To the Rescue.
"Rouse up, Jane! Do not again refuse to see me, it is a matter of the
greatest importance, and I must speak with you!"
With these words, Mr. Atkins knocked violently at the door of Jane's
chamber, and compelled an entrance. The bolt was shoved back, and the
door opened. A light also burned here. Jane was fully dressed, and a
glance at the bed showed that it had not yet been disturbed. She
evidently had not thought of sleeping. She advanced to meet him with
mournful questioning in her face; her eyes were weak and inflamed from
inward excitement, but they bore no traces of tears. Jane did not know
that weeping which so often is the woman's only and supremest
consolation; she had forgotten it in her childhood. That sobbing into
which she had once broke out at the death-bed of her father, when for
the moment her strength had utterly given way, had come over her, wild
and passionate, like a convulsion, but tearless. Her rigid, iron nature
knew not even the outward signs of weakness; she bore all sorrow as she
had seen her father bear it; like a man.
Atkins allowed her no time to utter the question that trembled on her
lips. "It is about a danger," he said hastily. "I thought to delay it,
to avert it, but it proves greater than I had believed. My power is at
an end; you must now interpose."
"What danger?" asked Jane, apprehensive and breathless. "Of what do you
speak?"
"Of Alison and Lieutenant Fernow. They have come in conflict; Henry has
challenged the Professor, who denies him satisfaction until the end of
the war. Henry meditates revenge--they must not meet a second time."
Jane was horrified at this tidings, but she soon recovered her
self-possession.
"You are right," she said with intensest bitterness. "They must not
meet a second time; a fight between them and for my sake, would be
worse than murder. Henry is in error; only one single word is needed to
undeceive him; to-morrow I was going to speak that word; now there is
not a moment to lose. Summon him here immediately!"
Atkins shook his head. "But Henry is nowhere to be found, I have
already searched the whole castle for him in vain."
"And Walter? For God's sake where is Walter?"
Atkins elevated his eyebrows. "Lieutenant Fernow has gone to the
mountains," he said gravely, "On some secret service, and alone, Henry
knows that. If he follows--Jane, I need not tell you what calamity I
fear."
For a moment Jane stood there rigid as a statue; then by a powerful
effort, she roused herself from her stupor, and regained the whole
decision of her character.
"I know Henry! He must not go until I have spoken with him; we must
have him back at any price. I believe"--she placed her hand on her
forehead, despite the bewildering anguish, striving to collect her
thoughts,--"I believe there is only a single pass leading from here to
the mountains. Did they not tell us so this morning?"
"Only one, and the Germans hold that; but Henry will hardly seek that
path; he knows that the guards would be sure to repel him."
"So he could only go as far as the path. He must be there; I will seek
him!"
Atkins tried to hold her back. "For God's sake!" he cried, "remember
that we are in a foreign land, amid the storms of war; it is night, you
could not possibly go alone."
Jane did not listen; she had already thrown her travelling cloak around
her shoulders.
"Remain here, Mr. Atkins. If we should all three leave the castle, they
might suspect us. You could have no influence over Henry; I must speak
to him myself."
She was out of the door, and down the steps, before Atkins'
expostulations were at an end. Involuntarily he wrung his hands.
"What an infernal night this is! This blue-eyed German has brought us
all three into mortal danger! But Jane is right, I ought not to go
out--it is better for them to arrange this among themselves. She must
find him in the park. He can be nowhere else."