"Now I really am beginning to lose patience," said Max Brunnow, coming
in to his friend's rooms. "I think the whole world has taken up
Councillor Moser's notion that I must necessarily be a dangerous
character, because I bear the name of Brunnow. I am regarded on all
sides with suspicion, or with most respectful attention, according to
the party feeling of those present. There is, I grieve to say, no
possibility of convincing these good people that I am a peaceful
follower of the healing art, that I have no thought of stirring up
revolutions or upsetting governments; but am, on the contrary, largely
endowed with all the qualities which go to the making of a good
citizen. No one will credit this, and, by an evil chance, here I find
myself, with my ominous family name, transported into the midst of this
agitated, highly-wrought city of R----, which is constantly making
convulsive attempts to shake off its Governor, and generally conducting
itself in the most outrageously restive manner. His Excellency,
however, sits firm in the saddle, and at every plunge of the rebellious
steed drives his spurs more deeply into its flanks. He is a match for
all of you."
Winterfeld sat leaning back in the sofa-corner. Quite contrary to his
wont, he welcomed his friend neither by word nor gesture. He hardly
listened to his speech, but said now, in a dull low voice:
"I am glad you have come, Max. I was just thinking of going over to you
to tell you a piece of news."
Max became attentive.
"What is the matter? Has anything disagreeable happened to you?"
"Yes. I am leaving R----, probably for good."
"Leaving R----? The deuce! What is the meaning of this? Do you wish to
go?"
"I do not wish, I am obliged, I have this morning received information
that I am transferred to the capital, to the Ministry of the Interior."
"To the Ministry?" repeated Max. "Does that mean promotion, or----"
"No; it is a stroke of policy on the part of the Governor," broke out
George, bitterly. "I am to be sent out of Gabrielle's way; any future
meeting between us is to be made impossible. Raven gave me notice that
he should use his power unsparingly. He has lost no time in keeping his
word."
"You believe that this transfer originated with your chief?" asked the
young doctor, who was as grave as his friend by this time.
"It is his work, there can be no doubt of that. He is influential
enough to get me pushed into one of the vacancies there, particularly
if it is done under colour of helping forward a striving young official
whom he wishes to befriend. I know there has never been any question of
my removal hitherto. It came upon me like a thunderclap. But I ought,
indeed, to have known the Baron. He does not merely threaten, he
strikes home. I have been visited with no outward mark of his
displeasure since our last interview. He has rather avoided direct
intercourse with me; but when it has been necessary to address a few
words to me, he has always spoken in a cool, business-like tone, making
no allusion to that which had passed between us.
"In just the same cool, business-like manner, he this morning announced
to me my new appointment. He even added a few flattering words
respecting a report drawn up by me which had been sent in to
head-quarters, and which, no doubt, afforded him a pretext to bring the
thing about. It is looked on as a special distinction, and my
colleagues are congratulating me on the brilliant prospects opening out
before me in the capital."
"They are right there," remarked Max, who, now that the first surprise
was over, began, as usual, to take a practical view of the matter.
"Your chief may have had personal motives for acting as he has done,
but he has not rendered you such a bad service in getting you
introduced to the Ministry. That is the stage whereon he made his own
_debut_. What should hinder you from emulating his brilliant career?"
"What good will it do me?" cried George, vehemently, springing to his
feet. "What good will it do me to struggle and fight and work my way up
yonder, while here I am being robbed of all that gives me hope in the
future and makes life dear? I know that I shall lose Gabrielle if she
remains here for years exposed to all the hostile influences which are
arrayed against us. A nature such as hers cannot hold out long under
circumstances so cruelly adverse; and to lose her is more than I can
bear."
The young doctor had tranquilly taken possession of the sofa-corner,
and was contemplating his friend with wonderment. This agitation in one
usually so collected and sober-minded was a phenomenon he apparently
could not understand.
"You are half distraught, old fellow," he said. "What does Fraeulein von
Harder say to this separation? Has she been informed of your removal?"
"I do not know. All communication is cut off between us; but, before I
leave, I must see and speak to her again. I must, cost what it may. If
I can find no other means, I will go straight to Baroness Harder and
force her to grant me a parting interview with my betrothed."
Max shrugged his shoulders.
"No offence, George, but that is an insane idea. The Baroness is,
beyond a doubt, completely under her brother-in-law's influence, and
you are not likely to obtain anything from him by defiance. Let us
consider the matter calmly and rationally. In the first place, when
must you start?"
"In the course of a few days. They have taken good care, of course, to
appoint me to a post which must be filled immediately. It is absolutely
necessary that I should enter on my functions at once."
"There is no time to lose, then. By-the-bye, you were at Councillor
Moser's rooms a little while ago, I think?"
"Yes; I took him over some deeds I had had here at home."
Max reflected.
"Very well; that gives you a pretext to do it a second time. Take the
thickest blue-book you can hunt up in your Chancellery, if you like;
only mind you miss the august Councillor, that is the main point."
George, who had been pacing uneasily up and down the room, stopped in
surprise.
"What can you possibly mean?"
"A little patience--I have a most superior plan. Fraeulein Agnes Moser
is acquainted with the young Baroness--the acquaintance is slight, it
is true: the Councillor has presented his daughter to the ladies, and
the two girls have seen and spoken to each other several times."
"But how do you know all this?" interrupted George. "You have only seen
Fraeulein Moser once, I believe, on the occasion of your celebrated
visit."
"I beg your pardon. I see and speak to her almost every day at the
cottage of the patient I am now treating by your desire. She exerts
herself for the sick woman's spiritual welfare, while I devote my
efforts to her bodily cure. This division of labour works admirably."
"But you have never said a syllable to me about it."
"Why should I? You are in love, and people in that condition lose all
interest in rational matters."
The malicious intent of this speech escaped George, who was absorbed by
the prospect of meeting Gabrielle.
"And you think this young girl, who, as I hear, has been brought up in
a nunnery on the strictest conventual principles, will lend herself to
be a go-between?" he asked.
"Ah, it will be a deuce of a work to bring her to it, no doubt,"
answered the young doctor, reflectively; "but never mind, I will make
the attempt. If nothing else answers, I will allow myself to be
converted in due form; then she will be so taken up with the idea of
saving my soul and fitting me for heaven, that she will consent to
anything. Be it made known to you, therefore, that my conversion is
imminent."
George was forced to smile, in spite of his cares.
"Poor Max!" he said compassionately.
"I say, George," said Brunnow, quite gravely, "that is another of those
preconceived notions which people adopt without knowing why. They fancy
the process of conversion must necessarily be dismal and tedious; but,
I assure you, it is a mistake. Under certain circumstances it may be
agreeable enough. I tell you I positively feel a void when I don't go
down to my patient's house, where the proselytising business is carried
on."
"By your patient?"
"Nonsense! By Agnes Moser. Up to the present time she has considered me
a hardened reprobate, and, of course, she abhors me in consequence;
nevertheless we have got on together pretty fairly. The saintly
mildness, for instance, which nearly drove me wild at first, has almost
disappeared, thanks to my treatment. She can show quite a pretty little
temper of her own now, and we frequently quarrel in the most edifying
and delightful manner."
George turned a scrutinising gaze on his friend's face.
"Max," said he, abruptly, "so far as I am aware, Councillor Moser has
no private fortune."
"What in the world has that to do with me?"
"Well, I was thinking of your marriage programme--'Clause No.
I--Money.'"
Dr. Brunnow jumped up from his sofa-corner, and stared at his friend in
astonishment.
"What can you be thinking of? Agnes Moser is going to be a nun."
"So I have heard; and a convent education would hardly go well with
the easy, comfortable sort of life you hope to lead after marriage.
Over-refinement in a wife would be rather in your way, and as to the
practical qualities of a housewife and the robust health----"
"It is not needful that I should hear all this from your sage lips. I
know it well enough without being told," broke out Max, in a rage.
"Really, I cannot understand how you can draw inferences so unfounded.
You fancy everybody must be in love, because you and your Gabrielle are
romantically attached. We are not thinking of such folly, but that is
the reward one gets for trying to help a friend in need. The purest
intentions are suspected. Agnes Moser and I--ridiculous!"
Winterfeld had some trouble in smoothing his friend's ruffled feathers,
but succeeded at length. The doctor condescended to forget the absurd
suggestion which had affronted him, and promised his help in the
present emergency. Shortly after this he went away, taking his
accustomed road to his patient's house.
The sick woman found herself in excellent case, thanks to the zeal with
which she was tended in two distinct ways. Her doctor's treatment met
with a success on which he himself at first had hardly dared to count.
A most decided change for the better had taken place in her condition.
There was good reason now to hope for her complete restoration to
health, and to-day the invalid had been able to enjoy the warm
sunshine, sitting for half an hour in the little garden which
surrounded the cottage.
In this small enclosure Dr. Brunnow and Fraeulein Moser were pacing,
very amicably as it appeared. A certain intimacy had sprung up between
the two during the few weeks of their acquaintance, the unreserve and
freedom from constraint which marked their intercourse being mainly
based on the conviction entertained by both that neither cared in the
least for the other. Agnes, indeed, cherished a serious intention of
rescuing the young surgeon from the slough of worldliness and unbelief
in which he was plunged, and the more unsuccessful her efforts to that
end appeared, the more persistently did she renew them. That there
might be peril for herself in this work of redemption, never occurred
to her. The dangers to which her heart might possibly one day be
exposed from masculine seductions had been represented to her in the
guise of flattery, of polite attentions, of sweet insinuating speeches.
Had she detected any approach to these, she would have taken fright,
and have withdrawn in the utmost haste; but from first to last Dr.
Brunnow had shown himself rough and altogether regardless of her
feelings. He could even, on occasions, be absolutely rude; and it was
to this trust-inspiring characteristic alone he owed it that the young
girl held his company to be devoid of danger.
As regarded himself, he was certainly not in love; at least, the
indignation with which he had protested against such a supposition was
perfectly real and unfeigned. His marriage programme, as is known,
contained many practical clauses, but no allusion to the unpractical
sentimentality of love. As Agnes Moser answered to this programme
neither morally nor physically, there could, of course, be no question
of any inclination towards her on his part.
The young doctor had, certainly, signal good luck with the cases under
his treatment, for Agnes too had revived wonderfully in the course of
the last few weeks, an improvement evidently to be attributed to the
conscientious manner in which she followed his medical advice. A faint
tinge of pink coloured the cheeks that were so pale formerly, her eye
was brighter, her carriage more erect, and she had lost much of her
excessive timidity, where the doctor was concerned at least. His
impiety and her proselytising zeal were so often brought into contact,
and the two were so frequently immersed in discussions on the most
interesting of all themes, that of necessity they grew to be on a more
familiar footing. To-day, again, the young lady had discoursed long and
earnestly to her companion, striving to make clear to him the error of
his ways; but no traces of contrition were visible on the sinner's
countenance: it beamed, on the contrary, with an expression of content
such as these theological disquisitions invariably produced in him.
"Well, now I must ask you to lend your attention for a moment to the
things of this earth," he said, taking advantage of a pause in the
lecture. "But the matter I am about to consult you on is a secret which
I must rely on you to keep discreetly, whether you grant the request I
am going to make to you or not."
The girl opened wide eyes of astonishment on hearing this solemn
preface. She promised silence, however, and listened eagerly for what
should follow.
"You know Fraeulein Gabrielle von Harder," went on Max; "and my friend,
Assessor Winterfeld, is not quite a stranger to you, I believe. I have
heard, indeed, from his own lips that he has had the pleasure of
calling on you once at home."
"Yes, I remember. He came to see papa."
"Well, the young Baroness Harder and the Assessor are in love with each
other."
"In love!" repeated Agnes, with mingled surprise and confusion. The
subject of the conversation seemed to her to verge on impropriety.
"Head over ears in love," said Max, emphatically. "The young lady's
guardian, Baron von Raven, and her mother, the Baroness Harder, oppose
their marriage, however, on the grounds that George Winterfeld can
offer his future wife neither rank nor fortune. As for me, I have from
the first been the guardian angel of this attachment."
"You, Doctor?" asked the girl, surveying the "guardian angel" with a
look eminently critical.
"You think there is nothing very angelic about me?" asked Max, in his
turn.
"I think that, under any circumstances, it is sinful to cherish an
affection of which one's parents disapprove," was the somewhat tart
reply.
"You don't understand these things, Fraeulein," observed Max,
instructively. "People do not think of their parents when they fall in
love, and the young couple in this case have right on their side. What
is to be done when, from sheer prejudice and all manner of external
considerations, the parents and guardians set themselves to sunder two
closely wedded hearts?"
"There is but one course for them--to submit and obey," declared Agnes,
with a solemnity which gave her for a moment a certain resemblance to
her father.
"Those are very antiquated notions," said Max, impatiently. "On the
contrary, they must rebel and get married in spite of everything."
Truly, Fraeulein Agnes had made very remarkable progress during the last
few weeks. She no longer opposed to the doctor's reprehensible speeches
a pained and resigned silence. Having really, as he said, developed a
very fair spirit of her own, she proceeded to make use of her new
acquisition, and replied with some asperity:
"That is, I do not doubt, the advice you have given to your friend."
"Not at all. I have enough to do, on the contrary, to keep him within
due bounds. Well, to be brief--Winterfeld is leaving R---- in a day or
two, and they go so far as to refuse him a parting interview with his
betrothed. He must and will see her once more to bid her farewell.
Fraeulein Agnes----" the speaker here made a long and most effective
pause--"it is an elevating thing to be the guardian angel of a pure,
true love. I ought to know. I have played the part long enough."
"What is it you really mean, Doctor?" asked the girl, some faint
suspicion dawning within her; and she began to walk very fast as she
spoke.
"I will explain to you what I mean," said Max, quickening his pace to
suit hers.
Agnes stopped. She knew by experience that it would be futile to run
away; this incorrigible doctor was swift of foot, and could keep up
with any pace; so she yielded to his will, and listened.
"You told me that the young Baroness Harder had called on you once,"
proceeded Max. "If this were to occur again, and if, at the same time.
Assessor Winterfeld were accidentally to----"
"Without Madame von Harder's knowledge?" exclaimed Agnes, indignantly.
"Never!"
"But just reflect a moment----"
"Never. It would be wrong, it would be sinful. No one but you would
ever have thought of such a plan; but I will not be your accomplice,
that I will not!"
Fraeulein Agnes was crimson with excitement and indignation; the
rebuking glance she shot at Dr. Brunnow was so keen that his eyes
should have quailed before it; but Max was a hardened offender. He
looked at the girl with unequivocal satisfaction.
"Just see the little vixen," he said to himself. "I knew very well that
all the saintly submission and lamb-like patience were only learned by
rote. Get this confounded convent and its teachings once fairly into
the background, and a very tolerable little specimen of nature comes to
light. I must alter my tactics.--So you will not consent?" he added
aloud.
"No!" declared Agnes, in a tone which conveyed twenty protests.
Max put on a look of dejected resignation.
"Then the evil must take its course. I have tried, by every means in my
power, to keep my friend from any desperate step, and I hoped, by your
help, I might succeed in obtaining for him, at least, a farewell
meeting with his betrothed. If he is to be robbed of this last
consolation, I will not answer for the consequences. It is more than
likely he will take his own life."
"He will not do that," said Agnes, but there was a little secret
uneasiness in her tone.
"Unfortunately I have cause to dread such a catastrophe. As for
Fraeulein von Harder, she will, I fear, not survive his death. The grief
and anguish to which she will be exposed will kill her."
"Can people really die of grief?" asked the girl, who by this time had
grown visibly anxious.
"I have seen several such cases in the course of my practice," declared
the unscrupulous doctor, falsely; "and I have no doubt that a fresh one
will now be added to the list. The Baroness and Herr von Raven will
repent of their harshness when it is too late, and you too, Fraeulein,
you will regret the decision you have now taken, for it lay in your
power to preserve two breaking hearts from despair."
Agnes listened with deep commiseration, but also with ever-increasing
amazement. She had not believed the doctor possessed so much feeling.
That gentleman now fairly launched into a strain of touching pathos,
and seeing, not a little to his own surprise, the distinguished success
it met with, had recourse to a bold stroke for his final effect. The
suicide and the death from affliction, neither of which were at present
even in contemplation, he unhesitatingly adopted in his argument as
accomplished facts.
"And I must live to see this cruel consummation!" he said, with
profound melancholy. "I, who had hoped to lead my friend and his bride
to the altar!"
"You would hardly have done that, I think, in any case," put in the
young lady. "You told me yourself that you never went to church."
"I will in future, if only this misfortune may be averted," declared
Max. "Besides, weddings are exceptions."
Fraeulein Agnes pricked up her ears at the first part of this speech.
She was far too zealous in the work of conversion not at once to grasp
the opportunity thus offered her.
"Do you mean that seriously?" she asked hastily. "Will you really go to
church?"
"Will you grant my request, and for one short quarter of an hour take
on yourself the _role_ of guardian angel?"
Agnes deliberated.
It was, no doubt, grievously wrong to favour a meeting prohibited alike
by mother and guardian; but, on the other hand, here was a soul to be
saved, a brand to be plucked from the burning: this last consideration
outweighed all minor scruples. The jesuitical principle, that the end
justifies the means, was once more brought into mischievous action.
"It is Sunday to-morrow," said the girl, slowly. "If you will go to
high mass in the cathedral----"
"I will go to early mass," put in Max, who had a vague idea that this
was generally the shorter ceremony.
"To high mass!" said Agnes, dictatorially. She had, it seemed, taken a
lesson from the doctor himself; this was just the tone in which he was
in the habit of issuing his orders. The young diplomatist evidently
half distrusted him; at all events, she meant to make sure of the
attendance at church before pledging herself to the counter-obligation.
"To the full service," she added, "sermon and all, from beginning to
end."
Max heaved a deep sigh.
"If there is no help for it .... well, heaven's will be done--so be
it!"
This pious ejaculation rejoiced Agnes's heart. She now felt confident
that the sermon would fully accomplish the work she had commenced; that
the seeds of the true faith would be planted in the soil she had so
laboriously tilled, and prepared for its reception; and, in the
effervescence of her joy at the prospect, she held out the tips of her
fingers to the adversary, who had now become her ally. Of this overture
she, however, quickly repented her; for, like the overreaching
personage of the proverb, Max at once seized the whole hand, which he
pressed and shook in the heartiest manner possible.
Next morning, as the cathedral bells were ringing, Councillor Moser,
giving his arm to his daughter, walked with slow and stately steps down
to the church, there to take his accustomed place. The devout old
gentleman's attention was, of course, exclusively given to the sacred
ritual; he therefore did not notice that Agnes, instead of sitting as
usual in reverent meditation and with downcast eyes, was on this
occasion restless and disturbed, glancing around half anxiously, half
expectantly, as though in search of some one. She had not long to seek,
for, but a few paces from her, and in close vicinity to the pulpit,
stood Dr. Brunnow, also, as it seemed, expectantly on the watch.
Two pairs of eyes seeking each other so persistently must of necessity
meet ere long. When this happened, and Max saw how the pale delicate
face lighted up with joyful surprise, and flushed rosy-red at sight of
him; when he caught the earnest grateful look of those dark eyes, which
had never seemed to him so expressive as to-day, he thought neither of
his programme nor of its numerous clauses--he thought only that this
visit to church was not without its decided gratifications; and he sat
down with a resolute air which plainly announced his intention of
hearing out the whole sermon from beginning to end.
So he listened to the homily, whether with a reverent mind, or not,
must remain an open question; on the other hand, it cannot be denied
that his presence in the sacred edifice altogether disturbed the
devotions of one of the most assiduous worshippers. It really would
have been hard to decide how much was gained to the cause, or which of
the two had undergone conversion.
On the afternoon of that same Sunday the projected interview between
the lovers took place. Chance favoured it in an unhoped-for degree.
Councillor Moser had accepted a colleague's invitation, and was away in
the town. Frau Christine had also gone out, so there was no need even
to think of a pretext. A visit from Gabrielle to Agnes Moser, and
Winterfeld's call at the house of his superior, who was unfortunately
from home, were occurrences so natural that the coincidence between
them might well pass for accidental.
"Forgive me for having recourse to these means," said George, hastily,
so soon as he found himself alone with Gabrielle. "I really had no
alternative, and I told the Baron plainly that, notwithstanding his
prohibition, I should make an attempt to see and speak to you again. I
come to say good-bye, perhaps for years."
Gabrielle turned very pale, and her eyes searched the speaker's face
with an expression of alarm.
"For God's sake, tell me--what has happened?"
"There has been no action on my part that need cause you uneasiness.
The hand which so inexorably sunders us is your guardian's. He
yesterday announced to me my transferment to the capital, and to the
Ministry, our head-quarters. You see how far his influence reaches, and
how skilfully he uses it in order to part us two."
"No, no; you must not go!" cried Gabrielle, in great distress, clinging
to him as though for protection. "You must not leave me now, George. Do
not, do not leave me alone just now!"
"Why not now particularly?" he asked, in surprise.
"Do they worry and torment you on my account? But, indeed, I might have
known it. Raven is hard and unfeeling to the verge of cruelty, when he
wishes to crush down opposition. You are persecuted with reproaches,
with suspicions and threats, are you not, Gabrielle? They are doing all
in their power to break your resistance, is it not so? Speak, I must
know the truth."
The young girl shook her head with a faint negative gesture.
"No, no; you are mistaken. There is no question of that. Since the day
he made known to me his decision as final and irrevocable, my guardian
has never mentioned your name; and he has obliged mamma to be silent
too, to cease the storm of reproaches with which she assailed me at
first; but he just overlooks me, passes me by with frigid indifference,
and I.... Oh, George, is not it possible for you to stay near me?"
"I cannot," said George, with difficulty restraining his own deep
emotion. "I must obey the call--it is quite impossible for me to resist
it. Under other circumstances, I should have hailed this change with
joy. It opens to me far brighter prospects than any I could have hoped
for here in R----, where the immense ascendency exercised on all sides
by the Baron keeps down individual effort, and stifles independent
thought; but I know only too well that this so-called promotion has but
one end in view: to defraud me of my highest, my best possession, to
rob me of your love, and to part us for ever. Your guardian has
summoned to his aid two mighty allies--time and distance. Perhaps they
may help him to the victory yet."
"Never!" exclaimed Gabrielle, passionately. "The victory shall never be
his. I have given you a promise, and I will keep my word."
George did not notice the anxious distress which again involuntarily
betrayed itself in her tone. He only heard the resolute words, the
unwonted assertion of will; and, in spite of the parting now so
imminent, a ray of happiness illumined his features. He had so feared
he might find his love as childishly careless and indifferent to the
separation as on that former occasion when she had seemed in no way to
enter into or comprehend his grief. What joy to see that she too was
moved by the news of his departure, that she strove earnestly, eagerly,
to keep him near her! The spontaneous promise she now gave him filled
him with a delight he had never before experienced. Almost mastered by
his emotion, he stooped and kissed her hand.
"I thank you, my love," he said fervently; "but you are strangely
changed since last we met. Where is my Gabrielle's sunny brightness,
the smile which was ever ready to chase the tears from her eyes? You
said to me once in jest. 'You do not know me thoroughly yet;' and,
truly, I did not do you full justice then. The present moment brings
that home to me."
The young girl remained silent. Her rosy lips had, indeed, lost their
trick of smiling. They seemed to close firmly upon, and keep down, some
secret sorrow which was not to find utterance in words.
"Forgive me, if I failed to read you aright," continued George, with
ever-increasing tenderness; "I acknowledge it, I have had my doubts. I
have looked forward with fear and trembling to the inevitable collision
with your family. Now I see that you too can feel profoundly, now I
believe in you fully and completely; I believe that you will be
constant in your love, even though a Baron von Raven, armed with all
his high authority, should do his best to come between us."
Gabrielle started at these last words, and raised her downcast eyes to
his face. The look was one George could not decipher--a look of mingled
anxiety, pain, and touching appeal; but next moment all this was
drowned in a rush of tears which could no longer be withheld.
"My poor Gabrielle!" whispered the young man, bending over her; "you
are so little used to care and trouble; and to think that it should be
my fate, mine! to bring them on you. But we were prepared, you know, to
make a fight for our love. Now the time for the struggle has come. We
must endure and conquer. Perhaps Herr von Raven may one day repent
having played Providence in this manner. He is sending out one more
enemy into the world, and not so insignificant a one as he supposes."
Gabrielle's tears were stayed now. She drew her hand away from him.
"You are--you are enemies now?" she asked.
"I have long been Raven's opponent. Do not ask me why. I will not
accuse your guardian and relative to you. The charges against him must
be brought before another forum. But, believe me, he has challenged
hatred and enmity in many quarters. He has so used his power that it
has proved baneful to all beneath his rule, and will, assuredly, one
day prove baneful to himself. It is a mistake on his part to thrust me
thus, with his own hand, forth from the magic circle that surrounds his
person, far from the fascination which has held me, as it holds so many
others, in chains, and from which I could not escape, though I felt it
crippled my strength and relaxed my will. Dr. Brunnow did not warn me
in vain against the magnetic influence of that strange man. It has
often beguiled me into admiring there where I should have condemned.
But now the spell is broken. Yonder, in the great city, I shall be
released from the ties which have hitherto bound me to the superior
officer under whose immediate orders I stood."
"What do you mean?" asked Gabrielle, uneasily. "I do not understand
your allusions."
"It is not meet you should," said George, firmly; "but promise me one
thing. Whatever you may hear, believe that no personal enmity, no base
desire for revenge, has prompted me to action. Long ago I resolved I
would take up the glove against the Governor of our province, for taken
up it must be; and there was no one else who ventured to enter the
lists with the omnipotent Raven. I had my arms ready. Then I learned to
know you. I heard that the man I was intending to fight to the death
held my life's happiness in his hands--and my courage failed me. It may
have been cowardly and wrong, but I should like to see the man who in
my place would have acted differently, who would have had nerve,
himself, at a single blow, to destroy life's fair promise, and all the
bright hopes which had just blossomed for him. Now they are blighted.
Your guardian, with unnecessary harshness, has refused me your hand,
has refused me even a glimmer of hope in the future--he who, when he
paid his court to the great Minister's daughter, had no more to offer
than I have! Was it strange that we parted as open enemies? For the
time to come, I will be guided by that alone which I deem duty. And
now--farewell!"
Gabrielle held him back.
"George, you cannot, must not leave me so--not with these vague menaces
which distress me unspeakably. What are you thinking of doing? I must
and will know."
"Do not ask me to speak more openly," said the young man, in gentle but
decided tones. "For your own sake, I will not make you privy to my
intentions. You are not free, as I am. You must remain here under the
same roof with your guardian; you are thrown into daily intercourse
with him. It would be a constant burden on you, were you to share even
in thought in any----"
"In any plot against him?" cried Gabrielle; and there was so strange,
so vibrating a ring in her voice, that George started.
"Against Baron von Raven, you mean?" he asked slowly. "You do not
suspect me of anything dishonourable?"
"No, no; but I fear ... for you ... for us all!"
"Set your mind at rest I shall fight with my visor up, and shall speak
in the name of hundreds who dare not speak for themselves. The Governor
of R---- may return such answer as he sees fit. He has power on his
side; his voice will be heard before any other: but if I have all the
danger, I have also right on mine. And now let us say good-bye. If I
can possibly manage it, you shall have news of me from the capital;
but, though no single line should reach you, you know that all my
thoughts are given to you, that you inspire my every effort, and that I
will never renounce my claim to your hand, unless I hear from your own
lips that you have given me up."
He clasped her in his arms for the first time since the day on which he
had made to her the avowal of his love. The parting was a bitter one.
He would not prolong the painful moment--a few fervent words
passionately whispered, a last pressure of the hand, then George tore
himself away from her, and left the room.
Gabrielle sank on to a seat, and hid her face in her hands. Tear after
tear trickled slowly through her fingers; but her low, half-suppressed
weeping was not provoked by the grief of that separation alone. There
was another secret, unspoken sorrow shadowing the girl's soul, a great
preoccupation which threatened to efface from her memory all that had
come before. George had spoken truly. He had not hitherto read
Gabrielle aright; but if her deeper nature were now stirring within
her, revealing itself in word and look, he was not the magician whose
spell had called it forth.