For a few moments after leaving Lucie Werner's features wore a smile of
triumph; he thought the proud beauty subdued and terrified by his
threats; but when he reached his own apartment, and had time for
reflection, he felt by no means so sure of his victory. As his
excitement subsided he became greatly discontented with himself, and
bitterly regretted having yielded to one of the outbursts of passion
which had cost him dear in his boyish years, but which he had lately
learned to control. Pacing his room to and fro, he pondered upon the
occurrences of the past hour. While in Lucie's presence, rage at the
thought of his brother's successful rivalry had bewildered his
understanding; he could not think clearly. Reason had returned, and he
confessed to himself that he had played the part of a jealous fool. His
brother was no intriguer, his ways were never those of a schemer. But
whence, if not from Arno, could Fraeulein Mueller have received her
information? She saw no one but the inmates of the castle, and she had
lately received no letters, as no one knew better than Werner, who
distributed the letters from the post-bag every morning. He grew very
uncomfortable; Lucie had known of his acquaintance with Repuin, and she
had now learned of what nature this acquaintance was; she still
maintained a correspondence with influential people in Prussia, Adele
von Guntram, President von Guntram's daughter, was her most intimate
friend, and any information forwarded to them would soon reach the
Chancellor's office.
The longer the Finanzrath reflected the more grave did the situation
appear to him. Vague pictures of an examination of his papers, of an
arrest, and possible trial for high treason presented themselves to his
imagination. Finally, he seated himself at his writing-table, and
thought he would write to inform Repuin of what he had heard. This,
however, proved to be by no means an easy task; he could scarcely do it
without implicating Lucie, and should he mention her relations with
Adele von Guntram the Russian's suspicions would surely be aroused; he
would make his appearance at the castle with Sorr, who would enforce
his marital rights. Should this occur, Lucie would be restrained by no
considerations from betraying him. At present she would feel obliged to
have some regard for the man who knew her secret and held her fate in
his hands. He tore up his letter to Repuin, and decided to attempt to
avert in another way the danger that menaced him. Lucie was not
implacable; she had no reason for bringing distress upon the Hohenwald
family by betraying him; only a desire for revenge or to defend herself
from attack could prompt her to do this; he would ask her pardon for
expressions used in the heat of passion, and would not allow his love
for the beautiful woman or his jealousy to carry him so far again.
Soothed by these reflections, Werner began to look to the future with
confidence.
What now? Lucie had asked herself, when left alone in the castle
garden. To answer this question was not easy. Suppose that Werner,
impelled by anger and jealousy, should discover her retreat to Count
Repuin, would not her best course be to leave the castle immediately,
and await in some secluded village the result of Adele's efforts to
procure her another situation? The thought of the consequences of
Werner's betrayal of her secret filled her with horror. What if Sorr,
summoned by the Finanzrath, should appear at the castle and require her
to return to him! She felt sure that the old Freiherr would grant her
his protection, but what would it avail her against her husband! And
Arno? Lucie's heart died within her as she thought of the pain that a
knowledge of her secret would cause him. Nothing was left her but a
hurried flight. But no, she would not leave Hohenwald; had she not
promised Kurt and Celia to use her influence with the old Freiherr to
induce him to forget the wretched feud with the Posenecks? Could she
disappoint Celia's confidence in her by forsaking her at her need, in
selfish care for her own safety? Would not Kurt in that case have a
right to recall the promise he had given her? And what mischief might
ensue! No, it was her sacred duty to watch over Celia; she would not
leave the castle for some time yet. But she had written to Adele
begging her to procure another situation for her as soon as possible.
The letter had gone; should she not write another and revoke her
request?
In the midst of her uncertainty, Celia, who had seen from her window
that Werner had returned to the castle, joined her again, eager to know
the result of the interview with her eldest brother. "Well?" she asked.
"You were right, I ought not to have spoken to your brother," Anna
replied; "he does not believe me. I cannot tell you more, Celia; it is
enough that my appeal to him was quite in vain."
"I knew how it would be," the girl said, sadly; "I wish you had taken
my advice, but it is not yet too late. Let me call Arno; he is in his
room, I saw him go to it; he will be here in a few minutes. Indeed,
dear Anna, Arno has the best heart in the world. He is not so amiable
and agreeable as Werner, he cannot pay compliments, but you can rely
upon him. I have often watched him when he thought no one was observing
him, and I am quite sure that he likes you very much. He will believe
you, and soon devise some way of shielding our dear old father from
danger. Do speak with Arno, dearest Anna. Let me call him. May I?"
"Yes; I will await him here."
Celia's gratitude was shown by a fervent kiss, and she flew towards the
castle, returning in a few moments with Arno, whose hand she held in
hers.
"Here he is!" she exclaimed as she approached Anna. "Only think, the
miserable fellow refused to come at first. Scold him well, Anna dear;
although he does look so grim, he is really dear and good. There, he is
smiling; now you need not be afraid of him. Adieu!"
And she was gone, tossing a kiss to her friend as she vanished in the
shrubbery.
The smile which her merry talk had called forth faded from Arno's grave
face as he bowed formally to Lucie. "I await your commands, Fraeulein
Mueller," he said. "You must forgive my momentary hesitation to follow
my sister. I thought her jesting when she told me you wished to speak
with me."
"Celia was not jesting, Herr Baron. I requested an interview with you,
and I thank you for complying with my wishes."
A low bow was Arno's only reply.
Lucie had thought it would be easier to begin a conversation with Arno.
As he now walked beside her, grave and serious, without smoothing the
way for the opening of their talk by a single word, she felt
exceedingly uncomfortable. Her last words to him in the library had
deeply offended him, as was evident from the formality of his manner.
She had determined to make no allusion to their previous interview; but
how could she help it? And she longed to say one kind word to him.
"You are angry with me, Herr Baron," she began, and her fair face
flushed slightly; she could not look up at him as she spoke,--her eyes
sought the ground. "I regret deeply if what I was forced to say to you
offended you. I did not mean that it should. It was my duty to tell you
the perfect truth; if I did this too harshly, I pray you not to be
angry with me. I told you to-day that your words would drive me from
Castle Hohenwald; I was overhasty. After calm consideration, I have
decided not to go away. I know that Baron Arno von Hohenwald is too
proud and too noble to repeat words that could pain me; I know that
although I was forced to offend him, he will still be my friend. May I
not cherish this conviction, Herr Baron?"
As she spoke the last words Lucie looked up at Arno and held out her
hand, but he did not take it. He replied, coldly and with a low bow,
"You are very kind, Fraeulein Mueller. I am glad that you do me justice;
I am, indeed, too proud ever again to intrude upon you after the harsh
rejection I have experienced. I assure you that you shall never hear
from me a word that could cause you to leave Hohenwald sooner than you
would otherwise intend. May I hope that this assurance is satisfactory
to you, and that you will inform me to what I owe the honour of this
interview?"
Lucie slowly let fall her hand; Arno's cold refusal to take it, and his
measured politeness, convinced her that she had nothing to fear from
him, and yet she was not glad that he was thus able to command his
feelings; his cold words grieved her. But he must not suspect this; she
forced her composure to equal his own as she explained to him that she
had a duty to fulfil towards the Freiherr and himself in telling him of
the warning sent to them from a perfectly trustworthy source. His
brother's plots were discovered, Castle Hohenwald was under
surveillance, and such suspicion rested upon his father and himself of
sharing in the Finanzrath's schemes that they were threatened with
arrest. "I trust you, Herr Baron," Lucie concluded, "to devise means
for averting the threatened danger. I had hoped that the immediate
departure of the Finanzrath would effect this, and therefore I first
appealed to him, told him what I have told you, and begged him to leave
the castle, but he would not believe in my information, refused to be
guided by it, and thus forced me to turn to you, Herr Baron."
"Which you would not otherwise have done," Arno rejoined, bitterly.
"Nevertheless I am grateful to you for your warning; but you must
excuse me for putting one question to you. You tell me that Werner
refused to believe in your information. Did he tell you his reason for
doubting it?"
Lucie hesitated to reply. She had not expected this question, and yet
it was a very natural one. How could Arno expect to induce his brother
to depart if he were not informed of the entire state of the case? He
must know that the Finanzrath mistrusted him, and this Lucie could tell
him only by letting him know of Werner's jealousy. It offended her
sense of delicacy to inform Arno of this; but it was her duty to
overcome her scruples and let him know what insane folly possessed
Werner.
"You do not answer," Arno continued, after a short pause, "and yet my
question is a very simple one."
"It shall be answered, Herr Baron. The Herr Finanzrath thinks that I
have been induced by you to acquaint him with a fictitious tale of
danger, in hopes that terror may drive him from Castle Hohenwald."
"Indeed? The suspicion is like him!" Arno exclaimed, indignantly. "And
why should I wish to drive him from the castle, and why should you lend
yourself to second me by a falsehood? I do not perceive the connection
here."
Lucie's cheeks were crimson; but, hard as it was to reply, she did it
bravely. "The Herr Finanzrath explained this in a manner very insulting
to me. He thinks that it is my desire as well as yours to banish him
from Castle Hohenwald, that we may escape his observation. You will not
require me to explain further the disgraceful suspicions aroused in his
mind by an unfortunate passion."
"Shameful!" Arno exclaimed. "I have long known of his passion for
you,--his cold, calculating nature is incapable of a genuine affection;
his love is an insult to you. I did not believe that he would dare to
offend you by such unworthy suspicions; he is more worthless than I
thought him. I thank you from my heart for bestowing your confidence
upon me; rest assured you shall not repent it."
For a few minutes they walked on in silence, Arno thinking of Werner's
silly suspicion that he was the author of Anna's warning. Who was its
author? The answer that instantly occurred to him to this question
disturbed the satisfaction that Anna's frankness had afforded him. Her
information could proceed from but one person, from him with whom he
had so lately seen her in earnest conversation; from Kurt von Poseneck.
But a moment ago he had regarded with profound contempt Werner's
groundless jealousy, and yet now he suddenly felt a like sensation with
regard to the rival who had robbed him of Anna's love. Her warning lost
all credibility in his eyes; he rebelled against receiving it from a
man whom he hated, and felt inclined, as Werner had done, to believe
that it had been given with some unworthy aim. He must have certainty
upon this point.
All that was genial vanished from his manner as he turned to Lucie, and
with the same icy courtesy that had characterized his first address to
her, said, "I owe you a debt of gratitude, Fraeulein Mueller, but let me
pray you to complete your information. It is very important that I
should know the source of your warning. Tell me frankly, do I owe it to
Herr Kurt von Poseneck?"
"How did you know? What made you think of him?" Lucie asked, greatly
surprised.
"Thank you, Fraeulein Mueller; I am answered. You do not deny, then, that
Herr von Poseneck has commissioned you to communicate with me?"
"Why should I deny it? But I really cannot understand how----"
"How I arrived at the knowledge of your intimate relations with Herr
von Poseneck? Chance revealed to me your secret. I saw you to-day in
the forest engaged in confidential discourse with him. I now know why
you refused me all hope in the future."
"Herr Baron!----"
"Say no more! Why should you blush because I allude to your relations
with Herr von Poseneck and to our interview? You never gave me a right
to hope for your love; it was my fault if in my conceit I cherished
hopes which you crushed as they deserved. I reproach myself, not you. I
deserved the harsh repulse which I received, but I did not deserve that
you should deceive me at the very time when my heart was laid bare
before you. Had you but told me frankly that you loved another it would
have pained me deeply, it is true, but my confidence in you would have
been unshaken. At such a time you should not have told me a falsehood."
"Herr Baron, I assure you----"
"Would you still deceive me? That first falsehood was enough, and more
than enough. Let us break off this conversation. Let me give you one
last piece of advice in return for your warning. You know the dislike
that my father entertains for the Posenecks. For this reason, perhaps,
you have refrained from any mention of your intimacy with thus
gentleman, and you certainly are right, for even your powerful
influence would hardly avail, I fear, to conquer the hereditary hatred
of a Hohenwald for a Poseneck; but if you would keep your secret, let
me advise both you and Herr von Poseneck to be more circumspect in
future. The people on this estate have noticed his daily visits to a
certain part of the Hohenwald forest, and will shortly discover to whom
these visits are paid unless you are more careful."
It was positive torture to Lucie to hear Arno's icy tone as he gave her
this advice. She perceived how he suffered; he had betrayed his pain
when he showed her how deeply he felt the suspicion of her untruth.
This wretched mistake! But could she undeceive him without betraying
Celia? And if she did,--if she proved to him that it was solely upon
Celia's account that Kurt came daily to the Hohenwald forest, might
there not be danger of reviving hopes which he had resigned? Still, she
could not bear that he should leave her with a doubt in his mind of her
integrity.
As he turned to go, with a formal bow, she lightly touched his arm. "We
must not part thus, Herr Baron," she said, gravely. "You owe it to me
at least to listen to me."
"What can you have to say, Fraeulein Mueller?" Arno asked as he paused.
"You have brought a grave accusation against me," Lucie continued, "and
you have done so deceived by appearances."
"Was I deceived when I saw you scarcely an hour ago in the forest with
Herr von Poseneck?"
"No; you saw correctly."
"Is it not true that Herr von Poseneck has, since your arrival at
Castle Hohenwald, daily sought a certain spot in the Hohenwald forest?"
"This, too, is true."
"Is it not true that in the forest he sought the seat hidden in
shrubbery near the lake, where you are so fond of dreaming away a
solitary hour?"
"That is not true, at least so far as I know."
Arno's face expressed doubt and amazement, but Lucie's eyes flashed. "I
have never given you cause to doubt my truth," she said, more sternly
than he had ever heard her speak. "My word must suffice; I assure you
that I have seen Herr von Poseneck but twice in my life, once upon the
night of my arrival here, and this afternoon for the second time. I
stand in no relation whatsoever with him, and our meeting to-day was
entirely accidental."
"But you were talking to him so earnestly."
"And about most important matters. I esteem Herr von Poseneck very
highly, I do not deny. He, inspired by the purest friendship for the
Hohenwalds, begged me to warn you as I have done."
"Was this all you were talking of?"
"This and something else no less important. What it was is my secret,
and I feel under no obligation to give you farther information, as you,
Herr Baron, have no right to doubt my truth. This is all I wished to
say; I will no longer detain you."
Arno was dismissed; he bowed in some confusion as Lucie left him, and
yet, in spite of the severity of her words and manner, his heart felt
lighter than before, and hope began to stir within him. "She does not
love him," he repeated to himself. "There is no falsehood in those
eyes."
Lucie hurried to her room before joining the family circle, according
to daily custom, in the garden-room, where the old Freiherr was already
looking for her,--she wished to write a few lines to Adele. This she
did hastily, delivering her letter herself to the Inspector when it was
sealed, and begging him to see that it was put into the bag for the
next morning's post.
A few moments after Lucie had left the Inspector's room Werner entered
it. He had watched her from his window, had seen the letter in her
hand, and had been filled with vague misgivings. "That letter I must
see!" he had said to himself.
"Can a messenger be sent on horseback to A---- to catch the evening
mail?" he asked of the Inspector, who was just putting Lucie's letter
into the bag.
"Certainly, Herr Finanzrath, very easily," Hauk replied. "Old John can
go on Fraeulein Celia's Pluto; there is plenty of time."
"Give me the post-bag then,--I have an important letter to send; and
tell John to saddle Pluto, and I will have it ready for him."
The Inspector handed him the bag, which Werner instantly carried with
him to his room and opened. With a triumphant smile he took from it
Lucie's letter addressed to Fraeulein Adele von Guntram. "I thought so,"
he muttered to himself. "I am just in time." Then tearing off the
envelope he read:
"What will you think of me, dear Adele, if a few hours after writing my
last letter I tell you not to heed the request it contained? I hope
soon to be able to let you know why I do this, but I cannot tell you
to-day. I cannot leave Castle Hohenwald, and so you are relieved of the
burden of looking for another situation for me. Farewell, dear; you
will soon hear further from your LUCIE."
Werner dropped the letter disappointed. "Nothing more?" he muttered. "I
need not have opened this letter, although I had better know what she
intends to do." He tried to put the letter in its envelope again, but
it could not be done, the latter was too much torn. There was nothing
for it but to destroy it. He tore it up therefore, and threw it into
his waste-paper basket. Then putting several unimportant letters into
the post-bag, he took it out to John, and despatched the old man upon
his useless errand.