As Arwed was striding back and forth in the most remote and darkly
shaded avenue of the garden, buried in his own reflections, colonel
Megret met him with a disturbed countenance. 'Time presses,' said he
with eagerness; 'I must speak openly with you, major. That I love your
cousin, you must long since have known--yet how fervently, you could
not know. The delicate gallantry which we Frenchmen dedicate to the
ladies, and the fear of affrighting or distressing her by the
outbreaking of my passion, have thrown a veil over the fire which
consumes me. I now confess to you that I could commit murder to possess
her; I must win her hand or die.'
'Nevertheless, colonel, I do not understand,' answered Arwed with
displeasure, 'why you confide all this _to me_, nor why you confide it
_now_.'
'The new emergencies of the war call me back to the army,' said Megret.
'I set out even this very night. Meanwhile I wish to secure to myself
here at least the _statum quo_. You love me not, major; that I very
well know, but at any rate you are not my rival; you are Christine's
near relative and a man of honor. Whatever you may think of me, we must
agree in this, that Mac Donalbain is not deserving of your cousin.'
'That I am very willing to allow,' answered Arwed. 'But, I hope, there
can never be a question of such a connection. Had Christine really a
weakness for that man, so noble and strong a mind as hers would be
easily reclaimed from such an aberration.'
'You consider the matter too lightly,' said Megret with great
earnestness. 'I myself hoped and doubted long, and left unemployed the
means at my command for banishing that bad man. I was indeed thereto
prompted by that miserable vanity which induces a man to wish to
conquer by his own merits and to scorn the use of other weapons. But
the real state of affairs is now placed in so clear a light that my
eyes are pained by it. This Mac Donalbain is a monster, and Christine
loves him. Forbearance would now be madness, as the honor and happiness
of this house hang upon a hair.'
'And what would you do?' anxiously asked Arwed.
'That shall you directly hear,' answered Megret; 'for there, most
opportunely, comes the Scot. His destiny leads him towards me. May I
only gain sufficient composure to roast the villain _a petit feu_, as
we call it. It would yet be some little satisfaction for the constant
torments of jealousy for which I may thank him since I first sighed for
the countess.'
'Megret turned away and proceeded some steps down the avenue, and on
his return all traits of anger had disappeared from his face, and a
cold, smooth smile was substituted. Meanwhile the Scot approached and
courteously greeted them.
'You come just in time, sir Mac Donalbain,' said Megret in an
apparently friendly manner, 'to enlighten me upon a matter of some
interest. According to your name and your own assurance you are indeed
a Scot, and can give us information from the best sources relative to
the manners and customs of your dear fatherland.'
'Why not!' asked the Scot with a forced smile.
'Now will you please to inform me, worthy sir,' said Megret, familiarly
approaching him, 'what, in your highlands, is the exact meaning of the
term, 'children of the mist?'
Starting and shrinking at this question, Mac Donalbain answered only
with a deadly glance.
'They also call them 'children of night,' added Megret in a quiet and
seemingly friendly manner. 'The terms are said to apply to those poor
people who, at variance with the civil authorities, shelter themselves
in rocks and caves, occasionally making excursions into the lowlands,
plundering and burning dwellings, driving off cattle, now and then
perpetrating a murder, and getting hanged at last.'
'You speak of the robber clans of the highlands,' said Mac Donalbain,
struggling to preserve his equanimity.
'_C'est cela!_' cried Megret, nodding waggishly; 'and I reckon upon
your goodness for some details about them. It would be very interesting
to me to compare your children of the mist with a somewhat similar
class in this country. In Scotland, I am told, even the nobility do not
consider it disreputable to march at the head of such expeditions
against the flocks and herds of the lowlands. They make no secret of
them, and hold the gallows to be as good a bed of honor as the battle
field. Every country has its peculiar customs and code of morals. The
leaders of our robber bands are far more delicate. They, at least
blacken their faces, renouncing the glory due to their heroic deeds,
and wash them clean again when they go into honest company.'
With these words Mac Donalbain's face became pale as death. His eyes
rolled as if they would start from their sockets, and his teeth audibly
chattered. At length he indistinctly stammered, 'I do not, indeed,
understand your words; but your envenomed glances are the true
interpreters of your meaning. They at least make it clear that you
intend to insult me; and more is unnecessary to induce a noble Scot to
demand instant satisfaction.'
'It is very flattering to me, noble sir,' answered Megret, 'to receive
an invitation to the field of honor from you; but before I can accept
it, you must satisfy me that I shall really preserve, and not lose my
honor, by going out with you. My comrades in the army are somewhat nice
in such matters, and certain occupations render a man forever unworthy
a gentleman's sword.'
'Do you refuse to give me satisfaction?' fiercely asked Mac Donalbain,
stepping toward Megret, with his hand, apparently grasping a weapon, in
his bosom.
Meanwhile Megret had drawn a pistol from his pocket, cocked it, and
presented its muzzle to Mac Donalbain. 'One step nearer, a suspicious
movement even,' cried he, 'and this bullet pierces your heart. You know
the accuracy of my aim.'
Mac Donalbain drew back, fixing his eyes upon his relentless enemy with
a wild and vacant stare.
'We will quickly put an end to this unpleasant interview,' continued
Megret, with frightful coolness. 'By all this you must perceive that I
know you. Long since might I have denounced you to the civil
authorities, and I have had more than one personal inducement to do so.
Because I became troublesome to you, your myrmidons attempted my murder
during the ride to Tornea, and, had it not been for the major's
interference, would have succeeded. But magnanimity is the weakness of
Frenchmen. You are pardoned, and I merely command you instantly to
leave this castle, never to return. If I ever again behold you here, or
within a circuit of fifty miles from this, the robber-captain shall be
brought to justice and suffer the penalties of the laws.'
Unable to speak, and with a countenance such as satan might be supposed
to have assumed directly after his fall into the abyss, Mac Donalbain
rushed forth, and Megret proceeded in triumph to the castle.
'It is still problematical,' soliloquized Arwed, 'with which of the two
Christine would be most miserable. I become more and more doubtful with
regard to Megret. The Scot received but his deserts, although it is no
honest man who assumes the duty of executioner,--for no one but a
finished villain could have taken such pleasure in stretching his
victim upon the rack.'
His uncle now hastily approached him from the castle, with an open
letter in his hand, and a face expressive of delighted anticipation.
'Have you spoken with old Brodin?' he anxiously asked.
'I have,' answered Arwed; and the recollection of the loss of Georgina
drew a deep sigh from his bosom.
'You are now wholly free, Arwed,' cried the uncle, with heartfelt love.
'May I hope that in a beloved nephew I may soon embrace a son-in-law?'
Arwed, perceiving whither this question must lead, foresaw the
unpleasant scene which the contest between his uncle's will and
Christine's passion would produce, and remained silent.
'Do not fear,' his uncle anxiously added, 'that your consent will be
extorted. Read this letter. Your father desires this union, but he
leaves your will free. Yet should I think, that as your beloved has
loosed the chains which bound you, you certainly would make some effort
to gratify an old man who loves you with his whole heart, and knows not
better how to secure the happiness of his only child than by placing
her hand in yours.'
'I gratefully acknowledge your paternal goodness,' answered Arwed,
evasively. 'But I beg of you to leave me time for self-examination. My
sorrow is yet new, and for Christine I may safely affirm that a union
with me is very far from her thoughts. Besides, I need time to
familiarize myself with my new position, and enable me to come to a
decision.'
'I know my daughter,' cried the uncle. 'There was for a time something
strange and adverse in her conduct which often perplexed me; but in the
main her heart is good; and a thousand trifling things have convinced
me that she likes you. Upon the word of a knight, she will not say
nay!'
'Consider at least the circumstances of the times,' said Arwed. 'The
moment when Sweden is bleeding under the swords of her enemies, when
she is struggling for her very existence, is surely no time for tying
love-knots. Besides, I am resolved to depart to-morrow morning for the
army. Should I come back after the close of the war, it will then be
time to speak of this affair.'
'_You_ going to the army!' exclaimed the uncle, with astonishment.
'Have you forgotten that you have been dismissed the service and
banished from the capital?'
'I will serve as a volunteer,' cried Arwed with patriotic zeal, 'in one
of the lowest grades--as a common soldier--if it must be so. If I may
not live for Sweden, they cannot but permit me to die for her!'
'Die! and for this queen?' asked the uncle.
'What care I for the queen?' answered Arwed. 'I fight for my
father-land, and to protect the tomb of that heroic king whose life I
was not allowed by fate to defend.'
'Noble man!' cried the uncle. 'You shame me. The prospect of good
fortune for my house caused me to forget the miseries of my country,
while you are ready to shed your blood in the service of a government
which has thwarted your dearest hopes. Well, act according to the
dictates of your heart. Something must also be done to satisfy mine,
before you leave us, and that even now, for here comes my daughter.'
'Alas!' sighed Arwed, as the pale and trembling maiden slowly
approached them.
'My father, you have commanded my presence,' said she, with a failing
voice.
'Arwed's beloved,' answered the governor, 'has married another. He
leaves us in the morning, once more to meet the enemies of Sweden. You
know my wishes, Christine. He must leave Gyllensten only as your
affianced lover; the marriage can follow in more peaceable and happier
times. So extend to him your hand and give him the troth-kiss.'
'Oh, my God!' stammered Christine, wringing her hands.
'Why this affectation?' asked her father with displeasure.
'You afflict your daughter,' said Arwed, and then turning to Christine,
'calm yourself, cousin! this storm has not been raised by me. Bound or
free, I will never permit your heart to be constrained.'
'Nothing is more intolerable,' angrily interposed the governor, 'than a
young knight's feigning a coldness towards the other sex which is
foreign to his heart. However strong have been, or may now be, your
feelings for Georgina, yet it has not escaped a father's eye that my
daughter is not an object of indifference to you. The glances which you
now and then cast upon her when you think yourself unobserved, the warm
interest which you take in her conversation, even the reproofs you
often give her, have but the more clearly proved the state of your
feelings.'
Arwed cast his eyes bashfully down.
'And, not to mention many other indications,' continued the old man,
addressing himself to Christine, 'what impelled you to mount your horse
so quickly when Megret brought us the news of Arwed's danger? When a
maiden breaks through all obstacles to fight for a young man, one may
confidently swear she has an attachment for him.'
'Oh, my father!' cried Christine in the deepest affliction, hiding her
face in his bosom.
'Then give him the hand which would have fought for him,' commanded the
father, moving to lead his daughter to Arwed's arms. She tore herself
from him. 'I cannot! by heaven, I cannot!' shrieked the despairing
girl.
'You cannot?' asked the governor, angrily. 'And that you are in
earnest, is confirmed by your looks. Now, then, my daughter, give your
father a reason why you cannot obey his will, which was never swayed by
warmer affection than at this moment. I may bear the contradiction if
it be supported upon reasonable grounds, but I am not disposed to
become the plaything of your caprice and obstinacy. Therefore answer,
what have you against this union?'
Christine remained silently sobbing and wringing her hands.
'This silence answers me more clearly than you may wish,' said the
governor with grave significancy. 'It is an acknowledgment that you are
ashamed of the cause of your refusal, and clearly explains many things
which have hitherto appeared dark to me. These tears confess your
conviction that your foolish wishes can never be realized, and save me
the trouble of proving it to you. I spare you the reproaches your
conduct merits. Let the past be buried in oblivion. Render yourself
worthy of this kindness by obedience. Give your hand to Arwed, my
daughter.'
Christine gave Arwed an imploring look, but neither moved nor spoke.
The old man knit his eye-brows. His eyes flashed, and he angrily lifted
up his hands. 'Shall I curse my disobedient child?' he thundered in her
ears.
'Father!' groaned Christine, sinking to his feet.
'No further, my uncle!' cried Arwed, with generous anger. 'I should not
deserve the name of a man if I could permit a noble maiden to be forced
into my arms by a father's curse. The first severe word addressed to
your daughter on my account, banishes me forever from Gyllensten. You
have my word of honor for it!'
'Can you withstand such generosity, my daughter?' asked the governor,
bending over Christine with mingled anger, love and anxiety.
'God is my witness,' cried the maiden, 'how willingly my heart would
reconcile itself with your desire. Grant me a short respite for
reflection. In the morning you shall know my determination.'
'Grant her the respite,' earnestly begged Arwed. 'Overhastening is a
species of compulsion.'
The governor raised his daughter and looked sharply into her eyes.
'Does no artifice lie hidden in this request?' asked he with emphasis.
'Will you really explain yourself in the morning, openly and honestly,
without equivocation, as becomes a noble Swedish maiden and my
daughter?'
'By the holy evangelists!' cried Christine, almost out of her senses,
'in the morning you shall learn my determination, and with God be the
result.'
'Respite the poor maiden for to-night,' entreated Arwed. 'The struggles
of her soul have agitated her too violently, and your words were too
sharp and heavy. Should your daughter's health give way under her
sufferings, you would repent it too late.'
'Go, then, Christine,' said the governor, 'and bring me in the morning
such a decision as I may be able to receive.'
Christine kissed his hand in silence, and then leaned, weeping, against
a tree.
'Yes! children are the gift of heaven!' said the old man to Arwed, 'and
the joys they bring us are the best in life. But when they are given in
anger, they become the most terrible scourges in his hands, through the
sorrows they cause.'
He walked slowly towards the castle, and Christine suddenly approached
Arwed, threw her arms passionately around him, impressed a burning kiss
upon his lips, and sobbed, 'farewell, Arwed,--do not despise me! Oh
that we had sooner met!'
She hastened away, and Arwed found himself alone.