Twice the swallows had come and gone since the grave had closed on
Edmund von Ettersberg. Now for the third time they arrived, bearing
Spring upon their pinions; and as, after all the icy frost and snow of
winter, the earth blossomed forth in newborn splendour, so the dark
shadow of that grave, watered by many tears, was lightened, and from
it there emerged a fair vision of human hope and happiness.
The death of young Count Ettersberg had caused the greatest
consternation, and awakened general sympathy in the neighbourhood.
This universal mourning was due as much to Edmund's personal
characteristics, which had endeared him to all, as to the frightful
circumstances of his death. So young, so beautiful, rich and
happy--his wedding-day so near! And for a mere mad frolic's sake, for
a rash, senseless wager, to perish miserably, to be torn from his
mother and his betrothed, without even seeing them or hearing their
last farewell. It was a terrible fate!
How bright, how exuberantly gay the young Count had been the very
morning on which the catastrophe befell! The darker, more secret
sequence of events, none suspected. Edmund had gained his end. His
mother remained spotless as before, and the rightful heir entered into
possession of his own.
Many changes had been effected on the Ettersberg estates during the
past two years. The present owner, Count Oswald, who on his cousin's
death had succeeded to the title and the property took a serious view
of the duties of his new position. Rarely indeed comes such a change
in the life of a man as had come to him--a change so precipitate, so
unexpected. Oswald, who had been bred in dependence and subordination,
who, even when he shook off the fetters of that dependence, went forth
to meet a life of care, of grave unflagging work, suddenly found
himself transformed into the head of the house, the owner of wealthy
family estates. His legal career was at an end before it had fairly
begun. There was no failure of gratitude towards the friend in the
great city who, in his need, had given him fatherly protection and
assistance. Their relations continued excellent and affectionate as
before; but, of course, a return to that sphere, to the life
previously planned out for him, was not now to be thought of.
Other and greater tasks devolved upon Oswald, and he gave himself up
to them with all the thoroughness and energy pertaining to his
character. His strong hand grasped the helm in time to rescue the
long-neglected estates from the ruin which seemed imminent. Gradually
but surely he raised the value of the property until it reached its
former zenith.
With but few exceptions, the reigning officials were superseded, and
the system of administration underwent a complete change, while the
large sums of money which in the old days had been called in to
support the castle household on a lordly scale were now devoted to the
restoration and improvement of the estates.
The new Master of Ettersberg led a solitary and retired life, and
seemed at present in no way minded to select a companion or bring home
a bride. This circumstance caused some wonderment in the neighbouring
circles.
It was freely said that the Count, now in his nine-and-twentieth year,
might think of marrying, ought to think of it, seeing that he was the
last and only scion of the Ettersberg race. Plans were laid, and
efforts were not spared to secure so brilliant a _parti_, but hitherto
without avail.
Similar schemes and expectations were formed with regard to Brunneck.
The hand of the young heiress was again disengaged, though at first a
certain delicacy of feeling forbade would-be suitors to take advantage
of the fact. Genuine and universal as had been the sympathy felt for
Hedwig, it was considered inadmissible that this girl of eighteen
should pass her life in sorrowing for the lover who had been taken
from her; and many pretensions and desires, which that engagement had
blighted, came to the front again.
They were, however, again doomed to disappointment, for Hedwig, by a
decided step, withdrew herself from all possible overtures.
Before the period of mourning was over, she left Brunneck to accompany
Edmund's mother on a visit to Italy. The Countess's health had quite
given way beneath the shock of her son's death, and in spite of the
most skilled advice, her malady made such serious progress that the
doctors in consultation gave no hope save in a lengthened stay in the
South.
It was thought an act of self-sacrifice on Fraeulein Ruestow's part to
leave her home, and even her father, that she might accompany the
invalid--the good neighbours who thus judged being quite ignorant of
the fact that Hedwig was longing to escape, to place the barrier of
distance between herself and hopes which seemed to her an offence
against the dead.
The two ladies had been absent almost a year and a half. In vain had
the Councillor remonstrated and made impatient supplication for his
daughter's return; his prayers found no favourable hearing. Hedwig had
always given as a pretext the Countess's continued illness, declaring
that she neither could nor would leave her in so piteous a condition.
But now, at length, the travellers were at home once more. Ruestow, who
had gone some stages on the road to meet them, brought his daughter
straight back to Brunneck, whilst the Countess proceeded to Schoenfeld,
where, since Edmund's death, she had taken up her residence.
On the second day after the ladies' return, the Councillor was sitting
as usual with his cousin in the veranda-parlour. He was full of
delight at having his daughter with him again, and never weary of
looking at her after their long separation. He declared that she had
grown much more lovely, more sensible, more charming in every way, and
the expression of his fatherly pride culminated in a solemn
announcement that never again would he part with his darling as long
as he lived.
For once his cousin actually agreed with him, admitting the
improvement visible in Hedwig; but at these last words she shook her
head and replied, with a certain meaning emphasis:
'You should not speak so decidedly, Erich. Who knows how long you will
enjoy exclusive possession of Hedwig! That may be disputed you even
here at Brunneck.'
'I shall not allow it,' interrupted Ruestow. 'I have no doubt that the
Countess would like to have her over at Schoenfeld for weeks at a
stretch, but she will not have her way in this. I have been deprived
of my child's society long enough, and mean to take a stand on my
rights at last.'
'Count Ettersberg was at the station, I suppose, when you arrived with
the travellers the day before yesterday?' said the lady.
'Certainly. It was very considerate, very proper of him to come
himself to receive his aunt and take her over to Schoenfeld. He was
glad, too, to see Hedwig, and say a word of welcome to her on her
return; but this, of course, was secondary.'
'Of course, quite secondary!' murmured Aunt Lina softly, but with an
ironical twitch of the lips.
'The Count was not on particularly good terms with his aunt in the old
days,' said Ruestow, turning to his cousin; 'but ever since her great
misfortune he has shown her much kindness and attention. Indeed, I see
a considerable alteration in that young man. He can even be pleasant
and affable in his manners now, and as concerns his management of the
Ettersberg property----'
'Yes, we are aware that he is an agricultural genius,' put in Aunt
Lina. 'You discovered his talents in that line years ago, you know,
when no one guessed that he was the future owner and Master of
Ettersberg.'
'It would have been an unpardonable mistake if Fate had ordained that
that man should be a lawyer,' said the Councillor solemnly. 'It always
gratifies me when I remember what a clearance he made directly the
reins fell into his hands, how quickly he put a stop to the old
routine of reckless waste and mismanagement. He struck hard and struck
home. In less than three months all the old worthless lumber had been
thrown out. The parasites, which for years had clung to the good tree,
sapping its strength, were destroyed. And how the man set to work when
it came to ordering a new system! My spirit of enterprise is not
small, but I believe I must yield the palm to him. I never should have
imagined that in so short a time the estates could have been so raised
in value. I ought to feel some annoyance, for hitherto Brunneck has
passed for the model establishment of this part of the country, and
now I suppose Ettersberg will be disputing its claim to the first
rank.'
'And to a good many other things, I fancy. But you will take it all
very patiently and quietly, Erich, for Count Oswald has always been a
declared favourite of yours.'
'So he has, but I admit one great fault in him.
He will not marry. The whole neighbourhood is full of it. I shall take
him to task seriously on the subject.'
'Do nothing of the sort,' said Aunt Lina. 'Interference is quite
unnecessary, especially from you.'
Ruestow did not catch the hidden meaning of her words. He took them as
expressing distrust in his skill and diplomacy, and was much offended
in consequence.
'You think that where marriage is concerned, nobody but a woman has a
right to speak. I will show you that I know what I am about. Count
Oswald sets great store by my opinion.'
'I have not a doubt of it, on this subject more than on any other. I
am convinced even that he will not marry without previously seeking
your consent and approbation. You need not put yourself in a passion,
Erich. I mean what I say--and there! why, there is the Count's
carriage just turning into the courtyard. I knew very well he would be
over here to-day.'
'How could you know that?' asked Ruestow, still angry at her supposed
sarcasm. 'You have taken no interest whatever in my new steam-engine.'
'What steam-engine?'
'A new and most practical invention which I had down from town a
little while ago. You were indifferent as usual. It failed to rouse
your interest, but the Count, to whom I was explaining all the details
when we met at the station the other day, is burning with desire to
examine it.'
The old lady seemed to have her own ideas on the subject of this
punctuality and burning zeal. She shrugged her shoulders
significantly, as the Councillor hurried eagerly away to receive his
visitor, in whose company he returned a few minutes later.
No striking change had taken place in Oswald's outward appearance, yet
it produced an impression quite different from that of former days.
With the pressure of untoward circumstances, with the fruitless,
constant struggle against a galling chain, the bitterness of spirit
had disappeared which once threatened to gain complete dominion over
his proud and sensitive nature. Freedom and a new sense of personal
importance had given him fuller development. The harsh expression had
vanished from his features, the former coldness and abruptness from
his speech and demeanour. He was not indeed possessed of that frank
charm of manner with which Edmund had conquered all hearts, but his
grave superior calm, his simple and yet imposing mien, showed that the
present owner of Ettersberg was better fitted to rule and to command
than his deceased cousin ever could have been. The Count, on this
occasion, came of course solely and entirely to see the famous
steam-engine, and to judge by a certain perturbed restlessness which
he sought in vain to conceal, his interest in the useful invention
must have been of an intense and all-absorbing character. Yet he
listened with rather an absent air to the Councillor's florid
description of his new treasure, and kept his eyes fixed on the door.
He appeared to be momentarily expecting something, or some one; at
length his patience gave way, and, turning to Aunt Lina, he observed
in the most innocent and natural tone in the world:
'Fraeulein Hedwig is out in the park, I suppose. I fancied I caught
sight of her as I drove through.'
The old lady cast at him a glance which plainly said, 'If you had
fancied that, you would not be herewith us now;' but aloud she
replied, with an innocent simplicity equal to his own:
'I think you are mistaken. Count. My niece, I regret to say, has gone
out to take a walk, probably to revisit some of the favourite old
haunts which she has not yet seen since she came home.'
'Her favourite haunts!' The hint was sufficient for Count Oswald. He
suddenly discovered that he had very little time at his disposal, and
was bound to return to Ettersberg with all speed, but this availed him
little. Ruestow took it as a fresh compliment to the steam-engine that,
notwithstanding the urgent calls upon his time, his guest had come
over to inspect and admire it. Inexorably he dragged him forth.
Oswald had to listen long to all the detailed explanations of this
enthusiastic farmer, though in his impatience the ground on which he
stood seemed to scorch his feet. At length he succeeded in getting
free, and leaving the Councillor with a hurried good-bye, jumped into
the carriage, which was waiting for him, and drove away.
Ruestow returned to the house a little put out at the unusual shortness
and hasty nature of the visit vouchsafed him.
'There was nothing to be done with the Count to-day,' he said to his
cousin. 'He seemed quite absent in his manner, and hardly looked at
the engine, after all. Now he is rushing back to Ettersberg like the
wind. It really was not worth while to come so far for such a flying
visit.'
'It was too bad of you to torment him in that way,' remarked Aunt
Lina, with sly malice. 'A full quarter of an hour you kept him
standing there by your tiresome old steam-engine! He did not come to
see that, bless you! and he is not driving back to Ettersberg now--not
a bit of it, no more than I am!'
'Where in the world is he, then?' asked Ruestow, who was so overcome by
these assertions that he overlooked the insulting word 'tiresome,'
applied to his steam-engine.
'Very probably he is not driving at all. I dare say he has sent his
carriage on into the village, and is taking a walk in the woods, or on
the hills, or somewhere about. How can I tell in what direction Hedwig
may be strolling?'
'Hedwig? What do you mean? You don't intend to say----'
'I intend to say that Hedwig is destined to become Countess
Ettersberg, and that this time nothing can or will prevent it--depend
upon it, I am right.'
'Lina, I really do believe you are going crazy,' exclaimed Ruestow.
'Why, they never could endure each other! They have been separated now
for more than a year. In fact, since Edmund's death, they have only
met about half a dozen times at the Countess's house at Schoenfeld. It
is impossible, absolutely impossible. This is just another of your
foolish romantic notions.'
'Well, wait until they both come back,' said Aunt Lina emphatically.
'But in the meantime you may make up your mind to give the paternal
benediction, for, rely upon it, it will be required of you. Count
Oswald will hardly care to lose more time now, and certainly he has
waited long enough. I think it was an overstrained feeling of delicacy
on Hedwig's part which made her leave her home and father, just to
prevent any earlier appeal from that quarter.'
'What? That is why she went to Italy with the Countess?' cried Ruestow,
falling, as it were, from the clouds, 'You don't mean to pretend that
this fancy existed during Edmund's lifetime?'
'This is no question of a mere fancy,' replied his cousin
instructively; 'but of an ardent, unconquerable attachment which has,
no doubt, cost them both much pain and many struggles. Hedwig, it is
true, has never alluded to the subject by so much as a word. She has
obstinately kept her confidence from me, but I could see how she was
suffering, how hard it was to her to fulfil the promise which, without
reflection, without full knowledge of her own heart, she had given to
another. I do not doubt that she would have fulfilled it, but what the
future consequences might have been both to herself and Oswald--that
Heaven only knows!'
The Councillor folded his hands and gazed at his cousin with an
expression of profound respect.
'And you found out all this by your own powers of observation? Lina,
it strikes me that you are a wonderfully clever woman.'
'Ah, you have discovered that at length, have you?' asked the old
lady, with gleeful satisfaction. 'It is rather late in the day for you
to begin to recognise my talents.'
Ruestow made no reply, but his face literally beamed at the thought of
having for a son-in-law his favourite, his genius--and in the joy of
his heart he treated the speaker to a vigorous hug.
'I will admit them all, Lina. I will admit anything you like,' he
cried. 'But this affair can hardly be settled so quickly as you say.
How can the Count have gone after Hedwig? He does not know where she
is, any more than we do.'
Aunt Lina escaped from his embrace, laughing.
'Ah, that is his business! We will rack our brains no further. Lovers
have extraordinary luck in these matters. They are gifted with a
species of second-sight which is very useful. I do not suppose that
Count Oswald knows exactly the spot where Hedwig is, or he would
hardly have come on to Brunneck first; but find her he will, you may
be sure, be she hidden away in the thickest wood or perched on the top
of the highest mountain. They will come back together, you may take my
word for it, Erich.'
This prophecy, delivered with much deliberate confidence, was verified
almost to the letter.
Oswald had, indeed, driven down to the village, but he had then sent
on the carriage and had hurried towards the hills on foot. The faculty
of 'second-sight' must have been well developed in him, for without a
moment's vacillation, doubt or delay, he struck into a path which led
direct to a certain wooded hill-side. His pace grew more eager, more
rapid, as he neared his goal, and when at length he reached it, the
object of his search was found. He had guessed that Hedwig's first
ramble after her return home would take her to that spot.
Again the swallows came, in swift flight out of the far distance, back
to their beloved woods, their old familiar haunts. With easy strokes
they winged their way through the clear air, circling round tree and
mountaintop, and then fluttering off in all directions to rejoice the
whole countryside with their happy greetings, to be welcomed
everywhere as the first messengers of spring.
But this time the earth was not wrapt in slumber or swathed in mist.
It had long since wakened from its winter sleep. Through the sunlit
forest might be seen the delicate green tracery of budding leaves.
Verdure lay on field and meadow, peeping up, breaking through every
clod, and over earth and sky streamed a sea of golden light. The
breath, the pulse of spring was everywhere--on all sides jubilant
voices sounded, hailing the new life.
So for the two human beings standing on that sunny height a true
springtime had dawned. They had waited long for it, but now it had
come to them in all its wealth and splendour. The words of love spoken
here to-day must have been more ardent, more passionate, than those
which three years before Hedwig had heard from other lips. Profoundly
earnest they had certainly been. Oswald's face, as he bent over his
betrothed, testified to this, as did the tears still glistening on
Hedwig's lashes. Her dark-blue eyes had grown so deep in meaning, so
full of soul and expression since they had learned to weep.
'I have had to wait so long,' said Oswald, and a slight accent of
reproach mingled with the passionate tenderness of his tone. 'So long,
so long! For more than a year you have held aloof from me, and I was
not permitted even to write to you. Sometimes I thought I was
altogether forgotten.'
Hedwig smiled, still through her tears.
'No, Oswald; you have not thought that. You knew surely and well that
I suffered from the necessary silence and separation to the full as
much as you--but I felt I owed that time of silence to Edmund's memory
and to his mother's grief. You saw her when we arrived, and the sight
will have explained to you why I could not have the courage to be
happy while living at her side.'
'She is terribly changed, certainly. Her long sojourn in the South has
brought about no real improvement, I fancy.'
'A postponement, at most. I fear she has returned hither only to die.'
'I knew that she would not survive the blow,' said Oswald. 'I feel so
deeply what Edmund was to me, and how much more was he to his mother!'
Hedwig shook her head slightly.
'Sorrow one learns to bear, and it moderates with time, but the
trouble that is gnawing at her heart has so sharp a tooth, it tortures
and wastes her strength so constantly and cruelly, that I am sometimes
tempted to think some other feeling must mingle with it--remorse,
perhaps, or a sense of guilt!'
Oswald was silent, but the cloud which settled on his brow was answer
enough.
'Before we started on our journey you made me promise that I would not
distress the poor lady with questions,' the girl went on. 'I have kept
my promise, and have never alluded to the doubts or the painful
uncertainty which weigh on my mind. There is so much that is dark and
enigmatic to me in all the circumstances connected with that terrible
event. One thing only I divine, namely, that Edmund voluntarily sought
his death. Why? To this hour the question has been left unanswered. It
remains to me a mystery. There should be no secrets between us,
Oswald. You must answer me now when I pray and entreat you to tell me
the truth. I cannot, will not see that dark cloud upon your brow.'
She could use the language of entreaty now, could beseech with all the
intensity and power of love; and here she was sure of victory. Oswald
clasped her more tightly in his arms.
'No, my Hedwig, there must be nothing secret between us. All must be
clear and open as day. But not now, and not here, can I disclose to
you that sad story of guilt with all its fatal consequences. I cannot
tell that story to my betrothed. When you are my wife, you shall hear
what drove Edmund to his death, what is gradually, irresistibly
drawing his mother after him to the grave. That dark shadow must not
intervene to mar the brightness of this hour. So often have I dreamed
of it, aye, dreamed from the moment your sweet face first dawned on me
in the midst of that fierce snowstorm. You came to me, a spring-day
personified, with all its promises of hope and happiness--though then,
indeed, I could not, dare not hope those promises would ever be
fulfilled.'
Hedwig looked up at him. She had not quite forgotten her old arch,
sunny smile. It played about her lips with all its own bewitching
charm as she replied:
'Why not? We met for the first time in a March storm, and here, on
this very spot, when you were speaking so gloomily of life in general
and of your own sad past, I proclaimed to you that Spring, bright
happy Spring, would come at last.'
As an echo to her words sounded the low murmured greeting of the
swallows fluttering overhead, as they had fluttered on that former day
in the thick drizzling mist. But now they winged their airy flight in
full sunshine. Higher and higher they soared, until they disappeared
in the illimitable azure of the sky. These small feathered messengers,
which bring to the earth after its long winter sleep a promise of new
light and life, came this time charged with a still fairer mission.
They brought ease to longing hearts, rest after a cruel fight, a whole
springtime of peace and happiness to two loving human beings.
THE END.
BILLING & SONS. PRINTERS. GUILDFORD
_G. C. & Co_.