What I said in jest, you took seriously.--_Old Spanish Romance
(King Alfonso to Bernard)._
For a fortnight the events which we have just related formed the sole
topic of conversation in the town and province of Throndhjem, judged
from the various standpoints of the various speakers. The people of the
town, who had waited in vain to see seven successive executions, began
to despair of ever having that pleasure; and purblind old women declared
that, on the night of the lamentable fire at the barracks, they had seen
Hans of Iceland fly up in the flames, laughing amid the blaze, as he
dashed the burning roof of the building upon the Munkholm musketeers;
when, after an absence which to his Ethel seemed an age, Ordener
returned to the Lion of Schleswig tower, accompanied by General Levin de
Knud and Chaplain Athanasius Munder.
Schumacker was walking in the garden, leaning on his daughter. The young
couple found it hard not to rush into each other’s arms; but they were
forced to be content with a look. Schumacker affectionately grasped
Ordener’s hand, and greeted the two strangers in a friendly manner.
“Young man,” said the aged captive, “may Heaven bless your return!”
“Sir,” replied Ordener, “I have just arrived. Having seen my father at
Bergen, I would now embrace my father at Munkholm.”
“What do you mean?” asked the old man, in great surprise.
“That you must give me your daughter, noble sir.”
“My daughter!” exclaimed the prisoner, turning to the confused and
blushing Ethel.
“Yes, my lord, I love your Ethel. I have devoted my life to her; she is
mine.”
Schumacker’s face clouded: “You are a brave and noble youth, my son.
Although your father has done me much harm, I forgive him for your sake;
and I should be glad to sanction this marriage. But there is an
obstacle--”
“What is it, sir?” asked Ordener, anxiously.
“You love my daughter; but are you sure that she loves you?”
The two lovers cast at each other a rapid glance of mute amazement.
“Yes,” continued the father. “I am sorry; for I love you, and would
gladly call you son. But my daughter would never consent. She has
recently confessed her aversion for you, and since your departure she is
silent whenever I speak of you, and seems to avoid all thought of you as
if you were odious to her. You must give up your love for her, Ordener.
Never fear; love may be cured as well as hatred.”
“My lord!” exclaimed the astonished Ordener.
“Father!” cried Ethel, clasping her hands.
“Do not be alarmed, my daughter,” interrupted the old man; “I approve of
this marriage, but you do not. I will never force your inclinations,
Ethel. This last fortnight has wrought a great change in me; you are
free to choose for yourself.”
Athanasius Munder smiled. “She is not,” he said.
“You are mistaken, dear father,” added Ethel, taking courage; “I do not
hate Ordener.”
“What!” cried her father.
“I am--” resumed Ethel. She hesitated.
Ordener knelt at the old man’s feet.
“She is my wife, father! Forgive me as my other father has forgiven me,
and bless your children.”
Schumacker, surprised in his turn, blessed the young couple.
“I have cursed so many people in my lifetime,” said he, “that I now
seize every opportunity for blessing. But explain.”
All was made clear to him. He wept with emotion, gratitude, and love.
“I thought myself wise; I am old, and I did not understand the heart of
a young girl!”
“And so I am Mrs. Ordener Guldenlew!” said Ethel, with child-like
delight.
“Ordener Guldenlew,” rejoined old Schumacker, “you are a better man than
I, for in the day of my prosperity I would never have stooped to wed the
penniless and disgraced daughter of an unfortunate prisoner.”
The general took the old man’s hand, and offered him a roll of
parchment, saying: “Do not speak thus, Count. Here are your titles,
which the king long since sent you by Dispolsen; his Majesty now adds a
free pardon. Such is the dowry of your daughter, Countess Danneskiold.”
“Pardon! freedom!” repeated the enraptured Ethel.
“Countess Danneskiold!” added her father.
“Yes, Count,” continued the general; “your honors and estates are
restored.”
“To whom do I owe all this?” asked the happy Schumacker.
“To General Levin de Knud,” answered Ordener.
“Levin de Knud! Did I not tell you, Governor, that Levin de Knud was the
best of men? But why did he not bring me the good news himself? Where is
he?”
Ordener pointed in surprise to the smiling, weeping general: “Here!”
The recognition of the two who had been comrades in the days of their
youth and power was a touching one. Schumacker’s heart swelled. His
acquaintance with Hans had destroyed his hatred of men; his acquaintance
with Ordener and Levin taught him to love them.
The gloomy wedding in the cell was soon celebrated by brilliant
festivities. Life smiled upon the young couple who had smiled at death.
Count d’Ahlefeld saw that they were happy; this was his most cruel
punishment.
Athanasius Munder shared their joy. He obtained the pardon of his twelve
convicts, and Ordener added that of his former companions in misfortune,
Jonas and Norbith, who returned, free and happy, to inform the appeased
miners that the king released them from the protectorate.
Schumacker did not long enjoy the union of Ethel and Ordener. Liberty
and happiness were too much for him; he went to enjoy a different
happiness and a different freedom. He died that same year, 1699, his
children accepting this blow as a warning that there is no perfect bliss
in this world. He was buried in Veer Church, upon an estate in Jutland
belonging to his son-in-law, and his tomb preserves all the titles of
which captivity deprived him. From the marriage of Ordener and Ethel
sprang the race of the counts of Danneskiold.