Baroness Harder and the Governor were closeted in solemn conclave. In
the course of their interview Raven had made his sister-in-law fully
aware of the relations existing between Gabrielle and Assessor
Winterfeld, and the Baroness was almost beside herself with anger and
indignation on hearing the news. She had really not had the slightest
suspicion of how matters stood. It had never occurred to her that the
young plebeian, fortuneless Assessor could raise his eyes to her
daughter, still less that the girl could encourage so misplaced an
affection. Gabrielle's future had ever been associated in her mother's
mind with the idea of wealth and a brilliant position. Such a union as
that now in question seemed to her as absurd as impossible, and she
broke into a torrent of indignant complaint touching her daughter's
giddy conduct, and the "mad presumption" of that young man, who
supposed he had only to stretch out his hand to secure a Baroness
Harder for himself.
Raven listened some time in sombre silence, but at length he cut short
the exasperated lady's flow of words.
"Enough of these lamentations, Matilda. They will not alter the past by
one jot. You, of all people, have least the right to lose your temper
over this business, for the mischief occurred under your very eyes. The
fact that it went so far as a declaration, that the two ever came to an
understanding, argues a most unpardonable negligence on your part. Some
steps must now be taken in the matter, and this is the point I wish to
discuss with you."
"Ah, what a comfort it is that I have you at my side!" cried
the Baroness, who, on principle and consistently, ignored her
brother-in-law's attacks on herself. "I know that I have always given
way too much to Gabrielle, and now she thinks she may behave to me as
she likes. You, fortunately, have more authority over her. Act with
firmness and severity, Arno. I myself implore it of you. Bounds must be
set to the insolence of that young man; his pretensions must be
checked. I will endeavour to make my daughter understand how completely
she has forgotten herself and her station in life in listening to such
proposals."
"There must be no reproaches," said the Baron, decidedly. "Gabrielle
has already heard from me the view you and I take of the matter.
Remonstrance and worry will only drive her to more and more determined
resistance. Besides, this attachment of hers is not so absurd, nor the
young man so wholly insignificant, as you suppose. On the contrary, I
consider that the affair is very serious, and calls for immediate and
energetic action. I hope it may yet be time for this to avail."
"Oh, that it certainly will--certainly!" chimed in Madame von
Harder. "It is impossible that my childish, volatile Gabrielle should
be so deeply, so seriously attached. She has been led away by the
impressions of the moment, has had her head turned by all the romantic
love-speeches she has heard. Young girls of her age are so apt to mix
up the nonsense they read in novels with the affairs of real life. She
will come to her senses by-and-by, and will see how foolishly she has
acted."
"I hope so," said Raven; "and to bring this about, I have already taken
measures to prevent any meeting between the two in future. It is for
you to see that there is no interchange of letters, and I am persuaded,
Matilda, that you will know how to withstand such prayers and tears as
may be used to soften you, and that you will be guided solely by a
regard for your daughter's future. You understand, of course, that my
present intentions will not be carried into effect unless her conduct
meets with my approval, unless her marriage is one that I can sanction.
I am not inclined to reward an open opposition to my wishes by making a
will in her favour, still less am I disposed to help Mr. Winterfeld to
wealth and distinction by means of my fortune. Gabrielle is far too
young and inexperienced to take such consideration into proper account.
All the circumstances of the case are clearly before you, however, and
therefore I feel sure of your co-operation."
The Baron was pursuing the wisest of tactics in pronouncing this most
unequivocal threat. He was fully aware of Gabrielle's unlimited power
over her mother, and of that lady's feebleness of character. Madame von
Harder would often condemn in strong terms one day that to which on the
morrow, by tears or by defiance, she would be brought to consent. His
menace would prevent any weakness of this sort, and would, he felt
certain, transform this foolishly indulgent mother into her daughter's
most wary and vigilant guardian. The Baroness had turned quite pale at
the bare mention of any possible alteration in the will.
"I shall fulfil my duty as a mother to the uttermost point," said she,
solemnly. "Rest assured that I shall not allow myself to be deceived a
second time."
The Baron stood up.
"And now I wish to see Gabrielle. She has kept her room since yesterday
on the plea of illness, but I know that is only a pretext to avoid me.
Tell her that I am waiting for her here."
The Baroness complied with her brother-in-law's request. She went, and
a few minutes later returned in her daughter's company.
"May I ask you to leave us for a short time, Matilda?" said Raven.
"You wish----"
"I wish you to leave me and Gabrielle alone for a quarter of an hour."
The Baroness was hardly able to conceal her mortification. Beyond all
doubt she had the first and best right to be present at the coming
scene between judge and culprit, and yet the Baron, with that utter
disregard for her feelings which he always showed, now sent her away,
and reserved to himself alone the important decision, disrespectfully
ignoring her maternal claims. If the lady had not cherished so lively a
fear of her brother-in-law, she would this time have rebelled against
his will; but his tone and general bearing seemed to say that to-day,
even less than on other days, would he brook contradiction; so she
submitted, or rather, as she expressed it to herself, in anguish of
heart she yielded to his cruel tyranny.
The Baron remained alone with Gabrielle, She lingered at the farther
end of the room, and he waited in vain for her to approach.
"Gabrielle!"
She advanced now a few steps, but stopped in evident timidity and
distrust. Raven went up to her.
"Are you afraid of me?" he asked.
She shook her head negatively.
"Then why do you shrink from me? Why are you so shy and silent? Have I
really been so harsh to you that you wish to avoid me?"
"I have really been unwell," replied Gabrielle, in a low voice.
The Baron scanned the youthful countenance before him, which was,
indeed, far less rosy and fresh than usual. A shadow lay on it, a trace
of some lurking trouble or anxiety very foreign to the wonted
expression of that bright, sunny face.
Raven took the young girl's hand. He felt that it trembled and sought
to disengage itself from his grasp; but he held it notwithstanding,
held it firmly, yet without any friendly pressure, and his voice was
cold and quiet as he spoke.
"I know what alarmed you at our last interview. Dissimulation would be
useless, I feel; but you have nothing more to fear--it is over already.
I require from you the sacrifice of a youthful inclination, and I must,
first of all, show you by example how such sentiments may be overcome.
I have been tempted occasionally to lose sight of the difference
existing between your years and mine. You have recalled to me in time
that youth willingly consorts with youth alone, and I thank you for the
reminder. Forget that which was revealed to you in an unguarded moment.
Nothing shall occur to alarm you again. I have fought down graver and
deeper troubles, and I am accustomed to subordinate my feelings to my
will. The dream is over, for I have determined that over it must be."
As he spoke, Gabrielle had raised her eyes to his face, and they still
dwelt there, full of timid, doubting inquiry, but she made no answer.
Her hand slid unresistingly to her side as he released it.
"And now take confidence in me again, child," continued Raven. "If I am
severe to you in this matter of your love, believe that I am moved only
by a sense of my duty as a guardian responsible for the welfare of an
inexperienced young girl committed to his charge. Will you promise
this?"
"Yes, Uncle Arno." Lingeringly, and with an accent of strange
constraint, the name came from the young girl's lips. The old freedom
and self-possession with which she had hitherto approached her "Uncle
Arno" was gone, never to return.
"I have spoken to Assessor Winterfeld," Raven began again; "and have
made known to him that I refuse, in the most decided manner, my consent
to your engagement. This decision is irrevocable, for I know that such
a union would, after the first fleeting illusions were dissipated, be
productive of much care and bitter regret to you, and for your sake I
must and will prevent it. You have been brought up with aristocratic
notions, and with habits suitable to your rank; you are accustomed to
wealth and luxury, and will never feel at home in another sphere. At
the best, Winterfeld could only offer you the most simple domestic life
and very moderate means. Such a marriage would entail on you a dreary,
obscure existence, and daily, hourly privations, for you must
necessarily leave behind you those comforts which have been so dear, so
indispensable to you hitherto. There may be in the world characters
strong enough to brave all this, boldly to enter on a course of
ceaseless, unwearying self-abnegation. You are not equal to such
heroism: to endure it you would need to transform your whole nature;
and I have let the Assessor feel what egotism he would be guilty of,
were he to require such sacrifices from you."
"He only asks me to endure them for a few years," interposed Gabrielle.
"George Winterfeld is but at the beginning of his career. He will work
his way up, as you yourself have done."
Raven shrugged his shoulders.
"It may be, or it may be not. He certainly is not one of those men who
take fortune by storm; he will, at best, conquer, win success by
persistent quiet labour. But for this long years are needed, and above
all, he must be free, independent, as he is at present. Family cares,
and the thousand ties and considerations with which they shackle a man,
would leave him no space for the development of his talents and of his
ambitious projects. He would fall into the every-day routine of one who
works only to live, and, so falling, would be lost to all higher aims.
In this fate you, of course, would be involved. You do not realise what
it is to be dependent for your living on a sum hardly greater than that
which now defrays the expenses of your toilet. I must save you from a
practical experience of that most painful of ideals--love in a
cottage."
A tear glistened in Gabrielle's eye as her guardian thus, with steady,
unsparing hand, drew the picture of her future lot; but she defended
her position courageously.
"You have no faith left in any ideal," said she. "You told me yourself
that you looked on this world, and all men in it, with contempt. We
still believe in love and happiness, and therefore they may be in store
for us. George never thought of proposing to me to marry him at once.
He knows that is impossible; but in four years I shall be of age, and
he will have attained to a higher position. Then I shall be his wife,
and no one will have the right to separate us, nobody in the world."
She spoke rapidly, and with a hurried, passionate intensity very new to
her; but the old obstinate defiance had died out of her voice. This was
not rebellion; it was rather a half-unconscious, anxious striving
against that strange sensation she had once tried to express in words,
confessing to her mother that there was about the Baron some subtle,
secret influence which troubled her, and against which she felt she
must defend herself at all hazards. To-day she sought a refuge and a
shield in her love for George, and this undefinable sense of danger it
was which lent such warmth and eagerness to her words.
A bitter smile played about Raven's lips.
"You appear to have most precise knowledge as to the extent of my
authority," he replied. "It has, no doubt, been sufficiently explained
to you--we study law to some purpose! Well, let the matter stand over
until you come of age. If you then repeat to me the words you have
spoken to-day, I shall make no further attempt to stop you, though from
that day forth our roads will lie apart. Until then, however, no hasty
promise, no imaginary fetters, shall bind you; and to this end it is
necessary that Winterfeld should be kept at a distance. Meanwhile, you
are absolutely free, free to accept the suit of any one whose rank in
life and personal advantages entitle him to approach you. I shall not
refuse to sanction any equal match--that is what I wished to say to
you."
He spoke gravely and quietly. There was no unsteadiness in his voice,
not the slightest quiver about his lips, to betray how much the
engagement cost him. He had determined that the dream should be over,
and Arno Raven looked a man strong enough to make good his word. This
disciplinarian governed himself with a dominion as despotic as that he
exercised over others. Neither to his passions nor to his enemies would
he make surrender.
He opened the door of the adjoining room, where the Baroness was
sitting. That lady, to her great vexation, had been unable to catch a
word of the interview, owing to the thickness of the _portieres_, which
effectually stifled every sound.
"We have done, Matilda," said the Baron. "I now give over your daughter
to your charge; but, once again, no reproaches--I will not have them.
Good-morning, Gabrielle."