The news of the occurrence at Gnadeck had reached Lindhof Castle even
before Reinhard returned thither. The masons on their way home to the
village had related the wonderful story to a servant whom they met in
the park, and the tale had flashed like lightning from mouth to mouth
until it reached the boudoir of the ladies of the castle, where it
produced the effect almost of a bombshell.
One of the favourite themes of the baroness had always been her own
infallibility with regard to blue blood. She maintained that by means
of a very delicate and sensitive organization she could recognize the
existence of this life-giving stream even in people whose names she did
not know. It was thus only natural that she should be able to detect
immediately every noble drop happening to flow in plebeian veins. She
always had admitted that "the little Ferber" had something distinguished
in her appearance in right of the noble descent of her mother. But with
regard to the forester, that delicate perception of hers had been so
much at fault that she had never dreamed of acknowledging his bow except
by an almost imperceptible inclination of the head, which was all she
deigned to bestow upon people of so low a rank in life. Why, in her
noble rage at the rude blasphemer, who could forbid his ward, Bertha, to
attend the Bible-class at the castle, she had often gone so far as to
declare that she could detect his low origin a hundred paces off. And
this was the man to bring to nought her reputation for this keen
perception of aristocracy! He was the descendant of a lofty line,--the
possessor of a name which, centuries back, had glowed in all the light
of feudal splendour!
To be sure, there was great consolation for her in the thought that two
centuries of ignoble marriages had rendered the noble blood very
difficult to recognize. She declared as much very earnestly to
Fraeulein von Walde, who, reclining upon her lounge, was observing the
baroness' agitation with a slight, rather contemptuous, smile. Personal
interest in Fraeulein Ferber, or the more unprejudiced mind of the
younger lady, may have prompted some little reproof to her cousin; at
all events she lifted her head and said quickly, not without a slight
appearance of irritation: "Pardon me, Amalie, but that is a mistake. I
know for a certainty that the wife of the forester's clerk is not the
only nobly-born person who has married into the Ferber family. They
have always been a fine, remarkably intellectual race, whose personal
advantages have often conquered the prejudices of birth. I really do
not believe that there have been more plebeian marriages in their family
than can be found in the pedigree of the Lessens, and you would hardly
maintain that there is not a drop of genuine noble blood in Bella's
veins."
A delicate colour flickered over the elder lady's faded cheek, and the
glance which she directed towards her companion from beneath her
half-closed eyelids, was anything but gentle or amiable. A sickly smile
still hovered upon her lips. Since the previous day she had, to her
horror, frequently felt the ground tremble beneath her feet. It was
actually terrifying suddenly to meet with contradiction in a quarter
where for years she had found only complete adherence and blind
submission.
She was, however, quite right in attributing the change in Helene's
demeanour not only to the "unhappy" influence exercised upon her by her
brother, but far more to her own son, who had conducted himself so
strangely during the last few days. Helene's was, in reality, a noble
nature, capable of appreciating all that was lofty and honourable, and
animated by the purest desire for the good and true; but she had been
accustomed from childhood to consider herself as the centre of the
loving care and attention of all around her. Notwithstanding her
physical infirmity, she had never known the bitterness of being
slighted. That she might forget her weakness, every one around her made
her the object of marked attention. While she knew that she could never
occupy a wife's position, her heart, overflowing with tenderness, had
joyously welcomed a first love; and although, when alone, she might
bewail with tears the neglect of nature, which had denied her the
crowning joys of life, still she possessed the blissful conviction that
her love was returned. Hollfeld's constant attentions, his frequent
sojourn at Lindhof, his continual expressions of tenderness, were well
calculated to plant this conviction ineradicably in her mind.
Suddenly he had appeared altered and constrained in her presence, and
neglected her in the most unaccountable manner. She suffered greatly;
her inner self revolted; insulted feminine dignity, an irritation
hitherto unknown, and devoted affection, were all at war within her; she
was yet far from that height to which, early or late, every noble nature
attains: resignation and forgiveness. She grew bitter and violent, and
she manifested this change less towards him who had caused her suffering
than, by way of indemnifying herself, towards those whose tyranny she
had endured for the sake of her love.
Hollfeld had been reading aloud to the ladies, when the old waiting-maid
of the baroness entered the room upon some errand, and, before leaving,
glibly narrated the remarkable discovery at Gnadeck. If Helene's eyes
had not been riveted upon the lips of the speaker, the change in her
cousin's features could not have escaped her. He listened breathlessly,
with an expression of the intensest delight. In passing from mouth to
mouth, the discovered jewels had come to be of "priceless value," and
the beautiful Lila's coffin was now pure silver.
The baroness also had not observed the striking change in her son's
sullen aspect; and in consequence of Helene's reproof, very naturally
darted at him an angry glance, which was not seen by Fraeulein von
Walde. She was greatly amazed to see him suddenly approach his cousin.
He smoothed the embroidered cushion beneath her head, and pushed the
bouquet of flowers in the vase nearer to her, that she might more easily
inhale their fragrance.
"Helene is quite right, mother," he said with a kindly glance at his
cousin, who replied by a happy smile. "You should be the last to bring
in question the nobility of that family."
Although the baroness was tortured by the thought that those who had
been so far beneath her, might now be her equals,--nay, even rank
considerably above her in wealth; still she wisely suppressed the bitter
retort that rose to her lips, and contented herself with observing that
the whole story at present had altogether too much the air of a legend
or fable to be implicitly believed. For her part, she should require
the testimony of more competent eye-witnesses than the two masons,
before she could consider it worthy of credit.
A competent eye-witness was just passing beneath the windows. It was
Reinhard, who was returning from the mountain. He smiled as his
attendance upon Fraeulein von Walde was immediately required; for, from
the curious looks of the servant, he guessed that the story of the
discovery at Gnadeck had reached the castle, and that information from
him upon the subject was what the ladies desired.
At his entrance he was immediately assailed by Helene with questions.
He answered them in his usual calm manner, and took a malicious pleasure
in detecting the keenest curiosity and the greatest irritation behind
the apparently careless and indifferent remarks and questions of the
baroness.
"And will the Ferbers venture to lay claim to the old name on the
strength of that scrap of parchment?" she asked; taking a large dahlia
from the vase of flowers, and smelling it.
"I should like to know who could dispute their claim," replied Reinhard.
"It only remains to be proved that they are the descendants of Jost von
Gnadewitz, and that can be done at any moment."
The lady leaned back in her large arm-chair, and dropped her eyelids, as
if she were weary or bored.
"Indeed! and those treasures of Golconda, are they really as priceless
as Dame Rumour reports them to be?" The tone of voice was meant to be
contemptuous, but Reinhard's practised ear detected with great
satisfaction that it betrayed great eagerness, and something like secret
anxiety.
He smiled.
"Priceless?" he repeated. "Well, in such cases so much depends upon the
estimation in which such things are held by their possessors, that I can
hardly judge."
He might, we know, have told their value, but he thought, rather
ungallantly, that a little uncertainty would prove a healthy excitement
for the lady.
The examination would probably not have concluded here, if Bella had not
suddenly burst into the room with her usual violence.
"Mamma, the new governess has come," she cried, out of breath, shaking
back, with a toss of her head, the sandy locks that had fallen over her
forehead; "why, she is uglier than Miss Mertens!" she went on, without
taking the least notice of Reinhard's presence. "She has a bright red
ribbon on her bonnet, and her mantilla is even more old-fashioned than
Frau von Lehr's. I won't go to walk with her, you need not tell me to,
mamma!"
The baroness put both hands to her ears.
"My child, I pray you, for Heaven's sake, do not speak so loud," she
gasped; "your voice goes through and through me; and what nonsense you
talk! you will have to walk out with Mademoiselle Jamin whenever I bid
you."
This reproof, uttered with considerable emphasis, causing Bella to pout
angrily while she secretly tore a piece of the fringe from one of her
mother's cushions, was the result of what might have been called the
period of martyrdom that had followed Miss Mertens' departure. The
baroness had been forced to take upon herself the care of Bella, and it
was, as she declared, death to her nerves. To Fraeulein von Walde she
always maintained that all her trouble was in consequence of the defects
of Miss Mertens' educational system; but in the depths of her soul she
acknowledged, that her daughter strikingly resembled in disposition the
deceased Lessen,--among whose characteristics an indomitable obstinacy
and a determined proclivity to a perpetual _dolce far niente_, were the
most prominent. She was, however, far from admitting that any injustice
had been done to Miss Mertens; that person had been paid to educate her
daughter, and consequently should have known, without ever acting in
opposition to the mother's views, or reproving the child, how to correct
all her faults. Therefore, the glimpse that she had just had perforce
of Bella's character, was of no advantage for the new governess; the
unfortunate French woman, with the gay ribbons on her bonnet, had no
presentiment of the joyless days that awaited her. Just now, her arrival
removed a weight from the mind of the baroness, to whom nothing could
have been less desirable than a dispute at present between teacher and
pupil, and hence her rebuke of Bella's impertinent remarks.
The baroness arose and went to her apartments, accompanied by her sullen
daughter, to receive the stranger. At the same time, Reinhard departed.
"Do you wish me to go on reading, Helene?" asked Hollfeld, after the
three had left the room. As he took up the newspaper his manner was
almost caressing.
"By and by," she replied with hesitation, looking at him searchingly,
with a kind of timid anxiety in her eyes. "I should like to ask you, now
that we are once more alone together, to tell me what has changed you so
during these last few days. You know, Emil, that it pains me deeply
when you refuse to let me share in what delights or troubles you. You
know that it is not idle curiosity which leads me to pry into your
affairs, but a sincere and heartfelt interest in your weal or woe. You
see how I suffer from your reserve. Tell me frankly if I have done
anything to make you think me unworthy of your confidence."
She stretched out her hands towards him as if in entreaty. The gentle
melancholy in the tones of her voice would have melted a stone.
Hollfeld crushed and twisted the rustling newspaper uneasily in his
hands. He held down his head, and avoided meeting the pure, frank gaze
of the poor girl. Any one with any knowledge of the world could not have
failed to perceive in his attitude, and in the restless eyes that sought
the ground, the crafty plotter endeavouring to hit upon some device by
which to deceive. To Helene's innocent, loving eyes, the lofty figure,
slightly leaning forward, the face beneath the thick, light curls,
rather suggested a thoughtful Apollo.
"You will always have my confidence, Helene," he broke silence at last.
"You are indeed the only being in the world in whom I can
confide,"--Helene's eyes sparkled at these words, the poor child was so
proud of the distinction,--"but there are obligations in life whose
existence we can hardly acknowledge to ourselves, far less have the
courage to confess to others."
Fraeulein von Walde sat upright, in eager expectation.
"I am forced," Hollfeld continued, with a stammer, "to adopt a certain
resolution, and it has been weighing heavily upon me for days."
He looked up to see what impression his words had made.
Helene seemed to have no suspicion of what he was about to say, for she
never changed her attitude, and looked as if she would have read the
words upon his lips. He was therefore compelled to proceed without any
assistance from her.
"You know, Helene," he slowly continued, "that for the last year I have
had constant trouble with my housekeepers. They are continually leaving
me, often without warning even, and I have no way of ordering my
domestic affairs. The day before yesterday, the last one, who only
entered my house two weeks ago, declared she would not stay. I cannot
tell what to do about it; my house is nothing but an annoyance to me
under these circumstances--"
"Ah, you want to sell Odenberg?" Helene interrupted him eagerly.
"No, that would be folly, for it is one of the finest estates in
Thuringia; but I am forced to find some other way out of my troubles,
and nothing is left for me but--to marry."
If some unseen and mysterious agency had suddenly opened a yawning abyss
at Helene's feet, her face certainly could not have expressed more
horror and amazement than at this moment. She opened her white,
quivering lips, but no sound issued from them, and, entirely incapable
of concealing her pain, she covered her face with her hands, and sank
back among the cushions with a low cry.
Hollfeld hastened to her side, and took both her hands in his.
"Helene," he whispered, in a low, tender tone,--his manner was
perfect,--"will you let me speak and show you how sore my heart is? You
know only too well that I love, and that this love will be my first and
only one as long as I live."
His tongue did not stammer over this odious lie; on the contrary, it
aided his plans with such insinuating tones that the poor girl's heart
was torn by a wild conflict of emotions. If some good angel would only
have whispered to her to lift her eyes for one moment, she could not but
have been undeceived, for the look that accompanied his protestations
was utterly contemptuous as it glanced at her crippled figure; and
perhaps, in the first moments of her indignation, she might have found
strength enough to have extricated herself from the snares of the wily
egotist. But her eyes were closed as if she would shut out all the
world, and revel only in the sound of the voice which for the first time
spoke of love to her.
"Would to Heaven," he continued, "that I might follow the dictates of my
heart, and live for this love only, for I desire nothing beyond the
pleasure of constant intercourse with you, Helene. But you know I am
the last of the Hollfelds and must marry. My sacrifice can be lessened
only in one way,--I must choose a wife who knows you, and----"
"O tell me quickly!" cried Helene, giving way to her grief, while the
tears burst from her eyes. "Your choice is already made! I know
it,--it is Cornelie!"
"The Quittelsdorf?" he cried, with a laugh. "That will-o'-the-wisp?
No, I would far rather leave the administration of my domestic affairs
to the most repulsive of housekeepers! What should I do without an
enormous income with such an extravagant, frivolous wife! Besides, let
me tell you most emphatically, my sweet Helene, my choice is not yet
made,--hear me, and do not weep so violently, you break my heart; I must
have a wife who knows and loves you; a simple-hearted woman, of genuine
understanding, to whom I can say: my heart belongs to another who never
can be mine, be my friend and here."
"And do you imagine that any one could understand you?"
"Most certainly, if she loved me."
"No, I could not,--never, never!" She buried her face in the cushions,
sobbing convulsively.
And now an ugly frown appeared on Hollfeld's smooth forehead. His lips
were compressed, and for an instant the colour left his cheeks. He was
evidently very angry. An expression of hatred lighted up the eyes that
rested upon the young creature who was unexpectedly rendering his part
so difficult to play. But he controlled himself, and lifted her face
with a light, caressing touch. The poor thing trembled beneath his
hypocritical contact, and let her delicate head rest passively upon his
hand.
"And would you then forsake me, Helene," he asked sadly, "if I were
compelled to fulfil so hard a duty? Would you turn away and leave me
lonely, with a wife whom I did not love?"
She raised her swollen eyelids, and from beneath them broke a ray of
inexpressible love. He had played his part admirably, and that glance
told him that the game was in his own hands.
"You are now fighting the same battle," he continued, "which I have
struggled through during the last few days, before I could arrive at any
fixed determination. At first the thought that any third person may
interfere with our relations to each other may well appall you, but I
give you my word that shall not be. Think, Helene, how much more I can
do for you; how much more truly I can live for you then than now. You
can come to me at Odenberg. I will guard your every footstep, and
cherish you as the apple of my eye."
Hollfeld possessed very little intellect, but he had a vast amount of
cunning, which, as we see, served his turn better than intellect could
have done. His poor victim flew into the net, her heart torn and
bleeding, her force of will utterly annihilated.
"I will try to endure the thought," Helene at last whispered almost
inaudibly. "But what a being that woman must be who could bear with me,
and whom I might at last learn to love like a sister! Do you know any
such lofty-minded, self-sacrificing creature?"
"I have an idea,--it occurred to me just now quite suddenly,--at present
it is vague and unformed. After due consideration I shall certainly
unfold it to you. But you must first be more composed, dear Helene.
Think for a moment. I place the choice of my future wife solely and
entirely in your hands. It depends upon you to approve or condemn what
I propose."
"And are you strong enough to pass your life with a woman to whom you
cannot give your love?"
He suppressed a contemptuous smile, for Helene's eyes were riveted upon
his lips.
"I can do all that I resolve to do," he answered; "and to have you near
me will give me strength.--But let me entreat one favour of you,--say
nothing as yet to my mother of this important matter, as you know she
wishes to control everything and everybody, and I could not now endure
her interference. She will learn all soon enough when I present my
future wife to her."
At any other time, this heartless, unfilial speech would have disgusted
Helene; but, at this moment, she scarcely heard it, for every thought
and feeling had been thrown into the wildest uproar by the words,
"future wife," which suggested, in spite of the multitude of unhappy
wives, the idea of supreme contentment and bliss.
"Oh, my God!" she cried, wringing in an agony of grief the little hands
that lay in her lap. "I always hoped to die before this; I was not,
indeed I was not so selfish as to think you could lead a lonely life for
my sake; but I hoped that the necessarily short period of my life might
induce you to let this cup pass from me,--to wait until my eyes should
be closed upon my misery."
"But, Helene, what do you mean?" cried Hollfeld, still controlling his
temper with difficulty. "At your age, who would think of dying? We
will live--live, and in time be, as I confidently hope, happy indeed.
Think of the matter, and you will see it all as I do."
He pressed her hand affectionately to his lips, imprinted a kiss upon
her brow, for the first time,--took his hat, and left the room.
Outside, as the door closed upon the suffering girl, he gave full play
to the expression of contempt that he had so long suppressed, and which
gave place only to a look of self-satisfaction still more detestable.
One hour before, his heart had been filled with rage. His passion for
Elizabeth, fanned into a flame by her rejection of his advances, had
been a consuming fire, and had robbed him of all his boasted
self-control. But the idea of marriage with the daughter of the
forester's clerk had never occurred to him,--such a thought would have
seemed to him insane. He had exhausted his ingenuity in contriving
plans to procure a return of affection from the object of his passion.
The late occurrence at Gnadeck had given his thoughts another direction.
Elizabeth was now a most desirable match, noble and wealthy. No wonder,
then, that he exulted at the news, and immediately formed the
magnanimous resolution of honouring the fair flower of Castle Gnadeck
with an offer of marriage. There was, of course, no doubt that she
would accept the offer, for although coquetry had led her to reject his
advances hitherto, she could not possibly pursue such a line of conduct,
in view of the brilliant prospect of becoming the envied wife of Herr
von Hollfeld. He was so secure upon this point that not a cloud of
distrust darkened the horizon of his future. It was not only his
intense desire to possess Elizabeth that urged him on to act as quickly
as possible,--the thought, that as soon as the discovery in the ruins
became known, other suitors would present themselves for the hand of
Gold Elsie, already so famous for her beauty,--this thought made his
blood boil in his veins.
Only one obstacle stood between him and the fulfilment of his
determination, and that was Helene. It was not that he hesitated,
through sympathy, at the thought of how the fondly-loving girl would
suffer,--he knew no pity with regard to her,--but he was in dread lest
too hasty a marriage might cost him the inheritance which he looked for
from her. It was a case for prudence and forethought. We have seen
how, in cold blood, he made use of the unhappy girl's deep and blind
affection, and, while pretending to submit to her decision the
weightiest questions concerning his future life, riveted the chain that
bound her to him.
As soon as he had left the room Helene tottered to the door, and bolted
it after him. And then she resigned herself to utter despair.
They who have never known the hours of torture that ensue upon the
sudden hearing of some unexpected misfortune,--hours when we would fain
shriek out our misery into the ears of the universe, and when, needing
the sympathy and support of others as never before, we are driven, as by
some evil spirit, to darkness and loneliness, as though light and sound
were deadly poison to our wound,--they, we say, who have never known the
pangs that threaten to efface all the landmarks of a previously
harmonious inner life, will scarcely be able to conceive that Helene
sank down upon the floor, with her little hands plucking wildly at her
fair curls, and her frail, diminutive form shivering as from a fever
fit. She had lived and breathed only in her absorbing affection for
this man. If a few gloomy looks, some slight neglect of his, had
sufficed to plunge her into the deepest melancholy, and make her utterly
careless of an event that would once have wrung her sisterly affection
to the very soul, how much greater must her agony now be in the
conviction that she was about to lose him forever!
In the wild chaos of thought filling her brain, she was entirely
incapable of one clear, decided conclusion. The humiliating
consciousness of her physical infirmities, which caused her to be thrust
out of an earthly paradise; Hollfeld's confession of love to which she
had just listened, and which brought such infinite joy and woe; a
frantic jealousy of the woman, whoever she might be, who was to stand
beside him as a wife,--all these emotions were seething in her mind,
threatening to sever the frail thread that bound together soul and body.
It was late, and night had already fallen, when she admitted her anxious
maid, and yielded to her entreaties to retire to rest. She emphatically
refused to see the physician, sent word to the baroness, who asked to
come in to say good-night, that she could not be disturbed, her need of
rest was so great,--and then passed the most wretched night of her life.
She grew a little more quiet, that is, the fearful tension of her nerves
relaxed somewhat, when the first beam of morning light pierced the
curtains of her room. The thin golden ray seemed to glide into her
darkened soul, and illumine thoughts which had hitherto been hidden in
the wild tumult of her mind. She began to believe that Hollfeld's
course was one of the purest self-sacrifice. She had never been able to
disguise or thrust from her the haunting conviction that his marriage
might one day become an imperative necessity, and she could not fail to
be conscious that her idea of his waiting until she should be no more
had never occurred to him. Was not his sacrifice great? Loving her,
and her only, he must belong to another; ought she to make the
performance of a sacred duty difficult for him by her grief? He had
asked her to tread a thorny path with him. Should she draw back like a
coward when he set her such an example of strength and endurance? And
if another woman could be found content with friendship instead of love,
should she allow herself to be outdone in self-renunciation?
In feverish haste she rang the bell by her bedside, and summoned her
maid. Yes, she would be strong; but she was conscious that only entire
certainty could give her courage and the power of endurance; she must
know, as soon as possible, the name of the woman whom Hollfeld thought
capable of undertaking so hard a part in life. She had passed before
her, in review, every unmarried woman of her acquaintance, but had
rejected on the instant each and all.
The hour had not yet arrived at which she was accustomed to take
breakfast with the baroness and Hollfeld; her brother always avoided
this early meeting of his household, but she could not remain in her
lonely room, and, as she was greatly exhausted, was pushed in her
wheeled chair into the dining-room. To her surprise, she heard from one
of the servants that the baroness had gone to walk half an hour
previously,--a very strange piece of news, but one that she was most
glad to learn, for just as she was wheeled into a recess of one of the
windows she discovered Hollfeld pacing to and fro upon the lawn without.
He seemed to have no suspicion that he was observed. His fine, manly
figure moved with elastic grace. Now and then he put a cigar to his
lips with evident enjoyment, and the delicate aroma floating through the
air reached Helene at her window. At first the little lady was
painfully impressed by his unusually gay and cheerful expression; she
could not but confess to herself that youthful exuberance of spirits,
love of life, and an unwonted exhilaration of mind were manifest in his
every look and motion, even in the half-unconscious smile that now and
then parted his lips, discovering his wonderfully white teeth. There
was no trace there of those struggles which she had passed through
during the night; he certainly did not look much like the victim of an
inexorable combination of circumstances. But was not his
self-possession the result of great mental force and a strong manly
will? He must have reached a height almost too lofty for human nature
to attain.
The little lady's brow contracted in a frown.
"Emil!" she cried loudly, almost harshly.
Hollfeld was evidently startled, but in a second he stood beneath her
window, and waved a "good-morning" to her.
"What!" he cried, "are you there already? May I come up?"
"Yes," she replied more gently.
And in a few moments he entered the room. Helene had reason to be
better pleased with his present air and manner; there was an expression
of great gravity upon his countenance as he threw his hat upon the table
and pushed a chair close to her side. Taking both her hands tenderly
within his own, he gazed into her face, and really seemed struck by her
ashy cheeks and the lustreless eyes that met his.
"You look ill, Helene," he said pityingly.
"Do you wonder at it?" she asked, with a bitterness that she was unable
to conceal. "Unfortunately I am denied the gift of such perfect self
control as could enable me in a few hours after a crushing experience to
look forward with content and gaiety to the future. I envy you."
"You are unjust, Helene," he replied quickly, "if you judge me from my
exterior. Is it the part of a man to whine and cry when he submits to
the inevitable?"
"You certainly do not seem inclined to any such course."
He was provoked beyond measure. The puny, little creature at his side,
who, with her crippled figure, ought to be thankful to God if a man
could so far control himself as not to treat her with absolute rudeness
and aversion, and who had previously been so grateful for the smallest
attention, had suddenly taken upon herself to reprove him! Although he
had done all he could to inspire her with faith in his ardent love for
her, in his soul he thought it showed a measureless vanity in the child
to imagine herself capable of inspiring any man with such a passion, and
with great irritation he acknowledged to himself that in her case he had
to contend with most determined obstinacy and disgusting sentimentality.
It cost him great pains to control himself, but he even accomplished a
melancholy smile, which became him infinitely.
"When I tell you of the cause of my cheerful looks you will repent your
reproaches," he said. "I was just picturing to myself the moment when I
could go to your brother and say, 'Helene has decided to live in my
family for the future,' and I cannot deny that the thought gave me
satisfaction, for he has always regarded my love for you with an eye of
disfavour."
They say Love is blind, but in most cases he closes his eyes
voluntarily; knowing that perfect vision would kill him, he fights
desperately against annihilation.
Helene did her best to reconcile what he said with his previous
appearance, and succeeded excellently. With a deep sigh she held out
her hand to him.
"I believe and have faith in you," she said fervently. "The loss of this
faith would be my death-blow. Ah, Emil, you must never, never deceive
me, not even although you think it would be for my good. I would rather
learn the harshest truth than harbour the faintest suspicion that you
were not perfectly true to me. I have had a terrible night, but now I
am composed, and I beg you to tell me more of what you spoke of
yesterday. I am but too sure that I shall not regain entire self-command
until I know with certainty who it is that is to stand between us. At
present she is a phantom, and in her unreality lies the cause of the
tormenting anxiety that is consuming me. Tell me the name, Emil, I
entreat you."
Hollfeld's eyes sought the ground. Affairs just then did not look very
promising.
"Do you know, Helene," he began at last, "that I hesitate to discuss
this subject with you to-day? You are greatly agitated. I am afraid
that such a conversation will make you ill. And, as I must say that the
project which I spoke of yesterday seems more and more feasible to me
the more I ponder it, I fear much lest in your agitation you should
overlook its great advantages."
"Indeed I will not!" cried Helene, as, sitting upright she riveted her
unnaturally bright eyes full upon him. "I have overcome myself, and am
ready to submit to the inevitable. I promise you I will be thoroughly
impartial; as impartial as if I--did not love." She blushed as the
confession escaped her for the first time.
"Well, then," said Hollfeld, with hesitation,--he could not quite master
his emotion,--"what do you think of the young girl of Castle Gnadeck?"
"Elizabeth Ferber?" cried Helene, in the greatest astonishment.
"Elizabeth von Gnadewitz," he hastily corrected her. "The sudden change
in her social position first suggested the girl to me. Hitherto I have
scarcely noticed her, except that her modest demeanour and the repose of
her countenance impressed me favourably."
"What! did you see nothing to admire in that lovely, wondrously-gifted
creature, except repose and a modest demeanour?"
"Well, yes," he replied, with an air of indifference, "I remember that
several times, when you were provoked at some mistake that you had made,
she never altered a muscle, but patiently went over the passage with you
again and again, until you were perfect in it. That pleased me. I
believe her to possess great equanimity of mind, and that is the
characteristic that my wife will need above all others. I know, too,
that she fairly adores you, and that is the chief consideration.
Besides, she has been educated in the strictest economy, her
requirements will be few, and she will readily assume her right position
with regard to you and me. I believe that she has a certain amount of
tact, and she has been notably brought up,--a great advantage to----"
Helene had sunk back upon her pillows, and covered her eyes with her
hand.
"No, no," she cried, sitting up once more, and interrupting his eager
flow of panegyric,--"not that poor, darling child! Elizabeth deserves
to be truly loved."
A loud and sudden howl here caused her to give a little cry of fright.
Hollfeld had just stepped upon the paw of his pointer, Diana, who had
accompanied him into the room, and was lying stretched out at her
master's feet. The interruption was most welcome to him,--for Helene's
last words sounded to him so comical, in connection with his own
vehement desires, that he could hardly restrain his laughter. He opened
the door and sent the limping brute from the room. When he returned to
the young girl he was all grave composure again.
"Well, we will both love the girl, Helene," he said with apparent
indifference, as he resumed his seat. Helene was in a state of too
great excitement to notice the flippancy of his tone and manner. "Let
her only leave you the first place in my affections. She must do that.
She certainly has enough coolness and presence of mind; she testified
those qualities abundantly the day she saved Rudolph's life."
"Oh, how?" cried Helene, opening wide her eyes in amazement.
The servant, who had on the previous day involuntarily let slip some
mention of the occurrence in the forest, had, in terror at his
oversight, instantly refrained from all further particulars relating to
it, simply asserting that the bullet intended for Herr von Walde had
fortunately fallen wide of its mark. Hollfeld had heard the exact
account of the murderous attempt only an hour before from the gardener.
Elizabeth's fearless conduct naturally lent her a new charm in his eyes,
and goaded afresh his desire to win her as soon as possible. He related
the story, which he had just heard, to Helene, concluding his account by
saying: "You now have one more reason to love the girl, and her conduct
strengthens my conviction that she is the only one whom I should
select."
This was his last round of ammunition. He stroked back the hair from
his brow with his delicate white hand, and from beneath it narrowly and
eagerly watched the little lady, whose head was so sunk amid the pillows
that only her profile was visible. The tears were gushing from her
closed eyelids; she said not a word; perhaps she was struggling with
herself for the last time.
But why did it never occur to her that Elizabeth might fail to accede to
Hollfeld's wishes? Any loving woman can answer this question for
herself, if she will only reflect that the loving heart believes the
object of its passion irresistible, and learns with difficulty that all
the world does not share its conviction.
The silence, which began to be painful, was interrupted by the return of
the baroness from her walk. Helene started, and quickly dried her
tears. With evident impatience she submitted to the caresses with which
the lady overwhelmed her, replying in monosyllables to the tender
inquiries with regard to her health.
"Ah!" cried the baroness, as she shook the scarf from her shoulders and
left it in her son's hands, while she sank clumsily into an arm-chair.
"How very warm I am! That path up the mountain is terrible! No power
upon earth shall take me over it again!"
"Did you go up the mountain, mother?" asked Hollfeld incredulously.
"Why, yes; you know the physician prescribed an early morning walk for
me."
"Oh yes; but that was so many years ago, and I thought you always
maintained that the trouble with your heart made any such exercise
impossible."
"Still, everything ought to have a fair trial," replied his mother, a
little embarrassed, "and as I could not sleep last night, I determined
to try once more; but it will do no good,--I have just had fresh cause
for vexation. Only think, Helene, just outside in the gravel walk I met
Bella with her new governess,--would you believe it, the woman had the
impertinence to let the child walk by her left side! And she looks,
too, like a perfect simpleton. I was really angry, and defined her
position to her as clearly as I could. But tell me yourself, is it not
hard that I cannot even attempt to refresh myself with a walk without
encountering what makes me miserable and ill?"
Just as she leaned her forehead in a melancholy manner upon her hand,
she discovered that the false curls upon her temples had been pushed
considerably awry by her bonnet. She arose hastily, and begged for a
little time before breakfast that she might arrange her dress.
"By the way," she said carelessly, turning round to her son and cousin
as she reached the door, while she set her bonnet firmly upon the
rebellious front, "that fellow, Reinhard, imposed upon us finely
yesterday. I accidentally encountered the forester's clerk, Ferber, up
there near the ruins,--I congratulated him----"
"Ah! now I understand the ascent of the mountain!" Hollfeld interrupted
his mother ironically. "And you actually spoke to the man, mother?"
"Oh! now there is no reason why I should not. The jewels principally
interested me."
"Did you wish to buy them?" asked her son contemptuously, remembering
the constant ebb in her finances.
"Hardly," she replied with an angry glance; "but I have always had a
perfect passion for precious stones; and if your father had not died so
suddenly, I should now have had a charming set of diamonds, which he had
promised me, and you would have been six thousand thalers the poorer.
But to return to the discovered jewels. Ferber told me just what they
were, and, when I asked him, frankly replied that they would bring about
eight thousand thalers,--that is what that fellow, Reinhard, calls
inestimable wealth. Once more adieu for a few minutes."
The contemptuous smile disappeared from Hollfeld's face, as he listened
to his mother's words, and gave place to a decided expression of
disappointment; he had suddenly experienced a sensation like the shock
of a shower-bath.
Scarcely was the door closed behind the baroness, when Helene aroused
herself from her apparent apathy, and stretched out both hands to
Hollfeld.
"Emil," she said quickly, in a low voice, with trembling lips, "if you
succeed in gaining Elizabeth's love, and I cannot doubt that you will, I
agree to your plan, but I must always live with you at Odenberg."
"Of course," he replied, although with some hesitation; his voice had
lost its former decision of tone, "but let me warn you that you will
have to resign many luxuries. My income is not large, and as you have
just heard, Elizabeth has nothing."
"She shall not come to you poor, Emil,--rely upon that," the little lady
rejoined in a tender voice, and with eyes unnaturally bright. "From the
moment she promises to be yours I regard her in the light of a sister; I
will share faithfully with her, and will instantly make over to her the
rents of my estate of Neuborn, in Saxony; I will talk to Rudolph about
it as soon as he returns, and when death closes my eyes, all that I
possess will be hers and yours. Are you content with me?"
"You are an angel, Helene," he cried; "you shall never repent your
magnanimity,--your generous devotion."
And this time there was no dissimulation in his delight, for the rents
of Neuborn made Elizabeth a very wealthy bride.