The morning had dawned. The governor, with Arwed, had accompanied
Megret down to the courtyard, where his horses stood ready saddled for
the journey, and the traveler held out his hand to the governor to say
farewell.
'Allow me to give you a well meant warning at parting,' said the
colonel, dejectedly. 'Suffer not this Scot to remain longer at the
castle,--he is not worthy of breathing the same air with you. If you
would know more of him, ask your nephew. He witnessed a conversation
which I held yesterday with that man. My duty calls me to the tumult of
war. Should I ever return, I shall have a request to prefer to your
heart, and shall rely upon the friendship of which you have hitherto
deemed me worthy, for its favorable reception. Commend the remembrance
of a man who adores her to your charming daughter. Say to her:
notwithstanding the cruelty with which she has refused me a last
farewell, her image will accompany me to the field of danger and incite
me to victory or bless me in death!'
He overlooked the doubting shake of the head which preceded the answer
the governor was about to make, threw himself upon his horse and rode
rapidly out of the castle gate.
'The evening of my life will be clouded,' said the governor to Arwed;
'and already I seem to see the lightning flash which is to destroy my
last earthly happiness. God's will be done! Is Mac Donalbain yet in the
castle?' he asked of his steward, who approached at that moment.
'When he came out of the garden yesterday evening,' answered the
steward, 'he merely took his gun and sporting pouch from the dining
room, spoke a few words to the countess, and then rushed like a madman
down the mountain. Since then I have seen no more of him. Something
very disagreeable must have happened to him, for no one could look upon
his face without terror.'
'You must relate to me the conversation which Megret had with Mac
Donalbain,' said the governor; and then turning to the steward he asked
him, 'is my daughter yet awake?'
'All is yet still in the chamber of the countess,' answered the latter.
'Let her be awakened,' commanded the governor. 'The breakfast waits for
her.'
The steward departed, and the governor returned with Arwed to the lower
hall. There, for a long time, they walked up and down the room
together. Arwed dreaded lifting the veil under which the trouble was
concealed, and his uncle, who remarked his reluctance, had not courage
to repeat his request. Meanwhile the breakfast was brought in. The
governor silently filled the goblets, looked occasionally toward the
door, sighed, seized the cup mechanically and raised it to his lips,
and then set it down again without drinking.
'Am I not like a child who is trembling with fear in anticipation of a
ghost story?' he at length said, with a forced jest. 'Courage! narrate
it Arwed.'
Arwed was about to obey, when an anxious movement was heard without,
and, pale as death, the steward re-entered with a billet in his hand.
'The countess is nowhere to be found,' stammered he. 'Her bed has not
been disturbed. She was in the garden late last evening, and sent her
chambermaid to bed.'
'What is that?' cried the governor rushing upon the steward. 'What
holdest thou there?'
'A billet for your excellency,' answered the latter, 'I found it in the
chamber of the countess.'
The governor seized, opened, and read it. As the oak of a thousand
years yields to the force of its own weight when the axe has severed
its roots, wavers, and finally rushes crackling to the ground; so
wavered and fell that noble old man, whose mental agony was happily
relieved by a suspension of consciousness.
Whilst the steward and hastening servants were endeavoring to recall
him to life, Arwed raised the paper which had fallen from his trembling
hand, and read as follows:
'Alike unworthy to call myself Arwed's wife and your daughter, I have
not courage to meet your just anger. I therefore follow the man whose
wife I already am in the sight of God. By the memory of my noble mother
I conjure you curse me not. May you pardon me in another world!'
'Unhappy parent!' sighed Arwed with deep emotion.
Meantime the strong old man, who had partially recovered, raised
himself up in his chair, and his first glance fell upon Arwed.
'You have read?' he asked, and as Arwed answered in the affirmative, he
stretched out his hand to receive the billet, which Arwed with some
hesitation handed to him. Having motioned to his people to withdraw, he
again read it through.
'No, I will not curse thee, unhappy girl!' said he coldly, and tearing
the note. 'An ungrateful child bears already the curse of heaven in her
heart, and where love is dead the flames of anger find no nourishment.
You hope I shall pardon you in another world! It is possible I may, if
in that world earthly conceptions of honor disappear, and a woman
without virtue is no longer a disgrace to her sex.'
'Will you not make an attempt,' asked Arwed, 'to tear the poor victim
from her seducer? Let us seek her! Your arm reaches further than she
can have flown in the course of the night.'
'Why should I?' said the governor, with listless anger. 'Should I bring
her back, I should be compelled to take the life of the villain, whose
wife she already is in the sight of God, and she would have nothing
left on earth. Let them go!'
A deep and awful silence followed. The clattering steps of Arwed's
horses, which Knut was leading out, awoke the uncle from his
stupefaction.
'Your horses are ready,' said he, rising up. 'Go, and God be with you!'
'It is hard for me to leave you in this state of mind,' said Arwed.
'Your country calls you,' answered the governor, 'and I may venture to
call myself a man. I have given proof of it. I have experienced the
worst that can befall me, and sorrow has not killed me.'
'My noble, my unhappy uncle!' cried Arwed, sinking upon the old man's
bosom.
'Fight bravely, Arwed,' said the uncle, 'but risk not your life with
foolhardiness. You are my only heir. I know your disposition, that you
disregard wealth, but the fact will serve to remind you that here lives
an unhappy father of whom you are the last earthly prop.'
'God send you peace!' cried Arwed, overpowered by sorrow, and rushing
forth, he soon, with his faithful servant, found himself upon the high
road.