As Arwed was striding back and forth in the most remote and darkly shaded avenue of the garden, buried in his own reflections, colonel Megret met him with a disturbed countenance. 'Time presses,' said he with eagerness; 'I must speak openly with you, major. That I love your cousin, you must long since have known--yet how fervently, you could not know. The delicate gallantry which we Frenchmen dedicate to the ladies, and the fear of affrighting or distressing her by the outbreaking of my passion, have thrown a veil over the fire which consumes me. I now confess to you that I could commit murder to possess her; I must win her hand or die.'
'Nevertheless, colonel, I do not understand,' answered Arwed with displeasure, 'why you confide all thisto me, nor why you confide itnow.'
'The new emergencies of the war call me back to the army,' said Megret. 'I set out even this very night. Meanwhile I wish to secure to myself here at least thestatum quo. You love me not, major; that I very well know, but at any rate you are not my rival; you are Christine's near relative and a man of honor. Whatever you may think of me, we must agree in this, that Mac Donalbain is not deserving of your cousin.'
'That I am very willing to allow,' answered Arwed. 'But, I hope, there can never be a question of such a connection. Had Christine really a weakness for that man, so noble and strong a mind as hers would be easily reclaimed from such an aberration.'
'You consider the matter too lightly,' said Megret with great earnestness. 'I myself hoped and doubted long, and left unemployed the means at my command for banishing that bad man. I was indeed thereto prompted by that miserable vanity which induces a man to wish to conquer by his own merits and to scorn the use of other weapons. But the real state of affairs is now placed in so clear a light that my eyes are pained by it. This Mac Donalbain is a monster, and Christine loves him. Forbearance would now be madness, as the honor and happiness of this house hang upon a hair.'
'And what would you do?' anxiously asked Arwed.
'That shall you directly hear,' answered Megret; 'for there, most opportunely, comes the Scot. His destiny leads him towards me. May I only gain sufficient composure to roast the villainà petit feu, as we call it. It would yet be some little satisfaction for the constant torments of jealousy for which I may thank him since I first sighed for the countess.'
'Megret turned away and proceeded some steps down the avenue, and on his return all traits of anger had disappeared from his face, and a cold, smooth smile was substituted. Meanwhile the Scot approached and courteously greeted them.
'You come just in time, sir Mac Donalbain,' said Megret in an apparently friendly manner, 'to enlighten me upon a matter of some interest. According to your name and your own assurance you are indeed a Scot, and can give us information from the best sources relative to the manners and customs of your dear fatherland.'
'Why not!' asked the Scot with a forced smile.
'Now will you please to inform me, worthy sir,' said Megret, familiarly approaching him, 'what, in your highlands, is the exact meaning of the term, 'children of the mist?'
Starting and shrinking at this question, Mac Donalbain answered only with a deadly glance.
'They also call them 'children of night,' added Megret in a quiet and seemingly friendly manner. 'The terms are said to apply to those poor people who, at variance with the civil authorities, shelter themselves in rocks and caves, occasionally making excursions into the lowlands, plundering and burning dwellings, driving off cattle, now and then perpetrating a murder, and getting hanged at last.'
'You speak of the robber clans of the highlands,' said Mac Donalbain, struggling to preserve his equanimity.
'C'est cela!' cried Megret, nodding waggishly; 'and I reckon upon your goodness for some details about them. It would be very interesting to me to compare your children of the mist with a somewhat similar class in this country. In Scotland, I am told, even the nobility do not consider it disreputable to march at the head of such expeditions against the flocks and herds of the lowlands. They make no secret of them, and hold the gallows to be as good a bed of honor as the battle field. Every country has its peculiar customs and code of morals. The leaders of our robber bands are far more delicate. They, at least blacken their faces, renouncing the glory due to their heroic deeds, and wash them clean again when they go into honest company.'
With these words Mac Donalbain's face became pale as death. His eyes rolled as if they would start from their sockets, and his teeth audibly chattered. At length he indistinctly stammered, 'I do not, indeed, understand your words; but your envenomed glances are the true interpreters of your meaning. They at least make it clear that you intend to insult me; and more is unnecessary to induce a noble Scot to demand instant satisfaction.'
'It is very flattering to me, noble sir,' answered Megret, 'to receive an invitation to the field of honor from you; but before I can accept it, you must satisfy me that I shall really preserve, and not lose my honor, by going out with you. My comrades in the army are somewhat nice in such matters, and certain occupations render a man forever unworthy a gentleman's sword.'
'Do you refuse to give me satisfaction?' fiercely asked Mac Donalbain, stepping toward Megret, with his hand, apparently grasping a weapon, in his bosom.
Meanwhile Megret had drawn a pistol from his pocket, cocked it, and presented its muzzle to Mac Donalbain. 'One step nearer, a suspicious movement even,' cried he, 'and this bullet pierces your heart. You know the accuracy of my aim.'
Mac Donalbain drew back, fixing his eyes upon his relentless enemy with a wild and vacant stare.
'We will quickly put an end to this unpleasant interview,' continued Megret, with frightful coolness. 'By all this you must perceive that I know you. Long since might I have denounced you to the civil authorities, and I have had more than one personal inducement to do so. Because I became troublesome to you, your myrmidons attempted my murder during the ride to Tornea, and, had it not been for the major's interference, would have succeeded. But magnanimity is the weakness of Frenchmen. You are pardoned, and I merely command you instantly to leave this castle, never to return. If I ever again behold you here, or within a circuit of fifty miles from this, the robber-captain shall be brought to justice and suffer the penalties of the laws.'
Unable to speak, and with a countenance such as satan might be supposed to have assumed directly after his fall into the abyss, Mac Donalbain rushed forth, and Megret proceeded in triumph to the castle.
'It is still problematical,' soliloquized Arwed, 'with which of the two Christine would be most miserable. I become more and more doubtful with regard to Megret. The Scot received but his deserts, although it is no honest man who assumes the duty of executioner,--for no one but a finished villain could have taken such pleasure in stretching his victim upon the rack.'
His uncle now hastily approached him from the castle, with an open letter in his hand, and a face expressive of delighted anticipation.
'Have you spoken with old Brodin?' he anxiously asked.
'I have,' answered Arwed; and the recollection of the loss of Georgina drew a deep sigh from his bosom.
'You are now wholly free, Arwed,' cried the uncle, with heartfelt love. 'May I hope that in a beloved nephew I may soon embrace a son-in-law?'
Arwed, perceiving whither this question must lead, foresaw the unpleasant scene which the contest between his uncle's will and Christine's passion would produce, and remained silent.
'Do not fear,' his uncle anxiously added, 'that your consent will be extorted. Read this letter. Your father desires this union, but he leaves your will free. Yet should I think, that as your beloved has loosed the chains which bound you, you certainly would make some effort to gratify an old man who loves you with his whole heart, and knows not better how to secure the happiness of his only child than by placing her hand in yours.'
'I gratefully acknowledge your paternal goodness,' answered Arwed, evasively. 'But I beg of you to leave me time for self-examination. My sorrow is yet new, and for Christine I may safely affirm that a union with me is very far from her thoughts. Besides, I need time to familiarize myself with my new position, and enable me to come to a decision.'
'I know my daughter,' cried the uncle. 'There was for a time something strange and adverse in her conduct which often perplexed me; but in the main her heart is good; and a thousand trifling things have convinced me that she likes you. Upon the word of a knight, she will not say nay!'
'Consider at least the circumstances of the times,' said Arwed. 'The moment when Sweden is bleeding under the swords of her enemies, when she is struggling for her very existence, is surely no time for tying love-knots. Besides, I am resolved to depart to-morrow morning for the army. Should I come back after the close of the war, it will then be time to speak of this affair.'
'Yougoing to the army!' exclaimed the uncle, with astonishment. 'Have you forgotten that you have been dismissed the service and banished from the capital?'
'I will serve as a volunteer,' cried Arwed with patriotic zeal, 'in one of the lowest grades--as a common soldier--if it must be so. If I may not live for Sweden, they cannot but permit me to die for her!'
'Die! and for this queen?' asked the uncle.
'What care I for the queen?' answered Arwed. 'I fight for my father-land, and to protect the tomb of that heroic king whose life I was not allowed by fate to defend.'
'Noble man!' cried the uncle. 'You shame me. The prospect of good fortune for my house caused me to forget the miseries of my country, while you are ready to shed your blood in the service of a government which has thwarted your dearest hopes. Well, act according to the dictates of your heart. Something must also be done to satisfy mine, before you leave us, and that even now, for here comes my daughter.'
'Alas!' sighed Arwed, as the pale and trembling maiden slowly approached them.
'My father, you have commanded my presence,' said she, with a failing voice.
'Arwed's beloved,' answered the governor, 'has married another. He leaves us in the morning, once more to meet the enemies of Sweden. You know my wishes, Christine. He must leave Gyllensten only as your affianced lover; the marriage can follow in more peaceable and happier times. So extend to him your hand and give him the troth-kiss.'
'Oh, my God!' stammered Christine, wringing her hands.
'Why this affectation?' asked her father with displeasure.
'You afflict your daughter,' said Arwed, and then turning to Christine, 'calm yourself, cousin! this storm has not been raised by me. Bound or free, I will never permit your heart to be constrained.'
'Nothing is more intolerable,' angrily interposed the governor, 'than a young knight's feigning a coldness towards the other sex which is foreign to his heart. However strong have been, or may now be, your feelings for Georgina, yet it has not escaped a father's eye that my daughter is not an object of indifference to you. The glances which you now and then cast upon her when you think yourself unobserved, the warm interest which you take in her conversation, even the reproofs you often give her, have but the more clearly proved the state of your feelings.'
Arwed cast his eyes bashfully down.
'And, not to mention many other indications,' continued the old man, addressing himself to Christine, 'what impelled you to mount your horse so quickly when Megret brought us the news of Arwed's danger? When a maiden breaks through all obstacles to fight for a young man, one may confidently swear she has an attachment for him.'
'Oh, my father!' cried Christine in the deepest affliction, hiding her face in his bosom.
'Then give him the hand which would have fought for him,' commanded the father, moving to lead his daughter to Arwed's arms. She tore herself from him. 'I cannot! by heaven, I cannot!' shrieked the despairing girl.
'You cannot?' asked the governor, angrily. 'And that you are in earnest, is confirmed by your looks. Now, then, my daughter, give your father a reason why you cannot obey his will, which was never swayed by warmer affection than at this moment. I may bear the contradiction if it be supported upon reasonable grounds, but I am not disposed to become the plaything of your caprice and obstinacy. Therefore answer, what have you against this union?'
Christine remained silently sobbing and wringing her hands.
'This silence answers me more clearly than you may wish,' said the governor with grave significancy. 'It is an acknowledgment that you are ashamed of the cause of your refusal, and clearly explains many things which have hitherto appeared dark to me. These tears confess your conviction that your foolish wishes can never be realized, and save me the trouble of proving it to you. I spare you the reproaches your conduct merits. Let the past be buried in oblivion. Render yourself worthy of this kindness by obedience. Give your hand to Arwed, my daughter.'
Christine gave Arwed an imploring look, but neither moved nor spoke.
The old man knit his eye-brows. His eyes flashed, and he angrily lifted up his hands. 'Shall I curse my disobedient child?' he thundered in her ears.
'Father!' groaned Christine, sinking to his feet.
'No further, my uncle!' cried Arwed, with generous anger. 'I should not deserve the name of a man if I could permit a noble maiden to be forced into my arms by a father's curse. The first severe word addressed to your daughter on my account, banishes me forever from Gyllensten. You have my word of honor for it!'
'Can you withstand such generosity, my daughter?' asked the governor, bending over Christine with mingled anger, love and anxiety.
'God is my witness,' cried the maiden, 'how willingly my heart would reconcile itself with your desire. Grant me a short respite for reflection. In the morning you shall know my determination.'
'Grant her the respite,' earnestly begged Arwed. 'Overhastening is a species of compulsion.'
The governor raised his daughter and looked sharply into her eyes. 'Does no artifice lie hidden in this request?' asked he with emphasis. 'Will you really explain yourself in the morning, openly and honestly, without equivocation, as becomes a noble Swedish maiden and my daughter?'
'By the holy evangelists!' cried Christine, almost out of her senses, 'in the morning you shall learn my determination, and with God be the result.'
'Respite the poor maiden for to-night,' entreated Arwed. 'The struggles of her soul have agitated her too violently, and your words were too sharp and heavy. Should your daughter's health give way under her sufferings, you would repent it too late.'
'Go, then, Christine,' said the governor, 'and bring me in the morning such a decision as I may be able to receive.'
Christine kissed his hand in silence, and then leaned, weeping, against a tree.
'Yes! children are the gift of heaven!' said the old man to Arwed, 'and the joys they bring us are the best in life. But when they are given in anger, they become the most terrible scourges in his hands, through the sorrows they cause.'
He walked slowly towards the castle, and Christine suddenly approached Arwed, threw her arms passionately around him, impressed a burning kiss upon his lips, and sobbed, 'farewell, Arwed,--do not despise me! Oh that we had sooner met!'
She hastened away, and Arwed found himself alone.
The morning had dawned. The governor, with Arwed, had accompanied Megret down to the courtyard, where his horses stood ready saddled for the journey, and the traveler held out his hand to the governor to say farewell.
'Allow me to give you a well meant warning at parting,' said the colonel, dejectedly. 'Suffer not this Scot to remain longer at the castle,--he is not worthy of breathing the same air with you. If you would know more of him, ask your nephew. He witnessed a conversation which I held yesterday with that man. My duty calls me to the tumult of war. Should I ever return, I shall have a request to prefer to your heart, and shall rely upon the friendship of which you have hitherto deemed me worthy, for its favorable reception. Commend the remembrance of a man who adores her to your charming daughter. Say to her: notwithstanding the cruelty with which she has refused me a last farewell, her image will accompany me to the field of danger and incite me to victory or bless me in death!'
He overlooked the doubting shake of the head which preceded the answer the governor was about to make, threw himself upon his horse and rode rapidly out of the castle gate.
'The evening of my life will be clouded,' said the governor to Arwed; 'and already I seem to see the lightning flash which is to destroy my last earthly happiness. God's will be done! Is Mac Donalbain yet in the castle?' he asked of his steward, who approached at that moment.
'When he came out of the garden yesterday evening,' answered the steward, 'he merely took his gun and sporting pouch from the dining room, spoke a few words to the countess, and then rushed like a madman down the mountain. Since then I have seen no more of him. Something very disagreeable must have happened to him, for no one could look upon his face without terror.'
'You must relate to me the conversation which Megret had with Mac Donalbain,' said the governor; and then turning to the steward he asked him, 'is my daughter yet awake?'
'All is yet still in the chamber of the countess,' answered the latter.
'Let her be awakened,' commanded the governor. 'The breakfast waits for her.'
The steward departed, and the governor returned with Arwed to the lower hall. There, for a long time, they walked up and down the room together. Arwed dreaded lifting the veil under which the trouble was concealed, and his uncle, who remarked his reluctance, had not courage to repeat his request. Meanwhile the breakfast was brought in. The governor silently filled the goblets, looked occasionally toward the door, sighed, seized the cup mechanically and raised it to his lips, and then set it down again without drinking.
'Am I not like a child who is trembling with fear in anticipation of a ghost story?' he at length said, with a forced jest. 'Courage! narrate it Arwed.'
Arwed was about to obey, when an anxious movement was heard without, and, pale as death, the steward re-entered with a billet in his hand.
'The countess is nowhere to be found,' stammered he. 'Her bed has not been disturbed. She was in the garden late last evening, and sent her chambermaid to bed.'
'What is that?' cried the governor rushing upon the steward. 'What holdest thou there?'
'A billet for your excellency,' answered the latter, 'I found it in the chamber of the countess.'
The governor seized, opened, and read it. As the oak of a thousand years yields to the force of its own weight when the axe has severed its roots, wavers, and finally rushes crackling to the ground; so wavered and fell that noble old man, whose mental agony was happily relieved by a suspension of consciousness.
Whilst the steward and hastening servants were endeavoring to recall him to life, Arwed raised the paper which had fallen from his trembling hand, and read as follows:
'Alike unworthy to call myself Arwed's wife and your daughter, I have not courage to meet your just anger. I therefore follow the man whose wife I already am in the sight of God. By the memory of my noble mother I conjure you curse me not. May you pardon me in another world!'
'Unhappy parent!' sighed Arwed with deep emotion.
Meantime the strong old man, who had partially recovered, raised himself up in his chair, and his first glance fell upon Arwed.
'You have read?' he asked, and as Arwed answered in the affirmative, he stretched out his hand to receive the billet, which Arwed with some hesitation handed to him. Having motioned to his people to withdraw, he again read it through.
'No, I will not curse thee, unhappy girl!' said he coldly, and tearing the note. 'An ungrateful child bears already the curse of heaven in her heart, and where love is dead the flames of anger find no nourishment. You hope I shall pardon you in another world! It is possible I may, if in that world earthly conceptions of honor disappear, and a woman without virtue is no longer a disgrace to her sex.'
'Will you not make an attempt,' asked Arwed, 'to tear the poor victim from her seducer? Let us seek her! Your arm reaches further than she can have flown in the course of the night.'
'Why should I?' said the governor, with listless anger. 'Should I bring her back, I should be compelled to take the life of the villain, whose wife she already is in the sight of God, and she would have nothing left on earth. Let them go!'
A deep and awful silence followed. The clattering steps of Arwed's horses, which Knut was leading out, awoke the uncle from his stupefaction.
'Your horses are ready,' said he, rising up. 'Go, and God be with you!'
'It is hard for me to leave you in this state of mind,' said Arwed.
'Your country calls you,' answered the governor, 'and I may venture to call myself a man. I have given proof of it. I have experienced the worst that can befall me, and sorrow has not killed me.'
'My noble, my unhappy uncle!' cried Arwed, sinking upon the old man's bosom.
'Fight bravely, Arwed,' said the uncle, 'but risk not your life with foolhardiness. You are my only heir. I know your disposition, that you disregard wealth, but the fact will serve to remind you that here lives an unhappy father of whom you are the last earthly prop.'
'God send you peace!' cried Arwed, overpowered by sorrow, and rushing forth, he soon, with his faithful servant, found himself upon the high road.
Late in the autumn of the same year the governor was again sitting in the hall of his forefathers, whose statues remained, hung with mourning crape. Before him stood a chess board, and, having no companion, he was amusing himself by playing the games contained in a book which he held in his hand. The unhappy man had altered much. Each successive week had left the wrinkles of a year upon his face, and it was a sad sight to see how he exerted himself to dispel painful recollections by a forced attention to the intricate course of the game.
At that moment the footsteps of horses were heard in the court, and before he could hasten to the window, Arwed entered the hall and rushed into his arms.
'Welcome, my son!' cried the uncle, perusing his features with intense interest; 'though I am sorry to see the expression of dark despondency which hangs upon your face. The warrior who has done his duty, must return home from the strife with joy.'
'That depends upon the nature and result of the strife, my good uncle. But my whole life has been nothing but a long chain of frustrated wishes and abortive plans. The myrtle-wreath was torn from my brow, the laurel withers even while I grasp it, and I have failed to obtain the cypress crown.'
'Is the war over?' asked the uncle.
'For the present, yes,' answered Arwed, 'until it may please our enemies to recommence it--for there is no talk of peace either with the Danes or Russians.'
'Not with the nearest and most powerful of our enemies?' indignantly cried the governor. 'Woman's rule is everywhere the same--too weak for resistance, too wilful for reconciliation. Poor Sweden!'
'Rhenskioeld,' said Arwed, 'was already in full retreat before the Danes, when I joined him. I went also to the army which covered Stockholm; but when I arrived the Russians were drawing off their forces. Desolation and pillage was the object of their landing, and most fully and fearfully was it accomplished. We indeed followed the retiring enemy and had some trifling contests with the rear guard, but when the English fleet under Norris approached our coasts, the barbarians quickly embarked and left the country with immense booty.'
'To have had the desire and to have made an effort to save your country, is deserving of honor!' cried the uncle, extending his hand. 'Therefore once again welcome, my young hero.'
Arwed gave him his left hand, and the awkwardness with which he did it, drew the attention of his uncle to the fact.
'Why do you withhold from me the hand which has wielded the sword in defence of Sweden?' he asked with surprise.
'The impossibility of using it must be my excuse,' answered Arwed with a sorrowful glance towards his right arm, which was concealed under his coat.
'What is this?' cried the governor aghast. 'Are you wounded in the arm?'
'A Russian canister-shot shattered my hand in the last engagement,' answered Arwed, 'and I was compelled to have it taken off at the wrist.'
'My poor son!' exclaimed the sympathizing uncle. 'That is a great misfortune. The laurels of victory are some compensation for wounds received in battle; but to be crippled in a miserable unimportant skirmish, is the most dreadful thing imaginable.'
'It is indeed, uncle!' cried Arwed; 'and I can now say with the king of France at Pavia, that I have lost every thing but honor!'
'You are right,' replied the old man with a tremulous voice, his thoughts recurring to his fugitive daughter. 'Happy they who can say as much!' and with a deep sigh his white head sank upon his laboring bosom.
New footsteps in the court yard interrupted the sad pause, and immediately afterwards Megret entered the hall, with a face yet more gloomy than Arwed's.
'I have returned once more,' said he, in a singular tone, as he greeted the uncle and nephew.
'I am glad to see you, colonel,' answered the governor. 'Gyllensten has become very lonesome and desolate, and I am glad you have once more obtained a furlough in these warlike times.'
'The queen's grace has given me leave of absence forever,' answered Megret with bitterness. 'I am dismissed the service.'
'Dismissed the service!' repeated the governor. 'It must be as major general then. I congratulate you.'
'I cannot accept your congratulations,' said Megret.
'I have received my dismission unwished for, without advancement, and without pension.'
'You jest!' cried the governor; 'how could it be possible?'
'I know no other reason,' answered Megret, 'than the obligations under which I have laid the queen and her husband. Great obligations! It has cost me much to serve them, very much! perhaps too much! The queen might possibly have despaired of being able suitably to reward me, and has therefore chosen the most convenient way in which the great of the earth reward past services. She repays with ingratitude!'
'These are strange observations, colonel,' said Arwed distrustfully, 'and you would do us a favor by giving a commentary upon the mysterious text.'
'Let us speak of something more agreeable,' said Megret, drawing his hand over his forehead, as though he would have wiped something from it. 'How does the charming countess?'
The governor trembled with agitation, and looked beseechingly at Arwed, as if he would have called him to his aid.
Just as Arwed was about to answer for him the servant entered to announce a Laplander from the parish of Lyksale, who had a secret and important communication to make to the governor.
'Conduct him to my cabinet!' commanded the latter, rising from his seat, and glad of the interruption.
'You have not yet answered my question,' said Megret; but the governor merely pointed to Arwed as he went out.
'Am I directed to you for my answer?' he asked Arwed with anxious interest. 'This evasion of my simple question surprises me, and would seem to indicate some misfortune. I hope no mischance has befallen Christine?'
'She left the castle on the night of your departure,' answered Arwed.
'She must have fled, then, with the miserable Mac Donalbain!' cried the enraged Megret.
'Probably,' answered Arwed. 'She did not indeed name her seducer in her farewell note to her father, but all appearances point to him as the guilty one.'
'And has no attempt been made to bring her back and punish the miscreant for his villany?' asked Megret.
'The father has renounced his daughter forever,' answered Arwed, 'and I must beseech you never more to mention her in his presence. It overpowers the unhappy man to be reminded of her.'
'This is a consequence of my fatal delay!' cried Megret wildly, and beating his forehead. 'There is now nothing, nothing more in this world which can give me joy. My honor wounded by unworthy treatment, my love scorned and betrayed, what now remains for me?'
'A consciousness of rectitude, colonel,' said Arwed earnestly. 'It is a firm rock of safety amid the storms of life.'
'Consciousness of rectitude!' cried Megret with frightful vehemence, and then drawing a deep sigh, he hastened from the apartment.
'Some horrid secret lies in this man's breast, like a sleeping tiger in his lair,' said Arwed. 'Wo to me, if I should be called to draw it forth.'
Arwed had just risen the next morning, when the old steward came to him with a troubled countenance. 'By your permission,' asked he with great deference, 'did my lord inform you when he should return?'
'Is my uncle absent?' asked Arwed with astonishment. 'I knew nothing of it. When he declined coming to the table, last evening, I supposed it was merely because he wished to be alone.'
'After the private audience which he granted the Laplander last evening,' proceeded the steward, 'he ordered a horse to be given him, and had his favorite brown saddled for himself with great privacy. The Laplander was to go before him and show him the way. He charged me strictly to keep his absence secret from every one. But as the night has passed and he is not yet returned, my anxiety got the better of me, and I felt compelled to inform you of the circumstance, even at the risk of his displeasure. You will know better than I what is necessary to be done in the case.'
'What direction did my uncle take?' eagerly asked Arwed, putting on his hunting coat.
'Along the right bank of the river,' answered the steward, 'upon the road which leads by Umea. Some Laplanders who were fishing in the river state that they saw both of the riders as they passed the ford of the Lais Elf, and then struck off to the right into the pine forest on the borders of our Lappmark.'
'And you really have no conjecture as to the object of this journey?' Arwed further asked.
'Conjecture, indeed!' answered the steward. 'I suspect that our lord's object was to obtain information of the robber band, who are again spreading confusion and dismay through the border forests. Who knows but he is on the look-out for Black Naddock himself?'
'Impossible!' cried Arwed with alarm. 'That is no business for his years. It is too dangerous.'
'Ah, dear major,' said the steward, sorrowfully, 'since the countess Christine has left us, our poor lord no longer cares any thing about his life, and perhaps a bullet from one of the brigands' rifles would be right welcome to him.'
'May God and our true service preserve the noble man from such an end!' cried Arwed, taking his gun, hunting-knife and shooting-bag. 'I will go and reconnoitre. If it be God's will, I shall return in the morning with some definite intelligence. Until then, let every one keep perfect silence. If my uncle has fallen into wicked hands, every thing will depend upon taking the villains by surprise. Should I not come back by the time I mentioned, you will then inform the sheriff of what has occurred, that he may save or avenge his worthy chief.'
'God bless your undertaking, noble count!' cried the steward, kissing Arwed's hand, as he hastened from the castle.
Arwed had waded through the Lais Elf about a thousand yards from where it falls into the Umea, and turning into the pine forest to the right from the road, he proceeded onward upon a winding path. All was silent and dreary around him, with the exception of the rustling of the cold autumn breeze in the tops of the tall pines, and this dismal stillness added yet more to the feeling of desolation in his soul. 'No trace of animals or men!' said he to himself. 'No sign or token which tells me I am upon the right track! Is this silence of nature an omen that this well intended undertaking, like all its elder brothers, will die in its birth?'
During this soliloquy he had arrived at a larger opening in the midst of the forest, and now the dull tinkling of a small bell and the unharmonious singing of many voices, struck upon his ear. 'That must be a horde of reindeer Laplanders!' he joyfully exclaimed. 'They come opportunely.' The nomades soon broke forth from the thickest part of the wood. More than a hundred tawny-brown reindeer, headed by the leading buck, with his far-sounding bell, discovered themselves. The kind and useful animals followed quietly, with their mane-like beards and strangely formed horns, with outstretched necks, staring out of their honest looking eyes upon their leader; and if a young one occasionally attempted to stray from the line of march, the well taught hounds would immediately overhaul and return him to the ranks. The owner closed the procession, with his wives, his daughters and sons, children-in-law and grand-children, serving men and maidens, all riding upon reindeer, and howling an ill-sounding Laplandish song. The train spread itself out upon the meadow and made a halt, the burthened reindeer were unladen, and some cone-shaped huts, composed of limbs of trees and covered with mats and skins, soon arose over the green earth, which afforded immediate refreshment to the flocks.
The preparation for their meal was immediately begun in these huts, from the tops of which the curling smoke cheerfully floated up into the clear heavens.
Arwed approached the patriarch of this numerous family, who had seated himself upon the grass near his favorite animal, and had just received from his women a wooden goblet full of reindeer's milk.
'Greetings to you, good Samolazes,' said Arwed in a friendly manner. 'Where from?'
'We have come down from Dofrefield,' answered the Laplander, 'seeking better pasturage for our animals.'
'Has any thing unusual occurred during your journey?' Arwed asked in continuation, by way of approaching the particular object of his inquiries.
The old Laplander tossed his head, examined the youth mistrustfully with his dull red eyes, and coldly and gruffly answered, 'nothing has happened to us.'
'They say the roads are not entirely safe,' continued Arwed; 'that Black Naddock has again suffered himself to be seen in these regions.'
'I know nothing of the man,' anxiously protested the Laplander; 'in my whole life I never before heard of him.'
'That is a lie!' said Arwed angrily. 'How is it possible that you should be so ignorant about the scourge of this whole country? You distrust me very unjustly. I ask with good intentions. It is of the utmost consequence that I should discover the lurking hole in which this band of dangerous villains conceal themselves, that they may be annihilated by one bold stroke. Upon this, perhaps, depends the rescue of a very noble man from the clutches of the monsters.'
'The arts of men are as multiform as the clouds which ride upon the winds,' answered the Laplander, with a shake of the head. 'It is very possible that you yourself belong to the gang, and only wish to spy out how much I have learned of their proceedings, and how I am disposed towards them. It is not well however to speak of the fiery-eyed wolf. My herd is dear to me, and therefore I am the most ignorant man on earth of all that upon which you would question me.'
'For shame, Juckas Jervis!' now cried the Laplander's elderly better half, who had hitherto listened in silence, but with evident interest, to the conversation. 'How can you be so suspicious and disingenuous? This Swede is surely an honest man, who is well disposed towards us all. Only look at his handsome and honest face. What he asks is for our common good, and we should honestly answer him according to our best ability. The tribute we have been compelled to pay the thieves for the safety of our herds, has long troubled me.'
'On your own responsibility!' grumbled the old man, drawing Arwed mysteriously aside. 'You will find the robbers' camp,' he whispered to him, 'by turning to the left and then proceeding straight forward to the foot of the mountains. You will then turn to the right into a ravine, and again to the left, following the banks of a glacier rivulet until you discover what you seek. You will know the place by the swarms of carrion birds who scent their future prey there, and consequently never leave the rocks.'
'Your description may appear very plain to you, friend Jervis,' said Arwed, 'but it is nevertheless hardly intelligible to me. Grant me a guide to the place. I will richly reward him.'
'Jackmock!' cried the Laplander's wife, and a short, thick, nine-pin looking fellow sprang forward, whom Jervis directed to guide the Swedish gentleman to the Ravensten in the mountains.
'Certainly!' answered the fellow. 'If not entirely there, yet so near that he can see it at a distance.' Whereupon he hastened to get his staff and traveling bag, and soon again stood before Arwed, ready for the march.
'I am already under great obligations to you,' said Arwed to the woman. 'Yet--yet one more question I wish to ask in the strictest confidence. You come from where I wish to go. Perhaps you have accidentally learned something of a fine, tall old gentleman who, since yesterday, may have fallen into wicked hands?'
'You wish to know much, and require us to do dangerous things!' grumbled the patriarch.
'You have already told me so much,' urged Arwed, 'why not unreservedly tell me all? By my God, I will not abuse your confidence.'
'Who can deny you any thing?' whispered the woman, laughing. 'According to the information we received yesterday about sunset, you will indeed find him whom you seek upon the Ravensten; but whether living or dead, I cannot undertake to say.'
Arwed turned to go.
'Take care of yourself,' said the good woman in bidding him God speed. 'Naddock shows no mercy to an enemy. If you fall into his hands as an opponent, you are lost.'
'We are all in the hands of God,' answered Arwed with confidence; and, shaking hands with Jervis, he followed his guide into the forest.
They had been traveling silently for some hours, when the forest opened, and an arm of the mountain which divides the Umea Lappmark lay before them, in all its awful magnificence. Naked rocks and icebergs stretched up into the clouds, and the pale green vallies interspersed between the masses of stone, ice and snow, appeared as if nature was here already preparing for her long winter's repose.
At the moment when the wanderers had arrived at the foot of the first ascent, Arwed's guide, giving a shriek of terror, and pointing with a trembling hand towards a black fir-tree in the road, turned and fled so suddenly into the forest, that Arwed was soon obliged to give up all thoughts of calling him back. Surprised, he now looked toward the fir-tree which had caused the Laplander's panic. The view was sufficiently horrible. The bloody head of a Laplander was affixed to one of the under branches of the tree. Near it was suspended a tablet, upon which in large letters was inscribed--'Punishment of treachery to Naddock and his brethren.'
'Shameless insolence!' exclaimed Arwed, with indignation at the impudence of the robber, who, to screen his own crimes, had here executed a lawless penal judgment with Turkish barbarity. Approaching the tree, he long and sorrowfully examined the mute, pale, yellow face. 'Poor victim,' he exclaimed, 'how mournfully thou lookest down upon me, as if thou wouldst warn me from the path which probably led thee to death. It would indeed be hard for me so to end my life. Yet my second father must be saved, and it is unbecoming a man to turn back from an enterprise which he has once commenced. No, fearlessly and cheerfully will I go on, and if my undertaking succeed, thy death also shall find an avenger!'
A clattering, as if from the approach of many people, interrupted the earnest monologue. Arwed slipped among the bushes beside the way, and about ten men, of wild and ferocious aspect, armed with knives, iron-mounted cudgels, and some of them with muskets, came down from the mountain and passed directly by him, gabbling among themselves in their unintelligible gibberish, without being aware of his near proximity.
They had no sooner showed him their backs, than he hastily arose and proceeded up the mountain with rapid strides.
With toilsome efforts Arwed succeeded in following the Laplander's directions. At length he found the glacier brook, and at the same time the end of his journey. A huge mass of bare, dark-gray rocks, surrounded by ice-mountains, towered up into the clouds in terrible majesty. Upon their summit lay the ruins of an ancient castle, of which only a couple of towers with their connecting wall were standing, and above them swarmed innumerable multitudes of rooks and daws, some of which sat in thick rows upon the battlements, while others fluttered in flocks about them in wild commotion. Their harsh croakings resounded amid the deep stillness of the place, boding misfortune. 'Truly, not alone in the battlefield is the courage of man called into exercise!' said he to himself, while seeking the way which led up to the ruins. At length he had found a foot-path, when a rough voice cried out to him, 'Halt!' He looked up, and upon a high rock hardly ten steps before him stood a brigand, whose rifle was aimed at his head.
'What may be the matter?' cried Arwed, roughly, taking his gun from his shoulder.
'Lay aside your arms, or I will shoot you down!' commanded the robber.
'That is not my custom,' answered Arwed. 'Shoot, rascal! But be sure to hit, or you are lost.'
And presenting his gun with his left hand, as he would have presented a pistol, he rushed towards his adversary. The latter, daunted by his boldness, fired and missed; and instantly afterwards, with Arwed's bullet in his head, he fell upon the rock, whence, yet struggling with death, he tumbled down a neighboring and unfathomable abyss. Frightened by the firing, the whole flock of funereal birds arose croaking from the summit, with the rustling of a thousand wings, and fluttered like a dark rushing cloud in the air, for some minutes obscuring the light of the sun.
'Those villanous birds will alarm the garrison and bring the whole gang in an uproar upon me,' thought Arwed, as he reloaded his gun. 'I would willingly have ascended further, but now I must not venture it. Every thing depends upon my safely reaching Gyllensten with the knowledge I have acquired. I have obtained the necessary information concerning the enemy's position. It has indeed cost one man's life, but he is no great loss to the world.'
He hastened homeward. Soon the dangerous mountain lay far behind him; and, just as the stars began to twinkle in the firmament, he reached Gyllensten in safety.