clean, new greenbacks.“Tell her what you have seen; it will set her mind at ease, and possibly yours also—for you seem as yet only half-and-half convinced that I am not a highwayman.”I no longer hesitated; but took the precaution to lock my door on the outside, lest he should follow me, and surprise Francis before I had warned her. Having reached her room I knocked gently, and she answered “Come in.” It was the first time I had penetrated so far, and I began in a serious tone—“Something very singular has happened, my dear cousin——”“It is not an accident you come to announce to me, I hope?” she exclaimed.“No, but a visit which will not prove agreeable, I am afraid.”“A visit at this time of the day! Who is it?”“A person who says he is a relation of the family, and refuses to give any name but that of Rudolf.”She knit her eyebrows.“Good heavens! Unfortunate man! Here again!”I explained to her how he had forced his way in at the window, and offered to make him retrace his steps if she desired it.“No, there must be no disturbance,” she said, in a state of agitation. “My grandfather must not even suspect he is here. I will go with you, Leopold; this once you must excuse me if I do anything you consider in bad form. How dare he show his face here? I can do nothing more for him. You will stand by me, won’t you?”I took her hand and led her to my room. Rudolf lay on the sofa, fast asleep. When he saw Francis standing before him, he jumped up as if to embrace her, but she drew back. He did not seem hurt, but he lost his tone of assurance.“I understand, Francis, that my return is not a joyful surprise to you.”“You have broken your promise. You gave me your word of honour you would stay in America. At any rate, you ought never to have set foot in your native country again——”“Don’t judge me without having heard——”“Is it not tempting fortune to come back here to the Werve, where you may so easily be recognized?”“Oh, don’t make yourself uneasy on that score, my dear. I have taken precautions; and as for breaking my promise, I beg your pardon on my bended knees.”And he made a gesture as if he would fall on his knees before her.“Don’t be theatrical,” she said severely, and again retreated some steps from him.“Heaven forbid! On the boards, to gain a livelihood, it is another thing; but in your presence, before you, Francis, whom I honour and love, I wish to justify my conduct. You may condemn me afterwards, if you like. It was really my intention never to appear before your eyes again. Alas! man is but the puppet of fortune, and I have not been able to swim against the stream. I have had all sorts of adventures—but can I tell you all now?” headded, looking significantly at me. “To tell you the truth, I had reckoned on our being alone.”“Stay, Leopold,” she said, in answer to an inquiring look I gave her.“Francis,” resumed Rudolf, with tears in his eyes, “you know you need no protector where I am.”“I know that, but I will not again expose myself to calumny for your sake. As for your security, Rudolf, I can answer for my cousin Van Zonshoven’s discretion. You may tell him who you are without fear.”“It is a question of life and death,” he said in French, with a most indifferent shrug of the shoulders, and he again stretched himself at full length on the sofa. “The least indiscretion, and my life will be forfeited. What of that? I run the risk of breaking my neck every day.”And then, turning towards me, he began to sing, or rather to try to sing, with a voice quite hoarse, and with a theatricalpose, the following lines out of the opera “The Bride of Lammermoor”—“Sache donc qu’en ce domaineD’où me chasse encor ta haine,En seigneur j’ai commandé.At least,” he put in, “during the absence of the Baron, for I was heir-presumptive—a presumption which, alas! is destined never to be changed into certitude——”Francis, visibly affected by his jesting style, interrupted him, and said to me—“Rudolf von Zwenken, my grandfather’s only son.”“It would cost my charming niece too great an effort to say ‘My uncle.’ It is my own fault. I have never been able to inspire people with the necessary respect for me. Well, now, Cousin van Zonshoven, you know who I am, but there is one point I must rectify: Rudolf von Zwenken no longer exists—he is civilly dead.”“And morally,” murmured Francis.“And if he were to rise again under that name,” he continued, without heeding Francis’s interruption, “he would commit something like suicide, for he would be arrested and shot.”“And knowing that, after all that has been done to put you beyond danger, you show yourself in this place again! It is inexplicable,” cried Francis.“But, my dear, who told you I had come to showmyself here? It is true we give representations in the provinces; but the person who appears in public is Mr. Smithson, so well begrimed that Baron von Zwenken himself would not recognize his own son.”“That’s very fortunate, for it would be the death of him,” retorted Francis, harshly.“How you exaggerate, dearest.Monsieur mon perenever had so much affection for me. He shall never know Mr. Smithson. His son Rudolf, however, seeks an interview with him, and requests you, Francis, to assist in bringing it about.”“It is useless, sir; you may neither see nor speak to your father again.”“Can you be so hard-hearted, Francis?”“My duty obliges me, and I must have some regard for the feelings of your father in the first place.”“But, my dear child, try to understand me. I only wish to kiss his hand and beg his pardon. With this object I have run all risks, and imposed on myself all kinds of fatigue. I have just ridden hard for three hours, hidden myself in the old ruins, climbed the garden wall at the risk of breaking anarm or a leg; then, seeing a light here, I broke in—and all this for nothing! No,my darling, this cannot be; you will still be my good angel, and arrange the meeting I so much desire——”“I sayNo; and you know when I have once said a thing I mean it.”
As, for very good reasons, Francis gave no answer, a vigorous arm forced open the window, and a man sprang into the room, seemingly quite indifferent about any damage he might have caused.
“What is your business with Miss Mordaunt?” I asked, advancing towards the intruder.
“A stranger here?” he answered, with an expression of surprise; “I thought they never had visitors now.”
“I think the manner of your entrance is much more astonishing, and I am the person surprised.”
“Well, yes, my entrance issomewhat irregular,” he replied, in the most familiar style possible; “however,Mr. Unknown, I am neither a thief nor a housebreaker. I have entered in this way because I wished no one but Francis to know of my arrival, and I wassure I should find her here; but, now I am here, allow me to rest myself whilst I reflect a little upon the best means of obtaining an interview with her.”
And he threw himself at full length on the old sofa, which creaked under his weight.
“Ah! ah!” he continued, examining the walls, “the family portraits are gone—eaten away, no doubt, by the moths and the damp.”
It was quite clear to me the stranger was not here for the first time. Though his manners were free, there was something gentlemanly in his personal appearance. Still his dress was fantastic. He wore a short velvet jacket with metal buttons, and a silk handkerchief loosely tied around his neck; tight trousers of a grey pearl colour, and polished riding-boots with spurs, and a soft felt hat.
“You’ve got nothing to drink here?” he asked, after a pause of some minutes. “I have ridden for three hours, and my throat is almost choked with sand and dust.”
He spoke Dutch with a foreign accent. His age seemed to be about fifty, though he might be younger. His lively, active features were never at rest for a moment; his greenish-grey eyes, the fine wrinkles onhis high sunburnt forehead, and the paleness of his cheeks, all marked him as the adventurer endued with strong passions—an impression that was increased by his thick-set face, large nose, and the tufted mustachios hanging over his thick, sensual lips. I could not refuse him a glass of water, unwelcome as I found his presence. As I handed it to him I said—
“You seem to know this house well.”
“Yes, and that’s no wonder; I played many a prank here in my boyhood. But you, sir, who are you? An adjutant of the Colonel’s, or aprotégéof Francis’s?”
“I think I have the best right to question you, and to ask who you are?”
“That’s true enough; and I would tell you with pleasure, but it’s a secret which concerns others besides myself. Call me Mr. Smithson—it’s the name I am known by at present.”
“Very well. Now what is your business here, Mr. Smithson?”
“I wish you to tell Francis I am here.”
“Do you think the news will be agreeable to her?” I demanded.
“I cannot say, but she will come all the same.”
“Here, into my room?”
“Bah! our Major Frank is no prude.”
“Mr. Smithson, I give you fair warning that if you say a single word derogatory to the character of Miss Mordaunt, I shall instantly make you take the same way out of this room by which you entered it.”
“Oh! oh! Mr. Unknown, I am a first-rate boxer. But easy, man, easy! For I should be the last person in the world to say an offensive word about Francis. Now, since you know her, you ought to be aware that she would never refuse to assist a person in distress out of a sense of prudery. Just you ask her to come here to see—not Smithson, because she does not know me under that name, but a relation of hers, who calls himself Rudolf.”
“And if she refuses to come?”
“Oh, you make too many difficulties. Ah! is it possible you are her——I should have thought Francis Mordaunt more capable of commanding a batalion than of bowing herself under the yoke of marriage. But, after all, women do change their minds. Then you are the happy mortal?”
“A truce to your suppositions,” I answered himin a firm voice; “I am here as a relation, a grand-nephew of the General’s; my name is Leopold van Zonshoven.”
“Well, upon my word! Probably we are cousins, for I am also related to the General. Francis will not refuse to come, I assure you—especially if you tell her that I do not come to ask for money; on the contrary, I bring some with me.”
Hereupon he drew from his pocket a purse containing a number of clean, new greenbacks.
“Tell her what you have seen; it will set her mind at ease, and possibly yours also—for you seem as yet only half-and-half convinced that I am not a highwayman.”
I no longer hesitated; but took the precaution to lock my door on the outside, lest he should follow me, and surprise Francis before I had warned her. Having reached her room I knocked gently, and she answered “Come in.” It was the first time I had penetrated so far, and I began in a serious tone—
“Something very singular has happened, my dear cousin——”
“It is not an accident you come to announce to me, I hope?” she exclaimed.
“No, but a visit which will not prove agreeable, I am afraid.”
“A visit at this time of the day! Who is it?”
“A person who says he is a relation of the family, and refuses to give any name but that of Rudolf.”
She knit her eyebrows.
“Good heavens! Unfortunate man! Here again!”
I explained to her how he had forced his way in at the window, and offered to make him retrace his steps if she desired it.
“No, there must be no disturbance,” she said, in a state of agitation. “My grandfather must not even suspect he is here. I will go with you, Leopold; this once you must excuse me if I do anything you consider in bad form. How dare he show his face here? I can do nothing more for him. You will stand by me, won’t you?”
I took her hand and led her to my room. Rudolf lay on the sofa, fast asleep. When he saw Francis standing before him, he jumped up as if to embrace her, but she drew back. He did not seem hurt, but he lost his tone of assurance.
“I understand, Francis, that my return is not a joyful surprise to you.”
“You have broken your promise. You gave me your word of honour you would stay in America. At any rate, you ought never to have set foot in your native country again——”
“Don’t judge me without having heard——”
“Is it not tempting fortune to come back here to the Werve, where you may so easily be recognized?”
“Oh, don’t make yourself uneasy on that score, my dear. I have taken precautions; and as for breaking my promise, I beg your pardon on my bended knees.”
And he made a gesture as if he would fall on his knees before her.
“Don’t be theatrical,” she said severely, and again retreated some steps from him.
“Heaven forbid! On the boards, to gain a livelihood, it is another thing; but in your presence, before you, Francis, whom I honour and love, I wish to justify my conduct. You may condemn me afterwards, if you like. It was really my intention never to appear before your eyes again. Alas! man is but the puppet of fortune, and I have not been able to swim against the stream. I have had all sorts of adventures—but can I tell you all now?” headded, looking significantly at me. “To tell you the truth, I had reckoned on our being alone.”
“Stay, Leopold,” she said, in answer to an inquiring look I gave her.
“Francis,” resumed Rudolf, with tears in his eyes, “you know you need no protector where I am.”
“I know that, but I will not again expose myself to calumny for your sake. As for your security, Rudolf, I can answer for my cousin Van Zonshoven’s discretion. You may tell him who you are without fear.”
“It is a question of life and death,” he said in French, with a most indifferent shrug of the shoulders, and he again stretched himself at full length on the sofa. “The least indiscretion, and my life will be forfeited. What of that? I run the risk of breaking my neck every day.”
And then, turning towards me, he began to sing, or rather to try to sing, with a voice quite hoarse, and with a theatricalpose, the following lines out of the opera “The Bride of Lammermoor”—
“Sache donc qu’en ce domaineD’où me chasse encor ta haine,En seigneur j’ai commandé.
“Sache donc qu’en ce domaine
D’où me chasse encor ta haine,
En seigneur j’ai commandé.
At least,” he put in, “during the absence of the Baron, for I was heir-presumptive—a presumption which, alas! is destined never to be changed into certitude——”
Francis, visibly affected by his jesting style, interrupted him, and said to me—
“Rudolf von Zwenken, my grandfather’s only son.”
“It would cost my charming niece too great an effort to say ‘My uncle.’ It is my own fault. I have never been able to inspire people with the necessary respect for me. Well, now, Cousin van Zonshoven, you know who I am, but there is one point I must rectify: Rudolf von Zwenken no longer exists—he is civilly dead.”
“And morally,” murmured Francis.
“And if he were to rise again under that name,” he continued, without heeding Francis’s interruption, “he would commit something like suicide, for he would be arrested and shot.”
“And knowing that, after all that has been done to put you beyond danger, you show yourself in this place again! It is inexplicable,” cried Francis.
“But, my dear, who told you I had come to showmyself here? It is true we give representations in the provinces; but the person who appears in public is Mr. Smithson, so well begrimed that Baron von Zwenken himself would not recognize his own son.”
“That’s very fortunate, for it would be the death of him,” retorted Francis, harshly.
“How you exaggerate, dearest.Monsieur mon perenever had so much affection for me. He shall never know Mr. Smithson. His son Rudolf, however, seeks an interview with him, and requests you, Francis, to assist in bringing it about.”
“It is useless, sir; you may neither see nor speak to your father again.”
“Can you be so hard-hearted, Francis?”
“My duty obliges me, and I must have some regard for the feelings of your father in the first place.”
“But, my dear child, try to understand me. I only wish to kiss his hand and beg his pardon. With this object I have run all risks, and imposed on myself all kinds of fatigue. I have just ridden hard for three hours, hidden myself in the old ruins, climbed the garden wall at the risk of breaking anarm or a leg; then, seeing a light here, I broke in—and all this for nothing! No,my darling, this cannot be; you will still be my good angel, and arrange the meeting I so much desire——”
“I sayNo; and you know when I have once said a thing I mean it.”
Chapter XXVII.Rudolf, after a pause, began once more—“You have a good heart, Francis. Ah! I know your reasons. You think I am returned again like the prodigal son, with an empty purse, ‘after eating of the husks which the swine did eat.’ It is just the contrary.”“Don’t be profane, Rudolf,” said Francis, severely.“But it is true—I bring money with me, over two hundred dollars in clean greenbacks, as a commencement of restitution, an earnest of my reform. What do you think my father would say if he found them to-morrow morning on his pillow? Don’t you think he would receive me with open arms?”“No, Rudolf, certainly not. You have broken your word of honour, and for this your father will never forgive you. Don’t talk of restitution. Whatis this sum in comparison with what you have cost him, and all the suffering you have caused him and me? Such sacrifices as we had made gave us the right to hope you would leave us in peace—forget us.”Rudolf bowed down his head and heaved a deep sigh. I could not help pitying the unfortunate man. I should have liked to say something in his favour; but the cold, haughty, nay, contemptuous attitude of Francis seemed to impose silence on me. There must be some reason, I felt sure, for her inexorable severity; consequently I remained a passive spectator.At length Rudolf roused himself from his despondency, drank off a glass of water, and, turning towards Francis, said in his most serious tone—“Just listen, Miss Mordaunt. It appears to me that, under the pretext of acting as guardian to my father, you oppose a reconciliation between us, without even consulting his wishes; and it is strange that a niece, a granddaughter only, should usurp the position of the eldest son, and refuse to listen to the returning prodigal.”“Don’t talk to me about your prodigal son,” criedFrancis, angrily; “you are not the prodigal son. It is only a passing whim, and you will be carried away again to-morrow by some new idea as you always were.”“Don’t you be afraid you will lose anything by it,” he said in a bitter tone; “you know I shall never lay claim to my father’s property, even though we were reconciled.”“Must I then be suspected of cupidity, and by you indeed!” exclaimed Francis, in the greatest indignation.“I should never accuse you of anything of the sort. On the contrary, I am only too sensible of your generosity. I only mentioned this to set you at ease about any consequences which might result from my reconciliation with my father. To the world I am Richard Smithson, American citizen; but let me have the pleasure of being for the few minutes I stay here Rudolf von Zwenken, who would speak to his old father once more, and take a last farewell of him. How can you oppose such a desire?”“Your last farewells signify nothing; you always come back again.”“But if, in spite of your opposition, I go at once and seek my father in the large drawing-room—I have not forgotten my way about the house—who shall hinder me?”“Do as you like; only I warn you you will find Rolf, who knows you, with grandfather; and Rolf knows his orders, which he will carry out like an old soldier.”“The devil take Rolf! What’s the old ruffian doing here?” spitefully exclaimed Rudolf.“The old ruffian does all he can to cheer the declining years of your father, whom you have rendered unhappy by your conduct.”“My misery would not be complete without your contumely,” sobbed Rudolf. “I came here so cheerful and well disposed.”“Mr. Rudolf,” I said, “allow me to arrange an interview for you with the General, since Miss Mordaunt declines.”“Don’t you trouble yourself, Jonker van Zonshoven,” retorted Francis, in her most cold and haughty tone. “I do not decline, but I know it is impossible, and therefore better to say nothing. Rudolf well remembers I threw myself at the feet ofmy grandfather, and besought him not to send his son into exile unforgiven, and it only added to the pain and sorrow of the scene. Don’t forget, either, that you yourself caused the report of your death to be spread abroad. The old man believed it, and I have since heard him say it was a comfort to him. His fears lest you should be arrested, tried, and condemned, were only set at rest when he heard the news. Would you renew his distress, and put him to these tortures again?”“It is true, too true—you are right,” said Rudolf, quite breaking down.“But you shall not leave the house without some refreshment,” returned Francis in a kind tone, now she felt her victory to be certain; “I will go and fetch you something to eat immediately. Cousin Leopold will allow you to have supper and to repose yourself in his room.”Whereupon she left the room, and I was left alone with this singular cousin of mine.“Bah!” he said, “our Major is not to be trifled with. What eyes she gave me! I felt as if she would pierce me through and through; and yet she has a good heart—there’s not one in a thousand like her.”“I think she might have shown a little more of its tenderness towards a relation,” I interposed.“What shall I say? She knows only my evil deeds as she has heard them recounted by my father. When chance or misfortune has thrown us two together, it has always been under circumstances which could not dispose her in my favour. I have cost her both trouble and money—nay, I even fear her reputation has been called in question on my account. When I was in trouble she came to my assistance, regardless of what public gossip might say. It was at Zutphen. My father’s door was shut upon me. She agreed to meet me in a lane outside the town, a public promenade little frequented at certain hours of the day—in fact, very seldom except on Sundays. But we were discovered; certain idlers took it into their heads to play the spy on us, and Heaven only knows what sort of reports they set flying about the town. The generous girl had pawned her diamonds in order to assist me, unknown to her grandfather. This act of devotion was of course interpreted to her disadvantage. You may think it would be more noble on her part not to remind me of what she has suffered when she sees me again;but, my dear sir, a perfect woman is as scarce a thing as a horse without a defect. Though she were to scratch and to bite me, I would still bow my head in submission to her——”The entrance of Francis with a bottle of wine, bread and meat, &c., interrupted what he had to say further. He attacked the eatables with a most voracious appetite.When he had somewhat allayed his hunger, he began—“Francis, my darling, where am I to pass the night? I cannot go into that part of the house occupied by the General and Rolf, that’s certain. I would go into the stable and sleep in the hay, but that I am afraid the coachman might recognize me.”“We have no coachman now,” replied Francis, quite pale.“What! You have sent away Harry Blount?”“Harry Blount is dead.”“Dead! Why he would scarcely be thirty years of age. I taught him to ride——but Francis, my angel, you are quite pale; have you also sold your beautiful English saddle-horse?”“No, Tancredo is stabled at farmer Pauwelsen’s;but it is the recollection of Harry Blount which causes me to turn pale. I—it is dreadful—I was the cause of his death.”“Nonsense; come, come! In a moment of passion?” (here he made the gesture of a man who horse-whips another). “I did so more than once, but that does not kill a man—and you will not have murdered him.”“Nevertheless, I was the cause of the brave fellow’s death. It occurred during a carriage drive. We had sold the beautiful greys——”“What! that splendid pair. My poor father!”“We had a new horse which we wished to run with the only one left us. Harry wanted to try them himself for the first time, but I took it into my head I would drive them. I got on the box by his side, seized the reins, and, as soon as we were on a piece of level road, they went like the wind. I was proud of my skill, and was rejoicing in my triumph; but still Harry shook his head, and recommended me to be prudent. The sky became clouded, and a thunderstorm threatened us. In my folly, I urged the horses on still faster, though they were already taking the bits between their teeth. Harry became alarmed, and tried to take the reins out of my hands;but I resisted, and would not give them up. In an instant the thunder began to roll, and lightning struck right across our way; the horses took fright and began to rear on their hind-legs. Blount jumped off the box to go to their heads, but tripped, and they passed over his body. In despair, I also jumped from the box at the risk of my life, and the violence of the shock caused me to swoon. When I was again conscious, I saw the unfortunate Blount lying on the road, crushed, with scarcely a breath of life left in him. Within an hour he was a corpse.”Here Francis burst into tears, and covered her face.“It is a pity, Francis, a great pity,” replied Rudolf. “For your sake, I would that I had been the victim of this accident rather than Blount. You would have had one burden less to bear. Don’t take it so to heart, my child. I have seen others fall from their horses never to rise again alive. What can we do? Wait till our turn comes, and not make life miserable by thinking too much about it. But,” said he, “you have not yet told me where I am to sleep. Must I go back to the ruin? It is a cold place, and doubly so when I think of the parental castle close by.”“The truth is, I cannot offer you a room, Rudolf. There is not one suitable for the purpose.”“But why cannot Rudolf share mine?” I asked; “I will give up my bed to him.”“No,” he replied quickly; “I will be content with the sofa, if Francis will consent to my staying here.”“Very well,” she answered; “only you must promise that to-morrow, before daybreak, you will be far away. It is your father’s birthday, and there will be many visitors at the Castle.”“I will start early, I promise you, Francis.”“Well, I will once more trust to your word of honour. And now good-bye. It is time for me to go; otherwise my absence will be remarked upon by the gentlemen of the house.”“Take this purse, Francis; it is a little commencement of restitution; I would I could offer you more, but I have not yet become a veritable Yankee uncle. I have not discovered a gold mine. Accept at least what I can return to you.”And he spread out the American greenbacks before her.“Are they real ones, Rudolf?” she asked in a grave tone.“By heavens, Francis, what do you mean by such a question? I have committed many follies in my life—I have been a fool, a ne’er-do-weel, a spendthrift, I am a deserter—but a forger of false bank-notes! Francis, could you suspect me of such infamy?”“I wish I had only suspicions, Rudolf; unfortunately I have the proofs.”“The proofs!” he cried, in a sorrowful tone of voice; “but that’s impossible.”“What am I to think of the false letters of exchange in which you forged your father’s signature? We have got them under lock and key, these terrible proofs, and they have cost us dear. I have pardoned this fault with the rest, Rudolf; but facts are facts.”“It is impossible, I tell you!” he answered with firmness. “There must be some terrible mistake in this case, and I trust you will assist me in clearing it up. If my father believes that of me, I am not surprised he should rejoice at my death, nor am I astonished you despise me. However, I solemnly protest to you by all that’s dear to me, I am innocent, Francis.”“Yet these bills were presented to Baron von Zwenken, and we paid them to prevent a lawsuit.It could not have affected you very much, for you were in America; but my grandfather would have been obliged to retire from the army.”“Francis, you are possessed of good, sound sense. How dared I have committed such an offence just at the time I was in hiding near Zutphen, at the moment when you were so generously raising funds for my enterprise in America; nay, at the moment when my sincerest desire was to carry my father’s forgiveness with me into exile? Show me these accursed bills, and I will prove my innocence.”“They are in the General’s possession; I cannot get at them to show you them.”“If we had them here, I would soon prove to you that it is impossible for me, with my wretched handwriting, to imitate the fine and regular hand of my father. What is your opinion, Mr. Leopold?”“I believe what you say,” I answered.“Ah, that’s a relief; it does me good!” he murmured, his eyes filling with tears. “My father has been accustomed to spend his leave in fashionable watering-places; is it not possible for him there to have made the acquaintance of some wretch wicked enough to serve him such a turn?”“For the last few years the General has not been from home, except one winter which he spent in Arnheim.”“Can Rolf have done it?”“No, don’t suspect Rolf; he never had any education, but he’s the honestest man living, and he would pluck out an eye rather than cause the old General any trouble.”“Then I don’t know whom to suspect. Now take these notes, Francis—they are real, I assure you; take them as a proof you still believe my word.”“I believe you, Rudolf; but I think you have more need of them than I have.”“Never mind me; I have a good position now: first rider in the Great Equestrian Circus of Mr. Stonehouse, of Baltimore, with a salary of two hundred dollars a month—is it not splendid? You see I have not lost my old love for horses. Formerly they cost me much money; now they bring me in a living.”“Well, Rudolf, you might have sunk lower; your business demands courage and address. But I will not accept your money; I never take back what I have given. To-morrow morning we shall see eachother again. You need not jump from the balcony and scale the garden wall; I will let you out myself.”“Ah! you wish to make sure of my departure——”“I have already said I would trust to your promise. Good night, gentlemen.”
Rudolf, after a pause, began once more—
“You have a good heart, Francis. Ah! I know your reasons. You think I am returned again like the prodigal son, with an empty purse, ‘after eating of the husks which the swine did eat.’ It is just the contrary.”
“Don’t be profane, Rudolf,” said Francis, severely.
“But it is true—I bring money with me, over two hundred dollars in clean greenbacks, as a commencement of restitution, an earnest of my reform. What do you think my father would say if he found them to-morrow morning on his pillow? Don’t you think he would receive me with open arms?”
“No, Rudolf, certainly not. You have broken your word of honour, and for this your father will never forgive you. Don’t talk of restitution. Whatis this sum in comparison with what you have cost him, and all the suffering you have caused him and me? Such sacrifices as we had made gave us the right to hope you would leave us in peace—forget us.”
Rudolf bowed down his head and heaved a deep sigh. I could not help pitying the unfortunate man. I should have liked to say something in his favour; but the cold, haughty, nay, contemptuous attitude of Francis seemed to impose silence on me. There must be some reason, I felt sure, for her inexorable severity; consequently I remained a passive spectator.
At length Rudolf roused himself from his despondency, drank off a glass of water, and, turning towards Francis, said in his most serious tone—
“Just listen, Miss Mordaunt. It appears to me that, under the pretext of acting as guardian to my father, you oppose a reconciliation between us, without even consulting his wishes; and it is strange that a niece, a granddaughter only, should usurp the position of the eldest son, and refuse to listen to the returning prodigal.”
“Don’t talk to me about your prodigal son,” criedFrancis, angrily; “you are not the prodigal son. It is only a passing whim, and you will be carried away again to-morrow by some new idea as you always were.”
“Don’t you be afraid you will lose anything by it,” he said in a bitter tone; “you know I shall never lay claim to my father’s property, even though we were reconciled.”
“Must I then be suspected of cupidity, and by you indeed!” exclaimed Francis, in the greatest indignation.
“I should never accuse you of anything of the sort. On the contrary, I am only too sensible of your generosity. I only mentioned this to set you at ease about any consequences which might result from my reconciliation with my father. To the world I am Richard Smithson, American citizen; but let me have the pleasure of being for the few minutes I stay here Rudolf von Zwenken, who would speak to his old father once more, and take a last farewell of him. How can you oppose such a desire?”
“Your last farewells signify nothing; you always come back again.”
“But if, in spite of your opposition, I go at once and seek my father in the large drawing-room—I have not forgotten my way about the house—who shall hinder me?”
“Do as you like; only I warn you you will find Rolf, who knows you, with grandfather; and Rolf knows his orders, which he will carry out like an old soldier.”
“The devil take Rolf! What’s the old ruffian doing here?” spitefully exclaimed Rudolf.
“The old ruffian does all he can to cheer the declining years of your father, whom you have rendered unhappy by your conduct.”
“My misery would not be complete without your contumely,” sobbed Rudolf. “I came here so cheerful and well disposed.”
“Mr. Rudolf,” I said, “allow me to arrange an interview for you with the General, since Miss Mordaunt declines.”
“Don’t you trouble yourself, Jonker van Zonshoven,” retorted Francis, in her most cold and haughty tone. “I do not decline, but I know it is impossible, and therefore better to say nothing. Rudolf well remembers I threw myself at the feet ofmy grandfather, and besought him not to send his son into exile unforgiven, and it only added to the pain and sorrow of the scene. Don’t forget, either, that you yourself caused the report of your death to be spread abroad. The old man believed it, and I have since heard him say it was a comfort to him. His fears lest you should be arrested, tried, and condemned, were only set at rest when he heard the news. Would you renew his distress, and put him to these tortures again?”
“It is true, too true—you are right,” said Rudolf, quite breaking down.
“But you shall not leave the house without some refreshment,” returned Francis in a kind tone, now she felt her victory to be certain; “I will go and fetch you something to eat immediately. Cousin Leopold will allow you to have supper and to repose yourself in his room.”
Whereupon she left the room, and I was left alone with this singular cousin of mine.
“Bah!” he said, “our Major is not to be trifled with. What eyes she gave me! I felt as if she would pierce me through and through; and yet she has a good heart—there’s not one in a thousand like her.”
“I think she might have shown a little more of its tenderness towards a relation,” I interposed.
“What shall I say? She knows only my evil deeds as she has heard them recounted by my father. When chance or misfortune has thrown us two together, it has always been under circumstances which could not dispose her in my favour. I have cost her both trouble and money—nay, I even fear her reputation has been called in question on my account. When I was in trouble she came to my assistance, regardless of what public gossip might say. It was at Zutphen. My father’s door was shut upon me. She agreed to meet me in a lane outside the town, a public promenade little frequented at certain hours of the day—in fact, very seldom except on Sundays. But we were discovered; certain idlers took it into their heads to play the spy on us, and Heaven only knows what sort of reports they set flying about the town. The generous girl had pawned her diamonds in order to assist me, unknown to her grandfather. This act of devotion was of course interpreted to her disadvantage. You may think it would be more noble on her part not to remind me of what she has suffered when she sees me again;but, my dear sir, a perfect woman is as scarce a thing as a horse without a defect. Though she were to scratch and to bite me, I would still bow my head in submission to her——”
The entrance of Francis with a bottle of wine, bread and meat, &c., interrupted what he had to say further. He attacked the eatables with a most voracious appetite.
When he had somewhat allayed his hunger, he began—
“Francis, my darling, where am I to pass the night? I cannot go into that part of the house occupied by the General and Rolf, that’s certain. I would go into the stable and sleep in the hay, but that I am afraid the coachman might recognize me.”
“We have no coachman now,” replied Francis, quite pale.
“What! You have sent away Harry Blount?”
“Harry Blount is dead.”
“Dead! Why he would scarcely be thirty years of age. I taught him to ride——but Francis, my angel, you are quite pale; have you also sold your beautiful English saddle-horse?”
“No, Tancredo is stabled at farmer Pauwelsen’s;but it is the recollection of Harry Blount which causes me to turn pale. I—it is dreadful—I was the cause of his death.”
“Nonsense; come, come! In a moment of passion?” (here he made the gesture of a man who horse-whips another). “I did so more than once, but that does not kill a man—and you will not have murdered him.”
“Nevertheless, I was the cause of the brave fellow’s death. It occurred during a carriage drive. We had sold the beautiful greys——”
“What! that splendid pair. My poor father!”
“We had a new horse which we wished to run with the only one left us. Harry wanted to try them himself for the first time, but I took it into my head I would drive them. I got on the box by his side, seized the reins, and, as soon as we were on a piece of level road, they went like the wind. I was proud of my skill, and was rejoicing in my triumph; but still Harry shook his head, and recommended me to be prudent. The sky became clouded, and a thunderstorm threatened us. In my folly, I urged the horses on still faster, though they were already taking the bits between their teeth. Harry became alarmed, and tried to take the reins out of my hands;but I resisted, and would not give them up. In an instant the thunder began to roll, and lightning struck right across our way; the horses took fright and began to rear on their hind-legs. Blount jumped off the box to go to their heads, but tripped, and they passed over his body. In despair, I also jumped from the box at the risk of my life, and the violence of the shock caused me to swoon. When I was again conscious, I saw the unfortunate Blount lying on the road, crushed, with scarcely a breath of life left in him. Within an hour he was a corpse.”
Here Francis burst into tears, and covered her face.
“It is a pity, Francis, a great pity,” replied Rudolf. “For your sake, I would that I had been the victim of this accident rather than Blount. You would have had one burden less to bear. Don’t take it so to heart, my child. I have seen others fall from their horses never to rise again alive. What can we do? Wait till our turn comes, and not make life miserable by thinking too much about it. But,” said he, “you have not yet told me where I am to sleep. Must I go back to the ruin? It is a cold place, and doubly so when I think of the parental castle close by.”
“The truth is, I cannot offer you a room, Rudolf. There is not one suitable for the purpose.”
“But why cannot Rudolf share mine?” I asked; “I will give up my bed to him.”
“No,” he replied quickly; “I will be content with the sofa, if Francis will consent to my staying here.”
“Very well,” she answered; “only you must promise that to-morrow, before daybreak, you will be far away. It is your father’s birthday, and there will be many visitors at the Castle.”
“I will start early, I promise you, Francis.”
“Well, I will once more trust to your word of honour. And now good-bye. It is time for me to go; otherwise my absence will be remarked upon by the gentlemen of the house.”
“Take this purse, Francis; it is a little commencement of restitution; I would I could offer you more, but I have not yet become a veritable Yankee uncle. I have not discovered a gold mine. Accept at least what I can return to you.”
And he spread out the American greenbacks before her.
“Are they real ones, Rudolf?” she asked in a grave tone.
“By heavens, Francis, what do you mean by such a question? I have committed many follies in my life—I have been a fool, a ne’er-do-weel, a spendthrift, I am a deserter—but a forger of false bank-notes! Francis, could you suspect me of such infamy?”
“I wish I had only suspicions, Rudolf; unfortunately I have the proofs.”
“The proofs!” he cried, in a sorrowful tone of voice; “but that’s impossible.”
“What am I to think of the false letters of exchange in which you forged your father’s signature? We have got them under lock and key, these terrible proofs, and they have cost us dear. I have pardoned this fault with the rest, Rudolf; but facts are facts.”
“It is impossible, I tell you!” he answered with firmness. “There must be some terrible mistake in this case, and I trust you will assist me in clearing it up. If my father believes that of me, I am not surprised he should rejoice at my death, nor am I astonished you despise me. However, I solemnly protest to you by all that’s dear to me, I am innocent, Francis.”
“Yet these bills were presented to Baron von Zwenken, and we paid them to prevent a lawsuit.It could not have affected you very much, for you were in America; but my grandfather would have been obliged to retire from the army.”
“Francis, you are possessed of good, sound sense. How dared I have committed such an offence just at the time I was in hiding near Zutphen, at the moment when you were so generously raising funds for my enterprise in America; nay, at the moment when my sincerest desire was to carry my father’s forgiveness with me into exile? Show me these accursed bills, and I will prove my innocence.”
“They are in the General’s possession; I cannot get at them to show you them.”
“If we had them here, I would soon prove to you that it is impossible for me, with my wretched handwriting, to imitate the fine and regular hand of my father. What is your opinion, Mr. Leopold?”
“I believe what you say,” I answered.
“Ah, that’s a relief; it does me good!” he murmured, his eyes filling with tears. “My father has been accustomed to spend his leave in fashionable watering-places; is it not possible for him there to have made the acquaintance of some wretch wicked enough to serve him such a turn?”
“For the last few years the General has not been from home, except one winter which he spent in Arnheim.”
“Can Rolf have done it?”
“No, don’t suspect Rolf; he never had any education, but he’s the honestest man living, and he would pluck out an eye rather than cause the old General any trouble.”
“Then I don’t know whom to suspect. Now take these notes, Francis—they are real, I assure you; take them as a proof you still believe my word.”
“I believe you, Rudolf; but I think you have more need of them than I have.”
“Never mind me; I have a good position now: first rider in the Great Equestrian Circus of Mr. Stonehouse, of Baltimore, with a salary of two hundred dollars a month—is it not splendid? You see I have not lost my old love for horses. Formerly they cost me much money; now they bring me in a living.”
“Well, Rudolf, you might have sunk lower; your business demands courage and address. But I will not accept your money; I never take back what I have given. To-morrow morning we shall see eachother again. You need not jump from the balcony and scale the garden wall; I will let you out myself.”
“Ah! you wish to make sure of my departure——”
“I have already said I would trust to your promise. Good night, gentlemen.”
Chapter XXVIII.She was scarcely out of the room, when Rudolf, who had drained the bottle, began in his usual tone of banter—“I don’t know whether I ought to congratulate you, Mr. Leopold, but I am firmly convinced our charming Major has found her colonel.”I only shrugged my shoulders; for I felt a repugnance to making Francis a subject of conversation with such a fellow.“Do you imagine I have no eyes? I know the women, I can assure you. I have come across all sorts, and all sizes and colours, in my vagabond life; and my niece, though she were a thousand times Major Frank, is still a woman—a woman with a man’s heart, as good Queen Bess used to say ofherself. I don’t know what you intend to do, but it appears to me you have only to propose—‘Et bientôt on verra l’infanteAu bras de son heureux vainqueur.’She is smitten by you, that’s certain! Why, she’s like a thoroughbred horse. With much patience, much attention, and a firm hand that knows when to be gentle, so one succeeds. As for myself, I was always too rash, too impatient.These gracious devilssoon perceive it, and once they know it, you are thrown—there’s no help for you. After all, perhaps I am mistaken,” he said, seeing I remained silent; “otherwise I would add that I hope you are rich. Her grandfather is ruined——”“And by whom?” I interposed; a little hard upon him, I confess, but his volubility had become insupportable.“By whom? that’s the question. I have contributed my share, I acknowledge, yet not more than my own fortune which came to me from my mother, as the eldest and only son. John Mordaunt could tell us something if he were alive. He got his wife’s fortune when they were married, and Francis ought to have had something when she came of age; thatis if anything were left, for they lived in style—yes, a style that would have run through any amount. I was sent off to the Werve with my tutor, for I had begun to understand and to make observations. After the death of my sister I was never invited to the house of John Mordaunt. But perhaps it will not interest you to listen to my old stories?”“Certainly, I should much like to hear an account of your adventures.”“Well, then, my father was the first cause of my misfortunes, for he opposed my wishes in everything. I wanted to be an officer; and my father would not let me go to the military college at Breda because he was prejudiced against it. He insisted upon my studying law at Leyden: this, he said, would lead to a fortune. Ah, I have found a fortune!” he repeated, with a bitter laugh. “Since I was sent to study for my father’s pleasure, I thought it only right to seek my own; and, as he made me a fair allowance, I was soon noted as the wildest and most extravagant of students. I kept my horses and a Tilbury, and ran up enormous bills. Still I attended those lectures which interested me, and I had just put on a ‘coach’ for the final examinations, when myfather lost a lawsuit against my Aunt Roselaer. The supplies were stopped, and I left college without having passed my examination as Master in the Law. My father’s interests obtained for me a place in the financial world, but with the condition I should marry a rich heiress. The misfortune was, the heiress in question was of an over-ripe age, with a nose too red for my taste, and I neglected her. My father grew furious, and declared he would discard me. Moreover, I could not settle down to the regular routine of a counting-house for several hours a day, and sometimes extra work in the evening after dinner. I found in the office an old clerk, a regular old stager, who had sat on the same stool at the same desk for twenty years without a chance of promotion. This is my man, I thought, and I left the responsibility in his hands, whilst I amused myself with my friends at the club. But one fine day, when I was out picnicing with a party of friends, my worthy clerk started off with the cash-box. I was of course held responsible, and my father’s guarantee was forfeited.“I dare say the whole of Francis’ remaining fortune was swallowed up by this affair and a lawsuit arisingout of it. What could I do now? I had a good voice, and I proposed to go to some music academy abroad, and return as an opera singer. My father would not consent to this, and told me the best thing I could do was to enlist in the ranks as a common soldier. I caught at this idea in the hope of being promoted to the position of an officer at no distant date; but I had never been habituated to discipline. I was sent to a small fortress on the frontiers; Rolf was my lieutenant, and he did not spare me either hard work or picket duty. To cut it short, I had enlisted for five years, and I did not stay five months. One fine morning I walked off altogether. I was caught, and I wounded an under-officer in self-defence; the charge against me was as clear as the light of day. But I succeeded in breaking out of prison. I own I was not very strictly guarded, and Francis, as I afterwards learnt, had done her utmost to facilitate my escape. Again I was free as the air; but I must live. I tried everything. I gave lessons in French and in Latin to little German boys, and I taught the little Fräuleins music and singing; I was even appointed private singer to an Austrian princess, who was deaf, and imagined thatmy voice resembled Roger’s. I wandered about with a travelling opera company, and sang myself hoarse in the open air. I have been coachman to a baron, and travelled for a house in the wine trade, but when they wanted to send me to Holland I had to give up the post. Afterwards I was waiter at an inn, billiard-marker, valet to the secretary of a Polish count, who, appreciating my ability at the noble game of billiards, took me to Warsaw, and hastened to initiate me into his plans for the ‘Independence of Poland.’ As a matter of course, his enterprise was unsuccessful; but he got sent to Siberia, and I myself was kept in prison for some weeks because I refused to give evidence against him. Again I found myself thrown on the wide world without a penny in my pocket. But I will not weary you with a recital of all I have done and suffered. Perhaps the best thing, and the simplest, for me to have done, would have been to plunge into the Rhine and stay at the bottom; but I have always had a repugnance to suicide, and, besides, I have always been blest with a fund of good spirits and health. I now made a tour of the German watering-places from north to south, getting along as best Icould, and changing my name very often. Once I was imprisoned with a Moldavian prince accused of murder, but I was let go, as I could prove my connection with the prince was posterior to the crime. A report then got abroad in Holland that I was dead, and I skilfully manœuvred to obtain credence for it. At last, weary of my adventurous life, I heard how a member of our family had succeeded in America, and I decided to try my luck there; but I must have money. I flattered myself that after ten years my father would consent to do something for me. I wrote to Francis. The answer was not encouraging. My father threatened, if I dared to cross the frontier, he would hand me over to a court-martial. I thought Francis said this only to frighten me. I came to Zutphen, well disguised, and there I was convinced she had told me the truth. Francis, poor soul, was the only person who took pity on me, and you know already what it cost her. And when I think she could believe me to be guilty of forgery! Oh, the fact is I would not make her more unhappy by telling her what I suspect——”“What then?”“Listen; I have my weaknesses, but I have neverbeen ruled by passions. I am not ‘passion’s slave.’ Wine, play, and pleasant company have run away with my money, and in some respects I am no more than a great baby; but a real passion, a tyrannical passion, capable of making me a great man or a great malefactor, such a passion I have never known. Some one in our family, on the contrary, has been ruled by such a passion; and many things I observed in my boyhood without thinking much about them. But you are a discreet man, otherwise Francis would not confide in you as she has done; and, besides, you are a relation of the family—it is better you should be warned.”After a pause—“Know then that amongst all the trades I tried in Germany, I have had the honour to becroupierin a gaming-house.There, unrecognized by my unfortunate father, I have seen him play with a violence of passion of which you can form no idea; and, believe me, in spite of all my faults, it is in that way both his own and Francis’s fortune have been lost. I would have thrown myself at his feet, and besought him not to precipitate himself deeper into this abyss; but my position prevented me. Still, Iwatched him without his knowing it, and I soon found out for a certainty that he borrowed money of a Dutch banker, to whom he gave bills on Francis’s property;—and, you see, rather than confess this to her, he has accused me——”“But such conduct is abominable!”“Ah! passions do not reason. I was far away, and my name was already sullied. I only desire to clear myself in Francis’s opinion. But to conclude my history: I was not more lucky in the New World than I had been in Europe; I was shipwrecked and lost my all before I could land at New York. I then went to the far West without meeting with anything which promised me a future; in short, I felt quite happy when I made the acquaintance of Mr. Stonehouse, who engaged me to accompany his circus to Europe. And so it has come about that I once more tread my native earth under the protection of the American flag. Once so near the Werve, I was seized with an irresistible desire to see the old place again. My satisfaction and reception have not been very flattering, as you have witnessed; but I will keep my promise to Francis, cost me what it may. And now good night.”Without awaiting my answer he threw himself at full length on the sofa, and soon gave me auricular evidence that he was enjoying the profoundest slumber. I had nothing better to do than follow his example. When I opened my eyes in the morning he had disappeared, but he had left his pocket-book and the notes on the table.After mature reflection I came to the conclusion that his surmises were right, and that the father had defamed his own son to escape the remonstrances of a granddaughter.
She was scarcely out of the room, when Rudolf, who had drained the bottle, began in his usual tone of banter—
“I don’t know whether I ought to congratulate you, Mr. Leopold, but I am firmly convinced our charming Major has found her colonel.”
I only shrugged my shoulders; for I felt a repugnance to making Francis a subject of conversation with such a fellow.
“Do you imagine I have no eyes? I know the women, I can assure you. I have come across all sorts, and all sizes and colours, in my vagabond life; and my niece, though she were a thousand times Major Frank, is still a woman—a woman with a man’s heart, as good Queen Bess used to say ofherself. I don’t know what you intend to do, but it appears to me you have only to propose—
‘Et bientôt on verra l’infanteAu bras de son heureux vainqueur.’
‘Et bientôt on verra l’infante
Au bras de son heureux vainqueur.’
She is smitten by you, that’s certain! Why, she’s like a thoroughbred horse. With much patience, much attention, and a firm hand that knows when to be gentle, so one succeeds. As for myself, I was always too rash, too impatient.These gracious devilssoon perceive it, and once they know it, you are thrown—there’s no help for you. After all, perhaps I am mistaken,” he said, seeing I remained silent; “otherwise I would add that I hope you are rich. Her grandfather is ruined——”
“And by whom?” I interposed; a little hard upon him, I confess, but his volubility had become insupportable.
“By whom? that’s the question. I have contributed my share, I acknowledge, yet not more than my own fortune which came to me from my mother, as the eldest and only son. John Mordaunt could tell us something if he were alive. He got his wife’s fortune when they were married, and Francis ought to have had something when she came of age; thatis if anything were left, for they lived in style—yes, a style that would have run through any amount. I was sent off to the Werve with my tutor, for I had begun to understand and to make observations. After the death of my sister I was never invited to the house of John Mordaunt. But perhaps it will not interest you to listen to my old stories?”
“Certainly, I should much like to hear an account of your adventures.”
“Well, then, my father was the first cause of my misfortunes, for he opposed my wishes in everything. I wanted to be an officer; and my father would not let me go to the military college at Breda because he was prejudiced against it. He insisted upon my studying law at Leyden: this, he said, would lead to a fortune. Ah, I have found a fortune!” he repeated, with a bitter laugh. “Since I was sent to study for my father’s pleasure, I thought it only right to seek my own; and, as he made me a fair allowance, I was soon noted as the wildest and most extravagant of students. I kept my horses and a Tilbury, and ran up enormous bills. Still I attended those lectures which interested me, and I had just put on a ‘coach’ for the final examinations, when myfather lost a lawsuit against my Aunt Roselaer. The supplies were stopped, and I left college without having passed my examination as Master in the Law. My father’s interests obtained for me a place in the financial world, but with the condition I should marry a rich heiress. The misfortune was, the heiress in question was of an over-ripe age, with a nose too red for my taste, and I neglected her. My father grew furious, and declared he would discard me. Moreover, I could not settle down to the regular routine of a counting-house for several hours a day, and sometimes extra work in the evening after dinner. I found in the office an old clerk, a regular old stager, who had sat on the same stool at the same desk for twenty years without a chance of promotion. This is my man, I thought, and I left the responsibility in his hands, whilst I amused myself with my friends at the club. But one fine day, when I was out picnicing with a party of friends, my worthy clerk started off with the cash-box. I was of course held responsible, and my father’s guarantee was forfeited.
“I dare say the whole of Francis’ remaining fortune was swallowed up by this affair and a lawsuit arisingout of it. What could I do now? I had a good voice, and I proposed to go to some music academy abroad, and return as an opera singer. My father would not consent to this, and told me the best thing I could do was to enlist in the ranks as a common soldier. I caught at this idea in the hope of being promoted to the position of an officer at no distant date; but I had never been habituated to discipline. I was sent to a small fortress on the frontiers; Rolf was my lieutenant, and he did not spare me either hard work or picket duty. To cut it short, I had enlisted for five years, and I did not stay five months. One fine morning I walked off altogether. I was caught, and I wounded an under-officer in self-defence; the charge against me was as clear as the light of day. But I succeeded in breaking out of prison. I own I was not very strictly guarded, and Francis, as I afterwards learnt, had done her utmost to facilitate my escape. Again I was free as the air; but I must live. I tried everything. I gave lessons in French and in Latin to little German boys, and I taught the little Fräuleins music and singing; I was even appointed private singer to an Austrian princess, who was deaf, and imagined thatmy voice resembled Roger’s. I wandered about with a travelling opera company, and sang myself hoarse in the open air. I have been coachman to a baron, and travelled for a house in the wine trade, but when they wanted to send me to Holland I had to give up the post. Afterwards I was waiter at an inn, billiard-marker, valet to the secretary of a Polish count, who, appreciating my ability at the noble game of billiards, took me to Warsaw, and hastened to initiate me into his plans for the ‘Independence of Poland.’ As a matter of course, his enterprise was unsuccessful; but he got sent to Siberia, and I myself was kept in prison for some weeks because I refused to give evidence against him. Again I found myself thrown on the wide world without a penny in my pocket. But I will not weary you with a recital of all I have done and suffered. Perhaps the best thing, and the simplest, for me to have done, would have been to plunge into the Rhine and stay at the bottom; but I have always had a repugnance to suicide, and, besides, I have always been blest with a fund of good spirits and health. I now made a tour of the German watering-places from north to south, getting along as best Icould, and changing my name very often. Once I was imprisoned with a Moldavian prince accused of murder, but I was let go, as I could prove my connection with the prince was posterior to the crime. A report then got abroad in Holland that I was dead, and I skilfully manœuvred to obtain credence for it. At last, weary of my adventurous life, I heard how a member of our family had succeeded in America, and I decided to try my luck there; but I must have money. I flattered myself that after ten years my father would consent to do something for me. I wrote to Francis. The answer was not encouraging. My father threatened, if I dared to cross the frontier, he would hand me over to a court-martial. I thought Francis said this only to frighten me. I came to Zutphen, well disguised, and there I was convinced she had told me the truth. Francis, poor soul, was the only person who took pity on me, and you know already what it cost her. And when I think she could believe me to be guilty of forgery! Oh, the fact is I would not make her more unhappy by telling her what I suspect——”
“What then?”
“Listen; I have my weaknesses, but I have neverbeen ruled by passions. I am not ‘passion’s slave.’ Wine, play, and pleasant company have run away with my money, and in some respects I am no more than a great baby; but a real passion, a tyrannical passion, capable of making me a great man or a great malefactor, such a passion I have never known. Some one in our family, on the contrary, has been ruled by such a passion; and many things I observed in my boyhood without thinking much about them. But you are a discreet man, otherwise Francis would not confide in you as she has done; and, besides, you are a relation of the family—it is better you should be warned.”
After a pause—
“Know then that amongst all the trades I tried in Germany, I have had the honour to becroupierin a gaming-house.There, unrecognized by my unfortunate father, I have seen him play with a violence of passion of which you can form no idea; and, believe me, in spite of all my faults, it is in that way both his own and Francis’s fortune have been lost. I would have thrown myself at his feet, and besought him not to precipitate himself deeper into this abyss; but my position prevented me. Still, Iwatched him without his knowing it, and I soon found out for a certainty that he borrowed money of a Dutch banker, to whom he gave bills on Francis’s property;—and, you see, rather than confess this to her, he has accused me——”
“But such conduct is abominable!”
“Ah! passions do not reason. I was far away, and my name was already sullied. I only desire to clear myself in Francis’s opinion. But to conclude my history: I was not more lucky in the New World than I had been in Europe; I was shipwrecked and lost my all before I could land at New York. I then went to the far West without meeting with anything which promised me a future; in short, I felt quite happy when I made the acquaintance of Mr. Stonehouse, who engaged me to accompany his circus to Europe. And so it has come about that I once more tread my native earth under the protection of the American flag. Once so near the Werve, I was seized with an irresistible desire to see the old place again. My satisfaction and reception have not been very flattering, as you have witnessed; but I will keep my promise to Francis, cost me what it may. And now good night.”
Without awaiting my answer he threw himself at full length on the sofa, and soon gave me auricular evidence that he was enjoying the profoundest slumber. I had nothing better to do than follow his example. When I opened my eyes in the morning he had disappeared, but he had left his pocket-book and the notes on the table.
After mature reflection I came to the conclusion that his surmises were right, and that the father had defamed his own son to escape the remonstrances of a granddaughter.