"Oh, my darling, darling Anna, how can I thank you?" Celia laughed and
cried and kissed her friend amid tears and smiles, dancing about her
room like some wild sprite.
"Come, Celia; pray be reasonable, child!" Lucie at last admonished her.
"Anything but that, dearest Anna, you must not ask that; I am half mad
with delight. My dear, good old father! How unjust I have been to him!
How could I keep anything from him? It was shameful! oh, if I only had
told him all about it the very first day when I met Kurt!"
Lucie said nothing; but she had her own opinion as to whether the
result would have been a very happy one for Celia if she had told her
father of her first meeting with Kurt. The girl went on pouring her
innocent delight into Lucie's ears, and repeating that she owed it all
to her darling Anna.
The castle clock struck four.
"At last!" Celia exclaimed, and begged Lucie to make the greatest
haste, lest Kurt should have to wait. Her friend complied; it would
have been cruel to detain the girl longer than was necessary to hasten
along the broad road, down which Celia had so often galloped upon Pluto
to the appointed spot.
They soon espied the light straw hat, and an instant afterward Kurt
hurried towards them.
"I have fulfilled your wish, Herr von Poseneck," Lucie said, offering
her hand to the young man.
"How can I thank you sufficiently for so doing! for relinquishing your
purpose of referring my request to the Freiherr von Hohenwald----"
"No, no, dearest Kurt!" exclaimed Celia. "She did not relinquish it.
Yes, you may well be surprised, you unprincipled fellow, who would have
persuaded me to meet you again without the knowledge of my darling,
kind old father. But, oh, Kurt, we are so happy, and Anna has done it
all!" And the girl, amid tears and laughter, told her amazed lover of
the success of Anna's exertions in his favour.
In his joy that there was no longer an insurmountable barrier between
himself and his love, Kurt gladly promised to obey every condition
imposed upon him by the Freiherr, declaring that never would he write
so much as one word to his darling except under cover to her father.
When Lucie had explained to him all that she had promised in this way
on his behalf she took no further part in the conversation, wandering
along the grassy path a little in advance of the lovers, anxious that
Celia should enjoy to the full every moment of this short hour of
bliss, and lost in sad reflections as to her own future.
"I beg ten thousand pardons!"
Kurt and Celia, who had forgotten all the actual world, and Lucie, in
the midst of her sad dreaming, looked up startled. They had just
reached the spot where the footpath from Gruenhagen crossed the broad
road, and confronting them stood the Assessor von Hahn. He took off his
hat with an exceedingly low bow to Celia in particular.
"I beg ten thousand pardons, Fraeulein von Hohenwald, for intruding
again, but I am discreet; I make no boast----"
"There you are quite right, Herr Assessor, for surely there is not much
discretion in appearing where you have once been told that your
presence is an intrusion."
The Assessor grew crimson at Kurt's words; he retreated a few steps and
said, in great confusion, "You wrong me deeply, Herr von Poseneck; you
will, I am sure, retract your hasty words when I tell you that my
presence here has nothing to do with you or with my respected cousin,
but with Madame--that is--I mean, I wish the honour of a few words with
Fraeulein Mueller. I learned in Gruenhagen, where I arrived half an hour
ago, that Herr von Poseneck had gone to the forest, and I suspected
that the two ladies would take their afternoon walk in the same
direction. Therefore, as it was highly important that I should speak
with Madame--that is, Fraeulein Mueller, I ventured to come hither."
Lucie bestowed upon the Assessor a glance of anything but welcome, but
she could not refuse to respond to his look of appeal. "You have
attained your purpose, Herr Assessor," she said. "You probably bring me
a message from my friend Adele. The Assessor is an old acquaintance of
mine," she added to Kurt and Celia, who looked rather surprised, "and
is a constant visitor at the President von Guntram's."
The Assessor's courage returned upon hearing Lucie acknowledge his
acquaintance, and he went on with much more confidence than before:
"Certainly, Madame--that is, Fraeulein Mueller, I bring you a message
from Fraeulein Adele, and not merely a message. I am not alone; there is
a gentleman in the shrubbery who wishes to speak with you. I brought
him at Fraeulein Adele's express desire."
Lucie recoiled in terror. Had the gossiping Assessor betrayed her
secret? Had he brought hither either Repuin or Sorr? They were the only
persons who could have any interest in discovering her retreat. She
gazed towards the spot indicated by the Assessor, and, in dread of
encountering Repuin's detested form, moved closer to Kurt as if for
protection. "Whom have you brought here?" she asked.
"I cannot mention any name, Fraeulein Mueller," the Assessor replied. "I
promised not to do so, and I am a man of my word. But I can assure you
that you will rejoice to see my honoured companion. He wishes to meet
you alone, therefore I pray you step aside to where he is awaiting you
in the forest only a few steps from here."
"I will not go!" Lucie declared. "Whoever your companion may be, he has
no right to require that I should go into the forest to meet him."
"You do not know of whom you speak, Fraeulein Mueller," the Assessor
said, with unusual earnestness. "I entreat you not to refuse. I assure
you you will rejoice to see my companion, who longs to clasp you to his
heart."
Lucie shot at the little man a glance of flame. She turned in
indignation at such insolence to Kurt, saying, "I have nothing further
to say to this gentleman. May I beg you, Herr von Poseneck, to continue
our walk?"
"But, Madame--Fraeulein Mueller, I would say--you place me in the most
embarrassing position; there can be no reason why you should not see my
honoured companion. I give you my word of honour that he comes by
Fraeulein Adele's express desire; he is the only man in the world whom I
would have conducted hither. I was so glad to meet you here in the
forest, and not to be obliged to go to the castle to find you, and now
you refuse to go a few steps to meet him when he has come so many miles
to see you. Do you mistrust me? I do not deserve it of you!"
There was so much of honesty and good will stamped upon the Assessor's
face, he was evidently so aggrieved by Lucie's distrust of him, that
his words produced some effect upon her. She hesitated, and wondered
whether she were right in her refusal; but before she could reply an
elderly gentleman, the same whom the Assessor had received at the
railway station, emerged from the forest and hastened towards her.
She gazed at him for a moment, and then, with a shriek of joy, threw
herself into his arms, and, clasping her own about his neck, kissed him
again and again. "I have you again! Thank God! thank God!" she cried.
"This is too much joy! Now I will hold you fast. You must not leave
your child again."
The gentleman was much moved, and the tears stood in his eyes as he
returned Lucie's kisses. "My child! my dear, good child!" he whispered,
tenderly. "You are mine once more, and I shall know how to protect you
from your dastardly persecutors."
"We are not alone, we must remember that," Lucie said, at length,
extricating herself from her father's embrace.
The old man turned, with his daughter's hand still in his, and extended
his right hand to Kurt. "Forgive me, Herr von Poseneck," he said, "for
presenting myself so unceremoniously to Fraeulein Cecilia von Hohenwald
and yourself. I had hoped that my daughter would comply with our friend
the Assessor's request and come to me in the forest; but her natural
reluctance to do so is the cause why you are the witnesses of a meeting
between a father and daughter who have been separated for years."
For a few moments the poor Assessor found himself upon a pinnacle of
glory. The modesty with which nature had endowed him was in danger of
great deterioration, so enthusiastic were Lucie's thanks to him for his
kind interest, so gratifying was the appreciation of his services by
his fair cousin and Herr von Poseneck. But alas, poor man! he soon
experienced the uncertainty of such a position, and felt himself no
better than the fifth wheel to a coach with the two couples, who
evidently desired to be left to themselves. Kurt and Celia paid him not
the least attention, and Lucie was so wrapped up in her newly-found
father that she soon seemed entirely to have forgotten Hahn's
existence. He was therefore fain to amuse himself by botanizing among
the forest flowers.
Lucie clung to her father's arm as if fearful of losing him again
should she leave him for an instant. They walked on in advance of the
lovers, and as soon as they were out of hearing the daughter gave words
to her delight. "I am so happy, my darling father; I can scarcely
believe the evidence of my senses that I am looking into your dear eyes
and feeling your strong arm support me. Oh, father, how could you stay
so long away from your child? All would have been different if you had
been here!"
"I could not have prevented Sorr from ruining himself and you," Ahlborn
gloomily replied. "Do not reproach me, my child. I did what I was
forced to do, and the result has crowned my work. When I left you
without even taking leave of you, I determined never to return unless
in possession of all, and more than all, I had lost. Even then I
suspected how bitterly we had been deceived in Sorr, and my only object
in life was to work for you, my darling, that your future might be
secure. With this one thought in my mind I went to America and plunged
into a life of toil, in which, when I might have faltered and fallen,
the thought of you sustained me. I added dollar to dollar with the
parsimony of a miser. I embarked, like a madman, in the boldest
speculations. All that I touched seemed to turn to profit. But why
dwell upon those wild years? I hate to think of them, for, although I
never stooped to what the world calls dishonesty, it galls me now to
remember how different was the system of mad speculation by which I
regained my lost fortune from the plodding industry by which I first
obtained it.
"Three months ago I arrived in Bremen, and hurried to Berlin, where my
worst fears with regard to Sorr were confirmed. His reputation was
gone, his property lost; and I was told that he had removed with you to
M----. When I reached M---- it was too late, you had vanished
unaccountably, and Sorr, too, was not to be found."
"Did not Adele tell you where I was?" Lucie asked.
"I never thought of going to her, so wide-spread was the report that in
your despair you had destroyed yourself. I left M---- a broken-hearted
man; of what use was my wealth? My aim in life was gone.
"I tried to divert my mind by travelling aimlessly hither and thither;
and at Frankfort-on-the-Main, seeing by the papers that a fine estate
on the banks of the Rhine was for sale, I purchased it, in hopes of
finding relief from my misery in the care of it. But the peaceful
solitude to which I had looked to soothe my pain only increased it, and
again I began my wanderings, which suddenly found their close in
Berlin. Last Friday I was sauntering aimlessly along the street there
when I met the Assessor von Hahn. Remembering that in former days he
was in the habit of frequenting our house, where he was one of your
adorers, I did not rebuff him when he recognized me and with a cordial
welcome on his lips walked along by my side. I soon wearied of him,
however, and paid no attention to the gossip he continued to retail to
me, until I was aroused from my absence of mind by the question, 'Have
you been to see your daughter yet?' If he were conscious that your
friends mourned you as dead, why ask so cruel a question? I begged him
instantly to tell me all that he knew of you, and this threw the little
man into the greatest confusion; my joy was unbounded when he assured
me positively that you were still alive, although he refused to reveal
to me your retreat, and referred me to your friend Adele. An hour later
I was in the train bound for M----, and the next morning I had an early
interview with your friend, who was in raptures at recognizing me. But,
ah, my child, what a tale she told me! My poor darling, to what a fate
did I resign you! Now, however, I know all,--all, for Adele even gave
me your last letter to her to read, entreating me to go instantly to
your aid, to carry you to my home on the Rhine, far away from Castle
Hohenwald, where, as you said, each moment was torture to you."
"Did Adele say that?" Lucie asked, in surprise. "Did she not show you
my second letter, which she must have received almost simultaneously
with the first?"
"I know nothing of any second letter; but your friend regretted deeply
that she had not yet been able to procure you the situation for which
you implored her, and added that she was upon the point of writing to
you, to insist that you should return to your old retreat beneath her
father's roof. We consulted together what was best to be done. We
agreed that you must leave the castle immediately, but in view of the
eccentricity of its lord, I judged it best to accept the friendly
offices, so frankly offered, of Herr von Hahn to procure an interview
with you, rather than to present myself in person to the Freiherr.
"I telegraphed to the Assessor at A---- to meet me at the station
there, and as soon as I was able to procure a place in the crowded
trains came hither. He was waiting for me on the platform, and before
we left the station he pointed out to me two gentlemen who had arrived
by the same train as Count Repuin and the Finanzrath von Hohenwald."
"Good heavens!" Lucie exclaimed. "Werner and the Count! This is,
indeed, wretched news. I feared it, I feared it, although I could not
conceive that the Finanzrath could be so basely treacherous. But let
Count Repuin come,--I am no longer defenceless; I will confront him
boldly in the presence of the old Freiherr." Then as she reflected that
her kind old friend was absolutely ignorant of her past, now probably
to be so misrepresented to him, she went on, in feverish agitation:
"But, oh! my father, there is a danger which you cannot avert. What if
my kind friend should be led to doubt me by the falsehoods that will
doubtless be poured into his ears? I will not lose his esteem and
affection; we must see him before the Finanzrath and the Count reach
the castle. Perhaps it is already too late. Protect me from them,
father, if they should be there, and stand beside me while I tell the
Freiherr my wretched story."
But to this her father was not inclined to agree. Had it not been for
the presence of Repuin he would gladly have allowed his child to
acquaint the Freiherr with all her past, but he could not doubt the
Russian's close association with Sorr, and from her husband even
Lucie's father could not protect her. Should Sorr require her to follow
him, nothing remained for her save to elude him by a secret flight from
the castle without even bidding the old Freiherr farewell. Only when
beneath her father's roof could she thank Baron von Hohenwald for all
his kindness and explain to him the grounds for her sudden and secret
flight.
When, however, Herr Ahlborn explained his wishes on this head to his
daughter, he encountered a determined opposition on her part; she was
so unwilling to leave without one word of explanation what had been to
her a dear asylum, that at last, trusting in Sorr's absence, the father
yielded to Lucie's entreaties and consented to accompany her to the
castle.