Away into the open air, to field or forest, wherever nature offers
solitude! This was Arno's thought; he longed to be alone, to collect
himself, after the fearful blow he had received. He crossed the
court-yard and hurried through garden and park into the depths of the
forest. Arrived there, where he felt sure of encountering no one, he
threw himself down upon the moss-carpet at the foot of a giant oak. The
quiet soothed him; he needed it to aid him to control the storm of
emotion within him. What had he just undergone? To his humiliation he
had been harshly rejected,--rejected in a manner that wounded his pride
as well as his heart. What folly his former suspicions of Anna had
proved to be! He had preserved towards her a cold and chilling
demeanour to convince her that her feminine arts to attract him were
vain. How she must have smiled at the silly vanity for which he was now
paying so dearly! And he had asked for so little, for only one ray of
hope, only for permission to love her, and even this she had coldly and
firmly denied him. He had thought his heart desolated by the deceit
from which he had suffered years before, but the contrary was proved in
the bitter pain that now tortured him. He loved, and she whom he loved
scorned his affection. Was her heart no longer free? Did she love
another? She had denied this; but could he believe her? He remembered
all that Werner had told of her, that she had been betrothed and
forsaken by her lover when her father's wealth had vanished. Could she
still cling to one so worthless? No; it was impossible. She must
despise such a man, and she was too noble to give affection where she
could not esteem. Had Werner's studied attentions produced any
impression upon her? No; her tone, in speaking of him, had been that of
contempt; she saw through him,--he never could touch her heart. And yet
how could "duty and honour," of which she had spoken, demand that she
should reject forever a genuine devotion, and that she should declare,
"We must part forever!" The claim of another upon her affection could
alone make it her duty to refuse to listen to his protestations. The
thought was torture. He could endure everything save that. He was a
prey to a savage jealousy of this unknown who robbed him of all that
could make life fair, and he had to force himself to reflect that he
had not an atom of foundation for this jealousy, which, nevertheless,
he could not crush out of his heart. There it was, and it would assert
itself, laughing to scorn the arguments of sober reason.
The sun was low in the heavens when Arno was roused from his long
brooding reverie by the crackling of the underbrush, caused as he
thought by some animal making its way through the thicket. But no; in a
few moments there emerged upon the open space, in the midst of which
stood the giant oak at whose feet he was reclining, Hauk, the chief
inspector of the Hohenwald estate.
The man was much surprised at encountering thus his young master, whom
he had never supposed to be addicted to daydreams in the depth of the
forest, and he evidently reflected that his presence here, instead of
in the fields superintending the labourers, might seem strange to Baron
Arno. He approached him, hat in hand, with an air of some
embarrassment. "I beg pardon for disturbing you, Herr Baron," he said,
"but I never dreamed of finding you here."
"True, Herr Hauk," Arno replied, recalled to the actual world by the
Inspector's presence, "nor could I have expected to find you here
instead of in the fields."
The Inspector's embarrassment was increased by the reproof conveyed in
the young Baron's words; and it suddenly seemed to him that the reasons
for which he had undertaken his walk through the forest were mere
folly. "I beg pardon, Herr Baron," he said, meekly, "I should not have
left my work with the men, but I saw Herr von Poseneck again, and I
wanted to know what the young gentleman is after on our land. Something
must be wrong when a Poseneck tramps about our forest!"
"You are dreaming. Inspector!" Arno rejoined, harshly. "What could
bring Herr von Poseneck to Hohenwald? Go back to your men, and refrain
from woodland rambles while harvesting is going on."
The Inspector had never before received so stern a rebuke from the
young Baron, and the faithful fellow felt aggrieved. "Of course, if the
Herr Baron orders it I will return immediately, but it is a pity that I
should not discover what Herr von Poseneck is continually after in our
forest. Still, it is no business of mine why he is sneaking here, if
the Herr Baron does not care about it."
Arno's curiosity was aroused; he had thought at first that the man's
story was an invention to cover his neglect of duty, but he now saw
clearly that he had wronged Hauk, who had been a faithful servant for
many years. Therefore, in a much gentler tone, he asked, "What is it
you are saying about Herr von Poseneck? Explain your meaning, Hauk."
"I mean only, if the Herr Baron will excuse me, what I say. Young Herr
von Poseneck, who lives at Gruenhagen with the Amtsrath, has been for a
long time sauntering about in our forest every day; what he is after I
do not know, but since he is a Poseneck, it can be no good. He usually
takes the path along the Gruenhagen boundary, and gets into the forest
that way; but to-day I saw him hurry directly across the Hohenwald
meadow. Early in the spring, Kunz, who was ploughing near the Gruenhagen
boundary, saw him do just the same thing. I watched him enter the
forest to-day with my own eyes, and I came through it from the other
side, thinking to strike the very path he must have taken, and catch my
fine gentleman in the act, if, as I suspect, he is at any poaching
work."
This was a strange piece of news. It was folly to suspect Kurt von
Poseneck of poaching; the idea was begotten in the Inspector's mind by
the universal mistrust of the Posenecks that was rife among the
Hohenwald tenantry and servants; still Arno wondered what could bring
the young gentleman daily to the Hohenwald forest, and he thought the
matter called for an explanation. "Are you sure, Hauk, that you are not
mistaken in the man?"
"Perfectly sure, Herr Baron; besides, all the men at work saw him as
well as myself."
"Strange! And you say that he has been in the habit for some time of
wandering about in our forest daily?"
"Yes, Herr Baron; he has often been seen, mostly by the women when they
were gathering sticks, but they said nothing about it, for they
themselves were on forbidden ground."
"Mere old women's gossip then!"
"No, Herr Baron; the forester has seen him too, but he did not speak to
him, because the Freiherr has ordered us to avoid all quarrels with the
Gruenhageners; and Kunz saw him, as I said, long ago."
"Long ago? That is very vague. How long ago?"
"I cannot tell exactly, but it must have been about the time that
Fraeulein Mueller came to Hohenwald, for Kunz was with the Herr Baron
that night in the quarry, and he told me shortly afterwards that he had
seen young Herr von Poseneck cross our field to the forest; that he had
not been sure it was he until he saw him that night in the quarry; but
that then he was perfectly certain of him. So he must have been seen
first about that time, and since then scarcely a day has passed that he
has not been seen by some of the people in the wood."
Arno's brow darkened. Kurt was no poacher, but he thought he had
discovered the reason for his walks in the Hohenwald forest. Following
the path by which he had been seen to enter it, he would reach the lake
in the park, upon the shore of which, hidden among the shrubbery, was a
bench, whence there was a lovely view of the little sheet of water.
This spot was a favourite one with Fraeulein Anna Mueller. Whenever, as
was, to be sure, but rarely the case, she walked in the park during
Celia's absence upon her afternoon ride, this bench was always her
goal, for she knew that even Werner would not venture to intrude upon
her there. Her reason for seeking this retreat was now plain, as was
also Kurt's attraction for the Hohenwald forest.
And yet Anna had said that her heart was free! Could she lie? Why had
she not frankly confessed the truth? He would have had no right to
blame her; her avowal would, indeed, have pained him, but the pain
would have been easier to bear than distrust of her. He suffered in the
thought that she was no better than the rest, that she could descend to
a falsehood when the happiness of a man who loved her devotedly was at
stake.
"Is it the Herr Baron's commands that I should return to the
harvesters?"
The Inspector's question aroused Arno from his confused imaginings.
"Yes, Herr Hauk," he said, with hardly-won composure. "You had best do
so." Then seeing the man's discontented expression, he added, "I will
myself endeavour to encounter Herr von Poseneck, but I do not desire
any one to spy upon his movements. Let him walk as much as he pleases
in the Hohenwald forest; I am sure that no ill will towards us brings
him here, and I will not have him interfered with. Tell this to the
people, Hauk, and bear in mind what I say. My father's desire that all
disputes with the Gruenhageners shall be avoided must be strictly
complied with. Good-afternoon, Hauk."
"As you please, Herr Baron," the Inspector replied, with a bow, as he
took his departure.
Long after he was gone Arno stood leaning against the trunk of the oak,
uncertain what to do. Was Kurt at this very moment perhaps seated
beside Anna on the bench near the lake? Jealousy impelled him to
discover whether his suspicions were correct. In vain did he represent
to himself that he had no right to spy upon Anna's actions. He strode
through the wood and soon reached the borders of the broad Hohenwald
forest road, which he was obliged to cross in order to reach the lake.
Here, as he was making his way through the bushes that lined it on
either side, he heard a voice that thrilled him; it was Anna's. He
could not distinguish what she said, nor the words of the reply, which
was given in clear, manly tones. He cautiously proceeded a few steps
farther, until, parting the bushes, he obtained a clear view of the
broad road. His worst fears were confirmed: Kurt and Anna were slowly
walking along it engaged in earnest conversation. They approached the
spot where Arno stood concealed; a few more steps and he should hear
every word that was said, for they did not suspect a listener near. For
a single instant a wild desire possessed Arno to penetrate Anna's
mystery; he leaned forward as far as was possible without discovering
himself, but the next moment he rose superior to the disgraceful
temptation. His cheek flushed at the thought that he had been deaf
though but for an instant to the dictates of honour. Silently and
hastily he withdrew, moderating his pace only when he could no longer
hear the sound of voices. As he returned to the castle he felt that
although he had heard nothing he had seen enough.
Lucie parted from Kurt as his friend, and as she slowly walked back to
the castle she reflected upon the perils encompassing the people who
had become so dear to her. She pondered how to put the Freiherr upon
his guard without betraying Celia's secret, and how at the same time to
influence the old man to relinquish his foolish prejudice against Kurt.
She could hardly warn him directly, but could it not be done indirectly
through Werner, perhaps? If she should inform the Finanzrath that his
connection with Repuin and other French agents was no longer a secret,
that his movements were watched, that he was in danger of arrest, and
that his presence in Castle Hohenwald imperilled the safety of his
father and brother,--if she begged him to leave the castle, would he
not comply with her advice?
Celia hastened to meet her friend; she had not been able to remain
within-doors. Arrived at the castle, the girl threw Pluto's bridle to
old John and hurried to her room to change her dress, thinking that she
would await Anna in their sitting-room; but, although the windows there
were all wide open, the confinement seemed to stifle her; she wanted
air,--not the air of park or garden, but that of the cool, fragrant
forest. As she issued from the gate of the court-yard and was just
about to turn into the broad forest road she encountered Arno, and was
hurrying past him, longing to see Anna and hear what she had said to
Kurt, when he detained her, saying sternly, "Where are you going?"
"That is not your affair," she pertly answered her brother's harsh
question. "I might as well ask you, Where have you been?"
"I have been in the forest."
"And I am going to the forest."
She would have passed him, but he still detained her. "Do you usually
select this road for your afternoon ride?"
Celia blushed. What did he mean by the question? Did Arno know anything
of her meetings with Kurt? With feminine evasion she hastily rejoined,
"Why should I always choose this tiresome broad road?"
"Why, indeed? How long since you returned from your ride?"
"About a quarter of an hour ago," she answered, frankly.
"And did you ride on the broad road to-day?"
"What a foolish question! Let me go, Arno! How can it possibly interest
you when or whore I ride?"
But Arno still held her hand fast, seeming not to notice her
embarrassment. He gazed darkly down the forest road. If Celia pursued
it she would meet Kurt and Anna together. Such a discovery would be but
a merited punishment for Anna, but what impression would it produce
upon his innocent sister? A second glance along the road reassured
him,--Anna was slowly approaching the castle alone. He let go Celia's
hand, relieved of an ugly dread lest Anna should have confided to her
pupil her love-affair with Poseneck. That Celia knew nothing about it
was clear from her replies to him; the "will-o'-the-wisp" was so frank
a creature.
So soon as she found herself free, Celia ran towards Anna, bestowing
not another thought upon Arno, who went his way. Throwing her arms
around her friend, she whispered, as she caressed her tenderly, "At
last you are come! My darling, darling Anna! Now all is well, and my
conscience is once more clear."
"You ought to have had confidence in me," Anna said, in a tone of
gentle reproof.
"Oh, I have often said that to myself. I have repeatedly determined to
tell you all, but I was so afraid lest you would be angry, and perhaps
forbid my meeting Kurt, and so--I cannot live without just saying a few
words to him every day."
"You must try it, my dear Celia; you must not meet Herr von Poseneck in
the forest again."
"I thought you would say that!" Celia exclaimed. "I knew it, but you
are mistaken if you think I shall obey you. I am not a child; I know
what I am doing. Kurt is my betrothed, and I have a right to meet him.
But no, Anna dear, I will not be angry with you, only do not ask
that of me. If you think it wrong for me to see Kurt alone in the
forest,--and I have sometimes been afraid that it was,--then come with
me; we have no secret from you; only you must not ask me not to see him
again,--I cannot obey you: and if you will not go to the forest with me
I must go by myself."
"It will be of no use. Herr von Poseneck has promised me that he will
not meet you in the forest again."
"That is detestable of you,--detestable!" Celia exclaimed, indignantly.
She had been so utterly unused to control that she was really angry,
and it was only after a long and grave explanation upon Lucie's part
that the girl was brought to see that her friend's counsel was dictated
by the truest motives and an earnest desire for her happiness. At last,
however, she agreed to be guided entirely by her "darling Anna," and
the compact was sealed with a kiss.
Relieved to have been successful with Celia, Lucie now applied herself
to the second task she had undertaken, and, instead of entering the
castle, turned into the garden, where the Finanzrath was usually to be
found towards evening.
"Are we going to the garden?" Celia asked, surprised. "We cannot talk
together there, for Werner, as you know, will instantly join us, and we
shall not be able to get rid of him."
"I am going purposely to meet him this afternoon," Lucie replied, "and
I beg you to leave me with him when he joins us."
"Have you more secrets with him?" Celia asked, fretfully.
"I must speak with him," was Lucie's calm reply. "I promised Herr von
Poseneck to warn your father of the danger that threatens him. I cannot
do this directly, since I cannot say whence comes my information."
"And you are going to warn him through Werner?" the girl asked, shaking
her head. "Don't attempt it, Anna dear; you do not know Werner,--he
will not believe you; he thinks he knows more than any one else. Do not
have any confidences with Werner; speak to Arno,--he is true and
trustworthy; he will find a means to put papa on his guard and to force
Werner to go away."
"I must speak with the Finanzrath," Lucie insisted; "do not try to
dissuade me, dear child; I cannot help it."
Celia said no more; she silently accompanied Lucie into the garden, and
walked beside her along the winding paths until, as had been foreseen,
Werner joined them, when she lingered behind to pluck a flower, and
then, turning into a side-path, left her brother and her friend to
themselves.
Werner greeted Lucie after his usual smooth, courteous fashion; but she
interrupted the flow of his complimentary speeches by saying, in a very
grave tone, "Our meeting this afternoon, Herr Finanzrath, is owing to
no chance. I came into the garden expressly to find you, for I have an
important communication to make to you."
Werner's attention was aroused; Lucie frankly admitted that she had
come in search of him. What could she have to tell him? And Celia had
evidently left them together intentionally. She could have done so only
by Lucie's desire. A secret hope that his endeavours to obtain the
beautiful woman's favour were about to prove more successful flashed
across his vain soul, but vanished as he looked into his companion's
grave and even stern face. "I am extremely happy, madame, in receiving
this proof of your confidence," he said, "and await with eagerness what
you have to tell me."
"It is of no agreeable nature," Lucie went on; "but I will go directly
to the point. You are in great peril, Herr Finanzrath; your connection
with Count Repuin has aroused suspicion that you are of the number of
French agents who are at work here, in the interest of the French
Emperor, endeavoring to effect the dissolution of the treaty that
unites the South German states and those of the North German alliance,
with Prussia, and who are plotting against Prussia among the people as
well as in the army."
Werner stayed his steps and looked searchingly into Lucie's face. His
cheek grew a trifle paler, and his voice was not quite so firm and
clear as usual, as he replied, with forced composure, "Your information
is indeed startling, madame; I am excessively grateful to you for it,
but you must permit me one question. Whence comes your knowledge that
so foolish and ungrounded a suspicion attaches to me?"
"There are all-sufficient reasons, Herr Finanzrath, why I cannot answer
your question and reveal to you the source of my information, but I can
assure you that my warning is sent you by a sincere friend of yours and
of your family, who is well aware of the necessity for it. But let me
proceed, and then you can judge for yourself of the magnitude of the
peril menacing you."
"I am all ear, madame."
There was a dash of contempt in his tone, and Lucie saw that her
refusal to mention the source of her information had shaken his belief
in its truth; but she went on quietly: "The suspicion of which I have
told you, whether it be well founded or not----"
"Do you doubt me, madame?"
"I have no right to form an opinion, and there is no reason why, if
formed, I should express it. Of course, since you declare the suspicion
unfounded, I have no choice but to believe you; nevertheless, it
exists, and it attaches not only to you, but to your father and
brother. The authorities are convinced that your relatives know of your
schemes, and aid and abet them, and that Castle Hohenwald is a centre
for treasonable plots and conspiracies. The castle is already under
surveillance; how strict this is I cannot say, nor whether it extends
to the letters sent from here, but I know that it exists, and that the
authorities have it in mind to crush any treasonable scheming before it
becomes dangerous, by the arrest of the entire Hohenwald family. I
think, Herr Finanzrath, that under these circumstances you will see
that you owe it both to your family and to yourself to leave the castle
as soon as possible. Your presence here imperils your father's safety.
He will, on the other hand, be left undisturbed, though not unobserved,
if you, the cause of this _groundless_ suspicion, absent yourself from
Castle Hohenwald for a while. Your father's age and infirmity, his
seclusion from the world, will shield him from all annoyance as soon as
you are away, since it certainly must be the aim of the authorities to
avoid exciting indignation in Saxony by any useless arrests. This
is all that I had to say to you, Herr Finanzrath. I hope that my
well-meant warning will effect its purpose, and that you will, by a
speedy departure from Castle Hohenwald, both protect your relatives
from the danger of arrest and insure your own safety."
Werner had listened in silence, an evil sneer playing about his lips
the while. "Then my departure from Castle Hohenwald is the purpose of
your communication, madame?" he asked, watching Lucie with keen
scrutiny.
"It is; I confidently hope that your departure will remove all danger."
"Indeed? You are extremely kind. I really cannot be sufficiently
grateful to you for your care, but I must pray you to fill the measure
of your kindness by telling me to what good friend you owe your
information, which has the air of proceeding directly from the
Chancellor himself, if, indeed, it be not the fabrication of an idle
fancy or of a well-laid scheme."
"I do not understand you, Herr Finanzrath," Lucie asked, amazed. "Do
you really imagine I could wish to deceive you?"
"Let me beg you again for the name of your informant."
"Let me repeat that I cannot, or rather will not, give it to you; you
have no right to demand it of me."
"I do not demand it, madame; I do not even desire it, but perhaps you
will allow me to mention it to you myself."
"You cannot know it!"
"But I can guess it. I see through the game that is playing with me.
Have a care, madame, that the bow is not too tensely bent; the string
might break."
"I do not understand you."
"Then I must speak more clearly. You shall have your will and
understand perfectly. Yours be the consequences of allowing me a
glimpse into your heart,--of ruthlessly annihilating my fairest hopes.
You shall not escape unpunished from the intrigue which you have spun
to drive me from Castle Hohenwald."
Werner's eyes flashed fire and his cheek was crimson as he spoke. His
agitation Lucie could not understand, and it terrified her. She had
never seen the calm, easy Finanzrath thus moved. "You speak in riddles,
Herr Finanzrath," she said, looking frankly in his face. "I do not
understand your anger. What do you mean by your threat, and by accusing
me of intriguing to drive you from Castle Hohenwald?"
"Am I not yet sufficiently clear?" Werner continued, even more angrily.
"Do you still imagine you can deceive me? You are mistaken. I see
through your game. You choose that I should speak it out plainly? Well,
then, so be it! I am weary of the restraint that I have put upon myself
for months I will no longer be your plaything! I have loved you
passionately since the day when I brought you to the castle; to win
your love in return was my highest aim in life, my fondest hope----"
"I must not listen to you. I must leave you!" Lucie exclaimed,
indignantly.
"You must listen; I will force you to hear me!" Werner declared.
"You are mad!"
"You have made me so. Thank yourself that my passion asserts itself,
that I cast aside the fetters that have bound me for months. As long as
I hoped to win your love I endured their restraint; now, since I see
through your schemes, I will do so no longer. I suspected it all long
since. I have often told myself that you were but playing with my love,
but never until now did I know it surely. Do you think I have been
blind,--that I have slumbered through these long weeks? No, jealousy
has spurred me on to constant watchfulness; not a look exchanged
between Arno and yourself has escaped me. I have been insane with
jealousy when you were alone with him in the library, but I would not
believe that you could prefer him to me, and so I deceived myself and
you deceived me. You may well desire my absence. I could by a single
word put a stop to all your loving dalliance. Arno is your informant;
he would thrust from his path the brother in whom he suspects a rival,
and he thinks to drive me away by the threat of an imaginary danger.
Fool! I see through his game."
Lucie listened in blank amazement to the accusations thus heaped upon
her, which, in their suddenness and strangeness, bewildered her
comprehension. Was this Werner, the polished, easy man of fashion,
confronting her now with angry eyes and laying bare before her the
inmost secrets of his soul? What should she reply to so disgraceful an
attack? A contemptuous silence was all that it deserved. And she was
silent, but this Werner regarded in the light of a confession; he
thought she was trembling at his anger and unable to reply. He laughed
scornfully, and continued, "Am I sufficiently clear now, madame? Now
you know, I imagine, that you can no longer deceive me. You are right
not to attempt it by any denial. One thing, however, you have
forgotten, that I know your past, and that one word from me can put an
end to your brief dream of love. My precious brother is an idealist who
might indeed bestow his heart upon Celia's poor governess, the lovely
Anna Mueller, but who would turn with aversion and disgust from the
runaway wife of Herr von Sorr! Hitherto I have kept your secret
faithfully, but I might easily be tempted to forget to do so in future.
Herr von Sorr has not resigned his rights; he is still searching for
you, and it is owing to my silence alone that he is not now here
asserting those rights in defiance of which you would vainly seek
protection from Arno. Your safety here you owe only to the love which,
spite of all the offence it has received at your hands, still glows
within me, a consuming flame. Have a care that you do not convert it to
hatred, Frau von Sorr. Continue to reject my devotion, to play with my
jealousy, and you shall bitterly repent!"
Not a word could Lucie utter. Amazement, shame, and indignation
overwhelmed her. Werner no longer awaited a reply; he left her not as
was his wont with a low bow, but with head proudly erect, hurrying
towards the castle, and not even looking back at her whom he had so
insulted. He did not see the intense scorn and disgust expressed in her
face as she gazed after him, nor hear the word "wretch!" that passed
her lips as she did so.