The Baratowski family had never taken much part in the gay doings of the C---- season, and latterly they had withdrawn from them more and more. Waldemar, who now paid them such frequent visits, always found the family party alone. Count Morynski alone was wanting to it. He had left a few days before the scene above described. It had been his intention to take his daughter away with him; but the Princess discovered that a longer stay at the seaside was essential to Wanda's health, and prevailed on her brother to consent to a prolonged separation. He yielded to his sister's wish, and set out on his solitary way towards Rakowicz, where business matters required his presence.
In spite of the noonday heat, young Nordeck had ridden over from Altenhof at full speed. On his arrival he entered the Princess's room, where he found her sitting at her writing-table. Had Leo come to her thus, glowing and overheated, she would certainly have met him with some word of remonstrance, of motherly solicitude; but Waldemar's appearance, though possibly not unnoticed by her, excited no remark.
It was a singular fact that, although mother and son now saw each other so frequently, no intimacy had taken root between them. The Princess always treated Waldemar with the utmost consideration, and he strove to tone down the harshness of his demeanour towards her; but in this mutual endeavour to preserve a good understanding, there was not a spark of warm, genuine feeling. Theycouldnot cross the invisible gulf which lay between them, though, for the time being, an extraneous power had bridged it over. The greeting on either side was just as cool as on the occasion of their first meeting; but Waldemar's eyes now roved round the parlour with an uneasy, questioning glance.
"You are looking for Leo and Wanda?" said the Princess. "They have gone down to the shore, and will wait for you there. You have planned a boating excursion together, I think?"
"Yes. I will go and look for the others at once." Waldemar made a hasty movement towards the door, but his mother laid her hand on his arm.
"I must claim your attention for a few minutes first. I have something important to discuss with you."
"Won't it do later?" asked Waldemar, impatiently. "I should like before ..."
"I particularly wish to speak to you alone," the Princess interrupted him. "You will still be in time for the sail. You can all very well put it off for a quarter of an hour."
Young Nordeck looked annoyed at being thus detained, and obeyed with evident reluctance when invited to sit down. There seemed little prospect of his attention being given to the matter in hand, for his eyes wandered off continually to the window near him which opened on to the shore.
"Our stay in C---- is drawing to an end," said the Princess; "we must soon begin to think of our departure."
Waldemar gave a start almost of dismay.
"So soon? September promises to be fine, why not spend it here?"
"I cannot, on Wanda's account. I can hardly expect my brother to do without his darling any longer. It was very unwillingly, and only by my especial wish, that he consented to leave her behind. I promised him in return that I would myself take her to Rakowicz."
"Rakowicz is not far from Wilicza, is it?" asked Waldemar, quickly.
"Only two or three miles; about half as far as Altenhof from this."
The young man was silent. He looked anxiously through the window again: the shore seemed to have an unusual interest for him to-day.
"Speaking of Wilicza," said the Princess, negligently, "you will be taking possession of your property soon, I suppose, now that you are of age. When do you think of going there?"
"It was fixed for next spring," said Waldemar, absently, still absorbed by his outdoor observations. "I wanted to stay on with my uncle through the winter; but all that will be changed now, for I mean to go to the University."
His mother bent her head approvingly.
"I can but applaud such a resolution. I have never disguised from you that the essentially practical education you have received at your guardian's has been, in my opinion, too one-sided. For such a position as yours, some higher culture is indispensable."
"I should rather like to see Wilicza first, though." Waldemar made a dash at his object. "I have not been there since my childhood, and ... You will make a long stay at Rakowicz, will you not?"
"I do not know," replied the Princess. "For the present I shall certainly accept the refuge offered by my brother to me and to my son. Time will show whether we must make a permanent claim on his generosity."
Young Nordeck looked up. "Refuge? Generosity? What do you mean, mother?"
The Princess's lips twitched nervously, the only sign she gave that the step she was about to take was one painful to her. With this exception her face remained unmoved as she answered--
"Hitherto I have concealed the state of our circumstances from the world, and I intend still to do so. To you, I neither can nor will make a secret of our position. Yes, I am compelled to seek a refuge with my brother. You know something of the events which happened during the term of my second marriage. I stood at my husband's side when the storm of revolution swept him down. I followed him into banishment, and for ten long years I shared his exile. Our fortune was sacrificed to the cause; for some time there has been a hopeless discrepancy between the claims of our position and the means at our command. A cursory inspection of our affairs, made since the Prince's death, has convinced me that I must give up the struggle. We are at the end of our resources."
Waldemar would have spoken. His mother raised her hand to silence him.
"You can understand what it costs me to make these disclosures to you, and that I never should have entered on the subject if I myself had been alone in question; but as a mother, I must look to my son's interests. Every other consideration must give way to that. Leo stands on the threshold of life, of his career. I do not fear for him the privations of poverty, but its humiliations, for I know that he will not be able to bear them. Fate has willed it that you should be rich; henceforth, your wealth will be at your unlimited disposal. I confide your brother's future to your generosity, and to your sense of honour."
Any other woman would have felt, and shown she felt, it keenly mortifying thus to sue for help from the son of the man she had fled from in scorn and hatred; but this woman so carried herself that the painful step she had to take was in no degree lowering to her, and wrought no prejudice to her dignity. Her bearing, as she stood before her son, was not that of a supplicant. She made appeal neither to his filial feeling, nor to an affection which, as she well knew, did not exist. The mother with her rights stepped, for the time being, into the background. She did not take her stand on them; but she demanded from the elder brother's sense of justice that he should befriend the younger--and it soon appeared that she had not erred in her judgment of Waldemar. He sprang up quickly.
"And you only tell me this now, today? Why did I not hear of it sooner?"
The Princess's eyes met his gravely and steadily.
"What answer would you have made me if, on our first meeting after our long separation, I had made this communication to you?"
Waldemar looked down; he very well remembered the insulting manner in which he had asked his mother what it was she wanted with him.
"You are mistaken in me," he replied, hastily. "I should never have consented to your seeking help from any one but me. What! I am to be master of Wilicza and allow my mother and brother to live in a state of dependence! You are mistaken in me, mother; I have not deserved such distrust!"
"I was not distrustful of you, my son, but only of that influence which has guided you so far, and may perhaps be your guide even now. I do not even know whether your friends will permit you to offer us an asylum."
Again she pricked him with a goad which never failed in its effect, and which the mother was always ready to apply at the right moment. As usual, it stung the young man's pride into arms.
"I think I have shown you that I can assert my own independence," he replied, shortly. "Now tell me, what am I to do? I am ready for anything."
The Princess felt she was about to hazard a bold stroke, but she went on steadily, straight to her aim.
"We can only accept your help in one form, so that it shall not be made a humiliation to us," said she. "You are master of Wilicza--would it not seem natural that your mother and brother should be your guests in your own house?"
Waldemar started. At the mention of Wilicza, the old suspicion and distrust reared their heads anew. All the warnings he had heard from his guardian against his mother's plans recurred to his memory. The Princess saw this, and parried the danger with masterly skill.
"I only care for the place on account of its being near Rakowicz," she said, indifferently. "From thence I could keep up a constant intercourse with Wanda."
Near Rakowicz! constant intercourse with its inhabitants! That decided the question. The young man's cheeks flushed crimson as he replied--
"Arrange it just as you like. I shall agree to everything. I am not going to stay permanently at Wilicza just at present; but I will take you there, at any rate--and there are long holidays at the University every year."
The Princess held out her hand to him.
"I thank you, Waldemar, in my own name, and in Leo's."
Her thanks were sincerely meant, but there was no warmth or heartiness in them, and Waldemar's reply was equally cool.
"Pray don't, mother; you make me feel ashamed. The thing is settled--and now I can go to the shore at last, I suppose."
He seemed most desirous of escaping, and his mother detained him no longer. She knew too well to whom she owed her victory. Standing at the window, she watched the young man as he strode hastily along the garden walk towards the shore; then, turning to her desk again, she sat down to finish a letter she had been writing to her brother.
The letter was just completed, and the Princess was in the act of sealing it, when Leo made his appearance. He looked almost as heated as his brother had been previously; but, in his case, it was evidently some inner disturbance which sent the blood to his temples. With a frowning brow and lips tightly set, he drew near his mother, who looked up in surprise.
"What is the matter, Leo? Why do you come alone? Did Waldemar not find you and Wanda?"
"Oh, to be sure. He came to us a quarter of an hour ago," said Leo, in an agitated tone.
"And where is he now?"
"He has gone out for a sail with Wanda."
"Alone?"
"Yes, all alone."
"You know very well I do not approve of such doings," said the Princess, much annoyed. "If, now and then, I trust Wanda to you, that is quite a different thing. You have been brought up together, and are therefore entitled to treat each other as brother and sister. Waldemar stands in quite a different relation to her, and moreover--I do not choose that they should thus be left alone together. The boating excursion was planned by you all in common. Why did you not remain with the others?"
"Because I will not always stay where I am not wanted!" exclaimed Leo. "Because it is no pleasure to me to see Waldemar following Wanda about with his eyes, and behaving as if she were the only creature in existence."
The Princess pressed the seal on her letter.
"I have told you before what I think of these foolish fits of jealousy, Leo. Are you beginning with them again already?"
"Mamma!" The young Prince came up to the writing table with flashing eyes. "Do you not see, orwillyou not see, that Waldemar is in love with your niece--that he worships her?"
"Well, and what do you do?" asked his mother, leaning back in her chair composedly. "Precisely the same, or at least you fancy so. You cannot expect me to take this boyish enthusiasm into serious account? You and Waldemar are just at the age to need an ideal, and Wanda is the only young girl with whom you have been thrown in contact so far. Fortunately, she is still child enough to look on it all as a sort of game, and it is for that reason alone I allow it to go on. If she were to begin to take a more serious view of the matter, I should be obliged to interfere and restrict your intercourse to narrower limits. But, if I know anything of Wanda, the case will not arise. She plays with you both, and laughs at you both. So indulge yet awhile in your romance, young people! It will do your brother no harm to practise a little gallantry. He needs it much, I am sorry to say!"
The smile which accompanied these words was truly insulting to a youthful passion--it said so plainly, 'mere child's play.' Leo restrained his indignation with much difficulty.
"I wish you would talk to Waldemar in that tone of his 'boyish enthusiasm,'" he replied, with suppressed vehemence. "He would not take it so quietly."
"I should not disguise from him, any more than from you, that I look upon the matter as a piece of youthful folly. If, five or six years hence, you speak to me of your love to Wanda, or if Waldemar tells me of his, I shall attach some importance to your feelings. For the present, you can safely play the part of your cousin's faithful knights--always on condition that no disputes arise between you on the subject."
"They have arisen already," declared Leo. "I have just had some very sharp words with Waldemar. That was why I gave up the sail. I won't bear it. He claims Wanda's company and conversation altogether for himself, and I won't stand his imperious, dictatorial ways any longer either. I shall take every opportunity now of letting him see it."
"You will not do that," interrupted his mother. "I am more desirous now than ever that there should be a good understanding between you, for we are going with Waldemar to Wilicza."
"To Wilicza!" cried Leo, in a fury; "and I am to be his guest there--to be under him, perhaps! No, that I will never consent to; I will owe Waldemar nothing. If it costs me my whole future, I'll accept nothing from him!"
The Princess preserved her superior calm, but her brow grew dark as she answered--
"If you are willing to set your whole future at stake for a mere whim, I am still here to watch over your interests. Besides, it is not merely a question of you or of me. There are other and higher considerations which make a sojourn at Wilicza desirable for me, and I have no intention of allowing my plans to be disturbed by your childish jealousy. You know I should never ask of you anything that could compromise your dignity; and you know, too, that I am accustomed to see my will obeyed. I tell you, we are going to Wilicza, and you will treat your brother with the regard and courtesy I show him myself. I require obedience from you, Leo."
The young Prince knew that tone full well. He knew that when his mother assumed it she meant to have her way at any cost; but on this occasion a mighty spur urged him to resistance. If he ventured no reply in words, his face betrayed that he was inclined to rebel in deeds, and that he would hardly condescend so far as to show his brother the required courtesy.
"I will take care that no provocation to these disputes shall arise in future," went on the Princess. "We shall leave this in a week, and when Wanda goes back to her father you will necessarily see less of her. As to this sail,tête-à-têtewith Waldemar, of which I altogether disapprove, it shall most decidedly be the last."
So saying, she rang, and, on Pawlick's appearing, gave him the letter to take to the post. It conveyed news to Count Morynski of their intended departure from C----, and informed him that his sister would not at present make a claim on his hospitality, but that the former mistress of Wilicza was about to return to, and take up her residence in, her old home.
The boat containing Waldemar and the young Countess Morynska sailed merrily before the breeze. The sea was rather rough on that day, and the waves broke foaming against the keel of the little vessel as she shot through them, dashing their spray overboard every now and then, a fact which in no way disturbed the two occupants. Waldemar sat at the helm, with the calm of an experienced steersman; and Wanda, who had placed herself opposite him under the shadow of the sail, seemed to find great enjoyment in the quick, bounding motion of the little craft, and in their rapid onward progress.
"Leo will go and complain of us to my aunt," said she, looking back towards the coast, which they had already left at some distance behind them. "He went away in a great rage, and youwerevery unkind to him, Waldemar."
"I don't like any one else to take the rudder when I am in the boat," he answered, in a curt, authoritative tone.
"And suppose I wanted to have it?" asked Wanda, mischievously.
He made no reply, but stood up at once, and silently offered her his place.
The young Countess laughed.
"Oh no. It was only to see what you would say. There is no pleasure for me in the sail when I have to think of steering all the while."
Without a word, Waldemar again grasped the rudder which had been the nominal subject of dispute between him and Leo, though the real cause of their quarrel lay elsewhere.
"Where are we going?" Wanda began again, after a short pause.
"To the Beech Holm, I think. That was what we had settled."
"Won't it be rather far for to-day?" asked the girl, a little anxiously.
"With the wind in our favour we shall be there in half an hour, and if I work the oars well it will not take us much longer to get back. You wanted to see the sunset from the Beech Holm, you know."
Wanda resisted no further, though a vague feeling of uneasiness came over her. Heretofore Leo had been the constant companion of the young people in their excursions by sea and land; this was the first time they had been out alone together. Young as Wanda was, she would have been no woman not to discover, before Waldemar's second visit was over, what had made him so shy and confused on the first. He was incapable of dissimulation, and his eyes spoke a language all too plain, though he had as yet betrayed himself by no word. He was still more reserved and monosyllabic with Wanda than with the others; but, notwithstanding this, she knew her power over him well enough--knew how to use, and occasionally to misuse it; for to her the whole thing was a sport, and nothing more. It pleased her that she could rule this obstinate, masterful nature with a word, nay, even with a look; it flattered her to feel herself the object of a certainly somewhat mute and eccentric, but yet passionate homage; above all, it delighted her to see how angry Leo grew over the matter. Really to give the preference to his elder brother never once entered her mind. Waldemar's person and manners were to the last degree distasteful to her. She thought his appearance 'horrid;' his lack of courtesy shocked, and his conversation wearied her. Love had not made young Nordeck more amiable. He showed her none of those chivalrous attentions in which Leo, in spite of his youth, was already an adept. He seemed, on the contrary, to yield with reluctance to a charm from which he was unable to escape; yet everything in him bore witness to the irresistible power which this first passion had gained over him.
The Beech Holm must probably one day have been a little islet, as its name would indicate; now it was only a thickly wooded hill, joined to the shore by a narrow strip of land, or rather by a little chain of sandy downs, whereby access could be had to it on foot. Notwithstanding its beauty, the place was but little frequented. It was too secluded and too distant for the brilliant, gaiety-loving visitors of C----, whose excursions were generally made to some of the neighbouring villages along the coast. To-day, as usual, there was no one on the Holm when the boat came to land. Waldemar jumped out, whilst his companion, without waiting for help, sprang lightly on to the white sand, and ran off up the hill.
The Beech Holm well deserved its name. The whole wood, which lined the shore for nearly a mile, showed nowhere so many or such fine trees of this species as were gathered together on this spot of earth. Here mighty old beeches stood, spreading their giant branches far over the green turf, and over the grey, weather-beaten fragments of stone which lay scattered here and there, the relics of heathen times--tradition said of some ancient place of sacrifice. At the landing-place the trees stood back on either side, and the broad, beautiful sea lay as in a frame, its deep-blue plain stretching away far as the eye could reach. No shore, no island obstructed the view, no sail rose on the horizon, nothing but the sea in all its grandeur, and the Beech Holm, lying there so solitary and world-forgotten, it might really have been a little islet lost in mid-ocean.
Wanda had taken off her straw hat with its plain black ribbon, and sat down on one of the moss-grown stones. She still wore half-mourning for the late Prince Baratowski. Her white dress was only relieved by a black knot here and there, and a little black scarf was thrown round her shoulders. This sombre hue on her white garments gave to the girl's appearance a subdued and softened tinge which was not habitual to it. She looked infinitely charming as she sat thus with folded hands, gazing meditatively out over the sea.
Waldemar, who had taken a seat by her side on the enormous root of an old beech, seemed to be of this opinion, for he entertained himself exclusively with looking at her. For him the scenery around existed not. He started as from a dream when Wanda, pointing to her stone seat, said jestingly--"I suppose this is one of your old Runic stones?"
Waldemar shrugged his shoulders. "You must ask my tutor, Dr. Fabian, about that. He is more at home in the first century of our era than in the present. He would give you a learned and lengthy dissertation on Runic stones, dolmens, tumuli, and the like. It would afford him the greatest pleasure."
"Oh no; for goodness' sake!" laughed Wanda; "but, if Dr. Fabian has such an enthusiastic love for antiquity, I wonder he has not instilled a taste for it into you. It seems to me you are quite indifferent on the subject."
The young man's face took a most disdainful expression. "What do I care for all their antiquarian nonsense? The woods and fields interest me for the sport they can give me."
"How prosaic!" cried Wanda, indignantly. "So all your thoughts run on your sport! I dare say here on the Beech Holm you are thinking of the bucks and hares which may be hidden in the coverts."
"No," said Waldemar, slowly. "I am not."
"It would be unpardonable with such a prospect before you. Just look at the evening glow out yonder! The waves seem literally to beam with light."
Waldemar followed the direction of her hand with indifferent eyes.
"Yes; that is where they say Vineta went down."
"What went down?"
"Have not you heard? It is an old sea legend. I thought you knew it."
"No; tell me."
"I am a poor story-teller," said Waldemar, deprecatingly. "Ask our fisher-folk about it. That old boatman yonder would give you a far better and more complete account of it than I can."
"But I want to hear it from you," persisted Wanda. "Iwill; so go on."
A frown gathered on Waldemar's brow. The command had been too imperative.
"You will?" he repeated, rather sharply.
Wanda saw very well that he was offended; but she relied on her power over him, a power she had often tested during the last few weeks.
"Yes, I will!" she declared, as decidedly as before.
The frown deepened on the young man's face. It was one of those moments when he rose up in rebellion against the charm which held him captive; but suddenly he met the dark eyes, and their look seemed to change the order into an entreaty. It was all over now with his anger and resistance. His brow cleared. He smiled.
"Well, then, I will give it you in my short, prosaic way," said he, with an emphasis on the last words. "Vineta[1]was, so the story goes, an old fortified place by the sea, and the capital of an ancient nation. Her dominion extended over all the neighbouring coasts and over the waves, where she ruled supreme. Unparalleled in splendour and greatness, countless treasures flowed in to her from other lands; but pride, presumption, and the sins of her inhabitants brought down the chastisement of Heaven upon her, and she sank, swallowed up by the waves. Our sailors still affirm and vow that yonder, where the coast shelves back so far, the fortress of Vineta lies uninjured at the bottom of the sea. They say that, deep down below in the water, they catch a glimpse at times of towers and cupolas, hear the bells ring, and occasionally, at enchanted hours, the whole fairy city rises out of the depths, and shows itself to some specially favoured beholders. There are plenty of strange mirage effects at sea, and here in the north we have a sort of 'Fata Morgana,' though it comes but seldom ..."
"Oh, spare me all these tame explanations!" interrupted Wanda, impatiently. "Who cares for them, when the legend is pretty--and wonderfully pretty this one is, don't you think so?"
"I don't know," replied Waldemar, a little embarrassed. "I never thought about it."
"Have you no feeling for poetry whatever?" cried the young Countess, in despair. "Why, it is perfectly dreadful!"
He looked at her in surprise and some confusion.
"Do you think it so dreadful?"
"Of course I do!"
"No one has ever taught me to understand poetry," said the young man, almost in a tone of apology. "In my uncle's house nobody knows anything about it, and my tutors have never done more than give me dry, formal lessons. I am only just beginning to see that there is such a thing in the world."
The last words were spoken with a certain dreaminess of expression very new to Waldemar. He tossed back the hair which, as usual, had fallen low over his forehead, and leaned his head against the trunk of a beech. Wanda suddenly discovered that the brow so constantly hidden beneath those unkempt light locks was high and remarkably well-shaped. Now that it was free and exposed to view, it seemed really to lend nobility to the plain, irregular face. On the left temple a peculiarly distinct blue vein stood out, marked and salient even in a moment of repose. The young Countess had never noticed it before, hidden, as it generally was, beneath the enormous lion's mane which was always an object of derision to her.
"Do you know, I have just found out something, Waldemar," said she, mischievously.
"Well?" he asked, without changing his position.
"That strange blue vein on your forehead. My aunt has one, too, on the temple, just in the same place and exactly similar, only less strongly marked."
"Really? Well, it is the only thing I have of my mother about me."
"Yes, it is true; you are not in the least like her," said Wanda, candidly, "and Leo is her very image!"
"Leo!" repeated Waldemar, with a singular intonation. "Leo, indeed! That is a very different matter."
Wanda laughed. "Why? Has the younger brother any advantage over the elder in this respect?"
"Why not? He has the advantage of his mother's love. I should think that was enough."
"Waldemar, how can you say so!" put in the young Countess.
"Is the idea new to you?" he said, looking up with a frown. "I should have thought any third person must see how I stand with my mother. She forces herself to be friendly to me--oh yes!--and it must cost her trouble enough at times; but she can't overcome her secret dislike any more than I can mine--so we have nothing to reproach one another with."
Wanda was silent, embarrassed, and greatly surprised at the turn the conversation had taken. Waldemar did not appear to notice this; he went on in a hard voice--
"The Princess Baratowska is, and always will be, a stranger to me. I do not belong to her or to her son. I feel that every time we meet. You have no idea, Wanda, what it costs me to cross that threshold continually, to be constantly with them. It is a positive torture I impose on myself, and I should never have thought I could bear it so patiently."
"But what do you do it for?" asked Wanda, imprudently. "Nobody forces you to come."
He looked at her, and the answer lay in his eyes--shone in them so distinctly that the young girl blushed to her very forehead. That ardent, reproachful gaze spoke all too plainly.
"You do my aunt injustice," she said, speaking quickly, as if to hide her embarrassment. "She must, and does, love her own son."
"Oh, no doubt!" Waldemar's bitterness had now grown quite beyond his control. "I am persuaded that she loves Leo very much, though she is so severe with him; but why should she love me, or I her? I was hardly a year old when I lost father and mother at one stroke. I was torn from my home to be brought up among strangers. When, later on, I came to reflect, to ask questions, I learned that my parents' marriage had been an unhappy one--a misfortune for both of them--and that they had separated in bitter hatred; and I learned, too, how this hatred had survived the grave, and how it exerted an influence on my own life. They told me that my mother had been to blame for all; and yet I heard many an allusion to my father, many an expression used with regard to him, which disturbed my judgment of him also. Where other children are taught to love and respect, suspicion and distrust were instilled into me--and now I cannot get free from them. My uncle has been good to me; he is fond of me in his way, but he could not offer me anything beyond the life he leads himself. You know pretty well what that is--I think every one in my mother's house is well posted up on that subject--and yet, Wanda, you expect me to have some feeling for the poetical!"
He spoke almost resentfully, and yet there was a sort of low, regretful sadness in his words. Wanda looked up at her companion with great astonished eyes. She could hardly recognise him to-day. It was the first time she had ever had any serious conversation with him, the first time he had departed from his shy monosyllabic reserve. The peculiarly cold relations between the mother and son had not escaped her; but she had not believed the latter to be in any way affected by the existing estrangement. He had never alluded to the situation by a word; and now, all at once, he showed himself to be most keenly alive to, and deeply wounded by it. Now, in this hour, there dawned on the girl's mind some dim notion of what Waldemar's youth had been--how empty, lonely, and desolate, and how friendless and neglected the young heir whose riches she had so often heard extolled.
"You wanted to see the sunset," said Waldemar, suddenly changing the subject and speaking in quite a different tone, as he rose and came to her side. "I think we are having a rare one to-day."
And truly the clouds which bordered the horizon were suffused with a crimson glow, and the sun, still radiantly clear, was sinking lower and lower towards the sea, which flashed into a sudden glory at its farewell greeting. A flood of light streamed over its surface, spreading ever wider and wider--only over the spot where Vineta lay deep down at the bottom of the sea, the waves kept their sombre purple, while in their furrows gleamed bright streaks as of liquid gold, and above them thousands of glittering sparks danced and floated.
It must be owned that in the old legends there is a something which lifts them out of the domain of superstition, and even to a denizen of the modern world an hour may come when the old enchanting glamour makes itself felt, quickening the phantasies of the past into actual living realities. Truly, these legends sprang from the hearts of men; and their eternal problems, like their eternal truths, still preserve a strong hold on the human breast. Not to every one, indeed, does the fairy world open its gates, so closely guarded in these our days; but the two now seated on the Beech Holm must have belonged to the elect few, for they distinctly felt the charm which drew them gently but irresistibly within the magic circle, and neither of them had the courage, or the will, forcibly to break the spell.
Over their heads the wind rustled in the branches, louder still ran the murmur and plash of the sea at their feet. Wave upon wave came rolling up, rearing their white foam-crests aloft for an instant, then crashing over on to the shore. It was the old mighty ocean melody, the song of breeze and billow combined, which in its everlasting freshness enthrals every listener's heart. It sings now of dreamy, sunshiny calm, anon of raging storms with their terror and desolation, of restless, endless, surging life--each succeeding wave bringing a new tone of its own, each breath of wind echoing a responsive chord.
Waldemar and his young companion must have well understood this language, for they listened to it in breathless silence; and as they so sat and hearkened, another sound stole on their ears. Up from the very depths of the ocean came the faint chiming of bells, and about their hearts a feeling gathered as of pain and longing, mingled with a dim far-off perception of infinite bliss. From the purple waves yonder rose a shining vision. It floated on the waters, away into the golden glory, and there stood bright and definite, a world of countless, unknown treasures, a picture framed in a magic halo--the old fairy city of Vineta!
The burning edge of the great glowing disc now touched, as it were, the sea beneath it, and sinking ever deeper and deeper, disappeared at last below the horizon. One more flaming, fiery blaze--then the light went out, and the deep red hue still staining the water paled and gradually died away.
Wanda drew a long breath, and passed her hand across her brow.
"The sun is down," she said in a low voice; "we must be thinking of going back."
"Of going back?" repeated Waldemar, as in a dream. "Already?"
The girl rose quickly, as though to escape from some weight of uneasiness. "The daylight will soon be gone now, and we must get back to C---- before it grows dusk, or my aunt will never forgive me for coming without her leave."
"Iwill set that right with my mother," said Waldemar, and he too seemed to speak the indifferent words with an effort; "but if you wish to start ..."
"I do wish it, please."
The young man turned to go towards the boat, but all at once he stopped.
"You will be going away soon now, Wanda. In a few days, will you not?"
The question was put in a strangely agitated tone, and the young Countess's voice too had lost its natural ring, as she answered--
"I must go to my father now; he has done without me so long."
"My mother and Leo are going to Wilicza." Waldemar hesitated between the words, as though something caught his breath. "There is some talk of my joining them. May I?"
"Why do you ask me?" said Wanda, with an embarrassment very unusual to her. "It depends entirely upon yourself whether you visit your own property or not."
The young man did not heed the remark. He bent lower over her. His voice faltered, as it seemed, with deep passionate anxiety.
"But I do ask you, Wanda--you alone! May I come to Wilicza?"
"Yes," fell almost involuntarily from Wanda's lips; but in the same moment she started back, frightened at what she had done, for Waldemar seized her hand impetuously, and held it fast, as though it were his for ever and ever. The young Countess felt how he interpreted her 'yes,' and grew confused and troubled. A thrill of sudden alarm shot through her. Waldemar noticed that she drew back.
"Have I been too rough again?" he asked, in a low voice. "You must not be angry with me, Wanda--not to-day. It was only the idea of your going away that I could not bear. Now I know that I may see you again--now I will wait patiently till we are at Wilicza."
She made no reply, and they both went silently down to the boat. Waldemar put up the sail, and settled himself to the oars. With a few powerful strokes he sent the little craft far out to sea. A faint, rosy glimmer still lingered on the waves as the boat glided through them. Neither of the young people spoke during the journey. There was no sound, save the monotonous ripple of the water; the last transient glow died out of the sky, and the early shades of twilight fell over the Beech Holm, as it receded farther and farther into the distance. The sunset dream was over; but that old legend, which had woven its threads, tells us that he who has once looked on the lost Vineta, has once heard the sound of her bells, is pursued all his life by a longing which leaves him no rest until the enchanted city rises before him once more--or draws him down below into the depths.
In Herr Witold's opinion, the diplomatic mission for which he had selected Dr. Fabian would be comparatively easy of performance; the chief difficulty lay in preparing the way for it. In order to gain accurate information as to 'what was really going on in C----,' the Doctor must, naturally, have access to the Princess Baratowska's house, and this could only be obtained through Waldemar. Witold racked his brains to think how he could put the matter before his adopted son, so as not to be met at the outset by a decided refusal. Chance unexpectedly befriended him. On Waldemar's last visit, the Princess had expressed a wish to make the acquaintance of her son's tutor. The young man spoke of it on his return, and the Squire caught eagerly at the welcome opportunity. For once in his life he was able to approve of a wish of the Princess Hedwiga's as rational. He held the Doctor inexorably to his word, and the latter, who had all along hoped that the scheme would fall through, frustrated by his pupil's obstinacy, was obliged, two days later, to set out for C---- in Waldemar's company, in order to undergo the desired presentation.
Waldemar was in the saddle as usual. He was passionately fond of riding, and detested a drive along the sandy or stony roads, over which he could gallop so swiftly. It did not occur to him to take a seat in the carriage to-day out of courtesy to his tutor. Dr. Fabian was accustomed to such marks of disrespect, and, shy and yielding by nature, he had not the courage to make a firm stand against his pupil's cavalier treatment of him, or, on its account, to resign his post. He was without pecuniary resources of his own; a situation meant for him the means of earning a livelihood. The life at Altenhof suited him but ill; still, on the whole, he contrived to take little part in it. He only appeared at table, and again for an hour in the evening, to keep the Squire company. His pupil made but small claim on his time. Waldemar was always glad when the hours for study were over, and his master was still more so. All the rest of the day was at the latter's own disposal, and he could pursue his hobby, his old Germanic researches, undisturbed. To these beloved studies Herr Witold owed it that the present preceptor of his adopted son did not follow the example of his six predecessors, and decamp from the place; for the Doctor said to himself with justice that, in another situation where the boys under his charge would require constant supervision, it would be all over with his archaeology. It needed, indeed, a patient character like Fabian's to hold out under such trying circumstances. To-day again he gave proof of his forbearance, bearing Waldemar's desertion in silence, when that young gentleman, giving spurs to his horse, actually rode on before, and only pulled rein to wait for him at the entrance to C----, which they reached about noon.
On their arrival they found only Countess Wanda in the drawing-room, and Dr. Fabian went through the first ordeal of introduction with much embarrassment, it is true, but still with a tolerable presence. Unfortunately, his visible and somewhat comic uneasiness at once incited the young Countess to bring her talent for mischief to bear on him.
"So, Doctor, you are my Cousin Waldemar's tutor?" she began. "I offer you my sincere condolences, and pity you with all my heart."
Fabian looked up startled, and then glanced with alarm at his pupil, who, however, seemed not to have heard the remark--his face did not betray a trace of anger or indignation.
"Why so, Countess?" stammered the Doctor.
"I mean, it must be a difficult office to educate Herr Waldemar Nordeck," continued Wanda, quite undisturbed, and with intense enjoyment of the confusion her words produced.
Again Dr. Fabian glanced across at Waldemar with an expression of real anguish. He knew how sensitive the young man was, how ill he could brook a jest. Often enough had a far more inoffensive observation from Herr Witold called forth a perfect storm; but, curiously enough, there was no sign of one to-day. Waldemar was leaning quietly on Countess Morynska's chair. A smile even hovered about his lips, as, bending down to her, he asked--
"Do you think me such a bad fellow, then?"
"Yes, I do. Had not I the pleasure of seeing you in a regular passion the day before yesterday, at the time of the quarrel about the rudder?"
"But I was not in a passion withyou." said Waldemar, reproachfully.
The Doctor let fall the hat he had hitherto grasped with both hands. What mild, gentle tones were those he had heard from his rough pupil's mouth, and what meant the look which accompanied it? The conversation went on as it had begun, Wanda teasing the young man in her usual merry, high-handed way, and Waldemar lending himself to the sport with infinite patience. Nothing seemed to irritate or offend him here. He had a smile for her every joke, and was, indeed, completely metamorphosed since he had come into the young Countess's presence.
"Dr. Fabian is listening to us quite devoutly," she laughed. "It rejoices you to see us in such good spirits, Doctor?"
Poor Doctor! He was not thinking of rejoicing. Everything was going round him in a whirl. Slight as was his experience of love matters, the truth began gradually to dawn upon him. He could now form some idea of how 'the land lay.' This, then, was the reason Waldemar had so amiably consented to the reconciliation; this was why he so assiduously rode over to C---- in storm and sunshine; here was the explanation of the change in his whole behaviour. Herr Witold would certainly have a fit when he heard of it--Herr Witold, who had such a deeply rooted aversion to the entire 'Polish lot!' The diplomatic mission was indeed crowned with success in the very first half-hour; but its result filled the ambassador with such alarm that he entirely forgot the dissimulation which had been enjoined on him, and would probably have betrayed his trepidation, had not the Princess just then come in.
The lady had more than one reason for wishing to make the personal acquaintance of her son's tutor, who would accompany his pupil to the University. Now that the reconciliation had been achieved, that a lasting connection seemed likely to follow, Waldemar's nearest surroundings could not be a matter of indifference to her. She convinced herself, before ten minutes were over, that there was nothing to fear from the harmless Fabian; that, on the contrary, he might be made useful, possibly unknown to himself. Many things might be learned from the constant companion which could not be extracted from the taciturn Waldemar, and this was no unimportant consideration. The Princess did the Doctor the honour to look upon him as a fitting instrument for her use. She therefore treated him with much condescending kindness, and the humility with which he received such condescension met with her full approbation. She forgave him his shyness and awkwardness, or rather she looked on both as very natural in her presence, and deigned to engage him in conversation at some length.
On his mother's entrance, Waldemar had relapsed into his usual laconic mood. He took little part in the general talk, but after a time he said a few words to the Princess in a low voice. She rose at once, and went out with him on to the balcony.
"You wish to speak to me alone?" she asked.
"Only for a minute," replied Waldemar. "I only wanted to tell you that it will not be possible for me to accompany you and Leo to Wilicza, as we had agreed."
"Why? Are difficulties placed in your way?"
"Yes," said the young man, impatiently. "There are, it appears, certain formalities to be gone through, relating to my coming of age, at which I am bound to be present. My father's will gives most decided directions on the subject. Neither my uncle Witold nor I ever thought about it; and now, just when I want to go, the notice has come. I shall have to stay here for the present."
"Well, in that case, we will put off our journey also," said the Princess, "and I must send Wanda to Rakowicz alone."
"On no account," returned Waldemar, with much decision. "I have already written to Wilicza to say that you will arrive in the course of a few days, and that the necessary preparations are to be made at the castle."
"And you?"
"I shall come as soon as I am at liberty. Anyway, I shall spend a few weeks with you before I go to the University."
"One more question, Waldemar," said the Princess, gravely. "Does your ex-guardian know of these arrangements?"
"No, I have only spoken of my visit to Wilicza, so far."
"Then you will have to tell him of our intended sojourn there."
"I mean to," replied Waldemar, shortly. "I have written to my agent that he is to place himself at your service until I arrive. You have only to give your orders. I have provided for their being obeyed."
The Princess would have expressed her thanks, but she could not bring herself to articulate them. She knew so well that this generous consideration was not shown her for her own sake, and the particularly cold manner in which the obligation was conferred made it incumbent on her to accept it with equal reserve, if she would not incur a humiliation.
"So we may certainly expect you," she said. "As for Leo ..."
"Leo is sulky still, because of our quarrel the day before yesterday," interrupted Waldemar. "When I arrived just now, he turned off very demonstratively towards the shore, pretending not to see me."
The Princess knitted her brows. Leo had received strict orders to meet his brother in a friendly manner, and now he was showing this rebellious spirit at a most inopportune moment.
"Leo is often hasty and thoughtless. I will see that he makes the first advances towards a reconciliation."
Waldemar declined coolly. "No, no, we shall settle it better between ourselves. You need not be uneasy."
They went back into the drawing-room, where Wanda meanwhile had been amusing herself by sending Dr. Fabian from one stage of embarrassment to another. The Princess now released him. She wished thoroughly to discuss the plan of her son's studies, and he was obliged to follow her into her private room.
"Poor Doctor!" said Wanda, looking after him. "It seems to me you have quite reversed yourrôles. You have not a particle of respect for your teacher, but he stands in unbounded awe of you."
Waldemar did not contradict this assertion, which was but too just; he merely remarked--
"Does it appear to you that Dr. Fabian is a person to inspire respect?"
"Not exactly; but he seems very forbearing and good-natured."
The young man looked contemptuous.
"Perhaps so; but those are qualities I do not particularly value."
"One should tyrannise well over you if one wishes to inspire respect?" said Wanda, with an arch glance up at him.
Waldemar drew forward a chair, and sat down by her side. "It all depends upon who plays the tyrant. I would not advise any one at Altenhof to try it, not even Uncle Witold, and here I only stand it from one person."
"Who knows!" cried Wanda, lightly. "I should not care to make you angry in real earnest."
He made no reply. His thoughts had evidently wandered from the conversation, and were following another track.
"Did not you think it was very beautiful on the Beech Holm the day before yesterday?" he asked suddenly, with a brusque transition.
A slight blush rose to the young Countess's cheeks, but she answered in her former sprightly tone--
"I think there is something uncanny about the place in spite of its beauty; and, as to those sea legends of yours, I certainly shall not listen to them again at the sunset hour. One really comes to believe in the old fables."
"Yes, one comes to believe in them!" said Waldemar, in a low tone. "You reproached me with not entering into the poetry of the tradition. I have learned to understand it now in my turn."
Wanda was silent. She was struggling to keep down a certain embarrassment which had assailed her yesterday for the first time in her life. Before this, on young Nordeck's entrance, the feeling had taken possession of her. She had tried to laugh it off, to jest it away, and had succeeded in the presence of others; but directly the two were left alone together, it returned in full force. She could not get back the tranquil easy tone of former days. That strange evening on the Beech Holm! It had invested with a singular earnest a matter which was, and certainly was to remain, nothing but a joke.
Waldemar waited for an answer in vain. He seemed rather hurt that none came.
"I was telling my mother just now that I cannot go with you all to Wilicza," he began again. "I shall not be there for three or four weeks."
"Well, that is not long," said Wanda.
"Not long? Why, it is an eternity!" he cried, vehemently. "You can form no idea of what it costs me to stay behind, and let you set out alone."
"Waldemar, pray ..." Wanda interposed in visible distress. He did not heed her, but went on with the same vehemence.
"I promised to wait until we were at Wilicza, but at that time I hoped to travel with you. Now it may be a whole month before we see each other again, and I cannot be silent so long. I cannot know you constantly in Leo's company, unless I have the conviction that you belong to me, to me alone."
The avowal came so suddenly, with such a rush, that the young Countess had no time to ward it off; and, indeed, any attempt of hers to stay this burst of passion would have been in vain. He had seized her hand again, and held it fast, as he had held it that evening on the Beech Holm.
"Do not shrink from me so, Wanda! You must long have known what brings me to this place. I have never been able to hide it, and you have borne with me--you have never repulsed me. I must break silence at last. I know I am not as others are. I know there is little, perhaps nothing, in me to please you; but I can, and will, learn to be different. It is solely and entirely on your account that I have imposed on myself these years at the University. What do I care for study, or for the life out yonder? I care for them nothing at all; but I have seen that I often shock you, that you sometimes laugh at me--and ... and you shall not do it any more. Only give me the certainty that you are mine, that I shall not lose you. Wanda, I have been alone ever since I was a child--sadly alone, often. If I have seemed rough and wild to you--you know, dear, I have had no mother, no affection. I could not grow up to be like Leo, who has had both; but I can love, perhaps more ardently and better than he. You are the only creature I have ever loved, and one single word from you will make up to me for all the past. Say the word, Wanda--or give me, at least, hope that I may one day hear it from your lips; but, I entreat of you, do not say no, for I could not, could not bear it."
He was actually on his knees before her; but the young Countess had no thought now of enjoying the triumph she had once desired in her childish presumption and vanity. A dim suspicion had, now and again, crossed her mind that the play was growing more like earnest than she had intended, and that it would not be easy to end it by treating it as a mere joke; but, with the heedlessness of her sixteen years, she had put the thought from her. Now the crisis had come, and she must face it--must reply to this passionate wooer, who would be satisfied by nothing less than a 'yes' or a 'no.' Truly, the wooing was not an alluring one. There was none of that tender romantic halo about it which, to a young girl's imagination, appears all essential. Even through this avowal of his love there ran a touch of that sternness which was inseparable from Waldemar's character; but every word told of stormy, long pent-up emotion--spoke of passion's ardent glow. Now for the first time Wanda saw how earnest he was in this matter of his love; and, with a pang of burning self-reproach, the thought flashed through her mind--what had she done?
"Get up, Waldemar, pray--I entreat of you!" Her voice shook with repressed alarm and anxiety.
"When I hear you say yes, not before!"
"I cannot--not now--do get up!"
He did not obey her; he was still in the same supplicating attitude, when the door leading from the anteroom was unexpectedly opened, and Leo entered.
For one moment the new-comer stood rooted to the spot; then a cry of indignation escaped his lips. "So this is how it is!"
Waldemar had sprung to his feet. His eyes blazed with anger. "What do you want here?" he demanded of his brother, imperiously.
Leo had been pale from agitation, but the tone of this question sent the blood up to his face. With a few rapid strides he stood before Waldemar.
"You seem to think my presence here unnecessary," said he, with flashing eyes. "Yet I of all people can best unriddle to you the scene which has just taken place."
"Leo, do not speak!" cried Wanda, half entreating, half commanding; but, in his jealousy, the young Prince lost sight of every other consideration.
"I will speak," he returned, in his exasperation. "My word only bound me until the wager was won, and I have just seen with my own eyes in whose favour it is decided. How often I have begged of you to make an end of the sport. You knew it wounded me, that it drove me to desperation. You persisted in it, nevertheless. Am I to submit quietly while Waldemar, in his fancied triumph, shows me the door--I, who am witness of how you undertook to bring Waldemar to his knees, come what might? Well, you have succeeded; but at least he shall know the truth!"
At the first word 'wager,' a great shock had passed through Waldemar's frame; now he stood motionless, grasping the back of the chair convulsively, whilst his eyes were turned on the young Countess with a strange expression.
"What--what does this mean?" he asked, in a hoarse whisper.
Wanda drooped her head consciously. There was a struggle in her mind between anger against Leo and shame at her own conduct; while, sharper than either, prevailed a feeling of keen, intense anxiety. She knew now how cruelly the blow would tell! Leo, too, was silent--struck by the sudden change in his brother's countenance; he began also to feel how unjustifiably he had acted in exposing Wanda, and how needful it was for him to stop.
"What does this mean?" repeated Waldemar, suddenly rousing himself from his torpor, and going straight up to the young girl. "Leo speaks of some wager, of some sport of which I have been the object. Answer me, Wanda. I will believe you, and you only. Tell me that it is a lie!"
"So I am a liar in your eyes," broke out Leo; but his brother did not heed him. The young Countess's silence told him enough--he needed no further confirmation; but, with the discovery of the truth, all the savage fierceness of his nature rose up within him, and now that the charm to which he had so long yielded was broken, that fierceness carried him beyond all bounds.
"I will have an answer!" he broke out in a fury. "Have I really only been a plaything for you, an amusement for your caprices? Have you been laughing at me, making a mock of me, while I ... You will give me an answer, Wanda--an answer on the spot, or I ..."
He did not finish the sentence; but his look and tone were so menacing that Leo stepped before Wanda to protect her. She, too, now drew herself erect, however. The sight of the young man's ungovernable rage had given her back her self-possession.
"I will not allow myself to be questioned in this manner!" she began, and would have added words of proud defiance, when suddenly her eye met Waldemar's, and she stopped. Though his features still worked with passion, there was something in his look which told of the man's unspeakable mental torture at seeing his love scorned and betrayed, the ideal he had worshipped hopelessly and utterly destroyed. But her voice seemed to recall him to his senses. His clenched fists relaxed, and he pressed his lips tightly together, as though resolved that no further word should pass them. His breast heaved convulsively in the mighty effort he was making to restrain his rage. He staggered, and leaned against the chair for support.
"What ails you, Waldemar?" asked Leo in alarm, as, remorse springing up within him, he advanced towards his brother.
Waldemar raised himself, and, waving off Leo, turned to go without uttering a word, but with a face from which every drop of blood had receded.
At this moment the Princess made her appearance, accompanied by Dr. Fabian. The sound of their voices, growing louder and louder, had reached her in her room, and made it clear to her that something unusual was going on in the drawing-room. She came in quickly, and for an instant her entrance was unnoticed. Wanda stood vacillating between defiance and distress; but at this crisis the latter gained the upper hand, and, with the cry of a child confessing a fault and praying to be forgiven, she called to the young man to come back.
"Waldemar!"
He stopped. "Have you anything else to say to me, Countess Morynska?"
The young Countess started. Never before had that tone of frigid, cutting contempt met her ear, and the burning blush which mantled to her face showed how keenly she felt it. But now the Princess barred her son's passage.
"What has happened? Where are you going, Waldemar?"
"Away from here," he answered in a dull low tone, without looking up.
"But explain to me what ..."
"I cannot; let me go. I cannot stay!" and, thrusting his mother aside, he rushed out.
"Well, then, I must request of you an explanation of this strange scene," said the Princess, turning to the others. "Stay, Doctor!" she continued, as Dr. Fabian, who up to this time had remained at the door, an anxious spectator, now made as though he would follow his pupil. "There is evidently some misunderstanding here, and I must beg of you to undertake the task of clearing up any mistake existing in my son's mind. By rushing away in that violent manner, he has made it impossible for me to explain matters myself. What has happened? I insist on being told."
Wanda did not respond to this authoritative demand; she threw herself on the sofa, and burst into a passionate flood of tears. Leo, on a sign from his mother, went up to her at the window, and related what had passed. The Princess's mien grew more and more ominously dark at every word he said, and it evidently cost her an effort to preserve her calm demeanour, as she turned to the Doctor at length and said, with much apparent composure--
"It is as I thought--a misunderstanding, nothing more! A foolish jest between my niece and my younger son has given Waldemar cause to feel offended. I beg of you to tell him that I regret it sincerely, but that I expect of him that he will not attach undue importance to the folly of two children." She laid a stress on the last word.
"It would be best for me to go now and look after my pupil," Fabian ventured to remark.
"By all means, do so," assented the lady, desirous now of ridding herself of this innocent but most unwelcome witness of the family quarrel. "Good-bye for the present, Doctor. I shall quite hope to see you back soon in Waldemar's company."
She spoke these last words very graciously, and received the tutor's parting obeisance with a smiling face; but when the door had closed behind him, the Princess stepped in sharply between Wanda and Leo, and on her countenance were written signs of an approaching storm, such as but rarely disturbed the even rule of this severe mother and aunt.
Meanwhile Dr. Fabian had learned from Pawlick that young Herr Nordeck had thrown himself on to his horse and ridden away. There was nothing for it now but to drive off to Altenhof after him, which the Doctor did as speedily as possible. On arriving there, however, he heard that Waldemar had not yet returned. The tutor could not help feeling uneasy at this prolonged absence, which, under ordinary circumstances, he would hardly have remarked. The conclusion of the agitated scene he had witnessed directed his surmises pretty near the truth. The Princess, certainly, had spoken of a misunderstanding only, of a jest which her son had taken amiss; but Waldemar's violent exit, his cutting reply to the young Countess's cry of entreaty--above all, the expression of his face--showed that the matter in question was of a very different nature. Something serious must have occurred that Waldemar, who but a short time before had patiently, in contradiction to his whole character, submitted to Wanda's every whim, should now turn his back on her and hers, and leave his mother's house in a manner which seemed to preclude all idea of return.
The whole afternoon wore away, and still Waldemar did not appear. Dr. Fabian waited and hoped in vain. He was glad that Herr Witold had taken advantage of his two house-mates' absence to drive over to the neighbouring town, from whence he was not expected to return until evening; so that, for the present at least, there was an escape from his inevitable questions.
Hour after hour passed away. Evening came; but neither the inspector who had been over to the forester's house, nor the men coming home from the fields, had seen anything of the young master. The Doctor's anxiety now drove him out of doors. He walked some distance up the road which led to the park, and along which every new-comer must pass. At some distance from this road ran a very broad, deep ditch, which was generally full of water, but was now dried up by the heat of the summer, the great unhewn stones with which the bottom was paved lying exposed to view. From the bridge which spanned it an extensive view could be had of the fields around. It was still quite light out here in the open air--only the woods began to wrap themselves in shade. Dr. Fabian stood on the bridge, not knowing what to do next, and considering whether he should go on farther, or turn back, when at last the figure of a horseman appeared in the distance, coming towards him at a gallop. The Doctor drew a deep breath of relief. He himself did not exactly know what he had feared; but, anyway, his fears had been groundless, and, full of rejoicing at the fact, he hurried along the side of the ditch towards the approaching figure on horseback.
"Thank God you are there, Waldemar!" cried he. "I have been so uneasy about you."
"Why?" he asked, coldly. "Am I a child that I may not be let out of sight?"
In spite of his enforced calm, there was a strange sound in his voice which at once called up afresh the Doctor's hardly appeased anxiety. He now noticed that the horse was completely exhausted. It was covered with foam from head to foot, the white flakes fell from its nostrils, and its chest heaved and panted. The animal had evidently been spurred on and on without rest or respite; but the rider showed no signs of fatigue. He sat firm in the saddle, grasped the reins with an iron grasp, and, instead of turning off aside in the direction of the bridge, made as though he would leap the ditch.
"For God's sake, do not attempt such a mad, rash act!" remonstrated Fabian. "You know Norman never will take the ditch."
"He will take it to-day," declared Waldemar, driving his spurs into the horse's flanks. It reared high in the air, but shied back from the obstacle, feeling, perhaps, that its exhausted strength would fail it at the critical moment.
"But listen, do listen!" entreated the Doctor, in spite of his timidity coming close up to the rearing, plunging animal. "You are requiring what is impossible. The leap will miscarry; and, in your fall, your head will be dashed to pieces on the stones below."
For all reply, Waldemar drove his Norman on anew. "Get out of my way!" he gasped. "I will go over. Out of the way, I say!"
That wild tone of torture and desperation revealed to the Doctor how matters stood with his pupil at this moment, and how little he cared whether he were really dashed to pieces on the stones below, or not. In his mortal dread of the accident he saw inevitably approaching, this man, usually so timorous, ventured to seize the reins, meaning to continue his remonstrances. Just then, however, a fearful blow of the whip crashed down on the rebellious animal. It reared again, and beat the air with its forefeet, but still refused the leap. At the same instant, a faint cry reached the rider's ears. He started, stopped, and then, with a movement swift as lightning, reined his horse back. It was too late. Dr. Fabian had been thrown to the ground, and Waldemar, leaping from his saddle, saw his tutor stretched, bleeding and unconscious, at his feet.