BY THE EXPRESS FOR LUBECK.
Though Trevor Chute's old habits of decision and activity remained, a
new kind of life had come upon him of late; thus he who had found the
greatest pleasure in his military duties and attending to the wants
of his men, in the saddle hunting, enjoying the day-dawn gallop, or
with his rifle and hog-spear, watching under the fierce sun-glare for
the red-eyed tiger or the bristly boar, as they came to drink in some
secluded nullah, had now changed into one of the veriest day-dreamers
that ever let the slow hours steal past him uselessly in succession.
So that time were got through, he cared little how. Would Vane join
him? He rather fancied that he would not.
Nor did he wish it, though Jerry was the friend he valued most in the
world, for the urgent reason that through him alone could he hear
aught of her to whom he could not write, and who would not write to
him.
Thus Chute lived in a little world of his own, lighted up by the
remembered face of Clare and the hopes she had bade him cherish.
He marvelled much how Jerry's love affair was progressing, and
whether Ida would yet forget his other friend, Jack Beverley.
He thought not, by all he knew of her, yet wished that she should do
so, for Jerry's sake.
There was much of humility in the latter, and he held himself of
small account with her.
Though proud enough with his own sex, even to hauteur at times, his
love for Ida made him her very slave; and now how often came back to
Vane's memory, with regret and reproach, the bygone scoffs and silly
ironies he had often cast on his friends, who, when he was
heart-whole, were suffering from the lost smile of those they had
loved, perhaps more truly than wisely.
Recollections of his own laughter, his gibes and his quips, came back
to him as if in mockery now.
Trevor Chute and Clare were separated again; but not as before: now
he did not feel, as in the old time, that he had lost her, and he
looked back to his last interview with joy.
Long though the time seemed since then, it was but recently that her
dark eyes had smiled lovingly into his; that all the nameless charms
of her presence had been with him, that she had spoken with him, and
that he had listened to her.
When would all this come to pass again?
Till then what mattered it how he killed the time, or whither he went?
Yet pleasure and amusement palled on him; the sea breeze had lost its
charm, and the sparkling waves their beauty; flowers seemed to be
without fragrance; the fertile green pastures of Germany and Denmark,
in all their summer glory, and the woods with the first tints of
autumn, were without interest to his eye; for he was, more than ever,
a man of one thought, and that thought was Clare Collingwood.
In this mood of mind, without thinking how or why, he started for the
famous old Hans town.
The train took him to Korsor, in Zealand; there he crossed the Great
Belt, and from the deck of the _Maid of Norway_ steamer could see the
Danish Isles steeped in the noon-day heat, when every sandy holm and
green headland seemed to vibrate in the sunshine that glistened on
the blue waves which roll round Nyeborg and picturesque old Odensee;
and after running through Sleswig and Holstein on a pleasant
afternoon in autumn, he found himself at Hamburg, in the train for
Lubeck, 'the Carthage of the North.'
Tom Travers had seen to the luggage and the inspection thereof;
procured the tickets for himself and his master, and the latter had
just lit his cigar, and composed himself for his journey, pleased to
find himself the sole occupant of a carriage, when he suddenly
observed a lady, undoubtedly an Englishwoman, procuring a bouquet of
rose-buds from a Vierlander _fleuriste_, one of those picturesquely
costumed girls who wear a bodice that is a mass of spangles and
embroidery, a straw hat shaped like a Spanish sombrero, and thick,
bunchy skirts, such as we may see in an old picture of Teniers, and
who come from that district which lies between the Elbe and the
Bille, where the whole population are market-gardeners.
There was some delay, during which the train was shifted a little,
and amid the bustle of the platform the lady looked about in
confusion, uncertain which was her carriage.
Already the starting bell had been rung and the shrill steam-whistle
had sent up its preparatory shriek.
'Dritte klasse, zweite klasse!' the bearded German guard was
shouting, while waving his little flag of the North Germanic colours.
'Hierher--nach hinten--nach vorn--Bitte, steigen sie ein, madame!'
('Pray get in,' etc.)
Mechanically, Chute, in mere politeness, opened the carriage door,
and she was half handed, half pushed in by the hasty guard, for
already the train was in motion, and she found herself, it would
seem, separated from her friends, and swept away by the express in
companionship with a total stranger.
'How awkward,' she said in German; 'I have been put--almost thrust, I
may say--into the wrong carriage.'
'You can change at Buchen, the only place where the express stops,'
replied Chute.
'Ah! you are English,' said she, her countenance languidly lighted
up. 'So glad; for though I speak German pretty well, I don't
understand the patois of the people hereabouts, on the borders of
Holstein.'
Chute merely made an inclination of his head, and was about to throw
his cigar out of the window, when she begged he would not do so;
smoking never incommoded her--indeed, she rather liked it.
He thanked her, and they slid into the usual little commonplaces
about the weather, the scenery, and so forth.
Though handsome, she was _passée_, and Trevor Chute could detect that
she had in her manner much of the polished _insouciance_, the
cultivated, yet apparently careless fascination of a woman of the
world; and it soon became evident that she knew it, and the world of
London too, in many phases.
Apart from the rank that was indicated by a coronet and monogram that
were among the silver ornaments on her blue velvet Marguerite pouch,
he felt certain that she was an Englishwoman of undoubted position,
and was quite _aplomb_--even a little 'fast'--in her manner; but that
amused Chute.
He could perceive that she was married, as a wedding hoop was among
the gemmed rings that sparkled on her left hand--a very lovely one in
shape and whiteness; moreover, she spoke of her husband, and said
they were to take the branch line at Buchen for the Elbe, adding:
'Do you go so far?'
'Farther; to Lubeck--a place few people go to, and few come from.'
'Ah! And you travel----'
'To kill time.'
'Most people do so. _We_ came here to be out of the way of people
one knows and is sure to meet everywhere in more beaten tracks; also
to get rid of the tedium of visiting ambassadors, and undergoing
their receptions--one of the greatest bores when abroad.'
She evidently knew London well. In the course of conversation they
discovered that several of their acquaintances were mutual, and Chute
began to wonder who she was, and became interested in her, in spite
of his general indifference.
She seemed to be 'up to' a good deal, too; acknowledged that she made
quite a little book on the Derby and Ascot--was above taking a bet on
a favourite in kid gloves only; and told in the prettiest way how
skilfully, and with a little spice of naughtiness, she had, on more
than one occasion, learned the secrets of the stables, and of the
trials in the early morning gallops; and actually how she had
persuaded people to lay five to one, when the printed lists said
'evens,' to square herself in the end; and then she laughed, and said
it was so odd to have her husband travelling in the next carriage,
and thus quite separated from her; but at Buchen she would rejoin him.
'Do you travel much?' she asked, after a pause.
'Well; yes.'
'Who does not nowadays!'
'My profession----'
'The army?'
'Yes; I have just returned from India.'
'To one who has seen all the wonders and marvels there--the rock-hewn
temples, the marble palaces and mosques, the vast plains and mighty
mountains of India--how tame you must think these level landscapes
and little German villages!'
'They are peaceful scenes, and most English in aspect.'
'But all this part of Europe is quite like the midland counties. You
were, of course, with the Line in India; but--you have been in the
Guards?'
'Yes,' replied Chute, becoming thoroughly interested now.
'Ah! I discovered that from a slight remark you made about the
Derby.'
'Who the deuce can this woman be, who picks all my past life out of
me?' thought Chute, as they mutually recalled the names of many men
of 'the Brigade.'
'Do you know Major Desmond?' she asked.
'Slightly,' replied Chute, while a shade crossed his face.
She was quick enough to perceive it, so the subject was not pursued;
and now the train glided into the station.
She bowed politely to Chute, who endeavoured to open the door for
her; but it was locked fast, and the guard was at the other end of
the train.
A sound was heard, like the clanking of a heavy chain, as some
carriages were uncoupled; and the train again began to move. Chute
called and gesticulated to some men on the platform.
'Sitzen sie ruhig!' was the only response. 'Sit still! the train is
in motion!'
And once more they were sweeping with increased speed, through the
open country. The carriages for the branch line had been left
behind, with the lady's husband, suite and baggage; and she borne
helplessly off by the express for Lubeck.
She became very much discomposed on learning this, and that she would
be carried on fifty-six English miles in a wrong direction before she
could telegraph to or communicate with her friends in any way; but
after a time she laughed at it as being quite a little adventure, and
to amuse her, Chute, by the aid of his Continental guide, indicated
the various places of interest through which they swept with a mighty
rush; now it was Ahrensburg or Bargtehude, and after traversing a
flat, stupid, and uninteresting district, Oldeslohe with its salt
mines and lime pits, and then Reinfeldt.
Anon the scenery became more and more English in aspect, and enclosed
with hedges in English fashion, and all so homelike, that one could
not but remember that not far off lies the nook which still bears the
name of England, which was transferred by the emigrant Saxons to
South Britain. The rich meadows, the well-tilled corn-lands, the
farmhouses and villages, all looking as clean and as pretty as red
brick, white plaster, green paint and flowers could make them, all
seem there to remind one of the most beautiful parts in England;
while in the distance, more than once could be had glimpses of the
Baltic, with its dark blue waters sparkling in the evening sun.
Lakes and groves add then to the beauty of the scenery, and
wood-covered hills that slope gently upward from the bordering sea,
or smooth sheets of inland water.
Chute's companion seemed really to enjoy her journey; and her first
annoyance over, she relapsed into her occasional air of nonchalance
and languid carelessness, that seemed born of Tyburnia and the
West-end of London; and soon the tall red spires of Lubeck, which had
been long in sight above the greenness of the level land, were close
by, as the train ran into the station, near the magnificent and
picturesque double towers and deep dark archways of the Holstein
Thor, which stands among the long and shady avenues of the
Linden-platz.
Though small, beautiful indeed looked the ancient Hans city rising on
its ridge, with its twelve great earthen bastions covered by
luxuriant foliage, all steeped in the glorious crimson of the
after-glow from the set sun that blended with amber and blue.
Trevor Chute handed out his fair companion. There was no train for
Buchen that night, nor would there be one till nearly noon on the
morrow. The lady knew that her husband would be taken on to
Lauenberg, but as she did not know where to telegraph to him there,
she could but do so to the station-master at Buchen, and on this
being done, she turned to Chute, for, traveller though she was, she
was perplexed to find herself in a strange place, without servants or
escort, and surrounded by unceremonious German touts bawling out,
'Stadt Hamburg,' 'Hotel du Nord,' 'Funf Thurme,' and the names of
other hotels.
'Permit me to be your guide,' said he, as Travers procured an open
droski; 'the Stadt Hamburg is the chief hotel. I shall have the
honour to escort you there.'
'Thanks, very much indeed,' said she, bowing, and for the first time
colouring slightly; 'when' (he did not catch the name amid the hubbub
around them) 'my husband arrives he will be most grateful to you for
all this.'
And now, as they drove through the Holstein Thor towards the hotel,
Chute was provoked to see in the face of his man, Travers, a comical
and perplexed expression. He had never seen his master escorting an
apparent stranger thus before, and hence knew not what to make of the
situation.