Decorated HeadingSTAGE I.Decorated First LetterCHAPTER I.EMS.Decorated First LetterItwas half-past nine in the evening. The concert in the great Saal of theKurhausat Ems was just over, and the audience streamed out, with a clatter of conversation, and a sudden restoration of animation, into the fresher and yet deliciously warm air of the gardens. It was the end of July, the height of the season at Ems; and that small, enervating, fashionable watering-place was thronged with visitors of every age, nation, and rank, from the royal and imperial, as represented in thepersons of Germany and Russia, down to the English family of Robinson, who had never felt so genteel before, or been in (whether of or not) such aristocratic company in their lives, and the German family of Braun, who were wealthy, and who revelled luxuriously each day at a differenttable d’hôteof a different hotel, and who sat in a row in theKurgarten, morning and afternoon, listening devotedly to the music, and occasionally murmuring ‘Schön!’ if it pleased them. Or, oh joy! standing in rapt respect and attention, as an old white-headed, white-moustached man in a grey summer-suit came walking along, very erect, one hand behind his back, in friendly converse with, now one, now another, bare-headed gentleman who kept just a pace behind him.‘There’s the emperor!dearold thing!’ whisper all the Miss Robinsons, standing up too, as the grey old gentleman comes past.‘Unser Kaiser!’ murmur the Brauns with beaming smiles of satisfaction, and gazing at him with broad-faced loyalty.This ‘watching for the emperors,’ and the thrills of emotion which ran through every loyal heart when they were visible, was the chief pastime of the day; and if one failed to see the emperors, there were always those who had lived near them—princesses, countesses, baronesses, and their consorts; highnesses of every degree of transparency and serenity, half thevonsin the Almanach de Gotha; together with unpronounceable Russians, fascinating Poles, well-known diplomatists, representing both thesuaviter in modoand thefortiter in re—to wit, the ‘blood and iron’ policies of their respective courts. All these were there, besides the shoals of nobodies who bought up theKurlistenin order to read their own names in close proximity to those of somebodies, and who, it is to be hoped, felt rewarded by these and similar privileges for the crowding and pushing and swindling to which they were in other matters subjected.On the night in question the concert-room had been thronged, for the two emperors andtheir suites had condescended to look in for a few moments, and the orchestra had performed the Russian national hymn with great spirit and much applause. The distinguished guests were felt to be still lingering somewhere about the gardens; and moreover the river was illuminated, and was dazzling with lines of fairy lights, from the bridge opposite the Darmstädter Hof to the other bridge at the extreme end of theKurgarten—and of civilisation, of course, in Ems—and beyond the house called theVier Thürme, at which the Russian monarch was lodging.Two barges, brightly illuminated with the imperial crowns and lovingly-entwined initials of Russia and Germany, were floating about the river, while ‘the music’ on board alternately playedDie Wacht am Rheinand the Russian national anthem—a spectacle most thrilling and edifying for all loyal souls; if somewhat less enchanting to the musicians and boatmen who perspired in the glare and smell and heat of the lamps, and industriously paddled up and down the little Lahn,below the walls of the broad walk of theKurgarten.Down that broad walk, from the concert-room, came a crowd of the notabilities and otherwise, who had composed the audience; all chattering, laughing, flirting, and intriguing in almost every European tongue.About the middle of the throng came a group of some four or five ladies and gentlemen, and walking a little in advance of the others with one of the men beside her, a tall girl whose accent was English, though she spoke German. Some dark thick trees overhung that part of the walk, making it dark on the side next the river wall; but the lamps cast a bright light upon the girl’s face, and showed its every feature and the play of its expression clearly and distinctly to one who sat on a bench in one of the little recesses in the wall which almost overhung the river; and who from this position had for some time been indifferently watching the brilliant throng as they trooped past.As the girl came on, now looking straightbefore her, now turning her head to speak to the man, who from the thickness of the crowd was compelled to go just half a pace behind her, the hidden watcher observed her closely and intently. She was tall, well-formed, and well-developed. There was much grace and a great deal of pride in her carriage; her head was habitually carried high, as might easily be seen; her face was very handsome indeed, even splendid, with a brow like Chaucer’s nun:‘And sickerly she had a fayre forehead,It was almoste a spanne brode, I trow,For hardily she was not undergrowe.’A large, well-cut mouth, in the sweep of whose lips there was both thought and grandeur; bright, glossy, chestnut hair, rich in hue and crisply waving; fine dark-grey eyes, with level brows, the eyes deep-set and critical in expression; her whole aspect was dignified, and yet there was assuredly a gleam of humour in her eyes, as she stepped composedly on, in her light, softly falling dress and broad plumed black hat.‘Tell me, Herr von Lemde—you have made a study of the nobility, I know——’‘It is true,mein Fräulein. What ought a man to study, if not his own order?’‘And thatsuchan order! Indeed, you are right. I want to know who that lovely woman near us was, in a dress like a cloud of creamy muslin and lace. I thought she must be a Pole, from her gracefulness and from the spirited way in which she spoke.’‘You were right,’ he said earnestly. ‘It was the Princess ——.’‘Thank you very much. I feel happier now. Suppose it had turned out to be some Mrs. Smith, or Frau Müller!’‘I fear,mein Fräulein, that you are a little tinged with——’‘But,liebeSara,’ cried a lady behind, ‘it is getting late, and we have such a long drive.’‘Oh, Carla, don’t go yet!’ expostulated, not Sara, but a German girl, dark, handsome, and defiant-looking. ‘It is so fine; and we have not seen the emperor, and, after all, it is not so late.’‘Oh, it is quite early!’ said an English girl who was of the party.She addressed as Sara at this moment turned, and the whole group paused, a few paces from the place where the silent watcher sat. He had turned aside as soon as Sara had passed, and was now gazing intently down into the mysterious eddies of the river, his chin propped on his hand.‘Just as you like, Gräfin,’ said Sara Ford, smiling; ‘it is very nice here, and Herr von Lemde’s society makes dullness out of the question.’Evidently Miss Ford, dignified though she looked, was not above amusing herself at the expense of a rather stupid young man.Baron Lemde smiled all over his handsome, meaningless face, and dropped a little into the rear, embracing Miss Ford’s shawl with effusion, while she stood, still the centre of the group, and the Countess of Trockenau paused, looking thoughtful.‘It is too bad of you, Miss Ford,’ said the other English girl in her ear. ‘How can youmake fun of poor Lemde and make others laugh at him in that way?’Sara smiled a bright, frank, disdainful smile, and the Countess of Trockenau said:‘Well, shall we be going?’‘Oh—h—h!’ sighed the younger English girl, with an accent of disappointment.‘Mein Fräulein,’ began Lemde, bending towards Sara, who neither heard nor saw him; or if she did, did not notice him.He saw that her eyes were fixed upon some one who approached them; her lips were gravely set, yet in their sweet and gracious curve there was an expression which, though it was not for him, made the simple young baron’s heart beat faster. His glance followed hers. The silent watcher had arisen from his hiding-place, and was advancing towards them. He met Sara Ford’s eyes, and took off his hat. In another moment they were shaking hands, and though she was self-possessed, and almost distant in her manner, poor Hans von Lemde’s heart fell.‘Good-evening, Miss Ford.’‘Good-evening, Mr. Wellfield. I did not see you at the concert. Were you not there?’‘No; I have been sitting here by the river instead. I hope you are well?’‘Quite well, I thank you. And your——’The countess had seen and accosted him, and he turned towards her.‘You stay late to-night,gnädige Frau,’ said he, kissing her hand with sedate gravity.‘Mr. Wellfield! ah, that reminds me—yourHerr Vater, how is he—any better? I sent one of my men to inquire while we were in the concert, but have not seen him yet.’She was a very pretty woman of eight or nine and twenty—a small, brilliant brunette; and Jerome Wellfield was dark too, yet the contrast between them was a startling one.‘I thank you,’ he answered; ‘my father is somewhat stronger to-night. I trust he will soon be quite well again.’‘I hope so; and your sister, she is not with you to-night?’‘Avice—she did not wish to leave my father; and then, she is a child as yet.’‘Is she? I should have said—What is it?’‘See,liebeTrockenau, his majesty is coming,’ said a German lady of the party, and with a quick movement the group was divided.The German ladies, being both of rank, andgeborenenof distinguished families, and Hans Lemde, stood stock-still by the roadside, waiting until the emperor should pass, to make their reverences and receive a recognition; while the English girls, Jerome Wellfield, and a German man who was not avon, strolled off down a side-walk. Sara Ford and Jerome Wellfield insensibly, but as if by general consent, dropped a little behind. The underlying sparkle of malice and mockery had died out of the young lady’s eyes, as she turned to her companion, saying:‘I am glad your father is better, Mr. Wellfield, for I had heard that he was very ill.’‘You are very kind. He really does seembetter to-night, and I am in hopes that the attack will pass over, as all the others have done, though it has certainly been a severer one than usual.’‘You look as if you had been watching and sitting up—have you?’‘Oh, a mere trifle. My father gets nervous, and, as you may easily imagine, a large hotel is not the most comfortable place in which to be taken ill.’‘No, indeed.’‘Avice insisted on my coming out to-night. And you, Miss Ford, are you enjoying yourself at Count Trockenau’s?’‘Very much. The change from the hot, dusty town, and from my paint-smelling atelier is really delightful. Everything up at Trockenau is so fresh, and the society is very amusing—yes, really exceedingly amusing.’Sara laughed as she spoke—a pleasant, round, though not loud laugh.‘Herr von Lemde’s society makes dulness out of the question,’ said Wellfield, composedly.Miss Ford reddened a little.‘Oh, did you hear all that? Well, who could be dull with Herr von Lemde? So long as I know that I may quit his society whenever I choose, he is delightfully amusing; and if I knew that I had to endure his society whether I liked it or not, I should at once become desperate, and capable of any crime, I think, so that in any case dulness is out of the question.’Wellfield laughed.‘How long are you staying?’ he asked.‘Another week, I think, at least. The countess is very kind, and will not hear of my leaving sooner. You, I suppose, will remain with your father?’‘I shall remain with my father at present,’ he answered.There was a pause as they paced along the side-walk, somewhat removed from the glare of the lamps, and felt, each with a different degree of intensity, that they were alone. The other girls and their companions had fallen behind, and the countessand the others had not yet come up, glorified and hallowed by their interview with their Imperial Master.Sara Ford, beautiful, talented, and charming, was an artist, almost alone in the world, fatherless, motherless, and with very little money, but with great talent and high ambition. She was spending her holiday at the country house, near Nassau, of the Count and Countess of Trockenau, her fast friends, and almost her only rich or distinguished patrons. Jerome Wellfield, who walked by her side, was the heir to an old name and a fair estate, of whose beauty she had heard him speak in terms which, with him, might pass for enthusiastic. This enthusiasm was the result of a visit to the said house years ago, when he had been a mere child, and so deep had been the impression then made upon him by the beauty and desirableness of the house of his fathers, that he was firmly resolved, far from following his father’s example of absenteeism, to settle there as soon as conveniently might be. His acquaintance with Sara Ford hadnot been a very long one; he had met her at the Countess of Trockenau’s house about a month ago, during the first part of her visit; yet, even now, neither ever saw the other without feeling a secret thrill of joy. As they silently walked on, she suddenly looked up at him, almost involuntarily—for though she was ‘more than common tall,’ he had somewhat to bend his head to speak to her—and found his dark, sombre, and, as she felt, most beautiful eyes, fixed upon her face. She blushed a little, and sighed quickly. His face, like some exquisite ivory cameo in its perfect outlines, and in the still, severe beauty of its contours, haunted her with a persistence which would not be accounted for merely by the fact that she, as an artist by nature and by trade, must delight in all things beautiful. For it was not all delight, far from it, which she felt in the haunting presence of that face. There was delight, but even more strongly there was the sense of captivity, the intuitive consciousness that she, like Gretchen, might make her moan:‘Meine Ruh’ ist hin,Mein Herz ist schwer;Ich finde sie nimmerUnd nimmermehr!’‘Did you enjoy the concert?’ asked Jerome, suddenly, after that long look which had passed between them.‘Yes, in a way. I don’t much care for the music they have at places like this, but it was better than usual to-night. But I prefer our homely Elberthal concerts—so far as music is concerned. Here one goes to look at the people and the dresses, and to hear the gossip, and very amusing it is. I think you don’t go much to the concerts?’‘No! I really cannot stand the everlasting waltzes and mazurkas and operatic selections. And one gets so tired of watching the same affected, overdressed women and insipid-looking men engrossed in one another.’‘Yesterday the countess and I were sitting in the gardens, when we saw a man and woman coming along. The woman was dressed most gorgeously, and could scarcelywalk because of her high heels; she hobbled along looking pitiful. He was a tall, strong, robust-looking fellow, and he carried her shawl, and her parasol, and her little bag with her handkerchief and scent-bottle, and he led her little white dog along by a blue ribbon; and he seemed happy.’Wellfield laughed a little contemptuously.‘I can imagine a man, if he were weak-minded, descending to even that depth, for the sake of some woman,’ continued Sara, reflectively. ‘What I cannot understand is, that any woman should like him for doing it; should be gratified in seeing him acting the part of a lady’s-maid to her. But I have seen many things lately which have puzzled me. Is your sister fond of music?’‘Yes, I think so.’‘You only think so?’‘I hardly know her, you know. She is my half-sister. Once, when she was a mere baby, I saw her; and not again till a month ago—till I came here. Most likely I shall see more of her now. My father has beeninstructing me in my duties towards her, and he is perfectly right. If he would but come home and settle down at Wellfield all would be well. It is not good for a girl to live in hotels, with no woman about her whom she really knows, except her maid.’‘No, indeed. But your sister does not look in the least spoiled by that life.’‘Because she is so isolated. She never goes amongst the people at these places; she cannot, because my father himself does not. But it is a dull life for her.’‘How old is she, exactly?’‘A little more than sixteen.’‘You must know, though, that she is very lovely now, and that sometime she will be remarkably beautiful.’‘Avice—will she? She is pale, and her hair—yes, her hair is beautiful, isn’t it?’‘Mr. Wellfield! your own sister, whom you see daily, and you ask if her hair is beautiful!’‘Well, it is the fact of her being my own sister, I suppose, whom I see daily, that makes me ask,’ said Jerome, calmly. ‘I amnot so—forgetful in all cases. But I was going to say that, though I don’t in the least know when I shall be free again, yet, when I am free, I am going to Cologne, where I have some musical friends. Cologne is not far from Elberthal, and, if you will allow me, Miss Ford’—he hesitated in a manner which his hearer thought decidedly becoming to him—‘I should like exceedingly to come over and visit your atelier, if I may—if it is not too great a favour that I ask.’‘Oh no! If you care to see my poor attempts at pictures, I shall be delighted to show you them.’‘I have heard great things of your “poor attempt at pictures,” Miss Ford.’‘Have you? Some partial friend——’‘It was Professor Wilhelmi, your master, I think.’‘Yes. Well, he is a very partial friend. He has been goodness itself to me. I should never have done anything without his help. But when you see what he has praised, you can judge for yourself.’‘I am no judge when the work is the work of a friend,’ said Jerome, smiling.‘To-morrow they expect at Trockenau a most formidable person—Herr Rudolf Falkenberg.’‘The Frankfort banker?’‘I don’t know whether he is a banker or not, though I believe I have heard that he is. The important thing to me is, that he is a great judge of pictures; and that, as he is rich, he can afford to buy them when they please him: but I have heard as well that he is very severe, and most difficult to please.’‘Surely that does not trouble you!’‘It would trouble me if Herr Falkenberg were to see some of my pictures, and pronounce them very bad.’‘As if he would have the ill-breeding to do so!’Sara laughed.‘I see, you would never make a critic,’ she said; and just then, coming to the end of a long walk, they found themselves suddenly in the full blaze of light which illuminatedthe linden-planted square where all the little tables stand, at which people sup or dine, or take coffee, wine, or ices. A score of heads and twice as many eyes were quickly turned upon the tall and certainly striking-looking couple who thus advanced into the light.‘Take my arm,’ murmured Wellfield; and Sara, dazzled by the light in which they so suddenly found themselves, and a little embarrassed by the amount of attention bestowed upon her and her companion by the well-bred crowd, complied mechanically, and they walked rather quickly through the square.‘I think, if we turn this way, we shall probably find the others,’ said Jerome, as they disappeared into the comparative obscurity under the shade of the Kurhaus.‘Very likely,’ said Sara, and at that moment Hans Lemde came breathlessly after them.‘Ah,mein Fräulein, we thought you were lost!’ he said, addressing Sara, and studiously avoiding even looking at her companion. ‘The countess is waiting to seek her carriage, for the road to Trockenau is rough.’‘Well, show us the way to where she is, please,’ said Sara, with a touch of impatience.Hans von Lemde walked stiffly in advance, trying rather feebly to look dignified. He was not naturally majestic in demeanour, and the circumstances deprived him of what little scrap of dignity he might in ordinary moments rejoice in. The effect of the procession was that of a noble and his lady preceded by a somewhat weak-minded retainer, new to his duties and afraid of taking too much upon himself.The Countess of Trockenau was not in the violent hurry which might have been expected from Lemde’s representations. She had time again to greet Jerome Wellfield, and to say:‘By-the-bye, Mr. Wellfield, I have a party to-morrow. Will you come?’‘A very large party?’‘Oh,so ziemlich—quite without ceremony. The ladies come to coffee and remain; the gentlemen later, to theAbendbrodand music.And a little dancing for the young people, I daresay, and wandering in the garden for those who like it. I shall expect you.’‘If my father is better, or rather if he should be no worse,gnädige Frau, I shall have the utmost pleasure,’ he said, bowing, while Sara stood a little apart and carefully fastened her glove. The countess turned to speak to some one else, and Wellfield, with a half-smile, politely suggested to Sara that perhaps he could button her glove.‘There is your carriage,gnädige Frau, going slowly down the road,’ exclaimed young Lemde, as if eager to end the scene.‘Call it, then,’ said Frau von Trockenau, in much the same tone as that lately used by Miss Ford. It was a tone very generally adopted towards ‘poor Lemde.’Obediently he hurried forward and hailed the coachman of the lady, who was still in lively conversation with a friend.‘The carriage is here, most gracious, by the roadside, waiting!’ announced Hans, in a voice growing gradually louder and more portentous;and he repeated the information impressively.‘Aber, dieser Mensch!’ murmured the ‘gracious lady,’ as Wellfield advanced, gave her his arm, and led her across the avenue to the roadside, where her carriage was waiting.Lemde wished very much to offer his arm to Sara, but, looking furtively at her, decided with a sigh not to venture, and turned instead to Emily Leigh, the other English girl, who immediately put her hand within his arm, and tripped after Frau von Trockenau with the utmost cheerfulness. Sara followed, dignified and solitary. It was Jerome Wellfield who handed her into the carriage.‘Also—bis Morgen!’ said the countess, bowing, and waving her hand as they drove away. Wellfield and Hans Lemde were left alone.‘Are you going to the party to-morrow?’ asked Wellfield.‘I? certainly. I go to all Frau von Trockenau’s parties.’‘That shows your good taste,’ replied Jerome, gravely, raising his hat and wishinghim good-evening; and then, after another look after the carriage as it drove rapidly away down the Nassau Road, he turned and sauntered slowly along the road towards the hotel of theVier Jahreszeiten, where Mr. Wellfield and his family were staying.
Decorated Heading
STAGE I.
Decorated First Letter
Decorated First Letter
Itwas half-past nine in the evening. The concert in the great Saal of theKurhausat Ems was just over, and the audience streamed out, with a clatter of conversation, and a sudden restoration of animation, into the fresher and yet deliciously warm air of the gardens. It was the end of July, the height of the season at Ems; and that small, enervating, fashionable watering-place was thronged with visitors of every age, nation, and rank, from the royal and imperial, as represented in thepersons of Germany and Russia, down to the English family of Robinson, who had never felt so genteel before, or been in (whether of or not) such aristocratic company in their lives, and the German family of Braun, who were wealthy, and who revelled luxuriously each day at a differenttable d’hôteof a different hotel, and who sat in a row in theKurgarten, morning and afternoon, listening devotedly to the music, and occasionally murmuring ‘Schön!’ if it pleased them. Or, oh joy! standing in rapt respect and attention, as an old white-headed, white-moustached man in a grey summer-suit came walking along, very erect, one hand behind his back, in friendly converse with, now one, now another, bare-headed gentleman who kept just a pace behind him.
‘There’s the emperor!dearold thing!’ whisper all the Miss Robinsons, standing up too, as the grey old gentleman comes past.
‘Unser Kaiser!’ murmur the Brauns with beaming smiles of satisfaction, and gazing at him with broad-faced loyalty.
This ‘watching for the emperors,’ and the thrills of emotion which ran through every loyal heart when they were visible, was the chief pastime of the day; and if one failed to see the emperors, there were always those who had lived near them—princesses, countesses, baronesses, and their consorts; highnesses of every degree of transparency and serenity, half thevonsin the Almanach de Gotha; together with unpronounceable Russians, fascinating Poles, well-known diplomatists, representing both thesuaviter in modoand thefortiter in re—to wit, the ‘blood and iron’ policies of their respective courts. All these were there, besides the shoals of nobodies who bought up theKurlistenin order to read their own names in close proximity to those of somebodies, and who, it is to be hoped, felt rewarded by these and similar privileges for the crowding and pushing and swindling to which they were in other matters subjected.
On the night in question the concert-room had been thronged, for the two emperors andtheir suites had condescended to look in for a few moments, and the orchestra had performed the Russian national hymn with great spirit and much applause. The distinguished guests were felt to be still lingering somewhere about the gardens; and moreover the river was illuminated, and was dazzling with lines of fairy lights, from the bridge opposite the Darmstädter Hof to the other bridge at the extreme end of theKurgarten—and of civilisation, of course, in Ems—and beyond the house called theVier Thürme, at which the Russian monarch was lodging.
Two barges, brightly illuminated with the imperial crowns and lovingly-entwined initials of Russia and Germany, were floating about the river, while ‘the music’ on board alternately playedDie Wacht am Rheinand the Russian national anthem—a spectacle most thrilling and edifying for all loyal souls; if somewhat less enchanting to the musicians and boatmen who perspired in the glare and smell and heat of the lamps, and industriously paddled up and down the little Lahn,below the walls of the broad walk of theKurgarten.
Down that broad walk, from the concert-room, came a crowd of the notabilities and otherwise, who had composed the audience; all chattering, laughing, flirting, and intriguing in almost every European tongue.
About the middle of the throng came a group of some four or five ladies and gentlemen, and walking a little in advance of the others with one of the men beside her, a tall girl whose accent was English, though she spoke German. Some dark thick trees overhung that part of the walk, making it dark on the side next the river wall; but the lamps cast a bright light upon the girl’s face, and showed its every feature and the play of its expression clearly and distinctly to one who sat on a bench in one of the little recesses in the wall which almost overhung the river; and who from this position had for some time been indifferently watching the brilliant throng as they trooped past.
As the girl came on, now looking straightbefore her, now turning her head to speak to the man, who from the thickness of the crowd was compelled to go just half a pace behind her, the hidden watcher observed her closely and intently. She was tall, well-formed, and well-developed. There was much grace and a great deal of pride in her carriage; her head was habitually carried high, as might easily be seen; her face was very handsome indeed, even splendid, with a brow like Chaucer’s nun:
‘And sickerly she had a fayre forehead,It was almoste a spanne brode, I trow,For hardily she was not undergrowe.’
‘And sickerly she had a fayre forehead,It was almoste a spanne brode, I trow,For hardily she was not undergrowe.’
‘And sickerly she had a fayre forehead,It was almoste a spanne brode, I trow,For hardily she was not undergrowe.’
‘And sickerly she had a fayre forehead,It was almoste a spanne brode, I trow,For hardily she was not undergrowe.’
‘And sickerly she had a fayre forehead,
It was almoste a spanne brode, I trow,
For hardily she was not undergrowe.’
A large, well-cut mouth, in the sweep of whose lips there was both thought and grandeur; bright, glossy, chestnut hair, rich in hue and crisply waving; fine dark-grey eyes, with level brows, the eyes deep-set and critical in expression; her whole aspect was dignified, and yet there was assuredly a gleam of humour in her eyes, as she stepped composedly on, in her light, softly falling dress and broad plumed black hat.
‘Tell me, Herr von Lemde—you have made a study of the nobility, I know——’
‘It is true,mein Fräulein. What ought a man to study, if not his own order?’
‘And thatsuchan order! Indeed, you are right. I want to know who that lovely woman near us was, in a dress like a cloud of creamy muslin and lace. I thought she must be a Pole, from her gracefulness and from the spirited way in which she spoke.’
‘You were right,’ he said earnestly. ‘It was the Princess ——.’
‘Thank you very much. I feel happier now. Suppose it had turned out to be some Mrs. Smith, or Frau Müller!’
‘I fear,mein Fräulein, that you are a little tinged with——’
‘But,liebeSara,’ cried a lady behind, ‘it is getting late, and we have such a long drive.’
‘Oh, Carla, don’t go yet!’ expostulated, not Sara, but a German girl, dark, handsome, and defiant-looking. ‘It is so fine; and we have not seen the emperor, and, after all, it is not so late.’
‘Oh, it is quite early!’ said an English girl who was of the party.
She addressed as Sara at this moment turned, and the whole group paused, a few paces from the place where the silent watcher sat. He had turned aside as soon as Sara had passed, and was now gazing intently down into the mysterious eddies of the river, his chin propped on his hand.
‘Just as you like, Gräfin,’ said Sara Ford, smiling; ‘it is very nice here, and Herr von Lemde’s society makes dullness out of the question.’
Evidently Miss Ford, dignified though she looked, was not above amusing herself at the expense of a rather stupid young man.
Baron Lemde smiled all over his handsome, meaningless face, and dropped a little into the rear, embracing Miss Ford’s shawl with effusion, while she stood, still the centre of the group, and the Countess of Trockenau paused, looking thoughtful.
‘It is too bad of you, Miss Ford,’ said the other English girl in her ear. ‘How can youmake fun of poor Lemde and make others laugh at him in that way?’
Sara smiled a bright, frank, disdainful smile, and the Countess of Trockenau said:
‘Well, shall we be going?’
‘Oh—h—h!’ sighed the younger English girl, with an accent of disappointment.
‘Mein Fräulein,’ began Lemde, bending towards Sara, who neither heard nor saw him; or if she did, did not notice him.
He saw that her eyes were fixed upon some one who approached them; her lips were gravely set, yet in their sweet and gracious curve there was an expression which, though it was not for him, made the simple young baron’s heart beat faster. His glance followed hers. The silent watcher had arisen from his hiding-place, and was advancing towards them. He met Sara Ford’s eyes, and took off his hat. In another moment they were shaking hands, and though she was self-possessed, and almost distant in her manner, poor Hans von Lemde’s heart fell.
‘Good-evening, Miss Ford.’
‘Good-evening, Mr. Wellfield. I did not see you at the concert. Were you not there?’
‘No; I have been sitting here by the river instead. I hope you are well?’
‘Quite well, I thank you. And your——’
The countess had seen and accosted him, and he turned towards her.
‘You stay late to-night,gnädige Frau,’ said he, kissing her hand with sedate gravity.
‘Mr. Wellfield! ah, that reminds me—yourHerr Vater, how is he—any better? I sent one of my men to inquire while we were in the concert, but have not seen him yet.’
She was a very pretty woman of eight or nine and twenty—a small, brilliant brunette; and Jerome Wellfield was dark too, yet the contrast between them was a startling one.
‘I thank you,’ he answered; ‘my father is somewhat stronger to-night. I trust he will soon be quite well again.’
‘I hope so; and your sister, she is not with you to-night?’
‘Avice—she did not wish to leave my father; and then, she is a child as yet.’
‘Is she? I should have said—What is it?’
‘See,liebeTrockenau, his majesty is coming,’ said a German lady of the party, and with a quick movement the group was divided.
The German ladies, being both of rank, andgeborenenof distinguished families, and Hans Lemde, stood stock-still by the roadside, waiting until the emperor should pass, to make their reverences and receive a recognition; while the English girls, Jerome Wellfield, and a German man who was not avon, strolled off down a side-walk. Sara Ford and Jerome Wellfield insensibly, but as if by general consent, dropped a little behind. The underlying sparkle of malice and mockery had died out of the young lady’s eyes, as she turned to her companion, saying:
‘I am glad your father is better, Mr. Wellfield, for I had heard that he was very ill.’
‘You are very kind. He really does seembetter to-night, and I am in hopes that the attack will pass over, as all the others have done, though it has certainly been a severer one than usual.’
‘You look as if you had been watching and sitting up—have you?’
‘Oh, a mere trifle. My father gets nervous, and, as you may easily imagine, a large hotel is not the most comfortable place in which to be taken ill.’
‘No, indeed.’
‘Avice insisted on my coming out to-night. And you, Miss Ford, are you enjoying yourself at Count Trockenau’s?’
‘Very much. The change from the hot, dusty town, and from my paint-smelling atelier is really delightful. Everything up at Trockenau is so fresh, and the society is very amusing—yes, really exceedingly amusing.’
Sara laughed as she spoke—a pleasant, round, though not loud laugh.
‘Herr von Lemde’s society makes dulness out of the question,’ said Wellfield, composedly.
Miss Ford reddened a little.
‘Oh, did you hear all that? Well, who could be dull with Herr von Lemde? So long as I know that I may quit his society whenever I choose, he is delightfully amusing; and if I knew that I had to endure his society whether I liked it or not, I should at once become desperate, and capable of any crime, I think, so that in any case dulness is out of the question.’
Wellfield laughed.
‘How long are you staying?’ he asked.
‘Another week, I think, at least. The countess is very kind, and will not hear of my leaving sooner. You, I suppose, will remain with your father?’
‘I shall remain with my father at present,’ he answered.
There was a pause as they paced along the side-walk, somewhat removed from the glare of the lamps, and felt, each with a different degree of intensity, that they were alone. The other girls and their companions had fallen behind, and the countessand the others had not yet come up, glorified and hallowed by their interview with their Imperial Master.
Sara Ford, beautiful, talented, and charming, was an artist, almost alone in the world, fatherless, motherless, and with very little money, but with great talent and high ambition. She was spending her holiday at the country house, near Nassau, of the Count and Countess of Trockenau, her fast friends, and almost her only rich or distinguished patrons. Jerome Wellfield, who walked by her side, was the heir to an old name and a fair estate, of whose beauty she had heard him speak in terms which, with him, might pass for enthusiastic. This enthusiasm was the result of a visit to the said house years ago, when he had been a mere child, and so deep had been the impression then made upon him by the beauty and desirableness of the house of his fathers, that he was firmly resolved, far from following his father’s example of absenteeism, to settle there as soon as conveniently might be. His acquaintance with Sara Ford hadnot been a very long one; he had met her at the Countess of Trockenau’s house about a month ago, during the first part of her visit; yet, even now, neither ever saw the other without feeling a secret thrill of joy. As they silently walked on, she suddenly looked up at him, almost involuntarily—for though she was ‘more than common tall,’ he had somewhat to bend his head to speak to her—and found his dark, sombre, and, as she felt, most beautiful eyes, fixed upon her face. She blushed a little, and sighed quickly. His face, like some exquisite ivory cameo in its perfect outlines, and in the still, severe beauty of its contours, haunted her with a persistence which would not be accounted for merely by the fact that she, as an artist by nature and by trade, must delight in all things beautiful. For it was not all delight, far from it, which she felt in the haunting presence of that face. There was delight, but even more strongly there was the sense of captivity, the intuitive consciousness that she, like Gretchen, might make her moan:
‘Meine Ruh’ ist hin,Mein Herz ist schwer;Ich finde sie nimmerUnd nimmermehr!’
‘Meine Ruh’ ist hin,Mein Herz ist schwer;Ich finde sie nimmerUnd nimmermehr!’
‘Meine Ruh’ ist hin,Mein Herz ist schwer;Ich finde sie nimmerUnd nimmermehr!’
‘Meine Ruh’ ist hin,Mein Herz ist schwer;Ich finde sie nimmerUnd nimmermehr!’
‘Meine Ruh’ ist hin,
Mein Herz ist schwer;
Ich finde sie nimmer
Und nimmermehr!’
‘Did you enjoy the concert?’ asked Jerome, suddenly, after that long look which had passed between them.
‘Yes, in a way. I don’t much care for the music they have at places like this, but it was better than usual to-night. But I prefer our homely Elberthal concerts—so far as music is concerned. Here one goes to look at the people and the dresses, and to hear the gossip, and very amusing it is. I think you don’t go much to the concerts?’
‘No! I really cannot stand the everlasting waltzes and mazurkas and operatic selections. And one gets so tired of watching the same affected, overdressed women and insipid-looking men engrossed in one another.’
‘Yesterday the countess and I were sitting in the gardens, when we saw a man and woman coming along. The woman was dressed most gorgeously, and could scarcelywalk because of her high heels; she hobbled along looking pitiful. He was a tall, strong, robust-looking fellow, and he carried her shawl, and her parasol, and her little bag with her handkerchief and scent-bottle, and he led her little white dog along by a blue ribbon; and he seemed happy.’
Wellfield laughed a little contemptuously.
‘I can imagine a man, if he were weak-minded, descending to even that depth, for the sake of some woman,’ continued Sara, reflectively. ‘What I cannot understand is, that any woman should like him for doing it; should be gratified in seeing him acting the part of a lady’s-maid to her. But I have seen many things lately which have puzzled me. Is your sister fond of music?’
‘Yes, I think so.’
‘You only think so?’
‘I hardly know her, you know. She is my half-sister. Once, when she was a mere baby, I saw her; and not again till a month ago—till I came here. Most likely I shall see more of her now. My father has beeninstructing me in my duties towards her, and he is perfectly right. If he would but come home and settle down at Wellfield all would be well. It is not good for a girl to live in hotels, with no woman about her whom she really knows, except her maid.’
‘No, indeed. But your sister does not look in the least spoiled by that life.’
‘Because she is so isolated. She never goes amongst the people at these places; she cannot, because my father himself does not. But it is a dull life for her.’
‘How old is she, exactly?’
‘A little more than sixteen.’
‘You must know, though, that she is very lovely now, and that sometime she will be remarkably beautiful.’
‘Avice—will she? She is pale, and her hair—yes, her hair is beautiful, isn’t it?’
‘Mr. Wellfield! your own sister, whom you see daily, and you ask if her hair is beautiful!’
‘Well, it is the fact of her being my own sister, I suppose, whom I see daily, that makes me ask,’ said Jerome, calmly. ‘I amnot so—forgetful in all cases. But I was going to say that, though I don’t in the least know when I shall be free again, yet, when I am free, I am going to Cologne, where I have some musical friends. Cologne is not far from Elberthal, and, if you will allow me, Miss Ford’—he hesitated in a manner which his hearer thought decidedly becoming to him—‘I should like exceedingly to come over and visit your atelier, if I may—if it is not too great a favour that I ask.’
‘Oh no! If you care to see my poor attempts at pictures, I shall be delighted to show you them.’
‘I have heard great things of your “poor attempt at pictures,” Miss Ford.’
‘Have you? Some partial friend——’
‘It was Professor Wilhelmi, your master, I think.’
‘Yes. Well, he is a very partial friend. He has been goodness itself to me. I should never have done anything without his help. But when you see what he has praised, you can judge for yourself.’
‘I am no judge when the work is the work of a friend,’ said Jerome, smiling.
‘To-morrow they expect at Trockenau a most formidable person—Herr Rudolf Falkenberg.’
‘The Frankfort banker?’
‘I don’t know whether he is a banker or not, though I believe I have heard that he is. The important thing to me is, that he is a great judge of pictures; and that, as he is rich, he can afford to buy them when they please him: but I have heard as well that he is very severe, and most difficult to please.’
‘Surely that does not trouble you!’
‘It would trouble me if Herr Falkenberg were to see some of my pictures, and pronounce them very bad.’
‘As if he would have the ill-breeding to do so!’
Sara laughed.
‘I see, you would never make a critic,’ she said; and just then, coming to the end of a long walk, they found themselves suddenly in the full blaze of light which illuminatedthe linden-planted square where all the little tables stand, at which people sup or dine, or take coffee, wine, or ices. A score of heads and twice as many eyes were quickly turned upon the tall and certainly striking-looking couple who thus advanced into the light.
‘Take my arm,’ murmured Wellfield; and Sara, dazzled by the light in which they so suddenly found themselves, and a little embarrassed by the amount of attention bestowed upon her and her companion by the well-bred crowd, complied mechanically, and they walked rather quickly through the square.
‘I think, if we turn this way, we shall probably find the others,’ said Jerome, as they disappeared into the comparative obscurity under the shade of the Kurhaus.
‘Very likely,’ said Sara, and at that moment Hans Lemde came breathlessly after them.
‘Ah,mein Fräulein, we thought you were lost!’ he said, addressing Sara, and studiously avoiding even looking at her companion. ‘The countess is waiting to seek her carriage, for the road to Trockenau is rough.’
‘Well, show us the way to where she is, please,’ said Sara, with a touch of impatience.
Hans von Lemde walked stiffly in advance, trying rather feebly to look dignified. He was not naturally majestic in demeanour, and the circumstances deprived him of what little scrap of dignity he might in ordinary moments rejoice in. The effect of the procession was that of a noble and his lady preceded by a somewhat weak-minded retainer, new to his duties and afraid of taking too much upon himself.
The Countess of Trockenau was not in the violent hurry which might have been expected from Lemde’s representations. She had time again to greet Jerome Wellfield, and to say:
‘By-the-bye, Mr. Wellfield, I have a party to-morrow. Will you come?’
‘A very large party?’
‘Oh,so ziemlich—quite without ceremony. The ladies come to coffee and remain; the gentlemen later, to theAbendbrodand music.And a little dancing for the young people, I daresay, and wandering in the garden for those who like it. I shall expect you.’
‘If my father is better, or rather if he should be no worse,gnädige Frau, I shall have the utmost pleasure,’ he said, bowing, while Sara stood a little apart and carefully fastened her glove. The countess turned to speak to some one else, and Wellfield, with a half-smile, politely suggested to Sara that perhaps he could button her glove.
‘There is your carriage,gnädige Frau, going slowly down the road,’ exclaimed young Lemde, as if eager to end the scene.
‘Call it, then,’ said Frau von Trockenau, in much the same tone as that lately used by Miss Ford. It was a tone very generally adopted towards ‘poor Lemde.’
Obediently he hurried forward and hailed the coachman of the lady, who was still in lively conversation with a friend.
‘The carriage is here, most gracious, by the roadside, waiting!’ announced Hans, in a voice growing gradually louder and more portentous;and he repeated the information impressively.
‘Aber, dieser Mensch!’ murmured the ‘gracious lady,’ as Wellfield advanced, gave her his arm, and led her across the avenue to the roadside, where her carriage was waiting.
Lemde wished very much to offer his arm to Sara, but, looking furtively at her, decided with a sigh not to venture, and turned instead to Emily Leigh, the other English girl, who immediately put her hand within his arm, and tripped after Frau von Trockenau with the utmost cheerfulness. Sara followed, dignified and solitary. It was Jerome Wellfield who handed her into the carriage.
‘Also—bis Morgen!’ said the countess, bowing, and waving her hand as they drove away. Wellfield and Hans Lemde were left alone.
‘Are you going to the party to-morrow?’ asked Wellfield.
‘I? certainly. I go to all Frau von Trockenau’s parties.’
‘That shows your good taste,’ replied Jerome, gravely, raising his hat and wishinghim good-evening; and then, after another look after the carriage as it drove rapidly away down the Nassau Road, he turned and sauntered slowly along the road towards the hotel of theVier Jahreszeiten, where Mr. Wellfield and his family were staying.