"Well, thank God this wretched business has come to a satisfactory end
at last. It made me desperate to think I was the cause of it. I
congratulate you with all my heart on your release, father."
So saying, Max Brunnow warmly embraced his father, who replied with a
half smile:
"It was not an altogether unexpected solution of the question. I
received a pretty plain hint some time ago from the Superintendent
himself."
"But the press has worked valiantly in your behalf," said Max. "All the
papers clamoured for a pardon, and from the very first day the public
eagerly espoused your cause."
This conversation took place in the apartments formerly inhabited by
Assessor Winterfeld, which that gentleman, on his sudden departure from
R----, had made over to his friend. On his recovery, Max had returned
to these quarters, and had this morning brought home to them his
father, whose release from imprisonment now filled him with joy.
The notice of Brunnow's liberation, an act of clemency confidently
expected by the nation at large, had been received with general and
loudly-expressed satisfaction. In high places it had been agreed to
overlook the Doctor's obstinacy, which would not stoop to a petition,
would not allow him to move hand or foot in his own behalf--a full and
free pardon had been vouchsafed to him. Nevertheless he had the
appearance of being depressed and careworn; he was very pale, and
evidently ill in mind and body.
Max, on the other hand, was absolutely his own old self. His vigorous
constitution had, as he prophesied, enabled him rapidly to recover from
the effects of his accident, of which the fresh scar on his forehead
was now the sole reminder. One change was noticeable in him, however.
The young man's manner to his father, somewhat curt, formerly, and
unsympathetic, was now marked by an affectionate and respectful
deference. He felt deeply the proof of devotion his father had given
him, and Brunnow, for his part, had grown aware how dear his son really
was to his paternal heart. That hour in the sick-room had transformed
the cold and distant relations existing between the two, had roused
within them genuine affection, and brought about a thorough
understanding.
"But now to other matters," said Max, changing the subject. "I have a
confession to make to you. Look at me well, father. Do you remark
nothing extraordinary about me?"
Brunnow inspected him from head to foot with some curiosity.
"No; only that you have got well with extraordinary promptitude. I
remark nothing else."
Max drew himself up with much dignity, took a step forward, threw out
his chest, and announced with complacency, "I am an engaged man."
"An engaged man? You?" repeated the Doctor, in surprise.
"Yes; I have sustained the character some weeks now. There has been
too much at stake for us all of late, I could not worry you with my
love-affairs. But now that you are safe and at liberty, I must ask for
your approval and consent. You already know my future wife--I mean
Councillor Moser's daughter."
"What, not the young girl who gave me my information as to your state
of health? Impossible!"
"Why impossible? Does not Agnes please you?"
"I did not say so, but that delicate white maiden with those dreamy
dark eyes cannot surely be to your taste. And then her strange nun-like
dress! I took her for a sister of mercy who had been called in to nurse
you."
"She wants to go into a convent, she says," declared Max. "I shall have
to fight a round battle with the lady abbess, the father confessor, and
half-a-dozen reverends, before we two are joined together in
matrimony."
"But, Max!" interrupted his father.
"Agnes is extremely delicate, sickly even," went on Max; "but there is
nothing really serious the matter with her--mere nervous excitement. I
shall soon make her hearty, or what am I a doctor for? She knows
nothing about housekeeping, unfortunately."
"Well, as you are carrying out your marriage programme so faithfully,"
put in Brunnow, in a jesting tone, "how does it stand with the first,
the principal clause--with the fortune you declared to be
indispensable?"
The young surgeon looked a little disconcerted.
"Bah! I have found out that is not necessary. Do you think I can't
provide for my wife and my home expenses? I certainly cannot reckon on
any fortune here."
"Well, I must say you go very consistently to work," exclaimed his
father. "All this is in direct contradiction to the views you have
hitherto expressed. What has come to you, my good fellow?"
Max heaved a deep sigh.
"I don't know; but I believe the germ of idealism is sprouting in me.
You have all your life been striving in vain to convert me. Agnes
managed it in a few weeks; and as you have always found me painfully
deficient in sentiment, I hope you will be enchanted at the change."
The Doctor appeared anything but enchanted. He looked on his son's
conversion to idealistic doctrines with evident distrust.
"But, Max," he said, shaking his head, "this won't do at all. A young
girl, brought up with convent notions, inclined to religious
enthusiasm, the daughter of a bureaucrat of the purest water--how can
you transplant this tender plant into our midst? how can you accustom
her to our ways and habits of thought? Reflect----"
"I don't mean to reflect--I mean to get married," interrupted Max.
"Everything you can say in the way of objection, I have said to myself
a hundred times, or more; but it has never been of any good. I must
have Agnes--and have her I will, if I am driven to take all the
obstacles, our papa the Councillor and his white cravat included, by
storm!"
"Ah, yes, the Councillor!" interposed Brunnow. "What does he say to
this business?"
"Nothing at present, because he knows nothing at all about it. As a
matter of course, I could not ask him for his daughter's hand while you
were incarcerated as an offender against the State. But now I shall
delay my suit no longer. He will kick me out at once, or at least he
will manifest the gracious intention of so doing; but it is not an easy
thing to make me quit a position I desire to maintain. I can stand my
ground as well as anyone. You need not look so grave, father. I assure
you, when you get to know Agnes, you will admit this engagement of mine
is the best piece of business I ever did in my life."
The Doctor was forced to smile, in spite of himself.
"We will wait and see; but if, as seems probable, you have to encounter
any lengthened resistance from the father of your betrothed, I shall
hardly see much of her on this occasion. I start for home the day after
to-morrow."
"Oh, do give up that notion, I beg of you," insisted Max. "Why not wait
until I can accompany you? Our law business is now happily over; but
there is still much to be settled. For instance, a purchaser has come
forward for our cousin's estate, and it would be far better that he
should discuss the details with you personally."
"No, no," returned Brunnow, parrying the argument. "You have full
authority to act, and are much better qualified to settle these
practical matters than I am, I want to get away as soon as possible."
"Upon my word, father, I do not understand you," declared Max. "You
have sighed so long for your native land, and now that it is open to
you once again, you seem absolutely to fly from it."
Brunnow was sitting with his head wearily resting on his two hands. The
look of pain in his careworn face was more striking than ever, as he
replied:
"I have become a stranger in my own land. And do you think it would be
agreeable to me to be called on for my testimony as to Raven's past, to
which these disclosures have directed public attention? I must answer,
if I were asked; and I will not be interrogated on the subject--at all
events, not here."
"Why not?" asked Max. "You have always expressed yourself in the
bitterest terms with regard to the Baron and his pernicious mode of
government: you have spoken of his fall as a necessity of the times;
and now, when, according to all appearances, this fall is imminent, you
will not lend a hand to hasten it!"
"Say no more. Max," said the Doctor, sadly. "You do not know how hard a
thing it is to have to aim a mortal blow at the man who was once a
well-beloved friend. I hoped Winterfeld would have carried his point;
but I should have known Arno Raven better. He held his ground, clever
as was the adversary--held it to his own undoing. At that time it was
open to him to yield, to retire; now he falls--falls disgraced and
branded as a traitor! This, to a nature such as his, is to die a
thousand deaths. I"--here Brunnow rose impetuously--"I will not be the
one to deal out the last stroke. Let those who began the work go
through with it to the bitter end. I have made up my mind to start the
day after to-morrow."
Max insisted no further.
"It will be some weeks before I am able to follow you, I expect," he
observed, after a pause. "I shall not leave R---- until our engagement
is ratified and officially made known--until I have secured the
Councillor's consent, and can feel sure that Agnes is safe from all
worrying interference on the part of her spiritual guardians. But, in
the first place, may I count on your support and approval?"
He held out his hand to his father, who took it in his own, and
responded cordially without a moment's hesitation.
"I have only seen your affianced wife once; but the very fact that her
appearance then charmed and interested me, made me think it impossible
you should have been attracted towards her. Our tastes have hitherto
differed so widely. Any doubt on my part springs from this alone: I see
so great a difference of character and education. If you think you can
overcome these difficulties, my son ... all I wish is to know that you
are happy."
A warm pressure of the hand confirmed these words; and Max cried
triumphantly:
"Now I will go to the Councillor, and drive that most loyal subject of
a most gracious sovereign to distraction, by suggesting myself, a
rampant demagogue, as a son-in-law. I may leave you alone for an hour,
father? You need rest, after all the congratulations and the
demonstrations of sympathy with which you have been overpowered all the
morning. Good-bye for the present. I am off to run a tilt at my future
father-in-law."
Unsuspicious of the coming evil, Councillor Moser sat at home in his
parlour, reading the papers. They spoiled the flavour of his coffee,
and disturbed his rest. The Councillor read, of course, only the
Ministerial journals; but even they could no longer dissemble the
terrible fact that the State was in a bad way--hopelessly drifting
further and further down the steep decline of Liberalism.
And, worst of all, there stared him in the face the R---- news, which
now held a permanent place in the columns of the leading papers. Moser
had long noticed, with astonishment and dismay, that the whole official
press, instead of energetically taking up the cudgels in behalf of the
Governor of R----, adopted with regard to this affair a very lukewarm
and indifferent tone; but its attitude now, in the presence of the late
occurrences, passed all bounds of belief. No vigorous defence of the
Baron, no indignation at the shameful calumny, no word as to a
chastisement to be inflicted on that lying journal. Mention was made of
the "late incredible charges," a hope expressed that the Governor would
be able successfully to rebut them; tacked to this came an insinuation
that, should he not purge himself from all taint and suspicion, his
dismissal would become inevitable--thus the possibility of the alleged
guilt was admitted. Immediately below this article appeared the
intelligence that Dr. Rudolph Brunnow, formerly convicted of
treasonable proceedings, had received a full and free pardon, and would
that day be restored to liberty.
The Councillor, on reading this, fell into a train of gloomy thought.
For some time past the notion of retiring on his pension had occupied
his mind. He had served the State honourably for well-nigh forty years,
and had thereby satisfied his sense of duty. His daughter, too, the
only pledge of a marriage contracted late in life, and speedily
dissolved by death, was about to leave him, to enter on her novitiate.
He himself was getting on in years, and needed rest. His position, once
his greatest pride, afforded him no satisfaction now. The new spirit
breathing through the land invaded even the sacred places of the
Chancellery. As yet the Baron's hand grasped the reins tightly; but
Moser thought with affright of what would happen were that firm hand to
relax its hold. He believed no single word of the lies now scattered
broadcast. Raven could, and must, utterly silence these malignant
tongues; but, after the treatment he had met with from the Government,
it was hardly likely he would consent to remain in office. The
Councillor felt that he, too, had had his day, and was quite resolved
to imitate his chief's example, should the latter tender his
resignation.
Moser was roused from his meditations by the opening of a door.
Christine announced "Dr. Brunnow," and that gentleman quickly followed
in person.
The Councillor rose and bowed to his visitor, with stiff politeness.
"I hope you have not misconstrued my conduct in remaining a whole
fortnight without calling on you," began Max, when the first
ceremonious words of greeting had been spoken, and he had taken the
seat offered him. "It was solely out of consideration to you and your
position, you understand. Now that my father----"
"I am already informed of his liberation," interrupted the Councillor,
with all his usual rigid formality. "Our most gracious sovereign has
been pleased to pardon."
"Yes; and so all the past is wiped out, and just as if it had never
been," said Max, with deft and logical inference. "As for my father, he
will certainly not make much use of the permission to remain in his
native land."
"No?" asked Moser, visibly relieved by the tidings. The thought that he
had bestowed a friendly pressure on the hand of that attainted man
weighed upon his conscience.
"No; he returns to Switzerland, which has become to him a second home,"
replied the young surgeon. "We shall continue to live there; but, in
the first place, I feel impelled to reiterate to you my thanks for all
the kindness I received in your house. I shall never forget it."
The Councillor nodded graciously. These proffered thanks were but right
and proper in his eyes.
"So you come to take leave?" he asked. "I am rejoiced to see you are
completely restored to health and strength; and my daughter, too, will
be delighted, I am sure, when I inform her of it."
The information was not precisely needed, for Agnes knew very well how
matters stood with her former patient. Since he had left her father's
roof, she had met him regularly at the house of their common
_protegee_, the law-writer's wife. The latter had now in a great
measure recovered from her serious illness, and was no longer in need
of medical or spiritual aid; but physician and ministering friend
continued their visits with a fidelity which was really touching.
"I owe your daughter most special thanks," replied Max. "To her alone,
to her devoted care, I am indebted for my happy recovery. You will
allow me, therefore, to address to you one request bearing special
reference to Fraeulein Agnes?"
Moser nodded a second time. He was inclined to grant the request; the
young man would doubtless sue for permission to take leave of Agnes
personally.
But Max rose from his chair, and said point-blank, without any
ceremonious preface:
"I come to sue for your daughter's hand."
The Councillor, about to nod a third assent, stopped suddenly, and sat
with open mouth. For the first instant he really did not understand
what the other had said; then he rose in his turn, not hastily, but
with slow solemnity. His gaunt figure grew taller and taller as it
emerged from the depths of his armchair, seeming gradually to become
more gaunt and more uncanny, until he stood at his full height, and
looked down over his white neckcloth with a scathing gaze at the young
surgeon.
"I--I believe I did not hear aright," said the old gentleman, at
length. "You were saying----"
"I am asking for your daughter's hand in marriage," replied Max, with
equanimity.
"Are you out of your senses?" asked Moser, still in bewildered
amazement; for though this strange thing was repeated, his mind refused
to grasp it.
"Not at all. I am in a perfectly normal condition," Max affirmed, and
then went on in the same breath, without giving his listener time to
collect his wits: "As for my proposal, it is based on our sincere
mutual affection. I have already obtained your daughter's promise.
Agnes has given me her hand and heart, conditionally, of course,
on your consent, for which I now formally ask, entertaining the
pleasing hope that it will not be denied me, that my betrothed's
father will deign to accept me as his son. Allow me, then, my dear
father-in-law----"
He advanced towards the Councillor with open arms, but by an agile
rebound the latter saved himself from the intended embrace.
That terrible word "father-in-law" had roused him from his torpor. The
position was evidently not to be taken on a first assault.
"You are speaking seriously of a marriage?" he cried--"of a marriage
with my daughter, whose vocation for a religious life you well know.
You, the son of a political offender, of a convicted rebel, dare to
make such a suggestion?"
"My dear sir, I am not seeking a State appointment, but a wife," urged
the young surgeon, in self-defence. "I really do not see why you should
be so horrified at my offer."
"What, you ask the reason? Your father, sir, wished to overthrow the
Government of his country."
"Well, I had nothing to do with it; I could not very well be
implicated, as at the time of that affair I was just about four years
of age. Besides, these are old stories long buried and forgotten. My
father has been amnestied."
"Once a rebel, always a rebel," declared the Councillor, emphatically.
"An amnesty can avert punishment. It cannot efface the past."
Max assumed a look of indignation.
"Is it possible, Councillor Moser, that I hear this from your lips?
You, who have ever boasted of being our sovereign's most loyal subject,
now refuse to recognise that sovereign's edict? His gracious Majesty
has pardoned, you say yourself. It is his will that the past should
be effaced and forgotten; but you will not accept this decision; you
would abrogate the royal prerogative; you rise up in revolt against
the authority of the reigning prince! Why, this is opposition,
rebellion--to put it plainly, treason itself."
This wonderful chain of argument was developed with so much fluency and
assurance that the Councillor had no time to put in a word, or to
reflect on its intrinsic value. He was flustered and disconcerted.
Casting a hopeless glance at the speaker, he said at length, in rather
a small voice:
"Do you really think so?"
"It is my unalterable conviction. But to return to my offer of
marriage."
"Not a word more on the subject," interrupted Moser. "To speak of it is
an insult. My daughter is the betrothed of Heaven."
"I beg your pardon, she is my betrothed," asserted Max, manfully.
"Heaven can wait, I can't. After fifty years of conjugal happiness, I
have no objection to surrender Agnes to a higher lot. Until then, I
claim her as mine, and mine alone."
"Do you mean to turn my child's sacred vocation into ridicule?"
exclaimed the old gentleman, kindling to fresh wrath. "I have long
known you to be an infidel, an atheist, a----" his voice forsook him,
he panted for breath, and grasped at his neckcloth with both hands.
"Do not excite yourself in this manner," said the young doctor,
warningly. "These violent fits of emotion are most dangerous at your
age, and to a man of your temperament. They are calculated to produce
congestion--apoplexy!"
Moser's long, meagre frame seemed to give the direct lie to this
assumption, but Dr. Brunnow did not stick at such trifles. He went on
calmly:
"Let me add that, to one of your peculiar constitution, it would be an
incalculable benefit to have a doctor for a son-in-law, one who would
watch over his father-in-law's health with the utmost care. As I said
before, you must not excite yourself."
"It is you who excite me!" cried the Councillor, stung to distraction
by this repeated mention of the objectionable relationship. "It is you
who will bring on me an apoplectic attack with your detestable
suggestions. I feel quite ill now; the blood is all mounting to my
head. I want air."
So saying, he sank back in his arm-chair, and clutched at his cravat
again. Max kindly came to his assistance, and loosened the knot.
"We will take off this white monstrosity," said he, "you'll feel easier
then. I have an infallible remedy against congestions, and I will
prescribe it for you at once. These seizures are serious; we must be
careful."
Moser gave a melancholy glance at his beloved white cravat, now in the
sacrilegious hands of the doctor, who folded it neatly together before
laying it on the table. With that "white monstrosity" all the old
gentleman's vehemence seemed to have gone from him; the allusion to
apoplexy had made him anxious. He looked on quietly while his tormentor
went up to the writing-table, wrote a prescription for a harmless
composing draught, and then returned to him, holding the paper.
"Six drops in a glass of water," he said impressively.
"How often?" growled the Councillor.
"Three times a day."
"Thank you."
"Don't mention it, pray."
The Councillor hoped and expected that this irrepressible suitor would
now deliver him from his presence; but he was soon undeceived. Instead
of taking his leave, the young man drew forward a chair, and sat down
opposite him.
"So I may reckon on your consent to my marriage with your daughter?"
Max began again.
Moser would have blazed forth anew, but he thought of the tendency to
apoplexy and the necessity of avoiding all excitement, and therefore
replied with all the calm he could command:
"No; a thousand times no! I do not believe that Agnes can so far forget
herself as to entertain an affection for you. She has, of her own free
will, chosen a religious life. She is an obedient daughter, a pious
Catholic."
"And will, I am sure, make an excellent wife," wound up Max. "Besides,
after all, I am a Catholic myself."
Moser folded his hands.
"Ah, what sort of one?" he groaned.
"I only mean that the religion need not be an obstacle. My position, I
must confess, is rather a modest one at present; but it may satisfy a
wife who has not very soaring pretentions. As for my character and
habits, my father-in-law----"
"For Heaven's sake, let me have no more of your father-in-law. I will
not endure it. You are an impertinent, a most obnoxious person."
"You will get used to me in time," said the young surgeon, consolingly.
"I may come again to-morrow, may I not, to see my betrothed?"
The old gentleman made no reply, fearing to prolong the interview. His
one object was to rid the house of this tormenting nuisance. To-morrow
he would shut himself in, and see his doors well bolted. Max himself
seemed to understand that he had gone far enough for one day, for he
now moved to take his departure, turning to fire a parting shot as he
reached the door.
"Councillor Moser!"
"Well, what more do you want?" asked the old gentleman, despairingly.
"When you talk over this business with Agnes, be sure and avoid all
undue excitement. You know the danger of it. Six drops of the medicine
in a glass of water three times a day, and, above all things, quiet and
composure. I should be miserable if any accident were to happen to so
near and dear a relation."
Then he really went. The Councillor sank back in his arm-chair, utterly
spent. Now only, on being left alone, did he fully comprehend the
glaring nature of the affront put upon him, and he could not even allow
free vent to his just and righteous anger; he must be on his guard
against violent emotions and apoplectic fits.
Dr. Brunnow had not left the house so promptly as its master supposed.
He was at this moment standing outside in the anteroom with his arm
round Agnes's waist, quite as a thing of course, and as though he had
received official recognition as her future husband. The girl was
anxiously questioning him, wishing to hear exactly what course the
interview had taken, and what answer her father had made.
"Well, he says 'no,' so far," Max had to confess; "but set your mind
perfectly at rest--he will say 'yes' before he has done. I did not
expect the fortress would capitulate all at once. It must be invested,
besieged in due form. On the whole, I am satisfied with the result of
this first attack. Breaches have been made in the fortifications, and
to-morrow I shall advance my posts."
"Ah, Max," whispered Agnes, with her eyes full of tears, "what troubles
we have before us! My courage fails me when I think of all the
difficulties. I shall never overcome them."
"No more you need. To overcome them is my business," said Max,
encouragingly. "I shall stay here until it is all settled and the
wedding-day fixed. Your father must be allowed time now to grow
accustomed to the idea; meanwhile, I shall, in the most humble and
deferential terms, signify the fact of our engagement to the lady
abbess and his reverence the confessor, the two of whom you stand in
such great awe."
Agnes shuddered.
"Some portion of the storm you will have to meet," continued Max; "but
the chief brunt of it I will take on myself. Steady, little Agnes--show
a brave front. I give you my word that your father will voluntarily and
cordially give us his blessing."
With these words and a kiss, he took leave of his betrothed.