When I arrived at the hotel in Zutphen, I was surprised to find a
letter awaiting me from Rudolf, who was still travelling through the
provinces of Guelderland and Overyssel with his troupe, which was
now performing at Laren fair. It ran as follows--
"If you wish to prevent Francis from committing the greatest folly she
has yet been guilty of in life, try to meet me at the 'Half-way House,'
between Zutphen and Laren, to-morrow morning about nine o'clock."
I promised myself I would not neglect this appointment. I then sent
for Overberg, who confirmed all I had heard from Rolf, and explained
many things I thought inexplicable. It was Van Beek who had pushed
matters to extremities, and he (Overberg) had been quite willing
to grant any reasonable delay. He told me one thing I was still
ignorant of. A lawyer had sent into Van Beek a copy of a codicil to
Aunt Sophia's will, drawn up by her order on the eve of her death,
by which she bequeathed to her grandniece, Francis Mordaunt, a yearly
income of three thousand florins in case she did not marry Jonker
van Zonshoven; and I was bound to pay this pension on condition
she made no marriage without my consent. A very far-seeing woman
this aunt of mine! I charged Overberg to make known this codicil,
and to hand over to Francis the packet which he had found amongst
the General's papers. He had sent it to the Castle, but too late;
Francis was already gone. I requested him to do his best to find her
out, and to deliver it into her hands.
Next morning, when I arrived at the appointed place, a little country
inn, the landlady told me that a lady and gentleman were already
awaiting me upstairs. I hastened into the large assembly-room, and at
the bottom of it I could perceive Rudolf and Francis, almost hidden
behind a platform which had been erected for the musicians. Francis
stood with her back to the door at which I entered. I wished to give
her warning of my presence, but I could not speak; and as I advanced
all of a tremble, I heard Rudolf saying to her--
"Nonsense, my dear! you have no idea of the sort of life you wish
to lead. You talk of liberty and independence; but I tell you it is
slavery and the whip into the bargain. Do you know our bed-room is in
the stable with the horses? Do you think the women are much respected
because they are so politely assisted to mount their horses during the
performance? I can tell you Madame Stonehouse herself is not spared
by her gracious husband. And you would cast in your lot with us,
susceptible and haughty as you are!"
"There's nothing else I can do," replied Francis. "I can manage a
horse, but I cannot become a governess and undertake the care of young
children any more than I could earn my bread with my needle. I will
not be guilty of the sin of suicide. I have a duty to fulfil in life,
though to me life is but a martyrdom. And this is my only resource."
"But, you foolish girl, why don't you seek a reconciliation with
your Cousin van Zonshoven? You would then have all a woman could wish
for--your castle back, a beautiful fortune, and a husband who would
love you truly. Upon that I'll wager my head."
"Yes; he's a man of rare loyalty, indeed, and has shown himself
such!" she answered with a choking voice.
"Bah! at the worst he has only acted a little insincerely; white lies,
my dear, white lies may be pardoned. Forgive him his peccadillo. He
will have much to forgive in you, as you have confessed to me
yourself. Tell him you are sorry for what you have said. He will then
embrace you and all will be well."
"It is impossible, I tell you; it is too late."
"Why too late, Francis?" I exclaimed, as I stepped forward, unable
to restrain myself any longer.
"Leopold!" she cried, turning deadly pale, and covering her face with
her hands.
"Francis," I went on gently, "nothing is changed; I still regard you
as my betrothed wife."
And saying this I tried to take her hand in mine. But the touch
pained her; she sprang back as if she had received the discharge of
an electric battery.
"Your betrothed! You have given me to understand this by the manner
in which I have been treated!"
"It grieves me to the heart, Francis--I cannot tell you how much. I
come now from a sick-bed, and what the lawyers did whilst I lay
insensible in the fever was in opposition to my wishes, and quite
contrary to my intentions."
"And was it contrary to your intentions to cause my grandfather the
shock which led to his death?"
"Most certainly it was, and I did my utmost to prevent it; but
you would not assist me, and afterwards it was too late. It was the
executors carrying out the last will and testament of the deceased, and
it was out of my power to interfere with them. And if the consequences
hastened your grandfather's death, you cannot blame me, Francis. For
after a calm consideration of all the facts, you will be bound to
agree that I was a better friend both to him and to you than you have
been to yourselves. Because of a little misunderstanding which I could
easily have explained, you have brought all this trouble on yourself,
and caused me the most acute suffering. Still all may be well."
"All may be well! Oh, Leopold, Leopold! how can you say so, when the
gulf between us is so wide," she replied, with a profound sigh. "You
threatened me with force, and you have meanly carried that threat into
execution! You had it in your power to drive me to extremities, your
one fixed idea being to compel me to marry Aunt Roselaer's heir. I
have heard this so often I am sick of the subject; and though I
acknowledge you are right from a worldly and material point of view,
I had given you credit for better things. Don't you understand, that
were I to marry you now under constraint, I should tug at my chains
until they made life unbearable to us both, or until they broke!"
"I agree with you, Francis, if you regard our engagement in this light,
and I release you from your promise."
"Thank you, but I had already taken measures which render such
generosity on your part unnecessary. I am going to travel about in
the world, and I have taken steps to separate myself from the past
entirely. I have made my contract with Mr. Stonehouse, to whom Rudolf
is to introduce me as soon as he arrives here to sign the same."
"Your Uncle Rudolf came here, my dear, to dissuade you from such a
step; and if you are awaiting the arrival of Mr. Stonehouse, you will
have to wait a long time," responded Rudolf, coolly. "Did you think
me such a fool, Francis, as to assist you in your insane idea?"
"Then you never delivered my letter to your master?"
"Certainly not, I did much better. I warned your Cousin Leopold that
you were going to commit a folly which would lead to your inevitable
ruin."
"Oh, I see! this is another plot against me. Enough; as I cannot
trust any one but myself, I will ride off at once and ask to see
Mr. Stonehouse in person."
"You will do nothing of the sort," I said, authoritatively, seeing
that she rose to depart. "The General is dead, Rudolf civilly dead,
and I am consequently, in the eyes of the law, your nearest male
relation. Therefore I forbid your entering this abyss, from whence
no one ever rises again, in the flower of your age."
"What am I to do?" she cried passionately, yet with an accent of
submission in her tone.
"You have simply to return to the Werve," I answered, "where you will
find a friend actively preparing for your reception."
"A friend!" she repeated, in astonishment.
"Yes, Rolf; who is to stay there until further orders. Don't be
afraid--I shall not importune you with my presence, for I am going
to travel."
This latter declaration seemed to make a great impression on her. She
regarded me with a strange kind of look, and replied in a tone of
voice which betrayed something more than pride and anger--
"In very sooth, Leopold, you are going to travel? Well, then, I will
stay at the Werve. Farewell."
And she escaped from the room quickly, shutting the door after her. We
soon heard the pawing of her horse outside, and we trusted she would
ride back to the Castle.
"Ought I not to follow her?" Rudolf inquired of me.
"No; any mistrust on our part would offend her."
"She is in an unusual state of excitement, and such a reckless
rider. Only lately she had an accident."
"That's true; for Heaven's sake follow her! But if you should be
recognized yourself?"
"Never fear, I am too well disguised for that. In my present dress
I made more than one visit to the Werve during my father's last
illness. I have pressed his hand on his death-bed; and he has given
me his signet ring. Out of prudence I do not wear it on my finger,
but like this, in my bosom, attached by a cord round my neck. And
Francis," he cried in triumph, "has accepted assistance from me
during these last days of trial. When the Kermis at Laren is over,
we shall leave this country; and I shall never more set foot on my
native soil," he added, sadly, as he mounted his horse; and pressing
my hand for the last time, took an eternal farewell of me.