Chapter XXXIII.Instead of regaining my usual calm in my own “sweet home,” I fell seriously ill the first night after my return. I was attacked by a nervous fever, and remained for several days insensible. My landlady now proved herself a faithful and attentive nurse, and she tells me that my life was almost despaired of for some days. I am convalescent at last, and I shall travel. You will ask where? I don’t know yet; nothing is decided.When I was able to look over the papers which had accumulated on my table during my illness, I found a card from my uncle the minister, who had called to make inquiries about me. My worthy uncle had heard the report that I was a millionaire. I also found quite a heap of letters from Overberg and Van Beek, which I had not the courage to read; one, however, marked “Important,” I broke open. Itannounced the death of my uncle Von Zwenken, and I was invited to the funeral. The date told me that the letter was three weeks old! What had become of Francis?Doubtless she was still ill-disposed towards me. She seemed to be unaware of my illness, since she had invited me to the funeral of her grandfather. What must she have thought of my silence? Not a single word of comfort or encouragement from me. What annoyances she might already have suffered from the lawyers. I was expecting my doctor every moment, and I had determined to ask his permission to start immediately for Zutphen, when I heard some one coming up the stairs, whom my landlady was endeavouring to call back, she being very strict about my being kept quiet. But, in spite of all her efforts, Rolf burst into the room—Rolf, whom I had ended by loving almost as much as I detested him the first few days of our acquaintance.“My General is dead,” he said, with tears in his eyes—“died in my arms. Francis is gone——”“She is not ill, however?” I interrupted quickly.“Not in the least, she is in excellent health; but—she has turned me out of the Werve.”“What do you say?”“Oh, it was not done in anger or malice; but because she herself will be forced to leave the Castle very soon. In fact, she has already hired a room at farmer Pauwelsen’s; but she will tell nobody what she intends to do.”“But tell me all the particulars of the General’s death.”“Well, the General had not the courage to resist her, and write to Overberg in the sense you advised him. And as everything was vague and uncertain because of your answering nobody’s letters, the lawyers lost patience; and Overberg, egged on, I believe, by that quill-driver in Utrecht, wrote to Freule Mordaunt to know for certain whether or not she was engaged to you. You will guess her answer, short and dry, but without a word of reproach as far as you were concerned, I can assure you. I know she reproaches herself bitterly, and has done so since the day you left, as I told you would be the case.”“Even after she had received the packet from me?”“She never received anything from you.”“That’s very surprising!”“No, it’s not at all surprising, for everything was in the utmost confusion with us from the fatal Friday you left——But I see this is sherry, may I help myself?”“Certainly, Captain; I beg your pardon, I ought to have thought of asking you sooner.”“Well, then, after you were gone she fainted. Such a thing never happened to her before within my knowledge. I felt almost ashamed of her; but she loved you so much, as she later confessed to me weeping! When she came to herself again, and whilst, as we thought, she was reposing in her own room, she had stealthily gone off to the farm, ordered Tancredo to be saddled, and ridden away at full gallop. At dinner we became dreadfully uneasy as she did not put in an appearance, and neither the General nor myself could eat. But it was much worse when, in the evening twilight, young Pauwelsen came to say Tancredo had returned to the stable alone, without saddle and white with foam.”“An accident!” I cried, beside myself. “Do tell me the worst at once. What has happened to her?”“Oh, it was not so bad after all, Jonker—only asprained foot; we found her lying on the moss at the foot of an oak, to which she had been able to crawl to rest herself a little.”“I know that oak!” I exclaimed. “I feel what she must have felt there. She loves me still!”“I believe so, Jonker, for she said we were to leave her there to die, and to tell you where she died. It appears she had ridden towards the town, and then, suddenly changing her course, was returning to the Castle through the wood; but either she must have pressed Tancredo too hard, or dropped the reins—she cannot explain it herself. But certain it is, the noble animal, no longer recognizing the hand of his mistress, galloped home, and she fell out of the saddle. We carried her home, and laid her on the sofa in the drawing-room. The surgeon declared there was no danger, but said she must not be moved for some days.”“And why did you not send me word immediately?”“Hum! I wanted to write to you, and she also. I ought not to tell you perhaps, but she wrote a note to you.”“Which I never received.”“No, for young Pauwelsen was charged to deliver it into your own hands at Zutphen; but when he arrived there they told him you had left, and he brought back the letter, which the Freule tore up, with a bitter laugh saying—“‘I deserved no better.’”“Oh, if I could have foreseen all this!” I cried, wringing my hands.“I advised you to stay,” replied the Captain; “why need you go off in such a hurry?”“My dear Captain, I felt I was going to be ill; I was ill already. But how was it she did not receive my packet? I waited until the third day for an answer.”“What could you expect? Everything was turned upside down. Fritz had orders to place all letters on the General’s writing-table, and he had taken such an aversion to anything in the shape of a communication from the lawyers, that he never opened one of them. Miss Francis was scarcely able to move about again when those accursed creatures set to work and threatened to send in the bailiffs, and Heaven only knows what besides. Then she had to attend to everything, for the General had a second attackof paralysis: those people have been the death of him, and I could not prevent it.”The Captain forgot to add here, what I afterwards learnt, that he had himself hastened the General’s end by administering a glass of old cognac to him under the pretext of strengthening him for the occasion of meeting the bailiffs.“As soon as his eyes were closed,” he continued, “the lawyer from Arnheim, who was in possession of the General’s will, and Overberg advised Francis to arrange matters with you in an amicable manner; but she would not listen to them. You understand, it was in your name these proceedings had been taken against her grandfather.”“Whilst I lay unconscious on a bed of sickness.”“That’s what the Pharisees knew, but they had your power of attorney; and Francis said—“‘Behold the constraint with which he threatened me! And he imagines I shall give way? Never!’ You should have seen her, how pale she was, but firm; when the men came to make the inventory of all there was in the Castle!”“Afterwards she took me aside. ‘Rolfie,’ she said—it was her word when she wanted to get anythingout of me—‘Rolfie, now tell me honestly, have you not sacrificed the greater part of your fortune to the wants of my grandfather?’“‘Well, certainly not, Maj—Miss Francis; we have only spent that small sum which we won in the lottery. The General would make use of his part of it to try his luck once more; but I preferred spending my part on a few extras for the table that we might all enjoy it together.’“‘Then that story of yours about an inheritance was a pure invention?’ she demanded severely.“‘Pardon, Freule, I have inherited a nice little farm in North Brabant, where I always intended to end my days, if the Freule should’ (marry, I would have said, but I was afraid) ‘wish to dispense with my services.’“‘And can you live comfortably on it, Captain?’“‘Very; and, besides, I have my pension. Living is very cheap in that part of the country; if the Freule can make up her mind to go with me, we should have a very pleasant life of it together. Though it is no castle, the best room in the house is set apart for your service.’“‘I thank you most cordially, my good Captain;I was most anxious to know whether you were provided for. But we must separate, my dear Rolf.’“‘And where will you go, what will you do?’“‘I cannot tell you that; but one thing is certain, you cannot go with me.’”The Captain plied himself well with sherry to keep up his spirits, and concluded by saying—“And so we parted, Jonker. But I thought to myself, I’ll pass through the Hague; and here I heard of your illness, and said to myself, ‘Probably the Jonker is ignorant of all that has occurred.’”“Do you know what you must do, Rolf? Go back to the Werve at once. I shall give you a letter for the lawyers to stop all proceedings, and you will take command of the fortress until I come. Retain Fritz in the service, and try to find the packet. I shall be with you to-morrow or the day after, if my doctor will give me permission to leave my room.”“Oh, the packet will be at Overberg’s with the rest of the General’s papers.”“Then try to find out where Miss Francis is, and induce her to return to the Werve; but don’t tell her I am coming there.”At the same moment my landlady brought me the following telegram from Overberg—“Your immediate presence indispensable; no arrangement possible; F. M. has left the Castle.”I did not hesitate any longer. Without awaiting the doctor’s leave, I got Rolf to pack my portmanteau, and we were off before he could stop us. These thick-coming events called forth all my strength, and I forgot how weak I really was.Chapter XXXIV.When I arrived at the hotel in Zutphen, I was surprised to find a letter awaiting me from Rudolf, who was still travelling through the provinces of Guelderland and Overyssel with his troupe, which was now performing at Laren fair. It ran as follows—“If you wish to prevent Francis from committing the greatest folly she has yet been guilty of in life, try to meet me at the ‘Half-way House,’ between Zutphen and Laren, to-morrow morning about nine o’clock.”I promised myself I would not neglect this appointment. I then sent for Overberg, who confirmed all I had heard from Rolf, and explained many things I thought inexplicable. It was Van Beek who had pushed matters to extremities, and he (Overberg) had been quite willing to grant any reasonable delay.He told me one thing I was still ignorant of. A lawyer had sent into Van Beek a copy of a codicil to Aunt Sophia’s will, drawn up by her order on the eve of her death, by which she bequeathed to her grandniece, Francis Mordaunt, a yearly income of three thousand florins in case she did not marry Jonker van Zonshoven; and I was bound to pay this pension on condition she made no marriage without my consent. A very far-seeing woman this aunt of mine! I charged Overberg to make known this codicil, and to hand over to Francis the packet which he had found amongst the General’s papers. He had sent it to the Castle, but too late; Francis was already gone. I requested him to do his best to find her out, and to deliver it into her hands.Next morning, when I arrived at the appointed place, a little country inn, the landlady told me that a lady and gentleman were already awaiting me upstairs. I hastened into the large assembly-room, and at the bottom of it I could perceive Rudolf and Francis, almost hidden behind a platform which had been erected for the musicians. Francis stood with her back to the door at which I entered. I wished to give her warning of my presence, but I could notspeak; and as I advanced all of a tremble, I heard Rudolf saying to her—“Nonsense, my dear!you have no idea of the sort of life you wish to lead. You talk of liberty and independence; but I tell you it is slavery and the whip into the bargain. Do you know our bed-room is in the stable with the horses? Do you think the women are much respected because they are so politely assisted to mount their horses during the performance? I can tell you Madame Stonehouse herself is not spared by her gracious husband. And you would cast in your lot with us, susceptible and haughty as you are!”“There’s nothing else I can do,” replied Francis. “I can manage a horse, but I cannot become a governess and undertake the care of young children any more than I could earn my bread with my needle. I will not be guilty of the sin of suicide. I have a duty to fulfil in life, though to me life is but a martyrdom. And this is my only resource.”“But, you foolish girl, why don’t you seek a reconciliation with your Cousin van Zonshoven? You would then have all a woman could wish for—your castle back, a beautiful fortune, and a husbandwho would love you truly. Upon that I’ll wager my head.”“Yes; he’s a man of rare loyalty, indeed, and has shown himself such!” she answered with a choking voice.“Bah! at the worst he has only acted a little insincerely; white lies, my dear, white lies may be pardoned. Forgive him his peccadillo. He will have much to forgive in you, as you have confessed to me yourself. Tell him you are sorry for what you have said. He will then embrace you and all will be well.”“It is impossible, I tell you; it is too late.”“Why too late, Francis?” I exclaimed, as I stepped forward, unable to restrain myself any longer.“Leopold!” she cried, turning deadly pale, and covering her face with her hands.“Francis,” I went on gently, “nothing is changed; I still regard you as my betrothed wife.”And saying this I tried to take her hand in mine. But the touch pained her; she sprang back as if she had received the discharge of an electric battery.“Your betrothed! You have given me to understandthis by the manner in which I have been treated!”“It grieves me to the heart, Francis—I cannot tell you how much. I come now from a sick-bed, and what the lawyers did whilst I lay insensible in the fever was in opposition to my wishes, and quite contrary to my intentions.”“And was it contrary to your intentions to cause my grandfather the shock which led to his death?”“Most certainly it was, and I did my utmost to prevent it; but you would not assist me, and afterwards it was too late. It was the executors carrying out the last will and testament of the deceased, and it was out of my power to interfere with them. And if the consequences hastened your grandfather’s death, you cannot blame me, Francis. For after a calm consideration of all the facts, you will be bound to agree that I was a better friend both to him and to you than you have been to yourselves. Because of a little misunderstanding which I could easily have explained, you have brought all this trouble on yourself, and caused me the most acute suffering. Still all may be well.”“All may be well! Oh, Leopold, Leopold! howcan you say so, when the gulf between us is so wide,” she replied, with a profound sigh. “You threatened me with force, and you have meanly carried that threat into execution! You had it in your power to drive me to extremities, your one fixed idea being to compel me to marry Aunt Roselaer’s heir. I have heard this so often I am sick of the subject; and though I acknowledge you are right from a worldly and material point of view, I had given you credit for better things. Don’t you understand, that were I to marry you now under constraint, I should tug at my chains until they made life unbearable to us both, or until they broke!”“I agree with you, Francis, if you regard our engagement in this light, and I release you from your promise.”“Thank you, but I had already taken measures which render such generosity on your part unnecessary. I am going to travel about in the world, and I have taken steps to separate myself from the past entirely. I have made my contract with Mr. Stonehouse, to whom Rudolf is to introduce me as soon as he arrives here to sign the same.”“Your Uncle Rudolf came here, my dear, to dissuadeyou from such a step; and if you are awaiting the arrival of Mr. Stonehouse, you will have to wait a long time,” responded Rudolf, coolly. “Did you think me such a fool, Francis, as to assist you in your insane idea?”“Then you never delivered my letter to your master?”“Certainly not, I did much better. I warned your Cousin Leopold that you were going to commit a folly which would lead to your inevitable ruin.”“Oh, I see! this is another plot against me. Enough; as I cannot trust any one but myself, I will ride off at once and ask to see Mr. Stonehouse in person.”“You will do nothing of the sort,” I said, authoritatively, seeing that she rose to depart. “The General is dead, Rudolf civilly dead, and I am consequently, in the eyes of the law, your nearest male relation. Therefore I forbid your entering this abyss, from whence no one ever rises again, in the flower of your age.”“What am I to do?” she cried passionately, yet with an accent of submission in her tone.“You have simply to return to the Werve,” Ianswered, “where you will find a friend actively preparing for your reception.”“A friend!” she repeated, in astonishment.“Yes, Rolf; who is to stay there until further orders. Don’t be afraid—I shall not importune you with my presence, for I am going to travel.”This latter declaration seemed to make a great impression on her. She regarded me with a strange kind of look, and replied in a tone of voice which betrayed something more than pride and anger—“In very sooth, Leopold, you are going to travel? Well, then, I will stay at the Werve. Farewell.”And she escaped from the room quickly, shutting the door after her. We soon heard the pawing of her horse outside, and we trusted she would ride back to the Castle.“Ought I not to follow her?” Rudolf inquired of me.“No; any mistrust on our part would offend her.”“She is in an unusual state of excitement, and such a reckless rider. Only lately she had an accident.”“That’s true; for Heaven’s sake follow her! But if you should be recognized yourself?”“Never fear, I am too well disguised for that. In my present dress I made more than one visit to the Werve during my father’s last illness. I have pressed his hand on his death-bed; and he has given me his signet ring. Out of prudence I do not wear it on my finger, but like this, in my bosom, attached by a cord round my neck. And Francis,” he cried in triumph, “has accepted assistance from me during these last days of trial. When theKermisat Laren is over, we shall leave this country; and I shall never more set foot on my native soil,” he added, sadly, as he mounted his horse; and pressing my hand for the last time, took an eternal farewell of me.Chapter XXXV.Our surprises were not yet at an end.On my return to Zutphen I found Overberg waiting for me at my hotel. He had just received from England a packet addressed to Francis, which Fritz had refused to take charge of, as he did not know where to find her. I assured him that Miss Mordaunt had now returned to the Castle; and I offered my driver double fare if he would go at once to the Castle, and bring me back areçufrom Francis. I should then have proof positive of her return to the Werve. I was very anxious to find out what this packet could contain; and I was in despair as to any suitable means of satisfying my curiosity, when early next morning old Fritz arrived at the hotel with a note from his mistress. He had his orders not to deliver it into anybody’s hands but mine. I broke the seal with trembling fingers, and read as follows—“Cousin Leopold—I must speak to you once more before you start on your travels; it is absolutely necessary. You once assured me you were always ready to oblige a woman who exercised the privileges of her sex. May I hope you will come to the Werve to have a last interview with me? Instead of writing I should have preferred to come to your hotel to see you; but I was afraid of scandalizing you by such a liberty. Please send word by Fritz the day and hour I may expect you.F. M.”I had but one answer to this note; it was to order out the hotel carriage, and drive back with Fritz. My hopes and fears as we drove along I will not attempt to describe; they are better left to your imagination; but everything seemed to turn round before my eyes as we passed over the old drawbridge, and drove up to the hall-door. Rolf was awaiting me at the entrance; and he led me into the drawingroom without a word, only expressing his delight by the manner in which he swung about his cap.Francis was seated on the sofa which I remembered so well, her head cast down, paler than on the preceding day; but charmingly beautiful in hermourning-dress. She rose hastily, and advanced to greet me.“Thank you, Leopold, for coming so soon. I knew you would come; I had confidence in your generosity.”“And—am I then no longer contemptible in your eyes, Francis? You have received my packet, and read Aunt Sophia’s letter?”“I have received all the documents, read all—more than was necessary to convince me I had done you an injustice, and ought to apologize to you. Now I am ready to confess it before all the world that I did you wrong; will you pardon me without reserve?”“Need you ask me that, Francis? But you must never doubt me more, never more, Francis.”After a moment’s silence she answered in a low voice—“Never more, Leopold!”So saying, she pressed my hand with ardour, as a sign of reconciliation. Still, there was a constraint about her manner which prevented my pressing her to my heart as I desired to do.“Sit down, Leopold,” she said; “now we are reconciled I have to ask your advice as my nearest relation and my most trusted friend.”At the same time she unfolded the packet which she had received from England.“Lord William is dead,” she went on; “will you read this letter addressed to me, together with a copy of his will?”I could scarcely control myself sufficiently to read the letter; but I obeyed mechanically. This letter contained a few words of serious advice, breathing nothing but words of paternal love; though I read between the lines that it had cost him a struggle after her confession to regain this kind of calm affection for her. He had left with Cupid’s arrow in his heart. The letter concluded with the most ardent wishes for her happiness; and he expressed a hope she would one day find a husband worthy of her, begging her to accept as a marriage portion the legacy he had left her by his will. Finally, he said, she must allow no considerations whatever, especially money considerations, to induce her to marry a man whom she did not love with all her heart.The family name with which this letter was signed is one of the most illustrious in the scientific as well as in the political world.There was also a second letter from the nephewand heir to Lord William’s title and immense fortune. He assured Francis of his intentions scrupulously to fulfil the last will of the deceased. Francis was to receive from the estates an annuity of three thousand pounds for the term of her natural life.“Ought I to accept it, Leopold?” she demanded.“My opinion is you cannot refuse it, Francis. Your greatest desire has always been to have an independence; and here it is offered you by the hand of a friend.”“You are right, Leopold; I shall follow your advice and accept it. Now I shall not be forced to marry any one; and if I should choose a husband, he cannot suspect me of having done so for the sake of his money. Shall I be rich enough to buy back the Werve?”“No, Francis; the Werve is in the possession of one who will not sell it for money. If you still desire to become Baroness de Werve, you must take another resolution.”“Leopold,” she said, rising, “you say that independence has always been my chief desire. It is possible; but now I understand that my greatest happiness is to be dependent on the man I love.Leo, Aunt Roselaer has left me an annuity which I decline to accept, as a matter of course; but her intentions towards me were kindly, and I will follow her advice. She has forbidden me to marry without your consent.”Then with an indefinable mixture of grace, confusion, and malice, she sank down on her knees before me, and said—“Leo, I wish to marry my Cousin van Zonshoven; have you any objections?”“Heaven forbid! I have no objections!”And with what rapture did I raise her, and clasp her to my breast, where she shed many tears, whilst my own eyes were not dry. We had loved so much, and suffered so much for each other.What can I tell you more, dear William? We walked out in the grounds, and again visited all the places which had become endeared to us by our former walks. We made all sorts of plans for the future. We wrote letters to Van Beek and the other men of the law, informing them in a grave tone that all the bills would be paid at maturity, or on presentation.The fact that Francis was in mourning for the General served us as a pretext for being married privately, and in as quiet a manner as possible, an arrangement in accordance with both our wishes. An old college friend of mine, vicar in a small town near the Werve, married us.Little Harry Blount is already confided to the care of the farmers Pauwelsens. His mother has perfectly recovered, and will one of these days, we trust, marry young Pauwelsen, a son of the farmer, who had already fixed his eyes on her before her engagement to Blount. This good news has removed an immense weight from Francis’s mind. We are going to make a long journey, and try to enjoy ourselves thoroughly; the trials we have both passed through have taught us to appreciate our present happiness.During our absence the Werve will be restored, and Rolf will be left in charge.To conclude, dear William, I have got Francis to enclose you a note in her own handwriting.Geneva, 1861.Leopold van Zonshoven.“That it is becoming in Leo to have sketched the doings of Major Frank in all their shades and peculiarities,even for a friend, I shall never allow; but I feel that in his delicate position it was necessary for him to ease his mind to some one, and that it was better he should do so to a friend across the seas. Therefore I have pardoned him. Now I will request you not to have his letters printed in any of your Indian papers! That would be too bad! Not that Francis van Zonshoven would attempt to defend such a person—oh no! It appears to me no such person ever existed. But there are family secrets in the letters, which I must seriously recommend to your discretion.“Don’t wait until your term of service in India expires, but get your leave of absence and visit us at the Werve. All the windows are now glazed, and there is room enough for Leo’s friend, though he came with a whole family.“Francis van Zonshoven.”
Chapter XXXIII.Instead of regaining my usual calm in my own “sweet home,” I fell seriously ill the first night after my return. I was attacked by a nervous fever, and remained for several days insensible. My landlady now proved herself a faithful and attentive nurse, and she tells me that my life was almost despaired of for some days. I am convalescent at last, and I shall travel. You will ask where? I don’t know yet; nothing is decided.When I was able to look over the papers which had accumulated on my table during my illness, I found a card from my uncle the minister, who had called to make inquiries about me. My worthy uncle had heard the report that I was a millionaire. I also found quite a heap of letters from Overberg and Van Beek, which I had not the courage to read; one, however, marked “Important,” I broke open. Itannounced the death of my uncle Von Zwenken, and I was invited to the funeral. The date told me that the letter was three weeks old! What had become of Francis?Doubtless she was still ill-disposed towards me. She seemed to be unaware of my illness, since she had invited me to the funeral of her grandfather. What must she have thought of my silence? Not a single word of comfort or encouragement from me. What annoyances she might already have suffered from the lawyers. I was expecting my doctor every moment, and I had determined to ask his permission to start immediately for Zutphen, when I heard some one coming up the stairs, whom my landlady was endeavouring to call back, she being very strict about my being kept quiet. But, in spite of all her efforts, Rolf burst into the room—Rolf, whom I had ended by loving almost as much as I detested him the first few days of our acquaintance.“My General is dead,” he said, with tears in his eyes—“died in my arms. Francis is gone——”“She is not ill, however?” I interrupted quickly.“Not in the least, she is in excellent health; but—she has turned me out of the Werve.”“What do you say?”“Oh, it was not done in anger or malice; but because she herself will be forced to leave the Castle very soon. In fact, she has already hired a room at farmer Pauwelsen’s; but she will tell nobody what she intends to do.”“But tell me all the particulars of the General’s death.”“Well, the General had not the courage to resist her, and write to Overberg in the sense you advised him. And as everything was vague and uncertain because of your answering nobody’s letters, the lawyers lost patience; and Overberg, egged on, I believe, by that quill-driver in Utrecht, wrote to Freule Mordaunt to know for certain whether or not she was engaged to you. You will guess her answer, short and dry, but without a word of reproach as far as you were concerned, I can assure you. I know she reproaches herself bitterly, and has done so since the day you left, as I told you would be the case.”“Even after she had received the packet from me?”“She never received anything from you.”“That’s very surprising!”“No, it’s not at all surprising, for everything was in the utmost confusion with us from the fatal Friday you left——But I see this is sherry, may I help myself?”“Certainly, Captain; I beg your pardon, I ought to have thought of asking you sooner.”“Well, then, after you were gone she fainted. Such a thing never happened to her before within my knowledge. I felt almost ashamed of her; but she loved you so much, as she later confessed to me weeping! When she came to herself again, and whilst, as we thought, she was reposing in her own room, she had stealthily gone off to the farm, ordered Tancredo to be saddled, and ridden away at full gallop. At dinner we became dreadfully uneasy as she did not put in an appearance, and neither the General nor myself could eat. But it was much worse when, in the evening twilight, young Pauwelsen came to say Tancredo had returned to the stable alone, without saddle and white with foam.”“An accident!” I cried, beside myself. “Do tell me the worst at once. What has happened to her?”“Oh, it was not so bad after all, Jonker—only asprained foot; we found her lying on the moss at the foot of an oak, to which she had been able to crawl to rest herself a little.”“I know that oak!” I exclaimed. “I feel what she must have felt there. She loves me still!”“I believe so, Jonker, for she said we were to leave her there to die, and to tell you where she died. It appears she had ridden towards the town, and then, suddenly changing her course, was returning to the Castle through the wood; but either she must have pressed Tancredo too hard, or dropped the reins—she cannot explain it herself. But certain it is, the noble animal, no longer recognizing the hand of his mistress, galloped home, and she fell out of the saddle. We carried her home, and laid her on the sofa in the drawing-room. The surgeon declared there was no danger, but said she must not be moved for some days.”“And why did you not send me word immediately?”“Hum! I wanted to write to you, and she also. I ought not to tell you perhaps, but she wrote a note to you.”“Which I never received.”“No, for young Pauwelsen was charged to deliver it into your own hands at Zutphen; but when he arrived there they told him you had left, and he brought back the letter, which the Freule tore up, with a bitter laugh saying—“‘I deserved no better.’”“Oh, if I could have foreseen all this!” I cried, wringing my hands.“I advised you to stay,” replied the Captain; “why need you go off in such a hurry?”“My dear Captain, I felt I was going to be ill; I was ill already. But how was it she did not receive my packet? I waited until the third day for an answer.”“What could you expect? Everything was turned upside down. Fritz had orders to place all letters on the General’s writing-table, and he had taken such an aversion to anything in the shape of a communication from the lawyers, that he never opened one of them. Miss Francis was scarcely able to move about again when those accursed creatures set to work and threatened to send in the bailiffs, and Heaven only knows what besides. Then she had to attend to everything, for the General had a second attackof paralysis: those people have been the death of him, and I could not prevent it.”The Captain forgot to add here, what I afterwards learnt, that he had himself hastened the General’s end by administering a glass of old cognac to him under the pretext of strengthening him for the occasion of meeting the bailiffs.“As soon as his eyes were closed,” he continued, “the lawyer from Arnheim, who was in possession of the General’s will, and Overberg advised Francis to arrange matters with you in an amicable manner; but she would not listen to them. You understand, it was in your name these proceedings had been taken against her grandfather.”“Whilst I lay unconscious on a bed of sickness.”“That’s what the Pharisees knew, but they had your power of attorney; and Francis said—“‘Behold the constraint with which he threatened me! And he imagines I shall give way? Never!’ You should have seen her, how pale she was, but firm; when the men came to make the inventory of all there was in the Castle!”“Afterwards she took me aside. ‘Rolfie,’ she said—it was her word when she wanted to get anythingout of me—‘Rolfie, now tell me honestly, have you not sacrificed the greater part of your fortune to the wants of my grandfather?’“‘Well, certainly not, Maj—Miss Francis; we have only spent that small sum which we won in the lottery. The General would make use of his part of it to try his luck once more; but I preferred spending my part on a few extras for the table that we might all enjoy it together.’“‘Then that story of yours about an inheritance was a pure invention?’ she demanded severely.“‘Pardon, Freule, I have inherited a nice little farm in North Brabant, where I always intended to end my days, if the Freule should’ (marry, I would have said, but I was afraid) ‘wish to dispense with my services.’“‘And can you live comfortably on it, Captain?’“‘Very; and, besides, I have my pension. Living is very cheap in that part of the country; if the Freule can make up her mind to go with me, we should have a very pleasant life of it together. Though it is no castle, the best room in the house is set apart for your service.’“‘I thank you most cordially, my good Captain;I was most anxious to know whether you were provided for. But we must separate, my dear Rolf.’“‘And where will you go, what will you do?’“‘I cannot tell you that; but one thing is certain, you cannot go with me.’”The Captain plied himself well with sherry to keep up his spirits, and concluded by saying—“And so we parted, Jonker. But I thought to myself, I’ll pass through the Hague; and here I heard of your illness, and said to myself, ‘Probably the Jonker is ignorant of all that has occurred.’”“Do you know what you must do, Rolf? Go back to the Werve at once. I shall give you a letter for the lawyers to stop all proceedings, and you will take command of the fortress until I come. Retain Fritz in the service, and try to find the packet. I shall be with you to-morrow or the day after, if my doctor will give me permission to leave my room.”“Oh, the packet will be at Overberg’s with the rest of the General’s papers.”“Then try to find out where Miss Francis is, and induce her to return to the Werve; but don’t tell her I am coming there.”At the same moment my landlady brought me the following telegram from Overberg—“Your immediate presence indispensable; no arrangement possible; F. M. has left the Castle.”I did not hesitate any longer. Without awaiting the doctor’s leave, I got Rolf to pack my portmanteau, and we were off before he could stop us. These thick-coming events called forth all my strength, and I forgot how weak I really was.
Instead of regaining my usual calm in my own “sweet home,” I fell seriously ill the first night after my return. I was attacked by a nervous fever, and remained for several days insensible. My landlady now proved herself a faithful and attentive nurse, and she tells me that my life was almost despaired of for some days. I am convalescent at last, and I shall travel. You will ask where? I don’t know yet; nothing is decided.
When I was able to look over the papers which had accumulated on my table during my illness, I found a card from my uncle the minister, who had called to make inquiries about me. My worthy uncle had heard the report that I was a millionaire. I also found quite a heap of letters from Overberg and Van Beek, which I had not the courage to read; one, however, marked “Important,” I broke open. Itannounced the death of my uncle Von Zwenken, and I was invited to the funeral. The date told me that the letter was three weeks old! What had become of Francis?
Doubtless she was still ill-disposed towards me. She seemed to be unaware of my illness, since she had invited me to the funeral of her grandfather. What must she have thought of my silence? Not a single word of comfort or encouragement from me. What annoyances she might already have suffered from the lawyers. I was expecting my doctor every moment, and I had determined to ask his permission to start immediately for Zutphen, when I heard some one coming up the stairs, whom my landlady was endeavouring to call back, she being very strict about my being kept quiet. But, in spite of all her efforts, Rolf burst into the room—Rolf, whom I had ended by loving almost as much as I detested him the first few days of our acquaintance.
“My General is dead,” he said, with tears in his eyes—“died in my arms. Francis is gone——”
“She is not ill, however?” I interrupted quickly.
“Not in the least, she is in excellent health; but—she has turned me out of the Werve.”
“What do you say?”
“Oh, it was not done in anger or malice; but because she herself will be forced to leave the Castle very soon. In fact, she has already hired a room at farmer Pauwelsen’s; but she will tell nobody what she intends to do.”
“But tell me all the particulars of the General’s death.”
“Well, the General had not the courage to resist her, and write to Overberg in the sense you advised him. And as everything was vague and uncertain because of your answering nobody’s letters, the lawyers lost patience; and Overberg, egged on, I believe, by that quill-driver in Utrecht, wrote to Freule Mordaunt to know for certain whether or not she was engaged to you. You will guess her answer, short and dry, but without a word of reproach as far as you were concerned, I can assure you. I know she reproaches herself bitterly, and has done so since the day you left, as I told you would be the case.”
“Even after she had received the packet from me?”
“She never received anything from you.”
“That’s very surprising!”
“No, it’s not at all surprising, for everything was in the utmost confusion with us from the fatal Friday you left——But I see this is sherry, may I help myself?”
“Certainly, Captain; I beg your pardon, I ought to have thought of asking you sooner.”
“Well, then, after you were gone she fainted. Such a thing never happened to her before within my knowledge. I felt almost ashamed of her; but she loved you so much, as she later confessed to me weeping! When she came to herself again, and whilst, as we thought, she was reposing in her own room, she had stealthily gone off to the farm, ordered Tancredo to be saddled, and ridden away at full gallop. At dinner we became dreadfully uneasy as she did not put in an appearance, and neither the General nor myself could eat. But it was much worse when, in the evening twilight, young Pauwelsen came to say Tancredo had returned to the stable alone, without saddle and white with foam.”
“An accident!” I cried, beside myself. “Do tell me the worst at once. What has happened to her?”
“Oh, it was not so bad after all, Jonker—only asprained foot; we found her lying on the moss at the foot of an oak, to which she had been able to crawl to rest herself a little.”
“I know that oak!” I exclaimed. “I feel what she must have felt there. She loves me still!”
“I believe so, Jonker, for she said we were to leave her there to die, and to tell you where she died. It appears she had ridden towards the town, and then, suddenly changing her course, was returning to the Castle through the wood; but either she must have pressed Tancredo too hard, or dropped the reins—she cannot explain it herself. But certain it is, the noble animal, no longer recognizing the hand of his mistress, galloped home, and she fell out of the saddle. We carried her home, and laid her on the sofa in the drawing-room. The surgeon declared there was no danger, but said she must not be moved for some days.”
“And why did you not send me word immediately?”
“Hum! I wanted to write to you, and she also. I ought not to tell you perhaps, but she wrote a note to you.”
“Which I never received.”
“No, for young Pauwelsen was charged to deliver it into your own hands at Zutphen; but when he arrived there they told him you had left, and he brought back the letter, which the Freule tore up, with a bitter laugh saying—
“‘I deserved no better.’”
“Oh, if I could have foreseen all this!” I cried, wringing my hands.
“I advised you to stay,” replied the Captain; “why need you go off in such a hurry?”
“My dear Captain, I felt I was going to be ill; I was ill already. But how was it she did not receive my packet? I waited until the third day for an answer.”
“What could you expect? Everything was turned upside down. Fritz had orders to place all letters on the General’s writing-table, and he had taken such an aversion to anything in the shape of a communication from the lawyers, that he never opened one of them. Miss Francis was scarcely able to move about again when those accursed creatures set to work and threatened to send in the bailiffs, and Heaven only knows what besides. Then she had to attend to everything, for the General had a second attackof paralysis: those people have been the death of him, and I could not prevent it.”
The Captain forgot to add here, what I afterwards learnt, that he had himself hastened the General’s end by administering a glass of old cognac to him under the pretext of strengthening him for the occasion of meeting the bailiffs.
“As soon as his eyes were closed,” he continued, “the lawyer from Arnheim, who was in possession of the General’s will, and Overberg advised Francis to arrange matters with you in an amicable manner; but she would not listen to them. You understand, it was in your name these proceedings had been taken against her grandfather.”
“Whilst I lay unconscious on a bed of sickness.”
“That’s what the Pharisees knew, but they had your power of attorney; and Francis said—
“‘Behold the constraint with which he threatened me! And he imagines I shall give way? Never!’ You should have seen her, how pale she was, but firm; when the men came to make the inventory of all there was in the Castle!”
“Afterwards she took me aside. ‘Rolfie,’ she said—it was her word when she wanted to get anythingout of me—‘Rolfie, now tell me honestly, have you not sacrificed the greater part of your fortune to the wants of my grandfather?’
“‘Well, certainly not, Maj—Miss Francis; we have only spent that small sum which we won in the lottery. The General would make use of his part of it to try his luck once more; but I preferred spending my part on a few extras for the table that we might all enjoy it together.’
“‘Then that story of yours about an inheritance was a pure invention?’ she demanded severely.
“‘Pardon, Freule, I have inherited a nice little farm in North Brabant, where I always intended to end my days, if the Freule should’ (marry, I would have said, but I was afraid) ‘wish to dispense with my services.’
“‘And can you live comfortably on it, Captain?’
“‘Very; and, besides, I have my pension. Living is very cheap in that part of the country; if the Freule can make up her mind to go with me, we should have a very pleasant life of it together. Though it is no castle, the best room in the house is set apart for your service.’
“‘I thank you most cordially, my good Captain;I was most anxious to know whether you were provided for. But we must separate, my dear Rolf.’
“‘And where will you go, what will you do?’
“‘I cannot tell you that; but one thing is certain, you cannot go with me.’”
The Captain plied himself well with sherry to keep up his spirits, and concluded by saying—
“And so we parted, Jonker. But I thought to myself, I’ll pass through the Hague; and here I heard of your illness, and said to myself, ‘Probably the Jonker is ignorant of all that has occurred.’”
“Do you know what you must do, Rolf? Go back to the Werve at once. I shall give you a letter for the lawyers to stop all proceedings, and you will take command of the fortress until I come. Retain Fritz in the service, and try to find the packet. I shall be with you to-morrow or the day after, if my doctor will give me permission to leave my room.”
“Oh, the packet will be at Overberg’s with the rest of the General’s papers.”
“Then try to find out where Miss Francis is, and induce her to return to the Werve; but don’t tell her I am coming there.”
At the same moment my landlady brought me the following telegram from Overberg—
“Your immediate presence indispensable; no arrangement possible; F. M. has left the Castle.”
I did not hesitate any longer. Without awaiting the doctor’s leave, I got Rolf to pack my portmanteau, and we were off before he could stop us. These thick-coming events called forth all my strength, and I forgot how weak I really was.
Chapter XXXIV.When I arrived at the hotel in Zutphen, I was surprised to find a letter awaiting me from Rudolf, who was still travelling through the provinces of Guelderland and Overyssel with his troupe, which was now performing at Laren fair. It ran as follows—“If you wish to prevent Francis from committing the greatest folly she has yet been guilty of in life, try to meet me at the ‘Half-way House,’ between Zutphen and Laren, to-morrow morning about nine o’clock.”I promised myself I would not neglect this appointment. I then sent for Overberg, who confirmed all I had heard from Rolf, and explained many things I thought inexplicable. It was Van Beek who had pushed matters to extremities, and he (Overberg) had been quite willing to grant any reasonable delay.He told me one thing I was still ignorant of. A lawyer had sent into Van Beek a copy of a codicil to Aunt Sophia’s will, drawn up by her order on the eve of her death, by which she bequeathed to her grandniece, Francis Mordaunt, a yearly income of three thousand florins in case she did not marry Jonker van Zonshoven; and I was bound to pay this pension on condition she made no marriage without my consent. A very far-seeing woman this aunt of mine! I charged Overberg to make known this codicil, and to hand over to Francis the packet which he had found amongst the General’s papers. He had sent it to the Castle, but too late; Francis was already gone. I requested him to do his best to find her out, and to deliver it into her hands.Next morning, when I arrived at the appointed place, a little country inn, the landlady told me that a lady and gentleman were already awaiting me upstairs. I hastened into the large assembly-room, and at the bottom of it I could perceive Rudolf and Francis, almost hidden behind a platform which had been erected for the musicians. Francis stood with her back to the door at which I entered. I wished to give her warning of my presence, but I could notspeak; and as I advanced all of a tremble, I heard Rudolf saying to her—“Nonsense, my dear!you have no idea of the sort of life you wish to lead. You talk of liberty and independence; but I tell you it is slavery and the whip into the bargain. Do you know our bed-room is in the stable with the horses? Do you think the women are much respected because they are so politely assisted to mount their horses during the performance? I can tell you Madame Stonehouse herself is not spared by her gracious husband. And you would cast in your lot with us, susceptible and haughty as you are!”“There’s nothing else I can do,” replied Francis. “I can manage a horse, but I cannot become a governess and undertake the care of young children any more than I could earn my bread with my needle. I will not be guilty of the sin of suicide. I have a duty to fulfil in life, though to me life is but a martyrdom. And this is my only resource.”“But, you foolish girl, why don’t you seek a reconciliation with your Cousin van Zonshoven? You would then have all a woman could wish for—your castle back, a beautiful fortune, and a husbandwho would love you truly. Upon that I’ll wager my head.”“Yes; he’s a man of rare loyalty, indeed, and has shown himself such!” she answered with a choking voice.“Bah! at the worst he has only acted a little insincerely; white lies, my dear, white lies may be pardoned. Forgive him his peccadillo. He will have much to forgive in you, as you have confessed to me yourself. Tell him you are sorry for what you have said. He will then embrace you and all will be well.”“It is impossible, I tell you; it is too late.”“Why too late, Francis?” I exclaimed, as I stepped forward, unable to restrain myself any longer.“Leopold!” she cried, turning deadly pale, and covering her face with her hands.“Francis,” I went on gently, “nothing is changed; I still regard you as my betrothed wife.”And saying this I tried to take her hand in mine. But the touch pained her; she sprang back as if she had received the discharge of an electric battery.“Your betrothed! You have given me to understandthis by the manner in which I have been treated!”“It grieves me to the heart, Francis—I cannot tell you how much. I come now from a sick-bed, and what the lawyers did whilst I lay insensible in the fever was in opposition to my wishes, and quite contrary to my intentions.”“And was it contrary to your intentions to cause my grandfather the shock which led to his death?”“Most certainly it was, and I did my utmost to prevent it; but you would not assist me, and afterwards it was too late. It was the executors carrying out the last will and testament of the deceased, and it was out of my power to interfere with them. And if the consequences hastened your grandfather’s death, you cannot blame me, Francis. For after a calm consideration of all the facts, you will be bound to agree that I was a better friend both to him and to you than you have been to yourselves. Because of a little misunderstanding which I could easily have explained, you have brought all this trouble on yourself, and caused me the most acute suffering. Still all may be well.”“All may be well! Oh, Leopold, Leopold! howcan you say so, when the gulf between us is so wide,” she replied, with a profound sigh. “You threatened me with force, and you have meanly carried that threat into execution! You had it in your power to drive me to extremities, your one fixed idea being to compel me to marry Aunt Roselaer’s heir. I have heard this so often I am sick of the subject; and though I acknowledge you are right from a worldly and material point of view, I had given you credit for better things. Don’t you understand, that were I to marry you now under constraint, I should tug at my chains until they made life unbearable to us both, or until they broke!”“I agree with you, Francis, if you regard our engagement in this light, and I release you from your promise.”“Thank you, but I had already taken measures which render such generosity on your part unnecessary. I am going to travel about in the world, and I have taken steps to separate myself from the past entirely. I have made my contract with Mr. Stonehouse, to whom Rudolf is to introduce me as soon as he arrives here to sign the same.”“Your Uncle Rudolf came here, my dear, to dissuadeyou from such a step; and if you are awaiting the arrival of Mr. Stonehouse, you will have to wait a long time,” responded Rudolf, coolly. “Did you think me such a fool, Francis, as to assist you in your insane idea?”“Then you never delivered my letter to your master?”“Certainly not, I did much better. I warned your Cousin Leopold that you were going to commit a folly which would lead to your inevitable ruin.”“Oh, I see! this is another plot against me. Enough; as I cannot trust any one but myself, I will ride off at once and ask to see Mr. Stonehouse in person.”“You will do nothing of the sort,” I said, authoritatively, seeing that she rose to depart. “The General is dead, Rudolf civilly dead, and I am consequently, in the eyes of the law, your nearest male relation. Therefore I forbid your entering this abyss, from whence no one ever rises again, in the flower of your age.”“What am I to do?” she cried passionately, yet with an accent of submission in her tone.“You have simply to return to the Werve,” Ianswered, “where you will find a friend actively preparing for your reception.”“A friend!” she repeated, in astonishment.“Yes, Rolf; who is to stay there until further orders. Don’t be afraid—I shall not importune you with my presence, for I am going to travel.”This latter declaration seemed to make a great impression on her. She regarded me with a strange kind of look, and replied in a tone of voice which betrayed something more than pride and anger—“In very sooth, Leopold, you are going to travel? Well, then, I will stay at the Werve. Farewell.”And she escaped from the room quickly, shutting the door after her. We soon heard the pawing of her horse outside, and we trusted she would ride back to the Castle.“Ought I not to follow her?” Rudolf inquired of me.“No; any mistrust on our part would offend her.”“She is in an unusual state of excitement, and such a reckless rider. Only lately she had an accident.”“That’s true; for Heaven’s sake follow her! But if you should be recognized yourself?”“Never fear, I am too well disguised for that. In my present dress I made more than one visit to the Werve during my father’s last illness. I have pressed his hand on his death-bed; and he has given me his signet ring. Out of prudence I do not wear it on my finger, but like this, in my bosom, attached by a cord round my neck. And Francis,” he cried in triumph, “has accepted assistance from me during these last days of trial. When theKermisat Laren is over, we shall leave this country; and I shall never more set foot on my native soil,” he added, sadly, as he mounted his horse; and pressing my hand for the last time, took an eternal farewell of me.
When I arrived at the hotel in Zutphen, I was surprised to find a letter awaiting me from Rudolf, who was still travelling through the provinces of Guelderland and Overyssel with his troupe, which was now performing at Laren fair. It ran as follows—
“If you wish to prevent Francis from committing the greatest folly she has yet been guilty of in life, try to meet me at the ‘Half-way House,’ between Zutphen and Laren, to-morrow morning about nine o’clock.”
I promised myself I would not neglect this appointment. I then sent for Overberg, who confirmed all I had heard from Rolf, and explained many things I thought inexplicable. It was Van Beek who had pushed matters to extremities, and he (Overberg) had been quite willing to grant any reasonable delay.He told me one thing I was still ignorant of. A lawyer had sent into Van Beek a copy of a codicil to Aunt Sophia’s will, drawn up by her order on the eve of her death, by which she bequeathed to her grandniece, Francis Mordaunt, a yearly income of three thousand florins in case she did not marry Jonker van Zonshoven; and I was bound to pay this pension on condition she made no marriage without my consent. A very far-seeing woman this aunt of mine! I charged Overberg to make known this codicil, and to hand over to Francis the packet which he had found amongst the General’s papers. He had sent it to the Castle, but too late; Francis was already gone. I requested him to do his best to find her out, and to deliver it into her hands.
Next morning, when I arrived at the appointed place, a little country inn, the landlady told me that a lady and gentleman were already awaiting me upstairs. I hastened into the large assembly-room, and at the bottom of it I could perceive Rudolf and Francis, almost hidden behind a platform which had been erected for the musicians. Francis stood with her back to the door at which I entered. I wished to give her warning of my presence, but I could notspeak; and as I advanced all of a tremble, I heard Rudolf saying to her—
“Nonsense, my dear!you have no idea of the sort of life you wish to lead. You talk of liberty and independence; but I tell you it is slavery and the whip into the bargain. Do you know our bed-room is in the stable with the horses? Do you think the women are much respected because they are so politely assisted to mount their horses during the performance? I can tell you Madame Stonehouse herself is not spared by her gracious husband. And you would cast in your lot with us, susceptible and haughty as you are!”
“There’s nothing else I can do,” replied Francis. “I can manage a horse, but I cannot become a governess and undertake the care of young children any more than I could earn my bread with my needle. I will not be guilty of the sin of suicide. I have a duty to fulfil in life, though to me life is but a martyrdom. And this is my only resource.”
“But, you foolish girl, why don’t you seek a reconciliation with your Cousin van Zonshoven? You would then have all a woman could wish for—your castle back, a beautiful fortune, and a husbandwho would love you truly. Upon that I’ll wager my head.”
“Yes; he’s a man of rare loyalty, indeed, and has shown himself such!” she answered with a choking voice.
“Bah! at the worst he has only acted a little insincerely; white lies, my dear, white lies may be pardoned. Forgive him his peccadillo. He will have much to forgive in you, as you have confessed to me yourself. Tell him you are sorry for what you have said. He will then embrace you and all will be well.”
“It is impossible, I tell you; it is too late.”
“Why too late, Francis?” I exclaimed, as I stepped forward, unable to restrain myself any longer.
“Leopold!” she cried, turning deadly pale, and covering her face with her hands.
“Francis,” I went on gently, “nothing is changed; I still regard you as my betrothed wife.”
And saying this I tried to take her hand in mine. But the touch pained her; she sprang back as if she had received the discharge of an electric battery.
“Your betrothed! You have given me to understandthis by the manner in which I have been treated!”
“It grieves me to the heart, Francis—I cannot tell you how much. I come now from a sick-bed, and what the lawyers did whilst I lay insensible in the fever was in opposition to my wishes, and quite contrary to my intentions.”
“And was it contrary to your intentions to cause my grandfather the shock which led to his death?”
“Most certainly it was, and I did my utmost to prevent it; but you would not assist me, and afterwards it was too late. It was the executors carrying out the last will and testament of the deceased, and it was out of my power to interfere with them. And if the consequences hastened your grandfather’s death, you cannot blame me, Francis. For after a calm consideration of all the facts, you will be bound to agree that I was a better friend both to him and to you than you have been to yourselves. Because of a little misunderstanding which I could easily have explained, you have brought all this trouble on yourself, and caused me the most acute suffering. Still all may be well.”
“All may be well! Oh, Leopold, Leopold! howcan you say so, when the gulf between us is so wide,” she replied, with a profound sigh. “You threatened me with force, and you have meanly carried that threat into execution! You had it in your power to drive me to extremities, your one fixed idea being to compel me to marry Aunt Roselaer’s heir. I have heard this so often I am sick of the subject; and though I acknowledge you are right from a worldly and material point of view, I had given you credit for better things. Don’t you understand, that were I to marry you now under constraint, I should tug at my chains until they made life unbearable to us both, or until they broke!”
“I agree with you, Francis, if you regard our engagement in this light, and I release you from your promise.”
“Thank you, but I had already taken measures which render such generosity on your part unnecessary. I am going to travel about in the world, and I have taken steps to separate myself from the past entirely. I have made my contract with Mr. Stonehouse, to whom Rudolf is to introduce me as soon as he arrives here to sign the same.”
“Your Uncle Rudolf came here, my dear, to dissuadeyou from such a step; and if you are awaiting the arrival of Mr. Stonehouse, you will have to wait a long time,” responded Rudolf, coolly. “Did you think me such a fool, Francis, as to assist you in your insane idea?”
“Then you never delivered my letter to your master?”
“Certainly not, I did much better. I warned your Cousin Leopold that you were going to commit a folly which would lead to your inevitable ruin.”
“Oh, I see! this is another plot against me. Enough; as I cannot trust any one but myself, I will ride off at once and ask to see Mr. Stonehouse in person.”
“You will do nothing of the sort,” I said, authoritatively, seeing that she rose to depart. “The General is dead, Rudolf civilly dead, and I am consequently, in the eyes of the law, your nearest male relation. Therefore I forbid your entering this abyss, from whence no one ever rises again, in the flower of your age.”
“What am I to do?” she cried passionately, yet with an accent of submission in her tone.
“You have simply to return to the Werve,” Ianswered, “where you will find a friend actively preparing for your reception.”
“A friend!” she repeated, in astonishment.
“Yes, Rolf; who is to stay there until further orders. Don’t be afraid—I shall not importune you with my presence, for I am going to travel.”
This latter declaration seemed to make a great impression on her. She regarded me with a strange kind of look, and replied in a tone of voice which betrayed something more than pride and anger—
“In very sooth, Leopold, you are going to travel? Well, then, I will stay at the Werve. Farewell.”
And she escaped from the room quickly, shutting the door after her. We soon heard the pawing of her horse outside, and we trusted she would ride back to the Castle.
“Ought I not to follow her?” Rudolf inquired of me.
“No; any mistrust on our part would offend her.”
“She is in an unusual state of excitement, and such a reckless rider. Only lately she had an accident.”
“That’s true; for Heaven’s sake follow her! But if you should be recognized yourself?”
“Never fear, I am too well disguised for that. In my present dress I made more than one visit to the Werve during my father’s last illness. I have pressed his hand on his death-bed; and he has given me his signet ring. Out of prudence I do not wear it on my finger, but like this, in my bosom, attached by a cord round my neck. And Francis,” he cried in triumph, “has accepted assistance from me during these last days of trial. When theKermisat Laren is over, we shall leave this country; and I shall never more set foot on my native soil,” he added, sadly, as he mounted his horse; and pressing my hand for the last time, took an eternal farewell of me.
Chapter XXXV.Our surprises were not yet at an end.On my return to Zutphen I found Overberg waiting for me at my hotel. He had just received from England a packet addressed to Francis, which Fritz had refused to take charge of, as he did not know where to find her. I assured him that Miss Mordaunt had now returned to the Castle; and I offered my driver double fare if he would go at once to the Castle, and bring me back areçufrom Francis. I should then have proof positive of her return to the Werve. I was very anxious to find out what this packet could contain; and I was in despair as to any suitable means of satisfying my curiosity, when early next morning old Fritz arrived at the hotel with a note from his mistress. He had his orders not to deliver it into anybody’s hands but mine. I broke the seal with trembling fingers, and read as follows—“Cousin Leopold—I must speak to you once more before you start on your travels; it is absolutely necessary. You once assured me you were always ready to oblige a woman who exercised the privileges of her sex. May I hope you will come to the Werve to have a last interview with me? Instead of writing I should have preferred to come to your hotel to see you; but I was afraid of scandalizing you by such a liberty. Please send word by Fritz the day and hour I may expect you.F. M.”I had but one answer to this note; it was to order out the hotel carriage, and drive back with Fritz. My hopes and fears as we drove along I will not attempt to describe; they are better left to your imagination; but everything seemed to turn round before my eyes as we passed over the old drawbridge, and drove up to the hall-door. Rolf was awaiting me at the entrance; and he led me into the drawingroom without a word, only expressing his delight by the manner in which he swung about his cap.Francis was seated on the sofa which I remembered so well, her head cast down, paler than on the preceding day; but charmingly beautiful in hermourning-dress. She rose hastily, and advanced to greet me.“Thank you, Leopold, for coming so soon. I knew you would come; I had confidence in your generosity.”“And—am I then no longer contemptible in your eyes, Francis? You have received my packet, and read Aunt Sophia’s letter?”“I have received all the documents, read all—more than was necessary to convince me I had done you an injustice, and ought to apologize to you. Now I am ready to confess it before all the world that I did you wrong; will you pardon me without reserve?”“Need you ask me that, Francis? But you must never doubt me more, never more, Francis.”After a moment’s silence she answered in a low voice—“Never more, Leopold!”So saying, she pressed my hand with ardour, as a sign of reconciliation. Still, there was a constraint about her manner which prevented my pressing her to my heart as I desired to do.“Sit down, Leopold,” she said; “now we are reconciled I have to ask your advice as my nearest relation and my most trusted friend.”At the same time she unfolded the packet which she had received from England.“Lord William is dead,” she went on; “will you read this letter addressed to me, together with a copy of his will?”I could scarcely control myself sufficiently to read the letter; but I obeyed mechanically. This letter contained a few words of serious advice, breathing nothing but words of paternal love; though I read between the lines that it had cost him a struggle after her confession to regain this kind of calm affection for her. He had left with Cupid’s arrow in his heart. The letter concluded with the most ardent wishes for her happiness; and he expressed a hope she would one day find a husband worthy of her, begging her to accept as a marriage portion the legacy he had left her by his will. Finally, he said, she must allow no considerations whatever, especially money considerations, to induce her to marry a man whom she did not love with all her heart.The family name with which this letter was signed is one of the most illustrious in the scientific as well as in the political world.There was also a second letter from the nephewand heir to Lord William’s title and immense fortune. He assured Francis of his intentions scrupulously to fulfil the last will of the deceased. Francis was to receive from the estates an annuity of three thousand pounds for the term of her natural life.“Ought I to accept it, Leopold?” she demanded.“My opinion is you cannot refuse it, Francis. Your greatest desire has always been to have an independence; and here it is offered you by the hand of a friend.”“You are right, Leopold; I shall follow your advice and accept it. Now I shall not be forced to marry any one; and if I should choose a husband, he cannot suspect me of having done so for the sake of his money. Shall I be rich enough to buy back the Werve?”“No, Francis; the Werve is in the possession of one who will not sell it for money. If you still desire to become Baroness de Werve, you must take another resolution.”“Leopold,” she said, rising, “you say that independence has always been my chief desire. It is possible; but now I understand that my greatest happiness is to be dependent on the man I love.Leo, Aunt Roselaer has left me an annuity which I decline to accept, as a matter of course; but her intentions towards me were kindly, and I will follow her advice. She has forbidden me to marry without your consent.”Then with an indefinable mixture of grace, confusion, and malice, she sank down on her knees before me, and said—“Leo, I wish to marry my Cousin van Zonshoven; have you any objections?”“Heaven forbid! I have no objections!”And with what rapture did I raise her, and clasp her to my breast, where she shed many tears, whilst my own eyes were not dry. We had loved so much, and suffered so much for each other.What can I tell you more, dear William? We walked out in the grounds, and again visited all the places which had become endeared to us by our former walks. We made all sorts of plans for the future. We wrote letters to Van Beek and the other men of the law, informing them in a grave tone that all the bills would be paid at maturity, or on presentation.The fact that Francis was in mourning for the General served us as a pretext for being married privately, and in as quiet a manner as possible, an arrangement in accordance with both our wishes. An old college friend of mine, vicar in a small town near the Werve, married us.Little Harry Blount is already confided to the care of the farmers Pauwelsens. His mother has perfectly recovered, and will one of these days, we trust, marry young Pauwelsen, a son of the farmer, who had already fixed his eyes on her before her engagement to Blount. This good news has removed an immense weight from Francis’s mind. We are going to make a long journey, and try to enjoy ourselves thoroughly; the trials we have both passed through have taught us to appreciate our present happiness.During our absence the Werve will be restored, and Rolf will be left in charge.To conclude, dear William, I have got Francis to enclose you a note in her own handwriting.Geneva, 1861.Leopold van Zonshoven.“That it is becoming in Leo to have sketched the doings of Major Frank in all their shades and peculiarities,even for a friend, I shall never allow; but I feel that in his delicate position it was necessary for him to ease his mind to some one, and that it was better he should do so to a friend across the seas. Therefore I have pardoned him. Now I will request you not to have his letters printed in any of your Indian papers! That would be too bad! Not that Francis van Zonshoven would attempt to defend such a person—oh no! It appears to me no such person ever existed. But there are family secrets in the letters, which I must seriously recommend to your discretion.“Don’t wait until your term of service in India expires, but get your leave of absence and visit us at the Werve. All the windows are now glazed, and there is room enough for Leo’s friend, though he came with a whole family.“Francis van Zonshoven.”
Our surprises were not yet at an end.
On my return to Zutphen I found Overberg waiting for me at my hotel. He had just received from England a packet addressed to Francis, which Fritz had refused to take charge of, as he did not know where to find her. I assured him that Miss Mordaunt had now returned to the Castle; and I offered my driver double fare if he would go at once to the Castle, and bring me back areçufrom Francis. I should then have proof positive of her return to the Werve. I was very anxious to find out what this packet could contain; and I was in despair as to any suitable means of satisfying my curiosity, when early next morning old Fritz arrived at the hotel with a note from his mistress. He had his orders not to deliver it into anybody’s hands but mine. I broke the seal with trembling fingers, and read as follows—
“Cousin Leopold—I must speak to you once more before you start on your travels; it is absolutely necessary. You once assured me you were always ready to oblige a woman who exercised the privileges of her sex. May I hope you will come to the Werve to have a last interview with me? Instead of writing I should have preferred to come to your hotel to see you; but I was afraid of scandalizing you by such a liberty. Please send word by Fritz the day and hour I may expect you.F. M.”
“Cousin Leopold—I must speak to you once more before you start on your travels; it is absolutely necessary. You once assured me you were always ready to oblige a woman who exercised the privileges of her sex. May I hope you will come to the Werve to have a last interview with me? Instead of writing I should have preferred to come to your hotel to see you; but I was afraid of scandalizing you by such a liberty. Please send word by Fritz the day and hour I may expect you.
F. M.”
I had but one answer to this note; it was to order out the hotel carriage, and drive back with Fritz. My hopes and fears as we drove along I will not attempt to describe; they are better left to your imagination; but everything seemed to turn round before my eyes as we passed over the old drawbridge, and drove up to the hall-door. Rolf was awaiting me at the entrance; and he led me into the drawingroom without a word, only expressing his delight by the manner in which he swung about his cap.
Francis was seated on the sofa which I remembered so well, her head cast down, paler than on the preceding day; but charmingly beautiful in hermourning-dress. She rose hastily, and advanced to greet me.
“Thank you, Leopold, for coming so soon. I knew you would come; I had confidence in your generosity.”
“And—am I then no longer contemptible in your eyes, Francis? You have received my packet, and read Aunt Sophia’s letter?”
“I have received all the documents, read all—more than was necessary to convince me I had done you an injustice, and ought to apologize to you. Now I am ready to confess it before all the world that I did you wrong; will you pardon me without reserve?”
“Need you ask me that, Francis? But you must never doubt me more, never more, Francis.”
After a moment’s silence she answered in a low voice—“Never more, Leopold!”
So saying, she pressed my hand with ardour, as a sign of reconciliation. Still, there was a constraint about her manner which prevented my pressing her to my heart as I desired to do.
“Sit down, Leopold,” she said; “now we are reconciled I have to ask your advice as my nearest relation and my most trusted friend.”
At the same time she unfolded the packet which she had received from England.
“Lord William is dead,” she went on; “will you read this letter addressed to me, together with a copy of his will?”
I could scarcely control myself sufficiently to read the letter; but I obeyed mechanically. This letter contained a few words of serious advice, breathing nothing but words of paternal love; though I read between the lines that it had cost him a struggle after her confession to regain this kind of calm affection for her. He had left with Cupid’s arrow in his heart. The letter concluded with the most ardent wishes for her happiness; and he expressed a hope she would one day find a husband worthy of her, begging her to accept as a marriage portion the legacy he had left her by his will. Finally, he said, she must allow no considerations whatever, especially money considerations, to induce her to marry a man whom she did not love with all her heart.
The family name with which this letter was signed is one of the most illustrious in the scientific as well as in the political world.
There was also a second letter from the nephewand heir to Lord William’s title and immense fortune. He assured Francis of his intentions scrupulously to fulfil the last will of the deceased. Francis was to receive from the estates an annuity of three thousand pounds for the term of her natural life.
“Ought I to accept it, Leopold?” she demanded.
“My opinion is you cannot refuse it, Francis. Your greatest desire has always been to have an independence; and here it is offered you by the hand of a friend.”
“You are right, Leopold; I shall follow your advice and accept it. Now I shall not be forced to marry any one; and if I should choose a husband, he cannot suspect me of having done so for the sake of his money. Shall I be rich enough to buy back the Werve?”
“No, Francis; the Werve is in the possession of one who will not sell it for money. If you still desire to become Baroness de Werve, you must take another resolution.”
“Leopold,” she said, rising, “you say that independence has always been my chief desire. It is possible; but now I understand that my greatest happiness is to be dependent on the man I love.Leo, Aunt Roselaer has left me an annuity which I decline to accept, as a matter of course; but her intentions towards me were kindly, and I will follow her advice. She has forbidden me to marry without your consent.”
Then with an indefinable mixture of grace, confusion, and malice, she sank down on her knees before me, and said—
“Leo, I wish to marry my Cousin van Zonshoven; have you any objections?”
“Heaven forbid! I have no objections!”
And with what rapture did I raise her, and clasp her to my breast, where she shed many tears, whilst my own eyes were not dry. We had loved so much, and suffered so much for each other.
What can I tell you more, dear William? We walked out in the grounds, and again visited all the places which had become endeared to us by our former walks. We made all sorts of plans for the future. We wrote letters to Van Beek and the other men of the law, informing them in a grave tone that all the bills would be paid at maturity, or on presentation.
The fact that Francis was in mourning for the General served us as a pretext for being married privately, and in as quiet a manner as possible, an arrangement in accordance with both our wishes. An old college friend of mine, vicar in a small town near the Werve, married us.
Little Harry Blount is already confided to the care of the farmers Pauwelsens. His mother has perfectly recovered, and will one of these days, we trust, marry young Pauwelsen, a son of the farmer, who had already fixed his eyes on her before her engagement to Blount. This good news has removed an immense weight from Francis’s mind. We are going to make a long journey, and try to enjoy ourselves thoroughly; the trials we have both passed through have taught us to appreciate our present happiness.
During our absence the Werve will be restored, and Rolf will be left in charge.
To conclude, dear William, I have got Francis to enclose you a note in her own handwriting.
Geneva, 1861.Leopold van Zonshoven.
“That it is becoming in Leo to have sketched the doings of Major Frank in all their shades and peculiarities,even for a friend, I shall never allow; but I feel that in his delicate position it was necessary for him to ease his mind to some one, and that it was better he should do so to a friend across the seas. Therefore I have pardoned him. Now I will request you not to have his letters printed in any of your Indian papers! That would be too bad! Not that Francis van Zonshoven would attempt to defend such a person—oh no! It appears to me no such person ever existed. But there are family secrets in the letters, which I must seriously recommend to your discretion.
“Don’t wait until your term of service in India expires, but get your leave of absence and visit us at the Werve. All the windows are now glazed, and there is room enough for Leo’s friend, though he came with a whole family.
“Francis van Zonshoven.”