Marlitt_Countess_Gisela.txt topic ['13', '324', '378', '393']
CHAPTER I.
It was still early in the evening. The little
l;ell of the Neuenfeld stfeeple dutifully raised its
voice, and struck six times it sounded like a
lialf-stided moan ; for the gale wliistled through
the belfry windows, and scattered the thin sounds
in eveiy direction. At the same time, the impen-
etrable darkness of a starless December night set-
tled upon the earth. That high up, above the
clouds, the sparkling constellations were gradual-
ly coming forth in changeless lustre upon the dark
background, that they shone and glittered there,
undisturbed, as on a cloudless night of the fra-
grant May who thought of this when looking at
t!ie threatening cloud-wall in rapid motion that
separated earth from heaven ? And the mild light
of the moon, and the silvery lustre of the night-
liorn heavenly wanderers who thought of these,
when within the mighty walls that stood forth in
the gloom like a gigantic obelisk, and against
wliose corners the tempest was vainly beating its
wings within these walls all shone and glitter-
ed with that threatening brilliancy peculiar to a
fiery stream when tamed and guided by human
hands. The Neuenfeld foundry was in full blast.
A dazzling, blood-red glare streamed from the
fieiy crater of the furnace, illuminating the naked
stones of the walls and the sooty faces of the per-
spiring workmen. The ore that boiled and rose
like a seething tide, and dropped jjliantlike, glow-
ing tears from the casting-spoons, had lain thou-
sands of years cold and immovable under the
mailed coat of the earth, and now, in a single ter-
rible moment of pulsing life, had lost its identity,
to relapse, after a biief period of licpiid existence,
into its old rigidity, but with such new fonn as
the whims or caprices of man should assign to it.
The windows of the immense building, as seen
from without, appeared but dimly lighted ; but
from the lofty chimney there arose i fiery pillar,
now and then ejecting a sheaf of sparks, as if a
presumptuous giant were trying to fling a handful
of stars towards heaven ; they vanished harmless
in the darkness, like human thonghts assailing the
seven seals of the great mysteiy above us.
As the clock struck six, the door of the over-
seer's house, which was quite near t!ie foundiy,
was slowly opened. The little door-bell, that
usually kept up an incessant and annoying tink-
ling, was silent, evidently restrained by a careful
hand, and a woman stepjied over the tlireshold.
"Why, winter has reall}' come! Here we
have all at once a magnificent Christmas snow!'"
cried she. In this exclamation there was a joy-
ous surprise, a tone like that with which we greet
the unexpected appearance of an old and dear
friend. The voice was almost too deep and strong
for that of a woman ; but the parishioners of
Netienfeld cared little for its masculine key ;
whatever was uttered by their pastor's wife, was
to them as sacred and true as the gospel.
The lady carefully descended the stone steps.
The long, pale-red track of light, cast by her lan-
tern on the ground, gleamed for a moment undis-
turbed ; but now a sudden gust blew round the
corner, throwing the large cape of the clergyman's
wife over her head, and scattering into atoms the
light, soft snow through which she was about to
pass.
She threw back the cape, pushed the loosened
comb more firmly into the luxuriant tresses be-
hind with her left hand, and then drew over her
forehead the kerchief that protected her ears.
Like the wife of a viking of yore, the tall, firmly-
knit form stood amid tlie blinding and whirling
snow; while the light of the lantern illuminated
j features full of strength and \igor one of those
energetic faces, over which the storms of an ever-
changing life pass without leaving more traces
than the strong, cold breath of winter.
' ' Now I will tell you something, my dear over-
seer," said she, turning to the man who had ac-
companied her, and was still standing on the
threshold. "I was afraid to speak within-doors.
My drops are good, and I set great store by the
elder-tea ; still it would do no harm to have old
Rose sit up to-night perhaps it would be well to
keep one of the workmen about the house, if you
should after all have to send for the doctor."
The man started with surprise and fear.
"Courage, courage, dear friend; things can
not always go on smoothly in this world," said
the pastor's wife, cheeringly. "After all, a doc-
tor is no werewolf, and you need not anticipate
the worst if obliged to send for him. I shoidd
like to stay longer, for I see you are no hero by
a sick-bed ; but my little rogues at home want
their supper. I have the cellar key with me, and
Rosamund can't get at the potatoes. Now, God
be with you! Give tlie drops punctually. I shall
j be here again early in the morning."
She went. Her clothes were violently shaken
; by the wind ; and the yellow, trembling reflex of
! the disturbed flame of the lantern now hung upon
the creaking branches of the trees, and now crept
sliyly along the ground ; but however much the
storm might rage behind her, the woman- was nor
to be driven, and her ste])s resounded firm and
even, until they died entirel}' away. The overseer
leaned for a moment in the door, his eyes follow-
ing the glimmering light of the lantern until it
disappeared in the distance.
Meanwhile the air had becone more qniet the
THE COUNTESS GLSELA.
torm held its breath ; from afar came the roar
of water rushing over a dam, and a hollow, indis-
tinct hum of Ijusy toil resounded from the foun-
dry. But the sound of fast-approaching footsteps
was also distinctly heard, and soon the form of a
man appeared as he turned the comer of the
house. A soldier's cloak flapped around his lank
limbs, his cap was fastened by a handkerchief
tied imder liis cliin, and a large sta])le lantern,
which he held in his left hand, lighted uj) tlie
path.
" "What, out in such a storm as this, overseer ?"
cried he, as the light of tlie lantern shone full upon
the man leaning there all alone. " So the stu-
dent has not come, then, and you are still watch-
ing fur him?"
"Ah ! no; Berthold came this afternoon, but
he is sick, and causes me much uneasiness, " re-
plied the overseer. "But come in, Sievert."
They entered the house. It was a large room,
quite low, into which the overseer led the way.
Without, llie storm was raging with renewed fury
against the old walls, which, within, so home-like
and peaceful, bore dear family pictures on their
smooth papered surfaces. A slight draft did in-
deed penetrate through the cracks of the windows,
and now and then gently stirred the large flower-
ed chintz curtains, which were drawn tight, con-
cealing the windows and the wild snow-storm
without. If there is any thing calculated to make
a sitting-room in the Thuringian forest home-like
and pleasant, it is the immense stove of Dutch
tiles, that even in midsummer is not often with-
out fire. Here, too, it towered, dark and gigan-
tic, far into tlie room, and the heated tiles gave
forth an equable and genial warmth.
This corner room, with its old-fashioned furni-
ture, woidd have readily awakened a feeling of
home-like comfort, had it not been for the omi-
nous smell of elder-tea that jiei-^aded the air ; and
a shade hastily constructed of green paper, that
dimmed tlie light of the lamp ; the pendulum, too,
hung motionless in the wooden clock all arrange-
ments betraying the careful hand of a circumspect
woman.
The object of all this care and attention seemed
to protest with energy against the i-ole of a sick
man that had been forced upon him. This was a
very young man, who tossed his head restlessly to
and fro upon tlie snowy pillows of a couch that
had been improvised foi- iiim ujion the sofa. The
warm quilt had i)art!y sli])ped down ujjon the floor,
andtheirritalile patient. \\\{\\ loud grumlihng, had
just pushed away the freshly-iillcd cup of tea as
the two men entered the room.
The overseer was now seen in the full light that
the uncovered jiart of the lam]) threw upon him.
He was an uncommonly handsome young man,
of imposing stature ; and it was diflicult to com-
j)rehend how it was jiossible for him to move
about througli the low room without restraint it
seemed as if the ceiling must graze his curly head.
There was a strange contrast between the Ijlonde
hair and beard, and the finely archeil, dark eye-
brows that united above tiie root of the nose, and
gave to his countenance an air of indescrihable
melancholy a jjcculiarity which, in the ))o))ular
belief, is the stamp of misfortune, the infallible
token of a tragic faie.
No uninterested obsen'er would have supposed
that the sit'k youth, and this tall, strong man were
l)lood relations. There, a boyish, thin face, with
a pale, marble-like complexion, and a Roman
profile under a profusion of bluish-black curls :
and here, a genuine German type, a blooming,
vigorous, manly form, with light hair and beard,
straight as the noble fir of the Thuringian forest :
yet they were brothers two persons having each
but one family tie, that which bound them to each
other.
The overseer advanced hastily to the couch,
and taking up the quilt, wrapped it round the
patient's shoulders ; he then took up the cup that
had been pushed aside so contemptuously, and
held it to his brother's lips. This was done silent-
ly and gently, yet ^\'ith such determination that
no opposition was possible. The rebellious patient
suddenly became submissive, and drained the cuji
to the last drop ; then seizing his brothers hand
with passionate tenderness, he drew it dcnm to the
pillow, and pressed it caressingly to his cheek.
Meanwhile the man in the military cloak had also
drawn nearer. " Well, young gentleman, this is
a fine way of going into quarters ! You ought to
be ashamed of yourself !" said he, setting his lan-
' tern upon the table.
j This was meant to be humorous ; but the
strangely rough and grating voice of the man gave
it the character of a blunt reprimand an impres-
sion heightened still more by the immovable cast
of his stern features, that appeared dark and al-
most gipsy-like from beneath the fold of a glar-
ing red cotton handkerchief.
The patient started ; a sudden blush oversjiread
his pale face, and his burning eyes were fixed
gloomily and searchingly upon the speaker, whose
presence he had not before noticed. His right
hand involuntarily reached fortli to the table to
seize his parti-colored student's cap, the mark of
his dignity as student, and a member of the
' Burschenschaft."
! " Don't be angry, Berthold," said the overseer,
smiling at this movement, "it is only our old
friend Sievert."
" Why, what does this youngster know of old
Sievert 'f dryly observed the latter ; " being now
a university student, he can not be su]iposed to re-
member how much he used to like my porridge ;
is it not so, master student ? There, on the very
place where you are now lying, once stood the
cradle, and in it lay the little fellow kicking and
crying for his dead mother, and knocking the por-
ridge-spoon from the hands of liis father and of
Rose. Heaven knows why my face pleased you
so much ; but messenger after messenger had to
be sent to the castle, and old Sievert had to come
1 and feed the youngster. How he kughed I The
tears kept rolling over his cheeks, but the porridge
went down nicely."
The student stretched both hands across the
' table, and grasped those of the old soldier. The
boyish pride in his feattnes had given way to an
ex])ression quite giilish and child-like.
I " Father used often to tell me of that," replied
he in a gentle voice, " and Theobald iias frequent-
ly mentioned you in his letters, since his ai)point-
ment as overseer of the Neuenfeld foundiy."
( " Well, well, it may be so," grumbled old Sie-
vert, apparently inclined to cut ofl" any further
' discussion. He pushed back his cloak, and the
student burst into a loud laugh at the sight he
l)resented. On his right arm hung a blight tin
pail, and close to it a willow basket containing r.
loaf of bread ; while to one of his coat buttons
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
was fastened a bunch of tallow candles, and from
his breast-pocket there peejjed forth the glass
stopper of a rum-flask, together with a well-tilled
paper bag.
" Yes, yes, you laugh now," said the old man
in a voice betraying a mixture of resentment and
resignation ; '' then I was cliild's nurse, and now
I am scullion ; my father did not predict for me
such a fate in my cradle. But no matter the
old lady can't bear goat's milk, and Miss Jutta
knows that better than I ; and yet, if I don't see
to it myself that cow's milk is brought from the
village, it certainly will not be done. To-day I
came back from the woods tired to death, having
cut a nice bundle of wood, and looking forward to
a comfortable rest in the warm room but no such
tiling ; the milk had been forgotten, there was not
.1 crumb of bread in the house, and the last end of
candle was in tlie candlestick. Miss Jutta, how-
ever, was in full dress, as if expecting to go to
court, and talking of having a tea-])arty ; as if
we were not poor enougli yet at the forest-house.
I should like to know, though, what kind of a sup-
per she was going to set before Mr. Berthold ! Oh
such "
While Sievert was speaking, an angiy flush
gradually overspread the overseer's face ; but at
the last exclamation he raised his fore-finger
threateningly, and a glance so full of anger fell on
tlie old man that he shyly turned away his eyes,
and left the sentence unfinished. The student,
on the contrary, was the picture of the most eager
attention ; he had laid l)oth arms upon the table,
and his eyes were immovably fixed on the lips of
llie speaker.
" Yes, and black bread I certainly dare not put
on the old lady's table," continued ISievert after a
pause, changing the subject ; ' ' and therefore I had
to go to Arnsberg, and force the steward, willy nilly,
to give me this loaf. But he is himself so busy that
he hardly knows where to begin. The cook from
A is fussing about in the kitchen, and half a
dozen servants are running up and down ; they
are heating, cleaning and lighting up with all
their might his excellency, the minister, is ex-
pected at Arnsberg this very night, in spite of
storm and snow. Tiie typhus fever has broken
out at A , in his excellency's own house even,
and that is why he is about to bring the little
countess himself for safety to the lonely Arnsberg."
At this piece of news, the handsome face of the
overseer exhibited signs of the greatest displeasure.
For some time he walked u[) and down the room
in silence ; at length, standing still, he asked,
"And do you know how long the minister is
going to stay ?"
Sievert, shnigging his shoulders, replied, "How
should I know ! but my opinion is that he cares
less for the cliild than for his own precious self;
and so he won't leave, I suppose, until the plague
lias left A ."
This was evidently no joyfid news to the young
man ; he stood motionless for a moment in the
middle of the room, as if in deep thought, without,
however, giving utterance to his reflections.
" Sievert," said he, after a pause, " do you re-
member Baron Eschebach ?"
"Why, to be sui'e I do he was physit^ian to
Prince Heniy, and once set a broken arm for me.
Some sixteen years ago he went to sea, and has
never been heard from since. I suppose he was
eaten long ago by the sharks."
to be very ])oor indeed "
"And why did he go to Brazil?''
interrupted
*' Not yet, Sievert," replied the overseer, laugh-
ing. " This very afteinoon a letter came to me
from beyond the sea, directed to my deceased
father. The man who was given up for dead
writes with his own hand that he frequently
thinks with melancholy pleasure of the time when
he used to wander from Castle Arnsberg to the
overseer's house in Neuenfeld, to drink sour milk
under the lindens. He is now living in Brazil,
unmarried and childless ; is the owner of exten-
sive mines and foundries, but leads the life of a
hermit. At the end of his letter he begs my fa-
ther to send liim one of his sons, as he is frequent-
ly sick, and in great need of a friend and com-
panion."
" Ha ! there will be a rich inheritance !"
" You know, Sievert, that for no consideration
would I leave Neuenfeld, " said the overseer, sharp-
ly-
' ' And I hare no idea of leaving Theobald in
that way Baron Eschebach can keep his gold
and silver mines !" cried tlie student with much
feeling,. while two red spots that had made their
appearance on his cheeks began to spread, and
glowed brightly.
"Well, well, let him keep them then!" mut-
tered Sievert, dropping mechanically into a chair,
as if lost in thought. " So, he has become rich I"
said he, after a while, thoughtfully rubbing his
stubbly, gray-bearded chin. "And yet he used
'ery
nd
the student.
' ' Why ? There you ask me too m uch. How-
ever, I have often thought that a single terrible
night drove him away."
At this moment the storm roared round the
comer with a shrill, continuous ^^'histling. The
windows rattled, and a tile from the roof was
shattered to atoms upon the stone pavement.
"Do you hear?" asked Sievert, pointing with
his thumb over his shoulder toward the windows.
" Just such a winter's night was it then a night
in which the whole hellish pack swept over the
Thuringian forest. There was howling, whis-
tling, and yeding; the old walls of Castle Arns-
berg shook till the pictures trembled on the walls,
and the flames were driven from the fireplaces
far into the rooms. It seemed as if the castle
were to be swept from the earth. Next morning
all the statues in the jiark were found lying over-
turned upon the gi'ound, large trees were u])root-
ed or broken off like reeds, while the castle-yard
was covered several inches deep with jiieces of
glass from the windows, fragments of tiles, and
broken shutters. But from the shattered roof
the black flag was flying, and all the church-bells
of Arnsberg were tolling ; for dming that night
Prince Heinrich had died."
Sievert paused for a moment, then breaking
Out into a hoarse laugh, he cried : "What was
the use of toUing the bells ? what good did the
duchess get from the long train of her mouniing-
dress, or the country from the black-bordered
newspapers? It was all vanity; for the deadly
strife liad lasted to the end But you must re-
member that ; don't you, overseer ?"
"Yes; at that time I was still but a child;
but I well remember what bitter animosities were
indulged in by both parties in A and in
Arnsberg, and that the jjrince would not even
permit the ofllcers of his household to have any
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
intercourse with those in the service of the duke.
My father, being overseer of the ducal foundiy,
suffered with the rest."
"Right and, j)ray, what nobleman at that
time sided with Prince Heinrich, and lived with
him at Arnsbei^g ?"
"Well, there was your master, Sievert, Major
von Zweiflingen, Baron Eschebach, and our
present minister. Baron Fleury."
"Yes, he!" said Sievert, again breaking out
into a bitter laugh. " He has been a wily trick-
ster all his life. Neither of the others ever M-ent
to A , much less to coiu-t they would in
truth have fared but badly there but his excel-
lency wheedled and cajoled botli sides. Heaven
only knows how he brought it about ; but neither
party seemed to notice his intercourse with the
other that is what only such a French swaggerer
can do and succeed witli the cautious Germans.
Yes, those who belonged to the court at A
thought, I sup]jose, that he might be alile to bring
about a reconciliation, and at last help them to
their inheritance ha! ha! they aU were no match
for the woman's head that stood in the way. "
"The Countess Voldern,"internipted the over-
seer, while a dark cloud gathered over his brow.
"Yes, yes, the Countess Voldera, in Greins-
feld yonder. The prince called her his friend ;
but the people were less polite, and gave her
another title, and they were riglit. She wound
his iiighness round her finger; she made him go
right or left at her bidding; and ir he said
' white, ' she would say ' black, ' and black it was.
So much worthlessness, such a heaped-nj) meas-
ure of sin, and no punishment ! The miserable
woman died calm and happy as a saint. Only
cnce did siie suffer fear and anguish, and this
was on that self-same night."
Wiiat recollections must liave arisen in the old
man's mind, that he so utterly forsook his com-
mon expressions and mode of speech ! His re-
sene, his long-pent-np silent anger and hatred,
could not be more strikingly depicted than by his
usually compressed lijjs and tlie drawn-do\vn cor-
ners of the mouth ; but now, these silent lips were
eloquent ; the hoarse, monotonous voice became
flexi1)]e and elastic, rising in tones of hatred and
contempt, witluaccents so forcible and convinc-
ing that the patient forgot tlie feverish throb-
bing of his temples, whilst his brother, wrapt in
the closest attention, listened to a recital of events
witli the development of which he was already
partly fiimiliar.
" For a long time before the people of the cas-
tle had been talking of various circumstances
showing that tlie rule of the countess was near
its end," continued Sievert. "Every one had
seen that things were looking that way. She
alone did not seem to notice tliem ; never had
she been more reckless and malicious ; and be-
cause the prince had one day spoken of his late
lamented wife in terms of jjraise, she decided in-
stantly to have a great mascpierade ball at her
castle, and fixed precisely upon the anniversaiy
of tlie death of the virtuous ])iincess. That
brought matters to a crisis ! The prince grew
pale with anger, and gave her strict orders to
give up the masquerade ; but she laughed in his
face, and turned on her heel, saying that tiie day
just suited her, and that she would have, besides,
a brilliant illuminatiun in honor of the late
princess.
I "Well, the evening came; and what nobody
had expected, and least of all the countess, the
prince actually remained at home ; and the three
noblemen, my master, Baron Eschebach, and
Baron Fleury, were obliged to stay with him,
though they had been invited by the countess.
Now the prince was fond of me ; and whenever
he played at cards in the evening with the gen-
j tlemen, he would dismiss his lackeys, and order
me to stay alone in the ante-room.
I "So I sat there this evening, entirely alone,
close to the window, and listened to the fearful
! commotion without. Around such an old cas-
tle, sir, the gale makes veiy strange music.
Every thing the old castle ever saw takes part in
the concert tournaments and banquets, and all
past splendors and also crimes and misdeeds in
untold numbers. It had just struck eleven, but
hghts were still burning all over the castle, for
no one was bold enough to go to bed, when all
at once the chairs inside were overturned, the
beU was rung as if for an alarm of fire, and when
1 opened the door, there lay Prince Heinrich,
deadly i)ale, in his arm-chair, his eyes wide open,
while the blood was gushing in torrents from his
mouth and nose. The servants gathered in
groups, wailing and lamenting, but no one was
allowed to enter tiiat room again not even I.
"Baron Eschebach was master of his profes-
sion, the best doctor far and wide ; but there is a
saying, 'No herb that grows is an antidote for
death !' The prince's last hour had stnick but
Baron Fleury suddenly came out and called for
a horse. 'The prince is dying,' cried he to the
master of the horse, in so loud a tone that it
could have been heard by the people on the
low'.imost stairs; 'to ride to A on such a
night as this is like suicide, but the prince wishes
to be reconciled to the duke, and he is a vilhiin
who would not risk his life in such a cause !"
Five minutes later I heard him galloping over
the higli road to A . From that moment.
all who were in tlie castle were still as mice the
countess might dance, dance, till tlie duke should
haA'e possession of his rightful inheritance. I
was standing again at the window, counting the
minutes in deadly anxiety for a skillful horse-
man reijuired a full hour to reach the city from
AiTisberg. .
"jMy major and Baron Eschebach were alone
with the ju-ince, who was still fully conscious ;
whene^er I came near the door, I heard him dis-
tinctly dictating to them, though witli gasping
breath, and at long intervals. Yonder was Cas-
tle Greinsfeld ; had it been a clear night, I could
have seen from my Miiidow the illumination in
honor of the Prince Heinrich, like a glittering
spark in the distance. Ho ! go on dancing and
rejoicing yonder,' thought I, as the castle clock
stiiick twelve. ' Only one more hour, and your
dance will have cost you half a million !' At the
same moment the tempest raged afresh, roaring
and howling a chimney toppled over, and the
stones rattled do\\n on the pavement of the cas-
tle-yard, mingled with a noise as of horses" hoofs
and rumbling wheels. The door opened, and
there she stood there stood tlie woman, sir!
Satan himself must have led her thitlicr! To
this day nobody knows how it ha])pened, or v.ho
was the traitor. She tore oft' her fur cloak, threw
it on the floor, and ran towards the room in which
lay the dying prince. But there I stood before
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
her, tlie door-knob in my hand. ' No one is per- '
mitted to enter, countess,' said I. Yot a moment
she stood as if turned to stone, her gUttering
eyes piercing my face like murderous daggers.
"Wretcii, you shall pay dear for this,' she hissed ;
'begone out of my way.' But I did not yield :
thev must have heard sometliing, however, with-
in the room, for my major came out. He imme-
diately closed the dOor beiiind him, and took my
post of defense, while I stepped aside. It was
very strange; there was something in his face
that I did not like you knew the countess, over-
seer ?"
" Yes, she was considered one of the most beau-
tiful women of her time. Her portrait is still
hanging in Castle Arnsberg yonder ; a willowy,
sleraler form, large coal-bku'k eyes in a snow-
white foce, and a profusion of glittering, golden
hair."
" Just so she looked that night!" inteiTupted
Sievert with a giim smile. "The devil himself
only knows how she brought it about ; at that
time she was already far along in the thirties,
and had a daughter of seventeen ; but her com-
plexion was still like milk and roses the young-
est girl coidd not compare with her, and no one
knew that better than she herself the miserable
actress ! Like a broken reed she sank down sud-
denly before my master, and threw her white arms
around his knees. She was still dressed m her
fancy costume, that glittered and sparkled, while
her long golden hair, loosened by the stonn,
dragged on the floor ; but at the side of her face
a small red stream trickled down round her white
neck like a little sei7jent hm, a sei"pent must in-
deed have been there, where a man's honor, on
which no stain had ever before rested, was lost
forever ! INIy hands were itching, sir, to drive
the wretched, sneaking woman from the thresh-
old where she had nothing more to seek : and
he stood there, white as chalk, and was tenified at
a shght scratch on this base creature's forehead ;
a stone from the falling chimney had just grazed
her head oh, had it only been better aimed ! ' I
am wounded, ''cried she feebly, as though about to
die ; ' aWII you let me perish here, Zweiflingen ?"
and she reached after his hand, and drew it to her
false, lying lips. A flush like a fiery flame over-
spread his face ! He raised her from the floor,
and even to the present day I know not how it
happened she must have been a very devil in
shrewdness and agility before I could look
round, she was within the room, and prostrate be-
fore the prince's dpng bed. 'Away, away!' cried
the prince, waving her off with his hand ; but a
fresh stream of blood came gushing from his
mouth, and in ten minutes he was a corpse.
"Night is no man's friend, according to the
proverb," said the old soldier, here inteniipting
himself with a sardonic laugh ; but rogues have
no better one! I should like to know if the
countess would have become sole heiress had the
I)right sun been shining in the chamber of death.
I think not. When the prince had breathed his
last, she rose, looking like a ghost ; but not a
trace of eriiotion, not e^en a tear was to be seen
on her haughty, pale countenance. She rose, and
shut the door right in my face. Then she began
to speak, and talked uninteiTuptedly for more than
half an hour about what, I do not know ; I only
heard the deadly finguish of her voice. The two
noblemen then came out, and announced the
prince's death to the people of the castle. My ma-
jor passed me by as though I had been suddenly
changed to stone, or some such thing ; he did not
look at me. I said before, sir, that the whole de-
mon-pack swept over tlie Thuringian forest that
night ; well yes, the countess was there, riding
along as Lady Venus, and who Tannhaiiser was I
well know. From that day my master was a lost,
a rained man, but the coimtess was the richest
woman in all the land. The will that was found
dated from the time when the quairel with the
court at A was at its height, and the power
of the countess tlie greatest ; it is said to have
been so ingeniously framed and worded that no
court could set it aside or annul its provisions.
The prince's whole estate fell to the sneaking
countess, and the poor of the land did not receive
a single farthing."
" Abominable, that the duke came too late!''
exclaimed the student, striking the table with his
fist.
' "Too late?' repeated Sievert; "he did not
come at all. Towards morning some peasants
near A caught a nderless horse, and Baron
Fleiuy was found in the road-side ditch. WTiile
hastening to the city, he had been thrown from
his horse, and so badly bruised that he could not
move a limb'. Ha ! how he looked when they
brought /lira in upon a stretcher! His clothes
were torn and full of mud, and his hair, which
the fop used to have nicely curled and dressed ev-
ery day, hung over his face lile a gipsy's. He
has been well paid, though, for the pain he suf-
fered. It was never forgotten that he had risked
his life to save the inheritance to the ducal house,
and he was therefore, at last made minister!"
"And Baron Eschebach?" inquu-ed the stu-
dent.
"To be sure. Baron Eschebach!" repeated Sie-
vert, rabbing his forehead. "It was on his ac-
count alone that I told this story of sin and
shame. Well, he vanished, so to speak, from that
night. At first he seemed still to be in pretty
good spirits, and frequently rode over to Greins-
feld ; but his visits ceased after a few days. He
removed to A , and on the veiy day of the
great wedding at Greinsfeld the young countess
was married to Count Stiu-m he disappeared en-
tirely. Well, he had nothing at all to keep him
from going out into the wide world, no wife nor
child like my major."
During the latter part of Sievert's narration the
overseer had stepped to one of the windows and
drawn back the curtains an intoxicating odor of
flowers immediately streamed into the room.
Upon the window-sill violets, May-flowers, and
narcissuses were blooming in pots. The young
man pitilessly cut off the finest blossoms, and
placed them carefulh' in a white paper bag. At
Sievert's last words he turned his head, a rapid
glance at the excited features of his brother
caused a bright flush to overspread his own fore-
head and cheeks.
"Let these old stories rest now, Sievert," cried
he, suddenly cutting short the old soldier's tale.
" You yourself atone for the many sins of others ;
you are the faithful Eckhardt "
"Against my will, quite against mynill, over-
seer!" grimly protested Sievert, as he rose and
hastily packed up his things. "If ever any one
loved his master; it was I ; and I woidd have ran the
gauntlet for him while he was still good and honest,
10
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
a tiiie cavalier. But he afterwards became tlie
countess's fool ; he gam])led and caroused all night
with L'aron Fleury and other like companions,
and took part in all their noble, worthless sports.
He ill-trealed his wife a woman who was ever
ready to give her heart's blood for him, drop by
drop : then I grew angry ; I hated and despised
him ; and it was fortunate for him. as well as for
myself, that he discharged me. Yes, yes, people
say, ' He died on the field of honor ;' that sounds
grand, and wipes out all sins. But if a man be-
comes bankrupt, and in his despair commits sui-
cide, he is condemned forever. Evei-y thing had
been wasted and caroused away, sir, excej)t the
rickety liovel, the forest-house ; the countess would
have nothing more to do with the beggar, and then
the last of the Zweiilingens went to Schleswig-
Holstein, plunged into the thickest of the fight,
and met his death. But that is not suicide by
no means ; let any one dare call it so ! Ilnight-
ly honor M-as saved, and the widow might look
out for herself! His noble hands could spend
mone}^ to be sure ; but to work honestly, and try
fo atone for the crimes they had committed, that
they were not permitted to do they were too
noble for that !"
He threw the end of his cloak over his shoul-
der and seized the lantern. " !^o, I have for
once given vent to my feelings!" said he, taking
a deep breath. " If you had not mentioned the
news from Eschebr.ch, it would not have happen-
ed. And now I go home to take up my yoke
again. But one thing more, overseer ; never
again call me faithful Eckhardt ! That post re-
([uires a heart full of love and patience, and that
I have not, absolutely not. The major miglit
liave left ten such letters for me as the one found
on liis ])erson after the battle of Idstedt they
\vould not have made me go to his wife and daugh-
ter, for my love had died out. But there was once
a time when my father was about to be dispossess-
ed of his little farm through a quibljle of the law ;
tlie major employed the best lawyer in the land,
and paid him ; and my old father remained on his
lawfully-inherited ])ro])erfy. I thought of that
time, packed u]) my things, and now I am duly in-
stalled steward, as well as kitchen-maid, wood-
cutter, char- woman, etc., of the Baroness von
Zweiflingcn."
The biting sarcasm in the voice of the old sol-
dier was intensified by the ironicnl dignity of his
mien and gestures, while counting up his various
offices. But the impression made ujjon the over-
seer was manifestly j)ainful and offensive. His
lips were firmly set uiuler his full beard, his brows
ar(;hed even more gloomily than before, and he
silently laid on a side table tlie ])n))cr bag that
he liad till now kept in his hand. But JSievert
stepped u]) to l)ini with a ra])il stride.
' Give tiiem to me!" said he, seizing the bag
nnd laying it on the loaf in the basket ; "1 will
do you tliat favor. I can not change events, and
iliese poor things shall not have been cut in vain.
I will make j-our excuses for not being able to
ome to the tea-party to-niglit. And now fare-
v.-ell, and may the student's health iin])rove!"
Witli these words he left ihe room, and again
marched out into the stormy night.
CHAPTER II.
He took the same road as the clergyman's
wife towards the village of Neuenfeld, that lay
about a rifle shot's distance from the foundry.
But meanwhile walking had become extremely
j difficult ; the wind had swept the snow into drifts
a foot or more high right across the road, and the
I whirling flakes fllled the air so compactly and
j impenetrably that not even a trace of the mount-
' ain ashes lining the road on each side was visible.
I The old soldier tramped through the snow with
rapid, desperate strides, as if making a charge on
the enemy ; he enjoyed all this tumult. Pushing
the well-fastened cap to the back of his head, he
i allowed the cold snow to dust and cool his brain,
burning with the old bitter recollections, so sud-
denly i-CA'ived. The craunching and creaking be-
' neath his feet filled him with almost childish de-
light. He planted his feet with redoubled quick-
I ness, as he thought of the ])ath of life which he
must needs follow, with dislike and deep disgust ;
he dared never step forth from it, as he would like
to do ; and, in redeeming old obligations, he was
growing gray, bitter, and misanthropic.
Neuenfeld, one of those Mretched mountain
villages, of which the Thuringian forest has so
many on its skirts, lay before him in noiseless
tranquillity ; it looked as if it had patiently and j-e-
signedly yielded to being stretched out in the nar-
row ravine, that it might now be encoffined, u])
to its shingle-roofs, in the snow. By day, the
miserable houses, scattered about without any reg-
ularity, with their neglected garden-i)atclies by
their side, looked any thing but inviting ; at this
moment, however, when snow and night conceal-
ed the mud walls and gray shingles, the dim light
fiom the small windows gave them a hos]itablc
and pleasing air to those wandering in the storm
M'ithout. The windows required no blinds or
sheltering curtains ; these were rendered unnec-
essary by the well-heated stove, which was found
even in the poorest hovel. It covered the jianes
with a thick laj'er of steam, so that no neighbor
could pee]) into another's home to see if he sim-
)ily di])i)ed the potatoes of the f'nigal supper into
the salt-cellar, or indulged in the luxury of an
ounce of butter on his bare table.
Sievert marched through the village with re-
doubled speed. The lighted windows reminded
him of the iact that at home the Inst end of can-
dle was burning in the cantllestick ; it had already
struck seven, and he had yet quite a distance to
go ; besides, the dwellers of the forest-house were
relying for supper u])on what he had in his bas-
ket. At the end of the village he left the high-
way, which for a good S))ace still ran on in a
straight line, along the foot oi" the hill, into the
wide world ; and. turning to the left, he followed
one of those neglected wood-roads which, after
a soaking rain, become bottomless, and whoso
deep ruts, after a hard dry frost, render the path
dangerous to neck and limb.
The forest-house was justly entitled to its name.
Built centuries ago by a Baron von Zweiflingen
solely for hunting purposes, it was so to say lost in
the woods. Its owner had never dwelt there. The
house itself consisted of a single immense hall ;
but two luige towers, rising in front on each side,
contained a few chambers, in which the guests
of the great hunting ])arties of former times could
pass the night. Afccr the death of Miijor von
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
1]
Zu'ciflingen, his widow had settled in a small
Tluningian town. Her whole income consisted of
a very small sum that accnied to her from an an-
cient fouTulation of tlie ^'on Zueiflingen family :
a trifling i)ension, which the minister, Earon Fleu-
rv, had procured for her from the Duke of A ,
she had refused to accept. The luxury of keep-
ing servants, as a matter of course, was not to be
thought of. Sievert had therefore to provide for
ills own support, and lie was ahle to do so. He
had sold the little estate inherited from liis father,
and the interest of the cajiital was abundantly
sufficient to supply his own frugal wants. Two
years before, a disease of the spine had seized the
baroness, and thinking death to be near, slie had
demanded, with feverisli excitement, the. boon
of dying on Zweifiingen territoiy. With great
difficulty they succeeded in can-ying her to the
forest-house the last remnant of the formerly
magnificent estate, and here she awaited, in com-
itate seclusion, the hour of her deliverance.
The ground began gradually to rise under Sie-
vert's feet ; the old soldier waded to his ankles in
the snow left between the ruts, and had a fierce
encounter with the gale, that here blew with al-
most resistless force over the treeless slope of the
meadow. But already a roaring that promised
shelter was heard from above. Strange music,
indeed, is made by the wind, ^\hen blowing round
an old castle ; but not less impressive is its voice
when shaking the crowns of the forest, when
making a speaking trumpet of every dry and
curl}' oak leaf, and compelling the lifeless corpses
to join plaintive!}' in the song of the dead splen-
dor of the forest, telling of the loves of spring
and the dreams of summer ; and also of those
old, old times, when the notes resounded from
the bugles of the squires, and here and there the
golden tresses of noble ladies gleamed through
the thickets. j
To Sievert the song of the tempest, roaring ;
above him, contained another sentiment. It
sounded like the angry voices of the dead old
Barons von Zweifiingen : here they had lorded
it with all the weight of feudal power and privi-
leges ; oftentimes had they held court over the
])oachers and trespassers caught on their estate,
and passed bloody and inexorable sentences ; and
now the old soldier had to gather dry sticks on !
strange land to warm a sin';li^ room for tlie last
descendant of this once brilliant family; but a
few hours ago he had been creeping about in the
imderbrush, among the envious beggar children
of the village, to fill a few baskets from the scar- ;
let carpet of wintergreens, as a relish for the last
Baroness von Zweifiingen.
The old man whistled softly between his teeth,
like one trying to keep from breaking into a
sneering laugh. Suddenly he stopped ; an angry
grunt escaped his lips from afar, a feeble light
glimmered through the snow flakes, which, at
this moment, fell in somewhat diminislied num-
bers.
"Ha! she has forgotten again to hang the
quilt up over the window," he munnured angrily ;
'the wind will blow nicely through the room ;
now there is nothing lacking but for her to have
forgotten the stove too. "
He ran on, and suddenly burst into a loud
laugh, as the wind bore to him the full notes of
.1 piano.
" Well, there it is she is playing like fury I
might have known it I" growled he, as he hasten-
ed onward. In a moment all reflection vanished
before the indignation that mastered the old sol-
dier. What did he care now for the complain-
ing and angry shadows of the old Barons von
Zweifiingen, long since mouldered in their graves ;
he heard nothing but the tones gradually increas-
ing to a dashing melody, and saw the gleam of
hght, restlessly fluttering to and fro, which came
indeed from an uncovered tower window, whose
iron grating tJnew a wavering, indistinct shadow
upon the snow without.
The front of the forest-house stood back a
short distance behind the towers, while running
along this whole front, and raised a few feet fiom
the ground, a piazza, reached by a flight of steps,
connected the two towers. Opposite the stej)
that rose directly fi-om the ground, and broke
through the stone balustrade of the piazza in its
centre, an immense folding-door opened directlv
into the great hall. As Sievert ascended, the
light of his lantern fell upon two stone figures as
large as life, standing on parapets on each side
of the steps, representing agile youths in the cos-
tume of pages. With curly heads thrown back,
' and uplifted arms holding the stone bugles to
their mouihs, they had for centuries been soimd-
ing the bugle-call through the forest. What an
' assembly would have m^t, had this bugle-call
awakened all the dead sleepers who, intoxicated
with wine and huntsman's glee, had stood upon
the terrace, looking out over their wide forest
domain in proud consciousness of unassailable
rights all the representatives of so many genera-
tions, differing utterly in costume, manners, and
views, but doubtlessly now as ever a unit in one
purpose, to preseiwe their power at all hazards,
above all things to rule, and not to yield a hair's-
breadth of their old deeded privileges, but rather
to extend and enlarge them wherever an oppor-
tunity offered.
The slight noise caused by unlocking the door
resounded with ten-fold force throughout the
house, and when Sievert opened it, the hail with
its colossal dimensions appeared like an unfathom-
able abyss. His first steps were towards the stove ;
he opened it the grate yawned in blackest dark-
ness.
' ' Just as I expected, not a spark of fire ! It's
a sin and a shame ! " he growled. In a moment
he had laid aside the things he had brought with
him, and soon a bright fire was roaring m the
stove.
The gale entered through the chimney, and
drove the fiames far into the hall. Everv
time that this happened, a yellowish red light
gleamed on the opposite wall, and in mouldering
frames, placed near each other in a row, appeared
numerous manly figiu-es the size of life. All
were represented in hunter's garb, and generally
in situations calculated to show the courage and
noble blood of the Von Zweiflingens ; in most of
tliem, combats with huge boars and bears formed
the subject. Above the row of paintings appear-
ed the heads of stags, bearing the proud burden
of rare antlers, provided with white tablets, show-
ing in black letters when and by whom the no-
ble animals had been slain. These memorials
reached back into such a gray past, as to cause
the heai-t of a genuine old noble to thrill with
rapture at the sight. An orchestra-stand, too,
was Aisible ; here, in times of yove, the trumpets
12
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
Iiad sounded, and with merry notes amused the
noble lords while seated at the luxurious hunter's
feast now a low bleating was heard in that di-
rection ; the recess under the stand had been de-
graded to a goat-stall.
Sievert placed a tripod on the fire, and npon
this a vessel filled with fresh water it was the
most primitive kitchen fixture imaginable then
he put one of the freshly-brought tallow candles
into the brass candlestick. During these opera-
tions the stereotyped grim smile did not for a mo-
ment leave his {ace ; for through the partition-
walls the music of the piano came louder and
more dashing. The old soldier was e\idently no
enthusiast on the subject of music, or he would
have been forced to admire the incredible dexter-
ity of the fingering and the firmness of execution
these pearl-like, clear trills and roulades might
have challenged the criticism of the most refined
musical audience. And yet the prejudiced old
critic was not entirely wrong in using the word
"fury." Tlie brilliant Tarantella was played in
a dizzy, quick time ; the tones sparkled, but they
were cold sparks, that could kindle no warmth,
and left the hearer in doubt wliether waiTu life-
blood were really flowing in those fingers that
jjlayed so dexterously, and yet evenly as an au-
tomaton.
The old soldier took up the candle and opened
the door leading into the room on the ground
floor of the southern tower. WHiat contrasts
were separated by this door! Without, the deso-
late empty hall, with the ghostly, echoing stone
];avement, and the entire absence of every kind
of utensil ; and here, a room crowded with tndy
costly furniture. We use the term "crowded,"
for the room was quite small, and yet it contained
the entire furniture of a large drawing-room. It
was the last remnant of former splendor that the
widow had contrived to save. At first, this un-
expected magnificence dazzled the sight ; but
sui-prise soon yielded to a sentiment of melan-
choly, of deep compassion. These carved eta-
geres and tables of costly wood, these tete-a-teles
and arm - chairs covered with apricot - colored
satin, stood against walls hung with ancient
and threadbare leather tapestiy; tlie embossed
and once gilded arabesques of the tapestiy had
long since assumed a dirty brownish hue, and
looked the more unsightly by comparison with
the glittering surface of a mirror reaching to the
ceiling, or the gilt frame of an oil painting ;
while the windows were hung with common
cliintz curtains, and the gigantic dark stove tow-
ered rudely and awkwardly in tlie midst of the
surrounding elegant furniture, and deprived the
whole of the least appearanc6 of harmony.
Sievert crushed the candlewick, flickering and
smoking in the last stage of its existence, between
his fingers, and in its place he i)ut the fresh can-
dle upon the table.
The lady, the only occupant of the room, who
was cowering in an arm-chair, did not notice the
pleasant change, for she was. i)liud. " The poor
lady has wejjt herself l)lind!" said the people;
and, in reality, they were not mistaken. She too
heightened tlie jiainful impression caused by the
contrasts in tlie room ; she was inore than simply
clad, her dark calico dress fell with formal mock-
ery over the gorgeous cushions of the arm-chair.
" Are you there at last, Sievert ?" said she pet-
ulantly, in a feeble but shrill voice. " It always
takes you half an eternity to do your errands !
My daughter is practising, and does not hear my
voice. I have screamed myself almost hoarse
I am cold. At any rate, you did not see to the
stove before you left, and Jutta has forgotten to
hang the quilt before the window. You should
have thought of that, too and what horrid can-
dles you always bring to the house now ; they
make a strange smell and smoke. I would not
have tolerated such things fonnerly, not even in
the senants' room I "
The old sen'ant bore these reproaches without
uttering a word. Wax or spenn candles the bai-
oness was not able to pay for much less the oil
required for the magnificent astral lamp that had
been saved from the ruin. He silently opened a
closet, took out a faded silk quilt, and hung it
over the window nearest the complaining old lady.
The Baroness von Zweiflingen seized one of her
long cap-strings, and rolled it mechanicafly up
and down between her thin wax-like fingers a
movement betraying much neiTous excitement.
"You have brought home a horrid smell of
smoke in your clothes, Sievert," she again re-
sinned, turning her sightless eyes towards the win-
dow where she heard him still moving. " I sus-
pect that you are burning wet wood, though I can't
comprehend whj^ you should do so. You doubt-
less took care to have our supjjly of winter fuel
hauled here in summer, in proper season for you
are so very practical is it not stored then in a
dry place "r"
A sarcastic smile flitted round Sievert's lips on
hearing the word "hauled." Yes, his shoulders
Mere the team on which the winter fuel of the
baroness had this day been hauled ; and many a
still green branch might easily have slijjped in,
and be now hissing in the stove, and oftencling the
olfactories of the lady. Sievert had been treasur-
er of the Baroness von Zweiflingen ever since he
entered her service. At an earlier period, he had
managed to make both ends meet, and to keep up
an appearance of comfort in the face of the world,
though with much difficulty ; but now her sickness
required much money. But of tliat the baroness
did not think in the least ; nor did she at all sus-
pect that the supper she was about to eat, as also
the much-despised tallow candle, had been paid
for out of Sievert's own pocket ; for there was
not a single farthing left in the house.
The old servant, however, assured his mistress
that the wood was safely stored in the northern
tower, and threw all the blame u])on the storm
that kept blowing the smoke into the hall. Then
he coolly took a napkin, two cups, and a brass
tea-urn from the closet, and set the tea-table in
front of the sofa.
At this moment the player in the adjoining
room finished with a dasliing accord. The baron-
ess sighed, as if much relieved, and for a moment
pressed her hands to her tcmjiles. To her shat-
tered nerves the noisy music must have been a
real martyrdom.
The door of the side room opened. If instead
of curtains, dusty cobwebs had suddenly been
hung over tlie deep window-niches of the tower-
room ; if the elegant furniture had sunk into the
earth, and, instead of the tea-table, a distafl' had
risen by the side of the lady in the arm-chair, then
the apparition of Princess Dornroschen to the
murderous Lady Stubeupoesie could not have been
embodied in a more lovely form than at this mo-
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
13
ment. Close to the dismal dark monster of a
stove, in the frame of the open door, ajipeared a
young lady. These cliild-like hands, which now
smoothed the dark curls falling over her bosom,
were the same that had just been flying over the
piano keys wiih such marvellous energy. IIow
eiusy must the difficult movceau have been to the
youthful player not even the slightest flush of
exertion was visible on her countenance, wliich,
though pale, looked as fresh and spring-like as
the blossom of the cherry-tree. It had notliing
in common with that Hiiipocratic female profile,
which, so brown, mummy-like, and life-weary,
was now resting u})on the yellow silk cushion ;
but its clear lines of Grecian beauty were again
and again rejjeated in the long row of portraits in
the hall ; and the black eyes, that there spark-
led with the wild zeal of the chase, or in aristo-
cratic consciousness looked down upon the world
in cold indifference, here too sparkled, large and
wide open, in the white maiden face. To make
the coutrast between mother and daughter still
more striking, and to characterize the latter still
more as a shoot of the old Zweiflingens, nearly
all of whom were pictured in dresses of gorgeous
green velvet covered with gold embroidery, the
youthful form was clad in a rustling pale -blue
silken dress with a stitched border, the neck of
which, cut square, was trimmed with real lace, of
the yellowish white now esteemed by connoisseurs.
" Well, Sievert," said tlie young lady, stepping
into the room, ' ' can we have some boiling water
at last ?" Her eyes fell on the tea-table. ' ' What,
only two cups ?" cried she. ' ' Have you forgotten,
then, that w-e are expecting company ?"
" The company can not come, because the
student has been taken sick," answered Sievert
shortly, as he once more scrutinized the tea-urn,
holding it near the light to see if it shone without
a stain.
The. young lady suddenly looked as if all her
life-hopes had been crushed her lips assumed an
expression of the bitterest disappointment.
"Oh, how abominable!" she said poutingly.
" Must I cease, then, to anticipate the least en-
joyment ? Young Ehrhardt is sick then ? What
ails him, if it is permitted to ask ?" A mixture of
irony and incredulity troubled the child-like clear
tones of the young lady.
" Hm, I suppose the student took cold on tjje
journey," answered Sievert dryly, as he stepped
to the door.
" Well, but I don't see why the overseer should
be obliged to stay at home, too. Is he also afraid
of catching cold ?" asked tlie young lady.
" Don't be so childish, Jutta," pesvishly inter-
posed the old lady ; ' how can you exjject him to
leave his sick brother alone whom he has not
seen for more than two years, and whom he now
entertains for the first time in liis own house ?''
" Oh, mamma, do you also excuse him?"' cried
Jutta, striking lier hands together in indignant
astonishment. " Would you not have been deep-
ly grieved if papa had neglected you for the sake
of others, and "
"Silence, child !" commanded the baroness, in
so stem and excited a manner that the daughter,
terrified, abstained from further remarks. The
old lady leaned her head feebly on the arm of the
chair, and jjlaced a hand over her sightless eyes.
" Do not be angr}-, mamma," resumed the
young lady after a long pause ; " but on this point
I can not change such want of consideration on
the part of Theobald makes me very unliapjn' I
I have still my high ideal, and know that the
ladies of the house of the Von Zweiflingens have
at all times received the most respectful homage.
Only glance over the chronicle of our family ; j-ou
will there find that noble lords hurried eagerly to
death for the lady of their heart ; what were pa-
rents and brothers and sisters to them, when the
welfare and happiness of their beloved was at
stake ? But they of course had the sentiments of
noblemen !"
' ' You foolish girl ! " replied the mother, indig-
nantly. " Is this utter nonsense the sole result
of my training ?" She stopped ; for at this mo-
ment Sievert again entered the room, bearing in
one hand a glass of fresh water, and in the other
the white paper bag he had brought with liim
the latter he handed to Jutta. She opened it ;
but not a single feature of her face changed at
the sight of these fragrant messengers of love,
that had fearlessly hazarded their innocent heads,
exposing them to the whitry gale, that they might
console and in\igorate mortals deprived of light,
fragrance, and warmth. It is chaiTning to see a
young maiden softly and secretly press to her lips
the flowers sent by her beloved ; but this young
lady, already betrothed, was for the moment too
deeply oft'ended she did not even bend her head
to breathe in their fragrance. Spreading out the
paper upon the table, she loosed the bouquet, and
picked out the narcissuses alone. Sievert still
stood by her side, and offered her the glass ; but
she pushed it back \vith her hand.
"And the stalks are not trimmed either,'' said
she peevishly ; " I can't bear the muddy jiool in
the glasses." She stepped to the miiTor, and ar-
ranged the narcissuses, diadem-like, in her locks ;
and she did this in so ciiarming and natural a
manner that the white starry flowers appeared to
have dropped like snow upon the dark hair. The
unfortunate mother was at tliis moment doubly
worthy of pity in not being able to behold the
surpassing loveliness of her daughter ; perhaps the
sight would have made her forget the "utter
nonsense " which but a moment ago had been ut-
tered by those lips now smiling with inward con-
tent " very unhappy " the face certainly no long-
er a]3peared.
The old sen-ant deigned not a glance at the
beautiful form in front of the mirror, but a con-
temptuous smile drew down the comers of his
mouth as he left the room with the glass in his
hand.
Poets sing, in countless variations, the apparent
happiness of flowers when dying amid the hair, or
on the bosom of a beautiful maiden ; but tlie
rough soldier inwardly cursed tlie trouble he had
taken to cany the poor things so carefully through
snow and storm, that they might now miserably
perish here.
Shortly afterwards he brought in the water for
the tea, together with bread and butter, and push-
ed the sick lady in her arm-chair near to the ta-
ble ; he tlien withdrew to his own room on the
ground floor of the northern tower. Now at last
came his customary hour of relaxation. He
made a good fire in the stove, filled his pipe, and
began reading works on astronomy!
Jutta tin-ew back her lace cuffs on her wrists,
buttered the bread, and prejjared the tea.
"I know not why, my child." said the lady,
]i
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
inclining her ear attentively towards her daughter,
"but at eveiy movement you make to-day thei^e
is a rustling as of heavy, stiff silk."
The yoimg lady was visibly frightened ; a deep
blush for a moment covered her face and neck,
and she involuntarily moved back a little farther
out of her mother's reach.
" Have you put on your black silk apron ?" said
the blind lady, continuing her inquiiy.
' ' Yes, mamma, 1 have. " Tliis answer seemed
to be half stifled, but it came without hesitation.
' Strange the rustling never stnick me so be-
fore. If you had a silk dress in your wardrobe
at your disposal, I should say that yon were en-
joying the ridiculous pleasure of parading in the
ibrest-house like a lady in a drawing-room. But
what dress have you on ?"
" My old l)rown woollen dress, mamma."
The examination was at an end. Jntta breathed
more freely ; yet she made more noise than was
necessary v.ith the cups, and while tea lasted, she
kept herself stiff and immovable as a waxen im-
-ge.
The sick lady tasted hardly a morsel. She
broke a thin slice of the fine bread that Sievert
had brought on her account from Castle Arnsberg
lictween her fingers, but only a few crambs of it
] assed her lips; she was evidently very near the
last stage of her disease.
"You miglit read me something, Jutta, if you
arc through with your supper," said she, "the
storm howls so dismally."
" Willingly, mamma ; I will get Grillparzer's
Sappho. Theobald brought it to me yesteday."
A neiTOus, convulsive movement passed over
the limbs of the blind lady. "Ko! no!" she
cried, with a gesture of impetuous refusal. "Do
you know what this Sapjiho is ? An unfortunate,
betrayed woman ! A stoi-m of emotions most
torturing to the soul pervades the whole book
a storm far worse than that without, and I wish
to forget it I"
Tiie young lady rose to go for another book,
and, in so doing, she unconsi iously let her dress
touch her mother's right hand as it liung by her
side ; this hand suddenly seized the folds of the
dress as they were gliding by, and held them
firmly with a convulsive grasp ; while the left felt
the mateiial with feverish haste.
"Jutta, are your crazy?" she cried.
The daughter instantly sank by the aim-chair.
"Oh, mamma, forgive me I" siie whispered. Ter-
ror had made her Hps ashen white.
"Frivolous, heartless creature that you are I"
angiily exclaimed tlie mother, as she thnist back
the hands that had seized her own right hand.
"Did you not feel a spark of shame and respect
v.lien you were a))pro})riating to yourself my most
sacred relic ? My bridal dress, tiiat I have guard-
ed as tjie ajiple of my eye, the only remaining
v.itncss of that short but ra])turous period this
dress, wliich you kyow is destined to go with me
v.hen I shall at last be released from my suffer-
ings, you are now dragging, as if in mockery of
our poverty, over the miserable boards of our
forest-house, and enacting a farce, than wlmh
one more ridiculous or pitiful could hardly be
conceived I"
Jutta Iiurriedly rose with an angrv' mien. At
this moment, too, the last traces of fairy-like
loveliness vanished from the yor.ng maiden's fea-
tures. Half turning lier back on her indignant
mother, she seemed the veiy incarnation of stub-
born opposition. An air of petulance flitted
across her rapidly dilating nostrils, and with a
mocking smile she fixed her glittering eyes on the
portrait of a lady that was hanging over the sofh.
It was a girlish figure, with a head like a quad-
roon ; most irregular in its lines, and of a decided
bronze complexion, this little meagre face was ir-
resistibly captivating by the piquant, spirituelle
expression of the features, and the deep, half-
veiled eyes, in which passion was stealthily ghm-
mering. The dehcate brown shoulders were en-
veloped in white silken gauze, beneath which
hea^y satin was gleaming ; and in the thick dark
tresses nestled a bunch of jjomegi-anate flowers
fastened by a diamond pin.
Jutta's eyes remained fixed on the elegant toi-
lette of the picture.
"You talk as if I had committed a heinous
crime, mamma," said she, coldly. "I have not
apj)ropriated the dress ; I only took the liberty
of borrowing it for a few hours. The fe\f seams
I was obliged to put in can be ripped apart again
in a moment ; as for the rest, it is wholly unin-
jured. Theobald was intending to present his
brother to us this evening, and it is veiy natural
that I should wish to make at least a pleasing
impression on my new relative. JMy bio^^Ti wool-
len dress is horribly out of fashion, and has patches
which can no longer be easily concealed, and you
would never permit me to receive any thing of the
kind as a present from Theobald. You have for-
gotten, mamma, that you too were once young ;
or, rather, you can not understand my feelings
and sufferings, for your youth was so entirely dif-
ferent ! When I look at your portrait there, and
compare the white satin with my most brilliant
toilette that same precious brow n woollen dress
I ask, 'Why am I thrust out of that paradise, in
which you, mianima, were permitted to have so
brilliant an existence?' "
The blind lady gi'oaned, and covered her face
with her hands.
" I too am young, and of noble birth !" contin-
ued the daughter unrelentingly. " I too feel tlie
call in me to stand among and mhigle with the
great ones of the world, and yet I must pine
away in a dark coiner !"
Had it been the baroness's intention to bring up
bfcr child free from vanity and the love of the
wo; Id, and qualified to fill a modest and unas-
suming position in life, she had imprudently not
taken into consideration the existence of a very
eloquent adversary, one that was continually and
energetically counteracting all her endeavors
this was the mirror. Though the pitiful tallow
candle barely diffused a semi-twilight throughout
the room, so that only the white face of the
young maiden, with the pale stariy flowers in her
hair, and now and then a gleam of the brilliant
silk robe were visible, yet tlie miiTor, reaching to
the ceiling, reflected an image which, in its jjioud
expression and in the seductive charm of its
faultless form, was by no means to be compared
with the anemone of the forest, fading away lonely
and inoffensive.
" Of the whole large family estate, not a shil-
ling has been left for me, "said Jutta, persistently
continuing; while the blind lady, her face bmied
in her hands, remained in motionless silence.
"You say pajia lost it through misfortunes and
false friends : that, then, can not be altered : but
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
15
measures ought to be taken, on yours and on papa's
bide, at least to provide for ine according to ni}^
rank. A few days ago I read tliat tlie daughters of
indigent noble fainihes were generally provided for
at court as ladies of honor ; this knowledge has
excited me very much, mamma ; and I have been
trying to imagine for what reason you closed to
me the only road to a brilliant hfe."
"So this then is your candid confession of
fixith, Jutta!" said the bUnd lady in monotonous
tones, slowly dropping her hands into her lap.
The passionate energy of the baroness seemed to
have been suddenly extinguished and destroyed
by a single, unexpected moral blow. "And I
thought I might by education overcome the
promptings of your blood! All these character-
istics of our caste the love of pleasure, pride, the
ambition to be equal to the highest all are here ;
and if our own means do not suffice, we conde-
scend to bate our pretensions so many degrees,
and mingle with the semle pack, in order to have
the sun of royal favor shine upon us. I am not
wiling that you shoidd dwell in that sphere which
you call a paradise, do you hear ?" continued she,
more passionately, supporting herself with her
hands upon the arms of the chair, and thus rais-
ing somewhat higher her half-palsied fomi ;
" rather would I with my own hands wall you up
here in the old forest-house ! This must suffice
for the present. Hereafter, when your mind has
become more mature, and you have ceased to be
so childish and unreasonable wheni amuo more,
Theobald will tell you my reasons ! "
She leaned back exliuusted, and let her eyelids
sink over her eyes.
CHAPTER III.
Silence all at once prevailed in the room.
Jutta did not venture to utter a word of rejjly.
In the glance that she cast upon her sick mother,
there was something of shyness, fear, and sudden
fright at her own boldness. She walked up and
down a few times ; her little feet glided noiseless-
ly over the bare floor, as if sinking into the softest
carpet; only the fatal silk dress continued to
crackle and nistle as it touched the various arti-
cles of furniture. But without the tempest roar-
ed with increasing fury around the ancient tower-
walls. The last remnants of the leaves of the
groaning tree-tops rattled, in wild mingling with
the eddying snow, against the window-panes ;
and in the upper story, the neglected shutters of
the garret windows creaked helplessly on their
liinges.
In this general commotion a human voice was
suddenly heard.
In summer the forest-house was not so far re-
moved from the outer world as one might sup-
pose. The wood-road that Sievert had at first fol-
lowed passed, at a distance of aljout thirty paces,
along the northern side of the house. Thence it
ran, in nearly a straight line, across the crest of
the hills, in an easy ascent and descent towards
A . and again joined the highway some dis-
tance beyond, while the latter made a wide bend
round the base of the mountain ; thus shortening
the distance between Xeuenfeld and the city by at
least half a league. This circumstance, together
with the refreshing coolness of the forest, caused
this road to be used by others besides teamsters
with their loads of wood. The inhabitants of the
village passed over it going and coming, and some-
times called at Sievert's room about some errand
to be done for him in the city. On hot days even
travellers in carriages \jould avoid the dusty high-
way, and, amid the peace and green shade of the
forest, forget the unevenness of the road. This
artery of life that ran through tlie thicket was
perceptible to the inhabitants of the forest-house
only by the echoing laugh and chattering voices
of the passers-by, by the merry crack of the whip,
and in dry weather by the rattling of wheels. On
the other hand, very few of the travellers on this
road were aware of the existence of the ancient
hunting-seat in the heart of the forest ; for a thick-
et of underbrush, towered over by the dense foli-
age of the thick-set beeches, separated the house
from the road. With the beginning of winter all
sounds of active life entirely ceased. Only the
daws, that for centuries had built their nests in
the old towers, dared fearlessly hang out their
escutcheon near the weather-beaten one below in
the hall ; and they knew how to presene their
special forest privileges still more tenaciousl}' and
successfully than the Barons von Zweiflingen had
done, even when aided by their sealed parchments ;
with iiistling wings they circled round the lonely
house, and their dismal cries were often, for whole
weeks, the only expression of outer life that pen-
etrated the quiet rooms of the tower.
For this reason the sound of a human voice pro-
duced a startling effect upon the two ladies. The
bait)ness was aroused from her apathetic brood-
ing, and Jutta hastily opened the shutter of an
uncurtained window. The blast that met her
brought more plainly to their ears a repeated call
the loud halloo of a man's voice ; it came from
the north side of the house, and was obviously di-
rected to Sievert's lighted window. An answer
was returned by the old soldier, which, however,
the gale rendered quite indistinct ; and after ex-
changing a few words with the stranger, the old
servant came from his room and advanced to the
house door.
Jutta took the light and went out mto the hall
just at the moment when Sie\ ert, throwing open
the heavy folding-door, and stepping forth on the
piazza, held a blazing lantern into the impenetra-
ble darkness.
Quick firm steps passed over the little plat of
grass in front of the house ; at the foot of the steps
they halted, and immediately after a pair of nim-
ble little feet were heard ascending the steps.
"Both my coachmen are dangerously ill,"
said from without a deep, but very melodious
voice, though trembling with anger, and, as it ap-
peared, with bodily exertion. "I was therefore
obliged to take the postillion ; and because in
summer he commonly took this wood-road, he
was stupid enough to turn into its fathomless ruts
on a fearful night like this. The wind repeated-
ly blew out the lamps, and my carriage is now
standing yonder stuck in the mud. Is there not
somebody here who could stay by the horses till
the postillion has procured a relay ? and may we,
meanwhile, be permitted to enter ?"
Jutta stepped quickly into the doorway. She
held her hand protectingly over the flickering
flame ; this caused the light to fall with double in-
tensity upon the face and bust of the young maid-
en ; and as she stood there, bending forward, he.'
16
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
curly head bedecked ^nth flowers, her features
hearing an expression of smihng suspense, while
the flames in the chimney behind darted up from
time to time, making the portraits and stags'
heads on the wall appear hke strange nebulous
forms, those standing in the storm and night witli-
out must involuntarily have thought of one of
those enchanting apiiaritions described in fairy
lore as dwelling in old enchanted castles.
As Jutta stepped forward, a little girl about
six old years appeared on the threshold, and look-
ed up to the young lady with curious astonishment.
She was so wrajjped up in furs and otlier wintiy
coverings, that only a little nose and a pair of
large wide-open eyes were visible ; but these wrap-
pings were, in every particular, of tlie greatest ele-
gance and most costly material. The child was
carrying some object of considerable bulk upon her
arm ; and over it she carefully held her little cloak.
Now, too, there emerged from the darkness the
form of a man ; under the dark brilliant fur trim-
ming of his cap appeared the deep pallor of an
aristocratic countenance. The iiaste with which
the gentleman suddenly ascended tlie steps might
possibly have been caused by a feeling of moment-
ary astonisliment ; his features had, however, re-
covered their perfect composure as he reached Jut-
ta. He pushed the child into the hall, and made
the young lady a slight bow with the perfect non-
chalance of the most finished cavalier.
"Yonder in the carriage a lady is awaiting mj'
return with veiy excusable anxiety and fear,"
said he, with a smile whic'li was barely ])ercepti-
ble, but which, in connection with tlie melodious
tones of his voice, possessed a peculiar attraction.
"Will you have the goodness to take this child
in trust for a while under your especial care, un-
til I shall be able to return and present myself in |
due form ?"' |
Instead of answering, Jutta, with a graceful
movement, threw her arm around the little girl's
neck, and led her into the sitting-room ; while .
tlie stranger, accompanied by Sievert, returned to
the carriage.
".Mamma, I bring you a guest, a channing
little girl!" said the young lady joyously through
the oijen door. The impression of the recent
painful scene appeared to have utterly vanished
from iier mind. In huiried words she related
the occurrence in the woods.
"A'ery well, prepare some hot tea!" said the
baroness, making an elfort to sit ujiright. ller ema-
ciated hands passed over the folds of her simjile
dress, arranging them properly, and then touched
lier hair and cap, to see if all was in order. In
spite of her inner sejiaration from the wf)rld and
life, there was still something within iier that un-
consciously sun'ived, and manifested itself on fit-
ting occasions the finn clinging to the rules of
decorum; and as she sat tiiere, keeping her weak
spine erect with a powerful effort, her hands cross-
ed idly but gracefully in iier lap, none would in-
deed seek in her tiic original of the l)ewitching
girlish form above tlic sofa, yet would feel as-
sured tluit this feeble form had oiu'o found its ap-
projiriate jilace in the l)riliiant drawing-room.
"Come and shake hands with nie, my cliildl"'
said slie, inclining lier head with an expression
of friendly kindness in the direction where the
little stranger liad remained.
"Directly, dear lady," answered the child, who
had hitherto been gazing upon tlie frail old lady
with a certain timidity. "I must fii-st put pussy
down. "
She threw back her cloak, disclosing the snow-
white head of an Angora cat. The animal was
wrapped up to his ears in a rose-colored silk quilt,
and was evidently anxious to recover his freedom.
I Jutta aided her in taking oft" the soft covering,
[ and puss was then carefully deposited on the floor.
j He straightened and stretched his Umbs, that
must have suft'ered under the ]n-essure of too much
tenderness and care, and uttered a plaintive mew.
"Fie, shame on you, puss, to beg so!" scolded
tlie little girl reproachfidly ; yet in spite of this
reproving admonition to her pet, she cast a wist-
ful glance towards the milk-pitcher on the table.
" Ah, pugsy wants some milk !" laughed Jutta.
' ' Well, he shall have it ; but first, we will take
off" your hood and cloak."
She reached towards the WTappings ; but the
child stepjjed back and pushed away her hands.
"I will do it myself, said she, with much decis-
ion in her voice. "I do not allow even Lena to
do that she always treats me like a doll."
With this, the child took oft' her hood and
cloak, and placed them both upon Jutta's arm.
The young lady's fingers glided with visible satis-
faction, but also with a kind of resjiectful rever-
ence over the sable trimming and costly silk velvet
of the cloak ; the little creature before lier was
evidentl}- the child of persons of high rank. She
was a strange-looking being. Tall for her age, but
verj- narrow chested and frightfully thin ; the flat,
meagre little body looked as though the heavy
winter dress must crush her in its heavy folds.
The tliick, light, almost colorless hair, was cut
sliort, boy-fashion, and simply brushed back from
the temples behind the ears, an imbecoming style
whicli rendered the bony face still more angular.
At first sight the little girl appeared indeed ex-
ceedingly ugly, but the ungraceful, immature fig-
ure was soon forgotten on gazing into her deep,
innocent child-like eyes ! And tliey were indeed
veiy beautiful, fawn-like, brown eyes that were now
fixed earnestly and thoughtfully on the shrivelled
face of the blind old lady, while a soft childish
hand gently touched lier fingers.
"Ah! here you are, my little one!" said the
Baroness von Zweiflingen, drawing tlie little hands
nearer to her. " You are veiy fond of your pus-
sy, I sujijiose ?"
"Oh yes; ven* fond indeed!" said the child;
"grandmamma gave him to me, and on that ac-
count I like him muoh better than any thing
papa gives me besides, he brings me nothing
but dolls, and I can't bear them."
"What, don't you like that dearest of all play-
things ?"
"Not at all dolls' eyes are frightful ; and the
eternal dressing and undressing tires me. I don't
want to be like Lena, who is forever bringing me
new dresses, and tormenting me Avith them ; I
know veiy well tliat Lena dehghts in dress."
The baroness turned her head with a bitter smile
towards the jilace where tiie nistling of silk indi-
cated Jutta's presence. .She ojiened wide her
sightless eyes, as if slie must and would see her
daughter's" face, which at this moment, even under
tiie expressionless glance of her mother, was over-
spread with a slight blush.
"Well, then, pussy certainly must please you
better, " resumed the baroness after a short pause ;
"he never changes his dress."
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
17
The child smiled, and the smile transformed
her face, rounding her haggard cheeks, and
lighting up her thin pale lips with an expression
of gentle loveliness.
"Oh, I like him much better too because he
is so wise," said she. " I tell him all the pretty
stoi-ies I know or can invent ; and there he hes
before me on his cushion, blinking his eyes, and
purring as hard as he can ; he always does so
when any thing pleases him. Papa always
laughs at me, but yet it is true pussy knows my
name."
" Why, he is indeed a very remarkaMe animal ;
and what is your name, my little one ?"
" Gisela, the same as that of my dead grand-
mamma. "
A convulsive shock seemed to thrill the frame
of the baroness. " Your dead grandmamma?"
repeated she, listening with breathless attention ;
"who was your grandmamma?"
"The Countess Voldem," answered the child
almost solemnly. It was evident that she had
never heard the name pronounced, except with
the deepest respect.
The baroness suddenly flung off the little hand
she had hitherto been holding so affectionately in
her o^^n as if it had been a venomous sei-pent.
"The Countess Voldem. "cried she; "ha, ha,
ha ! the granddaughter of the Countess ViJldern
under viy roof! Is the spirit-lamp burning under
the tea-ura, Jutta ?"
"Yes, mamma," answered she, greatly teni-
fied ; there was something like insanity in the
voice and gestures of the old lady.
"Then blow it out at once," ordered she, harsh-
"But, mamma
"Blow it out, I tell you," repeated the baroness,
with wild earnestness.
Jutta obeyed. " It burns no longer," said she
in a low voice.
"Now carry out the salt and the bread."
This time the young lady obeyed the command
without opposition.
Little Gisela had at first timidly sought refuge
in a corner, as if gi'eatly frightened ; but the
startled expression in her little face soon gave
way to one of pride and indignation. She had
not been naughty, and yet tliis person had dared
to undertake to punish her. In her cliildish in-
nocence she had no idea that the orders of the
blind lady contained a formal declaration of war,
she only felt that she was treated unjustly an
experience that she evidently now made for the
first time in her young life.
" Youmust wait, pussy, till we reach Amsberg,"
said she, taking from him the saucer of milk that
Jutta had set on the floor. She seized her hood
and cloak, and made herself ready to start. She
was "just about to wrap the cat in the quilt, as
Jutta again entered.
"I will go out and ask papa to let me stay in
the carriage with Madame Herbeck !" cried the
child to Jutta, as she cast an indignant glance at
the bai'oness ; but the latter no longer seemed to
notice what was passing in the room. More
erect than before, with her head inclined in a lis-
tening attitude towards the door that led into the
hall, she sat there motionless as a statue. But
her fiice was all the more eagerly alive. The
man who at this moment was entering the hall
with a fiiTn and commanding tread, addressing
Sievert in such haughty-, authoritative tones,
would not perhaps have passed tlie door, could he
have seen this woman's face, in whose hard, tense
features, burning hate and inexorable revenge
lurked, as it were, suddenly to break forth upon
their prey.
The door opened. First a lady appeared on the
threshold. Her full fair face still bore the traces
of anxiety and fear, for it was perfectly bloodless,
and her disordered dress showed that her portly
figure had not passed the thicket without some
detriment ; but she bowed nevertheless with a
courteous smile, and with the perfect composure
of the woman of the world, as if lier feet had not
for a moment left the smooth floor of the draw-
ing-room.
Jutta saluted her imeasily, and with an anx-
ious glance towards the ghastly, solemn form in
the arm-chair. Without, the icy snow-storm was
still raging furiously, but between the four nar-
row walls of the tower it suddenly seemed to the
young lady sultry and oppressively hot, just as
before an electric discharge from the threatening
thunder-clouds of summer. Through the open
door she saw the gentleman hastily draw off his
cloak and hand it to Sievert, who stood near him
with his lantern. Never had the face of the old
soldier appeared to her so angiy and fidl of hatred
as at this moment. In spite of her inward anx-
iety, she was seized with a feeling of indescribable
indignation : how could the old ser%ant, in his
subordinate position, dare to show such an imper-
tinently defiant face to the commanding, aristo-
cratic fomi before him !
The gentleman stepped over the threshold.
He seized tlie hand of little Gisela, who ran to
meet him, and without noticing that the child had
an urgent entreaty on her lips, he advanced into
the room, in order to perform the promised self-
introduction, with an egligent, easy, and elegant
grace ; but the blind lady, with a sudden and
powerful convulsive movement, half raised her-
self from the arm-chair, and stretched out her
hands as if to ward off his approach. This fe-
male foiTn, so tenibly disfigured by disease, and
to which unchained passion had for a moment
lent an appearance of vigor, had somethmg truly
spectral.
"Not a step farther. Baron Fleuiy !" cried she.
" Do you know whose threshold you have passed,
and must I actually tell you that there is no
room for you in this house ?"
Of what modulations was this hoarse voice still
capable ! The unutterable contempt in the last
words was utterly crushing. The person ad-
dressed, visibly struck by the apparition, stood
for a moment as if rooted to the spot ; then, drop-
ping the hand of the child, he advanced with firm
step to tlie side of the sick ladj% Unable to re-
main longer in the attitude she had assumed, she
sank down exhausted ; but the energetic expres-
sion remained in her features, as well as in the
imjjerious gesture of the hand, with which she
pointed towards the door.
"Go, go!" she cried passionately. "You
need only step before the door to stand on your
excellency's own soil and ground. Baron Flen-
Tv's bailili" would certainly punish it as a viola-
tion of forest right, were I to tread on a blade of
grass gro\ring near the ancient walls of this house
but the roof over my head is still mine, incon-
testably mine, and here at least I have the com-
18
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
foiling satisfaction of being able to order you
out!"
Baron Flenry turned with a quiet gesture to
the kdy that liad accompanied him ; she was
still standing near the door in speechless aston-
ishment.
"Take Gisela out, Madame Herbeck I" said he,
in a voice showing no trace of emotion. This
perfect composure seemed truly imposing, com-
pared witii the passionate violence of the baron-
ess. But no wonder, for the veiy shape of this
man's head made it easy to retain the air of
haughty equanimity. The large lids shaded the
eyes, veiling the glance and rendering it unfath-
omable ; and the rather long and slightly-curved
nose, set firm, as if chiselled on a face which, if
not exactly fleshy, still did not allow the play of
the muscles to become too prominent.
Madame Herbeck hastily left the room. Across
the hall, Sievert's door was ajar ; a bright light
from it fell on the stone pavement of the hall ;
and the baron saw with satisfaction that the lady
with the child entered the small, comfortable
apartment and closed the door behind her.
"Who asked after me when I was thrust out
into darkness and miseiy?" continued the sick
lady, in a voice of wild reproach, when the steps of
the retiring persons had ceased to be heard. " Do
you know what it is, Baron Fleury, to suffer half
a life-time with silent lii)s, to sliow a calm face
while the proud hot heart is dying a thousand
times a martyr's death ? Do you know what it
is to have an insolent hand steal a jewel, about
which every fibre of our inmost life clings with
loving embrace to see the eye we love turn cold-
ly away from us, to rest with glowing desire on
a hated f\ice ? Do you know what it is to see
the once proud, firm spirit sink, step by st^p, to
know that he is a play thmg in disreputable hands,
whilst, exasperated at every attempt to rescue
him, he treats us as his bitterest foe ? I ask this
indeed in vain what knows Baron Eleiny of
true resignation and virtue I" interrupted she
herself, with unutterable bitterness, turning away
fiom him her facte, as he stood motionless by her
side. He had folded his arms, and was looking
down upon the blind lady with the patience and
forbearance, perhaps also the superiority of the
stronger. Not a feature of his countenance had
changed ; the long lids fell heavily over his eyes,
and the long laslics spread like a shadow over his
pale checks. Such a forehead as that now gleam-
ing under the dark curling masses of hair, so firm
and high, could belong only to an innocent con-
science or to the most consummate villain.
" But one thing your excellency will not fail
to comprehend!" continued the Baroness von
Zweiliingen, with heightened voice and inde?ci-ib-
able irony. "Do you know wliat it is to have
lived on the sunny heights of society, amid splen-
dor and abundance, and privileged in cveiy way,
and suddenly to l)e condemned to jjovcrty and
privation ? Of that the Fleuiy family can tell a
tale of their own ha, ha, ha ! France has al-
ways tliought that Germany must dance as slie
piped doubtless it was only consistency when
the fugitive peer of France, your noble father, at
length seized the violin, and taught Germany's
youth to dance, in order to earn a living !"
This struck home it was an uncovered spot
on the mailed breast of the adversary. On the
smooth marble surface of his forehead there ap-
peared two deep, dark wrinkles, the folded arms
suddenly loosened, and he involuntarily raised
his right hand threateningly over the head of the
blind lady; but at this moment two hot, soft hands
were laid entreatingly on his left.
Up to this time, Jutta, petrified with terror,
had remained in a dark window niche. The
man yonder, with the royal, imperious mien, was
the redoubtable, omnipotent prime minister of
the land. She had never seen him, but she knew
that a stroke of his pen, a word from his lips, suf-
ficed to decide irrevocably the weal and woe of
thousands,* as well as of individuals ; for in spite
of constitutional impediments, he ruled with the
utter recklessness and energy of an autocrat and
him the old blind lady dared to order from the
house and to load witli galling invectives, while
he listened quietly and with imposing calmness
as long as they regarded himself alone ! All the
feelings of the young lady rebelled against her
mother ; it did not occur to her to consider how-
far the passionate mother might be in the right
for to certain natures, the powerful are always
right ; they consider eveiy opposition to the de-
sire of the stronger as wrong in itself; and that
these natures are in the majority, the history of
the world conclusively ])roves, from the extreme
forbearance of the people.
The young lady acted in obedience to this sen-
timent when she sallied from her corner and
seized the hand of the insulted man. Wliat a
seductive charm overspread her youthful form,
when, throwing back her head of more than ideal
beauty, she looked anxiously up to iiim who had
patiently home such vituperation, and drew his
hands beseechingly to her breast ! At this touch,
the uplifted hand of the minister immediately fell ;
he turned his head, and raised the long, sleejjylids
what a glance ! It fell like a fiery rain into the
young lady's very soul. Fixing his burning, and
for a moment entirely unveiled eyes, with an ener-
getic expression, steadily on the blushing maiden's
face. Baron Fleury smiled, and slowly raised the
trembling little white hands to his lips.
And close by sat the blind mother awaiting in
breathless suspense a wrathful answer, a final
outburst of anger, and with it the satisfaction of
ha^^ng wounded her mortal enemy. She waited
in vain ; not a word followed. And yet he stood
near her, she heard him move ; yes, she had just
felt with disgust his breath on her face. Tiiis
ol)stinate, contemptuous silence, aroused in her
an incredible excitement.
" Yes, yes, the Fleurys have tasted the power
of changeful fortune in its height and breadth;"
she resumed, after a momentary pause, with a
bitter laugh, "for many generations they were
numbered among those who, by aristocratic kicks
aiul cuffs, gradually drove the French jtcople to
revolution. And after so much cruelty and in-
domitable pride, naught remained to them but a
cowardly flight across the llhine ! And the last
remnants of pro])erty, with all the eloquence they
had acquired at tiie Court of Versailles, were now
em]iloyed to stir up the neighboring peoi)le against
their own nation. Strange hands must gag and
bind the victim, that he might again lie ])atiently,
and without the power of resistance, at his mas-
ter's feet. Shame on such noble patriots I"
" Do not wander so far from the cjuestion,
madam,'" internipted the minister with i(y cold-
ness. " I have given you time and leisure to al-
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
10
lege a cause for the personal liatred that you seem
to foster against me ; instead of this, you stray
into petty revenge by slandering my innocent
family. M'ill you have the kindness to tell me
what excuse you can have for using such language
toward me ?"
" Just God, he asks this !" shrieked the blind
lady. "As if it were not his hand that helped
push my tmfortunate husband into tlie abyss."
She endeavored to control herself. Drawing a
deep breath, and once more, with great exertion,
straightening up her feeble body, she waved her
outstretched right hand with a solemn gesture,
and continued :
"Do you deny, then, that the possessions of
the Zweitiingens melted away at the green table,
over which his excellency, the present minister,
once presided? Do you deny that Baron Fleu-
ly's groom secretly carried to that blinded man
the billet-doux of the Countess Voldern, when,
moved by the fervent entreaties and unspeakable
sufferings of his wretched wife, he seemed inclined
to leave the path of faithlessness and ruin ? Do
you deny that he was driven to seek a premature
death because he discovered that honor was lost,
and too late recognized his seducers ? Do you
deny all this ? You have effronteiy enough ; and
thousands of cowardly souls ^\ill eclio the words
of the all-powerful minister ; but I I accuse you
with my last breath and there is a God in heav-
en!"
The pale cheeks of the baron grew still more
ashen, but this was his only sign of inward emo-
tion. The sleejjy lids again drooped over the
eyes, rendering them dull and impenetrable ; with
his slender, finely-shaped hand passing negligent-
ly over his glossy black beard, he seemed like one
listening to a tiresome speech rather than to so
feai-ful an accusation.
"You ai'e sick, madam," said he mildly, as
if speaking to a child ; while she, exhausted, re-
mained silent. " This circumstance, in my eyes,-*
perfectly excuses A'our unmeasured bitterness. I
shall try to forget it. It would be easy for me
to com])letely refute your accusations, and to
trace back much that may have happened to its
real source, a woman's boundless jealousy " with
these last words, uttered witli much emphasis, his
sonorous voice grew shaip and pointed as a dagger
"yet nothing could induce me, in the presence
of this young lady, to discuss things here that
might wound her feelings as a daughter.''
The blind lady broke out into a bitter, mocking
laugh.
"Oh, what dehcacy!" she cried. "Accept
my compliments for this brilliant stroke of diplo-
macy," added she, ironically. "However, speak
fearlessly ; whatever you may say, it will l)e cal-
culated to throw lurid gleams of light upon that
sphere which this young lady here, in her child-
ish dreams, is wont to call a paradise ! A para-
dise this treacherous crast over a bottomless
abyss! With the last remnants of energy and
strength left in my cnished soul, have I alienated
this child from the soil to which by birth she be-
longed ; yes, I tore her away, moved by a foith-
ful care for her well-being, as also I)y a desire to
revenge my own MTongs. The last of the Zwei-
flingens is about to enter the ranks of the com-
mon people, where I know she will be well pro-
vided for ; but the world will also say, ' Behold
what a miserable phantom is the nimbus of a
great name, when wealth is wanting!' a welcome
proof of the truth of modem radicalism which is
wrenching stone after stone from the old founda-
tion of aristocracy ! "
She sank back exhausted.
"And now, begone!" commanded she with
an expiring voice; "it would be the bitterest
conclusion of my sad life to be condemned to die
in your presence ! "
For a moment longer the minister stood unde-
cided ; but a something spread over the ashy
face of the sick lady which, though often misun-
derstood in its incipient stage, always impresses
by-standers with involuntary awe the seal of
death. While Jutta, anticij)ating a common
spasmodic attack, with trembling hands was
dropping some medicine in a spoon, the baron
slipjjed noiselessly to the door. On the thresh-
old he stopped, and turned his head toward the
young lady their eyes again met ; the spoon fell
from Jutta's trembling fingers, and the red mix-
ture stained tlie white tablecloth. The man in
the door smiled and disappeared ; his steps, before
so firm and commanding, glided almost noiseless-
ly over the echoing flag-stones. He did not pro-
ceed to the outer door, from whose threshold the
mistress of the forest-house had so resolutely or-
dered him to begone ; the tempest without raged
more furiously then ever, and shook the oaken
door-planks as if calling the victim to come forth,
to hurl him with crashing force against the tmnks
of the forest-trees. The minister waited in Sie-
vert's well-heated room till the old soldier, who
had remained with the horses, returned. AVith
him came some sen-ants from Amsberg; they
canied huge lanterns, that, -walking in front, they
might light up the narrow, dangerous forest-road.
With the aid of fresh horses, the carnage had al-
ready been dra\\n out of the deep ruts ; and five
minutes later, the inhospitable house again lay
lonely and desolate amid the tossing tops of the
forest-trees.
It WAS not yet midnight when two messengers,
a workman from the foundiy and old Sievert, has-
tened through the snow-boimd but now silent for-
est to the village of Greinsfeld, to summon the
physician. At the overseer's house, young Ber-
thold Ehrhardt was raging in the mad foncies of
fever. Amid continued maledictions, he was
pushing away from himself the white, beseecliing-
ly-folded hands of the Countess Voldeni, whom
he saw prostrate at his feet, her long golden hair
sweeping the floor behind her, and the rivulet of
blood trickling from her temples over her snowy-
neck and bosom. But in the forest-house there
lay one for whom the journey through the woods
had been taken in vain. She fought the last hard
fight almost without pain. The icy hands lay
immovable on her breast ; at increasing intervals
the almost inaudible breath m.oved her hps, and
the half-closed eyelids twitched and vibrated in
the last gentle convulsion ; but around the mouth
flitted already that quiet smile, which we love to
regard as the harbinger of sweet rejjose and per-
feet content. "Wliere was the wounded soul
which, a few hours before, rising once more on the
wings of boisterous passion, had looked glittering
out of these now lustreless eyes ?
Jutta lay on the floor, pillowing her head on the
breast of her dying mother. In her dark curls the
narcissuses were still nestling, now folding their
withered white petals ; and the gorgeous blue silk
20
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
robe trailed over the rough hoards, bitterlv remind-
ing her, -vvith its low crackling and rustling, of the
last pain that the daughter had caused to the ma-
ternal heart, for which she could never more re-
ceive forgiveness, and for which she coidd never
atone.
CILVI'TER IV.
In the little churchyard of Neuenfeld, inclosed
bv a half-dilapidated plastered wall, the mortal re-
mains of the Baroness von Zweifiingen had, a few
davs before, been laid to rest. Not a single one
of those gray moss-covered emblems was here visi-
ble emblems, which, in aristocratic family vaults,
tell with tongues of stone of the eternal privileges
and insurmountable barriers between the children
of men. Quite contraiy to the design of their
sculptured decorations, emjjloyed, even in the
verv' face of follen worldly glory, to extort rever-
ence for a mouldering race, we are only mindful
of the fact that the poor soids must retum, imveil-
ed and unmasked, to the hand of God, in which
they are weighed in a manner quite diiferent from
that employed on this little globe, where the age
in which we live is idolatrous enough to throw
worldly possessions and a coat of ai'ms into the
scale.
Now, indeed, a cover of snow lay over all
things, levelling the few rows of graves in the
wretched village cemeteiy, their white monotony
only now and then tlisturbed by a plain black
wooden cross half overturned liy the wind, the
restiiig-]jlace of solitary crows ; but in summer
the sweet fragrance and shade of the forest swept
over the wall, which, rising with the hill, was
here in close proximity to the last l)eeches. Then
life flowed and swelled in the intense gieen of
the hazel thickets that grew luxuriantly in the
four comers of the inclosure ; in the veins of
the niml)le tln-ushes aiul redlireasts that dwelt un-
molested in the thickets ; in the blackberry-bushes,
whose long amis creyjt clieerily through the
breaches of the cnmihling wall, and deposited
upon the lonely, shuimed turf, a wealth of luscious,
juicy berries ; and the sunbeams, too, flitted to
and fro, and drew forth one bright blossom after
another out of the embrace of death ; there the
majestic idea of the resurrection seemed more
convincing than amid the sepulchral vaults where
comi))tion and decay alone rule !
Perhaps this thought, but still more the glow-
ing hatred toward her own caste, had prompted
the Baroness von Zweifiingen wlien she expressed
the wish to rest in this lonely grave.
On the same day that the dark earth closed
over the cold form of the blind lady, .Jutta had left
the forest-house, leaning on the arm of the over-
seer, and had gone to take up her abode at the
parsonage, there to remain until the moment
when, as a bride, she shoidd enter tlie overseer's
house. Although the reality ])ressed so crushing-
ly u])on the young man at home lay his brother,
almost ho])elessly sick with a' ncnous fever, whom
he alone nursed day and niglit, and the woman
who had been to him as a mother was now no
more still, during the walk tiu'ougli the forest, a
feeling of unutterable ha])))iness liad driven away
eveiy sorrow and care. The \y,\\e maiden by his
side, the idol of idl his thoughts, had now, in the
M'hole wide world, none left but him ; and though
she walked along silently, and with dox^Ticast eyes,
more quiet and reserved than she had ever before
appeared ; though her hand, fomrerly so nenous
and restless, had lain with marble-like immobility
upon his ann ; still, all tliis apparent strangeness
and coldness could have but one ground, wliich
even surrounded her with a nev/ halo grief for
her departed mother. For he knew that on his
heart she would at last weep away the deep, tear-
less sortow, that her young soul \'ould gradually
regain that freshness and speaking vivacity which
had so irresistibly captivated him, the serious,
tacitum man. How woidd he cherish and watch
over her! He believed in his future happiness
as fiimly as that the sim was now shining over
his head. Had not Jutta, times without number,
affimied that she loved him unspeakably, aTid had
she not, with childish delight, described the in-
finite joy she anticipated from nding the overseer's
house as his little wife ?
The parson's wife liad placed at the young
lady's disposal the only inliabitable room that
could be heated in the ujjper story of the ancient
and much-dilapidated parsonage. Some fimii-
ture and the jnano had been brought over from
the forest-house ; in the minister's house, not a
single article of furniture not absolutely needed
was to be found ; for lie was poor, as only the
modest pastor of a Aillage in the Thuringian for-
est can be, who, as a poor candidate, had wooed
a still poorer maiden, and had married her as
soon as he had obtained the first much-longed-for
living.
The costly articles of furniture from the gloomy
tower chamber had to endure a still further deg-
radation ; for now they had to stand against
white-washed walls, the smooth monoijuous sur-
fiice of Mhich, however, was covered over liy a
gracefid web of trailing vines ; and every ray
of the winter sun which was peej)ing through
the snow-clouds without entered through one of
the comer windows, and spread glittering golden
bands over the joyous green tapestiy of the walls
and the chinks in the floor. Though the exqui-
site sylvan landscape before the windows was now
covered with snow and ice, yet the thick foliage
of the summer had also yielded to the wintiy
l)last, and ])ermitted many tilings to be seen which
at other seasons Mere almost concealed by the
green walls and dark shades of the forest. The
village of Neuenfeld, and above all, the little cor-
ner room of the parsonage, enjoyed on this ac-
count, during the evening, a. rare si)ectaclc.
As soon as the sun had disap])eared, the win-
dows of Castle Amsberg, situated at some con-
siderable distance, and for many years uninhabit-
ed, gleamed witii light ; and as the darkness of the
night increased, the more brilliantly gloAved the
rows of windows. In tlie long conidors burned
immense globe-lamps, hanging from tlie ceiling,
and flooding the most remote comers and angles
with their white light. Even in Prince Hcinrich's
time the castle had never been illuminated with
such splendor. A thoroughly warmed air, too,
streamed through the huge old building from the
attic down to the wide-echoing vestibule below;
and the stairs and landing-places, wjierever the
foot might tread, were covered with soft, warm
cai-pets. The well-kept oraugeiy had been trans-
ferred from the hot-house into the castle, and the
tall orange, myrtle, and oleander trees, once Prince
Heiinicli's pride, as well as the object of his tender
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
21
care, now stood, like footmen on duty, at the wind-
ings of the stairs and in the vestibules, in order to
awaken a fleeting dream of summer green and
sunnv warmth and all this for the sake of a child,
a weak, little, spoiled girl. i
Baron Flcury guarded little Gisela as the ap-
ple of his eye. ' It almost seemed as if his whole
mind and "thought revolved round this tender
creature and her welfare. And tlie Avorld praised
him so much the more for this affectionate care,
since Gisela was not his own child. The Count-
ess \'oldem, as we already know, had only one
daughter, who was married first to Count ISturm. ,
It was generally understood that this marriage, '
although the fruit of mutual and glowing affec-
tion, and actually entered into against the wishes j
of the Countess Voldem, had been very unhappy, '
and that the young countess had had no reason
to deijlore the fall from his horse, in consequence
of which her husband had died in the tenth year
of his man-ied life. The countess had borne three
children, of which only the youngest, little Gisela,
survived. At the veiy time when Count Sturm j
lost his life, Baron Fleury had been appointed ^
minister to the Duke of A ; and gossips as-
serted that his excellency, even in the life-time of
her husband, had cherished a secret affection for
the beautifid countess. This supposition was con-
firmed when the baron, after the ]ai)se of the year
of moaming, sued for and obtained the widow's
hand. Some malicious persons, indeed, intimated
that he owed this favor less to his personal qual-
ities than to his influence at court by means of
which the Countess Vuldem hoped to regain en-
trance there for herself; for, first, as the friend of
Prince Heinrich, and, later, as his fortunate sole
heiress, slie had for a long time been under the
ban of the court. In effect, she completely at-
tained her aim through the second marriage of
her daughter ; and the time during which she was
again permitted to ajjpear at the Court of A ,
was, even in later years, remembered by the'
courtiers as a heavenly ejxjch.
By means of her still enchanting beauty and
her riches, which she lavished with a prodigal
hand, in order to strengthen the slippery gi-ound
beneath her feet, she had surrounded herself with
a splendor till then unseen. This triumph, how-
ever, she did not long enjoy. The Baroness
Fleuiy died in childbed, after giving birth to a
dead boy, and three years later the Countess Vol-
dem departed as gently and hai)pily as a saint the
people said, like Sievert. She had only been sick
two days. Like a devout Catholic, she had in
due fonn received the sacrament of extreme unc-
tion, and had passed away in her sleep with an
almost child-like innocent smile. From far and
near came the people to see the angelic, wax-like
form in the coflSn the woman who had sinned
so much, and had never suffered. The little
Countess Gisela, then five years of age, and ut-
terly an oi-phan, remained in the liouse of her
stepfather. She was the sole heiress of the en-
tii'e estate of the Countess Voldem, witli the ex-
ception of Amsberg, which long ago had ceased
to be the property of the countess. For, to the
gi-eat astonishment of the world, the heiress had,
a feAv months after her accession to the inherit-
ance of Prince Heinrich, sold the castle, together
with all the land belonging thereto, consisting of
forest and field, to Baron Fleur^', with whom at
that time she had no particular acquaintance, for
the sum of thirty thousand dollars ; giving as a
pretext the generally ridiculed and highly senti-
mental pretense, that the place where her lament-
ed friend the prince had died awakened in her
too painfid recollections.
The little countess, therefore, in her flight from
the t_%-[jhus fever, did not appear at Castle Ams-
berg as its mistress, but as the guest of her step-
father. The latter, moreover, had not verified
Sieveit's conjecture, but had left, after a stay of
but two days, in order to visit the duke, who was
passing his time at a hunting-castle at some dis-
tance from A . Jutta had not seen the minis-
ter again. On the day after the baroness's death,
Madame Herbeck had called at the forest-house,
to condole in behalf of his excellency ; and the
gorgeous bouquet, which at the funeral was seen
lying at the feet of the deceased, had come from
the hothouse at Amsberg. "NMio woidd have
dared tell that inifortunate lady in her last hours
that a present of flowers from his hand, would
moulder in the same coftin ^^ith her own body !
Aleanwhile the Christmas festival had come.
In its clanking, icy breast-plate, flinging the skirt
ot its trailing mantle of snow up to the window-
sills of the humble rustic cottages, it passed over
the Thuringian forest. Frozen tears hung on its
lashes, and the blowing of its breath dro^e all
warm life behind protecting doors and walls; but
the crown of firs gleamed like a royal diadem
over the dear sainted face. The cold winter sun
stood unveiled in the clear blue heavens, and
drew pale sparks from eveiy icicle ; and, with ar-
tistic fingers, flitted here and there over a young
pine-tree in the forest nursery. Tlie tree stood
and dreamed, in the listless toqior of its winter
sleep, of gi'owing and waxing tall ; of the time
when its slender stem would stretch high up into
the blue air, and touch the golden stars with its
top ; of the jjuqjlc blossoms which in times to
come woidd glow among its branches, and there,
caressed by tlie light of the sun, its high-bora
beauty would sliine far out into the wide, wide
world. Suddenly it awakes, aroused by a mild,
warm air ; but its slender top does not yet tower
to heaven, and the red Ijlossoms are yet slumber-
ing away unopened ; but instead, the stars from
above have sunk down, and are glittering on its
twigs, and the poor frightened little pine-tree has
itself become a flower, the beaming, man-ellous
flower of winter. Oh, sweet, bUssful time of
Christmas I
Bright sunshine rested also upon the blooming
face of the pastor's wife at Neuenfeld. Her some-
v.hat fiiTn but veiy regular features always bore
the precious stamp of undisturbed, almost mirth-
fid serenity ; but now something like secret joy
I seemed to laugh forth from them. For the ^\om-
an had seven children, and these seven idolized
little blond heads were to be suqnised by the
sight of a Christmas-tree. This time it had been
no easy ta,sk to provide the means for the Christ-
mas gifts. Tlie potato crop had failed, and the
' parson had been absolutely compelled to procure
a new winter coat ; still, to have roast-goose four
times a year on the table of a poor Thuringian
[ pastor would be sinful extravagance, and there-
! fore with a light heart the wife sent three of her
' well-fatted geese to A , where they were sold
for a good price. The single cow in "the pastor's
stable furnished daily, to be sure, the same quan-
tity of milk ; but of the celebrated Keuenfeld par-
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
sonage butter, one pound more than usual was '
Aseekly sent to market ; and for months the pas-
tor's wife ate lier bread at breakfast, and her po-
tatoes at supper, witli salt as the only relish, and
Rosamond, the trusty old sen-ant, bravely imi-
tated her mistress in this heroic abstinence. And
finally came the day, when all the gi'oschen, so
carefully saved, returned to the parsonage in the
shape of sundiy packages and parcels. While
the old half- frozen carrier - woman behind the
bolted kitchen door was taking out of her huge
basket, with benumbed fingers, piece by piece,
these treasures brought from a distance, three
little girls stood still as mice without, upon the
ancient foot -worn threshold, with their thick
blond curls pressed close to the crack of the door,
where, with their chilled little hands under their
aprons, they listened, like true daughters of Eve ;
^\liile three wild boys, who had concluded that it
was useless to peep through the key-hole, tried to
spoil the enjoyment of their persevering sisters
by pulling their skirts and hair. Suddenly some-
tliing fell and rolled upon the brick floor of the
kitchen with a light, rattling noise. "A nut!
a nut ! " cried the chorus of listeners, betraying
themselves in their great joy ; and the pastor's
wife, with a low laugh, opened a package, and
held it noiselessly to the crack in the door. "Ah,
gingerbread !" Is there a child's soul that would
not by its fragrance be reminded of blissful
Christmas ?
By all these meiTy, mysterious doings in the
lower story, Jutta was not in the least affected.
Only at meal-times did she make her appearance
in the sitting-room. The new black woollen
dress, with crape trimming around the neck, fell
in soft folds, forming a long train upon the floor,
and lent to her figure, which had suddenly adopt-
ed a stately and ^ery measured movement, a sort
of quiet majesty. This impression was height-
ened by the lily whiteness of the face, with the
lips, for the most part, firmly closed. The
charming dimples which a smile called forth in
the cheeks of the young maiden the inmates of
the parsonage had not yet seen ; and the cautious
care with which her soft, brilliant white hands
lifted the dragging train when entering the com-
nion-rooin, was employed not only on account of
the sanded floor, but also as a condescending yet
very decided waving off of hands for tlie group
of children. The little ones looked up timidly to
the grave, silent guest across the table ; the live-
ly clatter of spoons and forks sounded more sub-
dued, and the chattering little mouths were closed
in uneasy and troubled silence.
The pastor resi)ected Jutta's deep, silent mourn-
ing, and treated her with increased esteem and
consideration ; tlie glance of a wife and mother,
liowever, is more penetrating. The pastor's wife
often cast ui)on Jutta a stealthy and searching
look. It was not the heartfelt grief of a mourn-
ing soul that gave to the face oi)])osite the stamp
of haughty seclusion, and caused the glance of
the yoinig lady to fall icy cold and devoid of all
interest on her little idols, whose vivacity often
made them irresistibly attractive; deej), silent
mouming recoils from and shuns every luud
noise ; but Jutta had already resumed her pi-
ano practice, and often strummed the keys for
hours together. Since, liowever, the character
of every tnie and goiuiino woman inclines her to
find an excuse for all oil'ensive characteristics in
her owTi sex, the pastor's wife came to the con-
clusion that Jutta was pardonably vexed because
she had almost no opportunity of seeing her be-
trothed. Young Berthold was yet hovering be-
tween life and death ; and though Sievert took a
share in nursing him, and often for days and
nights did not leave the overseer's house, still the
fear of spreading the contagious disease restrain-
ed the overseer from making frequent calls at the
pai'sonage. Hitherto he had been there but once,
and then only after having changed his dress at
the foundry, and taken a long walk in the open
air.
On the other hand, Madame Herbeck, accom-
panied by the little countess, almost daily visited
the mourning maiden in her corner room. She
never would enter the sitting-room, but she per-
mitted little Gisela, though only for a few min-
utes, to go occasionally into the children's room,
while she, seated by Jutta's side, woidd prattle
unweariedly till the appi-oach of night.
The holy night had now come. The hard,
unmingled tints that characterize the clear win-
ter day were gradually blending into the dim
gray of twilight. It was veiy cold ; the breath
became a pillar of steam in the icy air, and the
hard -frozen snow crackled under the wagon -
wheels and the steps of men. In spite of all
this, Madame Herbeck, with the little countess,
had come to the parsonage. Gisela wished to
see the Clhristmas-tree ; her own was not to be
lighted till the following da}'.
In the little iron stove of the corner room a
well-fed fire was roaring and crackling; a few
grains of pastille po^^der were evaporating on the
hot plate, and the fragrant clouds arising thence
mingled with the aroma that issued from a little
coflee-urn standing on the table in fiont of tlie
sofa. No candle was yet lighted. The thick
calico curtains allowed the last uncertain light
of the departing day to fall only in slender, pale
rays on the floor, ^^]n\e deep shadows hovered
over the walls. But from the draught-hole, and
through the ill-fitting doors of the stove, there
came an intense glare that threw reddish tints
u])oii the elegant jiiano and the white satin dress
of the mother's jiortrait above it. A more cosy
room than this corner chamber, in the twilight of
a winter evening, could hardly be imagined.
Little Gisela was kneeling on a chair near the
window. She was not yet pennitted to enter the
children's room, for the little ones were taking a
bath. For the jircsent she amused herself by
I watching a hungry raven hopjiing about on a
neighboring jiear-tree, and shaking whole cargoes
of snow from the branches at cveiy flap of his
I black wings. The jilain-looking little face by no
means exhibited the supcrflcial interest with whicli
a child is wont to follow the (piick movements of a
bird. This young head evidently concealed a pro-
pensity to meditation and brooding to that self-
searching contemplation which, with eager jier-
sistency, in(iuires itito the cause and origin of all
things," and thereby loses for a time all connection
M'ith the world without. For this reason it is
certain that the child with the deejily thoughtful
look did not hear a word of the conversation be-
tween the two ladies who were seated behind her
on the sofa.
; I\Iadame Herbeck had thrown her arm roiuid
Jutta's delicate waist. This lady, though sonie-
: what advanced in years, was still very beautiful ;
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
23
as was all the move evident at this moment when,
by the side of the smpassing loveliness of t!ie
young maiden, she could still stand her ground.
To the critical connoisseur of female charms, her
form, to be sure, might appear a little too portly
and hixuriant ; and many a delicate, pure, wom-
anly mind would instinctively shrink from that
often strangely smiling, and yet swimming glance.
But her exuberant form seemed so healthy and
rosy, and her large and somewhat protruding eyes
could at proper moments look so earnest and hon-
est, that public o])inion unanimously pronounced
this M-oman beautiful, respectable, and very ami-
able. She was the childless widow of a poor army
officer of an old noble family, and had already in
the lifetime of the Countess ^'oldern acted as
Gisela's governess in the house of the minister.
Always unconditionally and skillfully entering
into the intentions and views of the grandmother
respecting the education of the child, she had
been designated by the former, on her death-bed,
as a person most eminently fitted for the guidance
and development of the soul of this child.
She was now seated there in an elegant dark
silk dress, with her beautiful luxuriant hair fash-
ionably and tastefully arranged by the hands of a
clever maid relating episodes of the life and the
doings of the great world ; while from the coim-
tenance of the young lady, who was leaning list-
lessly and yieldingly against her more portly com-
panion, the stamp of deep, silent mourning had
entirely disappeared. This was again the young
girl longing for the enjoyment of life that we saw
in front of the mirror, arrayed in the wedding-
dress of her mother, with the narcissuses in her
hair. Her eyes sparkled in rapt attention, and hung
on the rosy lips of the speaker, \\ho was unfolding
one after another a series of highly-colored, allur-
ing scenes of high life. The young lady was as
far removed from the reality, the narrow comer
room, as the thoughtful child at the window ; only
at infrequent intervals she started and threw an
angry glance at the door. Withou t ^^as old Rosa-
mond on the floor, the smoking kitchen-lamp near
her, scrubl)ing with real fervor and devotion the
hall and steps, the last remains of her Christmas
work. She knew too well that the feet of the little
sa\'ages would run, by preference, from tlie mud-
dy streets and gutters directly across the fresh-
ly-scrubbed floor; and therefore she vehemently
threw on each newly-washed place whole liand-
fuls of protecting sand.
Quick steps resounded in the hall, and the pas-
tor's wife entered the room ; in her left hand she
carried a lighted candle, and on her right arm her
youngest boy, w^rapped in a thick ^^;Jo]len shawl.
The tall, vigorous woman, with her glowing cheeks
and energetic movements, was the picture of
tireless activity. She uttered a friendly good-
evening, and placed the candle on the piano,
wlule both ladies held their hands before theii-
dazzled eyes.
"We are quite busy to-day in the old parson-
age, are we not. Miss Jutta ?" said she, smiling,
and showing two rows of sound, closely-set teeth.
"Well, as a compensation, you shall have to-
moiTOw a very quiet holiday, a noiseless, empty
house. My husband is to jireach at the chapel
in Greinsfeld, and our noisy little troop is going
there too old Cousin Roder has invited them to
sjjend the day. Miss Jutta, I would like to leave
my little darling with you here for half an hour.
Rosamond is busy scrubbing, and is apt to grum-
ble if called away from her work ; and absolute-
ly nothing can be done with the children to-day.
They run from one key-hole to the other, and
look up to the sky to see if it will soon be dark,
and would not care if the little rogue here, wlio
likes to climb by the chairs, shoidd fall a dozen
times u])on his nose. For myself, ten hands
would not be enough to-day ; the children are al-
ready listening to hear the bell, and there is not
a single thing yet upon the Christmas table. "
With these words, she unwrapped the shawl,
and put the little one in the young lady's lap.
"So, there you have him!" said she, smoothing
^\ith her large, powerfid hand, the flaxen down
of tlie little head, that had been twisted under the
pressure of the shawl into close curls. "He is
just come from the bath, and is sweet and clean
as a nut. He won't trouble you much he is the
best of all my children. "
Full of the unshaken confidence of a mother's
love, that ever finds its o\\n child irresistible, it
had not occurred to her to cast a searching glance
at Miss Jutta's face. Her eyes rested with ten-
der pride on the chubby little creature that obe-
diently remained seated on the young lady's lap,
while his four new teeth were vigorously crunch-
ing the cracker which his mother had put into his
little hand.
The pastor's wife stepped quickly back to the
door'; but those two merry blue eyes had the keen
glance of a field-marshal in all matters pertaining
to the household economy. They detected, even
A\hen she was in the greatest haste, every viola-
tion of the laws of neatness, and she suddenly
stood still, and took hold of one of the ivy branch-
es that was striving to reach the portrait of the
deceased baroness, and ^^as brightly illuminated
by the light of the candle the young shoot hung
drooping and half-withered on the stalk from
^\ant of water.
' ' Alas, poor thing ! " cried she compassionately,
as she seized a pitcherful of water, and moistened
the hard-baked earth in the flower-pots. " Miss
Jutta," said she with friendly seriousness, as she
turned to the young lady, "you ought to have
more regard for this ivy. Wlien I celebi-ated the
anniversary of my marriage for the first time here
in the parsonage, we had hard work to make both
ends meet. A cliild had come, and the purse
was empty; my husband had not a groschen in
his pocket; but early in the morning he came in
from the forest, and jilaced these pots on the win-
dow-sill, and for the first time in my life I saw
j that he had been weeping. I did not quite like
to bring them up here," continued she frankly,
while her busy hand Avas again binding the drooj)-
[ ing nmner to the string that ran along the wall ;
I ' ' but we can get no paper, for neither my hus-
band nor the church can aflbrd it, and the bare
white walls looked disrespectful towards our dear
guest."
With these words, her features had again re-
sumed their expression of undisturbed serenity.
the placed the candle on the table before the
sofa, nodded to her baby, and quickly left the
room.
As the door closed, Madame Herbeck looked
for a moment, as if speechless with astonishment,
into Jutta's face, and then broke forth in a clear,
mocking laugh.
"Well, I declare; there is simplicity that can
2i
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
not be equalled," cried she, clasping her hands,
and sinking back on the cushions of the sofa.
"Heavens! what a resigned look you put on,
my dear ! and what a chamiing child's nurse you
are! I could die of laugliing."
Jutta had never before held a child in her lap,
and even as a little girl she had seldom been per-
mitted to have any intercourse with plaTOiates
of her o^\^l age. When the dissension between
her parents broke forth, she was scarcely two
years old ; and she had been given over to the
care of the widow of a liigh functionaiy, liAing in
conventual seclusion, in order that she might learn
nothing of the terrible strife in her parents' house.
Only a short time before her father's death had
she been pennitted to return to her mother, and
she had thus passed the greater part of hei child-
hood almost exclusively with this old lady, whose
task it had been to bring her up solely for a mod-
est and unpretending position in life.
And certainly it did seem as if this young
mAiden's soul were deprived of that instinct which
irresistibly draws the genuine woman towards the
child-world, and makes her even without instnic-
tion an apt nurse for the little ones ; for with her
body uneasily bent back, and letting her arms fall
stiffly by her side, she looked with a kind of ter-
ror upon the poor little protege thus forced upon
her care. But she was also inwardly embittered
at the imputation thrown upon her ; she frowned
gloomily, and her fine pearly teeth bmied them-
selves deep in her under lip.
"Ah! and how cleverly this honest nistic
knew how to tell what superiniman sacrifices had
been made in this blessed parsonage for the dear
gue.-t !" continued Madame Herbeck, still enjoying
her laugh. "Good Lord! such a robust, mat-
ter-of-fact-person ! and withal, this sentimentality
about the green stuff! In your jilace, I would
have the flower-pots summarily returned to the
spot where the weejjing husband once placed
them. She will at last make you responsible for
eveiy leaf that falls off, and I do not wonder in
the least at your caring so little for the amuse-
ment of watering the rare exotics of the pastor s
wife. "
Little Gisela had been following the whole oc-
currence from her chair with great attention.
She now slipped down to the floor, and her large
intelligent eyes looked excitedly into the face of
lier govemess, while a briglit flush tinged her
sickly, sallow cheeks.
"These pots shall not be moved," said she
angrily; "I will not have it it hurts me too
much !" The voice and gestures of the child
showed unmistakably that she was in the habit
of commaudiug.
Madauie Herbeck at once took the child in her
arms, and kissed her forehead ail'ectionately.
" No, no," said she, sootliingly ; " tliey certainly
shall remain here, if my sweet child wishes it.
lint you don't understand, my little angel ; it was
not so well meant by the lady as you think."
IMcanwhile little Fritzchen had merrily and im-
disturl)ed been working at his cracker. The lit-
tle fellow, hardly nine months old, was in fact as
"sweet aud clean as a nut." The little round
head with the blooming cheeks and ilimpled chin,
was framed in a Avhite frill, and luuler the spot-
less crimson flannel gown there iioc])ed out a ])air
of fat, rosy little legs, that showed that they had
but recently emerged Worn the piu'ifying water.
Eritzchen had been brought up on the princi-
ple of the universal brotherhood of love. It sud-
denly occurred to him that he was accustomed,
when any thing tasted good to him, to give a
share to mamma, Kosamond, and his brothers
and sisters ; in consecpience of this, with a true-
hearted lisp, he took the cracker from his mouth,
and pushed it with his clumsy fingers violently
against Jutta's lips. The young lady shrank back
with a low exclamation of fright, and a flush of
horror spread over her face ; but the little count-
ess laughed aloud ; the thing seemed to her too
comical.
"But Gisela, my child, how can you laugh?"
softly rebuked l^Iadame Herbeck. "Don't you
see that poor Miss von Zweiflingen is frightened
to death by the fonvardness of the little vaga-
bond ? Besides, I don't see why we should have
our cosy chat thus spoiled," continued she angri-
ly ; "I will put a stop to it at once !"
She rose, took the little culprit from Jutta's lap,
and set him on the floor ; but at the same mo-
ment Gisela crouched b\' the child, and wound
her thin little arms around his shoulders. The
laughing expression had entirely vanished from
her meagre face. " It was well meant by him !"
said she, hovering between indignation and pity.
" Fie, my child ! I beg you. do not touch the
'dirty fellow ! ' cried Madame Herbeck, ignoring
the remark of the child.
The little countess did not answer, but looked
up into the face of her govemess with sparkling
eyes, full of anger and stubbomness. In dealing
with this child, the lady had evidently a very dif-
ficult task ; but she was indeed perfectly fitted for
it, and knew well how to manage.
"What! will my darling be obstinate?" she
asked with jilayful tenderness. " Well, sit there
if you like ; it's all one to me. But what would
papa say if he saw the little Countess Sturm cow-
ering on the floor like a child's nurse or grand-
mamma ! Don't you remember how she scolded
last year because footman Smith's wife had, upon
your entreaties, ])ut her baby in yom- lap ? Now
she is dead, your dear, beautiful grandmamma ;
but you know that she is in heaven, and can al-
ways see what little Gisela is doing. At this
moment she must be very sorry, for what you arc
now doing is not at all befitting you."
" It is not befitting you !" this was the magic
formula by which this child's soul was governed.
Not that the aristocratic element had been so ex-
clusively cultivated as, with its assistance, to sup-
j)ress every forbidden longing the child was still
too yotuig for that; but "it is not befitting,"
the "dear, beautiful grandmamma" had said so
often before she went to heaven ; and she was
and had remained the essence of virtue and in-
fallibility for her ori)han grandchild. The scowl
of anger had not yet passed from Gisela's brow,
and her eyes were still fixed discontentedly upon
the little outcast on the fioor ; but when the gov-
emess lifted the thin, light form from the floor
with her white, soft hands, she permitted herself
to be raised without resistance, like a bird that
sees no means of escape left. Madame Herbeck
returned with her to the sofa, and kept her hand
between her own.
Fritzchen suddenly saw that he was alone and
deserted ; he threw down his cracker and stretch-
ed out his little arms to be taken, but Jutta turned
awav. She was still busy in arranging her some-
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
23
what disordered curls, ami in smoothing the folds
of her dress, wliile JMadanie Ilerbeck was scowl-
at him, atul tlireateiiing him violently with her
finger. Tlie poor little fellow stared at her for a
long time with a fixed and frightened look, his
great blue eyes gradually tilled with tears, while
the comers of his mouth droo]ied with a look of
distress ; at last he bntke out into a bitter wail.
Immediately tiie quick steps of the pastor's wife
hurried u]) the stairs, and before the ladies were
aware of it, she stood in the door. There sat her
darling, an outcast and all alone, on the cold floor,
and the aristocratic ladies on the sofa were cling-
ing to each other, as if fitting companions, while
tliere could not be a witle enough space between
them and the plebeian child.
Not a word passed the lips of the insulted moth-
er, but a shade for a moment clouded her bloom-
ing face. She took u]) her boy, and ))ressed him
fondly to her breast ; then she wrajiped him in the
warm shawl, and stepped towards the door. This
noiseless silence, the almost regal attitude of the
plain woman, who considered it beneath her dig-
nity to give vent to her deeply-injured feelings,
imposed even on the experienced aristocratic fre-
quenter of the salons, who was seated on the sofa.
" IVI}' dearest madam," cried she, someAvhat em-
barrassed, but with a soothing, flattering voice,
' ' I am sorry that we were not better able to
amuse the little one, but he was very restless, and
Miss Jutta's neiTes are still so shattered "
" I can not excuse myself for not having taken
that into consideration," replied the pastor's wife,
curtly, but without bitterness, as she left the room.
"Do not be vexed at -this, my dear child,"
whisjjered the governess, as she pei'ceived a blush
of shame and uneasiness on Jutta's face. " With
this one rebuke, I have rescued you from an in-
calculable series of distasteful importunities. She
is one of those honest German housewives, who are
intolerable with their virtue and their excellence.
Constantly intruding their wisdom, they are apt
to captivate the souls of young girls, and press the
innocent lambs, without mercy, into the fold of
what they call womanly virtues, that permits of
nothing but the Bible, the cooking-pot, and the
knitting-needle. What we have just experienced
was the first attempt of the shrewd woman. Plad
I not been here with my protest, you would al-
ready to-morrow be sitting down-stairs patching
the old coat of the pastor or the torn trowsers of
his offspring."
Jutta started : at this moment the glowing
face of the young maiden might confidently have
taken its place among the haughty features of the
proudest ancestor in the hall of the forest-house.
There was precisely the same cold and repelling
look about the lips, the same contemptuous down-
ward glance of the half-closed ej-es, which said,
What stands not near or above me, has no exist-
ence in my sight.
Madame Ilerbeck again Avound her arm around
the young lady's slender waist, and drew her coax-
ingly towards her ; while with her left she seized
the small and soft hand which lay like a trans-
parent A\hite petal upon the black woollen dress,
and regarded it with a kind of admiring attention.
"It makes me really unhappy," said she, with a
shade of anger in her voice, " when I see a per-
fect form, as for instance this charming hand here,
ard am obliged to say to myself that its beauty
will certainly be destroyed by the claims of a posi-
tion not suitable to its o^vner. These rosy nails,
these dimjjles, full of kitchen-soot ! Faugh ! I
can not think of it. I hope fate will deal lenient-
ly with you, my child. To be sure, you can not
entirely escape this lot as the overseer's wife."
" Theobald promised myself and mamma that
he M'ould cherish me like the ajiple of his eye," re-
plied tiie young lady hesitatingly, with a half-
stifled voice.
"Yes, yes, my dear ; that is all right, beautiful,
and good, and the overseer is certainly a splendid,
amiable man, who, if need be, would give his
heart's blood for you his good intentions I do not
doubt in the least. But such a happy bridegroom
rarely thinks of calculating that is all put oft' till
after the wedding. And what will you do then,
when you are once in the yoke? The family will
increase, but not the income ; and when the hus-
band is no longer able to pay the seamstress or
the sewing-girl, then all the poor wife's objections
will be of no avail ; willing or unwilling, she must
look over and darn her husband's coarse stock-
ings."
Madame Herbeck stopped, and cast a sudden
glance at Jutta's fiice as it leaned upon her shoul-
der. The young lady remained silent with com-
pressed lips, while her eye stared gloomily and
fixedly at the floor, as if the governess's hateful de-
lineation were in reality before her. An imper-
ceptible smile flitted over Madame Herbeck's face,
and the expression of those great swimming eyes
was at this moment certainly not that honest one
which she knew how to assume when in the pres-
ence of clear-sighted men and women. She pass-
ed her hand gently over the fro^vning brow of the
young lady.
"Ah, why must I so suddenly see such a sad
fiice!" cried she, in a flattering, soothing tone,
just as she was wont to speak Mhcn talking to
her little charge. "Do I mean you especially
py this description ? No, God forbid ! Eveii
with the best will, I should never be able to im-
agine the beautiful Jutta von Zweiflingen in such
a situation, and yet I know, from the fate of many
n brilliant and much-admired maiden, to what such
marriages of attection sometimes lead. You see,
every thing that makes life beautiful is gradually
thrown overboard as useless ballast. The cherish-
ed piano stands, dusty and uiuised, in the corner;
the elegant books and embroidery disappear from
the sewing-table, to be replaced by dirty primers
and writing-books ; and a basket full of torn
clothes waits for new patches : this I know.
The young wife will comb her once admired curls
smoothly behind her ears or under a cap nothing
can be uglier for what's the use ? She does not
need to be beautifid any longer, for nobody will
see her I "
Jutta sprang up, and throwing back her curls
with passionate mien, without uttering a Mord,
she stepped to the piano. Whatever it -was that
was passing in this breast, it must needs have been
a violent commotion that made it heave and sink
with her panting breath.
The young lady threw back the cover of the in-
strument, and, dropping into the seat, she began a
wild, dashing, Hungarian air, vigorously and ener-
getically, with the same hands that just before had
been too feeble and exhausted to hold the child
of the jjastor's wife only for a moment. Like
strings of pearls rolled the bold passages. It was a
billow of tones, in which the original melody again
26
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
and again appeared ; and with it, wild gipsy faces
lighted by gleaming camp-fires, knightly horsemen
Hving over the wide plain, suiTounded by herds of
rnadfv-galloping. long-maned steeds, dying heroes,
and bold brigands ; and these strange images, in
which a hot blood was pulsing, rushed through the
little comer windows out into the chaste, solemn
silence of the holy night that was settling upon the
earth. The mountains stretched their dark Umbs
heavenward, and the glittering sky spread its arch
from one peak to another, levelling chasms and
ravines, as the great thought of the atonement of
the Crucified stretches over that rent and cleft
work of creation which we call humanity. And
this humanity ! It whets the mild words of the
Cmcified into sharp swords, with which it muti-
lates itself Baalish idolatn,' changes that star of
salvation, which once the shepherds saw rising
above our little earth, into a mute idol, and per-
secutes the living s])irit that flowed from it with
blind Vandal fury in vain ; it shines ! And with
his mighty word, " Let there be light !" has God
himself decreed that night shall never again be-
come the ruling power.
CHAPTER V.
The last stormy accords had not yet ceased to
resound under Jutta's fingers, when the pastor's
wife looked in at the door. Her bright, cheerful
face showed not the slightest trace of resentment ;
hers was a mind disposed quickly to let by-gones be
by-gones. " They can not know how a mother's
heart feels!" was her conciliatoiy thought ; and
therewith all bitterness had vanished.
.She announced with a loud voice that the Christ-
mas-tree was now ready, and its gifts would be
distributed. The little countess took her hand,
Jutta closed the piano, and Madame Herbeck
slowly rose from the soft comer of the sofa with
as friendly a smile as if an angry thought against
the woman in the door had never entered her
soul.
Below, in his narrow study, the pastor was al-
ready seated by the little cracked spinnet. His
was indeed not such a fixce as modern mysticism
desires to see in the pulpit ; his features had not
grown pale with the sombre fire of fanaticism ;
no trace of the iron inflexibility and intolerance
of the gloomy zealot rested on his brow ; nor did
his head drop on his breast in the endeavor to be,
in the eyes of the world, a living example of Chris-
tian humility. He was a genuine son of the Thu-
ringian forest ; a powerful, vigorous ft)mi, with
broad chest, sunny features, and so perfectly open
a forehead beneath the full dark curls, that no
thought could apparently jiass over it unnoticed.
Around him stood his children, all with round,
ruddy cliceks, like the cherubim and sera])him in
the atijacent church,' hovering over and around the
old organ. He greeted the ladies as they entered
with a silent bow, then vigorously struck "the keys,
while the children solemnly, with clear, bell-like
voices, commenced the grand old Christmas cho-
ral, " Gloiy to God on high, the Lord is bom."
At the close of the verse, the pastor's wife
slowly opened the door of the side room, and the
splendor of the Christmas-tree streamed forth.
The children did not rush in with joyful cries
they stepped shyly over the threshold. This coiUd
not really be the dear old sitting-room, whose
walls eveiy night were lost in the dim glare of the
tallow candle ! The little mirror, as well as the
glasses covering the few pictures, reflected a flood
of Ught ; and even on the old dull-looking stove a
httle candle was burning.
But the little countess stood there with an ex-
pression of disappointment in her face could this
be a Chiistmas-tree ? this poor little jjine, with
the few thread-like wax tapers on its branches,
insignificant little red apples, nuts which the high-
bom, sickly child dared not even taste, and a few
dubious figures of brown gingerbread ; these were
all the wonderful things that were hanging upon ,
the tree ! And below, on the coarse white table-
cloth, lay slates, writing-books, pencils things
that children must have as a matter of course ;
to bring these, there was no need of the Christ-
child's coming down from heaven ! And yet,
what exidtant joy was manifested by the children,
after the first shyness was over! They did not
notice the silent astonishment of the little countess,
nor woidd they even have imderstood it ; neither
did they see the impertinent smile that had ap-
peared on Madame Herbeck's face at the com-
mencement of the choral, and still hovered there.
Even the parents themselves did not recognize the
nature of this smile ; the mother also smiled when
her little girls crept as sijeedily as possible into
their new bright-colored woollen petticoats of many
hues, and her little Fatty, in high glee, encased
his chubby little legs in the bran-new trowsers
which she herself, in the still hours of the night,
and with closed doors, had contrived to make out
of the shabby coat that the pastor had worn v.hen
still a poor candidate. And the father bore on his
arm the exultant lisping little Fritzchen ; he had
enough to do to admire most dutifully all the won-
ders that Hans Ruprecht had brought to the house ;
no time ^\as left for him to examine the features
of his guests.
Yet, after the lights of the Christmas-tree had
been extinguished, he retired to his study ; one of
his colleagues had been suddenly taken sick, and
he had undertaken to preach an extra sennon on
the holiday, which it was therefore necessary for
him to prepare.
^ladame Herbeck and Jutta had from the first
sought refuge on the sofa; there, at least, the
trains of their dresses were safe from the reckless
feet of the little savages. Now the table in front
of them was set ; old Rosamond brought in a
huge porcelain tea-pot from the kitchen, around
which she grouped a goodly number of bright
clean stone-china cups ; while the pastor's wife
placed on it a plate full of freshly-baked cake, a
pat of excellent butter, honey, and bro\\n bread.
The little countess at once turned away from
this Christmas feast fresh cake and brown bread
were strictly forbidden her. She crossed her
hands behind her back like a professor, and look-
ed seriously at the doings of the other children.
Fatty was mounted on a bright red hobby-horse,
and with loud gee's and ho's was rolling through
the room.
"That is a very ugly horse!" said Gisela, as
he coursed by her.
The enthusiastic rider stopped indignantly.
"Nothing is ugly that the Christ-child brings
us," replied he with deep-felt indignation. His
little heart was filled with unutterable gratitude
to the Christ-child.
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
27
" Kenl liorses are not so red, nnd never have
such stirt' tails, either," criticised the little maiden,
undisturbed by his reply. " I will give you my
elephant ; he runs by himself through the room,
if only wound tij) with a key ; a jirincess is sitting
on his back and nodding her head "
" ISo, a princess is sitting on his back?" in-
ternijited the little fellow thoughtfully; "there
would be no room for me, then. I like my horse
much better ; I don't want your old ele})hant !"
With this he rolled on, cracking his whip. Gi-
sela looked at him, much puzzled. She was ac-
customed to have her seiTants run after her, and
kiss her hands whenever she gave them presents ;
and now her proffered gifts were ignominiously
rejected. But she was still more indignant at the
obstinacy with which this boy insisted on admir-
ing his horrid horse. She cast a glance at her
governess, but she was deeply engaged in con^er-
sation with Jutta ; and raising the tea-cup to her
lips, with mistrustful slowness, she set it clown
again immediately with an exclamation of dis-
gust.
Tiie odd child, that had so little the gift of mak-
ing friends, stood lonely amid all the Christmas re-
joicing. Her dislike of dolls made her avoid the
comer where two little girls were busy feeding
their thick-headed baby, and little Fatty had
decidedly rejected her attempt to make his ac-
quaintance. But there, by a side-table, on which
to-night an extra light was bunting, stood the
first-born of the house, a boy perhaps nine years
old, and near him the sister next following in age.
Forgetful of all around, they were eagerly reading
a book. Upon the spotlessly clean table the little
girl had sjjread her snow-white handkerchief, and
on this lay the book like a sacred relic ; the chil-
dren scarcely dared turn the leaves with the tijjs of
their fingers. It was Grimm's Fairy Tales, which
the father had laid under the Christmas-tree.
The boy was reading from the Star Dollars
in a subdued tone. "There was once a little
girl " In a trice Gisela was by his side ; the
beginning was too enticing. She could already
read fluently ; and however prominent the pecu-
liar disposition to brooding meditation in the lit-
tle creature had already become, the faiiy world,
with its inscrutable wonders, still exerted its be-
witching charm on the soul of the child.
" Give me the book, I will read it aloud," said
Gisela to the boy, when, standing on tiptoe, she
had vainly tried to get a peep at the pages.
"I don't like to," answered he uneasily, run-
ning his fingers through his fair curls ; " papa will
put a paper cover on the handsome binding to-
morrow, and then you can have it."
" I shall not spoil it," impatiently interrupted
little Gisela ; " give me the book !" She reached
out her hand. In this impeiious gesture there
was full confidence of being instantly obeyed.
It was the gesture of a spoiled and haughty child
of noble birth, that knew no refusal.
The boy sur\eyed the little figure with an as-
tonished gaze.
" Oh ho ! not quite so fast !" said he, drawing
back the book. Being the eldest child, he was
already to his parents a valuable assistant in their
education. It was his mission to be a shining
light and example; and this post of honor, full
of martjT-like self-denial, gave him much exter-
nal dignity. He wrapped the handkerchief pro-
tectingly round the binding and took it up.
"Well, you may have it, I do not object,"
said he gravely; "but you must be very good,
atid say, if you please ; children must always sa^-,
if you please." Whether Gisela Mas already ir-
ritated by the scene with the little rider, or M'heth-
er the consciousness of her high position in life at
this moment gained the upper hand, in her beau-
tiful fawn-like eyes there sjjarkled an immeasura-
ble pride ; and, turning her back on the boy, she
said contemptuously, " I need not do so!"
The effect of these words was surprising ; the
little horseman, just rolling by, stopped his steed ;
and though himself gifted with a good share of
stubbornness, yet even to him this unheard of an-
swer was more than he coidd bear ; and the two
little foster-mothers left their helpless babe lying
in the comer, and hurriedly approached, to stare
with wide-open eyes at the naughty child. But
all repeated, as with one voice, "Children must
always say, if you please ! "
The general outcry suddenly roused Madame
Herbeck from her tete-a-tete with Jutta. The
children's exclamation, and the hostile attitude
of her little charge, showed her at once what had
happened ; and with terrified haste, as if she al-
ready saw the little coimtess on the brink of an
abyss, she rose and called across the room, " Gi-
sela, my child, I beg you to come here at once!"
At this moment the pastor's wife, who had just
put Fritzchen to bed, entered the room.
"She won't say, if you please, mamma!" ex-
claimed the children, pointing to Gisela, w ho still
stood motionless in the middle of the room.
"No, I won't!" she repeated; but this time
her voice had lost much of its sharpness and con-
fidence, as she looked into the grave, searching
j eyes of the pastor's wife. " Grandmamma told
I me that it was not befitting me, and that I need
I only say please to papa, and to no one else not
even to Madame Herbeck!"
I "Did grandmamma really say that?" asked
l^the pastor's wife, earnestly yet aft'ectionately, as
she bent back the head of the stubborn little child,
I and looked fidl into her haughty face.
"I can assure you, my dearest madam, that
this was the unmistakable order and intention of
\ the lamented countess," answered Madame Her-
beck, in the child's stead, with indescribable im-
I ])ertinence; " and I should think that none had
a better right to lay down such principles of edu-
cation than that lady in her high position !
Moreover, I would advise you as a friend, for the
' interest of your little ones, to make them in some
measure understand that in the little Coimtess
j Stumi they behold quite a different being from
the Johnnies and Billies with whom they are ac-
! customed to associate."
I Without ansAvering a word to this well-meant
advice, the pastor's wife bade her eldest boy ex-
; plain what had happened.
I "You should have been more obliging," said
she reprovingly, when he had ended; "you
ought to have given the book to little Gisela as
j soon as you saw that she wished for it ; for she is
our guest, and you must never forget that, my
son !" She then opened the door of the study,
and told the children to go in and bid papa good-
night. Little Fatty at once, with a look of regret,
stabled his horse in the corner ; the little girls
wrapped their baby doll up to its nose in the
warm cradle-quilt ; and after a friendly good-
night to the ladies, they crossed the threshold,
28
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
riinged according to age and height, like the pipes
of an organ, to march, a few moments after,
under the lead of old Rosamond, to their bed-
rooms. But the pastor's wife put the book of fairy
tales into little Gisela's hand, led her into the ad-
joining well-wanned nursery, the door of which
she left ajar, and then returned to her guests.
"I still owe you an answer, my lady," said she
with a deep, mellow voice, while her clear blue eyes
boldly met the supercilious glance of the lady
seated opposite her; "I did not want these
little curious ears to hear your fui'ther explana-
tions, because they are at variance with my sys-
tem of education. You Mill admit, I suppose,
that the mother of a burgher's family has also
this riglit ! Well, then, you say I ought to im-
press my children with respect for the little count-
ess how can I do tliat when I, excuse my frank-
ness, feel nothing of the kind myself?"
"What! what! my dear ; so little meekness
in a minister's house ?" intemipted the governess
with her stereotj-ped smile ; but the sneering,
sharj) pitch of her voice indicated the greatest in-
dignation.
The pastor's wife also smiled, but with tliat in-
comparable humor which mental force and clear-
ness of thought breathed over the whole being of
this woman.
"Surely we are not deficient in that quality,"
said she, with a kind of mirthful simplicity ; " it
only depends on what you understand by meek-
ness, my lady. I know very well that a genuine,
honest pastor's wife has to stand, first of all, on the
word of God, and therefore I am very anxious to
fulfill all obligations involved in this honorable
office; but just because I believe in the Bible, I
know that it requires of me love and reverence
towards God, but not fear and idolatrous worship
towards men."
During this courageous speech Madame Iler-
beck had carelessly leaned back in the corner of
tlie sofa, mechanically clinking her spoon against
the still filled cup. This apparently easy attitude,
together witli the cold, undisturbed glance that
fell from her half-closed eyes immovable ujjon
the surface of the table, unmistakably said: " I
am in veiy improper com|any iiere, and I sliall
best escape from this nncomfortal)le position In-
taking no notice of any thing!" She did not
even look at Jutta, wlio was seated near her in
the most painful embarrassment.
Tiie pastor's wife had stojiped for a moment.
Her quick imderstanding at once comprehended
the tactics of the aristocratic governess ; but siie
was not to be intimidated, and to the princijjles
slie liad advanced some arguments were still to
be added.
"The little child yonder," continued she finn-
ly and without hesitation, pointing with lier
tlunnb over her shoulder towards the mn-sery,
"I love witli all my heart ; and if I could do her
a favor, I would joyfully do it at any moment
but respect, my lady, re.yiect means more, to my
mind. I can not even conceive how grown per-
sons are able to fawn aroimd a child, bear all its
wliims, and hold its childish, immature acts and
doings as ])iue wisdom and jierfection, merely be-
cause it is lii;h-born. My dear husband is cer-
tainly (|uite right when he says that in such cases
the dignity of man is insulted and trodden under
foot. And now you want me to explain to my
children, wlio still look out nimn the world fresh
and joyous, and have no inkling of the manner in
which men treat one another, as to mine and
thine, high and low ; yes, you woidd liave me at
once teach these innocent creatures that the little
helpless being who is as much in need of attend-
ance and guidance as they themselves, who has
learned and experienced just as little, who can be
veiy naughty and desening of punishment that
she should be looked up to with as much respect
as shall I say their father and mother ? No,
that is not possible ; they would fail to under-
stand it, just as much as I should myself I"
Madame Herbeck rose.
"Well, my dear madam, that is your busi-
ness!" said she cuttingly. "The fruits of these
excellent principles of education you will perceive
some day, when yoiu" sons wish to make them-
selves a career!"
"Oh, I trust that each one of them will find
his daily bread I" replied the pastor's wife with
perfect composure. "My little ones are brought
up, in the fear of the Lord, to habits of strict in-
dustry and activity ; and come what will, I would
rather have them live poorly by the labor of their
hands than that I shoidd ever have to think that
they had crept into fat offices through hypocrisy
and dissimulation !"
At this moment, with a loud tinlding of bells,
the sleigh arrived which was to convey the little
countess and her governess home. Gisela step-
ped to the door, and handed the fairy-book to
the ])astor's wife. How peculiar was the charac-
ter of this child ! Neither JIadame Herbeck with
her affectionate flatteries, nor an\' other of her at-
tendants, could boast of a token of love on the
part of the little child ; shy and serious, she evad-
ed every touch, and obstinately rejected even the
caresses of her stepfather. And now she sud-
denly raised herself on tiptoe, stretched out her
meagre arms, and wound them round the neck of
the woman whose entire bearing was so incorrupt-
ibly straight foward, and who had never ofiered
to the high-bom child the least trace of the ac-
customed homage and idolatry.
The pastor's wife, quite surjirised, kissed the
proffered little lips.
" May God be with you, my dear child ! Be
good and honest!" she said, and her full-toned
voice melted with tenderness ; for she well knew
that the little girl would never again enter the
parsonage.
Madame Herbeck's face grew pale at this un-
expected occurrence ; but she was accustomed to
regard these rare moments in which the child ex-
hibited an independent expression of feeling to-
wards others as acts of whimsical malice against
herself, and therefore endeavored to disarm tliis
childish demonstration with a cold smile. Besides,
the disgusting scene was at this moment cut short
by the entrance of a lackey, who stei)ped into the
room bare-headed, his arms laden with shawls and
cloaks.
' ' Carry those things up to Miss von Zwciflingen's
room," imjieriously ordered Madame Herbeck;
then, seizing Gisela's hand, she inclined her head
with friendly condescension to the lady of the
house, and said in her warmest tones, "My best
thanks for this charming Chri-straas evening, my
dear madam !"
She left the room, and hurried in almost fever-
ish haste past the others, through the entry and
up the stairs, neglecting for the time her grace and
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
29
dignity, and even the caveftd consideration she was
acfiistonied, under all circumstances, to show for
her toilette. The stilt', elegantly emhroidered
skirt r.wept away Rosamond's artisticallj'-arranged
sand figures, and trailed over the wet hoards. But
up stairs in Jiitta's room she stood for a moment
rigid as a statue, and then sank as if exhausted
into an arm-chair. .She was utterly beside lierself.
"I must stay here a few moments longer, my
dearest Miss Jutta," said she, drawing a deep
breath. "I would on no account return home
and ])ennit myself to be seen by our servants in
this state of excitement. Those idle eyes and
mouths always sjjy and cinticise one's every step.
Feel my cheeks ; how they bum I"
She pressed her white hands altemately over
her forehead and temples, as if she woidd cool the
heated blood. j
" Heavens ! what a frightful evening !" she ex-
claimed, shaking her head as she threw it back, :
and staring at the ceiling. ' ' Never in all my life
have I been compelled to endure such pardon me
ill-bred company I What ha^e I been obliged to
listen to with patience ! That vulgar woman, how
openly she explained her opinions opinions that
may cost her dear husband his place and bread !
She must take care this jjiiident woman ! And
what infinite unction in her speeches, interlarded |
Avith the fear of the Lord, and what pious cant !
This is why the word of God in the countiy has \
has always been so repulsive to me ; it is made a I
trade of hai-ped upon continually."
She rose and paced up and down the room. |
"Say yourself, my child," continued she, after'
a momentaiy silence, laying her hand upon Jut- '
ta's arm, " was it not honible torture for a refined
taste, for a cultivated musical ear, to be inexorably
torn away from your heaAcrdy music to go down-
stairs and listen to a choral by those thin, squeak-
ing, childish voices ? "Why should I deny it ? I
do not care for chorals at all ; I do not belong to
those transcendental souls who adore them ; and '
however ridiculous and tasteless the farce down
stairs appeared, I was still more indignant because
I was obliged to be a ]mrty to it. And now, one
thing more, my dearest INliss von Zweiflingen ; it
is self-evident that I am here, in this blessed par- ;
sonage, with Gisela, for the last time!" \
Jutta grew pale, and tuiTied away her face : but
the little countess, who, during all this passionate
outpouring of her governess, had been quietly put-
ting on her cloak and hood, stepped up to her with
great determination, and with just such a firm and
re.solute accent as the pastor's son, who, withal,
had made quite an impression upon her, she said :
"Not so fast! I, for my part, shall certainly
come here again ! "
"We will see about that, my child !" replied
Madame Ilerbeck, suddenly becomiTig quite cau-
tious : for, in her excitement, she had entirely
overlooked the presence of the child. "Papa
alone must decide. You can not yet understand,
my little angel, what bitter enemies j'ou have in
this house." I
She threw her anns around Jutta's neck and
drew her pliant form to her in a close embrace.
"And now, listen to me," she whis]jered.
" The unendurable noise of the children, the hor-
rible brewing called tea, and the coarse food that
we were compelled to take ; the clouds of tobacco-
smoke that issued, like a mephitic vapor from
eveiy crack in the door of the minister's study
and poisoned the air, in short, the whole host of
disgusting things which we have had to endure
to-day, in soiTowful companionship, has con-
vinced me that you ought not to remain any long-
er in this house. At least until you exchange
your present ancient and glorious name for that
of a common burgher, you shoiUd enjoy all tlie
privileges and amenities belonging to your rank.
I will take you with me, and that immediate! v.
The people down-stairs may for the present be-
lieve that you only wish to spend the holidavs
with me ; otherwise you will not get away at all.
You shall be the guest, neither of his excellency
nor the little Countess Sturm, but simply mine.
I will give up to you two beautiful roomsbelong-
ing to my spacious apartments ; and if you or
your betrothed should hesitate to accept entertain-
ment at Castle Amsberg gi-atuitously well, in
that case, you may give Gisela a few lessons on
the piano tliat will settle eveiy thing! Do you
consent ?"
Instead of answering, the young lady hastily
released herself from Madame Ilerbeck's embrace,
hurried into the adjacent chamber, and returned
in a few moments wrapped in a scanty cloak that
slie had outgrown.
" Here I am !" said she with sparkling eyes.
IMadame Ilerbeck could hardly suppress a smile
at the odd figure of the young lady in thenan-ow,
tight, unfashionable garment. She felt of the
thinly-wadded wrapping.
" This little cloak is much too thin. Remem-
ber we have to ride through tlie icy-cold night
air!" said she, stripping ofithe cloak and letting
it drop to the floor. " Lena has sent us a whole
magazine of clothes," continued she, as she drew
out of the mass of shawls and cloaks which the
servant had laid on the sofa, a velvet mantle of a
magnificent dark blue color, trimmed with fur,
and a white cashmere hood. These soft, costly
wrappings she jilaced with her own hands on the
head and shoulders of the young maiden.
A few moments after, the cosy corner room was
deserted, and the three descended the stairs, at
the foot of which stood old Rosamond, with the
flickering kitchen lamp. The old servant, struck
with amazement, almost dropped the light from
her hand as Jutta djew near ; and indeed it was
tndy a dazzling sight. Still, this head, haughtily
thrown back, with the white-spotted diadem over
the brow, this imperiously advancing form in the
velvet mantle, was for the moment deprived of all
maidenly charms ; it seemed as if these had been
stripped off with the old thin cloak tliat was left
behind in the corner room up-stairs ; but instead,
the young lady was completely what she wish-
ed to be the proud descendant of an ancient,
haughty race !
She was just about turning to Rosamond, when
suddenly Sievert's gi^ay head emerged from tl;e
deep darkness of the spacious entry. The sight
of this gloomy, grim face was at this moment per-
haps the least desirable that could have appeared
to the fair fugitive. Her cheeks glowed with tlie
flush caused by a most unwelcome surprise ; but
her features at the same time assumed an expres-
sion of stone-like, immeasurable haughtiness
but all in vain. The old soldier was neither to
be brow-beaten nor disconcerted ; on the contra-
ly, he came nearer, while his eyes malignantly
and mockingly suneyed the elegant dress of the
young lady.
30
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
" The overseer has sent me " began Sievert. ]
"Fellow, do you come from the house where
a person is lying sick with the typhus fever?"
shrieked Madame Herbeck indignantly, while she
stepped protectingly in front of the little countess,
and held her cambric handkerchief before her
mouth.
"Ah, don't talk such nonsense!" replied Sie-
vert, almost snarlingly, as he stretched out his
bony hand towards the trembling lady with a
gesture any thing but respectful. "There is no
danger, as yet, to your life I The overseer won't
permit any one to go to the parsonage without
using the greatest precautions. Did he not make
me go to the foundrj' to get fumigated and aired
for hours although it is, to say the truth, mere
foolislmess for the doctor has said a dozen times
that the fever in its present stage is not at all con-
tagious !"
He turned again to Jutta. " I v-as charged to
tell you that he can't be here to-day to see the
Christmas-tree and the presents, because our
student, at this very moment, is at the point of
death." At these "last words, his rough, coarse
voice sounded almost shrill, under the visible ef-
fort to keep it from breaking down entirely.
" O God, the poor fellow!" cried Jutta. It
remained doubtful whom she meant, her betroth-
ed, or his dying brother ; but it almost seemed as
if slie comprehended that this was not quite the
proper moment to carry out the willful step slie
lu\d resolved on ; involuntarily her foot turned to
reascend the stairs, but Madame Ilerbeck sud-
denly seized her hand, and held it fast as in a
vise.
"This is a very sad event," said she, with a
well- feigned tone of deepest sympathy. " I feel
a double obligation not to leave you alone in these
sorrowful moments. Come, dear child, we must
not expose Gisela so unnecessarily long to this
piercing draught."
Jutta descended the last steps.
" Tell the overseer that I am very unhappy,"
.said she, turning to Sievert. " I am going for a
few days to Arnsberg, and "
" To Arnsberg ?" cried he, as he put his hand
to his head, as if he did not comprehend what he
had heard.
"And why not, fellow?" inquired Madame Iler-
beck coldly, and with tliat air of aristocratic su-
periority intended at once to silence all unseason-
able answers. It had, however, but little effect
on the old, imbittered soldier. He broke out
into a hoarse, mocking laugh, "To Castle Arns-
berg, that belongs to Baron Fieury ?" repeated he.
Madame Ilerbeck cast a glance at the house
door. There stx)od the lackey, immovable and
bare-headed, while without, croucliing in his seat,
was the driver, well-wrapi)ed up in his fur coat.
They could hear every word.
" I must entreat you most urgently, my dear-
est Miss von Zweifiingen, to shorten this strange
dialogue," said she, somewliat maliciously, though
with an uneasy glance. " I do not understand
what the man wishes !"
" I know !" inteiTupted Jutta, bitterly, as she
ju'oudly drew herself up to her full height. " He
wishes to tutor me ! He is too ready to forget his
position, and is always committing acts of the
grossest im])ertiuence. But I tell you, Sievert,"
she turned to the old man witli an indescribably
contemptuous tone, trembling with indignation,
"the times are past when you could dare to tell
your so-called truths to myself and poor mamma,
and thus render our lives unutterably wretched.
If mamma, in her suffering condition, was willing
to listen patiently to your etenial fault-finding and
rudeness, that was her business ; but, once for all,
I forbid your lecturing me !"
"With these words, she passed on ; but once
more, with an inimitable mixture of grace and
high aristocratic dignity, she tumed her head.
She was evidently born to command.
"Tell your mistress that during the holidays I
shall be Madame Herbeck's guest," cried she to
Rosamond, who stood in speechless astonishment ;
then, gently inclining her head, she stepped past
the bowing lackey and entered the sleigh, wliere
Madame Herbeck and the little countess were al-
ready seated. Quick as an arrow it flew through
the darkness. The distance to be traversed ^^as
trifling, and the road level ; yet it crossed a
chasm that never coidd be filled. Tlie furro-\vs it
left behind in the snow were the only and last
connection between castle and parsonage.
Sievert had remained speechless at the foot of
the stairs ; tlie tinkling of the bells of the fast-
disappearing sleigh first roused him from the tor-
pidity with which he had regarded the departure
of the young lady. But now he rushed forth into
the darkness. " Thanklessness ! thanklessnessi"
murmured he, and stretched out his clenched
hands towards the starry heavens with indescrib-
able excitement ; yonder, above the foundry,
sparkled Sirius, with its white liglit, the ]5ale
favorite of the old astronomer. His gloomy
glance was fiistened on the star. "Yes, yes,
there he stands, the old boy, and thinks how won-
derfully firm he is!" laughed he grimly; "and
yet he is no longer red, as the ancients saw him I
' Hurrah for change! they say up there, just as
well as in the miserable, contemptible souls of
men I Ha ! ride to the castle ! much good may
it do you ! says old Sievert ; but it can not be
just that the Being yonder shoidd bless such do-
ings !''
CHAPTER YI.
Castle Arxseerg was not situated, like most
of the old Thuringian castles, upon the mountain.
Some noble Kimrod of the thirteenth century who
preferred an al)ode among bears and wolves, had
raised this huge pile of stones in a valley, then
covered with an impenetrable thicket. At that
lime the Cyclopean walls rose rudely, without the
slightest jjretense to architectural adornment,
only here and there leaving o])enings in the shape
of narrow, uns}-mmetrically-disposed windows,
through which the fragrance of the forest and the
greenish light of tlie thicket might make their
way. But it was not intended alone to ward off
the attacks of the wild beasts of the forest. Tlie
spirit of invention, which has at all times been
busy in considerhig how the question of right ar.d
wrong, of mine and thine, of lord and snhject,
miglit be decided in the most sanguinaiy way,
and which, in our weapon-blessed century, has
found its climax in the needle-gun and the breech-
loader, was even then to be feared, with its clum-
sy projectiles, its stone balls and bolts ; and there-
fore the castle in llie valley was surrounded Avith
higli walls and broad ditches.
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
31
\Mien at a later period civilization planted her
foot also in this wilderness, when the jfloughshare
broke up the virgin soil of the forest, and the full
sunlight glittered on the blue blossoms of the
flax-field and the waving ears of the oat, then
also the beasts of prey warily drew back ; just as
the ancient race that knew no other amusement
. than the reckless enjoyment of the chase, hitherto
their only pursuers, had to yield, acre by acre, the
usuqjed territory to the children of men, who
penetrated into the wilderness, and were filled
with the arrogant desire of wishing also to exist
on God's beautiful earth. Even the eyrie of the
old Nimrod felt the breath of a later time. The
ditches deteriorated into swamps, the huge walls
ci-umbled to pieces without being restored, and
the chains of the draw-bridges grew rusty, for no
one came any longer to raise them.
The castle in the forest passed through various
hands, and each new possessor ])atclied up and al-
tered the old building after the style of his own
time, until, in tlie end, it had entirely lost the ro-
mantic character of the ancient knightly castle,
and took instead the stamp of a modern, comfort-
able, yet still proud rural seat. The blackened
walls, into whicli, with great trouble and expense,
long rows of windows had been inserted, were
covered with a coating of brilliant white cement,
wliich gave to Arnsberg its popular name of the
"White Castle. A well-kept, velvety lawn, tapes-
tried with groups of flowers, was found where once
the tawny treacherous green of thealgte had swum,
where tlie sickening miasma of stagnating ditch-
water had breathed pestilence into the pure aroma
of the forest; and of the former fortifications,
only here and there a crumbling tower, or a coal-
black piece of masonry was left, beneath the
shade of an ancient elm or oak and o\ergrown
with luxuriant ivy, as an embellishing ruin of the
castle garden.
But within, the old walls had been more suc-
cessful in maintaining their interesting physiog-
nomy of the Middle Ages. Although the period
of th.e Renaissance, and especially of the rococo
style, with its prevailing curves, had been active
in producing a beautifying change, yet the rude-
ness and simplicity of the first idea according to
which the pile had been erected they had not
been able entirely to obliterate. It was, perhaps,
this liidden feature of severe simplicity that exer-
cised an unconscious mysterious chann upon the
peculiar disposition of little Gisela, who was so
strangely hostile to finerv' and excessive magnifi-
cence. She liked to stay at Arnsberg, and had
no desire to return to the city, although she dwelt
like an enchanted princess amid these lonely,
snow-bound mountains, without the opportunity
of ever looking in another childish face, and hav-
ing no other intercourse than with Madame Iler-
beck and Jutta. Baron Fleury, indeed, in spite
of the roads almost impassable from the snow,
came to the White Castle almost every week, for
one day, to see the child. The world praised him
for his tender affection and devotion ; but the
child herself never welcomed him with a smile
on his arrival after so fatiguing a joumey. And
yet he seldom contradicted her ; nay, it almost
seemed as if he most willingly satisfied her most
unreasonable desires.
He was continually bringing with him costly
playthings and articles for the toilette ; but, on the
other hand, he confiscated part of her passionate-
ly-loved German stories and faiiy tales, with the re-
mark that the Countess Sturm must by no means
become a bookworm. On the rejjort of her govern-
ess, he forbade all intercourse henceforth with the
Keuenfeld parsonage, and moreover gave the strict-
est and most positive orders that the child should
never be left, even for a moment, without attend-
ants suitable to her rank ; and yet she had an
insatiable desire to roam alone through the more
remote corridors of the castle, but especially to
see the ancient, unused hall, which lay next to
the castle-chapel. The walls of this "hall were
covered with veiy old fine fresco paintings, rep-
resenting scenes from sacred history: "Horrid
stuff, which she could never see without having
terrible dreams at night," said Madame Herbeck
shuddering, whenever she refused Gisela's repeat-
ed requests to accompany her there. But what
the little countess most disliked, and what called
forth all her inward lepugnance, was the lessons
on the i)iano, which her papa and the govemess
forced her to receive from Miss von Zweiflingen.
During all her young life, Jutta had encounter-
ed but one person who at all times had opposed
to her irresistible channs an incoiTuptible severi-
ty, namely, old Sievert ; but now, in closer inter-
course with Gisela, she made this experience a
second time. It was interesting to see how this
ugly, feeble, little creature was engaged in a con-
tinued, silent warfare with this brilliantly beauti-
ful young lady. Jutta's almost passionately man-
ifested desire to win the affection of the little
high-born girl was always frustrated by the cold,
unmoved glance of the clear, fawn-like brown eyes ;
and if ever the young lady, in her glowing im-
pulse, ventured to lay her soft hand caressingly
on the head of the child, she would draw it back
indignantly, and shake her colorless hair with en-
ergy, as if she would thereby cast off e\eiy- trace
of the unwelcome touch.
Madame Herbeck ignored this peculiarity of
her little angel in her o^\n fiishion, which was al-
ways smilingly and smoothly to pass over things
that could not be avoided ; but she secretly as-
sured Jutta that this was the unbearable thick-
headedness of the Vulderns, which unfortunately
the late lamented grandmamma had also possess-
ed, and which had freciuently been to her a som'ce
of exasperation.
Jutta occu])ied two handsomely furnished cham-
bers, at the end of the long suite of rooms devoted
to the little countess and her governess. Like a
plant that has suddenly been placed in the right
light and soil, the whole individuality of the last
proud descendant of the Zweiflingens was quickly
imfolded in the aristocratic atmosphere of the
baronial house. The dinner-table, loaded down
with silver plate, the lackeys hunying up at the
slightest beck, the drives in the elegant carriage
with satin trimmings and cushions, were things
with which she had hitherto been unfamihar, but
which, as a matter of course. Mere indispensable
to the descendant of noble, imperious ancestors.
The forest-house lay yonder, fast closed as if
buried beneath the ice-clad summits of the trees;
behind its bolts, in the damp dismal tower-room,
moiddered the old brown woollen dress she had left
behind, and with it all the unwelcome recollections
of the last years. The young lady drove them back,
like importunate beggars, whenever they dared
intrude upon her, to show the striking contrast
with the present. Just as quickly, too, had she
32
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
disposed of the scene, to her always somewhat
mysterious, between her mother and the baron.
On that veiy evening she had aheady taken the
part of that deeply-offended and insulted man,
and, later, she very easily persuaded herself that
her mother, irritated almost to insanity by her
terrible bodily sufferings, and blinded by the ma-
lignant insinuations of others, had done great in-
justice to the minister.
This impression remained for the present un-
disturbed. Tlie overseer had, it is true, at first
been gi-eatly shocked at Jutta's willful and thought-
less step ; but the f\iult was now committed, and
could not be rectified without a painful scene.
The young man could not even reproach his
bride "with acting inconsiderately, for she had nev-
er been initiated into the history of her family.
Of the exciting scene immediately preceding the
baroness's death he knew nothing ; for Jutta, the
sole witness, had never uttered a single word con-
cerning this occurrence. During the first period
of her residence at the Wiiite Castle, the overseer
had no opportunity of visiting her personally.
The youthful, vigorous nature of Berthold had
conquered in that decisive crisis which had com-
menced on Christmas Eve ; his life was saved,
although he had to pass through all the success-
ive stages of the terrible disease. During this
time Jutta was able by letter to explain the ne-
cessity and the unobjectionable nature of the step
in a very ])lausible manner ; and he was carefid
not to deprive her, by untimely explanations, of
the serenity which she needed in the intercourse
now commenced with Madame Herbeck and the
little countess. Later, when the danger of con-
tagion was passed, he frequently went to Arns-
berg. He did not, indeed, see his betrothed seek
refuge on his breast, to weep away the great,
tearless sorrow ; slie had overcome that feeling
quite unaided. A silent, apparently despondent,
nun-like form, had he conducted through the for-
est to the parsonage ; and now in the castle he
was met by a truly queen - like woman, a full-
blown flower, that had suddenly cast off the last
narrow husk of the bud, and, as it were, over
night gained tliat graceful assurance which mod-
est, timid maidens generally acquire only after a
struggle of many years.
Jutta developed much wit, and that masterly
art of conversation which causes even the most
superficial topics to appear pi(iuant and attract-
ive. And while she sjioke, a wholly new, seduc-
tive smile frequently played round her lips. It
should have astonished the overseer that he had
never before observed all these peculiarities, or,
rather, that it had not been he wlio had been able
to awaken them ; but his own trustful heart, his
blind confidence in Jutta's character and devoted
love, never ])ermitted even a trace of suspicion to
spring up in his heart. Unsuspectingly he yield-
ed to the new charm ; and altliough the young
maiden was now nnich more reserved, though she
no longer received him witli the same lively, stormy
joy as formerly at tlie forest-house, yet all this
was ex]ilained to him by the i-estraiut laid upon
her by the new circumstances a view clearlv
shared by Madame Ilcrbcck ; for she eudeavoied,
by her own increased amiability and gracious
manners, to conceal flie change in Jutta's charac-
ter worthy and charming iSIadame Herbeck !
Thus pa-^sed the winter ; a winter so severe and
snowv had not visited the Thuringian forest for
many years. The first meny flakes, which the
pastor's wife had welcomed so cheerfully, had
been the precursor of a tremendous fall of snow.
Especially in the higher regions of the mountain
range it had snowed fr months unceasingly and
without interruption, that the houses day by
day became more dee- -nbedded in their white
graves, until at last '"'.! -ire and there the chim-
ney-crowned wooden Vidge lay like a gray line
upon the glimmering white ; while the huts low-
er down did not leave even this trace of their ex-
istence on the surface. The inhabitants of such
dwellings went in and out through the wide chim-
neys ; and it sometimes happened that wanderers
who had lost their way in the neighborhood, thus
rendered unrecognizable, suddenly sunk, to their
horror, Muth lightning speed into a naiTow shaft,
to find themselves upon a heai'th - stone below,
amid a number of equally frightened people.
It was warm down there in tlie deep darknes
through which the crackling pine knots or the
smoking little oil-lamps spread a feeble light.
There was no lack of fuel, but the pot t'- '^im
mered on the stove contained only ha^"
daily allowance of food ; indeed, m
it stood idle on the kitchen shelf, ' 'jfrfofiih-
ed people \\ent hungry to bed r^can'ty po-
tato crop of the last fall was kfy consaimed,
and woe to the poor dweller ''"/the forest when
this source fails ! With him'tlie potato takes tlio
]jlace of meat and IJread P .e eats it baked or
fried, along with his thin,'" 'serable coffee, with
which the refreshing Mc'fe^' 'bean has generally
nothing in common but thfi'r -n. AVith this he
often satisfies his hung'^'^ " ' tionths together,
and a single failure of &' ' p at once causes
the spectre of famine to ?^" lefore him.
The Easter bells now " I through the white
valleys ; and as though ii a only waited for this
first voice of spring, a warm tha^^ing wind arose,
and blew over tlie high sno^^y pinnacles of tlie
mountain peaks, and over the thousands of icy
pyramids with which the pine forest was towering
to the skies. After a deep covering of snow, this
is always a portentous moment for certain valleys
of the Thuringian forest. Slowly, slowly, it trick-
les from the glittering icicles upon the snowy cov-
er, which above, like a bright shield, still defiant
and a])parently victorious, throws back the rays
of the joyous ]March sun, while below tiny veins
of water already coui'se along. The noiseless
trickling soon becomes a purling and flowing, a
thousand-branched miniature rill, which, rooting
gnome-like into the ground, strives to reach the
valley bel6''*'. The layer of snow, rising to the
tops of th^I .ses, sinks down ; its upper surface,
smooth as MjJfrble, and hardened into granulated
ice, bursts, afldout of the clefts rise, gurgling and
boiling, the subterranean muddy yellow waters.
Xovv' also the daylight once again penetrates the
windows of the cottages ; but with hearts throb-
bing with anxiety the inhabitants gaze upon the
foaming flood rushing from the mountains. At
first, indeed, it flows into the rivulet that runs
through the valley, and ])eacefully drives the mill.
For a short time the dark waves, hunying along
in their cour.se rocks torn from tlieir resting-places
and ui)rooted trees, remain within the narrow
banks, but they swell and rise continually.
Ever broader and in greater numbers the dis-
colored ribbons roll forth from the forest-thickets
above ; the spring sun sees destruction rushing
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
33
down with them, and. smiling, he closer and closer
imprints his buniing kiss upon tiie sloping valley;
he wishes to awaken the flowers, and, in so doing,
he treads ruthlessly on the works and welfare of
men. The soil no Ion- t drinks uj) the melted
snow ; it rushes and r rs across the cultivated
lands and meadows ; t vef overflows its banks ;
and now may God htn ^^y ! Inundation in the
forest : shoiit the inhabitunts of the lowlands in
terror, when the roaring and swollen rivers from
above hurry along, bearing on their waves the
fragments of ruined houses and various articles of
furniture.
The district around Neuenfeld was less exposed
to such dangers, as it did not extend to those in-
hospitable regions. Yet the little river which so
gracefully traversed the valley, and in summer
often flowed over the dam all too gently and in-
nocently, was in spring-time a treacherous stream,
-.,1 connection with the high floods of the upper
-regions. Then it was apt to overflow its steep
banks, and tear away whatever coidd be torn in
the ''ape of mills, bridges, and stiles.
second day after Easter, in the afternoon,
accompanied by Berthold, was walk-
ing. I. iTostle Arnsberg. The student had
wholly rec ' his health, and was to return to
the universii. few days. Heretofore he had
obstinate'v refu. to be presented to his brother's
that this yoimg fiery mind
,nts ci deadly jealousy, that
f hatred towards the being
' eaiTiest, idolized brother,
iiol'i soul. Moreover Jutta's
mily was to him continu-
t, and this suspicion re-
wint from the flight of the
r.fT jflence at the White Castle.
ile had an inkling i,^ f, 'Sievert was his ally ; and
although the old man, out of regard to the over-
seer, and knowing by experience that his warn-
ings only added fresh fuel to the flames, remain-
ed consistently silent, still there were moments
when his inextinguishable dislike iiTcsistibly broke
through all bounds, and increased, even to inde-
scribable anguish, the student's fear lest his broth-
er should be made unhappy by this marriage.
He was now walking silently by the side of the
overseer, who, in order to overcome what he con-
sidered the bashfulness of the young man, had
used his authority as the elder, and compelled him
to pay Jutta a visit.
If heretofore the contrast between the brothers
had been striking, now, when Berthold's appear-
ance still bore veiy disadvantageous t aces of his
recent sickness, comparison was n ./juger possi-
ble. The too-slender form of the sti. .^nt was bent
fonvard, being still too feeble to stand erect. His
lean face, with its sharp-cut features and the trans-
parent pallor, together with the dark eyes, now
much enlarged, gave him an almost spectral ap-
pearance; while the parti-colored student's cap,
that had foiTnerly set boldly aljove a traly mag-
nificent wealth of curls, now looked almost melan-
choly upon the thin locks. Compared with the
faultlessly handsome fomi of the overseer, the
young man looked starred, nay, almost ugly.
In the bed of the river, near which they both
walked for a short distance, a muddy-colored mass
of water was raging ; the bushes along the banks
liad mostly disappeared, and only tlie uppermost
branches of the elastic willow, wildly scourged by
3
bride. None kne*
suftered all the tor
it cherished a kin
who had bewitchei
and absorbed hi'
descent from a
ally a source ol
ceived ample noui
TOung lady and her.
the waves, peeped forth from the flood. The water
rose from hour to hour. The overseer stopped a
moment upon the bridge that crossed the river a
short space above the dam, looking apprehensively
at the ol)jects that came floating along at a fear-
ful speed. As yet, they consisted only of trunks
of trees, and A\ashed-away cord-wood ; these were
driven heavily against the piers, and made the
ancient decaying structure shake from top to bot-
tom.
How different was the scene behind the old-
fashioned trellised gate of Arnsberg park ! Wher-
ever the snow had been less willing to yield to the
melting rays of the sun, it had been removed by
human hands. Between the long rows of lindens
glittered the white-bleached dn,- gravel ; the A-iolet
stars of the livenvort and the yellow calyxes of
the crocus peeped forth from the black mould of
the circular flower-beds ; and on the wide lawns
the first manellously fine breath of the sprouting
grass was visible. But behind the glass front of
the magnificent hot-house there gleamed all man-
ner of flowers of various shapes and colors, from
the dark-eyed violet to the beautiful aristocratic
but soulless camellia.
The overseer did not ohsen-e how the glance of
the student darkened, as the White Castle came
into view, shining behind groups of leafless trees
and still it looked so hosjjitable! All its shut-
ters were thrown back, all tlie balcony-doors stood
wide open, arm-chairs and footstools had been
moved out, and parrots and other various-colored
specimens of exotic birds, balancing upon rings, or
confined within the naiTow prison of their brass
cages, that stood upon the balconies, were scream-
ing hoarsely in the air, satiated with sunny
^^annth.
In the court, which was inclosed by the three
wings of the castle, and separated from the park
by a black iron railing, signs of busy life ]jredomi-
nated. The minister had arrived on the preced-
ftig evening, and was to-day to return to A ,
where a gi'eat court-ball was to take ]jlace in the
evening. Most likely the moment of his depart-
ure was near, for the grooms were drawing several
carriages from the coach-houses, and running busi-
ly from one door to the other. In perfect con-
trast to this activity, two lackeys were standing idle
in the entiy leading to the vestibule. They were
obviously waiting on the dinner-table ; with their
napkins thrown over their right arm, they were
sunning themselves here in the interval between
two courses. They leaned theii' backs against the
fi-ame of the door, and stretched out their legs,
clad in knee-breeches and white stockings. Nei-
ther thought it worth while to change his careless
position, or even to draw back his feet so impudent-
ly thrust fonvard, as the two young men stepped
over the threshold. The student measured their
stupidly haughty faces with a sparkling glance,
and with a passionate movement pressed his little
cap more fiiTnly on his head.
Above, near the door that closed a conidor, the
overseer remained for a moment standing, before
seizing the door-knob.
"No ; if things are to go on so, I can't stay
here, that's certain !" said a female voice within,
almost stifled whh anger. "Well, I only wish
the dead countess could come back for a while to
see such scandalous doings ! Sent away from the
table ! Did you ever hear of such a thing ? The
little Coimtess Stunn sent away from the table be-
31
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
cause she would not beg pardon ! And of whom,
I pray ? Sister Charlotte, I remember well, how
she came here on Christmas Eve, in the blue velvet
mantle of our late lady, because she herself had
not even a cloak to her name ! I should have
been mortified to death to come in such a way I
The conceited thing I When she lived with her
mother, she suffered hunger and want. Forester
Miller himself told me that many a time he had
shut his eyes when old Sievert was cariying off a
log of wood."
At this moment the overseer, his face crimson
with anger, opened the door. Lena, the pretty
chambermaid of the little countess, started back
with flight and screamed aloud, in which she \vas
seconded by her companion, who stood close by.
But the little lady had been well trained by her
constant intercourse with people of the court, and
would rather have lost a small part of her personal
honor, than her reputation for skill in polite usages.
She tlierefoi"e quickly regained her composure.
With a charming smile, she laid her little hand,
covered with rings, coquettishly on her palpitat-
ing heart, but at the same time stepped back to a
folding door, one side of which she threw open
with a gesture of invitation.
"Please step in here for a little wliile, i\Ir.
Overseer, " said she with a friendly mien. ' ' ^liss
von Zweifiingen is still at table ; diinrer is served
down stairs to-day in the white room, with his ex-
cellency. "
The young man silently stepped past her, but
at the threshold he drew back in surprise. The
opened wing of tlie door was wide enough also
to allow the student, who followed his brotlier,
to glance into the room. The daylight, which
without lay in golden splendor on mountain and
vale, shimmered gi-een within, like an emerald-
colored vapor ; it penetrated through beautiful
curtains of green silk. With such magic green
the legends depict the bottom of the ocean
a poetical thought, upon wliicli a luxuriant im-
agination and refined taste had based the adorn-
ment of this room. The glittering silken stuft' of
the curtains rustled also over -doors and walls,
and lay on the swelling cushions of the fauteulls
and tete-a-tetes, that were fashioned and slojjed
into the shape of shells, the contours of which
were indicated by narrow veneers, inlaid with
motlier-of-pcarl. Pale marble statues, Nereides
and Tritons, entwined witli ruslies, were arranged
-along the drapery of tlie walls, and tlie green
light played over the white bodies like the light
foamy wave of the ocean. The fioor was covered
with a dark Smyrna cai-pct, full of water-lilies
and long-leaved sea-plants. Groups of corals and
sliells kept the curtains in their guards, and from
the ceiling depended, as a lamp, a gigantic lotus-
flower of milk-white glass.
"Do come in here, Mr. Overseer," repeated
tlie chambermaid ; but her friendly smile had
lianged to an inetfably wicked one ;" .she seemed
t.;) feast on the discomfiture of the young man.
" It is certainly Miss von Zweiflingen's room
only a little bit changed. Ills Excellency foimd
(Hit yesterday that the moths were in the woollen
damask set, and so all the furniture from the fa-
vorite room of the lamented Countess Vijldern
has been carried up here."
The slender, pliant form of the miserable wom-
an had formerly reposed on these cushions. Over
her fairy-like licad, with the brilliant golden hair
and the alluring eyes, had once waved this green
ocean charm.
The student cast a searching glance into his
brother's face was it then solely the effect of the
paling light within, that suddenly made the features
of the overseer appear rigid and white as marble ?
He stepped mechanically over the threshold, fol-
lowed by the student.
CHAl^TER VII.
At this moment a bell, violently pulled, tinkled
shrilly through the corridor. Lena, carrying on
her arm a bundle of various articles of clothing,
jmshed hurriedly past the two young men, and
disappeared in a side room, the door of which
stood wide o])cn.
Within this room the voice of a child Mas
heard scolding the chambermaid for her long ab-
sence. Berthold listened for the first time to
these imperious yet sweet-toned sounds, and bent
his head involuntarily fonvard. A long suite of
rooms joined the boudoir in which he now stood.
In the door of the contiguous drawing-room,
directly opposite, stood the little countess, the
tiny creature who bore'on her brow the nimbus of
a renowned and ancient feudal name, and wlio stood
as absolute mistress with her little feet upon a
colossal fortune. A folding curtain of dark violet
plush hung over her pale little face, and gave it
an ugly yellowish tint. The child looked repul-
sive from head to foot, being at this moment de-
prived of the only charm slie possessed ; for the
brown eyes, Mith the usually soft look, now spar-
kled with resentment andjiaughtiness.
She hastily took a mantle from Lena's arm and
threw it over lier shoulders ; but the gorgeous lit-
tle rose-colored liat which t!e chambermaid held
out to her she refused to accejit.
"But this is the newest!" entreated Lena;
"his excellency, your papa, brought it only yes-
terday."
"I will not have it," briefly decided the little
countess, and seized a dark hood, in which she
enveloped her tiny head. Slie called jjuss, who
was lying on a cushion near the stove, and took
him in her arms.
A caniage drove noisily up in the courtyai-d.
The cliambermaid, already wrapjied in a thick
winter cloak, likewise threw a hood over her head
every thing looked like a speedy dei)arturc.
Now for the first time, when just ready to start,
Gisela saw the overseer, who meanwhile had ad-
vanced to the door of the drawing-room. She
nodded lightly to him as to an old acquaintance ;
l)ut tiie pleasing smile, wliicli he also had occa-
sionally seen, did not now appear on her homely
face.
" I am going to Greinsfeld." said she harshlv;
" Grcinsfeld belongs to me alone, as grandmam-
ma always told me. Papa wants to make IMiss
von Zweifiingen a i)resent of Ro.xana."
"Who is Koxana?" asked the overseer, feebly
attempting to smile ; his usually mellow voice
sounded weak and subdued.
"Why, grandmamma's saddle-horse. Miss
von Zweifiingen is to leani to ride, as papa said
to-day at the dinner-table. Poor Koxana ! I
like her very much, and I will not allow her to
be so ill-treated. And just see, all the furnitme
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
35
of the sea-room papfi had can-iecl up here grand-
mamma in heaven will be very, verj* angiy."
t^he walked excitedly towards the entry ; hut
once more turning round and throwing back her
little head, " I have told papa that I can't bear
Miss von Zweiflingen," she said, and the deepest,
most heartfelt satisfaction sounded in every word ;
" she is uncivil to our peojde, and is ahvays look-
ing in the mirror when she is giving me lessons.
But then papa was ten-ibly angry ; he wanted
me to ask her pardon, for she had such a red face.
But I shall be careful not to do it. It docs not
become me to ask pardon, grandmamma ah\'ays
said. "
Suddenly she stopped tlie carriage below was
rolling oft". Almost at the same time a door at
tlie farthest end of tlie long suite of rooms was
opened, and though the thick carpets lying every-
where deadened the noise of the footsteps, still it
Mas clear that a man was hastily approaching.
" Ilis excellency, your papa," whispered Lena.
Gii?ela turned round. Every other child in a
similar position would have been filled with fear
and anguish, for in decisive moments the feeling
of weakness and dependence inexorably makes
itself felt in the soul of the most stuljborn child :
but this little orjjhan already knew that she was
independent. In order to arouse in her a con-
sciousness of her high rank, they had robbed her
of the sweet feeling of childish dependence and
subjection. She pressed puss more closely to her-
self, and, stepping beneath the folding curtain,
cpiietly awaited her stepfother.
The overseer retreated into the background of
the boudoir.
" Haughty brood ! How well this young ser-
pent already knows how to hiss!" angrily mut-
tered the student, as he miwillingly placed him-
self near his brother. He woidd have preferred
turning his back on the castle, w'ith all it con-
tained.
Meanwhile the minister had come up. " Ah I
is my little chicken really ready to start ?" asked
he ironically ; but those who were intimately ac-
quainted with the voice of the man must imme-
diately have perceived that his accustomed equa-
nimity had deserted him he was evidently much
excited. "So the countess wanted to go to
Greinsfeld? And you are foolish enough to
supjjort her in this farce ?" continued he, ad-
dressing the chambeiTnaid.
"Your excellency,'' rejoined the girl resolute-
\y, " the countess has herself ahvays given orders
when she wishes to ride out, and all of us are
strictly forbidden to contradict her."
Entirely ignoring this well-founded excuse, the
minister pointed imperiously towards the door,
through which the chambermaid immediately
disappeared : then, without more ado, he seized
the cat to drive him to his cushion, and just as
quickly took off the child's mantle and hood, and
threw them on the nearest chair. Meanwhile his
features had again assumed that stony composure
which made them inscrutable alike to friend and
foe. Not the slightest ray of tenderness fell from
the deeply-sunken lids ujMm his little stcjidaugli-
ter, though his delicate white hand glided caress-
ingly over her head. The child started back as
if stung by a tarantula.
" Be reasonable, Gisela," he exhorted threaten-
ingly. "Do not compel me to punish you in
earnest. You must be reconciled with Miss von
Zweiflingen, and that immediately ; I will see it
before I leave."
"No, papa ; she may go back to the parson-
age, or to the blind old woman in the forest, who
was so angry "
The minister angi-ily seized the lean, fragile
form and shook it violently ; it was the first time
in her young life that the little child had been
punished in this manner. She did not scream,
and her eyes remained tearless, but her face grew
white as chalk.
"Papa, you dare not hurt me, grandmamma
sees it!" she threatened with half-slitled voice.
This painful scene A\as speedily cut short by
the overseer, who approached the door of the
drawing-room, and thus became visible to tlie
minister. There were very few indeed who
dared approach this man without a throbbing of
the heart. He was accustomed to see none but
downcast eyes and anxiously abashed faces about
him ; and now there stood opposite, in the sea-
room, and unannounced, this imposing, manly
form, whose erect head, covered with blond curls,
formed a striking contrast to the gleaming back-
ground of rustling silk ; moreover, the intruder
had surprised the accomjilished diplomatist in a
moment when the iron mask of haughty equa-
nimity hadfollen, and it was doubtless on account
of these two false slij)s that the face of his excel-
lency was overspread with a deep angry flush,
while a truly crushing glance was fixed on the
earnest, fearless eyes of the overseer. But all
this lasted scarcely a moment.
' ' Ah ! are you theie. Overseer Ehrhardt ! And
how did yon get here ?" cried the minister, with
an iron grasp forcing the obstinate little countess
into the nearest chair. The nonchalance and ic}--
cold condescension in his voice, as well as his
strongly - emphasized astonishment at the un-
looked-for presence of the young employe in his
excellency's castle, had something indescribably
insulting.
"I am waiting for my betrothed," replied the
overseer, quietly remaining in his any thing but
devoted position.
" Ah, yes I forgot !" With these words the
minister laid his hand upon his forehead and
ej"es ; but the fine tapering fingers did not suffice
to conceal the dark flush that suddenly spread
over his white face. He stc]iped quickly to the
window and drummed ujjou the panes ; but after
a few moments he again turned carelessly round
his face was bloodless and imi)enetrable as ever.
"If I remember rightly, you have made an at-
tempt to see me every time that I have been here
at Arnsberg, " said he. ' ' You must have been told,
like all others,. that I come to the White Castle
only to see my cliild, and on this day of recrea-
tion wish to be undisturbed by business matters.
However, as you are here, if you " he pulled out
his watch and looked at the hour "are able to
condense your report so as to finish in five min-
utes, you may speak. But come o^er here ; I
can not possibly give you an audience in Miss
von Zweiflingen 's room ! "
This last observatioTi was intended to be ironi-
cal and slightly jesting, but a practised ear could
not help noticing a subdued anger, and a sort of
feverish haste in the minister's tone and whole
manner.
He leaned on the low window-sill, crossed his
legs, and folded his arms, while the overseer step-
36
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
ped over the threshold with a low bow. And al-
though his excellency showed the highest elegance
and aristocratic finish in every movement, though
the baron's crown hovered invisibly over his head,
and presented itself visibly in numberless copies on
carriage doors, seal rings, handkerchiefs ; though
eveiy word from his ])d\e lips, every motion of his
hand, made thousands fear and tremble, still he
could not be compared with the man who at this
moment was standing before him.
"Your excellency," began the overseer, "'I
would beg leave to present orally what I have al-
ready repeatedly urged in writing, but without
any result."
TJie minister quickly rose and stretched out his
hand, intermpting him.
"Alia! you need say no more, I know al-
ready!" cried he. " You want higher wages for
the Ncuenfeld foundn'-men, because the potato
crop turned out badly. Sir, you are imbearable
with your eternal petitions you and the Neuen-
feld parson! Do you think, then, we shake
money out of our sleeves ? and that we have no
other business than to read your memorials, and
trouble ourselves about the miserable little vilkiges
up here? Not a penny will be granted, not a
penny!"
He walked several times up and down the room.
"Besides, "said he, stopping, "it is not so bad
as you and so many others wish to make believe ;
the people look very well."
" Certainly, your excellency," replied the over-
seer; and tlie beautiful crimson flush, always an
indication of tlie emotions of his heart, now rose
to iiis cheeks; "real famine has not yet visited
us. It is to prevent it that we ask for succor;
for wlien the fever caused by famine rages, it is
then too late a dying man no longer needs bread.
It would be unjust to expect tliat tlie Government
should at once recognize the origin and cause of
every calamity ; it has, as your excellency says,
other things to do ; but it seems to me that this
is the business of us, who live among the people "
"By no means, Mr. Overseer; you are not
there for that ])urpose!" interrupted the minister;
the sleepy lids were once more raised, and an un-
speakably mocking, contemj^tuous glance fell on
the young man; "your business is to p.ay tlie
pcojjle their week's wages, and tliat is all. Whetii-
er they get along with it or not, is their look-out.
You are an employe of the duke, and, as sucli,
you have only to watch over the interests of your
sovereign."
"Tliat I do honestly, though in a different
sense, jjcrhaps, from what your excellency means, "
rejilied the overseer finiily. He had turned pale,
but liis composure remained unshaken. "Every
officer, high or low, is a servant of tlie duke, and
of the people, too ; a connecting link between
both. It is largely in liis power to strengthen the
affections of the i)co])le towards tlie reigning dy-
nasty. I can not more faithfully serve our master
than by untiringly caring for the welfare of the
small number of his subjects with whom, in mv
sphere, I come in contact ; and I live in the be-
lief that I am placed in this ofiice in order to "
" Just like the pious parson of Neuenfeld !" in-
teiTuptcd the minister with a derisive laugh.
"He is always bringing with liim his blessed
standi)oint. Yes, yes ; you are all gentlemen ly
the grace of God, and anxious to tlabblc in the
business of the Government. However, I am
curious to hear from you where we are to procure
the means ; for, I repeat it, for such puiposes we
have absolutely no money. Shall his highness
peradventure give up his journey for recreation
next May? or do you wish that the court ball
this evening should be abandoned ?"
The overseer bit his lips, and the fingers of his
handsome, powerful hand involuntarily clenched
tight ; the incredible mockeiy of the minister was
sufiicieiit to stir up even the most peaceful mind
to its inmost deptlis. But although the tempest-
uous throbbing of the young man's heart was per-
ceptible in his voice, he answered with great self-
control :
"If his highness irnetv how matters stand
here, he would certainly give up the proposed
journey, for he is noble. And to the honor of
the iadies, who are this evening to appear at
court, 1 will believe that to succor the famishing
they M-ould renounce the pleasure of the dance.
Many things might be different if "
"If I were only out of the way, is it not so?"
inteiTupted the minister with a sardonic smile, at
the same time patting the young man on the
shoidder. "Yes, yes, my dear sir, I too cherish
the divine principle, in virtue of which we do not
allow the trees to reach to the sky! And now,
enough ! I am the last jierson to ANhom you can
address such sentimental notions about the wel-
fare of the inhabitants ; for I am, by no manner
of means, a servant of the people as you were
pleased so cleverly to observe but entirely and
simply the preserver and augmenter of the dynastic
splendor. That is m}- aim ; I know no other!"
With his hands crossed on his back, he again
began walking to and fro. ]\Iany a time previous-
ly had the overseer stood before this man. In
ordinary intercourse, witli all the impenetrable re-
serve of his exterior, he showed so much afihbili-
ty that one for the moment forgot that the e\il
genius of the land stood before him. It must be
some extraordinary occurrence in his soid that
forced his passions so unreservedly to the surfiice.
"You are an incorrigible visionary, I know
you!" said he, standing still after a pause; and
the voice, just before pitched so sharp, now sounded
manellously soft and benign. "With your so-
called humane ideas and conce]itioiis, you must
be ill at ease up here. I see that clearly, yet,
even with the best Avill, I can not help you in
the manner you wish ; bu.t I have a pro]iosal
to make to you" here the long lids fell over
his eyes; it was impossible to decipher a single
feature of his countenance, so rigid and immov-
able did it a]i)ear "it would be an easy thing
for me to give vou a brilliant position in' Eng-
land!"
" I am much obliged to your excellency!" in-
ternipted the young man with icy coldness.
"When my father died he left me two charges
the care of my youthfid brother, and the urgent
desire that I might in time succeed to his post as
overseer of the foundry. He was a child of Ncu-
enfeld, an honest Tliuringian, whose task it had
been all his life to assist his countrymen as firr as
he Avas able. And I think as he, your excellen-
cy ; I will live and sufier with them. I should
not deserve to be his son if, like a coward, I
tiimed my back on the misery which he so cour-
ageously sought to combat!"
"Well, Mcll, do not get excited!" said tlie
minister, as with truly crusliing irony be streti li-
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
37
ed towards him his hand with an apparently
soothing gesture. " Suffer on, if it gives you
pleasure!"
The most intimate acquaintances of the minis-
ter would have trembled at this moment. This
sudden flush, tliat brought unsightly blotches on
the white forehead, was the unmistakable sign of
an approaching tempest. Still, it did not break
forth. Nothing was heard but the low rustling of
silk dresses approaching the drawing-room; but,
at this insignificant noise, the half-opened lips of
tlie irritated man again closed firmly. As if
moved by an electric shock, his head turned to-
wards the suite of rooms, while at the same time
he waAcd his iiand with a hasty and imperious
gesture back to the overseer, as a sign of dismiss-
al. Did the young employe misunderstand this
unequivocal gesture, or did he wish arbitrarily to
continue the audience, in spite of all etiquette ?
He drew back only to the door ; there he remain-
ed standing, with an expression of iron resolution
upon his now pale face, while the minister stepped
under the folding curtain.
"XN'ell, my dearest ISIadame Herbeck, have
you had such a very dull time below that you
could not await my return ?" cried his excellency
to the governess, who, accompanied by Jutta, was
rapidly approaching him.
" I coiUd not possibly suppose that your excel-
lency would return to the dining-room," replied
the lady, deeply moved by the violent displeasure
manifested in his shaip, cutting voice. " The
carriage is already waiting."
This moment was improved by a seiwant who
had folkmed behind the ladies ; with a low bow
he announced that every thing was ready for the
departure.
"Take out the horses, and let the caniage
drive up again at six o'clock!" commanded the
minister. The nonplussed sen'ant instantly dis-
appeared.
Meanwhile little Gisela had slipped off her
chair, but not to avoid the person she so much
hated, who might at any moment enter the draw-
ing-room. Immovable, she had listened to the
conversation lietween her stepfather and the over-
seer ; and it seemed as if her little obstinate heart,
at the words fhmine and dying, had for the time
entirely forgotten its o^\n trouble and indignation ;
for, without casting a single glance at the minis-
ter and the two ladies standing without, she walk-
ed up to the overseer, and asked hurriedly, and
with visible anxiety, "Do the children atNeuen-
feld really have nothing at all to eat?"
At these childish sounds the minister turned
round. He had doubtless supposed that the peti-
tioner had left the room ; and there he was now
standing, as unbecomingly self-conscious and self-
confident as if the drawing-room of the little
Countess Sturm and the castle of his excellency
the minister were the place to which he rightfully
belonged.
Through the quick turn of the minister, the
door, on whose threshold Jutta was now standing,
wa-s left unoccupied. The moment appeared to
have come when this young maiden could look at
the brilliant satin dress of her mother's portrait
without a feeling of en\y. She had for the first
time laid off deep mourning. A light-gray wa-
tered-silk dress fell in stiff, heavy folds from her
waist, but around the bust it lay tight and smooth,
throwing a true silveiy hue over these plastic lines
of wonderful beauty. A small comb of polished
lava stars gracefully held the curls from her fore-
head, and permitted them to fall on the temjiles ;
and these dark, heavy curls, that reached almost
to her waist, seemed almost too heavy for the lit-
tle head, which, slightly bent forward, was at this
moment inclined like the sweet flower of the
white narcissus. In her hand she held, carelessly
dangling, a magnificent bouquet of hyacinths, and
her downcast glance seemed devoutly fixed on
the fragrant chalices of the flowers. Not a trace
of sadness and pride distorted for the moment the
features of this lady, upon whose head nature had
once more j)oured all that seductive grace that
had made the now extinct race of the Zweiflin-
gens at all times almost more redoubtable than
their knightly valor and much-boasted skill in
arms.
The question of the little countess remained
unanswered ; the tall young man to A\hom it was
addressed certainly did not know that the little
girl was standing at his feet, looking anxiously
up to him with her inquisitive brown eyes ; for
Jutta had just stepped over the threshold, and her
glance fell ujjon him. A burning blush suflused
her face and neck, beneath the glance of the ej'es
that were fixed immovably upon her. "What a
change had taken place in him ! He, the modest,
resened man, who was too bashful to touch even
a finger of his betrothed in the presence of
Madame Herbeck, now advanced, regardless of
the persons present, with quick steps to the young
lady, and without more ado seized one of heV
liands. As he did so the bouquet dropped to the
floor, but he had no thought of picking it up ; on
the contrary, he laid his right hand on Jutta's
head, and bending it back, looked earnestly and
searchingly into her eyes.
If Madame Herbeck's eyes at this moment had
not been fixed in indescribable perplexity upon
tills group, she would have been fearfully shocked
at the sight of the minister. For a moment it
seemed as if he wovdd leap tiger-like upon the
bold man and strike him to the floor with his
clenched fist. Who indeed would have supposed,
beneath the sleepy lids, the existence of such
sparkling eyes, gleaming with untamed, fiery pas-
sion! But who also would have thought that
over these haughty, marble-like features, there
could glide such a living expression of despair I
Jutta's head glided away elastic from under
the hand of the overseer ; then she quickly bent
down, picked up the bouquet, and buried her
glowing face in its flowers. She was less success-
ful in freeing her hand ; the overseer held it firni
with an almost jjainful grasp, and drew her not
liastily, but irresistibly to himself "Willingly or
uuwillingly, the young maiden must follow him to
the sea-room if she did not wish to cause a for-
mal scene.
In the door the young employe turned round
and quietly made a bow ; the minister's glittering
eyes glided over him, but this time the gracious
wave of his excellency's hand was omitted.
"Do not forget. Miss von Zweiflingen, that I
must hear the Norturne of Chopin before I return
to A !" calledhe. His voice sounded hoarse,
and the smile he tried to force upon his twitch-
ing lips failed.
A low, mute courtesy of the young lady was
the answer ; and wliile he, leading little Gisela by
the hand, walked through the room to return to
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
tlie lower story, Jutta, with the overseer and
Madame Herbeck, who followed her like a shad-
ow, passed into the gi-een-room.
CH^SPTER VIII.
Akd now for the first time the student found
himself in the presence of his brother's betrothed.
The discourteous carelessness of his position, the
vivid play of the muscles in his fleshless face
and his forehe.id rendered bald by sickness, made
him look old. Anger and indignation were burn-
ing in his deep-set eyes ; for in his corner he had
been an unseen witness of the conversation be-
tween the minister and liis brother. It was clear
that lie had made an unfovorable impression on
Jutta; and all the more that he had not betrayed,
by the slightest sign, an admiring sui-])rise at her
outward clianns. Slie found no friendly word to
welcome liim ; coldly she stretched out to him
the tips of her fingers, and just as coldly did he
for a moment touch them.
As if exhausted, or perhaps filled with ennui,
quite in the style of the haughty, accomplished
lady of the fiisliionable world, she allowed herself
to sink into a tete-a-tetc ; tlie captivating charm
of child-like bashfulness with which she had stood
before tlie minister liad vanished. With a mo-
tion of tlie hand she invited the gentlemen to take
seats. Madame Herbeck seated liersL'lf by her
^de on the tete-h-tcle. Tlie good lady, whom
nothing could induce to flinch from her honorable
post as guardian of virtue, looked very much
heated. The student, on beholding these flushed
cheeks, and the moist brilliancy of lier swimming
eyes, was disresjiectfii] enough to remember sev-
eral silver-necked bottles whicli, in passing, he had
seen on a bufi'et of tiie vestibule.
She had valiantly conrpiered her former per-
plexity and indignation, and immediately took
the lead in the conversation, as Jutta, silent and
visibly out of liumor, seemed wliolly engaged in
counting the Iiyacinths of her bouquet. Madame
IIerl)eck talked of the great flood of water, of tlie
possibility of inundation, of iier anxiety lest the
water sliould rise to the steps of the White Castle,
but not a single word of the threatened mud-huts
of the village.
The overseer allowed her to nin on in this way
for some time ; perhaps he did not hear a word
of Avhat she said. Ilis looks were steadily fixed
on the face of ins betrothed tliese drooping lash-
es must at last be raised ! It is said that tlie sleep-
ing child will awake beneath a penetrating look a
mimosa-like sensitiveness of the child's jiure soul I
Had eveiy child-like element vanished, then, from
the soul of this maiden, apiiarently so deeply bur-
ied in liersclf, or was the waking electric .spark
lacking in the eye of the man who sat opposite ?
She did not look up ; not a feature of her face
changed.
" 1 should veiy much like to hear yon play the
Nocturne of Chopin, Jutta," said the overseer sud-
denly, intciTU])ting with bis firm, sonorous voice a
well-rounded i)hrase of the governess.
Jutta started the lashes rose, and the eyes,
larger than ever, looked at him with a mixture of
fear and astonishment. Hut Madame Herbeck
lost her ])ower of speech, and became motionless.
Coidd this man be so exceedingly impertinent as
to think it possible to be allowed in the music-
room of his excellency the minister ?
' ' Of course not "liere, where you have no in-
strument of your own I" he continued quietly.
' ' We will go to the ])arsonage "
'"The parsonage?" exclaimed Madame Her-
l)eck, clasping her hands. " For Heaven's sake,
how can you have such an idea, my good Mr.
Overseer ? It is utterly impossible for Jliss von
Zweiflingeu to return to the parsonage, she is
wholly at variance with those peojile I "
"I hear this for the first time," said the young
man. "Why at variance? because your un-
strung nerves could not bear the noise of the chil-
dren ?" said he, turning to Jutta.
"Well, yes! that was the main reason," an-
swered slie defiantly. "I still shudder at the
recollection of those Kadchens and IMinchens,
Karlchens and Fritzchens, with their hob-nailed
shoes and ear-rending voices ; my nervous head-
aches date from that detestable time. But still
more I see no reason why I should conceal it
from you any longer I have an extreme dislike
for the minister's wife herself This coarse'mat-
ter-of-fact person is filled with an immoderate de-
sire of niling, and it is very evident that I have
not the least desire to place myself under a do-
minion that would compel me to handle the
broom and cooking-pot, and to stifle all higher
aspirations within me."
She again sank back, and allowed her lashes
to droop over her eyes. The mass of dark curls
spread over the green cushion, and the marlde-
wliite fiice, with the finnly-closed lips, gave her
an almost sphinx-like appearance.
"This is a harsh and veiy premature judg-
ment, Jutta ! " said the overseer indignantly. " I
esteem the pastor's wife most highly, and not I
alone ; she is beloved and respected by aU the
neighborhood."
' ' Oh dear ! what do these peasants know ?"
threw in Madame Herbeck, shrugging her shoul-
ders.
" Jutta, I must earnestly entreat you to exam-
ine more closely the character of this excellent
woman," continued he, without lieeding the im-
];ertinent interruption of the governess. "And
the more as, hereafter, at the lonely foundry she
will be almost the only one with wliom you can
associate."
Jutta silently dropped her head, and JIadame
Herbeck hemmed, while seeming engaged in the
arduous task of smoothing the corners of her
handkerchief.
' And now you will pcnnit me to get yonr hat
and cl(;ak. will you not, Jutta ?" asked the over-
seer, trembling with emotion. " The air without
is splendid "
"And the roads full of mud," diyly supplied
tlie governess. "Mr. Overseer, I do not under-
stand you at all. I^o you wish at any cost to
make ^liss von Zwciflinger. sick ? I guard lier so
anxiously against the slightest draught of air,
and now, without the least necessity, you wish
her to wet her feet. Treat me as you like, but
to that I will never consent ! "
The condescending lady departed a little here
from her rule ; she hastily shot a cold, watchfid
glance towards the overseer ; but this one glance
was sufticient to make her at once understand
that the taciturn man whom she had looked upon
as so simple was not to be trifled with.
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
"The forest road, along which my betrothed
often used to come to meet me, was almost al-
ways muddy, was it not, Jutta ?" he asked, smil-
ing.
A deep Hush appeared on the face of the young
lady, together with a look betraying a bitter ani-
mosity. Why should Madame Ilerbeck know
tliat there had been a time wiien, with feverish
impatience and anxious longing, she had gone to
meet her lover, regardless of wind and weather ?
iSiie did not answer the question.
"Tiiere is no need of further discussion," said
she petulantly, and with a cutting tone. "To-
day I most certainly shall not go out, and, least
of all, to the parsonage! And I tell you now
witliout circumlocution, Theobald, I will never
again cross that threshold 1'
The overseer remained for a moment silent.
He was still standing, and leaned his hand on
the back of the chair ; the dark brows, joined
above the root of the nose, wliicii made his hand-
some face so sad, contracted into a gloomy
frown.
"In three weeks the little Countess Sturm is
to return to A , is she not ?'' he inquired, but
witii so much decision and expression tliat it
make a falsely denying or evasive answer im-
possible.
Tiie ladies looked at him in consternation, but
neither contradicted the assertion.
"May I ask, Jutta, where you intend to stay
Avlien the "White Castle is empt}- and deserted ?''
inquired he further.
A sudden stilhiess ensued. There are mo-
ments when a whole series of important events is
compressed into the space of a few minutes. In-
stinctively one feels their significance. It is as
if he stood beneath the loosened keystone of an
arch. The next concussion will tin'ow it down,
and the entire building will fall in. The first
word spoken is this concussion. The overseer
uttered it precisely because an energetic grasp of
the actual situation was absolutely necessaiy.
" Till the moment when I shall have the right
to apjiear as j-our sole protector, and to keep and
cherish you in my own house," said he his voice
became husky and trembled, and a ray of secret,
unspeakable happiness gleamed from his eyes
" till that moment, tliere is no other proper abode
for you than the parsonage."
Madame Ilerbeck now rose also, and pressed
her white jilump hands upon the table.
" Wliat! can you really think, then, of cany-
ing Miss von Zweiflingen hack to tliat may God
forgive me hovel?" cried she. "Is this high-
spirited mind, so full of fresh vigor, to be stifled
in the canting, pietistic society yonder? My
heart is ready to break when I think of so much
nobleness of soul, such a thoroughly aristocratic
tjTpe of a young lady, amid the minister's chick-
ens and geese, and a swaiTn of rude, ill-mainiered
children I Poor food, hard work, and, as mental
recreation, a chapter from the Bible 1 Do you
really dare force this precious trinity upon a high-
ly-educated young lady of rank ? My dear Mr.
(J\"erseer, you may be ^ery fond of your betroth-
ed, I will not doubt it I mean nothing unkind
but the tenderness of love you do not possess,
or you would not so rudely ignore the fact that
there is something in Jutta's soul, implanted there
by nature, which the socialists and democrats,
with all their wisdom, can not scoff away, which
will survive under the heaviest pressure, because,
in fiict, it is of divine origin I mean the con-
sciousness of nol)le descent !"
The student jerked back his chair, and his
clenched hand, raised on bigh, would certainly
have fallen upon the table with a crushing blow,
had not the overseer seized and held it fiist in
time. But, however earnest and warning the
look with which he regarded the young hotspur,
it was clear that he himself needed all the energy
at his disposal to presene his apparently quiet
demeanor.
"Is this your o])inion too, Jutta?" asked he
slowly and distinctly.
"Heavens! how tragically you take every
thing!" she replied peevishly.
Her large dark eyes had for a moment meas-
ured with freezing coldness the young man Avho
had dared to bring his rude schoolboy manners
into the "White Castle. jS'ov,- they turned upon
the overseer.
'" You can not possibly require me to sing the
praises of the house where I was so incredibly
wretched and desolate?" continued she. "But
I beg you, Theobald, do not stand there so disa-
greeably resolute. Must you always have a bi-u-
tal yes or no at once ?"
She pointed to a chair.
" Come, sit down a moment longer," asked
she almost confidingly. A smile flitted round
her lips a fugitive, cool smile but it was the
first and only one of the day ; there was some-
thing conciliatory in it to the young man. He
sat down.
"I know of an expedient," she began. Ma-
dame Herbeck, who at the conclusion of her mag-
niloquent speech had again sunk back into the sofa
corner, hastily laid her hand on the young lady's
arm.
" Not now, my love !" said she waniingly, with
A meaning glance. " Mr. Overseer does not seem
to me to be at all in the mood to take such a
harmless matter reasonablj-."
"But it must be told some time!" cried Jutta
peevishly. " Theobald, I have a proposal, plan,
or whatever you may call it " the air of the cas-
tle seemed full of ])roposals that day; "in a
word, the Duchess A wishes to give me a
place as lady of honor "
This was the moment when the joints of the
building loosened, and it portentously crackled
and shook over the head of the betrayed man ;
but he himself, with his first word, had brought
down the impending evil.
He did not ask, " Can you reconcile it to yom--
self to leave me in this manner ?" This question
from the lips of a man, in view of the well-con-
sidered plan of the young lady, would have been
ridiculous sentimentality. lie did not utter a
word. V^as this handsome face, with the eyes
firmly fixed on the floor, about to stiffen into life-
less rigidity ? Only near the temples an ill-fore-
boding flush rose, as if the blood in his veins had
suddenly left its wonted channels, and was rush-
ing threateningly towards the brain. Now only,
when after a silent, painful pause he raised his
eyes, it could be seen that his soul had received a
deadly blow'.
" Does the duchess know that you are betroth-
ed ?" he inquired almost inaudibly, fixing on his
bride a glance in which all light was extinct.
"Not yet!"
40
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
" And do you think that in the court of A ,
where the strictest rules of etiquette are observed,
the betrothed of an overseer of plebeian birth will
be admitted ?"
" We confidently hope that this time, in con-
sideration of the ancient name of the Zweitiingens,
an exception will be made," said Madame Herbeck
quickly and spiritedlj', now taking the lead in the
conversation. " Of course, this delicate matter
must be veiy skillfully handled ; but leave that to
me, my good Mr. Overseer time brings roses.
There is no necessity of its being known by their
highnesses for the first half-year, and then "
" I beg you, madame, leave me alone with my
bride," said the overseer, interrupting the govern-
ess's flow of words. She stared at him, unable to
utter a syllable. What ! this man, who merely as
a matter of necessity had now and then been toler-
ated in the White Castle, dared to order her out,
and that, too, in a room belonging to her own
apartments ? Not even his excellency, the minis-
ter, indulged in this icy, brief tone when lie wished
to be left alone. In truth, the boorisli naivete
with wliicli all ideas of decorum were wliolly ig-
nored, was sim])ly ridiculous and amusing ; but
the gracious lady could not contrive to laugh in the
face of the terrible earnestness and gloomy reso-
lution with which the young man had risen, and
was now awaiting her departure.
She stealthily cast a hasty glance at Jutta, and
at the sight of tli is classic profile, witli the nostrils
vibrating in slight scorn, and the lips defiantly
closed, giving the perfect expression of a cold,
cruel courage, she suddenly gave up her contem-
plated resistance. And now, a word to the ill-
mannered person opposite was too precious. With
a sarcastic smile she rose, with all the majesty at
her disposal, and rustled, looking neither to the
right or left, into the drawing-room opposite ;
while the student, as he left, closed the door of
the corridor behind him.
Jutta rose and stepped into the deep window-
seat, whither the overseer followed. There stood
the young couple, in perfect physical beauty each
worthy of the other. Near them swei)t the green
curtains of the window, likewise shutting them off
from the noise and bustle of the castle. From the
walls hung vines of the large-leaved Scotch ivy,
and twined ])ropitiatingly about them both ; and
without, in front of the window, lay the wide
world, smiling in beauty beneath the rays of the
spring sun. The young trees were pushing new
roots into the mother earth, and the flowers which
were in due time to rock their jiarti-colored heads
in the snnliglit, pressed their little feet more firmly
into the mould. Every thing was rooting itself
more dccjjly into its native soil, binding and chain-
ing itself, to bloom more cheerfully and securely in
the sunny air al)()ve. And here one human heart
deserted the other, pitilessly wrenching a])art in
violent self-lilicration the connecting tie wliicli,
with tliousauds uf roots and bulbs, buiuid it to
the profoundest depths of tlie other soul.
" You have already corresponded with the court
of A ?" began the overseer a decisive ques-
tion, and one at which his heart throbbed audibly
in anxious suspense.
"Yes," answered the young lady, smoothing
with her iiand the rustling silk robe. " This dress
was sent by the duchess, with a whole trunk full
of the finest underclothing, all ready made, sliawls,
laces, and so forth ; my dressing-room is like a
bazar. The duchess knows my impecuniosity,
and, to avoid court gossip, she did not wish me
to arrive at A poor."
All this she said hghtly, as if it were a matter
of coiu'se, Avhile the overseer, speechless with sur-
prise and hoiTor, reeled back. But a righteous
anger, a painful resentment, broke forth in this
man of wise ])atience and moderation.
' ' Jutta, have you dared to play such a miser-
able farce with me ?" he exclaimed bitterly.
She suneyed him with a haughty look from
head to foot. " I almost believe you wish to in-
sult me ! " said she with a cold smile, but her eyes
s])arkled with fearful brilliancy. "Be careful,
Theobald ; I am no longer the ignorant cliild that
once passively allowed herself to be ruled by you
and an imbittered mother!"
lie stared for a moment, as if terrified at the
demoniacally beautiful face of the maiden ; then
uttering a deep sigh, he drew his hand across his
brow.
" Yes, you are right, and I have been blind!"
murmured he. "You are no longer the child
that once voluntarily lay on my breast, and said
to me, the despondent one : ' I love you ah, so
much.' " He ground his teeth together.
The young lady, in angry jjerplexity, plucked
an ivy leaf and tore it to shreds, the rustling of
a silk dress was heard all the time in the window-
seat ; the governess was pacing up and do\vn like
a sentry in front of the open drawing - room
door.
"I do not understand," ejaculated Jutta with
glittering eyes, "why you come to remind me, in
so silly a manner, of my duty ! Prove to me that
I have failed in it !"
" At once, Jutta ! There is no return possible
from the ducal court to the foundry-house !"
" That you say not I !"'
"Yes, tiiat say I ! And if you really did re-
turn, I should close my doors to you. I wish no
wife who has breathed the court air ! I wish near
me a pure, xmdefiled soul, such as I once found at
the forest-house ! Oh, I have been a fool, and
have foiled in my promise to the l)lind old lady !
Not a single hour should I have left you at the
White Castle ! You are already poisoned the
frippery with which you have so complacently
decked yourself" he pointed to the gleaming
dress "has also brushed away the dew from
your soul ! "
This was a withering condemnation, and he who
pronounced it with earnest anger bore all the lus-
tre of a si)0tless soul iqjon his brow.
Madame Herbeck came rustling into the room
in great trepidation. The strictly moral man,
in certain moments, may become really fearful to
frivolous natm-es ; he has a power over them.
But Jutta beckoned her to turn back ; she wished
to finish the task alone; she needed no assist-
ance.
"Jutta, return!" exclaimed the overseer with
trembling voice, while he imploringly seized the
young lady's hand and drew it to himself.
" For no consideration ; I will not make my-
self so ridicidous!"
He droj)ped her little cold hand, that had invol-
untarily closed.
" So then I have only to ask, to whose mediix-
tion you owe these brilliant jirosjjects ?"
She looked at him uneasily there was some-
thing frightful in his rigid composure.
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
41
"My friend, Madame Herbeck," she began
hesitatingly.
' ' Those who know our proud sovereigns are
also aware that no one in the service of the min-
ister can have any direct influence." This an-
swer cut oft" all evasive rejoinder.
The governess started back from her lurking-
place as if bitten by an adder.
" Jutta, I personally have not another word to
say to you I have no longer any part in you
that is all past I" he continued in a raised voice.
''But I must speak in the name of your dead
mother I Go whithersoever you please ; every-
where, at all courts, your descent from an ancient
noble family will secure you admittance but do
not remain here ! You dare not accept favors at
the hands of those whom your unhappy mother
cursed I Jutta, he, the minister "
"Ah, now comes the revenge!" interrupted
the young lady, breaking into a frenzied laugh.
She rushed from the window-seat back into the
room. ' ' Kevile him as much as you will I " cried
she, furious with passion. " Call him a murder-
er, a devil ! And if the whole world should cry
and swear the same, I will believe nothing, noth-
ing I will not listen!"
Her little hands glided mider her curls and
covered her ears.
At this sight, the pale lips of the young man
were pressed together as if they would remain
silent forever. Slowly he slijjped from his finger
the engagement-ring, and handed it to the young
lady. She hastily felt for her own, and now, for
the first time during all the stormy scene, a crim-
son flush of shame and embarrassment over-
spread her face ; this was why her delicate right
hand had so imweariedly held the heavy Ijouquet !
The innocent flowers had concealed the former
resting-place of the ring. There, in the mother-
of-pearl shell, on which the uncertain glance of
the faithless betrothed now fell, lay the ring she
had already laid it aside.
The overseer burst into a frenzied, terrible
laugh, and tottered through the door, which the
student at the same moment opened, while Ma-
dame Herbeck hurried from the drawing-room,
and tenderly threw her anns round the resolute
girl.
"He would not have it otherwise, the fool!"
muttered the young lady defiantly, withdrawing
herself rather impatiently from the embrace. She
inhaled for a moment an invigorating essence, and
then threw a handful of rice-powder into her face,
as a preservative against the deleterious efitects
of excitement upon the complexion.
CHAPTER IX.
The two brothers hunied precipitately towards
the door of the castle. It seemed as if the flat-
tering, perfumed air of the long passages was la-
den with treachery and f^ilsehood.
Below, in the open door of the music-room,
stood the steward, calling to the servants the
grand-piano was to be moved to another posi-
tion. The entire gorgeous room was open to the
view. The crimson silk curtains were drawn
close, the branching chandeliers along the walls
were already lighted, a bright fire blazed on the
marble hearth, and the servants were preparing a
table for coflTee all aiTangements to make the
music-room of his excellency as comfortable and
home-like as possible. The Nocturne of Chopin
would certainly yet be played that day ; and
while the com])any were emptying the silver cake-
baskets, and si))])ing coffee out of the best Meis-
sen porcelain, they would scoft" at the rejected
suitor, who had had the audacity to tiy to make
good his claims, now rendered impossible, to
the hand of the future lady of honor to her high-
ness the Duchess of A .
In an ann-cliair drawn close to the fire lay lit-
tle Gisella. Her small feet carelessly crossed,
she pressed her little ugly face against the richly
colored embroidery of the cushion. When she
saw the two yoimg men huiTying through the
vestibule, she raised her head and sprang to her
feet. For the moment there was evidently none
present to watch her, for at the very instant that
the overseer stejjped forth upon the gravelled
path, she stood near him and touclied his hand.
She felt in her pocket, and drew forth a handful
of bright, new groschen.
"Please take them!" she whispered, out of
breath ; "I have saved them because they are so
pretty. It is a great deal of money, is it not ?"'
The overseer indeed stop]jed mechanically, but
regarded her with a wholly listless glance, devoid
of understanding. It seemed as if a malarious
blast had suddenly swept over this blooming, vig-
orous body and mind.
" Do not touch him I" threatened the student,
his indignation and grief finding vent, and push-
ed the child away. He laughed bitterly as the
shining coins dropjjed from tlie hand of the fright-
ened child and rolled clinking over the gravel.
"Does this little viper already know," cried he,
"how the high-born treat the wounds they have
made in the souls of others ? "With money, with
money ! AMiat, then, is high-boni in you, pray,
}t)u fragile, ugly little creature ?"
His strongyouthful voice echoed alarmingly back
tln'ough the vestibule, whose walls rarely heard
any other sound than the noise of light shoes
and the subdued whisperings of lackeys. The
senants and the steward stretched their necks
from the door of the music-room, and in the back-
ground appeared Lena. She clasped her hands
on seeing the little countess standing there with
all the signs of fright, with no shawl or cloak,
and bareheaded in the open air. Moreover, sh.e
had heard the sarcastic remark of the student ;
in great apprehension she ran out and drew the
little countess away from the reach of the impu-
dent fellow.
At the same moment a white hand drew back
the closed curtains of a window in the basement,
and the pale face of the minister ajjpeared behind
the panes. At this sight the feverish spots on
the student's sunken cheeks grew into a burning
flush. He stepped close to the window ; the
minister drew back with visible emotion, but the
long lids immediately drooped again over the eyes
the young man had no weapon in the uplifted
right hand.
"Yes, yes, look and rejoice!" cried the stu-
dent, with loud-resounding voice. ' ' The wretch-
ed woman yonder has well performed her task
the plebeian departs ! Keep on in this way, your
excellency ! Ignore the famine in the land, and
drive the living spirit from the schools; that is
what you call ruling weU ! But what do you care
42
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
for Gennan sjiirit and German miseiy, you for-
eign intruder I"
The head of the minister disappeared, and the
curtains again dropped close, but through the ves-
tibule sounded the noise of a bell violently rung.
Whether the servants who rushed out imniedi-
atelv afterwards were ordered to eject the noisy
intriuler, remains unknown. The overseer had
ah-eady thrown his arras around his brother's
waist and drawn him away. But the tall athletic
form of the young man, with the rigid, death-like
repose of his countenance, was well calculated to
strike the minds of the servants with a whole-
some respect they loitered far behind, while the
brothers passed through the park.
A slight tinge of the evening twilight was al-
ready spread over the neighborhood. The sun-
light, which throughout the day had been beat-
ing indefatigably and energeticaJ'y on the buds
of the trees, brown with covering resin, on the
little sleeijing-chambers of the seed-corn, and cm
the human soul, awaking it from its torpid win-
ter sleep, had grown pale ; only on the tops of
the mountains, behind which the sun was sink-
ing, there still blazed an orange-colored light.
It had suddenly grown quite cold ; the windows
of the hot-house had long been covered with their
protecting straw mats, and the chimneys of Neu-
enfeld sent forth long colinnns of smoke.
Did the overseer fail to notice that, when leav-
ing the trellised gate of the White Castle, he had
taken the opposite direction ? Yonder lay his
house near the foundry, with its comfortable
room. At this momsnt Sievert was certainly
])utting one stick of wood after another into the
huge stove, throwing a handfid of aromatic juni-
jier-berries on the hot plate, setting the table as
carefully as he had ever done for his aristocratic
mistress, and closely drawing the curtains. Yon-
der lay the sheltering asylum, his home and
this way led to the ])athless wilderness.
The stuilent anxiously seized his brother's
hand ; a glance fell on him, and the hand was
retained with a forcible pressure. lie now knew
that agony of soul was driving the silent man on-
ward, lie walked speechless by his side. On
and on they went, across tlooded meadows, their
feet sinking at every step into the marshy ground,
through mist-breathing alder thickets that cover-
ed the lowlands ; and where the mountain, in al-
most impassable declivities, stretched out its
])ine-grown flanks, the silent wanderers jjursued
tlieir course. What avails it to the mortally
wounded stag that he escapes into the wildemess ?
In his body he bears the murderous lead, and
runs with it over hill and dale. And the man
who, in breathless haste, was climbing the mount-
ain, carried \\ith him the burden of his misery;
he did not escape it the damp valley below did
not ease him of the slightest \nivt. In the deadly
silent solitude of the wilderness, the woe that he
ke])t back.within his silent lips only cried out the
louder as the shriek of the wild fowl only re-
sounds with tenfold force in the frightfid chasms
and clefts.
Dark waters flooded the ground, covered with
dee]) layers of ])ine needles, and nuule the stcej)
])ath sli]ipcryand dangerous. It grew (piitedark
beneath the flr-trees, that stretched their limbs,
still wet from the melted snow, in almost l)lack
outlines towards heaven ; only here and there,
where the thicket protectingly crossed its arms,
a naiTow strip of snow was left, spared by the
dissolving thaw, and assuming fantastic forms
and shapes. Above the mountain summit hung
the heavens, a steel-blue scutcheon, on which the
inspired promise has written "Rest and Peace."
But for the human heart that had sought refuge
on the height, the heavens had fallen at the mo-
ment when it was betrayed.
The overseer walked on and on over the pla-
teau of tlie mountain, while the student leaned
exhausted against a tree. Below, in the valley,
the fast approaching darkness already rendered
all outlines indistinct ; only the foaming river
was still dotted by a few feeble reflections. Its
roaring and rushing was faintly echoed from the
depths. In the village a few lights appe;\red ;
but over the foundry chimney rose a blazing pil-
lar that darted with flery tongues towards heav-
en. And yonder lay the prouil square of the
White Castle, with its illuminated windows.
Most likely his excellency was already rolling
towards the ducal palace and the court ball, with
triumph on his pale tace and beneath the sleepy
lids ; and in the sea-room, on the swelling cush-
ions of the Countess Voldem, lay perhaps at this
moment the child of the blind lady, in the gleam-
ing silk dress, the bounty of ducal condescen-
sion and grace, and dreamed of the next court
ball, where, in the sparkling beauty of the new
lady of honor, a dazzling star would rise. The
long gallery of ancestors in the deserted forest-
house, those perfect tj-pes of aristocratic pride,
jireserved on canvas, lived anew in this youngest
scion the ancient name was again heard at
court. And in this youngest scion lived the jiride
of race, the haughty s])irit of her ancestors. The
ancient tragedy, to which this gallery of noble
huntsmen had furnished abundance of actors, Avas
again brought on the stage. Aristocratic Pride
betraying I^ove I
The man so treacherously betrayed, and sud-
denly thrown out of the path of jjcaceful thought,
would ])erha])s have wandered all night over
motnitain and valley, striving after composure of
soul, had not the student, almost utterly exhaust-
ed, at last seized his arm and implored him to
return. Till now not a word had been exchanged
betA\een the two wanderers ; they had descended
the mountain on the other side, and passed
through a narrow valley, to climb once more a
rocky wall. Now they stood in a deep chasm,
through which the high-swollen river was rushing
with a thundering noise.
Tiie moon had risen. Her full orb hovered
above the chasm, and her white light fell upon
the black firs and jjines, with which the walls of
themoimtain, almost per])cndicular, as if they had
been rent asunder, were bristling ; they danced,
too, on the turbid, foaming waves. The chan-
nel of the river was fidl ; already here and there
the foam sparkled over the meadows ; a few more
violent ])ulsations up in the mountains, and the
waters would surely overflow the low valley lands.
Farther down, in the vicinity of a hamlet situ-
ated near the river, some people were approach-
ing. Wen and women were carrying bedding
and various kitchen utensils on their heads, and
the children were driving before them a coujjle
of goats. " It will be a hard night the water is
coming!"' said one of the men to the ove-seer.
They were cscai)ing to a few houses on more ele-
vated ground.
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
43
Tliis exclamation suddenly roused the over-
seer from his brooding sorrow. He hurned more
rapidly along the river; all his workmen that
dwelt in Neuenfeld were in danger. And now he
also saw what the treacherous wave was already
bearing on its crest ; a door came floating by, and
amid the cord-wood that-was hurrying past there
were mingled rafters and jjlanks toni loose fiom
houses. The waters swelled and gurgled, and were
still by no means satisfied with the misery and
want they had already caused.
And all around was the moonlight, as sweet
and golden, and smiling just as pitilessly as the
))air of dark eyes yonder in the White Castle,
after looking into the abyss that had closed over a
crushed human heart.
The bell of the Neuenfeld steeple struck nine.
For more than four hours had the two brothers
been wandering aimlessly, and now they were ap-
proaching the bridge, the student ready to sink
with exhaustion. Suddenly the form of old
Sievert appeared on the opposite bank. He
raised his arms as if to warn them off, and shout-
ed across with a loud voice, but the fuiious roar-
ing of the contiguous dam drowned his ciy.
AVhile the overseer stopped and listened attentive-
ly to the repeated shout, the student im])atiently
stepped upon the bridge and proceeded onward.
A loud scream from the old soldier sounded
from the other side. He acted like a maniac, and
threw his arms around the railing of tlie bridge.
At the same moment a hollow, cracking noise was
heard an enomious log struck against the pales
of the bridge they sank immediately. With the
speed of thought the waters rolled over and tore to
pieces the decayed structure, and amid tliis fearful
mingling of driving planks and beams the form of
the student disappeared.
The overseer sprang after him without a mo-
ment's thought. The young man, enfeebled by his
long sickness, seemed hopelessly lost amid the fu-
rious rushing waves. Even the man of giant
strength had to wrestle breathless with the flood.
Twice he stretched out his hands in vain to seize
the drowning youth. Nearer and more irresistibly
were they both constantly driven towards the
dam. At last the overseer succeeded in grasp-
ing the body as it was hurried rapidly along.
But now came the horror the student, tliough
not yet unconscious, was still for a moment bereft
of all reason. He did not recognize his presener,
but struck at him, and defended himself against
the preserving hands more desperately than
against the treacherous flood. In spite of this
teiTible strife, the overseer came nearer and nearer
the opposite bank. "With his last strength he
swung the student towards the sliore. Sievert
seized his arm and drew him to land.
Just here the bed of the river was veiy deep,
the bank still rising about three feet above the
surface of the water. By the last powerful eft'ort
with wliich the overseer had hurled his brother to
the land, he himself was again driven back into
the middle of the river. Once more tlie struggle
began this time for his own life ; but, whether
that this prize was no longer desirable, or that he
indeed had lost his strength, the young man sud-
denly disappeared. Sievert ran up and down
along the bank, and called, in despairing tones,
the name of his sinking master. Once more the
Ueadly fiale face rose high out of the waters ;
the old soldier swore, to his dying day, that at
this moment he had seen a smile on the over-
seer's face. Once more tlie anns were stretched
out, as for a last greeting. ' ' Farewell, Berthold ! "
were the sounds that reached his ear. Immedi-
ately after a pile of boards passed over the same
place where so much youth and beauty and an
honest Gennan heart had sunk. The old soldier
stared across with bristling hair close to the
dam the dark arm once more appeared then the
flood i-ushed thundering down into the depth be-
low.
In the Neuenfeld burial-ground, near the blind
lady's grave, the overseer was laid to rest; the
body of the imhappy man had been found hanging
to some willow-bushes, half a league from the
village. There was a rumor that the student too
had been drowned ; for since that eventful night
not a trace of him could be found. "Lucky for
him !" said the jjcojjle at the White Castle. They
related, with deepest indignation, what terrible
things the abominable "demagogue" had told
his excellency to his face ; and that this horrible
crime would have demanded condign punishment,
was a matter of course.
A year after these occuri'ences, just at the time
when the ])rimroses and May-flowers were open-
ing their innocent eyes upon the overseer's grave,
a bridal pair stood beside the altar in the palace
chapel at A . All the galleries were crowd-
ed with the ladies of the nobility and of the high-
est functionaries, and all the members of the ducal
family were present.
Innocent white enveloped the form of the bride;
white was the magnificent vapor-like gauze over the
brilliant satin train, and white the wreath of orange
blossoms on her dark locks ; and her countenance
glittered like the cold, unmoved marble through
tlie twilight of the church. But triumph sparkled
in her eyes ; her bearing and expression utterly
lacked the violet'sweet breath of bridal timidity
tmd gentleness. No angel, indeed, but certainly
a most beautiful woman stood there, covetously
stretching forth her hand after splendor and high
rank !
The bridegroom, whose breast was covered with
the insignia of man)' orders, \\as Baron Fleury,
prime-minister to the Duke of A ; and by
his side stood the duchess's lady of honor, Jutta
von Zweiflingen, daughter of the Baron Hans von
Zweiflingen and Adelgunde, bom Baroness of
Olden.
"An immaculate pedigree, your highness!"
whispered the mistress of the robes to the duchess
with a smile of the deepest complacency, as, con-
gi-atulating the bridal pair, she bowed to the
gi-ound.
CHAPTER X.
Eleven years had passed since the overseer's
death. If as a pious delusion presumes the
departed immortal spirit of man be really con-
demned to look down in eternal contemplative in-
activity upon its former terrestrial home, then tlie
deceased, whose heart had throbbed with such
wann sympathy for his suft'ering fellow-countn-
men, must have experienced the deepest satisfac-
tion at the present asjject of the Neuenfeld valley.
The White Castle, it is true, still lay untouched
by time and weather, on the green valley slope, as
if through these eleven long years it had been over-
u
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
arched b}' a protecting glass shade. Unchangea-
bly the fountains played to their apex, seemingly
as if fixed in the air by magic ; and their descend-
ing spray still made the lights of heaven dance un-
weariedly as golden or silver sparks upon the ever-
moving surface of the basins. The arbors, the alley
of lindens, and the green velvet of the lawns, still
remained most dutifully within the lines prescribed
by the artistic hand of the gardener. Un the bal-
conies still glittered the never-fading feathery
dress of the parrots ; they still babbled and scream-
ed the same old phrases they had learned by rote ;
and in the castle tliere still whispered and crept
along the forms of men with bending backs and
timid, slavish footsteps, exactly as eleven years be-
fore. They looked as if they iiad been melted
and poured into their knee-breeches and stockings ;
and on tlieir polished coat-buttons glittered the
lordly coat-of-arms that stamped the free-born
man a chattel.
But all these well-preserved splendors were in-
closed by the immense square formed by the walls
of the park, brilliantly white, and without a stain.
It was a sternly-guarded spot of earth, conserva-
tive, standing immutable in the forms once estab-
lished as the principle of nobility itself.
To tliis accredited inertia the new life beyond
the walls formed a striking contrast. It roared
with its deep and mighty breath, and waved its
gray banners far and wide, even within the aris-
tocratic precincts of the White Castle. Industry,
with its powerful impetus, had founded a seat
amid these silent mountains.
Six years ago the State had disposed of the
foundry. It passed into private hands, and im-
mediately assumed proportions of which no one
had hitherto dreamed. In an incredibly short time
a colossal establisliment was erected in the Xeuen-
feld valley. Where once the chimne\' of the fur-
nace had towered lonely into the air, there now
smoked fourteen immense tlues. With the iron-
works a bronze foundry had been connected. In
former times the establishment had furnished
nothing but veiy primitive, clumsy articles, but
now the finest works of art were sent forth to the
markets of the world.
This gigantic establishment, in which a con-
stant iianimering and knocking was going on,
wliere moulding, casting, forging, rasping, bronz-
ing, and blacking never ceased, filled almost the
whole of the space between the former foundry
and the village of Neuenfeld ; but the village it-
self could no longer be recognized. The enor-
mous extent of tlie works required a large number
of hands; the old force was entirely insufficient.
. Hither came tiie indigent and uneni])loyed of the
neighboring villages. As by a magic "hand, the
stamp of distress and miseiy, that had iiitherto
given the charming mountain landscape such a
dismal look, disappeared. One could almost im-
agine that the new owner, in its creation, had
had no other aim in view, for the wages paid were
very high, and the care for the well-being of the
workmen was indcfatigably active. Still, the pro-
prietor was an entire stranger, a South American,
who, as it was said, had never set foot on Euro-
pean soil. He was and remained invisible, like
a deity behind the clouds, and was represented by
a general authorized agent, likewise an American.
Eorthwith the belief in an extraordinary humane
entei-prise fell to the ground, and the whole pass-
ed for a trans-oceanic speculation, which neverthe-
less showed great ignorance of Gennan affairs on
the part of the new ]jroprietor.
To this ignorance it was likewise ascribed that
the Neuenfeld mud huts, with their paper-patched
windows, and botched sliingle roofs, had disap-
peared. They had hitherto been perfectly suffi-
cient for the wants of these people ; not a single
person had ever been frozen to death in them. In
their place pleasant two-stoiy houses were erect-
ed, with red-tiled roofs and clean whitewashed
walls ; and along these walls luxuriant climbing
roses and wild grape-vines were creeping, weaving
garlands around the windows. But the gardens,
that separated one house from the other, and also
extended for a small distance in front along the
streets, showed most clearly that taste and a love
for the ornamental are by no means the monopoly
of the upper classes ; they only sleep beneath the
pressure of poverty and want. The gardens, for-
merly so desolate, were now tra^ersed by bright
gravel-walks, bordered with white-blooming car-
nations or box-trees ; while fruit-trees and vege-
table beds showed the careful attention bestowed
on them. Formerly only the clumsy disc of the
sun-fiower had nodded over the dilapidated fence ;
but now the flower-beds showed rare specimens,
and the gooseberry hedge had been obligecl to
yield to a neat paling painted in light colors;
and the knotty lindens, which, as familiar com-
panions of the old shingle-roofs, had witnessed so
much distress and grief, now beat cheerily against
the new bright window-panes, and shaded a com-
fortable gravelled space, and a group of white
garden furniture at their feet.
The invisible man in South America must be a
very Crcesus, and, as the simple-minded Neuenfeld
people would have it, richer, far richer than the
duke ; for he had built new houses not only for
them, but also for his workmen in the neighbor-
ing villages. The capital advanced was deducted
in very small sums from their weekly wages ;
so that they came into the possession of healthy
and pleasant dwellings almost without being
aware of it. The invisible hero had also founded
a people's library, a pension and annuity fund,
and many other beneficent institutions ; and from
that time intelligence, allied with progress, had
entered, as on the wings of the storm, into re-
gions which, lying at the very foot of the White
Castle, still belonged by right and to the end of
time to the realm of aristocratic stagnation.
Besides the foundry, the mysterious stranger
had likewise purchased the entire forest formerly
belonging to the Zweiflingens. Baron Fleury
had been offered such a fabulous sum for its ]30s-
session that he would have been a fool to reject
tlie proposal. This time the forest and forest-
house were not separated. One day the ancestors
of the Zweiflingens, together with the stags' heads,
were carefiflly packed, loaded into wagons, and
carried to A , where a separate hall in the
minister's proud palace was vacated for their re-
ception. Then came workmen who renovated
the old dilapidated forest-house ; for what purpose
nobody knew. The new doors and shutters were
carefully locked and bolted after the com])letion
of tlie work ; and only now and then the rooms
were opened and aired by order of tlie agent.
The minister very seldom visited Arnsberg, but
when this did occur, he would, as rumor said,
cast a furtive glance through the dosely-drawu
curtains of the ^\'indows that commanded a view
i
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
45
of Xeiienfeld. At the sale of the foundiy, which
towards the end had been managed with very
little energy, and had almost betome a burden to
the state, he had not foreseen that it would fall
into such inapt hands. This so-called model col-
ony yonder was a ])erfect satire on his system of
government. Under his own eyes was developed
the pernicious spirit of innovation, which he would
fain have rooted out ^\ith fire and sword.
His excellency still held the reins as tightly as
eleven vears ago ; of late, however, he had some-
what enlarged his governmental programme, by
actively supporting religious efforts ; and now
every Sunday from every ])u]pit the blessing of
heaven was implored upon his wise measures
and his government, well-pleasing in the eyes of
God. And the state machine was so well oiled,
and worked so charmifliglyj that the duke at night
laid his head on his pillow without ever being
troubled with the spectre of a ruler's cares, while
the minister yearly found leisure to devote a few
months to recreation. Baron Fleury passed most
of this time in Paris. As the last descendant of
a noble Fi-ench family that had emigrated in
179-1, he had, as a matter of course, still much
predilection for the ancient home ; but besides,
there were other reasons, on which he always ex-
patiated with great frankness. Estates, to be
sure, he no longer possessed in France they had
been confiscated after the flight of his family ;
and, in spite of the strenuous protests and recla-
mations of his father, who, in consequence of the
amnesty granted l)y the first consul, Napoleon,
had for a short time returned to France, were ir-
recoverably lost. Instead of this, the fugitive
miraculously recovered, after so long a time, the
whole of the fiimily fortune that consisted of
specie. The Fleuiys, suddenly fleeing in the mid-
dle of the night before approaching bands of sans
culottes, and from their own mutinous subjects,
were obliged to leave their ancient family castle.
The amount of specie that had been gradually
and providently collected, and was stored away,
well packed, in a recess of the cellar, they were
obliged to leave behind. The wild bands demol-
ished the castle, but failed to discover the treasure,
which, later, an old and trusty servant, the former
gardener, contrived to carry unnoticed to his own
liouse. And when the returned elder Fleury was
standingnear the trellised gate of his former park,
gnashing his teeth, and looking at the newly-
built castle that had ceased to lie his own, an old
man, almost in his dotage, came up and, sobbing,
kissed his hand ; he then led him to the cellar of
his poor cottage, to a row of small kegs filled
with coin, of whose contents not a single sous was
missing. This money the father had advanta-
geously invested in France, as the minister often
took occasion to intimate ; and it was this that
rendered liis frequent journeys to Paris necessary.
What a colossal fortune must this be! The
minister lived in a truly princely style, especially
since his second maniage. His revenues in Ger-
many, however large they might be, compared
with his expenses, seemed only a drop on a hot
stone, according to the saying of the common
people. This distant golden backgi-ound, as
might be imagined, naturally gave his excellency
a nimbus peculiarly his own ; and it almost
seemed as though he continued in his high office
merely through devotion to his noble friend the
duke.
I The White Castle, as we have already said,
! was seldom visited by its owner, yet it was not
on that account entirely unoccupied. The young
Countess Sturm lived at the neighboring estate
of Greinsfeld, lier ovn property, and, retaining
her early predilection for Arnsberg, often came
over to stay for months at a time. On such oc-
casions, however, the castle seemed doubly girded
I with aristocratic inaccessibility, for the young
lady had been educated in the se\ere prejudices
of her rank, and besides, had been so sickly
from childhood that she was obliged to spend her
I days in really conventual seclusion. In her sixth
I year she had, in consequence of a terrible fright,
been seized by a nervous aflection. This disease
assumed such a critical character that a relapse
occurred at every strong excitement ; and as the
physicians, previous to this occurrence, had al-
ready unanimously declared that the constitution
of the child was extremely feeble, the little Count-
ess Stumi, in tlie eyes of the world, belonged al-
ready to the dead, and the minister was silently
congratulated, for he was the child's sole heir.
j In accordance with the physicians' prescrip-
tions, the child was brought to Greinsfeld to in-
hale the bracing mountain air. She was sur-
rounded with all the comfort and splendor befit-
ting her high rank ; but also with the most com-
plete seclusion, which was shared only by Ma-
dame Herbeck, a physician, and for some time a
chaplain. To the inhabitants of A this
3'oung creature, given over to certain death, was
] already extinct with this removal ; and the vil-
lagers of Arnsberg and Greinsfeld only now and
then caught a fugitive glimpse of the pale little
' face behind the glass panes of the passing car-
riage, or when they succeeded in stealing into the
strictly-guarded park. Not even at church did
they enjoy the pleasure of looking at their sick
i mistress undisturbed ; for, being the cliild of
;*Catholic parents, she was brought up in the Cath-
' olic creed, and never once entered the Protestant
place of worship.
Thus year after year passed away, each of
which, according to the general belief, was but a
respite for the fading human bud. The medical
gentlemen had sagely put their finger to their
nose, and made a jjrognostic which no God could
shake ; and out of the prophesied death and cor-
ruption a lily sprang up almost instantaneously,
and looked with a soft smile into the sunny face
of life.
Where the fomier estate of the Zweiflingens
and the forest district belonging to Castle Anis-
berg joined, lay a beautifid liitle lake. It still
belonged to the jurisdiction of the White Castle ;
but the beeches standing along the western shore
were already the outposts of the neighboring es-
tate.
The hot sun of July shed its burning raj-s per-
pendicularly upon this sheet of water. Its centre
lay smooth as a golden slab ; only now and then
gentle ripples trembled upon the shore, and, as
they advanced, engraved intricate, wonderful char-
acters perhaps a poem of the forest upon the
surface. But the ring of water, overhung by
bushes, and the entwining limbs of oaks and
; beeches was dark and mysterious as the forest
itself. And on this track, overspread by a faint,
greenish twilight, a boat glided slowly along.
The oar reached out into the part of the water
i illuminated by the sun, and dipping gently in,
4G
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
left behind a bright, narrow furrow. At times
it disappeared ; then the boat turned and came
towards the shore.
A maiden sat at the oar, and on tlic narrow
seat opposite her were perched three children,
two boys and a charming little fair-haired girl.
Tlie children were singing with all their might,
and with clear, bell-like voices :
' With love and witli life,
AVitli heart and with hand,
To thee I'm devoted.
My oun fatherland;''
The boat touched the land and ceased rock-
ing, wlien the song sounded doubly sweet across
the lake and in the solemn forest shade. The
maiden at the oar listened in silence. Beliind
her, a slowly-ascending, moss-grown path trav-
ersed the thicket, and the forest opened deep in
its green darkness. A ray of the golden sunlight
without fell upon the group of children ; the blond
hair of the little maiden glittered, and tlie boys,
singing out towards the lake, held their hands
protectingly before their eyes. But the fair young
skipper sat in the deep-green twiliglit, only over
her lap lay a pale golden band that darted through
the leafy ceiling above, appearing like the richly-
embroidered hem of a tunic ; and circling dream-
ily around her pearl-white f )rehead was a glitter-
ing blue streak a stray libella. The children
paused and listened with I'estrained breath, wait-
ing for an echo ; but this was too unfriendly, or,
perhaps politically too cautious, to give a re-
sponse to our "own fatherland."
Instead of this, there appeared on the opposite
shore a gentleman accompanied by two ladies.
He was sin-ugging his shoidders peevishly and
helplessly, while his eye passed searchingly over
the smooth, unrip])led surface of the water. A
footman in attendance respectfully stepped for-
ward, and i)ointe,l to tlie boat in the bushes.
"Ciisela!" ciijd tlie gentleman.
The young girl at the oar shrank back, and a
flush of mortal perplexity dyed her face. For a
moment her brown eyes wandered hesitatingly
over the little heads of the children, but only for
a moment ; then she smiled.
"Certainly I can not ttirow you overboard, that
is clear 1" said she. "So, in God's name, for-
ward I "
With a fe^v energetic strokes she pushed off
the boat. It sliot out into the lake, and now the
sunlight poured full on the uncovered head of tlie
young rower. The wide open sleeves of her while
dress rose gently at every stroke of the oar ; like
a swan the gracefully-inclined form came floating
along. Iler hair, liglitly thrown back from the
temples and forelieatl, and confined by a bright
silk ri!)bon, fell in waves over her neck, and en-
circled her white face with a gleaming halo.
Her large brown eyes were from time to time
fixed scrutinizingly upon the group on the shore,
but the blush of embarrassment had vanished
f.om her checks. The strokes continued uni-
form, and no sign of haste l)etrayed that the fair
rower was anxious to reach the sliore. Did those
towards whom she was going jjcrchance take this
in ill i)art ? The gentleman gloomily frowned,
and the !)cautiful lady clinging to his arm sud-
denly dropjiod her eye-glass with an indescribable
mixture of surjirise, im])atience, and displeasure.
""Well, my child, this is certainly a veiy re-
markable situation in which we find von on our
return ! Zounds, what noble passengers you have
on board ! I only fear that they will forget as
easily as you yourself who sits at the oar!''
"Dear papa, the oar is in the hands of Gisela,
Countess Sturm, of Schreckenstein, Baroness of
Gronegg, Lady of Greinsfeld, and so forth," an-
swered the yoimg maiden. This sounded by no
means like a mischievous satire ; it was only a
justification of herself against the reproach, made
with perfect seriousness. At this moment the
speaker looked every inch the bearer of the high-
sounding, aristocratic names.
She skillfully turned the boat ; it struck the
bank, and with a light spring she landed on the
shore.
The child with the unsightly, angular face, the
colorless hair, and the sallow,, sickly complexion,
the infirm creature that had been sent into soli-
tude only to die, now stood theie, a tall, erect
fonn ; and whoever had seen the portrait of the
Countess Voldern, the most beautifid woman of
her time, with those slender pliant limbs and that
snow-white face beneath the magnificent waving
hair, might easily suppose that she had but just
now step])ed forth from the gilded frame, to wan-
der here in the fragi-ant breath of the forest.
These chaste, thoughtful eyes, however, had noth-
ing of the demoniacal, irresistible expression of
the black sparkling ones of the countess ; and
the hair, that gleamed in the latter with the
yellow lustre of amber, fell on the neck of the
Countess Gisela a dark blond, and only on the
temples a delicate silvery hue was visible. Still,
in most resjiects, that wicked woman had again
revived in this youthfid form, which after a long
sickness had suddenly unfolded, as the fresh
white blossom springs from the dark prison of the
bud.
But the sold had not undergone this change ;
there was still that same clear, cold, inexoral)le
look, which frustrated every attempt to gain her
aft'ection ; and that pectdiar shrinking from every
touch at this moment came out in bold relief She
bowed easily and gracefully, lint her arms hung
by her side, and her tapering fingers disappeared
in the folds of her white muslin dress ; she had
no grasp of the hand for the new comers. And
yet his excellency came directly from Paris,
where he had been staying for the last three
months, and his beautiful wifj had l)een passing
the winter and spring with the sick duchess at
IMeran, and had not seen her stepdaughter for
thrce-c|uartcrs of a year.
If the lady had already regarded this rower, as
she drew near, with a certain feeling of fear, she
was now for a moment almost jiotrilicd with a kind
of incredulous terror as she looked at the young
maiden, who suddenly rose so tall and stately be-
fore her ; but this expression again disappeared
with lightning speed. She dro]i])ed her hus-
band's arm, and stretched out both hands to the
young countess.
' ' Good-day, my dearest child ! " cried she, in a
soft, afi'ectionate tone. "Yes, indeed, mamma
has just come, and must begin to scold right away.
But I was terribly frightened to see you jump so I
Do you never think of your weak chest ?"
" My chest docs not trouble me, mamma,"
said the young lady, in a tone as icy cold as was
possible iur tliis child-like, pleasing voice.
"But, my dear, can you understand that bet-
ter than our "excellent physician ?" asked the lady,
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
47
drawing up her shoulders with a half smile. " I
would not rob you of this illusion for all the
world ; but we dure not permit such a total dis-
regard of medical advice you will exert yourself
too much, and I can tell you, I was terribly
frightened at seeing you on tlie water ! My child,
you are suttering with the St. Vitus's dance, you
can not keep your ami still for two minutes, and
yet, in spite of this, you wish to row a boat with
these poor sickly hands I "
Tiie young countess did not answer. Slowly
raising her arms, she spread tliem wide apart, and
remained standing motiotdess; and however pale
and delicate iier face, however lithe and pliant
her form, still at this moment she was a brilliant
image of youthful strength and freshness.
' Now, just convince yourself, mamma, wheth-
er m}' arm trembles!" said she, throwing back
her head with a kind of jovous pride. "I am
well!"
For the moment this assertion could not be
gainsaid. The baroness looked aside, as if the
experiment caused her an anxious throbbing of
the heart ; but from the half-sunken lids of the
minister a peculiar, stealthily scmtinizing glance
passed over the amis, which, rosj- to the finger-
tips, and as beautiful as those of any statue, were
fully exposed by the falling back of the musUn
sleeves.
"Do not exert yourself so immoderately, my
child !" said he, seizing the right hand of the maid-
en and bending it down. ''That is not neces-
saiy. You will permit me for the present to be-
lieve in the reports of your physician, and they
are certainly a little at variance with your own as-
sertions ! Besides, I felt no anxiety, like your
mamma, at your rowing. I will tell you frankly
that your boy-like manner of leaving the Iiouse,
and roaming about in the woods, ajjpears ver}"
strange in a Countess Sturm. For this, however,
I do not wish to be harsh with you, since I at-
tribute this odd desire to the state of your health.
But you, Madame Herbeck," turning to the lady
who had accompanied them, "you I do not un-
derstand at all. The countess seems to me so un-
speakably neglected I Where are youi- eyes and
ears ?'
WTio would have recognized the formerly so
graceful governess in this shapeless, bulky mass
of flesh that now stood, crimson with anger, be-
fore the minister ?
"Your excellency, you have already been
scolding me all the way here," said she, defend-
ing herself and deeply indignant. "Let the
young countess speak, and she will say with truth
tliat I watch over her spiritual and bodily welfare
like an Argus; but, alas ! a thousand eyes do not
suffice here ! An hour ago we were sitting in
the pavillion ; the countess had a vase of floAvers
before her, in order to sketch them suddenly she
rose, and went out into the garden without hat or
gloves ; while I honestly believed that she only
wanted to select a few more flowers "
"Well, yes, that was indeed my intention,
JIadame Herbeck, "said the young lady, internipt-
ing her, with a quiet smile ; " only I had a long-
ing for wild flowers !"
"Forsooth, child, I almost believe you are in-
clined to sentimentality; pray avoid that!" ex-
claimed the minister, ill-pleased. During the lat-
ter twelve years of his diplomatic career his voice
had gained considerably in cutting shai-pness.
"On this account alone I have continually and
consistently deprived you -of those bewildering
fairy-books ; and now I discover that your brain
is haunted by the so-called poetry of the forest.
Don't you know that a young lady of }our rank
makes herself inflnitely ridiculous in the eyes of
reasonable people, when she roams about unat-
tended like a daiiy maid, takes the oar in her
hand "
" To row a cou])le of laborers' children over the
lake," the deeply incensed governess here ventur-
ed to put in. " My dear countess, I can not
comprehend how you could so forget yourself!"
Till this moment Gisela's eyes hadbeen fixed,
without contradiction, but with that thoughtful,
searching exjjression, which was so peculiarly her
own, on her stepfather's face. The striking iirita-
bility of the man, who, a single time excepted,
had constantly exercised towards her the most
boundless indulgence, manifestly suiprised her
more than the reproof affected her heart. Still,
at Madame Herbeck's pointed exclamation, an
expression of harshness flitted round her mouth.
"IMadame Herbeck," said she, "I must re-
mind you of what you always call the standard
rule for everv' action of your life the Bible !
Were they only noblemen's children that Christ
suffered to come to him ?"
The minister's head turned ; he gazed speech-
less for a moment in his stepdaughter's face. This
young creature, whom they had allowed, in con-
sideration of the state of her health, to grow up
in ignorance and s])iritual inactivity, who together
with the breath of life had breathed in only aris-
tocratic views and prejudices, this closely guarded
scion of the nobility, was developing fiom within
a logic that resembled veiy closely and disagreea-
bly the notorious freedom of thought.
" What absurd nonsense are you talking, Gise-
la?"he broke out roughly. "It is and will al-
vyays be a misfortune to you that your gi-and-
mother died so earh*. There is an element in
you that inchnes downward ; and she, the ^ery
type of aristocratic gi-andeur and female dignity,"
here the baroness cleared her throat, and with
the polished tip of her little boot thrust a pebble
into the water "yes, she would have eradicated
this inclination to the very smallest fibre of such
a root," continued the minister imperturbably.
"In her name I earnestly forbid you to repeat
any such breaches of decorum as have already oc-
curred."
The innocent soul of the maiden still embraced
with ardor the image of her grandmother ; this
remembrance her searching and analyzing reason
had never yet touched. She was very jjroud of
her high descent, because her grandmother had
also been so ; she persisted in many a feudal rigor
toward her dependents, firmh' convinced that it
was so, and could not be otherwise, for the Count-
ess Voldern had always held it so, and consistent-
ly required it of her granddaughter.
" Well, then," said she in the present case also,
hesitating betw-een submission and ill-humored re-
sistance; "well then, if it is so entirely unbe-
fitting me, it shall not be repeated ; however,
they were by no means laborers' children ; the
little girl belongs in the par "
She was inteiTupted by a scream. One of theboys
had meanwhile been rowing fiirther, and anived
at a dangerous spot. In leaping ashore the little
girl had ftillen into the lake, and her fair head was
48
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
just disappearing beneatli the water, when a gigan-
tic Newfoundland dog burst through the thicket
and plunged into the lake. He seized the child,
and leaping to the shore, laid it at the feet of his
master as he stepped out from among the bushes.
The fair-haired child was at all events a lively,
courageous little thing, who had not for a moment
lost her presence of mind ; she rose immediately,
and with a brisk hand began to rub the water out
of her eyes.
"Ah, what shall I do ? my new blue alpaca
apron is spoiled !" she cried in a tone of distress,
and wrung out the dripping apron ; ' ' well, mam-
ma will give me a good scolding ! "
Gisela, who had hastened up, with trembling
hands drew a handkerchief from her pocket to
throw over the wet shoulders of the child.
"That will be of little use," said the gentle-
man, "but I would beg you for the future to
consider that a little human life like this must be
protected, whenever we voluntarily put it in dan-
ger. To the Countess Sturm, it may be worth
no more than a plaything; still, it has parents
who would bewail its loss."
He took the dripping child in his arms, raised
his hat, and departed ; wliile the dog, barking
with joy, kept coursing round his master and
Ieai)ing upon him.
The handkerchief dropped from the folded
hands of the young countess, and they fell listless-
ly by her side ; with frightened eyes and pale lips
she had listened to the harsli rebuke, and now
she gazed speechless after the stranger until he
liad disappeared in the thicket.
CHAPTER XI.
Neither the minister nor either of his com-
panions had approached the place of the accident.
The ladies had drawn back a few steps farther
into tlie woods, anxiously lifting up their skirts ;
for the dri])])ing dog, in his demonstrations of
joy, included them also ; the accident and rescue
had been the work of only a few moments.
"Do you know tlie gentleman T said the bar-
oness, turning quickly to the governess and drop-
ping her eye-glass, after following with attention
and solicitude every movement of the stranger.
"Yes, who is he?" asked the minister also.
"Did your excellency obsene him closely?"
asked Madame Herbeck in return. "Well, that
is tlie Brazilian nabob, the real owner of the
foundry ; a clown, who ignores the "White Castle
as if it were a mole-liill. I do not understand how
the countess could ])rcvail ujjon herself to go near
him ; and I will wager my little finger that he
has been guilty of some rudeness towards her.
His whole demeanor was so ini])olitc!"
The baroness went uj) to Gisela, who, Avith eyes
fixed on the ground, was slowly returning. "Did
the man insult you, my chilil ?" asked she ten-
derly, but with a strangely searching glance.
"No," answered Gisela quickly; and though
a deep, genuine, maidenly blush overspread her
face, even to tlie tem])les, her eyes still had that
))roud, re])elling expression, whicii at certain mo-
ments lay like a shield before her soul.
Tlie minister had in tlie meanwhile advanced
with Madame Herbeck into the woods. His ex-
cellency had crossed his hands behind his back,
and bowed his head on his breast his customary
position when listening to a report. His ap-
pearance still exhibited much elegance and elas-
ticity, but his hair and beard were already quite
gray ; and now, when, foi'getting himself, he was
engaged in listening, the muscles of his cheeks
hung flabbily and gave his undeniably intellectual
foce an expression of moroseness his excellency
had grown old.
"Not so much," said Madame Herbeck, snap-
ping with her thumb and fore-finger in the air ;
' ' not so much does the man ask after us ! He
came all at once, about six weeks ago, as if he
had dropped from the clouds ! I was taking my
moniing walk, and passed by the forest-house ;
the shutters were all thrown open, the chimney
was smoking, and a Neuenfeld man who met me
said that the gentleman from America was there !
Your excellency, it has always been a source of
grief to me that the foundry should have fallen
into such hands ; you can not believe what kind
of a spirit has got into the people ! The new
houses and the book-reading have so turned their
heads, that they literally no longer know what is
high-born and what is vulgar. The surest sign to
me is their way of greeting one ; they bow their
heads so wholly different, and stare in one's face
so boldly, that I can no longer prevail on myself
to return their salute. All this, I repeat it, has
kept me continually in ill-humor, and rendered
the residence at Arnsberg utterly odious to me ;
but since the arrival of this INIr. Oliveira, I have
been so exasperated ! "
" He is a Portuguese ?" intemipted the baron-
ess, who with Gisela was walking close behind.
"So it is said ; and from his incredible haugh-
tiness, it seems to me very probable that he is a
descendant of some noble Portuguese fiimily set-
tled in Brazil. His whole exterior favors this
presumption. I am his decided enemy, but still
I can not deny that he is a very handsome man ;
your excellency has had the opportunity of satis-
fying yourself of that."
His excellency made no reply, and the two la-
dies also remained silent.
"He has the demeanor of a grandee," contin-
ued the governess eagerly, "and sits his horse
like a god ! Oh!" she interrupted herself in af-
fright, ' ' how could such an unbecoming comjjai-i-
son escape my tongue!" The corners of her
mouth suddenly sunk do^^n as if weighted with
lead, and the lids drojiped repentantly over her
swimming eyes ; it was the most perfect expres-
sion of ]ienance and contrition.
' ' Will you not have the goodness at length to
inform me through what misdeed this Mr. Oli-
veira has so much exasperated you ?" asked the
minister, rather sharply and impatiently.
" Your excellency, he seeks every oi)portunity
of insulting our countess."
"And you have challenged him to it!" ex-
claimed the young maiden, stepyiing forward with
glowing cheeks and indignant looks, while the min-
ister, disagreeably astonished, remained standing.
' ' Oh, dear countess, how unjust ! Have I, per-
adventure, challenged him to ignore you when
you pass by him in the carriage ? The matter
stands thus," said she, turning to the minister and
his wife. "I heard that he was going to estab-
lish an asylum at Neuenfeld for poor oqihan chil-
dren of the neighboring villages. Your excel-
lency, in our times it is necessary to have our
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
49
e3'es open, and to push forward vigorously when-
ever it is possible. I tried, therefore, to conquer
my aversion and disgust for the lawless and dis-
orderly practices of the whole present domestic
management of Neuenfeld, and inclosed eight
louis d'or, in the name of the countess, and five
thalers from my insignificant self, wliich I sent to
the Portuguese as a contribution towards the in-
tended asylum. I naturally accompanied it with
a few lines, in which I expressed tlie hope that
the institution would be established on a firm re-
ligious basis, and offered to take upon myself the
care of selecting a suitable matron. And what
happened ? The money came back, with the re-
mark that the fund was complete and needed no
contribution, and that a matron had already been
found in tiie worthy and well-educated eldest
daughter of the Xeuenfeld pastor it is too pro-
voking!"
" Oh, how subtly you went to work, my good
Madame Ilerbeck!" said the minister, with
tridy annihilating scom." "If you proceed in
this way, you will ensnare many a bird in your
net. You should never have attempted any thing
of the kind," added he, his vexation breaking
forth. "Be careful for the future. I will not
have the enmity and opposition from that quarter
challenged and nourished in so blundering a man-
ner. A gold-fish must be approached cautiously ;
have you that yet to learn, my respected JMadame
Herbeck ?" |
" And what put it into yom- head," exclaimed
the baroness and her s])arkling glance haughtily
rested on the stupefied governess ; " what put it
into your head, directly contiary to your instruc-
tions, to bring the countess all at once into a kind
of publicity, and press upon her a role that can be
desirable neither to her nor to us ? our poor
weak cliild," added she tenderlv, "that we have
hitherto guarded so carefully against every breath
of air from the wicked world without ! Do you '
see, Gisela," added she, suddenly in ternipting her- !
self, and fixing on her stepdaughter's face a look
of deep emotion, " that you still lack much of
being so far restored as you think? Tliere it
is again the frightfulh' sudden change of color
that always precedes your attacks ! " I
The young maiden uttered not a word in reply.
She struggled visilily for a moment against a feel-
ing of deep displeasure ; then she turned, shnig-
ging her shoulders, and went on. With this one
gestiu-e she said: "I am much too proud to as- '
scrt once more what I have already stated to be '
tiiie believe wliat you will !" i
They all strolled along for some time in silence.
Jfadame Herbeck was veiy much confused : she
kept herself consistently several steps behind the
minister, and carefully avoided looking into his
face, which certainly did not betray the most ra-
diant good-humor. At the gate of the park he
stopped, whilst the baroness and Gisela entered
the avenue ; he once more looked back over his
shoulder towards Xeuenfeld, whose red roofs were
glittering in the sun. The ridge of one that gleam-
ed ^^^th a dark blue color, rose high above the
rest it was the parsonage, that had been com-
pletely renovated, and newly covered with slate.
The minister pointed towards the dark line a
cold smile parted his pale lips, and displayed his
sharp-pointed teeth.
" We will soon be rid of him ; we have liim in
our power ! " said he.
4
"Your excellency, the pastor!" exclaimed
Madame Ilerbeck with joyous surprise.
"Is removed. Here, we simply give the mat}
an opportunity to try where he can find his bread
the most easily in God's word, or in God's works.
The fellow has really been simple enough to pre-
sent to the world, at this time of all others, his
astronomical erudition in a book."
"God be jiraised!" exclaimed iladame Her-
beck with deep satisfaction. " Your excellency
may tliink about it as you will, but him has the
Lord himself blinded, and led to his righteous
punishment ! Your excellency should hear this
man but a single time in the pulpit ! His seimon
is full of free-thinking, of flowers and stars, spring,
sky, and sunshine ; you think every moment that
he is about to iiish into poetr}-. He was my most
decided adversary, he has thrown fearful obstacles
in the way of my exalted mission I triumph !"
]\Ieanwhile the two ladies were proceeding slow-
ly along the avenue.
While Gisela's eyes, so deeply thoughtful, were
fixed on the ground, as if she wished to count
the Httle bleached pebbles at her feet, the glance
of her stepmother suneyed her unweariedly, with
a kind of gloomy investigation. She was now
oljliged to look up to the form which, stunted and
destitute of eveiy^ youthful charm, she had held
fast in her remembrance till only a short lialf-hour
ago ; and for which she had sent from Paris, a
few weeks previous, a highly elegant house-toilet,
thinking at the same time, with silent pity, how
frightfully the little yellow scarecrow would look
in it ! Were Madame Herbeck and the jjhysician
l)lind, that they had never written a single sylla-
ble about this remarkable development? The
elegant, graceful lady of thirty, in whose brain
these thoughts were revolving with almost fever-
ish speed, was still dazzlingly beautiful ; but she
was no longer the Jutta von Zweiflingen in the
fjagrance and brilliancy of her first youth. By
the artificial light of evening her face might still
pass for eighteen ; but now, under the clear light
of day, a loss was inexorably revealed her com-
plexion was still fair, but no longer fresh ; it look-
ed like a slightly rumpled white flower-leaf. Per-
haps, while her glance was so steadihand gloomi-
ly fixed on the marble smoothness of the young
face near her, the beautiful woman thought of the
restless, gna\\-ing anxiety, caused her by tliis slight
fading that had just commenced.
At the end of the avenue came a lackey, well
advanced in years ; he appeared very much heat-
ed, and out of his closed hand, which he was watch-
ing with anxious care, there peeped the little head
of a stniggling bird. He bent his aged back al-
most to the earth before the ladies.
' ' The gracious coimtess this moming expressed
a wish for a good chaffinch," said he to Gisela ;
" Leineweber at Greinsfeld has the best beaters
in the whole forest, and I ran over there this after-
noon. The gracious countess indeed will not get
the little animal veiy cheap, for it is Leineweber's
best singer. The little thing came within a hair's
breadth of escaping from me on the way a stick
in the cage was broken."
As he said this, he drew a long breath of relief ;
it could be seen that he had had both anxiety and
trouble in the transportation of the costly bird.
The young countess, with the tips of her fingers,
tenderly and carefully stroked the little head, that
shrank timidly from the touch.
10
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
* ' Very well, Braun, " said she. ' ' Put the little
animal in the avian- ; Madame Herbeck yviil see
that the man is paid."
At this moment the most severe master of cere-
monies could have found nothing to blame in her
whole demeanor. She was the imperious mistress,
the high-bom lady, who has naught but signs and
words of laconic brevity for her dependents ; she
was the Countess Voldeni from head to foot. The
j-oung lady hud no word of thanks for the gi'ay-
haired man ; he had run for hours in the blazing
afternoon sun, in order to gratify her wannly-ex-
pressed wish ; the sweat was ckopping from his
forehead, and his aged feet were tired out. But
then he was the lackey Braun, whose limbs had
been given him in order to sen^e her ; as long as
she could remember, these anns and feet had been
set in motion for her enjoyment ; these eyes dared
not laugh or weep in her presence, nor the mouth
speak until she ordered ; she knew no raising, no
sinliing of his voice all was concealed in the pre-
scribed respectful half whisper. Had this man
any joys and sorrows of his own ? Did he think
and feel ? The little coimtess, who had racked
her brain for hours over the possibility of a reason-
ing soul in her puss, had never brought this with-
in the compass of her obsen'ation ; tliose men, all
kneaded in one and the same mould, had never
suggested such an idea.
The lackey bowed as deeply as if he had re-
ceived an undeserved honor b}- the assurance that
the bird should be paid for, and v/ithdrew with
light footsteps.
In the vestibule the two ladies again encounter-
ed the minister and the governess. His excel-
lency withdrew for a moment, to change his dress
for a more becoming one ; and the young count-
ess went to give some order to her chambermaid,
while the baroness and IMadame Herbeck ascend-
ed the steps.
"Have )'oa ordered the coffee to be seiTcd,
JIadame Herbeck ?" asked the baroness.
"It stands ready, A'our excellency," answered
the governess, and pointed invitingly to a passage
that branched oft" sideways from the main coni-
dor. The baroness stopped and seemed unwil-
ling to place her foot on the low steps that led up-
ward. At the same moment the door seen at tlie
opposite end of the passage was opened ; a serv-
ant came out, who, on seeing the ladies, opened
the door wide.
In a spacious hall, dra^\-n up close to a lofty
bay window, stood tlie cott'ee-table. Kuby red
and fieiT blue liglits peeped over the glittering
silver ware, and stretched out gigantic and shape-
less on the dark wainscoting. Tlie bay window
inclosed an extremely ancient magnificent glass
mosaic ; and behind the sparkling garments of
tlie transparent saints, tlie honest little portion of
tlie Tiiuringian neighborhood without, bloomed
into a fairy-like wonder-kingdom of the East.
Witlioiit saying a word, but with an exjiression
of displeased surprise, the baroness j)assed rajiid-
ly througli the corridor and entered the haU. It
was tlie veiy place adjoining tlie castle chapel
tiiat had once been for tlie cliild Gisela the object
of her most ardent wishes ; from tlie walls still
looked down tlie thoughtful embodied fonns,
much larger than life, from l)iblical history, on
whose accotmt the woman of the world, iMadamc
Herbeck, had formerly avoided this hall, consist-
ently and with abhorrence, because the figures
I gave her such frightful dreams that she dared not
stay therein.
The servant had entered -with them ; he drew
the old-fashioned, embroidered high-backed chairs
around the table, closed the shutter of one of the
comer windows, because the sun, obtrusive and
scorching, penetrated the cool room filled with a
kind of church air, and wiped from the surface
of a table the fine dust that doubtless renewed
itself again in a few moments. These ancient
walls, this wainscot almost black with time,
preached, hke the paintings on the walls, urgently
and unceasingly, the end of all temporal tilings
"Dust, dust!"'
The baroness stood near one of the chairs, on
whose high back she rested her arm. She had
taken oft' neither hat nor mantilla, and was ap-
]jarently calmly waiting for the servant to finish ;
she then beckoned him to withdraw.
"My good Madame Herbeck," she began,
breaking the embaiTassing silence with a voice
of icy coldness, and without changing her position
in the least, "will you not explain to me how
you hit upon the idea of directing me, as it were,
here ?"
"Oh Heavens! how can your excellency put
such a construction on a harmless arrangement ?"
cried the govemess. "The countess hkes very
much to be in this hall ; we sup here seriously
and contemplatively, as is my whole present life,
and also that of our countess, and I know of
nothing dearer to us both than the time we spend
here. Will your excellency pardon me if my
predilection has carried me too far ?"
With a few steps she reached a folding door
on the northern side of the hall, and threw it
open the chapel of the castle appeared in its
Avhole depth. In spite of the brightness of the
sun and the fiery heat of July without, a gray
cold twilight floated beneath the mighty cupola ;
the heavily gilded, almost exuberant, ornamenta-
tion gleamed but palely ; and below, near the al-
tar rose the dazzlingly white marble monument
of Prince Heinrich ghost-like out of the gloom. A
real odor of the grave was wafted into the hall ;
the baroness drew her mantilla more closely round
her shoulders, and held her handkerchief to her
lips.
" Say yourself, your excellency, if that is not
re.ally wonderful ! " continued Madame Herbeck.
" I studiously avoid the Neuenfeld chm-ch, as long
as the antichrist over yonder intrigues from tlie
pulpits against all our endeavors. There is left for
me, consequently, only the one refreshment I
have tlie Greinsfeld schoolmaster come over here
several times a week : he is a strong believer in
the Bible, and plays me chorals on the organ!"
A fleeting but malicious smile played round
tlie beautiful lips of the baroness ; perhaps she
thought of the moment when this little fat lady,
in the comer room of the Neuenfeld parsonage,
had majestically rustled up and down in bound-
less indignation, because she had been expected
to listen to a choral.
This odious smile did not escape the notice of
the governess ; a stinging glance shot from her
swimming eyes.
" I am, moreover, not so egotistic," added she,
not without a mixture of bitterness, "as to think,
in my use of this chapel, solely of the wants and
the welfare of 7ny own soul ; all the seiwants of
the castle and the dependents of the estate, are
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
il
compelled to commune here with me. Your ex-
cellency, I work not alone in the ^-ineyard of the
Lord, but also "
"Enough," intemipted the baroness, stretching
out her hand wamingly; "do you think that I
do not know what necessity compels us at pres-
ent to do ? I imderstand quite as well as you,
my respected Madame Ilerbeclc where the reins
are to be drawn tight ; and so mr as my absolute
power extends, I am inflexibly strict in prevent-
ing any one from thinking and believing other-
wise than I wish. But you must not therefore
seriously expect of me to practise in my own per-
son what I rightly require of my dependents !
If you derive pleasure from mortifying yom-self,
do 'it but by yourself alone, I beg of you ! That
you have led me here looks a very little hke the
well-kno\ra thirst of ruling the faithful; and on
that account, my dear Madame Ilerbeck, I will
not diink coffee here in this place, where the dust
falls in oiur cream, and all the tormented, saintly
eyes on the walls destroy the appetite."
' How sarcastic did this sound from those deli-
cate lips ! how those wonderful black eyes spar-
kled with a mixture of offended pride and icy
scorn ! Even in the graceful gesture which she
employed in dusting the arm that had touched
the back of the chair, there lay an ironical dem-
onstration. She lifted up her dress and left the
hall.
"Coffee will be sensed in the whitf chamber
below, with his excellency!" she commanded, as
she passed by the sen'ant who was waiting in the
coiTidor. Madame Herbeck followed her silently
and without opposition ; but her cheeks glowed,
and the looks which she cast on the beautifid fe-
male form gliding along before her now gleamed
with imconcealed hatred. Possibly she thought
also of the past, and perhaps, too, of the blue vel-
vet mantle that she had once compassionately
thrown round those swelling limbs, in order that
the present mistress of the "\Miite Castle might
make her entrance into it in a manner at least
somewhat becoming.
CHAPTER XII.
The next day the blinds in front of the ^^^n-
dows of the chambers occupied by the Baroness
Fleury were fast closed ; the lady was suffering
from a severe nen'ous headache, caused by yes-
terday's journey and the heat of the sun. She
allowed no one to enter. In the adjacent corridor
reigned the stillness of death ; and that nothing,
not even the faint noise of a creaking sole, might
distinb the suffering patient, had been already
cared for by the minister, who, it was said, still
loved his beautiful wife as idolatrously as on the
wedding-day. But in the wing of the castle that \
lay opposite, containing the guest-chambers, there
was great noise and confusion. Ver}- early in
the morning there had arrived from A a
large furniture-wagon, accompanied by several
mechanics. The silken curtains of the beds and
windows, that had not been renewed since Prince
Heinrich's time, and were consequently ver}- much ^
faded, were taken down ; the old tapestiy was
torn from the walls, to be replaced by a new and
very expensive pattern ; the ancient crj-stal chan-
deliers were exchanged for bronze lustres, and '
the still valuable but old-fashioned furniture, was
banished to distant rooms.
His excellency conducted all these changes him-
self with the most painstaking care and exactness ;
but it was for a matter of no smdl moment noth-
ing less than a ducal visit. In that magnificent
bed, hung roimd with royal blue silk, the sove-
reign nder was to sleep ; that splendid mirror
brought from Paris was to reflect his princely
countenance ; and the statuettes and paintings
that, half unpacked, stood round, were to delight
his wearied but well-practised eyes. Some jour-
nals, discussing the measures of bis minister in far
from flattering terms, had accidentally fallen into
the duke's hands during his recent journey. He
felt deeply indignant at these outrageous articles
and tissues of falsehood ; and, to make a brilliant
reparation to his so inAidiously attacked favorite
before all the world, he had announced himself
as a guest at the minister's countr\--seat.
This was a distinction such as no noble family
of the land could boast ; every thing must there-
fore be done by the greatest possible display of
splendor, to appear worthy of this rare mark of
favor. And how easy was this for his excellency
he had only to put his hand in his French
pouch ! And yet the people of the castle shook
their heads. At his amval he had appeared
more than commonly cheerftd, and now in one
night he had becotne morose and ill-humored be-
yond all comprehension. A carefid obsen-er
might have noticed a new feature in the counte-
nance othenvise so severely under control that
of secret care. He had been present with the
young countess and IMadame Herbeck only at
dinner; and he, who in his visits to Greinsfeld
and Anisberg had fonnerly exhausted himself
in care and attention for his sick stepdaughter,
now sat opposite her thoughtful and monosyl-
labic ; while JIadame Herbeck was obUged to feel
in her o\\'n person the sad experience, that the
biting satire of his excellency, during his last res-
idence at Paris, had increased considerably in
sharpness.
Thus passed the first day. A magnificent
morning sky now lay over the Thuringian forest.
The young ra}-s of the sun, and the gently mov-
ing, fresh morning wind, were evaporating the
last remains of dew from the summits of the
trees ; but beneath, in the darkness of the woods,
the clear tear-drops of the night were stiU rolling
over the strawbeny leaves and ferns, and climb-
ing up on the little mosses, that they might not
sink down in the dark thirsty earth.
The "SMiite Castle lay glittering in the midst
of its fountains, arbors and avenues. All its
blinds were thrown wide open, also those before
the windows of the baroness. The lady had
risen perfectly recovered and refreshed, and had
ordered that breakfast should be sen-ed in the
woods. She was now wandering alone through
the park ; her husband was engaged in the stran-
gers' wing of the castle, and was to follow her,
and Madame Herbeck was still at her toilet ; but
without her the young countess was not to leave
the castle, according to the regulation of which
she had been again particularly reminded the day
before yesterday.
Thebeautiful wife had made a morning toilet
for more suitable for the Bois de Boulogne than
for the honest German oaks and beeches, among
whose solitaiy tnmks appeared, at most, the abash-
52
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
ed eyes of a berry-seeking child. The lady look-
ed like a sixteen - year - old shepherdess, of the
Watteau school, in the looped-up dress of milk-
white, soft-flo\dng stuff', bordered with a raspbeny-
colored stripe. Pressed for over her forehead,
a gay little straw hat rested on the bluish black
hair, that did not, as formerly, fall in magnifi-
cent ringlets on her breast. The hands of Pa-
risian senants had bound up these hea^T tresses
on the back of her head into that fearful mon-
strosity which the world calls "chignon." In
spite of tliis disfiguring costume of the hair, it
was still a seductive, beautiful woman that, with
light foot, stepped through the bushes still fresh
with the dew.
The place in the woods where the breakfast
was to be sen-ed was not far from the lake ; a nar-
row opening embraced a portion of its mirror,
and allowed the light reflected from its glittering
surface to illuminate the small wood-meadow
overshadowed with beeches. Prince Heinrich had
been veiy fond of this little oasis ; delicately carved
stone tables and benches stood around, and be-
neath a magnificent red beech, the fovorite tree
of its pi'incely master, rose, on a socle of sand-
stone, his bust, in bronze, of full size. At some
little distance, too, ran the boundarv- of the Zwei-
flingen forest ; single scattered white birches
gleamed from the distance through the under-
growth, and marked, as it were, the dividing line ;
and in still weather the ciy of the daws could
be heard from the towers of the forest-house.
The Baroness Fleury quickened her steps when
she entered the woods. Iler beautiful" face ex-
hibited nothing of tliat quiet, comfortable enjoy-
ment that attends a morning walk in the forest :
an expression of eager expectation and curiosity
lay, rather, in her black eyes. She passed round
the lake, and entered the wood-path at whose out-
let the young countess had brouglit tlie boat to
land, a couple of days before, while the children
sang. The white cloth that the servants had
spread over the breakfast, gleamed not far off
tlu'ough the bushes ; but, with a sliy glance towards
tiie bustling domestics, the lady hurried silently
along on the path that led directly to the old
Zweitiingen hunting-grounds. Up to a certain
place, where two branching paths met, she had
frequently wandered before, but never fartlier ;
this narrow seqjentine line led i\p close to the for-
est-house. The last Zweiflingen, who had reach-
ed so lofty a station, never pennitted either her
memoiy or her surroundings to remind her of
tiiat period of want and humiliation, and for this
reason she iiad never crossed the threshold of the
old hunting-lodge.
But to-day the Rubicon was crossed. The birds
that were brooding in tiie thicket whizzed frighten-
ed among the tree-tops, and, with outstretched
necks, cried out at the female form below, that was
hastening so lithcly between tlie wet branches that
not a drop of dew wet lier bright garment. The
white birches lay far beliind her, and now the ])ath
became gradually wider, the trees were farther
apart, and behind the thicket, that dissolved like
a veil, appeared the gray walls of the forest-house.
The baroness stejjped beliind a bush, drew tlie
branches asunder, and looked beyond ; the fa(;ade
was befoi-e her.
In A , this little old castle, with its
strange new inhabitant, was the subject of com-
mon conversation. Wondi'ous tales were told of
the fabulous wealth of the Portuguese. This
Herr von Oliveira the Germans can think of no
distinguished man without immediately giving
him the von or a title had hired the handsomest
house in A for an enonnous sura; it was
very well known that he was going to pass tlie
winter at the seat of government and be presented
at court : and whoever had had the good fortune
of seeing him, even at a distance, swore that he
was the handsomest cavalier the duchy had ever
seen almost exactly resembling the deceased Ma-
jor von Zweiflingen in gallantry and in the aris-
tocratic dignity of his external ap])earance ; but
the forest-house was reported to have been changed
into a true fairy seat.
This the beautiful lurker could not hideed find,
but an original stamp the old building had cer-
tainly received. The little plot of grass that had
formerly stretched along its front now^ described
a wide cun-e ; it was co\ered over ^\ith gravel,
only in the middle there was left a circidar space
of closely shorn grass. In this spot there had
stood ill former times a fountain of a veiy jn-im-
itive kind, a stone trough, into which the fresh
bubbling spring-water flowed through wooden
pipes ; now, in the centre of tliis grassy circle
^\as a colossal granite basin, from the midst of
which a mighty jet of water ascended high in tlie
air. This crystal-like pillar, shooting up in the
very heart of the forest, with its many-colored
spray, its roaring and plashing amid the green
oaks tliat had been there for centuries, breathed
a true f\iiry-like enchantment over this spot of
sylvan solitude. The involuntaiy thought of a
magic spell was strengthened by the impenetra-
ble web of Aristolochia, whose thin green amis,
growing and extending without end, had seized
upon the gray walls with an almost demoniac
power. Tiie two pages blowing their horns still
stood on both sides of tlie steps, like the forms in
the fairy tale grown stift' in their hundred years'
sleep. The green creepers \\ound round their slen-
der limbs, and fluttered their gigantic leaves above
the stony shoulders ; thej^ crept up even to the
battlements of the tower, to look wantonly into
tlie ancient daw's nest, and from there reached
out eagerly towards the tops of the oaks ; it
seemed as if they would gradually enclose in a
greenish twilight, the forest, the house, and the
spouting water-jet.
The windows, liowever, had escaped the danger-
ous embrace ; the new owner seemed fond of air
and light. Instead of the round panes of ground
glass set in lead, the stone window-frames now
inclosed enormous squares of i)late glass; through
these the light from two sides fell in the hall, tlie
doors on the opposite sides of which were both
thrown wide ojjen.
The beautiful lady did not experience the sliglit-
est feeling of melancholy, as her glance passed
over the walls, clothed with wooden tapestiy,
which, for long centuries, had borne on their sur-
face tlie images of the ancestors of tiie Zweiflin-
gens. Slie liad rather with joyous haste given
permission to sell the old nest ; and the purdiase-
money, the whole inheritance of the last Zwei-
flingen, had been precisely enough to pay for two
brilliant Parisian court toilets.
On the stone pavement of the hall lay tiger and
bear skins ; heavy and somewliat rude chairs and
tables of oak-wood stood in groups in the centre
and in the four comers, and from the ceiling hung
I
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
a magnificent chandelier, fashioned out of various
weapons. The new inhabitant did not seem to
be etieminate ; neither cushions nor curtains were
to be seen, and not even a trace of tliose delicate
trifles and useless articles with which the exqui-
sites of our day are wont to surround themselves.
On the contrar}-, the skins of animals h ing on
the floor, and a choice collection of arms on the
southern wall, proved tliat the man would rather
make trial of his strength in combat with the
fiercest enemies of man.
On the ten-ace stood a table spread ; all the
drinking vessels were of solid silver, as the prac-
tised eye of the aristocratic lady immediately dis-
covered. The master of the house had doubtless
breakfasted here, but at this moment his chair
stood empty, and his absence was turned to ac-
count by a parrot, that hopped around pecking at
tiie pieces of white bread left lying about the ta-
ble. After each morsel, which he seemed to en-
joy greatly, he screamed with all his might,
"Revenge is sweet !" ran as far as his chain al-
lowed him to the edge of the table, and scolded
at one of the statues of the pages, on whose shoul-
der was cowering a comical little monkey ; which
sat motionless, gazing ^\^th a melancholy look
into tiie German forest.
The lady suddenly drew back with a start, and
a dark, hateful, malignant expression disfigured
her delicate lips. How came that cross-grained
fellow here? jNIust the forest-house and this
hated appearance then be always and eternally
connected ? For old Sievert came out of the hall.
The baroness had quite lost sight of him for all
these years. There was the same gloomy coun-
tenance, with its harsh, coarse features, that had
once been so bold as to oppose an inflexible se-
verity, always and at all times, to the inesisti-
ble jutta von Zweiflingen. The man had not
changed ; and now, where a sunbeam fell on his
head, it showed on his cheeks the bright flush of
vigorous health.
He scolded the pan'ot, and tapped him on the
back with a silver spoon, upon which the bird ran
off and hastily clambered back to his ring. The
old soldier cleared the table, and arranged on it
the books that were h'ing open upon the cliairs
scattered around, placed a cigar-case near them,
and went back into the hall with the basket of
silver ^^are on his aim.
This glance was sufficient at once to force a
crowd of liateful recollections upon the beautiful
lady. The hateful man there had formerly com-
pelled her sometimes to take the cooking-pot in
her hand, the hand that now wore the marriage-
ring of the mightiest man in the land ; the thought
that these white fingers had committed a crime
would not have excited the lady moi'e than the
remembrance of the ignoble soot-spots. She had
moreover ver^- well known that the old soldier,
at the end of the quarter, had always paid for the
support of herself and her mother out of his own
pocket ; her excellency, the Baroness Fleury, had
thus eaten the bread of charity. And yonder, in
the tower chamber, had the blind, old, obstinate
woman died, with tlie most fciirful accusations on
her lips against him whose proud name the daugh-
ter now bore. But on that terrace, on a wann
summer night, had once stood a man, a tall hand-
some man with a magnificent blond full beard,
silent lips, and melancholy eyes, while a young
maiden had nestled on his breast, listening to the
loud beating of his heart, with the moon shining
large and full above the tree-tops, and the young
maiden had sworn, sworn ! The lady behind
the bush started up as if pursued by furies.
Away, away I ^^ hat demoniac, malicious chance
had brought her here !
Her clouded face grew deadly pale, but not
from the pangs of fruitless repentance. It was
fury, unquenchable hate, with which the black
eyes once more looked back to the ill-omened
house that had seen the last Zweiflingen's degrad-
ing, childish folly ; and again her fugitive foot
was suddenly fixed to the soil, for a man at this
moment issued from the hall.
Our pigmy-like race stands to-day in the old ar-
mories, filled \rith incredible sui-prise, and man-els
what kind of fonns they were that once moved
as dexterously and unencumbered beneath this
burden of aiTnor and aiTus, as if treading ^vith
slippered feet the smooth floor of the banquet-
hall. Yonder stood one of those heroic fonns ;
that handsome brown face would certainly have
proudly smiled beneath the weightiest helmet,
and the powerful, vigorous fonn, with the broad
chest and proud mien, that, to use Madame Her-
beck's expression, could sit his horse like a god,
would have retained all its southern flexibihty of
motion even in the clinking coat of mail.
To-day the baroness was able to obsen'e the
stranger with greater repose and leisure ; a broad-
brimmed planter's hat the day before yesterday
had half shadowed his face, but now she saw the
dark embrowned features Mith the faultless lines
of a Roman profile ; no beard concealed the clas-
sic rounding of the chin and cheeks. The brown
skin he manifestly owed more to the effects of the
tropical sky, and his presimiptive toils and cam-
paigns beneath the same, than to his southern
origin ; for the forehead, which the hat had pro-
tected, was pale as alabaster; but, though it
gleamed with polished smoothness, it still gave
the youthful countenance (the man might number
perhaps thirty years) an expression of ripened,
gloomy seriousness ; yes, the two deep fuiTows
between the strongly developed brows bore de-
cidedly the stamp of the deepest mistnist, a for-
mal declaration of hostility against the whole hu-
man race.
With a peculiarly gentle movement that was
doubly striking in this Hun-like apparition, the
Tortuguese stretched out his left ann ; the little
monkey sprang on it, and nestled in his master's
bosom with the tenderness of a child. The lady in
her concealment suddenly felt a strange desire to
hurl the hateful animal from him. Had this sud-
den, burning impulse the nature of the swift-flash-
ing electric spark ? The Portuguese at this very
moment shook off the little creatiu-e with no great
gentleness, advanced to the first step of the stairs,
and looked earnestly and attentively towards the
spot where the baroness stood : she immediately
jjcrceived, however, that the glance was not in-
tended for her.
The Newfoundland dog that the day but one
before had saved the life of the little daughter of
the Neuenfeld pastor, had already once passed by
her place of concealment ; the "animal had ran
hun-iedly, with panting breath, as if he were
chased, around the whole gravelled space, and
then vanished behind the forest-house ; he now
reappeared.
" Here, Hero !" cried his master to him.
-A
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
Tlie dog ran on, as if he had not heard a soimd,
describing again, in his course, the wide curve
around the house.
The man must surely have been terribly pas-
sionate and ^-iolent : his bro\'n cheeks turned
pale as if with anger ; he sprang down the steps,
and awaited the loud-panting animal, that again
iiished at full speed from behind the house. An-
other threatenmg call remained as fruitless as the
first.
The Portuguese hastily sprang back upon the
terrace and disappeared in the house, whence he
immediately emerged again, with a pistol in his
hand. The disobedient animal seemed to have a
foreboding of the threatened danger ; rushing
along so that his body almost touched the ground,
he left the gravel walk, and turned aside into one
of the forest paths that led towards the lake. His
master, who saw him as he disappeared, sprang
after him.
But now the temfied lady also took flight.
She ran back the same way that she had come.
Throwing away her parasol, she held both hands
before her ears, that she might not hear the shot
from the weapon of the enraged man.
The path taken by the dog was much more"
circuitous than that along which the baroness was
fleeing, and yet, when, breathless, she reached the
woodland meadow, the dog was already circling
around it just as he had done around the gravel
walk ; his tongue hung panting from his jaws, but
his flying feet showed no trace of exhaustion ; it
seemed as if he were driven forward by an in-
visible power. The lackeys had stationed them-
selves protectingly before the now completely ar-
ranged breakfast-table, that was in danger each
moment of being overturned ; but none of them
ventured to attempt to seize the gigantic animal
or to drive it away.
AJmost at the same time with the baroness,
but from another quarter, the Portuguese step-
ped from the woods ; and at the same moment
Gisela also, attended by Madame Herbeck, came
from the lake. The beautifid lady hurried up to
the new-corners.
" He is a madman ! He is going to shoot the
dog because it will not obey him !" whispered she
with panting voice, pointing towards the man,
who with violently heaving breast and pale face
stood near. In spite of his evidently great emo-
tion he raised his arm with a calm, resolute ges-
ture.
"Oh, sir, the dog saved a child's life!" cried
Gisela, as she flew over the meadow, and threw
herself between the now ajjproaching dog and
his deeply incensed master. Suddenly she felt an
arm throvvni roimd her which snatched her aside,
and at the same time a bullet whizzed through
the air, and the magnificent animal fell dead be-
fore her feet. The young lady, wlio never suf-
fered even the lightest touch of another's hand,
and, in consequence of this strange timidity, had
always consistently rejected the sen ices of Lena
herself, was now suddenly iressed to a violent-
ly tlirobbing heart ; she felt a man's breatli on
her forehead, and, terrified, she o])ened her eyes
and gazed in the bowed face of the Portuguese,
whose dark eyes were resting on her own with
an enigmatic expression. The or])han count-
ess during her life had, times without numlier,
heard expressions of anxiety about her sufler-
ing condition, always in the same phrases, which
revolted her healthy feeling, and finally almost
challenged her to laide contradiction. A look
full of real tender anxiety can not be feigned ;
this she had never learned to know, and therefore
her eyes encoimtered those of the Portuguese
without recognition.
On the contrarj", she immediately comprehend-
ed that he had only drawn her aside because she
had been in his way, and tliat Madame Herbeck's
expression " He seeks an opportunity to insult
her " was well founded ; for he suddenly took his
arm away and hastily stepped back, as if he had
touched the cold body of a serpent.
All this had been crowded into a few moments.
The Portuguese flung the pistol away, and bent
over the dog, which, shot in the heart, had died
without a sound. How deeply graven appeared
the mysterious lines at this moment in the Mhite
forehead of the man ; but, like the lips press-
ed firmly together, they gave no impression but
that of gloomy pain. He did not look up, though
the baroness and Madame Herbeck had iiow
drawn near.
' ' But, dearest countess, how inconsiderate !
'\^niat a fright you have caused us! I am still
trembling with agitation ! " exclaimed the govern-
ess with panting breath, as she spread out her
arms as if she woidd draw protectingly to her
breast the young maiden, who had now turned
frightfully pale. A gloomy look from the brown
ej'es, however, caused the raised arms suddenly to
siidc. Her emphatic exclamation had failed to
]3roduce any ett'ect ; nobody seemed to care the
least whether she was agitated or not. She step-
ped up close to the dog.
"Poor fellow, to have to die so!" said she
compassionately. But this woman understood
admirably how to modulate her voice ; the re-
proach in her tones sounded really insulting.
Tlie Portuguese drew himself up, and looked
down upon the governess ; siie felt ready to tuiii
to stone beneath his glance.
" Do you think, then, madam, that I shot the
dog for my own pleasure ?" asked he, with a
strange mixture of anger, sarcasm, and pain, in
beautifid, pure German. He stretched his hand
wamingly towards one of the lackeys, who had
approached and was bending down to stroke the
brute.
' ' Be careful ; the dog was mad ! " he said.
Madame Herbeck started back with a loud
cr}- ; her foot had almost touched the dead ani-
mal's mouth. The baroness, on the contrary,
stepjicd fearlessly nearer ; till then she had kept
herself more in the background.
"Then, sir, we all owe you our thanks for
preseiTation from a great peril," said she, with
that inimitably chamiing yet aristocratic smile
which none could assume better than she. "I,
in particular," she continued ; " for I was walk-
ing entirely alone in the woods."
It was a mere commonplace phrase that these
red lips had uttered, and yet they seemed to pro-
duce the impression of a profound and obscure
oracle ; for the stranger stood face to face speech-
less before the l)eautiful woman. She well knew
the magic of her brilliant appearance, of her al-
luring voice, but this lightning-like cfi'ect was new
to her. The man stniggled visibly with himself
to overcome the impression ; in vain the elegant,
knightly figure was not even ciual to an awkwaid
bow. The baroness smiled and turned away;
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
her eyes fell on the young countess, who, with
compressed lips had observed this strange move-
ment.
"Child, what is the matter?" cried she, af-
frighted ; her anxiety apparently making her for-
get ever}- thing about her. "Now I shall also
have to scold you like Madame Ilerbeck! It
was very imprudent in you to run here, where the
shot and the fearful sight must make such an
impression on your shattered nerves ! How can
you ever think of gettuig well, when you treat
your sutterings with sucli inditlerence ?"
This was all intended to be the expression of
tender care, and yet how unsuitable sounded the
reproof, which might just as well have been di-
rected to a child of ten years, in the presence of
the young lady who stood there so maidenly and
so proud ! She could not control a hot blush that
suddenly dyed her white face to the roots of her
hair, but she suffered not a word to escape hei-
lips. She had a peculiar maimer of keeping si-
lent, that was neither the speechlessness of bash-
ful perplexity nor of haughty obstinacy ; thus mild
and expressive is the silent spiritual pre-emi-
nence that intentionally avoids eveiy useless
word. This was called by Madame Ilerbeck
" the most marked form of the ViJldem obsti-
nacy;" an expression which she now also illus-
trated by spiteftdly compressed lips and a disap-
pro\ing shake of the head. No one observ'ed the
hasty glance which the stranger cast upon Gisela
at the baroness's exclamation of anxiety ; but if
any one had seen it, as it shot from beneath the
deeply-wrinkled brow to the tall, inimitably proud
maidenly fonn, he Avould have trembled for the
yoimg being who had unconsciously become the
object of a truly fanatical animosity. The Por-
tuguese stepped back noiselessly into the bushes,
and disappeared, just as the ladies again turned
towards him.
CHAPTER XIII.
Mad-Vjie Hekbeck broke out into a mocking
laugh, and pointed to the thicket where the light
summer dress of the Portuguese was once more dis-
cerned. ' ' There he goes, without a single word ! "
said she. "Your excellency, now you have had
an oppoitunity to convince yourself wliat kind of
a neighbor the White Castle has found ! Impu-
dent fellow ! His noble Portuguese blood does
not think it worth while to bow before a German
lady ! Your excellency, I was beside myself at
the manner in which he received your courtesy I ''
"I doubt very much whether it was haughti-
ness," replied the beautiful woman with a shrug
of the shoulder, and a fleeting but very expressive
smile. The tenderly swimming eyes of the gov-
erness glittered for a moment in a really cat-like
manner ; her adversary had a powerful ally fe-
male vanity.
"But his beliavior towards our countess, does
your excellency excuse that also ?" asked she bit-
terly, after a momentary silence. "At first he
throws his arms round her without ceremony, and
draws her to him. "
"That my little daughter has to ascribe to
herself," interrupted the baroness, smiling, as she
gently tapped Giselas cheek with her finger.
" This heroic attempt to save the dog was a lit-
tle childish, my dear!"
" And then he suddenly thrust her from him,"
continued the governess, raising her voice ; "will
your excellency also deny that he thrust her from
him witli passion ; yes, I do not say too much
with a real luxtred ?"
"That I do not entirely deny, my good ]Ma-
dame Ilerbeck , for I saw it v.itli my own eyes ;
but, nevertheless, I can not admit of your exag-
gerated words, such as iiatred and the hke. Why
in the world should this man hate the countess ?
He does not know her at all ! As I look at the
matter, it was nothing but a momentary, almost
unconscious dislike with which he drew back.
And see, we are now touching on a point which
we (my husband as well as myself) have con-
stantly been urgently pressing upon you ; it is
now inevitably necessary for our child that she
should adliere to her solitary, recluse life."
She thrust fonvard her charming little foot,
clothed with a boot of gilded morocco, and allowed
her eyes to rest on it as if in troubled pei-]jlexity.
"It is too painful for me to discuss this deli-
cate theme once more," said she final!}' to Gisela ;
" still it must be done, and all the more, my
child, since you show the greatest desire to eman-
cipate yourself ]\Iany persons, men and women,
have an aversion for whatever is called nen'ous
attacks. Your malady is unfortunately known,
my dear Gisela ; in intercourse with the world
countless marks of inconsiderateness would con-
tinually wound you we have just had a notable
proof of this ! "
She pointed in the direction where the Portu-
guese had disappeared.
" You little goose," said she soothingly, as she
saw that the lips of the young lady had suddenly
become white as snow, as if in consequence of
a deadly fright, "that need not trouble you.
Have you not us to care for jou ? And do we
not all hope that you wiU gi-adually get better ?"
J, Like all skillfid diplomatists, who, when they
have shot the arrow to the mark, immediately
change the subject, she broke off the conversa-
tion. She ordered one of the lackeys to find the
parasol she had thrown away, and laughingly
confessed to the ladies that she had been terribly
frightened. " No wonder !" said she. "I have
seen the forest-house ; it makes an impression on
one, just as the master himself It is partly the
residence of a fairy prince, and still more that of
a Northern barbarian. Who knows what kind
of a past the man has had ? his ver}- pan'ot thirsts
for revenge."
She was silent. Some people came from the
forest-house, who carried off the dog, and cai'e-
fully cleaned the place where he had lain. They
laid hold of the dead animal as tendeily and
carefidly as if it were the body of some unhappy
man.
" The gentleman was as fond of him as of a
tnisty comrade, " said one of the men to the lack-
eys who stood by. "lie was once attacked by
robbers, and the dog saved his life. He will not
easily get over this lie was white as chalk when
he came to the house. And grim old Sievert is
crjing : he had grown so fond of Hero in a
couple of weeks."
The ladies were not flir off and heard every
word ; but at Sievert's name the baroness turned
contemptuously away and advanced to the break-
fast-table, where she sat down. She put her eye-
glass to her eye and examined her stepdaughter,
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
\vho, ^\ith Madame Herbeck, was slowlv approach-
ing, whilst the men with the hand-barrow went
back into the woods.
"By the way, Gisela, let me say one thing,"
cried she to the young lady. "Do not think
hard of me, but you dress so strangely ; so veiy
poorly. "
The young countess wore a dress cut in pre-
cisely the same manner as that of the day before
yesterday, only it was of a delicate blue color.
Without any adornment, it looked almost like a
go^^^l with wide, open sleeves, whose folds were
confined around the waist only by a girdle. But
these transparent muslin folds fitted closely about
the delicately moulded bust, and revealed the rosy
whiteness of her shoulders through the transparent
fabric. A black velvet ribbon bound the blond
open hair from her forehead. This was indeed
no Parisian "NVatteau toilette, but the maiden
looked like an elf.
"Ah, that is always Lena's fliult, your excel-
lency I " complained the governess, ' ' I can no
longer say a single word, now "
"Nor do you dare do so, IMadame Herbeck I"
said Gisela seriously, interrupting her. "Did
you not yesterday assure one of our kitchen-maids
that she was an outcast from grace, because she
was possessed of the demon of vanity ?"
A frivolous smile curled the baroness's lips ;
but the governess fairly glowed once more in holy
indignation at the recollection of that moment.
" And I was perfectly right I" cried she, start-
ing up. "Did not the simple, God-forgotten
thing buy a straw round hat exactly the shape of
my own new one ? But, dearest countess, to
draw such a parallel! it is imjustifiable yes,
yes, this is another of your Httle teasing speeches."
"I had hoped to see you in the channing
house-dress that I sent you from Paris, my
child, " said the baroness, undisturbed by Madame
Herbeck's lamentation.
" It was much too short and too nan'ow for
me : I have grown, mamma."
A furtive glance from the stepmother's dark
eyes passed over the maiden's face.
"It was made exactly according to the meas-
ure that Lena gave me on my departure," said
she slowly and at the same time sharply; "and
you will not make me believe, child, that you
have altered so much in these few months ?"
"I have never wanted to make you believe
any thing, mamma, and I must therefore also
confess to you that I never would have worn the
dress, even if it had fitted me ; I hate all gay
colors, you kno\v, mamma ; and I have given the
scarlet waist to Lena."
The baroness started up, deeply irritated ; she
soon recovered herself, however.
" Well, the little serv-ant wench vriU look well
in that fine Cashmere!" said she, smiling deris-
ively. " And I shall be careful in the future to
choose nothing without the subUme consent of
my little daughter. Besides I can not help it,
I always mistrust simjilicity in girls ; especially
at the bread-and-butter age, as you are ; it looks
to me just a little like h}-]iocrisy."
The comers of Gisela's mouth bent slightly
do^vnward, with an expression of gentle scorn.
" I j)lay the hypocrite ? No, I am too proud for
that," said she quietly.
This strange repose in the demeanor of the
young maiden left the obsener in constant doubt
whether it arose from innate gentleness, or from a
predominating intellect.
"I am very proud," continued she, "of being
created in the image of God. Let others weigh
down and disfigure their bodies with all possible
articles of fashion ; I shall not do it !"
"Ah, my dear little modest blossom I you
are sure, then, that you ^^ill be most beautiful
thus?" exclaimed the baroness, yhe surveyed
her daughter through her eye-glass from head to
foot ; a truly Satanic expression played around her
mouth.
"Yes," answered Gisela ingenuously, without
any hesitation. "My feeling of beauty tells me
that we should cling to the simple, noble lines of
nature."
The baroness laughed aloud.
" Now, iNIadame Herbeck," said she to the gov-
emess with biting irony, "this child has been
making right interesting studies in her sohtude ;
^\ e owe you many thanks for this ! It is a l^ity,
my dear, that you are not handsomer," added
she, tiirning to Gisela.
"Heavens! your excellency," cried Madame
Herbeck, affrighted, ' ' I have no idea how the
countess comes so suddenly to develop such an
amount of vanity ! I have never, I assure you,
seen her even look in a mirror "
The baroness motioned her to be silent the
minister was aj)proaching from the lake.
His excellency appeared any thing but fresh
and good-humored. From beneath the straw
hat pressed deep over his brow, his eyes scanned
the group before him and remained fixed on the
young countess. She was still standing ; during
the conversation, she had mechanically seized a
branch that hung rather high, and held it fast
with outstretched anns ; her wide sleeves dropped
do^^^l like wings. It was a characteristic position,
full of noble, chaste repose.
"Ah, only see! a sacrificial priestess in the
Dniid grove!" cried he sarcastically, as he drew
nearer. " You look fantastic enough, my daugh-
ter !"
He usually accompanied jests of this character
with a fine, satirical smile, that made his face very
piquant and attractive ; but now it was extin-
guished in an expression of aversion. He kissed
his wife's hand, and sat doTi near her.
While Madame Herbeck handed the chocolate,
the baroness related to her husband the adventure
with the OMTier of the foundry ; she confined her
relation solely to the shooting of the dog, and
did not touch on Gisela's part in the affair.
' ' The man knows how to surround himself Anth
a halo of romance," said the minister, rejecting the
proffered chocolate and lighting a cigar. "He
appears desirous of playing the eccentric, and
making himself and his millions sought after.
Now, that will all cease when the duke comes.
He will then be presented at court, they say, and
we shall be able to see him more nearly."
He appeared ^ery much abstracteil while say-
ing this ; his thoughts were evidently busily en-
giiged in another direction. " That blockhead
of an upholsterer has broken one of the new vases
while arranging them ! " said he after a pause,
while the ladies were breakfasting in silence.
" Oh, what a pity !" cried the baroness. "But
that should not annoj- you so much, my dear.
The loss can be easily repaired ; the thing cost,
at the most, fifty dollars."
1
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
57
The minister bruslicd the ashes from his cigar ;
tlie gesture with which he turned away was one
of secret impatience.
"Just as I left the "\Miite Castle," began he
again after a momentary silence, " Mademoiselle
Cecile received a box sent by your Parisian dress-
maker, Jutta."
" Oh, that is a very agreeable piece of news !"
exclaimed the lady; "Cecile has already been
lamenting that the things were so long on the
way : 'and I myself began to feel anxious lest I
shoidd be obliged to appear in Cinderella fashion
before the duke."
" The fool has sent a bill of five thousand
francs," remarked the minister.
The baroness looked up in astonishment.
" The man was quite right,'' said she, " I gave
an order amoimting to five thousand francs."
" Eut, my dear child, if I am not much mis-
taken, you have just brought with you from Paris
a number of toilettes to the value of eight thou-
sand francs."
" Certamly, my dear," she replied smiHng ;
"but their value was ten, and not eight thousand
francs. I paid for them out of my own pocket,
and am not therefore Ukely to forget it. Be-
sides, I am very much astonished that you j'our-
self do not see that it is an utter impossibility for
me to wear here, in the country, dresses specially
intended for A ; I hope you will not credit
me with so utter a lack of taste !"
Dm-ing this explanation, she was cnimbling
witii great composure a toasted slice of white
bread into her chocolate. Her glance stole side-
ways towards her husband several times ; but
though her lips smiled, her eyes, at other times
so fieiy, and of truly demoniac power, glided with
a pecidiar fixedness over the profile and deeply
sunken eyelids of her husband. There ^\'as no
longer the slightest reflection of that which the
beautiful bride, in the castle chapel at A , had
once sealed with her Yes.
' ' But how long is it, my dearest Fleuiy, since
you began to control my commissions from
Paris ?" continued she, jestingly. " Such a thing
has never in your life occurred to you before !
And besides, this misanthropic face ! I hope
that you have not grown irritable so near yoiu*
last birthday ! Pray, my dearest husband, do not
grow old ! "
All this sounded in jest, and was uttered with
the most charming naivete ; but it contained
shai-p dagger-thrasts for the man, her elder by far
more than two decades, who for no price would
appear old in the eyes of his idolized young wife.
A sickly flush overspread his immovable coun-
tenance, and a half smile pafted his pale lips.
" I am a little out of humor," he added, "but
not at all about your Parisian trifles, my child ;
there sits the delinquent ! " He pointed to Gisela.
She raised her lashes, that had been cast down
in thought, and regarded her stepfather with sur-
prise, though her countenance was firm and full
of expectation. His sharp tone woidd have ter-
rified all who knew him intimately ; but not a
trace of anxiety or pei'])lexity was visible on the
foce of the maiden, which evidently excited his
excellency still more.
" Your physician was just now with me, and I
have heard a fine account from him," said he,
dwelling on each syllable; "you disobey all his
orders ! "
"I have been well since I threw away his
drugs."
The minister started ; his eyes opened wide
and flashed with anger. ' ' What ! you ven-
ture "
"Yes, papa; this is a kind of necessary de-
fense on my side. The man has always ordered
me to ride in a close carriage at all seasons of the
year ; he has never permitted me to walk even
for a single time through the park ; a drink of
fresh water was forbidden me as deadly poison.
But when Lena, half a year ago, began to grow
sickly, he ordered for her, first of all, fresh water,
air, and exercise. Now^ P''psi, I also was panting
after fresh water, air, and exercise ; and as the
doctor had nothing but a compassionate smile for
all my entreaties, 1 helped myself ! "
"Your excellency can now comprehend the
difficulty of my present position," said Madame
Herbeck, who, during Gisela's confession, had al-
lowed her chocolate to become cold.
The minister had long since mastered his ex-
citement. "You have procured for yom-self a
saddle-horse?" asked he composedly, without no-
ticing the governess's remark. His cigar, which
he was carefully scrutinizing, appeared for the
moment to interest him more than his step-
daughter's answer.
"Yes indeed, papa, from my pin-money," an-
swered the young maiden. ' ' I can not exactly say
that I am fond of riding ; but I wish to be strong
and vigorous, and such a ride in the fresh morn-
ing air steels my muscles and nerves."
"And may J be permitted to know why the
Countess Stunn wishes thus, at any price, to moidd
herself into a Valkyria?" examined the minister
further, the satiric, attractive smile playing around
his lips.
Gisela's beautiful brown eyes fairly sparkled.
"Why?" repeated she. "Because to be well
is to live ; because it wounds and oft'ends me to
be eternally the object of general compassion ;
because I am the last Sturm ! I will not that
this lofty race shoidd end in a wretched, infirm
creature. When I enter society "
The baroness till now had listened to question
and answer with a mocking smile, yet perfectly
composed ; but at this moment a crimson flush
suflfused her whole face.
"Ah! )'ou intend to go to court?" inquired
she, inten-upting the young maiden.
"Certainly, mamma," answered Gisela without
hesitation. " I must really do so, if only for
grandmamma's sake ; she used to go to com't.
I can see her yet, as when, sparkling with dia-
monds, she used to come to my room to bid me
good-night. But I saw once how her coronet had
made a deep red mark on her forehead. I de-
test the cold, heavy stones, and I do not like to
think that my position may compel me to wear
grandmamma's diamonds."
She raised both hands, as if involuntarily, to
her warm white neck, as though she alreadj' felt
there the icy-cold glittering diamond necklace.
However great was the control that the minis-
ter exex'cised over his features, he could not pre-
vent a sallow pallor from oversjjreading his cheeks
at the mention of the diamonds. He tossed his
cigar far out into the meadow, as if worthless, and
busied himself for the moment in choosing a bet-
ter one from his cigar-case. But the beautiful
face of his wife became petrified, as it were, by
THE COU^^TESS GISELA.
an expression of gloomy tlionght. She unceas-
ingly stirred her chocolate with her spoon ; those
brilhant eyes were never thus sunken before in-
ner contemplation was not usual with her excel-
lency but now the long lashes fell like a hea-\y
shadow over her fair cheeks. As if he had not
lieard a syllable of tlie words exchanged between
the two ladies, the minister said, after a pause,
with the gracious, indulgent tone that he had for-
meily always used towards the sick child :
"1 see plainly that I shall have to give our
g(jod old physician leave to retire : he no longer
has authority over his obstinate little patient, and
it could never occur to me to wish to force you
to any thing, Gisela. Perhajjs Doctor Anidt, in
A , will suit you better ; I will therefore send
for him, my child ; for though you have such
positive ideas about the state of your health, j-ou
are still far from being restored. On the con-
traiy, the doctor projjhesies for you, at a very
early period, an attack the more violent, inas-
much '
He stopped, and looked with an anxious brow
towards the opposite side of the woods.
"Go yonder, and see what is the matter; I
think that some people are coming this way," said
he to a lackey who had approached at his sum-
mons.
"Your excellency, the shortest foot-path to
Greinsfeld passes by here," the man ventured to
remonstrate.
' ' Very wisely remarked, my good Brarni ; I
know as much as that already. But I will not
allow people to pass by wlien I am here ; there
are other roads to Greinsfeld," said the minister
sharply.
CHAPTER XIV.
IMeanwhile, tlie child of humanity, wliose
dress gleamed brightly through the thicket, had
stepped fortli upon the meadow ; it was the little
daughter of the Xeuenfeld pastor.
Gisela saw the cliild ajiproach; for a moment
she was surprised by the same feeling, in virtue
of which, the day but one before, though but for a
single instant, she had deliberated how she could
get rid of the cliildren in the boat the dread of
being discovered and condemned by our equals
in rank, while holding intercourse M'ith those be-
neath us in position ; a cowardly, pitiful feeling,
that degrades the human soul, and that, since hu-
man societies have been separated and divided by
limits of their own invention, has been tlie cause
of countless tears to deeply otlended and insulted
hearts.
But now, too, the original groundwork of her
character gained the victor}' over the results of
education with the young countess. She rose
quickly, and stretched out her hand towards the
lackey, who had just started to perfonn his duty,
with a forbidding gesture.
"You must not send the child away, papa!"
.said slie very decidedly to the minister. "It is
the little one that day before yesterday was al-
most drowned through my fault."
She took the child that ran up to her by the
hand, and kissed her on the forehead. The charm-
ing little creature had precisely tlie same cast of
countenance tliat the reader saw, twelve years
ago and seven times repeated, beneath the Christ-
mas-tree of the Xeuenfeld parsonage ; round, and
rosy white as an ajjple-blossom, with a pair of
gleaming blue eyes, that looked up to the yoimg
countess full of happiness.
"I thank you very kindly for all the oranges
you sent me!" said the child. "Oh, they smell
so good ! And mamma has ironed out my new-
apron, and it is as good as new again ! ]\Iamma
is coming too ; we are going to Greinsfeld. I ran
on before to look for some strawbenies for Cousin
Ruder in the Moods but I would much rather
give them to you than to cousin."
SI;e raised the cover of her little basket, that
was ftdl of fragrant strawberries.
' Ah, my dear countess, your nice httle protegee
is telling tales ! " cried ^ladame Herbeck in great
indignation. " I shall for the future take the hot-
house fruit under my own custody ; it certainly
does not gi-ow for the God-forsaken Xeuenfeld
parsonage. "
Gisela, who, at the disclosure of the child, had
looked over towards her governess somewhat af-
frighted, became glowing red ; but she neverthe-
less drew herself up, and suneyed the little, fat,
enraged woman with a proud look.
' ' How foolish it is to keep silent when we do
right, out of regard for the opinions of others !"
said she. " It was my duly to inquire after the
condition of the child, and to give her a little
pleasure in return for the fright ! But because I
know your hatred towards tlie parsonage, I was
weak enough not to acquaint you with the step.
I am pimished for it ; I feel myself for the first
time in my life deeply humiliated, for the suspi-
cion of an untnith falls upon me ! Tliough I have
redly neither wished nor done any thing mong,
I can not help feeling ashamed !" Once more the
crimson flush overspread her face. "Fie, what
a hateful feeling ! This shall be a lesson to me,
Madame Herbeck ! I will drop this cowardly cir-
cumspection, and for the future act before all the
world as appears good and right to my under-
standing and heart !"
The glove was thro\\Ti down to the governess,
but she did not pick it up. Speechless, with
trembling lips, she directed her mournful, swim-
ming eyes to the minister, seeking for lielp. It
remained doubtful on which side to incline ; an
angry glance had indeed shot from beneath the
half-sunken lids towards his rebellious stepdaugh-
ter. But in the free, open woods passionate ex-
j)lanations were not in ])lace ; the less so, as at
this instant a v.oman ajipeared on the meadow.
She stepjied forth fiom between two oaks ; tall
and powerful, she was the type of a German
woman. With her round hat on her arm, tlic
air and sunsliine fell full on her well-poised head,
with its broad brow and smooth, fair hair.
She hesitated a memicnt, as she saw the aristo-
cratic company grouped around the breakfast-
table ; but across this meadow passed the narrow
trodden path, the common property ; and tlie
woman had not heard his excellency's sharp ]u-o-
test against any inteniiption.
The Xeuenfeld pastor's wife therefore stepped
briskly forward. A period of more than twche
years lay between the present time and that
eventful Christmas eve in the p.arsonage. The
chasm made at that hour between castle and
parsonage had since been inflexibly kept open on
the side of the deeply uritated feudal party. Ou
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
the little forest meadow the tlnee -women again
stood face to face for the first time.
Time, labor, and care had indeed imprinted
some fine lines on the handsome face of the pas-
tor's wife ; but the bloom of her cheeks was not
extinguished, and the noble, vigorous movements
of her limbs had lost nothing of their elasticity
and firmness. No wonder I the soul, sound to
the core, that directed and controlled them was
still the same I On the character of her whole
ajjpearance the twelve years had glided a\\ay
idth as little trace as on that young, beautiful,
frivolous woman, whose burning black eyes gleam-
ed on with an insatiable thirst for worldly pleas-
ure.
These two figures were tv-pes always to be met
in the female world ; but that third the little fat
woman, with the comers of her mouth drawn
down, and the devotional, swimming eyes be-
longed to a class that returns only periodically
a t^-pe that is only possible when religion and
politics go hand in hand. The embodied woman
of the world, who for forty years had regarded
the reading of the Bible solely as the privilege of
women in reduced cii-cumstances and of jjovert}',
who had despised the choral as something tran-
scendental, and coidd find a certain lofty tone of
virtue intolerable this woman had made a pro-
digious stride in her external creed. Such a
change certainly required much noble assurance ;
but the friends of the '" converted" call that in-
spiration. A woman may go astray, may fall,
without entirely losing her grasp of the treasure
of religion, and then she can not be wholly lost.
But a woman who, for the sake of exterior ad-
vantages, h}-]30critically pretends to possess this
treasure is fallen indeed ; she insolently traiBcs
with what is most Jioly !
"Mamma, this is the dear, handsome count-
ess, whose foult it was that I fell into the water I "
cried the httle girl to her mother as she approach-
ed.
Gisela laughed like a child, and the eyes of the
pastor's ^-ife also sparkled with good-humor and
merriment at her naive little daughter ; but she
stopped for a moment, as if rooted before the
young countess. She had indeed occasionally
seen the pale little face of the high-born child be-
hind the glass panes of the carriage as it drove
hastily by; eveiy time she saw her she thought
it woidd be the last ; and now a single year had
changed the frail bud to a lonely maiden flower.
"This is a miracle, dear countess," she ex-
claimed ; "you are the very " no ; even though
the resemblance between the grandmother and
granddaughter was wonderfully striking, she could
not possibly compare this charming maidenly
creature, who was so aft'ectionately holding the
hand of her child, with that woman who once, as
Countess Vcildei-n, had wandered upon the earth
in boundless aiTogance, destitute of all modesty
and moral principle, deaf to the complaints of the
needy, and inflexibly and pitilessly trampling upon
the hearts she had already crushed.
The pastor's wife stopped, therefore, and cor-
rected herself by saying, "You have the \er}- look
of health itself!"
" My child, it is time for us to go," cried the
baroness to her stepdaughter. j
Gisela's eyes darkened ; her stepmother's voice
touched her to the very quick. The stately |
woman there before her, Mith the good, honest '
eyes, was to be driven away by this cutting, arro-
gant tone.
" I will take the strawberries home with me,
my little Kuschcn," said she to the child ; "and
to-morrow you can come to me yourself and get
the basket : will you not ?"
"To the White Castle?" asked the child, as
she opened wide her innocent eyes, and earnestlv
shook her little foir head. " No, I can not go
there," answered she, very decidedly; "Brother
Fritz says the people of the "White Castle don't
like papa!"
No answer could be made to this. Madame
Ilerbeck did indeed hate the man, and Gisela was
not acquainted with him. But the face of the
pastor's wife had suddenly become veiy serious,
though her glance was still fixed, with a sincerity
that could not be mistaken, on the young lad}-,
who remained standing in silent peii^iexity.
She took the hand of her child, in order to con-
tinue her way ; the ladies near by were drawing
on their gloves, and Madame Ilerbeck with great
ostentation summoned one of the lackeys to throw
her lace shawl over her shoulders. And although
the beautiful young lady yonder, now raised to so
lofty a station, had once eaten her bread and
found shelter beneath her roof, the single-minded
woman had still enough pride and tact to give her
no sign of recognition, as the black eyes appeared
to see every thing but her alone.
The winding path, in its course across the
meadow, approached quite near the breakfast-ta-
ble ; the pastor's wife bowed courteously as she
passed ; the ladies answered her gieeting with a
slight nod, and the minister raised his hat.
Now, whether it was that the rays of the sun,
which, by this movement, fell on his forehead,
gave his stony face a somewhat friendly appear-
ance, or that his half-closed eyes did not in reali-
ty look so severe and repelling as usual, the wom-
an suddenly halted as if rooted before him.
' ' Your excellency, " said she modestly, but with-
out the slightest fear or emban-assment, as was evi-
dent from her firm, sonorous voice, "accident has
led me to you ; I should not have gone to the White
Castle ; but here in the wide woods, where the air
belongs to us all, words come more readily to the
lips. But you must not think that I am going
to beg for any thing ; we are poor, but we are also
all able to work, thanks to God ! and honest. I
wish only to ask for what reason my husband
has been deprived of his office ?"
"You can best ask that of your husband him-
self, madam!" replied the minister pointedly.
"Ah, your excellency, I prefer going straight
to the proper person to receive an answer ! I can
not possibly ask my husband ; for if he told the
truth, he \\ould be obliged to say, I am a tnie
man, humlile before God and fearless before man,
zealous and strict in the fulfillment of my duty,
faithful and upright of heart ; and I can only won-
der at this strange world, where he is punished
who has not sinned "
"Restrain your tongue, woman !" intemapted
the minister with a cold voice, as he raised his
forefinger threateningly. But Madame Ilerbeck
tittered with indescribable malice. ' ' Zealous and
strict in the fulfillment of duty!"' repeated she,
although as if to herself; a direct interference
would have been too much against etiquette.
The Satanic, mocking laugh pierced the heart
of the pastors wife like the thiaist of a knife ; the
60
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
rebellious blood shot up into her face, and the
hea^y, fair eyebrows contracted in a gloomy
frown ; but the pastor's wife never lost her self-
conti-ol.
" Gracious lady," said she, quietly turning her
head to Madame Herbeck, "you should not laugh
tlius ; othei-wise I shall think the Neuenfeld peo-
ple are right when they say that you are the per-
son who has been most active in causing my hus-
band to be deprived of his ofhce ; persecution does
not look well in a woman ! "
All regard for etiquette was now lost sight of
by the goveniess. The devout woman, in the
sen-ice of the Lord, gave way to far more con-
temptuous wrath than did formerly the aristocratic
woman of the world. ' ' What do I care for your
opinion?" cried she. " Continue to think just as
you please ; that will not prevent me from tram-
pling vipers under foot, wherever I meet them !"
' ' You forget yourself, Madame Herbeck ! " ex-
claimed the minister. He commanded silence
with an imperious gesture of his wliite Iiand.
"My dear woman, long explanations are
against my principles," said he, turning to the
pastor's wife with all the annihilating coldness of
the irritated man of authority. "I should have
enough on nay hands, were I continually, in my
own person, to explain fully the reasons that have
led to the adoption of my measures. But so much
will I tell you, that the boasted fidfillment of du-
ties has still left very, veiy much to be desired.
We have done every thing to shake the man out
of his old beaten track ; it was troulile lost. He
lias opposed eveiy wholesome refonn in ecclesiasti-
cal matters with consistent obstinacy ; now it has
become ver}^ apparent, on what account. The
observation of the stariy heavens was far more
interesting to him than the conscientious study
of tlie old fathers of the Church ; but we can
cmplfjy no pastor who rides such a hobby, my
dear madam.'
"And the pastor in Bodenbach, who has to be
dragged away from his bee-hives whenever it is
time to preach ?" interrupted the pastor's wife in-
quiringly ; and her piercing, cautious Ijhie eyes
Avere immovably fixed on.his excellency's marble
face.
He stood up, and patted her on the shoulder
with an imj)ertinent smile.
"Oil, mv dear madam," said he, "the pastor
of Bodenbach has constantly before his eyes, in
liis bee-hives, the picture of the Church ; the stat-
utes once given will prevail as long as there is
even a bee, and queen and workers submit them-
selves without contradiction to all their require-
ments. I can assure you, the pastor of Boden-
bach is the most vigilant guardian of souls, for and
w'ide ; he does not meddle with what does not
concern him."
" O merciful God, then this is true!" exclaim-
ed the pastor's wife, clasping her hands. "For
fear the stars yonder nuxy not be exactly what the
Scriptures represent them, he must be forbidden
to look up, and must believe that tlie Almightj'
God amuses himself l)y kindling lights in the
heavens every evening only for the sake of his
wonns of this earth ! He must force him.self to
believe that white is black, and two times two
are five ! And if he is willing to do all this,
has it any thing to do with the teachings of our
Lord and Saviour ? Do you not yourselves insult
tlie doctrine of God's omnipotence and wisdom,
when you disparage his works and make them
defective, only to hold fast to the letter ?"
She drew a deep breath and then continued :
"Will not the Bible remain the living source of
consolation and blessing for all time, even though
here and there human errors ha^e been joined to
it ? Whoever has tm-ned to it but a single time
in sorrow and care knows that it is eternal. They
who tremble for it on account of the controverted
word know nothing of its spirit! Your excel-
lency, I am a plain woman, but so much have I
always understood, that the comparison of the
shepherd and the flock has reference only to their
belonging togetlier in Christian love ; but never
to the rod of the shepherd, and to the fold in
which the sheep are kept confined. And in that
acceptation my husband stands in the puljiit and
among his people, and they all love him lieartily.
The church is always filled ; and when he begins
to speak of the wonderful works of God, which
he has liimself investigated in the deep, silent
night, you coidd hear a pin faU anywhere in the
church "
Up to this moment all had allowed the woman
to contiiuie in silence, but now, IMadame Herbeck
broke forth into a loud laugh.
" And in these investigations in the deep, silent
night, he is aided by that old gmmbler, the free-
thinker, the soldier Sievert ! Beautiful company
for a servant of the Lord I" cried she, with a sort
of wild triumph. " Your excellency, the woman
lias condemned herself , she is a rationalist through
and through ! "
" You must not attack old Sievert in my pres-
ence, gracious lady!" answered the pastor's wife,
frowning, and raising her hand protestingly to-
wards the lady ; the malicious attack upon herself
she ignored entirely. " He is a^ood, honest man,
who all his life has sacrificed himself for others ;
he has more religion in his heart than many who
wear it on their forehead and their lips ! If any
one knows him, it is I ; he has lived in my house
ever since the unfortunate death of the excellent
overseer. At that time he came almost crazed
with grief, and sought and found consolation in
the parsonage. And even now, after eleven years.
j when no one thinks any longer of the dreadful
, event "
A momentary paleness spread over the face of
I the baroness, and the spoon, with which her hand
I had been mechanically playing, fell back rattling
into the cup ; but the black siiarkling eyes wcyq
fixed threateningly upon the speaker. The minis-
ter came to her aid.
I ' ' Good woman, you have thus fiir spoken like
! a book!" said he, witli biting irony, inteiTupting
the pastor's wife, as if lie had not understood the
meaning of her last words. He shrugged his
I shoulders. ' ' I am sorry that your pains should
I be lost," continued he; "but I can do nothing
in the matter, and must let things take their
course. "
' "And I ask for nothing, your excellency,
nothing whatever," answered she, as she took
the little hand of her child .again firmly in her
\ o^vn. "It will indeed be hard for us all to take
the staff again in hand and depart from the
Neuenfeld valley, where for twenty-one jears
long we have faithfully borne fortune and misfor-
tune, joy and sorrow, with many good men."
"No", you shall not go away! ' cried Gisela,
approaching the woman. Her brown eyes glow-
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
Gl
ctl ; they seemed at this moment almost darker
than the beautiful dark ones of her stepmother,
which, in speechless wrath, were immovably fix-
ed on her face. ' ' Come with me to Greinsfeld ! "
said she fii-mly.
" Countess 1" exclaimed Madame Herbeck, as,
clasping her hands, she sank back into her chair.
"Have no fear, gracious madam," said the
pastor's wife, gently smiling, to the terrified gov-
erness, and heartily pressing Gisela's proffered
hand. '"I can not accept, for the sake of the
coimtess herself I God bless her good heart '
jMav she never have a sad hour, least of all on
my" account ! But to you, Madame Herbeck, I
must say one thing more," added she with deep
earnestness, as she raised her forefinger almost
solemnly. "The man departs whom you have
trampled upon as a viper. His calling is taken
from him, and he feels that a thousand-fold more
than if he were doomed to sirffer want. This is
just the time when you can dare eveiy thing, for
you are under po\\erful protection. But, you
must not think, because you now trample the ti-uth
imder foot, that it \\ill always be thus ; Look at
Nenenfeldl There the spirit is growing hourly
that you would tread under foot ! And should
you strike it dowTi again and again, you will not
vanquish it ; it will consume you at last, for it
has the life eternal; it is wholly imbued with
that love which was the commencement of Chris-
tianity. Bring back again the old devil with his
hell, place him presumptuously over against the
dear God, build him a throne higher than that
on which the Almighty is seated, it will all avail
nothing ; you can never again bring a corpse to
life!"
She bowed to the minister and the young
countess, and departed. His excellency looked
after her speechless ; this boldness overstepped
all limits, and he did not even have an opportu-
nity of punishing the woman he could not re-
move her husband a second time. This looked
verj- much like a defeat ; but in such cases his
excellency had never wilkd it otherwise. He
therefore sat down very composedly, and lighted
his extingtushed cigar anew.
^Madame Herbeck, whose pale lips were trem-
bling with rage, cast upon him a stealthy look full
of poison and gall ; at this moment, the so-much-
praised diplomatic repose was certainly not pres-
ent.
" A shameless woman !" uttered the baroness
vehemently. " And will you let this go unpun-
ished, Fleury ?"
"Of what consequence is it let her go !" an-
swered he contemptuously.
He leaned back in a comfortaUe position, and
permitted the blue vaporj' rings to soar from
his hps, while with a sarcastic look he surveyed
his stepdaughter from head to foot; she still
stood before him with all the marks of the deep-
est agitation.
"Now, my daughter," said he, smiling ironi-
cally, "you were just about to re^'ive your an-
cient Greinsfeld right of patronage, for the bene-
fit of the dismissed parson ! Tolerance is a beau-
tiful thing ; still, it would be new and piquant,
if the Catholic Countess Stunn should have mass
read by a Protestant preacher!"
Gisela held her folded hands closely pressed
against her breast, as if she would hush the beat-
ing of her heart.
"That did not occur to me, papa!" answered
she with a stifled voice. "I wished to give the
poor expelled ones a home, and make their life
free from care ! "
" Veiy magnanimous, my daughter," said the
minister, mockingly ; "even though wanting a
little in tact, as it was I who expelled them, as
you have been pleased to express it."
" Oh, dear countess, have you really allowed
yourself to be deceived by this tissue of false-
hood ?" exclaimed Madame Herbeck.
At these tones, full of scom and hatred, the
laboriously presened self-command of the yoimg
maiden gave way.
"That tissue of falsehood ?" repeated she, and
her eyes flamed. "The woman spoke the truth ! "
continued she, decidedly. " There was not a sin-
gle word that did not pierce my inmost heart 1
How childishly tractable and inexperienced have
I been hitherto ! I have looked upon men and
things with yotir eyes, Madame Herbeck ; I was
destitute of thought, and blind I I reproach my-
self bitterly. "
She suddenly became silent, her lips were
pressed closely together. She had a deep aver-
sion for all violent expressions of emotion : and
now the words were pouring from her lips ; their
sound kindled her heart and canned her away ;
this must not be. She pressed her delicate hands
for a moment to her temples, and then seized her
hat.
"Papa, I feel that I am agitated," said she,
with her sweet voice, in which the soft tones were
already predominant. "May I retire a little
while into the woods ?"
The minister appeared to have the same in-
dulgence for his agitated stepdaughter as fonner-
ly for the sick child. He had inteniipted her
with no word, no movement ; and now with pa-
ternal benevolence he gave a sign of assent with
diis hand.
She stepped over the meadow, and entered tlie
woods.
"You have grown old, ZMadame Herbeck!"
said his excellency, caustically and pitilessly to
the pale governess, as the blue dress disappeared
behind the bushes. " Other reins have now be-
come neccssarv!"
CHAPTER XV.
Gisela advanced to the shore of the lake.
She held the straw hat in her right hand, while
the left mechanically allowed the low, elastic
bushes that gi'ew along the bank to glide througli
her fingers. The gentle morning wind that
lightly stirt-ed the fair hair of the young lady, rip-
pled also the surface of the water glittering in the
sun ; it seemed covei;ed with countless fluttering
and pecking golden birds. Yonder vanished the
timid glittering yellow thnish among the branches,
uttering single broken cadences ; a frightened frog,
too, that had been sunning his speckled body on
one of the wliite bleached pebbles of the shore,
plumped flashing into the water. No other
sound was heard on the lake or in the tree-tops ;
only the black-humble bee, his little hairv- body
full Gf the yellow dust of flowers, passed through
the tall grass still spared along the shore, and its
monotonous humming and buzzing rendered the
silence of the forest still more dream-like.
G2
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
The brown eyes of the lady had a thoughtful,
pensive look ; she was holding communion with
herself. Tlie simple pastor's wife had powerfully
shaken the ground on which till now, self-con-
scious, she had stood with firm foot. She had,
as far back as she could remember, lived only
with cold, calculating intellects. If ever the feel-
ings of lier heart had burst their bounds, the
three persons whom she had just left on the for-
est meadow had immediately conjured up the
shadow of Iier grandmother, and with the educa-
tional maxim: "It does not become you!" the
bolt had been shot on all outbursts of feeling.
"The spirit in Neuenfeld is penetrated with
that love which was the commencement of Chiis-
tianity I" the pastor's wife had said that was it !
For nearly eighteen years had the young maiden
lived, and never loved a human being I In her
grandmother she had at all times honored the es-
sence of aristocracy, but never, as a child, had she
felt the desire of throwing her little arms around
the handsome white neck of the proud lady ;
even now her heart still beat uneasily at the
thought how such importunity would have been
received. And as she reviewed the persons with
whom she was destined exclusively to pass her
young life, one after the other, his excellency,
with the ice-cold face and impenetrable look,
tlie beautiful stepmother, the little fat, pious lady,
the physician, Lena, she shuddered herself at
the deadly coldness and hostility of the relation
in which she had always stood with regard to
them ; and this was never to change !
D;stitute of thought and blind, liad she called
herself, and with all justice. She had tenderly
loved her puss ; she could press a beautiful flower
ardently to her lips ; but never had tlie thought
occurred to her whether there might really be
human beings whom one could so love ! Entirely
of itself, almost to her own terror, had the un-
known bud, a few moments before, opened in her
soul ; she could have sought refuge on the heart
of the strong, courageous woman, and besought
her: "Love me also I"
In Neuenfeld love prevailed. It built houses
for the needy, gave them spiritual and bodily
nourisliment, and made tlieir lives sunny and
briglit ; it took the orphans protectingly in its
arms, and replaced for them father and mother.
And he who created these works of love on Ger-
man soil was a stranger ; and she, tlie rich heir-
ess, rode daily by the miserable huts of her
Grcinsfi-'ld dependents, .and their ragged ungov-
ernable children, unmoved, in tlie conviction,
stamped on her from chiklhood, that it must be
so and could not be otherwise.
Tlie man in the forest-house with the gloomy
brow and enigmatic eyes was right when he de-
spised her, when he tlirust back with his foot the
nrcan little jiittance so haughtily offered in her
name by the governess.
Gisela stopped for a moment as if breathless ;
a fiery llame i)assed over lier face, and her heart
beat so boisterously tliat she. fancied she could
liear it. She thought of that moment v.hen he
had reservedly drawn back from her, on account
of her presumed infirmity ; she thought of the
speechless astonishment with which his eye had
hung on the beautiful face of her stepmotlier.
She had long since wandered from the bank;
the darkness of the mid-forest surrounded her.
The yellow thrush was silent, and the humming
bees had remained cKnging to the flower-cups
along the sunny shore. Far, far over yonder lay
the little opening with the silver-gleaming break-
fast-table, and the persons who were doubtless
still sitting in judgment over the unbecoming
behavior of Countess Stunn.
All at once the young maiden raised her head,
sunk in thought, and listened ; the cniug of a
little child reached her ear, although it apparent-
ly came from some considerable distance. It
sounded so abandoned and helpless, so uninter-
rupted, that it seemed as though a soothing voice
was wholly lacking.
Without further consideration, Gisela gathered
up her dress, and hastened obliquely through the
thicket in the direction of the sound. She came
to the wood-path that led from Neuenfeld to
A , and there, by the trunk of a beech, lay
a woman with closed eyes, in a condition closely
resembling death. Slie was one of those poor,
so-called porcelain-women, who, throughout the
whole year, tramp the country to gain their bread.
They purchase the refuse of the porcelain manu-
factories, high up in the Thuringian forest, at a
moderate price, and drag the burden often many
miles far into the country, to dispose of it again
at a trilling profit. "With a hea\w basket on their
back, an infant on their arm, and very frequently
a larger child by the hand, the poor suiferers
wander with bruised feet through wind and
weather, more wretched than the beasts of burden ;
for they surt'er not alone they see then- children
freeze and staiwe.
The woman had evidently swooned from ex-
haustion. The basket of ware stood near her,
and the little bawler, a boy of perhaps eight
months, was perched on her lap. The child's
eyes were heavily swollen with weeping, but his
voice, already hoarse from crying, immediately
liushed as soon as Gisela approached his mother.
The young lady looked with anxious eyes at the
unconscious female form, and tenderly took tlie
cold, limp hands in her own. Here was need of
help, and it must be procured ; but how ? There
was no obsequious lackey near, in duty bound
to know what to do in all possible cases ; far and
wide, no human voice, no footstep was to be heard ;
no smelling-salts, not even a glass of water, was
at the command of the beautiful young lady. More-
over, she found herself on completely strange ter-
ritory; her arbitrary, solitary wanderings in tlie
woods had always had the lake alone for their goal.
She could not help it, she must hasten back to
the far-distant forest meadow.
At the same moment it seemed to her that she
heard the plashing of a fountain. Slie advanced
along the wood-path, and came nearer and near-
er to the noise. To the right, a narrow jiaih
branched ott' through the cojjjnce; she took it
without hesitation ; it certainly led to some hu-
man neighborhood. Behind her the child began
to shriek as soon as she was lost to his eyes.
She anxiously hastened her steps, and suddenly
stood opposite the spouting fountain of the forest-
house. She started violently, and involuntarily
stepped back into the thicket.
In this ancient gray house, covered over witli
green, half the residence of a fairy-prince and
half that of a northern barbarian, as Jier beauti-
ful stepmother had expressed herself, dwelt tlie
Portuguese; he might at any moment appear
there in the open door. On no consideration
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
would she again meet the eyes that day before I unspeakable stniggle to look back once more in
yesterday had rested upon her with such cold tlie face of the terrible man ; but she did it.
and gloomy rebuke, and to-day again had been i The doctrine of love which she had this day re-
turned from her with aversion. ceived into her heart, could not be again extin-
There gushed the invigorating, life-restoring guished.
moisture that she so anxiously sought ; but out " I wish to beg of your master a tumbler, that
of the murmuring and plashing she seemed to I may get some water yonder I" said she, in the
hear obscure, harsh, repelling voices ; each of the same commanding tone with which she M-as ac-
glittering drops appeared to fall with icy coldness-! customed to mipart her orders at the White Cas-
on her heart. She trembled all over ; and yet
she must leave the protecting thicket ; the distant
mournful crj'ing of the child drove her irresisti-
bly fonvard. She left the shelter of the woods,
and was terrified anew at the gravel which grated
beneath her light step. Tlie stillness of death
reigned about the house ; the rays of tlie sun,
now high in the hciwens, glittered on the miiTor-
like panes, and the loose tendrils of tlie Aristolo-
chia were wafted to and fro by the gentle breath
of wind. No human face was visilile behnid the
^^indows. Perhaps the master of the house was
at Neuenfeld ; he must needs be indefatigably
active. But some one of the senants would cer-
tainly be able to accompany her and assist in re-
storing the poor woman,
tie, and pomted to the fountain.
"Ho, Mrs. Berger!" cried the man to some
one in the house, without, however, changing his
position in the least. He stood there as if to
guard the threshold with the fiery sword. A
stately woman with a white cap and apron most
certainly the housekeeper appeared in the back-
gi'ound of the hall.
"A tumbler I" ciied the old man to her.
'"She disappeared again."
"What is it. Sievert?" asked the voice of the
Portuguese suddenly, in tlie hall.
The old soldier started visibly ; it almost seem-
ed as if he were guarding the door thus carefully
on account of tlie man within. He hastily stretch-
ed his hand towards the house, as if to prevent
Encouraged, she advanced to the foot of the his approach ; but the Portuguese already stood
steps that led up to the terrace, but with a faint [ on the threshold.
ciy she started back ; the parrot, which till now He looked pale ; " white as chalk from giief for
had kept perfectly quiet, uttered a discordant ^ the dead Hero," as the serwint had said in the
croak, and the little monkey, gnashing his teeth, I forest meadow. As soon as his eyes foil upon
sprang down from his favorite place with a pro- Gisela, who still, girded with pride and haughti-
digious leap. It was uncomfortably alive around ness, was standing at the foot of the steps, a deep
the young maiden. Her shriek must have been glow overspread liis brown, manly face. At this
heard in the house. An old man stepped forth [ moment of sudden surprise his features by no
from the hall with a scrutinizing glance, but at means exhibited aversion and contempt; the
sight of Gisela he stopped, rooted to the terrace, dark misanthropic stamp of the forehead appear-
as if he saw a ghost. ed indeed ineftacealjle, but the eyes lighted up,
Tlie young lady had had little opportunity of though only meteor-like, with a peculiar bril-
making physiognomical studies, but this she knev,- liancy. Beneath this glance Gisela's demeanor
immediately the man stood there opposite her ' immediately changed. Slie lost almost uncon-
as a fierce enemy. Hatred and ten-ible surprise ' jciously the shield of pnde and indignation, and
:* ,1 !_- ,i-..i. 1 1 . suddenly stood there again as she had come, a
were pictured on his dark, hard countenance
lie stretched out his large bony hands as if to
repel her, and cried out hoarsely :
" ^\liat do vou want ? You have no business
young, timid, hel])-seeking maiden. As if in con-
sequence of a sudden inspiration, she lifted up her
hands towards him. This one movement set the
in this house ! It has nothing more to do with I old soldier completely beside himself,
the Zweiflingens andFleuiysI" He pointed to "Beware, sir!" cried Sievert, and, without
the narrow wood-path on the left. "There is ' more ado, he laid his hand on the aim of the Por-
the way to the Arnsberg woods !" added he, as I tuguese to warn him and keep him back. "Here
if acting under the illusion that .she had lost her ! she is, in flesh, blood, and gestures ! The little
way. ' red seipent around the neck is all that is wanting
The young maiden, as if changed to stone, in all else she stands there, with the white face
looked with terrified eyes at the fearful man. A i and the long hair, the wretched sneaker after in-
dark recollection from her childish days began to I heritances ! Just so did she also lift up her hands,
awaken within her; she was at this moment for and my master was a lost man ! She indeed is
the second time driven back fiom the threshold I mouldering away, and her execrable hands can
of the forest-house. A nameless fear crept over do no more mischief but her brood continues to
lier heart, but the proud blood of the Counts
Stui-m and Yoldein was circulating in her veins ;
it rushed seething to her brain ; and though she
. would have preferred fleeing on the wings of the
wind back to the protecting forest, she still found
courage to presene an external repose.
She measured the old man with a proud glance,
live ! " He pointed to the deadly - pale young
maiden ; like one of the foi-ms from the Old
Testament, calling do%\'n the curse of their God,
stood the old man on the terrace, with the gloomy,
threatening countenance. "She is not a whit
better," continued he with louder tones; "he-
heart is hke a ])ebble. She is unfeeling as
and the corners of her mouth drooped in precisely stone towards her people, and don't care the least
the same haughty and contemptuous manner with if they fiill dead of hunger around her hke flies !
which the Countess Voldern had in former times ' At Greinsfeld and Arnsberg they pray for the
dealt a deadly blow to many a heart. I poor, but nobody thinks of giving them enough
"I have no thought of entering this house!" to eat! Let her not cross the threshold, sir!
said she cuttingly, and turned her back upon him. "Wherever one of that race sets a foot, mischief
She was about to wthdraw slowly, but dared she quickly follows ! "
depart \rithout bringing help ? "it cost her an The young countess put her trembling hands
64
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
before her face and fled ; but in a moment she j
felt herself detained. The Portuguese stood be-
fore her, and drew her hands gently from her
face. He started back at the bloodless counte-
nance that raised its eyes to him in pain and ter-
ror. Perhaps for a moment he felt pity ; he held
fiist her hands with a close pressure, and drew
them suddenly towards himself, as if he would
take them protectingly to his breast. But -with
precisely the same timid recoiling as formerly in
the forest meadow, he suddenly let them drop
again.
"You wish for something, countess ; I saw it
in your face," said he with an uncertain voice.
" May I not hear what it is ?"
Gisela anxiously covered her abhorred hands
in the folds of her muslin dress.
"In the woods there lies a poor woman,"
whispered she, voiceless. "She has probably
sunk down from exhaustion ; I came to this house
to seek help for her. "
Then, with downcast eyes, she stepped past
him towards the woods. She was annihilated ;
the accusations of the old man had utterly over-
whelmed her. AVas this the same young lady
who, day before yesterday, \vith ]3roud emphasis
had called over all her haughty titles, and by her
tone expressed that, under all circumstances, she
Avould remain the high-boni maiden ? Where
was the proud blood of the Counts Sturm and
Voldern, that but a moment before had coursed
_impetuously over her temples, and stamped on
her countenance the expression of haughty con-
tempt ? Its elements consisted of ambition, ego-
tism, and a domineering sjiirit ; it resisted every
exterior violation of its fundamental maxims ;
but in presence of the noble language of the con-
science it was silent, and sank pitifully, together
with all its hollow phraseology.
During Gisela's absence the poor woman had
regained consciousness. She regarded the young
lady, on her return, with looks of perfect intelU-
gence, but could not yet speak, and was unable
to rise. It had, however, soothed the little child
to see his mothers eyes open ; he "no longer cried,
but, lisping and helpless, was stroking the wom-
an's pale face with his chubby little hand.
Gisela heard the steps of men approaching from
the forest-liouse. She knew that hel]) was near,
and wished, without once turning her head, to
proceed on her M'ay ; for, with all her contrition,
another feeling had now gained the mastery
womanly pride. Even though the benefactor of
Neueufeld, the friend of humanity, had cveiy
reason to condemn her, yet lie should not permit
his domestics to revile her. But he had not re-
buked with a word the fearful anathema of the
terrible old man ; it had obviously been too
much in unison with his own sentiments ; and !
though a feeling of momcntaiy coni]jassion had
come over him, he had still thought the bit-
ter lesson for the hard-hearted Countess Sturm
well deserved, and made no attempt to soften it.
The heart of the young maiden was swollen
with bitterness, and, overpowered by this feeling,
shc! left the unfortunate woman at the moment
wiien the Portuguese, attended l)y Sievert, ar-
rived. The old soldier bore refreshments of va-
rious kinds on a tray ; but scarcely had the child
beheld the old, gloomy, full-bearded face, when
he uttered a shrill cry, and, trembling with fear,
pressed liis little head to his mother's breast.
Gisela stopped affrighted ; the eyes of the help-
less woman rested anxiously upon her ; she un-
derstood immediately the mute entreaty, and
turned back. She plucked a few strawbemes
that were growing along the path, and held them
to the child. It laughed amidst its tears, and
good-naturedly permitted her to take it in her
aiTQs. This one moment expiated, without her
knowledge, her whole past life devoid of love
it effaced the right of retahation, so satisfying to
the heart, in consideration of her sympathy and
loving tenderness.
The Portuguese seemed to understand it oth-
erwise ; he hastily snatched at the child in order
to take it from her aiTn. His dark eyes were
fixed piercingly on her countenance.
" This does not become you, Countess Sturm I"
said he ; how cuttingly sounded the so-oft-repeat-
ed phrase from his lips ! His loice had precise-
ly the same icy tone mingled with scorn as day
before yesterday. ' ' You keep your word badly I "
continued he. " I heard how you promised, the
other day, never to forget yourself in that way
again. You are on the dangerous path of con-
cealment ; for you can not possibly tell them in
the "White Castle that you have held the child
in yoiu" anns."
He reminded her of that moment of weakness
in which she had felt ashamed of her little inno-
cent companions in the boat, and in which she
had confessed, by her promise, that she shared
in the loveless sentiments of her class. He had
been an unseen witness ; but in the inconsider-
ate manner in which he reminded her of the oc-
currence, he displayed all that hostility so strong-
ly dwelt on by IMadame Herbeck, and this irn-
tated even to defiance the soul of the maiden that
had scarcely been appeased.
"I shall know how to justify my conduct!"
she answered, proudly, as she placed her left
arm firmly around the child.
He stepped back, ancf once more bent over
the woman. His efforts were fruitless ; he re-
peatedly made her swallow some jNIadeira, and
rubbed her hands and temples with a strong es-
sence; but she had suffered want too long. She
was utterly unable to rise, and was still too weak
even to speak. Long deliberation did not seem
to be the characteristic of this man. He sudden-
ly lifted the sufferer like a feather from the ground,
and bore her in his anns to the forest-house.
How powerfid, and yet how easy, did the ma-
jestic fonn advance I AMiat a difference between
him who supported misery with a strong arm and
took it compassionately to his breast, and the
man in the White Castle ! His excellency scat-
tered showers of fumigating essences around him
whenever an individual with the stamp of indi-
gence approached his neighborhood.
CHAPTER XVI.
Gisela again stood on the spot from which she
had so recently fled in terror. She had silently
followed the men as they advanced along the nar-
row path, magnetically attracted, as it were, by
the eyes of the woman,' which, turned back during
the wlu)le way, had rested continually on her and
the child. The suflercr was carried into the house,
and the young lady now waited with an anxious
1
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
beating of the heart till sonic one should come
and relieve lier of the child.
IIow excellently did she play her part! She
showed the child the little monkey and the par-
rot, and then carried it to the fountain. The
young maiden with the transparent, flowing, sea-
blue robe, and the long, waving, blond hair, stood,
in her attractive loveliness, near tlie s))arkling jet
of water, like the alluring water-nymph herself;
this ap]earance now first completed the fairy-like
ciianu that floated around the old forest-house.
Tlie Portuguese at length stepped again upon
the teiTace, followed by the housekeeper. The
woman had evidently no ])resentiment with whom
she should find the cliild she was to bring, and at
sight of Gisela she sprang down the steps utterly
confounded. She courtesied deep and respect-
fully.
" But, gracious countess, this is truly no work
for you ! The heavy, dirty, little fellow !" cried
she. half in terror, and hastily reached out for the
child, but all in vain. The little fellow clasped
both arms round Giselas neck, and tmiied away
screaming.
" Hush, hush, you noisy rogue !" said the stout,
kind-hearted woman, soothinglv but anxiouslv.
" You will frighten your ]joor mother !"
All eftbrts to entice the child from the anns of
the young lady foiled. The Portuguese had mean-
while sprung down the stejjs ; the straggles and
resistance of the cliild appeared to excite him
strangely. His eyes gleamed, and rested in total
self-forgetfulness and passionate anxiety, even
with a kind of rage, on the little aims that so
persistently more and more firmly embraced the
delicate white neck, whilst the little head nestled
in the young lady's masses of fair hair.
The impetuous southern nature of the man
broke forth suddenly in a frightful manner. He
slightly stamped with his foot, and repeatedly
raised his right hand as if he would tear the ob-
stinate little fellow away from the young maiden
and crash him like a woiTn. A crimson flush
suddenly overspread Gisela's face ; she cast a
gloomy look upon the house she was evidently
struggling with herself At the passionate move-
ment of the Portuguese, she pressed the child
soothingly to her breast.
"Be Cjuiet, my child, I will cairy you to your
mother !" she said with a resolute yet sweetly
soothing voice ; and advanced \\ith firm step over
the gi-avel walk and up the steps.
Sievert had been looking from the door and seen
the whole occurrence. As Gisela stepped over
the threshold, she remained for a moment stand-
ing before him. She had proudly drawn herself
up, but the manner in which she bent her beauti-
ful head to him was charmingly expressive of the
most entirely childlike innocence and maidenli-
ness.
" Have no tear," said she, as her lips slightly
quivered. " If mischief always follows my foot-
steps, as you say, at this moment it certainly has
no power ; for I go in the cause of mercy. "
The old soldier, perhaps for the first time in his
life, cast down his eyes before a human being,
whilst the young countess entered the hall.
The housekeeper, who followed her, opened a
door that led to the southem tower chamber.
There on a camp-bed, enveloped in clean, soft
linen, lay the poorwoman, whoanxiously stretched
out her hands towards her child. She had doubt-
5
less heard its screams. Gisela set the babe on tlie
bed ; her hand was retained by a feeble grasp ;
the ])atient drew it to her pale, weary lips. She
could have no presentiment of the heavy sacrifice
that had been made for her, the ])oor, des]jised
woman, at this moment, by the proud, high-born
lady.
The young countess had but dark, obscm-e con-
ceptions of that stormy night, when she with her
stepfather had sought refuge in the forest-house ;
even- thing had been done to obliterate from her
mind the recollection of that scene. She did not
recognize the chamber ; she did not know that at
this moment she was standing on the same place
where once the weird old blind woman had pas-
sionately flung off her little hand. That fearful
moment had consequently no longer any power
over her. And yet she felt b.er heart weighed
down by an inex]jlicable anxiety.
Her eyes wanclered timidly over the room. It
made a gloomy, joyless impression, with its deep
window-seats, broken through the enoimously
thick \\alls. Old, well-Avorn furniture, such as
would hardly have been tolerated in the servants'
rooms at the White Castle, stood along the walls,
and over it were hanging faded crayon portraits,
in black wooden frames, of plain-looking men in
unassuming citizen's dress. This must certainly
be the room of the singular old man. Still this
momentary conviction was rendered doubtful by
a very elegant gold watch that was ticking on iv
commode, and also by a small desk in one of the
window-seats, furnished with costly -v^-riting ma-
terials.
Above the head of the cam]3-bed hung a daik
curtain, and it was this especially that had so mys-
teriously oppressive an effect upon the young lad'v's
mind. It was manifestly designed rather as' a
guard against prying eyes than the effects of the
sunlight ; no ray could penetrate into this cor-
ner. During the stir made about the sick wom-
an, the string of the curtain that hung near the
floor had doubtless been accidentally dra-\\Ti ; the
curtain was parted in the middle. The crack thus
made was small, but it sufficed to show a pair of
eyes behind it a pair of melancholy eyes, shaded
by dark brows, joined together over the root of
the nose, that reminded the spectator involuntarily
of a tragic human destiny. Gisela had certainly
seen this wonderfully handsome, sorrowful man's
face long before, perhaps in one of the books of
hero-legends which as a child she had loved so
unspeakably. Something unearthly lay in the
whole expression of the features ; either the man
had never had an actual existence, or the painter's
hand had in this face marvellously depicted a stoiy
of life and suffering. This half-veiled oil paint-
ing, together with the utensils of a long-past
time, made of this gloomy chamber a sort of re-
liquaiy. Gisela fancied that she inhaled with
the air a fragrance as of faded flowers ; she fan-
cied that in solitary hours a light whisper from
the dim past must surely sometimes be heard here.
She hastily took all the money she had Milh
her, laid it on the bed of the sick woman, and
charging her, as soon as she was able, to come to
Amsberg, as she wished to provide for the child,
left the room. In the hall she was much startled
at a stuffed tiger stretched upon the floor ; vitli
his head resting on his fore paw, he was glaring
malignantly at her. Thehaiiy skins beneath her
feet, the glittering weapons on the walls, ghsten-
G6
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
ing in the rays of the sun, all appeared to her j
wild and strange as tlie master of the house him-
self. And there, in the half-open door of a room
opposite, stood the old man with gloomy eyes,
waiting in visible suspense for the moment when
she, who had forced her way in, and on whose
footsteps mischief always followed, shoiild leave
the house.
She hastened out upon the terrace, and then,
drawing a deep breath, she laid )ier hand on her
violently-beating heart.
"You are afraid iu my house?" asked the
voice of the Portuguese near her. He had not en-
tered the forest-house during her stay in it.
"Yes," whispered she, timidly turning away
and passing by him. "I am afraid of the old
man and also " she stojjped.
" And also of me, countess ;" he completed her
sentence in a low, peculiar tone.
"Yes, also of you," confirmed she more cour-
ageously, as she slowly turned round on the up-
permost step and looked in his eyes with maid-
enly timidity, but still with an expression of earn-
est sincerity. Slie then descended the steps and
crossed the gravel walk. She stopped for a mo-
ment at the fountain, held her white hands in the
dropping spray, and laid them on her beating
temples.
"Revenge is sweet!" croaked the parrot above
on the terrace, and swung about wildly in liis ring.
The affrighted young lady saw the Portuguese, who
was evidently about to follow her, standing still
like a statue at the foot of tlie steps, and looking
lip with a pale face at the bird.
" Who knows what kind of a past the .man has
had ? Even his parrot breathes vengeance !" her
beautiful stepmother had said. And indeed there
was in his appearance, though only for a moment,
something wild and untamed. His was certain-
ly a cliaracter that neither forgave nor forgot
that bore on its shield the motto "An eye for an
eye, and a tooth for a tooth," and inexorably ful-
filled the requirements of this -motto.
The expression of her stepmother had convey-
ed a suspicious meaning. Strange the young
lady knew that the man was her decided adver-
sary, and yet at the moment when he again turn-
ed his noble, handsome face towards her, she ex-
perienced a feeling of self-reproach amounting al-
most to a pang, that this equivocal remark should
again have occurred to her memory and prejudiced
her mind.
With a few steps he was again by her side, and
gracefully holding out his hand, lie also caught
some of the falling drops.
"Beautiful, clear water, is it not, countess?"
asked he. Formerly his restrained voice had
been soft and pleasing ; now, with the gaudy bird's
hateful cry of vengeance, the spirit of gloom had
again come ujxm him. "'What wonders are
contained iu such a ))recious forest-spring!" con-
tinued he. " 'Die Countess Sturm wets her fore-
head and hands, and rinses away tlie v.-ork of
mercy the communication, with another world
outside of that in which she stands ! She can
now confidently return to the White Castle, and
submit to the scrutiny of keen eyes ; no stain now
clings to her !"
Giscla grew pale, and involuntaril}- recoiled from
him.
" Wliat, countess, are you still afraid?"
" No, sir; at this moment you are only cold,
not exasperated, as before. I tremble only be-
fore blind passion."
"You have seen me exasperated?" There
was much perplexity in his tone.
" Should leverhavegoneinto the house yonder,
had I not trembled for the Iielpless, unreasoning
creature in my arms ?" asked she. Now also her
deeply injured woman's pride burst forth in look
and A'oice.
The tsvo mysterious lines on the forehead of
the Portuguese became deeper, and a light blush
passed over his brown cheeks ; but his lips quiv-
ered mockingly.
" You really believed, then, that I was going to
hurt the poor little obstinate fool ?" said he.
' ' Yes, sir, " replied the young maiden, looking
up, in spite of her resolute demeanor, with her
wide-open brown eyes, in almost childish inno-
cence, to the tall, powerful man. "I am still
very inexperienced : I do not understand how to
read the features of others, for my life is very sol-
itary"
" But you know anger in the human eye ?"
"Yes, and I know, also, that the hand is sv.ift-
er to obey it than any other passion."
His glance remained fixed on her face.
" How can this part of the dark side of the hu-
man soul have been revealed to you ! " murmured
he half to himself. And indeed she stood there
before him with her chaste brow and passionless
features, like one of those forms iu whose hands
painters place palm-branches. "And you have
seen me possessed of such rage ?" added he after
a momentaiy silence.
A slight blush overspread her face. "I did
not use this expression," answered she, once more
timidly drawing back. " But as I met your eyes,
I fancied that I must have already seen them be-
fore."
As if struck by an electric shock, the Portu-
guese suddenly turned his face in the opposite di-
rection, so that the young lady coidd not even see
the lines of his profile.
"Have you been in Brazil, countess? For
where else could you have met my eyes ?" asked
he, with an afl'ectcd ease of manner, as he seemed
to be anxiously counting the falling cb-ops of the
fountain.
This kind of nonchalance on the part of a man
who by his whole majestic appearance ])roduced a
powerful impression upon her, and at whose man-
ner of acting with regard to others she wondered,
wounded her deejily.
"It is evident that I can only speak of a re-
semblance," said she with cool reserve, "which
perhaps lies only in a momentary expression. I
was harshly treated, when a child, by a man in a
violent rage. I could not help thinking of that
moment, when I just now overcame my feelings,
and bore the chilil into the house to place hiiu
under the protection of Iiis mother."
" Had you ])rovoked the man ?"
" No, sir ; certainly not designedly ! I ran out
of the AVhite Castle, in order to send my jiretty
new groschen " a fugitive smile passed over her
lips, at the remembrance of this chiklisli act of
generosity " to the poor of Neuenfeld. Tlie
man, whom I had never seen before, pushed nie
violently away ; I thought he wished to kill me.
He called me an ugly, feeble child of humanity,
and therein he was right ; I must really liave
been a veiy feeble creature, for the one moment
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
G7
of fright and terror made me sick and miserable
for many years. It shut me out from all the
pleasures, all the joj-s of chiklhood."
How touching sounded the gentle complaint
and grief in the clear, child-like voice of the
young girl! The Portuguese had long since
turned his foce again towards her ; his brow, usu-
ally so pale, was now flushed crimson red ; emo-
tion seemed to have concentrated all the blood
there.
" No wonder, th.en, that that moment has re-
mained ineflaceably impressed on your soul ! "
said he, in that restrained tone which had already
before touched the heart of the young lady in so
peculiarly impressive a manner. It seemed to
to her as if his lips trembled, as he asked : " But
are yon really sure that the man acted only from
anger ? Who knows ? perhaps his soul was suf-
fering a thousand torments."
Gisela thoughtfully cast down her head.
" Who knows !" repeated she, surprised. " I
was told that he Mas a very wicked man, a man
\\ho would not have scrupled to bum the house
over our heads, so Madame Herbeck declared.
He said verv hard things to papa, too, I have been
told."
"The presumptuous fellow!" said the Portu-
guese, bursting into a hoarse laugh. "I hope his
excellency, the minister, with his decided predi-
lection for legitimate authority, did not delay for
a moment to call him to account in the way he
deserved ! "
The young countess looked up astonished ; a
truly demoniac expression disfigured his beauti-
ftdly-moulded mouth. She saw for the first time
his strong white teeth behind the mocking lips.
"Now, countess," continued he, "was he not
brought before stern judges ? It is well known that
they hear with his excellency's ears, and speak
with histongne good, honest, watchful men, wh.o
nnderstand their position, and fill it with enviable
tact! The audacious wretch, the presumptive
incendiary is he still in chains and fetters "
" Oh, sir, not a word more of him ! I can not
bear it!" interrupted the young girl, stretching
out her hands entreatingly. " You 3-ourself have
just doubted whether he alone Avas guilty!" A
slight tremor convulsed her frame. ' ' The unhap-
py man was drowned the same night!"
' ' He was drowned, " repeated the Portuguese
with sinking A-oice ; the flush on his forehead was
suddenly, as it were, extinguished ; even liis lips
seemed pale. " What, countess, do you feel com-
passion for him ?"
"The deepest."
" And did you never A\-ish to see him punished?"
"Never."
"But he robbed you of all the joys, the happi-
ness of childhood ; were you really able to forgive
this ?"
" That unhappy time lies behind me," said she
with a gentle smile ; a sort of ti-ansfiguration il-
lumined her countenance. ' ' Since my childhood,
I have never once spoken of that occuirence, and
if I did it to-day, it was to explain my fear and
anxiety about my young charge."
She knew not how it happened ; she felt her
hand seized and touched Ijy hot, trembling lips.
Then she stood suddenly alone near the plashing
foimtain; the Portuguese, with hasty steps, re-
trmed to the forest-house \vithout once turning
round.
Almost immediately afterwards the old soldier
appeared on the terrace, and carried the paiTot
into the house. Gisela saw him pass through the
whole length of the hall, and again leave it by the
opposite door. He was evidently putting the bird
into some building in the rear, probably out of re-
gard for the suttering woman.
CHAPTER XVII.
The young countess entered one of the forest
paths that Sievert had pointed out as leading to
the Arnsberg woods. She looked at her delicate
white hand with a rising blush of shame and em-
barrassment ; it was the first time it had ever
been touched by the lips of a man. She felt it as
a deep personal wrong, nay, she could be veiy in-
dignant, if any one whatever voluntarily overstep-
ped the consecrated circle which she, by her re-
sen"e, had thrown round her person. On any
other occasion she would certainly, without fur-
ther consideration, have dipped the polluted hand
into the water. She did net do this ; not even
the thought of such an ex])iation occurred to her.
Did she call to her aid at this moment the sharp,
subtile reason with which she had accustomed
herself to look every thing in the focc ?
She no longer advanced with her head cast
down in thouglit ; her look sought the tree-tops.
The invigorating breath of the forest streamed
throngh the branches, and wherever a little blue
speck of the sky looked through into the golden-
green twilight, there also quivered glittering ar-
rows down along the trunks, to be extinguished
below in the parti-colored moss. Was the blue
that floated above her sunnier than before? And
did the birds tliat circled round the fair head of
the maiden trill sweeter notes that day than was
Jheir wont? It was the same brilliant, exultant
summer life that has returned again and again
for thousands of years ; and the fountain which
at this moment spouted high in the unsuspecting
yoimg soul was also old just as old as love!
"Ah, the beautiful world ! how differently we
look on it when we are well !" thought the wan-
derer, as she laid her clasped hands over her beat-
ing heart.
The forest-meadow was deserted when Gisela
returned. The old lackey, Braun, alone, was still
there. He was packing the jjlate in the baskets,
and informed his mistress that his excellency, in
consequence of a telegram he had received, had
hastily returned to the White Castle with the two
ladies.
Wliile, liending low before her, he was giving
this information, Gisela, for the first time, ex-
amined his aged form with a searching glance.
She very well recollected that he had formerly
had black hair ; now it was dazzlingly white ; he
had gradually changed under her eyes without
her noticing it. Her papa had also many white
streaks in his hair and beard ; she thought of
that without the least emotion, while the silvered
brows and the snow on the old man's head sud-
denly called forth in her a sort of sympat-hj'.
"My good Braun, I beg you to give me a glass
of milk !" said she. How strange did that sound
from her lips ; she started involuntarily she had
never asked I
The old lackey, at the gentle tones, clrev/ him-
G8
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
self up, and stared without comprehension in his
mistress's face.
" What ! has all the milk been dnink ?" asked
she, smiling indulgently.
The man ran, as fast as his old legs could car-
ry him, to the improvised butiet, and on a silver
ti-ay brought her the desired refreshment.
'"'Just think, Braun, I do not even know
whether you have a fomily," said the young lady,
as she placed the glass to her lips. She was
more embarrassed in this new situation than if
she had entered the ducal court for the first time ;
for the old man stood before her as if he every
moment expected the heavens and earth to come
together.
" Oh, gracious countess, it would not be worth
while to " stammered he.
" But I should like to know.''
" Well, then, if the gracious countess com-
mands," rephed he, with more com'age, and his
bent form straightened ; " I have a wife and chil-
dren. Two of my children are still alive ; four
lie in the graveyard. I had also a little grand-
daughter, a dear, lovelv child, gracious countess;
the little maid was the joy of my life."
A flood of tears suddenly and irresistibly gushed
from tlie old man's eyes.
"For God's sake, Braun I" cried the young
girl, startled. AVhat I could these eyes weep ?
Coidd this old face, with the stony look required
by its service, bear such an afflicted, heart-rend-
ing expression ?
"Ko, no, stay!" she commanded, as the
lackey, evidently temfied at the disrespectful
outburst of his grief, was about to retire. "I
wish to know what has grieved you so much."
"We buried the child three weeks ago!" an-
swered he, witli trembling lips, while he endeavoi'-
ed to regain his becoming demeanor as a narra-
tor.
Gisela turned pale. "Wliat had the old man
on the terrace of the forest-house said ? Her
hearti is as hard as the pebbles I She is unfeeling
as a stone towards her dependents ! Tiie old
man's words were so friglitfully true I Here now
was this unliappy man, who had dailv appeared
before her in his bright lively, blameless in mien
and deportment, unchanged even on the very day
when at home he had laid his darling in the cof-
fin, ever attentive to the least motion of his mis-
tress, and submitting unconditionally to even-
changeable humor ; and meanwhile, beneath the
humbly cast-down eyelids of tlic poor machine,
the repressed tears were glittering, and his heart
was almost dissolved in woe. Private griefs
these peojjle dared not have ; on the other hand,
(Jisela well remembered tliat the sen-ants had
been obliged, for show, to wear mourning for her
giandmother a long, long time. What gave the
liigh-l)om the right to compel other pci-sons to
such unnatural jjositions ? She reached down
from her cold isolated height a piece of brcjid,
and demanded in return an entire resignation of
the whole man, a boundless self-denial to which
she was herself not equal. And .she had hitherto
assisted in this barbarous egotism yes, she was
regarded as one of the worst examples of it.
Wiiatever genuine feeling her mind jjossessed
now flowed from her lijis ; she sought to console
tlie old man, but the sunshine in lier soul had
fled. Now she first peqilexed herself al)Out the
dark accusations of the old soldier, and during
the whole way home she sought to fathom to what
wTetched being, " whose execrable hands are now
mouldering away," he had compared her! The
solution of the riddle lay far, far from her ! How
could she ever bring into connection the wonder-
ful white hands of her dear departed grandmamma
with the mischief-maker, or her aristocratic ap-
pearance with the inheritance-seeker ?
Sad and out of humor, she entered the TVliite
Castle. Tlie ant-hills which, in the shape of
workmen, and scnibbing and cleansing maid-serv-
ants, had since yesterday developed a bustling
activity, apjjeared now to have fallen into a com-
pletely feverish excitement. The noisy hunying
and driving was no longer confined to the stran-
gers wing. On the ground-floor, on both sides of
the vestibule, the folding doors were thrown wide
open, and disclosed to view the whole long range
of cham.bers, in which upholsterers, gardeners, and
laboring women were actively engaged. Above,
in the first room that the countess entered, stood
Lena with glowing cheeks, in the midst of vvhole
mountains of linen and articles of appai-el. busilv
packing various tnniks ; a gardener's assistant
was clearing tlie table of flowers in order to deck
it out anew, and the daylight streamed with daz-
zling brilliancy through the lofty windows, from
which the silken curtains had been taken down,
that the room might receive a thorougli dusting.
Before Lena could address her astonished mis-
tress, who remained standing on the tlu-eshold,
the minister, accompanied by jNIadame Herbeck,
stepped forth from a side door. He was much
heated, and held a ])encil and memorandum-book
in his hand, evidently as an aid in unexpected and
ovenvhelming matters of business.
"Ah, my dear child,"' cried he to the young
lady ; he suddenly dropped the fonnal, icy-cold
' ' my daugliter, " and vvas again utterly and entire-
ly the tenderly wheedling papa of the olden time ;
" my little darling, in what a deadly ]icrplex)ty
you see me with regard to you ! The duke tele-
graphed me, half an hour ago, that he would ar-
rive at Anisberg to-morrow evening, and indeed
with a far greater train than he had at first in-
formed me! I am utterly perplexed, for I see
myself compelled oh Heavens, how painful the
whole thing is to me!" exclaimed he, interiiipting
himself, and waving his hand, as if desirous of
repelling all these vexations.
ISIadame Herbeck came readily and skillfully
to his aid.
"But your excellency should not be so much
agitated !" cried she. " In sucli cases our coimt-
ess is much too reasonable!" She turned to the
young lady and pointed to Lena. "You can
readily imagine, dear countess, what has happen-
ed ! I beg you to cahn his excellency, your jjaj^a.
You see how beside himself he is at being obliged
to desire your absence from Arnsbcrg for a few
days. The castle is much too small and confined
for all these people, is it not so? We will get
out of the way during the whole noisy time of the
duke's visit, and ride this veiy day to Greinsfeld."
Gisela felt a kind of terror ; why did she so
suddenly experience a pang at her heart at the
thought of being obliged to leave Anisberg?
Like a dissolving view, almost imconscioush- to
herself, the forest-house with its fairy-like chai-m
I)assed with the speed of an anow before her
soul.
"I am ready to go at any moment, papa!"
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
60
snid she, nwertheless, calmly, in her composed
manner.
''You see, my child, that I yield only to press-
ing necessity ?" asked the minister coaxingly.
"Perfectlv, pajjal"
"3h, how thankful I feel to you, Gisela!
But now set the seal to your kindness and indul-
gence, and excuse mamma and me, if we do not
otter you dinner to-day. Mamma is seated with
Mademoiselle Cecile, buried among dresses, and
holding a state council ; she will dine in her
chamber. As for myself, I have not enough time
to-day to sit do\Ti to table. I have just sent
your cook to Greinsfeld ; on your arri\al, you
will find eveiy comfort that it is possible to pro-
cure in such haste."
"Well then, nothing remains but to order the
caiTiage," said the young girl. " Lena, will you
be -so kind as to go do^\^^ stairs and attend to it ?"
The maid grew almost rigid wiili astonishment
that she should be so obliging; but Madame
Ilerbeck stood literally witli open mouth, while
she cast a cutting glance at the cajoled Lena.
Gisela quietly tied her bonnet-strings under
her chin, and again drew on the glove that she
had taken off on entering ; her manner seemed
very precipitate. |
" But it is understood that yon are going to see ]
mamma first, are you not, my child ?"' asked the
minister: he utterly ignored the sudden change
in his stepdaughter. "Only think, my little
dear, the duke may possibly remain a week, and
during the whole time we shall be compelled to
know that you are so near, without being al)le to
see you a single time !''
"It is quite in your power to pay a visit to
Greinsfeld, papal"' said the young girl, composed-
ly. "Madame Herbeck has told me that the
duke used to come to Greinsfeld veiy frequently
during grandmamm.a's lifetime."
The drooping lids suddenly fell heavily over
his excellency's eyes ; but his pale lips were
wreathed into a mocking, compassionate smile.
"IMy dear, that is a childish idea!" said he.
"What should his serene highness do in the
house of a chit of seventeen pardon me, my
daughter who has not yet been presented at
court "
""\A''ith the present opportunity, that might
still take place," inteniipted Gisela, slightly ex-
cited. " Grandmamma, who was inflexibly rigid
in clinging to the privileges of our rank and the
duties connected with them, would wonder verj-
much that it had not yet been done ; she was not
quite sixteen when she was presented."
The minister shrugged his shouldcis with a
peculiar movement ; his intimate acquaintances
would have known by this that his excellency's
patience was exhausted. He still remained ap-
parently collected.
"Consider, yourself, my child, what kind of a
role you would have played at sixteen, at the
court of A !" answered lie, coldly. " I must,
besides, confess to you that I am in a measure sur-
prised at tlie boldness with which you venture to [
compare yourself with your grandmamma ! the
brilliant, much-admired Countess of VcJldern and j
you, my daughter!" He raised his eyelids. A
ven.' expressive, though uneasy, watchful glance
passed over the maiden's face, while a slight flush
mounted to his cheeks. " Of what kind of ob- '
stacles stand particularly in the way of your pre- '
sentation at court, you yourself can not have the
slightest foreboding !" added he very impressive-
ly. " The explanation ought, and shall be made
to you, but "
A sen-ant hurried up and announced that the
presence of his excellency was absolutely neces-
saiT in the stranger's wing.
" Well, God be with you, my child !" said tlie
minister, turning hastily" round ; but his tone was
now changed into that of the tender, anxious
father. " J)o not let the time seem too long to
you at Greinsfield."
He lifted the brim of the young lady's hat, and
attempted to kiss her forehead ; she started back
hastily, and the glittering brown eyes sun-eyed
him with a fro\;'n.
"You silly creature!" said he, smiling, but nev-
ertheless drawing his forefinger caressingly over
her cheek ; his shaij) white teeth gleamed like
those of a beast of jjrcy between the pale lips
that were curved in\\ard, and lightning seemed
to flash forth beneath his eyelids.
He withdrew, and Gisela went with IMadame
Herbeck to take leave of her beautiful stepmother.
The baroness, at the present time, occupied the
apartments that had belonged to the young count-
ess, when a child ; they oft'ered a finer prospect
than any other in the whole castle. Her excel-
lency received the visitors in her dressing-room.
They remained a moment standing irresolutely at
the door, for it was indeed a problem how they
should ever reach the lady. iNLademoiselle Ce-
cile, the sallow French lady's maid, had unpacked
the trunks from Paris, and, endless as the ills out
of Pandora's box, there flowed forth waves of
gauze and glittering silken stuffs. The floor
itself was covered with bandboxes full of flowers,
and boxes out of which various-colored boots
were stretching their little heels.
The baroness was standing in front of the
dressing-glass, tning on the articles of dress
most certainly a laborious and vexatious business,
for the brow of the lady's maid, who, with nimble
hand, ordered and an-anged, was covered with
drops of sweat. The Paris dressmaker had, with
remarkable intelligence, entered into the idea= of
the beautifid woman ; the toilet represented the
woods, the fresh green woods, in the little wreath
of May-flowers, the strawberry -blossoms and
young fir-cones that lay on the lady's forehead in
the heavy green stuff' covered with inwoven acorns,
which by its crackling called to mind the distant
rustling of the sacred oaks. Less sacred, and
less suited to the chaste breath of the German
woods, was the form of the dress, which, without
sleeves, was held together only by a slender gi-een
brooch on the shoulders. The alabaster white-
ness and wonderful form of the arms, as well as
the artistic neck, were indeed fully displayed :
the lady appeared ravishingly beautiful. But it
was well that she no longer bore a German name.
The ladies, as they entered, could see the baron-
ess's face in the mirror ; it beamed with triumph,
and still her eyebrows were contracted with vexa-
tion, and her chai-ming mouth assumed a pouting
expression, almost like an obstinate, spoiled child.
"Dearest Gisela, thank God that you are not
in my place!" cried she, turning round to the
young girl. "Only see how I have to plague
myself; for hours together does this Mademoi-
selle Cecile torture me, wretched creatm-e! I
can scarcelv stand on mv feet !"
70
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
The little feet were certainl}- not so faithless as
their chamiing possessor had calumiiiously as-
serted ; for she suddenly stood light and firm on
the right one, raised her dress a little, and grace-
fully put forth the left, encased with an elegant
shoe.
"Tell me, IMadame rierl)eck,"said she, smil-
ing, "is not this toilet superb?''
The training of the governess had nothing to
do Av-ith her excellent taste, and she therefore
praised with overflowing lips and delightedly
swimming eyes the masterpiece of the Paris
dressmaker. Meanwhile tlie ladies had discov-
ered a path, and now stood in front of the beau-
tiful woman. " My dearest Gisela, what do you
say to our being compelled to be so wanting in
ceremony as to send you back to Greinsfeld ?"
asked she, quite eagerly.
Gisela did not answer. She was looking out
of the window into the garden ; her whole face
was overspread with that delicate rosy hue that
makes even the white rose blush for en-\y. The
young girl saw for the first time one of those
modern ladies' dresses that have entirely lost the
aim of a covering, and almost give the impres-
sion of an elegant frame surrounding a charming
but shameless picture.
The beautiful stepmother utterly misunder-
stood the silence and embarrassment of the young
countess. " You feel hurt, dear child," said she,
in a grieved tone, mingled with a little vexation ;
"but can we do othenvise? We shall still be
packed like herrings in this detestable nest, that
looks so spacious and grand, and }"et otters so
little space and comfort !"
Meanwhile the lady's maid had opened A-arious
jewel cases, and began literally to strew the gar-
land in her mistress's hair and the bouquets on
her dress with diamonds. What a splendor
sparkled on the blue velvet cushions of the little
open cases ! It was a truly colossal host of tlie
choicest brilliants, for the collection of which sev-
eral generations of a family, and fabulous sums
of money, must certainly have been required.
"Ah, grandmamma's diamonds I" cried Gise-
la, sui-jirised, but still unconstrained, as her eyes
caught the glitter of the stones. On this excla-
mation the l)aroness uttered a sliglit, half-repress-
ed shriek, drew up her shoulders, and shivered,
as she gave a little stamp with her foot.
" IIow f)ften must I tell you. Mademoiselle
Cecile, that you must not let your fingers touch
my shoulders?" said she to her waiting-woman.
" Your hands are like a frog's I detest them !
A perfect lady's maid must be able to dress her
mistress without her noticing it ; have you yet to
learn this ?"
As if to come to the assistance of the unhappy
maid, and to turn the angry Avoman to some
other subject, Gisela reached forth for a bracelet
and placed it round her wrist : she attained her
aim perfectly. The lady, during her outburst of
anger, had not even for a moment lost siglit of
her stepdaugliter and the grandmother's diamonds,
for she now followed tlie luovement of the young
lady's hand with a burning, tiger-like glance.
"My dear child, that makes my heart beat!"
said she, with a nervously trembling voice, and
without more ado reached out for the bracelet.
"You may say what you Avill, your hands have
imfortunatcly a convulsive tremor ; you miglit let
the bracelet fall and spoil ray jewels 1"
Gisela fixed her calm brown eyes with aston-
ishment on her stepmother.
" Ah, dear manuna," said she, smiling, as she
laid her left hand, as if to defend it, on the brace-
let, "if pa])a has trusted you with the diamonds
to tiy them on, I have also the right to take
them once in my own hands. Besides, I do not
rightly understand what the stones are doing ^ere.
How often have I begged papa for the medallion
that grandmamma used to v.ear on a velvet rib-
bon, and that contains the picture of my de-
ceased mamma. He has always strictly refused,
because, according to grandmamma's testament,
tlie whole set of jewels is to be kept locked up
till I am of age."
"You are quite right, my dear," replied the
lady slowly, with a delilierate, mocking accent ;
a really demoniac expression appeared in the mar-
ble-wliite face witli the tlaming dark eyes. " This
clause of the testament is binding upon you, but
not upon me ; and therefore, child, you must per-
mit me to lay the bracelet in its place, so that the
last v.-ill of the Coimtess Voldern.may not be in-
fringed."
The ])ei-plexed young lady allowed the orna-
ment to be taken from her arm witliout opposition ;
slie Avas so inexi)erienced, and her riglits, espe-
cially with regard to the inine and thine, had but lit-
tle interested her. She had consequently for tlie
moment no ride by Avhich to measure her step-
mother's manner of acting ; but the best helper
for her excellcnc_v Avas the unconqueraljle aver-
sion of the stepdaughter for the cold, heaA-y stones ;
slie Avas glad Avhen tiiey no longer touched her
skin.
The carriage had mean\A'hile driven np to tlie
door. Madame Herbeck, avIio had been a silent
but painfully perplexed spectator of the little
scene, drew a deep breath A\hen the young count-
ess took leave of her stejimother by a A'ery formal
bow. Fluently, and Avith visible relief, she her-
self made her adieu x to her excellency Avhile
Gisela stepped to the door.
" By the Avay, one thing more, my dear child!"
cried the baroness to the young girl, A\ith a tone
of entreaty.
Gisela turned roimd in the door and remained
standing; she did not appear to have the least
desire to Avind her Avay once more through all
the A-arious articles and trifles over Avhich she
glanced Avith a sarcastic air. The light from a
corner AvindoAv streamed full over her ])erson ; the
Avhole austere maidenliness, but also the decided
preserAation against any familiarity Avith her a'o-
luptuous stepmother, lay in her demeanor. The
beautiful Avoman, hoAvevcr, Avas not to be deterred ;
she stood there on the sublime pedestal of moth-
erly care and motherly duties.
"Since I have known that yon ride on horse-
back, I have been a prey to anxiety I" cried .she.
" You will pnmiise me, aaiII you not, not to mount
a horse as long as you stay at Greinsfeld ?"
"No, mamma, I Avill not make you such a
promise ; I should not be able to keep it."
The baroness bit her lips, " Ciiild, you are
cruel !" complained she sulkily. "Now, together
with all the troubles that are before me, I must
live in the anxiety that you Avill ride over mount-
ain and A-alley, and some fine day break your
neck I"
"I do not ride so Avildly and thoughtlessly,
manmia ; and Sarah is a gentle animal '"
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
71
"That I am willing to believe, but still I am
far from satisfied. ^^'lleIl, for exanijile, I tliink
(if tlie uneven tenace between Gieinsfcld and
Arnsbevg, I shudder with tenor. For my jjart, I
have constantly refused to accomiiany jiapa that
way on horseback."
A malignant, equivocal smile appeared on the
puffy face of the governess.
"Calm yourself, your excellency!" said she
with a meaning look. "Our dear countess will
certainly choose some other jjlace for her riding
exercise; I do not think she has any particular
fondness for the neighborhood between Greinsfeld
and Arnsberg. When we ride out we always
avoid that road, unless we are going straiglit to
Ainsberg ; it is too rough, as your excellency has
so rightly said."
Tiie baroness nodded to her graciously and
lliankfully.
' ' No\\', at least, I have one consolation ! " said
she with a sigh. " If my anxiety must remain, I
still have the consolation of not being obliged to
see you on horseback, you naughty little jMiss
Obstinacy ! You faithfully promise me that in
your morning rides you \\ ill not come within my
sight, do you not, dearest Gisela ?"
The young girl assented with visible impatience.
This tenderness, which could not arouse in her
even a spark of symjjathy, weighed her do\\n
like a mountain that she would shake off at any
price.
"Now go, and God be with you, my child !"
cried her beautiful stepmother, and turned her face
again to the mirror. Gisela vanished, and Ma-
dame Ilerbeck followed her, after a profound how-
to her excellency at the mirror. The door closed,
and the lady sank, as if utterly exhausted, into a
fauteuil, while she placed her hand over her ej'es.
That the little Paris I\Iay-flowers and strawberry-
blossoms on her dress must lose all their fresh-
ness and beauty by this violent, inconsiderate j
movement, seemed not to trouble her as she re- ;
dined there su(th a moment had never occurred |
before! The waiting-maid silently clasped her
hands together, but, with all her consternation,
her glance rested maliciously and spitefully on her
harsh mistress. The scene was heart-rending!
How often had she fixed these wonderful stones in
the raven hair of tliis beautifid woman, and
adorned with them tlie neck which she herself
dared not touch ! Two years ago, the charming
German excellency had appeared at a Paris ball,
literally sown with diamonds ; since that sublime,
never-to-be-forgotten moment, she had been call-
ed in the fashionable world ' ' the diamond foiiy ! "
What triumphs, what heavenly hours were as-
sociated with these glittering treasures ! Times
inmunerable had they aided in celebrating the
victory of her beauty! Their sparkle recalled so
many tears in the glowing eyes of the vanquished, I
whom the alluring diamond siren had led through j
all the phases of passion, to trample them under
her feet at last with a bitter, mocking laugh ! And
now she must resign this brilliant aiTnor of her
coquetrj', without which she could not and would ,
not live she must resign it to another and a
yoimger woman ! Let us cast a veil over the bat-
tle in the soul of a woman who gambles with
sparkling stones for her soul's eternal hajjpiness !
Meanwhile the Countess Stuiin quitted the
White Castle. All the magnificent preparations
for the brilliant festivities which she left behind
her touched her not ; she experienced no kind
of regret. Of what moment was it to her to see
the duke face to face ? Certainly she had a liound-
less reverence for his sublime ])osition in life ;
this feeling had been stamijcd into her mind from
her very first thoughts, far more carefully than
reverence for God ; but she was also far removed
from tlie childish belief of the great masses, who
see in the face of their sovereign an entirely pe-
culiar impress of the grace of God.
Yes, she had the wish to be presented to th.e
duke ; but only out of regard to the traditions of
the old races of Sturm and "\'oldern. Her ances-
tors had for centuries ajjpearcd in the banquet-halls
of the court ; they had stood around the throne,
illustrious by birth, and by marks of distinction
from the ruler ! And this splendor, this riglit, the
last Sturm should and must uphold, even to the
last breath it was a holy duty ! Was it really
only the thought of this duty that had led her to-
day to express the wish to her father ? A deep
blush overspread her face she had a mystery
even to herself; she anxiously took refuge from
the communion of her soul in the outer world.
Her hand clutched the branches of the oaks
beneath which the carriage was slowly passing ;
but as the slender notihed leaves glided through
her unsteady white fingers, the old gray forest-
house, imbedded in green, stood before her again
in the tremulous brilliancy of the sun, amid the
ancient oaks that were whispering in rivalry with
the sparkling jet of water. And the noble form
of the Portuguese majesticaOy descended tl:e
steps. The old man in the door was looking
after him ; the little monkey also was there on
the shoulder of the page, and the parrot was
croaking.
He went into the \^Tiite Castle the Portuguese
with the mysterious white forehead, and the hot,
palpitating "lips. He Avas presented to the duke,
ajid around the wonderful stranger stood the in-
vited ladies of the court of A , and the beau-
tiful stepmother in the forest-green dress, with
the wreath of May-flowers and strawberry-blooms
above her sparkling black eyes.
The hands of the young maiden sank suddenly
back into her lap, and tlie oak leaves, torn off one
by one, fell softly on the ground.
CHAPTER XVIII.
For three days the "NMiite Castle had lodged
its most serene guest. That voluptuous splendor
with Avliich Prince Heinrich loved in former times
to surround the idolized Countess Voldern had
returned. The duke had arrived, attended by
several cavaliers, and there Avas no lack of ladies.
All the youthful beauty of the exclusive court
circle of A had been invited ; even the suf-
fering duchess, who cotdd not accompany her
husband, as an especial mark of her graciousness
and favor for the master of tlie W' hite Castle, in
order to heighten the lustre, had sent the renov/n-
ed beauty, her lovely lady of honor.
The old linden avenues in tlie jjark now again
witnessed the red li])s of ladies smiling with that
radiant pleasure that drinks from the foaming
goblet. In the mysterious green twilight was re-
peated the ancient game of hide and seek among
beautiful, brilliant youthful forms, that hid with
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
iheir fans the tell-tale sparkling of the eyes, and
with superficial chat the stormy beating of the
pulse.
And Prince Heinrich's loved orange and myrtle
trees, that once had shaken the chaste wliiteness
of their flowers on the voluptuous shoulders and
vellow gleaming hair of the unhappy woman,
now stood in the little spot of earth enclosed by
a circular railing of iron in front of the Thmin-
gian castle, lifting their stranger-lieads in the
austere resinous forest air. At their feet rustled
silken trains ; no sweet Italian notes, but winged
words, consisting of nothing and yet for a moment
sparkling and glittering, were whispered tin-ough
the dark foliage ; ducal conversation on aristo-
cratic affairs mingled with the tender sounds of
moniing and evening serenades. The light of
tlie heavenly luminaries shone again on alluring
eyes, on brilliants, and on the fountains ; the
dun-colored Irish greyhound of the ducal mas-
ter coursed over tlie grassy lawn, and high in the
air, from the old battlements of the tower, flutter-
ed the festive banners.
Already on the second day the duke had in- .
spected tlie Neuentl-Id foinuhy. The establish-
ment, with its mighty smoking chimneys, its new
houses, and swarms of men hurrying to and fro,
presented too imposing an appearance, and had
already acquired too wide a reputation in the
world, to permit iiim to ignore its existence.
On this occasion its new possessor was also
presented to tlie duke as Ilerr von Oliveira. lie
iuid himself conducted his liighness through tlie
establishment, and his highness was enchanted
with the handsome, distinguished man, who in
his grave and interesting demeanor nnitcd the
elegant manners of the cavalier and the man of
the world. As a matter of course, the Ilerr von
Oliveira was obliged to present himself before his
serene higliness at tlie Wliite Castle, and tlie
duke had himself ai)pointed for this puqiose an
liour of the following day.
It was two oV'lock in the afternoon. The sun
hovered scorching above the Neuenfeld valley,
but beneath the elms that interlaced their brancli-
es above the trellised gate of Anisberg Park it was
cool and sliady ; the wind also blew cool from
the long, straight avenues, and at a distance plash-
ed the refreshing waters of the fountains. Ke-
fresliing breezes invited him within, and yet the
Portuguese, his face of a ghastly pallor, remained
standing before tlie trellis, lreathing heavily, and
his hand suddenly dropped the door-knob as if it
had absorbed the whole glowing heat of the sun.
The ghastly ])allor did not disappear from the
handsome brown countenance of the man when
the gate fell to with a crash behind him, and when
his foot turned into tlie avenue that led directly
to the castle. Did the restless, dei)arted spirits
of inhuman owners of the castle, and of sinful no-
ble ladies, with which the ))0])ular belief ])eopled
the White Castle, wander also by daylight through
the shrubbery and avenues ? The stranger, wan-
dering there alone, looked sideways, as if there
trod a something near him, tall and jiowerful, to
which he must look up ; a somctiiing that caused
h.im to jjant for breatli, and made his pulse beat
with feverish haste.
In the ])()rtal stood several chattering lackeys.
At the sight of the Portuguese, they silently made
way and bowed down to the ground ; an inde-
scribable mixture of contempt and sarcasm played
around the man's mouth. One of the sen-ants im-
mediately hurried before, in order to announce him.
He did not conduct him towards the stranger's
wing ; the noble company had just risen from a
breakfast a la Jmtrc/iette, that had been sen'ed in
the baroness's apartments.
The long row of chambers, once occupied b)' ^he
child Gisela, opened to the view. In a large draw-
ing-room se:"eral sen'ants Mere engaged in clear-
ing the breakfiist-table, that glittered with silver
and ciTstal. The foot of the Portuguese struck
against champagne corks scattered around ; he
could therefore safely exjject to be received by the
duke and noble company in an agreeable frame
of mind.
He now entered a room whose doors and win-
dows were Iiung with violet plush ; his eyes glanced
involuntarily to the stove-comer. The stranger,
the South American, could not possibly know
that there in former times, on silken cushions,
had dreamed away its pamjiered being the only
tenderly loved friend of the little Countess Sturm,
jjuss, the white Angora cat ! At all events, one
of the window-seats was far more interesting than
the deserted stove-corner. There, under the white
streak of lace that bordered the plush curtains,
appeared the curly brown locks of the celebrated
beauty, the lady of honor to the duchess ; she had
withdrawn into this niche, chatting with another
young lady, and over the faces of both there jxass-
ed a sudden blush as the Portuguese stepped by
them with a bow. Perhajjs the beautiful lips had
just then been whispering of the remarkable
stranger who had concjuered, as by stonn, the heart
of his highness, that was always kept under such
strict guard.
The lackey came back from the adjoining room,
and with a deep liow stationed himself on one
side, in order to permit the Portuguese to enter.
Strange ! there stood the tall form Mith the ma-
jestic mien as if spell-bound before the threshold ;
a bright flush dyed his forehead ; and this strange-
ly marked forehead, togetlier with the nervous
twitching of the lijis, gave to the classic profile,
for a moment, an alniosti diabolic stamp. Within,
a magie green light was diffused throughout the
room, imparting this strange color to the white
marlile groups ; in a causeuse reclined her beau-
tiful excellency in a white morning- dress ; her
soft, gracefully arranged hair fell over the gieen
cushion, and her hands, small as those of a cliild,
were playing mechanicall^y with a magnificent
bouquet of pomegranate blossoms.
"Strange!" whispered the lady of honor in
astonishment to her neighbor, when the Portu-
guese, as if in consequence of a sudden, violent
effort had vanished behind the )lush curtain ;
"the man shuddered at the sea-room; he could
not cross the threshold, as the Tluiringian be-
lievers in witches say ; I saw it (juito plainly !"'
" That is easily explained," replied the delicate,
pale blonde. "The ghastly green light in that
nxmx always made me giddy ; I tliink the fancy
of the coquettish Countess ViJldern frightful."
The beautiful woman leaning back in the cau-
seuse certainly knew the cause of this s]jell-bound
threshold; she smiled, laid her bou(iuet with em-
barrassment on the table, and involuntarily rose.
The entrance of the I'ortuguese interrupted a
kind of disjiute between the duke, the minister,
several gentlemen of the suite, and some ladies.
His serene highness was standing near one of the
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
73
long walls of the room, and speaking with warmth.
He greeted the new-comer with a friendly light-
ing up of his small gray eyes, and a very gracious
movement of the hand.
" My dear Herr von Oliveira," said he in a
friendly and courteous manner, "not only the
charming unrestraint of country life, in which I
willingly for a while lay aside the rules of strict
etiquette, hut also my regard for yourself, has de-
termined me to grant you the first audience in this
jjlace. But beware! This room exercises a
dangerous charm, and here " he stopped, and
jjointed with a meaning smile to the group of la-
dies standing near, which the baroness had now
joined.
"Your highness, I know that the Undines con-
demn their faithful followers to die by ^vater, and
am warned," replied Oliveira.
This answer, given with an almost gloomy earn-
estness, sounded curiously when taken in connec-
tion with the joyous humor of the duke ; and it
had the efiect of a dagger-thrust on the baroness.
Her beautiful head turned suddenly round. She
grew pale, and her eyes wandered with a shy,
searching glance to the Portuguese ; but his look
did not rest upon her ; his profile only was turned
towards her, and that appeared as if chiselled out
of stone.
" That was so seriously said, sir," said an older
lady, the Countess Schliersen, with whom the
Portuguese had already became acquainted on
the occasion of the visit to the foundiy, "that I
almost feel tempted to throw down the glove to
you in behalf of my little protegees there ;" she
smiled, and pointed with her slender white finger
to the lady of honor, and the ethereal pale blonde,
who, attracted by the strangely beautiful tones of
the stranger's voice, had stepped to the thresh-
old. The two graceful, delicately moulded maid-
en forms, in the light vaporous moniing- dress,
and breathed upon by the green light, had at this
moment something unearthly.
" You will grant. Hen- von Oliveira," continued
the countess, "that the sea-room gains in char-
acter by these apparitions ; but how in all the
world can you find murderous views behind those
child-like foreheads ?"
" Bah !" said the duke merrily, "there can be
no quarrel about that ; but who knows what kind
of experiences Herr von Oliveira may have had
\\'ith regard to wicked Undines on the Laguna
dos Patos or the Mirim lake I I shall permit no
declaration of war, my good countess, but would '
be much obliged to you if you would make Herr i
von Oliveira acquainted with the ladies."
A multitude of brilliant names now buzzed in [
the ears of the Portuguese, and the charming
bearers of the same, who, undazzled and appar- !
ently unconstrained, fluttered around the splendor j
on the heights of humanity, became almost be- j
wildered when opposite the dark eyes which, at
each presentation, were fixed on their fiices so
seriously and coldly, so utterly untouched b}^ any
exterior impression. How unsovereigidike ap-
peared his serene highness with his anxiously
constrained militaiy^ bearing, and his sharp, ex-
pressionless forehead suddenly retreating from
the brows, by the side of the powerful form of
the stranger, who almost seemed as if desirous
of concealing a royal descent behind the most
easy and unconstrained motions !
The baroness had regained b.er red lips and |
open smile, and when her name was called, she
: recurred to their recent meeting in the woods.
j Her flexible voice sounded almost melancholv
when she mentioned the shot dog ; her beautiful
excellency could also look comjjassionate. The
four black eyes met ; on the stranger's forehead
the red flush blazed up suddenly like fire, and his
! eyes sparkled in wild ])assion. She dropped hers
] with a shudder beneath the outburst of so power-
ful, unheard-of a passion, ^^llich was utterly pow-
erless to brmg forth a single word.
The refined coquette, by nature, conceals her
satisfaction at the first signs of a new conquest,
: almost with greater care than the young bashful
maiden her first love; and so her beautiful ex-
cellency withdrew with her triumph almost mod-
estly behind the younger ladies, who with all their
youthful charms could no longer be dangerous to
her.
"And now I Mill present you to a lady," said
the duke to the Portuguese, after the introductions
were over. He inclined his head to the portrait
of a lady, the only one on the wall. "She is and
remains my prote'ge'e, although the earth has long
covered this ^\onderful form, and my ducal house
has certainly every cause to be dissatisfied with
her. However, she was still a celestially beauti-
ful woman, this Countess Voldern ! Lorelei, rav-
ishing Lorelei !"
He breathed a kiss on the thimrb and forefinger
of his right hand, and threw it with a graceful
movement towards the picture.
This woman had indeed with true ingenuity
known how to set off the demoniac power of her
external appearance. The ensnaring charm of
the inundation, her coaxing, mysterious features,
behind which lurked that malice which charms
us, attracts us inesistibly, and yet awakens a shud-
der of anxiety, appeared also in this dazzling
form ; the sea-room and the picture found their
m-igin in this thought. Yes, it was Lorelei !
Sky and Abater dissolved far, far away in a green-
ish vapor; the waves undulated towards the soli-
tary woman, and with them melted the ends of
her loosened tresses ; it seemed as if the spirit,
the awfully beautiful, overpowering element, the
onward-swelling water, were streaming through
the golden threads, and concentrating in the M'om-
an's body that rested in the foreground on tlie
mussel-covered strand.
"I formerly played the master a little at the
Wiite Castle, and had the picture brought here
by my own authority, " said the duke. " This act
of violence met with energetic opposition on the
part* of the ladies ; they thought no picture was
proper on the draperied walls. That may be;
init I do not give up the opinion that the creator
of this enchanting room ought and must not fail
to be present in effigy; and as it is now placed,
it makes an entirely original impression."
He fell back a few stejjs, and surve3'ed the ar-
rangement with a critical eye. The picture had
l)een taken from the frame ; the green silken folds
rustled around this spell-bound bit of sky and
water. His highness was right ; the silken cur-
tains brought out the form of the reclining wom-
an, the whole delicious perspective of the back-
ground, powerfully and with striking effect.
His highness turned with a smile to the Portu-
guese, while his glance was still fixed on tlie
painting.
" Is it not tntc, one can easily comprehend how
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
a man, even in his living hour, could forget his
best resolutions at the sight of these cozening
eyes ?" asked he.
" I am not in a condition to place myself in
such a situation, your highness, for 1 am accus-
tomed to carry through my resolutions," answered
Oliveira quietly.
The small gray eyes of his highness opened wide
with surprise ; this resolute, unadorned speech
smote roughly on his spoiled ear, accustomed to
other sounds ; it formally repelled the polished
tone of the ducal sovereign, tinctured witii a gen-
tle spice of frivolity. lIo^vever, to an eccentric
foreigner wlio commanded millions, and who in
South America had possessions twice as great in
extent as tlie whole sovereign duchy to sucli
an original something might be pardoned ; and
moreover, the man, with all tlie proud dignity of
Ills demeanor, still stood respectfully before tlic
eider gentleman and duke. In virtue of tiieso
considerations, the disagreeable surprise on his
higlmess's face changed to a miscliievous smile.
"There, hear liim, ladies!" said he, turning to
those around him. ' ' Perhaps you make this sor-
rowful experience for the first time ; the power
of beautiful eyes is not so lioundless as you ma_v
think ! I myself acknowledge that I do not ])os-
scss this inflexible heart of steel and iron ; yes, I
do not even com)n-ehend it. But for my ducal
house it would still have been of great advantage
liad my uncle Heinrich stood on the brazen stand-
point of our noble Portuguese. What is your
ojjiuion. Baron Lleury ?"
The minister, who till now had stood near the
duke in silence, with folded arms, distorted his
pale lips.
'"Your highness, it is too well known, and no
longer needs proof, that the good resolutions of
Prince Ileinricli in his dying hour were shown only
in the reconciliation of the heart, but not at all
in a revocation of his testamentary arrangements, "
replied he ; he could not entirely rejjress a mix-
ture of sarcasm in his voice. '' It is just as well
known tJuit tlie Countess Voldern, impelled only
Ijy an inexplicable foreboding, suddenly left the
nuisked ball that night, in order to see herpiince-
ly friend, an hour afterwards, die in her arms.
Who can entirely deny the existence of tiiat mys-
terious loud of symiiathy, which, at the moment
wlieu the spirit is struggling to free itself from
the bonds of earth, fiaslies uj) once more, and with
imperious power demands the presence of the
kindred soul ! And, in the third place, it is just
as well known that the i)rincc, even to his hist
Ineatii, was in full ])osscssion of all his mental
):owers; that the countess tliiring tiie last lialf
hour knelt by his bed, and sympathized fully with
his wish to become reconcilccl to the court of
A . She was not a second alone with him ;
Eschebacli and Zweitiingen stood till liislast breath,
immovable, by tlie jiriiice's dying bod. lie spoke
Avitii the countess, exjiressed hisjiaiii at their sep-
aration, but did not say a single syllable resj)ecting
his arrangements witii i-egard to the disjjosal of
liis property. I indeed was under a delusion as
I rode to A ; 1 thought "
"To restore the inheritance to the ducal house,"
interrupted tlie duke, and completed the exhaust-
ive demonstration. " How can you take a jest
so tragically, best Fleury ? Would I have ever
again granted to the countess admission to my
court if 1 had nut been convinced that it was only
her alluring eyes and not her wicked insinuations
that gained the victory over our right ? Come,
let us leave these old uncomfortaJjle stories in
];eace! What, Herr von Oliveira, does the spell
begin to work ? During the whole excellent de-
fensive speech of his excellency, you have been
almost devouring the siren yonder with your
burning eyes ! "
Had his highness been less dispassionate in his
observation, the change of color on the bronzed
face of the Portuguese could not have escaped
him. All shades between ghastly paleness and
the sudden fiery glow of raging tumult and fu-
rious hate, played over the man's brown cheeks
while the minister was speaking.
" I certainly succumb at this moment to an en-
chantment," answered he with a slightly tremu-
lous voice. " Has your highness never heard
how the little birds behave when they fall within
the circuit of tlie serpent's power ? They grow
stiti' before their deadly enemy, which, under the
smooth and beautifully variegated coils of its
body, conceals a devilish treachery."
"Oh Heavens, Mhat a comparison!" cried the
(^ountess Schliersen. " Sir, you are already lost.
I You depreciate woman, because you are sub-
jected!"
A sardonic smile trembled on the lips of the
Portuguese ; he did not answer.
"What, there are still grounds for the com-
parison," smiled the duke. " Herr von Oliveira
will for no price allow himself to be conquered ;
I can not therefore blame him if he excuses his
subjection by the inexplicable serpent's charm of
woman." He again advanced towards the pic-
j ture. "Is it not a real calamity that with this
woman the wliole renowned beauty of the Viil-
j derns must be extinguished? Ah! how is that
little sallow, stunted creature, the little Sturm?"
said he. turning to tlie minister.
1 " Gisela still lives, as formerly, at Greinsfeld,
I has the St. Vitus's dance worse than ever, and
fills us with the liveliest apjirehensions," answered
I his excellency. " My anxiety about this child is
the sliadow on my life."
" Heavens ! how long it takes the poor, un-
happy being to die!" exclaimed the Countess
Scliliersen. "This little being has always been
to me a problem. How came the eminently
beautiful parents to liavc this ne plux vltra of
ugliness? And yet," continued she, after a mo-
mentary reflection, "in s])ite of all, I have al-
ways found a strange resemblance between the
iittle ugly countenance and the outlines of the
jiortrait yonder, ' pointing to the picture of the
Countess Voldern. "It is wonderful!"
" V/hat an idea!" exclaimed the duke, al-
most offended at the com])arison.
" I say only the outlines, your liigliness ! As
for the rest, there lacks, as a matter of course,
all tiiat which made the A'olderns so charming.
The cliild iiad only one single charm, a pair of
beautiful, exju'essive, fawn-like eyes."
"God jireserve me, countess !" interrupted the
lady of honor quickly, almost as if afi'righted.
"Her eyes were frightful! AVlien a child of
seven, I was obliged to be freijuently witli the
little Countess Sturm ; mamma liad a veiy ar-
dent desire forme to be intimate with her." She
turned to the minister with a mischievous smile.
" Your excellency, at that time, it was with a veiy
decided aversion that I ever ascended the stairs
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
in the ministerial hofel. I was continually vexed
with the little person, who anxiously thrust out
her hands towards me wlienever I apjiroached
her. She hated every thing that I loved, ele-
gance, children's halls, and doll weddings. Par-
don me, vour excellency, hut she was tlie most
spiteful ci-eature I ever saw ! I rememher that
one day she hung in the ears of her cat a pair of
chaiTTiing little diamond ear-rings that you had
jast hrought with you from Paris."
" Now, I think that less spiteful than original I"
exclaimed the Countess Schliersen, laughing. " I
conjecture she is not without wit, the little one.
Apropos, how would it he if we rode over for an
liour to Greinsfeld and made her a visit ? We
might permit ourselves such a courtesy towards
the Countess Stunn, and it would be a favor to
poor Ilerheck, to allow her once again to see a
face out of the world."
The Baroness Fleury had till then remained
entirely passive. At the cjuestion of the duke
regarding her stepdaughter, she had seized her
. houquet and buried her face in its scentless blos-
soms ; but now she started forward.
"For God's sake, Leontine, that Is not to be
thought of I" exclaimed she, with atone of refus-
al. "With this visit you would jday a prank
upon the physician which we could never ac-
count for. just at this time he is fearing a vio-
lent outbreak of the attacks, and has given the
most positive orders to keep the patient aloof
from even' tiling that might produce even the
slightest disturbance in her mind. A.nd then,
you have just heard how obstinate Gisela was, as
a child. She has, I may say, a choleric temper-
ament, which, as a matter of course, in the soli-
taiy life to which she has been condemned, it has
been impossible to render milder or more amiable.
Madame Herbeck suffers gi'eatly from her bound-
less willfulness, and subtle, malicious tricks. It
is in such ways as these that a mind so thor-
oughly imbittered generally takes delight. Far
be it from me to desire to throw sus])icion on Gi-
sela's character ; on the contrary, if there is any
one inclined to excuse her, it is certainly I. She
is, indeed, much to be pitied. But I can uot
consent that my guests should nm the risk of
being treated with nideness at Greinsfeld ; and
finally, this child is much too dear to me for me
to pennit her to exjjose herself, will; her repulsive
sufferings, to pardon me, dearest Leontine
curious eyes !"
The Countess Schliersen bit her lip ; but his
highness seemed to fear, from the veiy shai-j) tone
with which her beautiful excellency had conchid-
cd, an outburst of temp'er. lie stejiped hastily
up to Oliveira. At tlie moment when the name
of the young Countess Sturm had been mention-
ed for the first time, the Portuguese had with-
drawn unobseiTed to the window ; his eyes stray-
ed imceasingly over the neighborhood ; not a sin-
gle time did he tuni back his head towards the
company. He had in all probability become
wearied ; and his higliness miglit well conclude
that it was not over-respectful to the stranger to
take up as the sulyect of conversation incidents
.".nd relations that coidd not possibly have the
shghtest interest for him.
"You feel a longing for your cool, green woods,
is it not so, my good Ilerr von Oliveira ?'' asked
he graciously. "It has indeed become rather
Eultiy here. Go, dear Sontheim," cried he to
the lady of honor, "and bring your enchanting
little hat set off with mallows we will go on the
lake."
The ladies hastily left the room, while the gen-
tlemen sought their hats in the side-chamber.
CIIAPTEli XIX.
" IIeavexs, what a man!" exclaimed the
lady of honor without in the corridor. " Wliat
better can the whole of our gentlemen do than
hide themselves T
"I am afraid of him," said the delicate, pale
blonde ; and stopping, crossed her little hands on
her breast. "The man can not smile. Clem-
ence, you are all blind ! He is none of us ; he
brings mischief with him I feel it!"
"Noble Cassandra, thus much do we poor,
blind mortals also know !" said the lady of honor,
banteringly. "He does indeed bring mischief
he imposes too much on the people ; but that
will pass let him only once feel at home in our
circle ! It is tnie, he can not smile ; what he
says sounds inflexible, and appears like a mass
of rock, near the elegant conversational tone of
his most serene highness. Dearest Lticie, to
make those lips smile, to bow the proud mind, to
overthrow all his renowned principles, solely
through love that would be a problem, a rap-
ture ! "
"Try it and bum yourself!" answered the
blonde, and disappeared in her chamber, but the
lady of honor started with a glowing face. The
Baroness Fleuiy had followed them unnoticed on
the soft carpet, and now suneyed the young lady
as she passed by ^ith a prolonged mocking, yet
compassionate look.
Her beautiful excellency was already equipped
for the walk, and entered the vestibule at the
same time with the gentlemen. The doors of
the music-room stood ^^ide ojjen, in order to let
the cool ah" of the hall stream into the sun-heat-
ed room. It looked sultn- within ; the purple
curtains spread a imiform lurid light, through
wliich brilliant reflections occasionally passed,
when a breath of wind without moved single
leaves of the orange-trees and opened a breach to
the sunlight. These brilliant points glided with
dismal restlessness over the ceiling and the white
walls covered with gilded oniaments ; there lay
something animated in the rajjid appearance and
disappearance of tlie brilliant points, something
like a revival of m.usical reminiscences among
them perhaps fluttered that JSoclurne of Chopin,
that once had been the signal for an inhuman
treachery.
The baroness hastily entered the room, a fro^m
of vexation on her forehead ; she had to-day been
suddenly called from her accustomed moming
practice, and had forgotten to close the piano.
"Oh no, most gracious lady," protested the
duke, as she seized the cover, "the moment is
too favorable for me ; the piano stands open and
the music is on the stand. I beg of you, one
single ])iece ; you know my weakness for Liszt
and Chopin !"
The baroness smiled, but immediately drew
off her gloves, threw her hat on a chair, and seat-
ed herself at tlie piano. She laid aside the mu-
sic, and struck a prelude on the keys. The daz-
7G
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
zingly beautiful -womnn was as if ovenvhelmed
v.'ith'the red glow, and as the strings resounded
in stonny power beneath her white liands, wliilst
she slowly raised her lashes and allowed her flam-
ing eyes to circle through the room as if in intox-
icating self-forgetfulness, her head by no means
called to mind the chaste picture of St. Cecilia,
but rather that of Trojan Helen, whose form rises
dimly before us, fidl of ensnaring loveliness, but
also illuminated by the fire stirred up by demons.
The gentlemen stepped noiselessly into the
room or waited at the door ; but the Portuguese
liad left the castle. He was standing without,
beneath the orange-trees, with lips pressed firmly
together and panting breast. Did not an inefface-
able streak run over this wide space, down tlirough
the avenue, and fartlier on cutting through the
boggy meadow that lay beyond the wall ? A
streak reddened by t]iel)lood of a noble heart, that
neitlier the pouring rain nor the bleaching rays
of the sun was able to obliterate ? There had he
wandered, he, the presumptive incendiary, and
near him tlie saint-like, silent form, bearing in his
breast the heart that had just received a deadly
wound ! Did there not sound through the roar-
ing accords within the shrill tone of the bell by
means of which the high-born minister had once
set on the fleeing pair of brothers a pack of wretch-
ed servants ? And yonder towered in the air the
rugged ledge of rock ; the golden sunlight fell on
its jagged spurs, and in its cracks and crevices,
where the decaying stone was hanesting its own
dust, crept the green of the forest soil with fawn-
ing foot. Though it should cover the whole rocky
ledge with its entwining web, it could not eftace
the footsteps of him who once, the fast-approach-
ing night above his head and in his soid, had
there fought his last fearful fight, while the rush-
ing water beneath was already preparing for him
the cool bed in which all. all should be silenced,
the wild woe, des])air, and unconquerable love.
Ha, ha! and the woman in yonder room with
the red glowing curtains was again playing Cho-
pin ! She had broken her faith, and had mur-
der on her soul but that made her only the more
])irpiant. The gentlemen who wonderingly stood
around her all had little liaisons before they
had found suitable, aristocratic lirides I ridicu-
lous, to think that a sin ! But it would have been
an iuexpial)lc crime to have turned such jest into
earnest, and mingled a j)lebeian element with the
blue blood. The last Zweiflingen had, with amaz-
ing tact and feeling proper to her rank, compre-
hended the degradation of her so-called betrothal,
and been perfectly justified in rending asunder the
chains that wf)ulil have drawn her down. Of him
who ])erishcd by it, it was simjily said, as of tlie
moth that ventures too near the brilliant light and
is miserably consumed : " Why was he so silly I"
Curses, curses and eternal hatred to the whole
caste, which takes upon itself to determine what
areliod's commands and intentions, which builds
itself a throne out of the shattered rights of man,
and unfurls its baimer before all tiie world, with
the scornful motto, "God and my right."
The Portuguese uttered a hollow, hoarse, mock-
ing laugli ; his right hand was deiuhed and raised
high in the air, as if eager to fall with a crushing
I)low, while the pebbles under the feet of the ex-
cited man were scattered about : the little rouiul-
ed stones glittered in the sun, and rolled nimbly
and menily along. Had not the bright copper
groschen of the little Countess Sturm once rolled
over this veiy place? And had not a merciless
hand once shaken the poor, feeble, childish body, in
which was beating a misunderstood, compassion-
ate little heart ? From out of the golden green
twilight beneath the tops of the oaks, sprinkled
by the brilliant drops of the mighty jet. there
gleamed a girl's head with waving blond hair, and
the pale red, innocent lips said smilingly, "The
unhappy time lies behind me."
The raised hand of the Portuguese sank slowly
down, and he placed his left hand over his eyes.
He did not hear how the piece of music, in which
a diabolic spirit seemed to revel and throw up
hissing rockets, had ceased ; he neither saw nor
heard the female forms that swept by him, nor the
gentlemen with varnished boots that hurried along
the gravel with light tread. A gentle hand tapped
softly on the dreamer's shoulder.
"Now, my dear Oliveira?" said the minister.
The Portuguese, at the sound of this voice,
gave a sudden start, and drew back, as if the hand
that touched him had been i-ed-hot iron. He sud-
denly stood in his wliole majesty before his gra-
cious excellency, and measured the slender man
from head to foot.
"What doyou wish, Fleuiy ?" asked he, strong-
ly accenting the name, without giving any title of
honor.
The cheeks of liis excellency were suddenly
dyed a taA\ny red, and his eyes, now re\ealed,
siarkled \\ith immeasurable indignation ; but over
the faces of the gentlemen standing around there
glided an expression of malicious joy tluxt could
not be mistaken. All of them were, without ex-
ception, creatures of the minister ; with all the
dark obscurity that rested on their ancient aristo-
cratic names, it was with secret rage that they per-
mitted the all-mighty mmister to ignore the at-
tribute of their rank when he addressed them,
while they were obliged to obseiTe the excellency
in regard to him, just as strictly as your highness,
when speaking to the duke. They gnashed their
teeth, and the unconstrained smile was very bitter,
but still they smiled ; for his excellency, in such
confidential moments, was in good humor, and
ready to listen to many a silent wish. But at
this moment he had found his master the lesson
was not to be envied.
He did not yield them the joy of giving further
expression to his confusion ; his excellency never
took notice of a defeat which it was not in liis
power at the moment to punish. He had not
understood the answer, aTul with wonderful com-
))osure otfei'ed his arm to the much-perplexed
Countess Schliersen.
The duke, who, conducting Baroness Fleury,
had passed by tliis little scene without a])pearing
to notice it, beckoned Oliveira to his side, and
while the company slowly wandered through the
shady avenues, the Portuguese, questioned with
toleral)ly palpalile curiosity by his highness, told
of his Brazilian home. All listened in silence, the
subject was most interesting. The first impres-
sion, according to which this remarkable stranger
stood in continual antagonism, yes, in constant
readiness for war against others, entirely vanish-
ed. The ladies were charmed by the sound of his
voice, and many a cavalier who possessed nothing
but his office at court and the tolerably small in-
come connected thcrewitli, grew dizzy at the de-
scription of the magnificent iron mines, which,
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
77
carried on with proper management, must bring '
the Portuguese colossal sums of money.
At the question of the duke why he liad left
Brazil, and had diosen Tluiringia in particular
for his residence, Oliveira was silent for a mo-
ment ; he then said firmly, with a marked em-
phasis, whereby his voice seemed jjeculiarly re-
strained, that he would impart the motive to his
excellency in a private audience.
The minister looked up surprised, and a watch-
ful, deeply mistrustful look was fixed for a second
l)enetratingly on the profile of the Portuguese :
and although the duke at this moment graciously
spoke of granting the audience at an early day,
yet every one who had any acquaintance with the
minister's countenance knew for a certainty that
the day which was to bring this private audience
would ne^er come.
On the other side of the park wall the duke
stop])ed under a shady elm, to observe the wood-
en scafl'olding of a newly-built house of somewhat
imposing dimensions. It Liy, though but a small
distance from Neuenfeld, quite isolated, so to
speak, on the outstretclied spur of the opposite
mountain. It was just finished, and tiiis day the
customary ceremonies were to be performed, for
a man sat astride of the ridge-beam, and was fast-
ening the fir bough, usual on such occasions, from
whose summit gay ribbons were fluttering.
"It looks like a little castle," said his highness.
"Is it perhaps an asylum for poor children?"
said he to the Portuguese, over his shoulder.
"I have built it for that pui-pose, your high-
ness."
" Hem I am afraid the little folks will not
want to come out again when they are once in ;
I can not blame them for it, either," remarked
one of the cavaliers ; but the Countess Schliersen
raised her forefinger warningly.
" Onlj'do not spoil them, Herr von Oliveira!"
said she. "I warn you solel}' from motives of
lumianity. We render this class of people more
unliapi^y when we educate them with ])retensions
which they must necessarily give up in the posi-
tion in life to which tliey are born, and from
which they can never advance."
Oliveira's dark eyes rested with a sarcastic ex-
pression immovably on the face of the humane
lady.
"And why should they not be able to come
forth from that position in life, whicli in other
words may be called want, miseiy, and self-deni-
al, my lady ?" asked he. " Have they not brains,
like all of us ? And will they not leam to use
tliis endowment of Heaven, I say once more, just
like all of ns, my lady, if they receive the right
education and guidance? By this veiy means
they are protected from the evil to which you
have given the appellation 'position in life to
which they ai'e born.' Moreover, I even go a lit-
tle farther ; Neuenfeld has bread and a home
for them all, if they should not hereafter prefer
to seek for themselves an honorable existence
abroad in the world."
No one answered a word to this candid expla-
nation. The duke v.ent slowly forward, but he
showed not the slightest trait of dissatisfaction on
his narrow face, such as the Countess Schliersen
would perhajjs have desired to see. She was evi-
dently one of those energetic women who are ac-
cuijtomed to have assenting listeners to what they
may be pleased to say, and who cling the more
obstinately to a theme, when they have already
met with a defeat in endeavoring to sujiport it.
" No doubt, in the creation of this asylum, you
had before your eyes our celeljrated c^angelical
houses of refuge ?" said she, after a pause, stop-
ping and addressing the Portuguese.
"Not entirely," answered he with composure.
"I can not agree with their chief feature, inas-
much as I shall not make creed a condition of ad-
mission. I have, for example, at the present time
four Jewish children, the oi-phans of two veiy
skillfid workmen. "
This answer acted like an electric shock on tlie
whole company of ladies. "What I do you re-
ceive Jews?" was asked in chorus by all the
beautiful lips.
For the first time an amused smile flitted about
the severe, earnest mouth of the man who coidd
not laugh.
"Do you suppose the Jews are so preferred
by Heaven that they suffer hunger less than Chris-
tians?" asked he.
The ladies involuntarily cast down their eyes Ise-
fore the searching glance that passed over their
faces.
"Those two Israelites died with the earnest
entreaty on their lips that their children should
not be brought iqj strangers to the belief of their
fathers," added he vvith deep eaniestness. " I
honor this last wish, and will not allow the chil-
dren to be taught another faith."
"Oh Heavens!" exclaimed the Countess
Schliersen, greatly irritated ; " does this never snf-
ficiently-to-be-condemned tolerance dwell in the
air of the Neuenfeld valley ? Over yonder a Prot-
estant pastor continually preaches ' Love one an-
other,' and then says he is speaking to Turks,
heathens, and Jews and you ? Ah ! pardon me,
I forgot ; being a Portuguese, you are certainly a
Cathohc."
Once more the eyes of the man glistened v.ith
a kind of mocking hilarity.
"Ah ! you wish my confession of faith, count-
ess ?" asked he. " Well, I believe firmly and un-
alterably in an all-loving God, in the immortality
of my soul, and in my calling as a man, wlii h
lays upon me the duty of making myself as
useful as possible to my fellow-men. And with
regard to that Protestant pastor over yonder, I
would beg of you to be a little more cautious in
your judgment; the man is a blameless Chris-
tian!"
"Of that we have not been able to convince
ourselves," interposed the minister with an indif-
ferent but shai-ply-pitched voice ; his eyelids fell
deep over his eyes, and gave to his physiognomy
something indescribably contemptible. "He is a
miserable preacher, and continuall}- vexes the be-
lievers who seek the salvation of their souls by
his neglectful ministrations. We have found our-
selves condemned to remove him from the pulpit."
This voice, so utterly without heart or soul,
whose very sound was calculated to irritate, did
not fiiil in its effect ; the brown cheeks of the
Portuguese glowed crimson, and his cool aristo-
cratic demeanor seemed for a moment to fail him ;
but he controlled himself.
"I know that, "said he with apparent compo-
sure; "your excellency has acted, I suppose, accord-
ing to your best judgment. But nevertheless I still
appeal to the mercy of his highness the duke,
and beg that this case may be taken once more
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
into consideration. Upon further inquiries it will
be found that tlie.-e believers who seek the salva-
tion of their souls will be reduced to a woman
jealous of authority, and a few workmen dismiss-
ed from the foundry on account of faithlessness
and unwillingness to work."
"Another time, another time, dear HeiT von
Oliveira!" intennipted the duke, as if eagerly de-
sirous to drop the subject. His little, weak eyes
wandered timidly and anxiously to the face of
the minister, on which the deepest resentment was
now plainly depicted. " I am here only for rec-
reation, and must earnestly entreat you to touch
on no matter of business ; tell us rather of your
wonderful Brazil."
Tlie Portuguese again stepped to tlie duke's
side.
" The raid on this old minister, buried in the
depths of the past, and unable to be improved,
is one of yoiu' most excellent measures, your ex-
cellency ; it will be illustrious in the annals of
our land!" said the Countess Schliersen to the
minister.
This woman was deteraiined to have the last
word, and it was intended solely for the ears of
the Portuguese. The man stood in a wasp's
nest that he had uncovered, and the irritated
swarm hummed and buzzed witii fury round his
head ; but his head, with the expression of dead-
ly contempt in the features, sat majestically as
ever on his shoulders. With a sliglat touch of
mockery, he told to the sovereign ruler, of the
magnificent buttei'flies, and the celebrated precious
kinds of Brazilian wood, and of the topazes and
amethysts which were found on liis own estate in
verj' considerable numbers. In this M'ay the con-
versation was once more brought back to the beaten
track, the only suitable one on this rough soil,
wliich allowed the herb " Touch me not " to grow
and tlirive so luxuriantlv.
CHAPTER XX.
TriE ladies had at first designed to sail upon
the lake, but the duke, absorbed in Oliveira's de-
lineations, walked unmindful along the shore, and
entered tlie path that led to the forest meadow ;
the ladies followed, as if magnetically attracted by
the voice of the narrator. On entering th? woods
they had taken oif their hats ; tliey entwined in
their hair bell-flowers, red field-jiinks, and wild
hops, with their half-unfolded liell-sliaped cones.
How dove-like and innocent did they ajipear in
their spotless wliite garments, witli their youthful
faces fresli as tlie spring beneatli the nodding
wild bell-blossoms ! And yet these apparently
childish, ingenuous hearts had already been ex-
cellently schooled and drilled according to feudal
regtihition, and between them and the rest of hu-
man kind not eligible to appear at court, \iiy
a chasm ini])ossible to be bridged over, full of ice
and deadly coldness.
On arriving at the forest meadow, the young
and handsome wife of a cavalier jilaced a" little
garland around her husbanil's strav.- hat ; the duke
observed it, and smilingly reached out his li.'it ;
it was the signal for a general wreathing. The
younger ladies fluttered around like butterflies,
and ])lundcred the ground of tlie forest ; there
was mucli jesting and laughter. The village
children could not scramble about in the fresh
green woods more harmlessly and naively than
these flov.er-seeking, high-born ladies.
The Portuguese had turned his back to the tu-
mult ; he stood with his hands crossed behind
his back in front of the bronze bust of Prince
Heinrich, and studied with apparently absorbing
interest the features of the prince's head, now
ovenim with green climbing plants. The lady
of honor undertook to do, what none of the young
ladies had ventured, in respect to the serious,
earnest man. Slie stepped noiselessly up to
Oliveira's side, and with a mischievously entreat-
ing, though timid look, held out her slender white
hand filled with flowers. This was the moment
to liring a smile to these sternly closed lips, and
to kindle a kindly light in these demoniac dark
eyes in vain. The bronze foce did not change;
but with a faidtlessly courteous bow he took oft"
his hat and handed it to the young girl. She
hurried back to the circle of ladies, and the Por-
tuguese slowly followed her. The whole group
stood in the midst of the forest meadow. The
little opening from this point appeared like a star,
whose rays ran like narrow paths up into the
woods ; the eye could penetrate in all directions
into the green, gleaming, festooned paths.
Oliveira's hat passed from hand to hand ; each
of the ladies decked it with a flower ; at last it
was left in the hands of the Baroness Fleury.
Witli a smiling look towards the Portuguese, who
stood not far from her, she tastened on it a beau-
tiful azure-blue campanula, and was just about to
give back the hat, when she suddenly stopped, as
if changed to stone, and listened. The chatting
and buzzing of all the voices also ceased ; tlie
hollow sound of a horse's foot coming at full
speed was heard. Was it a frightened animal
that was raging through the woods ? There was
scarcely time for this thought to arise before the
horse appeared on the Greinsfeld path. From
his back fluttered, like a liglit summer cloud, tlie
wliite dress of a lady, and above the high pranc-
ing head of the animal waved luxuriant tresses
of blond hair. Golden lights fell from the tree-
tops on the horse and rider, and these brilliant
spots, rapidly changing their position, gave to the
suddenly approaching apparition an appearance
of almost fearful beauty.
The ladies separated from each other with a
cry.
" My God !" uttered the duke ; the old gentle-
man tottered stiffly back, but tlie Baroness Fleury,
as if utterly bev.ildered, stretched out her arms
rcpellingly.
"Turn back, Gisela, I entreat you !" cried she,
utterly losing her self-control. ' ' I can not look
at you! I am dying with anxiety !"
But the horse, a beautiful Arabian, already
stood still, as if by enchantment, in the midst of
the meadow ; his bit was covered with foam and
his nostrils were distended. A single check from
his mistress, who sat on his back with only a liglit
blanket instead of a saddle, had sufficed to bring
him to a stand.
" Greinsfeld is on fire !" cried she, without no-
ticing the half-frantic demeanor of her stepmoth-
er; her beautiful face was deadly pale.
" The castle ?"' asked the Portuguese. He was
the only one who had a]i])arcnily iresen-ed any
composure ; all the others were as utterly startled
and deprived of self-control as if a mighty hand
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
79
had raised this wonderful apparition from the
earth.
" No, several Iionses in the village are burning
together!" answered the young maiden with half-
stitled. voice, and threw back her magnificent
tresses of hair which had fallen over her bosom.
"And for such a thing as that do you take this
wild ride, you mad child I '"cried the minister, im-
measurably irritated, "-vliile the Portuguese, with a
dee] bow and a fe^v words, took lea^e of his high-
ness and disappeared in the woods.
It almost seemed as if the young rider, of all
those present, had noticed this man alone. At
his question a rosy light oversjiread her pale,
fiightened countenance, which Avith the disap-
jjearance of the lofty form was immediately ex-
tinguished.
But now life began to return to the assembly
that had been struck motionless with astonish-
ment. The gentlemen, and among tliem Count-
ess Schliersen, boisterously suiTonnded horse and
rider ; and although the younger ladies, in conse-
quence of an unamiable sus-prise and a very ex-
plicable uneasiness, kept themselves at a distance,
yet all these beautiful eyes hung with a truly de-
vouring suspense on the face of the young recluse,
whom "malicious chance " had thrown so unpre-
pared and suddenly in the midst of the court cir-
cle. WHiat! could this apparition that sat so
ethereally light, and yet governed her horse with
so bold and strong a hand could slie be the sick-
ly, stunted, sallow little creature that, according
to the declaration of her step-parents was dying a
slow death in the deepest solitude? Was it of
these wonderful, chaste brown maiden eyes that
the beautiful lady of honor had once been afraid ?
And did boundless malice lurk behind that bril-
liant brow, around which fluttered the most beau-
tiful hlond hair?
"Dearest Jutta, you have been playing us a
charming carnival hoax!" said the Countess
Schliersen, in her most cutting tone, to her beau-
tiful excellency. "For your satisfoction I will
confess to you that I am mere suqnised than I
ever was before in my life. You succeeded ad-
mirably, too, in yom- bitter indignation at my
curiosity ! "
The baroness answered not a word to this ban-
tering jesting. She looked like a ghost, Avith lier
snow-white lips and cheeks, but she had com-
pletely regained her self-possession. She cast a
glance of her dark eyes reproachfully towards her
stepdaughter.
" ^ly child, may God forgive j'ou for what you
have done to me !" said she, in a touching tone.
"I shall never recover from this moment! You
know the deep anxiety it causes me to know you
are on horseback ! You know that I continually
tremble for your life! What did vou promise
me ?"
Gisela's eyes had for a moment glided timidly
over all these strange faces ; but now her brown
eyes blazed.
"I had promised you not to come within the
circuit of your vision, mamma," replied she.
"But must I really excuse myself for not keep-
ing my promise because I was obliged to go for
help for my poor village ? Our peojjle are at the
fair in A ; nobody but old Braun, w ho can
not ride, and Thieme, the lame, sick hostler, are
at home. In the village there is not a single man ;
almost all the people are at work in Neuenfeld.
The women and children are running, crying and
helpless, around the burning houses.
Slie stopped ; the terror that had driven heron
an unsaddled horse over mountain and valley,
again came over her, and although her stay on
the meadow had scarcely amounted to a few
minutes, still these minutes were lost. She knew,
certainly knew, that of all these who stood round
her, not one would stir hand or foot ; the aristo-
cratic gentlemen appeared not to have heard, or
already to have forgotten, ihat over yonder behind
tlie woods a village was buming. Her mouth as-
sumed the contemptuous expression which had
also once characterized the beautiful face of the
Countess Voldern. Her look passed over their
heads towards the Neuenfeld road ; it was certain
that, without more ado, she was about to urge her
horse from the circle that surrounded her.
Had not all eyes been constantly directed to tb.e
young rider, these courtiers might have had a
spectacle perhaps more interesting to tliem than
even the beauty on horseback, that had fallen from
the skies. The minister, that t^^je of a di]jloma-
tist his excellency with the brazen forehead, from
which all assatdts ineftectually rebounded the
man with the drooping eyelids, that rose and sunk
like the curtain of a theatre, to show only what
was intended to be seen the powerful, feared
minister was for' the moment weaker than his
dexterous wife. He straggled in vain for out-
ward composure and self-control ; he could drive
from his countenance neither its sallow paleness
nor its desperate rage.
At the young girl's movement he roughly seized
the horse's bridle, and a demoniac, wild, fearfully-
threatening look met her eye. A sudden thrill
passed over her ; he had but just called her act
mad ; he evidently regarded his stepdaughter the
coimtess as compromised in the eyes of the court,
because she had been regardless of her dignity
ef rank and the severe laws of etiquette, for the
sake of a few wretched burning shingle roofs. He
was about to prevent her from another crazy act.
What did he care for the despairing grief yonder
in the nest, overMhose weal and woe his obedient
stepdauglUer had formerly glanced with the same
indifferent eyes ?
This thought, which passed through her brain
with lightnmg speed, caused the eyes of the young-
countess to flash. His excellency had under-
valued the strength in these delicate, white hands ;
with a single wrench she drew the reins to herself,
the horse stood straiglit up in the air, and those
who stood around drew back in teiTor.
"Papa, you will pennit me to ride to Neuen-
feld," said she, very energetically, though without
the least appearance of violence, and raised her
riding-whip to urge the animal on. At this mo-
ment a shot whizzed liy with a hollow sound.
Aha! the first alai-m-shot in Neuenfeld!" cried
the duke. "HeiT von Oliveira must have floAvn
thither? Calm youself, beautiful Cotmtess \o\-
dcrn," said he, turning to Gisela. "You need
ride no farther. Do you believe I would have
remained here so calmly, had I not known that
over yonder" he pointed in the direction of Neu-
enfeld "all preparations for the speediest aid
were already being made ?"
Gisela now for the first time noticed the old
gentleman, the weakest, most insignificant form
among tiie whole assembly. He had addressed
her by her grandmother's name ; that sounded
80
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
strange, almost perplexing. She did not know
that lie saw in her the incomparable form of his
prote'ge'e once more upon the earth. Mean^vhile,
what he said somided so kindly comforting ; and
the well-known narrow face with the little gray
eyes this ducal head, for which Madame Her-
beck had a true worship, hung photographed,
lithographed, and painted in oil, in all the gov-
erness's rooms this face appeared so harmless
and friendly by the side of the ghastly, changed
features of her stepfather, that she suddenly felt
the rising bitterness in her heart give way. She
bowed deep, with an inimitable mixture of maid-
enly austere reserve and graceful flexibility, and
said, with a child-like smile, "lam very thankful
to yom- highness for these consoling words "
She was evidently about to say something
more, but the minister had again seized the reins,
this time with a truly iron grasp. He had now
become perfectly master of his excitement ; yes,
he was even able to put on a smile full of mean-
ing compassion, and at the same time of excus-
ing entreaty, with which he looked towards the
duke, whilst he ra])idly turned the horse with his
head towards the Greinsfeld road.
lie pointed authoritatively towards this path.
"You will now return to Greinsfeld without de-
lay, my daughter," said he with a shaq), icy-cold
voice which made each %vord "a stern command.
"I hope I shall find time and o]jportunit\' to-day
to come to an luiderstanding with you concern-
ing a step which it would be hard to match in
the annals of the houses of Sturm and Voldern."
Tlie proud blood of the Counts Stunn and
Voldeni, to which lie had just appealed, dyed the
young girl's face a roseate hue. Gisela raised
herself high in her seat, but her delicate lips
were pressed firmly together ; she never wish-
ed to be violent. Neither was it necessary ; the
.sligjit, expressive shrug of the shoulders, with
which she seated herself firmly on her horse, re-
polled the biting remark of his excellency more
suitably and confoundingly than would perliaps
a hasty word of irritation.
"But, my good Fleury," cried the duke in a
quick, regretful tone.
" Your highness," interrupted the minister with
a cordial demeanor, and eyelids drooping almost
humbly, but with an accent tliat his highness
knew too well to be inflexible, "I act at this mo-
ment as the representative of my stepmother, the
Countess Voldern. She would never have for-
given her grandchild this fantastic, gipsy-like be-
havior. 1 unfortunately know the adventurous
disjiosition of my daughter very well, and if I
have been unable to prevent this painful situation,
I will not at least be guilty of the error of i)ro-
longing the scandal which seems to have been
forced upon me."
Any other young lady would iirobably have
l)urst into tears of helplessness at these crushing
words ; the brown eyes, now almost black, show-
ed no sign of moisture. With that deep-searching
expression which passionately seeks after the
true cause of an act in the souls of others, siic
fixed her eyes firmly and jienetratingly on the
face of the man who liad borne her, when a mis-
erable, dying child, in his arms in an almost
idolizing manner, and liad systematically spoiled
her, and wlio, within the last few days^ without
any explicable cause, had exhibited towards her
such deadly coldness and want of regard.
! She sat there, not as an accused person, but
rather as one who pronounces sentence. The
weapons of her calumniator split against the
peacefid silence of her slightly pale lips, the cor-
ners of which weie drawn with an expression of
contempt.
With a proud gesture she flung her hair back
on her shoulders ; she then bowed a greeting on
all sides, while she lightly touched the horse with
her riding-whip. He fiew like an arrow back
into the path, and in a few moments the green
twilight of the woods veiled the swaying white
form and the fluttering golden hair of the rider.
For a moment tlie persons on the meadow gazed
after Gisela in silence, which was followed by a
confused mingling of excited voices.
The duke sent forward one of the gentlemen to
the White Castle for several carriages ; he wish-
ed, in company with the minister and the gentle-
men of his suite, to inspect in his serene jjerson
the scene of the conflagration. The old gentle-
man suddenly developed much haste and vivac-
ity.
" But, my dear Baron Fleury, were you not a
little too hard and cruel towards your charming
foster-child':'" said he reproachfully to the minis-
ter, as he prepared to leave the meadow in order
to go to the Greinsfeld road, where he had ordered
the carriages. A cold smile jjassed furtively o\cv
the sallow countenance of his excellency.
" Your highness, in my public position I am ac-
customed to go about in an iron coat of mail ; I
would long since have been a coi-pse, did I not let
the arrows of condemnation rebound from me,"
answered he sportively. "On tlie contrary, I am
very difi'erently organized as a private man," add-
ed he more seriously. " A reproach, and that
from the mouth of your highness, pains me, I do
not deny it. I have at this moment experienced
the melancholy conviction that I have been a
very negligent foster-fatlier solely out of love and
regard. "
" Do not complain alone, my dear," said his
wife, internipting him with a sweet, soothing
voice ; " I also am much to blame. So long as
we knew that Gisela, with her extravagances, was
safe behind the park walls of Arnsberg and
Greinsfeld, we were weak enough to exercise tlie
most boundless indulgence. 1 have had on this
very account many a hard combat with Madame
Herbeck, who wished grciiter severity to be em-
])loyed."
" But, with the best will in the world, I can see
nothing of these fearful extravagances," said the
(.Countess Scliliersen very comjiosedly. "A some-
what desperate ride, nothing farther. And be-
sides, the charming girl had a])parently not the
slightest idea of our jjresence on the meadow "
"But if I tell YOU, dearest Leontine, that she
is quite cajjable of showing herself just as weha\e
seen her, on tlie market-place at A before all
the people I" interrupted her beautiful excellency
with considerable irritation. " She rushes from
one extreme to the other, unfortiuujtcly I must
say it once more with the design of ])ractising
some little trick on Madame Herbeck. She per-
sists, as for example to-day, in wishing to go into
com])any. Heavens ! with her sickness this is
sim])ly ridiculous ; and an hour later "
" ISlie declares herself firmly determined to
enter the cloister," interrujjted the minister, and
completed the sentence. This was intended to
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
81
sound sportive, and still he laid, almost as if in-
voluntaiTly, a verj' peculiar emphasis on tliis last
word. .
All the ladies laughed the Countess Schliersen
alone preserved her gravity. She had in her face
that fixed expression of consistency and obstinacy
whicii the flexible courtiers terribly feared ; it was
often the forerunner of great peqjlexities for them.
"You are now again insisting on the illness of
your stepdaughter, Jutta," said she, persistently
dinging to the subject of conversation. Tell
me once, honestly, do you then really believe,
solely on the vague utterance of the doctor, tiiat
this beautiful creature, with lier fresh, rosy com-
plexion, and healthy, vigorous movements, will
ever fall back into her former condition ?"
The dark eyes of her beautiful excellency were
fixed openly, with a truly devouring hatred, on
the coldly-smiling face of tlie inexorable ques-
tioner.
" Fallback into her foiTner condition ?'' repeat-
ed she. " Ah, my good Leontine, if it was only
?/ia, I would willingly be comforted ; but, unfortu-
nately, Gisela has never yet been restored."
"I have convinced myself of that," cried the
lady of honor, veiy eagerly. " The countess
twitched her right uitq just as convulsively as at
that time when I was so dreadfully afraid of her."
"This fearful movement also frightened me!"
asserted the pale, ethereal lilonde ; and all the
young ladies together, as with one mouth, cor-
roborated the sad testimony.
"My ladies," said the Countess Schliersen, as
she bowed her head gracefully, InU with inde-
scribable irony, ' ' you may be right. However,
you will certainly not deny that the young count-
ess sat her horse most elegantly aud firmly, while
her poor little' twitching hands knew veiy well
liow to control the fieiy animal ; the manage-
ment of the ball-fan does not demand, by far, such
an expenditure of strength. I am certain the
charming little feet that peeped from under her
white dress can also dance most beautifidly. Do
you not think, with me, that our newly-discov-
ei'ed beauty woidd be a magnificent acquisition
for oiu' court balls ?"
She did not await an answer from the ladies,
who, beneath her knowing, satirical glance,
glowed like peonies, but turned to the duke, who,
without further delay, began to advance.
" Dare I beg the amende honorable for my art-
istic eyes, your highness ?" asked she, jestingh'.
"I received, scarcely an hour ago, a veiy ungra-
cious look, because I ventured to discover in the
ugly child's head of the little Sturm the funda-
mental lines of a noted, beautiful face. "What I
did not the proud Countess ^'oldeln appear in
every feature, in every movement, of her whom
we just now saw galloping back through the
Avoods ?"
"I own myself conquered," replied the duke.
"The beautiful amazon throws my protegee far
in the shade : she has two graces more youth,
and the cliarm of innocence."
A subdued cry of pain from the Baroness Fleu-
ry interrupted the conversation. Her beautiful
excellency had hastily and uncautiously thrust
her hand into a irild rose-bush ; a sharp thorn
had penetrated deep into this soft, white hand,
the blood flowed through the thin cambric hand-
kerchief ; and this was so dejjlorable an accident
for all the voung, tender maiden hearts, that thev
6
could not comprehend how his highness could
find the conflagration over yonder behind the
woods more important, and leave them at such a
moment, accompanied, too, by all the gentlemen.
CHAPTER XXI.
Meaxwiiile the Arab was rashing homeward
through the woods. It seemed as if the noble,
cautious animal felt that she had left behind in
the forest meadow the adversary of her mistress,
and could not rapidly enough widen the distance
between them. Her small hoofs lightly touched
the mossy giound, making scarcely a sound;
only now and then could her approach be heard,
when she struck her foot against a flint stone, or
when the snorting of her nostrils echoed through
the forest stillness.
Gisela let the animal go as she wished. She
still sat with proud, firm demeanor, and face
turned backward, as if she must yet repel the
crushing glance of her stepfather and his horri-
ble accusations; the firmly closed lips that had
resolutely kept back eveiy indignant word, were
still pressed together. The feeling of contempt,
however, that surrounded the silent mouth witii
such harsh lines had become deeper. Y\liile her
own form had long since disappeared from the oc-
cupants of the forest meadov.-, her shai-p eye could
still perceive the distant clearing, lighted by the
brilliant sun, at the end of the long overshadowed
path. It was a miniature-picture on a golden
ground. Delicate forms, full of elegance and pli-
ability, but among them all no hero, no knightly
form with the unmistakable commanding look,
and the ineffaceable stamp of nobility on his
brow, such as her childish fancy from her earliest
years, until the last few moments, had painted
thp hallowed round-table of the duke.
This, then, was the court circle, the quintes-
sence of the high-boni of the land, and among
them the mighty one, \\\\o should bear on his
brow the highest wisdom, and in his soid the
greatest self-command ; he A\'as marked by the
finger of God, nded by God's grace, and his de-
cision over the life and death of individuals, over
the weal and woe of the land, was final and irrev-
ocable. Xatuie iiad not kept step with that high-
est law ; she had clothed the sovereign power ^\ith
an insignificant exterior ; the pictures in iladame
Herbeck's rooms lied. They breathed the splen-
dors of high spii-itual dignity and majesty around
the nan'ow face that had kindliness alone in its fee-
ble eyes. And to catch a glimpse of these eyes,
Madame Herbeck would have riui for hours ;
CA'ery word that fomierly, in the happy time of
her appearance at court, those lips had spoken
to her, was sacredly stored up in the relic-cham-
ber of her heart. And her grandmamma had
allowed her forehead to be rendered sore by the
pressure of her heavy diamonds, in order to ap-
pear conformable to her rank and worthy of that
circle. She herself had fed her young, lonely
soul with the brilliant pictures of court life ; she
had gi-own up in the idea that she was once to
appear there a noble among the noble. What a
disenchantment ! That circle yonder was only
exclusive through the severe, unchangeable laws
of etiquette, but not through any mark of exter-
nal superiority ; a country party of common mor-
82
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
tals could be distinguished in no respect from
that miniature picture on the meadow.
Only one had appeared noble, but he had also
taken part in the childish pastoral ; wild flowers
had nodded over his deep, earnest bronze coun-
tenance wild flowers, which she so tenderly
loved, but with which she was now almost ungrv-,
because they had taken away from an uncon-
sciously cherished image the consecration of
high, earnest manliness. At the moment when
she appeared on the meadow, he had received
back his hat from the ladies' hands the hands
of her beautiful stepmother had decked it.
And very close to the Portuguese there had
appeared a wonderfully beautifid brown, curl}'
head. She knew this girl ; it was still the same
child's head that she had once detested, because
the brown locks had always been entwined with
glaring bright ribbons, .and because this head
could think of nothing else than fine clothes,
children's balls, and doll weddings. Besides, the
little, carefully cherished white fingers had ma-
liciously twitclied her puss, and very skillfully
carried off cakes and fruits behind JMadame Her-
beck's back. Now, she was lady of honor, the
most celebrated and most witty beauty of the
court, as her governess often asserted. How
had the little tireless chatterer, with her flat com-
monplaces, suddenly obtained the heavenly gift
whicii Gisela called wit ? Beautiful, dazzingly
beautiful, had she become, and, with the excep-
tion of her charming stepmother, she was the
only one who dared place herself near the tall
majestic man. Was it accident that she stood
by his side ? or had the two fomid that they be-
longed to each other ?
The young girl, "who wished never to fly in
a, passion," pulled so suddenly and Aiolently on
the reins that the horse reared high in the air.
And now she went at a mad gallop. Tlie minia-
ture picture behind in the woods, illuminated by
the sun, was gone ; and even tlie ])urning village
to which she was hastening receded, with all its
teiTors, for a moment, before the two fomis which
her young mind had summoned forth amid the
bitterest pangs.
The rays of tlie sun that suddenly fell glaring
and scorching on her head, arrested her from
her painfid brooding and reflection. She had al-
most reached the end of the woods ; the brandi-
es of the trees, impenetrably interlaced high above
in the air, were here imloosed, and allowed the
bright sky to appear through the dissolving web
of leaves, while below there stretched from the last
mighty trunks a quantity of half-scorched, fee-
ble l)ushes, out into the open ground.
Gisela reined in lier horse and allowed it to
breathe a moment, before she ventured out into
the glow that brooded sparkling and trembling
over the unprotected surface.
Oi)posite her were the large stone quarries
which siie would have to cross, if she did not wish
to make a long circuit to reach the highway. A
narrow, and for riders a rather dangerous foot-
path, ran along the edge of an abyss. The
thought of danger did not occur to the rider ; she
was fearless, and coidd rely on Sarah's sure foot
and prudent head.
Beyond the quanies, the woods began again
that long line which extended so refreshingly dark
before her; above it circled transparent cloud-
pictiires that ascended and dissolved liigh in the
air. Had the sun been less brilliant they would
have appeared a dark gray ; they Mere the clouds
of smoke from the burning Aallage.
A light touch of the riding-whip started Sarah
out into the open ground ; but at the same time
another rider besides Gisela appeared on the skirt
of the woods. It was the man who, according to
the saying of Madame Herbeck, sat his horse
like a god. The Portuguese had come from the
forest-house ; and although his sudden and rapid
re-appearance reminded her of the sportive ob-
seiTation of the duke, that Herr von Oliveira must
be able to fly, this almost magic-like swiftness was
explained by the splendid swift-footed animal on
which he rode ; it was an object of wonder and
astonishment for the whole neighborhood.
Sarah started back at this powerful apparition
that broke forth so unexpectedly from the thicket
on the left, but her rider grew almost stifl" with
that sort of paralyzing fright which seizes on the
heart wlien caught in a wrong path. Her whole
soul had at that verj' moment been filled ^ith him
who had just become visible ; she had been re-
calling with passionate anxiety every feature of
his countenance, every movement, and linking
with him that beautiful brown, curly head, iu
order, amid torturing pains, to search out some
coimection between the two. During this search
her sentiment of aversion for the charming lady
of honor had become a most violent animosity,
wliile with a feeling of despondency she had con-
cluded that slie must be angry with him too, or
rather eflace his image from her soul. Coidd not
all this be easily read on her forehead ?
A feeling of annihilating shame heavily pressed
lier do\\'n. The blood traitorously and irresisti-
bly ovei'spread her cheeks ; she was lost in the
presence of tiiose dark, penetrating eyes, if she
did not flee.
Never had Sarah felt the riding-whip as ener-
getically as at this moment ; she climbed the
lieight, and then horse and rider flew as if mad
over the open ground. Oliveira stopped, as it
seemed immovable, in the place where he had
come forth from the woods ; Gisela heard no
sound except the hoof-prints of her horse. This
did not prevent her from continuing her flight with
unabated speed. Her dizzy glance already fell
on the quarries, which seemed suddenly to have
drawn near and opened their chasms and abysses
before her. There was a stamping and snoiting
behind her ; the rider was at her heels.
The feet of the little delicate Sarah were not
able to comjiete with the racer, which passed
over the ground almost like lightning ; a moment
more and the Portuguese was by the side of the
young lady, while witii quick hand he grasped the
reins of her liorse.
"Your fear makes you blind, countess!" said
he somewhat angrily.
Siie could not utter a word. Her hands, that
without resistance had allowed the reins to be
drawn from tlicir grasp, simk slowly into her lap.
Tiie maiden in the white dress, with the frightened
face from which all the blood had departed, sat
there hke a dove which, palsied by terror, is no
longer able to escajic the deadly enemy circling
al)()ve her. Perhaps this comparison occuiTed
also to the man, who by means of a single move-
ment had gained the master}- over horse and rider ;
an ex])ression of jiain hovered round his lips.
"Was I too boisterous?" asked he gently, but
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
83
drawing the reins still more to himself, so that
the horses stood side by side. Strange ! Sarah,
who easily became unmanageable under strange
hands, must recognize her lord and master ! she
stood with treml)Ung feet, but otherwise firm as a
rock, and submissively sunk her head.
Giscla did not answer ; she did not look up.
Oliveira's bro^\^l face was so near her that she
thought she could feel his breath wafted over her
forehead.
' ' You have already told me that you feared
me," he began again. " I wiU not at all combat
this feeling, which instinctively warns you that I
am your adversaiy ; I dare not. As often as I
look in yom- innocent face, I would say to you :
' Flee from me as far as you can ! ' We are two
ot those creatures of God on whose brows it was
written from the beginning : ' Ye shall combat
eacli other continually.'"
lie stopped. Gisela had raised her brown eyes
to him, large and full of terror. His mouth,
around which played the lines of cutting irony
but also of restrained pain, uttered boldly the
word of eternal enmity ; and yet how did these
feared eyes light up when they encountered hers
in a look ! She could not endure this look. It
drew irresistibly to the light of day every thing
she was forcibly trying to cnish within herself
Certainly it was not written on her brow to com-
bat with him ; she loved him for all time that
she knew. Every thing which her heart in its sol-
itude, devoid of love, had garnered uj) of pure ar-
dor and tender devotion she gave to him, and he
thrust it back ; but that he should never know.
With nameless anguish she tore the reins from
his hands. The upper j)art of her body bent with
an almost conndsive movement towards the o])-
posite side, whilst her eyes timidly sought the
abyss. At this demonstration Oliveii'a grew
pale.
" Countess, you do not tmderstand me," said
he \\ith agitated voice ; l)ut he immediately broke
off, and now a beautiful, sarcastic smile spread
over his countenance. "Do I look like a way-
layer?" asked he; "Uke one who coidd thrust
down vonder a defenseless creatm-e, no matter
whom?"
He pointed towards the quarries. Her soid
had not thought of that. How was such a mis-
understanding possible, and how could she begin
to assign another cause for her violent movement ?
He left her no time. "We must go on," said
he, while his eye dwelt on the horizon. The
clouds of smoke grew thicker eveiy moment ;
two dark pillars rose up towards heaven. The
g fire was visibly gaining in extent. Ollveira again
looked down on the young lady ; his features had
regained that decided earnestness which affected
her so powerfidl}-.
"I am of cowardly nature, countess, "con-
tinued he. ' ' I can not endure to see a horse tread-
ing on a narrow path on the edge of an abyss.
We must go forward, but I beg of you first to
dismount."
"Oh, Sarah is sure-footed, and does not shy,"
rephed Gisela, with a slight approach to her child-
like smile. "I have already passed this place;
it is not at all dangerous. "
"I beg you!" repeated he, instead of an an-
swer.
Obedient as a child, she glided from Sarah's
back ; at the same moment he also sprang to the
ground, and wliilst she, without looking round,
advanced towards the foot-path, he boimd both
animals fast.
Gisela started ; he stood by her side as she en-
tered the narrow path. On her right the rocky
v.-all ascended almost peqjendicularly, and on her
left he was advancing close to the edge of the
abyss.
With a timid side-glance she looked up to liis
powerful form ; there lay, in reality, but a hair's-
breadth distance Ijetween them, and yet a mysteri-
ous cleft which he alone knew was to separate
them forever. Her understanding, once so cold-
ly deliberative, so strictly respecting the limits of
the so-called civil regulations, and yielding im-
plicitly to all its conclusions, where was it no^v,
when opposed to the nresistible decision of her
heart ? And if the man near her had raised his
right hand and said : "Go farther with me, as
you are now stepping by my side ; leave behind
eveiy thing which you cail yours, and which, how-
ever, you have never loved ; go with me into the
unknown distance and into a dark future;" she
would have gone. She trusted blindly the arm
that had borne the helpless woman. But that
high-bom man yonder on the forest meado\v, the
diplomatist witli the icy foce and drooping eye-
lids, who called her " my daughter," had forfeited
the last remains of her confidence. He also
knew that she must pass the quames, and yet he
had forced her to depart ; he was no cowardly
nature, when life and death were at stake ; com-
posure and self-command forsook him onl}' at the
crime of the violation of the laws of etiquette.
Not a word passed between the two as they ad-
vanced side by side ; Oliveira's face looked as if
made of bronze, no glance fell on the maiden.
He did not raise his right hand, which, hanging
motionless, touched her white dress, but he kept
constantly near her as a protection and bulwark ;
and she saw how the blood shot into his brown
cheeks when her foot slipped upon a stone and
caused her form to shake.
Thus they came to the place where the path
narrowed to a few feet wide. Gisela felt lier
pulse stop ; in order not to touch her, Oliveira
consistently adhered to the path in which he had
hitherto proceeded. The young lady saAV how
the few nettles that grew on the edge of the path
bent down into the depth beneath his feet ; she
heard how the stones and clods of earth loosened
and clattered down the sides. The timid maiden,
who shrank back anxiously from eveiy touch, sud-
denh" seized the man's arm with both hands.
"I am anxious about you!" stammered she
with a look of entreaty ; they were sounds of the
deepest tenderness, into which this lovely, but
chaste, cold voice suddenly broke.
He stood as if fast-rooted, yes, as if changed
into stone, beneath the touch of this dehcate,
small hand, and under the eft'ect of these tones.
Perhaps that bright crimson again flushed the
mysteriously marked brow, of which one could
conjecture that it concentrated in itself the whole
flowing stream of life, and momentarily caused
the beat of heart and pulse to die. Gisela's glance
did not venture thus high ; although her pliant
foiTTi appeared so tall, her blond head scarcely
reached above the breast of the powerful man,
and now she was so near she saw how this broad
breast was straggUng painfully for breath, \\niat
manner of combat was that which thus caused its
84
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
beatings ? Gisela knew not, nor did she have
time for further reflection. Oliveira with his left
liand softly grasped her hands, loosed them from
liis ai-m, and allowed them slowly to di-op down ;
the handsome, powerful hand trembled '-violently,
but it gave not the slightest pressm-e.
"Your anxiety is groundless, Countess Sturm,"
said he mth a firm voice, but without the slightest
expression. "Let us go on. It is my task to
conduct you over in such a manner that you may
never thmk of this route with a feeling of terror. "
But could he no longer protect her, she must,
so long as she lived, think with teiTor of this
route. She had betrayed herself to him, who least
of all shoidd read her soul. And though these
disguised tones had given unmistakable signs of
sadness and resignation, though he stood before
her as if he would indeed stretch out his hands
protectingly over each of her steps, this did not
reconcile her with herself.
She stepped forward without delay, -n-ith cast-
down brow, and with a hollow feeling in her
head and heart as if all that she had had good
and noble in herself were suddenly crushed out
love, a divinely beautiful hope, and her own dig-
nity.
The little piece of the way that still lay before
tliem was soon passed, and now the Portuguese
hurried back to bring the horses. While he was
loosing the animals his hat fell off; he picked it
up; a moment after, the azure-blue campanula,
accompanied by all her brightly colored sisters,
tumbled into the abyss. Oliveira hurled them
for from him with an mimistakable gestm'e of
disgust.
He sprang upon his horse and took Sarah by
the bridle ; she followed like a lamb. It was in-
deed a break-neck ride ! Gisela placed her hands
before her eyes ; she comprehended now that a
man could not see a lady pass this way without
anxiety, however indifferent she might be to him.
She drew a deep breath, when, after a few min-
utes, Sarah with a joyous whinny stood near
her. She sprang upon a piece of rock and from
it on the back of the animal, and nway flew the
two liders into the ^voods.
The rocky wall on whose summit a young,
proud human heart had just received a deep
wound, batlied its scarred breast aftenvards, as
before, in the fierj^ glow of the July sun ; the net-
tles on whicli the man's foot had stepped rose
up again straight and elastic into the air ; and
around the rocky crevices fluttered circling with
loud cries the jiarent birds that for a moment
had been startled from their nests by human foot-
steps ; open life ^joyous, bul)liling, sun-penetra-
ted life. Only beneath, on the heated stones,
lay perisliing the i)oor little blue bell-flowers, and
atoned for tlie traitorous hand that i)layed Cho-
pin so wonderfully, and had once with so much
grace and strength of will been able to strip ofi"
the oppressive engagement-ring.
CHAPTER XXII.
The forest path into which the riders had
turned was tolerably broad ; the horses could pace
side by side ; it entered, after a short distance,
into the highway that ran from Ncuenfeld to
Greinsfeld.
AiTived at this point of junction, the riders
heard a distant raging and roaring. Oliveira
checked his horse, and shortly afterwards there
hmiied by two fire-engines, followed by a great
part of the Neuenfeld workmen in wagons.
How the caps flew from the heads of these
people at sight of then- master ! How their Aig-
orous foces brightened with joyous sui-prise !
These were the men whose salutation INIadame
Herbeck could no longer retura, because they
bowed less humbly than before; because they
did not pause, bent towards the ground, till the
little fat woman had disappeared from their eyes.
What had this woman ever done that could justi-
fy her in claiming the tribute of deepest rever-
ence ? Was she a pre-eminent spirit, exhibiting
new ideas to the inspection of the Morld ? Did
she in any manner forward the general weal of
man ? Was she one of those beings endowed by
the grace of God with a talent which gives them
an overwhelming power? Just the opposite.
She abhorred pre-eminent spirits A\ith nev,- ideas
as revolutionary, and her own course of thought
was very confined, circling in the path of narrow-
hearted laws ; she did not move a finger for the
general weal of man, and satisfied herself in her
stupid prayers, by imploring God's mercy for the
pious lambs, the believers, and invoking his curse,
his judgments on the heads of the godless. She
decided that the practice of the arts was not be-
fitting high-born people ; for, all in all, she desired
the slavish subjection of other children of men to
her own person, solely on account of the fact that
the parents fi-om wliom she was descended corJd
write the von before their names.
At the necessary conclusion of this critical ex-
amination, Gisela blushed a\ ith indignation ; it
was the first time that her searching judgment
had analyzed the real character of her governess.
With what i-apid progress was unfolded tlie
acute judgment of this young, opi)ressed, and
neglected human spirit under the fructifying in-
fluence of humanity ! but also what a rare i)ower
dwelt within it, that it could isolate itself from
the heart at a moment when it -was bleeding in
its profoundest depths !
Still a third M-agon full of men luuTied by the
place where they had stop])ed ; the faces of these
were mostly pale and disturbed.
" These are the people of Greinsfeld," said Oli-
veira.
" The calamity has not touched them," replied
Gisela, with smotliered voice. " The new houses
of the Xeuenfeld workmen, which you, sir, have
Iniilt, lie on the op])Osite side of the village ; it is
the rjw of houses of the laborers who work on
the estate that is buniing "
" Oil, how pitiable ! thev are shingle-roofed "
" And have wretched, decaying mud walls, and
the broken Miudow-])anes are covered over with
paper "
Oliveira looked up surprised at these bitter
words from the young girl's lips.
"And within them live men who are obliged
to labor for us. As tlianks for their exertions, ^ve
desjiise them; we eat the bread that they raise,
and look on while they themselves hunger ; mc
pretend to be convinced that they are born for
misery, tliat they are a sometliing not to be com-
pared with us, that they are spiritually void crea-
tures : and yet we demand of them the same com-
l)rehension of the highest e.Kistence and its laws
that i\e oiu-selves have ; and when they die the
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
8J
dear God promises to them the same kingdom of
heaven as to us. If their souls are equal to us there,
why not on earth ? I know that A\'e are terrible
egotists, but I learned this only a httle while
ago."
She stopped. She had spoken in almost breath-
less haste, while Oliveira had kept near her in
silence. Till now they had been advancing in a
walk, because Sarah had been startled at the
boisterous noise of the rattling Avagons. Now
again the Portuguese stretched out his arm to re-
strain her, as Gisela was about to ui'ge on her
horse.
'Not yet I" said he. "We dare not again
come so neax the noise."
"Do you ride in advance, then, sir. Your
horse does not shy."
" No, I dare not, for the sake, perhaps, of sav-
ing some poor articles there, risk here the loss of
a human life. You assure me your horse is safe,
and it brings you every moment into danger ;
moreover, you ride i\\r too raslily, countess. I
saw already oh the forest meadow, with prophetic
glance, how you would be dashed to pieces in
the (juarries on your homeward ride. Were I
his excellency the minister, I would immediately
confiscate this horse."
Oliveira at these words drew his hat over his
brow, so that Gisela, whose glance had at first
hung on his bro^^n: face with questioning timidity,
could see nothing more of his eyes. His appear-
ance at the quarries had not then been accidental !
Had he come for the sole purpose of protectmg
her ? The young girl shuddered.
"^'Besides, there woidd be nothing over yon-
der " he began again, and pointed in the direc-
tion from whence the rattling of tlie fire-engines
coidd still be heard "that I could save; such
huts, already decanng from age, burn down
quickly, and the group of houses which you have
designated to me stands isolated. Another kind
of help and actinty must therefore be speedily
employed. We must find shelter for those left
without a roof; and as you think shingle roofs
and mud walls wretched "
' ' Oh, sir ! " interrupted Gisela, ' ' they shall
vanish forever and ever from Greinsfeld ! No one
shall again stan'e there all shall be different!
The stern old man in the forest-house was right
I had as little feeling as a stone. I considered it
as a matter of course that the working class must
look miserable and wretched ; I never raised my
voice against the decision arrived at by Madame
Herbeck and the Greinsfeld schoolmaster, ac-
cording to which these people should always be
kept in ignorance : I have seen the village chil-
dren nmning wild and in rags about my carriage,
without the thought ever occurring to me to clothe
them and to improve their souls. They have al-
ready judged me ; I kno\v it ; and however severe
their judgment may be, I have desen-ed it!"
Oliveira had listened with deeply bowed head;
no word from him interrujjted the scathing self-
criticism which the young, lovely being near him
had uttered on herself, with her deejjly earnest
and yet child-like voice. He remained silent and
attentive, like the physician who lets the wound
bleed out; but he was not a physician to look
coldly upon the pangs caused by this bleeding.
He was a s}-mpathetic man, who had to struggle
with himself not to beti-ay his ardent commiser-
ation.
"You forget, countess," said he, after a mo-
mentary silence, during which Gisela with tremu-
lous lips looked down before her, "that your
earlier views were owing to two influences ex-
clusive intercourse with those of yom* own rank,
and the manner of your education."
" A part may be attributed to them," answered
she excitedly ; " but that can not excuse my want
of reflection and coldness of heart ! "
She looked at him with a sad smile.
" I must beg of you not to attack this manner
of education," continued she. " I am told daily
that I have been brought up strictly in the spirit
of my grandmamma. "
Oliveira's face became clouded.
"Have I oft'ended you by this?" asked he.
His tone had suddenly gained an uimiistakable
harshness.
" You have caused me pain, sir. It seemed to
me at that moment that I heard for the first time
my grandmamma reviled. That never happened
before. How could it be possible ? She was the
type of a noble Gennan woman."
An indescribable mixture of irony and deadly
contempt passed over the featm-es of the Portu-
guese.
"And, as a matter of course, you would de-
cidedly detest him who should venture to criticise
thememoiy of this noble woman ?" He said this
with a sinking voice ; it was to be no question,
and yet the passionate desire for an answer coiUd
not be mistaken in both look and voice.
" Certainly," answered she hastil}', with an en-
ergetic look of her brown eyes. "I could par-
don him as little as one who should tread on the
picture of the mother of God before my eyes "
"Even if it were the question of a, false ap-
pearance of sanctity."
She dropped the reins, and stretched out her
hands imploringly.
"I know not what grounds you may have to
express such a doubt!" said she with quivering
voice. "Perhaps you have experienced evil from
men, and it is difficult for you to believe in the
spotless purity of a deceased person. You are a
stranger and can know nothing of my grand-
mamma ; but go through the whole land, and
you will convince yourself tliat the Countess V61-
dern is spoken of everywhere only with rever-
ence."
She pointed towards heaven, whilst her e3"es
met his firmly but with eager entreaty.
' ' Have you no one up yonder that is sacred to
you ?" asked she, gently shaking her beautiful
head. " Do you not know that we must watch
strictly over the names of the dead, because they
are themselves no longer able to do so ?"
She looked down before her, and in her smooth
brow appeared light furrows caused by the feeling
of pain. " The memory of my grandmamma is
the only one that I cherish out of the sphere in
which I A\'as bom. Hoiv much have I to de-
spise! I wish also to keep something that I
dare honor ; and he who seeks to rob me of it is
guilty of a heavy sin he makes me poor."
She rode on. She did not observe that the
Portuguese tarried behind, as if his horse's hoofs
had grown into the ground ; neither did she see
how he placed his hand over his eyes, and stnig-
gled in vain with the expression of bitterest de-
spair that quivered around his mouth.
After a few moments he was again by her side.
SG
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
A sallow paleness still lay on his browni clieeks,
but the tale-beanng lines of the inner stoim had
disappeared. Who would have supposed, from
the stamp of iron determination and energj- that
characterized this proudly home head, tliis whole
powerful appearance, that the man coidd for mo-
ments be utterly crushed in spirit ? Nothing
more Avas said. They advanced as on the wings
of the storm. The wind bore towards them an
intolerable smell of fire, and above, through the
tops of the trees that were no longer so close to-
gether, they could see the last traces of the Clouds
of smoke.
Oliveira Avas light. The huts, ci'azy with age,
liad burned down with incredible celerity. As
the riders came forth from the woods, three little
smoking piles of niins already lay before them ;
one house was still completely on fire, and on the
fifth and last of the row the gray shingles were
beginning to blaze fiercely.
But one might have almost felt tempted to in-
tercept the mighty stream of water, that now for
the first time shot fiirth, in order to fall crackling
and hissing into the flames; the fire-engines
valiantly did their duty ; yet these exertions ap-
peared nothing but a mockery, considering the
property they were to sa^'e. Were tliese four
v.ind-shaken walls, with the window-holes cover-
ed over with paper, indeed a human dwelling ?
And ought, and must, these tokens of earthly un-
righteousness remain standing, in order that mis-
eiy might again creep under them, and a class
fi:)rsaken by God and man keep a shelter suited
to the position in life to whieli they were born ?
The five huts covered hardly as much ground
as was claimed by the large hall in the beautiful,
proud castle of Greinsfeld. Five families dwelt
cooped up between the crumbling walls that ev-
ery stronger wind might bring down upon them ;
declining and blossoming life breathed through
summer and winter this handful of confined, un-
healthy air ; while in the great hall of the castle,
that at tliis moment gleamed distant and nebu-
lous through the vapor, the dead bronze figures
stood on their marble socles, and tlie crystal
drops of the enormous chandeliers swung in the
air which was carefully renewed A\ithout having
been consumed ; and when tlie storms without
roared against the walls, not even the damask
curtains before the window-seats were moved ;
the towering squared stones, and the fimi shut-
ters, protected bronze figures, chandeliers, and
damask curtains from every ungentle touch.
A fearful noise and confusion filled the village,
at other times so cpiiet. The Portuguese accom-
panied Gisela, liis right arm constantly raised to
seize, if necessary, tlie reins of the restive Sarah,
till they reached' tlie gate of the park ; he then
silently took leave with a deep bow.
lie immediately hurried back to the place of
tlie fire I Gisela jiresscd her hand on her ]jalpi-
tating heart. How fallow had this youtliful soul
lain I For the first time since her cliildhood a
tear gleamed in her brown .eyes. Certainly never
a word more would pass between her and that
man ! She had not even been able to find cour-
age to thank him for his protection ; she had
been as if changed to stone before his courteous,
kniglitly greeting, which sealed, as it were, an in-
effaccalile, sad reinend)rance for her wliole life.
How freely could he breathe, now that he had ac-
complished his role of protector ! And when the
clouds of smoke had disappeared he would return
to the court circle. Tlie beautifid lady of honor
with the brown curly hair had not plucked the
flowers that now lay withei-ing in the quarries:
he would certainly speak with her again to-day.
Tliey Avould wander around the lake where the
yellow thrush sang and cool breezes issued from
the bushes along the shore ; and in the course of
the conversation she woidd hear, besides, tlie fact,
that he had presened from destruction the effects
of a couple of poor laborers, and a too rasli, un-
reasonable human child.
CHAPTER XXIir.
Gisela rode into the park, sprang from Sarah's
back, and bound her to the nearest linden. Not
a single one of the sen^ants could yet have re-
turned from the foir at A ; it was still as
death in the whole wide park. Only through the
distant bushes, close to the castle, there glittered,
becoming here and there visible, the bright dress
of a woman and a man's straw hat ; it seemed
to the young lady as if IMadame Herbeck, accom-
jianied by the physician, were walking hurriedly
up and down. She went again without the gate,
and proceeded down the street of tlie ujijjer vil-
lage. On both sides stood the newly-built houses
of the Neuenfeld workmen.
The young lady's feet had never before touched
this pavement ; tlie visitor of Pompeii could not
have a feeling of gieater strangeness than the
mistress of the village in the midst of tliese dwell-
ings, and of the life that was unfolded before her
eyes.
The furniture from the burning houses had
been brought here for safety. "NAHiat a wretched
heap! And to this wonn-eaten, Avorn-out rub-
bish, which she would not be willing to touch
with her foot, they gave the high-sounding name
of property !
A group of lamenting women stood near by.
They wnnig their hands, and exhausted them-
selves in conjectures how the fire could have orig-
inated. The children, on the contraiy, were vis-
ibly delighted at the strange occuiTcnce and its
consequences. It was still too wonderful that
tallies and benches should all at once stand out
under God's free heaven ; and the dirty bedding
certainly did not ai)pear so inviting in the mouldy
chambers as here on the i)avement ; the youthful
heads looked with the utmost delight out of the
imjjrovised little houses which they had raked to-
gether.
Gisela stepped up to the women. They be-
came silent with astonishment, and stationed
themselves timidly and reverentiall}- aside. Had
the moon come down from heaven and wandered
through the streets, it would perhaps have seemed
less strange than the Avhite form that swept so
suddenly up to them; for the moon Avas nothing
but a good old friend, into whose kindly face
they had looked from cliildhood Avithout fear;
hut these aristocratic features they had seen
only covered A\itli a veil, as it flew by ou liorse-
back or in a carriage.
" Has any one been injured by the fire ?'' asked
the young lady kindly.
"No, gracious countess, till now, God be
thanked, nobody!" resounded from CAeiy lii).
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
87
"Only the weaver's goat has heen hiimecl up,"
said an old woman. "There he is, standing
down yonder; he is almost cning his eyes out
of his "head. "
"And we have no shelter for the night," la-
mented another. " Three families can he placed
an the new houses, but no more ; we are left, and
I have a little teething child."
" Come with me, then," said Gisela. "I can
shelter you all. "
The women stood as if turned to stone ; they
looked timidly at one another. She could not
possibly mean the castle ! For there they coidd
set their feet nowhere without perisliing from
most submissive anxiety! And to sleep there
with the child that was getting his teetli, and
ciying day and night ! At eveiy step and tread
it echoed so in the aristocratic halls and passages
and saloons that one ivas afraid of his own inso-
lent voice. And yet this might still all be but
the wicked, wicked gracious lady! Erom her
the very men in the village hid themselves ! Gise-
la left the women no longer time for reflection.
"Take your child, my good woman," said she
encouragingly to her who had spoken, "and go
with me ; and every one else who is still without
shelter ?"
"I am, " said a young girl timidly. "Our lit-
tle house is still standing, and the men say it will
not burn ; the Xeuenfeld fire-engines came ex-
actly at the right time. But we can not go
back to it yet ; it has been too much injured.
Gracious countess, I am not alone ; there is
grandfather, and my parents, and brother and
sisters, and my old, blind amit "
Gisela smiled the smile passed over this
young, lovely face, like a consolatory, refresliing
ray.
"^Ye will not leave them outside," said she.
' ' Be comforted, and bring your whole family ; I
will immediately provide a dwelling."
The young girl hurried away ; but the Avoman
took her suffering child on her arm, while two
others hung to her dress. She begged a neigh-
bor to tell her husband, who had not yet returned
from A , where she was, and followed, though
with anxious heart, the young coimtess to the
park.
Gisela untied her liorse, took it by the bridle,
and entered the chief avenue that led directly to-
v.ards the castle. Kow the bright dress of the
woman came flying towards her, as if driven by
the stormy wind. The young maiden felt a kind
of compassion for the flit little woman, who bore
the stamp of teiTor and an.xiety on her heated
countenance.
At first she came nmning with outstretched
arms, which made her flowing mantle fill out like
a sail ; then she clasjjed her hands, and wringing
them, let them drop Ijy her sides.
" Oh, oh, dear countess, this is more than can
he borne ! " cried she with half-stifled voice. ' ' The
village is burning ; it does not occur to our God-
forsaken servants to come back home, and you
vanish for a full hour ! I suffer often and heavi-
ly under your caprices, but willingly submit. Love
and devotion help one over many obstacles ;
but the trick you have played me to-day was
much too bad. Pardon me, but I must say it !
I shut my eyes only for a minute, and you take
advantage of this momentaiy weakness to leave
the castle without my jiermission ! No, no, it can
not be atoned for ! And now the fire-alarm wakes
me, and my first thought is of you ; I run through
the house and garden, and even down to the burn-
ing village ; nobody has had a glim])se of you.
Ask the doctor what I have suffered ! "
The gentleman in the straw hat, who had now
overtaken her, confirmed her account with a nod
of the head, at the same time bowing respectfid-
ly before the young countess.
" It is extraordinaiy extraordinary how much
she has suffered, the poor lady ! " snarled he in a
feigned tone of commisei-ation.
"And now I beg j-ou, dearest countess, how
did you get the idea of riding out in the burning
midday sun ?" questioned the irritated lady.
" "Where is your hat ? what ! no gloves ?
"Do you think, then, that I rode forth for my
own pleasure, and took time to consider what
coloi'ed gloves would best suit my toilette ?" said
the young maiden, impatiently inteiTupting her.
"I went to bring the firemen."
INIadame Ilerbeck started back, and once more
clasped her hands.
" And -where were you ?" asked she, breathless
and trembling.
" I started to go to Xeuenfeld, but on the for-
est meadow I met papa and mamma."
This answer fell on the goveniess like a stroke
of lightning, yet she still retained presence of
mind enougli to ask, ""Were their excellencies
alone?"
"It may have been the whole court that was
standing on the meadow ; how should I know ?"
answered Gisela, shrugging her shoulder. " I rec-
ognized the duke "
"Almighty God, the duke has seen her!"
shrieked the governess, losing all self-control.
' ' This is my death-blow, doctor ! "
She was indeed pale as a coqose ; but the doc-
tor whom she addressed had also changed color.
"Gracious countess," stammered he, "what
have you done ! That must have caused his
excellency, your papa exceedingly great sor-
row ! "
Gisela was silent, and looked for a moment
thoughtfully and attentively before her.
""Will you not tell me, Madame Herbeck, for
what reason the duke was not to see me at all ?"
asked she suddenly, quickly raising her eyes, and
fixing them firmly on the face of the fat little
woman.
This direct question restored to the governess
her self-control.
"^Miat! do you still ask ?" cried she. "Are
jou not at all aware, then, what dress you have
on ? I can imagine the feelings of their excellen-
cies ; they must be inconsolaljle ! Your adven-
turous appearance Mill certainly never be forgot-
ten at court, countess ! People will whisper and
jest as often as the name of Sturm is mentioned.
Merciful God, and what will become of me, poor
creature ! "
"And it pains me exceedingly, gracious coimt-
ess, to be forever convinced that all my well-meant,
salutary advice is spoken to the winds!" inter-
nipted the doctor. " IIoav shall I ever begin to
make you comprehend that the sword of Damocles
is hourly suspended over your head ? How easi-
ly, how easily " he raised his forefinger " could
one of your ominous attacks occur in face of the
whole court I What a scandal, gracious countess ! "
The man trembled inwardly Avith vexation that
S3
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
coiild not be mistaken, although his prominent,
moist eyes were fixed on the ground with a cer-
tain gentleness and humble submission.
"That you stand before me, after such an ex-
citing ride, without an affection of the neiTes,
appears to me a wonder of God, " began he again.
"I also regard it as a wonder, for which I ar-
dently thank the dear God, " said the young lady,
wlio till now, with frowning brow, but othenvise
veiy indifferent, had allowed the reproaches to
pass over her. ' ' However, you should no longer
think it so strange, doctor, for you have seen it
before you daily for half a year. "
The voice of a child was heard behind the
speaker. The laborer's wife, at the sight of the
governess, had immediately concealed herself be-
hind the nearest thicket ; she must have had
great trouble so to engage her children, that they
should not notice the wicked, wicked, gracious
lady. But at this moment her little boy had es-
caped her. He stood full out in the avenue, and
tried to frighten Sarah with a loud shout.
' ' What is that ? How came you here, yoimg-
ster?" exclaimed Madame Herbeck.
The mother now stepped anxiously forth from
the bushes.
"The woman's house is burned down!" ex-
claimed Gisela.
"So that is bad for you, woman," said the
governess, in a somewhat milder tone. "I am
very sorry. The hand of the Lord rests heavily
upon you ; but unfortunately you know that
best yourself not only as a trial, without any
desert on your part. Remember, iiow often I
have told you, that the judgment of God woidd
not del:! v. All of you live too godless ; each day
for itself, and never have time to pray. Now, I
will say notliing further, you are punished enough.
Only go back again, we wid see what can be done
for you."
"But whither shall she go, JIadame Herbeck ?"
asked Gisela, veiy cpiietly, although her cheeks
began to be tinged with a light fiush. "You
hear that the woman's house is burned down
that she has no other shelter."
"Heavens! how do I know where she will
shelter herself?" asked IMadame Herbeck, impa-
tiently. "There are houses enough in the vil-
lage.''
"But not for five houseless families," replied
the young lady ; her beautiful, slender form sud-
denly stood in commanding mnjesty before the
little fat woman. " The woman will remain for
the present, with her husband and children, here
in the castle," said she, decidedly; "and not
they alone, a second family is also coming. Come
here, little one!"
With her left hand she grasped the hand of
the little boy, and prepared to continue her way.
" Eighteous God, what madness! I protest,
I protest!" shrieked Madame Herbeck, and
stepi)ed forward with outstretched arms to bar
her young mistress's way to the castle.
At this p;issionate gesture of IMadame Her-
beck, Sarah started Ijack with a snort ; she
reared on her hind legs, and then rushed in
blind, aimless terror througli the park. But
whilst Madame Herbeck disappeared, shrieking,
in the nearest side path, and tiie doctor also re-
tired in fright, Gisela allowed herself to be drag-
ged a short distance. She held the reins with
vigorous hands ; her presence of mind, and the
continuous flattering call of her soft voice at
length succeeded in bringing the frightened ani-
mal to a stand.
Old Braun, who had probably heard jMadame
Herbeck's shriek, came nmning from the castle.
Gisela surrendered the horse to him, charged him
to send the housekeeper to her, and hastily i-e-
tumed to her protegees. She came back just in
time to see Madame Herbeck, quickly recovered,
pointing angrily to the gate, Avhilst the doctor had
furiously seized the resisting boy by the shoidder,
and turned his little defiant face towards the en-
trance of the park.
"Do you remain!" cried Gisela, seizing the
woman's ami as she was about to withdraw with
her children. She was breathless, not only in
consequence of her mad race, but also from ir-
ritation. Never before had she known the feehng
of deep indignation that now took possession of
her.
"Madame Herbeck, on whose ground do we
stand ?" asked she, visibly struggling for exterior
repose and self-command.
"Oh, dear countess, that I will gladly tell you !
We stand on the groimd of the old Counts '\''ol-
dern. Beneath yonder roof many crowned heads
have slept as guests, but never has it had room
for people of obscure name ; the Voldenis have
never made themselves guilty of any communica-
tion with common people ; from ancient times
they have been the terror of the importunate and
shameless. And now shall tliis sacred soil be
profaned ? never, never more ! So long as I can
move my tongue, I will protest ! Dearest count-
ess, I will not alone call to mind the regard which
you indisputably owe to your noble ancestors
think only of youi- own mterests where remains
the respect "
"I wish no respect such as you mean, I wish
love."
The governess burst into a mocking laugh.
"Love? love from these people? cried she,
bursting into an impertinent giggle, while slie
pointed to the laborer's family ; "a precious fancy !
Your grandmamma shoidd have heard that !"
" She has heard it," said Gisela calmly. " As
long as I can remember, you have continually as-
sured me that the spirit of my grandmamma was
near me ; that she judged my thoughts and acts.
At this moment she must certainly be contented
with me."
" Do you believe it ? Then we must clear up
an important mistake. For the majestic Count-
ess Voldcrn this class of persons had no existence ;
and if ever their importunity came too near, as I
was once in a position to hear, she threatened to
have the rabble hunted oft" with dogs."
"Yes, yes, the late countess did not use much
ceremony with them." confirmed the doctor.
' ' She had an extraordinarily developed aristo-
cratic feeling."
Gisela had become deadly pale. These two
persons pitilessly tore away the halo that slie had
so recently defended with glowing zeal. Thougli
she knew that lier grandmamma had always stood
on isolated heights, whose icy blasts had chilled
her childish heart desirous of love, yet she had
never doubted that this repelling something had
its origin solely in the austerity of manners and
the nobleness of the proud woman's soul. And
now the idolized had been shown to be inhuman !
Madame Herbeck greatly erred when she believed
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
89
that with her disclosures she had once more gain- '
ed the old accustomed channel ; she had, incau-
tiously enough, herself dispelled the charm to
which the young soid in blind devotion had hith-
erto been subjected. |
The young girl's brown eyes, deprived indeed
of all lustre, but with deep earnestness, looked
into the face of her governess.
"Madame Herbeok, you just now called the
fire in the village a judgment of God," said she.
'But the house yonder still stands "' she point-
ed to the castle "in which for long centuries
such fearful injustice has been done. The dear
God has meiint it differently from what you say ;
he has wished, not to punish, but to bless. The
wretched houses must be burned down, in order
that something better might at last be done for
the poor oppressed I "
The housekeeper came hurriedly from the cas-
tle.
"Open the rooms on the ground-floor of the
left wing immediately," commanded Gisela.
" Gracious countess, are you in earnest, in spite
of all our representations?" cried the doctor.
The worthy mediator between hfc and death
trembled with inward rage, but he still kept his
self-possession, whilst Jladame Herbeck, si^eech-
less with indignation, tore and tugged at her
handkerchief without concealment. ' ' Well, listen
at least to a reasonable advice," said he entreat-
ingly to the young lady. " Don't take these peo-
ple into the castle itself; that should never be
done. I propose to you the pavilion over yonder ;
it is spacious"
"You must have forgotten," said Gisela, inter-
rupting him indignantly, "that you refused yes-
terday to enter this pavilion only for a few mo-
ments, as the damp air had a very injurious effect
on your rheumatic pains! You said the room
was extremely unhealthy."
"Yes, the water nnis from the walls," con-
firmed the housekeeper, untroubled by the basi-
lisk glance of the doctor. "All the furniture is
covered with thick mould."
Without wasting another word, the young
countess tumed away from the two persons whose
heartless souls were suddenly unveiled in their
whole worthlessness. "
" Come, my good woman, you shall hare a
sunny chamber for your suffering child," said she
to the poor woman, who stood near her trembling
in eveiy limb. She seized the hands of the two
larger children, who had clung anxiously to their
mother's dress, and advanced with them to the
castle.
The housekeeper ran before.
"Madame Kurz, I give you the friendly advice
just to await the special commands of his excel-
lency ! " cried the governess after her, with chok-
ing voice ; but the brave woman was not to be
deten-ed. The "wicked, wicked gracious lady"
had ruled and wielded the lash long enough ; it
was high time that the real mistress of Greinsfeld
should take the reins.
"God! God! what scenes await me!" gi'oaned
the governess, placing both hands upon her head.
" Now he will say again : ' You have grown old,
Madame Herbeck!' At the mere thought of
his sarcastic voice, all my nerves tremble; I
would rather creep into the gi-oundl And you
^^ill not escape empty-handed, doctor, you may
be assured of that ! "
The doctor said not a syllable. He put the
magnificent chased head of his cane to his com-
pressed lips, and whistled mechanically, but al-
most inaudibly : "6'(.7io drcisiij yuUre list du
alt!" He always did this when he was roused to
more than ordinary passion.
CHAPTER XXIV.
"Every thing is unchanged, my dear Baron
Fleury !" suddenly said a voice behind the thicket
that extended in front of the main entrance of
the park. The M'histling immediately ceased,
and the stick with the chased head fell to the
ground.
" Eveiy thing is unchanged," continued the
voice ; "and if the young Countess Sturm shoidd
now appear yonder on the balcony, I should al-
most think the last fifteen years had been but a
dream."
The doctor picked up his cane noiselessly, hasti-
ly dusted the collar of his coat with his hand,
stroked his forehead to see if the artistically-ar-
ranged remains of fair hair described the accus-
tomed lines, and stationed himself near Madame
Herbeck, who, breathless with suq)rise and ex-
citement, had stepped to the side of the path. It
was by this way that the duke must be comJng.
And in a few moments the insignificant form
of his most serene highness did indeed stop before
the two persons who were bowing to the ground.
"Ah, see there an old acquaintance!" said
his highness veiy graciously, and extended tlie
delicate tips of his fingers to the flustered govern-
ess. " A trae, persistent heirnit ! you have been
oljliged to make a heavy sacrifice, ]joor woman !
But that is all passed now ; we shall hereafter see
you at A very often."
Madame Herbeck's humbly-sunk lashes rose,
at the last words of his highness, Avith a strange
mixture of joy, anxiety, and terror ; the swim-
ming eyes passed despondently over the face of
the minister. Into what an icy coldness had
these features stiffened ! The little fat woman
once more felt the desire to be able to creep into
the earth.
"You have had a temble fright," continued
the duke; "the fire in the village might have
become formidable. But compose yourself, there
is nothing more to be feared. I have just come
from the scene of the conflagration."
"Ah, your highness, that could soon be over-
come! It is much harder for me to conquer the
consternation into which I -was thrown by the
daring ride of my little countess ! Your excel-
lency, I am innocent ! " said she with supplicating
voice, turning to the minister.
' ' Leave that for the jjresent ! " said he with an
impatient movement of the hand. "Where is
the countess ?"
' ' Here, papa ! "
The young girl stepped forth from the side
path. Had she in the few days of her banish-
ment grown still more ? And what must have
taken place in this soul, that the very last remains
of childlike subjection appeared to have vanished
from her bearing. As she stepped forth from the
thicket, she was the commanding mistress of tlie
castle. All the chaiTning dignity with which the
Countess ViJldern had once played the hostess
90
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
also sun-oundecl this youthful foiin : the alluring
smile alone was wanting. On tlie young maiden's
brow there lay the deepest earnestness.
The minister wished to seize her hand, in order
to lead her up to his highness in all due form.
She seemed not to understand this design. His
excellency was therefore obliged to content him-
self with making the presentation by means of a
delicate movement of the hand, and the "my
daughter I " sounded as devotedly tender from his
lips as if the bond of union between him and the
oqjhan countess had never been firmer than at
this moment.
Gisela bowed with unconstrained grace. IMa-
dame Herbeck's glance hung mth consuming anx-
iety on this bow ; it was, by far, not low enough I
But the features of the duke did not on this ac-
count lose their stamp of hearty kindness and
lively joy.
"Dear coimtess, you can not imagine how
many beautiful recollections your appearance
awakes in me I" said he almost with emotion.
" Your grandmamma, the Countess Voidern,
whom you so astonishingly resemble, was once,
thougli only for a few years, the soul of my court.
AVe all shall never forget the time when this spar-
kling spirit exhibited life to us in an entirely new
form, and made us cease to remember that hu-
man existence has also its shady side. Countess
A'oldem was for us a fairy benefactor !"
" Who ordered her dogs to be set on her sup-
plicating dependents to drive them off," thought
Gisela, and her heart \\Tithed under this conclu-
sion which forced itself inexorably upon her. A
quarter of an hour ago the emphatic praise of the
duke would have mude her proud and happy ;
now it sounded like the most cutting sarcasm.
She found not a word of answer for this flat-
tering address. His higlmess ascribed her silence
to "the charming timidity of the lonely child."
He helped her quickly over her apparent jieqjlexi-
ty, by seizing her hand, and conducting her to
the magnificent linden Avhich, near the trellised
gate of the park, spread its aged, thickly-leaved
branches over a group of iron furniture.
"I will not enter the castle to-day," said he,
seating himself. " Dinner-time is fost approach-
ing, and we dare not make the ladies wait in Anis-
berg. But I must rest for a moment beneath this
linden. Do you still recollect, dear Baron Fleuiy,
it ANas here we were accustomed to sit during the
Italian nights which the countess could so won-
derfully bring u])on the stage. Yonder lay the
castle, with its fairy-like illumination ; the park,
charmingly enlivened by youth and beauty, s\vam
in a sea of light and fragrance. What an intoxi-
cating time was that ! Gone, gone !''
This place certainly offered an imposing A-iew
of the castle and a great portion of tiie mag-
nificently situated park. Sideways, behind the
bronze trellis of the gate, was spread the land-
scape of the valley ; over this sunny streak clouds
of smoke rolled up continually in untliminished
thickness, and almost hid from sight the mount-
ain forest gleaming still farther in the distance.
And though all further danger for the village they
had visited had been averted, still Gisela could
not comprehend how it was possible for the old
gCTitleman sitting near her, in view of such a re-
ality, to liuiy himself so sadly in the dead past.
Tlie gentlemen of his suite now came from the
village. Madame Herbeck hastened to the cas-
tle to order refreshments ; but as soon as she
knew that the first protecting bush was behind
her, she stretched her hands towards heaven with
despairing anguish : the minister's face, whene\er
he thought himself, if only for a moment, unob-
sen-ed, changed to-day in a really frightfid man-
ner. Never had she beheld rage and restrained
fuiy so plainly stamped on the diplomatist's stony
features.
His excellency had just risen to present his
stepdaughter to the gentlemen, M'hen a hollow,
crashing noise resounded from the scene of the
conflagration, followed by a shrill ciy of many
voices.
The duke sprang up ; some one stepped inside
the gateway.
"The last burning house has fallen in, your
highness. No more danger can happen," said
one of the cavaliers to tranquillize him.
' ' Go and bring us immediate news ! " com-
manded the duke.
Several gentlemen started as if the storm-wind
blew behind them. Almost immediately after-
wards a man came nmning round the corner of
the upper village street. It M'as the Greinsfeld
schoolmaster, who was hastening to his dwelling
that lay close to the castle.
' ' What news over yonder, I\Ir. Wollner ?"
asked Madame Herbeck, step])ing out of the gate.
" Gracious lady, Nickel's house has fallen in,
and buried an Antichrist beneath its ruins ! " an-
swered the man almost solemnly, but still with a
kind of fanatical wildness. "As far as I have
seen, the American from the forest-house lies be-
neath it. Gracious lady, the Lord has judged in
his righteous wrath! AH those whose houses
are burned have saved their goats ; the weavers
alone is destroyed. He also subscribed to the
petition for pemiitting the Neuenfeld pastor to
continue the functions of his ofiice!"
" Foolish tattler I" said the minister contempt-
uously. He and the doctor Avere the only ones
near the governess that awaited the end of his
stor}'.
The duke hastened with pale face towards the
village street ; but Gisela flew before him. A
ciy of despair had come to her lips, but they re-
mained mute ; her throat was convulsively closed.
But her feet could still bear her.
"\Miat Mould she do there? Tear away the
niins that lay on his lace! with her own body
stifle the flames that would consume him I To
die, to miserably stifle beneath the fearful load
of niins and glowing ashes ! AYas this to be the
fate of so much majesty and nobility, such power
of action and strength of will, a life so tenderly
loved, which she would willingly preserve with
eyes and hands, with all the powers of her soul !
A pillar of black vajior ascended straight to-
wards hciwcn from the ])lace of the calamity.
Gisela at this sight felt her limbs fail her ; a cloud
spread before her eyes ; she tottered and threw
her aims mechanically around the nearest tree.
"Poor child:" exclaimed the duke, hastening
up to her. "But how came you here? This
is no i)lace for you I I entreat you, return with
me I"
She shook her head, and struggled for self-
command. His highness looked about him help-
lessly. The gentlemen who at first had remain-
ed standing with him in the gateway had al-
ready disajipeared in the village streets with
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
91
hasty steps. But at thin moment their well-
known voices again fell upon his ear joyous ex-
clamations, followed by lively and excited con-
versation. And now they ajjjjeared between the
houses ; at the sight of "the duke they pointed
back towards the street. The tall fomi of the
Portuguese, in the midst of the other gentlemen,
was turning the comer.
"Good lleiivens, it is really you!" exclaimed
the duke in joyful suiijrise. "What a fright
you have caused us!''
Witli a few steps OUvcira stood by the side of
the duke ; but also before the young girl, who
now leaned back her head, helpless and without
strength, against the tree. The man was not a
stone ; he had a passionate heart in his breast,
that at this moment cried out and imperiously
demanded its rights. He knew but too well w hat
had extinguished the light of those expiring brown
eyes; he read in the heart-rending smile that
hovered around her pale, child-like lips, the whole
tortme of the last few minutes. Past and future,
plans and detemiinations, world antl life, sudden-
ly lost all claims on tlie man ; he saw nothing but
the pale face of the maiden.
He loosed her slender hands from tlie tree,
placed his ann protectingly around her delicate
foiTn, and drew her firmly and tenderly to him-
self, as if it Avere now for ever and ever. He
spoke not a word, whilst the duke and his fol-
lowers exliausted themselves in phrases of com-
miseration. The strange situation in whicli these
two persons found themselves sui-prised nobody.
The Hun-hke Portuguese was, more than any
other, called to be a protector of the weak ; possi-
bly he made it a duty to himself to bear the half-
swooning lady in his amis back to the castle.
Between the two young jjeople lay, it was thought,
the wide chasm of being utter strangers ; they
had never been presented to each other. Honi
soil qui mal y pense !
j\leanA\hile the minister, Madame Herbeck,
and the doctor had come up ; they stood speech-
less before the group.
"He whom we thought dead has risen again,
thank God!" said the duke. "In return, we
have here a mischance to deplore ; the poor
coimtess has been taken sick."
The doctor immediately took the young girl's
wrist between his fingers.
"Remove the anxiety from my heart, doc-
tor," begged his highness. "Is it nothing but
the fjuickly - passing consequences of a violent
fright ?"
The doctor bent double, like a pocket-knife.
His highness, for the first time, honored liim
with an address.
"I hope so, your highness, although, from
the peculiar sufferings of the young countess, we
can hardly ever foretell with certainty the course
of an attack. I must confess, however, that it
pains me exceedingly, through this unhappy ac-
cident, to be once more obliged to put oft' the pos-
sible cure of my gracious patient. "
The blood rushed back again into the white
cheeks and lips of the yoimg maiden, and over-
spread with frightful violence her face and
neck. She was indignant at the doctor's am-
biguous speech, which had connected tliis shght
swoon with her earlier suft'erings. Wh\- must
th's hated sickness be ever and ever again in-
exorabl" brought to view ? and, above all, be-
fore this multitude of eyes that were gazing cmi-
ously upon her ?
" I thank you," said she with gentle, heartfelt
voice, to the Portugi.ese. " I Avill endeavor to
go alone."
He immediately stepped back, and she went
tottering for several steps. Madame Herbeck
wished to aid her, but she motioned her back.
Pride, indignation, and also the blissfid feeling
that he was walking uiunjured by her side, helped
her rapidly from the momentar}- weakness.
The duke cast a triumphant glance upon the
physician, as her movements became firmer and
more elastic at each step ; and after they had
safely reached the park, he took his former place
with a deep breath of relief, and di'ew the yoimg
lady to a seat b}' his side.
"There, you see the course of the attack, doc-
tor!" said he, obviously in a very good humor.
"The brown eyes of our countess have regained
all their brilliancy, and to-moiTow I will chive
from the field your last anxieties. But now tell
me, for Heaven's sake, my good Herr von OHve-
ira, how was it possible that we should hear such
a distorted account of you ?"
The Portuguese was the only one who had not
taken a seat ; he was leaning against a tree close
by. Must this remarkable stranger then appear
continually as if protesting against any associa-
tion with those persons around him ?
"Probably the bearer of this conclusion of the
drama thought it very piquant," answered he,
with that slight approach to merriment which,
far from being a smile, only lighted up the gloom)-,
resolute countenance. " He did not wait for the
cm-tain of smoke and vapor to rise again, and so
I was made the dying hero of the piece."
They laughed. "As I was informed," said
one of the gentlemen, when he saw that the Por-
tuguese did not exhibit the slightest desire to
enter into the circumstances, "the occupant of
the last burning house came back from A- at
the ven- moment when it was aljout to fall. He
I'ushed like a madman to the door to save some-
thing ; Herr von Oliveira thought it proper to
hold him back ; and as the man dm-ing the strug-
gle displayed a bear-like strength, botli came iu
dangerous proximity to the house. It fell with
a crash ; and for some moments every one cer-
tainly believed that the two strugglers were buried
beneath the mins. Your highness, the man
wished to save his money that was concealed in
a secret place in his house nine dollars, all
told!"
Tliere was again a burst of laughter, and no'.^-
began a general and lively conversation. Old
Braun came and handed ices around.
^Meanwhile the Portuguese had left the tree and
advanced close to the gate ; he I'efused the re-
freshment proffiered by the lackey. "Was he so
deeply buried in the contein]jlation of the warning
cloud-pictures in the sky that he started when a
soft, entreating voice struck on his ear ? Gisela
stood near him. She had taken the tray from
old Braun, and offered it herself once more to
the Portuguese.
"Sir," said she timidly, "will you not return
with me imder the linden ?''
"Look at me, and see if I dare venture to
draw near th.e exclusive circle yonder ! " answered
he ironically, as he pointed to his coat ; it was
still covered with a thick laver of dust and ashes.
02
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
" I shall, on the contrarv, make use of this un-
guarded moment to witlidraw."
She raised her brown eyes imploringly to him.
"Bat you will not at least disdain this shght
refreshment ; I am so proud to be able to otfer
you something on my own ground!"
How humbly and submissively did this sound,
from the lips that once could so easily assume
that expression of scornful denial which had for-
merly characterized the face of the haughty
Countess Voldern ! A slight paleness overspread
the cheeks of the Portuguese, but he smiled.
"Have you forgotten that I stand opposite you
with armed hand ? I forfeit the right of hostility
at the moment when I accept hospitality."
He said this jestingly, and yet there lay in
tone and smile a painful per]jlexity.
"Herr von Oliveira is quite right in refusing
ices," said the minister, coming up; "he came
from the tire very much heated. But you should
not conceive so exalted an opinion of your duties
as lady of the house, my child!" He took the
tray from her hand with a gloomy look, and gave
it back to the lackey who hastened at his beck.
"Besides, as I already heard in the village, you
have been pleased to-day to play the rule of the
holy Landgra\'ine Elizabeth. Castle Greinsfeld
is advanced to the rank of a shelter for the
homeless and beggars ! "
" Oh, let us leave youth its ideals!" cried the
duke, addressing him as he rose. " JMy dear
Baron Fleuiy, we ourselves best know that one
rarely takes them with him in advancing age I
Be of good cheer in caring for your proteges,
my dear little countess ; I myself will not fail to
contribute my mite. And now, before I go, I
have one urgent request! Day after to-morrow
I return to A , but, before departing, I wish
to-morrow to do myself the pleasure of preparing a
little amusement in the woods ; will you come as
my guest ?"
"Yes, your highness, willingly, from my heart,"
answered she, without delay.
"But that is not all that I wish," continued
tlie duke, smiling. " I see that I must come to
tlie aid of your all too-anxious and tender papa.
He would possibly allow you to languish in sol-
itude for long years, out of a groundless anxiety
aliout tlie return of your sufferings. I therefore
fix upon next week for your presentation at
court, and rejoice like a child at the amazement
of the duchess, Avhen she suddenly sees before her
the revivified Countess Voldern."
The minister remained perfectly calm and si-
lent at this disclosure. The lids lay dec]) over
his eyes, ami not a muscle of his iron face moved ;
but his clieeks turned a greenish hue.
Tiie doctor, however, started up, as if touched
by an electi-ic battery.
" I beg your highness's pardon, but these meas-
ures of your iughness terrify me greatly!" stam-
mered he. "My sacred duty as physician "
"Ah hah, Mr. Doctor!" said liis highness,
interrupting him, and his litile gray eyes looked
somewhat ungracious. "It seems to me you
over-estimate the bounds of your duty. I could
almost be angry witli you, that you so utterly
neglect to encourage his excellency!"
The doctor was completely crushed, and drew
back in the deepest contrition. The diu'al re-
proof had fallen on him. "What a thunderbolt !
JIadame Herbeck grew rigid at this overthrow.
At first, after a glance at the discolored flice of
his excellency, she had appeared resolute and
ready for battle. That was all past. She still
found courage for a timid protest.
" I have only one scruple, your highness," she
ventured to object. " The countess possesses but
a single dress "
" No more of that !" said the minister, gloom-
ily interrupting her. "His highness has com-
manded, and that suffices to dispel every scruple.
The baroness will care for the toilettes."
Gisela started back at this assurance.
"No, papa, I thank you !" exclaimed she, with
some emotion. " Your highness," said she, turn-
ing to the duke with a charming smile, ' ' may I
not come in a white muslin dress ?"
" Certainly ; come just as you stand before me !
We are not now holding com-t at A . And
now, an revoir /"
The carriages were already at the gate. The
horse of the Portuguese had also been brought.
In a few minutes the Greinsfeld park lay again
in the deepest silence. But Gisela still stood for
a long time beneath the linden, and followed the
clouds of dust that rolled up by the carriages.
Both joy and sorrow filled her soul. Never
could she forget the look with wliich he had
drawn her to his breast. And yet, and yet, he
wished to declare war against her !
Meanwhile Madame Herbeck ran about the
castle as if frantic all her dresses were so un-
fashionable as to excite despair. Besides, a fear-
ful storm hovered in the air, that must cei^tainlj^
burst over her head. Even in his most A-iolent
fits of rage, she had never seen the face of his ex-
cellency of so green a hue.
CHAPTER XXV.
It was seven o'clock in the evening, when the
young Countess Sturm's carriage rolled through
the Anisberg park. The festival in the forest
was not to begin till eight, but ]\Iadame Herbeck
had received a few lines from his excellency's
own hand, ordering her to bring the countess an
hour earlier.
These lines, of which Gisela had no knowledge,
had fallen like a gentle, wonderfully refreshing
dew on the feverish sjjirits of the governess ; they
were couched in the old accustomed confidential
tone, and the concluding assurance that her ])ra-
dent oversight was now more than ever need-
ed with regard to the obstinate orphan countess,
raised her to the seventh heaven.
His excellency also ])ut a good face on the sad
mischance ; he submitted to the hated necessity,
and did not make the governess answerable for
what was owing to malicious chance and the ar-
bitrary acts of his headstrong stepdaughter. It
was now, above all, necessary to skillfully conceal
the neglected education of the young maiden,
till ])roper measures could be a])])lied ; for his ex-
cellency had immovably determined on her life-
long retirement. Tliis mission he laid with full
confidence on Madame Herbeck's shoulders. Slie
was also explicitly charged to attend the young
countess whenever she a]i)eared at court. At
length, after long years of banishment, she was
again to breathe the court air ! Enchanting pros-
pect !
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
93
But a suspicious shadow still fell on the prom-
ised land ; this was the ungovemahleness and so-
called indolence of her pupil. Gisela sat near
her, in her contemptibly plain dress, so negligent-
ly buried in her own thoughts that the indignant
governess felt obliged to say that the young maid-
en thought of eveiy possible thing except the im-
portant moment that stood before her. JIadame
Herbeck thought of her own first appearance in
the court circle, also of various young ladies
whom she had seen at their first debut there had
always been red, feverish cheeks, and despondent
eyes filled with deadly anxiety. Gisela's self-
conscious repose and confidence aroused her in-
dignation, and countless foreseen blunders glim-
mered like threatening ghosts before her eyes.
The carriage ])assed through the ])ark. In or-
der to render the jiroof of his undiminished favor
and his unchangeable confidence towards the min-
ister more signal, the duke had invited to the festi-
val in the Arnsberg woods all the people eligible
to appear at court that were to be found in A ;
he was resolved that it should become the general
topic throughout the land.
Madame llerbeck's heart swelled ; she forgot
her anxiety as she cast a glance over the animated
l)ark. The bright-colored toilettes of promenad-
ing ladies gleamed in the avenues and through
the thickets ; and beneath the orangeiy ivere seat-
ed various groups of gentlemen smoking and con-
versing. They were passing the time as agreea-
bly as possible till the commencement of the festi-
val. I3ut wherever the carriage passed, it was
followed by the astonished, almost terrified glances
of all towards the youthful forni with the blond
waving hair, and the strangely indifferent de-
meanor ; a second glance hastily took in the lit-
tle fat woman. Then tlie hats flew from the
gentlemen's heads, and the ladies waved a gi-eet-
ing with their handkerchiefs. It was a sort of
triumphal procession for Madame Herbeck : the
dear old acquaintances were visibly rejoiced to
sec her again.
In conformity viith the instructions received
that day, she led the young countess to the apart-
ments occupied by the ininister and his wife.
Whilst all the passages and steps of the "V^'hite
Castle re-echoed with the footsteps of men hastily
going and coming, in the corridor which the two
ladies entered not a sound could be heard. The
dark-blue rolling curtains hung smooth before the
windows. They shut out the glowing evening sim,
but also every intrusive breath of air. The blu-
ish twilight and the close-brooding silence had a
soul-depressing effect.
Gisela glided with hasty step past the doors be-
hind which she knew was the man with the stony
features. The relation between him and her had
suddenly assumed an entirely diff"erent aspect. She
stood towards him in open, avowed opposition,
and knew that eveiy word that passed Itetween
them wa.5 a sjjark stnick from flint and steel.
She was also finnly detemiined to advance un-
dauntedly on the path she had once entered, and
yet she felt a genuine maidenly timidity, that
shrank from everj- harsh encounter. She dreaded
being alone with her stepfather ; but this she could
not escajie.
At the moment when she sought to glide by,
the door of the well-known office A\as thrown
open ; the minister stood on the threshold. The
pale-blue glimmer fell on his countenance, and
made it ghastly sallow. lie uttered no word of
greeting. It seemed as if he purposely avoided
everv' sound ; but he seized gently, though with
firm pressure, the young lady's hand, and drew
her over the threshold. His fingers were cold as
ice. Gisela shuddered ; it seemed as if a deadly
coldness were creeping into her warm, beating
heart.
A motion of his hand dismissed the startled
governess for the present ; then the door closed
noiselessly behind father and stepdaughter. If it
had been intolerably close in the conidor, Gisela
thought that she must stifle in this small room,
which she had entered against her will. The
blinds lay close before the windows ; through the
small crevices the light came but feebly; it re-
mained, as it were, confined behind the Turkish
curtains, in which it lighted ujj brightly here and
there a large orange-colored arabesque.
And now the minister carefully closed the last
open \\indow. The air was filled with that nar-
cotic perfume which her stepfather loved so much,
and Avhich, as long as she coidd remember, had
continually pen^aded the person of his excellency.
Gisela detested this* odor.
She remained, whilst the minister was occupied
with carefully closing the window, standing mo-
tionless on the threshold. ITer hand had involun-
tarily seized the door-knob as if to feel secure of a
safe exit. In this whole room, odious to her from
her veiy childhood, there was but one object on
which her eyes could rest the life-sized portrait of
her deceased mother painted in oil. It hung over
the minister's writing-table. The wide golden
frame glittered but feebly in the half-twilight, and
the lines of the charming, brilliant foim, with the
wild flowers in her lap and on her curly golden
Iiead, bent down in deep humility, vanished be-
neath the shadows. Yet Gisela's glance still
sought the large gi'ay, dove-like eyes, that looked
olit as innocently and bhssfully into the woi-ld as
if the whole path through this life were full of
those harmless flowers with which her slender,
childish hands were filled.
"Gisela, my dear child, I have something to
say to you," said the minister, stepping back from
the window. His tone sounded soft and tender,
but also sad. Gisela knew too well this ominous
tone of voice. She had been obliged to hear it
whenever she felt herself unsjjeakably miserable
and weak, when the doctor, shrugging his shoul-
ders and giving a wise shake of the head, and
Madame Herbeck, wringing her hands, used to
stand by her bed. Kow it only completed the
painfully oppressive feeling caused by the whole
momentary situation. This was probably writ-
ten very plainly on her face. The minister stop-
ped directly before her, and scmtinized her de-
meanor, all ready for flight, for a moment in si-
lence with frownuig brow.
"No folly now, Gisela!" said he wamingly,
solemnly threatening her with his thin, pale fore-
finger. " I am compelled to ajjpeal to your un-
derstanding, your resolution, and, above all, your
heart. In the course of an hour you will know
that there must now at least be an end to your
follies and extravagances I "
He invited her, with a movement of his hand,
to take a seat on the nearest fauteuil ; but at tlie
same moment the curtains in front of one of the
side doors were drawn asundei-, and her beautiful
stepmother stood in the chamber, as suddenly and
94
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
unexpectedly as if she had been borne in by the
clouds of rose-colored gauze that enveloped her
wonderful fonn. Against this idea, however, the
demeanor and expression of face of the beautiful
woman energetically protested. It seemed as if
the little feet woidd dearly love to stamp through
the chamber carpet. Her cheeks glowed Anth
the feverish redness, the want of -which was so
painfully regretted to-day for Gisela by Madame
Herbeck, and her dark eyes flamed with uncon-
trolled passion.
She advanced with bowed head in front of
Gisela, and, slowly raising it, she allowed her
glance to pass scrutinizingly over her stepdaugh-
ter from her feet to her blond head. Gisela
started at the satanic expression that made the
woman's delicate nostrils quiver, and closed her
lips so firmly that the purple line for a moment
disappeared.
" So, then, it is really you !" said she, with
hoarse voice. " All nicely an-anged, my little
doll ? And next week is the great jn-esentation at
court I Now the duke can congratulate himself
witli having one young hop-pole more about him I "
The minister, wlio had jast been on the point
of seating himself, hastily sprang up. Through
the door, that had been left open, the full light
streamed into the gloomy chamber ; it Avove
a kind of gloiy around the woman in the rose-
gauze dress, but it fell also on the features of her
husband. They displayed unmistakable anger
and consternation.
"Jutta, do not let your feelings carry you
away!" said he between his teeth. "You know
that in my office I am a different person from
what I appear in your drawing-room, and that
from the beginning of our maniage I have forbid
your unannounced entrance here."
His eyes were gloomily fixed on the dress of
his haughty, silent wife.
"Besides, I must ask why you are already in
this stage toilette ?" continued he, in a somewhat
altered tone. "Is the lady of a house filled with
guests no longer necessary among them ?"
" To-day I am not lady of the house, but the
duke's guest; the Countess Schliersen does the
honors, my husband I " answered she, shai-ply.
"And I have begun so early with my toilette,
because its arrangement demands time, and ^la-
demoiselle Cecile is tiresome beyond all compre-
hension."
She contemptuously turned her back on Gisehi,
and with both hands threw back the veil, embroid-
ered with silver threads, that floated round her head
like moonshine. Her incomparable beauty was
fully brought out in this ideal dress ; but to this
her husband appeared entirely insensible. His
brows were ag;iin gloomily contracted ; he pass-
ed his hand angrily over his eyes as if they were
disagreealily dazzled ; and in" reality her "whole
exterior emitted as variegated and brilliant a
sparkling and flashing, as if she had scattered the
whole starry heavens al)Out her. (;)n the waving
gauze there lay indeed nothing but simple, inno-
cent white roses, but in each calyx, on the deli-
cately-bent, milk-white leaves, brilliants were
swaying like dew-drops. And, as if the dew had
fallen from the flowers, there sparkled here and
there, out of the rosy folds, stones scattered sin-
gly. Among the lady's black locks were entwined
little flowering branches, but not fresh with life ;
they were fuchsias fashioned out of diamonds,
and from their calyxes briUiant threads of dust
fell upon her forehead.
"Am I to consider this toilette as the gipsy
costume in which you wished to appear to-day,
Jutta?"' asked the minister, not without a mix-
ture of sarcasm in his voice, while he pointed to
his wife's dress.
' ' I have abandoned the gipsy character to
Sontheim : it pleases me better to be Titania for
to-day, " answered she rather impertinently.
" And was such a display of diamonds neces-
sarv' for that ?" He was undeniably deeply ini-
tated ; "you know my antipathy to this over-
loading with stones "
"For a Aeiy short time, my friend," said she
interrujjting him. " And I rack my head in
vain to imagine what has so suddenly made you
such a decided contemner of the jewels whose
brilliance you once considered indispensable at
eveiy public apjiearance of your wife. But sup-
pose your taste has changed what is that to me I
I love these stones even to idolatri- ! I will adorn
myself with them as long as my hair is black and
my eyes can sparkle, or, rather, as long as my
breath comes and goes '. I have them, and hold
them, and will know how to defend my right of
possession, even if it must be with hands and
teeth ! "
How did these little white teeth ghtter behind
the pouting upper lip of the charming Titania !
"j-lt! revoir in the woods, beautifid Countess
Voldeni!" cried she to the young girl with a
half-frantic burst of Ir.ughter, and then flew again
over the threshold, as if borne by the whirlwind.
The minister looked after her till the last rosy
glimmer of the gauze had vanished, and the
hasty clatter of her little heels had died away be-
hind a distant door. He softly closed the door
again, but did not draw the curtain ; curtains are
excellent hiding-places for listeners.
' ' Mamma is much excited, " said he, with ap-
parent calmness, to Gisela, who still stood in the
same place as if suddenly grown stitl'and fast root-
ed. "The fear lest a sudden breaking forth of
your attacks should disagreealily disturb to-day's
festivities has deprived her of all self-possession.
She is, besides, tortured by the anxiety lest your
unjirepared apj^earancc at court may involve you
and us, in view of your utter inexjierience of the
world and life, in endless perplexities and vexa-
tions. She has no presentiment, the innocent
woman, that this presentation at court never can
and never will take palace ; but this tranquillity I
can not give her ; it must come from vour lips,
Gisela!"
He again grasped her hand, and took it between
his own. His icy fingers trembled ; and as the
young maiden in astonishment looked searching-
ly into her stepfather's sallow fitce, the juijul be-
neath the drooping lids turned aside. With gen-
tle violence he drew Gisela near himself on a
sofa, but sj)rang up once more, opened the door
leading into the corridor, and convinced himself
that it was empty.
" We are to speak about a mysteiT," said he,
returning, with suppressed voice; "a mystery,
that I dare speak of but this single time. It
shall pass from my lips to your ears, but then its
sound must be extinguished f )rever. Poor child,
how willingly woidd I still have granted you a
year of unrestrained freedom. Unfortunately,
you yourself bear the blame. Your inconsiderate
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
ride lias given to your life a fiuprisingly rapid
change; I am comiJelled to utter that which I
would willingly have kept forever silent."
This introduction was mysterious, dark as the
night itself, and well calculated to temfy the
mind of an inexperienced girl of eighteen. That
fearful hoiTor which glides over us at a narra-
tion that does not disclose the horrible directly,
but allows it first to appear in ghastly, half-dim
perspective, well-nigh jiaralyzed Gisela's frame,
although not a single trait of her pale countenance
changed. Listening breathlessly, her brown eyes
full of mistrust, she sat o]iposite her stepfather.
She believed the mournful, flattering voice no
more, since she knew that it could become point-
ed and cutting, as a shai-ply-gi-ound dagger.
He pointed to the picture of her mother. Her
eyes had already become accustomed to the ob-
scui-e light of the room. She saw the outlines of
the face come forth more fully. The bright form,
with the head bedecked with flowers, lifted itself
from the shadow, the feeling eyes smiled down
upon her, and one could almost think that the
uplifted hand filled with flowers was about to fling
the blooming blossoms to her oii^han daughter.
"You were still verj' young when she died ;
you never knew her," said the minister softly.
"And on that account, in your education, we
could appeal less to her memorj- than to that of
your gi-andmamma. But she was an angel, good
and gentle as a dove. I loved her much. "
An incredulous smile flitted o^er the young
girl's face. He had forgotten the angel very
(piickly for the frenzied creature that had just
llung out of yonder door. The picture hung im-
noticed in this room, which his excellency, after
an intemiption of many yeiirs, used only for a
few days at a time ; whilst in the ministerial ho-
tel at A the demoniac black eyes of his sec-
ond wife glittej-ed athwart his ^Titing-table.
" She has till now had no influence on your
life," continued he. " But from the present time
you will walk in the path which she herself, short-
ly before her death, marked out with a firm, safe
hand. The writing refening to this is at A ;
it shall be given into your hands as soon as I re-
turn to the city."
He stopped as if he expected some exclamation
or a question from his stepdaughter ; but she re-
mained silent, and awaited with apparent com-
posure the fmnher development of his communica-
tion. He sprang up with visible impatience, and
paced the chamber with rapid strides.
"You know that the greater part of the ViJl-
dem possessions were derived from Pnnce Hein-
rich ?" he asked, suddenly stopping, in a tone as
short and candid as if it were necessary with a
single blow to cut the dark knot.
"Yes, papa I" repjlied Gisela, bovring her head.
"But you do not know in what manner they
came into the hands of your grandmamma ?"
" I have never been spoken to on that subject,
but I presume, of course, that the estates were
bought, " answei'ed she, perfectly calm and inno-
cent.
A hateful smile played around his excellency's
mouth. He quickly sat down again, seized the
slender hands that lay folded on the young lady's
knees, and ch-ew them to himself in a confidential
manner.
" Come here, my child," whispered he, " I have
something to say to you that in all probability will
cause your innocent face for a moment to glow
with consternation. But I add expressly, that
the same thing has happened to thousands, and
that the world judges them verv' leniently. You
are eighteen years old : one can not forever re-
main a child with regard to certain things your
grandmamma was the friend of the prince "
"That I know; and, as I judge of the relation
of friendship, he must have honored her as a
saint I"
"Think of her as a little less holv, my child "
"Oh, papa, do not repeat that !" internipted she
in a tone of entreaty. "I first learned yesterday
' that grandmamma had too little heart."
I "Too little?" He bent back smiling ; count-
less lines and wrinkles were for a moment furrow-
ed in the stony face : it could be surprisingly ex-
pressive and speaking, as soon as it became friv-
olous. "Too little?' repeated he once more.
" How shall I understand that, my little one ?"
' "She was cruel to the suffering she threaten-
' ed to set her dogs on the poor people."
The minister again sprang up, but this time
vv'ith an outburst of rage. He stamped his foot,
and a curse seemed to hover on his lips.
I ""\\Ti0 put this fooleiy into your head?" cried
he furiously. He saw himself flimg far back from
his aim ; the innocent soul of the child unfolded
its white wings ; they swept over him, and made
it verj' difficult to soil its spotless plumage with
1 the mud of his experiences and his worldly wit.
I ""Well, then," said he after a short pause,
wrinkling his forehead, while he again sat down
with an impatient movement, "if you will have
it so, your grandmamma was the prince's saint.
He loved her so idolatrously that, during the time
of his highest adoration, he made a will in which
he repudiated his o\mi relations, and made tlie
Countess Yoldem his sole heiress. "
, A feeling of lively emotion Mas now visible on
the young girl's features ; she raised her hand to
check him. "Naturally, grandmamma protest-
ed energetically against such injustice!" said she
in breathless suspense, but with unshaken confi-
dence.
I " Oh, child, it will turn out entirely different
I from what you think ! But this I must tell you I
the whole world would ha\e laughed if your
grandmamma had acted after yo^ir manner ;
against the acceptance of half a million, no one
protests ; so without more ado, my love, in this
case, the conduct of your grandmamma, who
[ c^uietly accepted the inheritance, is entirely irre-
I proachable. Prince Heinrich was the one in foult,
not she. On the other hand, we come now to a
fact which even / can not excuse "
I "Papa, I would rather die than hear this
fact," internipted the young girl, with a voice
' utterly without sound. She sat there with blood-
less face and quivering lips, leaning her head
' against the sofa cushion.
I "My dear child, one does not die so easily.
You will continue to live ; and when you know
this dark fact, if you Mill hearken to my coun-
' sel, you Mill strive'to forget it again as quickly as
possible. This will of the prince lay, then, for
years, and his relations Mith your gi-andmamma
i remained veiy friendly, till suddenly some ma-
licious Mhisperings and insinuations disturbed
their repose. It frequently happened that they
separated from each other in anger. The Count-
ess ViJldem once gave a grand masked ball at
96
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
Greinsfeld ; the prince did not appear they had
quarrelled again. Suddenly, towards midnight, it
was told your grandmamma that Prince Heinrich
was dying. Who whispered this news to her, no
one knows to the present day. She rushed out
of the hall, threw herself into a carriage, and
hurried to Arnsberg. Your mother, at that time
a girl of seventeen, whom the prince loved as a
father, accompanied her "
He was silent a moment. The skillful diplo-
matist lingered involuntarily before he still fur-
ther deepened the false coloring he had given his
picture. He seized a bottle of smelling-salts and
held it to the deadly pale face of the maiden, who
with sunken lashes reclined on the cushion. At
this touch Gisela started up, opening her ej'es ;
she thrust back his hand.
"I am not sick, go on," said she hastil}', but
Avith imwonted energy. "Do you think it is
sweet to lie on the rack ?" A heart-rending look
flashed from her brown eyes.
"The end is quickly told, my child," contin-
ued he, with a subdued voice. "But I must
urgently entreat you to hold up your head you
look very mucli disturbed ! You nnist remember
where you are, and that to-day tlie very walls
have ears. Tlie prince lay almost in the death-
struggle when the Countess Voldeni fell breathless
on his bed ; but he still had sutficient conscious-
ness to thrust her a^^ay ; he must have felt terri-
bly aggrieved. On the table lay a second will,
just completed, subscribed by the hands of the
dying prince and his two attendants. Von Zwei-
flingen and Eschebach, who Mere present. He
had made the ducal house of A his sole
heir. I found myself on that eventful nigb.t on
the way to the city, to bring the duke to a recon-
ciliation by his dying bed. The prince died, with
execrations against your grandmamma on his
lips, and half an hour aftenvards, having come
to an understanding with Von Zwciflingen and
Eschebacli, she threw the new, just completed
will of tlie prince into the fire, and entered into
the inheritance !"
Gisela uttered a fearful ciy. Before the min-
ister could i)rcvent her, she sprang fonvard, threw
o])cn one of the windows, and pushed open the
blinds, so that the last full rays of the evening
sun fell crimson over floor and walls.
" Now rcjjeat to me, in the clear light of day,
that my grandmamma was a reproliate ?" shrieked
she ; her sweet, soft voice 1)roke out into a shrill
sob. Tlie minister rushed like a tiger on the girl,
and tore her from the window, while he pressed
his pale, bony finger roughly against her delicate
lips.
" Madwoman, you shall die if you are not si-
lent !" he hissed between his teeth.
The minister drew Gisela forcibly back to the
sofa ; she sank among the cushions, and buried
her face in her hands. He stood for a moment
silent before her, and then went slowly to the
window and closed it again. His feet glided in-
audibly over tlie caqiet on wliich tliey had just
been stamping with fury, and tlie hands that had
fonnerly shaken the delicate body of tlie maiden
with frantic strength now lay softly, in their per-
fect grace and aristocratic slenderness, on his step-
daughters head. The beast of i)rcy can not draw
back his claws into the velvet skin more quickly
than this man could outwardly mask his bmtaf,
wild violence.
" Child, child, there is a demon in you that can
provoke to rage the most peaceable mind," said
he, as he drew, with soft, guarded touch, her
hands from her face. "Little things come on
us unexjjectedly ! One is taken unawares, and
in his first fright allows expressions to burst
forth of which the soul knows nothing. Did- 1
not cry, ' You shall die ?' " He laughed aloud.
' ' Classic ! A theatrical commonplace, which the
harnessed knight of the stage could not utter
more eftectivelyl "\Miat is there that does not
rash through our mind in anguish of heart ! But
those things I have thoroughly gone through
with, Gisela," continued he very seriously. "All
these chattering, smiling persons, who are now
circling around the castle, with flattery and honey
on tiieir lips, would have been changed immedi-
ately into a calumniating, murderous pack of
hounds, had your incautious cry reached their
ears. AJl this pitiful rabble used to crouch in
the dust before the brilliant Countess Voldern.
Thej'have in its time understood excellently well
how to consume the riches of the beautiful wom-
an ; and nevertheless it is this veiy circle that
originated, and, with charming persistency, kept
up the whisjjered assertion that the Viildern in-
heritance was nothing but a robbery."
"The people are right; the ducal house has
been robbed in a most shameless manner," said
Gisela with a hollow voice, lireaking out into an
expression of the deepest feeling ; it sounded
more like a groan.
' ' Very true, my child, hut no human ear dare
ever hear it. I know well your candid, regard-
less manner of expressing yourself I am a man,
no tender, susceptible maiden heart, not even a
blood relation of your grandmamma, and still the
hard tliougli righteous judgment from your mouth
]jierces me like a dagger. / should never have
found these words for her transgression."
He stojjped for her to speak. His caustic ad-
monition had not the slightest effect on the beau-
tiful, jjale face near him ; there was something
inexorable in the lines that were drawn strange-
ly around the childish, swollen mouth.
"Do not believe," continued he rapidly, "that
I wish to exf'use the M'rong that has been com-
mitted ; far from it. I say, on the contrary. It
must be atoned for!"
"It must be atoned for," repeated the young
maiden, "and that immediately !"
She wished to spring ujj, but the minister had
already thi'own his arm around her waist and
held her fast.
""Will you not have the goodness to inform
me what you think of doing T' asked he, whilst
she was aiixiousl}- striving to flee from the ab-
horred touch.
' ' I am going to the duke "
" So you will go to the didvC, and say, 'Your
highness, I stand before you, the granddaughter
of Countess ^'uldern, and charge I charge my
grandmother \\ith gross fraud ; she was a A\^retch,
slie robbed the ducal house! Wiat care I that
this charge will brand the noblest names in the
land, a long series of blameless persons, who in
life presened as their most precious jewel the
])urity of their name! "Wliat care I that this
Moman was my mother's mother, and fiiithfully
guarded my infant years. I desire exjiiation,
immediate expiation; no matter if I commit the
fearful injustice" of making an accusation where
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
97
dead lips can no longer defend themselves. The
woman lies quiet and dumb beneath the earth ;
the whole fearful burden of the crime must rest
ujjon her for all eternity, whilst in her lifetime,
perhaps, she could have thrown many an extenu-
ating circumstance in the scale !"
"No, my child," continued he mildly, after a
pause, during which he had endeavored in vain
to scan the maiden's face, that was concealed be-
hind her slender fingers ; " thus rapidly and care-
lessly can we not loose the knot, unless we wish to
make ourselves guilty of the heaviest sin. On the
contrary, many a year must still jxiss away before
the inheritance, gained so surreptitiously, can
again return to the hands of its lawful owner.
Until then, sacrifices must be made ; they will
be retpiired not only of you, but also of me, and
I will joyfully make them. Arnsberg, which
I lawfully purchased for thirty thousand dollars,
belongs to that inheritance. I will in my testa-
ment make the ducal house its heir, and thus de-
prive mamma of a veiy large capital. Yon see
that we are condemned to suffer for the name of
Voldern and the memory of your grandmother!"
The young lady still remained silent ; her face,
covered by her hands, sank even deeper on her
breast.
" And your mother, your good, innocent moth-
er, thought just as I do ; the crime could be atoned
for only in silence, "^ continued the minister. " On
that night, kneeling by the prince's dying bed, she
must have seen the unjust act ; she wandered
through life, the consciousness of tlie secret rank-
ling in her breast. She never ventured to remind
your grandmamma of the occuiTence, she was too
timid ; but as each child was taken from her by
death, she shudderingly said it was the just fiat
of Nemesis ! A short time before her departure,
I learned from her own lips what it was that had
rendered her dear eyes so unspeakably sad and
melancholy. I can well say, my child, how often
and heavily I used to suffer under their silent
com])laint "
"I would like to know the end, papa!" ex-
claimed Gisela. She would a thousand times
rather hear the voice of this man threatening,
angry, caustic with rage, than in this confidential,
flattering, whisjiering tone.
" Must it be short and concise, my daughter !"
said he with icy coldness. He leaned back stiffly
and grandly in the cushions. "If it so pkases
you, I will sum up simply, as a person under oath.
Your mother authorized me to impart to you, as
the only heiress of the Viildeni estates, the mysteiy
^\hcn you should reach your nineteenth year, no
matter whether your grandmamma was then sur-
vi\ ing or not. If I anticipate by a year, you
bear the blame yourself; it is necessary to pre-
vent follies on your part. Your mother further
wished that you should be brouglit up in the
strictest seclusion. You will now know that it
was not your feeble state of health alone that
rendered necessaiy your solitaiy abode at Greins-
feid. Your mother's last will required of you,
Gisela, a life of entire renunciation ; you will re-
spect it ! The thought that through you the
heavy wrong could be expiated, Avithout staining
the dear name of Voldeni, caused her in her last
moments a sweet smile of contentment."
He lingered ; it seemed veiy difficult for him
to clothe the weighty point of the communication
in a proper fonn.
7
" "Were we in A ," continued he more rap-
idly, while he twirled the ends of his mustache
between the points of his fingers, "it would re-
ciuire. no further explanation on my part ; I woidd
give you the papers which your mother laid in my
hands. They contain all that it causes me pain
and troublejo utter. Your young life will hence-
forward be confined within narrower limits, my
poor child ! The entire income of that property
which you unjustly possess shall be bestowed on
the poor of the land. I have been chosen to
manage it, but I am also under obligation to ren-
der to you a yearly account of the expenditure of
eveiy penny. On your entrance into seclusion,
you will apparently appoint me your heii- ; but in
my will I have left the ])roperty in question to
the ducal house, as from a ' grateful friend.' "
The young maiden's hands had dropped from
her face. She slowly and mechanically turned
her head, and the dull eyes were steadily fixed
on the mouth of the speaker, who could not pre-
vent a slight nervous twitching in the comers.
"And what is the kind of seclusion which I
am to enter?" asked she, strongly emphasizing
every word.
"The cloister, my dear Gisela! You are to
pray for the soul of your grandmother, and free
it from its heavy sin."
She did not utter a ciy ; a puzzled smile flitted
over her face.
" What! will you thnist me into the cloister
between four narrow, high walls ? Me, Avho have
grown u)) in the green fields ?" groaned she. "As
long as I live, am I only to see the little confined
space of heaven above me ? Shall I all my life
long say prayers, night and day, always the same
words, that will already become, even in the first
days, a senseless babble ? Am I to comjiel myself
to be no more an image of God, but a dumb ma-
chine, the heart of which has been torn out, and
the spirit trampled under foot ? No, no, no !"
She sprang up, and stretched her arm imperi-
ously towards her stepfather.
" If you knew what stood before me, you should,
from my very first thought, have used every en-
deavor to render me familiar with my fearful fu-
ture; but you have, instead, left me to mj' own
thoughts and conclusions; and I will tell you
what the cloister is, in my mind. If ever man
has sti-ayed far from God and the clear dictates
of reason, it was at the moment when he invented
the cloister. It is madness to shut up a number
of persons together in a house, in order that they
may worship God ! They do not worship him or
serve him, but they pervert his intentions ; for
they allow their strength to decay by indolence
strength w^hich was given them that they might
work ; they kill the talent that he has placed in
their brahi ; the less they think, the more proud
are they, and they regard their dullness as holi-
ness. They work not, they think not ; they take
from the world, and give it nothing in return.
They are an isolated, useless, idle ])ortion of man-
kind, that allow themselves to be fed by the la-
borious."
The minister started up ; his face was saUow
as that of a corpse. He gi-asped the young girl's
arm and bent it down.
"Reflect, Gisela, and think what you blas-
pheme. They are sacred institutions "
" Who hasmade them sacred ? Man himself.
"When God created man, he did not say : ' Con-
98
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
ceal youreelf behind stone walls, and despise all
that is lovely and beautiful which I have given
you in the world I ' "
" A bad thing for you, my child, that you ear-
ly such a philosophy with you into your new life I "
said the minister, shragging his shoidders. He
stood before her with folded arms. ^For a mo-
ment their eyes measured each other, as if each
wished to prove the strength of the other in view
of the outbursting stonn.
' ' I will never enter this new life, papa ! " This
declaration, which the pale lips of the young girl
uttered so decidedly and frankly, kinclled a wild
flame in his excellency's wide-open eyes.
"Are you indeed so degenerate as to be re-
gardless of the will and wish of your dying moth-
er ?" cried he.
Gisela stepped before her mother's picture.
"I have never known her, but still I know
what she was," said she. Her lips quivered, and
her whole body trembled, but her voice sounded
firm and gentle. ' ' She ran with her little feet
over the meadow, and plucked flowers, so many,
so many, that her hands could no longer con-
tain them. She looked up to the blue heavens
rejoicing, and loved eveiy thing the sunshine,
the flowers, the whole wide world, and all its
children. Had she been shut up in a gloomy,
cold house, she wovdd have struck her head de-
spairingly against the walls in order to regain her
freedom. And you wish to make me believe
that those eyes, filled with rapture, rested on me
with the gloomy wish to have the poor little in-
nocent life one day buried alive ?"
"You see her here as a bride, Gisela! The
fiice still appears quite sunny, but her later life
was very serious, and well calculated to make vis
comprehend the measures she cherished for the
future of her child "
"Dared she do so? Has God indeed given
to parents the power, at the time when their child
has scarcely yet opened its eyes on the world, when
they as yet know nothing of its soul, to say : ' We
condemn you to a life-long dungeon ?' Is it not
the most frightful selfishness to allow a wholly in-
nocent being to expiate the sins of its forefixthers ?"
She pressed botli hands to her forehead, which
was throbbing fearfully.
"But it sliall be as my mother wishfed," said
she, after a deep breath. " I will keep silent, and,
like her, drag after me the frightful secret ; the
embezzled goods shall be restored by will to the
ducal house. I will lead a solitary life, but not
in a cloister."
The minister, whose features had at first begun
to smooth, started suddenly back at this conclu-
sion.
"\Vliat!" he hissed forth.
"Tiie income of the estates shall, till my death,
be divided among tlie i)oor of the land,' but by
myself," said she with great comjjosure, interrupt-
ing him. ' ' I will also, as far as I am able, strive to
relieve the soul of my grandmother from her guilt,
though not by telling my beads. Papa, I know
that I can serve God better in no other way than
by living for mankind, by using all my jiowers "
A shrill burst of laughter interrupted her ; it
echoed fearfully back from the walls.
" Oh, noble Landgravine of Thuringia, I see
you already receiving into Greinsfeld ("astle the
cripi)les and beggars ! I see you, for the use and
profit of staiwing and suffering humanity, cooking
thin soups for the poor, and knitting long woollen
stockings ! I also see you heroically clinging to
the determination to wander about before the eyes
of the mocking world as an old maid ; but then
some beautiful daj^ a noble knight will knock at
the refuge for the miserable, and forgotten is
the service well-pleasing to God, forgotten the
last will of your mother. The poor are scattered
to the four winds, the new master of Greinsfeld
accepts as dowiy from his M'ife the embezzled
heritage of Prince Heinrich, and tlie ducal house
of A may bid good-bye to its hopes ! Silly
creature," continued he furiously, it sounded
like the growling of the frenzied beast of prey
' ' do j'ou think, because with inconceivable patience
and forbearance I allow your maidenly wisdom
to display itself, that 1 will also dutifully peld to
your spiritual conclusion ? Do you dare to think
that your own will will be taken into considera-
tion A\hen I stand against you with an irrevoca-
ble command ? You have nothing to think, to
feel, to wish ; you have simply to obey ; you have
one single way before you, and if you refuse to
enter it, then I will lead you. Do you under-
stand me ?"
' ' Yes, papa, I understand you, but I fear you
not ; you have no power to compel me !"
He raised his arm in speechless rage. The
young girl did not recoil a single step before this
threatening gesture. ' ' Dare not to la}' a finger
on me ! " said she with flaming eyes, but with
calm, intrepid voice.
At the same moment some one without knock-
ed ; a lackey appeared at the noiselessly-opened
door.
' ' His highness the duke ! " lie announced with
a deep bow.
The minister uttered a half-audible curse. Yet
he advanced with a welcoming air to the thresh-
old, whilst the lackey threw the door wide ojien.
' ' But, my dear Fleury, what am I to think ?"
cried the duke, stepping into the chamber ; his
tone sounded jestingly, but a cloud lay on his
brow, and his little gray eyes coidd not conceal
symptoms of displeasure. " Have you wholly
forgotten that all the beautiful ladies from A
are waiting without in the woods to do you hon-
or ? The ^Yllite Castle is quite empty, and you
keep us waiting ? An hoiu- ago it was announced
to me that our beautiful countess had arrived ; but
I can not catch a glimpse of her, whilst you know
that she is to make her first entiy into the ^^'orld
on my arm ! "
Gisela, who had hitherto stood in the dark
background, now stepped forward and bowed.
"Ah, here you are!" cried liis highness joy-
fully, and stretched out both hands towards her.
" My best FleurA', I could really be angry! Ma-
dame Herbeck. " he turned back towards the ojien
door ; without in tlic corridor stood the governess,
in a posture of timid expectancy, "Madame Her-
beck tells me that the countess disappeared behind
this door more than a fidl hour ago."
"Your higliness, I had some imjjortant com-
munications to make to my daughter," said the
minister. He stood ibr the first time, perhaps, be-
fore his highness in not the most devoted diplo-
matic posture ; his ducal master cast an astonish-
ed glance at his face, that had lost all its stony
repose, and, regardless of consequences, reflected
a deej) irritation.
"My dear friend, you will not think that I
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
99
wish to intrude into your family atiairs," cried
he, somewhat peqilexed. ''1 will immediately
withdraw "
"I have finished, your highness," replied the
minister. " Gisela, do you feel well and strong
enough to be here ?" A threatening look seemed
almost to pierce the young maiden's face.
Madame Ilerbeck appeared to have a wonder-
ful comprehension for such looks.
" Your excellency, if I dare ad\'ise, the young
countess will return to Greinsfeld without delay, "
said she, suddenly coming up. " She looks fright-
ful '
" Xo wonder!" cried the duke, in a tone of
vexation. "In this room the air is fit to stifle
one. How you could have endured it a whole
hour is incomprehensible to me, my child."
He offered Gisela his arm. She drew timidly
back, and her eyes wandered over the floor. She
must seem at ease with him, who had been so
shamelessly deceived. She was conscious of the
fearful crime, and must still silently act a part in
the comedy. Her whole soul was in an indescrib-
able state of perturbation.
"The forest air will immediately revive you,"
said the old gentleman graciously and encourag-
ingly, while he seized her trembling hand and laid
it on his aim.
" I am not sick, your highness," answered she
firmly, though with a -weak voice, and followed
him out into the conidor, whilst the minister,
reaching after his hat, overtm-ned a chaiTning por-
celain statuette. It broke into a thousand pieces
on the floor.
CHAl^TER XXVI.
Tun old Gennan forest by the lake, that never
before at night had seen any thing but the pale
moonbeams dancing on the tree-tops and over the
mossy cai-pet -at their feet, was to-night to have a
variegated dream. Ducal gold and bis higlmess's
commands had here once more displayed the bril-
liant properties of the magic wand ;* in a few hours
the forest meadow had been so much changed as
to be unrecognizable. Now, in the last rays of
the evening sun, these preparations for a brilliant
illumination might really appear simple and in-
significant ; but as soon as these stany wTeaths
and bright-colored balloons should glitter in the
summer night, the old woods would have cause
to think that the gnomes had raised up a portion
of the subterranean fair}' world, in order to daz-
zle the timid diyads.
The beck of the duke had gathered together
much bi-illiancy, riches, and beauty on the little
spot of meadow. The most beautiful and young-
est ladies were not yet visible ; they were' to ap-
pear in living pictures as elves, gipsies, robbers'
brides, and other poetic and fantastic forms be-
longing to the woods. A puqjle cui-tain was
stretclied in front of several of the magnificent
oak trunks, which at the proper moment was to
vanish amid the foliage above, to show the spell-
bound picture of youth and beaut}- in the midst
of li^ing decorations of natural growth ; a piquant
thought, which artistic hands had sought to exe-
cute even in the smallest details.
All these preparations for a brilliant festival left
nothing more to be desired ; Init still it was not
certain that it -would pass off undisturbed. They
sulfered much from the frightful heat ; fans and
waving handkerchiefs were incessantly in motion ;
even beneath the oaks and beeches the sultriness
was undiminished. Not a leaf stirred ; the mirror
of the lake, at other times so ripiiling, lay sniootli
and sluggish as melted lead within the circuit of
its banks, and the last light of the sun spread an
ochre-like brightness over the sky.
Slowly, his head thoughtfully bent forward and
hands crossed on his back, the Portuguese was
advancing from the forest-house. He also had
received an invitation, but he belonged not to the
crowd, which all, without exception, sought noth-
ing but amusement. This gloomy, threatening
face cast a shadow before itself, like the slowly-
ascending storm-clouds in the horizon.
Now and then the noise of the voices on the
forest meadow swelled up like the roar of a dis-
tant conflagration, and penetrated to the solitaiy
forest path. The Portuguese stopped each time
as if fast rooted, and his fiery eye sought to pene-
trate the thicket with an expression of the most
decided aversion ; yet he stepped resolutely for-
ward, as one who seeks out the element hostile to
him in order to measure his strength against it.
There was a sudden riistling in the bushes near
him ; a charming gipsy stood before him, and
with a ver}- energetic demeanor ban-ed his wa}-.
" Halt!" cried she, and presented a charming
little pistol that could not conceal its descent from
pasteboard and gilt paper.
She wore over her face a black half-mask ; but
the voice, which, in spite of all, developed energy
and boldness, had yet trembled a little ; the round
chin with the little dimple, and the veiy lovely
form of the lower part of her cheeks, that gleamed
like white, fragrant velvet from beneath the black
beard, did not permit the Portuguese for a mo-
ment to doubt that the beautiful lady of honor
stood before him.
"Sir, I want neither your amethysts and to-
pazes, nor your purse!" said she, while she en-
deavored to give a sonorous firmness to her voice.
"I only ask you to let me read your hand!"
It was a pity that the pale ethereal blonde could
not see the triumph of her friend ; the gloomy
man could certainly smile, and how interesting
was his handsome head Iteneath the glancing sun-
shine that illuminated his features.
He drew off his glove and held out the palm
of his right hand.
Quick as lightning she turned her head on all
sides, and her eyes, that glittered from the mask
like diamonds, searched the bushes with an air of
mistrust. Her delicate fingers shook suspiciou.s-
ly as she touched the hand of the Portuguese.
"I see here a star," she declared in a jesting
tone, while she examined the lines with apparent-
ly great attention. ' ' It tells me that you are en-
abled to exercise a great power over the hearts
of men, even though they be rulers. But I dare
not conceal from you that you tnist quite too
much to this power."
A chaiTTiing mixture of irony and mirth lay in
the slight smile that once more passed over the
man's featm-es. He stood so superior before the
enchanting fortune-teller that she visibly strag-
gled with herself not to depart from her role.
"You laugh at me, HeiT von Oliveira," said
she, as, dropping his hand, she with some em-
barrassment replaced the pistol in her belt ; ' ' but
I w-ill give the grounds for my assertion. You
100
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
injure yourself through your excuse me, sir [ She gave a shy, searching glance at the face,
thi'ough your fi-ightfully regardless candor I " j that left her wholly in doubt whether he was jest-
*' What assures yon, then, beautiful mask, that [ ing. or really condescended to make a disclosui'e
I do not know this already ?" to her.
The brilliant eyes were fixed with an almost " Well, then," she declared with determination,
terrified expression on the speaker's brown face, j and, for a lady of honor, with an almost incom-
"What! you could designedly set at naught prehensible regardlessness of consequences, "I
your own interest!" asked she with hurried ea- ' can assure you that this audience, whether at the
gerness.
'"Does not every thing depend on what I re-
gard as my interest ?"
She stood for some seconds utterly bewildered ;
her eyes were fixed on the ground. Still she did
A^Hiite Castle, or at the dukes residence in A-
or under God's free heaven, will scarcely take
place ''
"Ahl"
'You asserted vesterday, tn the return from
not seem inclined to see her mission ended so : Greinsfeld, that a pious general was an absm'Ji-
speedily and with so little success. ! ty?"
" I can not contend wkh you about that," be- 1 "Well, was the remark so interesting that the
gan she again. ' ' You ^\ill, however, doubtless ! ladies of the court have heard of it already ? I
assent to the generaU}- received proposition that it I said, my lady, that the conthiual mention of the
is not good to have enemies." (ncc more, though j name and grace of God in the mouth of a soldier
with some delay, she seized his hand, and ta])ped j who loves his profession is disgusting : that the
gently with her forefinger on its inner surface, j thoughts of the murder and slaughter of men, and
" And you have enemie^s, cunning enemies," con- ' the ardent resignation to Him, who loves each of
tinned 'she, falling into her earlier, half-jesting j these slaughtered ones as a father, were to me ir-
tone. " Here I see, for example, three gentle- ; reconcilable ; that this could end in nothing but
men, who wear the chamberlain's key ; their | hj"]30crisy. And what further ?"
nen"es are aflfeeted, and they fall into convidsions j " Wiat further? But, for Heaven's sake, do
whentheyscent from afar the democratic element, i you not know that his highness is a soldier, body
It must not be thought, however, that I am not j and soul ? that the chief wish of his heart would
also a decided enemy of the same. I dare be can- 1 be to put all his subjects in unifomi ?"
"I know it, beautiful mask."
"And that the duke would not for all the
world have the reputation of being undevout ?"
"I know that also."
" Now, how can this be explained ? I da not
understand you, Herr von OUveira. In a single
day you have rendered it impossible for you to
" added she with falter-
did, IS it not so, sir ? These three, though, are less
dangerous. But there is an elder lady ; she has
much influence with his highness, has very cau-
tious eyes, and a sharp, subtle tongue "
" From wliat cause does the Countess Schlier-
sen honor me with her hatretl ?"
"Be quiet, sir! No names, I entreat you!"
cried the lady of honor in terror, with suppressed I ajjpear at court at A-
voice. Her Ijeautiful head again turned with light- j ing voice,
ning speed in all directions, and in her first fright The young lady was evidently soiTOwful and
it seemed as if she was about to lay her little hand j moved. She put her hand to her -chin, and,
on the mouth of the Portuguese. "This lady is j bending her head, fixed her eyes on the tips of
the protector of the pious in the land, and can her gold-embroidered boots,
never forgive you the foiu" Jewish childi-en in your
oiphan asylum."
" So the lady with the- cautious eyes, and the
shaqi, subtle tongue, sits in judgment "
' ' Certainly, and she has immense influence.
You know the man with the marble face, and the
long drooping eyelids "
" Ah ! the man who crashes forty miles scpxare,
and a hundred and fifty thousand souls, and de-
means himself a la ^lettemich or Talleyrand "
" He is irritated whenever your name is men-
tioned, sir ; bad, vciy bad, and doubly hazardous
for you, as, by a want of foresight, you have un-
fortunately caused our serene ruler to lend him a
willing ear."
"What! were my bows not conformable to
the regulations ?"
She turned indignantly away.
"Herr von Oliveira, you make merry over our
court," said she with an otlended air, but at the
same time with a sudden touch of petulance.
" Besides, petty as it is, if seems, from what you
said yesterday, that you expect from it the fulfill
' ' You know, as I see, the peculiarities of his
highness as well as I," continued she, after a mo-
mentary silence. "It is therefore superfluous
for me to say that he does nothing, yes, almost
thinks nothing, without the man with the marble
fixce and the drooping eyelids. You must know
that it is imj)ossible to get an inteniew with him,
if this man does not desire it ; but perhaps it
may be new to you that he does not desire i/ottr
audience with his highness. To-day will be your
only opportunity to see the duke face to face;
make use of the time !"
It seemed as if she wished to glide back into
the thicket ; but she turned around once more.
" You will respect the secret of the mask, sir?"
"With inviolable silence."
" Then farewell, Herr von Oliveu'a ! " It came
faint, almost as a sigh, from the young lady's lips.
Immediately aftenvards the charming form van-
ished in the thicket ; only the little puqile red
cap with the ]iearl pendants glittered now and
then amid tiie bushes.
OUveira continued his way. Had the beautiful
ment of many wishes. If I do not err, you have ' lady of honor been able to cast a glance on this
begged for a private audience " I determined face, she would liave said triumphant-
" You are still in error, sagacious mask; I by ly that her missicai had not been without result,
no means desire a private audience, but a special On the forest meadow the appearance of the
one ; I siiould be most ])Ieased to have the wide, | Portuguese excited a great sensation. The in-
free heavens, and a thousand ears as witnesses teiTningling of voices sank fur a moment into a
to it." I whisper. The ladies crowded together in groups,
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
101
and the play of their featiivcs, the unspeakable
curiosity in their gazing eyes, were indeed no less
expressive than the plain designation of an object
wliich the children of nature point at with the
finger.
The three possessors of the chamberlain's keys
shook the new-comer"s hand in a very lionorable
manner, and imdertook the exhausting work of
introduction with all the grace and self-denial of
bom cavaliers. Fortunately for ''the interesting
occupant of the forest-house," the multitude of
names that whizzed about his ears was interrupt-
ed as if by magic : all scattered and ranged them-
sches in closely-crowded columns on the skirt of
the woods. The duke was in sight.
Most of those who now fixed their eyes fidl of
expectation on the path that ran up from the lake
had once been intimate with the Countess Vol-
dem. The gentlemen, almost without exception,
had been enthusiastic admirers of her beauty, and
coidd never forget her. In their recollection, in-
deed, voluptuous splendor and the dangerous wo-
man were identical ; they had never seen the
magnificent form, except when floating in lace or
clad in brilliant silk : and yet wlien the maiden
in the plain white dress entered the festal place on
the arm of the duke, the name of the long-de-
ceased countess sounded from eveiy lip.
The face of his highness beamed with delight
at the suqjrise he had occasioned. ' ' Countess
Sturm 1" he cried with a loud voice, correcting
the exclamations, while he pointed to Gisela.
"Our little Countess Stunn, who has kept in re-
tirement in the sorrowful sick-chamber, only to
sui-prise the world all at once as a charming but-
terfly."
They crowded round the young lady M-ith their
congratulations ; they did not obsen-e that the
lovely face remained deadly pale and cold, that
her eyes were fixed on the ground, as if the
lashes were heavy with tears. It was channing
confusion and emban-assment, and made her ap-
pearance doubly attractive. The image of the
brilliant, haughtv, and self-possessed Countess
Voldem grew pa'le near this youthful grace and
modesty. Nobody saw how the stage curtain
was parted for a few seconds, how between the
purple folds a pale, angiy, wrinkled brow adorned
with a diadem, and a pair of si)arkling black eyes
appeared eyes that sought with devouring hate
the much-admired maiden fonn.
"Now, dear baron, what do you say to this
first appearance ?" asked the duke triumphantly
of the minister, whilst he conducted Gisela to a
seat.
The color of his excellency's face again assumed
a greenish tinge, as Madame Herbeck trerablmg-
ly remarked ; but the stony repose of his features
appeared foultless.
" I sa}^ that I belong to the skeptics, your high-
ness," answered he with a cold smile ; "that I am
a believer in the trite, but undeniably true com-
monplace : ' One should not praise the day imtil
night falls.' I tnist in this thing as little as in the
heavens, which will certainly send us a furious rain
during our illumination."
The duke cast an anxious but also indignant
look towards the irreverent sky, in which the last
light of evening was fading away. The skirts of
a few clouds that had hitherto hung above the
tree-tops like a delicate yellow-colored down, sud-
denly became dark, and assumed a suspicious
character. The duke nevertheless gave the signal
lor the commencement of the festivity, and a joy-
ous overture of Weber resounded from the thick-
et. His highness had summoned hither from
A his excellent court band.
During the music, the duke passed round and
greeted his guests. He came also in Ohveira's
neighborhood ; his brow certainly was clouded at
his sight, and his little gray eyes assumed a cer-
tain inflexibility ; but there seemed to be a con-
straining power in the imposing appjearance of the
remarkable stranger, a suijeriority, against which
neither condescension nor contemptuous ignoring
was possible.
The Countess Schliersen, who had stood near
by, a breathless suspense In her features, sudden-
ly rustled indignantly forward, and on the gi-een-
ish face of his excellency appeared that contempt-
uous laugh with which he was accustomed to
ovei-look the weakness of his ducal master and
friend. An outbreak had been expected. It had
been certainly presupposed that his highness, pas^'
ing by the Portuguese in silence, would give him
one of those fixed looks that would hurl him per-
]lexed into the deepest abyss of ducal rebuke, and
cause him hastily to depart. And now the weak
old gentleman suddenly forgot that this man had
disgracefully insulted him ; he greeted him with
a friendly motion of the hand and spoke with him
as with all the rest.
Meanwhile a youthful soul was suftering a
thousand ]3angs. All the strange voices, that
pressed with sweet flatteries to Gisela's ear,
caused her pain. Had not her father said that
these very men inexorably and willfully lield fast
to the suspicion of treachery- with regard to her
grandmother, and Avould not therefore allow the
e\i\ report to die? And no^\ they were in ecsta-
sies about "the incomparable countess." whom
they all pretended to have tenderly loved and
honored ! She felt a kind of hatred and indig-
nation for these men, who had aU put on the mask
of propriety-, and vended \\ith shameless brows
their In^pocritical lies as advanced civilization,
propriety, and perfection of fashion, i
And yonder against a tree leaned the man from
the forest-house, in unconstrained, almost negli-
gent posture. He had isolated himself immedi-
ately after the greeting of the duke. His eyes
passed carelessly over the multitude ; he seemed
to have ears only for the wonderful orchestra.
Gisela did not dare to look towards him ; she
purposely turned her head aside, with the feeling
of the deepest shame and humiliation. She now
knew why at that time on the forest meadow he
had thrust her from him with all the signs of
aversion. She said to hereelf, moreover, that he
had been perfectly justified in refusing her hospi-
tality on her own soil ; he woidd not accept any
thing tiom her whom he despised. He knew
the evil report of her grandmother ; he knew, as
well as all those assembled here, that the chief
part of the young Countess Stumi's property was
embezzled ; he, the proud, incorruptiljle charac-
ter, despised, in his deepest soul, a race that had
really deserved to stand in the pilloiy, and yet,
by community of inclinations, with boundless ar-
rogance, desired to see all other men at its feet.
And she was the last representative of this race.
Faithful to the traditions of the noble house, she
had likewise set her foot upon the neck of her de-
pendents; she had imagined herself, by her noble
102
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
birth, standing high above others, whilst the real,
true nobilitj- had vanished without a trace under
the embezzling hands of her grandmother.
And now she sat as if spell-bound. .She must
keep silence, inviolable silence ; she dared not
pass over to the sohtaiy man, and, sinking down
before his majesty, say, "I know that the halo
was folse. I suffer unspeakably. I ^\ill employ
my whole life in blotting out that woman's crime ;
only take the curse of contempt from my head."
She sat there motionless, with a deeply-serious,
deadly-pale face ; and in the crowd it was whis-
pered from mouth to mouth, " Beautiful, wonder-
fully beautiful is the young maiden ; but the duke
was mistaken she is not yet recovered !"
Darkness came on so suddenly that all e\'es
anxiously turned to the heavens. An angry
group of clouds hung over the trees ; but not a
single leaf or twig yet moved in the wind that
suddenly blew up and indicated, as with the
powerful notes of a trampet, the outbreak of the
storm. They did their best to ignore for a while
the cheerless apjieitrance of the sky. Over the
mighty pyramids of the delicious iced fruits they ,
forgot the oppressive heat, and at this moment,
too, the light oS day was supei^fluous. As sud-
denly as if kindled by an electric spark, the starry
wreaths, balloons, and torches burst into flames,
and poured variegated waves of liglii over lake,
forest, meadow, and the threatening heavens.
And now- began the incomparable music of the
"Midsummer Night's Dream." The puqjle cur-
tain rustled up ; there lay the charming Titania,
waited upon by her elves. Never had that wom-
an, sparkling with diamonds, enjoyed such a tri-
umph as at this moment. Forgotten was the
quiet, pale maiden whom ducal homage had
raised upon the shield ; forgotten the chaste,
youthful brow in the ])resence of the alluring
woman, whose wonderful form, soft and yielding,
lay stretched on the mossy carpet covered over
with flowers. [
'"Beautiful Titania, are you content with your ;
success ?" asked the duke, as the baroness, after
the conclusion of the representation, apj)eared be-
fore his highness on the arm of her husband.
His highness was in a most genial humor. He
had during the interludes been conversing with
Gisela, and found that his prote'ge'e was indeed a
sorrcjwful, serious maiden, but not less apt in her
answers than the witty Countess Voldem of
yore. ' I
"All, your highness, I should perhaps have
been right proud and vain ;" answered the beau-
tiful Titania in a mild voice; "but anxiety has
not allowed nie to think of this so-called success.
Whilst I was inttexihly obliged to lie still, I had
my poor child always before my eyes, my little
Gisela ; she looked so ileadly ])ale and suffering.
Anxiety has almost consumed me. Your high-
ness, 1 fear I fear my little daugliter has too
soon been drawn forth from her healthful retire-
ment, and very much to her disadvantage. Gise-
la, my child "
She stopi)ed. The young lady had risen ; she
stood sudcienly before her stepmother with a truly
royal demeanor. The pale face, the object of
such ])ainful ])ity, glowed with a crimson flush,
and the brown eyes surveyed the false, jutiful
comedienne with a long, contemjituous look.
She was the victor; his excellency could read
that without much trouble on the features of the
duke, and of the listening throng that had pressed
around.
' ' Gisela, no scene, if I may be allowed to ask 1 "
commanded he, advancing Avith gloomy severity ;
but he himself looked as if his nenxs were about
to fail him. ' ' You love excitement but this is
not the place for an attack of your convulsions.
JNIadame Ilerbeck, lead the countess a little aside
till she has regained her composure ! "
The tortm-ed maiden wished to speak ; but
starting suddenly, she again closed her quivering
lips.
" Is this diamond pageant genuine, your excel-
lency ?" asked at the same moment the deep, calm
voice of the Portuguese ; it soimded so loudly
that all aroimd were silent. Oliveira stood near
the minister, and pomted to the idolized stones
of the ehin queen.
The minister fell back as if he had received a
blow in his sallow face ; but his wife turned, with
an expression of the deepest indignation in her
beautiful countenance, towards the questioner.
' ' Do you believe, sir, that the Baroness Fleury
could prevail upon herself to attempt to deceive
the world ^^ith even a single false stone ?" cried
she angrily.
"Her excellency has cause to be indignant,
Herr von Oliveira, " added the Countess Schlier-
sen, step])ing up with her malicious smile. ' " That
these wonderful dewdrops are faultless, eveiy
child in the land can tell you ; they are the cele-
brated family diamonds of the Counts Voldem.
But they first acquired their present high renown
when tlie beautifid Countess Voldem appeared
aiTayed in them. She understood how to wear
diamonds. ' She drew her hand gently over Gi-
sela's blond hair, that now reflected a silveiy gleam.
"I am very desirous of seeing how tins charming
young brow will apjiear beneath the diadem,"
added she with a frank and innocent air, pointing
to the brilliant fuchsias in the baroness Fleuiy's
tresses.
This woman possessed the gift in a high de-
gree, by means of a few words, of laying bare a
sensitive place in the human soul, and sportively
wounding it with a keen and deadly weapon.
Her beautiful excellency stood stiif and speech-
less before her inexorable tomientor ; the feverish
glow of her cheeks had disappeared, and her deli-
cate nostrils began to quiver. The enviable re-
lations between the two ladies, in virtue of which
they were accustomed to lacerate each other ^^ith
smiling grace, frequently gave his highness the
oi)])ortunity of displaying his gallantly and dex-
terity, lie once more averted the coming
storm.
" Do you like fine stones, Ilerr von Oliveira?"
asked he thoughtfully, with a raised voice that si-
lenced all around.
"I am a collector, your highness," answered
the Portuguese ; he delayed some seconds, then
hastily said : " But this set of jewels," he point-
ed toTitania's diadem, "interests me particular-
ly, as I possess one precisely like it."
"That is impossible, sir!" cried the baroness.
"This diadem was reset about four years ago
after my own special design ; ami tl'c I'arisian
house tiiat undertook its execution jjledged it-
self immediately to destroy the sketches, because
I wislied to l)c safe from imitation."
"And yet I could s^vear that, with regard to
foiTQ, the two diadems can not be distinguished
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
103
apart," said Olivcira quietly, with a half smile on
his li]is, turning rather towards the duke.
"Oh, sir, by this assertion you inibitter one of
my dearest joys !" exclaimed tlie baroness, half
jestingly, and half with a melting, complaining
voice, as she raised her eyes to him with an in-
imitable expression of gentleness and tender fire ;
but she shrank back terrified before the crushing
coldness, the se^ere, incorruptible severity in the
features of the man.
' Jutta. consider what you are saj-ing!" said
the minister rebukingly, Nvith a hoarse voice. The
last drops of blood seemed to have disappeared
from his lips and cheeks.
" Why should I deny, then, that it makes me
imha])i)y to see myself robbed and ])hmdered of
one of my most beautiful conceptions ?" asked she,
irritated and impertinently. She cast a hostile,
gleaming look towards the Portuguese, who had
been suddenly changed from a presumed glowing
admirer into a pitiless foe. "I can not bear to
wear any thing that has become common ! I
would give something if I could convince myself
with my own eyes how far your assertion is well
founded, Herr von Oliveira I"
' Now, m3'dear, that can be done very easily,"
observed the Countess Schliersen. "I confess
that I am also a little curious in what manner
HeiT \on Oliveira will justify his assertions ; the
forest-house is so near "
"Will not your highness have the goodness to
give the sign for the commencement of the cpia-
drille? The young folks yonder are on thorns,"
inteiTupted the minister ; he paid no attention to
the passionately-expressed wish of his wife and
the proposal of Countess Schliersen he seemed
to have heard neither. The woman witli the
cautious eyes and subtle tongue cast a sui-prised,
injured, and expressively searching glance on the
face of her ally ; he suddenly permitted nnnself
to ignore her.
"Too early, too early, my dear baron, "decided
the duke, refusing. " The programme ends with
the dance."
" I fear, j'our highness, that onr charming
Titania will not be calmed till she has seen the
corpus delicti" said the Countess Schliersen, jest-
ingly. " Would it not be a ])iquant intermezzo
for all the ladies, if Herr von Oliveira should give
us an opportunit}- ourselves to decide if he is
right ?" The lady seemed for a moment wholly
to forget that she had been busied with arrange-
ments for driving the Portuguese from the duke's
presence on this very evening.
' ' That is asking entirely too much, my dearest
countess!" said his highness, shnigging his shoul-
ders and smiling. " Reflect into what suspicious
company Herr von 01i\eira would have to bring
his costly treasures. Here we have robbers, gip-
sies, and God knows what other doubtful charac-
ters ! You see, Herr von Oliveira," said he, turn-
ing to the Portuguese, "I would willingly assist
you ; but 3-ou have incautiously thlo^\n a fire-
brand among us ; I fear nothing is left for j-ou ex-
cept to bring the proof."
Oliveira bowed in silence ; the bright glare of
a torch fell on his calm face, and cast a deep pal-
lor over the brown skin. He took a card from
his pocket-book, hastily \\Tote a few lines, and sent
it by a lackey to the forest-house.
"We shall be able to see the diamonds I"
cried several of the young ladies, rejoicing and
clapjiing their hands. Spectators crowded from
all quarters ; the beautiful lady of honor also,
who had till now kept at a distance, appeared on
the arm of the delicate, pale blonde.
"Put, HeiT von Oliveira, do you keep so many
A'aluablesinthat solitary house?" asked the blonde,
anxiously casting up to him her innocent large
blue eyes, that betrayed an extremely sensitive,
nervous disposition.
The Countess Schliersen laughed.
"Child," exclaimed she, "did you not take v'
better look at the forest-house ? It is not con-
cealed, indeed, behind palisades and ditches, and
I do not even know if it possesses a self-acting
revolver ; but it has a something M'hicli warns
us : ' Come not too nigh me ! ' The walls are
bristling with weapons and trophies of victory- ;
whether some Indian scalps may also be found
among them, I can not, L6 is tnie, assert with any
certainty ; but, wherever one looks, there lie ti-
ger and bear skins. One is convinced at the first
glance that the ball of the possessor inexorably
hits its mark. Herr von Oliveira, you thoroughly
understand how to jjrotect your residence through
the power of the mysterious. It forces a shudder
from us what is called a creeping of the flesh.
By the way," said she, interrupting her sportive
delineation in a veiy lively manner, "I will
honestly confess to you that j^our parrot to-day
put me to flight. Tell me, for Heaven's sake,
why does that frightful animal, with its honi-
ble voice, ciy out unceasingly, 'Revenge is
sweet ?' "
Had the blazing torch assumed another color,
or was it indeed the face of the Portuguese itself
that changed so strikingly ? It looked as if a
tongue of fire suddenly ran up his cheek, and
passing obliquely across the forehead, concentra-
ted itself in a glowing, broad streak.
Oliveira looked for a moment silently before
him, whilst all gazed upon him, curious and full
of expectation.
" This bird some time ago might have shamed
a simple human child, so many social phrases had
it caught iqj," said he. He folded his arms, in
apjjarently immovable repose, across his breast,
and his earnest glance passed over the faces of
those who stood around. "But he has entirely
forgotten them, in a veiy remarkaljle manner,
for this one saying. His master, who tenderly
loved him, repeated these words almost incessantly
during a delirium, yes, with his veiy last breath
he uttered them once more. To these three words
is joined a strange stoiy."
At the last words, jun-poseh' spoken slowly,
and simply accented, the blood disappeared from
the proud, gloomy, threatening forehead ; the
yellow light of the torch again overspread it with
a gliastly, marble-like whiteness.
The Countess Schliersen fixed her cautious eyes
piercingly on the face that could control indeed its
expression, but not the rising and sinking waves
that circle forth from the heart.
"You are mystifying us, Herr von Oliveira,"
said she smiling, and threatening him with her
forefinger. " You challenge won.an's curiosity,
and then shnig your shoulders, and say mysteri-
ously, ' I dare not ! ' "
"WTio tells you that, coimtess ? I could begin
without more ado ; but you yourself woidd cer-
tainly be the last to pardon me if I, without the
special permission of his highness, should disturb
104
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
and inten-upt the programme of the festival by
my narrative."
"Oh, your highness, an interesting stoiy from
Brazil !" cried the young ladies with one voice,
turning imploringly to the duke.
" Ah, ladies, I thought your little feet were al-
ready on thorns for the dance!" said he jestingly.
" Well now, I will veiy willingly give a place in
the programme to Herr von ()li^eira's storv' ; we
will strike out for it one of the male quartettes
that was to be sung ia the woods."
CHAl'TER XXVII.
What a curious change in the state of affairs !
The outlawed Portuguese had become the lion
of the festal evening. He stood, indeed, on a
ground that was as unstable as a ]3lank floating on
the billows, and the wasps tliat had been fright-
ened away buzzed only less loudly and audibly
about his head. No one knew this better than
the beautiful lady of honor. She threw him a
long, expressive glance: "Do not sutler your-
self to be deceived," was the warning conveyed
by the black eyes.
Gisela, who until now had stood silently near
the duke, and had not ventured once to look at
the Portuguese, caught this glance. It pierced
her lieart like a dagger. She wished never to
lose her composure, but the excited blood now
shot to her temples. As in her childhood, when
she, without further thought always gave ex-
pression to her dislikes, she raised her hand to
thrust the maiden aside. AVords of the deepest
indignation forced themselves to her lips. How
foolish ! What gave her the right to interpose
between these two persons ? Did he not at this
moment look over to the charming gipsy, and re-
turn her long look so expi-essively that the lovely
face bluslied up under the thick brown locks ?
The two must have long had a mutual understand-
ing.
How could she, above all, venture to compare
herself with that maiden ? No evil report clung
to the name of the lady of honor ; she was very
beautifid, was considered witty, and fulfilled all so-
cial requirements with incomparable grace. Fie,
how hateful ! She, with her pale face, her pro-
found ignorance, and her awkward beha^^or, felt
cn^y, blighting envy, towards that beautiful, much-
admired rose !
Tlie innocent heart, that had never before loved,
had no other definition for the ardent feeling of
jealousy.
She turned her eyes away from the bright little
red caj) with the pearl pendants that swayed so
charmingly to and fro, and looked over the sea
of light into the dark ])ath that led to Greinsfeld.
A deep longing for the gloomy, silent woods seized
upon her. Oh, could she leave all these masks
behind, and hide in darkness the unspoken tor-
tures that rioted in liead and heart ! Oh for a
hasty flight out of this so-called world, into which
she had only looked to be struck by dazzling light-
ning anil wounded ! A thousand times rather
wander in the gloomy night, her life threatened
on the fearful abysses of the quarries, than be
obliged to stand here, as it were, at the martyr's
stake, to hear this crashing, exultant nuisic, and
look upon the smiling faces, while the tears,
laboriously kept back, burned in her smarting
eyes.
She had with enthusiam seized upon the thought
of wishing to love mankind ; how difficult Avas it
to accomplish ! Could she love this vain hj-po-
critical midtitude, who, with falsehood in their
hearts and on their lips, could not possibly un-
derstand her pure desire ?
In the quarries it was dark and utterly solitary ;
not even the eyes of the little birds woidd look
audaciously on her as she was fleeing homeward.
They slept, well concealed in their nests and in
the crevices of the rocks. Beneath lay the poor
dead flowers that he had hurled from him with
merciless hand, and on the edge of the way
trembled the elastic nettle-bushes touched by her
dress. This single movement breathed life into
the desert. And the foot of the young maiden
again stepped over the place where she had re-
ceived so painful a humiliation ; the path was
frightful, but it led back to her home. She coidd
there close the doors, and conceal herself foreAer
from hunran eyes and himian voices.
Away! away!
She could not, however, cross the festal place ;
she must pass round the meadow in the darkness
of the woods, if she wished to reach the Greinsfeld
road, that lay directly opposite. Slowly and tim-
idly she turned around, and sought a place in the
thicket where she could glide aA\ay unobserved.
A fiice. suddenly appeared before her, a face
with hard, dark features, that she knew and
feared ; it was the stern old man from the forest-
house. He bore a little coffer, which he placed
u]3on the nearest bench ; his gloomy look sm--
veyed the young lady, and rested eloquently on
the Portuguese, before whom the returned lackey
already stood, and AAith an expressive motion of
the hand announced the presence of the old soldier.
"Ah, the diamonds!" resounded from all sides.
A close circle was immediately formed round
the old soldier and his precious burden. For
the moment Gisela's flight was rendered impossi-
ble. The duke stood near her, and tlie Countess
Schliersen seized her hand and drew her caress-
ingly to herself.
Oliveira opened the coffer. The contents were
traly of a nature to intoxicate a woman's heart ;
and the silent thought of all, that the I5razilian
desired to make a show of his treasures, became
a certainty. But whoever had the oi)]ortunity
of looking in his bowed face knew inmiediately
that for the moment nothing lay farther from
this man's soul than vanity ; so fearful an ear-
nestness, so gloomy a determination lay on his
fuiTOwed bro\
With rajjid touch he took one black velvet
cusliion, laden with jewels, after another out of
the cotter, and laid it carelessly aside. Near him
stood Baroness Fleury with half opened lips, the
ujiper part of her body bent forward, liy de-
grees a gleam of triumph began to s])arklc in her
eyes. She certainly saw glittering wonders come
forth from the cotter that made her insatiable heart
beat, but they wvve mere antitpie sets of jewelry,
which "the collector" had heaped up; not a
single one reminded her of " her most beautiful
thought." Had the Portuguese then been de-
ceived with regard to the " coquis delicti ?"
At last he nused, much more slowly than be-
fore, a large jewel-case, and almost lingeringly
threw back the cover.
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
105
An exclamation of surprise burst from all lips,
and her beautiful excellency started back with
dismay.
Faithfully co]ied, even to the smallest thread
of dust glittering in her locks, lay the fuchsia-
wreath on the velvet cushion ; but it had one ad-
vantage: the " ViUdern family diamonds " were
dimmed by the side of these magnificent spar-
kling stones.
And the WTeath lay not alone. Sun-ouuding
it was the same necklace that glittered yonder
on Titania's white stormily-breatliing bosom, and
the clasp that held fast on her shoulders the veil
woven through with silver threads gleamed also
here with its large bluish brilliants.
"What a shameless deception I" exclaimed
the beautiful woman, trembling with anger.
"Look here, Fleury;" she turned to her hus-
band ; he was no longer by her side. His excel-
lency was standing at a distant buffet, hunwing
down a glass of wine. He was growing old aiul
stupid, this man ; he did not show the same tiiie,
fieiy interest as fonnerly for any thing; it had
even become unpleasant to him to see bis beauti-
ful wife adorned witli diamonds. She stood alone
amid all these malicious faces ; all the frenzied
passion of this woman's soul, which his excel-
lency and the narrow walls of the boudoir had
hitherto alone learned to know, was on the point
of breaking forth in presence of the court.
"Fleuiy, Fleuiy I" cried she to him with inde-
scribable vexation, " I beg you come hei'e and con-
vince yourself how right I was to protest against
the utterly supei-fluous polishing and cleaning of
the stones in Paris ! You would have it so, at
any price, and these faithless Frenchmen have
availed themselves of the chance to steal the pre-
cious styles. Oh that I had never suffered them
out of my hands!"
Each of these cutting, sharply accented words
was intended as an insult to the owner of the
diamonds. Was he indeed perfectly insensible to
the imjjertinence of the irritated woman ? Not a
feature of his fjice moved ; and to the question of
the duke where he had acquired this set of bril-
liants he answered laconically, "In Paris."
The minister walked slowly across the place.
WTiat a contrast between this greenish - white,
stony face, and the feverish, excited features of
the beautiful Titania ! A keen glance was required
to detect the slight nervous quivering of the
drooping eyelids.
" I can not help you, my dear child ; the mis-
fortune has already happened, and you must learn
to console yourself," said he, with his coldly smil-
ing composure and diplomatic indifference. He
did not even east a glance on the jewel-case,
which the Countess Schliersen held in her hands,
while the duke was admiring the lustre of the
stones. " Besides, this rival can be no longer
dangerous to yon," continued he with a slight
shrug of his shoulders ; " Herr von Oliveira keeps
them, it appears, as a curiosity ; and as he can
not wear them himself, they will hardly be able
to cross your path again."
She turned her back angrily upon him. She
was so well acquainted with him tliat she knew,
in s])ite of his ]jerfect mask, he was at this mo-
ment fearfully excited. AYherefore did he not
show his righteous indignation, and why, on the
contrarj-, did he treat this honible treachery as
child's play ?
At the last words of his excellency all the young
ladies looked quickly towards the Portuguese, who,
his blazing eyes directed full and fixedly on the
face of the speaker, stood there like a bronze statue.
What had occurred to the minister to make him as-
sert, because this majestic stranger could not wear
the stones himself, that they wovdd forever remain
in the imprisonment of the casket ? Was it not
the idea of all there that, sooner or later, he
would draw a hapjiy young l^eing to his side,
and, as bis better self, would endow her witli all
these wonderful treasures ?
Perhaps this thought also passed through the
Countess Schliersen's brain. She smilinglv took
the ^\Teath from the cushion, and, before Gisela
was aware of it, she felt the heavy, cold stones
pressing on her brow. She did not suspect that
at tins moment the prize of beauty and highest
loveliness was silently awarded her by all ; neither
did she perceive that an iri-epressible outburst of
jjassionate tenderness brightened for a few seconds
Oliveira's gloomy features. At a little distance
stood the beautiful lady of honor ; she shook her
Ijrown locks indignantly ; the deepest vexation
was depicted in her eys, and the corners of her
mouth were drawn poutingly down. She already
had claims on the possessions of the man yonder,
but they were not yet publicly recognized ; and
now she must look on in silence while a strange
brow was crowned with the diadem. At these
thoughts Gisela hastily seized the deadly-cold
stones, and laid them with trembling hands back
on the cushion. Her face and gesture expressed
a violent, energetic protest.
"For God's sake, dear child," exclaimed the
Coimtess Schliersen, aftnghted, and anxiously
seized her hand.
"Now you see this completely restored health,
Leontine!" cried the Baroness Fleury triumjjh-
antly; she forgot in this satisfaction her own
heart-rending grief. " Gisela has an aversion for
the stones, and you have now con%inced your-
self that a touch of them alone is sufficient to
cause her nerv'ousness to increase to a frightful
degree. "
The Countess Schliersen silently and with com-
pressed lips handed back the jewel-case to the
Portuguese. But the didce, who obviously wish-
ed to see the diamond-question laid ad acta, dis-
played a lively interest in the antique articles of
jewelrv". They passed from hand to hand, and
Oliveira explained in a few words where he had
found them and whence they originated ; they
were then rejdaced in the coft'er.
"Beautiful queen of the elves, you have now
seen the fulfillment of yom- ardently-expressed
wish," said his highness to the deeply bowing
Baroness Fleury, whilst Oliveira closed the coffer.
He spoke half jestingly, but partly, also, with a
somewhat serious expression. " I will hope that
the result has not operated disadvantageously on
your spirits, my dear baroness. And now we will
see what the buffets contain," said he, turning to
his guests. " Herr von Oliveira may then relate
his intei'esting Brazilian stoiy, provided the mali-
cious clouds up yonder do not previously extin-
guish our torches."
The storm was certainly approaching. Over
the wateiy mirror of the lake, that had hitherto
reflected each little light smooth and immovable,
fieiy sparks now gleamed ; a weak, scarcely audi-
ble whistle passed through the tree-tops, and the
lOG
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
light of the torches, tliat had ascended pei-pendic-
ularly, now flickered uneasily.
iUl these threatening signs were forgotten over
the alluring popping of the champagne corks, the
clinking of glasses, and the enthusiastic vivats to
the most serene giver of the festival.
Gisela had declined accompanying the duke to
the buffet. She hoped now to find the favorable
moment when she could escape ; but how much
was she deceived! Madame Herbeck did not
stir from her side. The little fat woman was
overflowing with amiability. She felt indeed very
happy. Ilis excellency had just whispered to
her that he confided in her unconditionally, and
early to-mon'ow, before her departure, he desired
a confidential conversation with her ; but he had
also made it her strict duty, during the remainder
of the festival evening, to watch like an Argus
over the young lady committed to her care.
She had iiow forced the young maiden to a seat
on a bench situated near the skirt of the forest,
from which a pleasant view of the whole festal
scene could be obtained. The governess sat at
the other end of the bench witii one of her old
friends, whom she had not seen for long years.
Botli ladies had refreshments brought by a lackey,
and though busily engaged in consuming the de-
licious viands, they still could not find words
enough for the unexampled shamelessness of the
foreign intruder, the Portuguese. He was an ad-
venturer, a boaster of the first rank. Wlio knew
where he had jiicked up all these valuables ? More-
over, the little fat woman would not be astonish-
ed if the " whole pack " was false, it had had an
" unnatural brilliancy." A child must luive seen
tliat, by the side of the incomparalile ViJldeni fam-
ily fliamonds. But his excellency had treated
the swindler exactly riglit ; he had not honored
him and his stones with a single glance.
Gisela, like a sick child, laid her weaiy head
on the back of the bench. A loud burst of music
filled the air, and swallowed up the continuation
of this entertaining convei-sation. This young
soul, struggling with itself, how miserable and
neglected did it feel I She had listened in silence
to the spiteful remarks of her stej^mother ; she
was weary of the struggle ; finally, it was a matter
of indifference what the world thought of lier.
Within a few hours she would disap])ear forever
from this hated soil, and be forgotten, forgotten by
all. She tried to i)ersuade herself into a gloomy
resignation and indifference ; till now her efforts
had been fruitless. The little red cap, that a])-
peared and disajjpeared like a sportive cobold,
ever attracted her clouded look like a magnet.
Eacli time the seething blood shot to her heart
and robbed her of her breath, when the tall form
of a man jjressed close to the charming hetul cov-
ered with brown locks. She deceived herself con-
tinually ; it was not he ; and yet what tortures did
she constantly suffer anew !
She Avished to see nothing more, and leaned
back her head. A branch came out of the thicket,
and laid its broad, cool leaves caressingly on her
fevered brow. She shut her burning eyes, but
with a sudden start she again raised her lashes and
looked around.
Tiie I'ortuguese stood behind her and called
her name. She remained motionless in her seat,
as if changed to stone. It was his'voice, but how
affectingly changed did it sound !
"Countess, listen to me!" repeated he more
loudly, whilst powerful accords came sweeping
from the distance.
She slowly inclined her head, without trmiing
her face to him.
The Portuguese stepped up close to the bench,
and bent down to the young maiden.
' ' You act no better than the people yonder,
countess, " said he with suppressed voice. ' ' You
suffer yourself to be stunned by the roar of the
music, and forget that the storm has already sent
its warning notes through the tops of the trees."
He stopped. "Will you really wait till the tor-
rents descend ?" continued he more urgently, af-
ter he had waited in vain for a sound from her
lips.
"I can not go without at least inforaiing Ma-
dame Herbeck, " answered she. ' ' She A^ould
certainly laugh at me if I gave this reason. You
see yourself that scarcely any one believes in the
breaking forth of the stonn. "
She tumed her head very slightlj' towards him ;
her eyes remained fixed on the ground. Almost
imconscionsly she avoided every movement that
might draw upon herself the attention of the gov-
eniess, Avho was now engaged in a lively chat ; more
instinctively she sought to prevent the mistrustful,
hated eyes of the little fot woman from falling on
the man \\ho was now s]jeaking to her \\ith a
voice apparently so ojipressed.
He stretched out his arm and pointed over to-
wards the duke, who A\as seated close to a buffet.
The minister was standing before his highness
holding a fidl glass in his hand. His excellency
exhibited so striking and overpowering a vivacity
that one might seek in vain in these gestures, in
the smiling play of the features, for the iron mask
of the diplomatist. He was probably uttering a
toast full of \\it and humor, calculated only for
the ear of his highness and of a few of the cava-
liers standing around. The small, choice circle
laughed, and amid the exchange of significant
glances they struck their glasses together.
"You are right, yonder they nill not believe
in the storm that hangs in the air," said the Por-
tuguese in a smothered voice ; " but the lightning
will fall " he interrupted himself, and once more
bowed his face so deejjly to\A-ards the young lady
that she could feel his breath passing over her
cheek. " Countess, return to your qiuet Greins-
feld !'' whispered he softly and im])loiingly. "I
know that the dark clouds up yonder have also a
lightning-stroke for you!"
This sounded dark, almost like a prophecy.
What a contradiction in the behavior of this
strange man ! At alnu)st eveiT meeting he ex-
pressed hostility towards her ; yethe had preserved
her from falling info the quarry, and now he
wished to have her safely sheltered in her home
from the fuiw of tlie coming storm. And why her,
above all ? There gleamed the little red cap
ah, the beautiful brown curly head needed not
so much time for flight ; the forest-house was so
near, he would I'any "his jewel" in the mo-
ment of danger beneath the sheltering roof of his
own home ! An unutterable bitterness, such as
she had never before exjjerienced, filled her
heart !
" I shall do like the others, and remain peace-
ably here," answered she gloomily, with an al-
most hard voice. " If the storm above has real-
ly a stroke for me, I hiwc the courage to await
it."
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
107
She felt how the back of tlie bench trembled
beneatli his hand.
'I believed I was speaking to the lady who
yesterday willini^ly leaned on my arm," said he
after a momentaiy silence. Gisela thonght she
could perceive a deep emotion in these uncertain
tones. ''To you 1 once more turn myself, in
spite of the decided repidsc 1 have just now ex-
perienced. Coxnitess, for the last time I stand by
your side ; -within an hour you ^^iIl know that I
am a fonnidable adversary "
" I know it already. "
"Yon know it not, if you still so bitterly reject
this friendly warning. I liave been a bad act-
or; I have mistaken, forgotten my rule. And
now, when the hand must strike the blow it trem-
bles. I can only say ouce more, 'Flee, count-
ess ! ' "
She now turned round, and her burning eyes
were fixed firmly, but with a heart-reudiug look,
on the face of the inexorable seer.
" No, I will not go !" she uttered tremblingly,
while a jjerplexed smile glided over her little
feverishly-twitching mouth. ' ' You sa}', sir, j-ou
have not performed the rule of the scorner in a
sufficiently caustic manner. But I can assure
you, for your tranquillity, that this scorn has been
felt. I will not go ! iStrike ! Within the last
few days I have learned to suffer ; I know only
too well what anguish of soid is. You yourself
have already accustomed me to the dagger's
stroke. You shall see me smile at it ! "
"Gisela!"
The name came from his lips like a shriek.
He seized with both hands the hair that fell in
golden waves over her shoulder, and pressed his
face to it with a passionate movement.
This one moment changed the majestic, gloomy
appearance of the man, as if the prophesied storm
was already raging in the trees above her, ready
to ovenvhelm her in its fuiy.
" You have seen me weak, and now I will be
so entirely, " said he, slowly raising his head, while
the hair glided from his hand. ' ' They say that in
the last moments of a drowning person all the
delights and pains of his whole life pass once more
through his soul. I also stand before a decisive
last moment, and so may now dare to reveal what
is the joy and pain of my life."'
He bowed again deeply over the maiden's face
that was turned full to\\ards him in breathless at-
tention. One might think that heart and pulse
stood still beneath this motionless suspense of the
soul. 01i\eira's glance sought the young girl's
eyes with unconcealed passion.
"And now you look upon me once again, as
yesterday, when we stood near the abyss," con-
tinued he. "Eor long, nameless sori'ows I have
only this one happy second ! Countess, my life
in the South was one of wild excitement, a life
full of combats and dangerous adventures. I
sought in struggles with the elements, and with
the wild beasts of the forest, to stifle the ciy of
an inward pain. I sought out tigers and bears ;
I have lain in wait for them day and night, with
the uncontrollable desire of killing them ; I know
the pleasure of a thirst for blood in presence of a
conciuered enem^' but never have I had the
courage to shoot down a fawn ; I feared the soul
in its dimming eyes !"
He was silent. A happy smile played round
her beautiful mouth ; the eyes of the maiden look-
ed fi.xedly up to him with the ardently desired
expression of devoted tenderness. A deep breath
swelled his broad breast, the smile was extin-
guished ; he drew his hand over his brow as if to
brush away a heavenly, alluring dream. He
then continued, with a monotonous voice, "I am
called on to bring forth hidden, silent sins to light,
to attack and to annihilate an enemy powerful in
rank, a scourge of humanity ; but this destiny
points also imperiously to a poor fawn with its in-
nocent eyes a lovely creature, that is my first,
my only, my eternal love, and ci-ies out, 'You
shall wound it with your o\\n hand, it shall suffer
deeply through you !' Gisela," whispered he in a
burst of tenderness close to her ear, "I silently
bore your accusation of passion in front of the
forest-house it was wholly different I could not
bear that the amis of that child should embrace
my sanctuary, the idolized form, that I dared nev-
er touch ; at the quarry I put away your little hand
with countless pangs at the renunciation, whilst
my whole soul was thirsting with passionate de-
sire to press you to my heart but a single time;
but a few moments ago, utterly lost in your gaze,
I stood near you, almost overpowered with the in-
toxicating thought of being able to take you in
my arms, and carry you av\ay from the storm to
my solitary house. These are thoughts and
wishes that border on madness ; their boldness
will be feavfullj' jmnished. I know but too cer-
tainly that within an hour you will thrust me from
you as a Vandal, who has trampled j'om- most
sacred images in the dust ! "
' ' I will never thmst you from me, that I know.
If I must suffer through you, be it so. And if
the whole world should on that accomit throw
stones at you, I will not have a single accusing
glance."
Gently smiling, whilst tears sparkled in her
beaming Ijrown eyes, she pushed her little hand
through the trelhsed back of the bench and held
it towards him. He did not see it, he had buried
his face in both his hands. When they again
drojjped down, his face was so sallow and blood-
less that it gleamed tlu'ough the bushes like that
of an apparition ; but it again bore the earlier
stamp of a firm but gloomy determination.
"Countess, be harsh towards me!" said he
more calmh'. " Not this sweet gentleness I can
not endure it. What I must do under all cir-
cumstances, when near you, appears only more
demon-like. I warned you before of an unavoid-
al)le lightning-stroke. I can not turn it from
your head, but I am not wilhng that it should
strike you unprepared, amid all those faces yon-
der, lletuni to Greinsfeld. Go and forget me,
who have been compelled to cross your path in so
fearfid a manner. And now farewell farewell
forever ! "
' ' Do not go ! " cried she. ' ' I can not be harsh !
I will die with you, if it must be !"
At these heart-rending tones he turned sud-
denly round ; with an almost frantic gesture he
stretched out his arms towards her as if he would
indeed seize her and bear her to his lonely home ;
but just as quickly his arms dropped again to his
side. Immediately afterwards his deadly pale
face had disajjjjeared in the bushes.
On the other hand, the young lady suddenly
felt herself seized from behind, and a pair of arms
pressed like a vise around her slender waist.
Madame Herbeck, by the violent movement of
108-
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
her protegee, liad been roused from her conversa-
tion, that had become even louder and more in-
teresting.
"Eor God's sake, countess, have you had a
vision ? What is the matter ?" cried she with
all the signs of the most violent agitation in her
countenance.
Her fiiend had also humed up, and anxiously
took the young girl's hands between her own.
"Nothing leave me !" exclaimed Gisela, and
disengaged herself.
Madame Herbeck's second frightened look was
towards his excellency ; she breathed more freely.
No one yonder had observed the excited demeanor
of the young countess, that remained to herself
an insoluble enigma. Tliey were amusing them-
selves finely ; the chamjiagne was delicious, and
the illustrious giver of the feast was in a most
rose-colored humor.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
Without regarding the entreating looks of the
governess, who was eager to know what had so
terrified "her darling," Gisela again sat down on
the bench.
No, she would not go ! So much had she un-
derstood from his dark speech, he was here about
to attack an enemy of overwhelming power.
Whatever his puiTJOse, whoever the enemy miglit
be, she woidd not leave the loved one in tiie mo-
ment when all those men, perhaps, would stand
threatening and hostile against him. She was
now indeed prepared for the flashing stroke ; she
would meet it without moving her lashes. What-
ever terrors it might show her, after the torturing
pains she now endured nothing worse could come.
He knew now how he was loved ; he had
whispered a confession that opened to her a
whole heaven of bliss, and yet had torn himself
away in obedience to a dark power that demand-
ed their eteraal separation. She would look this
power in the face ; shs wished to know if there
were really a power on earth that dared tear asun-
der two hearts bound together by the most ardent
love.
The long, nois}', seemingly endless piece of
music closed at last with some crashing accords.
The plundered buffets were abandoned ; the duke
also rose, and, accompanied by the minister, ad-
vanced across the meadow.
" HeiT von Oliveira," said he gayly to the Por-
tuguese, who suddenly stood near him between
two oaks, " you a])pear very punctually ; but still
I must scold you for not paying worthy homage
to my excellent champagne ; I did not see you
among my guests. Are you not well ? You look
pale I would say startled, if it were not absurd
to think of a Hercules like you suffering an at-
tack of the nerves."
A blast of wind at this moment came rustling
through the oak leaves, and bent the flames of the
torches almost jiei^pendicularly downward.
"All, it seems really to be in earnest!" ex-
claimed his highness, with a tone of vexation. "I
shall be obliged to beg of you, dear baron, to grant
me the use of your drawing-room tor the rest of
the festival ; the young people must not on any
account lose their dance !"
The minister immediately summoned a lackey,
and sent him to the White Castle with the neces-
sary commands.
"A short half-hour will yet be allowed us by
the Isegrimm in the air," said the duke, smiling,
to the ladies who crowded around him. ' ' I am
of tlie ojiinion that the story of Herr von Oliveira
will receive a far more piquant chami in the midst
of the forest-trees and beneath the threatening
rain-clouds, than in the well-protected drawing-
room ; you have the floor, HeiT von Oliveira."
His highness seated himself not far from the
bust of Prince Heinrich. With much noise and
loud expressions of joy, chairs and benches were
brought up ; a wide circle was formed around the
duke. For some minutes longer the voices of the
speakers were intermingled, the silken dresses
rustled, and the chairs clattered together; then
it became suddenly so still, so full of expectation,
that the crackling of the torches could be heard.
The Portuguese, with folded arms, was leaning
against the beech that overshadowed Prince Hein-
rich's bust. The restless lights played over his
face ; it appeared wholly unmoved, although the
paleness of tiie startled agitation still remained on
his brown cheeks.
At this moment Gisela also rose ; she advanced
unnoticed along the skirt of the forest, and re-
mained standing near a table laden with plate,
on which Oliveira's coft'er of jewels still remained.
Although she had glided noiselessly beneath the
branches that cast a deep siiadow, the Portuguese
had still seen her ; he could not conceal the deep
emotion that made itself visible on his features ;
a burning, anxiously-entreating look shot towards
her. She smiled upon him, and supported her
hand fiiTnly upon the table ; the sweet smile, the
whole form, with the head borne on high, were
animated by the thought, " Come what will, I am
strong and courageous, and will remain immova-
bly by thee whom I love ! "
Oliveira turned away his face ; he then began
with a loud, fiiTn A'oice : " Tiie fonner o\vner of
the parrot was a Gennan. He acquainted me
with the strange story, and I will introduce ///'wi-
se//' as speaking :
" ' I was physician to Don Enriquez, a man of
strange character, who had witiidrawn to a sol-
itary castle, where he breathed naught but liurn-
ing, glowing hatred to liis kindred, because, as he
thought, they did not understand him. Not far
from this castle lived tiie marchioness, a wonder
of beauty, an Aspasia in wit and grace. Slie un-
derstood excellently well tlic oddities of Don En-
riquez, and gave them ojsenly and repeatedly the
name by which he himself called them in the
profoundest depths of his soul originality and
geniality. She liad wonderful amber-yellow hair.
Smiling and unnoticed, she bound the golden
threads one to another, and out of the million-fold
wonderfully fine threads and knots there came a
net that separated Don Enriquez from the world
f^ir more securely tlian the tliick walls of his lone-
ly castle. He could no longer live without the
sparkling black eyes of his beautiful friend ; and
because she understood him so excellently well,
he could think of no more fitting reward than the
laying at her feet of all his lands and possessions.
In his will he thnist out his family, who did not
understand him, and made this miracle of beauty,
the spirituelle Asjiasia, his sole heiress.' "
He stopped, and suddenly turned his head one
side ; the table laden with plate clattered ; Gisela
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
10)
had now rested both hands on tlie flat surface,
and was gazuig at liim lixedly witli an ashy-pale
countenance ; but as soon as she encountered his
look, she drew herself up and forced a feeble
smile to her trembling lips.
'' ' But the beautifid Aspasia also had shallows
in her soul, which she was not able entirely to
conceal,'" conthiued the Portuguese, with a
slightly tremulous voice, "'and Don Enriquez,
who, with all his peculiarities, was a thorougldy
noble, honorable character, found in the course
of time an opportunity now and then to cast a
shuddering glance therein. This discovery was
followed by reproaches and quan-els that often
seriously shook the foundations of the will. The
mai-chioness haughtily despised these threatening
signs ; she tnisted still to tlie magic of her charms,
and besides, she had many a good friend among
the attendants of Don Enriquez.'"
The glance of the narrator glided with jjerfect
repose over the faces of the listening multitude.
Kot a sound was heard, but all exhibited the most
intense interest. It glided likewise over the droop-
ing eyelids of the man who sat near the duke.
They were raised but for a moment, as if touched
by lightning, and a glance of demoniac malignity
shot forth to the Portuguese ; then they di'opped
again, and not a single muscle of the greenish-
colored face was moved.
" ' The marchioness once gave a brilliant festi-
val at her castle,'" continued Oliveira. " ' Don
Enriquez was not present ; but the beautiful As-
pasia, while she i-ustled through her halls like a
faiiy in a magnificent masked costume, heard,
shortly before midnight, that her absent friend
lay on his death-bed. Half-frantic with anxiety
and teiTor, she threw herself into a carriage, and
drove alone, guiding the horses with her own hand,
tlu-ough the midst of an awful stonn, to save half
a million.' "
"Was she alone, sir?" cried Gisela with half-
stifled voice, stretching out her hands towards the
Poituguese to inteniipt him.
' ' She was alone. "
"Had she no daughter, who accompanied her?"
" The daughter remained beliind at the masked
l)all," suddenly said a deep, hard voice, in liollow,
half-audible tones behind her; the old soldier
stood in the bushes, and while apparently harm-
lessly engaged, but with triumjjhant, flashing eyes,
raised the cofler of jewels from the table in order
to bear it away.
At the same moment, Gisela felt her hand
seized ; five icy fingers clasped it with a painful
pressure ; the minister stood near lier.
" IIow is it, my child, that you thus interrupt
the channing fairj- tale ? Can you not yet shake
off the customs of your childhood ?" said he chid-
ingly, %vith a loud voice. But this voice had a
fearful soimd ; it was as if the man had once more
concentrated into this sound all the aiTogance,
all the pride, all the dangerous qualities by means
of which he had hitherto ruled with iron sway.
He had, although perhaps only with half an ear,
caught the half-audible answer of the old soldier;
he uttered not a word of rebuke, but pointed impe-
riously in the direction of the forest-house. The
old soldier departed smiling in derision.
The minister kept fast hold of his stepdaughters
hand, and compelled her to follow him. As he
advanced with her over the meadow, he cast a
smihng, meaning look at the amazed circle of si-
lent spectators, as if he ^vished to say, " Now you
see what kind of an excitable, unaccountable crea-
ture she is!"
"The conclusion! the conclusion ! Herr von
Oliveira ! " cried the Countess Schliersen entreat-
ingly, whilst his excellency placed the deadly-
pale young maiden between himself and his wife.
" I just now felt a drop of rain on my hand ; if
we once get into the drawing-room, the very pi-
quant end of your fair}- tale will certainly be lost
to us."
The joyous, haiTnless expression had grad-
ually vanished from the duke's features. His
little gray eyes were fixed with a searching and
mistrustful look on the man leaning so calmly
against the beech-tree but standing tliere witli an
air of such detennination, his arms folded across
his breast, and his burning glance directed fidl
upon his highness's face. This glance seemed to
])roduce an uncomfortable, almost awe-stricken
feeling in the duke. Like all feeble characters, to
whom fate has allotted a lofty position in the
world, he was much inclined to consider a decided,
firm manifestation of resolute manliness as a want
of deference to himself, and that he could never tol-
erate. Besides, what the man was now relating bore
a most decided resemblance to an old, dark, half-
forgotten stor}-, which, for the minister's sake, he
did not like to see touched upon before all these
curious ears ; but without some plausible pretext,
he could not suppress the conclusion of the story
that had been so eagerly called for. He there-
fore, with a somewhat hasty and not ver}- gracious
movement of his hand, gave the Portuguese a sign
to conclude his relation.
Oliveira stepped away from the tree ; his broad
chest heaved, and a fresh gust of wind that blew
through the trees raised the black cuiis from his
gloomy forehead.
" Ilere begins the self-accusation of the man,
whom I will still allow to speak in his own person ;
he sinned grievously, but sufi'ered much, " contin-
ued he in somewhat louder tones.
" ' On that night, when death so suddenly and
unexpectedly made Don Enriquez his victim, the
viscount, a handsome, proud, and brave man, and
I alone were standing by his bed,' said the Ger-
man physician, when telling me the stoiy. ' The
d}-ing man availed himself of the short respite
granted him, to annul his will and dictate to us
a new one. Both of us wrote according to his
dictation, in order to be more certain ; his hoarse
! whispering, often inteiTupted by the death-rattle
in his throat, was with dithculty understood. He
I made the head of his house his sole heir, and the
j marchioness was disappointed in her expectations ;
i not a foot of land, not a piece of gold did he leave
her of all his possessions. The testator signed
i the copy made by the viscount, as being the most
complete and the clearest, and we both acted as
j witnesses. Contented he sank back on the pil-
I low to die. All at once the door of the ante-
room was thrown open, a ti'ailing silken dress
I came nearer and nearer ; we knew the step only
j too well ! The Aiscount hastily left the room
I to guard the door, and I quickly concealed the
I signed will in my breast-pocket. AVithout, the
beautiful Aspasia sank down before the guardian
of the door, and wound her white aiTns al)out his
knees. Her yellow hair, disordered by the stonn,
' trailed behind her on the floor; and a slender crim-
, son stream flowed from her temples and circled her
110
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
\vliite neck like a serpent. A stone from a falling
Avail had grazed her forehead ; she was bleeding.
The viscount forgot his duty and his honor before
the touching helplessness of the beseeching wom-
an ; the door flew open, and the mai-chioness
rushed to the side of the death-bed. Don En-
rifluez cursed her with his last breath ; he died
with the certainty that he had made reparation
for the wrongs done to his relatives ; but the
beautiful Aspasia, her face pale as wax with an-
guish, was still his and our master. The bright-
colored sei-pent ensnared in her soft, caressing
folds the proud, knightly man, the chief witness
he succumbed to the demon he advanced sud-
denly to a window-niche, persistently turned his
back on the room and all tliat was in it, and looked
fixedly and solicitously out into the stormy night.
Then the seiijent played on me with her tongue,
and hissed forth softly that her only child, the
idol of my heart, should be mine, if I allowed her
to read the writing that was lying on the table.
I turned my face away ; she seized the copy
of the will tiiat I had written. With a half-audi-
ble voice, tremulous with resentment, slie read the
first paragraphs, in which she was disinherited
in terms that could not be misunderstood ; she
did not turn the sheet, and therefore did not
obsei-ve the absence of the signatures. With
a shrill laugh, she suddenly twisted the paper in
her hands into a shapeless mass and threw it into
the fire.
" 'Not until the marchioness, in virtue of the
first testament, had entered into possession, did
she have tlie grace to inform me, with a shrug of
the shoulder and a satanic smile, that only a few
seconds before her mad ride to the death-bed of
Don Enriquez she had betrothed her daughter
to one who was her equal in birth ; I could no
Ioniser betray her without putting my own iiead
into the snare!'"
A murmur spread through the circle. The
Portuguese advanced to the duke.
" But the real valid will of Don Enriquez
wandered with the restless man far out into tlie
Avorld ; to the disclosure of the marchioness he
had been unable to find a word of reply," said he,
with a solemn voice. He put his hand in his
breast-]iocket, and drew forth a paper. " Short-
ly before his death he i)laced it in my hands ; will
your iiighness convince yourself that it is faultless
in composition ?"
With a deep bow he handed the paper to the
duke.
All eyes were fixed with breathless suspense
on tlie duke's countenance. No one observed
liow the minister, at this suqn'ising turn of af-
fairs, at first tottered back with coqjse-like cheeks,
then half rose from his seat, and, with an utter
disregard of all ]n'()priety, stared over the slioulder
if his ducal master at the sheet tliat his Iiigh-
ness was unfolding slowly and with an embar-
rassed hesitation.
" Ha, ha, ha, Herr von Oliveira !" cried his ex-
cellency with a hoarse laugh, " do you really car-
ry your mystification of your attentive auditors so
fir as to bring a written proof of your charming lit-
tle tale?"
Even this imijertinent exclamation did not at-
tract the slightest attention ; the choice circle of
courtiers enjoyed tlie rare and interesting specta-
cle of seeing his higlincss utterly dcjirived of self-
command. He held the opened paper for a mo-
ment in his tremulous hands, as if unable to trust
his eyes. His pale face had become crimson with
consternation and amazement. He glanced at
the first page, then turned over the leaf and sought
the signature.
If meanwhile the eager crowd expected also to
hear the names of the document from the lips
that parted as if straggling for breath, they Avere
mistaken. His highness had not been in vain a
pujiil for so many years of his minister, a mas-
ter of diplomatic arts. His lips again closed.
He placed his right hand over his eyes for a few
seconds, then drew himself up as if Avakiug fi-om
a dream, folded the paper with feverish haste, and
thrust it into his pocket.
' ' Very beautiful very interesting, Herr von
Oliveira ! " said he in a husky voice. ' ' I will look
at this again, at a more convenient season. But
truly," exclaimed he, springing up, "you are
right, dear Schliersen, it is beginning to rain.
Let ns hasten to get under shelter. Do you hear,
ladies, how it roars and rages in the tree-tops?
Quick, quick ! Torches in front !"
It looked as if a gipsy camp had been broken
up in the greatest haste. All was confusion.
The ladies sought their shawls and mantillas and
the gentlemen their hats. Except his highness
and the Countess Schliersen, however, nobody
felt one of the ominously-falling rain-drops ; still
eveiy precaution was used to bring the threatened
dresses home in safety.
During the general tumidt Gisela sought again
to approach the duke, who, chatting with the
Countess Schliersen in an ajipai-ently careless
manner, tarried for a moment in the midft of the
meadow. His little gray eyes, after the reading
of the document, had surveyed the j-onng count-
ess's face. She felt convinced that the glance
had been mistrustfully searching and re]n-oachful.
By her passionate interruptions and her questions,
she had betrayed some knowledge of the mystery.
Her face burned with feverish heat ; she was in a
state of indescribable excitement. Had not tlie
beautiful stepmother herself lain under the op-
jjressive ban of an obscure, indeed, but neverthe-
less anxious presentiment of approaching evil,
she would have been able to exhibit to the world
one voucher more of her daughter's nervous irri-
tability ; but she caught uj) her gauzy wrajijnngs
in anxious haste, and her eyes sought incessantly
the duke alone, as if on his face could be read
what was contained in the eventful paper now
lying concealed on his breast.
" Gisela, you will have the goodness to return
to the castle on my arm." said suddenly the sup-
pressed, hoarse, but still sharp and laconical!}^
commanding voice of the minister close to the
young maiden. "You seem to me as if you
were on the jioint of committing anotlier one of
your mad freaks! Not a word. I beg! We are
to be the sacrifice of a cunningly-plotted intrigue ;
but all is not yet lost / am still here !"
A glance of the deepest contempt, of measure-
less detestation from tlie brown eyes encountered
the man witli the brazen brow, who had just been
unmasked liefore his stepdaughter as an impu-
dent liar, and nevertheless still ventured in her
l)resence to speak of the sly intrigues of others.
The crime was betrayed to the duke : he would
come, through a wonderful dispensation, into the
possession of the inheritance rightfully belonging
to him ; and should she now silently permit the
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
Ill
truth, dear as tlie sun, to be obscured and crush-
ed by means of malicious plots and incredible im-
pudence? Yes, in partnership with him, who
had so inexcusably deceived her, should she
guard the fearful secret her whole life long, and
despoil the ducal house of the income of the her-
itage for many, many long years ? Not once did
she feel a sentiment of compassion, of filial rev-
erence for the heartless, plotting woman, who
found no means too base to enrich herself She
looked only with shuddering and terror into the
deep abyss that separated her for all eternity from
her grandmother. The real motive, for the sake
of wliich her stepfather had made her acquaint-
ed witii the secret, her pure and utterly unprac-
tised glance did not yet penetrate : but it was
very clear to her that this man, with a soid so
utterly cornipt. had certainly not set in motion
all the levers of his scheming mind for tlie noble
purpose of keeping s]J0tless the name of Voldern.
To this whisper, the last words of which had
assumed a confidential tone, she answered not
a syllable; but she turaed her face from him
with that shudder which seizes one at sight of a
poisonous reptile. Her contemptuous repidse did
not, however, protect her from his obtrusive at-
tendance. Without more ado the minister seized
her arm, laid it in his own, and held it there so
forcibly with his left hand that she could not free
herself without exciting a painful disturbance.
And now, too, Madame Herbeck hastened uj) ;
she pressed as energetically and watchfully to the
other side of the young maiden as if she had a
policeman's duty to perfoiTn. The little fat
woman had not yet recovered from the commo-
tion of her mind caused by Gisela's unbecoming
and causeless outburst during the story of the
Portuguese. She declared that she still trembled
so that she could hardly stand, and repeatedly as-
sured his excellency with a melancholy tone that
she desired nothing more ardently than to be at
home in dear, cjuiet Greinsfeld, where the now
unavoidable and everlasting scandal could at least
remain within the four walls of the castle.
CHAPTER XXIX.
The party was at last set in motion. His ex-
cellency, with Gisela, walked directly behind the
duke, who had called the Portuguese to his side.
He, who knew the face of his highness, knew
that, despite his extraordinary command of fea-
ture, despite his commonplace, almost empty talk
with Oliveira, he was in a state of intense excite-
ment. Contrary to his usual measured manner,
he walked hastily and with rapid strides toward
the White Castle ; the procession of guests fol-
lowed him in oppressiA'e, almost awe-stricken
silence. The story of the remarkable stranger
had fallen like a benumbing element on the ett'er-
vescent pleasure.
It had, moreover, been time indeed to leave the
festal scene. Gusts of wind rapidly following each
other roared over the lake, and threw the waves,
sparkUng purple in the glare of the torches, so
high on the moist bank that the delicate little
feet of the ladies, shod in satin, drew back with
much anxiety. As far as the red light of the
illumination spread over the heavens, it showed
a black, fennenting mass, running out here and
there into those sallow, white points and pinna-
cles that bore the hail in their lap. The com-
pany crowded closely together, holding fast with
difficulty to their fluttering wrap])ings ; one torch
after another was extinguished in the sudden
swell and pauses of the breath of the storm.
But yonder glittered already the White Castle in
its sea of light like a fiery obelisk. A short,
valiant struggle was all tiiat was necessary to
reach the roof that promised both protection and
pleasure.
In the door of the vestibule the minister once
more turned and looked out into tlie night.
"We shall have no storm!" cried he. " Not
a single drop is falling now ; the storm is driv-
ing towards A . We might have remained
safely in the woods I I will wager that all v.[\\ be
over in ten minutes. Countess Stunn's carriage !"
called he imperiously to a lackey.
" Will your highness have the goodness to dis-
miss my daughter for to-day ?" said he, turning
to the duke, who was just about to ascend the
steps. "She does not dance, and it would be
very agreeable for me to know that, after the
varied excitements and impressions of the even-
ing, she was safely and quietly home."
"You surely will not send the countess out in
this storm ?" exclaimed the duke suiijrised, and
at the same time strangely peqdexed. He re-
mained standing on the lowest step, but did not
look at Gisela, who stood near him.
"I can assm'e your highness that before the
can-iage starts we shall have the most beautifid
starlight imaginable," answered the minister
smiling.
' ' The fear of the stonn does not keep me back, "
said Gisela calmly, approaching nearer to the duke.
" I would immediately and gladly leave the White
Castle ; Ijut I must beg of your highness the favor
of granting me an audience to-day, even though
it be but for a few moments."
"What ails the child?" cried the minister,
breaking out into a hoarse laugh. " Your high-
ness, this verv' important solicitude of my little
daughter must surely relate to the affairs of her
doll's household or no, the circle of her vision
has widened during the last few days ; if I am
not mistaken, you wish to treat about your poor
pensioners ; is it not so, my child ? But you
have chosen a veiy unsuitable moment for that
pur]3ose ; and did I not, like an indulgent papa,
take into consideration your great inexperience,
I should be very angry ! Has the countess no
better covering for her head than this round hat,
Madame Herbeck ?"
" Here, take my hood, my dear," said her
beautiful excellency, coming up hurriedly. She
tore ofi"the brilliant white wrapjjing from her head
and shoulders, and attempted to throw it round
her stepdaughter.
" I must renew my entreat}'," said Gisela, turn-
ing once more to the duke, but this time with a
strikingly trenudous, entreating voice, while with
a slight movement she rejected the proffered hood.
" For a matter of slight moment 1 would certain-
ly not trouble your highness."
The duke cast a fleeting glance at the fiices of
the persons who stood around, listening atten-
tively.
"Very well, " said he quickly ; ' ' remain, count-
ess: Iwillcertainly speak with you to-day, though
112
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
not immediately ; I must retire for a few mo-
ments "
" Your highness," internipted the minister with
a half-choked voice ; lie was evidently irritated to
frenzy.
The duke cut short his speech; "Stop, my
dear Fleury ; I tliink we ought not to provoke
the charming little petitioner to contradiction.
And now, much pleasure to you I" said he, turn-
ing graciously to his other guests. ' ' Amuse your-
selves to your heart's content imtil I am again
permitted to appear in your circle. Do you hear ?
my band is beginning already. "
He motioned with seeming carelessness for
the minister to follow him, while he ascended the
steps with the Portuguese.
From the wide-open doors of the drawing-room
there came a flood of light ; a crashing Polonaise
smothered the first rumbling of the distant thun-
der, and the forms that but a few moments be-
fore had fled through the darkness of night,
silent and wrap]jed up with anxious care, now
appeared and glided again, chatting with imdi-
minished elegance, and in costume preserved with
spotless biilliancy, over the smooth inlaid floor.
ileanwhUe Gisela advanced towards the hall
adjacent to the castle chapel. This was, in a
manner, neutral ground, a place to which no one
laid claim. At her request a senant brought,
with an astonished countenance, a large globe
lamp, whose flame seemed but a spark in the spa-
cious, shudderingly silent hall.
Baroness Fleury and Madame Ilerbeck ac-
companied the young countess. Both used eveiy
endeavor to learn from what cause she desired to
speak to the duke. She was again, however,
ol)stinate beyond all reason, as the governess mut-
tered through her set teeth ; and as her beautiful
excellency also at last convinced herself that
"nothing could be accomplished," and tliat her
self-willed stepdaughter could be moved neither
by the most earnest entreaties nor by threats to
return to Greinsfeld in conformity with the desire
of the minister, she left the hall shrugging her
shoulders.
Despite the heat prevailing without, Madame
Ilerbeck cowered, shivering and sigliing, in one
of the tall ai-m-chairs. By night, tjiis loved, sa-
cred hall became too ghostly ; but the young
countess stepped calmly across the groaning floor
rendered brown by age.
Without, behind the uncurtained bay window,
yawned the black, deep darkness, ])enetrated from
time to time by a sharp flash of lightning from
the storm-clouds tluit were in reality passing away.
Then the yellow glare trembled on the night-veil-
ed walls of the hall. The governess continually
shut her eyes in terror. Life seemed to returii
among these mighty embodied biblical fonns.
They swept angrily down to the female h^)ocrite,
wiio impudently tried tj reach the halo about their
heads, to make mercliandisc thereof; who con-
cealed her own unchaste, vicious soul behind a
pretended communi(ni with them ; and who, to
gain that ride to which her own little, circum-
scribed spirit would not entitle Iier, made a scourge
of tlie holy word of Scripture, wherewith she sought
to lash the inconvenient truth, the deejj searching
human spirit in its flight of free thouglit.
A lovely form, also fiom the Old Testament,
the innocent victim of heathenish conceptions, the
beautiful daugliter of Jephtha, was brought out
from the darkness by the lightning's fieiy finger.
She hovered yonder in white gannents, like a tim-
id, fluttering dove, and looked down with eyes fidl
of mortal sadness on the unquiet wanderer who
incessantly paced the hall, her featm-es expressive
of feverish anxiety.
Gisela also went out into the dim passage,
, where she remained waiting and expectant. Steps
; led from here to the upper story, the apartments
; of her step-parents ; the duke was above, and must
! ])ass this way in order to return to the drawing-
room, where the ball was now in progress.
His highness had indeed ascended Avith his two
attendants in order to be far from all listeners,
and from the disturbing noise of the ball-room.
He entered the room with the violet plush hang-
ings, and carefidly closed the door that led to the
long row of chambers. Near the ceiling of the
adjacent sea-room a slender flame Mas bmiiing
in the pendent milk-white lotus-blossom, which
shed a pale moonlight o\er the green enchant-
ment of the sea, the white limbs of the ocean
divinities, and the demoniacally beautiful portrait
of the Countess Voldeni.
As if after a breathless flight, the duke remained
standing in the middle of tlie chamber, and ckew
the document hastily from his pocket. Now he
dared give vent to liis feelings. He was in the
most violent agitation, such as he had never be-
fore exhibited. He unfolded the sheet, and read
with a subdued voice, " Heinrich, Prince of
A ; Hans von Zweiflingen, late major ; Wolf
von Eschebach "
' ' There is no doubt ! " exclaimed the duke.
"Eschebach gave you this document, this Mill
with his own hand, Herr von Oliveira ?"
" I must first of all inform your highness that
I am a German," said the Portuguese quietly.
" My name is Berthold Ehrhardt ; I am the sec-
ond son of Ehrhardt, the former ducal overseer
of the foundry at Xeuenfeld "
"Ha, ha, ha I" laughed the minister in wild
triumph. "I was certain that the whole matter
would turn out to be a swindle. Your highness,
liere we have again in the countrj- a demagogue
of the first Mater. About twelve years ago he
saved himself by flight from the hand of the hwv ! "
The duke stejjped back Mith a frowning brow
and a gesture expressive of great displeasure.
"What! have you contrived to crec]) into my
acquaintance under a false name ?" cried he in-
dignantly.
"I am in reality Hen- von Oliveira, being
the owner of an estate that bears that name, and
gives me the same title. In Brazil it is just as
valid for distinguishing tny person as my own
fannly patronymic," answered the Portuguese
quite" undisturbed. "Had I retunied to Ger-
many solely on my own account, nothing in the
M-orld could have induced me to hi}- aside for a
single second my dear, honest German name.
But I had a mission to fulfill that required the
greatest foresight. I was oliliged to jn-ocure for
myself close, immediate, and i)rolongod inter-
course Mith your highness, and well knew that
the strict etiquette maintained at the court of
A would never allow this intercourse to a
plain citizen "
"And how much this Chinese wall around the
person of our sovereign ruler is required, you
yourself funiish a striking proof at this moment,
my verj' excellent ilr. Ehrhardt ! " internipted
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
113
the minister with a satanic sneer. ' ' You would
never indeed have succeeded in mystitying liis
highness with this swindle " pointing to the
will in the duke's hand "if you had retained
that dear, honest German name. Yom- high-
ness,'' said he, shrugging his shoulders, and turn-
ing to his ducal master, " if there be one among
your faithful subjects desirous of incieasiug the
possessions and revenues of the ducal family, it
is 1 ; all my measures up to the present time will
speak for me ; but 1 must confess myself stiiick
with bUndness, I should conmiit the most crying
sin of omission, if I failed to proclaim the wretch-
ed production in your hands a forgery ! j\lr.
Eiirhardt, my nuich-respected democrat, I see too
well through tlie views of yourself and your hon-
orable party I With this will you seek to strike
a blow at the aristocracy, that body which sur-
rounds the throne of its master with immutable
fidelity ; but beware ; I stand here ready to return
the blow I "
The portentous line on the forehead of the
Portuguese glowed like a streak of fire. The
clenched fist of his right hand twitched, as if
about to fall with crushing force : but Berthold
Ehrhardt was no longer that hot-blooded student
whom of old the earnest, ardently-loved brother
alone could bring back within the bounds of
self-control. He Avas at this moment the sublime
embodiment of the miglity force of will and moral
strength. The raised right hand dropped again,
and his flaming irlance gravely measured the
slight foi-m of the minister.
"His highness will learn in the course of my
communication why I scorn to seek satisfaction
from you," said he coldly.
"Impudent fellow " exclaimed the minis-
ter.
"Baron Eleurv, I urgently request modera-
tion," cried the duke, as he stretched out his
hand to command obedience. " I wish to con-
Annce myself whether in reality the revolutionary
party, the hated "
"The so-called revolutionaiy party in your
Irighness's domains has nothing to do with this
matter, " said the Portuguese, intermjjting him ;
"but if your highness speaks of hatred, I neither
can nor will deny my deep, unquenchable hatred
towards this man !" He pointed to the minister,
who once more burst forth into a contemjjtuous
laugh. " Yes, yes, laugh I" continued the Portu-
guese. "This mocking laugh accompanied me
when I fled from my native land ; it sounded in
my ears wherever I set my fleeing foot ; in the
loud uproar of cities, and in the deep silence of
the desert. I came back over the sea with brnm-
ing thoughts of revenge ; the hot sun of the
south, and much more the communications of a
sorely-betra}X'd man, had gradually fanned them
into a blazing flame. Tluit paper yonder," he
])ointed to the will, "was to bear witness also
against the man who sneeringly rolibed my poor
brother of his only jewel who pushed two inno-
cent men into the abyss of misery, because he
had a cranng for Uriah's wife. I say it once
more, I came back solely for the purpose of seek-
ing revenge. This flame has been extinguished
in my breast; a noble voice, an innocent creature,
lias been the instrument of convincing me that
this feeling was unjust and impure. If I now
consistently execute my mission, in other words,
if I hurl you from the height of your despotic
power, it is done solely for the jjuiposc of anni-
hilating a scourge of my unhapjiy fatherland I"
The duke stood as if thunderstruck at this in-
credible boldness, but the minister made a quick,
tiger-like movement towards the bell-cord, as
though he were in his own ofiice and the bailitf
without the door.
A cold smile flitted round the lips of the Por-
tuguese at this sight. He once more drew forth
a paper, a small crumpled leaf, yellow with age.
It vibrated u] and down. It was evident that
the hand trembled as it produced one proof after
omother of a heavy crime.
" Y'our highness," said he with a husky voice,
as he turned to the duke, "on that night when
Prince Heinrich lay dying, a man rode towards
A to bring his son to the bed of the depart-
ing man in order that a reconciliation might take
place. Greinsfeld, it is true, lay some distance
on one side, but the rider left the highway that
led to A , and rode over to the castle, where
a great masked ball was in progress. Soon after
a domino stepped up to Countess Voldern and
pressed this little note into her hand ; it after-
wards dropjied from the bosom of the countess
when she threw herself down by the prince's bed-
side ; Eschebach picked it up and pi'esened it "
At this moment the minister, bereft of all self-
control, rushed upon the Portuguese and sought
to snatch the paper from him, but he was unable
to cope with his gigantic strength. Without
wavering, with a single movement the jjowerfnl
man hurled his dastardly assailant far away, and
handed the note to the duke.
"Prince Heinrich lies dying," read his high-
ness with quivering voice ; "he wishes to be rec-
onciled with the ducal-house ; hasten, or all is
j lost. Fleury."
I "Scoundrel!" ejaculated the diike, and threw
the note at the minister's feet.
I But the man with the brazen forehead did not
yot give himself up as lost. He had already re-
j gained self-control ; he picked up the paper and
' read it through, but his voice, full of excitement,
resemliled the stammering of a child.
I " WiU your highness really condemn a faithful
! servairt of your house upon such a miserable de-
nunciation ?" asked he, striking the paper with
the outer surface of his left hand. "I did not
write this note ; it is a forgeiy I swear it an
imitation "'
"An imitation like the Voldern fimiily dia-
monds that your wife now M'cars ?" asked the
, Portuguese quietly.
Erom the adjacent room came a nimliling
' sound ; then in the distance a noise Mas heard as
of a door slammed to with violence.
The worst witness against the minister was his
own face ; it was so distorted as to be hardly
recognizable ; yet he continued to defend himself
with the desperate energy of a drowning man.
I " Is not your highness yet convinced that you
, are dealing with an infamous person ?" stammer-
ed he. "Are my private and f^rmily aflairs,
' which he seeks to defile with such incredible im-
pudence, a proper matter to bring before this
fonim ?"
I The duke timied away. It had perhaps be-
come intolerably painful for him to look into the
feverishly-twitching countenance of him m ho for
many long years had been his favorite and guide,
and who now, utterly bereft of his self-control,
114
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
talent, and matchless self confidence, was clutch-
ing a last straw in so pitiful a manner.
"Confine yourself to the question, your excel-
lency I " said the Portuguese, entirely undisturbed :
" I haye no idea of touching on your private and
family affairs ; though I neither can nor dare
deny "that I am not a stranger even to these mat-
ters. "
"Ah! you ^yere interested, then, in finding
out the depth of my purse and the length of my
washing-bill?" The minister once more tried,
with these words, to assume his usual mocking,
sarcastic tone; bat it sounded only the more re-
pellent from his trembling li]3s, pale with anguish.
The Portuguese entirely unheeded the intemip-
tion.
"You had in Eschebach an irreconcilable en-
emy," continued he with the utmost composure.
"The wrongs that \\ere done him droye him from
his home. Spite of tlie wealth he acqiured, he
remained a poor, unhappy, lonely man, and was
compellsd to die in a strange land. Major yon
Zweiflingen also suffered heayily for his treachery
and breach of faith he perished ignominiously.
You alone, who gaye the signal for that atrocious
fraud, who, as a faithfid accomplice of the Count-
ess Voldern, wove the first meshes of the net in
which the two deceived ones were ensnared, you
alone made a stepping-stone of your crime, to
ascend, by degrees, to honor, position, and abso-
lute, shamefully-abused power. At a later period,
the solitaiT man in Soutli America, whom his
glowing love for the daughter of that wily wo-
man accompanied even till his death, hoped once
more for Iiappiness. It was at the time of Count
Stunn's death. Eschebach was about to return
to Germany; but his excellency, the all-powerful
minister, stood again in the way, stretched out his
hand, and led the beautiful widow home."
"Aha tlicre comes tlie rub!" cried the minis-
ter with a hollow Ijurst of laughter that gave forth
no sound. ' ' My fortunate star challenged envy,
and malice that lurks in darkness!"
"Say rather, your excellency, it challenged in-
dignation that wickedness should triumph through
so many long years!" said the Portuguese, with
emphasis and with sparkling eyes. "From that
moment Eschebach did indeed follo^v you as tlie
hunter tracks his game once dislodged. He had
millions at his disjjosal ; they opened to him a
thousand ways to observe you in your most secret
doings and actions ; ho was acquainted with your
most private operations in Paris and at the water-
ing-places those gambling-hells ; and a few days
before his death, the information concerning all
these special points was imparted to me. Still,
these are in reality your private affairs, and they
do not belong here. On the other hand, it is by
no means your pi-ivate affair when you embezzle
the property of your ward when you sell the
jewels belonging to her for eighty thousand dol-
lars, and i-eplace them with worthless imitations.
It is moreover just as little your jyrivate aftair
alone that you stand here on unjustly acquired
soil. You never bou'jht the White Castle ; it was
the price of your treachery towards the ducal
house I "
"The devil!" shrieked the minister. "Do
you want to strip me of eveiy thing ! " He placed
both hands to his head. "Ha, ha, ha! And
am I then really yet alive ? Is it true tliat the first
chance adventurer can come hither, and be al-
lowed with impunity to hurl the most atrocious
calumnies in my face in the presence of your
highness ?"
"Disprove these calumnies, Baron Fleury !"
said the duke with apparent out\vard calmness.
" Does your highness really desire of me that
I should condescend to disprove the accusations
of this adventurer ? I have no thought of such
a thing ; I spurn them contemptuously with my
foot, like a stone that has been thrown in my
path ! " cried the minister, with a hoarse but tol-
erably fii-m voice. His effronteiy and self-re-
liance began again to return ; something like
painful regret had appeared in the tones of the
duke's voice. "Your highness, let us suppose
I onh' say, suppose that in reality my actions
here and there should fail to be above reproach ;
are these not counterbalanced by senices enough
rendered the ducal house for a w^rong, long ago
outlawed, to be forgotten ? Ought it not to weigh
heavily in the scale, that I have known how to
increase the splendor of the d^Tiasty as none of
my predecessors have done ; that I stand before
the throne like a shield, and receive the shower
of stones hurled by the evil-disposed, the democ-
racy, against the traditions of your noble house ;
that I have never permitted the spirit of the age to
lay a finger on the sacred rights of the sove-
reign ? I ha\e been 3'our highnesses most foithful,
most unselfish counsellor in the affairs of state,
as well as in the intimate relations of the ducal
family "
"You are so no hrifier" intemipted the duke,
with a hea^y stress on the last words.
"Your higlmess "
The duke turned his back upon him, advanced
to the window-niche, and drummed loudly on the
panes with his fingers.
" Bring me i)roofs to the contraiy, Baron Fleu-
ry ! " cried lie, without turning round.
' "I will not fail, your highness," stammered
the minister, literally breaking down. With an
unsteady, groping hand, he seized the door-knob,
and reeled out into the corridor.
CHAPTER XXX.
At this moment Gisela appeared at the lower
end of the corridor. Her apprehension that tlie
Ankc might ]ierlia])S choose another route for his
return to tlie ball-room, had finally induced her
to ascend the stairs and wait for him in the cor-
ridor ; for she rightly considered that she would
no longer be able to approach him if he were once
again in the ball-room in the midst of his guests.
At tiie sight of his stepdaughter, the minister
liroke forth into a mocking laugh ; it seemed as
if her ajipearance restored him to consciousness.
" You cime as if you ^\ ere summoned, my dar-
ling ! Go in yonder, only go in ! " he cried point-
ing with liis tiiumb over his shoulder to the room
he had just left. " My dear, you have hated me
from tlie bottom of your heart, with tlic whole
strength of your self-willed soid. I know it ;
and no\\-, wlien our paths diverge for ever and
ever, I can not forego the satisfaction of letting
you know that the antipathy has been mutual.
The wretched, obstinate cretiture bequeathed me
by the Countess Vijldem was an object of detest-
ation to me ; it was always ^vith inward rcluc-
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
ii;
tance that I touched the fragile, sickly body,
which was called 'my daughter.' So we are
quits ! And now go in yonder and say, ' jNIy
clear papa intended, at any price, to put nie into
the cloister, because he had a craving for my for-
tune I" I tell you it will produce a grand effect,
a grand effect," he snapjied his fingers in the
air like a maniac; "however, your spirited ar-
guments against a convent life were entirely su-
perfluous : we might have sjiared ourselves the
(juarrel about nothing. Countess Sturm. Another
person has Ijrought this portentous business to a
much more successful close ! Ha, ha, ha ! I had
jiictured to myself how charmingly the portrait
of the last Countess Voldern would look in a
nun's veil ! Neither will you be obliged any longer
to prepare soup for the poor. You can roam over
the meadows securely and witliout restraint, as
you desired, in your idyllic manner, and will be
able, besides, to keep quite a respectable piece of
sky above you : but mark well, only the Greins-
feld sky ; as to Arnsberg, shake off the dust from
your feet, as his excellency the minister will do
in a few moments !"
lie stared before him as if now for the first time
he had a realizing sense of the whole terrible fu-
ture with its crashing Aveight, while Gisela, speech-
less with terror and aversion, shrank back, and
supported herself on the nearest window-frame.
"Yes, yes, all gone I all gone ! " he shrieked forth
hoarsely. " The tenants of the village on theA'iJl-
deni estates, with their rents, and the game in the
woods, and the carp in the ponds, all, all belong
again to the duke I To you, of course, this is of
no account, my little one ; you will be contented
if they leave you milk and brown bread. But
she, she ! Yonder she lies, the beautiful, sublime,
sainted grandmother, holding the crucifix that
was pressed into her white hands. Ha, ha, ha !
A crucifix for the beautiful Helena, ^^ho travelled
straight to the witches on the Blocksberg ! If
she could but awake and see the AVTetched paper !
She would tear it with her teeth, and stamj) it
into the ground with her feet ; she would, like
me, have only one thing for all of you, for all
her curse !"
He ran by the young maiden towards the stairs,
and broke out into a shrill, mocking laugh. A
fearful echo resounded from the narrow walls of
the con-idor, and must have penetrated frightfuOy
hito the room with the violet-))lush curtains. The
door was opened, and the duke looked out.
The minister had already disappeared on the
staircase : but Gisela, with hands falling listlessly,
and eyes fidl of teiTor directed towards the flee-
ing man, leaned against the wall as if turned to
stone.
The duke advanced noiselessly to her, and gen-
tly laid his hand on the shoulder of the .shrinking
maiden. A fearful earnestness was on his narrov/
face ; within the last half-hour he seemed to have
grown fifteen years older.
"Come in. Countess Stunn," said he with a
friendly voice, although the tender kindness with
which he had been wont to address her had dis-
appeared from tone and countenance.
Gisela followed the duke with unsteady steps
into the room.
"You wish to speak with me alone, do yon
not, countess?" asked he. beckoning to the Poitu-
guese to go into the adjoining chamber.
" No, no !" cried Gisela with the utmost eager-
ness, and stretched forth her hands as if to ])rc-
vcnt his leaving the room. "He also must hear
how guilty I am; he shall see how I atone for
it!"
The Portuguese remained standing in the door,
while the young maiden silently pressed her baud
to her heart. She was evidently struggling for
breath and composure.
" I have betrayed, this evening, that I was ac-
quainted with my grandmother's crime," said she
with choking voice and downcast eyes. " I have
dared, with the knowledge of this" guilt, to look
in your highness's face, and have found courage
to chat with you about harmless trifles, while it
was my duty to have said nothing but, ' You have
been frightfully deceived!' I know that the re-
ceiver is as guilty as the thief; but, yourhigbness,"
cried she, raising to him her eyes swimming in
tears, and folding her hands beseechingly over her
breast, " let one thing at least speak for me. I
have always been a neglected, unloved, orjjhaned
creature, who, in spite of all her riches, possessed
nothing but the picture, the memory of her grand-
mother ! "
" Poor child, I shall not hold you responsible,"
said the duke with emotion. "But who could
have been so cruel as to burden your young soul
with the knowledge of this crime ? You could not
possibl)-, as a child "
"I have known the mystery only a few hours,"
said Gisela, interrupting him. " The minister "
it was impossible for her again to bestow the name
of father on the detested man "made me ac-
quainted with the occurrence a few moments before
the commencement of the festival. Why he made
me privy to it I did not then understand ; now
I know the reason, but your highness will pemiit
me to keep silence on this ])oint. I believed it my
duty to rescue the name of Vcildeni ; and though
I decidely rejected the plan proposed by Baron
Fleuiy, yet I at least clung to a part of his idea :
I resolved to retire to Greinsfeld for the remainder
of my life, to distribute the revenue of the surrep-
titiously acquired projierty yearly among the poor
of the land, and at my death to bequeath the whole
to the ducal house."
At the last words a crimson blush suddenly
covered her face ; for the first time since she had
been in the room her eye had met that of the
Portuguese, fixed immovably upon her. With
terror and shame, she was again at this moment
conscious that the thought of belonging to him
had scarcely an hour ago utterly obliterated all
these noble resolutions from her soul.
The duke had failed to notice this deep blush.
During the communication of the young lady, lie
had restlessly jiaced up and down the room with
his hands crossed behind his back.
"Baron Fleuiy wished to make a nun of you,
did he not, countess ?" asked he, suddenly stop-
ping.
Gisela preser\'ed an embaiTassing silence.
" The selfish wretch !" muttered he between his
teeth. He laid his slender feverish hand on the
bowed head of the young girl.
"No, no; you shall not be buried alive in
Greinsfeld, " said he tenderly. ' ' Poor, poor
child, you were in evil hands! Now I know,
too, why you were and must be sick at any price.
You were surrounded by nothing but traitors.
They sought to murder you bodily and spiritually.
But now you shall learn what it is to be young
116
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
and in good health ; you shall leam to know the
v.-orld, the beautiful world ! ~
He seized lier hand and led her to the door.
' ' For to-dav, return to Greinsfeld ; it is im-
possible for you to remain here. "
Gisela still remained lingering on the thi'esh-
old.
"Your highness," said she with sudden deter-
mination, " I did not come here alone to make a
confession "
"Well?"
" The ducal house has suffered heav^- losses by
this robbeiy ; a large income has been lost to it.
I am the sole heiress of the Countess Voklern.
It is my sacred duty to remedy, as far as hes in
my power, the wrong tliat she has done. Take
all that she left me "
" Oh, my dear little countess," said the duke,
interrupting her with a smile, "do you seriously
believe that I could lay you under contribution,
and make you, a poor, innocent creature, atone
for yom' grandmother's crime ? Listen, sir," said
he slowly and impressively, as he turned towards
the Portuguese ^^ith an air and manner that
might atone for his earUer behavior, "you have
wounded me deeply by your disclosures; you
have laid the axe to the root of the nobility ; but
this lovely girl's lips have made atonement ; they
have saved the nobility in my eyes !"
"The thought to which the countess has just
given utterance is certainly a noble one," replied
the Portuguese quietly ; " Eschebach also enter-
tained the same. As an indemnification for the
revenues that have been withdrawn for many
years from the ducal house through a treachery
in which he connived, he has bequeathed to your
highness the sum of fom- hundi-ed thousand dol-
lars."
The duke started back -with smprise.
"Ah! was he indeed such a CrcEsus?" He
hastily' traversed the chamber several times ^rith-
out uttering a word.
' ' I am not acquainted ^vith the stoiy of your
life, sir, " said he, stopping before the Portuguese.
" But some of 3'our observations to Baron Fleury
led me to surmise a most painful occm'rence ;
your brother was drowned, and in consequence
of that you abandoned Germany!"
"Yes, your highness." His tones were full
of bitter animosity. '
"Did you meet Eschebach accidentally in
your joumeyings through the world V"
"No. He had been on friendly terms with
my parents ; he sent a direct invitation to me
and my brother to come to Brazil. I left Ger-
many in obedience to his summoiis."
' ' Ah ! you are then surely his adopted son,
liis heir ?"
"He did certainly think that he must grate-
fully repay, with his riches, the little \oxe. and at-
tentiin tiiat he received from me. But I felt a
liorror t'ov the man and his treasures, \\hen he
made me these confessions on his death-bed. I
can not yet forgive him for keeping secret until
death his comjjlicity in such a M'rong in his na-
tive land, while it would have required but a sin-
gle word from him to overthrow the perjietrator
of the crime. He was cowardly, and feared a
blot iqjon his name. I liave made a formal dis-
tribution of the inheritance among charitable in-
stitutions. Fortune has favored my jmvate un-
dertakings; lam in indei)endent circumstances."
"Do you intend to return to Brazil?" The
duke said this M"ith a pecuharly watchful glance,
while he advanced nearer the Portuguese.
" No ; I wish to make myself useful in my na-
tive home. Your highness, I give myself up to
the joyfid hope that from the moment when that
wretch yonder crosses the threshold, never to re-
turn, a new breath of life will be diffused over the
land. "
His highness's face clouded. He dropped his
head and shot from beneath his closely contract-
ed brows a sharp, penetrating glance at the pow-
erful man opposite.
' ' Yes, he is a wretch a soul utterly and
thoroughly corrept," said he slowly and accenting
each word. "But one thing you must not for-
get, sir he was an excellent statesman !"
" Wiat, your highness ! tbis man, who, ^\^th
iron grasp, has kept down even the most harm-
less aspiration after higher things among the peo-
ple ? the man who, during his long period of
power, would not move a finger to aid the poor of
tlie land who, on the contrary, whenever he was
able, always dragged down industiy. the individ-
ual strivings of capable minds, for fear lest the
people, if their stomachs were well filled, woidd
become so insolent as to be desirous of casting a
glance at the political kitchen of the ruler of the
State the man who at last also joined the hie-
rarchical love of power to his programme of gov-
ernment, because his worldly wisdom was no
longer sufticient to stem the powerful current
against him ? He, who has not a spark of relig-
ion in his sold, has still glued religion to the staff
of his authority ; powerfully supported by a piy-
ing, power-seeking caste that possesses the ad-
vantage of general public esteem, he has con^'ert-
ed the sublimity, the gentleness which wns de-
signed to be a source of light, consolation, and
refreshment for the human soul, into an instru-
ment of torture, like the iron maiden that en-
folds all who approach her in her arms and mer-
cilessly presses them to death in her embrace!
Let your highness but travel through the land "
"Enough, enough!" exclaimed the duke, in-
terrupting him with a repelling movement of the
hand ; his cotmtenance had become cold and rigid,
as if suddenly frozen to ice. "We five neither
in the East nor in that celebrated period when
the grand vizier wandered through the streets in
order to hear the sentiments of the people. So
many wishes, fancies, and foolish desires have
now found currency throughout the land, that he
only is able to keep above the chaos who firndy,
clearly, and steadfastly stands his ground. I am
already acquainted with your visionaiy ideas..
Your establishment yonder bears them on its
fixce. I can not blame you for them, but they can
never become mine. You hate the nobility ; but
I will stand by it and uphold it till my last breath.
Yes, I would not hesitate to make tiie heaviest
sacrifices for this principle. I am not ignorant
that the events of this day, should they be made
public, would cause much ill blood ; and for that
reason they affect me most painfully. As a
matter of course, I must drop that disieputable
v.'retch ; but if I conld assign any other motives
for his dismissal in a word, if we could for the
present suit]n-esstlie worst feature of the affair I
would be very willing to regard the whole the
personal acts of Baron Fleury excepted as never
liaving occurred. Must willingly indeed, my dear
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
117
countess, would I leave you in possession of the
estates in question "
"Your highness!" cried the young girl, as if
unwiUiug to trust her ears. "Oh!" added she,
with a painfully sinking voice, "that is too hard
a punishment formy joint knowledge of the crime!
I will never take it back I" protested she solemn-
ly.
"Come, come, my child, do not take it so
tragically!"' cried the duke in great peqjlexity.
" I did not thiidc you would regard the matter in
so serious a ligiit. Eut now go. In a few days
I will go to Greinsfeld and deliberate with you ;
for the future you shall live at my court, imder
tlie jjrotection of the duchess."
Giscla shuddered, and once more the blood
flushed her cheeks. But she raised her lashes,
and looked firmly at the duke witli her bro\\n
eyes.
"Your highness overwhelms me with good
ness," answered she. "I return double thanks
for this mark of distinction, since the Voldern
family has really not deseiTed it. But I dare not
accept the honor of living at the court of A ,
because my patli of life is already marked out
clearly and definitely before me."
The duke stepped back with astonishment.
" And may I not know it ?" asked he.
Tiie young ladv, her face once more suffused
with blushes, earnestly shook her head ; she made
a quick, involuntaiy movement towards the door,
as if she were anxious to depart.
His highness was silent, and extended his hand
to take leave.
"I shall quite lose sight of jou, Countess
Sturm," said he after a short but embarrassing
pause; "but if you should ever have a wish
which it is in my power to grant, you will confide
it to me, will you not ?"
Gisela bowed deeply, and crossed the threshold.
The door closed behind her. The former little
nder of this domain had seen for the last time the
drawing-room with the violet-i)lus]i curtains, and
the alluring but ill-boding sea-chamber.
She hurried through the corridor as if pursued.
Below, at tlie foot of the steps, stood Madame
Herbeck wringing her hands.
"For God's sake, dear countess, whei-e have
you been hidden ?" cried she in a tone of the deep-
est vexation. " It is altogether too regardless in
vou to leave me all alone at night in that haunted
haU!"
' ' I was with his highness, " replied Gisela short-
]}, while she stepped rapidly by the little fat wom-
an, and returned to the hall. On entering it she
remained standing near the gi'eat oak-table on
which the lamp was standing. She supjiorted
her hand on the surface of the table, and sudden-
ly stood before the angry governess as the mistress
v.ho has some disclosure to make to one of her
dependents.
"I beg j-ou, Madame Herbeck, to order the
carriage and return to Greinsfeld," said she quiet-
ly, but with a commanding tone.
"Well, and you?" asked the goveiTiess, who
did not know what to make of the order.
" I shall not accompany you."
" What ! are you going to remain at the "WTiite
Castle ? Without me ?" As if deeply injured,
she accented the last word in an ascending, ques-
tioning scale that appeared endless.
" I shall not remain at Anisberg. Within the
last few hours the affairs of this house and their
relation to me have wholly changed, so that it is
utterly impossible for me to stay here."
" Merciful Heaven ! what has happened?" ex-
claimed the little fat woman, tottering backward.
"I can not possilily enter into an explanation
with you here ; the floor bimis under my feet.
KetiuTi as quickly as possible to Greinsfeld. The
settlement that must be made between us I will
arrange by letter."
Madame Herbeck raised both hands to her
head, covered with lace.
"Heavens! am I going mad? Do I hear
aright ?" shrieked she.
" Y^ou hear rightly ; we must separate. "
" What, you wish to dismiss me ? You ? Oh,
there are some others to be consulted, who will
have something to say in the matter ; some who
know how to value the sen-ices that I have ren-
dered. Thank God, I am not yet gi\en into
your hands, and dependent on your cajjrices. A
long, long time must yet pass befoie j'ou will be
able to dismiss me in this manner. I hold it
beneath my dignity to waste a single word more
on thisaflair. I will go at once to head-quarters
and demand satisfaction of his excellency for your
unbecoming behavior."
' ' Baron Flemy has no longer any power over
me; I am free, and can go wherever I will,"
said Giscla firmly and energetically. " Madame
Herbeck, you will do well yjot to go to his excel-
lency about this matter. I will not ask your con-
science for what reason you have persistentl}^ at-
tributed to me a disease from which I have long-
been free; I will not ask -why you have used
every endeavor to cut me off from all intercourse
with the world. Y"ou were the intimate friend
of a physician fitterl}^ devoid of principle, and
with him were only too wdling a tool of ni}' step-
father!"
The governess sank back into an arm-chair as
if crushed.
" That I will forgive you," continued Gisela;
' ' but never can I excuse you for having directed
your whole endeavors to one purpose, namely, to
educate me into a heartless machine ! You have
defrauded me of the years of my youth, of good
deeds, of the most sublime joys of life, by girding
my heart in the icy mail of pretended propriety
and pride of birth! How dared 3'ou take God
and ins word hom'ly on your lips, whilst in one
of God's creatures intrusted to your care you
were crashing out the noble instincts of the soul,
and thus prevented it s(j long from living and
working in reality according to the commands
of the Most High?"
She turned away and advanced towards the
door. Her giize ^vandered once more regretfully
over the dark walls that she had so much loved ;
she then passed out into the corridor.
" Countess," cried Madame Herbeck, "where
are you going ?"
The young girl commanded silence with an im-
perious gesture ; then, motioning back the gov-
erness, she descended the steps.
CHAPTEll XXXI.
The vestibule, illuminated so brightly as almost
to surpass the light of day, was empty. The
ser\-ants were busily engaged in the ball-room,
118
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
from which came the noise of the brilliant music.
Gisela escaped imseen into the open air. The
little pebbles at her feet sparkled in the stream of
light that flowed through tlie panes above and
threw the cross-bars of the window in gigantic
shadows over the gravelled walk.
Ilunying quickly over the wide illuminated
space, the young lady turned aside into the near-
est avenue, but immediately shi-ank back with a
loud cry ; a fonn stepped forth from behind the
first tree.
"It is I, countess," said the Portuguese in
deep, tremulous tones.
Gisela, who had fled back in terror towards the
castle, immediately returned, whilst tlie Fortu-
guese left the shade of tlie avenue and stepped
out into the illuminated gravel path.
The dazzling liglit from the chandeliers fell on
his uncovered head, and clearly showed eveiy
feature of his handsome face. The red streak
lay on his forehead, but his eyes sparkled with
joyous surprise and unconcealed passion.
'" I have been waiting here to see you enter the
carriage," said he. It sounded as if tliis restrain-
ed voice was stifled by the stormy beating of his
heart.
"The parsonage is not for off; I need no car-
riage to reach it ; and it is, besides, more fitting
for one who must ask charity to go on foot," an-
swered tlie young girl gently, almost liumbly. ' ' I
have broken with the sjihere in Avliich I was born
and have been educated ; I leave every thing be-
hind" she pointed towards the castle "that
but a few days ago was identified with the name
of the Countess ISturm : the stolen inheritance,
the pride of birth, and all those so-called privi-
leges that an egotistic caste has forciljly made its
own. Gh, sir, I have cast a sfiuddering glance
into that sphere wliich haughtily isolates itself
from the rest of humanity 1)y means of walls and
ramparts! Till recently I was of the opinion
that tliese walls were there to separate the pure
from the impure, \ irtue from crime ; Init now I
see that crime without, among the despised class,
is not more indigenous tlian behind those walls.
But a few moments ago 1 learned the truth that
a noble, instead of being doubly punished because
he does not possess nobility, is treated with such
unjust lenity that deceit is employed to hide the
stain of dishonor from the judging eye of the
world. I go to seek a refuge \\itli those who are
really men ; I seek an asylum at the parsonage. "
"Will you jjermit me to accompany you?"
asked he in a low, unsteady voice.
She extended her right hand without a mo-
ment's hesitati(m.
" Yes ; on your arm will I enter this new life,"
said she with a beaming smile.
lie stood there exactly as at the abyss at the
quarry. He did not raise his hand, and the red
streak that had disajjpeared again flamed over
his fcjrehead.
' ' Coimtess, I recall to your mind the dark mo-
ment of your childhood, that ill-treatment, in
consequence of which j'ou wore rendered sick
and miserable, and deprived of all the joys of
cliildhood," said lie in a hollow tone. "Was it
not tlicre," lie jxiinted to a jiart of the gravelled
walk most brilliantly iilumiuatcd by the light
streaming from tlie vestibule, " wiierc the hard-
liearted, passionate man unmercifully shook the
jioor little cliild and thrust her from him ?"
Gisela's pale cheeks turned still whiter.
"I have told you, sir, that this recollection was
buried \\\l\\ "
"With him, with that unfortunate man, who
perished that very same night, is it not so, count-
ess?" asked he, interrupting her. "But he was
not drowned ; his brother rescued him, only im-
mediately aftenvards himself to sink beneath the
waves ! " He slowly raised his right hand. ' ' This
is the hand that maltreated you, Coimtess Sturm !
I am tliat Berthold Ehrhardt, that presumed in-
cendiary, the ]3resumptuous democrat, who used
such insulting words to his excellency "
He stopped and stood before her breathless,
with sunken brow, as if awaiting a sentence that
must crush him to the dust.
"Sir," said the young girl, deeply aflccted
never indeed had her sweet voice sounded so
consolatory and full of feeling "you yourself
lately said to me, ' Who knows ! perhaps his soid
suflered a thousand tortures!' And the duke
made it a reproach to you that you hated the no-
bility ; you certainly had at that time sorrowfid
reasons enough for thrusting from you a repre-
sentative of the hated caste, although at that mo-
ment one most innocent."
"May I explain to you the reason of my con-
duct ?" asked he, breathing more freely.
She bowed her liead assentingly, and both
stepped back into the dark avenue. He related
to her, in a voice trembling with ])ainful emotion,
the story of the suflerings of his lost brother ; he
j)ictured the unutterable grief with which he
accompanied the so-shamefully-betrayed man
through the castle and the avenues. lie pointed
out to the silent listener the rocky projection ris-
ing high in the dark air, on which the noble
heart had once fought its last fearful fight : the
night had become clear, and the stars were shin-
ing; the mighty outlines of the white, iniked,
rocky wall gleamed through the darkness, and
high above sparkled the millions of silvery span-
gles with which night besprinkles her train.
And he told farther how he had become a fugi-
tive, his heart filled with the hot thirst for re-
venge ; but how, also, in restless activity, he had
garnered up treasures in order to be able to erect
to his idolized brother a befitting memorial
a memorial embracing the purchase of tlie neg-
lected foundry, and the creation of the Neuen-
feld colony as it now existed. And whilst he
spoke, sometimes in loud, passionate tones, some-
times witii the half-checked expression of unut-
terable, lung-su])i)ressed sorrow, the exulting ac-
cords resounded from the ball-room, and the
shadows of the dancing couples crossed and fol-
lowed each other on the smooth lawn that lay,
half-illuminated, on one side. But on the ojjpo-
site side, between the dark clusters of trees, the
fountains were jilaying, and the drojjs received a
ghost-like glitter from the fairy brilliancy of the
hall. And when the boisterous trumpets re-
mained for a moment silent, they took ]iart. whis-
pering and murmuring, in the narration, as if
they also knew how that thoughtful, serious man,
witii tlie stamp of death upon his brow, had
passed by them for the last time.
When the deeply-moved narrator had at length
finished his story and become silent, two soft !i'-
tle hands gras]ied his as it hung down by his side,
and held it fast with a timid pressure.
" Countess, vou do not then detest this hand ?"
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
119
"No; how can I?" stammered she, with a
half-hrokcn voice. " I would console and calm
you with all the strenjjth of conviction that is pos-
sible to a human voice."
He held her hands fast, and drew her impetuous-
ly upon the grassy lawii ; the light fell clear npon
her face, and showed in her brown eyes the glit-
ter of the half-restrained tears.
" Do you renieniher the words you called after
me to-day, when I thought to depart from you for-
ever?" exclaimed he in breathless excitement,
pressing the slender, trembling hands to his breast.
She was silent, and, with sunken head, endeav-
ored to free her hands. She evidently wished to
hide her face, suffused with the deej)est crimson.
'' '1 willdie with you, if it must be! '"whispered
he in her ear. " Was it not so ? Gisela, that
cry was intended for the Portuguese with the
high-sounding name ; but he has now disappear-
ed forever, since his mission has been fulfilled;"
his voice became toneless, for the maiden, with a
resolute shake of the head, had indeed toiTi her
hands from his grasp. "Before you stands the
plain German with the simple name, which he
will ne\er again lay aside "
"And to him I say," said she, interrupting him
with a firm voice, and raising his eyes to him, full
of unutterable love, "I will not die, Berthold
Ehrhardt, but I will live for yon!"
The man still restrained himself.
"Do you indeed know ichat it is that you are
saying, Gisela ? No, you can not possiblj- com-
prehend it in its whole extent, for you are too in-
experienced ill the ^^orld and in life ! I will tell
you what it is. "With these few words you give
me the right to bear you at some time in reality
to my solitar}' house, as my exclusive possession
for time and eternity. And I dare not then con-
ceal from you a single one of my weaknesses ; I
should keep you firmly and steadfastly in this sol-
itude, out of fear lest a strange glance should fall
upon you. I know it, I should be a selfish wretch ;
I would desire of you to live only for me ; I would
not suffer one of these golden hairs to be touched
Tiy a strange hand ; I would watch every beat of
your pulse with jealous eye. And for all that
you would have to endure, you would recei\e no
other compensation than the consciousness of hav-
ing opened a paradise on earth to a single pas-
sionate heart, to a man "
"To the only man whom I love," said she, in-
teiTupting him with a blissful smile. "Did you
not hear me declare to the duke that my path of
life was already ])lainly marked out before me?
This path I will follow alone on \our strong arm.
Imprison me in your seclusion ; I know of
hut one happiness that I desire : to console you,
and, through my love and devotion, to reconcile
you with your sorrowful past life. Take me, I
am your own !"
He had already taken her. He held her clasp-
ed in his right arm, and with his trembling* left
hand pressed her little head to his broad, power-
ful breast in passionate fenor, but gently and
tenderly, as one caresses a delicate, frail little
bird.
" Whither thou goest I will go," whispered she,
whilst the hot, tremulous lips, which she had once
hefore felt on her hand, now touched the maiden's
radiant brow, "even to the countiy where you
battle with the tigers "
"No, no!" said he falteringly. "How could
I tear my white flower, my delicate, slender l)ircli,
from the cool German forest? Ah, Gisela, yuu
are irrevocably mine!" cried he in a burst of ex-i
idtation. "And now your little feet shall never
more touch this soil, from which I bear you off
forever!"
He suddenly lifted her up with his powerful
arms, pressed her firmly to his violently-beating
breast, and hurried with her along the avenue
and out of the park gate, which shut behind them
with a deafening noise.
Soon after Gisela stood alone at the door of
the parsonage, while the Portuguese lingered a
little behind and watched the maiden with his
eyes till she found admission.
It was already late at night ; but in the sitting-
room of the parsonage a light was still burning.
Gisela knocked, and almost immediately after-
wards the door was opened. The young lady
waved her hand once more back into the darkness,
then stepped over the threshold and stood before
the pastor's wife, who, with a lamp in her hand,
stood motionless as if changed into stone, and
gazed into the face of the late guest.
" IVIy dear madam," said the young countess
with a tone of gentle entreaty, " j'ou once spoke on
the forest meadow of the love that was jireached
by Christianity in the beginnfng ; to this love I
turn, and beg you most earnestly to grant me an
asylum in your house."
The pastor's wife hastily put down the lamp on
a low chest that stood in the entry, took both the
young maiden's hands between her own, and with
her shai"jj, exj)erienced glance looked jier full in
the eye.
" That you shall have, dear countess," said she
with firm and strengthening assurance. "You
shall find in mj' house, and in my heart, a place
as my own child. But what can have happened
that"
' ' A monstrous wrong has been committed,
madam," said Gisela, interrupting her. "Long
concealed sins and crimes have been brought to
light. I now know that, during the whole time of
my short life, I have been standing on an abyss
full of corruption and malignant devices. I wish
to breathe a pure air ; I wish to purif}' mjself
from the evil that still clings to me from my for-
mer life. You have a great heart, full of warm,
motherly love, and a strong, fearless sjjiiit. I
know it, and have loved you from the moment
when I saw you stand so courageously before the
minister. You shall instruct me, you shall guide
and i)repare me for a high, holy calling. iSIust
I first accpiaint you ^vith all the fearful disclosures,
the knowledge of which has caused me to aban-
don the White Castle, never to enter it again ?"
"Ah, dear coimtess, there is no need of that.
I should speak falsel}' if I were to say that I wish-
ed to know the deceits and uncertainties of the
aristocratic Morld. One seldom escapes them
safe in body and soul. It sufilices me that you
seek protection in my house. Poor child ! troubles
must have fallen around you as thick as hail to
disturb the peace of such an innocent soul. And
now, come." She threw her arm round Gisela's
waist, whilst a gleam of humor shot from her
clear blue eyes. "I have indeed a great moth-
erly heart ; eight dear little fair heads already find
place in it ; and where they nestle, a cosy little
nook will also be found for you. Open the door
wide, girls!" cried she, Mith a radiant look to-
120
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
wards the sitting-room, wliere the door stood ajar,
and now and then a curious, peeping nose and a
blond head were visible. " Something like the
Christ-cliild has come to our house during the
night ; you have always been glad to see if, if only
at a distance, now you may look at it close by !"
Tiie door was thrown wide open ; on the thresh-
old stood, timid and basliful, three maiden forms.
The little savages had bloomed forth into beauti-
ful, vigorous blondes.
"This is my eldest," said the pastor's wife, not
without motherly pride, pointing to the centre
one of the three figures, a tall maiden with seri-
ous, thoughtful, features; "her father's little
literary woman, his assistant in his astronomical
studies. She has Ijeen obliged to learn a great
deal far more than these two wild romps there
and has also a high and holy calling before her.
She is to be superintendent and matron of the
Neuenfeld Orphan Asylum; is it not so, my
daughter?" She stroked the thick, smooth hair
of her eldest child, who seized her mother's ca-
ressing hand and kissed it.
' ' And liere are our two household sprites, " con-
tinued the pastor's wife, presenting the two girls,
who stood on each side of their older sister, like
swelling buds about the fall-blown rose. " They
have nothing but fun and frolic in tlieir heads,
there is no end to their laughing and giggling;
and, if I would allow it, they would like to play
with their dolls still."
Tiie girls laughed merrily, while a mother's
delight beamed forth from the eyes of the pastor's
wife.
' ' Will you be my sisters ?" asked Gisela, offer-
ing them her hand.
A timid yes came from all lips, but the press-
ure of the hand was cordially returned.
' And now quick, quick, get ready the up-stair^
room!" commanded the mother.
The girls seized a bunch of keys and humed
out of the door.
"They are perfectly lawless to-day," said the
pastor's wife, laughing. " See to-morrow there
is to be a surjirise ; it will be my husband's fifty-
second birthday, and that is the reason why, con-
trary to our usual custom, Ave are still up and
busy. "
Close to the window stood a table covered with
white, and adonied with garlands. In the mid-
dle, surrounded by various little trifles of em-
broidery and crochet work, lay a valuable set of
astronomical books.
" My girls have earned these with the labor of
their hands," said the pastor's wife, ]Jointing to
tlic books." "And our wild little Koschcn
has knit these witli her little, refractoiy fingers,"
said she, laughing aloud, and tossing up into the
air a pair of large, coarse stockings. "They
have cost her many a weary hour ; I)ut now she
is delighted, and even in her i)rayers to-night she
brought in the happily finished mile-long stock-
ings. "
She noiselessly opened a door, and peiTnitted
the light of the lamp to fall into tiie dark room.
"There she lies, my nestling," wliispercd she.
How this strong voice trembleil and melted away
into soft tenderness! "But wliat will the little
thing say to-morrow when she sees Iicr dear count-
ess in the parsonage I " whispered she softly, with
a gentle laugh.
The child's little blond head rented on tlie jiil-
low in sweet, deep slumber, and her long braids
of hair hung over the edge of the bed.
A heavenly repose fell upon the young maiden
in this house. Looking even yet with terror into
the suddenly-opened abyss of depravity over which
she had wandered so long with bUnded eyes, this
domesticity ajipeared to her like a temple resting
on the pilhirs of true virtue, and breathed upon
by genuine, blissful peace.
And the stately, vigorous woman, who was
standing near her, this picture of firmness and
undaunted fidelity of disposition, with what deli-
cate tact did she endeavor to soothe the visible
excitement of the fugitive, to divert her mind from
the occurrences that had driven her forth from
the so-called paternal house, while she initiated
her without more ado into the harmless joys of
her fiimily circle. It never occurred to her to
ask herself, what will the nobility think of your
upholding one of their number in her rebellion ?
Will not the protection which you grant to her
cost you too dear ? For the present, she did not
even wish to know for what high and holy call-
ing she was to prepare the young countess every
thing must turn out right in the end ! She did
not examine, she did not question ; one thing
was all-important at first, and that was to soothe
the young lady and justify the confidence that she
had reposed in her.
But Avhat confidence in God, what moral
strength must have inspired the whole family !
Within a short time they woidd themselves be
driven out of this house. It was a most paitiful
occurrence that had happened to them, and yet
it had not been able to disturb their ha]ipy unity,
nor to drive away their hannless family joys.
For the first time after the lapse of twelve years,
Gisela, conducted by the pastor's wife, again as-
cended the steps wliich the proud Jutta von
Zweifiingen had descended on that eventful
Chi'istmas Eve, never more to return. The
young maiden had still a dim rcmeml)rance of
that event. She again recognized the broad ves-
tibule, which at that time had been so wet, and
in Mhich the large, hard lumps of sand had roll-
ed about her little delicately-shod feet, that strove
so anxiously to avoid them.
And here was l)efore her the little corner room
with its two windows, and the merrily-revolving
ventilator the little corner room, that IMadame
Herbcck had called an unworthy prison for the
magnificent Jutta, and in which the proud Zwei-
fiingen had given herself u] to the first dreams
of treachery and faithlessness.
The magnificent ebony fiuniture, with the apri-
cot-colored hangings of silk damask, no longer,
indeed, decked the room, and the jjortrait of the
maiden in the white satin dress, with the ])ome-
granate blossoms in her hair, now hung in the
minister's residence at A , and, together with
the picture of the last beautiful, unhai)py Zwei-
fiingen. finished tlie long, jjroud row of the ances-
tors of her beautiful excellency.
Instead of this, the strongly-marked features
of Lutiier looked down fiom the brightly-tapes-
tried wall of the little room ; and although only
a few i)ieces of old-fashioned funiitme stood
around, yet they were neat and inviting. On
the table and bureau were bright-colored covers,
with naj)kiiis on them ; and tlie bed in the cor-
ner, a genuine high Thuringian parsonage bed,
was dazzling in its purity.
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
121
Gisela i*tepped up to one of the windows and
opened it, while the pastor's wife left the room
for a moment. The delightful warm night-breeze
was wafted in, rustling as it came among the fo-
liage of the pear-tree, the long branches of which
were tapping the window panes. With the niglit
wind there came also the distant notes of the
trumpet ; they were still dancing over yonder at
the pidace, unconscious tluit a powder-mine lay
beneath their feet, and that eveiy second the
spark was approaching nearer which would ignite
and scatter all the splendor of the revel to the
winds, without a moment's notice.
Gisela leaned out, and gazed towards the dark
mass on the mountain, whose mighty, boldly-cut
outlines were defined against tlie sparkling sky.
It was the piece of mountain woods that the
forest-house, gray with age and encii-cled with
verdure, comprised within its jurisdiction.
The m.^jestic man on whose heart she had rest-
ed had whispered to her, on parting, that he
would not enter his house that niglit ; it was too
narrow fur his happiness. He would wander up
and down on tlie meadow in front of the forest-
house, and the fountain should whisper to him
of the maiden in the blue dress, with the fair
hair, who but a short time before had stood near
him as the unapproachable Countess Sturm, and
held her Tvliite hands in its silver spray. Here
he would once more review all the pangs of renun-
ciation which he had suffered, that he might
greet with redoubled rapture the approach of the
morning sun, heralding the hour when he might
dare again to eml)race his happiness.
The pastor's wife again entered, bringing a
glass of coohng drink.
" Come I we must not look any longer over at
the "\Miite Castle !" said she chidingly, as without
more ado she closed the window. " ]\Iy child
must now sleep, but first she must drink this
good, fresh raspberry juice; it will drive away all
bad dreams, and to-moiTow to-moiTow aU will
be right again ! "
These simple words, which only a mother's
voice could utter so sweetly and soothingly, fell
refreshingly on the hot, beating heart of the
young maiden. She threw herself passionately
on the breast of the tall, strong woman, flung
her arms round her neck, and burst into a flood
of tears.
"There, there, my dear," said the pastor's wife
soothingly. "But it will do no harm. "Weep
right from your heart ; it will wash away all evil
impressions. But then you must be cheerful ; I
must insist upon that. You are now at the jjas-
lor's ; and not a hair of your head can be touch-
ed, even if ten excellencies should come and
threaten."
The dear good woman ! She had a clear, pen-
etrating mind, and a sharp, discerning eye ; but
still she did not recognize that Gisela's tears were
the betrothed maiden's first tears of raptui^e.
CHAPTER XXXn.
"While the young Countess Sturm was thus
leaving forever the \Miite Castle and its aristo-
cratic surroundings, the minister kept pacing his
cabinet with rapid steps ; it seemed as if he were
tormring his brain for a single clear thought.
His hair, which usually described a smooth curve
on his forehead, iumg disordered over his brow ;
and, contraiy to the usual custom of the diploma-
tist, so careful to present a faultless exterior, his
fingers were thrust from time to timcAvith furious
haste through the perfumed locks, already be-
sprinkled with gray.
I At length, utterly exhausted, he threw himself
on a chair near his desk and began to write.
The beautiful young bride, with the large dove-
like eyes and the wild flowers in her hands, con-
tinued to look down from the wall and smile upon
I the man, on v.hose brow beads of sweat began
gradually to gather, while his teeth chattered au-
dibly as in a fever, and his hand, accustomed to
obey his iron will in stifl", firm, iron lines, now
traced naught ujjon the paper but irregular, un-
' steady hieroghyphics.
After writing a few lines he flung the pen, far
away, buried his face in his hands, and hurried
once more up and down the room in indescriba-
ble excitement. It seemed, however, as if he
' purijosely avoided approaching the elegant table
i near the window, that bore on its round surface a
little mahogany casket. This small table had
i always stood in the same place ever since Baron
Fleury had called the White Castle his own, and
arranged it according to his o\ni taste ; and the
mahogany casket was the inseparable companion
of his excellency, following him always to A ,
and ha^-ing a place in his immediate presence in
the bureau of the ministerial hotel. But while
his foot now visibly avoided this simple piece of
I furniture, his eyes constantly tmned timidly in
' that direction, as if attracted to the little casket
I b}- a magnetic, seiijent-like charm.
I With each passing quarter of an hour, which
the clock with its delicate, silvery tone inexorably
and punctually indicated, the rapidity of Ms steps
was redoubled, till suddenly, as if with a powerful
jerk, he stopped half breathless before the table,
and opened the casket with hasty, unsteady, grop-
ing hands. He cUd not look into the httle ele-
' gantly furnished compartments ; his eyes wander-
ed over the Turkish window curtain, as if count-
ing the orange-A'eDow arabesques, while his right
hand seized some object and thrust it into his
breast pocket.
This single moA^ement suddenly restored an air
of decision to his irresolute, hesitating bearing.
He stepped to the door. On the threshold, he
once more turned round ; a draught of the night
air swept through the half-open door, and the open
window obliquely opposite flared the flame of the
globe lamp standing on the writing-desk, till the
fiery tongue almost reached the curtain.
The minister uttered a hoarse, malignant laugh ;
he gazed for a moment at the flickering flame
within a hair's breadth of the curtain ; and invol-
untarily reached out his hand as if he must lend
his aid. But what was the use? The castle was
insured for an enomiously high sum, and the
dancers below would escape long before the flames
coidd eat through the joists of the ceiling and
cause the chandelier to drop do\\Ti among them !
He closed the door softly, and gUded on tiptoe
through several connected chambers. He remain-
ed standing before the boudou* of his wife, and
put his ear to the slight opening of the door. Soft
tones of lamentation made themselves heard. The
nameless despair, which he had hitherto stifled and
suppressed, now at last bm'st forth and conAtdsed
122
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
the crouching listener. The woman who was
weeping so bitterly within was his idol, the only
being whom he liad ever loved, and who still in-
spired him, a man quite advanced in years, with
undiminished, glowing passion.
With a fiice so distorted by anguish as to be
scarcely recognizable, he noiselessly pushed open
the door and remained standing on the thresh-
old. There lay the beautiful Titania stretch-
ed upon a sofa. She had buried her face deep
iu the cushion ; over her bosom and do^vn her
back waved her unbound magnificent raven
tresses, and her white arms, bare to the shoulders,
hung as if hfeless over the satin-covered back of
the sofa ; the Uttle feet alone had evidently lost
nothing of their energy ; they rested on the fuchsia
garland of brilhants which she had hurled ujjon
the floor, and seemed desirous of trampling it into
atQms.
" Jutta!" cried the minister.
At this ciy, uttered in so haiTOwing a tone, she
started up as if stung by a tarantula. "With a
wild gesture she shook tlie wa\-ing hair from her
face, and rose suddenly to her feet the picture
of unchained fury.
"\\Tiat do you wish here, in my apartment?"'
shrieked she. ' ' I know you not ! I have nothing
to do with you!" She pointed in the direction
of the drawing-room, where she knew the duke
was, and burst into a frightful laugh. "Yes, yes,
the walls had ears. Sir Diplomatist ])ar excellence,
and I enjoy the pri\-ilege of knowing the great
state secret a few liours earlier than the astounded
public ! Hell can have devised no more refined
tortures than those which I experienced yonder
beliind the door!" The corners of her mouth
drooped with crushing mockeiy. " Your excel-
lency, it was indeed a surprise to leam how
chaiTningly you have mystified the ducal house !
And there lies tlie splendor '" slie thrust her foot
contemptuously towards the garland of fuchsias
" with which you were pleased to deck your idol !
How the malicious and envious ones yonder will
all jeer and triumph at the precious discovery
that the diamond fairy, with ridiculous uncon-
sciousness, has been decking herself with Rhine
pebbles and Bohemian glass!"
The little hands of the half frantic woman bur-
ied themselves in the masses of hair that fell
down from her temjjles.
The minister advanced towards her with tot-
tering steps ; she fled, and waved him back vio-
lently with her hands.
"You will not have the assurance to touch
me," said she, iu a threatening tone. '"You
have no longer any right over me ! Oh, who
can give me back the eleven lost years ! I have
thrown away my youth and beauty on a thief, a
forger a beggar!"
"Jutta!"
At this moment the man regained his accus-
tomed bearing. It was with the finished re-
pose of the all-powerful minister, tliat, with an
imperious motion of his right hand, he enjoined
silence on his wife.
'' You have once more allowed passion to de-
prive you of your senses," said he, harshly. " At
such times I have always trciited you as a spoiled
child, who is left to scream away its anger. But
now we have not time for that." He crossed his
amis with aii])arent composure over his breast.
' ' ^Yell, you are right, " continued he ; ' " I have
forged and deceived I am a beggar ; we shall
not have even a pillow left on which to lay our
heads, if all present themselves who have valid
claims against me. You have never heard a re-
proach, a sciniple, from me ; but if you make use
of this hour soleh' to abuse me, I shall be obliged
to ask you, for u-hoin have I mined myself? Jut-
ta, reflect, and convince yourself that with each
year of our marriage you have increased your
claims and demands to an almost boundless ex-
tent ; the duchess herself coidd no longer keep
pace with yourbrilUant appearance. I have pro-
cured for you, ^\ithout the least opposition, what-
ever you desired ; I have suft'ei-ed you literally to
wallow in gold. My fatal, blind love for you has
made me a docile instrument of your boundless
extravagance. It sounds childish and ridicidous,
then, for you to lament the eleven years of our
marriage as lost ; they have given j'ou opportu-
nity to taste of life and its enjoyments to the full ;
and tliat you have thoroughly kno^vn how to do
this, the present state of my atfairs is a most con-
vincing proof."
The baroness had until this moment stood with
averted countenance in a distant window-niche ;
she now turned roimd. Her beautiful but de-
moniac eyes sparkled with resentment and desire
for revenge.
"Ah, you know verj' well that old tune which
the complaisant world also always raises at the
downfall of a house : The wife is to blame I " cried
she, laughing. " It is a pity, my dear, that I was
so often present at Baden-Baden, or Homberg,
or wherever the alluring green tables were found,
where you were unfortunate enough to drive you
to despair! On such occasions, I have always
been satisfactorily con^"inced that you too knew
veiy well how to wallow in gold ; or will you,
peradventure, deny that you have always been a
notorious gambler ?"
"I have not the least idea of denying this, or
of wasting another syllable in my defense. A
person like myself, who is on the point of enter-
ing on a dark and uncertain path "
"Yes, indeed, dark, dark !" said she, intemipt-
ing him, and advancing a step nearer. "It is
indeed all over with your excellency," hissed she.
' Baron Fleuiy must descend from his lofty ]5o-
sition, and enter upon the only path that remains
open to him, the career of the croupier !"
' Jutta ! " cried he. He seized the white arms
that had been the delight of his eyes, and shook
them furiously.
She tore herself loose and rushed towards a
door ; but her eyes, still turned back, were fixed
with unconcealed aversion on the hand that had
for the first time laid hold of her in anger.
* ' You shall never more come near me : I abhor
you!" cried she. " How cunningly you have be-
gun ; by laying the blame on me, you thought to
comi)el me to be;vr its consequences in your com-
pany ! But do not deceive yourself! I shall
never follow you into shame, obscurity, and want !
I have no longer any duties towards you ; they
were cancelled when you were unmasked as a dis-
honorable wretch. If any thing at this frightful
moment could fill me with satisfaction, it would
be the consciousness that I have never belonged
to you in spirit I never loved you ! "
This was the last blow for the man hurled down
so suddenly from a jiosition of almost regal au-
thority and wealth, into the deepest abyss of
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
123
wTCtchedness nothing more could be added ;
neither could any thing be compared in its eft"ect
\\ith the last few words so unmercifully uttered
by tliis woman's rosy lips.
The minister staggered back towards the door
as if he wished to leave the room, but his feet re-
fused to obey him ; he leaned against the wall
and covered his face with his liands.
' And so, in spite of ;U1 your oaths and prot-
estations, you never loved me, Jutta?" asked
he. after a deatldike silence of several minutes,
looking back into the room.
The woman, with a sort of wild triumjjh, en-
ergetically shook her head. He burst forth into
a bitter, mocking laugh.
"Oh woman's logic! This woman takes a
loft}- seat on the judge's bench, as proper to her
severe virtue ; she pitilessly thrusts from her the
deceiver, and yet confesses ^nth amiable na'ivete
that she has deceived her husband during the
space of eleven years in the most revolting man-
ner, and made a complete fool of him ! Go, go !
You too will yet make a career for yourself ; a few
rescued years of youth and beauty still lie before
you : but the end of this career yet I will be
more discreet than you, and will not tell these
walls how the career of her excellency, the Baron-
ess Fleury, will end ! "
The baron went out of the door; but while
closing it he cast a last glance into the apartment
he had just left. His wife had again tliro\\Ti her-
self upon the sofa ; she looked cnished, utterly
desolate ; never had she appeared more lovely
than at this moment. His ardent love for this
beautiful woman far outweighed all the other pas-
sions that raged in the breast of this dangerous
man ; he forgot that within tliat foiTa of wonder-
ful beauty there dwelt a pitiful soul ; he forgot
that this covetous, insatiable heart had never
1 leaten for him ; he nished impetuously back into
the chamber.
"Jutta, give me your hand, and look once
more in my face ! " said he, with a heart-broken
voice.
She crossed her arms fimily on her bosom, and
pressed them and her face deep into the cushion.
' ' Jutta, look up ; we are about to part forever ! ''
The form did not move ; the rise and fall of
her panting breast was scarcely perceptible.
He set his teeth in wild agony, and left the
room. As before, he glided noiselessly through
the corridor, and descended the stairs. Voices,
that here became audible to him, chained his
steps. He leaned over the banister, and saw
standing below, on one of the landing*, three
gentlemen, the fortimate possessors of the cham-
berlain's keys. Their coimtenances appeared dis-
turbed, and they spoke in smothered tones ; the
niinister was nevertheless able to imderstand
every word.
" And so, gentlemen," said one of these worthy
cavaliers, as he drew his white, close-fitting glove
over his plump hand, and carefully buttoned it,
" I am now, in obedience to the commands of his
highness, about to return to the hall, and do the
honors with as unconscious a mien as possible : a
most difficult task when one is in pQssession of a
whole budget of news of the most astounding
character ! Considered in itself, it is ridiculous that
the duke should think it of so much importance
to hush up the scandal for the rest of the day ; to-
moiTow it will run' from mouth to mouth. Good
Lord ! how I should like to see the uproar in our
little capital what a scandal there will be !
Gentlemen what have I always told you ? Was I
right or not ? He was an out and out rascal, and
however painfully I feel for his highness, it can
not do him the slightest harm to discover the
real character of this line fellow, to whom the old,
unadulterated nobility have so long been obliged
to held themselves in subordination."
The gentlemen nodded assent and departed in
different tlirections.
"Oh, Herr von Bothe, you woiddhave died of
starvation, in spite of your old, unadulterated no-
bility, had it not been for me ! " murmured tlie
minister furiously, betAveen his teeth, as he de-
scended ftrrther. "Bah, we are quits I You
were the most indefotigable, willing tool that ever
stood at my command ! "
He passed through a long, lonely passage, and
stepped forth into the court yard. The hostlers
were hastily running to and fro ; some were lead-
ing horses from the stable, Avhile others were roll-
ing the duke's carriage out of the coach-house.
" I don't believe what you say about the cou-
rier," said one of the men to another, at the mo-
ment when the minister crept by them unper-
ceived. ' ' I am neither blind nor deaf, and a cou-
rier can not fly through the air."
" You are indeed neither blind nor deaf ; but
you have been sleeping like a dormouse. I tell
you the coimer from A has been here ; Herr
von Bothe himself has just told me. The duke
is going immediately to see the duchess some-
tliing has happened. "
The minister, his hands crossed behind him,
passed tlirough the avenues of the park. Loud
and jubilant notes still issued from the hall, and
the whole building was brilliant with the illumina-
tion that had been made at the bidding of the
maji who was now wandering about below, home-
less and a beggar.
Presently the ducal can'iage rolled up to the
vestibule. "With the utmost eft'ort to avoid noise
and displaj', the slender form of the duke appear-
ed in the antechamber, surrounded by the gen-
tlemen of his train.
At this sight, the fallen man in the dark avenue
clenched his fist, and struck his breast wildly
again and again.
The carnage rolled away, and the music above
also came to a pause ; for a moment it was still
as death throughout the whole wide park. Once
again the thundering noise of the ducal equipage
was heard as it passed over the bridge. Such
was the end of the brilliant reparation which his
highness had wished to make his favorite against
the attacks of the clamorers.
Strange either the dexterous, elegant cavalier
had not fidfiUed his difficidt mission with his ac-
customed skill, or the crowd of dancers above aa as
already too Avell enlightened to be deceived by a
court fiction ; carriage after caniage drove up,
and the brilliantly attired forms liumed into them
timidly and hastily, as if sjjeedy flight were
necessar}'.
The sounds of the orchestra broke forth once
more ; they echoed almost frightfully from the
walls of the' vast, empty hall, and the few dancing
couples i-ushed to the windows like the last lost
souls of a bacchantic revel, who are unable to
drink their fill of the overfoaming pleasure.
The minister went farther and farther; liis
124
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
foot wandered deeper amid the retired clusters of
trees in tlie park, whicli with artfully retained
wildness breathed the deepest repose ; at this
hour, scarcely a timid bird, frightened up from
its nest and half buried in sleep, fluttered through
the branches, as the night wind passed gently
through the tops of the elms. Now this deadly
solitude became alive ; groans and sighs escaped
from the lips of a fearfulh' excited man ; in wild
haste he rushed through the pathless thickets ;
the brandies, forcibly bent down, cracked, and
flew back again into the face of the nightly dis-
turber.
Notes of the ball music, half lost, were heard
even here ; then they also ceased : and noAV, with
the last stroke of twelve tliat came trembling
through the air from the Neuenfeld belfry, a roll-
ing and thundering noise once more came from
afar it was the last carriage leaving the scene
of the late festivity.
The minister's eye was fixed steadily on the cas-
tle, Avhich looked like a fiery obelisk, that glim-
mered still for a brief moment, fairj'-like, through
the wliispering foliage. The hall chandeliers were
lowered, and busy hands extinguished light after
light that had illuminated a fearfully disturbed
festival. The glittering outlines of the long cor-
ridors disappeared in the night ; one light after
the other vanished ; one alone still gleamed at
inteiTals it was that of the watchman making
his round ; then that too was extingiiished, and
with it crashed a shot in the retired tliicket of the
Arnsherg park.
"There is a poacher," said the sleepers of
Nenen field, roused from their slumbers, as they
turned over in their beds and once more slept the
sleep of tlie just.
It was in the month of September. The first
chill breath of autumn mingled with the summer
air, and dotted the tree-tops with faint red tints
and a sprinkling of gold. But deep in the shel-
tered heart of the forest the complete, delicious
summer warmtli still kept itself concealed ; it lay
on the vigorously growing lawn that surrounded
the gravelled scpiare in front of the forest-house,
and strewed it unwcariedly with wild flowers.
And the leaves of the aristolochia lay as broad
and lirilliant and confident on the gray walls, as
if a time would never come when they would l)e
cmmpled up and obliged to leave their cosy home,
like worthless mummies, on the breath of the
Avinter storm.
To-day, moreover, they were not the only dec-
oration of the forest-house. Over the terrace,
connectingone towerwith the other, swept flowery
Avreaths ; and the heavy oaken door that led into
the hall was also bordered by a thick garland of
the foliage of the oak. Even the curly heads of
the statues of the tAvo noble boys were decked
with ivy crowns, and long blackberiy-vines, rich
in leaves, were wound around the hunting-horns
in which the joyous tones lay buried in stony sleep.
This strange decoration was the work of the \n\s-
tor's liitle Hijschen, who said, "Let the poor men
have some pleasure too."
But the cosy house was decked within in still
gre.iter holiday attire. Wherever the glance fell,
on garlands and vases, even on the flag-stones of
the liall, it encountered the smiling, glittering
heads of bright-colored dahlias, asters, and late
roses ; and from the open door of the southern
tower-chamber there was wafted the fragrance of
the more aristocratic helioti'ope.
AVe have seen the tower-chamber at various
times. It has now been pleased to imdergo an-
other change it has become the sitting-room of
a young wife. White mushn curtains swept down
before the loft)' windows, and deprived the room
entirely of its gloomy character. Bright-colored,
commodious furniture, and well-filled flower-
stands were ranged round the walls, and the floor
was covered with a thick, M'arm Sm}-rna carpet.
In one of the deep window-niches before the em-
broidered arm-chair stood a sewing-table, and
above it hung a gilded cage filled with small, bril-
liantly-colored Brazilian birds. Directly opposite
each other on the walls hung two liu-ge oil paint-
ings ; a beautiful young maiden, holding wild
flowers in her lap and in her delicate white hands,
looked with her large, dove-like eyes, filled with
rapture, into the face of the yomig man, whose
magnificent blond beard fell from his chin, and
wlio bore the stamp of misfortune and of a sor-
rowful destiny in the brows that met above the
bridge of the nose. Around both pictures were
garlands of flowers fresh and brilliant, that
breathed a feeble breath of life over the youthful
forms which had long lain sleeping beneath the
ground.
AMiat tales could the babbling fountain in front
of the forest-house now relate! The man with
the majestic, knightly bearing, to whom this dwell-
ing belonged, had this very aftenioon stood by
the side of the beautiful blonde maiden in the blue
flowing robes not in the refined, proper manner
prescribed by custom and fashion ; no, his strong
arm had finnly and avdtiitly encircled the slender,
shrinking form, at the moment when the evening
sun had shed its golden rays through the window
of the Neuenfeld village church on his and the
maiden's head, and the pastor with touching words
had blessed the union of their hearts. Then, silent
and full of rapture, they two had ^^andered alone
through the woods, and the husband had literal-
ly borne his young wife over the flower-strewn
gravelled square into his house.
Berthold Ehrhardt, with almost feverish anxie-
ty, had hastened as much as possible the period
of his union with Gisela. He avowed to the
pastor's wife that the terrible fate of his brother,
and the treacheiy which a woman had exercised
towards him, had made an inefti.ceable gloomy
impression u])on himself. He could not feel at
rest till he had brought the innocent maiden to
her home in the forest-house. No one ever ven-
tured to mention in his ])rcsence the widow of
Baron Fleury. She herself, however, soon ceased
to be a suliject of conversation among the people.
With a small pension granted her by the duke,
she had removed to Paris. Madame Herbeck
had also disappeared from the neighborhood.
Slie received a yearly allowance from Gisela, and,
utterly forgotten, lived on her remembrances in a
little town.
Tlie choice of the young Countess Sturm caused
a powerful sensation at the court of A .
The duke was imable to sleep for several nights
at the thouglit that the Portuguese had once more
hud the axe at the roots of the grand ducal prin-
ciple, by giving proof before the eyes of all that a
born Coiuitess Sturm could become a ])lain ]Ma-
dame Ehrhardt, and the world still jog on as
usual.
THE COUNTESS GISELA.
]2i:
Tlie result of these sleepless nights was a secret
mission which he confidentially placed in the
hands of the lady with the subtle tongue and the
sharp, experienced eyes. The Countess Schlier-
sen one day made the bride a visit at tlie parson-
age, and with exquisite dijjlomatic tact let fall the
remark, in the ])resence of the bridegroom, that
his liighness had some thoughts of distinguishing
the lir^t manufactm-er of his land by gi-anting him
a i)atent of nobility. ''Tlie obstinate Portu-
guese " gilded his answer with the same exquisite
tact ; but tlie bitter kemel, wliicli nevertheless had
to be swallowed, could be translated only thus :
that tlie person so favored did not belong to those
who fight against thenol)ility merely till heiiimself
could become noble. Recent times had produced
an abundance of such renegades, who, with the
motto. It is only for my children's sake, had made
themselves the sujjport and corner-stone of an in-
stitution, enfeebled by age, which they had for-
merly mocked and derided. lie had no faidt to
find with his name, and did not wish to change
it.
Tlie female diplomatist returned to A with-
out having accomplished her object. The bride,
however, veiy soon received a proof that the
pleasure of the duke did not extend also to her.
Below the petitioners of the Neuenfeld parishion-
ers, begging for the restoration of their pastor to
his office, the name of Gisela, Countess Stunn,
Iiad also stood. It was generally asserted tliat
this signature had had great weight the people
of Xeuenfeld retained their pastor.
An early twilight has already fiiUen around the
forest-house. "The I'o-.tuguese " encircles his
j'oung wife with his ann and advances with her
upon the terrace. The bridal veil still falls from
her head, and on her white brow lie the delicately
curved myrtle-leaves. "With her head thrown
back, she looks fixedly in the face of him who is
about to immure her. as it were, in the dark forest.
How radiant is this face I The man behind whom
lies a gloomy past full of straggle- and sorrows,
stands at the heavenly goal. His inestimable
jewel he holds in his arms. He stands upon a
kind of oasis in the bustling world. Without
lurks the Protestant papacy, scourging with rods
the spirits who strive to soar upward ; but here,
in the colony of his own creation, the free contem-
plation of God and his works dares undisturbed
to unfold its wings. Without, boundless egotism
holds a ceaseless swav, and one caste seeks to en-
slave another ; but here love prevails, and one re-
ceives irrefragable proof that the ideal of mankind
with regard to the often-derided subject of hu-
manity can indeed be realized. The man in the
forest-house sees Inqipy, contented faces wherever
he turns liis eyes. The ridiculous strife for office
and rank does not penetrate here ; but room is all
the more readily found fur tlie most exalted striv-
ing that can fill the soul of man the striving
after inner development ancf freedom.
"Gisela!" cried a croaking, discordant voice
near the young lady. She turned round in sur-
prise. Tlie parrot was s^\inging merrily in his
ring, and old Sievert stood laughing in the door
of the house. The young bride stretched out
both hands towards him. He had, Mith unspeak-
able pains, taught the bird the name of his future
mistress, and blotted out from its memory the last
fearful \\ords of the dying Ilerr von Eschebach.
He gently and carefully took the delicate fingers
that were offered him between his large bro\ni
hands ; and, what Gisela could never have believed,
the old gloomily-threatening eyes gleamed with
moisture.
The ]3astor's wife, too, now advanced from the
hall. She had thrown her shawl about her shoul-
ders in order to return home.
" Little -srife, I have set the tea-table within, for
one can not live on love alone," said she mischie-
vously, pointing to the window of the southern tow-
er-chamber that looked ujion the terrace. In the
homely twilight within, almost on the very same
spot where the tea-urn of the old blind woman
had formerly stood, blazed up the little blue flame
that makes the evening in the sitting-room so
comfortable and agreeable.
"And now God be with you, you dear, dear
ones!" said the Avoman, and her sonorous voice
melted into tenderness.
"The Portuguese" respectfully kissed her
hand, hardened by labor, and Gisela threw her
arms around her neck. She then descended the
steps, and advanced into the forest with firm and
vigorous steps.
A silvery, radiant light spread gradually ova-
forest-trees, house, and meadow ; the moon rose
large and full. Slie beheld again upon the ter-
race the tall, majestic form of a man on whose
breast a youthful being had submissively and
lovingly rested her head ; but this time the oaths
exchanged bv the whispering lips were not bro-
ken!
THE END.
YALEKIE AYLMEK.
A NOVEL.
BY
CHEISTIA]^ EEID
A woman's will dies hard,
In the haU, or on the sward.
E. B. BROWNiNa.
NEW YOEK :
D. APPLETOX AND COMPANY,
90, 92 & 94 GRAXD STREET.
1870.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870,
By D. APPLETON & COMPANY,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Waehington.
co:^TE]srTs.
BOOK I.
PAGE
Chap. I. Striking the Fla^ 5
n. A Son of Neptnne, ... 12
m. Putting it to the Touch, . . .17
rV'. On the Wincf 2.3
BOOK II.
Chap. I." My Pretty Page," . . .29
n. A Free Lance of To-day, . . 33
ni. The General gives a 'Waming, . . 41
rV. A Wilful "Woman, ... 48
"V. Derring-do, . . . . .57
VI. Those who dance must pay the Piper, 62
Yn. A Declaration not of Love, . . 70
BOOK in.
Chap. I. A Test of Power, . . . .81
n. Overtures of Peace, . . . 91
m. The Diamond of the Deaert, . . 99
IV. On the Heights, . . .105
v. Out of the Depths, . . . .111
\^. Reaping the Harvest, . . .114
BOOK IV.
Chap. I. Sir Artegall,
II. Radegunde,
in. Fetters of Roses, .
IV. The Forfeit Pledge, .
v. Face to Face,
VI. Paying his Debt,
VII. Tout est perdu,
BOOK V.
Chap. I. Le Beau Confcdere,
II. Sursum Corda,
, ni. The Silver Lining,
IV. The Hidden Skeleton,
v. The Hero of Sadowa,
VI. Who laughed last ? .
BOOK VI.
Chap. L The Shadow of Blood, .
IT. The Right of Reparation,
ni. Out of the Jaws of Death,
IV. The Sunlight from the Sea,
PAGE
120
127
132
138
146
153
159
163
169
173
179
189
194
205
209
213
217
1
VALERIE AYLMER.
BOOK I.
CHAPTER I.
STRIKING THE FLAG,
" Read that, Valerie ! " said General Ayl-
mer, as lie strode hastily to his daughter's
side, and tossed an open letter into her lap.
Now, being a man little addicted to
choleric impulses, the passionate tone in
which he spoke the very act itself were
so different from his usual voice and man-
ner, that the girl whom he addressed start-
ed perceptibly. Then, instead of touching
the letter, she looked up with evident aston-
ishment into his face.
"Why, papa! " she said, after an instant
and her tone of surprise spoke volumes
for her father's usual amiability " what
can the matter be ? Nothing about Eugene,
I hope ? " she added, anxiously.
" No^nothing about Eugene."
"Something about the New-Orleans
business, then ? "
" No ; certainly not."
"Then what "
"Suppose you read the letter!" inter-
rupted her father, with an impatient acerbi-
ty altogether new to him. And as she pro-
ceeded to obey a suggestion, the tone of
which made it a command, he turned from
her, and began to walk restlessly up and
down the long piazza, with a very flushed
and angry countenance.
It was plain that something of more than
ordinary importance had gone wrong with
the general ; since, under ordinary, and even
extraordinary misfortunes, his philosophy
was invariably that of the Stoic, with a
strong dash of the Epicurean. " Grieving
over a loss never yet helped a man to bear
it," the general was wont to say; and few
people ever reduced theory to more perfect
practice. Che sard, sard had been his life-
long motto ; resignation, strongly tinctured
with indifference, his life-long mode of
meeting danger or difficulty; and this de-
bonair creed had borne him lightly and
scathlessly through many a peril, and over
many a misfortune which v.'ould utterly
hjtve wrecked ordinary men. There had
been more than enough of these perils and
misfortunes in their time, yet they had
scarcely marked a line on his frank, hand-
some face, or tempered by a shade his
genial, pleasant manner. So, it followed
that in all the gay and hospitable country-
side of St. Stephen's Parish, Louisiana, no
man was more popular, or more deserving of
popularity, than General Aylmer of Aylmers.
No man understood half so well the art of
pleasing all men and all women, too with
hardly an eff"ort beyond that of the will ; no
man better united knowledge of the world
with the bonhomie of his open-handed, open-
hearted race ; no man lived faster, and yet
few men ever suffered less in the opinion
of society. Indeed, he was one of the excep-
tional people who seem born to rule opinion,
instead of being ruled by it though why
this was so, it would be hard to say. The
sources of power are almost always myste-
rious, and if we attempted to analyze them
which Heaven forbid we should do ! we
VALERIE AYLMER.
should be apt to find ourselves sadly at a
loss to account for many elevations to great-
ness, social or otherwise, unless we accept
as a solution the plausible theory of a spe-
cial ruling faculty. If there be such a thing,
General Aylmer undoubtedly possessed it
in singular degree. It had made him a man
of mark and influence all his life ; it had ren-
dered him foremost in every enterprise in
which he engaged, from his college esca-
pades and early social triumphs, to the po-
litical successes and military renown of later
life ; and yet, in what it consisted, his near-
est friend could not have told. " He had a
wonderful way with him," they all said ;
and there they stopped. The secret of his
fascination seemed as subtle as the charm
of his hospitality a hospitality which had
been quite famous during the ancien re-
gime, and still held its own bravely, even
under the changed aspect of affairs. For
affairs had changed very much in the year
eighteen hundred and sixty-five, when our
story opens ; and General Aylmer, like the
rest of his class and generation, had paid, in
subjection to wholesale robbery, the penalty
of being a gentleman by birth, and an aristo-
crat by position. Yet it chanced that For-
tune had been a degree kinder to him than
to many of his compeers. After that terri-
ble end that end full of bitterness and deg-
radation unutterable! which came with
the early roses of the fair Southern April,
he returned to the home from which for
four long years he had been an exile, and
found that this home had fared somewhat
better than he had dared either to hope or
expect. Defaced and injured it was, un-
doubtedly, but in less degree than most of
the habitations near at hand, and certainly
not irreparably, since, in a short time, some-
thing of the old beauty began to appear
again something of Eden to bloom once
more out of Sahara. The general was not a
man to sit down in useless repining, and still
less was he a man to tolerate, even for a day,
the least discomfort which effort could re-
move. So, the plundered rooms were refur-
nished ; the empty stables and collars at least
moderately refilled ; the trampled shrubberies
trained into order; the barren fields put
under cultivation ; the great doors thrown
open in their hospitable welcome, and the
old tide of life bid to fiow back again.
In view of these facts, it was not singu-
lar that St. Stephen's Parish returned quick-
ly enough to its old allegiance swearing
as cordially by the general's wine and the
general's horses as it had ever done in tlie
past. And yet it was not singular, either,
that, once safely out of the domain of Ayl-
mers, the parish did not hesitate to shrug
its shoulders, and ask very injuredly, how
the deuce he managed it. He was a man
whose apparent sources of wealth were no
greater than those of his neighbors; but,
while they were daily forced into closer re-
trenchment, he had resumed a mode of life
which bordered closely on extravagance.
It was very pleasant, of course, to know that
one house at least was yet open, where a
capital dinner and a good mount were al-
ways ready for a friend, where the best of
Hochheimer and the best of cigars were
things at command, and the brightest of
eyes smiled a welcome ; but still that did
not solve the puzzle as to how he managed
it ; and this rendered the pleasure something
of a discomfort also. " To be sure, it is
none of my business," everybody said; but
then everybody felt that he or she would very
much like to know. True, the general was
the lucky possessor of a rich father-in-law,
to whose fortune his daughter was sole heir-
ess ; but this father-in-law, so far from being
an old man, likely to step off the scene at
any moment, was a man of little more than
middle-age, who, not long before, had taken
unto himself a new wife, and apparently a
new lease of life; so his existence was
scarcely to be assumed a solution of the
enigma. Then, although Gerald Aylmer
was the most " steady " of young men, and
really an excellent planter, there was
Eugene., the handsome scapegrace, whose
dissipation and recklessness were known to
all the parish, and who had gone to Europe
immediately after the close of the war,
where of course he was spending any
amount of money. While, as for Valerie
but the extravagance of General Aylnier's
only daughter had been known to her
friends and neighbors so long that they had
ceased to marvel over any fresh manifesta-
STRIKING THE FLAG.
tion of it, and indeed considered it rather a
commendable quality in the presumptive
heiress and beauty-regnant, who was chief
among the charms of Aylmers. For other
men might possess horses as good, and wine
as unexceptionable, but no other man could
possibly boast, as head of his household, the
loveliest girl of the Mississippi Valley, the
queen of a hundred loyal hearts, the toast
of a hundred gallant lips, from the Potomac
to the Rio Grande.
All of these things, Valerie Aylmer
made good her claim to be esteemed, and
yet her head vas not absolutely giddy a
fact which in itself entitles her to respectful
consideration. She had been a beauty and
an heiress from her cradle ; she was clever
enough to hold her own in any fair intel-
lectual tilt without falling under the terrible
odium of being blue ; and she was, besides,
thorough mistress of all the thousand fas-
cinations which some exceptional women
possess, and which are more charming than
the beauty of Helen, or the dower of a prin-
cess ; and yet, if it is impossible to say that she
was quite unspoiled (for that would be saying
she was an angel, and no woman at all), it
is at least possible to say that the spoiling
had not done her much harm. It had made
her wilful and daring, and fond of her pow-
er, perhaps; but it had not darkened over
the sweet, frank charm of her girlhood with
even so much as a shade of that intense self-
appreciation, that offensive vanity, and more
offensive affectation, which make bellehood
a thing to be dreaded rather than desired
for any girl. " A shameful coquette," people
called Miss Aylmer ; but they said it half in
jest; and never a man or woman of them
all loved her the less for her gay flirtations.
She amused herself with the admiration of-
fered her, and broke hearts, as it is called,
by the dozen ; but it was so much as a child
accepts sugar-plums and demolishes play-
things, that even the very victims would
not have had the heart to deny her the en-
joyment. "It is so pleasant to be pretty
and to be admired," she said once to an in-
timate friend ; and the sentence embodied
her whole opinion on the subject. It was
so pleasant to feel that, whoever looked on
her, desired to look again so pleasant to
know that, go where she would, she carried
a talisman, potent ever to win kindness and
service so pleasant that men strove with
each other which of them should do most to
gain even such a trifling favor as her hand
for a dance so pleasant that the roses of life
and love v\'ere all scattered, as it were,
under her very feet 1 She exulted in it, and
enjoyed it, with the full, glad exultation, the
keen, fresh enjoyment of youth, when youth
has known few troubles. And her troubles
had been very few ; for even the war, with
its attendant horrors, had fallen lightly on
her head. She had seen havoc and death
around, but it had not been brought home
to her, since her father and brothers came
safely through the baptism of blood. She
had been exiled from her birthplace, but
she had roughed it very gayly in camps and
beleaguered cities, shedding the glory of her
youth and beauty wherever she went. Con-
sidering her many attractions, it was scarcely
wonderful that her fame spread far and wide,
or that few women of her day and genera-
tion counted more loyal subjects. Yet her
beauty was only the beauty of her country-
women intensified to superlative degree
only the graceful features, the pearly com-
pfexion, the soft, dark eyes, and silken-dark
hair, which we meet in every wayside vil-
lage, from Maryland to Mexico, making a
type of loveliness that is to be found under
no other sky. Of all of these personal gifts,
Miss Aylmer possessed a trifle more than
her due share, together with something
which rendered them specially and entirely
her own. It is very hard to draw the exact
line where prettiness which is so common
ends, and where beauty which is so rare
begins. And the effort to do so is not
made more easy by the fact that a great
many people never draw such a line at all ;
never trouble themselves to remember that
there is any higher standard than that of
their own individual taste; or that a face
which seems to them all loveliness may,
without losing a tittle of this loveliness, fall
outside the magic circle of beauty, because
its tints lack harmony or its features fail
in proportion. Yet, nevertheless, there are
certain plain rules of art, which, if we
choose to call them in, settle the matter
8
VALERIE AYLMER,
very summarily. One of these rules the
most absolute, perhaps, among them de-
clares that perfection of physical beauty con-
sists, above all things, in finish of detail ; and,
judged by this test, Valerie Aylmer's beauty
was perfect. From head to foot she was
without a flaw, and in her own style (of
course it was a matter of taste whether or
not one admired that style) quite faultless.
She was tall taller than the medium
height of her sex but with nothing what-
ever " grand " or Amazonian about her. On
the contrary, her figure, which was exqui-
sitely proportioned and rounded, had a
charming womanliness all its OAvn, and was
daintily slender though straight as a palm,
and flexile as a water-lily. From the small
neck, down to the shapely feet, there was
not an angular line about her, not a curve
which was not the curve of beauty, or on
which an artist's eye would not have de-
lighted to rest. Consequent upon this, she
possessed that gift which is even more rare
than beauty superlative grace. One could
not imagine her doing an awkward thing.
In all her moods and they were many in
all her alternations of bearing and manner,
she never lost this distinction; and was
charming always, principally because she
was graceful always. Her face was irune,
possessing a complexion clear enough to
show every pulsation of the blood beneath,
and smooth as a camellia petal a complex-
ion that lay like ivory on the brow and tem-
ples, but seemed charged with a flush of
rosy color, covered, as it were, with a sort
of roseate veil, on the lower part of the face.
It is not often that such a complexion is
seen ; and the difficulty of finding is only
equallcd by the difficulty of describing it.
It is more brunette than blond, for its tints
are all rich and warm ; but it is absolutely
neither it is something betAveen the two,
and more beautiful than either. When the
flush deepened on Valerie's face, she was
positively dazzling, for it was as vivid and
clear as the hue of the pomegranate; but,
even in her hours of lassitude, she was never
wholly without color only then it pervaded
the skin like the delicate pink that lines a
sea-shell. Her eyes were large and dark
4jnd lustrous ; magnificent eyes, all flooding
over with sunny lights and soft languors
eyes that would have lifted into the
splendor of beauty the plainest face alive.
The brow above them was very fine and
pure of outline ; exquisitely finished about
the setting of the eyes, and, where the slen-
der, dark line of the eyebrows ran, broad,
somewhat square, and framed in abundant
masses of rich, dark hair. Her nose gave all
the distinction to the face which it is in the
power of a feature of perfect symmetry to
bestow. It was Greek, as far as a nose per-
fectly straight in itself, yet not straight from
the brow, can be held to appertain to the
Greek type ; and about the delicate, arched
nostril there was a look of pride, only re-
deemed by the sweetness of the mouth,
whose crimson lips made a Cupid's bow
beneath it. Looking at Miss Aylmer, it
was impossible not to perceive the physical
traces of French blood, and in listening to her
voice, or watching her manner, you caught
many a token in which, even through the
lapse of two generations, fair Provence
claimed her child. There was all the gift
of ready wit and fancy, the saucy verve and
soft tendi-esse, which appertain to the wom-
en of France above all other women, and
which had already ensnared more willing
captives than even the light of her lustrous
eyes.
Those eyes looked up at her father now
with something more than surprise in their
depths a shadow of unusual gravity was
gathering in them.
" I am afraid this decision is very disap-
pointing to you, papa," she said.
" Disappointing ! " cried General Ayl-
mer, almost fiercely. " It is " He stopped
and swallowed the remainder of his sen-
tence not without a considerable gulp.
" It does seem hard when grandpapa
has always taught us to regard his fortune
as our own. But then, I suppose, we ought
to remember that he has a right to dispose
as he pleases of his own property; and "
" A man has no right to sacrifice his pos-
itive duties to Quixotic sentiment," inter-
rupted her father, impatiently. " In disin-
heriting his rightful heirs, to endow a stran-
ger with his wealth, he is guilty of nothing
less than fraud ! "
STRIKING TEE FLAG.
9
" But he did not disinherit mamma," said
Valerie, simply.
" What else is he virtually doing now?
Her marriage-portion was a mere "bagatelle
compared to tlie magnificent fortune which
he is about to will away from her represent-
atives."
" Bat this hoy our cousin does not his
claim seem to be at least equal to ours? "
"Equal to ours! " repeated the general,
too angry to be quite as punctilious as usual
in the proprieties of conversation " why,
he is only 1[. Vacquant's nephew, and you
are the daughter of his only child. And
even the claim of relationship itself was for-
feited by the conduct of his mother, who
married some fortune-hunting adventurer
an Irish painter, I believe in open opposi-
tion to the wishes of her brother. "Why
your grandfather should suddenly have tak-
en up her son in this manner, is beyond my
comprehension."
" He was in our army, was he not ? "
"Yes but what has that to do with
it?"
Miss Aylmer's glance fell on the open
page of the letter again, some part of which
seemed to attract her attention ; for, after a
pause, she said :
" Grandpapa seems to feel great remorse
for his treatment of his sister."
" He is late in manifesting it," said Gen-
eral Aylmer, with a sneer. " She has been
dead nearly thirty years."
" Ah ! So long? Then this nephew of
grandpapa's most be quite old."
" Old enough to be a very clever schemer,
I sliould say ; or he could not have suc-
ceeded, as he has done, in ingratiating him-
self into the confidence of your grandfather,
who is not a fool ; or, perhaps I ought to
say, was not a fool when I saw him last.
He may be in his dotage now. Certainly
his conduct justifies such a suspicion," he
added bitterly.
"It i^ very provoking," said Valerie,
thoughtfully. "I don't wonder yon are'
vexed, papa. But it is some consolation,
is it not, that we don't need this money very
much ? I have often congratulated myself
that we are not so poor as most of our
friends for poverty is dreadful ! and I re-
joice still more now that this is so for
your sake, papa. You are not fit to be a
poor man. But we are not poor compara-
tively speaking," she went on "and so we
ought to be resigned, even if grandpapa does
not give us his money. "We can do without
it."
"Do you know what doing without it
means ? " said her father, in a tone so al-
tered from the merely impatient and irri-
tated one in which he had before spoken, that
she looked up with a startled expression of
face.
" It means ruin that is all ! irretrieva-
ble ruin," he responded, in answer to the
look.
He had been standing beside her as they
talked, leaning against the pillar nearest
the steps on which she sat ; but now he re-
sumed his restless promenade of the piazza,
while she remained as he had left her, but very
stiU the hand which had been toying idly
with the silver beUs decorating the collar
of a little spaniel, that was crouched at her
side, now rested motionless on Sprite's silken
coat, and her large eyes were full of a new-
ly-awakened surprise and consternation.
After a few turns, General Aylmer paused,
and took up the thread of conversation
where he had dropped it. "Yes ruin!"
he said, gloomily. "You think I have suf-
fered less in fortune than most of our
friends. You are mistaken. I have not
thought it necessary to retrench in my style
of living, as they have done, because I natu-
rally looked to the fortune you would in-
hei-it as security against any diflBculty
about the debt I have been incurring.
Failing this inheritance, I have no means of
meeting my liabilities, excepting by the
sale of my landed estate; and, if I de-
cided to sacrifice that to-morrow, I should
only be beggaring myself, without materi-
ally benefiting my creditors. I suppose
Eugene shares your own delusion on. the
subject of my fortune, for he is as reck-
lessly extravagant as ever ; seems to consid-
er himself still the son of the rich man . I
was; and the demands he has made on me,
since he has been in Europe, have contrib-
uted in no slight degree to involve me so
deeply, that if I sold every acre of land I
10
VALERIE AYLMER.
possess even the very soil aroimd" he
waved his hand toward the prospect before
them "the very roof that shelters us I
should not, at the present nominal prices of
property, realize half the amount of my in-
debtedness."
Valerie's eye had followed the motion of
his hand as he was speaking, and stiU dwelt
with wistful sadness on the familiar scene
which was now enwrapped in the soft Octo-
ber gloaming. Many of the marks of wanton
destruction, so painfully apparent by day-
light, were concealed by this kindly veil ;
and something of its old serene beauty was
in the scene. The rich sweep of emerald
lawn (emerald now, although, not twelve
months back, squadrons had charged, and
men had bled and died there!) the stately
trees, whose tops rustled above the roof
beneath which her eyes had first seen the
light, as her mother's closed to it forever
the winding depths of shrubbery the
luxuriant garden all overgrown with Avild
beauty the swelling fields that, alternating
with woodlands, stretched as far as the eye
could reach and, on the other side, the
rushing flood of the mighty Jather of
Waters!
"When she looked again toward her
father, her eyes were swimming in tears.
"Oh, papa!" she cried, with mingled
reproach and distress, " why did you not tell
Eugene all this long ago? Why did you
not tell both of us ? for I, too, have been
very extravagant ! If you had only told us,
we should, like every one else, have learned
economy."
" Hum ! " said the general, incredulously,
" it is very easy to talk of economy. Prac-
tising it is a different thing as you will
soon find, if you make the trial. It would
be economy, for instance, not to order an
expensive new dross for Mrs. Ilautaine's par-
ty next week but ha! " he gave a short,
sarcastic laugh, as his daughter's face changed
perceptibly at the latter part of his sen-
tence "there you see now that theory
and practice are by no means the same."
It was true that Valerie's face had fallen
when the niotter was brought thus directly
and feelingly home to her. She looked very
blank, indeed, for an instant ; but then she
rallied and the light laugh of amusement
that burst from her lips contrasted strangely
with her father's cynical mirth of the mo-
ment before.
" It is not pleasant to practise economy,
I admit," she said, becoming serious again.
" We had enough of it during the war. But
it can be done. You shall see, papa, that
I can do it ! Not only will I dispense with
a new toilet for Mrs. Ilautaine's party, but
I will not order a single new dress this sea-
son. I can do very well with what I "
" My dear, you are talking nonsense,"
interposed her father, coldly.
" Why so, papa ? You think I am incapa-
ble of acquiring the art of economy : I want
to convince you to the contrary. I have
been very thoughtless, very inconsiderate
even selfish, I fear not to have remembered
that it was impossible you should not have
some difiiculty about money at such a time
as this. Now, that I am aware why,
papa, what is the matter ? What have I
said to displease you ? "
The question was a pertinent ojie. Gen-
eral Aylmer was looking very much dis-
pleased, and also not a little embarrassed.
" You are talking nonsense, as I told you
a minute ago. Like a woman or like a
child, rather to the utter disregard of all
common-sense. Keep to the subject under
discussion, if you please. The question is not
of future economy, but of impending ruin."
Her attempts at consolation having been
so ill received thus far, Valerie did not at
first hazard a response, but waited for her
father to proceed. This he did not seem in-
clined to do ; and, after a silence of some
minutes, it was she who spoke again.
" Surely," she said, a little hesitatingly
" surely grandpapa does not mean to leave
the whole of his fortune to his nephew. I
should think he would give us something,
papa enough to pay this debt, perhaps."
General Aylmer drew^ a deep breath a
sigh of relief, Valerie thought, at the pros-
pect suggested by her remark. Yet he an-
swered, dryly enough :
"Do not flatter yourself Avith any such
expectation. I see but one way out of the
difiiculty and that, I am afraid, you will
not be sensible enough to adopt."
STRIKING THE FLAG.
11
" I ! Does it depend on me ? "
"Entirely."
" Thou, you know, papa, that I would
do any thing possible to relieve you from
this burden. "What is required of me? "
" Did you not read that letter ? "
" Yes part of it, that is. The first page."
" Read the remainder," said General
Aylmer, and. for the third time, he returned
to his sentinel-like walk.
Miss Aylmer endeavored to obey ; but
the twilight had deepened since her last at-
tempt. She held the paper close before her
face for several minutes, but finally shook
her head, and suffered her hand to drop
upon her knee, as she said : "It is too dark
to decipher these hieroglyphics. Cannot
you tell me what it is, papa ? "
" Your grandfather, Frenchman-like,
suggests that what he calls the conflicting
claims of yourself and this nephew he has
taken up, may be reconciled in the most sat-
isfactory manner, by a family arrangement
that is, alliance. He has already been
urging yofl to spend the winter in Baltimore,
you know, and he now presses his request
stiU more earnestly. This what is the
man's name ? this Darcy, is to be there ;
and M. Vacquant is sure that, with the op-
portunity of familiar association, which a
residence in the same house would afford,
you could not fail to be mutually attracted
etc., etc."
General Aylmer spoke with sneering
sarcasm. Nevertheless, he waited anxious-
ly to hear what his daughter would say to
a proposal which might amuse, but which,
he feared, would more probably excite her
anger.
" Well," lie said, as she did not speak,
"what do you think of this fine proposal of
your grandfather's? "
"That, if it came from anyone else, I
should resent it as an insult," she replied,
in a tone so chilling that her father frowned
for he understood perfectly the nature
with which he had to deal, and this did not
look promising.
"Fiddlesticks!" he said, impatiently.
" The idea of your marrying this Irishman
is quite absurd, I grant but you can let
your grandfather make that discovery him-
self in due timo. "What he asks of you now
is not a consent to the proposed ' alliance,'
but merely that you will go to Baltimore
and pay him a visit."
She turned passionately.
"Go to Baltimore! That is, accede to
this insulting yes, insulting proposal, to
place myself on exhibition before papa,
you surely are not serious ! You surely do
not wish me to compromise my own dignity
and yours, by doing such a thing ! "
" I thought I said, distinctly, that the
proposal itself is absurd," answered the gen-
eral, coldly. " It is, however, preposterous
to take the view you are adopting. Your
grandfather means well ; and I am sur-
prised," he went on, gravely, " that you, who
pique yourself on your French blood, should
be so much opposed to the most ordinary
of French customs. You are as inconsistent
as the rest of your sex, I perceive."
"I never professed to fancy mariages de
coriTenance^ sir and I am sure I never in-
tended to make one."
" "WTio is talking of mariages de conve-
nance? Not your grandfather, certainly.
He asks you to come and see if you can like
this adventurer well enough to marry him ;
and I ask you to temporize."
" That is what you always say, papa."
"I could not say any thing better in
eleven cases out of twelve. Now, listen to
me : you wiU do as you please, for I have
no intention of placing a single fetter on
your freedom of action. But if you do what
is wise, you will go to Baltimore. Long
absence has weakened your influence over
your grandfather ; and it is desirable that
this influence should be recovered at once, by
personal intercourse. Is there any harm in
looking after your own interest in this way ? "
" There is the harm that it would make
me feel like a scheming intrigantey
The general shrugged his shoulders
scornfully. Such scruples and niceties
seemed to him, as to most worldly-wise peo-
ple, so absurd that he could scarcely believe
in their sincerity.
" You are very foolish, then that is
all ! " he said, shortly. " The truth of the
matter lies just the other way for you
would be going to protect your rights
12
VALERIE AYLMER.
gainst the schemes of another person.
However, it is not worth while to argue the
question. As I said before, you may go or
not, as you choose. It is not likely that
much depends on it for yourself. There is
a little wealth still left in our country here ;
and, with a word, you can marry the best
fortune afloat. The rest of us but that
does not matter."
The girl looked up quickly.
" It is all that does matter," she said.
" What about tiie rest of you ? "
" I thought I told you, a moment ago,
that ruin is staring us in the face."
" And I could prevent it ? "
" Your grandfather's fortune could pre-
vent it, certainly."
Valerie looked away again, absent and
troubled. This last appeal had been quite a
master-stroke of policy, and proved how
well General Aylmer knew his daughter's
character a character that, with many
faults, both natural and acquired, had yet
enough of the heroic element to respond at
once to that key-note of all noble natures,
generosity. When she turned round again,
it was quite abruptly.
" Papa" (a great gulp) "papa I will
go to Baltimore."
The general started. He had expected
the concession, but not so soon, or with so
little trouble,
"You will go to Baltimore? " he repeat-
ed, as if he did not quite trust the e^-idence
of his own hearing.
"Yes," said Valerie, swallowing some-
thing in her throat, and speaking hastily but
firmly, " I will go to Baltimore. But you
know, of course, that I don't mean any
thing of tliis this sort" she touched the
letter. " I will go because you assure me
that I can do good by going. But if grand-
papa thinks that I entertain for a niomcnt
the proposal he has made, you must unde-
ceive him."
" But hold a moment ! If you go. you
must make up your mind not to irritate him
by injudicious opposition to his scheme;
but simply to suffer matters to take their
course."
" He must be told that I cannot consent
to it."
" Yes but not told in an offensive man-
ner. Leave that to me ; and do you avoid
the subject as entirely as possible. Mind,
I don't counsel any thing like deception
only reticence."
" Reticence is deception sometimes, pa-
pa."
The general shrugged his shoulders again.
He always did shrug them over moralities
of this kind.
" You have yet to learn that there is no
wiser maxim in the world than Quieta non
moxere^'' he said. " You are young, how-
ever. You will learn it in time, if you are
sensible. Meanwhile, I consider the fact of
the visit settled ; and I am glad to be able
to"
" Don't praise or thank me, please,"
said his daughter, who seemed to know
what was coming. She rose hastily from
her seat, and descended the steps then
paused a moment, Avith her foot on the low-
er one, and turned to speak.
"Excuse my having interrupted you,
papa, but I don't feel as if I deserved either
praise or thanks. I make this sacrifice so
unwillingly, that it cannot be counted to
my credit. I hate it bitterly, and I am no
more reconciled to the necessity now than
when you spoke first. I tell you this, that
you may perhaps overlook the ungracious
manner in which it has been done."
With the last words, and before her fa-
ther had time to reply, she gave her pretty
musical whistle for Sprite, and, attended by
this satellite, walked away across the lawn.
General Aylmer stood watching her, until
the misty outline of her white dress van-
ished in the soft purple dusk. Then he
turned and entered the house, whistling soft-
ly to himself, in a way he had when he was
particularly well pleased.
CHAPTER II.
A SON OF NEPTUNE.
As for Miss Aylmer, she bore away with
her into the sweet gloaming as restless and
disquieted a heart as it has often pleased
our poor humanity to render itself uncom-
A SON OF NEPTUNE.
13
fortable with. In all her life, she had rare-
ly, if ever, felt more angrily stirred than by
the scene just passed rarely, if ever, been
called upon to place so great a constraint
upon her own wishes and inclinations as she
had Just agreed to do. And, as she told her
father, she did not accept the necessity at
all gracefully ; indeed, she rebelled against
it with all her might, even while she volun-
tarily bent her neck to endure it. Sacrifice,
and the denial of her own will, were very
new to her, and not at all pleasant. But
still more new, still less pleasant, was the
sense of positive insult tingling in every
vein, as she realized the proposal her grand-
father had made, and set her teeth and
clinched her hands over it. " That he should
tliink I would do such a thing ! " she
thought and she was so indignant, that
she felt her pulses beating with a rush, as
she thought it. The longer she considered
the proposition, the more inexcusable it
seemed, and the more she felt inclined to
regret having struck her flag even as far as
was implied in the consent to go to Balti-
more. She was so strongly tempted to re-
scind this resolution, that it required a very
earnest consideration of all her father had
told her, concerning his pecuniary diflicul-
ties, before she could entirely put aside the
temptation, and resign herself to the inevi-
table. "If I must, I must," she said, half
aloud and then she stopped short, for she
found that she had walked much faster, and
much farther, than she intended, and had
reached the extremity of the grounds on that
side.
She stopped, and, as she stopped, she
looked around. She had been so entirely
occupied with indignant thoughts, that she
had not noticed how much the dusk had
deepened, or that one by one the silver
stars had gleamed into sight. The atmos-
phere was heavy with fragrance, for an ar-
bor covered by luxuriant creepers stood
near ; and where the shrubbery ended, and
the outside domain began, there ran a
hedge of orange and laurel ; the air was so
exquisitely clear, that, even through the
shades of evening, the fair picture of level
fields, and distant, shadowy woodlands, was
yet distinctly visible ; and the low, far-oflf
coo of the wood-pigeon was the only sound
that broke the absolute stillness. A scene
more suggestive of repose could scarcely be
conceived, and it was not without effect on
the girl who gazed. She stood for some
time where she had paused first, quite mo-
tionless, with the flush gradually fading from
her face, and the excitement dying down in
her breast. She began to feel ashamed to
remember how angry she had been and all
for what now seemed a very trifling cause!
There was something of sanctuary quiet,
something of sanctuary awe, in the subdued
beauty, the deep, serene pathos for when
Nature is peaceful, she is always pathetic
of this twilight hour ; and there came over
her that hush of rest which only the sanc-
tuary or ^Nature can bestow. She raised
her face to the deep, steel-blue of the heav-
ens, that looked down with glittering eyes
upon her, and it seemed to shed peace, like
a soft dew peace that fell on her with the
same subtle influence which had already
touched the trees and the flowers, the
broad plains, and the deep, shadowy woods,
toning her spirit into unison w'ith their
repose. She was a girl not much habituated
to serious moods a girl who, at this period
ofher life, lived rather on the froth than
in the depths of her own nature but,
just now, a serious mood feU on her, before
she was well aware of what was coming.
She sat down in the door of the arbor, and
Sprite nestled close to her side, laying his
little silken head on her knee, as the twi-
light gathered deeper and deeper, wrapping
them about, like a mantle.
They had remained there for some time,
and this friendly mantle concealed them
effectually, when, after a while, there came
a strain of music very sweet music, for
a mellow whistle was executing deftly
" Within a Mile of Edinboro' Town "the
click of a latch, as a gate set in the hedge
swung back, and a crisp, ringing tread on
the gravel-path. Through the dusk, the
single, burning eye of a cigar glowed vividly
into sight, and an odor of unexceptionaUy
fragrant smoke came floating over the
young lady, wlio drew back as if she desired
to remained undiscovered. If such were the
case, she reckoned without her host, how-
14
VALERIE AYLMER.
ever, for Sprite, as it chanced, was of an-
other mind. He gave a low growl, which
changed suddenly into a whine of recogni-
tion ; and, before his mistress could inter-
fere, had rushed forward, and was springing
up on the approaching figure.
" Why, Sprite ! " exclaimed a frank
voice, "is it possible that this is you? are
you out here by yourself, this time of night,
you little rascal ? I wonder what your mis-
tress will say to you, sir? I should not be
surprised if she was "Why, where the
deuce are you oft' to ? Sprite ! Here, sir ! "
Sprite, who had rushed back to Valerie,
now rushed forward again, and was captured
for his pains. He set up a cry of piteous
lamentation, as he was tucked under his
captor's arm, and this brought his mistress
out of her retreat.
" Stop, Charley ! " she cried, with a
laugh. " Sprite is not out by himself I am
here. Put him down, please. I am afraid
you are hurting him,"
" I am not hurting him in the least,"
said the same voice that had spoken first
but Sprite felt himself swung to the ground,
nevertheless. " He is howling, like a spoiled
child, purely by way of amusement. I was
going to take him to you, as a sort of treas-
ure-trove," he went on, approaching the
young lady, who had paused on the arbor-
steps.
" Thank you but you see it is not ne-
cessary. He has not been lost."
" Can his mistress say the same of her-
self?"
" What do you mean ? "
"Only that you must surely have been
lost or belated, or something of the kind, to
be found in such a place as this, at such an
hour."
" What is the matter with the place ? "
" It is very lonely."
" And with the hour."
"It is very late."
" Ajpd what then?"
" Well nothing, then, excepting that I
wonder you are not afraid."
" Afraid of what ? Ghosts, snakes, or
wandering sailors? "
" Not the last, certainly," said the in-
visible gentleman, who loomed up, in the
starlit dusk, like a dark, indistinct outline
his burning eye, that is, the cigar, having
been thrown away when he heard Miss
Aylmer's voice "not the last, certainly;
for the cause of fear would need to be on
the other side in "
"Pshaw!" said the young lady, inter-
rupting him unceremoniously. " Do you
think I care for such a threadbare compli-
ment, Charley ? If you could only correct that
habit of paying compliments such high-
flown, foolish compliments, too ! it would
improve you so much," she added, candidly.
" You are breaking me of it, by degrees,"
answered he ; " but it is a habit, you know,
and one of very long standing."
"I can't see the sense of it," said Miss
Aylm er, meditatively. " If you only deceived
anybody now but you know you don't. 1
am confident that there is no woman alive
silly enough to believe such nonsense as you
were about to utter a minute ago."
" Speak for yourself," retorted he, with
a laugh. " The majority of women like it
exceedingly, and believe it unhesitatingly.
Singularly enough, when it is fiattery, they
accept it undoubtingly ; and it is only when
it is truth that they distrust, as you are
doing now."
" Charley, you are incorrigible ! "
"Am I? Well, think so, if you like.
Now tell me how you came to bo out here.
You must have been very much abstracted
to have wandered so far."
" No : I was very angry."
" You ! "
Trust a lover for expressing liimself
well. A hundred panegyrics on her mani-
fold charms could not have brought so for-
cibly to Valerie's appreciation the supreme
height to which this brave heart's devotion
bad raised her, as did that one simple mono-
syllable. She flushed brightly under color of
the darkness: then answered, with a laugh :
" Yes I ! I hope you don't overrate
me so much as to think me amiable? You
should know better."
"I think you all things fair and noble,"
the young man replied, with such a soften-
ing in his tones, that this time Miss Aylmer
did not think it necessary to call him to ac-
count for a compliment.
A SON OF NEPTUNE.
15
"Then indeed you do overrate me very
much," she said, quickly. " I am very im-
patient, very wilful, and, a little while ago,
I was very angry."
"For that matter, I would not give a
farthing for anybody who could not, under
just provocation, be very angry and I am
sure you had just provocation."
"I thouglit so, undoubtedly. But then,
when we want to be angry, don't we always
think so ? "
" Reasonable people do not so deceive
themselves. And you are reasonable, are
you not ? "
"I hope so. How is it with yourself?
But then I forgot you are never angry."
" No," he replied, with candor. " I
am afraid I must acknowledge myself as
belonging to my own class of weak-minded
people for I really think I am incapable of
becoming very angry. At least I never,
to my knowledge, have been so ." He
stopped suddenly, and added "that is,
never but once."
"But once ? What a pity to spoil such an
angelic whole by one exception! And how
did you take the unusual occurrence, on
that occasion ? "
He shuddered, and answered in a tone
very different from her jesting one :
" I can scarcely endure to think of it !
It is like looking back on some paroxysm of
madness somewhat, as I imagine, a mind
that is deranged must feel in lucid intervals.
A sort of devil seemed to take possession of
me for a time and in that time murder
would have been as easy a thing to me as
now to lift my hand and break off this
flower."
There was a moment's pause, disturbed
only by the snap with which he decapitated
one of the slender stems clambering near
him of its crowning blossom. Then he went
on :
"Ever since that revelation, I have been
afraid of myself. It was such a terrible
thing! I was no more myself no more
capable of controlling my passions when
that raging fiend entered into me than the
madman wlio is put in a strait-jacket un-
der lock and key."
" How very strange ! " said Valerie, the
more interested, as the speaker's tones had
deepened into positive agitation. "How
long ago was it that you made this dis-
covery ? "
" Several years in fact, it was just be-
fore the war."
" About the time of your last cruise in
the Mediterranean ? "
"Yes."
"And " She paused a moment, in
doubt as to the propriety of the next ques-
tion but curiosity overcame her scruples.
" And did you do any thing very dreadful
under that influence ? "
"I did something which I shall never
cease to regret until I cease to live." There
was a silence of several minutes after that re-
ply. There was such a tone of agony in his
voice, that Valerie felt sorry for having
started the subject, and also, for once, rather
uncertain what to say next, until she sud-
denly bethought herself that, all things con-
sidered, this starlight tete-d-tete was not the
most " proper " thing in the world. With
her accustomed promptitude she at once
acted on the recollection.
"Dear me!" she said, with a start;
" What will papa think of me ? It must be
long past tea-time, and here I am a quarter
of a mile at least from the house ! I hope
you are not very hungry, Chai'ley for I
really did not mean to entertain you on rose-
petals."
" Pray don't allow any consideration for
my appetite to drive you away," the young
man laughingly replied. "lam satisfied to
go supperless, provided you will bear me
company."
" I am afraid papa would object," Miss
Aylmer answered, as she descended the
steps, and turned toward the house. " He
is in need of somebody to pour out his cof-
fee, you know. It must be growing cold,
by-the-by ; and I am confident he has sent
two or three messengers for me. Yonder !
is not that one now ? "
" I think it is my friend Mark Antony,
whom I surprised in the humane occupation
of drowning a kitten in your fountain, this
morning," her companion replied, as a small
black figure ran up to them, and paused
breathlessly.
16
VALERIE AYLMER.
"Miss Valerie " puff "massa says "
puff "as liow lie's a waiten " puff
"supper for you, ma'am " puff, puff!
"Go back and tell Mm I am coming,"
the young lady coolly replied ; " and that Mr.
Hautaine is coming also. You ought to be
obliged to me for that piece of information,"
she said to Mr. Ilautaine, as the sable mes-
senger sped back again, with an utter disre-
gard of his insolvent condition in the mat-
ter of breath. " It will give papa time to
order up a bottle of some fine champagne
which he received only this afternoon. He
says it is a pleasure to offer you good wine ;
you are such a capital judge of vintages and
flavors, and the like."
"Yes," said he, with something of a
sigh; "I wish I had bestowed half the cul-
ture on my head that I gave to my palate,
and then I might be able to talk German
mysticism and French sentiment, to quote
Goethe and Lamartine, and Jean Paul, and
the rest of that ilk, as well as your priggish
friend Morton."
"I'll thank joxi not to call him my
friend," said Miss Aylmer, stiffly. " You
know I don't like him ! "
" I never did you so much injustice as to
suppose you liked him but you like the
same sort of things that he likes."
" I really don't see that."
"Don't you? Well, I do. Ileaven only
knows where he got his learning out of
hand-books of literature, and dictionaries of
quotation, I am inclined to think but at
least he seems to amuse you moderately
well ; and that is more than I always, or
often, accomplish."
"Charley, you are absurd !" said Miss
Aylmer, half-amused, half-indignant. " You
know I only tolerate him. He is a prig,
and a detestable one and, I give you my
word, I hate even Raphael, and Mozart, and
Dante, when I hear him talk of them !
A propos de rien, where is Mark Boyd? I
did not meet him ut Mrs. Lysle's last night
did I ? "
" I think not since he went down to
the city some days ago. He'll be back, how-
ever, before you leave for Arkansas or, if
not, he will soon follow you there."
" He will not find me, then," said Miss
Aylmer, with malicious coolness. "I shall
indeed leave soon, but it will be for Balti-
more."
"Baltimore!" The exclamation was a
violent one. There followed a moment's
pause, and then "You are surely jesting? "
" Jesting ! Why should you think so ?
Grandpapa lives in Baltimore, you know.
Is there any thing strange in my going to
see him? "
" No of course not," said Mr. Ilautaine,
who had now somewhat recovered himself
"Only it was a surprise, and therefore
last night, you know, we were making
plans for our month on Red River."
" Yes, I know. But last night is not
to-night! A profound truth, which means
that, since I was making those plans, circum-
stances have arisen that is, come to my
knowledge which will bear me off on the
wings of discontent to Baltimore."
" Then you don't wish to go ? "
" Ask me if I wish to put my hand in the
fire," she replied, with ill-restrained bitter-
ness. " I might, under some circumstances,
tell you that it was necessary, but I could
never tell you that I wished to do so."
" Then," said the astonished gentleman,
" why do you go ? "
"Because I must," she answered.
"Look! There is poor papa in the dining-
room all alone, waiting patiently for his
truant daughter. Come in, Charley. Per-
haps the sight of you will console him.
Gerald is not at home to-night I should not
liave forgotten to say so, for I suppose, of
course, you came to see him."
"Of course," said Mr. Hautaine, dryly.
Then he drew back the sweeping folds of
the lace curtain, that the night breeze was
gently swaying to and fro, and held it on
one side, while his companion stepped
through a French window into the dining-
room, where a tea-table all glittering with
silver and china stood, and where General
Aylmer was solacing himself with a news-
paper during his period of enforced wait-
ing.
I
PUTTING IT TO THE TOUCH.
17
CHAPTER III.
PUTTING IT TO THE TOUCH.
"Peat, Charley, put that guitar down.
I have a question to ask you ; and one can't
talk with thrum-thrum in one's ears all the
time."
"To hear is to obey," said Charley ; and
he submissively laid the guitar down at the
feet of his fair mistress, and looked up into
her face.
They made a very pretty picture, as they
sat at one end of the large drawing-room,
for it was two or three hours after supper,
and General Aylmer had taken himself off
some time before not out of consideration,
as might perhaps be supposed, but simply
because he would as soon have considered
one of his own sons " company," as Charley
Hautaine, who was' the daily visitor of the
house, and had been the intimate companion
of his children ever since they knew what
it was to have a companion. So, he had
taken himself off, and the two young people
had been singing duets to a guitar accom-
paniment for a while, and then had been
talking gay nonsense while Charley still ran
his fingers over the strings, until Valerie
suddenly broke in with the words recorded
above. As already stated, her vassal obeyed
at once. He laid the guitar down, and
looked up for her next commands. She
paused a moment and just then the pic-
ture was prettier than ever. Miss Aylmer,
who was at all times fond of assuming atti-
tudes which were out of the routine of
social habit, was nestling among a pile of
cushions placed immediately beside one of
the open windows; and the pose of careless
languor was also one of inimitable grace,
while every waving outline of her figure
was thrown into strong relief by the dark
cushions against which she leaned. Her
late emotion, or, perhaps, her late exercise,
had given to her cheek the rich pomegran-
ate flush peculiar to it the proud scarlet
lips, always so mutine and lovely, now wore
their most enchanting smile the dark eyes
were all aglow with a thousand varying
lights and shadows and, in short, it was
evident that la lelle d,es lelUs (as the cap-
2
tives of her bow and spear had long since
styled her) meant business, and was play-
ing wild havoc with the heart of her at-
tendant cavalier.
That this attendant cavalier was very
" hard hit " was a matter not in the least
open to doubt ; indeed, it was a matter of
such long standing that nobody in St.
Stephen's Parish ever thought of doubting
it. Everybody took it for granted that
Valerie would end by marrying the hand-
some young sailor, who had been in love
with her ever since he was in round-jackets
and she in bib-aprons, and everybody was
ready to cordially indorse her conduct when-
ever she did so. Nothing could possibly be
more suitable, people said. They were of
equal social position, both heirs-presump-
tive to more than moderate fortunes, both as
charming and handsome as possible, and the
gentleman, at least, so much in love that
he made no pretext of concealing the fact.
What more could any reasonable woman
desire? According to the inference, Miss
Aylmer was not a reasonable woman, for,
up to this time, she had evinced no inten-
tion of surrendering her pleasant freedom ;
and, although she treated her sworn retainer
with a kindness and cordiality only a shade
different from that with which she treated
her own brothers, she, nevertheless, fenced
off any demonstrations of serious devotion
very cleverly, and kept him at a distance
as entirely as she kept many others. It
somewhat puzzled his friends and acquaint-
ances to imagine why Hautaine, who a good
deal resembled young Lochinvar in the item
of impetuosity, and had always shared the
latter's cordial scorn for " a laggard in love,"
submitted to this capricious tyranny so
quietly ; and yet the reason was very sim-
ple. The young man was seriously and
passionately in love so much in love that
diffidence of himself, and distrust of his own
powers, had come to him for almost the first
time in his life, and made him hesitate, as
better men had hesitated before him, to put
his fate to its crowning touch. Perhaps he
felt, too, that this suspense, this uncertainty,
was, after all, only a kind of lex toM'oniS for
his past trifling with other and more sus-
ceptible hearts than his own wea^^er-beaten .
VALERIE AYLMER.
organ ; for it was not to be denied that lie
had done more mischief in that line than
lies at the door of most of his lady-killing
profession. He was clever, high-spirited,
brave to a fault, thorough-bred within and
without, and handsome as a prince in a
fairy tale ; so nobody wondered at this, or
took the responsibility of blaming him not
even the girls with whom he flirted, or the
men whom he rivalled. Indeed, nothing
proved his complete distinction from that
contemptible species styled the "male flirt"
more than the warm and cordial liking which
people of all ages and all sexes gave to him.
The most spiteful never found any thing
worse to say than that he was a spoiled
puppy, while his many intimates were
ready to swear by him as the most delight-
ful of companions, and fastest of friends ;
and no one could show a better war record
than this young sybarite of idlesse and
luxury. He had not been long at home, nor
did he propose remaining there. The only
charm which now held him in America
was, his love for Valerie Aylmer. "Whether
or not this charm would long continue to
hold him, was a question yet unanswered ;
but, if Miss Aylmer had taken the vote of all
her friends on the subject of his suit, she
would have found their verdict singularly
unanimous on the point that she " would
never do better than to take him." Per-
haps this was true ; for there was about
Charley Ilautaine the best of all assurances
that his youthful follies were only the sur-
face froth that would pass away and leave,
after a while, pure wine ; the assurance, with-
out which it is vain to hope for any young
man's reform, and with which hope need
never die lie was emphatically a gentle-
man ! gentleman, in that nameless refine-
ment which no self-culture can ever give,
but which comes alone of birth and breed-
ing gentleman, in the chivalric impulses
and instinct which made the mere shadow
of dishonor an impossible thing gentle-
man, in all that touched the knightly creed
of his race and his land else, verily, he
had never won a single approving glance
from Valerie Aylraer's dark eyes, or merit-
ed a word of this already too prolix descrip-
tion.
He was reclining his well-formed figure,
in an attitude not without grace, at her
feet, and still gazing into her face, when
at last Miss Aylmer spoke abruptly :
" You have been in Florence, have you
not, Charley ? "
The question was a very simple one,
and by no means seemed to warrant the
quick start of surprise, and yet quicker
change of color, with which her companion
heard it. He glanced up into her face, with
a half-furtive scrutiny, as if searching there
for a hidden motive in the words ; but the
frank, open gaze he met seemed to reassure
him, for his brow cleared of its momentary
cloud as he answered, readily enough :
" In Florence ? I have been there, yes
^l)ut not very often ; only once or twice,
in fact. "Why do you ask ? "
" Nothing of much importance. I was
only going to inquire but it is scarcely
likely, since you were there seldom if you
ever met, or heard of, an Irish artist of some
note, who formerly lived there, named
Darcy."
This time there was no mistaking the
shock her words gave. Every vestige of col-
or forsook Hautaine's face, at sound of the
name which concluded her speech. The gui-
tar dropped to the floor with a clang of
its silver strings, and his eyes remained fast-
ened on her in mute inquiry, that was not
more startled than shocked.
" What is the matter ? " Valerie inquired,
with very natural surprise. " Why do you
look at me so strangely ? Was there any
thing remarkable about the man ? "
" About the man ! Is it is it possible
you know him? "
"Know him? Of course not! indeed,
it was a very absurd question, now that I
think of it : for I believe he has been dead
for years."
" Oh ! you mean the fa " he stopped
short, seemed to remember, and collect him-
self; for he added, more indifferently, "I
did know a man of that name, but not the
one to whom you allude."
"It might have been his son," said
Valerie, with an interest which her com-
panion thought very misplaced.
"Perhaps so. Here! see how well I
PUTTING IT TO THE TOUCH.
19
have tuned this miserable C string ! Now,
will you sing Chagrin iV Amour? "
"Not just now. I am in the humor for
talkinjr, I believe. Tell me something about
this Mr. Darcy what manner of man is
he?"
"I really scarcely know how to de-
scribe him. Portrait-painting is his trade
not mine. I used to lounge in his studio
that's all."
" lie, too, is an artist then ? A portrait-
painter, you say ? " She looked rather sur-
prised.
Hautaine gave a keen and not a little
troubled glance at her face, before he said,
slowly :
"You seem very much interested about
him ! "
"Oh, not at all! " She sank back into
her cushions, and the face relapsed from
animation into listlessness. " I only felt a
slight curiosity, because he is I believe a
connection of mine."
" What I Darcy a connection of yours? "
Miss Aylmer winced somewhat at the
tone of this exclamation; then, after a
pause, she spoke rather distantly : " Will
you please be so kind as to tell me what
you know of Mr. Darcy ? As I said, he is a
connection of mine, and this fact must ex-
cause my curiosity to learn what can possibly
be so dreadful about him."
"Dreadful!" said her companion, hur-
riedly. "Excuse my repeating the word;
but indeed I have expressed myself very
badly, if any thing which I have said has
conveyed an unfavorable opinion of him."
"It is evident that you do not like him.
Why?"
" You are mistaken, I do ; I mean I did,
when I knew him, like him " His voice
faltered, but he added, earnestly, "I never
knew a man more perfectly unexception-
able."
" Then why did you consider it neces-
sary to seem so much surprised almost
shocked when I mentioned our relation-
ship?"
" Kelationship ? I thought you said it
was only connection ! "
" Well, connection. What was there in
that so startling? "
" Upon my word, you are a close ques-
tioner," he said, forcing a smile. "I was
surprised, because well, because naturally
I never had imagined connection between
yourself and this Irish artist."
Valerie bit her lip. Such is the weak-
ness of human nature that, although a mo-
ment before the truth concerning that close
connection which existed between this un-
known relative and the projected visit to
Baltimore had trembled on her tongue, the
tone which pronounced those last words
" this Irish artist " effectually hushed them
back into silence. When she spoke next, it
was to say, quite indifferently :
" Do you know that he served in our
army during the war ? "
" No ; but I am not surprised to hear it."
" Why not ? "
" Because " he hesitated a moment
" because it is what I would have expected
of him."
"Why? Excuse my persistence, but a
fighting artist is something so entirely
unique that one cannot help feeling a little
curious about such a rara avis. Why did
you expect it of him ? "
" Because if he had not been an artist I
am sure he would iiavebeen a soldier; and,
as it was, he had quite as much soldier as
artist about him. Is that enough ? "
" It is enough to stimulate my appetite
for more, if that is what you mean. Is he
young? "
"Not very."
"Handsome?"
" I really don't remember. Moderate-
ly good-looking, I believe. I would have
paid more attention to him," he went on,
with another forced smile, " if I could have
foreseen your interest."
" I have no interest, only a little curios-
ity," said Miss Aylmer, somewhat piqued.
Then she rose and sauntered toward the
piano.
"Bring the guitar with you," she said
to Hautaine, who had risen eagerly to fol-
low. " We will try that duet from ' Rigo-
letto ' once more, since we are not likely
to have many more opportunities to do so."
" I think this is at least the third time,
since supper, that you have made that in-
20
VALERIE AYLMER.
spiriting remark," said the gentleman, doing
as he was bid, coming forward with the
azure ribbons of the instrument slung across
his shoulder, as if he had been a troubadour.
"Pray, how do you intend to dispose of
yourself in Baltimore, that you think it ne-
cessary to adopt such a farewell tone ? "
" One naturally looks forward to a dis-
agreeable thing as a very long one," she an-
swered. " I am sure you ought to sympa-
thize with me, for you remember the pas-
sage you are so fond of quoting from
Bulwer ' A chord, stronger or weaker, is
snapped asunder at every parting, and
Time's busy fingers are not practised in re-
splicing broken ties ? ' "
" I remember," the young man said,
quite gravely, as he unslung the guitar from
over his shoulder, and laid it down across
the piano "I remember and, if indeed
'eternity itself cannot restore the loss struck
from the minute,' imagine what I feel, when
I see slipping from me now moments so gold-
en that I dare not hope they can ever be
restored or repeated."
"I am sure I'm much obliged to you,"
Miss Alymer returned, laughingly. "Your
misgivings are certainly complimentary!
Do you think I will grow so dreadfully old
and ugly, in a few months, that I can never
again make an hour golden by the light of
my eyes ? "
" No," he answered, reproachfully. " You
know I do not think so ! I only think I
only feel that for me all may be changed
when we meet again. It would be heresy
to doubt that your eyes will be as bright,
and your smile as sweet, as now ; but yet,
all the same, they may have lost their sun-
shine.
' If they be not fair to me,
What care I how fair they be ? ' "
"I suppose you mean that you will
have transferred your wandering devotion
to some worthier shrine, by that time "
said Valerie, maliciously. '' N'importe ! per-
haps I may be able to console myself, even
for such a desertion ? "
" You seem wilfully determined to mis-
understand me," her comj)anion answered,
looking down into her laughing eyes with
a serious gravity that made Mademoiselle
Valerie feel rather uncomfortable as if a
crisis was at hand, and the helm had some-
how slipped out of her dexterous grasp.
She made one bold effort to regain the man-
agement of affairs, and, to do her justice,
she was generally equal to any emergency
that might arise in a matter of this kind.
" Oh no,'' she answered, gayly, " I don't
misunderstand you, I am sure ; and I don't
at all blame you. It is the most convenient
philosophy in the world, that of the enjoy-
ment of the hour, and one I always make a
rule to practise. Yive la lagatelle ! Life is
too short tobe spent in remembering people,
when they are not immediately in one's
sight." And, turning round to the key-
board before he could reply, her clear voice
was ringing out .
" ' 'Tis good to be merry and wise,
' Tis good to be honest and true :
'Tis good to be off with the old love,
Before you are on with the new.' "
"That is all very fine," said Mr. Hau-
taine, coolly ; " but when one has no inten-
tion either of being off with an old love or
on with a new, I confess I don't perceive
the application."
" Qui s'excuse, s^accuse ! How do yoii
know that I was not applying my song to
myself?"
"I would not do you such injustice."
" Injustice ! What do you mean ? "
" Only that a woman should never at
least acknowledge more than one love."
"She is most fortunate who acknowl-
edges none," said Miss Alymer, throwing
back her head. "Of all my favorite hero-
ines, Beatrice stands chief if only for the
spirit that 'would rather have heard her
dog bark at a crow, than a man swear he
loved Ler.'"
"I will not pray, with Benedict, that
' God may keep your ladyship long in that
mind,'" Ilautainc answered; "for, at pres-
ent, I am rather bent on bringing your lady-
sliip out of that mind! In other words,
you have stopped me a hundred times, when
you knew as well as I did what I was go-
ing to say. Now I defy you to prevent
yourself from hearing that I love you!
Valerie, I love you ! "
Few words, but expressive so expres-
PUTTING IT TO THE TOUCH.
21
sive of a passion which she had not credited
in this versatile, pleasure-loving nature, that
Valerie actually started, as they fell on her
ear. But she did not lift her eyes from the
page of music she had taken up ; and when
a deep silence fell, in which she could al-
most hear the quick throbbing of the heart
whoso pulses were beating beside her, she
only said, in a half-careless, half-petulant
tone :
" Well and what of that ? "
Hautaine turned suddenly, and looked
down at her, in a sort of mute exasperation.
She had been a puzzle to him, and a trial to
him at all times ; but never more either puz-
zle or trial than as she sat before him now,
the picture of cool nonchalance, with a mis-
chievous light gleaming in the eyes that at
last raised themselves to meet his own.
" Well, what of that ? " she repeated,
lightly. " I hope you don't expect me to
feel overpowered by having drawn forth
that novel observation? Tell me, candidly
as a matter of abstract curiosity, I should
like to know how much do you vary the
formula of that speech, with the dozens of
applications you have already made of it in
the past, and will make of it in the future ? "
" You are paying yourself even a poorer
compliment than you pay me," said he, a
little haughtily, "if you suppose that I have
ever said to any other woman what I say to
you when I tell you that I love you; but
then it is folly to tell you that, for you know
it now, and have known it all the time.
When I ask you, then, as earnestly as possi-
ble, to consider the proposal which, in all
solemn seriousness "
"Solemn seriousness? Why, we are
growing terribly grave! And suppose I
humbly beg leave to decline considering it
at all ? "
" In that case," he answered, quietly,
although his face paled at her words, " I
can only regret to have pained myself
not you, fortunately in an unnecessary
manner; and bid you good-evening."
He bowed very low and very gracefully.
Like all of his race, the spirit of the cheva-
lier came to the surface, whenever any sud-
den dart probed his nature to the quick.
Then he turned toward the door. Now, this
unexpected evacuation of the field was not
at all what Miss Aylraerhad either expected
or desired. One moment she watched him
in silent astonishment ; the next, her power
of speech returned, and with it her power
of action.
"Stop, Charley! stop!" she cried,
springing forward, and throwing down the
music-stool with a crash that waked Sprite
from a comfortable nap in the sofa-corner,
and brought Hautaine to a halt at once. The
next moment, her hand was on his arm,
and voice and glance together brought a
battery to bear.
"Charley! You surely are not angry
with me? "
Poor Charley ! it was all up with him
then. He had not so effectually stopped his
ears with injured feeling, for the tones of
the siren not to penetrate the insufficient
guard.
"Angry with you!" he repeated, in a
tone of mingled tenderness and reproach.
" I do not know that I have ever been that,
Valerie ; although you have tried me right
hardly, sometimes, and hardest of all to-
night. At least, if I ever was, yon know
your own power too well to think that I
could continue so."
" Well, come back, then, like a sensible
man, and don't let us have any more hero-
ics," said she, leading the way again toward
the piano. " Just look at that stool ! and
at poor dear little Sprite's eyes! Never
mind, pet, Mr. Hautaine has promised better
behavior ; and we won't be so impetuous
any more."
"Mr. Hautaine must make his own con-
ditions, then," said that gentleman, as he
lifted the recumbent stool to its proper po-
sition. " He has put his fate to the touch,
and he means to have his answer to-night,
come what will."
" Let us interlude business with a little
music," said Miss Aylmer, sinking down into
a deep chair. "Please sing the JWajipari
for me."
" If I sing any thing at all, I think it had
better be 'Ah! ride del mio pianto,'' " he
answered, leaning against the instrument,
but evidently with no intention of touching
it. "Sorry as I am to be disobliging, I
22
VALERIE AYLMER.
must, however, decline to gratify you, until
this matter of mine is disposed of."
" Do you know that you are very much
spoiled? You are growing absolutely dic-
tatorial."
"If I am spoiled, your conscience cer-
tainly need not reproach you with any
share in the blame of it. And it is high
time that I became a little dictatorial if, by
that, you mean considerate of my own self-
respect."
" You use strong words, sir ! "
" Strong words are the only exponents
of strong feelings ! I may be forced to use
yet stronger ones before I again have the
honor of saying good-night."
Miss Aylmer sat up in her chair she
had been lying indolently back before and
indulged in a stare at the flushed and reso-
lute face looking at her.
" Charley, I confess I don't understand
you to-night ; you don't seem at all like
yourself."
" So much the better," said Charley, with
imperturbable composure. " Myself you
have long known, and treated, I am sorry
to say, with profound disregard. I now in-
troduce to you a man whom you may con-
sider worthy of a little more respectful at-
tention."
"And what does this new acquaintance
who I am not sure I shall like half as
well as the old one expect of me ? "
" He has no right to expect any thing.
He only asks a return from your heart for
the love of his."
The tone of mingled dignity and feeling
could not have failed to touch any woman
and it sent a quick throb through Valerie's
breast. She felt at once that trifling was at
an end here, and that she stood face to face
with a crisis of her life a crisis of the two
lives whose future fate she held at that mo-
ment in her hand. She looked up with a
sudden strange gravity on her face, a hesi-
tancy and regret in her voice.
"Cliarley, I fear I cannot give him that."
A profound silence followed those words
words so few and simple, yet which gave
a sharp death-stab to the hope burning so
brightly the moment before. Ilautaine
made no answer, for he could not trust his
voice to speak, lest some rising weakness
should betray him. He had scarcely real-
ized how infinitely dear to him this woman
was, until her own lips withdrew her be-
yond his reach ; and a sudden darkness
seemed to fall over all the things of life, in
the certainty that her smile was gone from
them forever ! He still stood looking down
at her but perfectly motionless, with ouly
a slight twitching of his long, silken mus-
tache, to indicate how strong was the feel-
ing the manifestation of which he repressed.
Valerie waited vainly for him to speak :
waited until she grew almost frightened at
his unmoved quietude. Then she spoke her-
self, very timidly :
" Charley, do you really care for me
very much ? "
"I don't think I need to answer that
question," he said, a little hoarsely.
"No," she replied, quickly. "I know
jon do now. But now is so very differ-
ent from hereafter with you, especially !
Therefore, I am not sure that it would be
right"
"Good Heavens!" he interrupted, pas-
sionately. " If it can be that you hesitate
to accept me, only because you doubt wheth-
er my love for you is as far removed as the
poles from my fancies for other women,
don't hesitate for one moment to try me !
Let the test be as long and as hard as you
please ! Only try me only believe me ! "
Valerie flushed warmly. No woman
could have heard those tones, and met the
glance which accompanied them, unmoved,
even if she had entertained no tenderness
toward the speaker ; far less when, as in
the present instance, her warm and cordial
liking for him stopped only jnst short of
love that love which the majority of the
human race die without ever having known,
and of which ten thousajid counterfeits
worse than this pass current in the world
every day. She held out her hand, with a
grace all her own as a queen might have
extended it to some faithful knight who
had done gallant battle in her service.
1 " I do believe you, and thank you," she
said simply, but with so gentle and alto-
gether charming an accent, that Hautaino
would have been something less than man
I
ON THE WING.
23
It he bad not raised that hand to his lips.
But he knew his lady-love well enough not
to release it at once then ; for, with all her
gay coquetries, no prude ever less allowed
the shadow of a personal liberty than Miss
Aylmer ; nor was he so blind as to mistake
that frank impulse of woman's gratitude
for the shyer token of woman's love.
" Now listen," she said, in her usual
tone, " and see if you are ready to accede
to my conditions, which, I warn you before-
hand, are very unreasonable ones. You are
mistaken in one thing : it is not you whom
I distrust, but myself. I like you better
much better than any one else I have ever
seen ; but I do not think I love you. I do
not think so, but my ideas of that passion
may be too exalted, and I may care for you
as much as I am capable of caring for any-
body. Now, there is only one way to
solve the question. It is said that absence
strengthens a real passion, and extinguishes
a false one. What I propose, therefore, is
to try absence."
"On me?"
"No, on myself. Six months from to-
day I shall be able to tell you whether my
liking my affection for you, is only that
which one entertains for a charming friend,
or that which one should bear one's future
lord and master ! But it is for you to decide
whether or not you will wait six months
for the answer which you have a right to
demand to-night."
A vivid flash of hope and joy lit up the
handsome face, and the hazel eyes were
glowing and dazzling, as Hautaine bent low
over the hand which this time he did not
release, saying:
" Six months or six years if, st the
end of that time, I can hope to claim this
for my own! "
CHAPTER IV.
ON THE WING,
It was part of General Aylmer's world-
ly-wise policy to be always prompt in ac-
tion, especially with any one whose resolu-
tion of any kind he had reason to doubt.
Now, he had reason or thought he had
reason for very seriously doubting his
daughter's resolution in regard to the prom-
ised visit to Baltimore ; so he took care to
give her no time for vacillation or retreat.
When she came down to breakfast on the
morning after the decisive interview, he
told her that he had already written to M.
Vacquant, announcing her coming, and that
he hoped she would begin her preparations
at once. "I know, of course, that they will
be tremendous," he said, with a shrug, " but
you must try and be ready by the end of
the month, Valerie. I want to start then."
" So soon, papa? " said Valerie, naturally
taken aback, and opening her eyes not a lit-
tle. "Why, surely there is no hurry! If
we reach Baltimore by Christmas, it will be
time enough."
" Hadn't you better say by spring ? "
asked her father, in an irritated tone. "If
you are not going to do the thing gracefully
and well, you had better not have agreed to
do it at all. Besides, I shall be able to find
time to take you about the close of this
month ; but, after that, I shall have no lei-
sure. My business engagements will keep
me in New Orleans all winter."
," But Gerald "
"Gerald has to remain here. He can't
be spared to play escort at a moment's no-
tice."
"But three weeks, papa! How can I
ever be ready ? "
" By going to work at once. Come, I
have to go down to the city to-day. Make
out a list for Madame What's-her-name, and
I will take it to her."
" Can't I go with you ? I should like to
see her myself."
" If you won't keep me waiting, you can
go. The boat is nearly due, however."
" I will be ready," said Valerie, draining
a cup of coffee, with a sigh. She saw that
the general's mind was made up, and that,
if she meant to go to Baltimore at all, she
might as well submit with a good grace,
and go at once. So, by dint of vigorous
preparation, she announced at the end of
three weeks that she was in travelling or-
der, and her father at once set the day of
departure.
24
VALERIE AYLMER.
On the eve of that day, Miss Aylmer's
chamber presented a scene of confusion such
as only the chamber of a young lady of
the present careless time possibly could.
Into no other place could such a mass of
rainbow-tinted dresses, scarfs, ribbons, laces,
trinkets, and shawls, have been gathered in
disorder so complete, yet so picturesque, or
such monster trunks have stood yawning
for the reception of what seemed likely to
overflow even their mammoth capacities,
"Wardrobes and drawers had emptied their
contents over every available article of fur-
niture in the room covering the snowy ex-
panse of the bed, and every chair, with mul-
titudinous odds and ends ; so that the only
thing which at all fulfilled its natural use
was a low, broad couch under one of the
windows, where the titular goddess of this
overcast shrine reposed in the luxurious
abandon of the siesta apparently undis-
turbed by, and, in fact, unconscious of, all
the confusion around her. Not even the
sound of voices roused her, though these
voices were not slightly animated ; for the
young lady, who knelt before a large trunk
that occupied the centre of the floor, was
in the act of demonstrating to a couple of
sable attendants that art of good packing
which consists in getting the largest possi-
ble amount into the smallest possible space.
"Now, Fanchette," she was saying, "I
hope I have proved to your satisfaction
that it was perfectly possible to put every
thing in one tray, which you intended for
two. Hand me another of those skirts. I
believe I can get it in here also. What are
you about, there ? Don't you know you
must not put that heavy silk on top of those
light organdies ? "
"It won't hurt 'em. Miss Netta."
""Won't hurt them! You must be
crazy! I wonder what Valerie's dresses
look like, when she reaches the end of a
journey, if you have the packing of her
trunks! Now, understand, once for all,
that thick things always go to the bottom,
and thin ones on top do you hear? "
Fanchette said "Yes'm" very meekly,
and lifted the silk from its condemned posi-
tion ; but, for all that, the glance which she
exchanged with her co-laborer did not sa-
vor much of reform ; and, if Miss Fane had
seen it, she might have been assured that
lessons for general application are always
wasted on the race to which Fanchette be-
longed ; and that her friend's dresses were
quite as likely to be crushed by bad packing
in the future, as in the past. She did not
see it, however ; so she went on with her
efforts to reduce order from chaos.
" All the heavy dresses must go by
themselves in that trunk yonder this is for
the light ones. Hand me that poplin, and
let me give you a lesson how to fold the
skirt for Charlotte, I see, is ruining the
one she is attempting to put together.
Now look, both of you ! back and front to-
gether thus the train laid over, so then
folded this way and then that ! Valerie,
dear, where shall your grenadines go ? "
Miss Aylmer opened her eyes at this
appeal, and cast a helpless glance from the
garments in question to the waiting trunks.
" Indeed, Netta, I don't know any-
where that they can get, I suppose."
" Thank you," said Netta, dryly ; " that
is so very satisfactory ! Here, Charlotte,
bring them here. Valerie, do you want
either of them left out for this evening ? "
" No."
" "What are you going to wear ? "
" The barege I had on yesterday," said
Valerie, as if every word was wrung from
her by the severest efi"ort.
" You know that won't do ! Tliere will
be at least a dozen people here to-night."
" "What do I care ? Can't you let me
sleep in peace now ? "
" No, I can't. It is five o'clock, and
fully time you were up. Before you have
accomplished that endless business of your
toilet, somebody will come in Charley
Hautaine, I'll answer for."
" Charley Hautaine can wait until. I am
ready to receive him."
"Valerie, I wonder you are not ashamed
of yourself! "
" Ashamed ! "What, of teaching one
man and a very badly-spoiled man his
proper place ? I hope I shall never do any
thing to be more ashamed of. Now let me
rest in peace."
"Rest in peace, if you please; but I
ox THE WLVG.
25
hope you will some day be made to feel in
your own person something of all this
which you treat so lightly in others."
" What do you mean by ' all this ? ' "
" I mean this passion, this impatience,
this this love, in one word."
" You had better wish me dead, at
once ! " said Miss Aylmer, rousing at last
to a point of some energy.
" So at last you have an inkling of what
it is ? Ko, I had better not wish you dead.
On the contrary, such an event would be of
service to you, in more ways than one.
And when you do feel it, and are made
thoroughly uncomfortable, just oblige me
by remembering a few of the mice you play
with at present my poor young cousin,
especially."
" Your poor young cousin ! To hear you
talk of him, one would think that he was a
tender lamb, just escaped from the parental
fold, instead of an accomplished wolf in
sheep's clothing, fully capable of taking care
of himself and of other people, too ! "
" "Whatever he may he, as far as other
people are concerned, you know you have
put it out of his power to show any wisdom
about you else, certainly, he would not
ride over here every day to be snubbed for
his pains."
" Oh, nonsense ! "
And, with this summary conclusion to
the conversation. Miss Aylmer buried her
head in the jjillows, and went to sleep
again.
She was not destined to slumber long
undisturbed, however. Before the clock on
the mantel had chimed a quarter-past five,
a knock at the door was followed by the
Intelligence that Mr, Hautaine was down-
stairs, and had asked for Miss Valerie.
" Miss Valerie is asleep. But I vrill
waken her, and make her dress. Tell
Charley she will be down in about an
hour."
"With this consolatory message. Miss Fane
shut the door in John's face, and returned
to make a decisive charge on the enemy's
lines.
"Move those trunks out of the way,"
she said, to the maids. " "We have nearly
finished, and the few things that remain to
be packed can go in to-morrow morning.
Now, Valerie, my dear, you must get up."
" Wlio says so?" inquired that young
lady, without moving an inch.
" I say so. You may treat Charley as
you please or as he pleases to let you but
you know your father will expect you to be
ready to receive your friends who are com-
ing to bid you good-by, and who will cer-
tainly be here before you are dressed, if you
don't rise at once. So, up with you ! "
Miss Aylmer raised herself suddenly,
and threw her arms round her friend, as if
with an intention of smothering her, ac-
companying this unexpected demonstration
with a tone of the most genuine pathos.
" Oh, Xetta ! my dear, good Netta, how
shall I ever live without you ? "Who will
make me do things when you are away ? "
" You foolish child ! " said Miss Fane,
as she smoothed back the heavy masses of
hair, and looked down into the dark eyes
with one of the sweetest smiles that ever
made at once lovely and lovable a human
face. '! should think you would be more
glad than sorry to part with your trouble-
some mentress."
"It is you who are foolish now," said
Miss Aylmer, decidedly. "Sit down here,"
she added, pushing her into a low chair he-
side the couch. "I want to talk to you a
little while before we go down to all those
tiresome people who are coming."
" But, Valerie, indeed, it is time that
you were dressing ! "
" Quimporte? I will show you that I
can dress in ten minutes, if you will just be
still and listen to me. Netta, dear, do do
you really think that I have treated Charley
Hautaine very badly? "
"Valerie, dear," answered her friend,
gravely, "I don't think you have treated
him well ; but I don't think you have acted
any worse toward him than I have seen
you act toward many others."
"Consoling, upon my word! " said Va-
lerie, with a comic grimace. " Well, then,
perhaps you may think a little better of me,
if I tell you that I firmly expect to make
amends for all my high crimes and misde-
meanors, by ending my days as Mrs.
Charles Hautaine ! "
26
VALERIE ATLMER.
"Valerie! you must be jesting! "
"I assure you I am not jesting in the
least unless Marshal McMahon or Owen
Meredith should hear of my manifold
charms, and feel impelled to come over and
make me an oifer. I should certainly accept
either of the two ; hut I am afraid I am
scarcely jiistified in reckoning very confi-
dently on a proposal from one of them."
" Valerie, there is really no time for me
to sit and listen to such nonsense! If you
will not dress, I must do so."
But Valerie had no idea of allowing
this. Being in a talking mood, she was de-
termined that her companion should listen ;
and she kept a firm hold on Miss Fane's
dress, as the latter attempted to rise.
" Xo, no, mignon, not yet ! You think
I am jesting, but indeed I am not."
Her friend turned and looked at her in-
tently.
' Valerie, I do not understand you. Is
this on your honor ? "
" On my honor."
"You are engaged to Charley, then?"
Valerie laughed.
" Why should you think that ? Ko ; I
have not yet given ' a clod of wayward
marl " such dominion over me."
" Then what do you mean if you real-
ly moan any thing? "
" I only mean that I have promised to
toll Charley, six months hence, whether or
not I like him well enough to immolate my-
self on the matrimonial altar for his sake,
and I rather think he will be made happy
by an affirmative decision."
" Do you seriously mean that Charley has
consented to wait six months for the pleas-
ure of being rejected ? "
"The pleasure of being rejected! In-
deed, Netta, I don't know what you mean,
when I have just told you "
" Yes, I remember what you have just
told me. But I take the liberty of knowing
you a little better than you know yourself,
if you really think that, six months hence,
you will not like some other man as well or
better than you like Charley now."
"You are certainly complimentary ! "
" I am not trying to be complimentary.
There are enough people to play that role,
without my attempting it. "What I am
anxious to hear is, whether Charley has con-
sented to such a proposition."
" Undoubtedly, he consented. And was
glad enough to do so ! "
" Then," said Miss Fane, rising, as if to
give additional force to her expression of
opinion, " I wash my hands of all concern
in his affairs ; and deliver him over to your
tender mercies, without even a desire to
save him. He deserves all that he will be
sure to get, for he is more hopelessly ab-
surd than even I had imagined ! "
And with this final disposition of the
gentleman, who was just then impatiently
pacing the front piazza, and rushing into
the hall, every time he heard a step on the
stairs, she walked to the mirror, and began
to take down her hair, as a preliminary to
its rearrangement. Valerie lay back on her
pillows, and watched the process with an
indolent interest which lasted some time,
TJie massive and glossy knot behind (Miss
Fane possessed a magnificent chevelure)
had received its finishing touches before
she spoke again, with a sort of dreamy
languor in her tone.
" Netta, would you like to see me marry
your cousin? "
"No," said her friend, promptly. "I
should be very sorry to see it."
"Why?"
" Because I do not think you would suit
Charley, and I am sure Charley would not
suit you."
"Why Avould not I suit him ? "
" For one thing, because he would soon
become conscious, in the wife, of what he
overlooks in the mistress the absence of
that devotion which would set him up on a
pedestal, and worship him as a divinity.
Also, he would feel what ho has less sense
than I give him credit for, if he does not ac-
knowledge now that you have twice the tal-
ent, and three times the intellectual culture,
that he possesses. And the one thing of
all others which a man can least forgive in
his wife, is mental superiority to himself."
" For argument's sake, granting what
you say to bo true, you surely cannot think
so poorly of Charley, as to suppose that he
would ever indulge a feeling which is, after
ON THE WING.
27
all, nothing more nor less than a petty van-
ity!"
"I think I am glad to think that
Charley is, in every sense of the word, a
gentleman ; and that therefore he would
never, even to himself, give expression to
the feeling. But it would exist, neverthe-
less a consciousness that could not he
stifled."
"And pray why would he not suit me? "
" For the very best reason in the world :
you need the hand of a master poor, dear
Charley would always he a slave."
"Netta," said her friend, decidedly, "I
think you are tlie most disagreeable person
I ever knew ! I wish you would make haste
and take yourself off down-stairs to enter-
tain your poor, dear Charley ! "
" You are very kind ; but I have not the
least intention of going, until I see you en
toilette, and hear when it was that you en-
trapped that misguided son of ocean into
this six months' postponement of a proposal."
" About three weeks ago the night I first
heard of this hateful visit to Baltimore."
" Ah, I see ! Ton wanted to settle be-
forehand any hopes M. Vacquant and his
nephew might entertain. But I wonder
that even such a consideration as that in-
duced you to think of relinquishing your
dearly-prized freedom."
" It is a dreadful thought, this surrender-
ing one's self to a life-long bondage," said
Valerie, with a shudder. " But one has to
marry some time at least / have to ; for an
unmarried woman's place in the world is
simply i7; and I have never discovered a
vocation in myself for any thing but the
world. Now, I don't suppose I shall ever
find a more desirable parti than Charley,
or a person less likely to prove disagreeable
in the matrimonial connection."
" Poor Charley ! "
" And pray why should you say ' Poor
Charley ' in that tone of commiseration ? "
"Because I feel sincerely sorry for any
man who offers honest devotion, and in re-
turn is only accepted as a pis-aller ! I have
been shocked by hearing other women talk
80, Valerie ; I confess I never expected it
from you."
-' You never expected it less than I did,
Nctta," said Valerie, gravely. "But we
learn wisdom as we grow older ; and, after
all, are not we getting beyond the school-
girl idea of romantic passion, and the like ?
Of course we believed in it devoutly four or
five years ago, but do we believe in it now ?
Honestly, I don't ! I don't believe that, ex-
cepting in novels, and with foolisli women
who set up idols, and fall down and wor-
ship them, there is such a thing as the lo-vo
we have dreamed about. Do you?"
"Yes," said Miss Fane; "yes, I do. I'm
never likely to know it, but I believe it none
the less believe it, just as I believe many
things which are of faith, and not of sight."
" Well, I don't," said Valerie, decidedly;
and she leaned back on her cushions, and
gazed out of the window. "I think it is a
fiction that the poets and novelists are in
league to keep up, and the rest of the world
are afraid to declare exploded. Is that non-
sense? You look as if you thought so. But
just tell me, Netta, did you ever know a
real case of real love ? "
Miss Fane thought a moment. "In my
own experience, do you mean ? " she asked.
" Of course, in your own experience,"
" I am afraid I must say I never did ; but
still, I believe in it."
"I envy you your credulity," returned
her skeptical friend. "But how can you
believe what you have never seen ? If I had
ever seen it seen, that is, not the flirtation
of a few weeks, ending in a proposal, and a
wedding, but the love which is strong to
conquer, and stronger to endure the love
which absence cannot change, which diffi-
culty only quickens, which suffering only
elevates I, too, might believe. But now
bah ! I am a heretic of the straitest sect.
Do you mean to say that, if women ever
really felt as heroines are represented to
feel, I should not before this have conceived
a grande passion for some of the dear, charm-
ing boys I have known so well, and liked so
much, while they were with me, and never
cared a straw about, when they were
away? "
"That is hardly a fair argument, Vale-
rie,"
" I should like to know where you could
find a fairer one. I confess that I should
28
VALERIE AYLMER.
like to fall in love, if only for the novelty of
the sensation," pursued the young lady,
with meditative frankness. " I should like
to know what it was to fancy somebody well
enough to admire every thing he said or did
even his very absurdities to put away
the roses he had touched, and wear the
dresses he had praised, to care as much
about him when he was absent as when he
was n^ar to count the hours of his absence,
and look eagerly for his coming to be will-
ing to endure any degree of danger, or dis-
comfort for his sake and, finally, to let
love cover even wrong and injury, if wrong
or injury came. But then, I never shall
know it, and this is all nonsense ! I like
Charley, as weU as I can like anybody ;
and I mean to take him. I think I was fool-
ish not to make the engagement absolute at
once. Many women women better in
every way than I am have waited longer
than I have for their knight, and waited
vainly. Some of them do as I am about to
do make respect and affection serve the
place of love, and marry some pleasant and
eligible person, whom they like well enough,
for all practical purposes, to the end of their
lives. Others, like yourself, disdain to take
this course, and so go down to their graves
in ' maiden meditation fancy free.' I am in-
clined to think that this class is much larger
than the world believes."
"I certainly think it is a mistake to sup-
pose that every woman has had, or must
have, her love-story."
"I know it is a mistake; or, rather, it is
a vulgar belief of vulgar minds, which no
demonstration to the contrary could uproot.
If the entire feminine sex were suddenly
conveyed to the Castle of Truth, and exam-
ined on the point, I think we should hear
some strange revelations from maids, wives,
and widows ; and I think the vast majority
would be on my side, and declare that the
coming man had never come into their lives
at all."
" That would be my evidence, at least,"
said Miss Fane, laughing. " Now you have
oratorized long enough. Suppose, by way
of variety, you get up and dress? "
" You are not interested in my subject."
"Indeed I am interested enough to
hope that your coming man may make his
appearance in time."
"Is that for my sake, or for Charley's? "
"For both and equally. Only don't
fall in love with this cousin of yours."
" Had you not better caution me against
throwing myself headlong into the Pataps-
co?" said Miss Aylmer, rising. "Please
ring that bell for Fanchette. I want my
blue grenadine, and I feel morally confident
that it is down at the bottom of that largest
trunk."
BOOK II.
CHAPTER I.
"mt pretty page."
The cold November morning was break-
ing drearily through a heavy white fog, that
enveloped from sight all the low Maryland
coast, and even the roofs and spires of Bal-
timore, when the Portsmouth boat steamed
slowly up to her dock, after a very trying
and disagreeable run. A stiffish gale is by
no means to be despised even on the
Chesapeake and, although there had been
no very heavy sea the night before, yet many
uncomfortable stomachs on board the Lou-
isiana might have compared honorable
notes with those belonging to any ocean-
bound steamer the second day out. Sounds
of woe had proceeded all night from various
state-rooms ; calls for sympathy, and for
brandy, had been unnumbered ; and, among
the knot of passengers who stood on the wet
deck in the cold, gray morning, and gloomily
regarded the few landmarks that peered
through the fog, the only feminine presence
was that of Miss Aylmer, who, leaning on
her father's arm, watched with evident in-
terest as much of the surrounding prospect
as could be seen.
' It does not look very interesting, does
it, papa?" she said, as the fog partially lift-
ed, and showed that portion of Baltimore
which lies along the water's edge. " But
then, I suppose one should not judge of a
city by its approach, and in a fog, too. I
only wonder "
"Draw your shawl around you more
closely ; this air is very penetrating," said
her father, as she paused. " "Well what ia
it you wonder? "
She hesitated a moment before she went
on, rather thoughtfully :
" I only wonder whether I shall ever be
reconciled to this visit. I am almost sure I
never shall. I am almost sure this coming
six months will prove as long in reality as
it now seems in prospective."
" I should think you would know your-
self better," said the general, dryly. " One
opera, two balls, and a few conquests, will
quite cure your homesickness. Indeed, I
am half inclined to wager that, at the end of
the sis months, yoa will voluntarily prolong
your visit, perhaps indefinitely."
"Don't wager much then, papa," retort-
ed the young lady, with very nonchalant
sauciness, " for I know you are not fond of
losing. Ugh ! what an odious climate ! I
cannot understand how grandpapa en-
dures living in it after New Orleans, too ! "
" It is singular, considering that the
climate of New Orleans is well known to be
one of perfection."
" It is one of comfort and decency, at least,
so I beg you won't sneer at it, papa. But
then, grandpapa's coming here was all the
fault of this second wife of his was it
not ? "
"Entirely," the general answered.
" And, by-the-way, I am glad you mentioned
her for I had almost forgotten that I meant
to give you a warning on that score. She
30
VALERIE AYLMER.
is a very disagreeable woman ; but you must
really endeavor to conciliate ber prejudices.
Her influence over your grandfather is much
greater than that of any one else; and
there's no wiser policy than that of throw-
ing a sop to Cerberus, you know."
He spoke with studied carelessness for
no one better understood the art of clothing
unpalatable advice in unpremeditated guise
yet the words brought a sudden cloud
over his daughter's face. Her brow slightly
contracted, and her lips compressed them-
selves, before she replied :
"I hoped I had heard the last of such
warnings, papa. Surely there is nobody else
to be conciliated, is there? And yet in
the face of all this you think I shall find a
visit here more than bearable? For ray
part, I shall be very glad if it does not
prove much less. I believe I am chilled
through. Will you please take me in? "
Her father complied very willingly. In-
deed, it was quite time, the last motion of
the boat having ceased, and the downward
rush of passengers fairly begun.
General Aylmer and his daughter were
experienced travellers, however, and pos-
sessed to perfection the rare capability of
taking matters even from a steamboat and
railroad point of view with a supreme
quietude. They did not trouble themselves
in the least about making haste to be gone ;
and Valerie was still standing by a table in
the saloon, drawing on her gloves, and wait-
ing for her father, who had returned to his
state-room for some missing satchel, when
a step on the gangway caused her to turn
round, and thus confront a gentleman, who
came forward with a look in his eyes that
even dulness might have interpreted a
half-doubt, half-recognition, which made her
absolutely certain he would, in another mo-
ment, utter her own name. During that mo-
ment, while he still paused irresolute, she
took a rapid survey of his appearance ; for
one fact at least was undoubted that of his
complete strangeness to her.
Her first impression was, that she had
never seen a handsomer man if man he
could properly be called, who was apparent-
ly so little past the age of adolescence that
almost any one might have been tempted to
exclaim, " What a beautiful boy ! " There
was all of boyhood's smoothness of outline,
and clearness of tint, in the face whose re-
fined features and waxen complexion suited
its rich brown curls and lustrous eyes ; all
of boyhood's grace in the slender figure,
that bore upon it a stamp of such thorough-
bred elegance yet there was about both an
air and manner which proved conclusively
that, for this man, boyhood was long since
over. True, the downy softness had not
yet left the rounded cheek, the pearly
whiteness had not yet vanished from the
smooth brow, and there was a curve of al-
most child-like beauty about the shapely
mouth; but, on each and all of these fea-
tures, there also rested a shade of intangi-
ble expression which aged the face without
strengthening it, and marked it so plainly
with the sign-manual of worldly inter-
course and worldly thought, that no one,
after a second glance, could possibly have
mistaken the presence of manhood for that
of youth. It was a beautiful face, but that
was almost all that could be said of it. If
there was any thing else about it at all re-
markable, it might, perhaps, have been
found in the total lack of any decided ex-
pression, either for good or ill. Nobody
could have called it a pleasant face or a dis-
agreeable face, an intellectual face or a stu-
pid face, an honest face or a deceitful face,
a face that prepossessed liking or inspired
distrust ; for, in truth, it was simply nega-
tive a face of the kind that we see very
often in the world, and that belongs to peo-
ple who, as a general thing, lack both
mental and moral force, and are exactly
and entirely what circumstances make
them. It was also emphatically, and in
marked degree, a spoiled face. There was
a curve of disdain about the mouth, and a
cloud of petulance on the brow, which
deepened and lightened continually, with-
out ever quite vanishing, and made even the
most careless observer sure that this man
had never in his life known tlie curb of
wholesome restraint, imposed either by oth-
ers or himself.
Witli all her quickness of glance. Miss
Aylmer had not noted more thim these few
general points, when the unknown ad-
"MY PRETTY PAGE."
81
vanced directly to ber side, saying, in a
voice that suited Lis face, it was so very
melodious :
" I am sure I cannot be mistaken in
thinking that I have the pleasure of see-
ing Miss Aylmer. Let me bid ber wel-
come to Baltimore, and introduce to ber
Julian Romney."
Valerie started then looked up with
recognition. It was a name not wholly un-
familiar, though long forgotten the name
of her grandfather's step-son, who iiad been
sent to a German university before his
mother's second marriage, and whom, con-
sequently, she had never met. Indeed, the
gulf of non-intercourse between the two
families M. Vacquant remained in Balti-
more during the war had almost swept
the recollection of his very existence out of
her memory. She did not say so, however ;
on the contrary, she smiled cordially, and
held out her hand in reply.
"I am charmed to meet you," she said,
"for of course I have heard of you very
often. I am only ashamed that my recog-
nition was not like your own, instinctive."
"I trust my recognition would have
been instinctive," the young man answered,
smiling in his turn ; " but, unfortunately, I
cannot claim that merit for it. My step-
father has a miniature of you, and its want
of justice does not altogether detract from
its possession of likeness."
" Ah, of course it was very stupid of
me not to think," Valerie laughed. " I
think I should have known you, though
after a while. But grandpapa and Madame
Vacquant I hope they are both well? "
" Quite well, and very anxious to see
you ; indeed, M. Vacquant is waiting below
in the carriage now. Will you let me take
you to him ? That is surely you are not
travelling alone ? "
" Oh, no, Papa but here he is, Papa,
this is Mr. Romney, who has been kind
enough to come to meet us."
The general's memory of names was
much better than his daughter's, as well as
his memory of faces ; and, looking at the
young man before him, he saw a slightly-
masculinized edition of his father-in-law's
wife. He would have found no difficulty.
therefore, in determining his identity, even
if Valerie had not spoken, and his hand
went out at once in its frank, genial greeting.
" I should have known you, Mr. Rom-
ney, by your likeness to your mother," he
said. " I congratulate you on your return
to America. As matters stand at present,
a Baltimorean is almost tlie only person
whom we can congratulate on such an event.
"When did you leave Jena? "
" Only within the last few months,"
answered the other, while Valerie marvelled
now, as she had marvelled often before, at
her father's wonderful recollection. Noth-
ing seemed to escape him not even the
name of Julian Romney's university when
of Julian Romney himself she never re-
membered to have heard him speak. " Only
within the last few months," repeated that
young gentleman ; " and, but for the fact
that home is home, I might have been sorry
enough to do so. As a place of residence,
Germany is infinitely preferable to America,
you know."
" Any place short of the Inferno would
be that, just at present," said the general,
with a shrug. " However, you might get
on very well. You don't know any thing
about war and devastation, just here."
' It was now Romney's turn to shrug his
shoulders, which he did very indolently and
gracefully.
" You don't suppose I was thinking
about war or devastation, or any thing of
that kind ? " he asked. " I don't trouble
myself about those matters. I was thinking
that the people are such barbarians, from
an {esthetic point of view. But M. Vac-
quant must be very impatient. Will you
excuse me if I suggest that you take com-
passion on him."
" M. Vacquant ! " said General Aylmer,
quickly. " I did not know that he was
here of course we will go at once. Vale-
rie, I wonder you waited for me. Give that
shawl to Fanchette, and now, take care
these steps are confoundedly steep."
" Take care, Miss Aylmer," echoed
Romney, for he saw that her eyes were not
at all where they should have been, but
rather on the dock beyond, where a private
carriage was drawn up, at the door of
32
VALERIE ATLMER.
which her grandfather's face looked eager-
ly forth. " Take care take care I "
The last caution went off like a pistol-
shot, but it was too late. Valerie sudden-
ly missed her footing stumbled made a
grasp at the support missed it and fell
heavily forward.
General Aylmer was too far in advance,
Julian too much in the rear, to save her.
They could only hasten to her assistance,
and, as it chanced, the younger man was the
first to reach her, the first to lift the prone
figure, and look into the pale, stunned face,
the first to inquire anxiously if she was badly
hurt.
" I I don't think I am hurt at all," she
said, after a minute's pause. " At least
I cannot tell. I saved my head, and only
my wrist pains."
" Take my arm, then, and try to walk,"
said tlie general. " Your grandfather is
getting out of the carriage, I see. You
must have alarmed him very much."
" Oh, I am sorry for that," she said,
quickly ; and she at once made an attempt
to step forward, but it was only an attempt.
A spasm of pain came over her face, and
Eomney, who was watching her, said, as he
caught her just in time to prevent another
fall:
" You have sprained your ankle? "
"Yes," she answered, with a gasp, "I
think I have. What shall I do ? I cannot
walk."
""We shall have to support you," said her
father, with some annoyance in his voice.
" Mr. Romney, may I trouble you ? Valerie,
there would have been none of this, if you
had only looked where you were going."
Vah-ric did not reply ; in fact her whole
attention at that moment was concentrated
on her ankle. The lightest pressure of her
foot on the ground made it pain intensely ;
and she did not even remember until some
time afterward how solicitous and careful
was the support rendered by her new ac-
quaintance. When they reached the car-
riage, M. Vacquant was very much con-
cerned by the pallor of the face, which never-
theless contrived to greet him with a smile.
" il/a pauvre enfant!'''' he said, in the
midst of liis effusive embrace. " To think
that such an accident should be your wel-
come among us ! What was Julian about,
that he did not take better care of you ? I
wish I had gone for you myself."
"Mr. Romney took very good care of
me," said Valerie, with a grateful smile into
the handsome face just then bending over
her. " But he could not prevent my fall,
you know\ That was your fault, grandpapa
if it was auy body's besides my own for it
was only because I was looking at you that
I missed the step."
" Don't be ungrateful, A^alerie, or your
grandfather will think he had better have
stayed at home," interposed General Ayl-
mer, with a smile. " My dear sir, I am
delighted to see you again, and to see you
looking so well. How much you escaped in
not being battered about like the rest of us,
during four years of hardship and war ! "
"I don't know, I am sure," said M. Vac-
quant, a little shortly, for he always felt as
if be had been somewhat derelict in not
sharing the suffering of his country, and he
did not much relish congratulations on the
score of his exemption. " I am really un-
able to see that you are at all battered, Ger-
ald. *0n the contrary, you seem quite as
young-looking and good-looking as ever.
But we may as well defer compliments until
we are under way. Come In petite looks
too pale to be detained. Home, John, and
drive fast."
The coachman obeyed to the letter ; but
the fuot of Union Dock and the head of
Washington Place are two points of the
good city of Baltimore which lie rather far
apart ; and, with all his speed, they had not
made more than half their distance, when
Romney, who was watching Valerie quite
anxiously, said
"I am sure you are suffering very
much."
She looked up with a faint smile, but an-
swered nothing, for she could not deny the
assertion. The pain almost amounted to
agony by this time, and required every par-
ticle of her self-control to endure it silently.
So she only smiled, and clinched her hands
tightly together, as people always do when
they want to bear passively, while they
rolled on her father and M. Vacquant talk-
A FllEE LANCE OF TO-DAY.
53
inoj to eaoii other of Louisiana people and
things, Julian watching her silentlj', and she
engrossed by the pain along the crowded
thoroughfares of business life, past the gay
shops and streams of pedestrians, past the
towering cathedral-dorae, and into sight of
a tall white column when, just as she
thought, " I cannot endure it another mo-
ment! " the carriage stopped, and Julian
burst open the door before the footman
could spring down to do so.
Dimly, Valerie saw that they had paused
before a large gray house, with a stately
portico and flight of marble steps guarded
by conchant lions, and that, as they drew
up, a gentleman, who was in the act of as-
scending these steps, turned hastily and
came down again toward them. But physi-
cal agony had now reached the point of physi-
cal blindness, and she had onlya vague idea of
a strange face, in which there was a good
deal of surprise, and heard her grandfather
make some hurried explanation. Neither the
face nor the explanation moved her to the
least interest, however, until M. Yacquant
turned round, saying with his most grand-
seigneur air :
" Yalerie, my love, your cousin Maurice
Darcy."
Then she looked up curious to see this
rival claimant of her inheritance, this cause
of her present exile and sutFering, this man
whose name had been her hete noire for many
weeks past ; but, at the very moment when
she raised her eyes, the tortured ankle gave
one hot, sharp pang, that misted all the
kind pity of Maurice Darcy's face, and made
her extend her hand, with a sort of blind
impulse, past him to Julian Romney.
" Take me out, please," she said to the lat-
ter, with a certain knowledge that in another
second she would scream, despite herself.
Darcy drew back Valerie never knew
that his hand had been held out toward her
with a kinsman's frank greeting, when she
thus put it aside and Eomney assisted her
to the ground, not without much difSculty
and intense pain, however. Indeed, the
blanching cheek proved such sharp sufifer-
ing that it brought the other to her side all
of a sudden, with one quick step.
" Let me assist you," he said to Julian.
3
"Miss Aylmer is evidently sufloring very
much too much for even an attempt at
walking, I should say. "Would it not be bet-
ter if she was carried "
But here Valerie interrupted him, al-
most rudely, for pain gave a sharper tone to
her voice than was meant :
" Thank you, no. I can walk very well
with Mr. Romney's assistance."
" Pray let Maurice carry you, Valerie,"
said M. Vacquant's voice in the rear. " He is
stronger than any of us and well able to do
so."
But Valerie only shook her head wil-
fully ; and, as General Aylmer was not neai*
enough to interfere, lifted her foot to take
the first step of the flight before her. The
result was easily to be foreseen she gave
one sharp cry, and fell back on Romney's
shoulder.
The partial swoon which ensued was
not so deep but that she heard M. Vacquant
say, "Maurice, take her!" but that she
felt herself lifted at once by a pair of strong
arms, carried like a child into the house,
and, amid much feminine commotion, laid
gently down on a softly-cushioned couch.
CHAPTER II.
A FEEE LANCE OF TO-DAY.
Whex the doctor, who was hastily suna-
moned, arrived, his first care was to relieve
the injured foot of all ligatures ; his second,
to apply arnica-saturated bandages ; and his
third, to assure M. Vacquant that the pa-
tient needed only entire quiet. " She will
not be able to walk for some time," he said,
on taking his departure ; " but she may
probably be carried down-stairs and join
the family circle to-morrow."
He was mistaken, however. The sprain
proved more serious than had been im-
agined, and several days elapsed before Miss
Aylmer summoned courage or inclination
to make an appearance down-stairs. At
last, one evening, a sudden whim, or fit of
loneliness, seized her. She tossed the novel,
over which she Avas yawning, clear across
34
VALERIE AYLMER.
the room, rang lier bell, made a tc'ilet, and,
with the assistance of her own and Madame
Vacquant's maids, managed to descend to
the drawing-room, while dinner was yet in
progress, and the coast clear.
" That will do, Fanchette," she said, to her
faithful attendant, who, after she had been
established on a sofa, still hovered over her,
suggesting a pillow here, and a cushion there.
" That really will do. I am very comforta-
ble more comfortable than I deserve to
be," she added ; "for I begin to think it was
very foolish of me to come down."
" 'Deed, ma'am, I think it was very
right," Fanchette said, earnestly. "You
was so lonesome-like up-stairs ! It'll do
you good to see some company."
" That's rather a question," her mistress
answered, languidly. " I feel just now more
as if it Avould tire me ; and then, I never
looked worse ! "
" You looks pale, ma'am but paleness is
becoming to you," said Fanchette, consol-
ingly ; for Fanchette stood chief among the
admirers of la telle des helles a fact which
in itself is no contemptible proof of the gen-
uineness of Miss Aylmer's loveliness, since
few scorns are more sincere than that of a
maid for the beauty she daily aids in mak-
ing up.
The invalid acknowledged her friendly
comfort by a smile ; and then nestled deep-
er into her cushions, saying, as she stretched
out, with a slight grimace, the pretty san-
dalled foot that was resting on a pillow :
" I don't trust you, Fanchette ; you con-
sider me so entirely in the light of your
handiwork, that you regard me with partial
eyes. Throw that afghan lightly over me.
There ! Is not some one coming? "
Before Fanchette could answer, the
door oi)cned, and a lady entered a lady
so Iiandsome and stately, that, as she
came forward in the full light of the
chandelier, she looked more like some rare
old picture stepped from its frame, than a
mere flesli-and-blood woman of the present
time. She was not a young woman, by
any means, and not a woman who made
any ill-judged attempt to look young; but
every filing a:bout her harmonized so per-
fectly, and was in such admirable keeping
with her personal style and her manifest
age, that it was a question whether she was
not better worth looking at than the fresh-
est beauty in her teens. Girlhood is a
very pretty and a very charming thing, no
doubt, but girlhood, even in its brightest
and sweetest form, has never been able and
will never be able to hold its own, with any
moderate measure of success, against the
charm of a woman who, instead of fading,
has ripened into maturity ; and whose per-
sonal gifts have gained the toning and ex-
pression that only time can bestow. It is
not often that we see the warm zenith of
feminine loveliness attained for there are
many dwarfing and blighting influences at
work in almost every woman's life, that
send her into the port of middle age, shat-
tered, if not wrecked but a glimpse of it
is vouchsafed to us sometimes, and we are
richer for that glimpse to the end of our
lives. It is something inexpressibly grace-
ful and beautiful, something that has no jar
or clang of discordance in it, something that
is refined to the exquisite point of needing
no further refinement, and something which
was breathed like an aroma over the woman
who came forward now. She was certainly
a beautiful woman. Her delicate features
were chiselled with the clearness and regu-
larity of sculpture, her rich brown hair was
abundant as any chevelure of twenty, and
had a glow upon it which proved conclu-
sively that the art of the dyer had never
been called into requisition ; her violet eyes
had lost not a tint of their color, during the
half-century that had passed over them;
and her slender, symmetrical figure bore it-
self with a dignity which seemed to add at
least two inches to her real stature. Gen-
eral Aylmor had been right in saying that
he would easily have recognized Julian
Romney by his likeness to his mother ; yet,
alike as the two faces were in cast of fea-
ture, there was a difference between them,
which, resting in diverse expression, some-
times deepened into positive dissimilarity.
It could scarcely have been otherwise, since
the younger face was mobile to excess the
lip ever ready to curl, the brow ever ready
to bend while the elder was locked in the
passionlessness of marble. The finely-arched
A FREE LANCE OF TO-DAY.
35
bro'.v seldom met ia any frown ; tlie cold,
calm lip rarely smiled ; and, whatever
strength of passion or capability of emo-
tion existed in the depths of this woman's
nature, she had long since placed a strong
curb over a curb that gave a repressed
quietude to her manner, and was the cause
of a certain repulsion, which more than one
person confessed to experiencing when un-
der her influence. Yet few people have
been more universally admired, or more
justly commended ; and, as she crossed the
floor in her rich silk and soft laces, Valerie
acknowledged, for perhaps the fiftieth time,
that, when her grandfather chose a second
wife, his taste, in beauty at least, had been
irreproachable.
" "What ! you down ? " she said, as she
came forward, and perceived the occupant
of the sofa. " I doubt if it was prudent to
walk on your foot, yet a while, Valerie.
You should have been carried down, as the
doctor advised."
" Fanchette and Rose helped me," said
Valerie. "I scarcely walked at all."
" Fanchette and Eose could not give all
the assistance you must have needed. Your
grandfather was just speaking of taking
Maurice up to bring you down."
" That would have been more imposing,
certainly, but not more to my taste," said
Valerie, witli a laugh. " I had a suspicion
of that plan of grandpapa's, so I was all the
more anxious to steal a march on him. Be-
sides, I really was dreadfully tired of my
room and my novels."
" I don't wonder at it," said the elder
lady, as she sat down in a high-backed
Gothic chair, which made her look more hke
a picture than ever, and drew forward an
era broidery-frame. " Needle- work has quite
gone out of fashion, I believe," she went on,
" or I should think you would have found
that a plcasanter as well as a more profita-
ble occupation."
" Do you mean hemming handkerchiefs
or embroidering ottomans ? " asked Valerie,
more flippantly than was quite proper ; but
the temptation to rejoinder was strong, and
liking, between this handsome lady and her-
self, there had never been enough to insure
an amicable Ute-d-tete. " Fanchette relieves
me of the I'.r.st, and, as for the other, I don't
belong to any charitable association ; so I
should have no means of disposing of them
after they were finished."
"If you have no room for them at
Aylmers, your friends might like them as
souvenirs," said Madame Vacquant, whose
sneers were never apparent on the surface.
"You are so well provided with friends,
that there would be no difficulty about find-
ing recipients. I hope, by-the-way, you left
Miss Fane quite well? "
" Quite well," Valerie answered, with a
saucy sparkle in her eyes. " It is kind of
you to inquire about Netta, for I know you
do not like her; but then that is not singu-
lar. I believe we all failed to please you in
our poor Louisiana."
" The climate did not agree with me,"
said Madame Vacquant, quietly ; " other-
wise, I had no fault to find. The fruits are
delicious, and the people charmingly hospita-
ble. But I really think I should have died
if I had remained, the lassitude and prostra-
tion were so great. I don't wonder that
women there fade early or that you have
gone oif so much, Valerie."
" I never knew that women faded ear-
lier there than elsewhere," returned Vale-
rie, nonchalantly. " And, as for my going
ofl", I know I am hideous just now ; but I
have Baltimore to thank for that. When I
left home, everybody said I was looking re-
markably well."
" People who see one constantly are not
always the best judges of one's looks," said
Madame Vacquant. "Perhaps, after you
have been in Maryland a while, you may re-
cover something of your bloom. You used
to have a very bright complexion."
" One needs to come to Maryland to hear
unflattering truths," Valerie answered, with
undiminished good-humor. "Nobody in
Louisiana ever spoke of my complexion in
the past tense ; but then probably our stand-
ard is not a good one. I may be able to do
something toward improving it when I go
back. Are not those the gentlemen's voices ?
How soon they leave the table ! "
" Your grandfather does not like to sit
long," said Madame Vacquant, pausing in
her work to listen; "and Julian, I know, has
3.6
VALERIE AYLMER,
an engagement for fhis evening. That is
Maurice Darcy speaking now. You liave
not met him yet, I believe ? "
" Not unless you consider my fainting es-
cajjade in the light of a meeting. He must be
very strong ; for I weigh a great deal, and "
The opening of the door cut short her
sentence ; and the next moment, her father,
accompanied by a tall, stalwart stranger,
entered the room. They were speaking to-
gether as they crossed the floor, and did
not notice her presence for an instant ; then
General Aylmer looked round, and was not
a little suprised.
"You here, Valerie! " he said. " How
did you manage to get down ? Your grand-
father has just gone up-stairs to see you."
" I am very sorry," said Valei-ie, with
more contrition than was perhaps sincere.
" But, you see, I meant to surprise him, and
won't you please call him back, papa? "
"He will soon find that the bird has
flown," answered the general, coolly.
" Meanwhile, have you forgotten Captain
Darcy?"
Valerie looked up at his companion.
Even despite the disadvantage under which
she had seen it before, she thought she
would have recognized again the face that
had gazed at her through the mist of past
suff'ering. But she must have been mistaken
for, if she had appreciated one-half of its
compassionate kindness on that day, she
could scarcely have spoken with as much
coldness as when she answered:
"No, I have not forgotten Captain Dar-
cy, and I am glad to be able to thank him
for his assistance and strength, when I
needed both sadly. "Without them, I don't
know how I should ever have found myself
in the house that day."
" I only hope you are better," said Cap-
tain Darcy, speaking very courteously, but
making no eftbrt to shake hands or any thing
of the kind. " It is a i)ity that your arrival
in Baltimore should have been so disagree-
ably signalized."
" I don't know about its being disagree-
able," she answered, carelessly. "I have
had several days to myself, and I have read
many entertaining and a few instructive
books; and both of these novelties are
worth the price of a sprain, I dare say.
Oh, I am always philosophical am I
not, papa? Eugene used to declare that, if
the house were burned down, I would say at
once that it was the pleasantest thing ima-
ginable, since trees and grass were a great
deal more healthful and comfortable than
roofs and floors. I must not quote Eugene,
however, for here comes grandpapa."
M. Vacquant entered as she spoke a
little out of breath, and a good deal out of
humor.
" What is the meaning of this, Valerie ? "
he asked, quite injuredly. " I thought you
could not walk, so I go up-stairs to see yon,
and am coolly informed that you have gone
down ! Did you time your descent exactly
for the purpose of giving me a useless jour-
ney? By Jove, how tired I am! "
" So you have taken to swearing in Eng-
lish ! " Valerie laughed, as he sat down
by her. " No, I didn't time my descent for
any reason of the kind," she went on. " I
came down to give you a pleasant surprise,
and this is all the thanks I get, I wonder
you are not ashamed to be so ungrateful."
" So that's the light, is it ? " said he,
with a shrug. " "Well, I'll make apologies,
when I recover breath enough. Meanwhile,
let us hear whom you were quoting when I
came in."
" Nobody you care about," said Valerie,
giving his hand an aflectionate little pinch.
" I was only quoting my hero, my darling,
my soldier of fortune, my "
" Oh, Eugene," said he, in a very unen-
thusiastic tone.
" Yes, Eugene. "What have you to say
against him ? "
" Only that I hope he has not been fished
out of the Seine in a starving condition yet."
" Tell him about him," said Valerie,
turning triumphantly to her father, and
getting decidedly aground among her per-
sonal pronouns. " Tell him all that we
heard last about the dear boy : how well he
is doing ; and how steady he is ; and how
much everybody likes him ; and "
" And how ready you are to believe it
all," said M. Vacquant, stopping her mouth
witli peremptory good-humor. " I don't
want to hear any thing about the scamp !
A FREE LANCE OF TO-DAY.
37
If lie had stayed at home, and turned shoe-
black, now, I might have forgiven him;
but, to go off and join the condoitieri ! "
" I thought you liked condottieri, grand-
papa," said Valerie, and her eyes turned
mure significantly than she intended toward
Captain Darcy, who was standing beside
Madame Vacquant, and who caught the
glance at once.
"I don't know why you thought so,"
said her grandfather. " I like them so lit-
tle, that Maurice and I have had more than
one disagreement on the subject."
" Captain Darcy likes them, then ? " said
Valerie, making an ill-judged assault on the
enemy's lines.
'' That depends upon whether you mean
condottieri in the literal or the social
sense," answered Captain Darcy for him-
self.
" In the social sense, undoubtedly," re-
turned she, promptly.
"Then I don't like them in the least,"
he answered. " But, in the literal sense, it
would be strange if I had not at least a sym-
pathy for them, since I belong to a race that
for the last three hundred years has fur-
nished soldiers of fortune to the whole
world."
" And liked nothing better ! " said M.
Vacquant. " Deuce take the fellow !
he'd be a free lance to - morrow, if he
could ! "
"He was a free lance yesterday," said
General Aylmer, with a smile. "' We must
not forget that."
Darcy turned away, and walked down
the room. General Aylmer followed him,
and, while they stood together, in a broad
glow of light, Valerie had no better occupa-
tion for her eyes than to note the appear-
ance of this soldier-artist who had been ad-
vanced to the dignity of kinship with her.
This was aU that she saw a tall, weU-
built figure, whose deep, broad chest, and
lithe, sinewy limbs, were pleasant sights for
people who had a jienchant in the way of
manly strength or manly prowess and
whose stalwart, well - carried shoulders
looked as if tliey could have borne the very
burden of Atlas without blench or quiver ;
a face that suited the figure excellently well,
for it was frank and bold, more soldierly
than artistic, and only moderately hand-
some. Indeed, as Valerie regarded it from
behind the friendly shelter of M. Vacqnant,
she did not think it handsome at all. Cer-
tainly there was wonderfully little of the
petit-mattre or trim gallant about it little
to please the eye that admired Charley Ilau-
taine's insouciant grace, or Julian Romney's
ideal beauty but a good deal, nevertheless,
that many women, as well as many men,
liked to look upon. There were straight,
clearly-cut features, deep, dark-gray eyes
that might have been handsome, if they had
not been too cold and critical ; a mouth that
was somewhat set and stern, under the
thick chestnut mustache; the square, bel-
ligerent chin, that mars the beauty of many
a born fighter's face ; the broad artist-brow,
that is never wholly without attraction, and
an abundant amount of crisp chestnut hair.
Together with these things, there was a
striking absence of that which, for want of
a better name, we may call the conventional
stamp ^the stamp that in these days squares
and trims everybody and every thing into
conventional shape and a striking presence
of fresh and vigorous individuality. The
man had his faults they were written, in-
deed, on his very face but you felt more
than half-inclined to forgive them all, in
gratitude for the novelty of seeing one who
looked, moved, and spoke, not according to
certain social rules and canons, but accord-
ing to the exigence of the hour and the
need of the minute ; yet who never, in even
the faintest shade of word, look, or tone,
violated that higher law of perfect courtesy
which is the flower of true refinement. The
man was a man, but he was also a gentle-
man, and none the less the fii'st for being
so entirely the last. You could see at once
that he was frank and straightforward to a
fault, formed for action rather than for di-
plomacy, very apt to clear his way with
clean, even strokes, and little likely to show
tolerance in any case of attempted wiles ;
but you also felt sure that he was a man who
would be gentle to the weak, and tender to
those whom he loved, with the supreme gen-
tleness and tenderness that are bom of
strength. Xevertheless, let it not be sup-
38
VALERIE AYLMER.
posed that there vras any thing of the Titan,
or the genius, or the hero, about him. He
was simply a man who had some of the best
attributes of common manhood stamped
upon him the courage and simplicity, the
generosity and faithfulness, the scorn of all
things base, and the very unconsciousness
of all things mean, which are uncommon
enough, Heaven knows, but which go fur-
ther to make up our idea of true manhood
than all the polish or all the learning of all
the schools.
" He looks like a free companion," Va-
lerie thought to herself, while Madame Vac-
quant described the manner in which hair
was dressed, and dilated upon the latest
style of bonnet. " I wonder if the soldiers
of the Irish brigade at Fontenoy were men
of this kind? If so, no wonder the English
Yes, madame, I think that must have
been a lovely bonnet ; but you know I could
not wear any thing of the sort. Pearl and
blue would make a fright of me."
"No; of course you could not," said
Madame Vacquant. "I was only describing
it. You always have scarlet somewhere
about your bonnets, I believe."
"A knot of scarlet roses, or perhaps a
cluster of fuchsias," said Valerie, who was
not a whit behind the most of her sex in
devotion to the toilet. " I like fuchsias
they are so graceful and becoming. Grand-
papa, I wonder if Captain Darcy had any
ancestors at the battle of Fontenoy ? "
" I don't know, I am sure," said M. Vac-
quant. ""What on earth put that into your
head?"
"Nothing," she laughed; and then she
hummed under her breath, to an inipromp-
tn air:
" ' On Fontenoy, on Fontenoy, nor ever yet elsewhere,
Eushed on to flght a nobler band than those proud
exiles were.' "
" You must try and got down to Easter's,
to-morrow," Madame Vacquant went on
" There is a silk there, I am sure you will
like. I saw it a week ago, and told them to
put it aside ; but such people are so unre-
liable. It is a lovely gold-color ; and under
black lace you still have that overdress of
Spanish lace, I suppose. Valeric?"
" Oh, yes," said Valerie ; " of course I
have it yet such things as that are heir-
looms, you know. I need a silk for it, too ;
and I shall certainly get the gold-color, if it
is pretty ; but then, I have no doubt of that.
' On Fontenoy, on Fontenoy, like eagles in the sun'
What's the next line, grandpapa ? "
" I -never heard the thing, Valerie."
"Oh, of course you have only you've
forgotten :
' Like lions leaping at a fold, when mad with hunger's
pang.
Eight up against the English line the Irish exiles
sprang:
Bright was their steel' "
The battle of Fontenoy came to an
abrupt end just here, for the door opened,
and a radiant vision entered to wit, Julian
Eomney, in full evening costume. He en-
tered listlessly, with something of a fretful
cloud on his face ; but a single glance at the
sofa was enough to dispel it, and the next
moment he came forward, smiling brightly.
"Miss Aylmer! What an imexpocted
pleasure this is ! But why was I not allowed
my share in the triumph of bringing you
down ? "
" There was no triumph in the matter,"
Valerie said, with a laugh. " I came down
very quietly, assisted only by Fanchette and
Eose."
" When ? "
" While you were all at dinner."
" While we were at dinner and I just
to know it! "
" It has not been long."
" It has been long enough to make me
wish that Mrs. Jennings and her party were
both in Halifax ; or that I had looked in the
drawing-room when I came up-stairs. How
could I have been so obtuse as not to know
by instinct that you were here? Don't
laugh, Miss Aylmer it is a very serious
matter, I assure you."
Miss Aylmer did laugh, however. Ills
petulance and vexation seemed so little
more than that of a spoiled child ; and there
was so much of the " pretty page " about
him, that she felt half-inclined to extend
her hand and caress the curl-bedecked head.
A timely recollection of propriety inter-
fered, however; and she only shook her
own as she answered :
1
A FREE LANCE OF TO-DAY,
39
" Your flatteries (Jeserve a pleasanter re-
ward thau any thing tliey have missed, or
are likely to gain. My mirror tells me that
I never looked worse, and my conscience
assures me that I never felt more stupid."
"For the peace of our city, don't look
any better, then," said he, with only a half-
tone of jest. "And as for stupidity pity
mine, when I have not yet inquired about
your ankle. Is it well enough for you to
walk at all ? "
"I think not," answered she, with a du-
bious glance toward it. " But really, I have
not tried. I limped down on one foot ; for
I have such a vivid remembrance of my ag-
ony the other day, that I did not have the
courage to put this one on the floor."
"You ought to do it," however, said
Madame Vacquant. " Your ankle will nev-
er grow strong again unless you use it. Is
not that so, my dear ? "
" Certainly it is so," said M. Yacquant;
" but petite knows best. She can judge
whether it feels equal to the exertion yet."
"I am by no means sure of that," said
Julian, while petite herself looked doubt-
ful. " Suppose you try to walk ? " he add-
ed, turning abruptly to the latter. " I am
confident your ankle is strong enough by
this time to bear the exertion. Come ! let
me assist you."
He held out his hand, but Valerie shook
her head.
" Not this evening to-morrow, per-
haps," she said.
" To-morrow I may not be able to help
you," answered he. " Pray, try now if
only a few steps. I should like to feel that
I was making some amends for allowing
that dreadful fall."
" Allowing ! How conld you have pre-
vented it ? "
He only smiled, and held out his hand
again. "Will you not try? Just a few
steps."
He looked so imploring, and so hand-
some, that for once Valerie developed an in-
capacity to say no.
"If you will not insist, in case it hurts
me," she began.
She was interrupted by protestations and
assurances to the contrary ; so, after a mo-
ment, she slowly brought the injured foot
to the floor, and tried its strength, before
rising.
" Does it hurt? " asked M. Vacquant.
"N" o. Mr. Eomney was right, I be-
lieve. It scarcely hurts at all as yet. Now
I will try to walk."
" Let me call Maurice to assist you also,"
said her grandfather, in a tone which was
unluckily loud enough to reach Captain Car-
ey's ears. He started and turned, just in
time to hear Valerie say with decision :
" No ; certainly not. Mr. Romney wUl
assist me; and, if I need any one else, I
can call papa."
Then she laid her hand on Julian's arm,
and, thus supported, walked slowly down
the room.
"Take care. Don't over-exert your
ankle," said General Aylmer, turning round
as she advanced. " How does it feel ? "
"Very well indeed," she answered. "I
am ashamed to remember how cowardly I
have been about trying it. No, Mr. Romney,
you need not turn back; I think I will
walk down the next room."
" Had you not better be cautious ? " asked
Darcy. " Your foot must be weak yet."
"Of course it is weak; and that's the
ceason I want to strengthen it," said she,
lightly. "Mr. Eomney, I am sorry to lean
so heavily. I hope my weight is not very
great."
Neither of the gentlemen heard Rom-
ney's reply, for he moved on before it was
spoken ; but they saw the light that came
into his eyes, as he answered; and being,
in diff^erent ways, men of the world, both
shrugged their shoulders mentally.
" I must give Valerie warning that her
favorite game won't answer here," thought
the father.' " Fooling this pretty-faced boy
would be a trifling affair in itself; but mak-
ing an enemy of his mother would ruin
every thing."
"A thorough-paced coquette," thought
Maurice Darcy ; " and more ripe for mis-
chief than even the most of her class. Poor
Julian ! "
Poor Julian was meanwhile leading his
companion through one after the other of
the suite of reception-rooms, until they
40
VALERIE AYLMER.
found themselves at the entrance of the con-
servatory.
" What a beautiful place ! " Valerie said,
pausing in the door, and gazing "with loving
eyes at the interior, where the luxuriant
children of her fair South brought some-
thing of their tropical bloom and beauty
about tlie chill existence of the North.
'^ How exquisite the plants are I But is not
that a fountain I hear? "
Eomney answered by leading her for-
ward, and the next moment she saw that,
almost immediately in the centre of the con-
servatory, a jet of water was playing in a
marble basin, making a soft, fairy-like mu-
sic of its own, and gleaming like a silver
mist through the mellow gloom. All around
it broad-leaved water-plants were arranged
with unusual taste and skill ; while the
most rare of the flowering shrubs were clus-
tered in the immediate neighborhood, and
tall, feathery crests nodded, or seemed to
nod, in the dimmer background.
This time Valerie did not exclaim,
" What a beautiful place ! " She only felt
a sharp throb, half-exquisite pleasure, half-
exquisite pain, which all forms of the beau-
tiful bring to some organizations ; and then
she said softly, "It looks like home."
" I am glad I was the first person to
bi*ing you here, then," said Romney, quickly.
" I am glad that the place which reminds
you of home, must also remind you a little
of me. Sit down. You must rest before
you try to go back."
There was every thing to second the re-
quest; so Valerie yielded without much
demur. " "We cannot stay long, or they
will miss us," she said, hesitatingly; and,
having cleared her conscience by this re-
mark, she sat down and gave herself up to
the charm of the spot. The soft lamps
glimmered so far away that they threw only
a sort of moonlight radiance through the
heavy tropical foliage; the brilliant blos-
soms of the Southern flora were blooming
on every side, and their rich, subtle fra-
grance was heavy on the air; the Avater
rose and fell with the measured rhythm that
in itself lulled to quiescence ; and so, while
the party, a few rooms distant, sat down to
\Thist, counted their tricks, and scored their
honors, these two lingered and yet lingered
in what seemed, to one of them at least, a
fairy-land.
Ah, it is a subtler and a deeper question
than many of us think, that of determining
whether the women who are gifted with
the fatal gift which we call fascination,
are strictly accountable for all the harm
and evil this woful charm may work upon
others. There are some women we do
not usually meet more than one in a lifetime
whose simplest tones and most careless
glances contain more of magic than aU the
philters ever compounded by cunning necro-
mancers women whose powers no man has
ever been wise enough to define, and few,
very few, strong enough to resist; women
than whom hundreds are fairer, and nobler,
and wittier ; but to whom Nature has given
one dower that only Nature can bestow
the rare and perilous dower of being all
things to all men. Now, are such women
morally accountable for all the pain, the
suflfering, and the harm, which unwitting-
ly often they never fail to cause? Are
their white hands stained with the blood
which has flowed for them, the pangs that
have been endured, the lives wrecked, the
curses breathed? Surely, if so, we might
be more willing to accept the guilt of that
poor wretch whom they are leading yonder
down the long sunlit road toward the high
hill where, tall and dark, one sombre outline
cuts against the sky ; him whose pale lips are
even now moving in agonized prayer ; and
whom the great surging multitiide wiU hun-
grily watch when the cord is drawn around
his neck, and he goes from man's justice to
the bar of God's mercy.
There is more point in this digression
than is at once apparent. We are told that,
in a matter of this kind, guilt or innocence
is all a case of "intention." This seems
hard, sometimes hard that the instigator
may go scot-free of penalty, while the vic-
tim bears the weight of sin, as weU as of suf-
fering; but, after all, who can draw the line
of that "intention?" Who of us does not
know
" That evil is -wronfflit by -want of thought,
As well as by want of heart ? "
And who of us can believe that want of
THE GENERAL GrV'ES A WARNING.
41
thought will plead our excuse in the awful
Reckoning, when every idle word will rise
up against us ? One thing at least is cer-
tain : in after-days it will go hard with Va-
lerie Aylmer if her conscience he not clear
of all intention to modulate her tones so
well, to sheathe her glances so soft, and to
let kindness plain and simple kindness
only, she would tell you dwell in every
word on that night when Julian Romney
sat by her side, and found his fate in her
eyes.
Found his fate ! That is a term of which
romantic school-girls are very fond ; and,
like as not, it may sound absurdly exagger-
ated to the men and women of the day, who
sneer at human passion as they sneer at
every thing else on the earth beneath, and
in the heavens above the earth ; but, for all
that, there is such a thing yet, and will be
such a thing, as long as women are beguilers
and men are beguiled. "Whether the term
be correct or not whether or not, in the
fullest sense, Julian Romney found his fate
in Valerie Aylmer's eyes the sequel may
show ; but at least something of the fact be-
gan to be apparent to herself before the
evening was over. After the last good-nights
had been exchanged, and when the fair
Southern head laid itself down upon its pil-
lows, a vision came back of the beautiful
boyish face that had kindled and glowed so
warmly during those hours beside the foun-
tain the face that just then was close to
that of a blond belle in the vaUe d deux
temps, and which saw before it, not the gold-
en curls and azure eyes of sweet Violate
Arle, but the lips which were even then
murmuring :
" Poor boy ! I must try and not do him
any harm,"
CHAPTER III.
THE GENERAL GIVES A WARNING.
No one was very much surprised the
next morning when the door of the break-
fast-room opened, and Miss Aylmer made
her appearance, looking so blooming and
bright in a rich crimson cashmere, that even
Madame Vacquant felt inclined to doubt
wliether the climate of Louisiana was quite
as injurious to complexions as she had sup-
posed. Tlie young lady received her con-
gratulations and greetings very quietly ;
then, subsiding into a chair by Romney, she
bade him tell her how the night had gone
in the way of the Jennings's party.
"Heavily enough, as far as I was con-
cerned," he answered. " Other people
seemed to be enjoying themselves in usual
degree ; but I never found an evening more
hopelessly dull. I am glad you have come
down to give us a glimpse of your face this
morning; otherwise, I should have carried a
nightmare about with me all day."
"What was so dreadful?" asked his
step-father "the wine, the women, or the
music ? "
The young man shrugged his shoulders ,
petulantly.
" How can I tell ? It was all a hideous
conglomeration of sight and sound so hid-
eous, that the wine might have been goose-
berry, the women dressed in bunting, and
the band playing a dead-march, for aught I
knew, or cared, to the contrary ! "
"Oh, we understand," said the elder
gentleman. " The fault being in yourself
as* it generally is Mrs. Jennings's entertain-
ment must bear the blame. It strikes me
that, instead of saying 'the evening was dull,'
you should have said ' I was dull,' and stated
the matter more fairly."
"Doesn't it come to the same thing?"
asked Valerie ; for her quick eye caught the
sudden cloud that came over Julian's face.
"By no means," her grandfather an-
swered. "Here's Maurice, for instance,
who, not being given to morbid fancies,
enjoyed himself, I will venture to say, like
a sensible man. How was it, mon ami?
am I not right? "
Darcy looked up from a newspaper
both General Aylmer and himself had
drawn back from the table, and were en-
gaged, one with the Gazelle, and the other
with the Sun but did not seem to need any
information about the subject under discus-
sion.
"I thought the evening went off very
well," he said; " but, then, I'm never hard
42
VALERIE AYLMER.
to please, you know. Julian certainly must
hare found a bitter savor in every thing,
for not the melancholy Jacques himself
could have looked more wearied. I heard
more than one ' bright-eyed honnibelle ' ask
what misfortune had befallen him."
He spoke carelessly, but in a tone of
good-humored pleasantry, that did not at
all justify Romney's sharp retort :
" I am glad you found so much time to
observe my proceedings, and I am sorry I
can't return the comphment by bearing per-
sonal testimony to yours. I only remember
that one ' bright-eyed honnihelle ' at least
could have made no inquiry about me the
one, I mean, whom you engrossed the
greater pai-t of the evening."
"Who was that?" asked Madame Vac-
quant, speaking for the first time since she
,bade Valerie good-morning.
" I suppose he means Miss Eiviere," said
Darcy, with a smile. "She was looking
charmingly last night, and I danced with
her several times ; but I should hardly have
thought tliat made out a case of engrossing."
"Eiviere!" Valerie repeated. "That is
a Louisiana name."
"These are Louisiana people," said M.
Vacquant. " Aylmer, you remember Henry
Riviere, I am sure."
"Perfectly," said the general, looking
up. " And, by-the-way, his is one of the
worst cases of utter smash I know of."
" So I supposed ; for he is here in busi-
ness."
The other raised his eyebrows with an
expression of surprise.
" Riviere ! If it were possible to be
astonished by any thing, these days, I
should certainly think you must be mis-
taken. I can fancy him connected with
every thing in the world except business.
By-the-by, that is a very indefinite term,
and means any thing, from ship-owning to
shoemaking. "What does it stand for in
this case?"
"Some banking position or other, I
think. He seems to be getting on tolerably ;
and is clever enough to succeed very well,
if he will only keep away fi-om race-courses,
and let cards and dice alone."
" All ! if he only can," said the general.
in a tone of profound incredulity concern-
ing the probability of any thing of the kind.
And then he went back to the Su7i.
" Has he a daughter, and is her name
Alix ? " Valerie inquired.
" He has a daughter, and her name is
Alix," Romney replied. " She has made
something of a sensation here. Do you
mean to say you know her? "
" I met her once or twice not oftener,
for she was very young, and not in society
but I remember that I thought her very
attractive. Is she not very petite, with
soft brown eyes, and shy, caressing man-
ners ? "
" And a color that comes and goes
twenty times in a minute exactly. She
is said to be very charming ; but Darcy
there has cultivated her more than I have,
and can speak with better knowledge."
" She is one of the most thoroughly
natural and thoroughly attractive people
I ever knew," said Darcy, warmly. " I
sincerely congratulate you. Miss Aylmer, on
the discovery of such a friend."
" Such an acquaintance," Madame Vac-
quant corrected. " Valerie did not speak
of her as a friend did you, my dear? I
should be sorry, if so, for I have heard one
or two rumors about her, which, if true,
make her rather undesirable even as an ac-
quaintance."
" One or two rumors about Miss Ri-
viere ! " said Darcy, quickly. " Excuse
me, madame, if I ask what they are for
nothing could possibly be true that would
render her an undesirable acquaintance for
Miss Aylmer,"
"Excuse me for not remembering that
she had such a warm champion at hand,"
said the lady, smiling, though not very
pleasantly ; " and moderate your warmth,
my dear Maurice, for I meant nothing in
the least dreadful. I have heard that Miss
Riviere is studying music, with a view to
going on the stage that is all. But I
am sure you will agree witli me that it is
enough to justify what I said. Valerie
would scarcely care to make a friend of a
future canta trice."
" That would depend very much upon
circumstances, or, rather, upon the person
THE GENERAL GIVES A WARNING.
43
in question," said Valeric, coolly. " Xo\y I
should make a friend of Alix Riviere, not
of the future cantatrice if the rumor is
true."
"Let us hope that it is not," said M.
Vacquant, lifting up his spoon to break an
egg, and balancing it in the air as He spoke.
" In my opinion, it is one of the worst signs
of the times that the new generation begin
to throw off so many of the old traditions
of gentle blood, and to disregard so entire-
ly the old noilesse-obliffe theory of gentle
birth," he went on. "Equality and fra-
ternity are vile enough in a political sense ;
but the devil himself could not imagine any
thing worse than their social enforcement
would be ! Yet all these latter-day notions
are paving the way for little else. "We are
told that it is a very fine thing to be liberal ;
that a gentleman may be a gentleman,
though he turn blacksmith ; and a lady may
continue a lady though she becomes an ac-
tress ; that good ancestry is of no account ;
and a good name worth exactly what it Avill
bring at the bottom of a check ! I may be
illiberal," continued he, bringing down his
spoon with a crash into the egg-shell, "but
I don't see the force of such reasoning, and
I have an unmitigated contempt for such
practice ! "
" Don't excite youself, grandpapa," Va-
lerie laughed. " And, besides, I don't see
the force of your reasoning in the present
case. There are no better people in Louisi-
ana than the Rivieres."
" So much the more cause for their not
forgetting the fact," said he. "However,
we'll be charitable. The rumor about the
young lady may not be true. I am sure I
hope it is not, since I don't know a more
charming woman than her mother. Mau-
rice, have you forgotten that you promised
to attend Cox's sale of horses for me this
morning ? "
" Xot in the least, sir," Darcy answered,
pushing aside the Gazette, and giving a
glance at his watch; "but there is plenty
of time yet, and General Aylmer spoke of
going with me."
" I am at your service," said the gen-
eral, rising as he spoke. " It has been my
life- long practice to keep no man waiting
my business or jdeasure, and I should be
sorry to begin at this late day."
"Remember that, from two such judges
of horse-flesh, I shall expect a simply un-
paralleled span," said M. Vacquant, as they
turned to leave the room.
"It would have been wiser to send them
apart, then," said Romney, after the two
gentlemen were safely out of ear-shot. " To-
gether, their opinions are sure to clash I
never knew two jockeys who didn't and
the result may be any thing biit the one you
desire."
"I should have sent you along as um-
pire," said the step-father, a little shortly.
" Your judgment served you so well when
you bought that showy-looking animal the
other week, which turned out just as sound
as Maurice prophesied."
Julian's cheek flushed darkly, and his
brow contracted in its quick frown. There
could not possibly have been found a sorer
point with him than the one to which M.
Vacquant alluded a certain equine pur-
chase against which Darcy had strongly ad-
vised him, and which proved to be utterly
worthless. His reply Avould probably not
have been very temperate, if his mother
had not interfered.
"You are hard on poor Julian," she said,
reproachfully, to her husband. " I am sure
he will give Captain Darcy aU the credit he
deserves as a jockey ; and as for that un-
lucky horse isn't he ever to be left in
peaceful disgrace?"
" With all my heart," said M. Vacquant,
good-humoredly. " I beg pardon, Julian,
if I have said any thing to wound your
feelings ; and we'U certainly let that de-
posed czar rest on his laurels. Are you
engaged this morning, my dear, or can you
write some letters for me ? There's quite
an accumulation of them up-stairs, and the
gout in my hand is worse than ever."
"Let me be your secretary, grandpapa,"
Valerie said ; but, to her surprise, Madame
Vacquant interposed at once.
" Quite impossible. Your grandfather
is accustomed to me, and I understand his
business. You would only incommode him,
and tire yourself. I shall turn yon over to
Julian for an hour or two, and as soon as I
44
VALERIE AYLMER.
give some directions to Pierre, I -will be in
the library, my dear."
" I am in no haste," said M. Vacquant ;
then, gathering together several letters
which had arrived that morning, he left the
room.
Madame Yacqnant followed him almost
immediately ; and, thus forsaken. Miss Ayl-
mer and Mr. Eomney looked at each other
and smiled.
" Yoa are given into my hands for amuse-
ment," said the latter. '* Will you tell the
humblest of your slaves what diversion will
please you best? "
" In the first place, I should like to know
something of the house I inhabit," she an-
swered. "Do you feel inclined to play cice-
rone? It may involve another offer of
your arm, for my foot is not strong yet."
" To hear is to obey, if it involved the
offer of my head Shall we set out at once ? "
"Yes, certainly."
She rose and walked slowly down the
room. By the time the door was reached,
his arm had been offered and accepted ; and
then they set forth, as gayly as a pair of
children, on a thorough tour of inspection.
It was certainly a very pleasant one.
^Beautiful and luxurious appointments,
breadth of space, and comfort, unspoiled by
economy of arrangement, are charming
things to almost any one ; and, although the
residence of M. Vacquant was by no means
extravagantly "palatial," a cultivated and
refined taste had breathed into it an individ-
uality of aspect which the most gorgeous
upholstery rather diminishes than increases.
Velvet carpets, damask curtains, tables and
ottomans, even pictures and statues, have
their money value, and are at the command
of the most uncultured buyer; but the
knowledge how to use these things is a dif-
ferent commodity, and by no means mark-
etable. Whatever else she may have lacked,
Madame Vacquant plainly did not lack this
the rare knowledge and rarer artistic ap-
preciation which are the very first proofs
of savoir vitre, that a liostess, aspiring to
raise her head above the level of ordinary
hostesses, must give. The most exacting
sybarite could hardly have found fault with
the arrangement of the rooms, the very air
of which inspired thoughts of social ease
and social pleasure ; and the most sensitive
artist could scarcely have suggested a mul-
tiplication or abstraction of the well-chosen
and well -hung pictures, the costly bronzes,
the exquisite statues, or the treasures of
ormolu and marqueterie, that occupied unob-
trusive corners, and conducted themselves
in all respects like ordinary furniture.
When the whole lower floor had been
explored, Valerie led her companion back to
the music-room, and bade him open the
piano.
"I am sure you sing," she said, when he
had obeyed; " and, if you please, I want to
hear you. Ah, there is no good in denial.
I flatter myself I know a little of physiog-
nomy ; and, if yours is not a musical face, I
never saw one; besides, you have lived in
Germany."
" That settles the matter, does it ? " said
Eomney, laughing a little. " Of course, I
know something of music we all did at
Jena but nothing you wiU care to hear."
"Let me be judge of that," she an-
swered. "Run your hand over the keys.
Ah, yes ! I knew you had a good touch.
Do j'ou play much ? "
" Scarcely at all. Singing is my strong
point."
" Sing, then."
Transcribed, those two words look
rather curt ; but, given with the expression
that Miss Aylmer knew excellently well
how to infuse the half-persuasive, half-
commanding accent which she possessed to
perfection few men would have hesitated
longer than Eomney did about obeying.
He smiled slightly, modulated a few
chords, by way of prelude, and began one
of those artfully-simple German ballads that
the poetry of Uhland and the music of Men-
delssohn have made familiar to every ear.
The harmonization of the melody was so
perfect that, for some moments, Valerie
scarcely noticed the voice that rendered it ;
then, all at once, the consciousness flashed
upon her that she had never heard a purer
tenor, and, notwithstanding her previously
expressed opinion concerning the musical
face, she felt herself completely taken by
surprise. The natural power, sweetness,
THE GENERAL GIVES A WARNING.
45
ami compass of the voice, were remarkable ;
and as the result, perhaps, of good training,
the style was almost perfect being only
sometimes a little strained and marred by a
few florid exaggerations. They were very
few, however ; and, on the whole, his vocal-
ization did such entire credit to himself, that
Valerie had no disposition to find fault, but
sat in a state of enjoyment which was all
the greater for being unexpected, while the
rich, clear tones floated on, full and even, to
the last cadence. "When he finished, she
looked up at him reproachfully.
" I suppose people never do tell the truth
about their own performances," she said;
" but that you should speak of singing ' a
little,' seems to me sacrilege, or, worse yet,
afl:ectation."
" Let us consider it sacrilege, then, by all
means," he answered. "One aim of my
life has been to steer clear of the odium of
affectation, and I think I have partially suc-
ceeded. People don't often call me atfected
unless I forget myself far enough to be
natural."
"N"ow you are trying to be cynical."
" On my honor, no. Nothing suits mc
less. And, seriously, I am more pleased
than I can say, if you like my singing."
"Like it? You must know how weak
that expression is you must know that it is
beautiful ! Sing something else."
"What shall it be?"
" Some of your student-songs, if you re-
member any of them with a drinking cho-
rus, and all that sort of thing. I have al-
ways been curious to hear how they go."
"They go delightfully when you have a
hundred or two voices in the chorus, the
beer-cans, and the hurrahs ; but how they
will sound in solo I can hardly imagine.
Nevertheless, you shall hear."
And, suiting the action to the word, he
burst into one of the ringing student songs
that seemed to embody in every note the
freshness and enthusiasm, the mirth and
daring, the gayety and earnestness, of that
wonderful Young Germany whose sponta-
neous outbursts they were, and whose
national lyrics they have become. He
threw himself into it with a force that was
electrifying, and to his listener's ear left
nothing to be desired even in the chorus,
where he stopped to as.sure her that the
clashing of wine-cups and swords was ne-
cessary, as Avell as tlie volume of united
voices. "If you could only hear 'The
Sword-song ' given in that way," he said,
when he finished, and she was expressing
her approbation " Korner's, of course, I
mean and Schiller's ' Trooper's song.' You
have heard that, I suppose." And he dashed
into it as he spoke :
" ' Up, comrades, and saddle ! To horse and away,
To the field where freedom''s the prize, sirs !
There hearts of true metal still carry the day,
And men are the kings and the kaisers I ' "
When the end came, he gave her no
time for comment, but rose at once from
the piano-seat.
"I have done my share," he said;
" now it is your turn."
But Valerie shook her head.
" I don't sing often," she replied
"never in cold blood and broad daylight.
Lower the curtains, light the gas, fill the
rooms, put me at a fever-heat of social ex-
citement, and I may sing for you perhaps
moderately well ; otherwise, I cannot thinli
of such a thing."
"What shall we do, then ? "
"Is it absolutely necessary for us to do
any thing ? I like sitting still very well
especially when my ankle pains."
"Does it pain now ? "
" Yes, a little but pray don't look so
much concerned. It will soon be better.
If you want to make yourself entertaining,
you may tell me something about Jena.
You can't imagine what a fancy I have al-
ways had for German student-life ! "
There could be no doubt of the fact that
Miss Aylmer's popularity was very easily to
be accounted for. By the bright waters
and over the fair fields of their own favorite
pursuit, or best-loved hobby, she led her
willing victims; giving to each the sweet
smile and vivid interest that rarely flagged
under any infliction, or had been known to
falter in any emergency. It puzzled ordi-
nary people people who had none of this
gift themselves to imagine how she could
possibly adapt herself so readily to so many
diverse minds and diverse tastes; but the
46
VALERIE AYLMER.
truth really was, that half of it was done un-
consciously. It was not that she meant to
do it, or even wished to do it ; but simply
that she could not help doing it. It was
her birthright this chameleon-power of
variation, this capability of tuning herself,
as it were, to so many keys and she could
no more have explained her own modus ope-
randi than the most puzzled among the
lookers-on. It came natural to her. That
was all she knew about the matter. It was
the fairy gold which some elfin-power,
more malicious than kind, had left beside
her cradle; and she scattered it abroad
with a lavish unconsciousness of its value
thinking only, caring only, that it won for
her the homage which had never yet been
missing from her path, and which she
thought it would not be possible to live
without. Sometimes, when she looked most
interested, she was, in truth, dreadfully
*bored ; but kindness of heart, as well as the
tactics of coquetry, had some effect in teach-
ing her that smiling endurance which dis-
tinguishes the martyr of society, and both
together bore her triumphantly through al-
most any ordeal. Neither kindness of
heart nor the tactics of coquetry had much
to do with the earnest attention which she
paid Julian Romney, as he obeyed her last
request to the letter, aud told her a great
deal of his " wandering youth in the far, fair,
foreign lands." He talked well, in a pictu-
resque, graphic way of his own, and might
have engrossed a less interested listener.
As he talked, she listened ever with those
eloquent eyes that said more than many
words until her father's voice made her
start, and her father's presence suddenly
appeared in the doorway.
Few people ever learned any thing from
General Aylmer's face, but there were one
or two signs knovni only to his daughter,
and these told her at once that some serious
concern was battling tlicre with grave dis-
pleasure. Before she had time to indulge
in a single conjecture, however, he advanced
into the room, speaking quite as usual.
" Valerie, I am sorry to disturb you, but
I have just received a telegram from New
Orleans, which necessitates my immediate
departure, and "
" A telegram! "
It was no wonder that the bright cheek
grew so pale, or that those two words broke
almost unconsciously from the lips. Few fem-
inine nerves came so intact out of the four
years' agony, as not to quail at that fateful
word ; and then war had spared her a brother.
" Yes, a telegram," said her father, quiet-
ly; "but there is no need for being alarmed.
It is only Gibson, who telegraphs to me on a
matter of business but I must go at once."
"You are sure it is nothing about Eu-
gene, papa ? "
"Perfectly sure. But you can see for
yourself, if you desire."
He handed her the well-known form of
the telegraph company, filled in with three
or four written words. After reading them,
her brow cleared wonderfully, and she
looked up quite cheerfully.
"I suppose you must go, papa, since
you and Mr. Gibson both think so ; but it is
very provoking. Can't you at least wait
until to-morrow ? "
" I can't wait an hour longer than the
first train that leaves southward," the gener-
al answered, a little impatiently. " "Will yon
come to my room with me for a few min-
utes? I have something to say to you."
Valerie knew her father better than to
hesitate about complying with this request.
She rose at once, and followed him up-
stairs.
Once there, the general closed the door,
and plunged into his subject without pre-
liminary.
" I have a very short time in which to
say any thing, Valerie," he began ; " so you
need not be surprised, and I hope you will not
be offended, if I speak plainly and forcibly.
In the first place, I am very sorry to see
that you have commenced a flirtation or
whatever else you choose to call it Avith
this young Eomney."
Valerie started and colored, biting her
lip half-angrily. She had expected to be
taken to task, but not so soon, and not
quite so abruptly. As it was, she was
thrown off her guard, and could only take
refuge in the thrice-commonplace
" I don't understand you, sir."
"Pardon me," her father retorted, "but
THE GENERAL GIVES A WARNING.
47
I think you understand me perfectly. Per-
haps you don't understand my reasons for
alluding to this, however, so I had better
explain them. I never interfere with your
amusements, as you know ; partly because I
have seen that you are perfectly capable of
conducting tliem yourself, and partly be-
cause you have never done any serious mis-
chief that I am aware of. A few broken
hearts, more or less, are of small impor-
tance ; but let me tell you that you are play-
ing here a heavier game than for a broken
heart."
His voice changed with the last words,
and deepened so mucli in earnestness, that
Valerie looked at him in simple surprise.
Once more she said this time sincerely
"I don't imderstand you."
The general answered by one, straight-
forward question :
"What do you propose to yourself by
turning this boy's head? "
"Keally, papa, I have no intention of
turning his head."
"You have not? Well, then, I wonder
you take such a direct means to do it.
Come, come, I have no time for feminine
fencing. You can answer that question to
yourself, if you don't care to answer it to
me ; but I warn you, solemnly, that you had
better stop short in the matter. If ever
you played with fire in your life, you are
playing with it now ! "
Valerie looked up a little rebelliously.
"If you will say disagreeable things,
papa, I really think you might express them
more clearly. What are you afraid of?
Surely, not that I will marry him ? "
" is'o," answered her father, coolly, "you
are too sensible for that. A pretty face is
not likely to ensnare you, and I don't know
that there is any thing else here. The boy
seems a mere spoiled child, and is said to be
very much given to gambling and dissipa-
tion besides. Your grandfather plainly does
not like him ; and you would entirely alien-
ate him by such a choice. No, I am not
afraid of your marrying him you will be
tired enough of your toy in less than a
week ; but the mischief will be done then."
" What mischief? "
The general was packing his trunk ; but
he suspended the operation to turn round
and look at his daughter.
" I am afraid you are growing stupid,
Valerie," he said, quietly. "Is it possible
you do not see that, if you bring any harm or
suffering to Julian Eomney, you make a bit-
ter and unscrupulous enemy of his mother ? "
Miss Aylraer started then recovered
herself, and laughed a little.
"Why, we are growing quite melodra-
matic, papa. People don't have enemies,
these days ; or, if they do, they take it out
in saying spiteful things about one another.
Madame Vacquant reached that interesting
stage, as far as I am concerned, long ago,
and I don't see what other harm she can do
me."
" Then you know very little of the
woman, or of her influence in this house,"
said her father, gravely. " She can harm
you bitterly, in a hundred ways; if she has
never done so before, it has been because
her dislike was more passive than active.
Make it active once, and you had better
doubt that the sun is in the heavens than
that she will work you ill."
" I don't see"
" No," he interrupted, impatiently, " it is
like a woman never to see, until too late for
sight to be of any service. But, remember
that I warn you ! remember, too, that this
boy is of somewhat different metal than
those you are accustomed to dealing with.
If he blows out his brains "
" Oh, papa, pray hush ! "
" Why, you need not be surprised. He
looks quite absurd enough to do it. Now,
mark me : if you go on with this, it will be
at your own risk, but it is next to impos-
sible that the consequences should fall on
yourself alone. What do you say ? Will
you promise me to let the young fellow
alone ? "
He asked the question somewhat doubt-
fully ; but there was no hesitation in Va-
lerie's reply. She looked up, and answered
readily :
" Why did you not ask me that at once,
papa, and spare yourself all this long tirade %
Of course, I will promise. There's not the
least difficulty about it ; for I never meant
any thing else than letting him alone. I al-
48
VALERIE AYLMEK.
most feel as if lie were a child quite as if I
should take undue advantage of his youth
and ignorance, if I made him fall in love
with me. Is that all?"
" Not quite " arid here the general
hesitated before going on: "hv-the-way,
you have not told me what you think of this
Darcy."
"Is there any thing to think?" she
asked, carelessly. "He seems to me quite
a nonentity muscular, perhaps, but certain-
ly not interesting."
"Then you are a worse judge of charac-
ter than I supposed," said her father, with
some perceptible chagrin in his voice. " I
confess I was in hopes you had estimated
the man more justly. For myself, I was
very agreeably disappointed in him he is
thoroughly a gentleman, and one of the
most companionable men I have met in a
long time."
"Ah, yes; but then you forget, papa,
that you have horses and politics to talk
about; while I have nothing besides, he
takes no notice of me."
"Whose fault is that?"
" Indeed, I don't know mine perhaps.
But I don't think it matters. I never appre-
ciated the full absurdity of grandpapa's pro-
posed arrangement, until I saw the object
of it. He is a very good sort of person in
his way, I suppose ; but I laugh whenever
I think of him as a lover."
The general looked grave.
" TVhat are your objections to him ? " he
asked.
At which question, the demoiselle
laughed gayly.
"Objections? Why I could not begin
to remember them. Perhaps I had better
sum them all tip in one I don't like him! "
"But you scarcely know him."
" Qu''impo7'tc ? It is all the same.
You won't credit it, papa, but these things
are matters of instinct, not of reason. I
could not tell you why it is that every thing
Captain Darcy says and does impresses me
disagreeably ; but, the fact remains the fact,
none the less."
She spoke very decidedly ; and her fa-
ther turned away, with grave displeasure
in his face.
" You will live to regret all this, Va-
lerie," he said. Then he rang the bell for
his servant, and, taking the hint. Miss Ayl-
mer left the room.
An hour or two afterward, the general
took his departure, leaving, as his last
words to his daughter, when he kissed her
good-by
" Eemember your promise."
CHAPTER IV.
A WILFtTL WOMAN,
In view of much that is to be told here-
after, it may be well to say now, that Miss
Aylmer was perfectly sincere in making the
aforesaid promise, nor less sincere in the
intention to fulfil it. Even before her fa-
ther's warning, she had begun to think that
it might be as well to keep "hands ofi'"
Julian Eomney ; for she estimated none too
strongly the undisciplined passion of which
that mobile face was an index, and felt none
too truly that of the " lightly-won, lightly-
lost " philosophy, this nature was incapa-
ble but after the general had delivered
himself, she made a very decided resolu-
tion to steer clear of all possible danger or
trouble in such a quarter ; and, for a time, jl
kept this resolution with a constancy that ' j
did her credit. It was something quite new,
and something very tiresome, she found, to
be all the time on her guard against making
herself too attractive; but still she per-
severed in the face of all diificulties, and,
by this perseverance, proved conclusively
that, of the sin of wilful and deliberate
coquetry, her hands were stainless. If, after
a while, she yielded to the temptations held
out by idleness and levity, and borne on to
consequences grievous as any that follow
upon premeditated wrong, at least it will
be seen that she did not forfeit all claim to
compassion, and that she may be allowed a
place in the wide ranks of those who have
learned, from bitter experience, that it ia
one thing to sow the seed, and another to
reap the harvest; one thing to set a storm
in motion, and another to quell it ; one
A WILFUL WOMAN.
49
thing to loosen a dam, and another to stop
a flood ; one thing to commit folly, and quite
another to avert evil. If this story can be
said to contain a moral, it may indeed be
compressed into a few words just here: it
may be defined as an attempt (not strikingly
successful, perhaps) to show how the con-
sequences of folly are often as great and
wide-spread as the consequences of crime ;
how no one is so insignificant but that his
most thoughtless derelictions of duty may
prove fruitful of harm and suffering to many
besides himself; and how one tiny peb-
ble of wrong-doing, cast into the waters of
human life, will widen into circle after cir-
cle, until human eyes lose sight of its far-
thest vibration.
For some time after the general's de-
parture, matters went on very smoothly,
Valerie played her new role^ if not to per-
fection, at least very creditably ; and there
were no more charmed tete-d-tetes, no
more fascinating smiles or liquid glances
for the puzzled Romney, who found him-
self suddenly removed to a ceremonious dis-
tance and kept there. She managed this
the more readily, since there was a great
deal to be done in the way of preparing for
the winter campaign, and Madame Vac-
quant insisted on launching her into the
midst of dress-makers and visitors without
delay. As for Romney himself, he was
enough a man of the world to feel that the
barrier thus unexpectedly erected was none
the less decided for being quite intangible ;
and he wasted no useless strength against
it. He took the place assigned him, and
bided his time assured that it would come
all the sooner for this quiescence. If a man
is very much in earnest, such a policy is
next thing to impossible to him ; yot it is,
of all policy, the wisest and so Julian
(who, truth to tell, adopted it sorely against
his own will) soon found. Valerie would
easily have steeled herself against his efi"orts,
if he had been foolish enough to make any,
but the wistful reproach of his eyes was
quite another thing, especially when that
reproach was seconded by his unexception-
able conduct. So, of her own accord, she
began to thaw a little unbending all the
more willingly, since she had really taken
4
quite a fancy to him. Not a fancy that was
very deep, or that promised to be of long
duration, but which was, nevertheless,
tolerably decided, in the half-patronizing
way that women of her stamp are fond of
affecting toward men of his. Indeed, while
the gloss of novelty was on him, he in-
terested her very much. He had no depth,
either of talent or culture she soon dis-
covered that but the surface was very well
polished, and sparkled a little, independently
of the polish. He had no stamina or force
of character whatever, and was the sort of
person who would, as he grew older, either
go to the dogs completely, or else settle
down into commonplace mediocrity. But
while he was young, he had that quickness,
that somewhat adaptive cleverness, which
goes a great way in society, and often gains
for its possessor a reputation for talent, or
even positive genius, which is deserved the
least in the world. Almost any one, of
ordinarily keen perception, looking at his
face, conld have read a tolerably accurate
horoscope of his future could have said at
once that he would never resolve any thing
with sufiicient earnestness for its fulfilment,
and, if he ever achieved any thing, would
mar it by his ov/n hasty passion or ill-
judged action; but the eyes of youth are
not ordinarily of keen perception, and that
face was a very beautiful one. If anybody
else at all attractive had come across Va-
lerie's path just then, she might, notwith-
standing her interest in him, have let his
evident tendresse die of inanition ; but there
was literally nobody. Hautaine, poor fellow,
had been left behind in Louisiana, and all
the new acquaintances which Baltimore
society had thrown into her life were abso
lute nonentities. It is true there was Darcy
but, then, Darcy was her abhorrence.
And so, perhaps, the convenient abstraction,
which we call Fate, was more to . blame
than any one else, as days glided into weeks
and the general's caution grew more and'
more dim in- his daughter's remembrance.
After all, had he not been unreasonable in
requesting her to " let alone " the only
available material for amusement on hand ?
She began to think so ; and then she also
began to think that Romney belonged to,
50
'VALERIE AYLMER.
her -world, and knew as much about flirta-
tion as she did, and was as little likely to
be hurt bj it, etc., etc. After that point
was reached, it was not difficult to conjec-
ture what became of the promise.
Meanwhile, it is time that a word or
two was said concerning one who is, in a
certain sense, the hero par excellence of the
story in progress 1. e., Maurice Darcy.
But let no one fear an analysis of his char-
acter, or a history of his life. That charac-
ter must speak for itself in the pages before
us, or else it will be hardly worth speaking
at all ; and that life has little or nothing to
do with the position he occupied during the
last days of the year 1865. Notwithstand-
ing the uncomfortable perplexities to which
it had given rise, this position was a very
simple one. Artist as he was by profession,
foreigner as he was by birth and rearing,
there had been enough of straightforward
heroism about this man to bring him to the
aid of his mother's country when that coun-
try was fighting her desperate fight for in-
dependence against those overwhelming
odds which the ci\nlized world arrayed
against her ; and enough of enduring forti-
tude to keep him in her thinned and starv-
ing ranks to the very last. "When that last
came when the Confederacy, with one
great death-gasp, sank bleeding and helpless
he was lying wounded and sick in a hospi-
tal at Richmond. While there, befell under
the kind care of some exiled Marylanders,
and it was through them that M. Vacquant
learned his condition. Now, it chanced
that the remembrance of his sister had been
for years the skeleton at the latter's feast of
life ; and he caught gladly at the opportu-
nity thus offered of reconciliation with her
son. His advances were so eagerly, so al-
most humbly made, that it would have been
impossible for any but a churl to reject
them ; and so, by very natural and simple
means, Maurice Darcy became a guest in his
uncle's house. That his stay had length-
ened so greatly, was partly tlie fault of M.
Vacquant, who closed his ears to the least
hint of departure; and partly that of his
wound, which had given him a great deal
of trouble, and was only just beginning to
Jieal in a satisfactory way when the year
during which it had been received, was
drawing to a close : but was not in the least
owing to any hopes of heirship, or to any
desire for a remembrance in that last will
and testament which his uncle would one
day need to make. Darcy knew very well
that his mother's portion of her father's es-
tate had been forfeited when she married
against her brother's wishes, but it never
occurred to him that even this portion
might be his right. He was not a man
whose thoughts turned readily to such things
indeed he was a man whom the majority
of the world would have counted culpably
indifferent to them and therefore he was
slow to appreciate that even he might per-
haps fall under the odium of making mer-
cenary calculations. The decision to which
M. Vacquant had arrived ^the decision of
giving to him, instead of to Valerie, the
prominent place in his will was entirely
unknown to him ; as was also the matrimo-
nial plan which had so moved Miss Aylmer's
indignation. In his own opinion, the prince-
ly revenues of the Viceroy of Egypt con-
cerned him quite as nearly as his uncle's for-
tune ; and if he yet lingered in Baltimore,
instead of pluming his wings for distant
flight, it Avas more because one who has
been long storm-tossed is apt to like a
peaceful harbor, than for any other reason.
With regard to Miss Aylmer, he thought
so little, that there is little to be said. He
had been prepared to meet her cordially and
frankly, as became a kinsman ; and she had
seen fit to repulse his advances from the
very first. He did not take the trouble to
resent her dislike, but still less did he feel
inclined to take the trouble to conquer it.
Difficulty here did not quicken him to exer-
tion, as it would have done in any other
case, because he saw no result that was
worth the gaining; and so he let any
chance of obtaining her friendly regard go
by default. She was not tlie kind of wom-
an who possessed any attraction for him ;
and therefore her good or ill opinion was
very much a matter of indifference to him
a fact which, after a while, Valerie her-
self perceived. Whether her disposition to
coquetry disgusted him, or whether lie fan-
cied her much more foolish and vain than
A WILFUL WOMAN.
51
was really tlie case, she could not tell ; but
at least it was impossible to doubt that,
from some cause or other, her beauty and
fascination fell harmless on him. If he ad-
mired her, as an abstract work of art, that
was quite as far as he went. Sometimes she
doubted even that. Sometimes a glance of
those cool, critical eyes filled her with a cu-
rious sense of detected guilt, when she met
them in the midst of some fascinating by-
play. After a while, she grew rather shy
of esercising her arts of coquetry when
that quick ear was near at hand, and was
obHged to take refuge in commonplaces
conscious that she was held at a disadvan-
tage. Of course, none of this made her like
Darcy more cordially : on the contrary, she
honored him with quite an aversion, and
never by any chance spoke to or of him
when she could possibly avoid it.
Several weeks elapsed before a very mild
autumn came to an end, and Winter an-
nounced the beginning of his reign by a fall
of snow, which immediately set all the
sleigh-bells of the city jingling. Consider-
ing her Southern birth and rearing, it was
not singular that Valerie should have felt
some curiosity to test the enjoyment of this
novel amusement, and her face was bright
as a sunbeam wlien she entered the break-
fast-room on the morning "after the storm.
" Tour promise, grandpapa! " she cried,
before even the morning greetings were ex-
changed. " You have not forgotten it, I
hope ? The first snow, you said and the
first snow is here."
" Of course I have not forgotten it," said
M. Vacquant, kissing her, as she bent over
him. " A sleigh-ride was it not? a sleigh-
ride you shall certainly have."
" Was that all ? "
" Quite aU, I think."
" Then I must refresh your memory,"
returned she. ''It was a sleigh-ride, un-
doubtedly; but it was also the thorough-
breds. No, you need not try to look sur-
prised. I remember it perfectly ; and so, I
am sure, do yen."
So, indeed, he did much better than
he liked, as his face rather blank and crest-
fallen said at once. The matter stood
thus : the thorough-breds in question were
a pair wlii.'h Darcy and General Aylmer
had bought at the sale they attended to-
gether, on the day of the general's depart-
ure. M. Vacquant had been enthusiasti-
cally pleased with them, and not without
good cause. They were nearly perfect in
bone and blood, as beautiful as pictures, and
wonderful in their qualities of speed ; but
they were by no means safe. They had
gone to the hammer on account of a serious
accident caused by their running away with
their last owner; and Darcy had only pur-
chased them because he intended to break
them himself. As yet, no one else had tried
them, but Valerie looked at them with eyes
of desire, and, to silence her importunity, il.
Vacquant had promised that, as soon as the
first snow fell, she should see what they
could do in a sleigh. Perhaps a rash prom-
ise was never more heartily regretted than
this, when he heard Valerie claim it, and,
looking up, met the grave eyes of his
nephew.
" Enfant^'''' he said, uneasily, " I am not
sure about this. Maurice, what do you
think ? are the horses sufficiently safe to be
trusted ? "
"I should certainly say not," Dai'cy an-
swered. " I have not taken them out for
several days, but I should have been very
sorry to have had a lady for my companion
then."
M. Vacquant turned to his grand-daugh-
ter. " You hear that, Valerie ! " he said, in
the tone of one who considers a matter defi-
nitely settled.
But so, evidently, Valerie did not regard
it.
" Yes, I hear, grandpapa," she answered,
coolly. " But is Captain Darcy always in-
fallible ? I am sure it seemed to me that the
horses were going beautifully, and as quietly
as possible, when I saw them the other day.
At all events, I am not afraid and that is
the question."
"Pardon me," Darcy remarked, "but I
cannot agree with you in considering that
the question. Your lack of fear would not
save you from serious consequences, if those
horses behaved as they are likely to do."
Valerie turned and looked inquiringly at
Eomney, who was carelessly sipping his cof-
52
VALERIE AYLMER.
fee. " Are yon afraid ? " she asked, with a
smile that ^yo^l]d have dared even a coward
to ansvfer in the affirmative.
But, whatever his other faults, Julian
was not a coward, and there was no affec-
tation in his reply.
" You know that I am at your service ;
but I confess I should not like to be art and
part in any accident. Darcy, do those
horses invariably run away ? "
. " They invariably try to do so."
" Absurd ! " broke in Valerie, petulantly.
" As if you cannot see that Captain Darcy
is giving the poor fellows as bad a character
as he possible can ! For my part, I always
incline to the side of the maligned. Be-
sides, grandpapa, this is not an open ques-
tion you have promised ! "
Poor M. Vacquant looked genuinely dis-
tressed, and did not answer for several
minutes. Tlien he said, doubtfully :
" I can only consent on one condition,
Valerie that Maurice drives you."
"I cannot think of troubling Captain
Darcy," said Valerie, coldly. "And I en-
tirely question your right to make condi-
tions about an unconditional promise. At
least I don't mean to imitate your example ;
for, having promised Mr. Romney that he
shall have the perilous honor of driving me,
I mean to keep my engagement."
At those words, Romney looked up
quickly, with a bright flush of pleasure dye-
ing his face, while Darcy's countenance did
not change in the least, notwithstanding
that something of quiet amusement flickered
into the deep-gray eyes. When he spoke,
however, it was as courteously and kindly
as possible.
"I know you would be making a great
sacrifice. Miss Aylmer, in exchanging Juli-
an's society for mine; but he must excuse
me if, for once, I press you to do so. I do
not mean to question either his nerve or
ability, but he has never driven these
horses, and there is a great deal almost
every thing in a thorough acquaintance
between horse and driver."
" I certainly, should not like to take him
into danger " Valerie was beginning,
when Julian interrupted her.
" Excuse me, but that is no question at
all. If you would feel more safe under Dar-
cy's care, I should not hesitate a moment to
waive any claim which your goodness may
allow me ; but when you come to consider
me why, then, I have no option but to re-
mind you of yoi:r promise."
Now, the tone of this pleased Valerie.
There was more of straightforward manli-
ness, less of boyish petulance, than was
usual with the speaker; so, after giving him
one bright smile, she turned to Maurice.
"You hear that. Captain Darcy? Of
course, after this, I can do nothing save
thank you for your offer, and decline it."
Darcy apparently had not expected any
thing else. At least he did not look at all
disappointed, but only said :
"Then let me hope you will not insist
on driving the thorough-breds. Surely
Raven and Falcon may once more be al-
lowed the honor of serving you."
"Yes," said M. Vacquant, eagerly. "I
am sure you will be reasonable, Valerie."
" I hope I am reasonable, grandpapa,"
Valerie answered. " But what has reason
to do with this? It seems to me that in-
timidation is the only argument which has
been employed. Now, I never was intimi-
dated into a thing in my life; and as for
Raven and Falcon, they may suit Captain
Darcy, but they are entirely too fat and lazy
to suit me ! I must have the thorough-
breds or nothing."
It was plain to see that this was an ulti-
matum. The flushed cheek and compressed
lip said so, even more plainly than her
words ; and, with a sigh, M. Vacquant gave
up the point.
" You are acting like a child, and a
spoiled one, into the bargain, Valerie," he
said; "but I suppose you must have your
own way. Julian, I shall look to you for
her safety remember that ! "
Of course, Julian made a suitable and be-
coming response; but, after that, conversa-
tion sensibly languished. M. Vacquant
seemed to be seriously disquieted ; Madame'
Vacquant, though she had not interfered by
word or glance, looked grave; and even
Valerie began to feel vaguely uncomforta-
ble.
After breakfast this feeling decidedly in-
.
A WILFUL WOMAX.
53
creased. It was not, in the least, one of
fear of that sensation she was physically
incapable but rather one of shame, as if
she had extorted some concession to which
she had no right, besides acting very foolish-
ly. If her grandfather only had been con-
cerned in the matter, she would certainly
have gone to him and offered a compromise ;
but then as she steeled herself by think-
ing it was not to him that she would be
yielding, but to Maurice Darcy. She thought
of his cool, decided advice, and no she
could not give him this triumph. Any thing
else would be preferable ! She was on her
way down to the library half-ready to
make a sacrifice of her inclination when
this consideration brought her to a sudden
pause. It chanced to be just under a richly-
stained window, which threw its gules of
gorgeous color down from above, making
her look like some transfigured picture after
the old Italian school, when Maurice Darcy
came suddenly upon her. For a moment,
he caught his breath few artists would not
have done so, at sight of such rare loveli-
ness and then he advanced directly.
" I am glad to meet you, Miss Aylmer,"
he said, in his frank way. " I was just
coming in search of you. It has occurred
to me, since breakfast, that perhaps I did
not speak strongly enough to deter you
from your intended drive, or to induce you
to accept my escort. I sometimes err on the
side of irusquerie, and I may have done so in
this instance. But I beg you to believe the
sincerity of my warning and my offer."
"I never doubted either," Valerie said
touched despite herself by his tone and man-
ner " and you do yourself injustice when
you talk of Irusquerie. I saw nothing what-
c\&T that savored of it. But, in repeating
your offer, you forget that I am engaged to
Mr. Romney."
"Julian, I am sure, would not hesitate
to release you ; and I feel less compunction
in urging the sacrifice, than I should if ray
motive was a selfish one."
Perhaps this too candid statement jarred
on the ear which had been so long accus-
tomed to flattery's softest accents ; at least,
Valerie bit her lip as she answered, rather
coollv :
" Thank you. But my drive would not
give me much pleasure, if I knew that I was
victimizing you all the time. Now, Mr.
Romney will not regard it so purely in the
light of an unpleasant matter of duty.
Therefore, I prefer to run a shade more
risk with him."
"lam afraid you have misunderstood
me again," Darcy said; "or else I am very
unfortunate about expressing myself. I am
sure nothing could be less of ' unpleasant
duty ' than such a service ; and, if I did not
speak of myself in the matter, it was only
because I did not fancy that my enjoyment
would interest you."
" Probably, also, you could not do so
conscientiously."
There was much of sarcasm in the tone
which made this amendment; hut Darcy
ignored it entirely answering simply and
honestly :
"You are mistaken. I have not been
able to contribute any thing to your enjoy-
ment hitherto, but nothing would give me
more pleasure than to do so now."
The accent of kindly sincerity in his
tone conquered, for the moment, Valerie's
petulant wilfulness. She felt ashamed of
herself; and action was quick upon feeling,
with this impulsive nature. The dark eyes
looked up with the contrition of a penitent
child in their depths, and the voice, that was
never without the music of the sweet South,
sounded unusually soft and low when she
answered :
"Pray pardon me. It is I who have
been brusque, and, I fear, ungrateful. You
are very kind to be concerned about my
safety, and I shall he glad"
A foot fall, and a soft rustle of silk, made
her break off abruptly. The next moment,
Madame Vacquant came down the staircase,
on the landing of which they stood. See-
ing them, she paused.
" So Maurice is trying the effect of per-
suasion, since intimidation failed," she said,
with a smile, " and apparently with more
effect. At least I thought I heard some-
thing about ' shall be glad ' and, for poor
Julian's sake, I hope it does not mean
leaving him in the lurch? "
" I have been trying to persuade Miss
54
VALERIE ATLMER.
Aylmer that, for Julian's sake, as well as
her own, it would be well to inflict the
desolation upon him," Darcy answered, be-
fore Valerie could reply. " You will agree
with me, I am sure."
The lady smiled that cold, calm smile
which never, by any chance, warmed into
genial expression and shook her head.
" Perhaps I ought to agree with you,"
she said ; " but then, mothers are very fool-
ish, and I can't help thinking of poor Juli-
an's disappointment. He will feel it so
much ! "
"I I was thinking more of him than
of myself," said Valerie, quickly.
" Then I have his reputation for cour-
age sufficiently at heart, to beg you not to
think of him any more," answered Madame
Vacquant. " He would never forgive me if
I did not assure you that nothing is needed
less than consideration of his safety. Be-
sides, I can testify, from personal knowledge,
that he is really an excellent whip."
" But these horses " Darcy began.
" Excuse me," Valerie interrupted, "but
please don't abuse them any more, for my
mind is made up. If I am not to consider
Mr. Romney, I am sure I don't consider my-
self; so the use of the thorough-breds is a
settled fact. I am much obliged to you
for your kind offer to drive me ; but a prom-
ise given should be a promise kept, you
know."
She bent her head very gracefully at the
last words, and, before Darcy could reply,
was half-way up the stairs, vanishing in a flood
of purple and golden light. He looked af-
ter her for a moment, then turned to Madame
Vacquant with a slight shrug of his shoul-
ders.
"A wilful Avoman always does have her
own way, I believe," he said. "But I
confess I am sorry Miss Aylmer is so obsti-
nate. For Julian's sake, as well as for her
own, it is a pity, madame, that you had not
thrown your influence in the other scale."
The face before him paled a little.
"Do you do you really think there is
any danger ? " she asked.
" I think it is a groat risk, to say the
least. If you could even yet persuade Miss
Aylmer "
" There's not the faintest hope of that,"
she interrupted. "You see, for yourself,
how spoiled and wilful she is. She is cer-
tainly going ; and I do not think that, even
if I had not spoken, she would have ac-
cepted your off'er."
" She is good enough to honor me with
quite a dislike, I know," he answered. "I
might be sorry, if I was conscious of ever
having done any thing to deserve it ; but, as
it is, I really have not troubled myself on
the subject feeling sure that I fail in some
point which it is out of my power to mend."
They were descending the stairs togeth-
er, and, at these words, Madame Vacquant
looked at him with a slight laugh.
" You are wonderfully honest and sim-
ple, my dear Maurice," she said. " Is it possi-
ble you are really so blind as not to know
why Valerie dislikes you ? "
" How should I know ? " he asked, care-
lessly. "I take it for granted that she does
not fancy my Irusquerie and plainness; but,
beyond that, I have not even hazarded a
conjecture."
"I don't suppose she fancies your stand-
ard of gallantry," the lady answered ; " but
I doubt if she would go to the length of
positively disliking it. The truth is and
any one but yourself would long since have
seen it she thinks you may come in for a
large share of her fortune."
Darcy's eyes opened in the most genu-
ine astonishment.
"For a large share? Why, wliat have I
to do with her fortune? " he asked.
"Pshaw!" said his companion, a littJo
impatiently. " I am afraid I must vote you
dull as well as honest. Look at the matter
yourself, and you will see what you have to
do with her fortune ; or, rather, with her fu-
ture prospect of fortune. She is her grand-
father's direct heiress ; but you are his
nephew, and she evidently fears that your
influence over him may result in your shar-
ing her inheritance."
The words were scarcely uttered before
the speaker saw that she had not overrated
their probable effect. A dark-red flush
surged hotly over Darcy's brow, and a quick
gleam of haughty indignation flaslicd into
his eyes. Taken by surprise as he was, the
A WILFUL WOMAN.
55
insult of sucli a suspicion made itself felt at
once, and the whole nature of the man rose
in arms to resent it.
" What does Miss Aylmer consider me ? "
he said. " What kind of a dastard does she
think it would he who could scheme to rob
a woman of her inheritance, without a
shadow of claim ! She would have paid me
a higher compliment if she had suspected
me of open theft ! "
" Don't be foolish, or I shall be sorry for
having told vou," said the lady, eagerly.
" You know the world, and the ways of it.
Every man takes what he can get, by cun-
ning or by force; and we judge men, not
according to the exception, but according to
the rule, Valerie, no doubt, thinks it very
natural that you should desire to supplant
her in her grandfather's will."
"Thinks it natural that / should desire
it ! " said Darcy, who plainly could not see
the force of such an explanation. " Pardon
me, madame, but, if she thinks so, it only
proves one thing that nobody ever yet
was ready to suspect another of what she
was incapable of herself! "
They had reached the library-door by
this time, and, opening it for her, he saw
her in, then bowed, and went his way.
At luncheon, every one avoided, with
great care, the debatable ground, and it
was not until they rose from table that
Romney said to Miss Aylmer :
" Will three o'clock suit you as the hour
for starting? the afternoons are so short
now, that we ought not to be later than
that."
"It will suit me quite well," she an-
swered, hesitating a moment, as if about to
add something else, but, catching Darcy's
eye, she colored and remained silent. After
that, nothing further was said, excepting by
Madame Vacquant, who looked up as Vale-
rie was leaving the room, and advised warm
wrappings. " For I really think we shall
have another fall of snow," she said, rising
and walking to one of the windows.
Julian followed her, and, while they
looked out on the dreary scene, which was
made up of snow-covered roof and a leaden
sky, the mother spoke fast and eagerly:
"For God's sake, take care of your-
self!" she said, passionately. "My heart
begins to misgive me terribly. I scarcely
tliink the end is worth the risk at least
not such a risk as this! If her neck was
broken, it would not be much more than
she deserves ; but for you O Julian, Juli-
an, promise me that you will not be rash ! "
Julian frowned impatiently. No eyes
save his had ever seen that pleading look
on his mother's face; but he seemed
strangely unmoved by it.
" Of course I wiU not be rash," he said.
"I have Miss Aylmer's safety, as well as
my own, to think of, you know. I hope
you won't be so absurd as to make yourself
uneasy, mother I have told you that there
is really no danger in driving the horses.
AJl this talk about their vicious habits is
pure braggadocio on Darcy's part, to reflect
glory on himself."
"Yes," she answered. "I know you
told me so, or else I should not have inter-
fered as I did this morning, when Valerie
was on the point of accepting his escort. I
have been sorry for it ever since ; I am still
more sorry now that the time draws near."
" Sorry for it ! " the handsome face
was all set and lowering " you are cer-
tainly kind to say that, when you know
how much depends on this. I thought you
would walk on to your end, over any thing,
mother ! "
" Over any thing but your safety," the
mother answered, shivering slightly. Then
she drew back, and said no more.
An hour or two later, Pierre, the most
dignified and urbane of ancien-regime ne-
groes, knocked at the door of Darcy's room,
and announced the arrival of the sleigh.
" Well," said the latter, who was deep
in a sketch, "what have I to do with it?
Mr. Eomney is the person whom you
should inform of the fact."
"Mr. Eomney has gone down, sir,"
Pierre answered; "but I thought maybe
you meant to see him ofi:', and so I made-
bold to tell you."
Darcy looked up, and read as a duller
man might have done a painful anxiety in
the honest, bronze face before him. He re-
membered how long the old servant had
56
VALERIE AYLMER.
known and loved Valerie ; and it was char-
acteristic of the man that he answered as
frankly and kindly as if he had been speak-
ing to the best gentleman in the land.
"I see what you mean, Pierre, but what
can I do ? Literally nothing. Miss Aylmer
is determined to be driven by Mr. Romney,
and all that we can hope is, that the thor-
ough-breds will for once behave them-
selves."
" You couldn't hope that, if you looked
at them, sir," Pierre replied. " I've seed
vicious horses in my life, but I never seed
any thing that looked like these. It's as
much as two boys can do to hold 'em now."
Darcy's face settled gravely ; but he
only shook his head and repeated again :
"I can do nothing."
" You can come down and see 'em off,
and maybe give them a warning, sir,"
Pierre pleaded. "I've seen Mr. Julian
drive, and Lord love you, sir, Miss Valerie
herself can manage the reins as well as
him ! "
"It would be strange if he did know
much about it," Darcy muttered. The next
moment he was on his way down-stairs.
He found only Julian and his mother in
the hall, for Valerie had not yet made her
appearance. Neither was M. Vacquant vis-
ible; so, merely saying
"I have come to see you off, Romney,"
he passed on to the outer door.
The sleigh a very light and elegant lit-
tle cutter looked graceful and inviting
enough to have tempted almost any gaze to
linger on it ; but Darcy's eye did not do so,
even for a moment. His glance settled on
the horses, and he recognized at once the
justice of Pierre's judgment. They were in-
deed so restive that it required all the
strength of two grooms to keep them still,
and, if there was any truth in the warning of
eye or movement, they meant mischief, as
surely as those firm hands were once taken
from their bits.
" They're awful bad to-day, sir," one of
the men said, touching his cap, as he caught
Darcy's eye. " But p'raps a hand like your'n
may do 'cm some good. I have never seen
'em so fractious before, though."
" I am not going to drive them," Mau-
rice answered, shortly ; and, as he spoke, a
light, silvery voice in his rear cried gayly,
" Oh, what beautiful creatures ! " And the
next moment he drew aside to let Miss
Aylmer pass. She was looking radiantly
lovely in her close-fitting velvet jacket and
becoming ermine furs. So, when she
paused, he felt his face relaxing in spite of
himself.
" Won't you at least give me a hon voy-
age^ Captain Darcy?" she said, with a
bright smile. " I am sorry to seem so dread-
fully obstinate, but I am sure nobody could
ever plead a greater temptation than that,"
and she pointed to the horses, whose spir-
ited heads, and curving necks made a very
attractive picture just then.
" Bon voyage^ with all my heart," Darcy
answered, " and I trust sincerely that I may
prove the most unreliable prophet in the
world. May I put yoii in the sleigh ? "
She looked back, and, seeing that her
grandfather was holding fost the impatient
Julian, nodded assent, and extended her
hand. The next moment she was ensconced
in the deep, luxurious seat, and Darcy
was drawing the buffalo-robes well round
her, when Julian came up and sprang in.
"While he gathered up the reins, the other
found time for one last caution.
" Be sure and keep a firm, steady rein on
them, Romney; never relax it for one
moment, although there are some things
pleasanter on the arms. I would not advise
you to begin any very interesting conversa-
tion, either; for they need constant Avatch-
ing. If they once take the bits between
their teeth, turn the sleigh over in the first
drift you come to any thing will be better
than leaving yourselves at their mercy, and
you are not likely to stop them. I hope all
will go well, however. Now, let go their
heads, boys."
The grooms fell back on each side, and
the same instant, with a bound that nearly
dragged Julian from his seat, the thorough-
breds were off.
As they whirled out of sight, around the
sharp corner of the street, all that could be
seen was the hand which Valerie waved
over the back of the sleigh in triumphant
enjoyment.
DERRING-DO.
57
Darcy watched them -with suspended
breath, as long as they were visible. When
they vanished, he turned round, and per-
ceived his uncle standing on the steps, with
a very disturbed face.
"Maurice," he said, anxiously, " I Avish
I had not allowed this! I wish I had inter-
fered even a moment ago. Surely yow see
tliat that boy will never be able to control
those horses?"
"You could easily have prevented his
attempting it, sir," Darcy answered, dryly;
for in truth he felt very little sympathy with
the weakness which M. Vacquant had so
conspicuously displayed.
"I know ! I know! " the other said,
impatiently. " I was very foohsh to allow
it; but it won't save Valerie, that I recog-
nize the fact now. Maurice, for God's sake,
follow them, and try to do something ! "
Maurice shrugged his shoulders. It cer-
tainly seemed rather singular that, after dis-
regarding all his advice, M. Vacquant should
now implore his aid ; but perhaps the re-
quest tallied with his own desire at all
events, he only answered, by turning to one
of the grooms, and saying :
" Bring Bayard out at once. Don't
waste time about it, for I will be down
again in a minute."
In little more than that time, he was
mounted, and galloping after the sleigh.
CHAPTER V.
DEKRr5fG-D0.
Meanwhile, the thorough-breds were
behaving so well that, as they whirled into
the park-gates without having met with any
misadventure, Julian could not forbear a
sneer on the absent horseman, who was just
then cantering down Garden Street toward
them.
" You see now how much reason there
was for Darcy's fears ; and how much prob-
able trutii in his representations of danger.
Tho horses are certainly spirited, but as for
the rest it was nonsense, to say the least
of it! We can make allowances, however,
for the weaknesses of athletic nature. There
really is no creature alive so vain of muscu-
lar repute as your would-be ' plunger.' "
He spoke with more bitterness than Va-
lerie fancied ; but, as she herself was very
much reassured by the good behavior of the
horses she could not see the vicious devil
in their eyes, which only waited a suitable
opportunity, or plausible pretext, for exhibi-
tion she, too, began to entertain very much
the same opinion of Darcy's warning. So,
she did not utter any rebuke, but only said,
with a laugh :
" He probably wanted to keep the en-
joyment and the glory all to himself. I can
scarcely blame him they do go so delight-
fully! but still he need not have made
me feel as uncomfortable as I have felt all
day."
They were skimming down one of the
snow-covered roads which branched to the
right from the main entrance, when she
said this, and Julian repeated her words at
once.
" Uncomfortable all day ! I am very
sorry to hear that, and surprised too. I
did not think you would have let him influ-
ence you, and " a sensible lowering of the
voice " I thought you might perhaps have
fel some reliance on me."
" I don't know that he influenced me
that is, made me afraid," she answered,
nonchalantly; "at least if only myself had
been concerned, I am sure I should not
have hesitated a moment ; but I felt rather
ashamed of insisting on a mere caprice, and
I began to be a little apprehensive lest I
might be taking you into danger."
Words could not have been uttered in a
more matter-of-fact tone than these last,
yet they brought a warm light into Rom-
ney's face, and a yet warmer tone into his
voice.
"You were very good to think of me,"
he said. "To be so considered, I fear I
should hesitate very little over real danger.
I am almost sorry that there is none in this
that I might prove to you how much I
would do to gratify even a ' caprice ' of
yours."
" I am sure you are doing a great deal,"
she said, cordially. " Captain Darcy would
58
VALERIE AYLMER.
take you to task very severely for speaking
so disrespectfully of our present enterprise ;
and, whether or not there is danger in it,
there is at least risk enough to make me
grateful for your willingness to give me
pleasure."
" I would empty my veins to do that ! "
he answered, with a touch of the boy's
high-flown exaggeration, yet enough of the
man's earnestness to fire la helle des lelles
with the spirit of her favorite sport.
" Pshaw ! " she said, with the saucy
smile of half-challenge, half-defiance, which
had turned more heads than a few. " It is so
easy to make pirofessions especially when
there is not the least danger of being taken
seriously. You had better rest contented
on your laurels ; for there's always risk in
giving a carte hlanche of that sort to fem-
inine vanity. I might be tempted to make
a heavy draft on your daring."
" Draw to any amount, and see if it be
not promptly honored," he replied, readily,
for his had been a very fair flirtation train-
ing before this.
Miss Aylmer shook her head.
" I beg you won't tempt me, for I am so
strongly warned by the past. More times
than I would like to count, I have been on
the eve of bestowing my favor on some
valiant knight who called all the gods to
witness that he was wholly sans peur^ but
when the test came well, then I found
exactly what I said a moment ago, that
professions are easy to make, and hard to
fulfil. Therefore, I have grown rather in-
credulous, and Oh ! "
The exclamation was uttered very sud-
denly, for a deer bounded across their path,
and the horses gave a simultaneous bolt, a
rush, and then indulged in a rearing which
tested all the strength of Romney's wrists.
Valerie sat quite still, making neither sign
nor sound while the short battle lasted ;
but after a moment the thorough-breds
proved that they had not meant serious
business. They settled down to their stride
again, and then Julian looked round at his
companion with a flash of not unnatural tri-
umph in his eyes.
" You see how easily they are managed,"
he said.
" I see how wise I was in placing myself
under your protection," answered Valerie,
who knew better than any woman living
when and how to compliment. " I doubt
whether Captain Darcy could have brought
them to terms any sooner, or probably half
as soon. I can well believe that any draft
on your daring would be promptly hon-
ored."
'' Then in view of the promised reward
may I hope that you will speedily make
one?"
She looked up with a smile.
"Don't be foolish, please. "Who talked
of reward ? "
" You did when you spoke of the favor
that has never yet been won."
"Ah, but perhaps you think this favor
something greater than it really is. "Would
you do much for this ? "
She touched, as she spoke, a knot of rib-
bon that fluttered at her throat ; and, watch-
ing the hand which made the gesture, Rom-
ney answered quickly :
" I would do any thing ! "
"Then perhaps, some day, I will set you
a deed of derring-do," she said, gayly.
" These are my colors, that I have never yet
given any one the right A h ! "
This was rather a prolonged gasp than
an exclamation, and there was good cause
for it. Lulled into carelessness by the ease
with which he had mastered the horses a
few moments before, Romney had forgotten
Darcy's caution against entering into any
very interesting conversation ; and, listening
eagerly to Valerie, he had paid little atten-
tion to them. Nothing, perhaps, is so quick
of perception as a horse ; and, when the
restive thorough-breds felt those slackened
reins upon their backs, there was but one
thought between them " Now is our time."
A jingling sleigh that glided past, laden
with a merry crew of school-girls, gave a
color of excuse to the frantic bound which
threw Valerie violently back, and nearly
jerked the reins out of Romney's hands.
The next moment the bits were between
their teeth, their heads were down, and
they were off.
Now, although none of it is very ])leas-
ant, there are great'diflferences in tlie difi"er-
DERRIXG-DO.
59
out modes of running away. There is the
foolish horse, who, having a chronic distrust
of white logs, cows, sheep, and children,
loses liis head entirely at sight of any of
these objects, and runs from pure and simple
fear. There is the gamesome horse, who is
fond of his own joke, and runs away when-
ever he sees a good chance of frightening
anybody, or doing a limited amount of dam-
age. There is the passionate horse, who
gets angry occasionally, and asserts his dig-
nity by committing a good deal of mischief,
but who is easily amenable to reason. And,
lastly, there is the vicious horse, in whom
no wise man will ever put trust, who is
ruled only by the strong hand, and whose
outbreaks invariably mean serious harm to
every one concerned.
The merest child, looking at them now,
could not have doubted to which of these
classes the thorough-breds belonged. That
wild rush had little of genuine fright in it ;
but the glaring eyes and distended nostrils
more than all, that fatally significant
clamp of the iron jaws promised little hope
of checking them. Perhaps Julian realized
this as fully as need be ; but he clung to the
reins with desoerate energy, nevertheless.
Bracing his feet against the front of the
sleigh, he twined the lines many times round
his hands, and brought all his strength to
bear. It was not very much ; but, if it had
been that of Hercules, it would have availed
all the same ; for the stanchest muscles
alive might as well have pulled against
stone. Of control over their movements
he had not so much as a pretence. He felt
this with horrible force, as Darcy's last
words recurred to him ; and he saw that he
could not even guide them suflBciently to
follow his advice and capsize the sleigh.
There was prospect, indeed, that the speed
which sent it dashing from side to side of
the road, would eventually do this; but
there was little consolation in such a hope,
since the fall of snow had been so light that
drifts were few and the ground not more
than barely covered. They were whirling
down a steep declivity, with a narrow bridge
before them, when he turned and looked at
Valerie. She had not uttered a sound, or
made a movement since her first exclama- (
tion some time before; but although her
face was as pale as possible, the dark eyes
met his calmly and steadily. There must
have been something reassuring in their
gaze, for the next instant they flashed over
the bridge how neither of them ever knew
and then Julian said, quite coolly :
" This must end soon. They will either
throw us out, or "
The words were cut short suddenly, as
the sleigh was hurled headlong against a
post that marked the boundary of the road,
the tense reins broke with a loud snap, as of
a whip, and Julian was shot headforemost
out a distance of at least twenty yards. It
all passed with the rapidity of a flash of
lightning. Valerie had barely time for one
gurgling cry barely time for one glimpse
of the figure that lay motionless where it
had fallen at the foot of a tree when she
was whirled out of sight and away.
After this she had very little idea of any
thing that occurred, or very little fear for
any result. She knew that the horses were
shaping their course down the main avenue,
and, unless they were stopped at the gate,
would soon be in the open highway ; but
this, which meant certain destruction to her-
self, scarcely dwelt on her mind an instant
she was too absorbed in wondering
whether Julian was killed ; too much ab-
sorbed in picturing over and over that last
awful sight of him. Strange as it may seem,
she did not even pray. "My fault! my
fault ! " were the only words that rang
through her brain, while the familiar forms
of supplication seemed to have faded far
away from her recollection. Mechanically
she unclasped a small rosary from her wrist,
but even the names "Jesus" and "Mary"
came faintly and slowly, as from palsied lips.
It was only when she saw before her the
open gates and the massive blocks of granite
that were scattered before it only when
she realized that there, in all probability,
would be the end at once of life and beauty
did she find voice for one cry which wo
must all sooner or later make, " God have
mercy on me ! " Then she closed her eyes,
and waited for the end.
Now it chanced that the thorough-breds
having made better time than even he had
60
VALERIE ATLMER.
counted on, Darcy had only just paused at
the arclied entrance to question a loitering
policeman whether the object of his search
had entered before him, when the runaway
horses came thundering into sight, dragging
behind them the sleigh, which bounded to
and ft'O like a living thing in agony,
" By G d, there's the very team you're
asking after, now ! " cried the man, excited-
ly, recognizing at once the handsome chest-
nuts he had admired so much as they swept
past him with their long, swinging trot,
half an hour before. " Stand out of the
way, sir it's more'n a man's life's worth to
try to stop 'em now ! "
But Darcy did not heed the admonition.
He only stood up in his stirrups and looked
forward with a quick, eager gaze a gaze the
meaning of which the policeman at once un-
derstood, for he looked too, and then said,
rapidly :
" You're right, sir the sleigh's empty.
That's something to he thankful for there
was as pretty "
"I can't tell," muttered Darcy between
his teeth. " If I could only see "
" Stand back, for your life ! " shouted
the other, his anxiety getting the better of
his fear, so far that he even rushed at Bay-
ard's bridle and drew him out of the path
of the horses now charging down upon
them. But to his utter amazement, as he
did so, Darcy was out of the saddle the
next moment he rushed full at the thorough-
breds and grasped their bits.
Of course he did not stop them no mor-
tal hands could have done that but he
swung to them desperately, and the police-
man saw him dragged past at the same mo-
ment that he recognized a woman's presence
in the sleigh. That honest guardian of the
peace never had any very clear remembrance
of what ensued. lie only recollected swear-
ing a great oath in sheer astonishment, and
letting Bayard go about his own devices,
while he ran full tilt after the sleigh, with no
ulterior intentions whatever. The next mo-
ment, he saw something which brought him
to a horrified pause. Although lie had been
dragged several yards, bleeding and half-
stunned, Darcy had never once relaxed his
hold upon the bits if he had done so, it
would have been all over with him, as well
as with Valerie, and after a while he strug-
gled to his feet. Then, breast to breast, be-
gan one of the most awful sights in this
world the sight of man against brute!
The horses were quite beside themselves, by
this time, and seemed possessed of a strength
tenfold their own as they reared and plunged
against the iron muscles that held their
heads. The sleigh swayed to and fro, like
a wicker-basket, with their frantic struggles,
while the wild, glancing eyes and foaming
mouths made a strange contrast to the man's
face, which was set in the rigidity of marble.
The contest was so unequal, that it could
only have ended in one way, and that very
speedily, if the policeman had not gathered
his senses sufBciently to run forward when
he saw the progress of the horses once fairly
arrested. With his help, they were at
length brought to a panting and exhausted
stand. Then Darcy staggered back, and sat
down on a block of stone, pale and gasp-
ing.
"I'm afraid the brutes have hurt you
badly, sir," the former said, respectfuDy.
He could scarcely bring himself to pity the
man whose pluck had fought such a good
fight.
But Darcy only shook his head ; and, ris-
ing after a moment, walked to the side ot
the sleigh, where he found Valerie, as he
had half-expected, too weak from the mere
physical reaction to think of moving. She
looked so white, that he thought at first she
might be about to faint, but the tone of her
voice reassured him it was perfectly firm
and steady, although strangely tense and
unnatural.
"I am glad you were not killed, too,"
she said. " But we must not wait here a
moment. We must go back to ^him ! "
"Do you mean Julian?" Darcy asked,
startled into a sudden fear by her tone and
manner. " Where is he? "
He was scarcely surprised, and a little
reassured, at hearing all that she knew.
After hearing it, he did not waste any time
in comment. He only lifted her from the
sleigh disencumbering her of the many
wrappings which had probably saved her
life by keeping her fast and asked if she
DERRING-DO.
61
coulil sliow liim the place where Romney
had been left. She assented, eagerly, and,
after sending a mounted messenger to town
for a carriage, he was about to set forward,
when a sleigh, that had been jingling up the
avenue for some minutes, paused beside
them, and a gentleman sprang hurriedly
out.
"Darcy! " he said, quickly, "this is bet-
ter luck than I expected. See here ! we've
picked up Romney, and I fear he is badly
hurt."
" Only hurt ! " repeated Darcy, hearing
Valerie's sudden gasp at his side. " Only
hurt, then?"
" Only hurt, certainly not killed, if you
mean that. But I don't like the look of
him. He is either stunned, or he has fainted
very dead away."
Darcy put Valerie down on a block of
stone. " You had better stay here," he said ;
and, without giving her any time for ex-
postulation, he strode away at once to the
sleigh.
" He must have received a severe blow
on the head," he said, after looking at Rom-
ney's pale, insensible face, and feeling his
pulse. " I am afraid it may prove to be
concussion of the brain; but, of course, I
can't tell. We must get him home, and into
a doctor's hands, as soon as possible. Do
you think any bones are broken ? "
" I fancy one arm is at least he moaned
when we touched it, and it hangs like a
fractured limb.'"
" Which arm ? "
" The right."
Darcy leaned over and touched it gently,
but with all his care he brought forth a low
moan of pain, and the eyes opened for a mo-
ment, but closed again immediatelv.
" I don't think there's a doubt of its
being broken," he said. "How did you
chance to find him? "
" He was lying immediately on the side
of the road," the other answered. " Arle
saw him at once."
"Arle was with you? "
"Yes to his cost. You know how he
hates walking, and he is footing it home-
ward now. I suppose he will reach the gate
here about dark. Now, what is to be done
with this poor fellow? Shall I take him
home, or will you? "
" I would ask you to take him on at
once, if it were not for his mother," said
Darcy. " Somebody ought to prepare her,
and it is impossible for me to leave Miss
Aylnier here alone."
" Pray don't think of me ! " said Va-
lerie, who had come forward unperceived
by either of them. " I will stay here any-
wheresooner than keep you a moment.
Captain Darcy, pray go! "
" Unfortunately I forgot, when I spoke
of doing so, that my horse has been sent
away," Darcy answered. " Thornton, I sup-
pose there's nothing for it, but to let you
take him on. They will be partly at least
prepared, by my sending for the carriage.
At all events, we have no right to risk de-
lay."
Thornton a pale, slender, keen-faced
man evidently thought the same thing.
So he sprang into the sleigh, laid Julian's
head as comfortably back as he could, and,
in a moment more, whirled out of sight.
Then Darcy, turning round, discovered
two facts : the first, that snow had been fall-
ing for some time; the second, that Miss
Aylmer looked almost as pale as the boy
who had just been sent away. Now, there
nev'er was a man who had less sympathy
with any form of caprice or coquetry than
this brave, simple "straight-goer," and of
both he held Valerie so guilty that only a
moment before his heart had been wholly
steeled against pity for any suffering of hers ;
but now it melted suddenly at sight of her
wan face and sad eyes, and he said, kindly
and cordially :
"I fear I have forgotten how cold and
tired you must be. Let me take you to the
sleigh, and wrap you up. That will be some
protection until the carriage comes."
She held out her hand without a word
he could not help remembering how differ-
ently, an hour or two before, she had ex-
tended it for the same purpose and let him
take her and cover her up under the af-
ghans and buffalo-robes. Then she leaned
back, still quite silently, while he went up
to the policemnn, who held the thorough-
breds now safely out of harness and re-
62
VALERIE AYLMER.
turned his thanks hoth verbally and sub-
stantially. After a while he came back, and
asked Valerie if she felt very cold.
"Not cold at all you have covered me
so well," she answered. "I am truly
ashamed not to have asked you before, but
I hope you are not much hurt ? "
"I ! Oh, no," he said, with a smile. "I
am cast-steel warranted not to break or
injure under any provocation."
"I hope you will never need to do such
a thing again," she said, with a shudder.
"It was horrible! I seem to see it yet!
And and I have not thanked you."
"I trust you will not think of doing
so," he replied, quickly. "Pray don't fancy
yourself under obligations, or any thing of
that kind. I hope I should have done the
same for anybody."
"I don't doubt that," she answered;
"but it should not lessen my gratitude that
I chanced to be the person whom you
saved."
Involuntarily, as it seemed, Darcy
frowned a little.
" Will you pardon me if I repeat that
such a word does not apply to me in the
least? I could not have ' saved ' you if our
friend yonder had not been at hand ; or if
the horses had not been nearly spent."
At another time, Valerie would doubt-
less have felt and resented this repulse ; but
now she looked up almost appealingly.
" At least, then, you wiU let me ask you
to forgive the folly and wilfulness which
caused all this ? "
It was an unfortunate question for,
gentleman as he was to the core, and
mailed in all gentlemanly courtesy, Darcy
could sometimes speak an abrupt home-
truth very sharply. Now he answered al-
most without thought :
"It is scarcely my forgiveness that you
should ask. Miss Aylmer. I have not suf-
fered for the gratification of your whim, as
that poor boy whom we sent home has
done, and will yet do."
The next moment lie felt sorry for hav-
ing so spoken sorry when he saw the pale
cheek flush, and the delicate shoulder shrink
as from a blow.
" I know " she said, with something
of a gasp. " But I think he will forgive
me."
"I do not doubt it," Darcy dryly an-
swered. "I believe there is the carriage at
last. Will you allow me?"
He assisted her once more out of the
sleigh, and put her into the carriage, which
had drawn up beside them. Then he closed
the door, and raised his hat.
"Are you not coming?" she asked in
surprise.
He shook his head.
"No. I shaU drive these horses in.
Did you bring the reins I sent for, John?
Yes that is all right. Miss Aylmer, I
would recommend a glass of wine as soon
you reach home. Drive on, Green."
CHAPTER VI.
THOSE WHO DANCE MUST PAT THE PIPEE.
When Miss Aylmer reached home, her
grandfather came hurrying down into the
lower hall to meet her; and from him she
learned that the surgeon was then setting
Julian's arm.
" Oh, grandpapa, how can I ever forgive
myself! " she cried, with all the terror, the
anxiety, the vexation of the last hour cul-
minating at length in a burst of weeping,
which quite startled M. Vacquant by its vi-
olence. "I have half-killed that poor boy,
and I came very near quite killing your
your nephew, while I, the cause of it all,
am not hurt in the least. Oh, I am a
wretch! I don't know what you must
think of me ! "
"I think you will know better next
time, and be guided by the advice of older
people," answered her grandfather, sooth-
ingly. Like all men, he had a nervous hor-
ror of tears, and he would have said any
thing to stop the lachrymal flow that was
pouring over the shoulder of his coat as
he held his granddaughter in his arms.
"Don't be foolish, petite; and don't cry
that way it is dreadful! Julian is not
much hurt, and you are safe let us thank
God for that."
THOSE WHO DANCE MUST PAY THE PIPER.
63
"I wist I had been hurtl " cried Yale-
rie. "I deserve any thing! I was the per-
son in fault, and I I am the only one aU
safe."
""What! Is Maurice hurt also?" asked
M. Vacquant, quickly. "Nobody told me
that."
" Hurt! He says he is not, but I know
he must be. O grandpapa, it was awful!
If you could have seen the fight he had, to
stop those horses ! I expected every mo-
ment that they would dash him under their
feet and trample him to death. They must
have hurt him ! I know they must and
all for me ! "
At which consideration, Miss Aylmer
sat down on one of the library-chairs her
grandfather had drawn her into this room
and sobbed more like a child than like
the bright, haughty La belle des belles.
"He is a brave fellow Maurice!" said
M. Vacquant. "I knew he could be relied
on and, mon Dieu! how glad I am that
I sent him! I hope you won't forget, en-
fant, that you owe your life to him."
"Forget it? no! And that is just the
hardest part of it all ! " cried enfant, with a
burst of tears that were now solely born
of vexation. "I could bear all the i*est,
but that is intolerable! To think how I
have treated him, and how I despised him,
and how I went against aU his advice, and
how I snubbed him, and and that he
should have been the one to stop the
horses! If it had been anybody else in
the wide world, I could have borne it bet-
ter ; but this is too hard ! "
" Valerie! " said M. Vacquant. He was
quite aghast, and he could say nothing
more.
" O grandpapa, you don't know how
hard it is ! You never had to endure such
a humiliation ! I don't believe any body
ever had to endure the like before ! Under
obligation for my very life to to a person
like that ! "
"Valerie, this is very improper very
ungrateful language," said her grandfather,
severely. " You force me to remind you
that you are speaking of my nephew as
well as your cousin ; and of a man who has
just saved your life at the risk of his own."
"I don't need to be reminded," cried
Valerie, in a tone of exasperation. " That
is exactly what is the matter! I wish lie
had let my neck be broken I do ! This is
the second time he has laid me under obli-
gation, and I I hate him ! "
" That wUl do, I think," said M. Vac-
quant, with quite an imposing wave of the
hand. For once he was so thoroughly out
of patience with his petted, spoiled grand-
child, that he could not forbear expressing
it. " That is quite sufficient, Valerie. "When
you are cooler, you will see the impropriety
and ingratitude of this conduct. At present
you had better go and change your dress."
Valerie rose at once from ber seat, but,
instead of going to change her dress, she
went and twined her arms round her grand-
father's neck.
"I am sorry," she said. "I know it
sounded very badly. I won't talk so any
more I will indeed try not to feel so any
more. But don't let him come between you
and me, grandpapa especially after I have
been so nearly taken from you."
"Yes," said M. Vacquant, in a hushed
voice ; and he kissed tenderly the beautiful
face of which he was so proud. " Yes, you
were nearly taken from me, and you are
given back to me again thanks to le ton
Dieu, and, after Him, thanks to Maurice."
Valerie set her lips hard, but, true to
her promise, she said nothing. She only
thought that it was part the hardest part
of her punishment, to hear this, and to
know that it was true. After God, she cer-
tainly owed her safety of life and limb to
Maurice Darcy; and there is not a doubt
but that, as she said, she would rather have
owed it to anybody else in the wide world.
It was not enough that she had resisted his
entreaties, and set his advice at naught, in
this particular matter ; but she had so dis-
liked him, from the first, so gloried in pro-
voking his tacit disapproval by her manifes-
tations of caprice and coquetry, and now
this very caprice and coquetry had called
down upon her the weightiest obligation to
him that one human bemg can incur from
another. It was a retribution she felt
that but she also felt that it was almost
more than she could bear.
64
VALERIE AYLMER.
" Grandpapa, tell me about Julian," she
said, after a minute. "Is he much hurt?"
" The doctors think not," answered her
grandfather. " He is still, I believe, lying
in a half-stunned condition ; but they say
at least Dr. Preston does that he will get
over that in a few hours without any ill
effect, and that his arm is the only serious
injury."
" Serious ! Do you mean dangerous ? "
" Oh, no. Who ever heard of danger
from a broken bone? The only injury that
will trouble him after a day or two, they
mean,"
"Thank God!" said Valerie, fervently.
" Not but that a broken arm is bad enough,"
she added, hastily ; " but one feels as if it
was little, because it is so much less than
might have been. Poor Julian! poor boy!
O grandpapa, I. never expect to forgive my-
self for causing him all this ! "
M. Vacquant smiled a little Julian's in-
juries did not seem to weigh much on his
mind and smoothed her hair indulgently.
"Don't worry about Julian," he said. " He
will soon be well. Only take care," he
added, gravely, "that you never inflict a
deeper injury on him than any you have
caused to-day."
Valerie's face flushed. Her conscience
told her at once what he meant and, for
once, she did not reject or fence off the un-
palatable advice. " Never, if I can help it,
grandpapa," she said, earnestly. Then she
kissed him again, and, gathering up her hat
and cloak, wliich she had cast aside on lier
entrance, went up-stairs.
Just as she reached the head of the
staircase, she came upon Madame Vacquant
and Dr. Preston, who were standing- outside
the door of Julian's chamber, talking to-
gether.
"I think all will go right now," the doc-
tor was saying, " if you will keep things per-
fectly quiet, and don't allow Ah, Miss
Aylmer, how are you? I am glad to see
that you at least were not hurt by your ac-
cident."
"I can scarcely be glad myself, doctor,
when I think that others suffered instead of
me," answered Valerie, yielding her hand to
the physician's cordial grasp, but looking
past him to Madame Vacquant, whose face
had hardened at her approach. " How is
Julian ? "
She hesitated a moment before uttering
the name, and then gave it with a softness
which, if Julian could have heard, he would
certainly have thought quite irresistible.
But his mother's face did not relax in the
least ; and it was the doctor who answered.
" Oh, Julian is doing as well as we could
hope or desire; and, like a gallant knight,
I am sure he does not regret the wound he
incurred in so fair a service " he thought
it necessary to point this compliment by a
little bow. " The fracture was a simple one,
and has been well set. As for the insensi-
bility caused by concussion of the brain, that
will soon pass off has, in fact, almost en-
tirely passed off now."
"May may I see him now, then?"
"I am sure he will be very much de-
lighted and I really think he deserves
such a reward," answered the doctor, mov-
ing aside, and laying his hand on the handle
of the door to open it for her. But as he
did so, Madame Vacquant interposed.
"Stop," she said. "There must be no
further risks run. Are you sure it is quite
safe for him to be excited by seeing her ? "
"Safe! Oh certainly, certainly," an-
swered the doctor, who had a not uncom-
mon penchant for pretty faces in general,
and Miss Aylmer's in particular. Indeed, it
will be the best thing possible to let him
see with his own eyes that Miss Aylmer is
all right. "His first question was whether
you were safe," he added, looking at the
young lady ; " and I think he was decidedly
incredulous of our replies. Show yourself
to him at least, and his mind will be set at
rest."
Madame Vacquant made no further de-
mur, but when he opened the door, and
Valerie entered the chamber, she only
waited to say a few words and then hastily
followed.
The surgeon who had set the fractured
limb, and one or two servants, were in the
room, but Valerie paid no attention to them.
She walked straight across the floor, and did
not })ause until she stood by the richly-
carved and luxurious bed, gazing down on
THOSE WHO DANCE MUST PAY THE PIPER.
65
Romney's white face the fiice whiter by far
than the snowy pillows on which it rested.
Ho looked almost as if he were dead, so
rigid and colorless were his features; but
the breath came perceptibly, almost audibly
through the parted lips, and more than once,
while she stood there, a slight convulsion as
of pain passed over the face. The eyelids did
not lift, however ; and when at last Valerie
heard the rustle of a woman's dress, and
knew that his mother stood beside her, she
whispered, without turning her head
"Is he insensible ? "
Before Madame Vacquant could answer,
the darkly-fringed lids flew up, and the vio-
let eyes opened full and wide on her face.
For a moment there was almost incredulous
surprise in their gaze then a smile came
over the pale lips.
" So they told me the truth. You are
quite safe ! " he said, faintly.
She knelt down by the bedside and cov-
ered his uninjured hand with both her own.
"Yes, I am quite safe," she said. "But it
breaks my heart to look at you and think
it is all my fault."
"Xo, no,"he said, eagerly; "you must
not think that, even for a moment. It is
not your fault, or or if it was, it does not
matter. I am not much hurt, and I shall
soon be well again."
" You are suffering now that is
enough."
"I am not suffering now. I would not
change places at this moment " he grasped
firmly the hands that were holding his
"with any one in the world."
He did not try to restrain the passion in
his voice ; and, as he spoke, there rushed
over Valerie the recollection of her grand-
father's words a few minutes before : " Take
care that you never inflict a deeper injury
than any you have caused to-day ! " At an-
other time she would have known exactly
how to repress any undue exhibition of feel-
ing like this ; but now how could she do
it now ? Let him disclaim as he might, she
knew that it was her fault alone that he lay
stricken and injured before her; and to be
cold to one who had suffered and would yet
suffer so nmch for her wilfulness and ca-
price, was more than she could do. Let us
5
hope that it was more than any woman
could have done.
" I think I shall never forgive myself,"
she said, after a moment's pause. " It is a
mercy that you are alive a mercy for which
I can never he sufficiently thankful ! and
the horses nearly killed Captain Darcy,
too."
"Darcy ! What did he have to do with
them ? "
She saw that he knew nothing about her
rescue ; and, remembering his jealous dis-
like of Darcy, she felt sorry for having spok-
en of the matter but it was too late now.
She must go on. He would have to hear
the particulars sooner or later, and he had
better hear them now while she could soft-
en the blow to him.
"Did you not know that he stopped
them?" she asked. "I don't know where
he came from, but he was at the gates, and
and he stopped them."
"Darcy!"
It was all he said ; but a deep flush of
mortified feeling came over his face, and his
eyes closed again. This was the end of it,
then ! He had been thrown aside and left
behind, helpless and useless, while Darcy
was the hero of the adventure! On Darcy
fell all the honor and glory of the occasion !
It was hard it was bitterly hard and it
seemed all at once to take away even the
consolation of Valerie's presence, and to
give a sharper edge to every throb of pain
in the fractured limb.
With the quickness of her sex, Valerie
read these thoughts, and her own rebellious
chafing against the fate that had made Dar-
cy her rescuer caused her to do more than
comprehend to sympathize with them. If
all had been equal between the two, in the
way of her personal liking, she would have
felt most warmly toward the one who had
all the suffering and none of the glory ; but
as it was, her whole heart went out with a
rush in the endeavor to comfort him.
" Captain Darcy was very hard on me,"
she said, softly. " I don't think he will soon,
if ever, forgive me the trouble I cost him.
I I cannot help wishing that it had been
any one else who chanced to stop the
horses."
66
VALERIE AYLMEK.
The violet eves opened again on her face
this time full of sadness and pain.
"But he saved your life! And I "was
lying, like a helpless log, far away."
"Julian!"
She uttered the name almost involun-
tarily then smiled at his start, and vrent
on:
"May I call you that? I almost feel as
if we were blood kindred, and quite near
enough for it. "VTell Julian, I wonder you
can be so foolish. I wonder you can pain
me by mentioning my debt to you, and my
debt to Captain Darcy, in the same breath.
He saved my life, it is true, but he saved it
as he might have saved the life of any stran-
ger who had crossed his path ; indeed, not
half so graciously as he would probably have
done that. My obligation to him would
never have been willingly incurred, and is
an unutterable weight to me ; while my ob-
ligation to you to you, who have suffered,
and are suffering, merely for my whim ah,
can I tell you what that is ? "
lie smiled a little.
" I am afraid I will never win the favor,
though. This "he glanced toward, his in-
jured anm "does not look much like der-
ring-do."
For an instant, she did not comprehend
him. Then a recollection of the gay non-
sense they had been talking, just before the
horses put a summary end to their conver-
sation, flashed across her. In a moment her
fingers went up to her throat the next, a
knot of bright ribbon was lying in his
hand.
It was just at this juncture that the sur-
geon touched the arm of Madame Yacquant,
who had walked away from the bed and
stood by a window not far off, looking out
at the falling snow, with a strange, absent
kind of gaze.
"I am sorry to disturb such an interest-
ing conversation as the one yonder seems
to be," he said, with a dry smile; "but I
must really beg you to take the young lady
away. She is exciting our patient too much,
I fear."
Madame Yacquant turned hurriedly.
"I was afraid of that," she said; "It was
Dr. Preston, not I, who let her come in.
He thought it would set Julian's mind at
rest to see that she was safe."
" S ! She was the lady he was driv-
ing?"
" Yes."
" Humph I " said the surgeon ; and he
looked round at Yalerie, with his quick,
keen glance. " I could warrant her for
being at the bottom of any harm or mischief
whatever," he thought. Then he said
aloud: "I must beg you to send her away,
at all events. His mind has been set at rest
now, and that is sufficient."
Madame Yacquant needed no further
bidding. She walked forward at once, and
laid her hand on Yalerie's shoulder.
" You mnst go," she said, without taking
the trouble to soften the command at all.
"Dr. Warner says you are exciting Julian
too much. You must go ! "
Julian uttered an exclamation of impa-
tience ; but Yalerie rose to her feet without
an instant's loss of time.
"I am sorry," she said. "I did not
mean to excite him. Yes, I know I must
go. I only meant to stay a minute," she
added, looking at Eomney. " Of course, I
knew it would not do. Yon must be quiet,
and oh, do try to get better soon. I shall
be so miserable thinking of your suffer-
ing! "
" I must certainly try to get better soon,
then," he said. " That you should be mis-
erable on account of my sufferings would
double them at least. But you will come
back again will you not? "
Fortunately, Madame Yacquant gave no
time for reply to this. She had already
drawn Yalerie away, and the young lady
who even in that moment of excitement had
no idea of forgetting les convenances far
enough to promise to play romantic nurse
to her wounded knight was spared the dif-
ficulty of expressing a refusal. Before she
knew what she was about, she had left the
room, and was standing in the corridor with
Madame Yacquant. The latter spoke first.
"Excuse me if I was abrupt but I can-
not run any risk, you know. The doctor
told me to take you away."
"Pam any risk! I should think not,
indeed I " said Yalerie. And then, for the
THOSE "WHO DANCE MUST PAY THE PIPER.
67
first time in her life, she put lier arms round
her grandfather's wife and kissed her. " Try
to forgive me," she whispered. "I am so
very sorry."
The tone was full of the most sincere
contrition all the more sincere, because the
words were so simple and might have
touched the elder woman, if any thing pos-
sibly could have done so. But her face
scarcely changed by a shade, and, w'hen she
turned and laid her lips on the girl's cheek,
with a light, cold caress, Valerie felt instinc-
tively that the mother's heart was mailed in
steel against her.
''I have nothing to forgive," she said;
" hardly even a right to blame. It was my
fault as much as yours. I should have lis-
tened to Maurice Darcy."
Maurice Darcy ! That name seemed des-
tined to meet Valerie at every turn stab-
bing her with a sharp remembrance of the
discomfiture which she could not help feel-
ing as if she owed to him. In a moment, at
sound of it, all her softer feelings vanished ;
and she drew back, biting her lip.
" Captain Darcy ought to be gratified,"
she said. "Accident chanced to justify his
opinion of the horses, and immediately ev-
erybody exalts him to the highest pedestal
of wisdom and heroism. For my part "
She stopped short blushing violently,
despite herself for Darcy, who had come
down the thickly-carpeted corridor quite
unheard, paused at this moment beside Ma-
dame Vacquant.
At first, Valerie hoped that he had not
caught the tenor of her interrupted speech,
he looked so entirely as usual, so little as he
might have been expected to look, nnder
the circumstances ; but, the next moment,
she saw a gleam in his eye that she knew
very well a gleam, half-amused, half-sa-
tiric which made her heart sink for very
shame until it could sink no lower. She
knew then that her hope was vain, and
that, although he had presence of mind
enough to suppress any outward tokens of
the fact, he had certainly overheard her.
With this dismaying consciousness pressing
on her dismaying necessarily, since she
was, at least, thoroughly aware of the ex-
tent of her obligations to the man who had
stood between herself and a horrible death
it was not wonderful that she was hardly
able to pay any attention to what he said,
that she had only a vague idea of his inqui-
ries about Julian, and his explanation that
he had only just arrived with the thorough-
breds, or that she gave a quick start, when
at last he turned to herself.
" I hope you followed my advice about
the wine. Miss Aylmer? You look very
pale, and this afternoon's work will, I fear,
prove to have been too much for you."
"I have not taken it yet, but I will go
now and send for it," said Valerie, with
most unusual meekness. Then she bent her
head and hurried away never once paus-
ing or looking back, until she found herself
safely locked in her own chamber, where,
sitting down in the first convenient chair,
she finished at her leisure that salutary fit
of weeping which M. A'acquant had tempo-
rarily stopped. When she was aroused at
last by the first dinner-bell, and, ringing for
Fanchette, sent her down with an excuse
for her own non-appearance, even Darcy
might have thought that lier pale, tear-
stained countenance looked as if she had
been punished enough.
It is scarcely necessary to dweU on the
convalescence which followed this accident.
After having nearly broken his neck, and
quite broken his arm, Miss Aylmer felt
very truly that she would have been the
most ungracious and ungrateful of human
beings, if she had kept up her intended re-
serve with Eomney, or had not endeavored,
by every means in her power, to lighten the
hours of his captivity. So, when he recov-
ered sufficiently to leave his own cham-
ber, and lie day after day on a broad,
low couch in his mother's private sitting-
room, she set herself studiously to the task
of entertaining him. She read to him, sang
to him, talked to him, with an abandon
which came of her self-reproach and desire
to make atonement, but which was so
charming in itself that it might well have
turned an older and a wiser head. Natu-
rally, therefore, it turned Eomney's. IsTat-
nrally, also, they grew to be very intimate
with one another, to exercise the right of
68
VALERIE AYLMER.
tutoiment whicli their near connection
gave, to glide from amusement into senti-
ment, and from sentiment into neither of
them very well knew what, without anybody
taking the trouble to interfere or reprove.
Madame Vacquant of course saw what
was going on, but it is not uncharitable to
suppose that it tallied too exactly with her
own wishes for her to desire, far less to at-
tempt, any disturbance of the work of fate
while, as for M. Vacquant, he had deliv-
ered himself of one warning, and, man-like,
Le thought that would prove sufficient. In-
deed, as far as regarded any serious dan-
ger, he was wholly blind. In his eyes, his
granddaughter was peerless, and his step-
son a pretty, spoiled boy. That the latter
should like the former was, of course, to be
expected, and that the former should en-
courage the liking was, perhaps, excusable,
considering that it is the nature of women
to be foolish; but of any serious conse-
quences to their manifest flirtation, he nev-
er once dreamed. If anybody had hinted
such a thing, he would indeed have been
simply incredulous. There was a great
deal of the grand seignenr about him, and
he could not, or did not, realize that mat-
ters had changed in these latter days, and,
with manners, many other things that he
had been trained to revei*ence. He had
received one sharp lesson in his life about
attempting to carry out his noblesse-otlige
theory in all its bearings, and to force a
vwoman's inclination where it had no mind
to go ; but, as is too often the case, this les-
son had not made him wiser. He was
ready and anxious to play the same part
over again with his granddaughter, that he
had already played without success, in the
case of his sister. He remembered how
women were trained in France to take the
husband which competent authority pro-
vided for them, and to love, honor, and
obey, exactly that person who seemed most
desirable to the head of the house ; and he
was still unable to. realize the different
canon that regulated another country. It
seemed good to him that Valerie should
marry Maurice Darcy, and he coiild not
credit any possible objection on her part.
It was true that they were within the for-
bidden degrees of kindred, but, with all the
weighty reasons for an alliance taken into
consideration, he was sure that they could
easily obtain a dispensation; and, in every
other respect, the plan was unimpeachable.
It was also true that he had been a good
deal surprised and somewhat shocked to
hear Valerie declare that she "despised"
and "hated" this desirable ^jr^* ; but then,
she had spoken in a moment of excitement,
and some faint remembrance of the manner
in which the wise old Vicar of "Wakefield
read backward his daughter's expressed
opinions, floating through M. Vacquant's
remembrance, he had hoped that even these
unpromising expressions might be favor-
ably construed. A woman's dislike, any-
how, he felt inclined to shrug his shoulders
over as a mere 'bagatelle. Valerie was
spoiled, and Maurice was rather uncom-
promising that was all! They would get
on aU the better for the diff"erence ; indeed.
La i^etite sadly needed a little control, a lit-
tle wholesome awe of somebody to keep
her caprice and coquetry in check.
This was the manner in which M.
Vacquant reasoned, and the manner in
which, almost unconsciously, he consoled
himself for his granddaughter's perverse
mode of conduct. It was true that she and
Darcy rarely noticed each other at all, and
never without eliciting some clang or jar of
feeling; and it was also true that, day by
day, Eomney advanced to a closer degree
of privileged intimacy with her but still
M. Vacquant was aware that he had an-
noimced his sovereign will and pleasure ;
and, therefore, although this nonsense
might be a rather dangerous amusement,
he could not bring himself to the serious
contemplation of any serious harm oc-
curring from it. Nevertheless, it sudden-
ly one day occurred to him that he might
as Avell enlighten Darcy concerning the
matrimonial project of which as yet the
latter was profoimdly ignorant, and, with
him, action was not slow upon resolve. In
the course of an hour he had called Mau-
rice into the library and made his an-
nouncement rather grandiosely than other-
wise. To his utter amazement, it was met
by a short and decisive refusal.
THOSE WHO DANCE MUST PAT THE PIPER.
G9
"I suppose you mean kindly, sir," the
latter said, " but, once for all, the thing is
impossible. Once for all, I must earnestly
request that my name may not be considered
in connection with your future testamentary
arrangements much less, considered with
ref'erence to any such plan as this, "Were I
ten times as poor a man as I am, I should not
desire a woman who accepted me, or whom
I accepted, as a mercenary compromise !
You need not start, sir ; I do Miss Aylmer
the justice to believe that she would repudi-
ate the idea as quickly as I, and I would
quite as soon put my hand in the fire as to
insult her by such a proposition."
M. Yacquant bit his lip angrily, and per-
haps at that moment felt little inclination to
say that General Aylmer had not spoken as
if his granddaughter would be insulted by
such a proposition.
"You are exciting yourself unnecessa-
rily," he said, coldly. "I have little inten-
tion of forcing either my fortune or my
granddaughter on an unwilling recipient of
either. As for mercenary compromise
that is quite a novelesque phrase ; but I con-
fess I don't understand it in its present ap-
plication. Xothing was further from my in-
tention than forcing anybody's inclination.
I paid you the compliment of thinking you
might please Valerie if you chose to try, and
she has certainly proved fascinating to men
as wise as yourself."
"Pardon me," Darcy said, a little con-
tritely. " I suppose I did speak more warm-
ly than occasion demanded it is a bad fault
of mine but I have neither taken, nor
meant to give, offence. Indeed, how could
I be otherwise than grateful for your con-
sideration of me? I only meant what I
now repeat with more humility than pride
it is impossible, Y^'our kindness blinds you
to the insurmountable obstacles opposing
such a plan."
"What obstacles?" his uncle asked,
sharply. This plan had lain so long near
to his heart, that the disappointment was
keen to him,
"There are many ; but two will suffice,"
Darcy answered, quietly. " In the first
place, you are mistaken in thinking that I
could ever please Miss Aylmer, Were I
ready to-day for the role of suitor, I would
Ilay to no purpose, as fur as she is concerned,
I do her only justice when I say that not
even the glamour of an inheritance could
make her look favorably upon me. In
the second place, you must pardon me if
this sounds ungracious I should never
choose Miss Aylmer out of the world of
women as my wife. Perhaps, the fault lies
in my own insensibility since, as you say,
wiser and better men than I have found
her fascinating ; but I scarcely think I shall
ever choose any woman half so fatally
tempted by the dower of beauty."
" This is the first time that I ever heard
a man and a painter to boot quarrel with
a woman's good looks."
" It is not the looks I quarrel with, sir,
but the use made of them."
" Ah, she is something of a coquette ; but
what pretty woman is not? ' And matrimo-
ny is a sure cure for the worst cases of
that,"
"Do you think so? My experience goes
rather the other way. At least, I should
have neither patience nor inclination to play
Petruchio to a Kate who flirted instead of
scolded. I think, indeed, that of the two
I would prefer the shrew, since she, at least,
would not play fast and loose with but,
once more, it is doing Miss Aylmer a great
wrong to bring her name, even indirectly,
into such a discussion. Don't think me
churlish, sir, when I beg you to draw up
your will without any reference to me ; and
assure you, indeed, that the only favor you
can do me, is to leave my name out of it,
Now let us consider the matter finally at an
end,"
"If it must be" began M, Yacquant,
with a sigh,
" It must, indeed," said the other, firmly,
" And now, if you will allow me to ask one
question: has Miss Aylmer heard of this
plan?"
The old Frenchman hesitated ; but in all
his threescore years he had never know-
ingly spoken a falsehood, so, after a pause, he
answered in the affirmative, adding, " Why
do you ask ? "
" Only because I would like to disabuse
her of a false impression as far as I am con-
Vo
VALERIE AYLMER.
cerned," his nepliew answered. " I Avould
have set her mind at ease some time since
by assuring her that she had nothing to
fear from my rivalry in your good graces,
but that it seemed scarcely worth while to
take the trouble, as I am leaving so soon."
At these words, M. Vacquant's face fell
suddenly and strangely. "Leaving!" he
repeated. "So you are going to torment
me with that cry again. I think it very
hard that you should treat me so, Maurice !
very hard indeed, that you cannot spare
me a few months without continually agi-
tating this subject. What is the matter that
you cannot stay here, at least until spring? "
"You forget, sir, that this is an idle life,
and that I am far from being an idle man ;
that I have, indeed, to make my bread by the
labor of my hand."
" I have offered, again and again, to re-
move that necessity from you."
" I remember that gratefully, but you
must indulge me in the obstinacy which pre-
fers to retain it."
"Paint here, then! what is to prevent
your painting here? "
" Nothing to prevent my painting ; but
a great deal to prevent my remaining here.
You surely forget that your own claim is a
new one, and a slight one, compared to the
other which is calling me away."
" No, I don't forget it," said M. Vac-
quant, in a voice which subdued itself at
once ; " but then, Maurice you cannot say
he needs you."
A sort of wistful look swept over the
face at which he gazed, and sudden tender-
ness softened the gray eyes, making them
almost beautiful.
"I need him," he said, softly,, as if to
himself. Then he turned to leave the room,
but paused again in the door. " I fear I have
not thanked you for your kindness as I should
have don," he said. " But pray don't let
my hrusquerie make you forget that I do
thank you, that I am very grateful for the
affection you are kind enough to express
for me, and that I hope to see you choose a
better heir than I should be. I was never
made for a rich man, and the burden of
wealth would ill become mo. Now I am
going down to my studio ; if you say so, I
can call and see Payne about those stocks
he wants you to invest in. Shall I tell him
no, as decidedly as he deserves? "
" As decidedly as you please."
The next moment, the firm, steady foot-
step died away along the hall, and M. Vac-
quant leaned back in his chair, a very with-
ered and old-looking man, sighing bitterly.
" So he puts that atonement out of my
power," he said, half aloud. "Well, then,
there is only the other. It is very bittei-
very bitter but I suppose that is part of
my burden. Atonement ! restitution !
easy words for priests to say; but who
among them all can mark the way to fulfil-
ment?"
CHAPTEE VII.
A DECLAEATIOIf NOT OF LOVE.
While this discussion had been progress-
ing in the library below, another of quite
a different order was going on in Madame
Vacquant's sitting-room above ; was indeed
still at its height when, hearing Darcy's step
on the corridor outside, the lady opened the
door and invited him to enter.
He complied, more for lack of a ready
excuse to decline than for any other reason ;
yet the picture presented to his gaze was
pretty enough to have tempted almost any
one to enter for the mere sake of admiring
it at a closer point of view. Tlirough the
half-open door he had something more than
a glimpse of the room within the room
over whose luxurious and elegant appoint-
ments Madame Vacquant's taste reigned
supreme and he saw, with something of
the effect of a stereoscopic picture, the
graceful furniture, the white statues, and
the gleaming picture-frames, as they were
relieved by tlie rich toning of the carpet
and walls. There was nothing heavy, noth-
ing out of keeping or out of taste, in the
apartment, but an indescribable liarmony
and cheerfulness pervaded all its arrange-
ments ; the latter, in part at least, owing to
the bright flood of golden sunshine which
was pouring through a large bay-window
filled with plants, until it resembled a small
A DECLARATIOX NOT OF LOVE.
n
conservatory, ia the midst of which a canary
was trilling loudly from its gilded cage.
Near the window the piano stood, and at
the piano iliss Aylmer sat, half-turned aside
from the key-board, but with the sheets of
music plentifully scattered about, proving
what her occupation had been, while, in a
deep chair by the side of the instrument,
Romney reclined, his arm still hanging use-
less in a sling of crimson silk, which became
liim wonderfully, and his whole air one of such
intense listlessness that Darcy set it down
unhesitatingly to the score of affectation,
lie modified this judgment a little, however,
when his first step in the room brought its
warm air lieavy -laden with fragrance rush-
ing over him ; and he was on the point of
entering a protest against the injurious
effects of over-heated apartments, when
Madame Vacquant anticipated him by
speaking.
"Do, Maurice, see if you can bring this
perverse boy to hear reason, Valerie and I
are going down-street, and he insists on ac-
companying us. Now, you know that will
never do ! The doctor "
"-4m diable with the doctor!" inter-
rupted Julian, impatiently. "Really, I am
tired of his ver}' name, though of course he
would have nothing to say in a matter of
this kind. Indeed, why should he? He ii
a sensible man, though nobody would think
so who listened to you, mamma. It has
been three weeks since this con trouble-
some arm was broken; and I should have
been out a week ago, but that I was too
lazy, and home was too pleasant."
"You did well to stay," said Valerie.
"I give you fair warning you lose all your
invalid privileges as soon as you cease to be
an invalid."
" Now, you are trying to frighten me
into good behavior," answered he, languid-
ly. " But I flatter myself that your words
are harder than your resolution. At all
events, I mean to go down-street with you
to-day."
" "When I tell you that I don't want you ? "
"Yes for once even when you tell me
that you do not want me."
" I have a mind to stay at home myself,
then."
"Do! "We shall practise that duet from
Borneo e GiuUetta so charmingly! "
" Indeed, you need not fancy any thing
of the kind. If I remain, it will only be to
shut myself up by myself, until Madame
Vacquant returns."
"You see how she rules me," said Juli-
an, throwing himself back in his chair, with
an air of mock resignation. " I am a lion
led by a thread ; I shall soon have no more
volition left than than a puppet ! Darcy,
can't you say a word for me ? "
" There is really not the least reason
why he should not go," said Darcy, turning
to Madame Vacquant. "He speaks very
truly when he says that he might have gone
a week ago."
" But the day," she said, hesitatingly.
"It is so cold!"
Maurice shrugged his shoulders, with a
laugh.
" I never heard of a fractured limb suf-
fering on account of the depression of the
thermometer," he said, good-humoredly.
" Besides, it is not in any unpleasant degree."
"And you think there is positively no
danger? "
"Positively, not the least."
"Then, Valerie, we had better get
ready," she said, turning to that young
lady. "Maurice, if you are going down-
street, you may as well wait for us. You
can afford to do so, since we are going to
walk ; and we are going to see your pic-
ture."
Darcy could not repress a slight start."
"My picture!" he repeated.
"Yes, your picture. Ah, you may well
look detected and ashamed to think that all
the city should be talking of it before we
your own friends and relations ever even
heard of its existence."
" It was only placed on exhibition yes-
terday," he said, apologetically. "Of
course, I meant to ask you to see it if you
cared to do so. But I don't understand
how did you hear of it? "
" How did we hear of it ! Have you not
seen the Gazette this morning ? "
"No."
She turned round, and, taking up a copy
of the paper from a table near at hand, fold-
VALERIE AYLMER.
ed down the sheet at a particular place, and,
pointing to the head of the paragraph, hand-
ed it to him. He took it in some surprise
surprise which perceptibly increased when
lie saw not less than a column of printed
matter devoted to a critical and judicious
notice of the picture concerning which Ma-
dame Vacquant had just spoken. He flushed
slightly, as one whom praise has taken una-
wares, glanced his eye down over the terse,
w^ell-written sentences, and then looked up
half-laughingly.
" This is some of Thornton's work," he
said ; " I recognize his tricks of the pen,
and there is no one else who would be half
so flattering."
" Mr. Thornton is the best art-critic in
the city," said Madame Vacquant, who was,
when she chose, the best flatterer in the city.
" If he is the writer of that article, of course
there is no question of its correctness."
" That does not exactly follow," said
Darcy, smiling ; " for he took a fancy to this
picture before it was finished ; and so is fair-
ly chargeable with partiality toward it. lie
is a good art-critic, though," he went on ;
" for besides being a brilliant writer, he is
as thoroughly trained and cultivated, in an
artistic sense, as a man can be with regard
to a thing which is not the pursuit of his
life. Ilis criticism is always judicious, and
his praise is worth having, because he knows
what to praise, and how to praise it which
is more than can be said for nine-tenths of
the scribblers who display their ignorance
even more conspicuously than they display
their ill-nature in every thing relating to art
or artists."
"It is evident that Achilles has been
touched on the heel in the past, if not in the
present," said Julian, with his ready sneer,
aside to Valerie.
" You are mistaken," said Darcy, whose
ears were of the quickest, and who often
discomfited people by overhearing things
which were not intended for him. " I have
never suffered much from criticism, because
I have never been eminent enough to pro-
voke it but in the little which I have
known, I cannot remember to have ever
been even momentarily resentful of any
thing tliat was just. Besides, I am thick-
skinned, I suppose at least I am singularly
indiff"erent to the praise or blame of these
mouth-pieces of the cognoscenti. But I have
seen other and more sensitive natures suflfer
so keenly from their cut-and-thrust attacks,
that I have learned to rate them as they de-
serve to be rated, and to remember that
lions are sometimes stung to death by gnats."
" Yet, if I were an artist, I do not think
I should mind them," said Valerie, looking
up. "If I had the consciousness of genius
to support me, they might say and do their
worst. I would fight my way to fame by a
longer, but a surer road ; for, after all, it is
the public, and not the critics, who build up
an enduring renown."
" It was the public, perhaps, in the days
when Cimabue painted his Madonnas, and
when all Florence made a grand holiday,
and strewed flowers in his path," answered
Darcy ; " but it is not the public in this age,
and least of all, in this country. Even in
the old-cultured centres of art, the critics
lead opinion : here, they simply make it. If
every one is not of the same mind with re-
gard to a work of art, it is only because their
oracles sometimes disagree, not because they
take the liberty of judging for themselves
concerning its merits."
"How very flattering you are! "
"Am I? Then it was quite uninten-
tionally ; for I did not think there could be
flattery, or the reverse, in merely stating an
admitted fact. The general rule in Ameri-
ca is a want of artistic culture. But there
is no general rule without exceptions ; and,
judging from my own experience, I should
think these exceptions quite numerous."
" Judging from the Gazette this morning,
perhaps you mean ? "
" No : for I regard this more as the kind-
ness of a friend than the decision of a critic.
As I said before, however, I am very indif-
ferent too indiff'erent, I fear to things of
this kind. I work out a conception to the
best of my ability, according to the manner
in which it is given me ; more than that I
cannot do, at the bidding of all the critics
who ever wrote, "^hen I first began to use
a brush and that was as soon as I could
use any thing I chose for my own the mot-
to of Van Eyck. You may remember it ? "
A DECLARATION NOT OF LOYE.
73
"I don't think I do."
" It is 'Ah ik l-an ! ' ' I'll do my best ! '
Having done my best, I can afford to caro
very little for what is said of my efforts. I
am grateful for praise, especially intelligent
praise " his eye glanced toward the paper
in his hand " but I do not -work to gain it.
I am quite unmoved by fault-finding, be it
ever so severe."
It was evident that he meant in the full-
est sense all the words that he uttered; in-
deed, looking at him as he uttered them,
nobody could have doubted the fact. It is
either the intensely self-distrustful, or the
intensely vain, who are easily affected by
the outside influences of which he spoke ;
and, plainly, this man was neither the one
nor the other. lie was too firmly self-reli-
ant for the first ; too proud, in the best sense
of the word, for the second. Not one of the
three people listening to him had any cor-
dial liking for him in their hearts; yet each
one of them was forced into a belief of his
sincerity, and a half-reluctant admiration of
his simple, earnest creed the creed so far
removed from the morbid sensitiveness and
overweening self-conscionsness which is so
often the curse of genius that it has grown
to be recognized as one of its distinguishing
characteristics. True, Julian curled his lip
and shrugged his shoulders, as he would
have done if Raphael himself had spoken ;
but even he felt the presence of something
which had the ring of reality in it, and no-
body spoke until Madame Vacquant at last
said, lightly :
" You shame us all, my dear Maurice ;
for there are few people nowadays who
take life or any thing about life in this spirit.
It is terrible to consider how frivolous and
skeptical we have become ; and how the
taint of cynicism is in every thing we do or
say. As for you you should have been
born in the twelfth instead of the nineteenth
century ! You would have suited that ex-
actly."
" You pay him a high compliment," said
Valerie. Then she turned abruptly to Dar-
cy. " Of course, you have read Montalem-
bert's ' St. Elizabeth,' have you not ? "
" Yes long ago."
"And of course you remember and ad-
mire who does not? the matchless intro-
duction, in which he gives a living, breath-
ing picture of that age of faith where Ma-
dame Vacquant would place you?"
" Yes," he said, a little wonderingly,
" Well," said the young lady, rising as
she spoke, and moving toward the door,
which she opened, " I agree with her. I
think you ought to have lived then. I think
you would have suited that period. But I
don't think you suit, or are likely to suit,
the age of to-day."
The door closed in a way that gave em-
phasis to her last words, and effectually cut
off all chance of reply, if Darcy had been
disposed to make any. He was by this time
used to Miss Aylmer's little amenities, so he
only smiled, and then turned to Madame
Vacquant.
" I am sorry to be obliged to hurry you,
madame, but I have an engagement down-
street in the course of the next hour or so,
and I should not like to break it."
"I should not like you to break it on my
account, certainly," answered the lady. "I
will be ready in a few minutes."
She, in turn, left the room ; and then,
while Darcy was glancing his eye over Mr.
Thornton's art critique, Julian roused him-
self from tlie depths of his chair and the
depths of his languor sufficiently to say :
" I suppose I ought to go too. This "
looking down at his velvet morning-coat
" is not exactly en regie for Charles Street.
What a deuce of a trouble it is the contin-
ual dressing and undressing to which civil-
ized humanity is doomed ! If I ever commit
suicide, it will certainly be from sheer wea-
riness on this account. Darcy, my good fel-
low, I wonder if the sight of your picture
wiU prove a sufficient reward for the exer-
tion that lies before me ? "
"I don't wonder anything about it I
know it will not," answered Darcy, careless-
ly. " I hope you are not so foolish as to be
going down to see my picture, Romney."
" I am, though and why not ? "
" Because I doubt if you would be repaid
for the walk by a master-piece of Correggio
and I am sure you will not be any thing
near repaid by the inspection of my handi-
work."
74
VALEEIE AYLMER.
"Don't you like it?"
" Of course I like it. In fact it is one of
the few things I have ever painted, that sat-
isfies me as much as one can be satisfied by
one's own execution, I suppose. But you
won't like it."
" Why not ? Is it pre-Raphaelite ? "
Darcy laughed and shrugged his shoulders.
" No : I was infected with the Euskin
fever when I Avas a much younger man, and
there has been time enough for the madness
to partially subside ; but it is not according
to Hegel and Schelling either, and the ab-
sence of the Dusseldorf element will be a
much graver fault in your eyes than the
presence of any amount of pre-Eaphaelitism,
I suspect."
" I trust 1 am not hopelessly biassed in
my admiration or my views."
"Most of us are, I think. But here is
Miss Aylmer, and your coat yet unchanged."
Romney started, for, truly enough, the
door had opened, and Miss Aylmer in full
walking costume stood before him. He
rose hastily, made the best excuse he could
muster, and went hurriedly to perform his
obnoxious toilet duties, while the young
lady came forward with an air too negligent
tc* have been quite natural.
"Pray don't put down your paper," she
said, as Darcy laid aside the Gazette. " I
am going straight to the piano I always do
when I am waiting and I won't disturb
you in the least. I know how provoking it
is to be disturbed, especially when one is
jdeasantly engaged."
"Whatever Darcy's other social short-
comings, want of tact was certainly not one
of them. Some men would have been fool-
ish enough to have persisted in laying aside
the paper, and in forcing the fact of their
presence upon a reluctant campanion ; but
this man was never one to fall into such a
vulgar error. On the contrary, he took up
the Gazette again, and, with a quiet bend of
the head in acknowledgment of the lady's
consideration, devoted liimself to the polit-
ical-intelligence column with very edifying
assiduity, while she sat down to the piano
and amused herself with modulating the
soft chords and harmonieus of the " Conso-
lation ! "
They were still tete-d-tete in this in-
teresting fashion when Madame Vacquant
came back, and, Julian soon after following,
they set forth.
Of course, there was no hesitation about
the order of march. The elder lady took
quiet but undisputed possession of Darcy,
and entertained him with high-art criti-
cisms and Euskin quotations down the whole
length of Charles Street, to the very door
of that charming place of resort which was
popularly known as "French's," and official-
ly as the " Art Emporium." Here Eom-
ney suddenly excused himself. " Since I
have come thus far,'' he said, " I might as
well go a little farther, and see one or two
troublesome people on a troublesome matter
of business. I will be back in about half an
hour. I suppose you will have exhausted
your raptures by that time, and I can ad-
mire the picture at my leisure."
He lifted his hat bowed smiled van-
ished while the others, by no means dis-
consolate at his departure, entered the se-
rene and somewhat dim region (it would be
sacrilege to call it a shop), the popularity
of which as a lounging resort needed no ex-
planation after a single glance at the vista
of beauty which opened at once on the gaze.
It speaks well for the taste of the multitude
that, provided they can obtain the luxury
free of cost, they always like to be sur-
rounded by things that embody the beau-
tiful ; and that, even in a community which
is substantially unheedful and unappreciative
of art, any gallery thrown open to the public
is sure of being well patronized by sight-seers.
Wise legislators and wise philanthropists,
knowing this, provide such places of resort,
and so, by indirect means, educate the pop-
ular taste, and, by slow degrees, bring into
the barren popular life some of the soften-
ing and grace that comes alone of beauty
as we know it in art; but, such legislators
and such philanthropists being rarer than
precious jewels in America, the careless
majority, as well as the art-loving minority,
are fair to content themselves with and be
grateful for such substitutes as this " Em-
porium " of Mr. French. Yet there have
been worse ones, even in an artistic sense.
It was certainly a beautiful place a place
A DECLARATION NOT OF LOVE.
75
where pictures in gleaming frames rose tier
after tier on tlio walls; where groups of
statuary, in all their white motionless grace,
met the eye on every side ; where alabaster
vases and Parian statuettes abounded ; and
where there were always to be found the
finest specimens of marqueterie and the
rarest trifles of vei'tu that enterprise could
command or wealth obtain a place, too,
where the real connoisseur was always cer-
tain of being able to find good paintings at
terms not well, not extravagant. If Mr.
French demanded a good price for a good
thing, it was no more than he had an un-
doubted right to do ; and people who spent
their annual thousands on dresses and horses
and jewels, had the grace not to grumble
overmuch at the necessity of paying a few
hundreds now and then for the privilege of
hanging a picture worth calling a picture
on their walls especially since they knew
that these hundreds would go to the artist,
and not to tlie convenient agent who trans-
acted the business and pocketed the profits.
From this well-known and very common
character Mr. French was indeed as com-
pletely distinct as it is possible to imagine
two things. He was far less dealer than
gentleman, far less merchant than liberal
patron and lover of art. In his eyes, the
laborer was always worthy of his hire ; and
no artist had ever known him buy a picture
for one price and triple or quadruple the
amount when he sold it to some wealthy
dilettant. " Fair profits are one thing," he
was accustomed to say, " and gross robbery
is quite another. I would as soon steal a
man's purse as to buy his picture for a song
and sell it for a fortune." And no one had
ever been able to say that these principles
belied themselves. On the contrary, he had
made many a noble outlay, and done many
a generous deed which his right hand
that is, the world never suspected, but
which those whom he benefited not only
knew, but remembered so well, that his
praises were sounded far and wide among
the genial art brotherhood.
Groups of people were loitering about,
admiring various pictures, criticising various
statuettes, moving softly, and speaking with
the well-modulated voice of well-bred con-
versation, when the two ladies attended by
Darcy entered. They did not pause, how-
ever, but passed directly up a flight of stairs
to a room above a room that was evidently
the adytum of this sanctuary of art. It could
not have been called a gallery, for it was of
moderate size, finished with the simple ele-
gance of a drawing-room, and containing
only three or four pictures, together witli a
beautiful marble group which occupied the
centre of the floor. But even a tyro's glance
would have seen at once that each of the
three or four pictures were works of the
highest excellence, and the names attached
were of world-wide fame ; yet none of them
at present occupied the place of honor a
position at the head of the room where the
light fell broad, and full from a carefully-
toned sky-Avindow this was resei-ved for
the new painting, before which an attentive
group were standing when the three entered.
" Pray, let us wait until those people go,"
said Valerie, sinking down on a divan. " If
there is one thing I detest more than an-
other, it is looking at a picture over half a
dozen shoulders."
"I am rather tired, and a rest will be
pleasant," said Madame Yacquant, follow-
ing her example. " Maurice, don't let us de-
tain you. I see Mr, French wants to speak
to you."
She gave a gracious bow to the pleasant-
faced, gentlemanly man, who came forward
from the group aforesaid, and drew Darcy
aside ; then sank back, and devoted her-
self to a landscape opposite, until the knot
of people passed from before the picture,
and, with a few last words to Darcy, Mr.
French accompanied them from the room.
Then Maurice came forward. A vainer man,
or a man more distrustful of his own powers,
might have been fluttered by the ordeal be-
fore him ; but he only smiled quietly, as he
said :
" Will you both come and tell me what
you think of my work ? "
They both came and stood before it
each secretly steeled against admiration.
Tliis was what they saw :
A deep woodland glade a sort of dell it
seemed in the heart of an almost tropical
forest. Save for the want of sufiicient depth
7G
VALERIE AYLMER.
of coloring, and the lack of gorgeous para-
sites, the character of the scenery might
have heen identified with that of Mexico or
Brazil, but as it was with the fresh, eme-
rald verdure, the familiar forms of the well-
known forest - trees, the graceful swinging
creepers, and, farther back, the long, draping
gray moss that gave its only funereal aspect
to the scene there was no mistaking the
royal forest that, with little break or change
.of character, clothes our fair land, from the
Potomac to the Eio Grande ; deepening only
in luxuriance and beauty as it sweeps down
from the green Carolina hiUs to the golden
sands of the Mexic Gulf. Far back into
dim distance stretched a wall of living green,
but the foreground of the picture was en-
tirely occupied by the nook that formed an
island in the midst of this ocean of tangled
verdure. Here the light fell soft and dim
through the shade of overhanging boughs,
and the short turf was green and smooth as
any garden lawn ; here, also, it was evident
that the artist had striven to embody the
exuberant fulness of rejoicing with which
Nature sometimes breaks forth, filling all
inanimate creation with that pulse of joy
whicli thrilled it on the creation morning.
The spring that bubbled up between the
roots of a giant live-oak, the graceful wil-
low that bent to touch the stream, as it glided
away, the flowering vines that fringed its
course, the large moss-covered stones, the
fresh, emerald grass, the golden sunbeams
that glinted and quivered down through the
thick canopy of leaves, the bright-eyed bird
that arched its dainty neck to drink a fairy
draught of water, even the lizard that sunned
itself luxuriously on a fallen log had all been
touched by a brush that lingered lovingly
and carefully over each detail. And, in the
midst of this glad and lavish loveliness, there
lay stretched tlie dead figure of a soldier
thrown as if in the careless grace of slumber
beside the stream. There were no signs of
strife to mar the sylvan quiet, no trampled
grass, nor bloody tokens of mortal hate, and
deadly carnage only the overflowing vi-
tality of Nature in contrast with the man
who, like a wounded hart, had crept to this
covert to die only Life mocking the still
presence of Death, The uniform was that of
a private in the Confederate army the
worn and faded gray but no roughness of
costume could conceal the fact that it was a
gentleman who had lain down there to die.
There was not a personal mark that did not
tell the story of gentle blood and gentle rear-
ing. The slender build of form, the finely-
tapering extremities, the white and delicate
hand thrown up over the soft, silken curls,
and the clear, handsome outline of face (the
gazer could almost see the gray death-shade
stealing over it, and feel how proud and
beautiful those dark eyes must have been be-
fore the long lashes fell over them forevei;),
were all eloquent of culture, hereditary as
well as personal. One glove lay on the
grass, and near it the soldier's overturned
cup ; while, farther away, the carbine rested
where it had dropped from the failing grasp.
The other clinched hand held a handker-
chief to the ghastly wound upon the chest,
from which a dark-red tide poured on the
velvet mosses ; and over the whole picture
brooded a pathos unutterable. Few eyes
could have looked on it undimmed, and it
was not strange that, after a moment, Vale-
rie was raining a shower of tears beneath
her veil, while even Madame Yacquant was
subdued and silent. "When she did at last
speak, it was in that hushed tone which in-
voluntarily we adopt in a death-chamber,
for truly it seemed more as if the reality
than the shadow was present here.
" Maurice, it is beautiful it is wonder-
ful ! I almost feel as if the poor fellow had
just died before me ! But what is the name
of it ? "
"Missing," he answered, briefly.
" Nothing more ? "
" Nothing more."
"What more would you have? "asked
Valerie, speaking with an eftbrt. " Only
it reminds me of something I scarcely
know what."
" Perhaps I can tell you," said Darcy,
with a smile. "Is it not of an anony-
mous poem which appeared during the war
under that title? I thought it exquisite;
and it suggested this to me."
"Yes I remember now," she said.
And then in a low voice, often broken, she
repeated two verses :
A DECLARATION NOT OF LOVE.
11
\
" ' In the cool, sweet hush of a wooded nook.
Where the May-buds spriukle the green old sward,
And the winds, and the birds, and the limpid brook,
Mingle their strains with a drowsy sound.
Who lies so still in the plushy moss
His pale face pressed on a grassy pillow
Just where the light and the shadows cross.
In the flickering fringe of the willow
Who lies, alas I
So still, so chill, in the whispering grass ?
" ' A soldier clad in Zouave dress,
A bright-haired man, with his lips apart I
Ouehand thrown up o'er the frank, dead face.
The other clutching his pulseless heart.
Lies here in the shadows cool and dim.
His musket swept by a trailing bough.
With a careless grace in each quiet limb
But a wound on the manly brow
A wound, alas 1
Whence the warm blood drips on the quiet grass ! ' "
After that, they were silent a long
time.
Finally, however, Madame Vacquant
looked at her watch, and said that she must
go. She remembered a dozen things she
wanted, and especially that she meant to
look in at Easter's, and see if it was possi-
ble to find there a piece of velvet that
matched her purple silk. She turned to
Miss Aylmer.
" Valerie, will you come ? We can leave
a message with Mr. French, telling Julian
where to find us."
" I believe I would rather remain, if you
will excuse me," said Valerie. "Easter's
is farther down, is it not ? Then you call
for me on your return. I have not seen
half enough of this picture yet."
She kept her seat on the sofa that Darcy
had wheeled forward, with evidently not
the least intention of stirring; so Madame
Vacquant looked at Maurice. "Do you
stay too ? " she asked, a little significantly.
Before he could reply, Valerie answered
promptly :
" No. I would not think of keeping Cap-
tain Darcy. Pray take him with you, for it
cannot be very interesting to sit and look at
one's own picture."
" More interesting than you would im-
agine," he said, with a laugh ; but he add-
ed, turning to Madame Vacquant: "Of
course I am at your service for Easter's or
elsewhere."
She accepted the oiFer very graciously.
aud they left the room together. Then
Valerie leaned back with a deep sigh of re-
lief, and, resting her cheek on her hand,
looked steadily at the canvas before her
looked until the lines wavered and grew
dim, and the pale, handsome face of the
dead soldier seemed resting in a mist. She
had only just raised her hand to dash away
the obtrusive tears, when a familiar step
made her turn quickly, and she faced Darcy,
who was entering the room.
Perhaps she did not care to dissemble
her not-very- weU-pleased surprise. Her first
words were :
"I thought you accompanied Madame
Vacquant."
"Madame Vacquant was kind enough
to dispense with my attendance," he said.
"She found Mrs. Jennings down-stairs, and
they have gone together, after agreeing that
I would doubtless make but a poor appraiser
of silks and laces. So I came back glad to
find you still alone."
Now, in the course of her life, a great
many people, at a great many different
times, had been glad to find Valerie alone ;
so that the formula was quite a familiar one
to her ears. But it was certainly the last
she had ever expected to hear from Maurice
Darcy. Of course she did not misunderstand
him, or fancy, for a moment, that whatever
he wished with her could bear a tender sig-
nificance ; but still, all things considered, it
was scarcely wonderful that the large eyes
opened in her astonishment.
" Yes," she said. " Of course I am still
alone. Did you expect to find any one with
me?"
"No," he answered, with his cool, quiet
smile, which she never exactly understood,
and therefore never exactly fancied. " But,
luck favors me so seldom and this is luck
that I can afford to be incredulous when
there does come a manifestation. May I sit
down ? I have something to say to you
which I hope will not take very long; but
one may as well talk at one's ease."
She bent her head a little, and swept
back her flowing draperies, so as to leave the
other end of the divan clear; then she said
carelessly :
" I confess I am at a loss to imagine
IS
VALERIE AYLMER.
wliat you can possibly have to say to me in
in this way."
" You would hardly he likely to guess,"
he said, with another flitting smile. " It is
seldom, I fancy, that you have been enter-
tained by matters so prosaic as legacies and
rights of inheritance. Nay, you need not
start" she had started very perceptibly
" I will not bore you if I can help it."
But here she interrupted him, her face
flushing slightly:
" I don't know that you need trouble
yourself to explain any thing. Captain Dar-
cy. I already understand the nature of our
conflicting claims, and, if the matter at all
rested with me, would be perfectly willing
to waive mine but it does not do so.
Grandpapa alone can decide about his fu-
ture arrangements; and you must excuse
me if I decline entering into a discussion
from which no good can possibly ensue."
She spoke in her usual clear, silvery
tone, fluently and without hesitation. Dar-
cy heard her to the close, and then answered
calmly :
" And you must excuse me if I still press
my desire to be heard. Perhaps I had bet-
ter begin by explaining that you totally mis-
understand all that I wish to say. You
speak of ' conflicting claims ' there I must
beg leave to correct you. No claims of
mine do, or possibly can, conflict with
yours."
Sbe looked up at him thinking in her
lieart, the while, that he was even a subtler
schemer than she had fancied, or else he
would not attempt to split hairs in this way,
and waved her hand with a slight gesture of
scorn, as she answered :
" What does it matter ? You know
what I mean even although I may have
used terms that wore a shade incorrect. I
do not see that it makes any material differ-
ence whether you have a claim on grand-
papa, or whether he enriches you by his
own free will. Once more, believe me that
the matter is not of sufficient importance to
me for your definitions to pi*ove of interest."
"And once more I must be uncivil
enough to force them on you," he said, be-
ginning in turn to speak a little haughtily.
"At least," and the tone softened down
again, "for your sake. No, pray don't
speak " as Valerie unclosed her lips evi-
dently with that intention " we shall never
get forward, if we keep on talking at cross-
purposes. Let me make matters clear, and
then you may answer what you please. It
will not take me many minutes to do so, for
I have not much to say."
Still he paused as if rather uncertain
how to say even that much. But Valerie
gave him no assistance. She only leaned
back silently, waiting for him to speak.
After a moment, he resumed dashing at
once and very summarily into the heart of
his subject:
" I believe you regard me as a mercenary
schemer, endeavoring to deprive you of your
inheritance. I do not resent the suspicion.
It is perhaps natural, for you do not know
me. But I ask you to dismiss that appre-
hension entirely and forever, I have never
had the least intention of accepting any be-
quest from my uncle. What his intention
has been, I do not know, nor does it matter
since I have already told him explicitly
that he must not put my name in his will."
The firm, clear tones paused at those
words, and Valerie looked up Avitli a start.
"I am sorry to hear that," she said, still
coldly, but with some appearance of inter-
est. "I have been thinking what a good
thing it was that grandpapa had found an
heir who seemed to suit him so Avell. As
for me, I regret that you, that any one, for
that matter, should consider me so merce-
nary as to have been coveting this money
and not wishing you to have it. As I un-
derstand the matter, grandpapa Avithheld
his sister's fortune, and it is only right it
is only common honesty that he should re-
store it to her representative. I have
thought so ever since I heard any thing
about it. I should indeed feel very great
contempt for myself if I had thought any
thing else."
She spoke quietly, almost indifferently,
toying the while with the tassels of her
muff; and, when she finished, sank back
again into her former languid attitude.
From this, however, Darcy's next Avords
roused her perceptibly spoken as they
were very simply :
A DECLARATION NOT OF LOVE.
" This morning my uncle who seems to
share your opinion about conflicting claims
proposed to me a mode of compromise
which I should never think of mentioning to
you if he had not said that you Avere already
aware of his wishes on the subject. I see
you know what I mean."
lie might well see, since the blood surged
up to the very roots of her hair, and her
hand, losing over the silken cord with which
she was toying, snapped it quite in two.
"When she lifted her eyes, they were all
ablaze with indignation.
" Yes, I have heard of it," she said. " Do
I need to tell you what I thought of it? "
" No," he answered. " I have never
done you such great injustice as to require
a word on the subject. Of course, I knew
that you would only reject the proposition.
But then you did not know that I would be
inclined to do likewise ; and you might very
naturally perhaps you have feared serious
annoyance from me."
Here she interrupted him. "You are
mistaken. I have never yet feared or en-
dured serious annoyance from any one."
"I beg your pardon, then," he said. "I
only thought it probable that I might ac-
count in this way for much that has been
repellent in your manner toward me. I
thought that perhaps you meant to mark
decidedly the absence of hope for me; and
that it would be well if I put your mind at
rest on the subject, by assuring you that I
have never for a moment entertained any
intention of becoming a suitor for your
hand; and furthermore" the speaker
could not restrain this " that no such in-
tention is at all possible in the future."
Xow, it chanced that Valerie possessed
a very keen sense of humor, and this state-
ment, at once so explicit and so earnest,
struck her with such a sudden sense of the
ludicrous, that even vanity was, for the mo-
ment, subordinate to amusement, and she
startled her companion by an irresistible
peal of laughter.
" Pray forgive me," she said, after a mo-
ment for it is surprising how a hearty
laugh can scatter the mists of ill-humor
" but I really could not help it. I have
never m my life been rejected before, and
something must bo allowed for the novelty
of the sensation. You are very kind, but
do you think it was necessary to be quite so
candid and uncompromising ? "
"I have always found plain speaking
answer best," he replied. "It was an un-
complimentary explanation, but I fancied
you would pardon the incivility for the sake
of the truth. Once for all, set your mind at
rest with regard to your inheritance, and
believe that you have neither a rival nor a
lover to fear in me."
He spoke the last words decidedly, and
rose at their conclusion. Evidently he had
said his say, and meant to go, if Valerie had
not made a motion to detain him. With aU
her faults, there was not in her an atom of
the false pride which cannot freely acknowl-
edge an error ; so, after a moment, she
spoke hurriedly, as if somewhat doubting
her own resolution, but bravely, as if de-
termined to go through with it :
" You are perfectly right, Captain Darcy.
Plain speaking is best; so I hope you will
not be surprised that I follow your example,
and give you a return of it. The project of
which you only heard this morning, I was
informed of before I left home ; and I am
sure you need be at no loss to imagine the
consequences even if you had not seen
them. I came here against my will, to be
placed on exhibition before a man to whom
my hand had been offered, as I supposed !
That was a pleasant position, don't you
think so ? "Well, the result was, that I tried
to show you that I had no part in such a
plan, and that you might keep the fortune
forever and a day without my sending a sigh
after it. You say that I considered you a
mercenary schemer? Frankly, I did. I
thought you were here to acquire and retain
influence over grandpapa; and, although I
never grudged you the fortune ^part of it,
at least, I thought your right still I felt
very sincere contempt for the fortune-seek-
er. I now recognize the injustice of tliese
opinions, and I am not ashamed to beg your
pardon for them."
Half-proudly, but very gracefully, she
held out her hand, with a gesture which
the veriest churl could scarcely have disre-
garded ; and which made Darcy appreciate,
80
VALERIE AYLMER.
as he had never done before, her singular
power of fascination. He only held the
little pearl-gloved member for a moment,
however ; then released it, saying :
"You are very good but we won't
speak of pardon at all, if you please, I
don't blame you. in the least for your opin-
ion as I said before, it was very natural,
and scarcely mattered to me at all. I
should never have cared to make this expla-
nation for my own sake."
Valerie looked up, biting her lip a little.
Indeed, such a tone would have been apt to
irk most women. " I cannot sufficiently ad-
mire your fVankness," she said, with a very
decided dash of sarcasm,
"Don't trouble yourself to do so," Dar-
cy answered, with a pleasant laugh. "Peo-
ple who admired my frankness would find
a good deal to occupy them. And now I
leave you to the solitude which I inter-
rupted. TVill you be kind enough to make
my excuses to Madame Vacquant, and say
that a business engagement prevents my ac-
companying her home ? "
Valerie bent her head, and, as she made
no answer, nor any effort to detain him, he
left the room.
For the next five minutes, Miss Aylmer's
face was a study amusement, vexation,
surprise, and pique, were so plainly mingled
there. Then they all suddenly cleared
away, and the dark eyes lifted themselves
clear and bright, while the lips unclosed in
a low laugh.
"So my opinion 'scarcely mattered at
all!'" she said, with the glance of a chal-
lenged champion, " Truly, I begin to think
this haughty gentleman needs a lesson
in good manners, at least. It may prove
worth while to give it to him I have
rather a fancy for a man who does not low-
er his flag at once and then he can remem-
ber for his comfort rira Men que rira h
dernier ! "
It is almost useless to say that to will
and to do in matters of conquest were
quite the same thing with the speaker ; but,
if she could have foreseen what this resolu-
tion was to cost herself and others, she
might, perhaps, for once, have paused. She
did not foresee it, however; and so she
walked on to the end. Doubtless we all do
that, but it goes doubly hard with us when
that end if it be a dark or bitter one is
of our own making.
BOOK III,
CHAPTER I.
A TEST OF POWER.
Chbistmas had come and gone, and the
season was fairly at its height, when, on a
certain January evening of sleet and snow,
a party of three or four gentlemen were tak-
ing their ease, not exactly at an inn, but at
our civilized and latter-day substitute a
well-warmed and well-lighted club-house
apartment. Their conversation had been
ranging over many topics, social and other-
wise, for some time, until at last it chanced
to fall upon the most noted among the
reigning belles of the season.
'* It is rather singular," said one of them
Harry Arle, by name " that all the time
I am dancing and talking with her, I feel a
positive conviction that I have seen her
somewhere before, and an equally positive
incapacity to even imagine where it could
have been. The thing torments me as a
recollection jjlaying at hide-and-seek always
will and is the more remarkable since no-
body can say that she is a person likely to
be forgotten."
" Decidedly not a jjerson likely to be for-
gotten," said one who occupied the hearth-
rug, d, VAnglaise. " It is singular, certainly.
But then, after all, you may have met her
and forgotten it, Hal. Didn't you serve in
the trans-Mississippi for a while ? "
" To be sure I did, but what has that to
do with it ? If I had never heard of Valerie
Aylmer and I scarcely heard of anybody
else after I entered the Confederacy I
6
should hardly have been blockhead enough
to meet such a woman and forget her."
" But perhaps you might "
" There's no perhaps about it ! I didn't,
I tell you ! "
" Of course you didn't," said another,
laughing. " The thing would be impossible.
Don't excite yourself, Hal ; for nobody's
going to believe it. Even Thornton, cold-
blooded as he is, knows it would be impos-
sible."
"I don't know any thing of the kind,"
retorted he of the hearth-rug. " She is a
pretty woman, undoubtedly ; but, in those
days, men's heads were not running on pret-
ty women ; and, as it is, I am sure I should
forget her to-morrow, with any thing of im-
portance to drive her from my recollection."
" You ! Who ever set you up as a stand-
ard to go by ? "
" Nobody, I hope ; since he might readily
find a better one."
" And easily find a worse," said Arle.
" Don't abuse yourself, Thornton. It is such
bad taste, and so unnecessary, too, as long
as one has any friends left. So this is the
Miss Aylmer," he went on, meditatively ;
" the same that all those Louisiana fellows
used to swear by so tremendously. They
called her deuce take my memory ! what
was it they called her, Darford ? "
"Za ielle des 'belles,'''' answered the per-
son addressed. " I remembered the name
the first moment I saw her. Strangely
enough, too, I remembered Estmann's face
when he used to spring to his feet about
half-seas over crying out, ' Full glasses now,
82
VALERIE AYLMER.
boys ; for liere's health and long life to La
telle des helles ! ' Poor fellow ! he was about
as far gone in the matter of love as I have
ever seen anybody ; and now he's there,''
the speaker nodded toward the silent Vir-
ginia battle-fields " whUe she's here."
"In full blast, too," said Arle. "Well
such is life. 'To-day for me, to-morrow
for thee,' you know ; so by all means spend
to-day as royally as you can. That's the
philosophy the times have taught me. Est-
mann was not the only one of her victims,
though. There was Chatard of the twenty-
ninth he was killed at Malvern HUl, you
know and Boyd of the Washington Artil-
lery ; and "
"Pshaw ! " interrupted Thornton. " If
you begin counting over her list of killed and
wounded, you will find that half the Louisi-
ana brigades were spoony about her. She
was the standing toast at every mess-table
to which I ever was invited ; and I am sure
that at least one-third of the field-pieces
were named after her. Do you remember
that splendid mare Alston had shot under
Mm at Chancellorsville ? I really believe he
hated the loss of the creature, principally
because she was named La telle des belles.''''
" Well, can anybody tell me what is the
secret of it all ? " asked Number Four,
whose name was Stuart, and vrhose forte was
mild cynicism and skepticism. " She's pret-
ty, of course ; though a great deal too dark
for my taste but there are plenty other
pretty women in the world, and they don't
make such a noise. I should really like to
know the secret of it."
" You'd really like to know the origin of
evil too, wouldn't you? " asked Arle, laugh-
ing. "The questions are equally abstruse,
I take it. At least, I have known a great
many wise men in my life ; but I have never
yet known any of them wise enough to tell
how it is that one pretty woman goes through
the world unnoticed, while another, in no
degree prettier, is answerable for the imbe-
cility of dozens."
"I shouldn't think of making her an-
swerable for their imbecility," said Thornton.
" In cases of this kind, ' a fool's a fool for a'
that,' and it would go hard with women if
they were made accountable for all the ab-
surdity that has their name for its war-
rant."
" That's where we always disagree," said
Darford. "I don't know that it's worth
while arguing with you ; but my opinion re-
mains the same : no man ever made a fool
of himself without just provocation and en-
couragement."
" Take care, then, when you come Within
range of this fair lady," said Arle. "Report
has slandered her terribly if she does not un-
derstand this provocation and encourage-
ment better than any other woman of her
day and generation."
" Perhaps that is what is the matter with
Eomney," jjut in the cynic. " Has anybody
noticed a change in him lately ? "
" For better, or for worse ? "
"Well, not exactly for either. There's
a difference; but I should not feel justified
in describing it as an improvement."
"Perhaps you mean that crimson sling,"
suggested Arle. "It is remarkably becom-
ing!"
" Hold your envious tongue ! " retorted
Thornton. " You haven't forgiven him for
that walk in the snow yet. Don't mind his
interruption, Stuart. Explain what you
mean."
" I don't know that I can explain," said
Stuart, in an injured tone. " Anybody that
had eyes might have seen it for himself.
He isn't as fretful and ready to take offence
of late, but he's twice as supercilious and
full of self-conceit."
" He hasn't played any to speak of since
he got well," said Arle, " and that's some-
thing remarkable."
"Nor flirted any, either," subjoined
Darford.
" And from these facts you argue that the
pretty Prince Charming is probably netted! "
"Something more than probably, I
should say ; considering that he is on tenns
of the most evident intimacy with this fair
lady, and, with aU his llase affectations, I
really think Eomney is spoony at bottom."
" Oh, he was completely knocked over
some time ago," said Darford, carelessly. " I
shouldn't be surprised if he succeeded, too ;
and, if so, he'll make a good thing of it. Miss
Aylmer is her grandfather's sole heiress."
A TEST OF POWER.
83
" She's got a l)rother,".said Stuart. " I
met liim ia Paris this fall."
" She's got two of them, for that mat-
ter," answered Arle, coolly; " but they are
her half-brothers no relation to M. Vac-
quant. I have heard on the best possible
authority, however, that he means to leave
the bulk of his fortune to his nephew."
" My dear fellow, what do you consider
the best possible authority ? "
*' "What do you think of Madame Yac-
quant ? "
Darford, who had asked the former ques-
tion, shrugged his shoulders contemptu-
ously.
" I don't think any thing at all. I should
not trust a statement of hers any further
than I wanted to. She'd say the moon
was made of green cheese, if such an asser-
tion would serve her purpose in any way.
As for this, it's not like her habitual caution
to speak so openly of a family matter ; and
that in itself would make me suspect some-
thing. Ten to one, Miss Aylmer is the
heiress ; and she spreads this report to keep
the course clear until her pretty darling has
come in at the winning-post."
" You are right," said Thornton, nodding
toward the speaker. " I give you credit for
your sagacity. It's not many people who
see that far into la madatne. For my part,
I hold her to be a woman whose diplomatic
power is so great that she is simply wasted
in her present position. She should have
been born to the throne of all the Rus-
sias, where she could have . revelled in af-
fairs of state to her heart's content. But
I can't help hoping it may be true about
Darcy's heirship ! he is such a capital fel-
low ! "
" He is indeed ! " said Arle, warmly
" the very best of fellows ! But his picture-
painting does not look much as if he were a
presumptive millionnaire, does it? I wish,
by-the-way, he'd settle here. "We need a
first-rate artist deplorably. "Wouldn't Miss
Riviere be enchanted if he did? Do you
know, I really think there is something seri-
ous in that quarter? I wouldn't blame him,
either. She's charming in every thing but
the one great essential confound it ! By-
the-way, Thornton, you are cm courant of
every thing musical can you tell me
whether she is really meditating a public
appearance ? "
"]S"ot I," said Thornton. "But, for her
own sake, I hope the report is unfounded."
""Why?"
" Sim])ly because she would fail, if she
were foolish enough to attempt such a
thing."
" I don't see that."
" Don't you ? Then I trust you never
may that's all."
" Have you ever heard her sing? "
"Never."
" Then how the deuce "
"Oh, nonsense, Darford! Don't you
know Thornton is wholly incredulous of
'native talent,' and 'native culture,' and all
that sort of thing ? " interrupted Arle, laugh-
ingly. " He puts his trust in Italian sing-
ers, and disdains every thing below Ger-
man fiddles. I only wonder he ever said a
good word for anybody born this side of
the water."
" I certainly don't put my trust in ama-
teur vocalists, who have had their heads
turned by drawing-room applause, and want
to carry their weak falsettos on the boards,"
said Thornton, indifferently. " I liave never
heard Miss Riviere sing ; but I don't know
where she would stow away a voice in that
childish figure of hers ; at all events, she had
better think twice before she comes before
the public."
"Then there's Romney," said Stuart
not vei*y relevantly, as it seemed. " I've
always thought it a pity he would not try
the lyric stage. He has a capital tenor, and
the profession would suit him. The perpet-
ual incense and flattery might do something
toward soothing that chronic discontent of
his. if any thing could."
"A proviso well added," said Arle,
throwing away the burning end of his cigar.
" At least if he ever does take such a step, I
should be profoundly thankful that Fate did
not make a stage-manager of me, Now,
Apropos des lottes, who is opera-bound to-
night?"
" All of us, I fancy," said Darford. " Do
you mean to say it is time? If so, I must
be off, for I have a troublesome couple of
84
VALERIE AYLMER.
cousins on my hands. Thornton, do you
take anybody ? "
Thornton shook his head. He rarely
took anybody in the way Darford meant.
" No," he said. " I need to keep my
ears open as I shall have to tell to-morrow
how often the tenor sang B natural when he
ought to have sung B flat and if you ever
succeeded in doing that with a woman by
your side, it is more than I have. No mat-
ter whether a cavatina or a duo is going on,
the pretty creatures will prattle about the
basso's eyes and the prima donna's dress !
Is it an off-night of escort- duty with either
of you two ? "
" Not with me," said Stuart, gloomily.
" I half promised Violet to come back,"
said Arle ; " but I doubt if she expects me
the Tracys were to call for her anyway."
" Then you'll come with me," said
Thornton, " and, after the opera, we'll ad-
journ for supper to Guy's."
"Agreed."
Then the quartet broke up.
An hour or two later, when Messieurs
Arle and Thornton were shown to their
stalls in the parquet of a crowded house,
they found the seat adjoining them already
occupied by a gentleman who, turning round
on their entrance, proved to be Darcy. Sal-
utations were cordially exchanged, and then,
while he and Thornton fell into animated
conversation, Arle screwed his lorgnette
into place, and applied himself to a survey
of the scene. It was a very brilliant one ;
for with the exception of a ballroom, there
are few prettier sights than an opera-house
especially in Baltimore. From the dress-
circle down to the verge of the orchestra,
tliere was a perfect sweep of light and
beauty, of ileecy dresses, and downy opera-
cloaks, of waving fans and gleaming jewels,
of fair hair elaborately arranged, and fair
faces brightly smiling, until the coup deceit
was of almost dazzling effect. To one keen-
ly alive to such impressions, it was an over-
ture in itself, this bright gala-picture, this
surging, flashing sea of human life pent
within these narrow walls at the bidding of
a thousand different caprices, and broken
into a thousand different waves of thought
and feeling that were all soon to be toned
to the beating of one great pulse by the ris-
ing harmonies of the mighty power of music.
Arle recognized a dozen acquaintances, and
bestowed at least a dozen bows in half as
many minutes, when suddenly his glass
stopped short in its transit round the glitter-
ing horseshoe, and remained fixed on one
of the right-hand proscenium-boxes.
Nor was his the only one thus attracted,
for Miss Aylmer had just entered, and taken
her seat behind the curtains, drawing them
back with one hand, while her glance swept
over the house as quietly and indifferently
as though from every part of it the ivory-
mounted " double-barrels " had not been
levelled upon her. There is a great deal in
the consciousness of looking well to support
a woman under such a scrutiny, however
and Valerie had never looked better. She
was not at all one of the people whom the
French have in mind when they say, con-
temptuously, that by artificial light it is im-
possible to tell a woman from a gnat but
she " lighted up " splendidly. If she was
beautiful in ordinary dress, and by broad
daylight, she was something positively daz-
zling in evening costume, and amid evening
surroundings. She was now evidently
dressed for some after-ball, for, when she
loosened and partially threw back the soft
mass of cashmere and swan's-down that did
duty for a cloak, her shoulders gleamed like
polished marble above a corsage of rose-col-
ored silk cut d la Grecqve, and the shimmer
of large pearls encircled her throat. In her
masses of raven hair no chignon or water-
fall monstrosity had been called into play
the same beautiful gems gleamed with
their soft, fitful light, while her cheeks
glowed, her eyes shone, and her whole face
was so full of beauty so like in tint to a
fervid tropical blossom that even the im-
passive Thornton murmured as he lowered
his glass :
" La lelle des helles indeed ! No wonder
she does so much mischief only I should
think she would have accomplished her ap-
pointed share by this time."
" Look at Romney, if you want to see
about that," said Arle, with a laugh. " No
doubt of his being hard hit, eh, Darcy? "
A TEST OF POWER.
85
'' V amour et la fum'ee ne peuvant se
cacher,'''' answered Darcy, turning one care-
less t?lance on the handsome face and silken
sling that appeared just behind Valerie's
white shoulder. Then the overture clashed
forth, and there was silence with the trio.
Not so, however, in the box which, beside
Miss Aylmer and her cavalier, held Ma-
dame Vacquant and a certain ami de la mai-
son Harvey Wilmer by name who was
the most convenient person imaginable for
hack-duty, being always ready to play es-
cort at a moment's notice, and never of-
fended or disquieted at being dropped with
any amoimt of summary haste. When the
overture began, he had just discovered Mau-
rice Darcy's presence in the house, and an-
nounced the fact to his companion.
She nodded, with a smile.
" lie has been in Richmond for a day or
two," she said, " and I quite forgot his in-
tended return when I asked you to accom-
pany us. Of course, after that, I had no seat
to offer him. He promised to look in dur-
ing the evening, however. Is not some one
entering the opposite box ? I will trouble
you for my glasses."
The glasses were surrendered and fixed
just in time to catch the timid grace with
which a dainty, brown-eyed girl entered the
box in question, and, without throwing off
her wrappings, at once sank out of sight
behind the curtains, while a pale, elegant
Avoman advanced to the front with a high-
bred composure which was very perfect.
They were quite alone, and Madame Vac-
quant lowered her lorgnette with something
of a shrug.
"Mi*s. Riviere and Alix," she said.
" They make a point of being present at
every thing musical, I believe and rarely
accept an escort. There must be some
foundation for the rumor that Ah ! the
curtain is going up ! "
The opera was " Faust ; " and since this
was among its earliest representations in
Baltimore, quite a hush reigned over the
house during the act which ensued. The
Marguerite of the occasion was one who,
since then, has almost made the role her
own playing it with unbounded applause
before the most critical audiences of the Old
World; bu',, tliough she has gained power
and culture, none who see her to-day will
say that she has gained grace and expres-
sion since she charmed us in those early
days, when she came shyly moving across
the stage in her peasant kirtle, with her
downcast eyes, and a missal closely clasped
in her slender hands. When the act ended,
there was a surging movement all over the
house, as of some anxiety safely passed ;
then, while the tribute of enthusiasm was
still echoing, Darcy and Arle rose with one
accord from their seats.
"Of course," said Thornton, "you do
well to be in baste ^if you want even so
much as a smile for there are plenty more
moving in the same direction. I take it for
granted you are both going there ? "
He nodded toward the box where Va-
lerie was already holding court; but Dar-
cy shook his head.
"Arle may speak for himself," he said ;
" but I am bound for quite another part.
How is it, Hal ? You are going there ?
Well, au revoir, then ! "
He moved away, and a few minutes later
opened the door of the box that contained
Mrs. Riviere and her daughter. Both ladies
turned round on his entrance, and both of
their faces brightened so cordially that it
was easy to see what a welcome visitor he
was. A familiar visitor, too, their greetings
proved; and the sweet face of the girl
looked pleased and happy as that of a child,
when he sat down by her, and asked how
she liked the prima donna. Her raptures
made him smile a little ; but he listened to
them, with that indulgent air which plainly
shows that even nonsense from the lips of
the speaker would be pleasant ; and, as he
listened, he also looked.
Artist as he was, he had certainly rarely
seen a prettier sight at which to look. No-
body had ever called Alix Riviere beautiful,
and probably nobody ever would do so,
since in the popular estimation there are
certain elements of brilliance needed to
make a type of even moderate beauty ; and
brilliant Alix never was. Indeed, every tint
of her face, and every line of her figure,
was so subdued and harmonious, that, un-
less attention were called to the fact, people
86
VALERIE AYLilER.
rarely noticed how exquisitely delicate was
the one, how perfect in symmetry was the
other. They said she was "lovely" and
"charming," and a dozen other things be-
sides, and they knew that she was as grace-
ful and fresh as a wild-flower of her native
woods ; but they never opened their eyes
to see what a refined and dainty beauty she
really possessed. Darcy saw it to-night,
however saw the fitful blushes coming and
going under the transparent skin, saw the
sweet curl of the flexile lips, the clear, clas-
sical outline of feature and head, the coronal
of brown curls, silken as the plumage of a
bird, and waving all around the fair, open,
childlike brow a brow in form and shape
like Mozart's and, above all, the large
brown eyes, full of soft gloom, and deeply
set under the arched brows. Once only he
glanced away from her glanced across the
house, to the vivid face just opposite and
then back again. It was, after this, that he
said:
"What is the reason you have been am-
buscading in this dark comer all the even-
ing? I watched for even so much as a
glimpse of you but I watched vainly.
There are not so many fair faces here to-
night that we can afi'ord to dispense with
one of the fairest."
She looked up at him with very genuine
rebuke in her eyes.
"That does not sound like you," she
said. "I don't fancy compliments from my
friends. To tell the truth, I have kept in
the background because I wanted to listen
to the music without being interrupted by
visitors. You need not raise your eye-
brows. You know I don't mean you. But
if I had come forward, I should not have
been afraid of much observation-^with Miss
Aylmer just opposite. Is she not looking
brilliantly?"
"Very," ho answered, quietly; "but I
did not know that you especially admired
her."
"I ! Oh, indeed yes. It is a matter of
obligation with every Louisianian to admire
La 'belle des idles, you know, I think she
is the most beautiful the very most beauti-
fiil woman I ever saw. What a grace and
charm there is in her every movement!
Look, Captain Darcy ^look at that atti-
tude ! "
With a smile, he took the lorgnette she
eagerly extended, and raised it to his eves
looked for a moment, then lowered it
again.
"It is a very perfect picture," he said,
coolly, " Only, don't you think it is a pity
that one feels sure it has been so well
studied?"
" What do you mean ? " she asked, a lit-
tle wonderingly,
" I mean," he answered, carelessly, " Miss
Aylmer remembers exactly how many lor-
gnettes are levelled on her, and knows to a,
shade how far to advance her hand or ar-
range her drapery not to speak of those
smiles and glances which are as plainly
stage-eff'ects as the prima donna's flaxen
tresses."
Alix looked up all indignant reproach
^but the curtain rose at the moment, and
Darcy was spared the task of justifying his
aspersions. She turned at once to the stage,
and for the time being had neither eyes nor
ears for any thing else. Her absorption was
so complete, that she was entirely uncon-
scious of the interest with which Maurice
watched her; or that he smiled at her
eagerness as she leaned forward, drinking in
every note of the plaintive and beautiful
"King of Thule." She looked up at him
when the air was finished, and their eyes
met with that fulness of common sympathy
which some of us know, or think we know,
once or twice in life but never oftener.
" Oh, was it not exquisite ? " sighed the little
enthusiast, out of the very depths of her
music-loving heart. Then her gaze travelled
back to the stage, and soon she was bound
in a spell of rapture by the brilliant and
difficult strain of the "Air des Bijoux." It
was here that Darcy began to share her ab-
sorption that the great prima donna ex-
tended the spell of her power over him too.
Of course he did not throw himself body
and soul into the tide of harmonies, as the
trembling, quivering, impressionable nature
beside him was doing ; but he forgot other
surroundings for a space, and was swayed
by the pathos and power of the scene before
him. Ah, that matchless music of Gounod!
A TEST OF POWER.
87
Most of us have heard it again and again,
and yet we learn a deeper lesson each time
that we do hear it, and we go away as if we
could never, never learn all its subtle mean-
ings and hidden beauties but will any of us
ever forget the hour when Ave heard it first,
when through and through us the mighty
pulse of the master's genius rushed till earth
seemed fading away beneath our feet, and
the hot, sharp pleasure was more intense
than, and almost as bitter as, pain? In the
famous "garden-scene," the prima donna's
abandon of passion, her intensely dramatic
powers of acting, her marvellous voice,
Vhich inomently developed new fidness and
compass, held her audience enchained as
one man. As one man, that vast, silent
crowd hushed its breath struggled with
her thrilled with her trembled with her
sank with her into the depths of woman's
loving weakness ! When at last the curtain
fell, it was not strange that, from gallery to
pit, the applause broke forth in one wild
storm, rising and falling only to rise again,
when a fair, smiling girl, who had nothing in
common with poor, impassioned Marguerite,
made her appearance before the curtain,
bowing her graceful thanks to right and left.
Then Alix turned round in a perfect
fever of enthusiasm.
" Is she not charming? Is she not glori-
ous ? Ah, who would not be a great canta-
trice? " was her cry.
"Would you be a great cantatrice in
opera?" asked Darcy, a little significantly.
She hesitated a moment then looked up
at her mother and smiled. " Well no,
not in opera, I believe, I had forgotten the
acting, and was thinking only of the sing-
ing. That is so beautiful! I wonder I
wonder " Her voice broke down here,
but her companion seemed to understand
what she meant.
"Don't wonder any thing about it," said
he, kindly. "Remember that confidence
in your own power is sometimes half the
battle. The day is not far distant when you
will be as well or better knowTi to fame
than the singer you have heard to-night."
" You are very good to say so, but "
"But what?"
" I cannot think so ; and indeed I do not
care much for it to be so. I love Music so
well that I would gladly serve her as bond-
woman all my life, without any other rec-
ompense than she herself gives. But since
that is impossible, since I nintst hope for a
little reward, I hope for it in the shape of
money, not of fame."
" Hush, Alix ! " said her mother, laugh-
ing. " You shock Captain Darcy by such
mercenary avowals."
" Captain Darcy does not look shocked,"
said Alix, glancing at him shyly. " I am
not afraid to talk so before him he under-
stands me."
" Yes, I think I do," said Darcy, quickly,
and in his heart he truly did. He under-
stood how this sensitive nature slirank from
the fierce glare of that publicity which we
call fame, and how still more deeply it re-
coiled from making merchandise of the ser-
vice which was to her as it is to every true
child of music only a degree less holy than
the service of God. In her soul there was
music always, her whole life was set to the
half-unconscious rhythm of noble harmonies,
and there was not a thought or an act of it
apart from this great worship ; but still, she
faced bravely and steadily the necessity of
taking these heaven-born powers and inspi-
rations into the rude market of the world.
It was out of the very depths of her devotion
that she said those words which disgust us
so often in their sordid application " I de-
sire money, not fame."
"I have a favor to ask of you," Darcy
said, after a moment's pause. " You dine at
my aunt's to-morrow evening, don't you?
Yes I thought so. Well, I want you to
sing for Thornton ! "
Alix drew back and looked at him a
good deal surprised, and a little aghast.
" For Mr. Thornton the great musical'
critic ! Oh, Captain Darcy, I would do any
thing almost any thing you asked me.
But I cannot do that ! "
" Why not? He is no lion going about
to devour unwary singers."
"Isn't he? Well, I really thought he
was, and you must admit that such is his
character. No, no. I cannot think of it. I
am sure I should disgrace myself if I even
tried"
88
VALERIE AYLMER.
She broke off here, for the box-door
opened at that moment, and two gentlemen
entered. They were not Baltimoreans, but
Louisianians, who, chancing to be in the
house, had recognized Mrs. Riviere and
her daughter, and came up to renew an old
acquaintance. So, rendered quite de troi^
by the cordial greetings and inquiries which
immediately took place, Darcy surrendered
his seat to one of them, and went back to
Thornton.
Meanwhile, matters were not progressing
as smoothly as might have been desirable in
that box where, for the time being. Miss Ayl-
mer had established her court. There was,
indeed, very serious revolt on hand, though
no one would have suspected as much from
the fair sovereign's cloudless brow, and only
a close observer could have detected an oc-
casional glance stealing now and then tow-
ard the dark corner where, moody and jeal-
ous, Romney had retired to chew the cud
of injured meditation. His grievances had
begun early in the evening begun with
some trifling cause of offence even before
they left home and every successive hour
had swollen them into greater magnitude.
For some time, he held his ground steadily
at the back of Valerie's chair ; but she had
never been in brighter spirits, and so many
thronged around her, that he found even a
whisper in her ear the next thing to impossi-
ble. Almost any other man would have had
sense enough to perceive that, for once, she
preferred word-jjlay with a dozen to senti-
ment with one, and, perceiving this, have
been reasonably content to bide his time.
But Julian was never reasonable, nor ever
content to see attention, that should have
been given to him, monopolized by one
other or twenty others. Ilis offended jeal-
ousy waxed apace with every fresh offering
of incense, and every gracious smile which
rewarded each, until at last the cup of his
indignation overflowed, and, heedless of his
mother's remonstrant glances, he pushed
back his chair like an angry school-boy,
and retired into a comer to sulk. There he
sat, dark and lowering, while Arle took
possession of the vacant seat, and listened
eagerly wliile Valerie told him how she had
once nursed liim through a fever in one of the
hospitals of Shreveport. "When she finished,
the young man looked up at her with a
grateful light shining in his frank eyes.
" So that is why your face has always
seemed so strangely familiar to me," he
said " more like some fragment of a dream
than any thing else? I remember it all
now! I remember that, when I got well,
and thanked Sister Theresa for my life, she
told me that it was not to her I owed it,
but to some lady who had nursed me night
and day until I was out of danger. I little
thought I should ever find that lady in the
toast of every Louisiana soldier."
" Yes," said Valerie, with a blush and a
smile. "The hospitals were so crowded,
that the sisters could not do all the nursing,
and several of us volunteered our aid. Yours
was the worst case in my ward I shall never
forget how you raved ! and so, of course,
I knew you again as soon as I saw you. I
was only very sorry that I had to leave
town before you were entirely recovered
but papa was transferred to another com-
mand, and the doctor assured me you were
out of danger."
'' I am glad he was right," said the young
man earnestly. "I am glad that I am alive
to thank you for your kindness, and am still
more glad to hope that I may some day find
means of repaying it at least in part.
Will you remember that you have one
sworn defender and champion, if ever you
should need either defender or champion? "
" Yes, I will remember," she said.
" But pray don't talk of thanks and repay-
ment, or else you will force me to tell you
that what I did for you I would have done
for any other soldier and did do for many
others."
" And do you think that lessens the ob-
ligation?" he asked. "I should rather
think that it increased it. In one sense, at
least, we are more grateful to strangers
than to friends for care or aid. I won't
trouble you with thanks if you do not like
them, however. I shall only hold Fortune
ray debtor until she gives me one good
chance to render you service."
Valerie smiled. She liked the gallant
young Marylander who had given up so
much, and suffered so much, for the cause
A TEST OF POWER.
89
she loved; and fpr -wliom her heart had
bled when he lay tossing in burning delirium
thousands of miles from his home ; but
these words had a very unreal sound to her
ear as indeed such words will have in the
midst of surroundings like hers. It was
hardly likely that it would ever be in the
power of this stranger to do her service ;
but still she thanked him as she well knew
how to thank, adding half sadly: "We only
did our duty we women but it was a
duty that was its own best reward. I am
sure there is not one of us who, if we could,
would take back the sacrifices, or forget
the privations, of those years of glory and
suffering. I don't mean to talk hackneyed
sentiment ; but there is nothing more true
than that life has never given us, never can
give us, a greater pleasure than the pleasure
of serving the men who were fighting for us.
But this is serious talk for an opera, is it
not ? and see I here is the chapel-scene, to
be in keeping."
She turned her face toward the stage, and
her companion had discretion enough to be
silent, while the mild, sad refrain wailed
from the orchestra like the cry of a lost
spirit, as the long procession swept slowly
into the church, leaving Marguerite prone
among the desolate tombs. It must be a
soul inseparably wedded to levity, a heart
wholly given over to frivolity, which this
weird, haunting dirge does not move to its
utmost depths does not stir and shake in
every chord, by the hopeless desolation too
deep even for the agony which breathes in
its unutterable mournfulness, Just now, it
touched Valerie like the voice of her own
bereavement. Arle's words indeed, his
very presence had brought back, ah ! so
vividly, the bitter pain, the sweeping deso-
lation, which is all that the name of " coun-
try " -can give to any of her race ; and, as
she leaned back behind the curtains, shel-
tered by their shade, and the gloom hanging
over all things, burning tears rose into her
eyes, and there seemed an answering pang
of her heart for every wail of the dying
melody. We talk of the fitness of things ;
but perhaps there is nothing so striking in
life as their very unfitness as the fact that,
whenever some great emotion seizes us, as
it were, despite our will, it does not choose
what we would consider a fitting time or
place, but overpowers us amid surroundings
that add to its force by their very elements
of discordance !
After a while, when Valerie looked round,
she found, to her surprise, that Darcy had
entered the box, and was standing behind
Madame Vacquant. She felt a little piqued,
for she thought he might have come earlier,
or not come at all ; but she was about to
summon him with a motion of her hand to
the chair which Arle had by this time va-
cated, when Romney suddenly came back
and took possession of it. It would have
been well if he had cleared his face before
doing so, or at least modulated his voice to
some proper tone ; but, on the contrary, he
looked as lowering as ever, and spoke ab-
ruptly almost rudely.
"I thought that fellow was never going!
Can I at last have a little of your atten-
tion ? "
Valerie's brows contracted. Insolence
and familiarity were two things for which
she had ever possessed little tolerance and
less patience.
" My attention has been at the service
of whoever chose to claim it, all the even-
ing," she said, coldly. "If you "
" Yes," he interrupted, bitterly ; " if I
had felt inclined to take a nod now and
then between the words and smiles you gave
to others, I might no doubt have had it ;
but you ought to know, by this time, that I
cannot do that I will not do it ! If I can-
not obtain what I desire what you gave
me a day or two ago I prefer to take
nothing."
" I am afraid you will have to content
yourself with nothing, then," she said, cooUy.
" As for what I gave you a day or two ago,
that was nothing, that I am aware of, be-
sides friendliness and courtesy. They are
still at your command, unless you choose to
throw them away of your own accord. In
that case, I beg that I may not be held ac-
countable."
Perhaps General Aylmer was right
perhaps she was already growing tired of
her pretty toy. At least, she would not
have spoken thus a week ago, and he felt
90
VALERIE AYLMER.
it. lie grew very pale, and bit Ms lip al-
most savagely, as he answered :
" Of course. It is only I who can be
accountable for any thing not you. It is
a fine farce that we have been playing, but
if it turns into a tragedy, who is to blame ?
Tones and smiles are impalpable things, and,
however well they do their work, cannot be
brouglit forward as witnesses. Only you
might keep that tone for those who have
never known them."
Before he finished, he saw that he was
losing all he would have risked so much to
gain ; but the spirit which urged him on
made him reckless of consequences, until the
last words were spoken. Then he would
have given any thing to have recalled them ;
but it was too late. "Whoever doubted
whether Miss Aylmer could be haughty,
should have seen her as she answered:
"That is quite enough, I think. You
surely cannot be yourself, or you would
know that such a tone as this is the last
that I can tolerate from any one. You must
excuse me if I dispense with your attend-
ance for the remainder of the evening; and
you may take this comfort with you : the
tones and smiles of which you speak shall
trouble you no more."
He was about to answer, but she turned
from him, and so the angry devil upper-
most for the time he rose and left the box.
Then, after a moment, Valerie leaned for-
ward and touched Maurice Darcy, who had
striven not to bear the brief tete-d-tete just
concluded. When he turned, she pointed
to the vacant chair.
"Sit down, please," she said; "I have
something to say to you ; and I confess I
like to talk on a level. Now that is bet-
ter. To begin, then, did I hear you tell Ma-
dame Vaoquant that you were not going to
Mrs, Morc's to-night ? "
" Yes," he answered ; " I told her that it
was probable I should not be there, I am
not fond of crush balls, and I promised
Thornton to join a supper-party at Guy's."
" Would Mr. Thornton care very much
if you broke your promise ? "
" Probably not ; but why do you ask ? "
" For a singular reason, I suppose you
will think," she said, with a laugh, " I have
taken a fancy to recall you to a sense of
duty. Mrs. More, and especially Miss Nel-
lie, will think very hardly of your treating
them in this way. You ought to go to the
ball yon must go ! "
"You speak like a born empress," he
said, smiling. "But I cannot admit the
force of your reasoning. Mrs. More and
Miss Nellie will not miss one face from their
five hundred friends."
" Suppose I say that I will miss it, then?
Will you refuse to please me, too? "
If she meant to test her power, or dis-
cover whether she possessed any, she must
have been greatly disappointed at the tone
in which Darcy answered :
" I regret to be obliged to do so. But
an engagement, in my eyes, is always bind-
ing ; and then I am sure you can be only
jesting when you affect any interest in
whether I go or stay."
"You are mistaken," she retorted. "I
never trouble myself to affect interest in
any thing. Just now, I have a genuine
fancy to change your resolution. Can I not
tempt you by the first waltz? "
"If I could be tempted, I would not
need such an inducement."
She looked at him steadily, and saw that
he meant what he said ; saw, also, tliat this
was evidently different material from that
which she was accustomed to bend to her
will ; and so, with a rather equivocal smile,
gave up the point.
"I have always heard that Irishmen
were proverbial for gallantry ; and I confess
I am not used to finding engagements stand
in my way," she said. "You have disa-
bused me of two erroneous impressions,
Captain Darcy, so I suppose I ought to
thank you. Is the house absolutely empty-
ing ? Well, at least, I hope you will relieve
Mr. Wilmer of double duty by seeing me to
the carriage ? "
What Darcy's reply was, it is not hard
to conjecture ; but, for all that, La telle des
lelles went to the ball alone, and he joined
the supper at Guy's.
OVERTURES OF PEACE.
91
CHAPTEPw II.
0VEETXJBE3 OF PEACE.
It was a very pale face, and very lioavy,
bloodshot eyes, that Romney brought down
to the breakfast-room the next morning,
wlien he sauntered in so late that every one
had long since departed, and only his
mother was left to bear him company. Per-
haps he had not expected or desired to see
her, for he frowned at meeting her glance,
and flung himself, without speaking, into a
chair. He did not even thank her for the
cup of coffee which she extended toward
him, but took it silently, with a somewhat
tremulous hand, and then pointed to the
sideboard. Tlie servant in attendance evi-
dently understood what was meant, for he
brought forward a small decanter of French
brandy, from which Julian poured a liberal
" sharpener " into his cup. Then, meeting
his mother's eye, lie muttered half apologet-
ically :
"It is the best thing in the world to
steady one's nerves."
Madame Vacquant made a motion dis-
missing the servant before she answered,
with cold reproach :
" Nerves don't need steadying that have
not been racked overnight by dissipation."
"Not by drink, at least," he retorted,
angrily. "I drank not a drop more than
just enough to keep me up."
" Up to what ? "
He raised his eyes half-defiantly, and
perhaps something in the hardness of her
tone may have provoked the reckless dis-
dain of his.
"Up to play, if you must know."
With all her self-control, Madame Vac-
quant could not prevent a slight change of
color, nor a slight gasp of the breath, as she
said, bitterly :
"And this is your promise? "
"My promise was a very indefinite one,"
he answered, coolly. " I hope you did not
understand it as a total abstinence pledge."
" No ; I only understood this that, if
you played in future, it must be with the
certainty of having to pay your own debts."
" You mean that you will advance noth-
ing more ? "
" I mean that, emphatically."
He drained his cup, and pushed it back
violently. "Then I might as well buy a
dose of prussic acid," he said, bitterly.
" One thing is certain, I will not endure the
disgrace of shirking debts of honor, and I
have not the means to pay one-third of the
sum I lost last night."
" How much was it? "
He named the amount a large one in-
deed but his mother did not start. She
only said, icily, "You should have thought
of your ability for payment before staking
so much."
He looked at laer steadily, but there was
no change at all in her face, and at length
he muttered, sullenly : " I see I should have
thought of it. But now there is nothing
left save to pay what I have lost. If you
won't help me of course you can if you
choose I shall only have to borrow the
money on usury, and then leave here ! If
I once do that, Baltimore is not likely to see
me again soon."
" We can dispense with threats," she
said, coolly. " You might know, by this
time, that they have very little effect on me.
Perhaps I am not heroically inclined, but I
am not at all afraid of your committing sui-
cide, or going away to starve. We had bet-
ter come back to the point, and let me cor-
rect one statement in your last speech. You
say there is no doubt of my being able to
help you if I choose:, you are mistaken. I
don''t choose, but if I did, I should find it
hard to do so. You exhausted my private
resources when you made your last de-
mand. If I helped you again, I would have
to call on M. Vacquant."
He looked up eagerly ; cold as her tone
was, he seemed to find some assurance of
hope in it. " What is more easy than
that?" he inquired.
"It is like a man's selfishness to ask,"
his mother answered, with something be-
tween scorn and' indignation in her voice.
" Very easy and very natural to you, I grant,
that I should lie and dissimulate, for the
sake of your vices but not so easy or so
natural to me! Does it never strike you
92
VALERIE AYLMER.
that, in applying to M. Vacquant, I have to
assign some pretext for the demand ? "
"I should think you would only need to
choose among a dozen pretexts. He must
be a strange millionnaire if he grudges his
wife a few thousands for pin-money."
" He does not grudge it he is liberal to
a fault. But he is not easily blinded. He
would not hesitate a moment to give me
any reasonable amount for which I asked ;
but he would suspect at once for what pur-
pose I wanted it."
* Well let him ! "
"Let him 1 You say that, when you
know that he does not like you now ? "
" Yes, I know," Eomney answered, with
a sneer. " But what then ? His like or dis-
like does not matter to me, so long as he
does not order me from his house, or forbid
me the use of his cellar. As for any hopes
of heirship, I should think you would have
seen, long ago, that they were mere moon-
shine."
" I see that you have only yourself to
thank for their failure. Do you think he
would have cared to take up this adven-
turer, if you had not disappointed him ? "
He shrugged his shoulders. " You flat-
ter yourself. So far from disappointing
him, he never even thought of me. As for
the adventurer I suppose you mean Darcy
he seems to suit him, and I am sure it is
all a question of taste. He is not likely to
suit anybody else."
" I am riot sure about that. I begin to
think, of late, that he may suit somebody
else."
Her tone was so significant that Julian
started quickly. " Whom do you mean ? " he
asked, curtly."
She answered, briefly, " I mean Valerie."
"You think that this this painter is
likely to please her? "
" Yes, I think so."
"May " The curse was none the less
bitter because something of conventional
courtesy made the speaker finish it beneath
his breath. Perhaps his mother did not
hear him ; at all events she only said quiet-
ly, after a moment :
" The only hope is, that he may not care
to take advantage of her caprice."
" Then there is no hope at all," the oth-
er retorted. " Better men would give half
their lives for such a chance."
" Better men, perhaps, but certainly not
wiser ones," she answered, coldly. "Xo
woman is worth half a man's life ; and a
coquette like Valerie Aylmer is not worth
one day of it. Maurice may not see that
her nets are thrown in his direction just
now, but, if he does, he at least has sense
enough to decline giving her vanity another
triumph."
"What do you mean? "
" I mean this " and she repeated to
him the scene that had followed his depart-
ure the night before. " Now," she said, in
conclusion, " you see what was the re-
sult of your folly and obstinacy. If Mau-
rice had not played into your hand, you
would only have thrown up the game to
him. When wiU you learn that moody
looks and angry words have lost many a
cause, but never yet gained one especially
with a woman? If you were engaged to
Valerie a dozen times over, you could not
act with impunity, as you acted last night.
And in a man whose chances hang on a
thread, it was simple madness. I shall not
be surprised if you have ruined yourself ir-
reparably."
She paused, but he sat sullenly silent
making no effort toward answer or self-jus-
tification; and after a moment she re-
sumed :
" You surely forget how much hangs on
this, or you would never have been betrayed
into such folly. You surely forget that, if
you do not succeed here, your last chance
of the fortune is gone. It is a matter of
life and death with you to make a claim on
M. Vacquant by marrying his granddaugh-
ter."
He flung himself back in his chair with
a sort of fierce impatience.
" It is likely to be death, then."
"Yes," she said, contemptuously, "if
you choose to surrender the field and I
never saw a fairer one without a blow."
" You say that, because you don't know
how little she means, or has meant any
thing beyond this foolery of fiirtation."
" There you are mistaken. I know ex-
OVERTURES OF PEACE.
93
actly what she means and I also know
what, if you were wise, you would mean.
She means amusement you would mean
earnest. If you only knew how to play
your cards even tolerably, I see the end so
clear."'
He looked up eagerly. " Show it to me
then! Show me any certainty of gaining
her, and you will never need to find fault
with my vacillation again ? "
" The first thing is to go and make your
peace for last night's conduct. Bring mat-
ters back to the footing of a day or two ago,
and that will be one step gained. But you
must keep your temper under control in
future. You will find her in the sitting-
room."
The last words were spoken in some-
what of a tone of surprise, for Julian did not
stir. On the contrary, he sat still a pic-
ture of resentful obstinacy.
" That is all very fine, but, before I play
puppet in the dark, I must have some assur-
ance about that money. It must be forth-
coming by some means or other. Do you
mean to get it for me, or shall I go to the
usurers? "
" If I do get it for you, you must remem-
ber that it is for the last time."
" Yes of course."
" And that I will receive no more ' in-
definite ' promises in exchange."
" I will give my bond not to touch cards
or dice again until I can stake some of my
affectionate step-father's thousands on them
will that do?"
" We will talk of conditions when the
money is ready," she said, rising. " Now
will you go to Valerie, or will you wait un-
til some visitor comes in. and the opportu-
nity is lost ? "
He answered by shrugging his shoulders
and leaving the room.
A few moments later, Valerie, who was
seated at the piano, playing strains and
snatches from " Faust," heard the door be-
hind her softly open, and looking up into a
large mirror against the wall, saw Romney's
face as he entered the room. It was a good
thing that he had paused outside to banish all
trace of its late expression from it, and sum-
mon up a languor w^hich rather became the
pallid complexion and purple-ringed eyes,
for he had not counted on such a speedy ob-
servation as this, and Valerie, in her turn,
was less inclined to suspect the genuineness
of what she saw. His appearance, indeed,
struck her so forcibly, that involuntarily her
hands fell from the keys, and she turned
round as he advanced.
" You look shockingly ! " she said, be-
fore he could speak. " What is the mat-
ter?"
Roraney was not at all lacking in natu-
ral readiness, or slow to take any advantage
ofi'ered him. He saw his opportunity in a
moment, and followed it up with commend-
able quickness. " I may well look shock-
ingly," he said, " if repentance can write it-
self on the face. I have endured more than
I can say since last night, and have had
only one thought how I can ask you to
pardon me."
" That is not hard, if you can say that
you did not mean "
Here he interrupted her quickly : " Mean !
Ah, how can you think that I meant any
thing excepting that I was half beside my-
self? I scarcely know what I said; but I
am sure it must have been very dreadful, or
you would not have punished it so severely.
I would not sentence my worst enemy to
such a night and such a morning as you have
given me."
" As for the morning, perhaps that has
been your own fault," she said, smiling.
" You could certainly have shortened it by
several hours, if you had chosen. But the
night well, we won't question whose fault
that was. Mine, perhaps, in a measure
for I have remembered since that I was
neither so patient nor so considerate as I
might have been. If you are penitent and
I think you look so we will cry quits, and
be friends again."
Was not this better than he had a right
to expect? Romney evidently thought so. for
his thanks were poured out warm and fast,
together with his justifications. It was in
the midst of these last that Valerie stopped
him.
" One moment, if you please. Your
claim to be angry last night was founded on
something about which I don't care to ar-
'94
VALERIE ATLMER.
gue ; but, in resuming amicable relations,
we must understand one another. I have
said that we are friends. You know what
that means and you also know that friends
are not jealous of each other."
"No," he answered, with a good deal
of creditable self-control; "and, perhaps,
that is one reason why I never had much
fancy for friendship. But it seems I am to
learn it. Do you know how hard a task
you set me? or do you care? "
" I don't know why it should be a hard
task," she retorted. " If you think so, how-
ever, I had better declare us strangers or, if
you like it better, enemies."
" You are jesting, while I am in earnest,"
he said, gravely. "I am not your friend
in the sense you mean or ever likely to be.
But I would do any thing in the world to
please you ; and I can play at this, if you
desire it. Only don't be angry if I some-
times forget my role, and speak as I
feel."
" I shall be angry, however especially
if you speak as you did last night."
" Don't mention last night. It is like a
nightmare to me. I was half mad when I
went away from you, and can you imagine
what I did ? "
Perhaps not quite truthfully, she shook
her head.
"I went straight to the hazard-table,"
he said, " to try and forget every thing in
the excitement of play. But I could not
succeed. I was thinking all the time of you,
and wondering what you were doing. I
lost one game, I remember, trying to ima-
gine who was enjoying my waltz."
Valerie blushed deeply. She remem-
bered how vainly she had offered that waltz
to Maurice Darcy.
"I will teU you who enjoyed it," she
said, "and then you will see that your anx-
iety was lost as well as your game. It fell
to George More, quite the stupidest man in
Baltimore. Now I hope you are as much
ashamed of yourself as you ought to be.
By-the-by, do you know that I feel nearly
as badly as you look? Dissipation don't
seem to agree with us. I wonder if a can-
ter would do you think the day is too cold ?
No? I am so glad to hear it. Then pray
order the horses, whUe I go and put on my
habit."
He obeyed only too well pleased to do
so while Madame Vacquant's brow smooth-
ed, as, sitting alone in her own room, she
heard Valerie's clear voice lilting the
" Flower-Song " on her way up-stairs, and
knew thereby that the overtures of peace
had been successful. When she heard the
same light step descending, however, she
opened her door to give a warning.
"Are you going to ride, Valerie? Pray
don't over-exert yourself, so that you will
be tired and dull to-night. You know we
are martyrs to a regular dinner-party, and
I look to you for assistance in making it
agreeable."
"As if you needed any assistance!"
Valerie laughed ; " or as if your dinner-par-
ties were not the only endurable ones I ever
knew. Don't be afraid of my over-exerting
myself, howevei*. Nothing, will do me so
much good as a canter indeed it is my only
hope of being able to enjoy Mi\ Lawton's
good things at all."
She nodded gayly, and glided past. The
next fnoment she was mounted, and canter-
ing over the paving-stones of Charles Street
Avenue, much to the astonishment of the
lookers-on, who, in their Northern igno-
rance, associated equestrianism only with soft
air and bright skies, and could not conceive
that she inhaled with positive zest the damp
salt breeze, which brought her hair out of
curl, put a glorious color into her cheek, as
she shook the reins on her horse's neck, and
looked at Julian with a smile.
" Is not this enough to make us forget all
the disagreeables of last night? " she asked.
And truly few men would have failed to
give the cordial affirmative which was his
reply.
Descending the staircase that evening
about twenty minutes before dinner, Valeric
suddenly met Darcy. It was the first time
they had seen each other since the night be-
fore; and the remembrance of that fact
made the bow with which she was passing
him rather cold and stately; when, to her
surprise, he paused thus barring her way,
and forcing her to do likewise.
OVERTURES OP PEACE.
95
"Excuse me," he said, with a glance at
lier dress. '' I see you are all ready for the
drawing-room, but perhaps you won't mind
being detained a moment to hear some news
which may interest you. It is no longer a
matter of doubt about Miss Riviere's appear-
ance iu public. She makes her dehut in
three weeks."
"Her debut!'''' repeated Valerie, startled
out of her reserve, by this intelligence, which
did interest her very much. " Why, this is
news indeed I I had very little idea that
her courage would ever be equal to the de-
cisive step. You are sure of it ? "
" Perfectly sure," he answered. " She
was kind enough to ask my advice on the
subject, and I gave it unhesitatingly in favor
of an immediate plunge. Craning over a
venture is the best thing in the world for
sapping away the courage drop by drop
hot not for any thing else that I know of."
" But I don't understand. Is she to
appear in opera ? "
" No. Her parents would never consent
to that, I am sure. She is to appear, but I
forget that I was charged not to anticipate
her. She wants the pleasure of giving you
the particulars herself."
"But you can tell me "
"Nothing whatever, I am sorry to say,"
he interrupted, with a smile and a glance at
his watch. " I am bound over to secrecy ;
and I see that I have barely fifteen minutes
in which to make my toilet. I am sure you
are glad I cannot detain you longer. Only
one word may I trust to your influence in
inducing her to sing for Thornton to-
night?"
"I will try, but is that necessary? "
"It is very necessary, since he repre-
sents all the good musical element of the
city."
"But he is very incredulous of Alis's
powers."
" So much the more triumph in convert-
ing him, as I mean to do if you promise
your assistance."
"Of course, it is entirely at your ser-
vice."
"Then I am sure of success," he said,
with a laugh; and the next moment they
parted.
When Valerie entered the drawing-room,
she found it well filled almost the due pro-
portion of guests having arrived, and that
appalling solemnity which precedes the an-
nouncement of dinner being already heavy
in the air. The conversational murmur
which filled the saloon had none of that regu-
lar, unbroken sweep that characterizes it
when the full tide of evening has set in, but
was low and fitful ; broken by intervals of al-
most entire silence, that were only bridged
over by Madame Vacquant's tones, as she
glided from guest to guest, uttering to each
the same form of compliment or inquiry,
slightly varied to suit the different individ-
ual. There were groups of middle-aged
gentlemen who chiefly affected the hearth-
rug, and talked a little politics among them-
selves, as they regarded the light ivory-and-
gold car of Aurora over the mantel, on
whose side the tiny hands were moving fast
to the magical stroke of eiglit. . There were
elderly ladies, magnificent in heavy velvets
and stately moires, enthroned upon sofas
and in the depths of dormeuses, exchanging
spasmodic confidences about schools and
committee-work. There were young ladies
scattered like gay birds of tropic plumage
in the various nooks and corners of the
room, making many picture-like eff'ects
with their gleaming dresses and golden hair.
There was a brace of English officers, who
surveyed the company superciliously from
over the collars of morning-coats, and
talked principally to one another. There
was enough of the literary and artistic ele-
ment to reUeve the insipidity of a purely
fashionable reunion and there was the
usual amount of jeiine gens of whom it is
the highest compliment to say that they
were, as a whole, sufficiently unexceptiona-
ble to escape notice. Finally, there was AJis
Riviere who, nestling under the wing of a
severe-looking chaperon her mother rare-
ly attended any evening entertainment
gave an exclamation of pleasure when she
saw Miss Aylmer, and toward whom the
latter at once made her way.
Before they had time for more than a
cordial greeting, however, dinner was an-
nounced, and all the stir and rustle of exit
began. "We will bide our time, j^etite,'''
96
VALERIE AYLMER.
Valerie whispered, as she found herself
claimed by that same Mr. Lawton, for the
appreciation of whose good things she had
declared a canter necessary ; then, while she
still hesitated to see who would be sent by
Madame Yacquant to the service of Alix,
Darcy made his opportune appearance, and
they wheeled into line.
To more than one person the long cere-
mony which followed proved infinitely
wearying, certainly to Julian, who had been
consigned to the tender mercies of a very live-
ly young lady who was "devoted" to every
thing, from religion to skating, and possessed
an opinion ready-made and very glib of utter-
ance on every subject under heaven; cer-
tainly to Valerie, even despite Mr. Lawton's
genuine wit and fresh conversational power ;
certainly to Mr. Thornton, who had fallen
into the hands of a female Philistine who con-
ceived that she was doing exactly the right
thing in talking musical " shop " (of a very
questionable quality) in unlimited quantity ;
perhaps even to Darcy and Alix, although
they seemed very well entertained by one
another ; but the end came at last as, if we
are only patient, the end of every thing must
and Madame Vacquant gave the signal for
the departure of the ladies. Once more there
was the soft rustle of silk and velvet, as
they filed out in glittering array, leaving
the gentlemen to close, with a sigh of re-
lief, round the mahogany, and do that jus-
tice to good olives and better wine which
feminine presence had before restrained.
Nobody was more glad of this release
than Valerie. N"ot that she was fond of
the unlimited gossip which always ensued,
of hearing why Sarah Randolph persisted
in marrying that dissipated young Carroll ;
of how Mr. Wilson, who compromised with
his creditors for fifty cents in the doUar, last
winter, could aiford to give such entertain-
ments this season ; of whether Mrs. Kerr's
point cVAlengon cost the price she profess-
es to have given for it in Paris ; and if it is
likely "the bishop" will allow Rev. Mr.
Ray, of the straitest sect of the ritualists, to
burn candles on his communion-table but
simply because she was anxious to learn
from Alix Riviere's own lips the particu-
lars of her intended dehut. Avoiding, there-
fore, the group which surrounded Madame
Vacquant, and the still less interesting knot
at the piano where some enterprising mu-
sician with a very brilliant left hand began
to sacrifice over again that oft-murdered
" Home " of Thalberg's she beckoned to
Alix, and led the way to the conservatory.
They found it still uninvaded, serenely
quiet, and beautiful as ever. The soft plash
of the fountain was the only audible sound,
the moonlight lustre fell as mellowly down
through the giant ferns as when Valerie had
first stood there, and the rich tropical fra-
grance was heavy on the air. It was with a
very deep sigh of relief that Alix sank into
one of the seats that bordered the marble
basin, where the gold-fishes darted and
played, and the water rose and sank with
such melodious cadence.
"How charming it is! " she said, "and
so beautiful! I don't wonder that people
say that this conservatory has seen more
flirtations and heard more declarations than
any other in Baltimore! I am sure that, if
I were one of your captives, I could not re-
frain from love-making, Valerie especially
in this bewitching light."
" You will allow me to be glad, then, that
you are not," Valerie answered. " There are
a great many things more agreeable than
love-making especially when the interest is
all on one side. And just at present I am
only interested in an item of news which
Captain Darcy gave me before dinner. Can
you possibly imagine what it was? "
Alix looked up with a world of innocence
in her eyes. mv
"How should I, dear? I am the last fl
person in the world to be clever at di-
vining."
"Keep your powers of acting for the
stage, little hypocrite," Miss Aylmer an-
swered, giving a twitch to the curl nearest
her, " and tell me at once why I am left to
hear from a third person, that you are about
to make your dehuty
" I did not know it myself until this
morning," Alix replied, with a mournful
sigh. " The maestro came in with the de-
cision, papa and mamma ratified it, and
when, as a forlorn hope, I appealed to Cap-
tain Darcy, he too went against me. If
OVERTURES OF PEACE.
97
I had tliouglit you would have helped luo to
form an opposition, I would have called you
into the council, but I knew better."
"Yes, I should have agreed with the
rest. If the step is to be taken, it should be
made at once. And tell me some of the par-
ticulars, for your confidant was too obsti-
nate or too scrupulous to do so. Where
are you going to sing? and how? and, what?
Is it at an amateur concert that you will ap-
pear?"
" No, Mr. Rosenberg says that would do
me no good. It is too professional, and
but of course you have heard of the famous
singer, Madame Baroni, who landed the
other day in Xew York? "
"Of course."
" "Well, Mr. Rosenberg, without telling
me any thing of his intentions, went to New
York to see her, and ask her if she would
allow me to appear at the concert she is to
give here a few weeks hence. He says she
was as kind as possible, and assured him
that it would give her sincere pleasure to as-
sist at the debut oi 'a young aspirant for
musical honors' as the newspapers say.
Was it not kind ? "
"Very. But theu, I think, most artists
who liave climbed the heights of their pro-
fession are willing to aid those who are
taking the first hard steps. Only, mi-
gnonne, don't you feel a little afraid of such
a wonderful cantatrice as this Baroni must
be?"
The child she was scarcely more than
that looked up with her soft eyes shimmer-
ing like stars out of the brave young face.
" I might be," she said, simply, " if it were
not for papa and mamma. Bat, when I think
of helping them, I do not feel as if I could
be afraid of any thing."
" You are a true knight-errant ! " Valerie
said, stooping to kiss the fair, up-turned
brow. "And you are right! The older I
grow, the more do I think that self-forget-
fulness is the best secret of courage. With
it, you will succeed, I think and, if so, do
you mean to go on the lyric stage ? "
She shook her head.
"I think not. Papa, I am very sure,
would never consent. And, even if he did,
mamma's health is too delicate for me to
7
leave her. Besides, I could never succeed
there without the prestige of European cul-
ture."
" What will you do, then?"
"Remain here, I expect for some time
at least. Mr. Rosenberg says that a public
success will open a good many doors to me.
Par exemple, I am already promised a choir
position, with a good salary. Then, I shall
sing in concerts, you know."
She spoke very quietly and simply; but,
as Valerie listened, a vision rose before her
of the luxurious home, where she had first
seen this young soldier of fortune, of the fair
inheritance of which she was then sole heir-
ess, of the petted life that seemed to stretch
before her; and now, in contrast this I
Her voice was hardly steady as she said :
" A poor prospect, Alix, for talent like
yours ! You are sentencing yourself to the
mere drudgery of your profession, when you
might earn its highest rewards."
" I know but what can I do ? "
What can I do? A sternly practical
question that, which few of us are able to
answer for ourselves, far less for others. It
was no wonder that Valerie evaded it when
she said :
" You should go to Europe."
'" You might as well tell me I should go,
like a peri, to the gates of Paradise," Alix
answered, sadly. " And now but some one
is coming."
The words were scarcely uttered, before
Maurice Darcy and Mr. Thornton came from
around a tall shrub. After their first greet-
ing was over, Darcy turned at once to the
matter which seemed to be just then occu-
jjying all of his attention.
" Miss Riviere, Mr. Thornton is very
anxious to hear you sing ; and I have ven-
tured to promise that you wUl gratify him.
I am sure you will not make me guilty of
guaranteeing more than I could perform."
" I am sure you deserve that I should ! "
said Alix, with a glance which meant more
than the words for she had changed color
a little at the ominous beginning. "No
man of discretion would risk his word on
any thing so unreliable as a woman's ca-
price. Don't you think so, Mr. Thorn-r-
ton ? "
98
VALERIE AYLMEK.
"N"o," Mr. Thornton answered; "be-
cause the one thing concerning which a
woman seldom has a caprice, is the redeem-
ing of a friend's word."
"And that means "
"It means that Captain Darcy has
promised that you will sing, and that I hope
you wiU do so."
He spoke cordially and gracefully, for he
was not a man to do things by halves, and
did not choose to be ungracious to the song-
stress, because he really had no desire to
hear her ; and, as there was little of the con-
ventional young lady in Alix Ei^nere, she
rose at once without further urging.
" Of course I will sing, if you desire it,"
she said, quietly, though it would be hard
to say how much she was secretly trem-
bling. Then she accepted the arm which the
formidable critic offered, and walked for-
ward, lea-ving only one reproachful glance
behind for Darcy.
He smiled slightly as he met it, and, turn-
ing to Valerie, said :
"You will come also, will you not?"
"Of course," she answered, a little
piqued that he should have thought the
question necessary. " You do not monopo-
lize all interest in Alix, pray remember. I
think I deserve credit for a moderate
amount at least, and , Ah, Julian, you are
just in time! "
She did not say for what nor was it
necessary that she should, since she held out
her hand, and laid it in Romney's readily-
tendered arm. If Darcy felt the slight at
all, he gave no sign of it, but walked along
very quietly by her side, talking of Alix and
of Alix's prospects, until they reached the
grand piano, to which Mr. Thornton had
conducted his charge, and where a group of
-eager listeners were already gathered. The
sweet young face of the girl looked very
pale, she bad never undergone an ordeal like
this before ; but Darcy was glad to observe
how cool and self-possessed she also seemed.
Her gloves were off by the time he gained
her side, but it wao he who seated her at the
piano whispering a few last words of en-
-couragement as her hands fell on the keys.
"It is ,a pity she should have to play her
own accompaniment," Thornton muttered ;
but, before he could utter a remonstrance,
the tiny, lissome hands had struck their first
chords, and the next moment she burst into
song.
Valerie saw Darcy flash one glance of
triumph at his friend, when the first clear
notes fell on the ear. Then he stood satis-
fied and quiet, while Alix sang with a
power and purity which electrified every
musical ear in the room, and proved at once
her rich natural gift and her careful musical
training. The fresh young voice, flexile and
reed-like as a flute, was well worth hearing,
as it carolled over the most intricate pas-
sages and brilliant rowia^es, without one mo-
mentary hesitation or faulty cadence ; but
Thornton's face was still better worth seeing,
as astonishment deepened into admiration,
and admiration into sincere and absorbed
enjoyment. He was completely taken by
surprise, and when Alix ceased, and glanced
timidly toward him, he held out both his
hands with a warmth which nobody had
ever seen him display before.
"Miss Riviere," he said, cordially, "I
have always, before this, doubted your pow-
ers, and I am heartily glad to be able to tell
you, what I shall soon tell every one else,
that I was entirely mistaken. If you are
not yet one of the greatest singers of your
day, it will be the fault of yourself not of
Nature."
After that, it was a perfect ovation a
foretaste, perhaps, of many to come which
Madame Vacquant's guests paid to the
young songstress thus presented to them.
Young and old thronged around the piano,
bidding her to play again and yet again
only too eager to follow the path thus
marked out for them.
Watching the scene from a distance for
after a while she yielded to Julian's solicita-
tions, and drew back from the crowd Va-
lerie was glad to see that the gentle, girlish
manner lost nothing in simplicity and grace,
but that Alix's bearing was quite as frank
and Tinaffected as when she had nestled by
the fountain half an hour before. She was
very self-possessed, too for only the deep-
ened roses in her cheeks evinced how fast
her every pulse was beating and thrilling.
It may be that Darcy was to thank for this.
THE DIAMOND OF THE DESERT.
99
At least he did not leave lier side, and it
seemed as if his presence might have been
the secret of her ease, since an observer
more careless than Miss Aylmer could have
seen that, whatever others were doing or
saying, her eyes and her smile sought con-
tinually the kind response of his.
CHAPTER III.
THE DIAMOND OF THE DESERT.
"I THINK," said Valerie, with something
of a yawn, "that I will go to see Alix this
morning. It has been more than a fortnight
since she was here, and I have some curi-
osity to learn how the debut comes on."
"It will certainly be a kindness," Ma-
dame Vacquant answered they were quite
alone, and perhaps she was glad to dispense
with a very restless and listless companion.
" I suspect Mrs. Riviere is sick ; otherwise I
am very sure w'e should have heard some-
thing from them. Shall I order the carriage
for yon? "
"Thank you, no. It is so clear and bra-
cing, that for once I mean to walk."
" You will find it very cold."
" Tant niieux! I feel as if I needed a
tonic, and the air may prove one."
She felt as if it had already proved one,
when, a few minutes later, the hall-door
clanged behind her, and she found herself
on the frosty pavements. The day was very
cold, but still and bright as possible, so
bright that the glittering masses of half-
frozen snow were painfully dazzling to the
eyes. The air was alive with the music of
bells, as sleigh after sleigh dashed past ; and
the hurrying pedestrians were wrapped to
their very noses, as if afraid of the touch of
the frost-king. So cold, indeed, that Va-
lerie half repented of her resolution before
she had gone very far, and her teeth were
chattering like castanets, when, after a walk
of five or six squares, she mounted a flight
of steps at the Rivieres' door, and sent a
sharp peal ringing through the house. The
servant who answered it informed her that
Miss Riviere had gone to take a music-les-
son. Mrs. Riviere, however, was at home ;
and, on asking for her, she was shown in at
once.
A flood of sunlight was streaming so
brightly across the room into which the
maid ushered lier, that for a moment Vale-
rie's eyes were quite dazzled ; then she rec-
ognized the charming home-like aspect of
the apartment, though it contained scarce-
ly a single fashionable article of furniture.
But a few green plants arranged in a win-
dow, a few vases, a few fine engravings,
and abundance of books, produced an effect
which many a gorgeous drawing-room might
have envied. Over the piano hung two
pictures which were evidently specially
prized. One was the well-known "Matinee
bei Liszt," where Berlioz, Czerny, and
Ernst, are listening to the great master of the
piano-forte harmony; the other, the poet-
brow and soul-lit eyes of Felix Mendelssohn.
In a niche near the fire stood a low couch,
and from this a fraU, lovely woman raised
herself a woman whose eyes were bright
and whose cheeks aglow with the deceitful
lustre and more deceitful bloom of that vic-
tor disease which has never yet struck its
flag to mortal skill.
She came forward as soon as she saw
who her visitor was, and met Miss Aylmer
with a very sweet and cordial smile, with a
grace too so perfect in its dignity and pol-
ish that it contrasted strangely enough with
her plain surroundings. Ah ! the French
say well of many a noble old tradition and
custom, '' La Revolution a passe sur toutcela^''
and to tis of to-day the familiar phrase
comes in a newer and sadder sense. Yes,
the Revolution passed over much, over al-
most all that was tender and beautiful in
our lives but it spared us one relic of our
past I It wrested from us the fair heritage
of our fathers, it tore our hearts, and dark-
ened our lives, it laid upon our freeborn
necks the yoke of slavery, it made us exiles
and aliens in our native land, it left ns
scarcely a wish on earth, and scarcely God
help us ! a hope in Heaven, but it failed to
take away the high thoughts and noble
manners which dignify adversity as much as
they ever adorned prosperity. In many an
obscure spot, fallen forever from their high
100
VALERIE AYLMER.
estate, we meet, in poverty and grief, the
children of our conquered land, but nor pov-
erty nor grief can change the old frank
grace, the old hospitable impulse, the old
inborn and kindly courtesy for high and
low. Valerie had felt this often ; but never
more strongly than when this fair gentle-
woman came forward now with outstretched
hand, and spoke in the soft, flute-like tones
that are so sweet in their every accent,
and so different from the harsh Northern
gutturals !
" Miss Aylmer, I am charmed to see you !
I am sorry Alix is not at home. But, if you
will accept a very indifferent substitute in
her place, you will not have to wait long, I
hope. I am expecting her return moment-
ly. Pray come to the fire. You must be
so cold."
"I was nearly frozen a moment ago,"
Yalerie answered, looking into the soft
brown eyes, and with all her heart envying
Alix her mother. " But this room is so
jjleasantly warm, I am already beginning to
thaw. If you will allow me, I will lay aside
my furs."
"Pray do! and your hat and cloak
also. Let me indulge myself in the luxury
of feeling that you are not likely to take
wing at any moment, but will certainly be
good for an hour or two at least."
Miss Aylmer did not need much persua-
sion to be induced to comply with this re-
quest. Her wrappings were yielded to the
soft hand which touched them, and when
Alix came in, half an hour later, she found
her installed in a low chair by Mrs. Riviere's
sofa.
" Valerie ! is it you ? " she cried, eagerly.
"Mary told me there was a lady with mam-
ma but I never thought of you ! I am so
glad to see you so glad you came. Have
you been here long ? "
" Notvery long," Valerie answered, with
a smile " indeed not long at all, if I may
trust my own ideas of the length of time.
But then I have been very pleasantly en-
gaged, while you "
" Ilave been at work," said Alix, gayly,
as she came and stood on the hearth-rug,
tossing her muff and roll of music on the
unoccupied end of her mother's sofa. What
a pity it is that everybody's work is not as
pleasant as mine! I don't believe I ever
eliould tire even of practising scales and
trills. Mamma, Mr. Rosenberg says my
notes in the upper register improve every
day!"
" Does he ? " said Mrs. Riviere, laughing
a little. " I am glad to hear it but I am
afraid he compliments you too much, Alix."
" He is trying to encourage me," said
Alix, gravely. " He thinks I don't know that
but I do ! The dear maestro ! It certain-
ly will not be his fault if I fail "
" It certainly will not be the fault of
your own daring," said Valerie, who had
opened the roll of music and was looking
over it. " Your ambition flies high, I per-
ceive. The 'Magic Flute,' after Mozart ! "
"The maestro insisted on it," said Alix,
apologetically. " I know I cannot give the
echo as it should be done but he in-
sisted ! "
"Ah, here is something calculated to
take away one's breath ' L'Usignuolo.'
Why, mignonne, people will say you are bent
upon showing how many conjuror's tricks
you can play with your voice ! And what m
is this the ' Isoline ' of Stigelli ! TVhy, how ?
many solos are you to sing? "
" Only three," said Alix, smiling. " I
shall give that in case of of"
"An encore! Oh, yes, I comprehend
but I suspect you would please your audi-
ence better if you sang ' II Bacio,' or some-
thing of that sort, when they call you back.
What was it you sang for Mr. Thornton the
other night? I mean your last song."
" That lovely thing of Abt's ' Dort sind
wir Ilerr.' "
" Yes. If you could only give that
but I suppose the maestro knows best. If
you are not too tired, go to the piano and
sing some for me."
"I am never too tired to sing," said
Alix ; and she crossed the room, humming,
as she went, that exquisite morceau from
the " Acis and Galatea : "
" ' Love in her eyes Bits playing
And cheds delicious death,
Love on lier lips is Ftraying
And warbling in her breath.' "
Miss Aylmer smiled to herself. She was
THE DIAMOND OF THE DESERT.
101
fond of tracing cause to effect, and it
chanced that she remembered just then
how often she had lieard Darcy humming
those identical strains to himself. She did
not mention the coincidence, however, hut
only bade Alix sing the song for her. After
it was finished, she glanced at her watch.
" I wanted to hear these others, but I
see I have not time," she said ; " so I will
only take my favorite aria from ' St. Paul '
before I go."
"Without answering, Alix changed the
measure in which she was playing, struck a
few minor chords, and at once began. Mrs.
Riviere lay back on her cushions with closed
eyes, and, as the full, silvery voice rose in the
touching strains of our Lord's lament over
the doomed city of Israel as all that is
most fraught with mournful and tender
pathos seemed breathed like the voice of a
pitying angel in the cadenced rise and fall
of the plaintive melody, large tears slowly
gathered on her lashes, and rolled one by
one like glittering diamonds over her thin
cheeks :
" Jerusalem ! Jerusalem ! thou that kill-
est the prophets, thou that stonest them
that are sent unto thee, how often would I
have gathered unto thee thy children, and
ye would not ! Jerusalem ! "
But as Valerie listened she seemed to see
not the narrow room and the cold winter
daylight, but the glowing sky and rich
plains of Palestine not the city streets of
tlirong and noise, but smiling mountains
crowned by stately cedars not ordinary
men and women hurrying past, but swarthy
forms in picturesque attire, wending their
way with camels and horses toward the dis-
tant golden line that marked the domain of
the desert not bare and stunted boughs
waving past the window, but feathery palms
and shining waters ^not dull lines of duller
brick, but afar off the royal city of David,
and the gleaming walls of the magnificent
Temple.
It was like a rude sudden call to reality
when the music ceased, when one listener
dashed away her tears before they had been
observed, and the other saw the golden
sands, the fringing palms, and distant camels,
fade back into the fair Shadow-land, as the
singer turned her radiant face toward them.
Before either could speak, however, the
door opened, and, with an air of a familiar
friend, Darcy entered the room. He did
not see Valerie, who was partially concealed
by the sofa ; so, with only a smiling saluta-
tion to Mrs. Riviere, he spoke to Alix.
"I am glad to find you in such good
voice. I never heard that air better ren-
dered, though I have heard it often. I did
not care to disturb you, so I waited in the
hall till it was finished."
" That was unnecessary," said Alix, with
a laugh. " I would have finished it all the
same, if you had come in and you never
disturb me. Music cannot sound very well
through a closed door do you think so,
Valerie ? "
" Valerie ! " Darcy could not help re-
peating, in a tone of surprise. Then he
turned quickly and saw a pair of familiar
eyes regarding him from over the arm of
Mrs. Riviere's sofa.
"Did you speak to me. Captain Darcy?"
their owner asked, with supreme gravity.
" I beg pardon. I really had no idea
that you were here," he answered. "Xo;
I did not speak to you when I repeated your
name that is the last liberty I should ever
tliink of taking with Miss Aylmer."
The young lady bowed with a good deal
of graceful mockery.
"Miss Aylmer is much obliged to you.
It has not often fallen to her lot to be
treated with such grandiose respect ; and
she is grateful accordingly. Alix, what did
you ask me ? "
"Nothing much only whether you
thought music would sound well through a
closed door? "
" I should say that it depended entirely
on the music. We might be very grateful
if we could put half a dozen closed doors
between ourselves and some forms of melo-
dy. Whether or not the ' Jerusalem ' was
improved by it, however, is a question for
Captain Darcy, not me."
It was a question which Captain Darcy
did not trouble himself to answer. He only
smiled ; and, taking up a piece of music, be-
gan to ask questions about the all-important
delut. Alix answered them as candidly
102
VALERIE AYLMER.
and freely as if she had been talking to her
own brother ; but, naturally enough, the
subject (discussed at second-hand) lacked
interest to Miss Aylmer. She turned away,
and began a conversation with Mrs. Riviere,
from which, after a while, her attention was
drawn, by hearing Alix exclaim :
"It is finished! Oh, how charming!
Mamma, do you hear this the 'Diamond
of the Desert ' is finished ! "
"Indeed! " said Mrs. Riviere, with evi-
dently genuine interest. " Captain Darcy,
I congratulate you ! Or is it a matter for
congratulation ? I should think it would
be a great pleasure to be done and yet a
pain."
"You are right," Darcy said. "It is
both. Yet, in this instance, more pleasure
than pain, I think; so you may certainly
congratulate me."
" I do, then most heartily. Of course
you have seen and admired it ? " she added,
turning to Miss Aylmer.
"What is 'it'? a picture? Indeed I
have not even heard of it. We see very
little of Captain Darcy, and nothing what-
ever of his pictures."
'' This is an old picture begun long ago
which I am finishing at the request of Mr.
Howard," Darcy said. " He saw it in my
studio, took a fancy to it, and oftered to
buy it ; so finishing it became a matter of
necessity. It has never been a favorite of
mine, however ; and that is why I feel
more pleasure than pain in the conscious-
ness of having it ofiTmy hands."
" So much the more shame to you ! "
cried Alix, indignantly. "Valerie, it is
beautiful! You ought to see it indeed, a
bright thought strikes me ! Mamma, could
you bear to be left alone for a little while? "
" I think I could support the desolation
for a reasonable time."
" Well, then. Captain Darcy, Avill you
take us Valerie and I down to your stu-
dio ? "
It would be hard to say who was most
surprised by this cool request Valerie or
Darcy. To his credit, however, the latter
recovered himself in a moment, and an-
swered readily
" I shall be very happy to do so."
" But here Valerie interrupted. "I am
sorry; but you must excuse me, Alix. I
have an engagement at home, and it is time
that I went to fulfil it."
" Oh, no, no ! " Alix cried, barring the
way as she rose. "Indeed, you must
do as I say, this once! Never mind about
the engagement ! No heart will be broken
or, if it is, you can easily mend it again.
You don't know what you will miss, if you
don't see the 'Diamond of the Desert.' It
will not be put on exhibition, but will be
sent at once to Mr. Howard. Besides, I
want to go, so much ! Mamma is not well
enough to accompany me and of course I
cannot go alone. I shall not get to see the
picture at all again, if you refuse to go with
me. O Valerie, please ! "
The imploring tones were hard enough
to resist, but the fawn-like eyes were infi-
nitely harder; and, after a moment, Miss
Aylmer surrendered at discretion, saying:
" You were certainly born to have your own
way, Alix. If I must play chaperon, for
the first time in my life, why I suppose I
must ! There ! go and get your hat."
"You will go?"
" Yes, I wiU go."
While Alix ran out of the room, her new-
chaperon looked round for her furs. They
chanced to be lying on the piano, and, as she
went there after them, Darcy seized his op-
portunity and spoke :
" Let me tliank you for your kindness in
giving Miss Riviere this pleasure. I am
very glad you have consented to go."
" I feel as if I ought to apologize to you,"
she said, coldly. "But you saw how it was
I could not refuse. If it had been possi-
ble, I should have done so."
"I am sorry to hear that."
" Are you ? I don't mean to be rude
but pray don't let us begin saying pretty
things to eacli other. We have been hon-
est at least, heretofore let us continue hon-
est to the end. I am going, to please Alix;
and you don't mind my presence, since it
secures hers. That is the state of the case,
I think and so, we are neither of us at all
indebted to the other."
She bad been buttoning her cape around
as she spoke. She now took up her muff,
THE DIAMOND OF THE DESERT.
103
and walkecl back to the fireplace, leaving
Darcy to think what he pleased of this un-
gracious rebuff.
After a while Alix came back, as bright
and fresh as a sunbeam, and, bidding Mrs.
Riviere good-morning, the trio started
wending their way from Eutaw Street down
to Charles in the teeth of a cutting wind.
They walked briskly, however, and soon
reached the large marble building at the
corner of Lexington Street, where Darcy had
some time since established himself. They
climbed a flight or two of stairs, and were
rewarded by finding themselves shown into
a somewhat cheerless apartment, full of the
rubbish and litter that an artist soon gathers
around him.
"I am only here temporarily," Darcy
said, as he saw "Valerie's eye wandering
over the empty packing-cases that did duty
for chairs and tables, the variously-shaped
canvases, the unfinished paintings, paint-
boxes, paint-rags, the lay figure draped
in an Arab lernouse, and the other sig-
nificantly-artistic tokens of disorder. "It
seems scarcely worth while to make one's
self comfortable when one may be on the
wing any day. Take care of your dress
there. Here is the ' Diamond of the Desert '
on the easel. Don't compliment it, unless
you can do so conscientiously."
"I am not likely to flatter," Valerie an-
swered, with very unmistakable candor.
Then she stood and attentively regarded the
picture.
If she had expected any thing like the
tender and suggestive pathos of ''Missing,"
she must have been very much disappointed.
Yet perhaps her first feeling was one of as-
tonishment that the day vision into which
she had fallen over the aria from " St. Paul "
should be, in part at least, so faithfully
represented before her. There were the
feathery palms, there the sparkling waters,
there the golden sand; there, also, the
swarthy, dark-eyed groups in their white
turbans and flowing robe?, the camels, the
barbs, and far off, on the verge of the pur-
ple horizon, the domes and minarets of some
distant city faintly outlined against the sky.
It was a very simple composition only a
group of Arabs resting at an oasis but it
was charmingly painted, the colors soft and
clear with all their brilliancy, and a pervad-
ing tone of freshness and reality that must
have struck the most inattentive observer.
It was very evident that of idealization, much
less of pure fancy, there was literally nothing
it was plainly a faithful copy, not of Xature
in general, but of Xature in particular. The
oasis might perhaps have been a shadow of
many oases, but no one could doubt the
individuality of every one of the Arabs,
who had unloaded their camels, dismounted
from their horses, and lain down on the
fresh turf. Perceiving this, Valerie turned
to Darcy, and said, in the tone of one who
asserts an undoubted fact :
" You have been in the East, then? "
"Yes," he answered. "I spent several
years there; and Eastern scenes were, for a
time, my specialty. If I were to put on can-
vas half the sketches which I outlined on
paper you are fairly tormented with pictu-
resque effects in those countries I should
need two lives instead of one to achieve the
mere manual labor."
" i\nd this is a scene from actual life,
then ? " asked Alix, eagerly.
"Every face there is a portrait," he an-
swered; "from old Yusuf the sheik you
see him sitting crossed-legged by the stream
down to the youngest boy. The oasis it-
self is to be found not very far outside the
walls of Cairo."
" That distant city is Cairo ? "
"Yes."
She looked intently at the picture for a
long time, then turned and said, half-
timidly :
" How I should like to see your sketch-
es ! "
"Would you?" he asked, with a soft
light in his eyes that almost always came to
them at any remark of hers. " Well, that
is a very moderate desire, and easily grati-
fied. I have a good many with me, and, if.
you would care to see them now or any
other time "
"Xow, of course," she said, eagerly..
" Valerie, don't you say so ? "
But Valerie did not hear. She was
looking at the picture, through her half-
closed hand, and did not even notice that
104
VALERIE AYLMER.
the others turned away. "When she did at
last wake, with a start, to a consciousness of
their absence, and look around, they were
deep in a large portfolio, and so absorbed
that her presence was not at all necessary
to their enjoyment. After one glance, she
moved away in an opposite direction. The
studio w^as a narrow but rather long apart-
ment, and, as she strolled toward the lower
end of it pausing now and then to examine
the unfinished pictures and outline etchings
which lined the walls she almost lost sight
of those two heads bending down together,
behind the large easel. It was quite invol-
untarily that, coming at last to a corner
where several canvases were stacked to-
gether, she turned the first one around. A
glimpse was enough to make her draw it
into a better light, and then she stood trans-
fixed by admiration.
The scene represented an opera-box,
from which, drawing aside the curtain with
one hand, a girl, with a face of richly-tinted
beauty, looked forth in what seemed a flush
of triumphant power and self-possession.
At least the attitude could only have been
so interpreted there was such a regal ^Jcse
of the head, such a challenge in the dark
eyes, rippling over with all the sunny light
and soft languor of the South. An ivory-
mounted lorgnette lay on the cushions be-
fore her, together with a libretto and one
white kid glove, while a half-closed fan was
held to the scarlet lips by the most slender
of hands. The shoulders, from which the
cloak had slipped back, gleamed lustrously
white against a dark background, and the
whole effect was so glowing and perfect,
that Valerie exclaimed half aloud, "How
exquisite ! "
Yet, even as the words passed her lips, a
discovery flashed upon her which made her
sink into a seat, and stare at the picture in
blank amazement. Surely there was some-
thing strangely familiar in the face, which
bent so graciously and smilingly toward
her! Surely she had met before the soft
depths of those liquid eyes ! There was no
doubt of it the face was her oicn !
What she would have said or done, it is
impossible to conjecture, for at that moment
a quiet voice behind her asked :
" And what do you think of your like-
ness?"
She started and turned for once visibly
confused to meet the smiling eyes of Mau-
rice Darcy.
"Mine! is it really mine?" she stam-
mered.
" Can there be a doubt of it ? Did you
ever see a face like that, out of your mirror ? "
" But how could you I never gave you
a sitting ! "
He laughed outright.
" Never a conscious one, I grant you ;
but I am very quick to catch a likeness, and
you know I have seen you constantly. I
ought to explain and apologize, perhaps," he
added, more seriously. " You would have a
right to think that I had taken a great lib-
erty, if I did not assure you that I have only
done so to gratify my uncle. He saw some
of my portraits once, and said that he would
like me to paint yours. I knew you would
never consent to a course of sittings, so I
could only promise him to catch the likeness
without troubling you and that is my ex-
cuse."
Valerie bit her lips quickly; and it
would be hard to tell hard, perhaps, for
herself to have told the cause of the sud-
den shadow which came over her face, as T
if his explanation had been in some sense a
disappointment.
" You give me credit for more perversi-
ty than I possess," she said, coldly. "Of
course I would have sat for you if grand-
papa wished it."
" It was more the desire to spare you a
disagreeable thing, than a belief in your per-
versity, which induced me to choose this
mode of obtaining a portrait," he answered.
" You see I have succeeded moderately at
least."
" I see you have flattered my face al-
most beyond recognition."
" You think so ? " and his eye travelled,
with the quick artist-gaze, from original to
copy, and then back again. " Well I do
not agree with you."
" I doubt if you are a good judge," she
retorted. "How should you know any
thing about my face ? You certainly don't
know me,"
ox THE HEIGHTS.
105
" Is that a necessary preliminary ? "
"I have always thought so."
"And I have always thought the re-
verse. Instead of knowing the face from
the character, we know the character from
the face. That is the reason why artists are
generally good pliysiognomists."
Valerie looked quickly at the picture.
There were many soft lights common to her
fiice, many gentle and tender expressions to
her eyes but none of them were there.
The artist's hand had transferred to his can-
vas, line by line, and tint by tint, her phys-
ical beauty, but never a shadow of aught
that was spiritually lovely. In the brilliant
eyes she only saw the satisfaction of con-
scious power; on the perfect lip, only a
smile of haughty vanity. She turned to him
at last, and spoke with a strange bitterness
in her voice.
" Then what I see in that face is your
conception of my character? "
"Do you object to it?" he asked, smil-
ing.
She made a gesture of impatience.
" That is no reply to my question. Please
be good enough to answer me."
Then he answered, gravely : " It is the
only one I have been able to form. "We
judge according to sight, you know."
" Yes," she said, -with a half gasp, " we
judge according to sight no matter how
far wrong sight may take us. Not that you
are wrong in this. You may be very right.
2no one knows less than I do."
At that, she turned away, and walked
toward Alix, who looked up in some sur-
prise.
" How long you have been, dear ! " she
said. " I sent Captain Darcy for you, and I
thought neither of you was coming back.
I wanted to show you this scene in Damas-
cus. Is it not charming just like the Ara-
bian Nights?"
"Yes, exactly," Valerie answered, as
she bent over the sketch. A moment later,
one large hot drop had blurred the dome of
a mosque thereon, though where it came
from no one could tell.
CHAPTER IV.
ox THE nEIGHTI
As the days went on, and the time of
Miss Pwiviere's delut approached, a knowl-
edge of the fact which, up to that time, had
been kept a partial secret, began to transpire
among her friends and acquaintances. Con-
sequent upon this, the poor child was forced
to run a gantlet of inquiries and remon-
strances, of dark intimations of failure, and
darker threats of certain social penalties
that in such a case would be enforced
against her and hers. All this came sudden-
ly and without preparation, and those who
knew her best scarcely realized the courage
with which she had nerved herself for the
issue until they saw how gallantly she
breasted this preliminary storm of opposi-
tion. If such an ordeal had been foretold
for her, no doubt they would all have feared
that it would shake her resolution. But,
on the contrary, it only seemed to strength-
en it. Inquiries she answered with calm
affirmation ; remonstrances she put aside
with quiet disdain ; while the threats of
social penalty brought a more scornful light
to her eyes than had ever been seen there
before. " What is your idol to me ? " she
cried, contemptuously. "When we were
rich and prosperous, society was at our feet
in our reverses, it has barely tolerated us,
extending one finger when we met ! Now
it may ignore us, for all I care. Our friends
we shall keep the rest are better lost than
retained ! " For the prophecies of failure,
she had only one answer "That remains
to be proved." And, as she went on her
way, all faithful and unsparing of labor to
herself, all gentleness and tenderness to her
parents, all steadfast defiance to the world,
many thought, and Valerie among them,
that they had never witnessed a more touch-
ing and beautiful sight.
But stiU there were moments when the
head drooped and the courage gave way
moments when the poor little flower came
to her friend trembling and downcast. " Oh,
I dread it so unspeakably ! " she would say,
with her wistful eye full of tears. " I am
106
VALERIE AYLMER.
afraid oh, I am terribly afraid ! I feel as if
I should not he able to utter one note when
I stand before all that sea of faces. I feel as
if something would rise up in my throat and
choke me, and that I shall end by disgracing
myself."
" And gratifying all your kind friends,"
said Miss Aylmer, coolly. " Don't forget
that!"
" Yes, that is just it ! " she cried passion-
ately. " It almost kills me to think how
they will exult and shake their heads, and
say ' Poor thing, I told her so ! ' And when
I think of them, I feel that I will suc-
ceed."
"Think of them all the time, then."
" Ah, but sometimes even that thought
fails me. Sometimes I feel as if to meet the
cold glances and the critical eyes must extin-
guish all my courage, and that I shall cover
my face with my hands and cry out to Mr.
Rosenberg to take me away. I can see
myself do it, as plainly as if 1 were looking
at a picture."
"Alix, you must put such fancies as
these out of your head you must not en-
courage them. They are enough to make
you fail. There is no danger there cannot
be the least danger if you do not give way
to nervous fear. Think what your failure
would be to your parents ! "
"I do think of it," she answered, mourn-
fully. " That thought alone enables me to
persevere. I try to remember that God has
given me one talent one poor little ewe-
larab and I must not strangle it with my
own hands wlien it may enable me to aid
them. But Valerie, Valerie, it is hard
harder than I ever thought it would be! "
Mrs. Riviere, too, confided to Valerie
forebodings wliich were never by any chance
betrayed to Alix herself. " She suffers very
much," tlie niotlier said; "and it pains me
to the heart to think that I cannot aid her
in bearing it. My poor child ! So young,
and so totally unfit for such a burden ! "
"But she has such a brave heart," Miss
Aylmer answered. "And she is so confi-
dent of her own power ! Do not fear. She
is resolved to succeed she will do so."
Mrs. Riviere shook her bead. All
Alix's buoyant bearing had not availed to
deceive those watchful eyes. "You are
mistaken," she said. " You do not look so
closely as I do, or you would hear many a
quiver under those gay tones, and see many
a doubt lurking under t])at bright smile.
She is brave, but she is fighting against her
own fear. I begin to dread lest it prove an
unequal combat ; I begin to think that at
the very last she may fail, from pure ner-
vous terror."
" I cannot think so," Miss Aylmer said
but, in truth, she began to be dismayed
herself. "I cannot believe but that the oc-
casion will give her the courage of desper-
ation, and so carry her through."
" I do not know whether to wish for it
or not. It might be better for her not to
sing at all, than to sing so badly that she
will ruin her future prospects."
" Does Mr. Rosenberg share your fears ? "
Valerie asked, after a pause.
"Not at all. But then Mr. Rosenberg,
like yourself, does not look below the sui--
face."
"You do me great injustice," the other
protested. " I do look below the surface,
and I see all that natural fear and doubt to
which you allude. But I don't believe that
it will prevent Alix from appearing, and
from doing full justice to her voice when she
does appear. And now, dear madame, it re-
mains for time to show which of us is the
true prophet."
"I doubt if anybody ever desired more
earnestly that honor should fall on a rival's
head," Mrs. Riviere said, smiling; "or if
ever a prophet was more willing to forfeit
all claim to the reputation of seer."
Strange to say, for once in her life Ma-
dame Vacquant acted in a manner which
nobody expected of her. Notwithstanding
her previous censure of such a step, she took
up Alix's cause warmly, ajiplaudcd lier cour-
age, promised all possible assistance, and in
short (to Mr. Rosenberg's great disgust !),
took the whole afifair under her sublime
wing. What was the meaning of this sud-
den change of opinion, it would be difl3cult to
say ; but there was at least good reason for
supposing that the consideration of Darcy's
penchant, and a desire to encourage it, had
something to do with the matter. Certain-
J
ON THE HEIGHTS.
107
]y there was a long consultation -wih Julian,
then the carriage was ordered, and tlie lady
drove straight to the Eivieres to tender her
all-powerful aid and countenance. Of course
' it was gratefully accepted the more grate-
fully, because almost every other one of their
newly-made friends had been loud in re-
monstrance, or cold in disapproval ; and also
because the world of fashion was always
sure to follow wherever that white finger
pointed. When Madame Vacquant said in
her soft, high-bred voice, " My dear, I will
be glad to do all in my power to insure
your success," she was pledging not only
herself, but the entire beau monde ; and
Alix, knowing this, was proportionably
warm in thanks thanks that would not
have been rendered if there had been a sus-
picion of vulgar patronage in the matter.
But lier worst enemy never failed to admit
that the fair society-leader knew how to
confer a favor with inimitable tact and
grace ; and she was scarcely likely not to
have employed both the one and the other
here.
The day of the concert at last came, and
in the afternoon Miss Aylmer went to see
whether Alix's courage wavered or in-
creased as the hour of fate approached.
She found her sitting by her mother's sofa,
very quiet, very pale, but also very com-
posed. They both glanced up with a smile
when the well-known face came in, and
Alix gave one cry
" She is charming ! "
" "Who is charming? " Valerie asked.
" Why, Madame Baroni, of course ! "
the other answered, a little indignantly.
" Who else should I mean? Mr. Rosenberg
took me to see her this morning and oh,
Valerie, I can never be afraid of her again ! "
" Well, that is one comfort," her friend
replied. " I should think this might serve
to convince you that your other fears are
quite as sliadowy. Mrs. Eiviere, does she
need a tonic ? "
" I don't think so," Mrs. Eiviere an-
swered, with her peculiarly sweet smile.
"She went off very pale and trembling to
see Madame Baroni ; but she came back
full of courage, and I don't believe it has
ebbed since."
" She is so kind," Alix said, with effu-
sion. " It would have been ungrateful to
feel afraid any more at least of her. She
encouraged me to persevere praised my
voice told me about her own deiut, when
she was so frightened she could scarcely
sing a note and predicted that some day I
would be a great cantatrice. Think of that,
mamma! "
" Yes, think of it," Valerie said. " Think
of cities at your feet, and nations ringing
with your praise, of whole assemblies trans-
ported to enthusiasm by your voice, and of
ovations that royalty might envy "
" Not to speak of substantial profits."
"Not at all. Oh, child, how happy you
are! and how little you appreciate your
happiness ! You hold your future in your
own hand, and you win bread and fame by
the exercise of that which is to you delight.
Think of the myriads who spend life in a
toil that is utterly hateful to them ; and
thank God for giving you the capability of
labor that can be loved."
"I do," she said, humbly; "I do thank
Him with all my heart. I look at the poor
drudges who teach, at the poor slaves who
sew, and I ask myself what have I done to
be so greatly blessed above them blessed
in a gift, but, for which, I could anticipate
no higher existence than theirs."
" And when you think of Music of her
grand and glorious loveliness of the beauty
that is nearer Heaven than aught else left
us at the Fall do you not feel your terrors
grow petty and unworthy in presence of a
mistress so sublime ? "
" Yes," she said, with the shining smile
of a St. Cecilia, "I do indeed I do ! "
"That, then, is a point where it will be
well to leave you," and she rose to go.
" No, I cannot stay longer. It will soon be
time for you to begin your toilet, and I
must not detain you from that. Alix, when
I see you again, the Eubicon will be passed ;
and, as I now say to you, be of good heart.
and prove that the blood which has made
the sons of our land famous is not less fruit-
ful of heroism in her daughters. So I will
then congratulate you on having won a two-
fold victory : one over circumstance, and a
harder one over yourself."
108
VALERIE AYLMER.
" God grant it ! " said the mother's
solemn tones.
" Amen ! " said Alix, softly.
"When Miss Aylmer reached home, it was
nearly sunset, and the "western sky had
been dazzling her eyes with its glory, so
that she did not at all recognize a dark fig-
ure hurrying forward to meet her until they
met on the door-step, and then she saw
Eomney. As he uncovered his head, and
the full light of the incarnadine west fell
over his face, she was startled to observe
how worn and pale he looked.
"Julian!" she said, stopping short.
"Something is surely the matter or has
happened to you. What is it? "
She asked the question anxiously, but it
was more the anxiety of one who fears some
unpleasant responsibility, than that of a
woman quick to perceive through her affec-
tions.
" Nothing of any importance," he an-
swered, with a forced smile; "at least I
don't suppose you would consider it of im-
portance. Your friend Miss Riviere seems
to occupy all your available attention just
now."
" I thought she needed it, but you look
this evening as if you needed it more. Pray
tell me what is the matter if it is any
thing I can help."
" So you don't care to hear, in case that
it is not ? "
"Did I say that? How strangely per-
verse you are ! Surely you are not foolish
again," she added, a little impatiently.
" If foolish means jealous, no," he an-
swered. " But ah, the door is open, and
perhaps it is as well I should not take all
Charles Street into my confidence. Will
you come in ? "
She went in, but paused at the foot of
the staircase with decided determination on
her face.
"Now," she said, "I insist on the com-
pletion of tliat sentence. But what? "
" As if you cared ! " he said, passionate-
ly. "As if I might not be swept out of
your path to-morrow without your sending
a single sigh after me unless it was a sigh
of relief! For Heaven's sake, don't mock
me with such a question, or I will not an-
swer for the consequences. You should not
tempt me to break your own commands,
and tlien grow angry at the temerity."
"I did not mean to do that," she said,
softly moved more than she cared to con-
fess by his tone and manner then she came
a step nearer and laid her hand on his arm.
"Julian! why will you always speak of me
as if I were ready to work you great harm?
Why not regard me as one who would do
almost any thing to spare you pain ? "
" Almost any thing ? "
"Yes."
"Then," he said, with something of a
hoarse laugh, " be sure I will test you very
soon. There! I dare not say any thing
more now. And don't look at me in that
way, or I will! You have to dress, I
know. Don't let me detain you."
"I am going, but say something first,
that is like yourself. I can't bear to leave
you in such a mood."
"What shall I say? That your eyes
were never brighter or your voice more
sweet that is like my usual self, I believe.
But I should think you would grow tired of
such platitudes."
" Yes, tired and vexed," she answered,
withdrawing her hand, and turning away.
" I don't understand you. I did not think
you would treat me so, but no matter ! "
He let her go without a word, and she
was half-way up the staircase, before he sud-
denly rushed after her, caught her hand,
and, before she knew it, had pressed it many
times, passionately to his lips.
" Julian ! " she cried, half-angrily.
Then he dropped it, and looked up with
imploring eyes.
" Forgive me ! " he said. " Forgive me,
not for tliis, but for my churlish despair.
Yes, I will hope. It is only a coward who
dare not do so. You shall not find me in
this mood again."
Nor did she at least not that night.
When she came down to dinner, it was a
very gay and gallant cavalier who met her
at the door of the dining-room, and, while
dessert was still on the table, the carriage
was announced.
"We cannot afford to be late to-night,"
said Madame Vacquant, rising at once. " I
ON THE HEIGHTS.
109
would not miss Alix's first appearance for
any consideration. My dear, I am so sorry
you cannot come " tliis to M. Vacquant,
whom the gout kept at home. '' Maurice,
may I trouble you for my cloak ? "
While Darcy dutifully wrapped the
white folds around her stately figure, Julian
was performing the same office for Valerie ;
and, in so doing, found time to ask :
"Am I forgiven?"
" That depends on your future conduct,"
she answered, with a bright smile. "But
you must take me down to the carriage as
an earnest of it."
They soon disembarked before the bril-
liant entrance of the Concordia; but, truth
to tell, Valerie had very little appreciation
or recollection of the concert as a concert.
And after-events completely drove from her
mind even the faintest remembrance of how
the great prima donna sang. Mr. Eosenberg
had thought it best for no one to be with
Alix but himself, so the Vacquant party
found Mr. and Mrs. Riviere in the orchestra-
chairs, adjoining their own chairs very
near the stage, and altogether the best in
the house for the double purpose of seeing
and hearing. Valerie's heart was with the
poor chUd who was struggling, and fighting
herself, all alone behind the scenes ; and, for
once in her life, she was deaf even to music.
She had only a faint, dream-like impression
of the magnificent-looking woman, with her
powerful voice, her brilliant execution, her
gleaming silk, and flashing jewels, who
brought down such storms of applause from
the house. Even a Polonaise of Chopin,
and a concerto of Mendelssohn, failed to
move her. She heard little, and saw less,
until near the close of the first part, an eager
movement of Mrs Riviere's said more plainly
than words, " There she is! " and a round
of welcoming applause made Valerie look up
quickly to see Mr. Rosenberg's white-kid
gloves leading forward a brown-eyed Tita-
nia in a cloud of India muslin.
All the interested party drew their
breath quickly, and then held it in a sharp
tension of anxiety and hope. Indeed, the
most indifferent stranger might have found
it hard to gaze quite unmoved at the fair
foce and childlike form of tbe young delu-
tante, as she stood before the foot-lights in
all the solitary grace of her youth. She
looked so refined, so modest, so altogether
beautiful, that there was a quickening in-
terest on many a face lately apathetic, and
a half-murmured, " How lovely ! " from
many lips lately careless. Lovely, indeed,
she was rarely lovely; but one glance at
the poor little flower showed those eager
eyes watching her so closely that her cour-
age was ebbing fast. She was terribly
pale, and trembled visibly but she was
making a brave battle of it, and fighting a
stern fight for self-control. The first spon-
taneous tribute of applause subsided, was
acknowledged by a timid salutation, and
then silence settled over the house silence
profound and expectant ; but, to that trem-
bling heart, who shall say how awful! Mr.
Rosenberg took his seat at the piano, the
first violinist of the orchestra drew his bow
softly across the strings; but the singer
seemed momently losing both self-possession
and self-control. The maestro was evidently
very nneasy. He played a prelude of un-
usual length during the course of which
Valerie saw Alix's fingers lacing and inter-
lacing over the sheet of music she held, and
h,er breast heaving convulsively but at last
he could delay no longer. He murmured
something hurriedly over his shoulder, and
struck the first chords of the accompani-
ment. Alix made one desperate efiTort to
sing her voice failed her ! Another equal-
ly desperate with equally ill success. Then
she paused, e%'idently struggling with a wild
desire to burst into tears, and rush from the
stage. The stillness of the next few minutes
was terrible. Mrs. Riviere laid her hand
down on the one beside her with a grasp
Miss Aylmer never forgot ; but her glance
did not once turn from her daughter's face.
Mr. Rosenberg rose and went to Alix's side,
the leader of the orchestra leaned forward,
and spoke a few kind words of encourage-
ment. But it all seemed to little purpose,
and a perfect despair settled over the watch-
ers. To fail and thus ! Murmurs of com-
passion began to be heard, together with
well-meant whispers of "Better take her
off!"
110
VALERIE ATLMER.
At that moment Darcy, Vtho was sitting
just behind Valerie, laid his hand on her
shoulder. "Let her mother show herself,"
he whispered, eagerly. "That will restore
her courage if any thing can ! " Miss Ayl-
mer turned to Mrs. Eiviere, but she had
heard him, and immediately rose to her feet,
and leaned forward toward the stage, utterly
unmindful that she was thus a mark for the
observation of the whole house, if the house
had not been too much occupied to observe
her. Alix's eyes were wistfully turned on
the audience, as if seeking that face among
all others, and many noticed the start with
which she recognized it. The effect was
scarcely less instantaneous. Color flashed
into her cheeks, and light into her eyes ; she
made a motion as if swallowing* some im-
pediment in her throat, and, laying her
hand on Mr. Rosenberg's arm, pointed to
the piano. lie hesitated, but she said a few
words, and he resumed his seat. Then, as
she once more fronted the audience, with
resolution on her face such resolution as
that with which men go to storm a battery
some kindly chivalric hand in the gallery
gave a signal of applause, to which the body
of the house eagerly responded. When it
subsided, the battle was fought and won!
She began to sing, and the first tone of her
voice assured everybody that the worst was
over, and that no further hesitation was to
be feared. Perhaps it was desperation
which gave her strength, but at least it bore
her bravely through. She had never in her
life done fuller justice to herself or to her
teacher. Even those whose hearts were
bound up in her forgot for the moment the
singer in the music, and listened with enrap-
tured attention to those fairy-like cadences,
that exquisite elfin rise and fall of delicious
harmony which is the immortal heritage be-
queathed us by the master's immortal genius.
There was not a musical ear in the house
which was not charmed by the sweetness
and compass of those wonderful notes, which
did not perceive at once the rare natural
power of the voice, and the purity of execu-
tion, the almost perfect style of the vocaliza-
tion. They had expected at best little more
than a mediocre capability in this trembling
debutante, and they found themselves com-
pletely taken by surprise! When the last
echo of the " Magic Flute " died away, there
was a pause of absolute astonishment ; then
the Concordia walls had rarely echoed to a
more overwhelming torrent of applause than
broke forth in one wild storm. The Rubi-
con was passed indeed ! As far as this gen-
erous city was concerned, the young exile's
fame was made .and even now they were
calling her back with every token of fervid
enthusiasm. Half-frightened, and trembling
more than ever, Alix was led back, and
when at last the curtain fell, at the end of
the first part, it was amid the still echoing
sounds of that which is sweeter than aU
other music to the ear professional.
In the interval which followed, all the
Rivieres's acquaintances gathered round the
proud and happy parents with warm con-
gratulations. First of all, came Mr. Thorn-
ton, though he knew neither of them per-
sonally, and held out his hand with frank
cordiality. " The tone-world has gained
another star ! " he said and it was worth
while saying it, to see the bright smile
which came, in answer, over Mrs. Riviere's
face. But, though such compliments as
these are the pleasantest of all compliments
in the world, no one was sorry when the
curtain rose again and the concert recom-
menced. La Baroni sang with all the pow-
er and spirit which had gained her a world-
wide fame; but, nevertheless, there were
others now, besides the small group of im-
mediate friends, who eagerly waited the re-
appearance of the new songstress. At last
she came smiling, blushing, all alive
with the full, delicious realization of her
success. And how divinely she sang!
How purely and evenly the tide of melody
flowed from the slender throat how rich,
yet flexile, the voice proved itself whenever
there was a demand on strength or a trial
of skill how exquisitely birdlike were the
trills how regular and smooth the scales
how brilliant the whole execution ! It was
no wonder that the people applauded as if
they were mad ; that they encored her again
and yet again ; or that, when she was recalled
for the third time, and stood before them
with her glowing face and happy eyes, even
ladies joined in the enthusiastic outburst.
OUT OF THE DEPTHS.
Ill
and gave up their bouquets to be cast at
her feet.
CHAPTER V.
OUT OF THE DEPTHS.
SuDDEN'LT a startled voice cried, "Look
at Mrs. Riviere ! " and, turning quickly, Miss
Aylmer saw that she was lying back in her
chair, white as marble, with her eyes closed,
and a crimson tide flowing from her lips.
Her husband had not heard the first voice,
but he caught Valerie's exclamation of hor-
I'or, and turned also.
In a moment his face was almost as pale
as hers.
"My God!" he cried, "it is another
hasmorrhage ! "
The words had scarcely passed his lips,
before all was confusion in their immediate
vicinity a number of people pressing for-
ward, an uproar of voices, a dozen different
demands in a dozen different keys. Salts
ammonia water a fan the carriage a
doctor all were recommended and called for
in a breath, as it were, while those farther
off only thought a lady had fainted from the
heat The house went on thundering its
plaudits, Alix went on bowing and smiling,
while her mother's life was bleeding away.
Yet the confusion did not last long. It
scarcely needed the grave face of the has-
tily-summoned physician to assure the gazers
that Azrael had made his own time, and
that she on whom they gazed had received
the summons which none ever disobey.
There was something unspeakably awful
something that no one, looking on, ever for-
got in the contrasts of the scene. Here,
the garish realm of jdeasure and life, the
glittering, swaying crowd, the painted ara-
besqued walls, the brilliant lights, the illu-
minated stage there, the ghastly shadow,
the inexorable presence of agony and
death. Fortunately the concert was over
all, save an orchestral piece which nobody
seemed to care about hearing Alls had
vanished, and the house was emptying
fast. The pealing instruments rose and
swelled in a harmony which only served to
keep time to the rustle and tread of depart-
ing numbers, but which formed the last ele-
ment of discordance in this horrible scene.
Nobody seemed to notice them, excepting
Miss Aylmer; but she, who was kneeling
by the insensible women, looked up at Dar-
cy with a piteous appeal. " For Heaven's
sake, go and tell them go and stop them! "
she said. He went, and, a moment later,
the gay strain ceased, and the ghastly death-
march was over. But, years afterward, Va-
lerie heard that air played by other musi-
cians, in a far-distant land, and it brought
back, as vividly as if she again gazed upon it,
the scene of that night, with all its terrible
accompaniments.
After the first shock was over, Mr. Rivi-
ere recovered something of his usual self-
possession, and sent a note to Mr. Rosen-
berg, bidding him detain Alix until some
one called for her. Then Mrs. Riviere was
slowly carried out of the empty house to
the carriage which was waiting for her.
Miss Aylmer seemed most to retain self-
possession, and so it was to her that the
doctor turned when he said, " Get in ! "
She did not understand what he meant to
require of her, but she obeyed at once.
After she was in the carriage, Mrs. Riviere
was laid half on the seat, half within her
arms, and the doctor following, with Mr.
Riviere, they drove rapidly away. Xobody
mentioned Alix, but Valerie's heart was full
of her, and it was a great relief to remember
that Darcy had taken on himself the duty
of telling her, and bringing her after them.
Valerie now began to realize something of
what he was, as a sure and steadfast help in
time of need; at least there was no one else
who could have given her such a feeling of
confidence that the blow to that poor, un-
prepared heart would be softened as much
as human care and tenderness can soften
such a stroke and, God knows, that is little
enough !
It was very strange and awesome, that
drive ! Every thing seemed so terrible, and
had been so sudden, that it was all unreal to
Valerie ; and, once or twice, she half-won-
dered if she were awake, as the carriage
rolled on over the paving-stones, as the pass-
ing gleams of the street-lamps fell across the
112
VALERIE AYLMER. .
death-like face, pillowed on her white opera
cloak, and the two men sat opposite, like
graven images, neither speaking, and the
doctor only leaning forward now and then
to lay his finger on the faint pulse.
The haemorrhage had almost entirely
ceased hy the time they reached upper Eu-
taw Street, and, lifting the frail form with
as little difficulty as if she had been a child,
Mr. Kiviere bore it into the house which she
had left so shortly before in all the flush of
life's fullest hopes. He made no pause on
the lower floor, though the doctor would
fain have drawn him into the first room
they reached, but passed directly on to her
own chamber, laying her gently and tender-
ly down on the bed from which she would
never rise again.
Every thing that ensued was afterward
a very dim remembrance to Miss Aylmer.
She knew that she must have been cool and
capable of intelligent service, at the time,
for it was to her that the doctor made his
demands for every thing he needed, and it
was on her that the duty of bringing the
frightened household to some order fell.
She had not more than accomplished this,
and taken her place once more to wipe away
the red drops that still slowly came from
between the parted lips, when a carriage
drove almost at a gallop up to the door.
There was the sound of quick voices and
hurrying feet, and, before the doctor could
interfere to prevent, Alix had rushed into
the room, and thrown herself on her knees
by her mother's bedside.
" O, mother, mother!" she cried, "is
this my triumph ? O God ! she is dead !
it is I who have killed her! "
" Ilush ! " said the doctor, sternly, and,
laying a heavy hand on her shoulder, forced
her away. "You will kill her, if you bring
on that hajmorrhage again ! Hush, mad-
am ! " this to Mrs. Rivifire whose lids
quivered and whose pale lips faintly strove
to speak. "I command you to hush your
life depends upon it ! There must not be
one word spoken in this room either by
you or any one else. Miss Rividre, come
with me down-stairs."
" Oh, no, no ! " exclaimed poor Alix, with
a piteous cry of entreaty. "Let me stay
with her ! do let me stay with her ! I will
not utter another word I promise that !
Only try me you can send me away, if I
do!"
The doctor released his hold. He evi-
dently did not like to trust her, and did so
reluctantly. But she sank on her knees
again so hushed and still that, after a mo-
ment, he turned away and went to Miss
Aylmer.
"I suppose I can depend on you? " he
said, shortly. " Don't, on any pretext, allow
a word to be spoken especially by Mrs.
Riviere herself, or " he pointed over his
shoulder to Alix. "Keep perfect silence.
I have sent for Preston, and I must go down-
stairs a moment. If there is any change,
call me."
Valerie bent her head, and he walked
away. From some cause or other, he
did not return for a considerable time,
and the still, solemn aspect of the chamber
seemed to awe and oppress Miss Aylmer,
like the very presence of death itself. In
lesser degree, there was the same contrast
which had given so much deeper horror to
the scene in the opera-house, only now the
world was subordinate sunk into nothing
as it were, by the side of that eternity
which was so near at hand. "We are told
very often that we walk on the border of I
eternity, that there is ever only a thin
veil between our faces and its awful myste-
ries ; but it is doubtful whether we ever re-
alize the fact until we are brought face to
face with some swift tragedy in which the
curtain is lifted before our eyes, and we
catch a glimpse a brief, fleeting glimpse
of the existence beyond, and of its unspeak-
able nearness to our daily lives. Just now,
Valerie had this glimpse -just now she
seemed to feel in every throb of her own
abounding life the sense of death which we
carry about with us all the time, and the
actual presence of that shadowy world
which in our poor human blindness we call
shadowy, Avhen indeed it alone is real!
at whose entrance, this life, now fading from
earth, was soon to stand. She had not of-
ten before come face to face with death;
and it Avas long before the scene on which
she gazed ceased to haunt her. There lay
OUT OF THE DEPTHS.
113
the almost dying woman, with her Avliite
face and faintly-pulsating breast so faintly
pulsating, that more than once Valerie
thought the breath had ceased. The dim,
hushed room looked vast and weird Avith
the dark shadows gathering in its corners,
and the outline of its still figures thrown in
gigantic relief on the walls. Mr. Kiviere
stood so unmoving at the side of the bed
that he might have been taken for a sculp-
tured figure, while the gala-dress of Alix,
with its misty flounces and French roses,
lay all unheeded on the floor, as she knelt
with only a convulsive quiver now and
then running over her frame ; while Valerie,
in her shining silk and blood-stained cloak,
sat on the bed, with her fingers on the fail-
ing pulse of the hand that was lightly clasp-
ing hers.
It seemed as if many hours passed thus ;
but it could not have been nearly one
since the confessor who had been sum-
moned in haste had not yet arrived when
a slight pressure of her hand made Valerie
bend over Mrs. Riviere to see what she de-
sired. Before it was possible to remon-
strate, she had whispered four words
weak and low, yet quite distinct :
' Comfort my poor child."
Scarcely were they spoken, before the
eflFort brought on the hsemorrhage again
and the red tide gushed once more from her
lips over the pillows. Alix sprang to her
feet and fled to the head of the stairs, calling
wildly for the doctor. He came looked
placed his finger on the pulse then turned
to Mr. Riviere, and said aloud, but very
gently, " She is dying."
Mrs. Riviere evidently heard the words.
Perhaps he had wished that she should.
Her eyes opened slowly, and met his with
an expression which said, "I know it,"
Then they turned to Valerie, and, remember-
ing the appeal of a moment before, she an-
swered instinctively, "I will I will!"
and that strangely-expressive glance wan-
dered to Mix, who stood a little back from
the bed, her hands hanging loosely at her
side, and a stony horror on her face. The
rapidly-dimming sight dwelt on her face
for a moment, in unutterable and pitying
love ; and then the last look turned to her
husband, who was bending over with agony
too great for utterance. What a volume
was in that long gaze ! so much that was
perfectly intelligible to the stranger looking
on, that it must have been plain as spoken
words to him. Once the steady regard was
raised toward heaven 'returning immedi-
ately to fix itself again on his and the poor
blood-covered lips strove to fashion them-
selves into a smile last token of the love
which was undying. Neither eyes nor lips
moved again.
It scarcely needs to dwell on the des-
olation which followed. All of us have
passed through, or will pass through, such
valleys of the shadow of death, and all of
us know the black pall which at such times
comes over all things shutting out even
the sunlight of God's smile. With Alix,
sorrow took the foi*m of dumb apathy.
She crouched by the side of that which was
once her mother, and moaned to herself like
some stricken wild creature of the forest,
all the day long ! she paid no heed to any
one no voice was powerful enough to
rouse her people came and went, spoke to
her, talked of her, but she never raised her
head she never acknowledged any other
presence than that of the dead. Perhaps
of jU the forms of human grief, there is
none more touching, none more hopeless
than this, none so powerful to wring our
own hearts with the sorrow of unavailing
pity 1 "When thirty-six hours had passed, and
still the stunned quiescence was unbroken,
still no morsel of food had crossed the pale
lips, the doctor thought it necessary to in-
terfere. " This will never do ! " he said, de-
cidedly. "The body must be removed as
soon as possible, or this child will die." Ac-
cordingly the funeral arrangements were
hastened, and, on the third day after death,
they buried away in the kind bosom of
Mother Earth the cold shell of mortality
that had once enshrined so fair and pure a
spirit. To the last, Alix was resolved to at-
tend the funeral. But Nature had already
been taxed too far. "When she went to take
a last look of her mother's face, and she saw
the lovely and ineffable peace that reigned
in every line of it in contrast with her own
grief-torn heart, the poor child gave way in
114
VALERIE AYLMER.
one mighty rush of emotion, that cast her
prostrate beneath its violence.
"O mother, mother!" she sobbed, as
the burning shower ran over the face of
her who never before had been uncon-
scious of her voice, or deaf to her suffering.
" Mine is the anguish, but yours the peace !
All is over for you all pain, all fear, all
trouble ! Your rest is won but ob, my
burden is heavy, heavier than I can bear
without you! Oh, come back to me or
teach me at least to say 'Thy will be done.' "
She was borne away unresisting, and a
strong opiate administered by the doctor's
orders. "She will rest now," he said.
And she did rest so deeply that the sad
procession passed out of the darkened house,
as she lay in unconscious slumber. And
while in the dim cathedral the solemn tones
of a requiem mass were chanted over the
silent dust, she still slept stiU forgot her
pangs for a brief whUe, as she lay with a
crucifix clasped in her hand, and so sweet
a smile on the pallid face, that Valerie hushed
her breath, thinking it must be that the
mother's spirit had come to comfort her
even from those
" Shores where tideless sleep the teas of Time
Soft by the city of the ealnts of God."
CHAPTER VI.
EEAPIXG THE HARVEST.
A FOETNiGHT after this, Valerie was still
domiciled at the Rivieres'. Iler heart al-
ways a gentle and pitiful heart to sorrow
and distress had been sorely touched, and
she was as loath to leave Alix and go back to
the dissipations of the Vacquant household,
as Alix would have been loath to see her go.
Indeed, as the first wild violence of grief
abated, giving place to that deep and settled
sorrow which time alone can heal, there
came also the aching sense of desolation
the deep longing for human love and com-
panionship which made Valerie's presence
with her a positive necessity. Already,
however, the former had mooted a plan
which could alone secure this companion-
ship for any length of time. Already, she
had declared her anxiety, that Alix should
leave her own home, so full as it was of
painful memories, and accompany her to
"Washington Place. By degrees only could
the latter be brought to entertain such a
proposition. She clung passionately to the
spot last associated with her mother, and
even her father's persuasions were of little
avail. Indeed, when no other excuse was
left, she would look up at Valerie piteously,
and say, " But I cannot leave poor papa all
alone." To this Miss Aylmer wisely for-
bore immediate answer, for she was sure
that even the daughter's eyes could not long
fail to perceive that her absence would be to
her father more a relief than a deprivation.
His love for his wife had been singularly de-
voted ; but there was little or notliing of
what is called " the domestic man " in his
nature. He tolerated home-life for her sake ;
but he never learned to like it for its own,
and the most superficial observer could not
have failed to perceive how strong was his
desire to escape the haunting presence of
grief embodied in the darkened house, the
vacant couch, his daughter's pale face and
black dress and plunge headlong into the
world. There was no doubt but that he
would be tmfeignedly glad to see Alix safely
established at M. Vacquant's fireside, and to
lock within the vacant house the ghost of
his past life and his dead love.
Nor was it very long before this desire
was plainly manifest even to Ahx ; not long
before she yielded a reluctant consent to
Valerie's entreaties, and those which Ma-
dame Vacquant came in person to add ; not
long before she bade a weeping farewell to
the rooms where her mother's smile last
shone on her, and was driven away to the
stately Vacquant mansion, where a sunny
room awaited her, and where one heart at
least was ready to give her a tender and un-
wearied attention.
Is it necessary to say that this heart beat
within the broad chest of Maurice Darcy ?
Truly, if he had seemed to like tl is fair child
before, he now devoted himself to her -with
an affection that was touched into deep rev-
erence by her silent but enduring grief.
Her mother could not have watched over
Alix with more untiring care, more con-
REAPING THE HARVEST.
115
stantly studied her unspoken wishes, more
zealously striven to ease her heart and amuse
her mind. His regard fairly encompassed
her. If she remained in her chamber, books,
papers, and flowers, were going up in broken
detachments aU day ; if she came down, he
rarely failed to meet her at the foot of the
stairs and lead her into the hack drawing-
room, where her own special sofa stood cov-
ered with cushions which he never allowed
any one but himself to arrange. Then he
would take his seat by her, and leave no
means imtried to make the rare smile and
rarer laugh, until Valerie, looking on in won-
dering surprise, could only murmur half-un-
consciously to herself:
" The bravest are the tenderest,
The loving are the daring."
Not that Valerie had overmuch time just
now for observing Maurice Darcy, or aught
that concerned him. Since her return, Ju-
lian had been her shadow, in public as well
as private a shadow whom she found it
wellnigh impossible to shake off, and who
cost her many an hour of deep and painful
disquietude. The end was fast approaching
she saw that ! N"ot much longer could
ihe "pretty fooling" go on, or could she
stave off a serious declaration and its conse-
quences ; not much longer could she hold at
arm's-length the devotion that daily grew in
passion and exactitude. An explanation
must soon come, and after that well, per-
haps it was part of her punishment that she
remembered now her father's warning, and
wished vainly and bitterly that she had
heeded it. Ah ! there is no telling, but per-
haps we might not sow quite so recklessly
if we would only bear the reaping-time in
mind ; if we would only remember that there
is no question of liking or regret, no alter-
native of evasion, when that inevitable hour
comes, and the relentless scythe is put into
our hand, but, whether we will or no, the
harvest must be gathered. Even in the
merest worldly sense, there is no wiser max-
im than that of " Look to the end." Ay,
look to the end, for if we often or ever did
so, that end might not be so full of ashes
and gaU when it comes. Slowly and pain-
fully, as aU great lessons must be learned,
this truth came home to Valerie Aylmer;
but the harvest was to be gathered in for all
that ; nor was it long before the reaping
began.
It seemed that Madame Vacquant had
laid her plans well, for by degrees Valerie
began to perceive that society at large con-
sidered the affaire between Julian and her-
self in the light of a recognized engagement.
Men fell back from her side when he ad-
vanced, as if conceding an acknowledged
right ; women began to speak of her as of one
outside the circle of the disengaged ; and a
thousand trifling occurrences proved to her
that the matter was regarded as finally set-
tled. Perhaps Madame Vacquant would
have been wise in this move, if she had not
reasoned too much on feminine nature in
general, and not enough on Valerie's nature
in particular. Some women many women
are easily influenced by any thing of this
kind, and are readily brought to think that
when society utters its dictum the matter
had best be considered settled ; that they
have committed themselves past recall, and
that it is better to accept the situation than
to dare the vague and shadowy consequences
of rebellion. But no such woman was this
girl, through whose veins beat hot and strong
the warm Southern blood, that, in great or
small, never yet blenched at a penalty, or
regarded a consequence. Therefore, it was
not strange that this species of social coer-
cion, instead of retarding, rather gave im-
petus to the explanation which seemed so
near at hand. It seemed near at hand, yet
it came at last unexpectedly as most things
do come,
Valerie's indignation had been very much
roused by Eomney's attempt to claim a privi-
leged right to some favor over the heads of
half a dozen other aspirants at a certain ball
one night. So when he came, instigated by
his mother, to make overtures of peace the
next morning, he found his fair mistress in
a far from placable mood.
"Yes," she said, after listening to all his
ready-made penitence, " that is very fine, but
I have heard it rather too often. I should like
some substantial proof of regret before issu-
ing another official pardon. No pray don't
interrupt me. I know exactly what you are
going to say. I am fully prepared to hear
116
VALERIE AYLMER.
that I must stand your excuse, and all that
sort of thing but, once for all, I must de-
cline standing your excuse any longer. I
should think people could like each other in
a reasonable manner, like each other without
this continual jealousy; but if not why,
then they had better stop liking one another
at all!"
"Ah, lady fair, that may be even beyond
your power," Julian answered, with a smile
for he thought her only a little more than
usually hard to propitiate. " ' Like each other
in a reasonable manner?' why, the very
stones could afford to laugh at such a senti-
ment from La telle des belles. When, in all
your life, did you ever find any one who liked
you in a reasonable manner? "
"I never foimd any one who liked me in
quite such an unreasonable one as yourself,"
she retorted.
" Granted, with aU my heart ; for it only
goes to prove that none have ever liked you
half as well. You surely have not yet to learn
that, 'to be wise in love, exceeds man's
strength.' "
It was not the first time by many that he
had used this word, and used it unrebuked,
but now it seemed from some cause or other
to jar on Valerie's mood ; and her brow con-
tracted as she said, coldly .
" I confess I don't see the point of the
quotation. Shakespeare is always right, of
course ; but we were not discussing either
love or wisdom, that I am aware of"
" "Were we not ? " he replied. "Well, per-
haps I am very stupid, but I really thought
we were. At least you arraigned me for
faults having only that origin and that ex-
cuse."
"Having no excuse at all then," said she,
with increasing coldness, for she felt out of
sorts that day, and very indifferent whether
the crisis came or not.
Julian started. Perhaps something in
her manner warned him, for he glanced
keenly into her face, and his tone greatly
subdued itself when he said: "You are in
the humor to be hard on me to-day, I see.
Well, I deserve every thing that you can say
in the way of reproach : but I don't deserve
suspicion. Blame every thing, doubt every
thing except my love."
He did not mend matters by that ; and
so he felt, the moment after.
" You forget yourself! " she cried, almost
angrily ; " and you forget a great deal besides.
I cannot and will not listen to any thing
more of this kind. Remember that and
don't force me to tell you so again! "
Her tone was more peremptory than she
had probably intended it to be, and was ill
suited for her purpose, since it woke the
angry obstinacy never long sleeping in Rom-
ney's nature. He looked at her steadily;
and it was easy to see that the look promised
no moderation.
"You surely don't think that, after all
that has passed, you can lay such a command
on me? " he asked,
"I think," she answered concisely, "that
it will be your best policy to observe it."
He laughed a little scornfully. " A man
who feels as I do cares little for policy and
less for penalties. Your worst may be as
death to me, but nevertheless I shall dare it.
I told you three weeks ago that this should
end soon. I tell you to-day that it shall end
now. It remains only for you to say
how."
"You had better not force me to say
how," she answered, shrinking in spite of
herself from the issue, now that it was at
hand. "You had better, indeed, forget all
of this. Ah, Julian, why will you not be
content to let us remain pleasant friends
without any of this weary recrimination?"
" Friends? " he repeated ; " that is non-
sense ! I told you once before that I am not,
and never will be, your friend. As for this
'weary recrimination,' you are not more
tired of it than I am. I have only foiled to
end it heretofore because well, because I
am the veriest coward alive, and I feared my
fate too much. Now, at least, I have a right
to sit at your side and look in your eyes I
will forfeit even that if my tale is told to no
purpose. For there is no middle ground for
me, Valerie. Henceforward, I am either
your betrothed husband or yj3ur bitter
enemy."
"Julian!"
She was sincerely startled now and
with good cause. It was no pretty page
lisping a love-story, who stood before her.
REAPING THE HARVEST.
117
but a man in whom slie had roused all of
manhood's strongest passion. At that mo-
ment, she would have given any thing to
have been able to summon the gay badinage
that had fenced off so many an awkward
issue ; but nothing came to her lips save
once again that half-frightened, half-expostu-
lating "Julian!"
For once he paid no attention to her
voice. Not a line of his face altered the
face that had suddenly hardened into unac-
customed resolve and his eyes had lost all
their dreamy beauty, as he stood looking
down on her.
" "Well, which is it ? " he asked, hoarsely.
"Julian, you you frighten me!" she
cried. " "Which is what ! "
" Don't tell me you don't know," he said,
passionately. "Don't tell me that at this
late day, I have to begin and say to you in
due form that I loved you from the moment
I saw you first, and shall love you till I die.
It is for you to say whether that love shall
be God's blessing or the devil's curse ! "
" Julian, pray hush ! pray forget this ! "
, " Forget it ! " He gave a short, hard
laugh. "It is like a woman to say that.
Forget it ! As if your sign-manual is ever
forgotten! As if I shaU not carry your
mark, for good or evil, to my dying day ! It
is* a fine thing to draw men on and bid them
hope, by every art in your power then,
when they grow too earnest to amuse you,
coolly say, ' Forget it.' But have you never
thought what that forgetting means? "
She glanced up at him mutely. No, she
had never thought that much, at least, can
be said for her. She had never once con-
sidered. It was all merely amusement with
her; and she had scarcely ever dreamed
that it was other with them until now.
No wonder that for once, face to face with
the truth, her cheek grew pale.
" Julian," she whispered, " for Heaven's
sake, let there be an end of this ! I may
have been to blame, but see I ask your
pardon so humbly. Indeed, I never dreamed
but that you, too, were amusing yourself in
a pleasant way. Indeed, I never dreamed "
She stopped short, for with one quick
step he had reached her side and grasped
her arm.
" Hush ! " he said, sternly. " All this is
folly, and you ought to know it. Amusing
myself! No, you never thought that. You
knew only too well that you were playing
at life and death with me. But it is not
too late yet. For God's sake, pause! Stop
think ! No man on this earth ever loved
you half as well as I do will not even that
love win something in return ? Have you
no woman's heart in your breast ? Can you
not even tolerate me enough to marry rae ?
I would try so hard, that I would force you
to love me after a w^hile. Valerie, I never
thought to sink so low ! I nevej* thought to
say to any woman what I say to you now
Have pity on me ! "
Ah, that is right. Veil your face from
those beseeching eyes ! Shut out from your
ears those pleading tones ! But you can
never banish the voice that says over and
over, "Behold your work." And silence in
itself is a wrong ; so, after a moment, she
raised her face, pale and calm, but resolved,
" I dare not deceive you," she said, sad-
ly. " There never has been, there never can
be, the least hope for you. I don't defend
my conduct toward you for I suppose you
will think it no justification to repeat once
more that I had no such intention as this
andif you will not grant me your forgive-
ness, there is nothing left for me but to bear
my burden of self-reproach as best I can. I
would like it very much, though, if you could
say once only once that you forgive me."
She looked at him wistfully ; but there
was little hope of generosity or pardon in
those eyes so full of bitter anger.
" I feel more inclined to curse you,
when I think of all that lies before me," he
said. " But then one should not violate the
Memeances so far as that at least in a lady's
presence. No, I shall never forgive you
while I live for you can never even ima-
gine the full breadth and depth of the disap-
pointment you have dealt me this day.
"Whenever you think of it, only remember
this that I do not blow out my brains,
simply because I hope yet to see you suffer
in part at least as I am suff"ering now ! "
"With those words words the bitterness
of which made her shudder as if a cold hand
had been laid upon her he dropped the
118
VALERIE AYLMER.
arm which np to that moment he had still
lightly held, and left the room without one
backward glance.
An hour or two later, there came u
knock at Valerie's door, and when she
opened it Madame Vacquant stood on the
threshold. There was no perceptible change
in the perfect discipline of the beautiful
features, but the eyes had proved harder to
tutor, and in them was a look which might
have warned Miss Aylmer of what was coirr-
ing, if she had needed any warning. The
soft voice, however, sounded quite as usual
when it said :
"May I come in? I will not occupy
you more than a minute, but I have some-
thing of importance to say to you,"
" Come in, of course," Valerie answered.
"I beg pardon for not speaking, but I was
not expecting to see you, and "
" The sight of me surprised you. Very
naturally, I am sure. Certainly the last
person whom you might reasonably have
expected to see was myself. But I hope you
will believe that I only come because I feel
it my duty to do so."
"Yes," Valerie said, a little stiffly and
then she drew forward a chair, adding,
" Will you not sit down ? "
The other shook her head. " I shall only
remain a moment," she repeated, and she
continued standing, one hand resting on the
top of a table which occupied the centre of
the floor. Of course, Valerie stood also,
with her head somewhat haughtily erect, as
if yet uncertain what that word " duty "
always an ominous word on the lips of cer-
tain people might portend. Neither was
she long left in doubt. Almost without
hesitation, Madame Vacquant spoke clear-
ly and calmly, though somewhat formal-
" I have just left my son. He tells me
what I can scarcely believe that you have
rejected him. "Witnessing, as I have done,
your uniform encouragement of his suit, I
have no alternative but to think that he
must be mistaken. I cannot but believe
that he has interpreted some rebuke or dis-
agreement in a morbid spirit. If you could
see him, you would not wonder that I come
to ask you who is right he or 1."
Now, long before this. Miss Aylmer was
herself again, and not likely to blench before
Julian's mother, as she had done to Julian's
self. So her answer was made with becom-
ing respect, but very decidedly.
" I am sorry to say, madame, that it is ho
who is right. He did me the honor to
ofter me his hand, and I was compelled to
decline it. There was no misinterpretation
possible, and, much as I regret every thing
connected with the matter, I cannot wish
that there should be."
It was well that she was so brave, for
there was much in the eye steadily regard-
ing her that would not have been pleasant
to weak nerves; and through the silvery
voice there rang a tone of menace when it
spoke again softening toward the last,
however, into appeal :
" Are you in earnest in this? Are you
sure that no anger or pique is influencing
you, instead of deliberate resolve ? Julian's
temper is, I know, trying ; but I can prom-
ise you any concession or submission on his
part that you choose to ask. See ! I am
his mother, and, for his sake, I am willing to
do any thing to secure his happiness. Give
me one word of hope to take back to him,
and all this shall be forgotten."
"Madame," said Valerie, kindly, "trust
me it is you who misinterpret now. And
you ask me to do your son a great wrong.
I desire neither concession nor submission on
his part ; and to give him hope would be to
deceive him. I cannot do that."
She spoke with profound consideration
and gentleness; but, for the first time in her
life, she saw passion flash into the face be-
fore her, and passion quivered in the tones
which answered almost vehemently :
" You mean, then, that you intend to put
his love and his life down imder your foot ?
You mean that you have drawn him on by
every art in your power only for this heart-
less triumph ? You mean that you fling him
out of your path to go to destruction, as he
surely will, and that this this decision is
final?"
Miss Aylmer drew back, coldly. "We
need not argue whether you are right or
wrong in your reproaches," she said. "I do
not resent them, because you are suffering
REAPING THE HARVEST.
119
through me ; but I do repeat that tliis decis-
ion is fiual/'
" That you will not change it ? "
" That it is not possible for me to change
it/'
They looked at each other steadily for a
moment. If Madame Vacquant wished to
read her chances of failure or success, a very
bitter realization of the former must have
come over her at sight of the resolution ap-
parent in Valerie's eyes. Certainly when
she spoke again, all the late passion and ap-
peal had died out of her voice, and it was
now only measured and chill.
" I see, indeed, that I have misinterpreted
you greatly. For one thing, I fancied my-
self addressing a woman not a coquette,
without the ordinary impulses of humanity
that temper the worst of coquetry. It
seemed to me that the part you have played
was too pitilessly cruel for belief. And it is
hard, very hard, that I should learn my mis-
take too late. If I had only dreamed of this
a little earlier, I might have interfered at
any cost. I might have sent Julian away
anywhere ! No fate could have been worse
than this ! "
"I hope and trust that you are mis-
taken," Valerie said. " This can be only a
boy's disappointment. Before long, I will
go out of his life, and ho will forget me
quite."
"You say so because you know nothing
of him," his mother answered, with a grand
sort of scorn. " How should you, indeed ?
He has been to you only a toy, and we do
not study our toys very deeply. But you
are wrong. This has been the sport of a few
weeks to you it Avill be a lifelong curse to
him. Kemember this, I beg. Kemember,
when you go on to act the same story over
again, that you have left at least one
wrecked life in your path. However, I need
speak of him no more ; if you have decided,
all is said. I should like now to speak of
yourself. Has it never occurred to you
that, for your own sake, you would do
well to pause in this matter, before it is
too late?"
Full of astonishment, the dark eyes
looked at her. " For my own sake, madame ?
I confess I don't understand you."
Still less did she understand the cold
smile that came round the pale thin lips, or
the cold tone that answered :
" If any thing whatever lies very near
your heart, pray that you never may under-
stand that is all."
She turned and walked slowly from the
room.
BOOK IV.
CHAPTER I.
IIB AETEGALL,
It was nearly a montli after Eomney bad
put Lis fate to the toucli, and lost it all, that
Alix said to Darcy when they chanced to be
alone in the library one morning :
"I fancied I saw Mr. Eomney's face at
one of the club-house windows this morn-
ing, as I was coming home from early mass;
but I suppose it must have been a mistake.
He is not in the city, is he ? "
She asked the question carelessly and
simply, but was instantly struck with the ex-
pression which it brought to Maurice's face.
He even hesitated a moment before answer-
ing:
"You are sure it was his face? You
may have been mistaken."
"No, I am not sure at all," she replied.
"But I thought I recognized him, and and
I was glad Valerie was not with me."
"Why?"
" Because he looked so strangely and so
badly, that it would have made her feel
wretchedly. She suffers very much about
him now."
Her companion smiled.
"You are so thoroughly illogical in your
sympathy! " lie said. "Does it never strike
you that Miss Aylmcr's sufferings grant-
ing that she does suffer are hardly so much
to be pitied as those she has caused ? "
"No," said Alix, stoutly. "On the
contrary, it strikes me as far from just to
make Valerie accountable for the absurd
conduct of a man who chose to fall in love
with her and get rejected as of course we
all know Mr. Romney has been."
" But suppose the falling in love was as
much her work as the rejection? "
"Indeed, I shall not suppose anything
of the kind."
" Then you must obstinately shut your
eyes to the plainest possible state of facts."
" What do you mean ? "
" I mean that I have seen a good deal of
latter-day flirtation and coquetry in my life ;
but that I never saw any thing to equal the
remorseless science with which your friend
led that poor boy on to the end, which every
one but himself foresaw."
" I know very little about it," said Alix,
with a puzzled look ; " for Valerie has never
mentioned Mr. Romney's name to me since
he went away a month ago. But I can see
that she suffers you could see it too, if you
chose to look ; and I don't believe that she
ever meant any harm to him."
Darcy's lip curled in a sort of cold scorn.
" I have no doubt she told him so," he
said ; "but we judge deeds rather by result
than by intention ; that is, even if some of
us could imitate your charity with regard to
the latter."
" You mean that you think she deliber-
ately broke his heart for mere pastime? "
He looked smilingly into the flushed, in-
dignant face before him. " Why do you want
me to say what you are sure to resent? " he
asked.
SIR ARTEGALL.
121
" Because I want to know if you are real-
ly so unjust."
" Then I really am so unjust, as you con-
sider it. I hold Miss Aylmer guilty of all
that Romney has suftored, and still suffers;
simply because she inflicted every pang gra-
tuitously for her own amusement."
" I think I could convince you " Alix
began warmly, when a hand fell lightly on
her shoulder, and a clear, quiet voice startled
them both by speaking :
" Never waste exertion, mignonne. How
often must I tell you that? Captain Darcy's
mind is thoroughly made up on this point,
and you could not change it if you spoke a
volume. So I beg you will not speak a word
in my behalf."
Darcy started, and turned. Alix was
seated at the table, drawing, and he had
been standing by her side sharpening one by
one her pencils ; so they had neither of them
caught Miss Aylmer's soft tread as she
crossed the thick carpet; and he was quite
unconscious how much or how little of their
conversation had been overheard. The doubt
did not disquiet him outwardly, however;
for there was no sign of confusion in his face
when he met her eyes, although, before he
could say any thing, she spoke abruptly :
"I am sure you think there was never a
better exemplification of the old proverb
about listeners ; but I ought to apologize.
I was reading in that recess yonder when
you both came in, and I did not think it
necessary to speak. Your conversation was
very harmless for a while, you know, and
after that well, perhaps I might have inter-
fered ; but then it is not often that one has
the opportunity of accompanying a friend,
or acquaintance, into the palace of Truth, to
hear what is thought of them, as I have
done. The temptation must excuse me."
"You have heard every thing, then? "
" Every thing."
"I am glad of that," he said, somewhat
to her surprise. " You are aware, then, how
I was betrayed into expressing an opinion on
a matter which assuredly does not concern
me ; and about which, consequently, I should
not have spoken, if Miss Eiviere's questions
had not demanded answers."
"Yes, I am perfectly aware of the cir-
cumstances, and entirely excuse you," she
answered. " Don't fancy that I am either
surprised or hurt. I have known all along
what your opinion of me was, and I believe
you.don't change your judgment."
" Not certainly without good cause."
"I never did you the injustice to think
so, or to imagine for a moment that the con-
sideration of human weakness or human
frailty would weigh a feather's weight in
your decision. But perhaps even you may
yet live to learn that justice mere justice
is the most hard, wellnigh the most cruel
thing on earth."
To Alix, merely looking on, it was strange
to hear the suppressed passion in Valerie's
voice, and yet more strange to see how she
and Darcy seemed to understand each other
how his face settled sternly at her last
words.
" It is all that we need ask," he said.
" God help us then ! Yes, God help even
you, if, at the last He deal not mercy, but
justice! if, like you. He looks not to inten-
tions, but to results."
" I have never knowingly wronged or
pained a creature of His making," he an-
swered, coldly. "I am ready even for
justice."
' " So, no doubt, the Pharisee thought,
when, standing apart, he thanked God that
he was not as other men."
"You are mistaken," he said. "But
then, when have you not mistaken me ? I
have both sins and errors enough to answer
for ; but I trust they aifect only myself. I
cannot help thinking that many wrongs done
thus, wiU not count so heavily in the last
reckoning, as one wrought against another."
" But how if that wrong was not know-
ingly wrought?"
He looked at her intently for a moment,
and then answered, still coldly ;
" I am riot a theologian. Miss Aylmer ;
and that is a question for priests. They will
tell you much of ' intention ; ' but I am a
plain man, and I prefer to look at results."
" Yes, so you said before. I should have
remembered it."
She had spoken from the first in a
low, quiet voice, and now she ceased ab-
ruptly. They were all three silent for
122
VALERIE AYLMER.
a moment, during wMcli they made quite
a striking picture a picture which would
not have failed to please Darcy's eye if he
could have seen it as an outsider, and might
have afforded him a study for some scene far
more dramatic than the simple one they
were enacting. Perhaps it was the under-
lying earnestness, which had not escaped in
word or tone, that thus unconsciously to
themselves asserted itself in attitude ; but at
least their grouping was singularly expres-
sive. Surprise and concern were shown in
every line of Alix's face, as she looked up
from the shadow of her capacious chair and
heavy mourning draperies ; the poor, little
pale face that had only its wistful eyes and
sun-tinted hair to give it beauty now. But
neither of the others heeded her. Tall and
straight, Darcy stood by the table, almost as
if he had braced himself to resist some dan-
ger, or defy some temptation, the knowledge
of which hardened the pleasant face, and
brought into the genial eyes their look of
coldness. He, too, was somewhat in the
shade ; but Valerie stood farther forward,
and on her the whole light of the picture fell
as if it loved to seek out and dwell upon a
thing so lovely. The dark oaken panels be-
hind her threw into full relief the richness
of tint for which her beauty was so remark-
able, from the topmost braid of hair which
caught the light on its polished surface, down
to the last violet fold of the dress that swept
the carpet. She was paler than usual there
was no doubt that the bright cheek had lost
much of its color during the last month
but she had never looked more beautiful or
more proud. "When she spoke again, how-
ever, there was only gravity in her voice.
" Yon did not tell Alix, Captain Darcy
will you please tell me, whether Julian is in
the city? "
" Yes," Darcy answered, as gravely as
herself. " He is here. lie has been here
for a week, I believe."
" And why have you not tried to induce
him to come home? "
" I should suppose you might be aware
that no one is less likely to possess any in-
fluence with him than myself."
" Still, you might have tried."
"I did try without effect."
" And does his mother know this? "
He shrugged his shoulders.
" That I cannot tell ; but I heard her say
yesterday that he was stUl absent."
" But what is he doing here, that he
should adopt this secrecy ? "
She asked the question eagerly, almost
passionately, but waited vainly for an an-
swer. None came. No sound broke the
silence, save the quick, steady strokes with
wliich Darcy was sharpening Alix's pencil.
Then, instead of repeating her inquiry, Vale-
rie bent down and whispered a word or two
in the latter's ear. Their tenor was at
once apparent, for Miss Eiviere rose and
left the room. "While Darcy was still look-
ing after her, Valerie spoke.
" I have sent Alix away, because I wish
to speak to you on this subject, more freely
than I could before her, for she knows little
or nothing of Julian's weakness. I asked
you a moment ago what he is doing here,
and your silence is answer enough. I ask
you now if you wUl make an effort to bring
him back to his senses ? "
"I would willingly do so," Darcy an-
swered, " if I could flatter myself that there
was the least likelihood of success. But I
know that there is not."
"Why?"
She asked this sharply, and he looked up
in some surprise.
" I should think you would scarcely need
to inquire.'
"Is it my presence that keeps him
away ? "
" I can only presume so."
She was silent for several minutes, clasp-
ing her hands over the back of the chair, and
looking down on them with a strangely-set
and bitter expression her brows knitted,
and her lips compressed. But when at last
she looked up, he saw that she had arrived
at some determination.
" Then I will not be here a day longer
than I can help," she said. "I will write
to papa, and as soon as he can come for me,
I shall leave I hope forever. But, in the
mean while, for this will take time, I must
do something. You are the last person in
the world on whom I have any claim for
service, or of whom I would like to ask a
SIR ARTEGALL.
123
favor. Yet it is part of my hard pimisli-
ment that I am now forced to ask both
service and favor of you."
She paused a moment, and lie began to
speak, but she interrupted him :
" No. Please don't make any protesta-
tions. It would bo rather late for those
between zis. I have no doubt you will do
what I ask you without demur or grudging.
But it is none the less hard to ask it. In
one word, you will deliver a note to Julian,
and add your entreaties to mine that he will
come home ? "
" I will deliver the note certainly," Darcy
answered; "but, as for the entreaties, you
must allow me to assure you that they will
be useless."
" Even mine ? "
He looked at her steadily.
" Unless there be something more than
entreaty offered, even yours."
" You mean ?"
"I mean that Julian is not likely to re-
turn, save as your accepted lover."
The blood rushed over her face in a mo-
ment.
"Then he will not return," she said,
haughtily. " But " and her tone changed
and softened "I must do something. I
must at least attempt to move him ! Surely,
Captain Darcy, you do not think it would be
utterly useless? "
He certainly did think so, but the eyes
that looked at him were so full of pathetic
appeal that, for once, something like com-
passion even for her crept into his heart,
and he compromised with the truth.
"It can do no harm," he answered.
" That is all I can say."
"That is enough," she answered. She
sat down in Alix's vacated seat and drew
toward her paper, pen, and ink. It did
not take her more than a minute to dash off
a few lines and push them toward Darcy,
saying, " Will that do ? "
" Do you mean me to read it ? " he asked,
in surprise.
" Yes," she said. " Why not ? If I had
needed any proof that the whole circum-
stances of the case were known to you, your
strictures of this morning would have given
it."
After that, there was nothing for him
but to take up the paper and read what she
had written. It was only a short appeal to
the wayward heart she had cause to know
so well an appeal chiefly to its own gener-
osity, but so well and delicately expressed,
avoiding with such fine tact too much and
too little allusion to the past, that Darcy was
fully justified in his commendation. "This
will certainly move him if any thing can,"
he said, cordially.
She looked up wistfully.
" If any thing can ! You say that in a
tone of very grave doubt."
" I cannot help feeling very grave doubt,"
he answered. " He has not of course I
need scarcely say that mentioned your
name to me ; but he is very far from being
even his usual self."
" How is he clianged? "
" Perhaps you can imagine at least I
cannot well describe the change."
"Yes," she said, in a low whisper, "I
can imagine." Then she was silent for a
moment, until at last, looking up at him, she
murmured, " And you too think it is aU my
work?"
" I acquit you this far," he answered,
" that you did not comprehend the inflam-
mable material with which you dealt. N'o
doubt you have often made this experiment
with less disastrous results. You were un-
fortunate in your subject this time, that is
all."
" You are mistaken," she said, in a low
voice. " But that is where you wrong me
so deeply that I suppose I need scarcely at-
tempt a word of justification. I never in all
my life made any experiment in the way
you mean. I may have been careless and
thoughtless sometimes youth loves pleasure,
and woman loves admiration but I never
knowingly injured any one. However, that
is not to the point at all. You promise me
that you will see Julian, and deliver this
note?"
"Yes," he said. "I promise to bring
you an answer in the course of a few hours."
" And may I give you one caution ?
Please urge him to return ; and do it kindly.
Don't be hard on him."
"You think me likely to be so? "
124
VALERIE AYLMER.
" Yes ; you are like most strong people,
very intolerant of weakness."
"I hope not I trust not; for no one is
secure from weakness. And I am sorry you
think I could possibly be hard on this poor,
foolish boy."
"Ah, but I know so well how you de-
spise his folly all of it. Sir Artegall, I am
sure, did not have much sympathy for love-
lorn youths."
"And I am Sir Artegall? "Well, there
have been more odious comparisons. Sir
Artegall was brave of heart and strong of
arm. For that much I owe you thanks.
But he was also captive to a woman's fair
face ; and that, while Fortune befriends me,
I shall never be."
Something of her usual arch spirit flashed
into Valerie's eyes as she answered :
" So I fancy Sir Artegall may have said
before he saw Eadegunde."
Quick as thought came the ready reply :
" Then I am wiser than he, for I have seen
many Radegundes, and yet dare say it."
This was evidently no idle boast. The
eyes that met hers were steady and firm as
few eyes had ever been. They said many
things, but chiefly that, if she had ever flat-
tered herself with any power over this heart
of oak, she was even more deceived than
deceiving ; and, for once. La lelle des telles
laid the knowledge to her soul with strange
humility.
"T know what you mean," she said, with
a faint, grave smile. " I hope it will do one
Eadegunde some good to appreciate that her
empire is by no means so universal as she
once flattered herself it was. And perhaps
she respects Sir Artegall all the more for his
insensibility. Now I will go and send Alix
back to her drawing-lesson. You deserve
that reward for being so patient with this
tiresome interruption."
lie made no effort to detain her as she
glided from the room ; but only stood where
she left him, with an expression strangely set
and stern on his face an expression that did
not soften until Alix's sweet voice sounded
in his ear, and her brown eyes looked up into
his.
" Dear, will I disturb you ? " asked Alix,
as she entered Valerie's room while the din-
ner-toilet of the latter was in progress.
" But you are going out ? "
" Yes," answered Miss Aylmer, who was
dressing, with a very overcast face. " I for-
got completely that we were engaged to dine
at Mrs. Bird's, until Madame Vacquant re-
minded me of it a few minutes ago. And
you see I have to make a toilet in double-
quick time now. It is very provoking ; for
I wanted especially to see Captain Darcy
this evening. But then I am beginning to
believe that every thing in life takes a most
malicious pleasure in being provoking, and
so it hardly matters. Come in, by all means,
petite^ and tell me what it is that has
brightened your eyes with something of
their old lustre? "
"Good news," Alix answered, "if any
news can be counted good now news, at
all events, that I am very grateful for. You
know how I have longed to go to Europe ? "
" Know ! of course I do."
" Well, it seems that Captain Darcy has a
great many friends in Germany, and, through
one of them, he has obtained an offer for
papa's consideration an offer of a position
in a large banking-house of Leipsic which
will give me all the musical advantages I
could not hope to obtain in any other way.
Is it not kind is it not good of him ? "
"It is very kind indeed," said Valerie,
struck by the thoughtfulness of the service.
"And your father, Alix will he go? "
"That is what I came to tell you. I
have just received a short note from him,
telling me that he has accepted the offer. So,
it is settled we go."
She said the last words more mournfully
than joyfully, and there was so little of ex-
ultation or happiness in the face at which
her friend turned to look, that Valerie could
not help expressing a little incredulity.
"Y"ou cannot be in earnest," she cried.
" You surely cannot announce such a pros-
pect as that in such a tone! Why, it is
enough to take away one's breath ! If it is
true, I don't know whether to scold or con-
gratulate youl How is it that this is the
first I have heard of such an important mat-
ter ? But I can guess. Captain Darcy bade
you keep it secret even from me."
SIR ARTEGALL.
125
"So far from that, he only told me about
it this morning, saying that he had not done
so before, because he was uncertain of papa's
consent, and did not care to raise my hopes
without some secure foundation. I hardly
thought myself that papa would accept ; but
he has done so."
" And I should have been sure that he
would. "Why not, indeed ? There are men
who would give half their lives for an assured
independence out of this wretched country.
And, as for breaking ties, or leaving friends
I believe those are the usual objections to
going abroad a mightier Hand has already
done that for him. He could not stand
among the ruins of Thebes more alien from
his past life and past hopes than he stands
here to-day."
"Yes," she said, sadly; "and so it may
be best. "While as for me "
" As for you, there is a glorious vision of
Music that beckons you with shining eyes
and outstretched arms across the ocean."
She shook her head mournfully. "No.
All that is over for me now and I don't
think it will ever return. I am anxious to
resume my studies, but it is with none of
the old love rather with a heavy conscious-
ness of toil. I must work ; for my future
support may depend upon my own exertions.
But it is only work. It has ceased to be
delight."
"You are not yourself now, Alix; you
are morbid in your view of your future as
well as of your present life. This will pass
away after a time, and the old allegiance
will return."
"I scarcely think so," she said, slowly.
" A spring seems broken within me. After
a while I may learn to take interest and feel
pleasure in the art again ; but the full glory
of its worship can never return. The old
love the old beauty ah, they are buried
in her grave ! "
Her voice ceased, choked by tears. And
although Valerie knew that she was mis-
taken although she was sure that her art
would soon claim all its former devotion
she could not say so. She could only smooth
back the bright hair, and murmur softly the
grand old words that have given strength
and courage to many a failing heart since
they first fell from the inspired pen of that
poor monk whom millions upon millions have
risen up and declared blessed "He who
best knows how to endure, shall possess the
greater peace ! "
Then she went back to her toilet ; and
when it was completed hurried down-stairs
without further delay. Pierre was loitering
in the lower hall, and she paused a moment
to ask if Darcy had yet come in hoping al-
most against hope for an affirmative reply
but he answered at once in the negative,
and, with a sigh, she went on into the draw-
ing-room. Strange to say, although it was
growing quite late, Madame "Vacquant was
not there. The sumptuous rooms were all
ablaze with gas, but profoundly silent, and
wholly empty, the chairs and sofas, the tall
mirrors and gleaming statues having all the
light and warmth and bright luxury to
themselves. To and fro "Valerie wandered,
in restless impatience, anxious to be gone
only because waiting was tiresome, and be-
cause of a wholly illogical feeling that the
sooner they left, the sooner it might be pos-
sible to return, yet dreading very much the
evening before her. She dreaded every
thing now that connected her with Madame
Vacquant, and, as society preeminently did
'this, she had begun to dislike society. As
she sauntered aimlessly back and forth, all
unheeding the lovely reflection which mir-
ror after mirror gave, she yawned wearily
in anticipation of her coming boredom ;
then she looked at her watch, and wondered
how much longer Madame Vacquant wonld
be, and finally she went to the window,
drawing back the heavy silken curtains, and
looking out on the gathering night and
misty rain. Almost unconsciously she shiv-
ered, then turned away, and saimtered back
toward the music-room. She sat down to
the piano, but she had not played six bars
before she rose again, and again looked at
her watch. Surely it was strange that
Madame Vacquant still did not come ! Per-
haps she was in her sitting-room. It was
foolish of her not to have thought of that
before, and not to have gone there. She
had not often entered this room during the
past month, and had been averse to doing so
even when it was necessary ; but now im-
126
VALERIE ATLMER.
patience mastered every other feeling, and
she turned in that direction. Although form-
ing no part of the reception-suite, this apart-
ment was connected with them, so she had
not for to go. She passed hastily through
the different rooms, until she came to the
one in question. The door was closed, but
her hand was on the lock when suddenly a
sound fell on her ear that made her pause
the sound of voices speaking.
Not ordinary voices in ordinary conver-
sation. Even through the heavy oaken pan-
els there came, sufficiently audible, the quick
tones of impatience, and the deeper accents
of anger. The speakers were plainly only
two, but they spoke so fast and eagerly that
before a minute had elapsed Valerie knew
that she stood with only a partition between
herself and the man she had rejected that
Julian Eoraney was with his mother.
He had come home, then! That was the
first thought which flashed across her with
a feeling of intense relief relief scarcely
tempered by the realization it was no happy
or even peaceful interview from which that
door separated her. Plainly there was bitter
strife of words between the mother and son
none the less bitter because restrained by
the former at least within due moderation
of speech. Involuntarily, on realizing this,
Valerie turned away; but as she did so,
Julian raised his voice from its low key, and
her own name fell on her ear, coupled with
another which made her start in uncontrol-
lable surprise, for it was not the name of
the man whom Julian might have been sup-
posed to mention, but of the loyal-hearted
lover whom she had left in far Louisiana
not of Maurice Darcy, but of Charles Hau-
taine !
She had turned away involuntarily ;
now, involuntarily, she paused, but it was
only for a moment. She heard Madame
Vacquant utter a few words which were
evidently a question ; and then, instead of
waiting for the answer that would have told
her all, she fled swiftly and eagerly fled as
if from some sudden temptation, and never
paused until she found herself standing
breathless by the same window from which
she had gazed in listless impatience so short-
ly before.
Then she could not avoid asking herself
what could be the meaning of this strange
knowledge of Hautaine by one to whom she
had never uttered his name naj-, more,
this strange knowledge of his claim upon her,
the claim which the more engrossing in-
terests of these past months had almost
swept from her recollection. Now she
waked with a start to the remembrance
that her word was indeed staring her in the
face that the six months of her promise
would finish their course within the next
few weeks. She stopped a moment, and
put her hand to her head in bewildered sur-
prise. Could it really be so? Had time
slipped away so fast, and brought her for-
ward only for this? She had given her
promise to Hautaine in October, and this
was the last of March. Yes ; in a short
time, the bond was due. In a short time,
Hautaine might come and would he not
come to claim his promised answer, his
promised reward for long and patient wait-
ing ? She knew that he had been in Eu-
rope for many months, but a stir, a fra-
grance, and Madame Vacquant's silken robes
swept into sight.
" So you are down," she said, with a lit-
tle start. "I am sorry to have kept you
waiting ; but your grandfather detained me
so long from my toilet, and Eose was so
stupid about my hair, that I could not help
it. Shall we go now ? "
"It is quite time," Valerie answered.
For her life, she could not have said any
thing more with that face fronting her fal-
sifying, as it were, the testimony of her own
ears, and those musical tones still vibrating
on the air. At that moment, Pierre an-
nounced the carriage, and they went down-
stairs. In the hall Valerie found time to
say a few words to him, which she flattered
herself were unheard :
" Tell Captain Darcy that I will be back
early, and ask him to wait for me in the
library."
Then she hurried after Madame Vac-'
quant, and they were hastily driven away.
RADEGUNDE.
127
CHAPTER II.
RADEGUNDE,
The clock on the library mantel rang
out with its clear, silvery voice the single
stroke of one, as Maurice Darcy looked up
from a letter that he had been writing, with
something of impatient surprise on his face.
"So late?" he muttered. "On my
word, Miss Aylmer has a very royal faculty
of forgetting or ignoring I suppose it is all
the same thing everybody's convenience
but her own. Three hours have I been
waiting here, in obedience to her command,
and yet there is no sign of arrival Mrs.
Bird's parties are not usually so entertain-
ing either. A different sort of woman would
remember but, pshaw ! Of course she has
been taught to believe that everybody must
submit to her caprice ; and so, perhaps,
the fault is hardly hers. I might as well
give Gaston another sheet, I suppose ; by
that time she may condescend to enter an
appearance."
He drew a fresh sheet toward him as
he spoke, dipped pen in ink, and wrote on
rapidly thus :
" You ask me what I am doing, and the
question is harder to answer than you
would at first imagine. I have been paint-
ing, of course ; but only in a desultory sort
of fashion, and to very little effect indeed.
Chiefly, I believe, I must bring myself in
guilty as ' idler at ease ' and this is a pro-
fession the hardships of which we are very
apt to undervalue until we have tested them
by actual experience. I remember that I
used to be incredulous of their existence :
but call no man happy till he dies ; r.nd from
henceforward I take my pity from the hard-
Avorking children of toil, to tender it respect-
fully to the fine gentlemen who are depend-
ent on their own sensations for their amuse-
ment in life, and who wear out those sensa-
tions, as one wears out the strings of an instru-
ment, by constant use. Plainly, I am wearied
to death of this life, and every thing connect-
ed with it ! My wound troubles me very lit-
tle now, and my health is almost entirely re-
stored ; so I shall soon drop this artificial
shell, and resume the old existence in so-
ber earnest in the old atelier By-the-
by, have you seen about renting it for
me? I should like that special one, if
possible, since so many pleasant associ-
ations are connected with it, but any that
suits you wiU be sure to suit me. As for
further talk of Florence or Eome, I will
not listen to it! You are better in Paris
than anywhere else, and out of Paris you
shall not stir with my consent least of all,
with my connivance. Besides, I honestly
prefer it myself. There are many things
that unite to make it the most desirable
residence in the world, for the poor as well
as for the rich, for the struggling as well as
for the famous. If I ever succeed in my
art, it is in Paris that this success will be
worth most. If I were not so entirely a
cosmopolitan one of the Bedouins of civ-
ilization I think I should make my home
there in preference to any other spot of
earth. But such a supposition is particu-
larly absurd when I am just now possessed
with the roving fever worse than ever, and
longing for a wider flight than I have taken
yet. Do you remember Valdor ? ^him who
served with the Spahis in Algeria, and had a
portfolio of sketches that would have done
honor to Gavarni ? But of course you do, for
he was not a man likely to be forgotten. "Well,
the other day I heard from him. He is
down in Mexico, serving in the archduke's
I mean the emperor's Foreign Legion.
He heard of me from some of my old Con-
federate comrades who are there in force
just now, and wrote such a letter I It is
Valdor himself! half made up of calli-
graphy, half of etching, and quite the
most amusing, reckless, devil-may-care pro-
duction that ever was laughed over. What
talent the fellow has, and "yet he is nothing,
will die nothing ! However,' this is not to the
point. I mentioned him to explain my new
fever. He urges me to come to Mexico prom-
ises a plentiful share of blows and honor, a
commission certainly, a dukedom probably,
and the most glorious scenery in the world !
You would laugh if you knew how strong-
ly the whole picture tempts me. I always
told you that I am as much soldier as artist
and of late I really begin to think that
128
VALERIE AYLMER.
the element of soldier predominates. It
provokes and yet it amuses me to observe
how my colors lack interest to me, and how
I long for one more call of bugle or drum.
If it were not for you, I think I should lay
my palette aside again, take a portfolio under
one arm, and a sword under the other, and
start for Mexico. But, diavolo ! I am writ-
ing nonsense like a girl ; for not all the blows
and honor in the world could keep me long
from you. I shall sail by the first of next
montli, at latest, and so, perhaps "
His hand stopped short in its rapid pas-
sage over the paper. His quick ear had
caught the crash with which a carriage drew
up before the door; the next moment, a
quick peal echoed through the quiet house,
and then there was a rustling of dresses and
murmur of voices in the hall. Good-nights
were exchanged, then a light step ap-
proached the library, a hand touched the lock,
the door opened, and Darcy rose to meet
not Miss Aylmer, but Madame Vacquant.
His surprise must have been manifest in
his face, for she laughed a little.
" You here, my dear Maurice ? " she said.
" I did not expect to find any one up. It is
after one o'clock, I see. You must have been
pleasantly engaged."
"I have been writing," he answered,
with a glance at the letter before him ; " not
unpleasantly engaged, therefore. But it is
you who are late. Surely Mrs. Bird's din-
ner-party has not detained you until this
hour?"
" Oh, no," she answered, carelessly.
"After we left, Valerie remembered Mrs.
Maitland's reception this evening, and we
drove there. "We found a very pleasant
party, and Mr. Arle engrossed Valerie so
much to her satisfaction apparently, that I
disliked to disturb them by coming away
early. She seems quite tired, however, and
has gone to bed. But I am not sleepy at
all, so I came in to read for an hour or two.
Don't let me disturb you."
"You don't disturb me, for I have fin-
ished my letter," he answered, quietly. " I
think I shall bid you good-night."
"Good-night," she answered, with a
smile. " I would wish you pleasant dreams,
only dreams are such very disappointing
things almost as bad in that way, as
women, it is said."
" When one has not cherished expecta-
tion, one cannot well be disappointed," said
Darcy, with his pleasant laugh. " I hope
you will have pleasant dreams, and, once
more, good-night."
The door closed on him, and he went his
way up-stairs, secretly no little puzzled by
the word-play just passed. Evidently she
knew that he had been expecting Valerie,
and that Valerie had seen fit to break the
appointment of her own making ; but what
then ? Truly, she also knew Maurice Darcy
very little, if she fancied that the disappoint-
ment was more to him than mere matter for
a smile over this fresh proof of Miss Ayl-
mer's fickle caprice.
He was still smiling that smile to him-
self, as he passed to his chamber, when, from
a corridor on the left, Fanchette advanced
and suddenly waylaid him.
"Miss Valerie told me to give you this,
sir," she said, presenting a card ; "and wiU
you please send an answer by me? "
He looked at the bit of pasteboard. It
only held four lines :
"Be kind enough to suspend judgment
on my apparent incivility until you see me.
Will you be in the library to-morrow morn-
ing? If so, I must ask you to wait for me."
He turned the card over, and in the dim
light wrote a line or two on the reverse
side:
" Of course, I will be at Miss Aylmer's
service to-morrow morning. I send the
answer to her note trusting that it may
I)rove favorable."
He took a sealed envelope from his
pocket, handed it together with the card to
Fanchette, bidding her deliver them to her
mistress, and then went his way to his own
room.
Darcy did not have long to wait next
morning. Ho went straight to the library
after breakfast, and, before many minutes,
Valerie followed him. Ho thought when
she came in that she looked rather pale and
worn, but neither of them spoke until she
had crossed the room to where he stood by
the fireplace. Then she asked, quickly :
RADEGUNDE.
129
"Did you wait for me long last night ? "
"iN'ot very long," he answered "not
longer than I should probably have waited
even if I had not received your message."
" What must you have thought of me! "
she said, passionately. "It was bad enough
that I, who have no claim upon you, should
have made an appointment at all ; but to
make it and break it what must you have
thought of me! "
" What should I think, excepting that
you exercised your feminine' privilege of ca-
price ? " he answered, with a smile. " Pray,
don't apologize I know how tired and how
little like talking you must have felt after a
Bird dinner and a Maitland party."
"But I must apologize, or rather I must
explain," she said, hastily. "You evidently
don't understand at all. Caprice ! you are
kind to call it that ; but I think it would
have been something infinitely worse if I had
acted so. I suppose iladame Vacquant told
you about the Maitland party did she also
tell you that it was she who persisted in
going, though I begged her not to do so ;
and that she only consented to come away
when she found I absolutely would not re-
main any longer ? "
"No," he replied, with a slight arch of
the eyebrows. " She certainly did not tell
me that."
"IN'or how she prevented my seeing you
by announcing her own intention of coming
here to read ? Well, those were my reasons
for not appearing: and now you can see
how much ' caprice ' had to do with them.
I should not have troubled you again this
morning, if I had not wished to explain this."
"There was really no necessity for ex-
planation," he said; "still I am not sorry
you have made it. Only, one thing puzzles
me ^why Madame Vacquant should have
wished to keep you from seeing me."
" It might puzzle me if I had not long
ago ceased to wonder at any thing she
does," Valerie answered; "and also if Ihad
not been thinking of other things. You saw
my note to Julian, and it is only fair that
you should see his answer. But first, one
question did you find any thing in mine
that was hasty or inconsiderate, any thing
that coild have given offence ? "
9
" Assuredly not," he answered. "Noth-
ing could have been more kind or consider-
ate. There was not a single expression that
could possibly have merited resentment."
Her lip curled he thought with scorn
and she handed him the envelope he had
sent her the night before. " Well, now,
look at his answer," slie said.
He drew forth the enclosure simply a
sheet of paper torn completely in two. A
glance showed him that it was her own note
thus sent back to her without one word of
comment. For a moment he looked at it
incredulously ; then Valerie was almost
startled by the angry light that flashed into
his eyes, and the angry color that rose to
his brow.
"Was this all?" he asked.
" That was all," she answered.
" And he made me the bearer of such
an insult! Miss Aylmer, I beg you to be-
lieve "
She interrupted him by a gesture of si-
lence. " Pray don't think any assurance of
your ignorance necessary," she said. " Of
course you knew nothing about it ; but what
does this prove to you concerning him? "
" That he is an unmannered churl ! " he
answered, concisely; "and that he needs a
lesson in breeding, which I shall take great
pleasure in giving him."
" Indeed, you must do nothing of the
kind," she cried, quickly. " I should never
forgive myself for my folly in showing you
this, if you, of all people, resented it on my
behalf."'
"You forget the position in which it
places me."
" And whose fault is that ? Surely mine,
since I made you my ambassador. No, Cap-
tain Darcy, you must never mention the mat-
ter to Julian. Promise me that you will let
it rest as if I had not shown you this."
"Let it rest! why, you surely don't
think me absurd enough to be drawn into
a quarrel with a foolish, spiteful boy like
this ? "
" No matter what I think. Promise me
that you will not let him know that you are
aware of his incivility."
" He deserves "
" No matter what he deserves. If we
130
VALERIE AYLMER.
come to deserts, the most of us would fare
badly enough. Promise me, I say! "
He looked at her with a smile. Already
Lis brief anger had passed, and he was
amused by the imperious command of her
tone. "I imagine a great many people must
have told you that to hear is to obey," he
said.
" You never did, at all events. Come,
have I your word of honor that this remains
between you and me ? "
" If nothing less will satisfy you yes."
She smiled brightly so brightly that he
saw at once why many people had found liv-
ing sunshine in her face. " Thank you ! "
she said, with her pretty, gracious bend of
the head. " I am quite satisfied. And now
let me tell you something that you may be
astonished to hear: Julian was in this house
last night."
She lowered her voice in making the
statement ; but, to her surprise, Darcy heard
it quite unmoved.
" Well," he said, quietly, " why should he
not be here ? "
"Then why should he not stay here?"
she asked, impatiently. ""Why should there
be all this mystery, unless for the purpose
of making me uncomfortable? "
" Probably that may be the cause of it,"
he answered, coolly.
" Was there ever any thing more ungen-
erous, then ? "
"Not often, I grant you. But don't
blame Julian more than he deserves. He
may not be able to meet you as an ordinary
friend."
For answer her eye turned to the torn
letter lying on the table between them. He
saw the glance, and touched the envelope
rather disdainfully with his hand.
"Even this might be accepted as proof
of it," he said.
" Yet you did not think so a moment
ago."
"Pardon mo. I only could not excuse
him for ceasing to be a gentleman, because
he became a Lover."
IIo spoke very indifferently, but Valerie
could not hflp thinking how little likely it
was that he would ever be swayed from his
even course by any such vagaries of passion
as those they were discussing. She even
gave partial utterance to this reflection :
"You are the last man in the world to
judge Julian," she said, a little indignantly.
" You are as cold as he is mercurial ; and
you know nothing of the passion which in-
fluences him so entirely."
" I am certainly very ignorant of how far
common-sense and love are incompatibili-
ties," he answered, carelessly. " Well, have
you any further commands for me? "
"Not unless you choose to comfort him
with the assurance that before long I hope
to be in my dear Louisiana."
" And I in France. So, as we are about
to go our difi'erent paths, may we not bury
the tomahawk, and smoke the pipe of peace
together during the few days still remaining
of our accidental association ? "
"With all my heart," she answered.
" Indeed, I am glad to be able to feel that
the tomahawk might have been buried and
the pipe smoked long ago, with my full con-
sent."
He looked at her in smiling surprise.
"Do you mean that it is I who have been
accountable for our want of friendly under-
standing ? "
" Yes, I mean exactly that," she an-
swered. " I oflered you my friendship when
you made your frank explanation that day
in the picture-gallery. Do you remember?
yoxi thought fit to put it very coldly aside ;
and I need hardly say that I am not accus-
tomed to making such proflers twice. I see
j-ou cannot deny this."
He certainly could not, nor did he make
an effort to do so. He looked at her, and
said, " Perhaps such conduct was only wis-
dom."
So little idea had she of any thing like a
compliment from him, that she asked simply,
" Why ? "
" I think you should know why," he an-
swered. " There is said to be no middle
ground for those who come near you. In-
difterence can never soften into liking, and
stop short there. Now, I had no mind to go
fartlier. I am very sure you are not sati-
ated with conquest, and there was safety
only in distance. You can best tell whether
I misjudged you or not ; but I fancied at one
RADEGUNDE.
131
time that you would not have been averse
to adding even my poor scalp to the many
trophies already hanging at your belt! "
He spoke composedly, almost coldly ; but
Valerie heard him with a dismay and bitter-
ness hardly to be described. Then he had
read her so thoroughly as that ! read even
her paltry vanity, her poor ambition, her
pitiful resolves to attract him ! No wonder
that he despised her! no wonder that he
wore an armor of mail against all her
shafts! no wonder that they wakened in
him only scornful contempt ! Mortification
tingled through every vein, until her cheeks
were burning and her eyes were almost
overflowing, before she had found a word to
say. At first she lifted her head haughtily
enough, but then was denial possible ? She
had striven to attract him, solely for the
gratification of her own vanity ; and, even if
he would have believed her, she disdained
equivocation. Indeed, she had a regal scorn
of any thing like pretence, and nobody had
ever been able to say of her that she blenched
from the consequences of any action. "When
at last she lifted her eyes to his, they were
proud even in their humility.
"You are right," she said; "I did en-
deavor to attract you and failed entirely.
And perhaps you may be surprised to hear
I was glad to do so. I should have felt a
contempt for you if you had yielded, as so
many others have done ; but I was glad to
learn what I have always believed, that there
are some men strong enough in heart and
head to see how much a coquette's beauty
and a coquette's arts are worth. I have liked
you honestly and sincerely ever since that
day of which I spoke a moment ago ; and
I liked you all the better, and respected you
all the more, when I tried my experimeni, and
failed ; when I found that, instead of attract-
ing, I only repelled you. You will think
this strange, perhaps. I don't pretend to ac-
count for it. I only know that it is so, that
I have long been conscious of it. I know
what you think of me how vain, and weak,
and cruel, you consider me but if you ever
remember me in the future, let it be with
this scant justice, that I am glad you at least
never suffered a pang through me."
Suddenly and without warning, the quick
tones ceased; and turning abruptly, so as to
give him no time for answer, she moved
toward the door. To her surprise Darcy
was there before her, with his hand on the
lock.
"One moment. Miss Aylmer," he said.
But Valerie scarcely heard and did not
at all heed him. Some strange, wild emotion
was tugging at her heart so fiercely that
her ungovernable impulse was to rush away
with it anywhere, so that it was out of
sight and reach. Sharply, almost angrily,
she said :
" Let me pass, if you please."
" Will you not even hear me ? "
"No. Let me pass."
But he stood perfectly still, looking down
on her with something like a smile of tri-
umph on his face, and his hand stUl resting
upon the lock.
"Nay, then, I must be rude enough to
detain you," he said, gently. "Valerie!
look at me. Are you indeed so blind as not
to see and know what this is? "
She looked up at him in sudden amaze-
ment, but not doubt never again doubt.
Let the future hold what it would for them,
they could never again mistake each other.
Never again could they unlearn the knowl-
edge read in one another's eyes as they stood
face to face in that brief moment. Never
again fail to see that this was love. Like a
flash it came to one at least, as, with a great
gasp, the proud head of La lelle des helles
went down on Maurice Darcy's shoulder !
All conflict was over. The victor's hand
gathered up the reins of power, and there
was nothing to be said or done. He asserted
a fact, and claimed a right that was all.
Men, many men, had offered themselves to
this woman, and pleaded their cause with
force and passion ; but no man had ever be-
fore taken quiet possession of the citadel as
of his own unquestioned property; no man
had ever closed in a hand-to-hand grapple,
and wrested the sword from the fair grasp
that had held it so long triumphantly ; and
perhaps this was the only way in which
victory was ever possible.
It was not very long before Valerie
rallied, however not long before she raised
her flushed face and shining eyes with a
132
VALERIE AYLMER.
question that proved how strong the ruling
passion was, even in defeat.
" What does Sir Artegall say now ? "
Then Darcy bent his stately head, even
as Sir Artegall may have bent his, before
Kadegunde's fair face and lifted vizor, while
he answered :
" He says that his weapons lie at your
feet. He waits his sentence from your lips.
Whatever it be, he hopes to bear it bravely,
but he prays one favor : speak it quickly ! "
It was a favor that she did not grant. On
the contrary, she stood looking at him silently
and long the sense of weakness and the
sense of power mingled in a manner which
would have set a metaphysician frantic, but
which is perfectly intelligible to any woman
within whose breast there beats a woman's
heart. She was conqueror, yet she was con-
quered ! For one long minute she exulted
in the consciousness of the first; then the
still more delicious realization of the second
rushed over her, and she held out her hand,
with a proud grace like that of no other
woman, saying only :
" Be gentle with your captive."
CHAPTER III.
FETTERS OF EOSES.
"Valerie, you are dazzling! ''
It was Alix who spoke thus in a tone of
surprised admiration, as Miss Aylmer entered
her room to bid her good-evening before
going down to dinner. The little lady was
confined to her chamber with a severe cold,
and bore her enforced exile on the whole
very cheerfully ; but she looked up with sin-
cere pleasure on hearing her friend's step
outside, and when the door opened she gave
vent to this exclamation and an exclama-
tion so evidently wrung from her by the im-
pulse of the moment, tliat Valerie started
and blushed.
" What is there extraordinary about
me?" she asked. "Am I looking better
than usual? "
"Very much better," Alix answered.
"But ^but I really cannot tell what the
difterence is, though there is a diflTerence."
" You are sure of that ? "
" Quite sure."
Miss Aylmer laughed to herself a soft,
happy laugh and then she went over and
looked in the mirror. It showed her a face
that was indeed literally transfigured by some
bright inner light a light that would have
made even an ugly face beautiful, and that
rendered hers, as Alix had said, literally
"dazzling!" a light that shone in every
glance of the eyes, and smiled in every curve
of the mouth ; that lay like a sunbeam on the
fair, serene brow, and pervaded every line
of the graceful features. Truly the great
glorifier, Happiness, had touched her with
his magic wand ! Truly she might well wear
that quiet dress, and relieve her glorious hair
by only one knot of bright ribbon ; for the
woman so adorned needs no aid from art.
She is above and beyond it. So long as her
eyes shine with that happy lustre, and her
lips wear that enchanting smile, she need
give no heed to the toilet, for homespun
could not lessen, nor satin heighten her
charms. So Valerie seemed to feel, for she
looked at herself from head to foot, with one
radiant and satisfied glance; and then she
went over and kissed her enthusiastic ad-
mirer.
" I am so sorry you are not well enough
to come down," she said. " We shall miss
you, especially as we are all alone to-night.
It is very likely, too, that Mr. Thornton Avill
make his appearance. You have certainly
achieved a serious conquest of that redoubt-
able critic. lie met me on Baltimore Street
the other day, and absolutely walked home
with me ! "
" And can you account for that in no
other way than by a serious conquest of
mine ? "
" Not when it is taken in connection with
the fact that he talked of Miss Eiviere, and
Miss Riviere's voice, without intermission,
from French's to the Monument."
"If it depended upon you," said Alix,
with a faint laugh, " I think I should soon
be an exceedingly dangerous person. You
are continually laying some fresh slaughter
at my door, and bringing me in guilty of
FETTERS OF ROSES.
133
some new act of malice. "What a pity that
otlier people and especially the reported
victims cannot be induced to see matters
in the same light ! I might really, after a
while Ah, what exquisite flowers ! "
Slie broke off with this exclamation, as
the door opened, and Fanchette appeared,
carrying a large bouquet.
" What lovely camellias! what a superb
daphne!" Valerie said, eagerly, taking it
from the maid. " Whom are they for? "
" I don't know, ma'am," Fanchette an-
swered. " Pierre was in a hurry, and he
just told me to bring 'em np-stairs."
" There must be a card," Alix suggested.
And, truly enough, a moment's search
resulted in finding one. " L. Howard Thorn-
ton," Valerie read triumphantly from one
side, wliile on the reverse was pencilled,
" "With best wishes for Miss Eiviere's speedy
recovery."
" Victoria! " she cried, gayly. " A Saul
among the prophets ! Alix, I congratulate
you. These flowers are tokens how com-
pletely you have won over for ever and ever
the formidable critic of the Journal.''''
" It is very kind of him to remember
me," said Alix, receiving the bouquet and
blushing like a rose. " The flowers are love-
ly; and I am very much obliged. Please
tell him so, if lie comes, Valerie."
" I wish you could tell him so yourself,
petite. He will lose the blush, and miss the
smile dreadfully, when I deliver the message.
Now I must go. Enjoy your flowers, and
be sure you don't grow lonely."
" No, I shall not be lonely. Besides the
flowers, I have that new Blackwood which
Captain Darcy sent me to-day. Don't for-
get to give my love to him."
"Ah! that, too, will lose value in the
transmission through a third person. Love
always does. Good-by."
She flitted from the room, and went
down-stairs, singing like a bird, out of the
very joyousness of her heart. But, when
she opened the drawing-room door, a face
rose up before her which hushed the words
on her lips in sheer surprise. Certainly the
last person she had expected to meet was
Roraney ; and yet, there he was, leaning
against the mantel in a well-remembered at-
titude, with the same stormy face and the
same frown that she had seen last. Aston-
ishment caused her to make one pause, then
she advanced into the room with outstretched
hand.
"Julian!" she cried, eagerly. "What
a pleasant surprise ! I am very glad to "
" See you," she would have added, if his
manner had not frozen back the unfinished
words. But few women would have cared
to waste a cordial greeting on any man who
met it as Romney met this with simple re-
pellent coldness. He barely touched the
slender fingers held out to him ; and his few
words of reply were wholly inaudible, wliile
the dark cloud never once lifted from his
brow, making it a relief to Valerie to turn
round and plunge into conversation with her
grandfather ; for both M. and Madame Vac-
quant were present. There was an embar-
rassed interval of several minutes thus
bridged over, before the door opened, and
sunshine entered the room in Maurice Dar-
cy's eyes and smile. Almost immediately
afterward, dinner was announced.
They went down-stairs in silence, and it
is impossible to conjecture how the next
hour would have passed, had it not been for
Darcy's persevering efforts to make conver-
sation. They were so indefatigable that they
deserved the success which they partially
achieved. Only partially, however ; for Ju-
lian's moody face and petulant remarks
were not conducive to social ease, and, to-
gether with his mother's unusual gravity,
so seriously burdened the air, that even M.
Vacquant's efforts to talk had an unmistak-
ably forced air, and Valerie was almost to-
tally silent. After a while the two gentle-
men drifted into the dreary sea of politics,
and remained there until the ceremony of
dinner came to an end.
Julian did not reenter the drawing-room,
but left the house almost immediately, while
Valerie, who had little inclination to remain
under Madame Vacquant's eyes, wandered
away until she found herself in the conserva-
tory. There she sat down to wait.
Not long, however. Not long had the
fountain risen and fallen in its steady, musi-
cal cadence, before there came a sound which
banished all the melody of waters from her
134
VALERIE AYLMER.
ears the echo of a distant voice, the sound
of a nearing tread, the partiBg of the leafy
screens, and, in the mellow light, the grand
head and stately figure of her royal-looking
free-lance lover.
He saw her in a moment, and came for-
ward, a world of light in his eyes and on his
lipSr yet his first words were almost of vexa-
tion.
"I wish I could have spared you that.
Are you weary, lellisshna ? "
She looked up at him, wonderingly.
- " "Weary ! What, that dreadful dinner,
do you mean ? No, I had almost forgotten
it. You see how little power annoyances
have over me now."
The last word was almost inaudible,
but so significant that the warm blood swept
brightly over Darcy's brow. A little while
back, and he would have steeled himself
into granite against such a tone from her
lips ; but now well, had he not surrendered
himself to the sweet enchantment, and what
was there further needed of cold wisdom
and colder self-discipline ? And so his mur-
mured tones were fall of that poetic folly
which is sweeter in the ears of those who
love than all the wisdom of all the philoso-
phers who ever rounded periods from
Socrates down. And Yalerie listened to
him with a wistful, eager look on her face
which might have seemed strange, if her
next words had not explained it.
"Then, if all this be true, if I am indeed
so fair and charming in your eyes, surely
your distrust of me must have vanished.
Tell me if it be so ? Don't be afraid to
say no I only care to hear truth from
you."
" Distrust," he repeated, quickly. " What
do you mean?"
She looked up at him a little renroach-
fully.
" If you ask me that, I sliall think that
you know only too Avell, and don't wish to
answer. Ah, what can I mean save the
wretched coquetry which held you from me
so long? Maurice, teU me do you still
think so badly of me ? do you still distrust
me so utterly as you did even a few days
ago ? "
There was no art in the question, no striv-
ing to draw forth protestations or vows, but
a strange, earnest pathos and doubt, which
gave a yearning inquiry to the eyes lifted to
his own, and touched to its very core the
heart of the man who loved her. For
answer, he only drew her to his side, and,
bending down, laid his lips hghtly and
tenderly on her own.
" There is my reply," he said. " There
is my seal on all the past. Let us never
speak of it again."
But still she was not content.
" Tell me," she repeated. " Tell me, in
so many words, that you trust me that you
beheve I never meant wilful harm in the
past, and that you are sure I can never mean
it in the future."
" I do believe it, and I am sure of it," he
answered, proudly. " Do you think I could
love you, and doubt you ? do you think I
could hold you thus, and distrust you even
in the least degree ? "So " and it was a
very grand scorn that quickened in the deep-
gray eyes " I never practise half-measures.
I demand a perfect and entire faith from all
who love me. Like Cceur de Lion, I never
bade man do what I would not do myself.
I do trust you wholly and entirely. And
from henceforth there is but one evidence I
shall receive against you the evidence of
yourself. Now, are you satisfied ? "
Satisfied! Ah, he might have read that
in the eyes that looked up at him so warmly
and gratefully, in the smile of perfect con-
tent that came around the lips, in the tone
that murmured softly
"You have made me so happy! "
lie smiled brightly, perhaps again with
a shade of triumph, and passed his hand
many times caressingly over her rippling
hair. He seemed made to woo in a royal
fashion of his own made to gather fresh
dignity from a position in which most of liis
sex grow for the time being pliant and hum-
ble. It was next to impossible to imagine
him suing for favors instead of taking tliem,
captive instead of captor, conquered instead
of conqueror. And yet it was the simplicity
about him, the utter absence of all vanity or
pretence, which made this, that in another
man would have been unutterably revolting,
so rarelv attractive in him. It was because
FETTPRS OF ROSES.
135
Nature had stamped liiin with such a regal
signet, that it was not a bitter sight to see
this fair, proud woman this woman who
had long been free and tameless as any wild
creature of the forest own subjection at
his hand, and yield herself unreservedly to
be rendered happy or miserable by the breath
of his lips.
But at least she was happy perfectly
and entirely happy. No one looking on
could have doubted that for a moment ; and
though neither of them knew it, some one
did look on. Once, for a minute only, a
pale face gieamed on them from between
the blossoms of a gorgeous azalea, and then
vanished. A woman's dress swept noise-
lessly over the marble floor, and all was
quiet and silence again when Yalerie said,
gently :
"I have stood in awe of you so long,
that I do not think I shall soon learn the
perfect love which casteth out fear. I have
little doubt that I shall be afraid of you for
a good while to come."
" Afraid of me ! Then it is I Vi'ho need to
complain of distrust. Afraid of me? When
have you ever seen any thing to teach you
that ? "
"You surely forget how hard and stern
you have seemed especially to my poor
failings ^many a time."
" And you did not know that I was steel-
ing myself against loving those failings?
But the charge may be just enough in some
aspects. You would scarcely wonder, either,
if you knew the history of my life; if you
could know how entirely without softening
influences it has been, what a bitter hand-to-
hand fight with the world and adverse cir-
cumstances, owning but two ties of human
kindred, since my mother's death. From
difl'erent reasons, each of these ties has been
the source of sorrow and safi"ering. A
character of suffering, too, which corrodes
and hardens a man's nature. Yet even now,
I don't think I am ever implacable, save to
deception or betrayal and I have neither
deception nor betrayal to dread from your
hand. Look up, my love, and tell me if
you think I could ever be hard or stern to
you ? "
She did look up, and met an almost-
womanly tenderness of gaze in the eyes bent
upon her, an almost womanly gentleness
around the lips.
" You certainly don't look very formida-
ble just now," she said, with a soft laugh.
" But I feel very much as Una must have felt
when she first made the acquaintance qf her
lion dreadfully uncertain how long his good
behavior will last."
"Ah, but remember that, with all his
faults, he was a generous beast," he an-
swered, " and was never known to betray a
trust. Then, have you forgotten your talis-
man ? Have you so little reliance on your
' angel-face
That makes a sunshine in a shady place ? ' "
She lifted it up, so that the mellow lamp-
light streamed full upon its fair Southern
grace and beauty, while the lustrous eyes
looked at him, full of their old archness.
" Very little indeed of the angel in it, I
fear," she said; "but, if it makes sunshine
for you, I shall think it has found its' right
use in the world at last."
"If it makes! And do you doubt it? "
"Never at least for lack of will on my
part," she answered, with sweet gravity.
^Vnd after his answer ^the answer of a
lever brief but happy silence settled over
them.
It was broken at last by Darcy, who had
not overmuch of the Romeo in his composi-
tion, and whose mind had already left the
" sweet nothings " of courtship, to consider
its practical issues.
'' Douce amie,^'' he said, in his frank,
straightforward way, " our happiness must
not make us forget our obligations to others.
Have I your permission to write to your
father to-night, and to announce our engage-
ment to my uncle in the morning ? "
He put the question simply, and in a
matter-of-course tone as little prepared for
any thing like denial as for the manner in
which that denial came. But those two
names were gaU and wormwood to Valerie,
since, alas for our poor heroine ! the bitter
drop in her cup of rapture was the recollec-
tion that she had fallen into the snare of
the obnoxious " arrangement ;'' that she was
on the eve of being forced to recant every
136
VALERIE AYLMER.
declaration she had ever made concerning
it, and to give the most signal triumph to
her father and grandfather. So, when Darcy
spoke thus, she started ; then a cloud swept
over her sunny face, and she answered, al-
most petulantly :
"^No. I will not give you permission
to do any thing of the kind. The present
state of affairs is very pleasant why should
you wish to change it ? Why wish to usher
in all the disagreeables of a public engage-
ment?"
He looked at her in surprise. "Simply
because it is the only right and honorable
thing to do," he answered.
"Eight and honorable!" repeated Va-
lerie, with a light laxigh. " Those are very
grand words, mon ami too grand by half,
considering that we know as well now as
we can know hereafter that everybody con-
cerned will be only too pleased."
"Will they? " he said. "Then there is
so much the more reason for ow'ing them an
immediate announcement."
"Ah, grant me grace," she cried, plead-
ingly, "I love my freedom so dearly, and
and I dread so much to give it up."
" You count it still your own, then ? "
Half-earnestly, half-jestingly, he asked
the question ; and she looked up with the
proud humility he had seen in her once be-
fore.
" No," she said, softly, "It is not my
own. But my fetters are of roses now ; and
I dread lest they become links of steel.
And I also dread lest I chafe against them
then. Let me grow accustomed to captivity.
Maurice, a few days only a few days can-
not matter about making this announce-
ment."
Slie looked up imploringly she, ever ac-
customed to command but although he left
a tender caress upon the lips that spoke his
name so sweetly, it was plain that he had no
thought of yielding it was plain that this
request was to him only a child's caprice,
to be humored and treated gently, but not
indulged.
" Mignonne,^^ he said, kindly, " a few
days can matter a great deal. We are in a
false position as long as this continues a
false position to those w'hose right it is to
know our future as soon as we know it our-
selves. It is not so much that secrecy in
this case would be wrong, as that the prin-
ciple of secrecy is wrong."
At another time she might have admired,
as she had often admired before, the open,
chivalric spirit that spoke here as it spoke
in every thought and action of his life ; the
clear, brave stroke that cleft in two any diffi-
culty, and tlie frank gaze that never even
seemed to see any path save the one straight
avenue of honor. But now it clashed Avith
her own desire a desire grown stronger by
the opposition it had met and she felt al-
most impatient of his punctilio as she an-
swered :
" You ought to remember that we are
not in the Old World ; and that matters of
this sort are not conducted here with any
of the stately decorum and disagreeable
publicity which attend them there."
"Surely decorum cannot be objection-
able," he said. " And publicity, it seems to
me, only becomes so when engagement is
regarded as a convenient cloak for co-
quetry."
Valerie flushed hotly. Perhaps con-
science had something to say on this score
at least she drew herself back from his
embrace, and there was a ring of defiance in
her voice as she asked
" What do you mean ? "
" What should I mean excepting what I
have said ? " he answ^ered, quietly. " You
must certainly see that I am right. There
would be much less of disgraceful flirtation
in this particular, if engagement were here
esteemed the public and binding contract
which older states of society consider it.
However, that is a question for moralists,
not for me. The point now^ is, that I should
think poorly indeed of any woman who en-
tered into a secret engagement, and that I
cannot consent to see you fill such a posi-
tion, even for a few days."
" Yet I think you might remember that
my wishes are entitled to some regard," she
said, half haughtily.
"Entitled to every regard," he answered,
so gently that she felt instantly ashamed of
herself. "But surely you must admit that
I am in the right."
FETTERS OF ROSES.
13^
I
"No," she replied, perversely. "I do
not admit that. But, even granting that you
are, it is a trifling concession to make to me
as well as the first."
There was a pause. They had eacli mo-
mently grown more earnest, until now the
strife of adverse wills had reached its point
of issue. With a start, Darcy recognized
this ; with a start, he saw that Valerie's ob-
stinacy and pride were enlisted against him.
Something in her face in the flushed cheek
and compressed lip, reminded him, too, of
the day when she had persisted in driving
the thorough -breds ; and he thought to him-
self as men of his stamp are always ready
to think that such a wilful, impetuous na-
ture stood in strong need of the steady curb
of authority. It was in his hand now, this
curb, and should he neglect to use it ? Tru-
ly he had not a thought of doing so. And
yet, that last tone was very hard to resist.
He rather evaded the direct question, when
after a moment he said, gravely :
" Valerie, tell me frankly, why you are
so anxious for this."
" I thought I had already told you," she
answered feeling herself blush in her own
despite " of what do you suspect me ? Do
you think I want to use this engagement as
a convenient cloak for coquetry ? "
" I answered that question when I told
you that I trusted you," he said. " Fo, I
do not suspect you of any thing excepting
caprice caprice that is scarcely worthy of
you, though. I have already told you why I
wish to make this announcement at once
it is a mark of respect due to our friends
and the same reason must plead my excuse
for disregarding your first request."
She looked at him steadily.
" You mean that you do intend to disre-
gard it?"
He answered as quietly but as firmly as
ever: ""What else can I mean, when I say
that I think it is right ? "
There was silence for several minutes.
The fountain filled up the pause with its
fairy-like music; and Darcy never knew
what a fierce fight was meanwhile waged in
tlie heart of this woman, who had never be-
fore known any one bold enough or strong
enough to say her nay. It was a good thing
that she had little of the pettiness of her
sex about her; that in her nature spoiled
though it had been there were many noble
and generous depths ; and that, above all,
there was a capability of self-surrender and
self-conquest only possible to the mould
which, however warped it may liave become,
is still the heroic. Some women would have
taken refuge in pettish anger, others would
have hardened into obstinate defiance,
others again would have provoked still fur-
ther the useless strife, but she did none of
tliese things. She fought down her own
struggling heart in silence, then looked up
calmly and gravely, making no pretence of
evading her defeat, but accepting it with a
dignity that redeemed it from the character
of defeat.
" Let it be as you think best," she said,
holding out her hand. "I too can trust.
Only remember this thing, when I seem to
you passionate and obstinate in all my life,
I have never given up my will before."
He made no vow that she should never
need to give it up again, for he knew bet-
ter. He accepted the sacrifice as freely as
it was offered, and thei*e was a very stately
chivalry in the air with which he raised her
hand to his lips, and the tone in which he
answered :
"And remember this of me that I
vrould sooner die than ask any thing of
you for my own advantage or to your
injury."
And so the light cloud parted and fled
away, the broad sunlight came back, and
what wonder that they basked in it to their
hearts' content? What wonder that they
let all points of past or future dispute rest
untouched, and only dwelt on the present,
only read over the opening chapter of that
old romance whose first pages are ever so
fair and tender, only whispered the old
vows, and glided down the smooth stream,
with siren strains echoing in their ears
strains so sweet that they effectually dead-
ened that dull, ominous roar of breakers
ahead ?
Yet, when Valerie stood before her mir-
ror that night and looked at her radiant
face, shining like a star out of the heavy
138
VALERIE AYLMER.
masses of her unbound hair, a sudden, sharp
pang seized her heart.
" He talks of secret engagements, and of
convenient cloaks for coquetry," she mur-
mured. " What TTOuld he say, if he knew
about Charley? "What will he say when he
does know ? I ought to have told him to-
night ; but I dared not. I am a coward,
I know ; but I dread so unutterably what
he will think of me ! I must not keep his
love on false pretences, however. I must "tell
him I will tell him to-morrow."
To-morrow ! How often we say that,
when a resolution is taken, or a purpose de-
signed, and how mockingly Fate laughs back
at us! To-morrow! As if time was in our
poor mortal hands, or as if, to the cowardly
and procrastinating, there ever is a morrow !
As if that word alone has not been the bane
of more good intentions, and the death-knell
of more noble actions, as if it does not stand
for more harm, and ill, and suffering, than
any other common to the lips of man ! Yet
dream on, Valerie ! quiet your conscience
with that cunning salve, call back the sun-
ny smile to your lip, and, as you sink off to
sleep, murmur again, "I will tell him to-
morrow." You mean what you say you
intend it honestly and sincerely, for it is not
in you to intend otherwise ; but many be-
fore you have waked to the bitter knowl-
edge that, in a world of deeds, acts resolved
can never stand for acts executed ; and that,
while you whisper to yourself, "To-mor-
row," one of the veiled sisters grimly an-
swers :
" But will that to-morrow ever be ? "
CHAPTER IV.
THE FORFEIT PLEDGE.
" I HAVE been waiting for you some
time, Valerie," said M. Vacquant, a little
impatiently, as his granddaughter made her
rather late appearance the next morning.
" When you have breakfasted, I want to see
Maurice and yourself in the library."
He left the room abruptly, scarcely wait-
ing for her surprised assent ; and then she
turned to Darcy, who was quite alone in
possession of the breakfast-table.
" So you have told him already ! " she
said, reproachfully. "But why does he
want me? "
Maurice shook his head smilingly. " I
have not told him," he answered ; " and
whatever he wants with you must necessa-
rily be quite apart from the matter which it
has jdeased you to make a secret."
"What is it, then?"
"I cannot even conjecture."
"Very singular," said Miss Aylmer; but
she said it composedly, and sat down qui-
etly to her breakfast. Whatever M. Vac-
quant wanted was certainly not to be com-
pared in importance to her cup of coffee, or
to the admiring eyes that told her over and
over again how lovely she looked. Perhaps
the task of telling her so would not have
fallen entirely upon the eyes, expressive
though they were, if that obtuse Gilbert
had not stood so steadily upon guard with a
salver tmder his arm. But, as it was, Darcy
had to content himself with reading aloud
the telegrams from the Gazette^ while Va-
lerie trifled with a roll, and talked politics
in a tone that redeemed even politics from
dryness.
The telegrams and politics could not last
forever, though ; and after a while she said,
with a sigh of resignation, " I suppose we
must go to grandpapa now."
"Yes," Darcy answered; and, pushing
back the paper, he came round the table
and offered her his arm. She took it half
laughingly no thought coming to her of
how once before, in that very place, she had
accepted Julian Romney's and then they
proceeded out of the room, crossed the hall,
and entered the library.
M. Vacquant was already there was
already settled in his own chair beside the
cabinet where his letters were always writ-
ten the chair, the purple-velvet lining of
which brought out with the clearness of an
ancient cameo his fine, regular outline of
face and crest of silver curls. He nodded
kindly but gravely as the two came in, and
motioned them to sit down. Then, while
they did so, he opened a drawer at his side,
THE FORFEIT PLEDGE.
139
drew forth a folded paper, and held it in his
hand when he turned round again.
"J/es en/atits,'''' he said, in his stately,
courteous way, " I have summoned you in
this formal manner hecause I consider it
right that you should ho informed together,
and not apart, of my final intentions toward
you. In the order of Nature, I cannot ex-
pect to live much longer, and the conflicting
claims of you two have been the cause of
much uneasiness and the subject of much
thought to me. At last, however, I have
arrived at a decision ; and I am anxious to
explain my reasons for it, since it may seem
to you to one of you, at least not only
capricious, but unjust. Yalerie, you have
been reared so entirely as my heiress, that
a' bequeathment which gives to you only a
share of the inheritance, may seem to you
like a wrong. Therefore "
" Grandpapa," Valerie interposed, re-
proachfully, "I hope you would have
spared me this. I hoped you would believe
that I am willing, even anxious, for you to
make that disposition of your property
which seems to you best."
" I do believe you, petite,^'' he said,
kindly. " I am sure those are your senti-
ments now. But there are others who would
neither think nor feel as you do, and who,
as time went on, miglit persuade you that
you had been hardly dealt with."
" If you mean papa or Eugene " began
Miss Ayliner, a little indignantly; but she
was cut short very summarily.
" Chut! " said the old Frenchman, in his
French fashion. " Of course I don't mean
either of them. Your father does not value
money more than most men of the world
do; and, as for your brother, unless he has
changed very much, he values it consider-
ably less than is either wise or expedient.
I was thinking principally of your future
husband for I suppose you will find one
some day."
Valerie smiled saucily. "Most people
do, grandpapa. But you may be sure of one
thing he will not quarrel with your testa-
mentary arrangements."
" Who can foretell that, petite ? " said he.
" And there is no doubt of one thing the
fact of your having been taught to expect
this inheritance would render a different
disposition of it an undoubted wrong on my
l)art, if I had not sufiicicnt reason for what
I do."
His granddaughter bent forward, and
laid her hand over the one which rested on
the arm of his chair.
" I am sure of it, grandpapa," she said,
gently ; " and, once for all, trust me that I
shall be perfectly content with that disposi-
tion, whatever it may be."
He smiled slightly, gratefully it seemed,
and then retained her hand, holding it in
his own, and smoothing it down with a ten-
der sort of caress, while he turned to Darcy
and spoke abruptly :
"Maurice, you have been so immovable
in your resolution to accept nothing from
me, that I am forced to urge upon you the
last appeal which one generous mind can
make to another. Do not deny me the poor
satisfaction of making all the atonement
possible for a sin which. J have bitterly re-
pented that of making reparation to you
for the wrong I did your mother. That
wrong was deeper than you or any one else
ever supposed."
Darcy started, and his face hardened
suddenly and strangely, as Valerie had often
noticed ; it was apt to harden at any men-
tion of his mother's name. ,
" That plea had best be left untouched,
sir," he said, coldly. " I fear that, if you per-
sist in urging it, I shall only prove that I
have not a ' generous mind,' I do not admit
that you possess any right or any power
of reparation for her wrongs, and I would
rather not speak of them under this roof."
"You mean that you cannot forgive
them ? "
" I mean that I cannot forget how she
died, in want and privation, while her for-
tune was withheld from her."
The elder man did not shrink as this an-
swer fell on his ear. Perhaps his own con-
science had uttered it too often for human
lips to give the words added force. He
only looked up with an unconscious pathos
which touched his granddaughter to the
quick, and made her turn one keenly-re-
proachful glance on Darcy.
" You are right," he said. "Even more
140
VALERIE AYLMER.
riglit than you think. I have always meant
to tell you the story, and you might as well
hear it now. It is not very long. You
know already how entirely your mother
was left in my power by our father's will ;
how, according to that will, all her proper-
ty reverted to me if she married without
my consent ; you know also how bitterly I
opposed her marriage with your father ; how,
when she persisted in marrying him, I carried
into effect the condition of the will ; how,
from the hour in which she took the name
of Darcy, I refused to see or hold any com-
munication with her. But you do not know,
nor did she or any one else, save myself, that
this stern condition was only intended by my
father to guard against a danger to which he
considered women especially liable the dan-
ger of ill-advised marriage. He thought he
might thus prevent Aimee from throwing
herself away ; but he never intended that,
even in such a case, her inheritance should
really be forfeited. It was a species of se-
cret trust ; and tlie last thing he said to me
before he died was, ' Deal gently with your
sister. ' "
He stopped abruptly at this point evi-
dently more from agitation than because he
desired any comment or reply so, for a mo-
ment, all was silence in the room. Valerie
heard his quick breathing, as he strove to
regain composure; but she could not see
his face, partly because of her own position,
partly because he sat with his back to the
light. But that light shone full on Dar-
cy's face, and it was not a pleasant or
encouraging sight to either gazer. All tlie
genial expression had faded from it; the
clear eyes looked cold and dark ; the frank
features set and stern ; while over the whole
there brooded less of anger than of chill,
hard severity, Valerie looked at him ap-
prehensively, almost imploringly, but he
scarcely seemed to see her; he scarcely
seemed conscious of the dread which was
upon her. It was a relief when at last M.
Vacqnant resumed, still steadily and grave-
ly addressing himself to Maurice:
"It is only due to myself that I should
assure you that the love of money did not
influence me in the course which I pur-
sued. I disliked your father from the first,
and I never forgave your mother many bit-
ter and scornful things which she said to me
before she left my house. Concerning the
first, he was your father, and he has gone
before me to the bar of a higher judgment,
so I need say nothing as to the grounds of
my dislike, save that they afforded me good
cause for opposing the marriage, as even
you may be aware, from your knowledge of
his character. He was the most reckless,
the most incorrigible spendthrift I ever
knew though not a fortune-hunter, as in
my anger I called him at the time. Perhaps
this charge incensed your mother more than
any thing else. At all events, it rendered
her more obstinate than ever ; and she mar-
ried him. I was very hot and passionate in
those days. I vowed to make both of them
feel the weight of my anger; and, to do so,
I violated the trust of the dead."
Another silent pause a pause in which
Valerie looked again wistfully at the un-
moved face before her and then the speaker
once more went on :
" I have forced myself to this painful
statement for two reasons : first, because I
want to prove to you, Valerie, that if I do
not make you the great heiress you once ex-
pected to be, it is only by the interposition
of something which is at once a reparation
and a duty ; and, secondly, I wish to con-
vince you, Maurice, that you accept not my
bounty, but your mother's right."
He looked at Darcy, as he spoke, with a
deprecating entreaty that was as painful as
it was strange. It must have touched the
younger man, Yor his face softened some-
what, and his voice sounded more gentle
than Valerie had dared to hope it would,
when he answered :
" The past is past, sir. Surely we need
not dig from its ashes the bitter and pain-
ful memories that still remain there. I have
not forgotten my mother's last words, which
charged me to forgive you ; and that I l)reak
your bread, is proof enough of my having
done so. We need not dwell on the nature
of her wrongs. It is too late now to do her
justice ; and your present duty is not to me,
but to those who possess the nearest claim
on you."
"It is to you," said M. Vacquant, almost
THE FORFEIT PLEDGE.
141
sternly. " You talk of forgiveness, and yet
wish to send me do\yn to the grave with the
burden of an unexpiated sin upon my con-
science a sin that has outlawed me from
God and His Church these many years?
Hush I hush!" he uplifted* his hand, as
Darcy strove to speak. "I will not hear
another word. Talk as you will refuse
what you will after I am dead. Nothing
shall induce me to alter one line of this
paper which I hold here my will."
His will! They both looked at it with
something of awe ; that paper concerning
which there had been so much of conjec-
ture and more of scheming than either of
them dreamed ; that gave away into other
hands the wealth for which its owner had
so sinned and suffered; that would deal a
death-blow to so many hopes, and gratify
scarcely any! Ah! surely that must be a
bitter hour to a man who has loved the
world, and the possessions of the world,
when he comes at last to say, " I do hereby
give and bequeath ; " when absolutely and
irrevocably he bestows upon others all that
has been the delight of earth to him, and
goes forth naked and stripped, as the poorest
pauper, to face the everlasting justice of
God ! Meanwhile, M, Vacquant slowly un-
folded the large sheet which he held, and
taking up his gold eye-glass began to read
aloud. The will was by no means a long
document, and, shorn of all its legal tech-
nicalities, might have been briefly stated
thus:
First came the minor bequests ; old ser-
vants were pensioned oflf, and old friends re-
membered. Then
To his wife, Marian Vacquant, in token
of "affectionate regard," the interest of
one hundred thousand dollars, and the
use of the town-house during her natural
life.
To his son-in-law, Gerald Aylmer, the
sum of one hundred thousand dollars.
To his step-son, Julian Eomney, the sum
of twenty-five thousand dollars.
To his young friend and connection, Eu-
gene Aylmer, the sum of twenty-five thou-
sand dollars.
The large bulk of the fortune (eight
hundred thousand dollars, clear of all be-
quests) was left jointly to his granddaugh-
ter, Valerie Aylmer, and his nephew, Mau-
rice Darcy, on condition of their marrying
each other in case of either refusing to do
so, Valerie Aylmer inherited three hundred
thousand dollars, and Maurice Darcy the
half million remaining.
To the reading of this document ensued
a profound silence. Considered from her
point of view, it was not Valerie Aylmer's
place to speak besides, she had already
signified her assent to any thing ; and Darcy
also held his peace ; so, after waiting some
little time, M. Vacquant was the first to
break the silence.
" I am afraid that tliis compromise, like
most compromises, has only succeeded in
pleasing nobody ; but I hope you both com-
prehend, and do justice to my reasons for
making it. I have no hope that you will
either of you accept the condition which
would render my double duty so plain, but
I thought it right to afford you the option of
doing so. I hope and believe "
But what he hoped and believed was
left to conjecture ; for, as he paused, with a
somewhat troubled look, Darcy rose, and
came forward to Valerie's side. He took
her hand, and then spoke with an air of
very quiet and self-possessed deference.
" Sir," he said, " you may be glad to
hear that we have anticipated your kind in-
tention toward us ; that once more a Darcy
sues for the hand of the daughter of your
house ; and that he needs only your consent
to call it his own."
M. Vacquant started, and, for the space
of at least a minute, gazed at them at his
granddaughter's blushing face and his neph-
ew's proud dignity in mute amazement.
Then he said, slowly
" Mes enfants^ is this true ? "
" It is perfectly true," Maurice answered,
gravely. " Henceforth, there will be no
need of compromise or division, for any in-
terests of ours."
Another minute M. Vacquant was si-
lent striving perhaps to realize this unex-
pected stroke of Fortune but at last he said,
solemnly :
"Maurice Darcy, I owe your father's
memory a great debt. Pray for me that
142
VALERIE ATLMER.
this may be received as some small pay-
ment of it, and God bless you both, my
dears! "
Ten minutes after that, Valerie had left
her grandfather and Darcy together in the
library, and was walking toward Alix's room
with a very sunny smile on her face, when,
at a turn of the corridor, she suddenly en-
countered Eomney. Eemembering his re-
pulse of the night before, she was about to
pass him with a single bend of the head,
but he paused before her, and held out his
hand.
"Forgive me," he said, "and tell me
so."
" I have nothing to forgive," she answered
cordially. " But I am very glad to see you
back again ; and I hope you mean to remain
now."
"You hope so? "
"Indeed I do, most sincerely."
"Without thinking what it would cost
me, or without caring which ? "
"Hoping that, after a very little while, it
would not cost you any thing," she said, de-
termined not to heed his tone. "Ah, Julian,
we shall part soon, never perhaps to meet
again can we not be friends ? "
Some violent reply seemed to tremble on
his lip, but he controlled it; and, after a
moment, answered quietly, with only a
quick gleam in his eyes :
"I told you once that we could never be
friends. But the last month has taught me
that I can be any thing save your enemy,
do any thing save remain away from you.
If you will promise to teach me friendship
half as well as you taught me love, I might,
after all, prove an apt pupil."
"You will try at least?"
"Yes, I will try as others have tried in
the past. But pcrliaps my success may prove
as indifferent as theirs."
She looked at him in surprise. " What
do you mean? "
" I mean," he said, " what I should not
have forgotten only you make me forget
every thing that one of these ' friends ' is
down-stairs waiting for you now. I inter-
cepted Pierre with his card, and here it
is."
He gave it to her, watching with a smile,
which it was well she did not see, her grow-
ing paleness, as she read on the bit of card-
board the familiar autograph " Charles Yer-
non Hautaine."
For a moment, a dark mist came over hef
sight, and a choking sensation rose up in her
throat. The impulse, of physical cowardice
rushed over her, as it had never done before
in all her life ; and if it had not been for the
gaze fixed on her the gaze whose malice
she instinctively felt she would have tied
away anywhere, for a little respite, a little
time to consider what was best to be done.
But it was no part of Julian's policy to al-
low that ; and his voice broke now on her
ear.
"The absent are said to be always
wrong I shall certainly begin to believe
that they are always unwelcome, if you give
your friend's card no warmer glance than
that. What is the matter ? "
Valerie raised her head haughtily. The
tone was even more significant than the
glance, and both together acted on her like
a restorative. Whatever she felt, whatever
she feared, this man should see neither. So
she looked at him, as she answered, very
coldly and nonchalantly:
"You are mistaken. The absent are
never either wrong or unwelcome with me
especially such a dear old friend as Mr.
Hautaine. If I hesitated over his card, it
was simply because I was very much sur-
prised. I did not know he was in Balti-
more. I must go down to him at once. Will
you please let me pass? "
He moved aside at once ; but continued
to stand at the head of the stairs, watching
her as she descended, watching her as she
swept in her soft violet draperies across the
hall, watching her as she opened the draw-
ing-room door, watching the panel even
after it had closed upon her, with the same
smile on his face.
He Avas still standing there, when a hand
was laid gently on his arm, and his mother's
voice spoke :
" Has she gone down? "
He did not look round, but the smile
faded from his face, and its quick, stormy
frown came over it, as he answered :
THE FORFEIT PLEDGE.
143
"Yes, she has gone down, to play off her
fooleries on that poor devil. Your work will
be done, if you will only find an excuse for
sending the new lover in upon them about
a quarter of an hour hence. He may be so
far gone he won't mind any thing of the sort
curse him ! but if he does care, she can't
make matters straight granting they told
even half the truth about this affair down in
Louisiana."
"With that he turned and descended the
staircase, passing with a scowl by the draw-
ing-room, and out of the front door into the
street.
Meanwhile Valerie had gone down armed
with the courage of desperation, shrinking
in spirit like the veriest coward, but out-
wardly perfect in bravery and composure,
as she moved forward under Julian's eye;
even when she put her hand on the lock
of the drawing-room door, when she opened
it, when she stood within the threshold,
when there came eagerly hastening to meet
her the same impetuous, handsome cavalier,
with hazel eyes and sunny curls, from whom
she had parted six months before. He was
so entirely himself, so wholly unchanged in
look or manner, that, for the moment, all
her fear and embarrassment fled away, and
she saw only the intimate companion of
years; the boy -lover with whom she had
flirted and quarrelled ever since they were
children together; the man whose brave,
bright, generous nature had always pos-
sessed such a rare attraction for her, whom
she liked to the very boundary of love, and
who brought all the breath of home, all the
soft skies and golden days with him, in the
first tone of his frank, clear voice, the first
grasp of his loyal, gallant hand.
Their greeting was every thing that the
greeting of such old friends had a right to be,
and then Valerie swept into oblivion the
awkward issues of the awkward present, and
looked at her slave with much of the old
arch smile.
'' Merci! how much you are improved! "
she cried. " Is it Paris that has made you
so irresistibly handsome? "
"Paris ! " he repeated, as he tossed back,
with a well-remembered gesture, the graceful
curls which many fair ladies had secretly
envied him. "I flatter myself that even
Paris could not improve me! The thing is,
telle amie, tliat you had forgotten how good-
looking I am."
" At least I had not forgotten how im-
pudent you are," she rejoined, laughingly.
"It is certainly out of the power of Paris,
or 'anywhere else, for that matter, to im-
prove you in self-conceit. Come, sit down,
and tell me all about yourself and your trav-
els. Do you know I heard that you had
gone to Constantinople, to enlist in the
Turkish army?"
"You might have heard many more im-
probable things," he answered, taking a seat
beside her own. " I am a sworn free com-
panion now, and there is no telling where I
may find myself some day. You know my
motto :
' La guerre est ma patrie,
Mon hamois ma maison,
Et en toute saison
Combattre c'est ma vie 1 ' "
"In that case, I don't see what brought
you back to America," said his listener, with
a shrug. " There is no field for such a creed
here a creed, en 2)assant, which merits and
receives my full approbation."
" You wonder Valerie, you? "
. As may be imagined, the tone of this
question warned La telle des telles that she
had ventured on dangerous ground. She
smiled then frowned then blushed, and
finally changed the subject abruptly, by
asking " if he had seen Eugene in France ? "
Perhaps Hautaine was not overmuch
pleased by this transition ; but at least ho
submitted to it with a good grace. He an-
swered in the aflSrmative, and went on to
describe various particulars concerning
young Aylmer, who was one of a corps of
civil engineers engaged in surveying a rail-
road in the south of France. He assured
the somewhat incredulous sister that the
young Confederate accepted his changed po-
sition with very perfect philosophy, laughed
repining to the winds, with the gay fortitude
of his light-hearted race, professed to prefer
civil engineering to the kindred military sci-
ence which had been his profession, and to
find surveying railroads more agreeable than
planning fortifications. Then he told her
144
VALERIE AYLMER.
something of his social triumphs, how the
fair Parisiennes called him Le leau Con-
federe^ how much he had improved in cool-
ness of head and steadiness of purpose, and
how many friends were ready and willing to
sound his praises, even in the strange land
where he had gone with only a hrave heart
and a strong arm to aid him in the fight for
fortune.
Valerie looked up with kindling eyes.
" You can't tell how glad I am to know
this ! " she said. " My poor, gallant boy !
I was almost the only one who encouraged
him to cast his fortunes abroad, and who
bade him God-speed when he went. So I
feel as if half the responsibility of his suc-
cess or failure rested on me. Papa only
half agreed, and Gerald was bitterly op-
posed to any thing .so far out of the ordinary
routine of planting cotton or practising law."
Hautaine laughed.
" Gerald certainly will never swell the
ranks of condottieri,'''' he said.
"No," Valerie answered, with some-
thing like a curl of her lip. " Gerald was
made for his own groove ; and I don't know
what would become of him if he was taken
out of it. He was born to be a planter at
Aylmers, and a planter at Aylmers he is
still determined to be, although every thing
that made the life pleasant has forever
passed away. He is a good specimen of a
certain class of the men of the day the ad-
vocates of expediency who are ready to
make the best of any thing, even of their
country's dishonor."
" Yes," said Hautaine, absently ; for he
had not come all the distance which lies
between Paris and Baltimore, to talk over
this oft-discussed subject. " But then," he
added, suddenly, " Gerald may be right,
after all who knows? Sometimes I feel
terribly uncertain whether I may not be in
the wrong path whether there is not a
duty to one's country when she is down, as
well as when she is up ; whether "
He stopped short, for Valerie was look-
ing at him in grieved surprise.
"iTi tu, Brute f^'' she said, reproachful-
ly. " I never expected to hear such soph-
istry, and if you will pardon the word
such cant, from your lips, Charley.
"Wrong! wrong to consult your own self-
respect, after having done all for your coun-
try that an honest man could do! after
having fought for her to the last gasp, and
gone with her down into the depths of hu-
miliation and despair! w^rong to fly from
her shame, though you shared her suffer-
ing! Tell me this what could you do for
her if you remained ? As she is, how can the
bravest heart that ever breathed, the stout-
est arm that ever dealt blow, help her in
her bitter servitude? And how can you
even help yourself? What path of manly
enterprise is there which you do not need to
enter with a lie on your lip, and at the door
of which you do not leave all tbe honor
of rectitude that is half-religion to the men
of our race? True, you might abjure all
public paths you might stay here and eat
out your heart in obscurity, a constant wit-
ness of all tlie treachery and corruption that
is rampant ; but would that help the poor
2mtrie ? No, Charley, no ! Go and save
yourself from all that must be learned in
such an atmosphere ! Go with a true heart,
and a clear conscience for I cannot do you
the injustice to doubt one thing when your
country needs you, you will be at her call."
He looked up at her with a gaze of hon-
est admiration. For a moment she had for-
gotten every tiling save the sore wound
which still bled in her inmost heart, as it
bleeds and will ever bleed in that of every
woman of her race. For a moment tlie
same old fire leaped into her eyes that had
quickened them when she spoke brave
words of cheer to the gallant hearts that had
gathered under the Eed-Oross banner, and,
for a moment, something of the old ringing
eloquence rushed to her lips, w'liich in those
days had shamed even cowards while they
listened to her. She looked like an inspired
sibyl, as she uttered her last " Go," and he
who listened was only too ready to heed
the oracle.
" You are right," lie said, quickly. " In-
deed, I never doubt or hesitate, excepting
in some moments of depression and dis-
couragement, when I do not see my way
very clearly; for I have not an available
profession that can be turned to civil use,
like that of Eugene."
THE FORFEIT PLEDGE.
145
" Are you tired of the sea ? "
"Yes," he said, with a sudden shadow
falling over his face. " Besides, I could only
turn pirate, or enter some merchant-service
and hoth of those patlis are liable to ob-
jections. I think I shall turn my ambition
in a military direction. Austria has always
given a cordial welcome to soldiers of for-
tune. I have a strong inclination to go
there. Tell me what you think of it? "
"I think very well of it," she answered,
gayly. " The uniform is said to be the hand-
somest in Europe, and I can fancy you a count
of the empire, with a marshal's baton, and
a Theresian cross."
He laughed slightly, then bent forward
and laid his lips on her hand.
" It all depends on you," he said, quickly.
"You know what I am here for. You know
the promise you gave me six months ago.
I have tried not to hope too much, but I
cannot believe that you doom me to such
long waiting only for disappointment. I
am here for your decision, and I teU you
now, what I told you before take me and
my ambition, and make them both what you
will."
" I cannot believe that you doomed me
to such long waiting only for disappoint-
ment." Out of all his speech those were
the words that rang in Valerie's ears like
the voice of an accusing angel. He could
not believe it of her ; and yet it was what
she bad done! What matter that she had
done it ignorantly, carelessly, even thinking
it for the best, when, the bitter result was
now staring her in the face ? Yet she dared
not hesitate each moment of longer wait-
ing was a deeper wrong so she looked at
the man, whom her promise had brought
across the broad Atlantic, with a gaze that
told him his sentence even before her lips
uttered it, and answered almost mechani-
cally:
" I was wrong, Charley, and mistaken.
I hoped to spare you this. I meant to have
written to you, and told you what I have
known for some time that I do not love
you well enough to marry you."
She spoke these few sentences so coldly
and formally, so much like a lesson learned
by rote, that it was no wonder Hautaine
10
looked at her in mute, sorrowful amaze.
There was silence for a moment, and then
he uttered only one word
"Valerie!"
The sound of her own name, spoken out
of the very depths of his wounded, loving
heart, touched her deeply. She looked up
with an almost pitiful entreaty in her eyes.
" Oh, Charley, dear friend, try to forgive
me! I never meant to treat you so! I
never meant any thing so utterly heartless
and shameful ! I thought indeed, I thought
that I loved you ; but I find I do not, save
as tlie best and kindest brother. You would
not accept that love from your wife ? You
would not "
" I would accept any thing in the world
that gave me you," he interrupted, hastily.
"If your refusal is based on the fear that
you do not love me enough Oh, Valerie,
never hesitate. Come to me, and trust the
rest with time and with me. Or wait, if you
would rather do that. I am willing to be
your bondsman sis years instead of six
months, with hope to lighten the way. Do
any thing, sooner than put an end to every
expectation that has been my life. For
Heaven's sake, think of what you say! for
Heaven's sake, remember what you mean ! "
-He spoke eagerly and passionately, spoke
with a force and pathos which showed Vale-
rie plainly how much deeper was the disap-
pointment now than before Hope had been
whispering her siren song for months ; be-
fore he had almost felt and owned her his.
Then out of the depths of her bitter humil-
ity came a great cry :
" Oh, Charley, Charley, believe me it is
best so. Believe me, we are not, we never
could be, suited to each other. Oh, it grieves
me to the heart to think that I have seemed
to trifle so wantonly with you to remem-
ber that I might have saved you all this, if I
had only been honest and true, last fall if
I had only told you then what I am sure of
now that I can never, never love you well
enough to marry you."
She repeated this as if it were her one
stronghold of defence, and he looked at her
with a dark cloud that seemed like despair
gathering over his face, as he said
" You have learned this since we parted ? "
146
VALERIE ATLMER.
" Does it matter how I learned it, if it be
true?"
"And it is true?"
She bent her head slowly. "It is true."
There was nothing more to be said
nothing more to be urged. Hautaine seemed
to feel this, for, after a moment, he spoke
again, drearily enough :
"Then there is nothing for me but to
go."
" To go ! " she repeated.
"Yes back to the life which you have
made such an empty and useless thing.
Don't think I mean to reproach you. It
may not be your fault, but "
She interrupted him passionately :
" Not my fault ? It is mine alone. Oh,
Charley, if I could bear all the suifering
yours as well as mine I would not care so
much. But it is the thought of you that
breaks my heart that makes me feel myself
a wretch that almost makes it a sin to
be"
"Happy," she would have added, if her
voice had not broken down in a rush of tears
a perfect thunder-shower of emotion. Poor
Charley was fairly frightened at its vehe-
mence, and did his honest best to soothe
and comfort her, but with very little effect.
Half from nervous agitation, half from sin-
cere self-reproach, she stiU wept on, and he
was still bending over her, when the sound
of an opening door made them both start
made Valerie look up through her tears,
and Hautaine turn sharply round to see
Maurice Darcy framed on the threshold.
CHAPTER V.
FACE TO FACE.
It was evident that he had only just
entered in time perhaps to hear Valerie's
last words, but certainly not before ; for, as
she looked up, she caught his start of aston-
ishment, and saw the same astonishment in
his eyes as they glanced from herself to her
companion. Involuntarily, she was about
to speak, to say something any thing that
would explain ; but the sudden darkening that
came into those eyes, the sudden change
that swept over his face a change very
much as if a stone mask had been fitted over
the features hushed all sound on her lips,
and, when she turned toward Hautaine, sur-
prise gave way to absolute terror.
In all her life, she never forgot the look
with which those two men faced each
other! Yet there was not in it any thing
very desperate or very tragic. They did not
look as if they meant to spring at each
other's throats, or demand each other's
lives, or do any thing else common to the
rivals of melodi'ama. Indeed, it was easy to
see that there was little or no recollection of
rivalry between them. They knew each
other that was plain but it was not as
lovers of the same woman, but as men with
some strong tie, some strong link of thought
or deed in the past. Darcy stUl stood out-
lined in the door, but his very attitude had
changed, and seemed to express the same
stern immobility that marked his face, whUe
Hautaine had risen, and was clutching ner-
vously the back of a chair his face strange-
ly pale, his eyes full of mingled amazement
and appeal. It was in this way that they
stood gazing at each other in the hushed
pause which fell over the room in this way
that they still remained when a minute,
which seemed an age to Valerie, had passed
away.
It was Charley who first broke the
silence by one cry a cry so full of mingled
feeling that it would have been impossible to
tell whether yearning passion, or pain, or
entreaty, spoke most plainly in it :
" Maurice ! "
That was all. But a hundred words
could not have said more. It seemed as if
Darcy's face softened for an instant when
the sound went out toward him ; but, if so,
it was only for an instant. It looked as set
and stern as before, when he spoke, very
coldly :
"I regret that accident should have
caused this meeting. You know mc well
enough to believe that it has not been inten-
tional, and that it will be the last. Miss
Aylmer, I beg your pardon for such an in-
trusion. I had no idea that you were en-
gaged."
FACE TO FACE.
147
He bowed slightly and distantly to Va-
lerie ; then, without further sign, turned to
go. But Ilautaine made one eager step for-
ward uttered one eager, imploring call.
"Stop, Maurice!" he cried. "One
moment only one moment ! "
Darcy turned, with a look on his face
that might have warned the other how little
power could be gained by words over any
resolve or decision of his.
" To what end? " he asked, not angrily,
but in the same cold voice that was intinitely
more relentless than anger.
"You ask me that?" the other cried,
passionately. "My God! Do you think I
have not suffered enough to make atone-
ment for the past ? If you could only
know I if you could only tell "
" Why should I care either to know or
to tell ? " Darcy interposed, sternly. " What
are your sufferings granting their existence
to me ? Can you give back to him the
aims and objects of life ? Can you give back
to me the faith you betrayed? Can you
give back to yourself the honor you for-
feited ? Do even one of these things, and I
will acknowledge that your sufferings have
worked some atonement for the evil they
can never repair. Until then, go your way,
as I shall go mine. But take this one warn-
ing with you be careful how you cross my
path, I spared you once ; but I am only a
man, and I may not spare you again."
The scarcely-repressed fire of this men-
ace seemed to restore Hautaine to himself
more quickly than any thing else could pos-
sibly have done. He looked up, and his
voice was dignified, though grave and sub-
dued, when he answered :
" You used to know me very well, and
you may perhaps remember whether threats
of that kind are likely to influence me. Be-
sides, you could not take vengeance in cold
blood on an unresisting man ; and I don't
think any words of yours would make me
lift my hand against you. The great wrong
which I wrought you the wrong that has
darkened my life over with the shadow of a
curse stands ever between us. Do what
you please, say what you please, remem-
bering this that I shall not resent any
thing."
"Why did you stop me, then?" Darcy
demanded. " To hear this ? "
" No. To tell you that he has forgiven
me, and to ask Maurice, to ask if you can
never "
He paused almost despite himself, as it
seemed and Darcy finished the sentence
for him without an instant's hesitation :
" If I can never forgive you ? The an-
swer to that is short. Never."
" Yet he"
The other interrupted him almost
fiercely.
"He is not a man, but something infi-
nitely higher. And I, too, might forgive an
injury dealt only to myself: but when it is
twofold nay threefold Let us talk no
longer. The very saints of God might feel
that there are some wrongs too deep for
atonement, too bitter for forgiveness, too
lasting even for vengeance ! "
All the passion within him seemed to
reach its climax in those words, so that
Hautaine shrank from their fiery energy as
from a blow, and Valerie suddenly woke
from a sort of trance, with indignation and
pity swelling high in her breast. They
might have forgotten her presence in the
room, for all the notice they had taken of
her ; but now, suddenly and without warn-
ing, she rose up between them a woman
born to quell strife by command rather than
by entreaty. Strange to say, she did not
even look at Darcy, she only turned and
spoke to Hautaine Hautaine, who had been
her playfellow and friend when they were
children together under the Louisiana or-
ange-trees in a voice infinitely tender :
"Charley, why should you mind what
he says? Why should his cruelty hurt you
so? What is his forgiveness, that you
should humiliate yourself to gain it ? / be-
lieve in you Jam sure you never worked
a deliberate harm, or inflicted a deliberate
wrong. Stand fast in your own integrity.
Surely, surely that is enough! "
Both men started with irrepressible sur-
prise as she rose up and began to speak ;
then the effect on both was as different as
could have been imagined, Charley held
out his hand, with a silent gesture of grati-
tude, and a glance more eloquent than
148
VALERIE AYLMER.
words, while over Maurice Darcy's face
there rolled a cloud heavy and . dark as
night.
He was not likely to reason at such a
moment as that few men perhaps would
have been yet he might have remembered
how pitiless he had been in his severity, and
that a woman's sympathy never fails to
range itself on the weaker side. Surely if
any thing about the sex may still be termed
" divine " may still be held above the
rougher humanity of man, it is this one at-
tribute, this unfailing impulse, which makes
it ten times sweeter to bind up the wounds
of defeat than those of victory, and which,
since the beginning of the world has made
them constant and persistent advocates of
the losing side. Utterly illogical ones, it
may be but what of that? There are few
advocates of any thing who can carry their
principles more stanchly into action, and,
however defective their reasoning may be,
their practice, at least, is irreproachable.
Acting on impulse, like most of her sex,
Valerie did not realize, until her words
were past recall, what harm they had
worked; then it all rushed over her, in the
tone of Darcy's reply.
" Let me congratulate you on your par-
tisan," he said to Hautaine, with icy bitter-
ness. " And let me counsel you to follow
her advice. My cruelty need not give you
a moment's further concern, for we are not
likely to meet again."
Then he turned and quitted the room.
As for the two left behind, they looked
at each other in silence, until Hautaine ex-
tended his hands to his champion, who now
sat down pale and trembling.
"Thank you," he said. "Thank you
more than "
But she interrupted him almost passion-
ately. "No don't thank me. I only said
it because he was so bitter and hard, and
because because I am sure you never did
any thing unworthy of yourself. That was
all."
"That was enough," he said, "if if it
were only true. But I would be eveu more
pitiful than he thinks me, if I allowed you
to believe any thing but that I am wrong,
and that he is wholly right."
He spoke simply but earnestly, and, lift-
ing her head, Valerie looked at him in mute
surprise. He could say that! when the
stinging words and contemptuous tones of
his stem accuser were still ringing in her
ears. He could say that, remembering the
unsparing denunciations which had been
heaped upon him, and remembering, too,
that he had even been charged with a for-
feited honor! When she spoke, after a
while, it was wonderingly.
"You know best; but it seems to me
that scarcely any thing could justify all all
that he said. I am very sorry if you really
have done any thing wrong and still more
sorry if you meant to do it but my regard
would be a worthless thing, indeed, if it
failed you just when you have most need of
it ; or if I could let a single doubt shake
the trust and aifection of a lifetime. I want
you to remember this thing : that there is
no wrong which cannot be expiated ; and
that you would need go far on any road
of error before you could estrange my "
She stopped short, for a flash of sudden
hope had banished aU gloom and pain from
the eyes fixed on her face ; and there was
in them an anxious entreaty that it was bit-
terly hard to disappoint. At that moment,
she wellnigh wished that she could have
added "love" but at that moment she
also felt, more strongly than ever before,
that her lips would never, save in false-
hood, utter that word to him.
' Your what, Valerie ? "
He asked this when the pause on her
part had been very long, and she bent her
head before him as she answered :
" My friendship, Charley."
He gave a deep sigh. "If you knew all,
you might think, perhaps, that even your
friendship was more than I had a right
to expect, but it is very little to have
crossed an ocean to receive. Valerie, I am
very weak and very guilty scarcely worthy
even to touch your hand but out of this
very desolation, I cry to you : Come to me!
Come to me I love me strengthen me!
and, by the heaven above us, I swear that
you can make me what you will."
He stood before her, more impassioned,
more vehement than she had ever seen him
FACE TO FACE.
149
before. Ab, yes, be did love ber tbere
could be no doubt of tbat. He bad loved
her so long, so foitbfully, so well, and per-
haps it was true tbat, if sbe went to bim,
sbe could make bim wbat sbe would. Had
Maurice Darcy ever looked or spoken like
this? Had be ever put bimself, bis fate, his
very life, into ber keeping? Yet with wbat
a great rusb the woman's heart went out
toward him away, forever away from this
eager, passionate paladin, who was ready to
do and dare any thing for her sake, ready
even to lay all freedom at ber feet, and be a
serf for evermore !
"Hush, Charley, bush I *' she said,
gravely. "Don't you see how that would
be reversing all the right order of things,
and how no happiness could ever come to
cither of us from it? You overrate my
strength as much as you underrate your
own. At all events, if you could stand
with me, you can stand ulone, and I am
sure you will do so."
"Are you?" be said, with a faint, sad
smile. "Well, for the sake of others, I
trust you may be right. I see you are de-
termined, so I will not weary you with any
more useless entreaty. I hope I can meet my
fate like a man at least I can bid you good-
by. This afternoon I leave for Louisiana."
"Ob, Charley, dear Charley," sbe cried,
with all ber heart in ber throat, " speak to
me once like the old time. Tell me once,
before you go, that you forgive me. You
don't know how I shall suffer in the
thought of having pained you^you, my
friend, my brother ! "
It was almost the same appeal that sbe
made to Julian Eomney as she remem-
bered, the moment after sbe finished speak-
ing. Yet nothing could have caused ber to
realize the immeasurable distance between
these two men, who had both loved her to
the utmost of their capability, as the an-
swer which the young Southerner made
made in cbivalric forgetfulness of self, in
generous desire to shield her even from her
own reproach:
" There is no need to mention such a
word between us," he said. "You have
not the slightest ground for blaming your-
self. I was fully aware of tlie uncertainty
of success ; and, more than that, I bad your
own warning. I tliougbt then tbat the
merest chance was worth a trial, and I
think so now. I have so little to regret,
that I would freely do it all over again.
Therefore, you see how misplaced any suf-
fering of yours would be. You have not
harmed me. No man ever yet was harmed
by loving a pure woman, however hopeless
that love might be, and it is only a coward
who repines over the inevitable. You need
not be afraid of that, Valerie ; time wiU
heal the wound, even if it can never efface
the scar."
He spoke cheerfully, even with an at-
tempt at lightness, which touched ber more
than any despondency could have done.
Once more the warm tears rushed forth, as
she knew that be was bidding her good-by,
and she only managed to whisper a few last
words.
" Charley, don't regret me ! If you only
knew what I am indeed, indeed, I am not
worth one throb of pain from such a heart
as yours."
He only smiled faintly by way of reply.
" Whatever my future life may know of love,
you will still stand forever apart from all
other women in my remembrance," be said.
" There ! good-by. God only knows when
we shall see each other again."
He left her fairly sobbing. Yet, when
the hall door closed with that dreary clang
which echoes "Good-by" so mournfully,
sbe gathered back something of her usual
composure and self-control. It was all over
over and beyond recall completely, so that
repining was, as be bad said, worse than
useless, and all the tears of aU the bright
eyes that ever wept could not ease bis heart-
ache of one pang. There was a good deal
of tlie philosopher, and still more of the
fatalist, in Valerie's composition ; and, more
than any thing else, it was tlie realization
of their uselessness which helped to dry ber
tears. Sbe bad just clashed the last glit-
tering drop away, and bad risen to go to
her own room, when once more the door
opened, and once more Darcy stood on
the tlireshold.
He made no pause this time, but ad-
150
VALERIE AYLMER.
vanced directly into the room, until he met
the woman whom he loved in exactly the
same spot where he had faced the man whom
he hated.
Then they stood looking at each other
almost as long and as silently as the two
who were friends once had dime in that
other meeting. It was only the old story
with both the story older even than Love
the uplifting of idols, and finding them pos-
sessed of feet of clay. They had not been
very deeply steeped in the glamour of pas-
sion; each had fancied that he saw more
than enough of mortal fault and mortal in-
firmity in the other; each had thought, as
lovers like to think, of the change and im-
provement to be wrought in the nature knit
unto his own ; and, as their little disagree-
ment of the night before had proved, each
recognized the fact that there were many
angles and outlines of character that might
jar roughly together. Yet what of all this?
They had faith, and love, and trust, between
them ; they might differ or fail to correspond
on unimportant points, but they had perfect
and entire belief in one another; while now
Ah, it was no wonder they gazed at each
other in that sad, bitter silence. The dark-
ness of desolation was upon them ; for at
tbeir feet lay the shattered fragments of
what they had possessed not twelve hours
before, and what all the powers of earth
could not give back to them now.
Darcy was the first to speak, with grave
though somewhat formal composure.
" I am sure you do me the justice to be-
lieve, Miss Aylmer, that my intrusion, a short
time ago, was entirely accidental, and with-
out any knowledge that I should find you
engaged. I am sincerely sorry for the an-
noyance 1 caused you, and I trust my en-
trance did not shorten the visit of your
your companion."
" No," Valerie answered, as coldly as he
had spoken, " Mr. Ilautaine was on the point
of leaving when you entered."
He glanced involuntarily toward the sofa
where he had found them she weeping, and
Charley bending over her before he spoke
again. Then it was in the same tone.
" Among the letters which I received
this morning was one at which I barely
glanced, and on which I failed to bestow
even a moment's attention. I did not destroy
it, however, because I wanted to find, if
possible, some clew to the writer. Here it
is. Will yon read it?"
He drew several letters from his pocket
as he spoke, selected one, and handed it to her
with an air of distant courtesy which at once
recalled the first days of their acquaintance.
She took it with a sort of preoccupied qui-
etude wondering certainly, but scarcely
enough to rouse her to even ordinary inter-
est. At this supreme moment of her life
this moment quivering with great issues
what heed or care had she for any thing that
could be contained in any letter that was
ever written ? So, although she took it with-
out demur, she opened it carelessly, and still
more carelessly ran her eye over the first
lines ; then there came a start, and a flash of
blood to her face : but, although the hand
which held the envelope closed over it tight-
ly, she read on, without pause or comment,
to the end. Yet this was what it proved to
be:
A letter purporting to emanate, not from
the usual anonymoias "friend," but from an
avowedly anonymous enemy. There was
none of the usual cant concerning a sense of
duty in the affair ; but, on the contrary, the
writer spoke with very candid bitterness.
" I don't pretend to take any interest in you,"
the unknown said, "and it is not at all for
your sake that I take the trouble to give
these particulars, but Valerie Aylmer in-
flicted a deep wrong on me once when or
how does not matter and I have waited
for many a long day to pay my debt in kind.
Nothing will be easier than for j'ou to ascer-
tain the truth or falsehood of all I assert,
since there is scarcely a man or woman in
Louisiana who is not able to vouch for every
thing I say. If you think fit to disregard
the warning, I can wish you no worse pun-
ishment than that which will speedily over-
take you ; I can wish you no more bitter
memory than that of your wedding-day,
even though you receive with your bride the
magnificent dower of the heiress of a million-
naire." Then followed a record which would
have made the cheek of any woman burn
with rage and shame. All her old gay
FACE TO FACE
151
coquetries were brought up against lier in
blackening array. The names and the bare
outline of facts were given accurately, but
every incident was distorted, every folly mag-
nified, every indiscretion heightened, every
result darkened, until she who had dealt only
in that light, ])layful warfare which never
yet worked serious ill to any head or heart,
was painted as a sort of baleful enchantress,
somewhat after the model of those who have
lately figured in the pages of a certain class
of fiction. Poor Valerie ! Her sins, if sins
they could be called, had lately been falling
heavily enough upon her head, but this
seemed the last drop in the cup. Still she
read on on through the cunning mixture of
falsehood and fact until she reached the
climax of the whole. That climax was her
life-long affaire with Ilautaine. There, in
pitiless black and white, she read the history
that had culminated and ended forever that
day. There was not much exaggeration in
this, nor much need for it, and, save as regard-
ed the statement of an absolute engagement
existing between them when she left Louisi-
ana, there was scarcely a single assertion
that it was possible for her to deny. Of
course they bore a different interpretation
from that of reality, but then who of us have
not, at some time of our lives, felt powerless
before this? Can we bring back the dead
acts of the past, and show what a difference
in their seeming the circumstances of the
time, or the subtlety of intention made ?
Can we refute the words of our own lips by
putting back into them the vanished spirit
which made their living meaning so different
from their cold, dead evidence ? Ah, never !
And it was this chill certainty which gath-
ered round Valerie's heart, as she looked up
at last, with a single monosyllable :
"Well?"
" Do you recognize the hand, or any turn
of words, that can tell you who the writer
is?" Darcy asked, quietly. "I should like
to know."
She looked down again for a moment,
and then shook her head, as she handed it
back. "No," she said, wearily; "and
what does it matter? The post-mark is
New Orleans ; but I cannot think I left any
enemy at home who would stab me in the
dark like this. We Louisianians may hate
to the death, but we never express onr
hatred like cowards. I would rather not
conjecture any thing about it, for I am sure
my conjecture would fail to touch the right
mark, and I could never forgive myself if I
wronged my worst enemy by such a sus-
picion. Besides, as I said before, what docs
it matter ? I see it has done its work. I see
you believe it."
" Believe it ! " he repeated, and all his
outward calm suddenly vanished before the
generous light that flashed into his face.
" Believe it ! this vile thing ? What do you
take me for? See! this is how much I be-
lieve it."
He crushed it in his hand as he spoke,
and the next instant it lay shrivelling on
the glowing coals that heaped the grate
sent there by one quick gesture. Then he
faced round upon her, with a sudden passion
of resolve in his eyes.
" That is how much I believe it ! " he
said. " There is the measure of credence I
give its calumnies ! Have you forgotten so
soon what I told you last night ? Have you
forgotten already that my honor is pledged
to receive only one evidence concerning you
the evidence of your own lips? If I
showed you this letter, it was only that you
might justify yourself that you might ex-
plain what I saw here this morning, which
seemed to come in such apparent confirma-
tion of all that was written there."
The frank chivalry of the man's nature
rang in every tone of loyal trust and truth
yet what a dull, heavy echo it was that
Valerie's heart gave back ! Justify herself!
As if justification was possible in the sense
he meant it ! A cold torpor seemed creep-
ing over her, as she answered, almost me-
chanically :
" Why do you trouble me? It is evident
that you have already judged me unheard.
Why not condemn me unheard also? "
" Am I not waiting to hear you now ? "
he asked, quickly. "If I had judged you
unheard, do you think I should have cared
to enter your presence again, after the scene
I witnessed scarcely half an hour ago?
after the words you uttered when you
turned against me to take the part of the
152
VALERIE AYLMER.
man who lias injured me beyond repair?
Have you forgotten all this ? And does it
look like condemnation ? "
" No, I have not forgotten," she an-
swered, with the same listless quietude;
" but I have nothing to say. Your very
questions prove that you do suspect me;
and I did not need your conduct to Charley
to prove how hard and stern you can be. I
have no intention of imploring your mercy
as he did. Perhaps it will be best that
every thing should end, for I do not think
we are likely to learn even a moderate de-
gree of tolerance for each other. I might
bear severity ; but I should revolt once for
all against cruelty and you who suspect so
early, would hardly grow more trusting as
time went on. And yet "
Her voice broke down here, for a sud-
den remembrance of what she was doing,
of what she was ending, rushed over her.
If Darcy had spoken one word of love or
trust then, all might have been well. But
the coldness of her repulse stung him deep-
ly ^him who was very far from being a
model hero of romance, but only a man un-
reasonable and loving, like other men; a
man who had striven hard to put his just
doubts aside, and ask as a favor the explana-
tion which he might have demanded as a
right, and wlio found this requital very
bitter. So he took up her sentence, finish-
ing it coolly
"And yet happiness seemed very near
to us last night. But you may be right ;
Ave may be too unlike ever to agree. It
would seem so, at least, since you will not
give me one single proof of good faith. It
is only a few words I ask ; but perhaps you
had better consider before you even think
of speaking them. I am undoubtedly a stern,
even a hard man though I scarcely think
a cruel one and a man who, having always
received obedience from others, cannot dis-
pense with it in my wife. That point is
best made clear at once. And, if impulse
swayed you yesterday, don't allow compas-
sion to influence you to-day ; or, in otlicr
words, do not tliink of me, I have lived
without love in the past, and I can live
without it in the future. Think only of
jom'self, and decide only for yourself."
Alas I If she had thought only of her-
self, she would have held out her hands to
him with one cry of weary relief, and closed
her eyes forever to all the doubt around
her. It might have been the wisest course
to adopt; but she was not the woman to
see tliis. On the contrary, his hard tone
hardened her in turn. She contrasted it
with the tones that so shortly before had
echoed in that room. He could not speak
thus, she thought, if he had ever felt one
throb of real passion. If he had desired
to hear the words of which he spoke, he
would never have pleaded for them like
that. So the moment of opportunity rolled
by for both, and, when she spoke, it was
half haughtily.
" Tliis is very useless indeed. I have
not forgotten your judgment of Charley;
and, if I humiliated myself as you desire, I
would only bring down such another on my
own head. Even now you talk of hearing
me ; but I should be blind indeed if I did
not see that you believe me to have been
engaged to him, even wlien I accepted
yourself."
The tone of the assertion made it a ques-
tion, and she paused as if for an answer.
After a moment, one came steady and firm.
" Eeinembering what I witnessed here
half an hour ago, I am constrained to say
that I hope so."
Had she looked at the matter for a mo-
ment, from his point of view, she might have
acknowledged the justice of this; but, as it
was, all tenderness, all regret, all memory
of the past, all hope of the future, vanished,
leaving only the sense of keen injustice.
"You insult me! " she cried, passionate-
ly. " You insult me, as I have never been
insulted before in all my life ! And, after
that, do you expect me to justify myself in
your eyes? A thousand times, no! If you
can believe that I deceived you so shame-
fully, believe it ! Only do me the justice
to believe also that I shall never ofier you
any proof to the contrary. You may credit
all that that letter said, if you choose ! If
you think I could act in such a manner,
why, it does not matter in the least whether
I really did it or not. The ccqmhiUty is the
only point of importance. And poor Char-
PAYING niS DEBT.
153
ley my poor friend ! To think that your
hate should follow him so bitterly that you
must use his honest love by means of which
to brand mo with duplicity ! If you only
knew what a comparison you are forcing me
to institute I If you only knew how utterly
lie would scorn the part yon are playing
now ! he who has never broken a pledge,
or uttered a vow that was falsehood he
who has never harbored an unworthy sus-
picion, or made love the tool of interest.
But then he has never been tempted by
the glitter of an inheritance."
She scarcely knew how her flood of
bitter passion would terminate, until the last
words passed her lips. Then she gave a
great gasp, for she saw that it was all ovg,r ;
that no repentance, no regret, could undo it
now. Any other taunt, any other charge,
might have been forgiven but never this !
Even as she looked, the features hardened,
and into the deep-gray eyes there flashed a
quick gleam ; yet he gazed at her almost
incredulously for a moment, before he an-
swered. Then it was with very proud dig-
nity.
"You are not yourself at present," he
said. " I think you are scarcely conscious
of how much your words imply ; so I do not
consider it necessary to resent them. In
your cooler moments, you will see the in-
justice of such a charge ; but, even if not, it
hardly matters. You were right a little
while ago, in saying that this had better
end. You do not deny the existence of
another engagement when you accepted
me ; in confirmation of which I cannot help
recalling your reluctance to make a pub-
lic acknowledgment of that acceptance.
"Whether you meant to keep faith with him
or with me, I have no means of knowing ;
but your grief at his departure, jour pas-
sionate espousal of his cause, leave me no
room to doubt that your heart at least was in
his keeping, even while you promised your
hand to me. Of how little worth a hand so
given would be, it is not for me to say.
Then you have seen fit to charge me with
deliberate falsity. That alone would end
all between us. And now, I have only one
thing to add. If you merely wished to grati-
fy your vanity by another triumph, it is
yours. But it would aO^ord you scant grati-
fication if you could know the sentiments
which have forever taken the place of love
toward you. You have done your worst
and your last. It will never again be in
your power to inflict another pang upon
me."
The grave, chill tones ceased the tones
so entirely without one modulation of pas-
sion, that they sounded like the inexorable
fiat of Fate and then he walked deliberately
to the door. It opened and closed upon
him. Silence complete and deep settled
over all things ; and, as Valerie sat motion-
less, she felt as if her life had come to an end
then and there.
CHAPTER VI.
PAYING niS DEBT.
" Why, Hautaine, my dear fellow, is this
really yourself? By Jove ! I am delighted
to see you ! "
It was the most frank and cheery voice
in the world that spoke thus, as Hautaine,
absorbed in his own moody thoughts, was
striding along the lower part of Charles
Street. The touch of a hand on his shoul-
der accompanied the words, and turning
sharply almost impatiently he met the
cordial eyes and more cordial face of Harry
Arle. A misanthrope could hardly have
failed to thaw at such a genial sight ; and
Hautaine was the farthest in the world from
being a misanthrope ; so he held out his
hand with something not very unlike his
usual air of good-fellowship.
"Arle, isn't it?" he said. "There's a
good deal of change, but still I think I
recognize my six-months' companion on a
Texas gunboat."
" Ah, yes, we didn't dress this way in
those days," the other said, gayly, "but
quHmporte ? They were the very best of
days the cream of life and we know each
other when we meet, despite the tailor and
the barber. I wish I could tell you how
glad I am to see you again ! "
"And I you," said Hautaine, sincerely
154
VALERIE AYLMER.
enough, though te#minutes hefore he would
have done any thing reasonable to avoid the
encounter. As it had come about, however,
he accepted it philosophically, and was not
the man to chill an old comrade's honest
warmth by coldness or indifference.
"And to think that this is our first
meeting since we blew up the old Chicora,
and shook hands on the beach with the in-
tention of running for our lives in different
directions ! " Arle continued, as they loosed
the friendly grasp of their hands, and
walked on together. " What have you been
doing with yourself in the interim? Some-
body said you had turned free lance, and
gone to the Holy Empire of Mexico."
" Somebody was quite right as far as
turning free lance went," Hautaine an-
swered, "but as for the Holy Empire of
Mexico I must really be excused, if I prefer
some service where a long rope or a quick
bullet are not the invariable rewards of
merit."
" But you haven't been in Louisiana ever
since you lowered your flag, have you ? "
" No I have been in Paris most of the
time."
" Ah, happy fellow! " said Arle, with a
very genuine air of envy. " If thaVs your
place of service, I should have no objection
to turning free lance myself. And what in
the name of wonder brings you from Paris
to Baltimore ? "
He asked the question heedlessly, and
the next moment felt as much embarrassed
as a man who has made an egregious blun-
der, and is conscious of it, can possibly feel.
He had been long in Louisiana, and suffi-
ciently among Louisiana men, to hear most
of the gossip afloat about La helle des belles,
and he knew that this gossip had coupled
her name more often with Hautaine's than
with any other among her many lovers and
countless admirers. He remembered her
presence in Baltimore, and well, the rest
was so clear that he felt very much ashamed
of his stupidity, and hastened on hurriedly,
before his companion could reply.
"I hope you mean to spend some time
among us. "We can't, of course, offer any
attractions to a travelled cosmopolitan who
is fresh from Les Italicns and V6ry's, but we
can show you some pretty women though
the prettiest comes from your own state
and you'U meet plenty of old comrades who
will be delighted to see you."
" I need not say how much I should en-
joy both," Hautaine answered as truthfully,
perhaps, as the most of us answer when we
say such things; "but the fact is, I am
Southward bound this afternoon."
" Necessarily ? "
" Necessarily."
" Indeed I am heartily sorry to hear it "
and for once the commonplace words had in
them the ring of genuine sincerity " I was
just thinking of several people who would
he wonderfully charmed to see you, and
wonderfully chagrined to miss that pleasure.
You remember Lawton ? "
" Of the James River fleet ? Undoubted-
ly."
" "Well, he was talking of you only the
other day. And then there's Conway Jack
Conway you surely know him f He was
in the old service."
"Know him!" and the abstracted eye
suddenly brightened with pleasure. "I
should think I did indeed ! "We went out as
midshipmen together on our first cruise.
The best fellow ! Is he really here? "
" He really is. And Darford, and Mere-
dith, and and plenty more. So you see it
is impossible for you to go, without at least
one reunion to put us in mind of the past.
Come ! Defer your departure until to-mor-
row afternoon, and take supper with me to-
night. Every man of them shall be there to
bid you welcome. Do you say yes? "
Hautaine hesitated. The frank invita-
tion was not nearly so much of a tempta-
tion as it should have been. But he felt so
reckless, indifferent about almost everything,
that he was half inclined to say "yes," from
pure indolence about saying "no." There
was no earthly reason why he should not
defer his departure twenty-four hours, and
he could more easily drown thought in a
jovial supper-party, than walking the deck
of the Portsmouth boat. And yet he hesi-
tated. It might have been his guardian angel
that caused him to do so ; that whispered in
his ear so urgently, " Go ; " that made him so
strangely averse to delay ; but, if so, the ad-
PAYING HIS DEBT.
155
vice Tras not a wliit more regarded tlian that
of guardiail angels usually is.
" You'll stay ? " Arle said, who saw how
the scale was turning.
And tlie other answered, with a reckless
defiance of instinct :
" It is very good of you to urge it, and
yes I'll stay."
So the weight fell heavily in the scale of
fate, and the matter was settled. He stayed.
It was by no means a large or very
noisily convivial party who assembled that
evening to do justice to Arle's hospitality ;
and their enjoyment was that of men who
were accustomed to do things decently and
in order. They were all " old Confederates,"
all men whose laughing glances had looked
on danger and death in countless guise,
whose bronzed faces had taken sunshine
and rain as either came, on the deck or in
the camp with but one exception. This
exception, strange to say and it accounted
for something of a cloud on the sunny brow
of the young host was Julian Romney.
" It's deucedly unpleasant," he said, in answer
to an aside interrogation on the subject, from
Thornton ; " I know that as well as you do,
but I couldn't help it without next thing
to insulting the fellow. He was with Dar-
ford when 1 asked him^ and well, I thought
it would not matter much, and I might as
well be civil once in a way. I think we've
all rather cut him of late, and he feels
it."
" So it's a philanthropic thing you're in
for doing?" Thornton answered, with a
shrug. "I wish you joy of your subject;
but I'm sadly afraid you've spoiled your
party. There's not a man here who even
barely likes Romney; and he's so devilish
\C bad-tempered of late that there's no count-
ing on consequences. However, I'll do my
best to keep the peace perhaps we have
been a little hard on him but don't put me
opposite him. That face of his would be
intolerable to me."
But perhaps the most thoroughly sur-
prised and least pleased of the party was
Hautaine himself, when the stranger was
presented to him, and he remembered his
close connection with the Vacquant family.
A hot, sharp pang of jealousy shot through
and through him, as he looked at the hand-
some face handsome yet, although evil lines
had been ploughed around the beautiful
mouth, and on the smooth white brow and
thought in his heart that this young Adonis
must necessarily be the rival who had stolen
from him the prize of his life. And it chanced
that, as he thought this, with wistful, honest
envy, Arle said, suddenly :
" By-the-by, I am very sorry that Darcy
could not join us. I don't suppose you ever
met him, Hautaine ; but he served in Vir-
ginia during the whole war, and is the most
capital fellow you can imagine. It's rather
curious, too, that we were speaking of
Mexico, this morning ; and he tells me he's
going there."
This unexpected statement created so
much of a sensation, that no one noticed
Hautaine's silence or his change of color.
" What, Darcy going to Mexico ! "
"The deuce! You must be mistaken."
" It's rather late in the day for that .^"
" I can't believe it possible ! "
" When did he say so ? Are you sure
about it, Hal ? "
" I am perfectly sure that he told me so,"
Arle answered; "and I don't think he's a
,man to say one thing and mean another or
to say a thing, even if he means it, and then
change his mind. I went to his studio and
found him busy packing up ; so I naturally
inquired if he was going to change the apart-
ment. He said yes for good. Naturally,
again I asked, ' How so? ' and then he said
that he leaves for New York to-night, and
sails to-morrow for Havre."
"And do you call that Mexico?" put in
an incredulous listener.
" No I don't. And neither did he. Of
course, I said sincerely enough too how
sorry we shall be to lose him ; and then I
asked him if he meant to set up an atelier in
Paris. The answer was, that he was tired
of painting, and, in less than a month, he ex-
pected to be in Mexico."
" But what for ? " demanded two or three,
impatiently.
At which the Signor Arle shrugged his
shoulders.
" Who can say, mes amis ? Do you al-
156
VALERIE AYLMER.
ways know what you intend to do, and why
you mean to do it? Darcy simply told me
what I tell you, that he is tired of painting
I have heard him say that before that
he liked action, that he wasn't tired of
fighting, and that he meant to go to Mexico
and get enough of it voila tout!''''
"Perhaps he thinks Maximilian will
make him a duke or a marshal," said Dar-
ford, lazily.
" Perhaps you will pass the decanter at
your elbow," Thornton said, " and we'll
drink to his success and happiness, wher-
ever he goes. He is one of the few men,
whom I ever met, that I am sorry to see
drop out of my life. It's rather early in
the evening for toasts, but still, as long as
he's on the tapis^ let us pledge him in the
wine he is not here to enjoy."
So they pledged him deeply, and, as
Romney set down his glass, he looked at
Ilautaine with a glance which the latter
met and understood as little as possible.
How could he, indeed, be supposed to know
that this man, whom he esteemed his fa-
vored rival, was just then thinking with
bitter rage that he Ilautaine had by his
success sent the lover of yesterday out of
their common path. "Curse him! He
must have won the day after all ! " Romney
thought; and then he set his teeth together
with a sudden, savage resolve which did not
accord very well with the gay tones and peals
of laughter, the lights and wine, and gener-
ally festive air of all things around them.
For the next hour or two, however, ev-
ery thing went on as smoothly and pleas-
antly as a host's heart could desire. They
all knew each other so well, they had gone
through so much of adventure togetlier, and
loved and drank and fought in intimate com-
radeship so long, that there was nothing
whatever to chill or repress the genial
warmth that pervaded every thing aaid or
done, even to the very stories and jests.
Romney conducted himself in quite an irre-
proachable manner : he said little, for remi-
niscences of field and flood were not exactly
in his way, but that little was in very good
taste, and only one or two of those who sat
nearest him noticed that ho drank more
constantly and deeply than any one else at
the table. He was so accustomed to this,
however, that it had no perceptible effect
on his head, when, by some chance, the
conversation veered round to Darcy again.
"I shall never forget Darcy's gallantry
that day," one of the party said he had
been telling a campaigning anecdote of
some description or other "he was serv-
ing on R 's staff then, and there was
no earthly reason for his going into the fight
with us; but he did as a volunteer, you
know and distinguished himself wonder-
fully. Maximilian may be glad to see such
nerve and pluck coming into his empire, I
can tell you. But, then, I can't help think-
ing that the move is a confoundedly queer
one in him."
" Certainly the land of the Montezumas
is about the last place in the world that I
should care about finding myself in just
now," said Conway. "I remember the last
time I was at Vera Cruz "
" Yellow fever, or a revolution, was
there also, no doubt," said Thornton, in-
terrupting him. ""We'll take either fact
for granted ; but I decidedly object to
your spinning another long-winded yarn.
You've only told half a dozen already this
evening. But you're right about Darcy.
It's so very queer, this move of his that
for once, I have some curiosity to know a
little of motive and meaning. Can't any-
body throw any light on the subject? "
"If it wasn't Darcy," said Arle, with a
laugh, "I should think that I detected the
mark of feminine claws in the business;
but he is quite above such a suspicion."
"No man is above it," said Darford, sen-
tentiously. "We are all fools, sooner or
later ; and why not Darcy, like the rest of
us? He has been very attentive to Miss
Riviere lately mayn't she have proved
hard-hearted ? "
" You might as well talk of a canary's
proving hard-hearted," Thornton answered,
impatiently. " She's a perfect child, in the
first place, and one of the women who
couldn't say no to anybody, if her life de-
pended on it, in the second."
" She said it to one late lamented friend,
Godon Bird, without much hesitation," Dar-
ford rejoined. "I have that much of
PAYING HIS DEBT.
157
I
knowledge, for I was penned in a corner,
and heard the whole declaration. She did
it very neatly too, I can tell you ; and fin-
ished up poor Bird so completely, that he
donned his feathers, and took flight for
some other region next day."
"And you call that a case in point?"
asked Arle. " Any woman in her sane
senses would have said no to that fool ; but
as for Darcy the thing's absurd. Besides,
I don't believe he ever thought of fidling in
lovo with her. She's pretty enough; but
she's more in your style than his."
"I'll leave the matter to Eomney. lie's
been living in the house with both of them,
so he ought to know," Darford answered.
" Julian, old fellow, can you tell us who's
right?"
Julian looked up quickly, with a sudden
light in his eyes which the other did not
xmderstand a light of exultation at seeing
his chance so soon and so clear.
"Neither of you is right," he an-
swered. "Miss Rivier6 has no more to do
with Darcy's movements than I have ; but
I wonder you never thought that he had
been very closely under the guns of a more
dangerous woman than she will ever be, if
she lives a hundred years."
" By Jove! " cried more than one voice.
" You don't mean that La telle des lelles has
crippled him too? "
Julian turned round to Ilautaine, with a
smile.
" I mean," he said, " that Mr. Hautaine
can satisfy your curiosity on that score bet-
ter than I, and that he can also tell you
exactly why Captain Darcy's resolution to
go to Mexico has only been formed since his
own arrival in Baltimore."
The words fell clearly and distinctly on
every ear at the table, and every eye turned
at once to Hautaine's face the face that
had suddenly grown pale and full of star-
tled surprise. The attack was as unexpect-
ed as any thing could possibly have been ;
but it did not deprive him entirely of self-
possession ; on the contrary, he answered,
readily and coolly :
"I don't understand you, Mr. Eomney.
Perhaps you will be kind enough to explain
yourself."
" The matter is scarcely worth an expia-
tion," Julian answered, carelessly. " We all
know the old proverb about ignorance be-
ing bliss, and we also know most of us
Miss Aylmcr's favorite modes of disposing
of her troublesome admirers."
"It is a matter of profound indifference
to me what you may or may not know,"
Hautaine answered coldly, "except in thus
far that neither you nor any other man
has ever known, or can ever know, any thing
of Miss Aylmer which is not to her honor
and credit."
Julian laughed a sneering laugh which
made the blood stir angrily in the veins of
more than one of his listeners and then
answered in the same clear, musical voice :
" It is a very fine thing to be chivalric,
Mr. Ilautaine, especially about the woman
whom you wish, or expect, or intend, to
marry. But it's rather late in the day to
take that tone about the most notorious flirt
in America. I don't pretend to know how
the matter was settled betwen Darcy and
yourself, or how Miss Aylmer made good
her story to either of you; but I do know
that she was engaged yesterday to the
man who, "whether jilter or jilted, is going to
Mexico to-day."
Hautaine gave one uncontrollable start.
It was impossible that he could have avoided
it, since the thought of any thing between
Valerie and Darcy flashed on him for the
first time with overwhelming surprise. His
mind went back like lightning to the scene
of that day the scene when she had come
between them and taken his part and he
gave a gasp, half of astonishment, half of
incredulity. He was so taken by storm, as
it were, that for a moment he could not an-
swer Ronmey. Then, it was more the con-
ventional instinct than any thing else that
made him say :
"And whether this be true or not you
must excuse me if I say that the presump-
tive evidence is all against it will you al-
low me to inquire in what manner it con-
cerns you? "
Julian looked at him for a moment before
he answered, slowly:
"It concerns me exactly as it concerns
any one else yourself for instance who
158
VALERIE AYLMER.
has contributed to the amusement and en-
joyed the favors of La lelle des ielles.''''
The tone of this sentence made its insult
to the woman whose name he spoke so ap-
parent, that it was the young host who said
quickly.
"Romney, you forget yourself. This is
no mode in which to discuss a lady. Let us
change the subject,"
" No," Hautaine interrupted, before any
one else could speak. " Don't change the
subject before I have said one word to Mr.
Eomney. He has thought fit to put me in
the same category with himself, as having
contributed to the amusement and enjoyed
the favors of Miss Aylmer. "What my con-
nection with lier has been, does not concern
him in the least ; but his conduct to-night
has proved that, if he ever contributed to her
amusement, it was too much honor for a man
who cannot speak of her as befits a gentle-
man ; and that the only favors he could ever
have enjoyed must have been in common
with the servants who place chairs and open
doors for her."
"Do you mean " Julian began, hotly,
when Thornton's hand fell on his shoulder.
"That is quite enough, Mr. Romney,"
he said, sternly. " This is not a drinking-
saloon, where you can quarrel and fight as
you please ; and we are not blacklegs, but
gentlemen. You have strangely forgot-
ten several things to-night ; among others,
courtesy to your host, when yon attack one
of his guests in this unprovoked manner."
It is doubtful if Julian even heard the
words, forcibly uttered as they were, for he
only shook oif the restraining hand, and fin-
ished his sentence to the young Louisianian,
who looked at him with eyes full of con-
temptuous disdain across the table :
" Do you mean to insult me, Mr. Hau-
taine?"
" I had no such intention," Hautaine an-
swered, coolly; "but you can construe my
words as you please."
"You will answer for them, then? "
" No," he rej)lied, scornfully. " I should
not dream of beingguilty of such a disrespect
to Miss Aylmer as to allow her name to be
drawn any further into a discussion where
it has no right to be at all. I have told you
what I think of yourself and your state-
ments, and that is all I shall do. Arle, you
were right a little while ago shall we
change the subject now ? "
But it was hardly worth while to do so,
for all their pleasant spirit and ease seemed
suddenly to have forsaken the party. Of
course they made an effort to be gay and
genial once more; but it was so palpably
an effort, that the failure which ensued was
only what might have been expected. If
Romney would have done the only proper
thing, i. e., gone away, perhaps they might
have got over it after a while ; but how was
it possible to be any thing but awkward and
uncomfortable with that overcast presence
in their midst ? So they drank their wine
absently, and talked heavily on business,
and politics, and the like topics, but nobody
even attempted to go back to the themes
of adventure and daring which had stirred
them into such warm life a short time
before. They were all gentlemen, and so,
accustomed to submit unhesitatingly to the
conventionalities of social life; but the
ruder instincts of the man made more than
one of them look at Ronmey, and think how
pleasant it would be to rid themselves of
him by a very summary process of eject-
ment. Before long, Arle made the move-
ment to leave table, and then, while the
rest were scattered about the room smoking,
he drew Julian aside.
" I am the last man in the world to wish
to revive any thing unpleasant," he said, "but
I am sure that, if you think a moment, Rom-
ney, you will see that you owe Hautaine an
apology. He is not only entitled to special
courtesy as a stranger among us, but he has
been a life-long friend of the Aylmer family.
Of course I take it for granted that you did
not know this, or you could not have spo-
ken as you did. It only makes it the more
imperative, though, that you should apolo-
gize."
"And suppose I decline to do so? " Ju-
lian asked, sullenly.
The other looked at him with surprise,
that had not a little of contempt in it.
" I am totally unable to suppose such a
thing," he answered, gravely. " You do not
forget, I am sure, the obligation of courtesy
TOUT EST PERDU.
159
which rests upon U3 as Baltimoreans and as
gentlemen. You cannot even forget what
you owe to me since you insulted ray
guest at my table. But if you should for-
get these things "
" Well," said Julian, in a tone of defi-
ance, as he paused, " if I should forget them
what then?"
" Why, then," said the young Maryland-
er, haughtily, "the matter becomes person-
al between us two ; and, as no man living
owes a deeper debt of gratitude to !5kliss Ayl-
mer than I do, I shall take upon myself the
duty of demanding full retraction and apol-
ogy for the sneer cast on her a little while
ago."
" This is all nonsense, Mr. Arle, and you
ought to know it as well as I do," said Ju-
lian, bruskly. "I am not a man to be
browbeaten ; and I haven't the slightest in-
tention of retracting or apologizing for any
thing I may have said or insinuated about
Yalerie Aylmer. If you are anxious for a
quarrel, I am not likely to balk your humor.
If not, I shall have the honor of wishing
you good-evening."
The calm insolence of his tone provoked
Arle, as it might have provoked even a
milder man. He looked at him with quick,
contemptuous scorn, when he answered in a
tone that did full justice to the words:
" You can go, if you like, of course ; but
I hope you will be kind enough to strike my
name from your list of acquaintances after
to-night. I gave you credit before this for
slandering like a woman ; but I didn't give
you credit for refusing to accept the conse-
quences like a man."
" That is quite enough," Julian said, in a
tone of suppressed passion. " I see it is the
quarrel you want, and you might have had it
without this last insult. I take it fur granted
that you're not so pacific as your friend, and
that you mean to answer for your words."
" I am at your service," the other an-
swered, coldly. Then, with a formal bow on
each side, they parted.
An hour or two later, all the prelimi-
naries of the meeting were arranged, and
this was how Harry Arle paid his debt to
Valerie Ayhner.
CHAPTEE YII.
TOTJT EST PERDU.
After Darcy left her, no one saw any
thing more of Miss Aylmer. She went to
her own room, and, locking the door, refused
admittance to every one, even to Alix.
There was a dinner-party arranged for that
evening, which caused Madame Vacquant
to send up several appeals for her presence;
but the same inflexible refusal was returned
to all. For once in her life, les convenances
had lost all power over Valerie ; and she,
who only a short time before thought she
would have died ere a single pang of hers
should have been exhibited to curious or
malignant eyes she, like many another,
when the test came, found that theory
and practice are essentially diff"erent things.
The same impulse took her to her chamber,
and closed her door upon the outer world,
that takes a wounded wild animal to its lair
to suffer it may be even to die alone.
How much she suffered, she could not
have told herself; for the blow had been so
sudden and sharp that it partially deadened
sensation; and the time remained in her
after-memory almost a blank. She could
only recall the utter and forlorn abandon-
ment of misery that seemed to weigh upon
her, as she tested the first bitterness of her
desolation. She could only recall a dim pic-
ture of herself, as she sat by the window,
watching, in a sort of passive stupor, the
falling snow, and listening to the church
clocks as they told the passage of time that
had lost all significance for her. The sounds
of the house and of the street came as to
muffled ears. The hours passed, but left
not a token of their flight behind them ; and
when the day wore on, and at last the
shades of night began to close over the
scene on which she gazed, she could scarcely
have told whether the consciousness of this
was most relief or pain. That day, which
should be marked in black as the most mis-
erable of her life, was past. But then,
what an interminable vista of other days
stretched before her ! To-morrow, and to-
morrow, and to-morrow ! They were all to
bear, all to suffer, all to live through
160
VALERIE AYLMER.
alone ! This prospect, which is bitter some-
times even to the naturally patient and well
disciplined, was something far more than
bitter to this uncurbed, rebellious nature.
She told herself, with fierce emphasis, that
it was unendurable, that she would never
bear it ; and then she broke down in a burst
of burning tears, because she felt in her in-
most heart that the barrier against which
she dashed herself was granite ; and that,
come what would of grief or pain, she must
endure, she must bear it. She had sown the
seed : she must reap the harvest. There
was nothing for it but resignation ; and yet
the mere thought of such a thing came to
her as a mockery. Eesignation! That
might answer for the pale, heavy-eyed chil-
dren of suffering and toil ; for those on
whom was branded deep the signet of fiery
trials, for whom life was nothing save one
long martyrdom ; but for her her in the
royal zenith of her youth and power her to
whom enjoyment and pleasure, and the
sweets of love, and the gifts of life, were aU
of right divine how sliould she ever learn
the grand lesson of those grand words which
she had spoken, with only a dim, half-heedful
sense of their meaning, so short a time be-
fore " He who best knows how to endure,
shall possess the greater peace ? "
At dark, Fanchette brought up the coffee,
which she considered the only proper thing
for such a headache as Miss Aylraer was
supposed to be suffering with. Then the
blinds were closed, the fire replenished, and
she was left again to silence. Then again
the same lethargy crept over her, and she
lay in a large chair, watching the glowing
bed of coals as blankly as she had watched
the feathery wreaths of snow, listening
vaguely to the strains of music and echo of
gay voices that floated up faintly from the
drawing-room whenever the doors were
opened, and wholly unconscious how late it
was growing, until Fanchette came up at
midnight sincerely surprised that she had
not been summoned to her usual night
duties of the toilet. Perhaps les conve-
nances began to resume something of their
sway, for her mistress murmured a half ex-
cuse for the omission, and then prepared to
go to bed. Once there, strange to say, she
slept deeply slept the spent sleep of ex-
haustion. But this period of rest was not
very long. The first gray gleam of morning
waked her, as it streamed through a half-
opened blind, over her bed. The first im-
pulse was to turn her face away, and strive
to win a little longer unconsciousness but
that was vain. The tyrant Thought had re-
sumed his mastery, and sleep was impossi-
ble. So sharp were the recollections which
rushed over her, that almost unconsciously
she sprang from her pillows as if they had
been filled with thorns. Endurance pas-
sive endurance, at least had reached its
farthest limit. Come what would, she felt
goaded to the last verge, she felt that she
must for a time escape from herself. She
looked round the walls of her room that
yesterday had seemed to her a shrine of ref-
uge ; now it took the aspect of a prison.
And tlien it was that there came another
impulse the impulse to carry her misery to
the sanctuary, and lay it down before the
altar where never yet a human soul has gone
for comfort and faUed to find it.
She rose at once, and dressed herself
quickly, scarcely observing the cold atmos-
phere of her room, where the last night's
fire liad died away to blackness. Then she
went down-stairs, and along the dark pas-
sages, unfastened the heavy bolts with a
good deal of difiiculty, and let herself out of
the front-door. The snow and sleet of the
night before had changed to a fine rain,
which the wind drove straight in her face as
she took her way down Charles Street; but
she scarcely felt, and certainly paid no heed
to it. The hour was so early tliat as yet
there was scarcely any thing astir, or any-
body to be seen, save a few milk-wagons, in
the first place, and one or two drowsy police-
men in the second. But when she opened
the cathedral door, a pleasant sense of
warmth stole over her, and there were many
kneeling forms scattered over the demi-ob-
scure of the large church, the spacious aisles
and lofty dome of which looked solemnly
vast as a few gas-lights which illuminated
the seats nearest the altar strove vainly to
pierce the general gloom. The priest was in
the act of consecration when she entered,
and a profound stillness reigned over all
TOUT EST PERDU.
161
things only broken now and then by the
silver tinkle of the acolyte's bell giving warn-
ing of the elevation. The door clanged be-
hind her, and her steps fell with an almost
painful distinctness on the paved aisle ; but
there was no stir among the kneeling forms
between whom she passed, not a head was
lifted, not an eye turned from the altar, nor
did a single lip cease its fervently-uttered
prayer. This in itself was a relief this in
itself proved that she had come to one place
in the world where curiosity does not find
admittance, where the wretched and the
weary may go, sure that no inquisitive
glances Avill seek them out, and force upon
them the scrutiny which they feel to be al-
most more than they can bear. She sank
down in one of the farther pews that had
been left to darkness, and then, for a brief
time, the sore heart found rest. She knew
that the pang would return all the sharper
and sterner, perhaps but for a time it was
stilled. For a time, she could lay down the
burden of error and grief, for a time sink in
humiliation before the altar, and, with her
eyes on the thorn-crowned head above her,
say, " Lord, I am weak and frail be Thou
my strength." And it seemed to her alone
to her in her bitterness and rebellion
that the priest spoke when, turning round,
he uttered the solemn " Sursum corda."
Sursum corda! Ay, lift them up! up
from the clouds and mist of this troubled
world! up from the trials that meet, and
the temptations that beset! up from the
weary struggle ! up from the failing flesh !
up from the constant sin ! up from the
wrong, the strife, the suffering ! up to the
glorious vision of a realm where neither sin
nor pain shall have any more dominion over
us!
Two masses had been said before Vale-
rie thought of leaving the church, and then
it was only when a sick faintness the result
of physical exhaustion rushed over her, that
slie felt the necessity of doing so. Yet it
was very hard to quit that serene sanctuary,
to leave that one haven of rest and refuge,
and go back to the fierce turmoil and dreary
hopelessness of existence. She rose from
her knees lingeringly, and yet more linger-
ingly looked around her. The slight stir of
11
priests and acolytes at the high altar scarcely
disturbed the pervading calm which brooded
over the whole interior ; and her heart her
poor, aching, yearning heart seemed hushed
and stilled by the ineffable peace. But long
and painful emotion had done its work, and
she felt that she must go, for even now a
strange giddiness seized her, and a stran;je
mist rose over all the objects at which glie
gazed. She walked slowly down the aisle,
but at the door paused again. There was
only one more step, and the noise of the
world would rush over her, the excitement
of the world would claim her ; so, crossing
herself with holy water, she looked wistfully
back toward the distant altar, the calm
statues, the sanctuary lamp gleaming like a
faint, pale star, and felt was it an instinct ?
as if she could not bear to go. But a little
child, who was entering, held open the door
for the beautiful lady who stood there so
strangely motionless ; two women stared at
her as they came down the aisle together ;
and, waking to a knowledge of these things
with a start, she drew down her veil and
went away.
She walked slowly homeward through
the misty rain how well she remembered
afterward the aspect which every tiling bore
that morning! thinking to herself that this
was a type of what her life was to be here-
after. This dull-gray sameness was to be
hers, instead of the sunshine of love and
hope that had made existence so fair and
beautiful only yesterday. Yesterday ! "Was
it only yesterday ? It seemed as if it must
have been so long ago, as if the gulf which
divided her from happiness was years, in-
stead of merely hours. Dimly these thoughts
came to her, and her heart was throbbing
once more with its sharp, sick pain, when
she came in sight of her grandfather's door.
She started. Perhaps her nerves were
overwrought, but a sudden wild instinct of
fear seized her as she saw several carriages
standing there, and the first on which her
eye rested was that of Dr. Preston. Mau-
rice ! Had any thing happened to Mm ?
that was her only thought, as she hurried
forward and came face to face with him in
the door-way.
He was standing there with a knot of
162
VALERIE AYLMER.
two or throe gentlemen, all speaking low,
all looking as men only look when they have
been brought in contact with some great
tragedy, and all of whom fell back in sudden,
hushed silence when they saw who was ap-
proaching. Darcy alone remained perfectly
still, and so it was that they met again he
pale and grave with the gravity of some
awful certainty ; she quivering and trem-
bling all over with surprise and apprehen-
sion.
"Maurice," she said, quickly, "what
what is the matter ? "
He made a step forward a pitiful light
in his eyes, that was quite apart from ten-
derness, yet almost as deep and, taking
her hands, led her up-stairs and into the
very room where they had parted yes-
terday. By that time she felt that some
terrible blow was hanging over her, and
she looked at him in dumb, half-stunned ex-
pectancy.
"Tell me what it is! " she said, with a
sort of strange calm.
Then he told her how, she never re-
membered that there had been a fatal
duel, and that, since she had left the house
an hour before, Julian Romney had been
brought into it, a corpse. He told her, but
she heard him as in a horrible dream, and
the sense of unreality only deepened when,
before he finished speaking, the door was
burst open, and a figure, terrible as the
avenger of blood, rushed in upon her; a
voice, awful as the voice of final judgment,
poured out frantic imprecations on her
head, and bade her know herself a mur-
deress !
How the scene ended, she never knew ;
for aU sights and sounds were soon merged
into merciful nothingness. Horror, an-
guish, remorse, came too heavily on the
worn brain and exhausted heart. She lis-
tened, without answer or appeal, to the
avalanche of accusation and reproach that
never in all the years of life would cease to
haunt her; and then, wlien others inter-
fered, when her grandfather came and gen-
tly forced his wife away, she looked up at
[Maurice Darcy with an expression of de-
spairing misery which he never forgot, and
fell heavily forward in a deep swoon.
BOOK V.
\
CHAPTER I.
LE BEATJ CONFfD^RE.
A EOSY-WARM sunset in the south of
France, a white chateau hanging like an
eagle's nest, half-way down a rocky slope,
with a sunny valley below it, and a glorious
mountain-range behind, a village nestling
amid the trees beneath, a gray church-tow-
er looming against the evening sky, a per-
vading sense of all things soft and fragrant
in the atmosphere, and a group rather so-
cial than gay drinking their after-dinner
coffee on the chateau terrace, with the
golden light falling through the leaves and
marking many a flickering tracery of spray
and tendril on the white dresses which two
of the ladies wore.
Foremost in this group was General
Aylmer's soldierly figure and handsome
face, the latter looking scarcely a day older
for all the trouble and difficulty which had
encompassed him before he drifted tempo-
rarily into this quiet haven of rest. It was
right hard, the general thought, that the
perversity and folly of other people should
fall on his shoulders, as if he had not
worries enough and to spare of his own !
But, then, his conscience said something to
him concerning his own share in the
unpleasant matter. He remembered how
much averse his daughter had been to the
visit which ended so disastrously; he re-
membered that she had gone to Baltimore
only at his solicitation, and, as he was the
farthest in the world from a brute, he had
put a very sensible constraint on himself,
and did not betray, by word or tone, the
deep irritation which was perhaps his pre-
dominant feeling toward everybody con-
cerned toward his father-in-luw, for the
absurd quixotism which had been at the
root of the whole imhroglio; toward his
daughter, for her obstinacy and wayward-
ness; toward the unhappy boy, whose ill-
fated passion had hurried him into a bloody
grave; but chiefly toward that man who
was flghting far away under the tropic sun,
with only the hard blows and poor pay of a
soldier of fortune the man whom Valerie
Aylmer had never seen since she sank down
at his feet on that awful day, the shadow
of which was upon her yet.
For no one, looking at her as she leaned
over the terrace balustrade in her sweep-
ing, white draperies, could have found one
trace of the radiant charm that had kindled
the fame of La telle des ielles amid the
orange-groves of distant Louisiana. Not
that she was faded, but rather, that a sort
of cloud had come over her. The beauty
of feature, the clearness of tint, and the
softness of glance, were still hers, even de-
spite the long illness which had prostrated
body and mind after the shock of Julian
Romney's tragical death. But a subtle
something had gone from her face, and
there were not wanting candid friends who
declared that in this very something lay the
spirit and essence of her beauty. They
made a point of placing the blame of it on
her illness; but Valerie herself knew bet-
ter. She knew that the change had struck
164
YALErJE AYLMER.
deeper than the mere outside garb of hu-
manity; that an ineffaceable brand had been
set upon all the fair fi-eshness of her life;
and that the woman who rose up from her
sick-bed to bear existence and its stern bur-
den of remorse, could never be one with
the girl who had cast herself in passionate
despair down upon it. It was in compliance
with her own request that, immediately af-
ter her recovery, General Aylmer took her
abroad. " I want to see Eugene," she said,
wistfully, " and I want to leave America so
far behind that I need never tliink of it
again. Please, papa, let us go to France."
So to France they went to that sunny Pro-
vence where Valerie's ancestorshad lived and
died for countless generations, and where the
young Confederate was supposed to be hard
at work surveying a new line of railway.
Gerald was perfectly competent to take care
of every thing at home ; so the general
rented a modest chateau near Eugene's scene
of labor, and settled himself for a temporary
residence, hoping that the soft air and sunny
smiles of this fair region might bring back
health to his daughter's pale cheek the
cheek which was such a serious discomfort
to a man who had a profound horror of
gloom or sadness in any shape. He also con-
sidered that perhaps cheerful as^^ociates
might do something toward making Valerie
herself again ; so he urged her to write to
Alix Eiviere, then in Leipsic, and invite her
to pay them a visit.
"Poor little Alix! I know she will
be glad enough to come," Valerie said,
thinking more of the home-sick child than
of herself; so she wrote the invitation,
which was eagerly accepted very much
to Miss Fane's disgust. For, strangely
enough, aB it may seem, and yet it was not
strange at all, ISTetta had accompanied her
friend abroad. " You need somebody to take
care of you," said this experienced friend,
" and you must have somebodj^ for what is
a man ? I am old enough to do as I please,
you know, and, thank Heaven, I have enough
fortune left to pay my passage ; so you need
not say a word, Valerie I am going." And
Valerie, weary and sick, could only smile
in tlie bright, tender face, and answer, "I
haven't the least desire to say a word, dear.
The mere sight of you is good for me ; and
I would rather hear this news than any other
in the world." So the warm-hearted Louisi-
anian, who was, as she said, old enough to
go her own way without molestation, who
was an orphan of moderate fortune, and who
loved Valerie Aylmer better than she did her
own sisters, packed her trunk, and an-
nounced her intention so decidedly that no-
body even thought of offering any opposition.
She could not help being disgusted, however,
when she heard that Alix Eiviere had been
summoned to share their retreat; and she
absolutely reproached Valerie for yielding
the point.
" I know you don't want her your-
self," she said, " and the general is foolish
enough to think we can be 'cheered' by
a child with her head full of chiffons and
admirers. She will be bored to death here ;
and then she will bore us to death, and that
will be the end of it. I wish you had been
more firm, Valerie."
" I don't," said Valerie, in the languid
tone which was in such strong contrast to
her former brightness ; " and you won't
eitlier, Netta, when you see her. Her head
is no more full of chiffons and admirers than
yours is ; and, although it will be piiinful, I
shall be glad to see her again."
" Painful ! Of course it will be pain-
ful ; " thouglit Miss Fane, indignantly.
"More so than she has any idea herself
poor dear! Tlie general ought to be
ashamed of himself; but then I suppose he
can't help it being a man ! " But it was a
great relief to her anxiety when she saw the
shy, gentle little creature in deep mourning,
with soft eyes and quiet ways, who made
her appearance, instead of the vivacious, self-
possessed young lady of the period tl)at her
alarmed fancy had pictured. In five minutes,
she saw why Valerie had made no opposition
to this addition to their circle ; and, although
Alix had arrived only the day before, they
were already good friends as they sat to-
gether on the terrace, enjoying the close of
that bright afternoon.
There was only one stranger in the party,
and he was leaning back against a broken
moss-grown sun-dial, while his bright, clear
eyes were roving from point to point like
LE BEAU CONFfiD^R^.
1G5
a humming-bird's movements. This was
Eugene Le heau Confedere who had once
made no mean fame for himself in the land
from which ho was now an exile. Like
most of his countrymen, he was of goodly
stature, and straight as a pine on a Carolina
highland, with the small extremities that
betoken good blood, and the indefinable ease
of manner which attests good breeding,
with a cast of feature that was moderately
regular, and a complexion that had been
originally florid, but was now bronzed by
outdoor life to a healthy brown, save where
the wliite brow lay like a snow-drift under
the rich waves of brown hair. This hair
matched exactly the eyes that always looked
frank and sunny let the brow above frown
ever so darkly and the long trooper mus-
tache of the Confederate army a mustache
which might perhaps have been more silken,
but could not possibly have been more lux-
uriant. Altogether, the young exile was
sufficiently attractive, even on the surface,
to make it a matter of little wonder that al-
most everybody fancied him on first sight,
and liked him cordially on second. He was
gay and pleasure-loving to a fault, but he
had a certain power of concentration not
often found united with a mould of charac-
ter so much inclining to the volatile, which
had frequently stood him in good stead. He
was also one of a large class who take very
little care of themselves, and of whom For-
tune seems fond of taking a great deal
who are continually coming to grief in some
unforeseen manner, and, like a cat, continu-
ally falling on their feet. These are the kind
of people for whom lucky chances abound ;
and who grow to expect them so confidently
that they rarely think it necessary to stretch
out a hand to make one for themselves
people who are always missing some good
thing or other, that a little exertion would
have secured to them, and then being re-
warded for this culpable carelessness by a
still more golden favor showering down upon
their graceless heads people, altogether,
with whom it is impossible not to find con-
stant fault, and to whom it is equally unpos-
sible not to give warm and honest regard.
Plainly, the young ex-colonel of artillery,
and present sub-surveyor of civil engineers,
had been accustomed, all his life, to obtain-
ing his own way by force of arms, or force
of any thing else that was necessary ; and
plainly, also, he had not changed his habit in
changing his position.
After the cofl;ee was disposed of, the
whole party had been silent for some time,
not so much for absolute want of some-
thing to say, as from the pleasant indolence
which is apt to seize people occasionally,
and keep them quiet despite themselves. In
accordance with a special request of the
ladies, the two gentlemen were smoking,
and only a few desultory remarks were ex-
changed, as the golden light slowly faded
from the gray church-tower with its glitter-
ing cross, the valley lay in deep shadow, the
mountains wrapped themselves about in pur-
ple dusk, the sun went ''down behind the
western hill to die," and only on the terrace
still lingered a rosy Claude light that seemed
to throw a tone of sentiment over the group,
when the diligence came slowly rumbling
past on its way to the village. It was a
warm, dusty sort of conveyance, and more
than one of the tired passengers looked out
at the white chateau and the pretty home-like
scene, as they passed, envying the fair, cool
retreat, it may be, and wondering vaguely
what aims and interests life held for those
to whom so much of life's good things
seemed to have fallen.
" What strange, uncomfortable things
those diligences are! " said Miss Fane, look-
ing after the heavy vehicle as it rolled on.
" I don't think I shall ever grow accustomed
to their appearance."
" Yet they seem so much in keeping with
every thing else here, that I shall be sincere-
ly sorry when Eugene's railroad comes,"
said Valerie, without turning round. " I like
them! they look so quaint and old; and
travelling must certainly be pleasanter in
them than in steamboats and cars, I should
think."
" You would not think so, if you had
ever tried it," said Eugene, dryly. " How-
ever, their day is over nous avons change
tout cela. They have only one merit that
I know of the ease with which one can
make acquaintances."
" That is a merit with every thing, so far
166
VALERIE AYLMER.
as you are concerned, I believe," said the
general.
Eugene shrugged his shoulders in a way
he had caught from his French companions,
and given a certain expression of his own
a way that spoke a great deal of gay insou-
ciance without any trouble of words.
"You are perfectly right, sir," he an-
swered. " It's a trick one learns after living
a cosmopolitan life some little time. I make
it a rule to stand on ceremony vrith nobody,
and you have no idea how amazingly well
I find it answer. But then it isn't by any
means my monopoly. I thought, for in-
stance, I heard a good deal of talk in Paris
about a certain travelling companion with
whom you crossed the Channel."
"You are mistaken," said Miss Fane.
"The person of whom you are speaking
our friend of the Dover boat, whom we
hoped to meet in Paris^was not the gen-
eral's acquaintance at all, but Valerie's and
mine. You remember, dear ? "
"The cripple, you mean?" said Miss
Aylmer.
"Yes, the cripple poor fellow! "
" Who was he? " asked Alix.
" Indeed I don't know," answered Miss
Fane. " We none of us found out any thing,
excepting that he was a very charming
gentleman, though an almost entirely help-
less cripple. You can't tell how pitiful it
was to see him lifted about like a child ; and
lie wassoyoimg, too not more than thirty-
five or six, I am sure."
"Then his voice,'' said Valerie, breaking
in abruptly. "You remember how sweet it
was and his face was so bright and cheer-
ful, whenever a paroxysm of pain M'as not
convulsing it."
" Poor fellow ! " said Alix, with all her
heart in her tone. ""What was his name?
^but I forgot you said you did not know.
How much he must have reminded you of
one of our dear soldiers ! Perliaps he was
one of them."
"I don't think that is likely," said Mi.ss
Fane. "Indeed, I am sure he was not. I
think he must have been an Englishman."
" I thought people were only injured
that way in war," said Alix, simply, " like
poor Frank Eussell, who was left for dead
in tlie trenches of Petersburg, you know.
What sort of a wound had this this Eng-
lishman received ? "
"He was evidently suffering from a
spinal injury of some sort," said General
Aylmer, "Probably it was only a case of
spinal disease," he added, carelessly. "He
was very agreeable ; and, like Miss Netta, I
incline to think that he was an Englishman."
" There is one very good proof of it,"
said she. "Finding out where we were
from, he told me he felt with the Con-
federacy deeply, and that, if he had not been
a cripple, he would have been in our army."
" Being a cripple, he could afford to say
so," remarked Eugene, who had lived long
enough abroad to become very skeptical of
such professions.
" And that he had a Itrother in the ser-
vice."
" Indeed ! But I am sure he did not
mention his name."
" Eugene, you are one of the people
whom Sir Walter Scott classes as vulgarly
incredulous," said Valerie, turning round
with something of the sunset glow still
lingering in her eyes. " Good people, the
river mists are rising. Suppose we go into
the saloon ? "
They all agreed with her ; though it was
hard to leave the sweet outer dusk, with its
burnished horizon and silver stars ; but when
they entered the saloon, where the globe-
like lamps showed such bright, clear lustre,
and every thing looked so cheerful, they
forgot the starlit terrace, and fell to their
usual occupations, while Eugene went at
once to the open piano.
" Come and sing some, Miss Riviere," he
said. " I have heard so much about your
voice, that I am prepared for any thing
short of astonishment."
Alix went at once thereby pleasinghim
much more than she was aware and, while
she sang one of the charming Scotch ballads
wliich slie thought likely to suit a taste that
could not be severely classical, the young
man leaned against the instrument, study-
ing, not the notes that floated in sucli silver
purity past his ear, but the fawn-like eyes
and the fair face of the young singer. Gen-
eral Aylmer took a budget of New-Orleans
LE BEAU CONFED^RE.
167
papers over to a side-table, to open at his
leisure, while Valerie and Miss Fane sat
down to their needlework, and talked over
it in low tones, for the length of the room
divided them from the two at the piano.
It was a pleasant room, barring a cer-
tain emptiness of aspect, to which the eye
grew accustomed by degrees. The floor
was of dark, polished wood, with here and
there rich Turkey rugs covering portions of
it ; the furniture, of ebony and damask, was
ancient and massive, and, though moth-eaten
in parts, still had a certain faded grandeur
of its own. Three or four full-length mir-
rors completed all the original furniture;
but there were traces of a new regime in
the piano a magnificent Erard in Va-
lerie's work-table, in a flower-basket which
was suspended from the large chandelier, in
several Parisian cabinets and tables, in the
pleasant easy-chairs, and in the books and
journals which were scattered everywhere.
Altogether, notwithstanding its quaint, old-
fashioned aspect, a pleasanter drawing-room
need not have been desired especially on a
soft summer evening when the windows
overlooking the terrace were all open, and
when moonlight and fragrance, and the soft
ProvenQal air came in, together with the
distant murmur of the river.
" Did you like that ? " asked Alix, ceas-
ing her song, and glancing up so suddenly,
that she quite took her companion by sur-
prise, and absolutely made the young
gentleman look confused for the space of a
second. " You did not tell me what you pre-
ferred; and a ballad suits almost everybody."
"Yes," he said, hastily. "I liked it
very much ; and and my taste in music is
certainly not very cultivated. Sing some-
thing else, won't you? "
"Don't you sing at all yourself? "
"I whistle Partant pour la Syrie that
is all."
She laughed. " So that is your taste, is
it? I am afraid my sentiment did not suit
you, then. I should have sung something
martial only my repertoire is not very ex-
tensive in that line. I learned Korner's
Sword-song the other day, and shocked my
maestro very much by singing it for him.
But"
She stopped witli a suddenness which
her companion did not understand, and
looked apprehensively toward the other end
of the room.
" Well," he could not help asking, " what
is the matter?"
" Nothing," she said hurriedly, and speak-
ing very low ; " but I forgot I should not
have mentioned that before Valerie. I hope
she did not hear me. It would make her
think of of Mr. Eomney, who used to sing
it; and I would not do that for the world.
No; I cannot sing any more just now after
a while, perhaps."
She rose as she spoke, and left the piano,
Eugene following, by no means well pleased.
He could not understand what a horrible
reality that tragedy was to her, which to
him had been only a iax-oS story ; nor how
vividly her own words had recalled the
memory of Julian Eomney's living presence.
So, although he followed her to the work-
table, where Valerie and Miss Fane were
sitting, he did not exert himself to be very
companionable, and in fact stood gazing ab-
sently out of the window while the others
talked of the news from the seat of war
the Prusso-Austrian campaign of '66 was
in full progress and especially of the per-
sonal items which Charley Hautaine's letters
furnished, he being regularly enrolled in the
A.ustrian service. It was Netta's voice at
last tliat roused him from his reverie.
"By-the-by, Eugene," she was saying,
" I wonder you never looked upon this war
as a chance for action you who, like Char-
ley, call yourself condottiere.''''
"Because, unlike Charley, I don't see the
beauty or utility of having my brains blown
out to settle the Schleswig-Holstein question,
or determine to whom the Quadrilateral right-
fully belongs," answered he, carelessly.
"I thought I heard you not long ago
giving your opinion as to whom it rightfully
belongs ? "
"To Austria? Well and good. Let
Austria keep it then if she can. I have
neither concern nor interest in the matter."
Valerie looked up from her work at the
young man's half-careless, half-scornful face.
"I am sorry to see that you are becoming
narrow-minded in your sympathies," she-
168
VALERIE AYLMER.
said. "A few years ago, you wculd have
been all interest and fire in this matter."
" A few years ago, my dear sister, I had
a little surplus sympathy and interest to dis-
pose of now I have none. I doubt much
if Ismael measured matters by any other
than the ego standard; and I and all my
kind are Ismaels now. I owe nothing to the
world, nothing to civilization, nothing to the
rights and wrongs of national quarrels. As
an exile and an alien, I stand apart from them
all; and who is up or down in the scale of
the world, matters little or nothing to me."
Alix's soft eyes looked at him in appar-
ent reproach. Evidently the little lady was
not prepared to indorse this creed; and,
meeting her glance, Eugene addressed him-
self to her without a moment's warning.
"You don't agree with me, Miss Eiviere.
Why not ? "
" I oh, dear ! I am sure I said nothing,"
answered Alix, quite taken aback. " I con-
fess I don't agree with yon, Colonel Aylmer ;
but then I'm only a woman, you know, and
so my opinion is not of any importance."
" I wonder who has been telling you that
nonsense ? " said the uncivil Eugene. " Of
course, your opinion is of importance of the
greatest importance, in fact. Come, let me
see if I can't make you agree with me. "Why
do yoTi think I'm wrong? "
Thus singled out for combat, Alix looked
appealingly round at her companions. Argu-
ment was not at all her forte, and she al-
ways shirked it if she could. " Oh, please
don't ask me," she said. "Valerie and Miss
Fane"
"I don't care about hearing the opinion
of Valerie and Miss Fane," interrupted the
still more uncivil Eugene. "I want your
own reasons for thinking me wrong. You
must have reasons, you know or else you
could not have an opinion. Come, let me
hear them ! I want to convince you."
" Suppose I don't care about being con-
vinced? "
"Eeasonable people always do care, if
they are wrong."
Fenced into a comer in this way, Alix
had nothing to do but make the best of the
situation, and try to explain herself.
"J don't know," Bheeaid, "but it seems
to me there's such a thing as abstract right
and wrong, isn't there? "Well, it seems to
me as if right was right, and wrong was
wrong, the same now as ever ; and I think
one ought always to feel with the right, and
against the wrong."
"But suppose you don't take interest
enough in the matter to care to find out who
is wrong and who is right ? "
" Then I think you're in a bad way your-
self," said she, gravely. " People ought al-
ways to take interest ; if not, they grow to
be narrow, and selfish, and all that sort of
thing, you know."
" Then I'm afraid I must bring myself in
guilty of being narrow, and selfish, and all
that sort of thing! " he said. "Honestly, I
don't care a fig who is down or who is up.
The nations of the earth stood by silent and
apathetic while we were fighting desperately
for more than life ; and now I should de-
spise myself if I raised a voice, far less a
sword, for one of them. In fact, I have no
care I don't pretend to say it is right, for
it may be all wrong but I have no care for
any thing save self-interest."
Alix shook her head despairingly. He
was all wrong she felt that instinctively ;
but she also felt that he was beyond her
powers of putting right. " There is such a
thing as heroism for the sake of heroism,"
she said, in last appeal.
"Perhaps there may be for Bayards and
Sidneys and the like," answered Eugene,
with the scofi" of the nineteenth century on
his face. "But I am not a Bayard or a
Sidney in fact, I'm only a commonplace
man, who thinks a great deal more of him-
self than of heroism in general, or heroism
in particular, either. Don't look so shocked.
Miss Eiviere ! It's all right that you should
believe such things, and I wouldn't shake
your faith in them for the world "
"You couldn't," put in she, indignantly.
''Eh hienP'' said the young cj^nic, with
a shrug of his superior masculine shoulders,
"I don't mean to try. But you may con-
vince 77? e, if you want to. "Will you do so ? "
" That is nonsense," said Alix, severely,
" You think I have only a woman's foolish,
visionary idea; and then you talk of my
convincing you, who are evidently as obsti-
1
SURSUM CORDA.
169
nately set in your own way of thinking as
possible. It is nonsense ! "
"Indeed it isn't," said he, smiling.
" Only try. I will be very good, I promise
you. And indeed I stand sorely in need of
missionary labors."
" I don't think there's a doubt of that,"
returned she, sincerely. And something in
her tone made Eugene laugh so heartily,
that at last she was fain to join, and from
tliat moment a league was struck, and they
were friends.
CHAPTER II.
SUE SUM OORDA.
It was late on the afternoon of the next
day, and the sun was throwing long shad-
ows across the terrace, and the formal gar-
den, that lay on one side of it, when Valerie
came forth from the chateau alone, and took
her way down to the village.
It was not a long walk, for just beyond
the gates a small river flashed over its
rocky bed, and was spanned by a bridge a
single arch of heavy masonry which was
the beginning or end, as the case might be, of
a crooked street. From this bridge the view
of the surrounding country was beautiful.
Not 80 extensive or varied, not even so pic-
turesque a view as might have been gained
from any of the heights near by; but full
of the alternation and contrast, the half-
hidden beauties and snatches of distant
loveliness which add so much to the charm
of a landscape. It was like a sweet, serene
idyl of pastoral love and content, to stand
on the dark old arch with the bright river
flowing beneath, the vine-clad banks on
each hand, the purple mountains rising in
the background, the golden fields opening
sunny vistas only to be abruptly broken by
some stretching belt of dark woods, the
quiet village with its gray church-tower
below, and over all the blue, intensely blue
sky, of this most fair and pleasant nook in
all the fair and pleasant land of France.
That Miss Aylmer was quite well known
in the village was very evident. The blue-
bloused men whom she met took their pipes
from their mouths to salute her there was
scarcely one of tlie briglit-faced women who
had not a ^^ Bon jour, mademoiselle'''' and
the little children, as she passed, rushed tu-
multuously forward to secure a smile or word
of greeting. It had been a strange, foreign
scene, this village, to the child of the transat-
lantic, when she first looked upon it recall-
ing nothing so much as old pictures that
she had seen, or the yet more vivid pictures
which imagination had drawn from the word-
painting of pens that had dipped themselves
in all the warm beauty of the south but
already it all seemed as familiar as if from
the knowledge of years. All the tall
houses, with their green blinds and over-
hanging balconies, all the narrow dark
streets, and all the glimpses of green trees
and sunny walks, as some garden-door was
left open, had grown as natural to her sight
as the landmarks of her native city. Even
the Place (once the Place Royal, now the
Place Imperiale), with its restaurants and
wine-shops, its shade-trees and benches,
together with the beautiful front of its
church, had grown to wear a friendly fa-
miliarity to her. And there were well-
known faces here also faces that smiled
a friendly greeting to the young foreigner,
and looked kindly after her, as she crossed
the square with her shaft-straight carriage,
and sweeping robes of silver gray.
Having made the trifling purchase which
had been her ostensible object in coming to the
village, Valerie went to the church. It was
very cool and dark, and a great contrast to
the gay, sunshiny square outside, wlien she
drew back the baize door and met a half-
dreamy fragrance of incense floating in the
quiet air ; for it was a saint's day of obliga-
tion, and high mass had been celebrated in
the morning. A few candles were burning
at the side altars ; a few women were tell-
ing their beads, as they knelt on the stone
floor before them, and a golden nimbus
poured from one high window over a palm-
crowned martyr's marble head! It was all
like and yet unlike that distant cathedral
by the Chesapeake, or that more distant
and yet dearer one to the exile's yearning
heart, by the blue waves of the Mexic Sea !
170
VALERIE AYLMER.
After she had finished her altar-prayer,
Valerie went softly up to the organ-loft,
and in a few minutes a flood of melody rolled
forth, and seemed to bathe aisle and altar, pic-
tures and statues, in a halo as golden as the
falling sunshine. AVhat she played, it is im-
possible to say ; she could not, indeed, have
told herself, for the deep tones of the music
slumbering in those mighty pipes seemed
to mass themselves, as it were, into har-
monies, and lier hands wandered over " the
beautiful cold keys," in chords that might
have been only recollections of other
strains, but that were for the time steeped
in herself, and made as eloquent of her own
heart as if that lieart had found voice in ab-
solute words. Louder and fuller rolled the
tide of melody, swelling under the stone
arches and up to the vaulted roof like the
solemn chant of a kneeling host, then dying
away into low supplication, like the single
cry of some fainting soul ! It was evidently
an accustomed thing to the women below,
for they did not even turn their heads, as
the grand notes rolled forth ; but pursued
their devotions with stolid fervor, while
wave after wave of harmony swept over
them, and the very air seemed vibrating
with the passionful power of the music.
And, when a stranger who was standing just
inside the door stopped an outgoer to in-
quire concerning the musician, he received
only a stare, and a surprised " Cest made-
moiselle la helle Anglaise ! ''''
This stranger had evidently been strange-
ly attracted by the music, for, moving with
extreme difficulty across the floor he was
on crutches he took his seat immediately
below the loft, and quite in the shade of one
of its large pillars. There he remained mo-
tionless for nearly an hour remained until
the music at last died away like waves ebb-
ing and breaking on a barren shore, and
silence settled over the church. He sighed
then, strangely and wistfully, and only almost
as he did so, a light step sounded at his side,
and a shimmering dress swept by him tow-
ard the open air.
Gathering up his crutclios, he rose and
followed as quickly as was possible. But,
with all his haste, he would have been too
late for Valerie, if she had not paused on
the church-steps to say a few words of
thanks to the child who had worked the
pipes for her. She was on the point of
turning away, when that peculiar noise pro-
duced by crutches on a stone pavement
caused her to look around, and she saw a
man coming toward her whom she at once
recognized as the invalid-cripple of the Do-
ver boat.
People especially people of very sensi-
tive nerves generally turned away, wlien
they met this man, and said to each other,
with a shudder: ""What a dreadfully pain-
ful sight ! " But again there were others
especially those who had looked at him long
who felt as if they would ask nothing bet-
ter than to look at him forever for to do
so was a grander sermon than ever sound-
ed from any pulpit ! He was a man who
might naturally have been above the me-
dium height, and strongly made ; but who
was now bent partly by intense physical
pain, partly by the habitual use of crutches
until he seemed to have lost several inches
of stature. From the waist his lower limbs
hung in semi-paralyzation ; and his gar-
ments fitted what was once a man's muscu-
lar frame, as if hung on the dry bones of a
skeleton. It did shock unutterably to see
this, to watch the hands clinch themselves
together, and the head bow itself down upon
the chest, in some fierce paroxysm of agony ;
but there could be nothing of such a feeling,
nothing even of pity, when the face raised
itself again stamped though it was with
the drear signet of pain ! and the great
soul looked at you calmly and bravely
through the clear blue eyes. A great soul it
was! few greater have ever lived and
striven to endure! Most men, seeing life
and all life's uses lie shattered before them
all its bright ambition, all its golden
pleasure, all its magic love, killed at one
sheer stroke! realizing that death alone
would release from an existence of torture,
and that to live in the world was to live for-
ever apart from the world, most men would
have closed such a prospect very summarily.
And if the courage to end existence for, let
people cant as they will, \tis & certain sort
of courage which suicide requires had been '
lacking, there were yet fewer who would
SURSUM CORDA.
Ill
not have sunk into a moody despair that
neither hope nor promise could ligh her face had never crossed his path ? And
would not that memory rise up to haunt her
if she could forget it long enough to love
and be loved again ? Ko, Maurice was right
right to leave her coldly, almost cruelly, as
he had done. She was no fitting wife for
him, and the end was better as it was. He
had done well to scorn her, well to think he
could never trust her again she deserved it
all. Now, at least, she could offer her love,
her life, her very self, perhaps, some day, in
expiation of the bitter wrongs she had
wrought, of the cruel use to which she had
put her many gifts. Something of this was
written on her face one day, as Netta Fane
watched it at benediction; and when they
rose to leave the church, the twilight gloom
of which was scarcely dissipated by the
myriad tapers shining like stars on the high
1
THE SILVER LINING.
175
altar, and, glancing back from the silver
monstraace which had just been lifted in
blessing, she said, abruptly :
" You know the proverb about every
cloud having a silver lining well, I think
that perhaps you will find the lining to yours
after a while, Valerie."
But she was not prepared for the shrink-
ing start which Valerie gave.
" Hush ! " she said, and her voice thrilled
with a strange awe in it through the fulling
dusk. ' ' Xever say that again, Netta never !
If it were only for myself, do you think I
should not have found it long ago in the con-
viction that I have deserved every thing? But
for^ for "
Since the day of his death, she liad never
spoken Romney's name, and it was wellnigh
impossible to do so now. But Netta knew
what she meant, of whom she was thinking,
and Netta gave a great gasp over the knowl-
edge. It was. hard for her not to speak her
mind out on the subject; a much greater
self-denial than Valerie ever appreciated ;
for, with all the zeal of a thorough partisan,
Miss Fane directed the whole weight of her
indignation against the man who had been
mad enough and foolish enough to throw his
life down at a woman's feet. " He deserved
nothing better than to be shot ! " thought
this stanch friend and advocate; "I only
wish I dared tell Valerie exactly what I
think of him ! " But Miss Fane was discre-
tion itself at least on important occasions.
She knew that she did not dare to do any
thing of the kind ; that she would only make
matters worse, and that Valerie needed to
recover the healthful tone of her mind by
slow degrees ; so sbe only said : " Look how
the lights gleam from the chateau! They
are very home-like and pleasant, don't you
think so? And yonder is Alix on the ter-
% race, I see, with somebody else in attend-
ance. Eugene must have arrived."
" There is nothing more likely," Valerie
said, glancing in the direction indicated, as
they crossed the bridge. "Eugene does not
seem to find the least difficulty about getting
oif duty ; and' his visits are certainly much
more frequent since Alix came."
"Yes," answered Miss Fane, with her
dry, shrewd smile. "I think I can con-
gratulate you on your future sister-in-law.
There are not many people who are as fortu-
nate as you will be in this respect."
"You mean ? "
"I mean, of course, that Master Eugene
is in earnest at last, and that Alix seems by
no means averse to his suit."
Valerie looked at her friend as if a new
and strange idea had been suddenly pre-
sented to her. " I never thought of that
before," she said, simply. And the remark,
which was a very true one, proved in itself
how deep her preoccupation had been, how
little her real self bad mingled with the peo-
ple among whom she mov^ed.
There is a great deal in having the eyes
opened to an afi"air of this kind, however;
and, now that Valerie's were couched, she
saw how just Netta's conclusions were. She
had seen Eugene so often in love, tliat it had
rather grown to be his normal state in her
eyes; but there was no mistaking the fact
that this was something more tlian a com-
monplace love-afi"air with him. She watched
him that night for of course it proved to be
himself who had been loitering on the terrace
with Alix, in the summer dusk and realized
with amazement how blind she had been.
Yes, there was not a doubt of it ; the boy
was in earnest at last. La lelle des belles,
who had seen so much of love in her life,
was the most unlikely person in the world
to doubt the sign-tokens of the familiar pas-
sion the last person in the world not to
understand the quick lights and shadows
which chased each other over the young
man's face at a word from Alix's lips, or the
tender gleam in his eyes whenever they
rested on that dainty brown head bent over
the board where Mr. Darcy was vainly try-
ing to teach her the mystery and science of
chess. It was quite hopeless, however; and
Eugene was very glad when she laid her-
self open to an ignominious checkmate, thus
ending the game, and giving him an oppor-
tunity to bear her off to the piano, while the
general took her vacated seat. Then Valerie
still watched them, with a growing wonder
over her own previous obtuseness. It was
all so plain ! all Alix's pretty tyranny and
Eugene's devoted slavery ! So plain that, as
she looked, a very pleasant sketch of the
176
VALERIE AYLMER.
future rose before lier. Alix and Eugene
n-ould marry and settle here, the general
might go back to Louisiana, if he wanted to,
but she and Netta would remain. A wing
of the chateau could be fitted up for them,
so that when the others took flight as of
course they would very often their life
would flow on all the same. She fancied
herself niched in this quiet nook while the
great world roared and rushed beyond, and
dreamed a life something like the lives led
by the chatelains of old time, a life of serene
contemplation, yet active with good works,
a life in whicli she saw the children she
would teach, the sick she would attend, the
charity she would bestow, and, more than
all, the peace she would win. For that,
after all, was the great point peace, rest,
repose of conscience, quiet of heart, all tliose
things which we possess in anticipation or
in retrospection, but rarely indeed in the
reality of the present. Valerie went on
dreaming of them, however, in time to those
exquisite strains of the Moonlight Sonata
which Alix was softly playing ; and then she
started, when, with a crash, the nimble
fingers glided into the chords of some mar-
tial air for which Eugene had preferred a
petition, and smiled as she realized how en-
tirely all her fabric of thought had been
built on a probability a probability which
others besides herself discerned, however;
for, when she looked up, Gaston Darcy
laughed and said : " Did that abrupt change
of measure startle you? For my part, I
think I should have asked for a wedding
marcli I am very fond of Mendelssohn's."
Meanwhile, Eugene, who was not at all
an indeterminate sort of person, but always
knew his own mind perfectly well, had very
little objection to anybody or everybody's
seeing that he was thoroughly in earnest,
and that it would be no fault of his if Alix
did not consent to share his adventurous
fortunes. He did not entertain much fear of
the result, either; for what could be easier
than to teach this gentle, confiding little
creature the lesson of love which she seemed
born to learn? He could not help thinking,
too, what a fortunate thing it was that he
had not married any one of lialf a dozen
girls with whom he had been on the brink
of matrimony in the past, but that Fate had
reserved him for such a happy fortime as this.
"She suits me as nobody ever suited me
before," he thought. "She is a perfect little
pearl so exquisitely dainty and refined,
that it is impossible that she could be im-
proved. There is such an air of repose, too,
in every thing she does ; and she never of-
fends by a loud tone or an awkward move-
ment, like these dreadful prononce women
who have become the fashion of the day.
Her profession is the only drawback, and I
would soon put an end to all that. It is
hard enough to think that she ever was
subjected to sucti a trial, my poor little
flower! "
The poor little flower, however, was by
no means of his way of thinking on this
point, and many w^ere the battles to whicli
their difference of opinion gave rise. " You
are illiberal; you have no culture," Alix
would say, indignantly. " You don't know
any thing about how an artist feels toward
art. I love music for music's sake, and not
for the fame and the noise you talk about.
The people who go to hear me sing don't
think of me they think of my voice, and
that is what I think of too."
" I don't care what they think of," Eugene
would retort ; " but it is not a fit place for you.
And if I liad been your your brother, you
never should have set your foot on any stage
under heaven no, not for an hour ! "
" I am very glad you were not my brother,
then," Alix would say. And, as Eugene could
not honestly declare that he was sorry, the
matter generally ended there. Apart from
this subject of dispute, they might be said to
get on very smoothly, however; and mat-
ters certainly looked very much as if Va-
lerie might soon be called upon to welcome
a sister-in-law whom she could thoroughly
love and approve a gift of fortune which, as
Miss Fane very sensibly said, not many peo-
ple are luckj^ enough to possess.
This evening, like many evenings which
had gone before, was a very golden one to
the young Confederate. He had Alix all to
himself, Avith nobody to interfere, to distract
her attention, or to make him jealous. The
two gentlemen playing chess, and the two
ladies stitcLing away at their needlework,
THE SILVER LINING.
IV^
were as much apart from tho two at the
piano, as if an ocean instead of a room had
divided them; and, although AUx sung a
snatch of song now and then, it was impossi-
ble not to perceive that music played a very-
small part in their mutual entertainment.
They were both very agreeably engaged, and
Eugene at least was in Arcadia but, even
into Arcadia, disturbances sometimes come ;
and his, if he had only been able to foresee
it, was not far off. When he bade Alix good-
night at the end of the corridor that evening,
he did not know that he was also bidding
adieu to all the tranquil charm of their inter-
course and perhaps it was as well for him
that he did not. At least we are told to
be thankful that "Heaven from all mortals
liides the book of fate," and there is no doubt
but that Eugene's slumbers would scarcely
have been so sound, his dreams scarcely so
sweet that night, if he had even faintly
guessed what the next day had in store for
him.
Yet the next day passed away very much
like most days until near its close. The
ladies spent the morning on the terrace, tri-
fling over their sewing and embroidery;
while Mr. Darcy and Eugene read aloud to
them by turns from a volume of B6ranger's
which the latter had brought. "You talk
about poetry," he said, one day. " I will
show you something wliich is worth all that
stuff of Lamartine and Hugo put together ! "
So he made his appearance with those stir-
ring verses which in their day electrified all
young Frapce. They did a good deal to
electrify the company that heard them that
morning, and the ringing measure was still
echoing in Valerie's mind when she went
to dress for dinner. It reminded her of
Hautaine, who had once been very fond of
B6ranger, too ; and as she fastened her col-
lar, and smoothed her hair, she could not for-
bear a sigh over the gallant young free lance
who had loved her so long and so well.
" Poor Charley ! I wonder where he is, and
what he is doing ? " she thought. " I wonder
if he has quite forgotten me ; and I wonder,
too, if he has come to any harm in these
dreadful battles ? I am sure Netta must be
very uneasy. I will ask her about him this
evening."
12
So that evening, when they were alone
on the terrace, while the gentlemen were
still lingering over their wine, and Alix had
wandered down into the garden, Valerie
mooted the subject. " I have not heard you
speak of Charley for o long while, Netta.
Have you heard nothing from him, or or
about him?"
" Nothing Avhatever," answered Miss
Fane, sadly. " I have not spoken of it, Va-
lerie, because I did not care to distress you ;
but I am very seriously uneasy, and neither
the general nor Eugene gives me much en-
couragement. The people at home look to
me for news of him, and what can I say ?
We have not heard from him since Sadowa,
you know."
" But we would have heard if if any
thing had befaUen him."
Netta shook her head. " Hardly. He was
a foreigner, and so entirely unknown. Your
father wrote to Vienna the other day, and,
until we hear from there, I still venture to
hope. He may have been only wounded, or
or something of the sort. I have come to
counting on that now."
"Yes," Valerie said, almost under her
breath for they both knew only too well
what " counting on that " meant and then
she laid her head down on the stone balus-
trade. " God help us ! " was her cry. " It
is so terrible ! The shadow of blood seems
upon all things. The whole earth is rock-
ing and ringing with the tramp of armed
men ; and, after hearing of battles and sieges
all day, I dream at night of wounded men
and ghastly corpses, of blood, and carnage,
and death, until I wake up sick and shud-
dering."
"And the effect is very visible," said
Miss Fane. "Do you know that, instead of
regaining your healthful looks, you are daily
growing more pale, more hollow-eyed, more
unlike yourself ? "
"ISTo," was the indifferent answer, "I
did not know, but I can believe it."
*" Valerie," said her friend, abruptly,
"you are thinking, not of Prussia, but of
Mexico."
" And how can I help it? " said Valerie,
wearily. "Did not I send him there? If
he is killed, will it not be ray work ? Will
178
VALERIE AYLMER.
not his blood rest on my head, as much as
as the other does ? You may be sure of
one thing, Netta it is no lovesick regret
that I am nursing, but a terrible fear, which
haunts me night and day. I would will-
ingly covenant never to look on Maurice
Darcy's face again, if he were once safely
out of danger."
" Child, such men as he are never out
of danger."
" But no other danger would be my fault
no other would make his death my work.
You don't know what remorse is, Netta
indeed, how should you? But, if you had
ever suffered for one hour what I have suf-
fered for months past, you would not won-
der that I pray to be spared its increase, at
any cost."
Her friend looked at her wistfully.
Then a sudden impulse made her lay her
hand down on that bowed head.' "Your
prayers will be heard," she said, almost
solemnly. "lam sure of that. God tries
us severely, sometimes, but never beyond
our strength. And He Is not like us poor
mortals He never forgets mercy in jus-
tice."
As she spoke the last words, the gentle-
men stepped through one of the dining-
room windows, and came across the terrace
to join them. General Aylmer and Mr.
Darcy walked slowly in advance move-
ment was very painfully difficult to the
latter while Eugene followed with tlie
careless, swinging tread that took him over
ground so easily, and would have proved a
fortune to a professional pedestrian. One
glance was enough to satisfy him that the
terrace lacked its chief attraction; so he
sauntered off to the garden, whistling, as he
went, his favorite gallop. Mr. Darcy sank
into one of the chairs which were always
ready placed, and laid his crutches on the
grass beside him.
"This is really charming," he said, with
his pleasant smile. "I never grow weary
of the beautiful view wo have from this
spot; and I cannot help fancying that our
group is no inconsiderable addition to it.
We make a very picturesque effect, I am
sure; and it is only a great pity that Mau-
rice is not here to sketch us."
He often spoke of his brother thus al-
ways with a lingering accent of tenderness
on the name and Valerie had grown quite
accustomed to the allusions. She rarely
answered them, however, but, as in the
present instance, left some one else to do
so.
" Your brother must be a very fine ar-
tist," said Miss Fane. "I have heard a
great deal of his pictures though I have
only seen one of them."
"You have seen one, then?" said Mr.
Darcy, lifting his head, which a spasm
of pain had lowered while she spoke.
" What was it ? "
But to this simple question. Miss Fane
made no reply. She found that she had
betrayed herself unwittingly, and she
directed a half-frightened, half-apologetic
glance at Valerie, who, after a moment's
hesitation, answered in her stead :
" It was a picture which Maurice paint-
ed for grandpapa, and which I have, that
Netta has seen a portrait of myself."
"Indeed!" Mr. Darcy's gentle eyes,
which were yet very keen ones, looked at
her intently for a moment; then he said,
with a smile : " I wonder if Maurice did
you justice ? "
"You shall see the portrait if you
wish," said she, quietly. "Some day, I
will have it brought down to the saloon for
your inspection."
" I propose an amendment to that," said
her father. "Have it brought now, and we
can inspect it while drinking our coffee."
"Here?"
" Why not? Do you keep it in any inac-
cessible place ? "
"No; certainly not," she answered,
flushing slightly. Then she turned to the
servant who was handing coffee: "Bap-
tiste, go and tell Fanchette to give you the
picture which is in my dressing-room. It
has only been out of its packing-case once
for Netta to see since we came here,"
she added, turning again to Gaston.
Before many minutes elapsed, Baptiste
reappeared, bearing the canvas, which was
only cabinet size, and, therefore, no great
burden. By Miss Fane's direction, he
paused some distance from them, and held
THE HIDDEN SKELETOX.
119
it aloft. .i\iter two or three shiftings of
position, a good light was finally secured,
and then the glowing beauty, with her
dreamy eyes and brilliant tints, looked
down from her curtained opera-box upon
them.
"Now; is it not admirable?" cried
Netta, triumphantly. " Is it not herself? "
The general rose and came forward ad-
justing his eye-glass as he did so. He was
an excellent art-critic, and they all felt that
a certain responsibility rested upon his de-
cision. Perhaps he felt this himself; for,
when he came within proper range of the
picture, he said " Hum ! " in a way peculiar
to him, a way as of one startled into reluc-
tant admiration; and then he stood still,
and gazed intently on Maurice Darcy's hand-
iwork.
" It is excellent," he said at last, rather
slowly. ''I had no idea that Captain Darcy
was nearly so good an artist. Not that I
ever saw any of his productions; but still
those flesh tints are singularly transpar-
ent," added he, breaking suddenly into
criticism. "I never saw any thing better,
although he has too much warmth of color-
ing a sort of Gorgione dash which is
hardly "
"You forget that Valerie's complexion
was not then "what it is no^w," interposed
Valerie's friend, rather indignantly.
''I beg your pardon," said the general,
courteously, "but I was not thinking of
Valerie's complexion at all ; I was dealing
with the picture, as a picture. The fore-
shortening is admirable, too. The only
thing, in fact, to which it is possible to ob-
ject, is that heightening effect obtained by
means of "
"But as a portrait, sir," said Netta, who
was terribly uncultivated, and cared noth-
ing whatever about tints, tones, and effects.
" What do you think of it as a portrait? "
"I think it is grossly flattered," said the
general, who did not fancy such remorseless
interruption.
But meanwhile Gaston Darcy had not
spoken. He sat quite motionless in his
chair, gazing so earnestly, so almost mourn-
fully on the canvas, that at last Valerie laid
her hand softly on his arm.
"And what do you think of Maurice's
work ? " she asked, as he turned to her.
There Avas a moment's pause a pause
in which he looked from original to copy,
and from copy back to original. Then
" What do I think of it ? " he repeated,,
sadly. "I think there is a heart-throb in
every stroke."
Before the bright blood had died away
from Valerie's face the blood which quick-
ened her resemblance to the picture till
even the general could have found no fur-
ther fault with the Gorgione dash she
heard a quick cry, whether of joy or pain it
was impossible to tell, and Netta Fane's
white dress went by her like a flash.
They all turned simultaneously in the
same direction, and there, coming along the
terrace toward them, was a soldierly-looking
man in undress nnifoi*m, with his arm in a
sling a man whom Netta was eagerly
bounding to meet ; and as they looked she
threw her arms round him with these glad
words of welcome :
"Charley! my own dear Charley! Is
it indeed you? "
CHAPTER IV.
THE HIDDEN SKELETON*.
It was indeed Charley Hautaine but
Charley Hautaine looking the mere shadow
of his former self. A hollow-eyed, wasted
ghost, bearing the traces of long illness on
his pale face, where the eyes shone un-
naturally large and dark, and of a painful
wound in the disabled arm, which hung use-
less in its sling.
When Netta's greeting had a liittle sub-
sided, he found General Aylmer's cordial
welcome ready for him, together with Va-
lerie's outstretched hands and eager voice.
" Oh, Charley, dear friend, I am so glad
to see you again ! " she said.
"But, my poor boy!" cried Netta,
hovering between tears and laughter ;
"how badly he looks! And your arm,
Charley! w^hat is the matter with your
arm? "
"A bullet is, or was, the matter with
180
VALERIE AYLMER.
it," said Cliarley, laugliing as people do
laugli in the very midst of agitation. " A
souvenir of Sadowa I only wish it had
been the Vforst ! "
"And what could be worse?" asked
.she, breathlessly.
" An attack of fever in a prison hospital.
Don't you think so ? "
Then they overwhelmed him with a
storm of questions. Where had he been ?
what had he been doing? had he been
taken prisoner ?
" I am a prisoner on parole now," he re-
plied.
"A parole that don't signify much," said
the general. "The war is virtually ended."
"I suppose so," the other answered.
"It is just my luck to be always caught on
the losing side ! I did want to thrash those
Prussians, if only to feel myself once more
having the best of it but Fate was against
me, as well as against Austria! I have
heard, however, that sympathy is a balm for
every ill and, I hope, I am sure of that
here."
" Sure of any amount of it," said Va-
lerie, warmly. " But come ! we must not
keep you standing here, and you looking so
pale and tired. "We are just taking our
coffee ; but I shall order something more
substantial for you."
" I have already dined," he said ; " and,
if you will allow me, I will only join you in
your coffee. How delightfully pastoral you
look! "
" Yes, we have chanced upon a ifleasant
home," she said, as she led him forward to
the spot where Mr. Darcy and the coffee,
Baptiste and the picture, had been left to
keep each other company. The latter was
amusing himself by an open-mouthed stare
at the stranger whom the whole family had
rushed to greet in such an effusive manner,
while the former was sitting quite still, with
his head bent forward on his chest in the
manner usual with him.
" We have another a new friend with
us," said Valerie, as they advanced.
And, just as she spoke, tliecripple slowly
lifted his head, and turned his face to them.
If that face had been one from the dead, its
effect upon Charley Ilautaine could scarcely
have been more startling. For a second he
recoiled, and stood gazing mutely a mingled
astonishment and anguish in his eyes then
he uttered one cry so low and hollow that,
involuntarily, Valerie's hand fell from his
arm.
"My God!"
The pause of the next moment might al-
most have been felt, it was so deep, and yet
so short. So short that General Aylmer
and Netta had not reached them when,
after making a sign to Baptiste for his
crutches, Mr. Darcy rose and limped for-
ward.
" Come with me a moment," he said to
Hautaine. Then to Valerie, " You will ex-
cuse us we shall not be long."
And the first thing she knew, she was
standing alone, gazing in dumb amazement
at the two men slowly moving away. It
was something more than strange, such
conduct ; but still she managed to quiet the
astonishment of the others, when they came
up, or at least to restrain its expression.
They were evidently old friends, she said,
and Mr. Darcy had probably something of
importance to tell Charley. They had said
they would not be long. But there was an
awkward sense of mystery in the air, de-
spite this plausible statement ; and very little
use in trying to conceal that they each felt
curious, far more curious than they would
have liked to acknowledge. Conversation
languished, for, while each one strove to
preserve an appearance of dignified uncon-
cern, each in reality watched anxiously the
two who had paused not far ofi", and were
talking earnestly. At least Mr. Darcy was
talking earnestly. His companion listened
with bent head, and only occasionally ut-
tered a few words, which the lifted hand of
the other more than once stayed. But at
last the pantomime came to a close, and,
turning, they walked slowly back, side ])y
side, to the group waiting for them.
"I hope yoji did not think I meant to
abduct your cousin. Miss Fane," said Mr.
Darcy, in his usual tone, as he relapsed in-
to his former seat, and allowed V^alerie to
relieve him of his crutches ; " but we are
such old friends, Charley and I, that I almost
feel as if I had the first claim upon him."
THE HIDDEN SKELETON.
181
"01(1 friends! " repeated the general, a
little curiously-. "Why, how did you two
ever chance to know each other? "
"You forget that Charley was in the
navy, papa," said Valerie, coming to the
rescue ; " and naval officers know every-
body, I believe."
" Gaston and I met id Italy, before the
war our war, I mean," said Charley, who
looked many degrees more pale and weary
than when Netta had caught sight of him
coming along -the terrace, twenty minutes
before.
"You are to drink a cup of coffee imme-
diately," said Valerie, turning to him. "I
sent Baptiste to order some of Jules's very
best ; and here he comes with it for once,
just in time. Papa, don't you think it
ought to have a strengthening dash of bran-
dy in it?"
" Something more than a dash, I should
say," the general answered. " Come with
me, Charley, and I will give yon something
better for your nerves and your looks than
even Jules's famous coffee."
" I believe I prefer the coffee, sir," said
Hautaine, with a glance at the hand which
offered it a very pretty hand, as all Miss
Aylmer's admirers had long since acknowl-
edged.
" Pshaw ! " said the unromantic father.
"You can drink that afterward, if you
choose, but I insist on the Otard first. I
have some that is capital."
" Go, Charley. You can come back for
your coffee," Valerie said.
And, with only tolerable grace, Charley
went. He looked so much better when he
came back thus proving the efficacy of the
general's prescription that Miss Aylmer
smiled approvingly, as she dropped a lump
of sugar in his cup and handed it to him by
way of reward.
The cloud seemed somewhat to pass
away from them after this, and they sat and
talked very pleasantly in the rosy sunset
pleasantly to outward appearance, that
is; but Valerie noticed, with a woman's
quick observation, how deeply Hautaine's
brow contracted whenever his glance fell on
Gaston Darcy's bent frame the frame of
an old man as he sat drawn., together in his
large arm-chair and, when the first one of
the constantly-recurring spasms of pain
seized him, Charley pushed back his chair,
as if by an uncontrollable impulse, turning
his eyes away, as he said, with a gasp :
" I cannot bear it ! It is too horrible ! "
" You will grow used to it after a while
we have done so," said Valerie, softly. " And
he bears it so patiently."
"It is not much to bear," said Gaston,
who had caught her words, low as they were.
And he raised his face, still lined and dis-
torted from agony. " I have not learned to
suffer and be stiU yet that is all."
"Don't slander yourself, Mr. Darcy,"
said ISTetta, quickly. " I have never heard
you utter even a groan."
"Xo I hope not. But it is quite as
inconsiderate to manifest pain by gesture ;
and really I do not suffer very much."
He hesitated a moment before uttering
the last two words words which were al-
most sublime. They all felt it ; and, from
some vague instinct, they were all silent.
Nobody contradicted the assertion, though
they each knew that, but for the mighty
and beneficent aid of opium, he could
scarcely have borne for one day the weight
of bodily anguish laid upon him. "Let
him take as much morphine as he pleases,"
a- noted physician had once said to his
brother. " Its influence will outlast his
life."
Then Charley began to ask questions
of the home people, and by degrees the con-
versation drifted to the scenes and the
friends they had left behind in the distant
native land, so that, as the shadows
lengthened, as the golden light faded from
the gray tower and gilded spire of St.
Eoche, and the soft evening shades began to
close about them, they almost forgot Gaston
Darcy's presence, so quiet and still he lay
back in his chair, while over the wide
waste of tossing water they went back for
a space to the old scenes, and the bright
sky which looks down as lovingly on desola-
tion as it ever looked on peace ! Familiar
names flashed from lip to lip ; allusions, so
slight that they were almost trivial, brought
the quick tear, the ringing laugh. A word
or a tone was sufficient to summon up pic-
182
VALERIE AYLMER.
tures on whicli their eyes would never gaze
again. The charm of the old, glad, careless
existence swept over them; but it was vrith
that pang, at once so unutterably tender
and so unutterably bitter, which stirs with-
in us as we stand by the newly-made grave
of some fair creature whose grace and beauty,
gone out of our life, have left it forever
desolate ! But even as the smiles of the dead
come back to us, at once to agonize and to
soothe, so that halcyon Long Ago of them-
selves and their country started out of the
tomb at their bidding so the laughing eyes
and the happy voices came across the gulf
of time and the ocean of blood! so the green
leaves (greener than they will ever be
again !) rustled over their heads once more
so the golden sunshine (more golden than
any sunshine of to-day!) slept on their
path so the fair faces and gallant forms
(there are none so fair or so gallant left !)
rose out of their dark resting-places under
the cold sod, and the frank hands seemed
stretched out across the dark abyss !
At last, in a voice half choked with tears,
Valerie said :
"Friends, let us stop! "We feel we
know that we, exiles though we be, have
chosen the better part; but, if we would
rest content, let us not talk of home. I, for
one, cannot bear it ! "
""We have certainly talked enough to
give us all the blues," Netta said, with an
attempt at lightness. "And indeed but
yonder come Eugene and Alix at last ! "
"Alix! " repeated Hautaine.
"One of our own people," "Valerie said.
"You haven't forgotten the Eivieres who
lived at River- view ? "Well, this is "
" Not the pretty little brown-eyed cliild
I remember, surely ? "
" Yes, the very same. You will like her,
I know."
She said this, as the two truants came
sauntering slowly up the garden-walk tow-
ard the terrace-steps, the last crimson glow
from tlie west giving a warm tinge to the
pale-brown curls that fell around Alix's
slender throat, and to the white dress she
wore, with its broad black sash. She looked
lovely, exceedingly, as she mounted the
steps and paused a moment in natural sur-
prise at seeing a stranger, with one hand
still resting on the stone balustrade.
" This is Mr. Hautaine, Alix," said Va-
lerie.
And Alix, who had heard a great deal
about Mr. Hautaine within the last few
weeks, gave a start of surprise and pleasure.
"I am very glad," she said, simply and
cordially; "and I I hope he is not badly
hurt," she added, looking at the young man
with her shy, sweet eyes full of sympathy for
his pale face and wounded arm.
It was provoking certainly, but before
Charley had time to acknowledge the gentle
graciousness of this reception, Eugene, who
had lingered a moment behind, bounded up
the steps and confronted him with all the
effusion of that good-fellow welcome which
at any other time he would have appreciated,
but which, just then, he could not help feel-
ing a bore.
" "Why, old fellow, is this really you ? "
Eugene said, full of cordial astonishment.
" I am delighted to see you ! delighted to
have this optical evidence that you haven't
gone to hobnob with the shades of Alex-
ander and Napoleon ! But faith, mon ami,
you look as if you had come very near being
admitted into th.at illustrious company !
"What the mischief have you been doing to
yourself? "
"He has been wounded, Eugene," said
Netta, in a tone of expostulation.
"O! has he? Well, I should certainly
feel justified in affirming that something of
the sort had befallen him. Pray, Master
Charley, have you received your Theresian
cross, in recompense of your distinguished
services and sufferings for his Imperial Ma-
jesty Eranz Joseph, yet ? "
Charley shrugged his shoulders.
" Don't twit the unfortunate, thou happy
wielder of the compass and lines ! "When I
do receive my Theresian cross, you shall
hear of it, you may be sure ! Miss Riviere,
I am very grateful for your kindness. I
don't feel at all as if I needed to be intro-
duced to you, I have been so often in your
fatiier's house, and I remember you so well,
wiicn you were young enough to make me
feel quite old in looking at you now."
Alix laughed. " That must have been a
THE HIDDEN SKELETON.
183
good while ago," she said, with an arch nod
of her pretty head. " I don't think I'm very
young now. But I remember you, too, Mr.
nautaine at least I think so."
"You might do so very easily," Netta
said. " But don't you all think we had
better go in ? It is too late for Mr. Darcy to
be out besides, we have another invalid on
our list now. So, en avant ! "
"I would rebel against being made a
kill-joy in this style," said Mr. Darcy, taking
up his crutches, and preparing to rise, " but
that I think the saloon will be better for all
of us, and we can hear some music then."
" ' Stay witli me, lady, while yon may.
For life's bo sad, this hour's so sweet ;
Ah 1 lady, life too long will stay.
Too soon this hour will fleet,' "
muttered Eugene, disconsolately. "Are we
really going in, like a set of of insensi-
bles?"
" We really are," answered Miss Fane,
in her short way, that always settled mat-
ters. " Mr. Darcy will get sick, and Alix
will get a sore throat, if we stay out here
any longer."
"I'm not at all afraid of a sore throat,"
said Alix.
"I don't suppose you are to-night!"
their mentress retorted. "But to-morrow
you will not fancy croaking like a raven ; or
taking pepper-tea like a salamander, either.
Come, don't be obstinate. Move on! "
" One moment," said Hautaine, laying
his hand on Valerie's arm, when she rose to
follow the rest. "You are not afraid of the
mists, are you? Will you give me a fev/
minutes longer out here? "
" As many as you please," she answered
readily, although her heart misgave her
terriblj'. "I hope he is not foolish about
me yet ! " she thought. And then she said
aloud, "Let us go into the garden and walk
a little. It is beautiful down there."
It was beautiful down there, for the
wild luxuriance of Nature had quite over-
grown the trim regularity of art, and the
result was one never achieved by a gardener's
hand. The moon shone in three-quarter pro-
file above the groups of acacia-trees, and her
light was already beginning to prevail over
the soft dusk, and faint, melting outlines of
shadow along the paths they followed, while
the terrace, with its massive stone balustrade
and large vases, rose behind them, the white
chateau gleamed above, the windows of the
saloon were wide open, and light and music
and gay voices floated out together on the
still night air.
" It is all wonderfully lovely ! " Hautaine
said, as they stopped by a fountain, the
sparkling waters of which caught the moon-
beams, and glittered in them like showers of
diamonds. " A man should be a poet on
such a night, and in such a scene ; for, after
all, there is a charm about the south of Eu-
rope which is only to be felt never to be
described."
" No," said Valerie. " For, much as I
have always heard and read of it, I did not
realize in the least its exceeding beauty un-
til I saw it."
" And do you think you are settled here
for good ? "
She shook her head.
"I wish I could think so. I would ask
nothing better than to spend my life in this
way but papa has nothing pastoral about
him. He likes the world, with all its rush
and roar."
" So did you once, if I remember rightly."
- "Did I?" she said, dreamily. "I be-
lieve I did ; but it is so long ago, I had al-
most forgotten about it. At all events, I
don't like it now."
"Don't you even like Paris? you, who
used to adore New Orleans with all your
French soul! "
"No not even Paris. When I was
there, I only found that it wearied me un-
utterably. Papa talks of Eome for next
winter, or Naples, or Madrid, or ever so
many more places ; but I shrink whenever
he mentions them-, for all I ask is to stay
just where I am."
" I don't understand you," said her com-
panion, a little curiously. " Once those very
places were the desires of your heart."
"I don't understand myself," she an-
swered, " unless it be that they are those
deferred sugar-plums of existence of which
Guy Darrell talks. I longed for them when
I could not reach them I panted for them
184
VALERIE AYLMER.
when they were afar off and now that they
are so near, I feel as if they were the fairy
gold that turned to moss and leaves in the
grasp."
There was a pause which remained xm-
broken for several minutes. They turned
into another one of the long, straight alleys,
and had nearly reached its extremity, when
Hautaine spoke, quite abruptly :
"Valerie, when I was in Baltimore, I
heard that you were engaged to Maurice
Darcy."
Valerie started started as if a rude hand
had been laid on a bare nerve ; but she did
not speak for some time. Then she said^
slowly
"Who told you so, Charley ? "
"It is true, then?"
"Never mind about that, just now. TeU
me who told you so."
"I I'm not sure that I remember who
it was," Charley said; for instinct taught
him better than to mention Julian Eomney's
name. "I heard it after I saw you. I think
my old friendship gives me the right to ask
what I should very much like to know if it
is true?"
" It was true," she answered for her life
she could not say more.
" You were engaged to him? "
" Yes."
" And and you are not engaged to him
now?"
"No."
Another pause. Then
"I have been fighting against my love
for you ever since then," Hautaine said sadly,
" and I have been so far successful that I can
now say I am sorry to hear it is not true."
" Then, dear friend," said Valerie, hold-
ing out her hand, witti a sudden impulse,
" somebody did us both a great service. A
great service to you if you, were cured of a
weakness which only brought you pain ; a
greater one yet to me, if it gives me back the
old affection which we felt for one anotlier
when we were children together in our be-
loved Louisiana."
"IsaidthatI had been fighting against
it," answered he, pausing short in his walk.
" And I thought I had entirely succeeded in
crushing it out, or I would never have come
here ! But the first sight of your face, the
first tone of your voice, told me that one
word would be enough to waken it again
and and I'm almost afraid that word has
been spoken ! "
" I am not afraid of it," said Valerie,
firmly, for she felt that a moment had come
when she must put an end to all false hopes
for very honor's sake. " You might have
clung to me so long as I was heart-free,
Charley, but I know you too well to fear
that you will do so when I tell you that, al-
though my engagement with Maurice Darcy
is broken forever, he is the only man I have
ever loved, and the only man I would ever
have married ! "
lie looked at her wistfully so Mistfully,
" And when you say that he left you ? ' '
" Yes, through my own fault, he left me."
After this, they walked silently along for
some time. It was bright moonlight now,
and their shadows fell sharply and distinctly
on the path before them. Almost as sharp-
ly and distinctly Hautaine's tones soimdcd,
when he spoke again :
" Che sard, sard ! Yet it seems right hard
that the prize for which I have striven a life-
time should be seized at last by a stranger's
hand; but there is very little courage in
groaning over defeat. I should certainly by
this know how to practise the resignation
which comes of despair. I don't mean to
break my heart, either, Valerie if that is
any consolation to you."
" It is a great consolation, dear Charley."
" And I did not bring you away to tor-
ment you with the old story that has troubled
you so often before. I wanted to tell you
something which you ought to know and
to ask your advice. Will you sit here a
little while or are you afraid of the night
air ? "
"Not the least afraid," she answered, as
she sat down on a stone seat that ran around
the fountain to which they had returned.
" I am all attention, and all interest, as long
as you want me."
He sat down beside her, but he did not
speak for a considerable time. When he
did, his eyes were fixed, not on her face, but
on the water before him.
"Valerie, do you remember the day I
THE HIDDEN SKELETON.
185
met Maurice Darcy in your grandfather's
house."
"Yes," she answered, in a low voice.
" I remember it very well."
" And did he ever tell you the meaning
of what you saw and heard that day ? "
" Never."
"He Gaston, I mean told me he
thought you did not know. lie wanted me
not to tell you ; but I could not " he gave
a gasp as if for breath " I could not stay
here in the house with you, and with Mm^
and let you think let you not think, that
is all that I deserve should be thought of
me!"
"Charley," she said, quickly, "I could
never think any thing wrong of you."
"I remember you said that or some-
thing like it once before. It hurt then
it hurts now worse than a blow. Good
God ! Valerie, when you say that, you do
not know that I am worse than a murder-
er!"
"Charley!"
" Yes," he went on excitedly, " a hun-
dred times worse! A murderer at least
makes short work of his victim, but I have
condemned mine to a lifetime of torture!
Valerie, think if you can if indeed any-
body besides myself can imagine think of
what I endure, when I look at Gaston Dar-
cy's crippled form, when I remember his
blasted life, and when I know that it is all
my worh ! "
" Charley ! "
" Yes all my work."
Valerie sat aghast. Her wildest conjec-
tures had never gone so far her most ex-
treme fears had never pointed to this.
This, then, was the wrong which Maurice
Darcy could never forgive this the crime
which he had declared brought its own
worst punishment! And, as the cripple's
lined face and bent figure rose before her,
surprise and horror together seemed to
chain her tongue, until she could scarcely
have uttered a single word if her life had de-
pended on it ; but indeed Hautaine went on
rapidly, as if he did not care to wait for
comment :
" I sometimes think that even the suffer-
ings he has endured have scarcely equalled
mine scarcely exceed the remorse I have
endured for years ! I have seen that face of
his wherever I went and in every sound
I have heard his voice ! I have endured al-
most a thousand deaths, and borne within
my heart a canker which has poisoned for
me sometimes even your smile! The war,
when it came, was a blessing to me ^but
the bullets pever found their best mark.
Other men men to whom life was all fair
and bright were stricken down beside me ;
but I I was spared ! "
" Oh, Charley, hush ! " cried Valerie,
finding her voice and a half sob together.
" Hush ! It is terrible to talk in that way 1
Yes, you were spared, and I will tell you
why you were spared to feel that there is
One above us who does all things well.
You were spared to know that there is no
human wrong or error to which He does
not grant the power of expiation. Oh, be
comforted ! Look at that poor face of Gas-
ton Darcy, and see what a sublime pa-
tience suff'ering has put there ; then, do not
dare to say this suff'ering has been ill sent."
" I know ! I know ! But then, it was
not God who sent it."
" It was God who permitted it."
A pause longer than any which had
preceded it and then Hautaine lifted the
head that had sunk upon his hands, and said
hoarsely :
" I believe you know that Maurice Dar-
cy and I were once friends."
" Yes."
"Friends the very best that ever were,
I think. "We never made any formal pro-
testations of the sort to each other, but I
am sure I never cared for any other man
scarcely even my own brother as I did for
him. And he liked me just as well. We met
in Italy, and were together whenever I was
there ; indeed, in many other places besides,
for Maurice was almost as much of a rover
as my profession made me. In the summer
of '60, the Argemone was ordered to the
Mediterranean."
"I remember it."
" Yes I suppose you do. Well, as soon
as possible, I procured leave of absence, and
took up temporary quarters with Maurice,
then painting in Florence. I found with
186
VALERIE AYLMER.
him (his father had died very shortly he-
fore) a younger brother this Gaston
then a boy of nineteen or twenty. You
don't know how plainly I see him yet as he
looked at that time. Not handsome, I sup-
pose ; hut so full of life and generosity that
his face was irresistibly attractive. I liked
the boy no one could have helped liking
him; and he took a great f^ncy to me.
How strange it seems, to think that that
man yonder is he I have not learned to
realize it yet. Well he took a fancy to
me. Maurice more than once laughingly
declared that I was rivalling him in Gas-
ton's affection, and that Gaston was ousting
him from mine. One day " he spoke very
rapidly now "Maurice received a letter,
summoning him on business to Paris, and
he asked me if I could not remain with Gas-
ton until his return, for the boy was rather
inclined to dissipation (his only fault), from
which the elder brother was trying to wean
him by gentle degrees ; and he was very un-
willing to leave him alone in a foreign city,
exposed to its many temptations and conse-
quent dangers. I promised willingly to re-
niain, and I remember Maurice's smile, as
he said, ' Thank you, amico mio I thought
I could depend on you ! ' He did depend
on me and for what ? "
There was a long silence, during which
an instinct prevented Valerie from lifting
her eyes to the face near her. So she sat
with them steadily bent on the four stone
tritons, that stood in unchanging" attitude,
while the water danced and sparkled over
their upturned heads. And when Hau-
taine resumed, it was in the same quick,
nervous tone as that in which he had be-
fore spoken :
"Maurice went away, and I do not
think I shall ever forget the cordial fare-
well grasp of his hand, for I never felt
another! The last words he said to me
were : ' I trust you implicitly; but, pray, re-
member to be watchful.' I knew what he
meant, and for several days Gaston was
scarcely out of my sight. I felt the nature
of the trust the more, because I knew that,
if I had not been in Florence, he would
have taken Gaston with him to Paris ; for I
had long been aware why he Avas more
than ordinarily anxious about the boy's
habits. In the mother's family Gaston's
mother's, I mean there was an hereditary
tinge of insanity, and, in every instance
where madness occurred, it had been the
result of dissipation. Well, two or three
days after Maurice left us, I met, very unex-
pectedly one day, a squad of two or three
officers from the Argemone. Of course,
they were delighted to see a comrade, and k
the rencontre ended in an invitation to a
post-opei'a supper that night an invitation
in which young Darcy was included, and
which all the circumstances rendered it im-
possible to refuse. I went, in a state of
uneasiness, but it was a great relief to me
to find that Gaston kept entirely within the
bounds of moderation. Indeed, he behaved
so very prudently that I began to revolve
and consider possible a scheme which only
the devil himself could ever have put into
my head, and, before the supper ended, I
had invited all the party to dine with ma
on the following evening. I think some-
times of that next day with such vain exas-
peration as I imagine to be the portion of
the lost spirits in hell. A dozen times, be-
tween sunrise and sunset, I was on the
point of excusing myself on any plea, and
withdrawing the invitation but still the
sun went down behind the Arno, and it
was not done. A dozen times at least, an
instinct warned me of coming ill, and I put
the warning from me. I remember that,
just as I sat down to table, Maurice's face
rose before me, with a look of stern re-
proach ^but it was too late then ! Several
additions of artist-friends had been made to
the party, which made it quite a large one ;
and, with all my efforts to preserve order,
the wildest conviviality soon set in. I must
hurry over this it almost kills me to think
of it, even now. Among all the jests and
songs and peals of laughter that made the
roof ring, I grew more and more uneasy,
for I soon saw that Gaston had thrown oft"
the restraint of the evening before, and
was drinking with the deepest. Remon-
strance would have done no good, I knew,
for intoxication always made him resent-
ful and quarrelsome. My only hope was
in breaking up the party soon, but this
THE HIDDEX SKELETON.
187
soemecl almost an impossible thing witli a
set of men who were my own invited
guests, and who, furthermore, had just de-
clared an intention to make a night of it.
"What I endured as I sat there, with a smile
on my lip, it would bo impossible to say ;
but it was only a foretaste of that which
was to come. At last, my worst fears were
realized ! a violent quarrel began between
Gaston and one of the guests one of the
Argemone officers in which I strove to in-
terfere. The former at once turned on me
fiercely, charging me violently with an at-
tempt to domineer over him. I remember
that I was patient a long while longer
than was thought a virtue by the men
around me but, at last, the blood began to
boil in my veins, and the wine I had been
drinking to heat my brain. A bitter insult
I have long since forgotten what it was
finally proved too much for me. I flung a
glass of wine in his face and then we
closed together. Of what followed I have
little or no recollection. For the first and
last time in my life, a perfect devil seemed
to enter into and take possession of me;
and, in my overmastering rage, murder
would have been as easy to me as the rais-
ing of my hand. I forgot Maurice I for-
got whom I fought I forgot every thing
save the brute instinct of ferocity. I have a
faint recollection of struggling like an infu-
riated tiger a recollection, still more faint,
of lifting Gaston Darcy's slight form in my
arms and hurling him bodily out of the
window ! Then a cry of horror burst even
from the half-intoxicated men around me
and I came to myself and the sickness of
an unutterable death rushed over me.
" When they took him ui, he was still
breathing, but the doctors said the spine
was fatally injured. You see, however, that
he has lived a cripple ! "
Silence again silence so deep and pain-
ful that Valerie almost heard her heart beat
in her ears, as she sat, chilled in every limb
and sickened in every fibre, so that motion
would have been almost as impossible as
utterance. She did not see Ilautaine she
only saw the moonlit gravel at her feet
when he spoke again :
"I was by his brother's bedside when
Maurice came back, and I had rather he had
cursed me a thousand times rather he had
killed me than said the bitter words that
ring in my ears yet. I sat there,- and it
seemed the voice of God that ordered me
forth, that called me what I felt myself to
be, the ' betrayer of trust ! ' I think he
would have killed me I hoped that he would
if he had not felt that life was my worst
punishment, and his best revenge. From
that day to this, I have endured worse than
death I endured more than that to-day
when I saw the man I ruined writlie be-
neath the agony which I laid upon him! "
The voice sunk now with an intonation
which said : " I have done" and, after one
moment's pause, Valerie's clasped hands
covered his own, and a cry, so tender and
yearning that it miglit have burst from a
mother's lips, sounded on the still night
air:
" O, Charley ! My poor ^jioor boy ! "
was what it said.
He laid his hot brow down upon those
cool soft hands, and neither of them spoke
for some minutes. At last he said, without
raising his face :
" Now you know all about it. Tell me
if I can dare to do as he wishes dare to stay
here and meet him, like like any one else."
- " Why not ? " she asked.
"Why not? O Heavens! You don't
know how I have fled from his presence
how I have shunned him as men shun a pes-
tilence ! I feel as if the same roof could not
should not shelter us both ! "
"And I feel I know that if you were
once thrown with him, and once saw his
marvellous content, his beautiful patience,
as we see it ^Yho live with him, you, too,
would feel that, although your act may have
robbed the world of a man, it gave God a
saint ! You, too, would realize, as he does,
that all ends work for good in His hands
and you, too, would learn resignation to the
inevitable."
"Resignation!" he repeated, almost
fiercely, "yes, resignation for any thing
which was not my own work. But I did
this, not God. How should you know what
it is to feel this agony of remorse, this knowl-
edge "
188
VALERIE AYLMER.
He stopped short, for even the moon-
light showed him the change which had come
over his companion's face. He saw a spasm
of pain contract the pale features, and a
mournful light shining out of the large eyes
raised to his own.
"You are mistaken," she said, slowly.
" You judge only by the surface, and you do
not know that I bear on my life a weight of
remorse to which your own is, or ought to
be, almost nothing. You ruined Gaston
Darcy's mere physical life, and you gave
him the means by which he will ascend to
Heaven ; but what would you think if you
had killed body and soul both ? What ^vould
you feel, if you had deliberately led him to
some point of despair, and then seen him
rush on a death for which he was all un-
prepared, and which was as much your
work as if you had killed him with your own
hand ? Answer me what would you think
of that ? "
Her voice had risen into solemn pathos,
as she uttered these words; and all the an-
guish of her soul seemed going out toward
him, and being laid open before him. In an
instant he knew of Avhom and of what she
spoke. He remembered Julian Romney's
face and manner on that night which proved
so fateful, and then a sudden impulse came
over him.
"Valerie, dear friend," he said, quickly,
" I know what you mean, but believe me
you are all wrong. It was no thought of
you, no act of yours, which sent Julian
Romney to his death. Did you know that I
was there, at the party where the quarrel
occurred. If you would only "
But she silenced him by a gesture.
"Hush, Charley! It is very good of
you ; but all this has been said to me before,
and still it does not lighten my burden. I
know all about it I know how unlike him-
self, how morbid, and wretched, and desper-
ate he was all through me. We will not
speak of it. I cannot do so yet I scarcely
think I ever shall. I only did so now, that
I might convince you that others suffer as
much as you ; and to bid' you take comfort
and faith. This is not surely the first time
you have seen Mr. Darcy since you have
met him before ? "
" Once. But he sought me out himself
then. It was in Paris ; and he came to ofier
his friendship, he was too generous to say his
pardon. A few months after that, I met
Maurice for the first time since we parted at
his brother's bedside and you remember he
would as soon have touched a viper as my
hand ! "
"Maurice is very hard," said Valerie,
mournfully. .
"But is he not right? Have I I, with
more than his blood upon my head, any
right to touch that other hand? "
" Yes, you have," she said, firmly. " And
Maurice is wrong. It will do you good to stay.
It will please Mm and surely you would
count any sacrifice well made that did that."
" Does he indeed wish it ? "
" Did he not tell you so?"
"Yes, but"
" There is no ' but ' in the question ! "
she interrupted. "You must stay. First,
because he requests it. Secondly, because
this is your proper home, now that you are
wounded and sick. Indeed, you shall re-
main until you are well again. We will not
give you up ! Put these morbid thoughts
from you, dear Charley. Recognize God's
will over and aboye all things ; and, when
we recognize that, we may as well bend to
it, you know ; for resistance is utterly use-
less. Remember how many years of suf-
fering have atoned for the act of one hour ;
and then remember, also, that it is time to
cease mourning. I know there must al-
ways be a saddened regret, but the bitter-
ness of unavailing remorse is bitterly mis-
placed. Sinning and suff"ering ! Ah I it is
only what we all are doing ; but the sufier-
ing need not be prolonged eternally, for
even God does not do that, save to those
who have never given one thought of regret,
or made one aspiration for pardon. Promise
me that you will stay? "
" I did not ask your advice without
meaning to take it. I will do whatever
you decide."
"I have decided, then. You shall not
leave us until you must. Now let us go
back to the chateau I am sure this night
air cannot be good for you and I will
make Alix sing something."
THE HERO OF SADOWA.
189
CHAPTER y.
THE HEEO OF SADOWA.
There was ono person at least to whom
Valerie's decision proved far from agreea-
ble; one member at least of the chateau
party who wished its new inmate at well,
at Vienna !
On the very first day of his arrival,
Ilautaino developed a marked admira-
tion for Alix an admiration which sensi-
bly increased with every succeeding hour
of his stay, and which caused Eugene's
friendly regard and friendly cordiality to
diminish in exact ratio. For, alas ! the ir-
ruption into Arcadia was come, the golden
hour was over, the magic charm was van-
ished, and the rough world, where every
man takes what he can get, burst in upon
the fair idyl which had a little while back
seemed flowing so smoothly to a peaceful
close. Now all was changed. Changed how
much, or how little, no one could tell ; but
even Eugene's bold heart misgave him some-
what. He would not have feared ordinary
rivalry at all ; he had not cared in the least
about the effusive admiration those bearded
young engineers expressed for La petite Fee,
as they dubbed Alix, but then well, this
was different. A rival of any sort would
have been bad enough, but a rival who
threw him Eugene completely into the
background, and took the highest place in
everybody's regard, by virtue of his pale
face and his wounded arm, and his general
halo of heroic circumstance a rival who
sang an excellent baritone, who could tell a
false semitone as soon as he heard it, and
who had the whole array of musical terms
at the end of his tongue, why it was no
wonder that Eugene began to think a good
many disagreeable things, and sometimes to
say them.
" I think I shall go back to work," he
said, one day, moodily enough, when he
and Valerie chanced to be alone together.
" I got a letter from Ledoc this morning,
and well, there's no earthly good in stay-
ing here. I think I shall go, Valerie."
Valerie looked up at him quickly. She
had seen for some time how matters were
drifting, and it would be hard to say
whether her relief at Charley's desertion, oi'
her sympathy for Eugene's annoyance, had
been greatest. But now, as she noticed
what a dark cloud rested in the usually sun-
ny eyes that were bent on the distant line
of purple mountains, the latter came over
her all at once with a rush.
" Did M. Ledoc write for you. Are you
obliged to go ? " she said. " If not, I am
sure I don't see why you should do so.''
"No he mentioned nothing about
wanting me," her brother answered. "But
there's no good in staying. I might as well
go, and be done with it."
"No good in staying," repeated Va-
lerie, who was a little puzzled, and thought
he might perhaps have been rejected. " No
good ! I don't understand. "What do you
mean ? "
"Just what I say," answered Eugene,
shortly. For in truth he did not mean any
thing, excepting that he was vexed and out
of temper, and wanted somebody to " take
it out" on. "You are so well occupied
there is no need of me," he weut on, after a
while. " I think I'm rather in the way
than otherwise. I had better take myself
off for a time, and perhaps when I come
back"
' He stopped, partly because he felt a lit-
tle ashamed of his pettishness, and partly
because Valerie looked so grieved.
" I am very sorry," she began. " We
never any of us meant to neglect you I
least of all but we only thought that you
were at home, and that you could entertain
yourself better than we could entertain you,
and"
" Pshaw ! You know I didn't mean
you ! " interrupted the ungrateful brother.
"Indeed, I don't know that I meant any
thing, excepting that I am tired to death of
Hautaine's braggadocio stories of Sadowa
and Koniggriitz. IIow long is he going to
" Until he is thoroughly recovered, I
hope," Valerie answered for, although she
felt very sorry for Eugene, she had no in-
tention of giving up Charley.
" Humph ! " Then, after a pause " Is
that arm of his never going to get well ? "
190
VALERIE AYLMER.
"Doctor Fontaine says it is doing ex-
cellently ; but that lie must not use it
yet."
" The sling is too interesting to be given
up soon, I suspect. And then- it must be
pleasant to have three or four women wait-
ing on him and cutting up his food as if he
were a great baby."
" Eugene ! " said Valerie, indignantly,
and then she stopped. It was natural, no
doubt, that he should be jealous ; but still,
even jealousy has its due limits, at least in
expression. "Eugene, I am astonished at
you," she went on ; " your ideas of hospi-
tality must surely have changed very much,
for I am sure you would not have talked
this way once. If Alix is the matter "
" Alix is not the matter! " said Eugene,
who felt the justice of the rebuke so sharp-
ly that it made him irritable. "Alix is not
the matter at all," he repeated, tossing his
cigar as far out of the window as he could
send it. " She is at perfect liberty to be-
stoAv as much of her time and attention as
she pleases on this this wounded hero. I
beg your pardon for having said any thing
about him. He is a puppy, but then I ought
to have remembered that he was always a
sensitive point with you."
" lie is no more a sensitive point with
me than any other old friend would be,"
Valerie answered, flushing slightly ; " but I
am very sorry to hear you talk so. . It looks
as if as if you were a little envious.
Now, Charley speaks for himself "
"He docs indeed, to an uncommon de-
gree ! "
" But you ah, Eugene, I wish you were
more generous. Besides, I don't see why
you are so jealous. As far as I can judge,
your chances of success are as good as, or
better, than his."
" Better ! you think so ? " he cried, for-
getful of his late denial that Alix had any
thing to do with the matter.
" Yes, I think so," his sister said, smiling.
" But what is the good of tormenting your-
self in this way ? You liave surely forgot-
ten your old motto, ' Let the best man win.'
It is a fair field ; and if Charley wins "
"That he never shall," interrupted Eu-
gene, quickly. "Thank you, Valerie. I
see what a fool I was, and I suppose I ought
be a little ashamed. The lists are open,
certainly ; and he but then I'll make a
death-fight of it, and you'U see that I will
win."
" I should be very glad to see it," she
said. But still, in her heart, she thought
that she had rather Charley won poor
Charley, who had had such a hard time with
his love for her, and was besides unhappy
in a way Eugene never dreamed of.
Meanwhile, Charley was certainly very
much attracted by the dainty, brown-eyed
fairy who had such pretty, artless ways,
and Avho looked up so confidingly sure of
admiration, when she had executed a high
trill or a low scale in very finished style.
And there was nothing singular in this, for
he was one of a large class of men who are
incapable of entertaining a passion which
has proved hopeless, and who possess a
great, and, for them, happy faculty of trans-
ferring their afl:ections on very short notice.
He had been in love with A'alerie for years
more deeply in love than he could ever
be again with any other woman and, as
long as he entertained the least hope of
success, had been entirely loyal and con-
stant to that afiection. But, when once she
made clear the undoubted fiict, that he need
cherish no expectation of return, he had
been able to resign himself to disappoint-
ment without the least danger of a broken
heart. He spoke simple truth when he told
her that he had conquered his love for her,
or he would not have sought her presence
again and, although the old fancy may
have stirred a little at sight of the old smilo
and the old glance, yet she administered a
very effectual quietus in the garden that
night when she made her confession of love
for another man. Difficulty did not spur
liim on, as it would have spurred some peo-
ple ; for he was naturally indolent, and,
like too many of his passionate, changeable
race, did not fancy trouble. High grapes
were always sour to him, and that fruit the
best and ripest which was most easily
plucked. If Valerie really preferred Mau-
rice Darcy to himself, why
" There were maidens in Scotland more lovely by far,
Who would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar."
THE HERO OF SADOWA.
191
So he sang duets with Alix, which were
all horriblo discord to Eugene's soul; he
talked German with her (Gorman, so exe-
crably bad, on both sides, that it would have
agonized any ear of the fatherland) ; he re-
counted all the musical gossip of Vienna,
where musical gossip abounds ; he encour-
aged her professional aspirations, which
Eugene abhorred ; he praised her voice
until she glowed into grateful rapture ; and
he finally put the climax on his audacity by
offering to become her maestro during the
period in which they both remained at the
chateau.
" Not that I think I know as much mu-
sic as you do," he went on, in explanation ;
" but I have heard that a poor teacher is
better than no teacher at all. Now, I
could at least make you practise regularly."
"And I am sure I need to be made,"
Alix said, laughingly, hut with a depre-
cating glance at Eugene, who was. glower-
ing over the familiar proceedings of the new
acquaintance, " I promis6d Herr Volkner
that I would do so, but I am afraid ah,
one's good resolutions are worth so little."
" Unless there is somebody to help one
keep them," Hautaine answered, in his easy
way. "And I am afraid you have only
been aided to break yours. Eugene, for in-
stance, seems to be absolutely jealous of
the piano."
" Colonel Aylmer thinks it is horrible,"
said Alix, with another little glance at Eu-
gene this time one of resentment.
"What is it that I think horrible?"
asked Colonel Aylmer, who was ready for
a battle at once.
"Music," said the little, would-be canta-
trice indignantly. "You know you talk
about it oh, dreadfully! "
"I don't talk about music I dca't care
any thing about it I only say that it is not
a fit profession for you."
"I should like to know "
But here Charley interfered. " lie is a
heretic, Miss Riviere. "We will leave him
to his heterodoxy. If there is one thing in
the world he likes better than another, it is
argument; and I make it a point of con-
science never to gratify him. Will you
take your first lesson now ? *'
After this, instead of mending, matters
grew rather more serious. True, they had
a short interval of quiet, when Eugene was
obliged to go back to his work; but he
came again as soon as possible, and was
more than ever outraged at the state of in-
timacy existing between Alix and Charley.
Then it was that the former found herself
placed in rather a trying position. Some
women, women fond of flirtation and its at-
tendant good things, would have liked
nothing better than two admirers two
pieces of tinder, rather to play off against
each other in this way. But Alix, being of
another metal, found nothing whatever at-
tractive in the situation, nothing pleasant in
the consciousness that there was a strife for
her favor going on all the time. Hautaine
was too easy in temper, and too perfect in
breeding, to allow himself to be betrayed
into indiscretions, or tokens of vexation;
but Eugene, far more impetuous by nature,
also had himself less well in hand ; and he
not seldom looked both sulky and savage.
He would get into " ways " that were posi-
tively dreadful, and distinguished himself
by being brusque to Hautaine, rude to Alix,
and generally disagreeable to everybody
else. He did not succeed in making any-
body uncomfortable, however, unless it was
his ladylove. She, poor child, did not at all
understand the meaning of the black looks
and sarcastic speeches freely cast in her di-
rection, and strove sedulously to propitiate
him by every means in her power, save the
right one. As, for example :
"You seem very busy of late," Eugene
said, entering the saloon one morning where
she chanced to be alone. " What with your
needlework, and your music, and your
walks, I have hardly been able to obtain a
word for days past."
"I did not know you had tried," said
Alix, looking up with a smile that might
have soothed a bear. " I thought it was I
wlio had not obtained a glance for days
past."
" That was because you were too mnch
occupied to notice them," said he, a little
shortly.
" I am sure I don't know how I have
been more occupied than usual."
192
VALEKIE AYLMER.
" Don't you ? Well, no doubt I am mis-
taken. That seems to be my habit of late ;
but, whether you were or not, I should not
have thought of troubling you with my
indifferent powers of entertainment. I can't
sing like Mario, or play like Liszt ; I can't
criticise like the Saturday Review^ or talk
German like like Bismarck ; so, all I can do
is, to keep myself in the background."
"As for music," said Alix, "I think you
might know a little more about that, and be
a little more liberal but, for the others, I
am sure you can do them all quite as well as
the rest of us. For my part, I am very sorry
that such a fit of modesty has seized you
for I liked you better when you didn't keep
in the background."
"Humph!" said Eugene mollified in
spite of himself.
He amused himself for some time then, by
playing with one of her spools; and, after he
had tied at least a dozen knots in tlie thread,
and broken each one of them off, he tossed
it back into her work-box, and inquired
what she was doing.
"Not very much," she answered. "I
am only making a sling for the wounded
arm of our hero of Sadowa. See ! . I have
made it out of the Austrian colors in com-
pliment to his new nationality. Is it not
pretty ? "
She held it up before him, and Eugene
looked at it, and felt that he hated it. The
hero of Sadowa! Perhaps, after all, that
was tlie great sting, since he, poor fellow,
was not the hero of any. thing. If he cher-
ished a wish in his heart at that moment, it
was that he, too, had been at Sadowa (in
the Prussian ranks), and thus possessed one
good chance at least to have had it out with
this detested rival.
" I suppose it is pretty," he said at last,
somewhat ungraciously ; " but I am not fond
of either yellow or black. Indeed, I don't
know that I'm fond of any colors, excepting
the red, white, and red."
" Then, when you need a sling," she said
laughingly, " I will make it for you out of
those beloved colors."
" Thank you," he returned, " but, as I am
not likely to Ito the hero of another Sadowa,
I shall not probably call upon yon. ^[y
fighting-days are over for good and for
all."
"Ah, that is your same old philosophy,
but do you think it is necessary ? "
" I certainly don't think it is worthy of a
Confederate ofiicer to descend to the rank
of a mere mercenary," he answered, with ill-
restrained bitterness.
" You surely do not mean it," said Alix,
looking at him with eyes full of indignant
reproach. "You surely do not mean it,
when you remember how many of our best
and bravest officers are soldiers in other
armies now ; and when you remember, too
the great names that have made the profes-
sion illustrious."
" I suppose you see promise of another
Duke de Berwick in your hero of Sadowa."
"I don't know about seeing that," she
returned ; "but I am sure he could not select
a more glorious model."
Eugene bit his lip angrily. There were
never any Dukes de Berwick in the engi-
neer service !
"He must be very much gratified by
your approbation of his profession," he said.
" I don't suppose he cares any thing about
it," she answered. "A soldier thinks more
of his laurels than of woman's opinion."
" His laurels ! I did not know that any-
body owning allegiance to the double-headed
eagle won any laurels at Sadowa."
Alix laid down her work and looked at
him with a regard which he did not much
approve.
""Were there no laurels brought away
from Appomattox?" she asked, at length.
"A Confederate soldier, it seems to me,
should be the last person in the world to
think that honor always goes with victory,
or shame with defeat."
Woman as she was, she had the best of
it ; and her opponent was frank enough to
confess as much. After that, he was not
again heard to demur when the hero of Sa-
dowa laughingly responded to his title. But
whether he liked it or not
" God bless us all, that's quite another thing ! "
" To-morrow is Alix's birthday," said
Valerie one evening, a week or two later.
" What can we do to celebrate it properly? "
THE HERO OF SADOWA.
193
" To-morrow Alix's birthday ! " repeated
the general, who was deep in whist. "In-
deed ! And how old will she be ? "
"I am getting quite old," said Alix, with
a sigh. '' I shall be eighteen."
" Dear rae ! So old as that ? " asked Miss
Fane. " No wonder your face should be
wrinkled, and your curls becoming gray.
IIow fast old age comes on, to be sure ! "
" Now you are laughing at me," said
Alix, good-humoredly. "But, indeed, I do
feel as if it was strange that I should be even
so old as that."
" We all have that feeling of astonish-
ment at every birthday," said Ilautaine.
" I am sure it was with difficulty I realized
not long ago that I am fast approaching
that bourne where, according to the prov-
erb, a man must be either a fool or a
physician.'
" And your prudence about you arm en-
titles you to hope that you may be included
in the latter category," said Mr. Darcy, smil-
ing. " Is it not so ? "
"He has been very prudent and very
obedient," said Valerie, looking at him with
a smile ; " and I, for one, will grant him the
full benefit of a diploma. But you are all
forgetting my question what shall be done
to celebrate Alix's birthday."
" I can suggest nothing better than a din-
ner-party," said the general, who was medi-
tating whether or not to play a king second
in hand, and thought that the most impor-
tant matter of the two.
"Dear me, papa," said his daugliter,
with a faint laugh. " You surely forget
that "we are not now at Aylmers, with a
whole neighborhood at our call. The cure^
and Dr. Fontaine are our only available
guests, you know ; and I really don't think
that either of them would enliven the occa-
sion very much. No ; whatever we decide
upon, must of necessity be limited to our-
selves."
"Shall I tell you what to do?" asked
Mr. Darcy, making a rash play, and laying
himself open to a trump on his strongest
suit. " You have been talking of an excur-
sion to the hills for some time. "Why not
go to-morrow, and celebrate Miss Riviere's
birthday there."
13
" Why not, indeed ? " exclaimed Eugene.
" What say you, ladies all ? "
" I think it is a very happy suggestion,"
answered Valerie; "but what does Alix
say?"
" I shall be delighted," said Alix, looking
radiant.
"And I shall be resigned," said Miss
Fane. " As a general rule, I abhor picnics.
They are indissolubly associated in my mind
with earwigs, caterpillars, and bad colds;
but it will afford me pleasure to victimize
myself to-morrow."
"We will go, then," said Hautaine. "Is
it settled? all of us?"
"All who can ride," said Mr. Darcy.
"Naturally, I am not one of that number."
" And are we to leave you behind ? " said
Valerie, turning quickly to him. "That
will never do ! "
" Why not ? " he asked. "My time was
always spent alone, until I knew what such
kind friends were. Besides, I have a long
letter to write to Maurice, and I shall be
fully occupied with it."
" After that declaration, Valerie, I fancy
you can have nothing more to say," laughed
Eugene, as he rose to leave the room. " If
it is decided that we go, I must at once send
down to the village and secure Lucien and
his mvdes, or from the pure perversity of
human circumstances some one else will
anticipate us. This is the season for tour-
ists."
" I see my concern is wasted on your ac-
count," said MissAylmer, looking at Gaston.
"I wonder if there ever was a man whose
idea of comfort was not associated with the
entire absence of every thing feminine ? "
" And abominably ungrateful it is," said
Netta, indignantly; "for I should like to
know what any or all of them would do
without us."
" There are men on record who have
tried the experiment," said Hautaine, " and
they found that they did so well without
you, that the only wonder then became how
they ever managed to do with you."
194
VALERIE AYLMEll.
CHAPTER VI.
ffnO LAUGHED LAST ?
The next morning was as bright as could
have been desired, even for a picnic excur-
sion, and, at a very early hour, the whole
party were gathered on the terrace ready
to start. Lucien, the handsome, sunburnt
guide, stood below the steps with his four
gayly-decorated mules, on one of which
Baptiste was busily engaged in packing a
hamper, while the group above talked and
lingered, and did not seem in any haste to
be off.
" Dear me ! " said Miss Fane, who was
the last person to make her appearance,
looking very sleepy and rather injured,
"are we going to ride pillion-fashion? or
are we going to take it turn about walking ?
or are three of us going to stay at home ?
or what is the meaning of there being so
few mules ? "
"You are each expected to mount a
gentleman behind you," said Mr. Darcy,
who was leaning on his crutches and enjoy-
ing the bustle of departure as much as those
immediately interested in it. "As, by your
own admission, you are the ranking lady in
point of age, you will be allowed the first
choice of a companion. Shall it be Mr.
Hautaine or Colonel Aylmer ? "
"Neither," she answered, with a shrug
of her shoulders. "I don't want to be
shoved over the first precipice we reach
General Aylmer, is there anybody else you
would particularly like to accompany ? "
"No one else at all. Miss Netta," said
the general, gallantly. " There never is any-
body else when you are present."
"Then, pray consider yourself invited to
ride behind that extraordinary -looking affair
on which I suppose I am to be perched."
"Is she really in earnest?" cried Alix,
taming to Mr. Darcy, in genuine consterna-
tion. " Are we really to have a gentleman
behind us ? Oh, my dear general, please
please go with me! "
" I am very sorry that a previous en-
gagement prevents my having that pleas-
ure," said the general, laughing. "But I
will delegate the duty to my representative.
Eugene "
"No, no! " cried Alix, quickly, "I can-
not think of troubling Colonel Aylmer.
Mr, Darcy, do come with us ^Mr. Darcy,
pray ! Indeed, no harm shall happen to you,
if you wiU only ride behind me."
" Listen to that mighty offer of protec-
tion, will you ? " said Hautaine, with a laugh.
" Miss Alix, you had better take care of me.
I am wounded yet, you know."
"The linked music of Sadowa long
drawn out," said Eugene with an only half-
suppressed sneer. "Miss Alix, I cannot
call upon you for protection, but I flatter
myself that in any emergency and these
mountain ascents are dangerous, you know
I should be able to render a little. Come,
which of us will you accept? "
Alix stood twisting a little riding- whip
rather nervously in her hand ; and looking
with an embarrassed face from one to the
other of her would-be escorts.
" I don't accept either. Colonel Aylmer,"
she said at last. "I I wish you would
please let me just go along by myself."
" That is flattering to you both, at any
rate," said Mr. Darcy, laughing.
"It would provide me well with attend-
ants," said Valerie ; " but I don't know that
they would be worth much under the cir-
cumstances. Come, Alix, which shall it
be ? "
" Indeed, I'm very much obliged to you
both," said Alix, still looking at the two
gentlemen with a troubled expression ;
" but but I think you would either of you
be too heavy for my mule ! Yon see I have
already chosen the smallest."
She made this announcement with the
most sincere gravity, and was not a little
surprised that its only reception was a burst
of laughter all round.
"You absurd creature!" said Miss
Fane, " do you mean to go through life be-
lieving every thing that anybody chooses
to tell you ? Moderate your fears ! We are
each to have a cavalier, but he is only to
lead our mule."
" But but is not General Aylmer really
going to ride behind you ? " Alix asked,
still rather doubtful.
WHO LAUGHED LAST?
195
Netta laughed as, by the joint efforts of
the general and Lucien, she was safely de-
posited in the saddle. " Not unless he com-
pletely breaks down with fatigue," she said.
" I only hope I may live to get down from
tliis rickety affair," she added, resignedly, as
she gathered up her reins and started for-
ward with a jingling of many bells.
The next couple to set forth were Eugene
and Alix, for, to the great delight of the
former, the privilege of attendance had de-
volved upon himself Hautaine having
gracefully surrendered tlie point, and of-
fered his escort to his hostess. It is to be
hoped that duty was, in this instance, its
own reward, and that he did not think of
the use to which Eugene might put such an
opportunity. But as Alix moved off with
her stalwart escort, Charley certainly set
his teeth together for a moment, muttering,
too low for any one to hear, the familiar
proverb, " He laughs best who laughs last."
This jealous paroxysm was only momentary,
however ; for there was no shadow on his
face when he looked up and waved a very
spirited farewell to Mr. Darey, as they two
moved off.
They passed through the vineyards, and,
where the regular mountain ascent began,
came suddenly upon the general and Miss
Fane, resting comfortably under the shade
of a gigantic chestnut.
" We are waiting for Lucien and the
sumpter-mule," the former explained, when
they came in sight. " Is he with you ? Ah,
there he comes. Mon brave, the place of a
guide is always in the van."
" Oui, m'sieur," said Lucien, who un-'
derstood the gesture, if not the words;
and lie led his mule forward immediately.
The tinkling cavalcade fell into line be-
hind him Eugene and Alix, who had been
delayed, bringing up the rear, while Miss
Fane who came next to the sumpter-mule,
looked back over her shoulder with a bright
smile, as they started.
" Valerie, what do we most remind you
of? " she asked, gayly. " Do you remember
the old woman who had rings on her fin-
gers and bells on her toes? One would
really think that all her family connection
were hei-e to-day."
" We move to a concord of sweet sounds,
certainly," "Valerie answered; " but I rather
like it."'
" Yes, it is not disagreeable especially
if one has not much to say."
And, as this was peculiarly the case Avith
Miss Aylmer and her attendant, the pretty
music of their bells served in place of con-
versation, as they wound up the steep moun-
tain-path after their guide generally under
large trees which overshadowed their way
with dense foliage and cool, dark shade, but,
now and then, catching glimpses of the val-
ley beneath, and the wide plains beyond, aU
bathed in the glad golden sunlight of the
south. The air was deliciously fresh and
pure at that high altitude, fragrant too with
the wild, sweet odors of the forest ; and so
clear that distant objects seemed incredibly
near and distinct. The village and the
chateau lay as it were at their very feet,
while here and there they coidd distinguish
all the residences which they knew, some
standing out boldly, like old baronial cas-
tles, others half hid among embowering
trees. Against the far horizon shone a sil-
ver line, which Lucien told them was the
Loire on its way to the sea ; while, towering
above the lower range they were treading,
the higher mountain-tops sharply cut against
the'deep sapphire sky.
So, as they jogged forward, Valerie and
the man who had once been her lover con-
versed gravely of landscape effects, of tints
and views; while Alix and Eugene became
very oblivious of Nature, and talked of mat-
ters decidedly more interesting at least to
one of them. All the clouds of the last
few weeks had temporarily dispersed, for
Eugene was determined to make good use of
his opportunity, and Alix, who was very
much relieved to find him in a good-humor
once more, enjoyed the change without con-
sidering how long or how short a time it
would last. Her laugh rang as clear, her
glance was as bright, as if the face at her side
had never been more overcast than at pres-
ent, or as if she was pleased to hold in pos-
session once more the moody, wayward ad-
mirer, of whom, in truth, she stood consid-
erably in awe. There is no better philoso-
phy in the world than that of " gathering
196
VALERIE ATLMER.
the roses while you may," and it was one
which both of these unconscious philosophers
practised very thoroughly that morning.
Yet, in thinking it over afterward, Eugene
began to regret that he had spent that
precious time in gay trifling in a sort of
veiled sword-play, where each understood
the other perfectly ^instead of putting his
fate boldly to the touch. But Alix was so
charming, that he forgot every thing save
the mere pleasure of being with her, of let-
ting his arm rest over the neck of her mule,
and looking up into the brown eyes that
were all aglow with the bright enjoyment
of eighteen. Afterward he appreciated
this folly as it deserved to be appreciated,
and rated the consequences perhaps higher
than they deserved to be rated, but just then
he did nothing save bask in the sunshine
and gather the roses, forgetting that dead
roses sometimes possess very sharp thorns.
Only they began to drift a little toward
earnestness, when, in reply to some declara-
tion of devotion, Alix shook her head in
saucy coquetry, and bade him remember a
a certain Mademoiselle de Morny for whom
he had owned an undoubted tendressc not
long before.
"And what then?" asked he, who had
no idea of attempting evasion. " You won't
deny that the heart can change its alle-
giance, I hope ? "
"The heart change its allegiance! Ma
foi^ what an assertion ! " cried she. " Mr.
Hautaine did well to say you were a heretic
by nature. What will you question next,
I wonder? Why
' The leaves bloom every year,
Bat the heart but once ; and when
The blossoms fall off sear,
No new leaves come again.' "
"Bah!" said he, irreverently. "That's
all very fine ; and true, perhaps in poetry !
But there's not a living man who could not
refute it from experience. Indeed, the most
of us would be sorry enough if we had to
abide through life by our first love."
" You don't believe in first loves, then ? "
"No," said the young heretic, boldly;
"for not once in a thousand cases is a first
love any thing but a first folly. A man's last
love is his best," he went on " because into
that goes all his strength and passion, if he
has any."
"But," said she, aghast, "his last love
may be his hundredth."
"What matter if it be love, and the
rest mere fancies ? For I agree with your
poet thus far we may think we love many
times, we really do love but once."
" But if we think so every time, how are
we to know the right time the real Simon
Pure when it comes ? "
He looked rather puzzled for a moment
then he glanced up with a meaning smile.
"Shall I tell you?"
" No," she said, with a deep blush ;
"never mind, just now. Only I think you
are wrong about any capacity of love being
left for a hundredth fancy. Surely Cupid's
quiver is not inexhaustible ; and, after hav-
ing squandered affection in small coin, how
can you possess it in large bills ? "
"Don't make your questions so person-
al," he said, laughingly. " I individually
cannot lay claim to the distinction of a
hundredth or even a fiftieth love."
"Oh, you content yourself with a forty-
ninth."
"Take care!" he rejoined. "I am a
patient man, but, after a while, you will
provoke something which you may not
fancy."
"I'm not afraid," she said, tossing her
head very prettily.
" Give me a defiance, then."
But this she declined to do. On the
contrary, she suddenly stopped talking, and
became very much interested in the caval-
cade ahead.
" They are halting," she said ; " I won-
der what it means? Surely we have not
reached our destination! if so, you must
have been very entertaining, Colonel Ayl-
mer, for the way has seemed very short."
"I am inexpressibly charmed to hear
it," said Colonel Aylmer; "for, if I am not
mistaken, this is where we strike our tent.
Eh, Lucien, is it not ? "
" This is the place," said Hautaine, com-
ing forward. "Miss Alix, are you tired?
Let me take you down."
Alix held out licr hand with a smile, but
Eugene peremptorily interfered. "That is
WHO LAUGHED LAST?
197
my right," lie said ; and, the next moment,
liis strong arms swuug her lightly to the
ground.
It was a very beautiful place that Lucien
had selected for them a secluded ravine
high up among the mountains, where a
bubbling stream gushed out of tire heart of
a rock, and fell into a basin that was placed
below it. The light streamed deliciously
soft and dim through the green shade of the
overhanging trees, and the whole spot was
so lovely that it was no wonder pious hands
had dedicated it to the patron saint of the
district, and placed a rude cross and image
over the stream.
'"Drink, weary pilgrim, drink aud pray
For the kind soul of Sibyl Grey,
\nio built this cross and well,' "
said Valerie, as she stood looking down on
the water with which they had all crossed
themselves. "I would like to do something
of this sort," she added. "I wonder who
it was that first dedicated this spring? "
" It ought to have a statue of St. Hubert
instead of St. Olothilde," said Eugene. " I
mean to tell M. le Cur6 so the next time I
see him."
" It is a great resort with the wood-cut-
ters and chestnut-gatherers, and all the
other peasants who live in these mountains,
Lucien says," answered Miss Fane. "Per-
haps you had better make your complaints
to them only I don't expect they would
care much about placing their spring under
St. Hubert's' protection."
"I vote that we come here every day to
dine," said Hautaine, seating himself on a
lai'ge stone, and looking round with an air of
great complacency. " It is really exquisite !
Valerie, I hope your sketch-book was not
left at home ? "
" Unfortunately, yes," Valerie replied.
"I am sorry, for the whole scene is worth
sketching, especially Lucien's mules."
"I think she admires the mules more
than she does us," said Alix, turning to Eu-
gene with a laugh.
"They are more in her line, perhaps,"
answered that young gentleman. "Lucien,
suppose you unpack that hamper, and put
the wine in the stream to cool it must
have grown warm by this time."
" Suppose you do it yourself, Mr, Indo-
lence?" said Netta. "Lucien cannot leave
his mules. I should think you would have
learned, by this time, to dispense with so
much attendance."
" I am afraid that is a lesson he will
never learn," said the general, who was
also seated on a stone, and looking by no
means so comfortable as the rest of the
party. "By Jove! It is very hot! Char-
ley, my lad, if you propose coming here
every day to dine, I hope you will leave me
behind at the chateau. I may be very un-
romantic ; but it only strikes me in the light
of a very hair-brained excursion to drink flat
champagne and eat melted butter."
"Pray don't slander the contents of our
hamper in that way, at least until you try
them," said Miss Fane. "Eugene, do as
you are bid about opening it ! ' Queen rose
of the rose-bud garden of girls,' will you be
so obliging as to spread the cloth? Oh,
dear ! Valerie, just look here the pickles
have run into the preserves ! "
" Throw them away," said Valerie.
"Two items from our biU of fare."
"Save the pickles!" cried Eugene.
"How can preserves possibly hurt pick-
les ? "
" On the principle of sweets to the sour,
I suppose," said Miss Fane. "Here they
are, then. I only hope you will eat them!
The butter is in a liquid state. General
Aylmer, that is for your benefit you will
enjoy it, I know. And here is French pas-
try and chicken indiscriminately mixed up
together Valerie, who did pack this ham-
per?"
"Baptiste, I suppose," said Valerie, care-
lessly, for she was more occupied in trailing
a vine-leaf through the clear waters of the
spring, than in the prospects for dinner.
"At least, I gave the order to him."
"I declare, there is scarcely a thing
here fit to eat," said Miss Fane, petulantly.
" The marmalade is peppered, and the ham
is full of honey. Yes, do look. General
Aylmer, is it not a deplorable sight? "
For the general, much concerned at the
dreadful bulletins from the hamper, had
risen, and come forward to inspect matters
himself.
198
VALERIE AYLMER.
"The scamp! " said he, working himself
into quite a state of indignation against the
absent Baptiste, "I am surprised at you,
Valerie very much surprised that you
should have left such an important matter
to a careless servant. "What is that, Miss
Netta?"
"What, indeed? " asked she solemnly, as
she regarded a crushed mass that had just
been extracted from the depths of the ham-
per. "I think I rather think it was
once a pate de foie gras ! "
"The chef-d'' (Kuvre that Jules promised
me, I suppose," said Valerie, laughing.
But the general did not see what there
was to laugh at in such a serious matter.
He looked at the injured pate, very wist-
fully. "It must have been excellent," he
said, in a tone of regret.
"Hang it all, who cares for pates V
cried Eugene. " Fairies don't eat them, I
am sure, and we are fairies for the nonce.
"We shall have to content ourselves with the
fare of the hermit of the dale
'A scrip with herbs and fruit supplied,
And water from the spring. ' "
" I told you all, it would be infinitely
more sensible to stay at home and invite the
cure and Dr. Fontaine to dinner," said the
general, addressing the company, with the
ruined pate still in his thoughts.
"Perhaps so," said Valerie ; "but we are
here now, papa, and we must make the best
of it. Let us gather up the remnants of
the hamper, and see what we can do with
them in the way of a dinner."
They did so much with them, that it
was a very pleasant feast to which they all
sat down at last, under the shade of the
overhanging mountain-side. True, a grass-
hopper occasionally sprung into a glass of
wine, and various insects of the creeping
order made themselves entirely too familiar
with the i^lates (not to speak of a large
frog which perched himself on top of a loaf
of bread, and had it pitched after him when
lie departed). But, tlion, people expect
such little agrcealjles as these, when they
go picnicking ; and don't mind them very
much, as a rule.
"This is simply delightful," said Eugene,
who had entirely recovered all his usual
spirits. "Really, as Charley says, I would
not mind coming up here every day to dine
that is, if we had a balloon at command."
" I would ask nothing better than the
mode of locomotion we employed tliis
morning," said Hautaine, indolently.
" Charley," screamed Miss Fane, " what
is this on my neck ? Oh ! ah ! take it off
take it off! "
"It is Eugene's caterpillar," said Char-
ley, laughing; "one that was on his sleeve
a minute ago. He sent it over to yon as a
proof of affection."
"Oh," she said, shuddering, "this is
dreadful! Caterpillars ad UMt^im^ are many
degrees worse than ruined j9^ts. Let us go
home ! "
"Accept my humble apologies, and an
apricot," said Eugene. " Charley, fill up her
glass, and now, pet, be comfortable and quiet.
Nobody is going home for hours yet."
"No; for this mid-day heat must be
very intense," said General Aylmer, "al-
though we are so sheltered that we scarcely
feel it at all."
" There is almost shelter enough here to
protect one against a storm," said Hautaine,
looking up at the dense canopy of green
over their heads, with the golden sunshine
glinting on the leaves, and flickering down
through them in patches of amber light.
"Moonlight in this spot must be lovely.
There is a moon to-night, is there not?
Suppose we stay here until it rises ? "
" And break our necks going down,"
said Eugene. "That would be "What is
it, Lucicn ? "
For the guide had come forward and
was addressing him.
" I said, m'sieur, that perhaps it would
be better if we returned," the man replied.
"There is a cloud coming up from the
southwest that I don't like; and a storm in
these mountains is to be feared."
Eugene hastily drained off his glass, and,
rising, followed him to an open eminence
that commanded a view of the sky. "Wlien
he returned, it was with quite a grave face.
"Looks badly," he said, in ansAver to
their inquiries. "Charley, you're a sailor,
go and see what you think of it."
WHO LAUGHED LAST?
199
Charley went examined the dond
held a brief conversation with Lucien, and
returned, looking more grave than his
friend.
" The very mischief is brewing there,"
he said. " But it may give us time to get
down to the plains, if we start at once."
"I thought yon just said there was shel-
ter enough here from a storm," said Vale-
rie, who felt very comfortable and very
indolent.
" Xot for such a one as is coming up
now," he replied. " Ladies all, how soon
can you be in the saddle ? "
"Help us gather together the deiris of
all this, and we will be ready in ten min-
utes," said iN'etta. " Is there really so much
need for haste? "
" There really is."
They were soon ready; but when they
came forth from the leafy retreat, and
looked at the formidable cloud, a cry of dis-
gust and indignation burst from the whole
feminine trio.
" You call that a cloud ! "
" It is only an excuse to take us home in
this broiling sun! "
"Let ns go back and stay where we
were."
" To horse ! to horse ! " cried Eugene,
who saw formidable signs of a mutiny.
"Don''t you know there may be danger of
the worst sort in a cloud no larger than your
hand, even when the sun is shining as
brightly as now? You might trust us, I
think."
""We do trust yon," said Alix.
"Do you?" he retorted, with a smile;
" then your foot in my hand thus one bold
spring there ! H'ow you are seated as se-
curely as Di Yemon herself! Xow, Lucien,
lead on and, in case we reach tlie plains
before the storm catches ns, I hereby vow a
silver cup to St Clothilde's well."
The sun in which they set out was
broiling, but they did not suffer from it
very long. Soon the dark cloud swept up
from the verge of the southern horizon, and
liegan to overcast the sky ; then a distant,
menacing growl was heard.
" ' There is a sound of thnnrler afar,
Storm in the south that darkens the day,' "
quoted Valerie, laughingly. " I wonder if
our excursion will end with the adventure
of a drenching after all ? "
Her companion did not answer at once ;
he was gazing anxiously at the heavy mass
mo-ving forward so steadily over head, with
the now obscured sunlight gilding its dark
edges in a manner beautiful to behold.
"I only hope a drenching may be the
worst tbing that befalls us," he said at
length. " If the way were only not so rough,
that we might move a little faster."
For, by this time, flashes of lightning be-
gan to play round their path, and terrible
bursts of thunder to echo from the clouds
above.
"Listen!" said Valerie. "Is it not
gi'and ? There is nothing I like so much as
the prelude to a storm. "What a profound
hush seems to have seized on all Nature, as
if every leaf were listening to the warfare of
the sky ; and how the sounds above resem-
ble the voice of many batteries only more
terrible! "When I was a child, I used to
think that there was war in heaven, and
what we heard was the great archangel
hurling his heavenly hosts upon the rebel-
lious legions. Listen ! "
It was grand indeed but of an awful
grandeur ! From side to side the sky was
curtained, and blackness had seized upon
the noonday. The play of lightning grew
more -vi-vid and the rumbling crash of the
thunder so near, that the very animals
shrunk and shivered from head to foot, when
it burst upon them. As Valerie said, the
calm of [S^ature was so intense as to be sol-
emn, for every woodland sound was hushed,
every twig hung motionless to its stem.
" Charley," she said, gravely, " I am
very much afraid that we shall not reach
the lowlands before the storm bursts."
"I am afraid not," said he, still more
gravely.
" "What shall we do, then ? this path will
be horribly unsafe."
" And the woods no better. I am sure I
don't steady ! "
A flash that blinded! a roar that deaf-
ened! and a perfect hurricane of wind
that tore down the mountain-side, crashing
the forest -trees in its path.
200
VALERIE AYLMER.
The next thing Valerie knew, her mule
was crouching to the ground, quivering in
every limb, and her own hands were clasijed
over her eyes, striving to shut out that aw-
ful glare which, had seemed to blind and
dazzle at once.
"This will never do," she heard Charley
say ; and, in the roar of sound, it seemed as
if he was talking a long way ofl", instead of
at her side. " If we attempt to keep this
path, we shall be dashed over the precipices.
"We must try the woods, though there we
may be crushed to death by the falling tim-
ber.
"There is not much safety from that
danger here," gasped Valerie. "Look ! "
For, at that moment, a large chestnut fell
with a crash across the path just in front of
them, thus effectually barring further prog-
ress.
"At all events, we need not wait to bo
killed," said Hautaine; and, seizing her rein,
he turned into the forest.
They came full upon the others, who had
done likewise, hurrying and rushing for ref-
uge, and finding none. The three gent\[e-
mcn forsook their charges for a moment to
hold a hurried consultation ; but it did not
result in much. " The very first ravine, the
first overhanging rock any thing!" cried
Eugene, and then he sprung back to the
head of his mule, leading it forward, "over
bush, bank, and scaur," with a reckless dis-
regard of every thing save some chance of
safety from the terrible storm. The rain
now began to fall in torrents ; but the wind
had not abated in the least, and threatened
every moment to sweep them down the
mountain, making it indescribably difiicult k)
retain any foothold whatever. In all its
majesty and terror, the storm was abroad
in the mountains, and the scene was one
which beggared all description. The light-
ning seemed to leap from point to point, like
darts from the hands of angered angels; the
thunder echoed and reechoed among the
rocks, until its reverberations, instead of dy-
ing away, seemed rather to increase in vol-
ume ; water-courses unnumbered sprung
into existence, and torrents roared and tum-
bled where the morniug had seen only a
quiet brook or a dry bed, while the pouring
rain and the howling wind seemed a mere
accompaniment to the grander elements of
strife that clashed and roared together in
one deafening din.
At last, however, Eugene descried a
shelter a narrow, high ravine and turned
quickly into it. The wind swept through it
with terrible force, and water-falls leaped
from all its sides ; but at least there was
comparative safety to be found there. They
drew up breathless, under the shelter of the
overhanging hill, and then Eugene turned
to his companion, with an eager cry of re-
lief.
"Thank God!" he cried, and then he
stopped short for it was not Alix, but Va-
lerie, who threw back the hood of her cloak
and looked at him !
It would be hard to say which of the two
was most thoroughly astonished', for, until
that moment, Valerie had thought that her
attendant was Hautaine ; but she saw at
once how the mistake had been made in the
darkness and tempest which had suddenly
enveloped them.
"You! " cried Eugene, finishing his sen-
tence very diflferently from the manner he
had intended. " You ! and you let me do
this!"
" I did not know until this moment that
you were not Charley," Valerie answered,
as eagerly and apologetically as if the faialt
had indeed been hers. "I am very sorry,
but but he will take good care of Alix."
" Good care " It was fortunate that the
blast came upon them quite strongly at that
moment, and swept away the rest of the
sentence to regions unknown. " It is enough
to drive one mad ! " cried the thoroughly
exasperated young man. "I must have been
crazy, I think ! and what am I to do now ?
I can't leave you here, or I would go after
her. Confound him! No doubt he knew
perfectly well what he was about ! "
Valerie could not comfort him, for, al-
though she was brave enough, she dared not
bid him leave her, even if he would have
done so ; and to set forth in search of his
missing love was the only thing that could
have relieved his impatient jealousy and dis-
appointment. So they stood together si-
lently; she praying softly to herself he
WHO LAUGHED LAST?
201
chafing bitterly in the thouglit that Ilau-
taine, not lie, was Alix's defender in the
first emergency of danger that had ever
risen for them. But rescue for him was at
hand, though he did not know it. They had
not long been halting, when Valerie sud-
denly caught sight of a head adorned with
large ears looming through the rain, and,
with a cry which the wind seized at her lips
and bore away, she caught Eugene's arm, so
that he too might perceive that their retreat
was shared.
" Alix ! " he cried, springing eagerly for-
ward ; but it was only to meet another dis-
appointment, for a drenched shadow of Netta
Fane welcomed him with an hysterical gurgle
of laughter. " "Where is she ? " he cried, im-
petuously. " What have you done with
her ? "
" We know nothing about any body but
ourselves," said the general ; " and we con-
sider ourselves fortunate to know that.
What we have gone through, it is impossible
to tell ! I make no rash resolutions, but, if
ever I am found on another mountain ex-
cursion "
" Alix is safe, Eugene, I have no doubt,"
said Miss Fane, kindly. "You know she is
in good hands. Charley would throw him-
self over a precipice before she sliould be
hurt ; and then, there is Lucien."
"Yes, there is Lucien. I have some
hope in Atm," said the ungrateful Eugene.
"I am glad you have come. I can leave
Valerie with you, and go after her myself."
"Go after her yourself," Netta repeated,
all aghast. " Oh, Eugene, don't be so rash !
You will be killed as surely as you do just
look at the storm ! "
"I am going," repeated Eugene, as if
that was all there was to be said. He went
for Valerie, and brought her close to them,
and then he buttoned up his coat, pulled
down his hat, and set forth. "I hope you
won't get knocked over by a falling tree,"
said the general, philosophically ; and they
all shrugged their shoulders as the head-
strong fellow vanished from sight, leaping
with his quick, agile stride over the torrents
that were rushing and roaring around.
Meanwhile Charley and Alix had been
much less slow in discovering that change
of arrangement which the momentary halt
by the ftillen chestnut had made. Indeed,
they had not proceeded very far before there
came another glare of vivid light, another
thundering crash, another sweeping blast on
which a hundred erl-kings seemed to ride,
and Charley, turning round to reassure his
companion, saw Alix reeling helplessly from
the saddle. lie had no time for conjecture
as to how she came there, and indeed little
cared. He caught her only just in time, and
when she came to her senses, of which the
shock had momentarily deprived her, she
found herself sheltered in a crevice of rock,
with Hautaine's arms around her, and Hau-
taine's voice sounding in her ear, even above
the din of the tempest.
"My love! my love!" was what she
heard, in accents infinitely tender and infi-
nitely yearning. " My God ! you surely are
not hurt?"
"No, no," she answered, quickly "only
only stunned ! But oh, it was so horrible !
And and there is another! "
She clung to him, shrinking and quiver-
ing like a child, and hid her face on his
shoulder from the dazzling flashes that
seemed to scorch her very eyeballs. She
had never been strong-minded enough to
control or overcome the terrible fear of
lightning which possesses almost every-
body in greater or lesser degree and it is
safe to say that, on the present occasion,
Hautaine did not wish her one iota less
cowardly or less weak. There was an inex-
pressible pleasure in feeling her clinging to
him, almost unconscious that she did, while
he strove to whisper reassurances. " Trem-
ble not, love, thy Gheber's here," was about
the sum and substance of them; but they
seemed to be of a consoling nature, never-
theless ; for at last she ventured to inquire
what they were going to do.
" Lucien, what are we going to do ? "
shouted Charley, turning to the guide who
stood near, striving to keep a foothold for
himself and his mules against the sweeping
wind that was howling a triumphant march
along its course.
"M'sieur, I do not know," the latter
answered, moving nearer, so as to make
himself audible, " unless we try to find my
202
VALERIE AYLMER.
brother's hut, which is near here some-
where."
"Your brother's hut? "
"Yes, m'sieur; he is a wood-cutter."
"And do you think you can find it?
Heavens ! what a blast ! "
"I can try. Neither mademoiselle nor
les petites''^ he pointed to the mules " can
stand this much longer."
"Lead on, then," said Charley, "and
may St. Clothilde only be kind enough to
keep us on our feet! "
"Will not mademoiselle mount again? "
"Xo; I shall carry her."
And mademoiselle, thus peremptorily
made a thing of naught, rejoiced thereat in
her heart, and hid her face closer than ever
from the wild storm into which they boldly
ventured forth. Hautaine felt the convul-
sive trembling that shook her from head to
foot, whenever the deafening bursts fol-
lowed a flash that had shown them all their
way, only to leave it in obscurity the next
moment. It was a fierce battle with the
elements which he and Lucien fought, as
they struggled along through the wind and
rain more fierce than that which Eugene
was fighting at the same time, because their
path lay along a much more exposed decliv-
ity of the mountain. More than once, they
each thought that the end had come for
themselves, as well as for the helpless being
under their care. But they were both men
of nerve and pluck they struggled on,
with the storm in their teeth, and were at
last rewarded by seeing the outline of a
woodman's hut dimly showing through the
rain. Almost at the same moment that
Valerie and Eugene gained their retreat,
this other refuge was won. Lucien took up
a largo stone, and, with one, quick blow,
broke the lock which fastened the door.
Then they sprang within and hurled it shut
against the raging storm that followed and
beat upon them.
There came the breathless pause of
spent exhaustion, followed by congratula-
tions, laughter, and the production of a
flask that never before had done better ser-
vice. Giving no heed to Alix's remon-
strances, Hautaine administered a dose to
her, then shared the remaining contents be-
tween himself and the guide, who was now
busy with his mules. By an unusual
chance, the hut boasted two compartments,
and, anxious to escape from the society of
their four-footed companions, at Lucien's
recommendation, Hautaine took Alix into
the inner room. It held, by way of furni-
ture, a rough table and one chair. Alix
sank into the latter, and Charley took a
seat on the former. They both felt rather
exhausted, and, after a pause, the gentle-
man was the first to speak.
" I am sure you will be ill."
" No I hope not."
"I am confident of it. But what can I
do ? The brandy"
" Oh," cried she, " please don't say any
thing about more brandy. I could not in-
deed I could not take another drop."
"You took about enough for Queen
Mab before. However, it is gone, and that
is an end of the matter. I only wish "
"Don't say you wish we had not come,"
she interrupted, eagerly. "I would not
have missed to-day for the world. I have
enjoyed it so much."
" Have you? That will be pleasant for
Eugene to hear."
"What do you mean ? "
" What do I mean ? Only that it is Eu-
gene who has had the happiness of contrib-
uting to your birthday enjoyment not I."
He spoke quickly, almost passionately, as
a jealous lover is apt to speak ; but he felt
sorry the next moment when he saw such
grieved astonishment creep into Alix's eyes.
"You are unkind 1" was all she could
say; for, in truth, she was wondering
whether her ears had played her false, out
there on the mountain-side imder the rock,
or whether the wind could have uttered the
tender words that yet rung in her lieart
like music.
The young man leaned down so as to
bring his face on a level with her own. He
had handsome eyes, and knew it well
Alix knew it, too, when she looked up and
met them fastened on her face with a re-
gard which the dullest woman alive could
not have misunderstood,
"Was I imkind?" he said. "I never
meant to be that, Alix."
WHO LAUGHED LAST ?
203
The lingering tone in whicli ho spoke
her name was as unmistakablo as the look
had been ; and a nervous tremor seized the
childlike girl who was on the brink of her
fate, and knew it perfectly well. She had
been brave enough, and fenced gallantly
enough, up to this last moment; but now
she broke down utterly. There is always
something very softening, very contagious,
so to speak, in a declaration, especially
when it is made to a very gentle and yield-
ing heart. Therefore, the odds all along
had been that, of the two rivals, he who
spoke first would win the day. If Eugene
had made his proposal in the morning, the
result might have been as favorable as he
could have desired^ but, with characteris-
tic carelessness, he let the opportunity slip,
while, with equally characteristic impetuos-
ity, Hautaine now seized in both his hands
the chance afforded him, and marched for-
ward to make the best or worst of it.
" I made a vow this morning," he went
on, "Alix; do you care to hear what it
was?"
Alix did not look at him now. She re-
garded the floor very steadily, and, after a
while, said " Yes," rather inaudibly.
"I made a vow," pursued the young
free lance, bending down so close that he
could see the beating of the slender temple-
vein, and mark the quiver of the sweet
rose-lip, " a vow that your eighteenth
birthday should not pass without being
made memorable in your life, by the option
of accepting or rejecting a heart that loves
you better than I can say. You have not
known me very long, Alix, and and you
will have to know some things about me
which may shake your faith in me. But
stUl I love you so dearly, that I think I can
venture to ask whether the coming year is
to be a very happy or a very miserable one
to me. Alix, which is it? "
A pause.
"Alix, will you not tell me? "
"I I don't know," said Alix. Then
breaking down, and beginning to cry:
" How can you expect me to tell you? "
Hautaine paled slightly. "Is your de-
cision, then, so hard a one for me to hear? "
he asked, gravely.
"I I don't know! Oh! " with a cry,
as a peal of thunder shook the slight build-
ing until it quivered. " How can you talk
about such things, when we may bo killed
any minute? "
""Who cares?" said Cliarley, impatient-
ly. "I mean at any rate to know my fate
before I die. Alix, this is no time for tri-
fling. It must be yes or no, before we
part again. Poor child, how you are trem-
bling ! Is it I who am frightening you
so?"
"No," she murmured. "It is the the
thunder ! "
He said, "Poor child ! " again, and then,
as if she had been a very child, he took her
into the protecting clasp of his arms.
" Alix, if you don't tell me differently,"
he said, in a voice which quivered slightly,
"I shall think you like me well enough to
take your place here forever. My love, may
I think so ? "
There was a very boisterous accompani-
ment to this idyl going on. Outside, the
lightning blazed, the thunder crashed, and
the clouds poured ; within, the mules kept
up a restless stamping, and Lucien sang to
himself a wild chanson which he had caught
once in a military camp. Hautaine heeded
jgone of it nor did Alix much ; for at last
she raised her face all wet with tears :
" I like you well enough to do any
thing," she said, desperately ; " but it seems
like like tempting Providence to talk about
it."
"I am not afraid of it," returned Hau-
taine, irreverently. "And now I mean to
tell you how long I have been in love with
you."
Just then, as it chanced, the outer door
was burst open, and Eugene, dripping from
his shower-bath, sprung into the hut.
" Good Heavens I " he cried, when he saw
only Lucien and the mules. " Alix ! Hau-
taine ! Where are they? "
" Within, m'sieur," said Lucien, pausing
in his chant, and waving his hand toward
the inner door, as if he had been chamberlain
of a royal palace. '' Entrez! They will be
charmed to see m'sieur," he added, hospita-
bly.
But it may have been a foreboding which
204
VALERIE AYLMER.
rendered m'sieur himself not quite so certain
of that. At least he hesitated a moment be-
fore opening the door, and only did so very
cautiously then. He might have shivered
it, however, for all that the absorbed pair
within would have known. They did not
even turn their heads, and, after one glance,
he closed it again, and came back to Lucien.
" They are so well entertained, it would
be a pity to disturb them," he said. "Is
there any brandy left in that flask ? These
mountain-rains of yours are terribly chill-
ing! "
The last rays of the setting sun were
tracking bright lines over the chateau ter-
race, and gilding Mr. Darcy's figure, as he
leaned on his crutches and watched with
laughing eyes the forlorn return of the par-
ty that in the morning had set out so "gayly
bedight."
" Go away, and stop insulting us," said
Miss Fane, who was the first to alight. " I
can tell you, that, if you had gone through
all that we have, you might be thankful to
look half as well as we do."
" Allow me to suggest. Miss Netta, that
you have not had the pleasure of seeing
yourself in a mirror," said he, laughing.
" Your hat"
" Hush ! " cried she, lifting up her hands,
"I don't want an inventory of my misfor-
tunes. As for the hat, it only serves me
right for wearing it on an absurd mountain
excursion! General Aylmer and I are of
one mind we abjure picnics from this day
forth for evermore ! "
" Has not Netta's indignation exhausted
itself yet ? " Valerie asked, as she mounted
the steps with her own remnant of a hat in
one hand, and her torn, draggled dress up-
held in the other. Mr. Darcy, you are the
last person in the world who ought to make
a jest of our calamity, for it is to you we are
indebted for it. One member of the party
especially," she added, lowering her voice
as she reached his side, "has chanced upon
a deeper misfortune than a drenched coat
to-day."
He glanced at her interrogatively. She
pointed to Hautaine, who was lifting Alix
from her saddle.
" Does that face tell you nothing? "
" Yes," he answered, looking at it with
a smile, half amused, half sad. "It says,
' Poor Eugene ! ' "
BOOK VI.
CHAPTER I.
THE SHADOW OF BLOOD.
"Time put his sicklo in among the
days," and, with the summer of 1867, came
the Great Exhibition of Paris, where, in the
train of crowned heads, flocked all the
world's large class of sight-seers and pleas-
ure-seekers. The month of June found Va-
lerie and ISTetta alone at the chateau, for
General Aylmer had gone with Eugene to
Paris, and Gaston Darcy had been there for
some months under medical care. The
health of the latter was breaking so fast, and
his debility and suffering increasing so rap-
idly, that before he left them Valerie often
felt inclined to urge that he should write to
Maurice bidding him return if he wished to
see his brother again in life. But her cour-
age never bore her out in doing this. She
would begin often, but break down always.
" You have never told Maurice how weak
you are," she said one day, when she had
been assisting Gaston to his chair, and
watching one of his fierce, frequent parox-
ysms of pain.
He looked up with a smile faint, sad,
yet beautiful.
"N'o on the contrary, I always write
to him cheerfully. I have been a clog on
Maurice's life too long already. I must
spare him now as much as I can."
"But is this right? is it even kind?"
she urged. "Put the case to yourself.
"Would you thank Maurice for a concealment
that kept you from his side when "
She paused, and he quietly finished her
sentence.
" "When he may not have much longer to
be here? I don't know. But I think I
hope I am acting rightly. God only knows
what I would give to see him again."
The voice sunk, the blue eyes gazed
wistfully and mournfully out of the window
that opened to the south that far south
where Maurice was fighting and struggling
to save a nation from anarchy and a people
from ruin and there was a choking in Va-
lerie's throat which forbade speech, even if
she could have further combated this reso-
lution, the root of which lay in that grand
element of unselfishness which, of all men,
this man most fully possessed.
He had gone away from them in April ;
and as the two ladies sat on the terrace one
day in the drowsy afternoon heat, and sewed,
for lack of something better to do, Valerie
said, half-absently
" This is the last of June."
"Is it ?" said Netta. "Time files so
quickly when one is monotonously occu-
pied ! I don't envy the people in Paris
their enjoyment of this weather."
"It is time, however, that papa came
back for you," said Valerie. " I must write
to him, for I will not hear of your missing
the best part of the exposition through your
kindness in staying with me."
"Don't trouble yourself, dear," returned
her friend. "I really care so little about
the matter that, save from a feeling that it
would be a shame to live so near Paris and
not see the famous exposition, I should not
206
VALERIE AYLMER.
stir a foot. I am growing as indolent as you
are."
" It is not indolence "with me, it is indif-
ference."
" And are you really determined to see
nothing whatever of this epitome of the
world's industry and beauty? "
" Why should I, when I feel fatigued only
at the thought of it? I care nothing for
inventions I care still less for kings, queens,
and satraps! I never read the grand ac-
counts with which the papers teem, that I
don't think how tired every body especially
the poor empress must be."
" Valerie, you ought to struggle against
this frame of mind. You are growing en-
nuyee and weary of every thing."
"I believe I am," said Yalerie, dreamily.
Then the conversation dropped, and they
sewed on, with no sound about them, save
the notes of birds, and the low summer hum
of insect-life. This profound stillness had
reigned some time when Miss Fane looked
up at last, and found that the work had
fallen from Valerie's hands, that her head
was thrown against the high back of her
chair, so that the sunlight played lovingly
over the arch of the white throat, and her
eyes were closed while the brows above
were knit into a painful contraction com-
mon to them of late. Netta's own needle
paused in its swift stitches, and she gazed
so long and so anxiously on the face before
her, that, if its possessor had not been
wrapped in deep thought, the scrutiny must
have made itself felt.
"Valerie! " she said at last, so abruptly
that Miss Aylmer started and opened her
eyes.
" Netta, how you startled me ! "
"AVhere were you? You seemed in so
much pain, I thought you might like to be
recalled."
" Did I? " A deep shadow of the same
expression fell again. " I was only where I
often am "
"In Mexico?"
" Yes in Mexico."
" I Avish you would keep away from
there," said Miss Fane, impatiently. "It
does you no good to be picturing all sorts
of dreadful things to yourself; and your be-
ing miserable cannot aflPect the course of
events one way or another."
"I know that as well as you do; but
when we suffer, we are not philosophers."
"What are you afraid of? "
" Every thing the very worst. You see
how darkly the papers this morning speak."
" I see that they seem to think the fall
of Queretaro certain."
"The betrayal, you mean."
" And then ?"
"And then God only knows! "
They sat silent for a while longer. Then
Valerie took up a hat which lay on the grass
by her chair, and began to tie it on.
"Where are you going?" asked Miss
Fane. " You have become so restless of late."
"I know I have but I cannot help it.
Sometimes to-day especially this fear
seems weighing me down, and I cannot be
stiU. Would you mind if I left you alone
for a short time ? "
" Where are you going? "
" To the village."
"May I not go with you ? "
"I don't mean to be ungracious, but I
had rather be alone."
Miss Fane sighed, as she sat still and
watched the white-robed figure walk slowly
away under the green shade. Vigils of pain
and anxiety were written on the form almost
as plainly as on the face, for the old voluptuous
contour was gone, and in its stead there was
only a wasted attenuation. No wonder. As
Valerie herself had once said, it was sterner
trouble than the mere aching of disappointed
love that weighed upon her. It was the
awful burden of remorse ; and lately it was
the horrible, sickening fear daily looming
closer that this remorse might soon be
doubled.
She bad not wished ISTetta with her, be-
cause she was going to the church, and slie
wanted to feel herself alone there. For once,
it was all empty and deserted, for once no
other footstep besides her own echoed on the
paved aisles, no other form knelt in the
abandonment of human misery before that
altar where dwells our hidden Lord, and
where the marble angels who guarded the
tabernacle seemed bending forward to hear
her prayer. Never was one more fervent
THE SHADOW OP BLOOD.
207
breathed ; never did a poor struggling soul
cry with more yearning i^athos, " Jesus, Son
of Mary, have mercy on me ! " She asked
nothing for herself not one healing drop
for her own sore heart she only prayed, as
we pray for life, that protection might be given
the man whom her fault had placed in peril,
that he might be delivered from the dangers
that encompassed him, and that over his
head might sleep the safety, on his life might
rest the happiness, which, for a time, she had
driven from both. Neither did she forget to
utter one fervent petition for the gallant
heart which even then rested so still, for the
royal head which even then lay so low, amid
the " plumy palms " of the South.
She only knew how long she had been in
the church by the level rays of the setting
sun when she came out. She paused a mo-
ment in the door to glance at her watch,
startled to see how late it was ; and as she
did so a dark figure moved from the shadow
of the archway toward her. The sound
which accompanied this movement made
her start, and turning quickly for the sec-
ond time on that spot she faced Gaston
Darcy.
They met almost as brother and sister
might have done, and then while with a
sharp pang she traced the fearful strides
that, since she saw him last, suifering had
made he said :
"I have been waiting for you some
time. The fruit-vendor yonder told me
you were in the church."
" "When did you reach the village ? "
" About an hour ago. You see I meant
to take you by surprise."
"And did not papa or Eugene come
with you?"
" No. I left word for them that I was
gone, but I did not see them before I started."
"Then you should have written to let
us know that you were coming, so that we
could have met you here. Of course, how-
ever, "Watkins is with you."
" Yes, but I sent him on to the chateau. I
mean to walk home with you."
"Do you feel strong enough to walk ? "
she asked, anxiously.
" I think so. "Why do you ask ? "
" You look much worse, dear Gaston."
It was not the first time she had
called him by his name, but he had not
heard it from her lips in a long while, and
his wan cheek flushed with pleasure at the
sound. He held out his hand, and clasped
hers warmly, as Maurice's brother surely
bad a right to do.
" Thank you," he said, softly. " Yes, I
am worse, but strong enough yet, I hope,
for what lies before me. Valerie " his
voice sank " have you heard the news? "
"News!"
All things seemed to grow black before
her the golden sunshine, the green lindens,
the gay booths, were all blotted out in a
moment. She leaned back against the
carved door-post, sick and shuddering
longing, yet fearful, to hear more.
"News!"
Gaston Darcy pointed solemnly into the
dim church.
" You were praying when I came. Say
another prayer for the soul of the Emperor
Maximilian."
There was one moment's selfish relief!
then the awful shock that thrilled a world
came home to her! She looked at him
with horror-stricken eyes.
"For his soul! "
"For his murderers, if you can. He is
deAd."
She gazed for one moment longer in
awe-struck astonishment, then she turned
away, and he saw her traverse the aisle, and
sink again before the altar. She had prayed
for him a minute before, as living she prayed
for him now, as dead. And, God forgive her,
that she could not pray for those upon whose
heads rested his blood for the mongrel
bloodhounds, and the crowned adventurer,
who shared that guilt between them. The
kingly soul that had suifered, and struggled,
and gone, needed little intercession, little save
thankfulness of release ; but for her whose
name had been last on his dying lips for the
woman who loved him as even women rarely
love for the gentlest nature and truest
heart among all the victims tliat crime and
wrong have slain through others what had
not a woman's heart to ask, for her, of faith
and strength strength to await that meet-
ing from which parting shall be no more !
208
VALERIE AYLMER.
'When they were walking slowly home
together, Valerie asked Mr. Darcy what he
thought of the chances for his brother.
"Don't be afraid to tell me," she said,
sadly, as he seemed to hesitate. " The worst
has been with me for many a day."
"I scarcely know what to fear, or what
to think," he replied. "I have not heard
from Maurice for so long that I know
nothing of his whereabouts only this
thing I do know, that there will be a whole-
sale slaughter of all the imperialists whom
those those men can touch."
" Yes."
"And Maurice has been too much noted
by the emperor's favor to escape their ven-
geance, if he does not leave the country at
once."
She answered nothing. The gray shades
of evening were beginning to close around
them, and, as they crossed the bridge, they
caught the gleam of a light from the saloon
window, which looked so bright and home-
like that at any other time it would have
cheered them. But now their hearts were
too heavy for cheer too heavy for any
thought but that which was weighing them
down. At last, when they were in the mid-
dle of the bridge, Valerie stopped, with a
sort of gasp.
"I cannot stand this any longer," she
said, hastily. "I have borne it until the
burden has grown too much for my strength.
Gaston, you know what Maurice is to me
tell me what you mean to do."
He told her in a few words.
" I mean to wait long enough to hear
from him, and, if I do not hear, I mean to
go and look for him."
" You ! "
" Yes, I. Cripple as I am, if he be alive
I will find him."
He lifted his wasted form as he said
this light Came to his eyes, color to his
pallid cheek, and for one moment he looked
the man that Nature made him. And, as
she gazed, a flash of resolve came into
Valerie's heart.
"You are right," she said, holding out
her hands. " It will be strange, indeed, if
you and I together cannot do this."
He looked at her in surprised incredulity.
"You and I!"
" Yes, if you will take me with you."
" Valerie, my child, you do not under-
stand "
"I understand every thing," she said,
impetuously. " I understand that I, of all
people, should seek for him, since I sent him
there to suffer it may be to die. I under-
stand that I will never allow you to go alone
on such an expedition."
" I will have Watkins."
""Watkins is a very faithful servant ; but
he is only a servant. Hush ! I will go ! It
is all my fault every thing and I must
bear my share of the consequences. It is
my fault that Maurice is away from you,
and that you need to attempt any thing for
which you are so unfit as for this voyage
therefore, I shall take Maurice's place by
your side."
The glow of sunset what was left of it
fell on the resolute young face, with its
firm mouth and glowing eyes ; and Gaston
Darcy saw at once that, unlike the most of
her sex, she meant every word that she
uttered. After a long pause, he said:
" But who will go with you ? "
" Papa, of course."
Mr. Darcy retreated a step, in his aston-
ishment astonishment as much at the tone
as at the announcement.
" You surely do not think that General
Aylmer will ever consent to such a plan? "
"Leave papa to me. I will answer for
him. Gaston " she came a step nearer, and
laid her hand on his arm, while her eyes
looked in his face, full of a pathos which it
was hard for him to resist "dear Gaston,
don't try to dissuade me! I am sure I shall
die, if I am obliged to stay here in this horri-
ble inaction, and eat out my very heart with
fear. Gaston, there can be no harm in it !
I am his cousin, remember! and, although
I am not worthy to say so, I loved him very
much ! "
Ah, the proud head bent itself at last !
What would Valerie have thought if this
confession, and its attending circumstances,
had been foretold to her twelve months be-
fore? She the forsaken! This man, his
brother ! But at last, after weary struggle,
there had come to her the best knowledge
THE RIGHT OF REPARATION.
209
that can come to woman the knowledge
that
" her dignity
Is this to cast her virgin pride away,
And find her strength in weakness."
Maurice's brother bent his head, and laid
his lips on that soft hand then he said,
gently :
"As far as it rests for me to say so do
as you will. But I cannot help thinking
that your father will never consent."
"I think he will."
She let the words fall very slowly ; and
then stood with her hands loosely clasped
before her, gazing down at tlie water which
flowed so swiftly and darkly beneath their
feet.
" It looks quiet," she said, wistfully ;
" and of late I have so envied all things
quiet."
"Perhaps you are right, after all," said
her companion, looking at the thin, pale
outlines of her face. " Perhaps your reso-
lution may be for the best. Change of scene
may do you good, and "
He did not finish his sentence. He only
stood quietly, gazing like herself down on
the flowing .stream which was hastening
^along to the boundless ocean, as we all hast-
en forward to the joy or sorrow of the un-
known future, until at last Valerie turned.
"I should not have kept you here so
long," she said, wearily. "I forget every
thing, it seems. Let us go home."
CHAPTER II.
THE EIGHT OF EEPARATION.
A MONTH passed by, a month of waiting
which sickened the very soul. At last, in
the fuU rich loveliness of summer's prime,
the last day of July came and no news of
Maurice had yet been heard. Two of his
comrades had written to Gaston one from
New Orleans, the other from Havana but
only to say that they could give no tidings
of him. He had left Queretaro, a few days
before its fall, on a secret mission to the
mountains ; and they could only hope that
14
he was stUl there, with those of the native
chiefs who proposed to inaugurate a guer-
rilla warfare against the Liberals; but they
did not attempt to conceal their fear that
he too had been included in the massacre
of all that was good and true in the un-
happy country which lay prostrate under
the sword.
The last of these letters came on the
30th of July. The next morning, Valerie
electrified her father by an announcement
of her desire to accompany Gaston to Amer-
ica.
" God bless my soul ! " the general ex-
claimed in sheer astonishment, and that
was all he uttered for some time.
" "Well, papa? " said Valerie at last, hav-
ing waited vainly for further comment.
"Well, my dear," replied her father,
" I have only to say that, if you wished to
confound me with surprise, you could not
have done so more completely."
" I did not wish to do that, sir, I assure
you."
"I expected more from your common-
sense," said the general, impatiently. "Mr.
Darcy is no doubt a pleasant gentleman, and
a good friend, and all that sort of thing I
am sure I like him very much but to wish
to take an ocean-voyage solely on his ac-
count is foolish, my dear, very foolish ! "
' " Papa, you don't understand : I want to
try and aid him in looking for his brother."
"Worse yet," said her father, graVely.
" Surely, my dear, you have grown singular-
ly forgetful of all the world would say of
you, if you set out on such a Quixotic under-
taking ! "
" The world need know nothing about it."
The general shook his head.
" The world would know all about it,
and I wonder where your own self-respect
has gone ? "
"Papa" the girl's voice had fairly a
wail in it "don't you see can't yon un-
derstand I must go ! You tell me I look
badly, and you are right I shall die if I stay
here ! Regard the matter only as other-
people will regard it as a voyage for change-
of air and scene. We need not say to any-
body why we go; and you may trust m&
not to do any thing to forfeit my own self-
210
VALERIE AYLMER.
respect, or lower your dignity. If I meet
Maurice Darcy, it will be as a mere stranger.
But, indeed, I cannot let Gaston go alone,
and remember that we, too, are his near
relatives. Surely it is right for us to make
those efforts which he, being a cripple, can-
not make. Papa, be kind be generous
let us go! "
General Aylmer looked irresolute. Be-
ing, in some sort, a cosmopolitan, one place
was very much the same as another to him;
and, intrinsically, Cuba would have been
quite as agreeable perhaps a little more so
than France. But, still, he felt strangely
averse to this idea. He disliked Maurice
Darcy extremely, and none the less because
the prejudice was an entirely irrational one.
He disliked him because be stood as the rep-
resentative of much annoyance and anxiety,
and because he had been placed in an antag-
onistic position to Valerie's claim on her
grandfather's fortune ; nevertheless, he had
this dislike sufficiently under control to be
willing to accept him as a son-in-law if he
came crowned with the halo of M. Vac-
quant's half-million. But to go in search of
him really, that was too much! He had
no desire to be instrumental in reclaiming
him from the hands of Juarez and Co. !
Never, in the most secret recess of his
heart, had the general done such a thing as
to wish, or even to hope, that Darcy might
share the fate of so many gallant murdered
men ; but he could not help thinking that
the Liberal leaders would commit a great
blunder if they allowed him to slip through
their fingers, and go scot-free !
" I don't see how I can possibly consent
to such a thing," he said at last, irritably.
"And here is your friend Miss Fane; pray
what do you mean to do with her ? "
" Netta's aunt, Mrs Vaughn, is in Paris,
you know. She has been meaning to go to
see her for some time, and she would stay
with her until we returned."
" Humph ! You have settled it all, I
see. But it is too unreasonable, Valerie !
I cannot positively I cannot consent to
such a thing! "
"Papa, would you not have taken me to
Cuba if I had told you that my health made
it necessary for me to go ? "
" Yes of course."
She raised her hand and drew back the
curtain of the window beside which she was
sitting.
"Look at me, then, and see if you do
not think I stand in need of change."
The general looked, and felt rather un-
comfortable as he looked. The pallid skin,
the hollow cheek, the eyes with dark circles
under them, told a story which it was im-
possible for him to disregard. He moved a
little uneasily.
" You do look wretchedly. I have been
telling you so for some time. I will take
you to Madeira."
She shook her head with a faint smile.
"The physicians say, you know, that a
patient must sometimes prescribe his own
remedy. You must suff"er me to prescribe
mine. Nothing but the West Indies will do
me good."
" By Jove, Valerie, this is very provok-
ing, and very irrational! " said the general,
getting up and walking impatiently to and
fro. "lam surprised at you a woman of
your sense to persist in this manner. I
don't know what you mean. I am sure I
am willing to do any thing in reason but^
this is quite beyond reason ! "
''Papa," said his daughter, wearily, "I
thought you would be more considerate of
what I have represented to you as so ear-
nest and urgent a desire. It was my fault
that sent Maurice Darcy to Mexico ; and I
should feel as if I was his brother's murder-
er if I let him set out alone on a journey
which he cannot stand without great care.
I have suff'ered I do suffer unutterable
things. Oh, surely it is enough to tell you
this, to induce you to listen to me to heed
me to go! "
Her voice broke down in a bui-st of tears
tears of agitation which the physical
strength was now unable to restrain and
after one astonished look the general struck
his flag.
"There, there! " he said, hastily, "don't
cry about it ! I suppose we shall have to go,
since you have set your heart on it ; but it
is all a confounded piece of nonsense ! Dry
your eyes do! I hate tears! "When docs
Darcy want to get off"? "
THE EIGHT OF REPARATION.
211
" As soon as possible."
" Humph ! tliero might possibly be
more definite inlbnnation. Whe^e is lie?
I had better see Liiii about the matter."
" He is in the saloon. Shall I ask him to
come to you?"
"Yes," said the general, still rather
shortly.
She left the room a degree more light-
hearted and light-footed than when she en-
tered it and went to the saloon.
"When she reached the door, she was
not a little astonished, for she had not expect-
ed to see anybody but Gaston and Netta ;
and there before Mr. Darcy's chair stood a
tall figure that looked like Eugene, and yet
was not Eugene; and which, turning when
she entered, proved to be Charley Hautaine.
There followed all the rush of unexpected
greeting and welcome, for she had thought
him far away in Hungarian barracks, with
little or no hope of meeting soon again.
"When this subsided, it was Netta who said :
" You have come just in time. He only
arrived a few minutes ago, and oh, Valerie,
he says that he is going to Mexico ! "
To Mexico ! "Were they all crazy, or had
she gone distraught herself? She looked
from one to another, from Hautaine's reso-
lute face to Netta's swimming eyes, and then
to Gaston's pale cheek.
" "What does it mean ? " she asked.
"It means that I am going for Maurice,"
answered Charley, quietly. " There is no
use in anybody's saying a word. I deter-
mined to go as soon as I heard of the em-
peror's death ; and my furlough is made
out. I know all about the country. I have
been there time and again ; and I think I
knbw one or two people on whom it is pos-
sible to count. I am all ready to start, and
I only came out of my way thus far to tell
Gaston that he might set his mind at rest,
for tliat I will find his brother."
"It is like you, Charley, to mean it,"
Gaston said; "but for all that, it must not
be. Stop ! I have a right to speak, and I
will do so. For you, an Austrian ofiicer, to
go to Mexico now, would be to rush into
danger of the worst kind, and "
"Do you suppose I mean to wear my
uniform, or carry my commission in my
pocket? " Hautaine interrupted, half-vexed-
ly, half-amusedly. "You may trust mo for
that. If the devils find out who and what I
am, I shall deserve to be shot, and there's an
end of the matter. But I mean to come
back safe and sound to you and to Alix."
"I wonder w^hat Alix will say when she
hears of this ? " Netta cried.
"She said, 'God-speed,'" Charley an-
swered, with his eyes brightening. "Did
you think I came through Germany with-
out seeing her? and did you think that
she, of all women, would put an obstacle in
my way ? No ; she said, ' God-speed,' and
she meant it ! "
"It must not be," Gaston repeated. "I
should never forgive myself Maurice would
never forgive me if you came to harm.
Charley, it must not be ! "
" My dear, good fellow, what is the use
of this ? " said Charley, good-humoredly.
"I am going. Eeally, if you are so un-
reasonable, I shall be sorry I did not sail
from Trieste ; but I wanted to see you
and"
"And Alix," said Netta.
"Yes, and Alix God bless her! So
there's no earthly good in talking about it.
The thing is settled."
"It must not be," Gaston said, repeating
those four words, as if they were his strong-
hold of defence. Nobody knew what a
temptation this was to him, or how hard it
was not to yield, not to echo Alix's " God-
speed," and put his hopes in the strong
loyal hands outstretched for them. But he
thought in his heart that it would be cruelly
selfish to do so cruelly selfish to send this
brave young life into danger and death, only
that he might learn Maurice's fate; so he
sat in his ciiair, pale, but rigid as steel, with
Maurice's own look about his mouth, repeat-
ing the same set form, "It must not be."
" It must be," Hautaine said, beginning
at last to grow impatient. " I have told you
before that I did not come to argue about it.
I don't mean to argue, either for it is set-
tled. You have a right to say a great deal,
Gaston ; but you have no right to say that."
" I have the best right in the world,"
Gaston said "the right of near relation-
ship."
212
VALERIE AYLMER.
"And I have a better one yet," Hau-
taine answered " tlie right of reparation."
After that, each paused and looked at
the other both resolute to have their own
way; and neither meaning to yield an inch.
It was all perfectly unintelligible to Netta
Tane, who thought that Charley had lost
his senses. What was Maurice Darcy to
him, that he should cross an ocean, and go
into the very jaws of danger for his sake ?
and what could he possibly mean by "the
right of reparation ? " She saw that her
own intervention would have no effect ; so
she turned imploringly to Valerie. " For
Heaven's sake, speak to him. Make him
hear reason," she said. And at the mo-
ment Valerie stepped forward between the
two disputants.
" Gaston, Charley is right," she said.
" He can do more good than you can ; and
he should be the one. He can find Mau-
rice," she went on, looking at him with her
sad, earnest eyes ; " and he will find him, I
am sure. You are right, Charley, you must
go."
"Of course I am right," said Charley,
" and of course I mean to go. Gaston may
have as many rights as he pleases ; but I
have mine, too the right of reparation."
"Yes," said Valerie, gravely. "You
have that. When do you start ? "
" I leave here this afternoon, and I sail
from Marseilles to-morrow."
So they settled it, while Gaston saw the
responsibility of decision quite taken from
him, and Netta sat by in speechless indigna-
tion. Before either of them had time to
frame his protest in words, Valerie turned
to Mr. Darcy.
"Papa has consented," she said; "and
he bade me ask you to come to him. He
wants to consult you about our route."
" Your best route," said Charley, " is
from Marseilles to Cadiz, and thence to
Havana. I take it for granted you are only
going to Cuba."
" We arc only going to Cuba, if you
meet us there with Maurice," she said. "If
not, I tliink you may probably see us in
Mexico."
" And then"
"And then I expect papa will go back
to Louisiana," she said, with a sigh. " You
can go with Gaston, if you want to, Charley.
Papa will be glad to see you, and you can
offer yoiir advice to him."
Charley was very willing to obey ; so,
after Mr. Darcy had gathered up his
crutches, they took their departure, while
Netta and Valerie, left alone, looked at each
other silently for some time. Then
"Oh, Valerie, how could you do it?"
the former cried, with a burst of reproach.
"What has Charley ever done tliat he
should be sacrificed to to this Maurice
Darcy ? He will be killed I know he will!
And then how can you answer for sending
him on such an errand ? "
" You don't know what you are talking
about, Netta," Valerie answered, a little
wearily. "I did not send Charley. He
was going of his own accord. If I had told
him to stay, he would not have paid any at-
tention to me. And he ought to go. You
don't understand any thing about it but he
ought to go."
"No; I don't understand any thing
about it," Miss Fane retorted. "But I un-
derstand this if he is kiiled, you will be
sorry for having tljrown the weight of your
influence in favor of such a mad resolution."
"1 hope he will not be killed; but you
are mistaken even if he were, I should not
be sorry for having exerted my influence ;
because I believe it is his duty to go."
" Why is it his duty? What is Maurice
Darcy to him ? ''
" He is a great deal to him. He is a man
whom he loved, and a man whom he in-
jured, and and you don't know ti'hat it
would be to Charley, if he could do this. It
would be paying off a greater debt, and
lightening his life of a heavier burden, than
you can even imagine."
Miss Fane was silenced. She did not
understand in the least, not any more than
she had done before; but Valerie's tone
awed and hushed her impatient reproaches.
When she spoke again, it was very differ-
ently.
"I don't pretend to judge of things that
I know only by halves. It seems to me
very strange; but you may be right. I
only know that it would be hard on them
OUT OF THE JAWS OF DEATE.
213
all at liome, and bard on that poor child in
Germany, if any ill befolls Charley. And
so it is settled that you go, too ? "
"Yes, settled."
"Hum! I hope enough people are go-
ing in search of Maurice Darcy."
"I am going to take care of Gaston,"
said Valerie, flushing. "Then, if if Mau-
rice meets us, papa and I will return to
Louisiana."
Miss Fane sat down in a chair, and
looked, sadly enough, out of the window.
""Well," she said, after a time. " I sup-
pose one must take for granted that some
good will come of it, but it is very vexa-
tious. Valerie I have only one word of ad-
\ice to offer. May I do so ? "
"Say what you please, sister of my
soul," Valerie answered.
"Then, if you meet Maurice Darcy, be
wise, and don't don't be too hard."
"Netta!" cried Valerie, turning first
crimson, and then pale, " what do you take
me for, that that you should say such a
thing ? Do you think I would go in search
of him, if such an event as that at which
you hint was, in the least, possible? It is
a good thing that duty bids me do this, or
such grievous injustice would make me stay
where I am."
" Now you look like yourself," said Miss
Fane, approvingly. "It is really a pleas-
ure to see you angry once more."
"I am not angry. I am only indignant
and grieved."
"Because I wish you to be kind and
forgiving toward a man who may be dead."
" Netta ! how can you ? "
" None of us are immortal, Valerie,"
said her friend, gravely. " I have noticed
lately that these letters have made you
buoy yourself with hope that may prove
fidse, and render the final truth harder to
bear."
" Netta, you are cruel."
"No, Valerie. But, I do not think
there is any probability only a faint possi-
bility that he may be alive. And I want
to ask you, how you can cherish resent-
ment against a mere memory ? "
" T resentment? Oh, God forbid! "
"You forgive him, then? "
"I have notliing to forgive. Forgive-
ness would need to come from him."
" And why could you not say as much
to him if he were living? "
" Because it would be worse than use-
less. It would humiliate me as a woman
should never be humiliated ; and it would
not move him. I can see how he would
look as he looked at Charley. You don't
know him he is as hard to himself as he is
to others."
"I am not sure that I care about know-
ing him, under those circumstances," said
Miss Fane, rising. "When do you start? "
"Next week, I expect. At least as soon
as we can get ready."
This proved to be very soon. Five days
later, they sailed from Marseilles westward
bound for the Queen of the Antilles.
CHAPTER III.
OUT OF THE JAWS OF DEATH.
" Maurice ! Maurice ! "
Such was the sick man's yearning cry from
morning till night ever tossing in restless
delirium ever calling on that name, which
was now, in all probability, only a name.
Many times had Valerie cause to thank
God that she had persevered in her resolu-
tion to accompany Gaston Darcy to Ameri-
ca ; for, scarcely did his foot press the soil
of the New World, when he was stricken
down by a sudden illness arising, the phy-
sicians said, from mingled physical exhaust-
ion and mental anxiety which, but for her
presence, would have cast him helpless on
the hands of menials and strangers. As it
was, the care he received could not possibly
have been more tender, or more unremit-
ting, if his own sister had rendered it.
Day and night, she scarcely left his side;
and day and night she was tortured by that
moan which seemed an echo of her own
sad heart that voice, plaintive and pitiful
as Eachel mourning for her children :
" Maurice I Maurice ! "
Only that through long hours of fever,
never changing in word or cadence.
214
VALERIE AYLMER.
It was a fierce fight witli the death-an-
gel over that prostrate form, for many days.
Through the scorching heat of the tropic
noon, and the glorious beauty of the tropic
nights, Valerie never stirred from beside
the pillow on which that lined and wasted
face lay, or suflTered any other hand than
hers to press to the burning lips their cool-
ing draught. " It is only what I came to
do," she said, when her father remonstrated,
saying that such close attendance in a
sick-room was impairing her own health.
"J^fter he is gone, it will not matter."
And often, as she kept lonely vigil in the
dim chamber telling over her beads, like a
Sister of Mercy, during the long hours
while that constant cry came from the
parched lips of the man whom she thought,
even then, in AzraePs arms, she would bow
her head yet lower in awesome prayer; for
it seemed as if the brother's spirit beckoned
from the silent land to the yearning love
which made this ceaseless moan, and spoke
a summons from the shores where hands,
once clasped, unclasp no more at the bid-
ding of grief and pain.
No one dreamed that he would recover,
that a constitution so shattered could en-
dure so great a shock ; but at last the crisis
came, and resulted favorably. Then he
once more opened his eyes to the daylight,
and knew the faces around him. He did
not ask the length or severity of his own
illness ; he only held out his hand to Valerie
with one question :
"Any news of Maurice? "
And she could only utter in gesture that
negative so hard to speak, so harder yet to
feel.
"Who is this 'Maurice' for whom he
inquires so constantly ? " asked the physi-
cian, somewhat impatiently, of General Ayl-
mcr, when the latter followed him from the
sick-room. " He has done nothing but call
him ever since his first hour of fever."
" He is his brother," the general replied,
with brevity more commendable than grati-
fying.
" Ilis brother? Theti why docs he not
come to him, and relieve his mind ? "
" Unfortunately, nobody knows where he
"Ah!"
" He was one of Maximilian's ofiicers,"
said the general, feeling obliged to answer
that little interrogative interjection, " and
has never been heard of since the fall of
Queretaro."
"Indeed! Shot, no doubt."
"No doubt."
" A good many officers were," said the
doctor, philosophically. " And does his
brother still hope to hear from him ? "
" He came to Cuba for this purpose."
" Poor fellow ! Well, well, let him hope,
for the time being. A strain on the mind is
bad ; but despair might be worse. You
must take him, as soon as possible, to a less
enervating climate. Good-morning."
A few days later, one of the gallant For-
eign Legion, who stood so nobly by their
royal chief to the very last the same Valdor
concerning whom Maurice had once written
to Gaston joined General Aylmer, as he
was slowly sauntering along the Plaza
d'Armas, in the brilliant glow of the tropic
sunset.
" No news of poor Darcy yet ! " he said.
"I am really afraid we must surrender all
hope. IIow is his brother to-day ? "
" Better," answered the general. "The
fever has left him, and he has his head back
again but he is very weak."
" Yes, of course people always are. Is
he well enough to see visitors ? I was re-
fused admittance very summarily the other
day."
" Oh, I suppose so. That is " as a timely
recollection of Valerie occurred to him "I
will inquire. But perhaps it would be as
well if you did not come. He might think
you brought news of his brother."
"Ifa/oi, I wish I did! " said the other,
heartily. "A better soldier well, well, it
is only the chances of war, and may be mine
to-morrow. I hear that Y^afies has been
made prisoner and shot," he went on.
" That looks badly for him Darcy, I mean."
"Who is Y'afles?"
"Yafies! Yraiment! I wonder you
never heard. He was the boldest, bloodiest
guerrilla-chief in all Mexico the one to
whom Darcy was sent."
" And he has been shot? "
OUT OF THE JAWS OF DEATH.
215
" Yes together with most of liis com-
mand. Poor fellow ! He was a perfect
devil for fighting, and was said to have put
an end to more than a hundred Liberal dogs
with his own cuchillo.''''
The general shrugged his shoulders, with
a laugh. " He is a great loss, then," he said.
" Such a man as that is a loss at any time
especially in Mexico. And you think this
looks badly for Caj^tain Darcy ? "
" Of course. If he was taken with Yaues,
there was an end of the matter."
The general was silent, and looked so
disturbed, tliat, from respectful sympathy,
his companion was silent also. Yet, in truth,
he was thinking less of Darcy than of Hau-
taine, concerning whom, or from whom,
they had heard nothing. "I hope he will
not be fool enough to risk Jiis head," the
general thought, feeling more irritated than
ever against Maurice Darcy if, indeed, any
increase of irritation were possible. As much
as he liked anybody not immediately con-
nected with himself, he liked PTautaine ; and
it provoked him beyond the bounds of pa-
tience to think that the young free lance had
rushed headlong into such danger as that
which certainly threatened him and for
what?
"When he came back from his walk, he
told Valerie that he had met young Valdor,
and that the latter wished to see Mr. Darcy.
" It is impossible," she said. " He would
only come and talk of Maurice, and of aU the
chances for and against his safety, until Gas-
ton's fever would be brought back. He is
too weak to see anybody. Pray tell Captain
Valdor so, the next time you see him."
" But the doctor said he might see a few
visitors."
" I cannot help that. I think I know his
state better even than the doctor does. At
all events, I cannot consent that any risk
should be run."
" The doctor says he must be taken away
from this climate as soon as possible."
"He will never consent to leave the
island until there is some certain informa-
tion about Maurice."
The general was on the point of saying,
" Confound Maurice ! " but he stopped him-
self in time. " He need not leave the
island," he answered. "He can go to the
hill-country."
" You can speak to him about it yourself,
papa. But I doubt if he will consent even
to that."
" He had better, or he will not have an
option long of consenting to any thing."
" Does the doctor think that removal is
absolutely necessary ? "
" He said so."
Valerie sat twisting and untwisting, with
absent fingers, the watch-chain that hung at
her girdle, while her eyes gazed past her
father, full of painful thought gazed out
of the window, through which came the soft
murmur of a fountain playing in the court
below.
" I know how Gaston will feel," she said
at length ; "because I share the feeling my-
self a sort of instinct that we ought not to
leave here."
"Why not?"
The general spoke sharply, because he
was irritated.
"I don't know that there is a 'why,'
papa. It is, as I said, only an instinct which
I feel. But I know that he feels it, too an
instinct that we shall receive news of Mau-
rice, or at least of Charley, if we only wait
long enough."
- "I hope that you will not put such ideas
into his head."
" You may trust me not to do that. But
I think you will find them there, all the
same. Besides, you forget that we promised
Ciarley he should find us here."
The general was so vexed and uncom-
fortable, that this last remark quite upset
him, and he could not forbear endeavoring to
make Valerie share, if not his vexation, at
least his discomfort.
"I don't know that you need consider
Hautaine," he said, significantly. "From
what I hear to-day, it seems very probable
that he has found the fate he might have
expected."
"Papa! " it was a long gasp, and the
pale face looked at him full of quivering
apprehension "papa! what have you
heard?"
" Not much nothing directly about
him," answered the general, sorry now that
216
VALERIE AYLMER.
he had spoken. "Only you remember he
said he kne\y some of those guerrilla-chiefs,
and that he was going to them well, one
of the most noted has been captured and
shot."
"Do you remember the name ? "
" Yailes, I believe."
"Valerie shook her head. " I don't think
that was one of the names Charley men-
tioned," she said. "But it may have been
I do not know. O, papa, papa, why did
you tell me any thing so horrible ? "
"I don't know, I am sure," said the
general, hastily. "But don't alarm your-
self foolishly, Valerie. I certainly did not
mean you to do that. This man's death
may have no connection with Hautaine."
"But Maurice! has it any connection
with him ? "
"Hem! well I do not know," said the
general, who thought he had done mischief
enough for once. " TTe will hope not.
Now, can I see Mr. Darcy ? "
"O, papa, for Heaven's sake, don't men-
tion this to him."
"Do you think I am crazy? " asked the
general, sharply. " Of course I have not an
idea of doing so^ I would like to speak to
him about going to the hill-country, though.
Can I see him ? "
"I will go and find out."
She glided away, with the noiseless
tread of a born soru?' de ho7xs secours, and
entered the sick man's room. The shaded
lamp burned so low that she could only see
-the outline of his figure, and this was so
motionless that she thought he was asleep.
Pausing a moment, however, to bend over
the table and discover if Watkics had ad-
ministered the usual night-draught, his
vpiee called her name.
"I thought you were asleep," she said,
approaching the bed. " Indeed, I think it
w;puld be better if you were."
"Why?"
" Papa wants to see you, and, if I tell
him to come in, he will talk so much that
there will be no sleep for you to-night." .
" Has he any thing to tell me ? "
"No; ho only ^. wants to inquire how
you are."
" Oh ! " he g^ve a, little weary sigh the
weariness of hope long deferred. "Let
him come in."
"Will yon promise not to talk much? "
"Yes indeed, I am not likely to be
tempted. After the general has asked mo
how I feel, hoped I will soon be better, and
said that the weather is very warm, our
topics of conversation are nearly exhausted."
"He has another one to-night," Valerie
thought, but she did not say so. She con-
tented herself with anotlier caution, and
then went to summon her father. " Don't
talk to him much, papa," she said ; and the
general promised he would not. Not that
this promise stood for much he made it
every time he paid a visit, and generally for-
got it two minutes after but Valerie al-
ways exacted it, as a sort of precautionary
measure that would keep her own conscience
clear, if it did no other good.
Left alone in the sitting-room, she went
to the window, and, resting her arms on the
sill, looked mournfully forth at the glorious
tropic night, at the heavens, brilliant with a
radiance unknown to colder latitudes, and
at the Southern Cross that constellation of
her unhappy country which was burning
just above her head. They were near the
harbor; and now that there was a breeze
from the northward, she could hear the
waves breaking with sullen, regular sound
against the parapet. Ah, it was weary work
this waiting this hoping this expectti-
tion this continual disappointment ! Some-
times to-night, for instance she felt how
vain it was ; she felt certain that he would
never come back again ; that there would
never be another meeting imtil it was given
to the disembodied spirits. And it was
hard very hard, she thought that his last
recollection of her should have been angry,
passionate, and defiant! her last picture of
him cold, stern, and forbidding ! Oh, had
they but been a little wiser on either side,
a little more patient how different it all
would have been! Alas! alas! There
would be no bitterness in retrospection, if
there were not always such tlioughts as
these; if from the past there did not rise up
those mournful shades pf harsh words and
wronging thoughts, of unkind looks and
mor.e unkind deeds, which, large .or small.
THE SUNLIGHT FROM THE SEA.
217
como back to us when it is too late for
atonement and when we can only cry,
from the depths of our remorse, " Oh for one
hour in which to win forgiveness ! " And
then, Charley ! she must needs he wretched
on his account, too wretclied in the thoug^lit
that his bright young life was possibly sac-
rificed in the vain eftort to atone ; the vain
effort to save the man whom he had in-
jured. She tried to pray for him, but the
horrible thought that, even then, it might be
all over with him, came to her, and the words
died on her lips. She could only lay her
head down on her arms, and feel as if her
heart was breaking from unutterable misery.
CHAPTER IV.
THE SUNLIGHT FROM THE SEA.
" You look SO tired," said Valerie, the
next day, anxiously watching Gaston's face,
as he lay back against his white pillows.
" Can I do nothing to entertain you ?
nothing to divert your mind for a little
while ? "
" Thank you," he answered, with a faint
smile. " But you have done so much already,
that you must be very tired yourself"
" No ^never tired, if I can only succeed
in amusing you. But that has been par-
ticularly hard to-day."
"Yes, I am afraid that I am becoming
ungrateful as well as troublesome."
"Hush! You must not say you must
not think such a thing for a minute. The
question is, what can I do ? I am sure you
are tired of hearing reading especially as
our supply of English books is so limited.
Shall I sing to you, by way of variety ? "
" I believe not. Music pains me when
I am siaffering."
"Suffering?" she repeated, quickly.
"How ? Does your head ache ? "
" No. My heart aches and that is the
worst of the two. Valerie, I have almost
given up hope."
She laid her hand gently down upon his.
" Gaston, dear Gaston, perhaps it would
be wisest to do so."
He gave a quick bound, and clasped
eagerly, almost painfully, the hand lying up-
on his own.
" You have you heard any thing? "
" No, no, " she said, hastily, frightened
at the effect of her words. " Nothing be-
lieve me, nothing. Only, like yourself, I
have watched and waited until the last spark
of hope has died out."
" I think it is all gone until something
like this occurs," he said, faintly, as he sank
back exhausted on his pillows. " Then I
know that I am hoping yet longing yet
' For the touch of a vanished hand,
And the sound of a voice that is still.'
You asked me, a moment ago, what you
should do repeat those lines for me."
She obeyed much as she doubted the
wisdom of the request. Nature had be-
stowed on her a rarely melodious voice,
with a richer, deeper timbre than is usual in
woman, and her quick perception of the
shades of poetic meaning, together with her
highly-trained musical ear, combined to pro-
duce an elocution better than all the rhet-
oric of the schools. It was pleasure at any
time to hear her read aloud, and still greater
pleasure to listen while she repeated some
vjerse that had lingered in her memory, even
if that verse was not so perfect in pathos
and beauty as the English poet's immortal
lines. Ah, how many a mourning heart has
echoed that lament wellnigh the most
touching ever spoken by love and how
many a. sorrow thrilled as it were into new
life by the yearning music of that cry !
There was silence when her voice ceased ;
silence unbroken even by a sound, although
Gaston's wasted fingers covered his face, and
Valerie's heart felt as i^ it must faint away
under the burden laid upon it.
It was some little time after this that
they were startled by the general's step on
the stairs, and the sound of his voice, together
with another, which they both recognized at
once as Valdor's.
" I told your fiither he might bring him
to-day," Gaston said, in a tone of depreca-
tion, as he saw Valerie's look of surprised
annoyance, "Don't blame anybody but
me."
218
VALERIE AYLMER.
" But I do blame papa. He ougM not
to have mentioned the matter to you. I
told him you could not see visitors."
"lie did not mention it," said Mr. Darcy,
eagerly. " I asked him if he had met Val-
dor lately, and said I was very anxious to see
him."
" Why are you anxious to see him ?
What good will it do?"
"I want to hear once more all that he
thinks about Maurice," he answered, sadly.
"I want to know his opinion noio he is
better able to judge than we are. And, if I
am to be taken away, I want him to prom-
ise that he will let me know any thing he
may hear."
Valerie sighed. But it was too late for
expostulation. Her father was already re-
questing admittance at the door, and, a few
moments later, Gaston was warmly clasping
the hand of the young oflBcer who had been
Maurice's sworn comrade and friend.
" Come, my dear," said General Aylmer
to his daughter, "I insist upon your taking a
little exercise while Captain Yaldor is here.
He will entertain Mr. Darcy."
" Pray, mademoiselle, go," said the
young man. " You are looking pale^and I
assure you Mr. Darcy shall not be dull Avhile
you are gone."
Gaston seconded the request ; and, al-
though she did so with much reluctance,
Valerie was forced to submit. Yet, as she
tied on her bonnet, and looked in the mirror
at her pale face and sunken eyes, she began
to think herself that a little fresh air might
not be amiss. So she negatived her father's
proposal of a volante, and, saying that she
preferred to walk, took his arm as they
turned away from the porte cocMre.
"Let us go down to the Cortina," she
said. " I have heard the waves all day, and
I want to see them."
Down to the Cortina they went accord-
ingly. Something of a gale had been blow-
ing all day, and the sea was dashing in high,
angry waves against the stone battlements
of the Punta and the Moro a sight well
worth witnessing. It had been cloudy ever
since daylight was still cloudy on land
but afar out on the sea, beyond the harbor,
lay a glory of sunlight gilding the foam-
crested waves, as they rolled in with a sound
like distant thunder, and shining on the
white sails and tall masts of a ship just shap-
ing her course between the two fi-owning
forts.
" Look ! " said Valerie, watching it with
half-sad eyes of interest. "It seems bring-
ing the sunlight to the shore."
And truly it did. For even as the ship ad-
vanced, the broad line of light advanced with
it, and that much of gloomy shadow retreated
sullenly back to settle yet more grayly over
the dominion left it. Forward came the ship
forward the golden flood that was giving a
thousand glittering sparkles to the dashing
surf and spray. With sails outspread, like
an angel's great white wings, the vessel bore
down between the lofty battlements that
guard the entrance of the harbor and the
flashing glory fell over the stem fortresses,
and gleamed upon the royal banner of Spain.
Nearer yet the ship and sunlight crowned
all the rolling amphitheatre of hills, and all
the coronals of waving palms. Nearer, yet
nearer and sunlight flung its broad mantle
of gold over city, plains, and sea.
" It has brought it to ns a little too
brightly," said the general. "You had bet-
ter lower your veil, Valerie."
But this Valerie did not care to do.
She was interested in watching the animated
scene that ensued upon the ship's coming
to her anchorage, the bustle upon her
deck, the boats darting over the blue water
to her side.
" She is from Vera Cruz," she heard a
voice near her say. " Let us go aboard,
and hear the last news of whom Juarez has
been shooting."
From Vera Cruz ! Ah, foolish heart, be
stiU! Every week comes some white-
winged messenger from the land where
anarchy and murder reign ; but it has never
yet borne the freight that would make its
coming aught to you.
But, to do Valerie justice, her rushing
eagerness did not anticipate his own com-
ing. She only thought, she only hoped, for
letters or for tidings. Aiuj tidings would
be better than the suspense they had been
enduring. We all say such things as this.
We all say, "Any certainty is better than
THE SUNLIGHT FROM THE SEA.
219
suspense.'' But when certainty awful and
undoubted, comes, we shrink back, crying
vainly for the mercy of that suspense
which, at least, knew hope.
General Aylraer was standing by his
daughter, meditatively watching a boat
which had just received two passengers of
the ship, and thinking to himself how
very uncomfortable they must have found
the shipboard accommodations (supposing
them to know any thing about any better),
and how very much he would have disliked
a voyage under such circumstances, when
his arm was grasped with a force which
pained even its firm muscles.
" The devil ! " he cried, turning abrupt-
ly. "Why, Valerie, is it you? By Jove,
your fingers have some strength in them !
What is the matter ? "
" Papa," said Valerie, with a strange
gasp in her voice not heeding him at all,
but keeping her eyes fastened in a strained
gaze on. the very boat her father himself
had been watching. " Papa look ! I am
afraid to trust my own eyes ! "Who who
is that yonder?"
" Where ? " asked the general, staring in
the faces of all the people about him. "I
don't see anybody I know. Where do you
mean ? "
" Yonder in the boat ! The boat that
has left the ship. Papa, papa, who is it? "
The general looked, but he could make
out nothing. He was rather near-sighted,
however, so he mounted his eye-glass ; then
he saw two military-looking men, one of
whom was sitting down, and the other
standing up watching the shore. His glance
happened to fall first on the latter, and he
exclaimed joyfully :
" It is Charley ! "
But Valerie's voice, all shaken with
emotion, made him start, as she said :
" It is Maurice ! "
Then looking at the other, and the boat
coming nearer with every moment, he saw
that she was right. He, too, recognized
the man from whom he had parted in Bal-
timore, two years before the soldier of
fortune whom they had almost given over
as dead. He, too, knew at a glance Mau-
rice Darcy.
"Papa," said Valerie, in a quick, eager
tone (her veil was down now), " this must
not come upon Gaston suddenly ^not, at
any rate, without some preparation. You
stay here and meet them as soon as they
land, while I go and tell the news to him."
Before the general could utter a word,
acquiescent or otherwise, she had left his
side and was speeding away.
She found Valdor gone, when she en-
tered hisjoom, and only Watkins mounting
guard over his master.
"I made him go," said Gaston, in a
tone of apology. " He wanted to stay ; but
some one called for him, and I made him
go."
"I am glad he is gone," said Valerie,
sinking into a chair, quite breathless; and
something in the tone and manner attract-
ed the invalid's attention.
" You seem to have been in haste,"
he said, looking at her curiously.
"Yes I was."
"Did you come back alone? "
"Quite alone."
" Why, where is the general ? "
" He stayed behind, to see a friend."
"A friend?"
Gaston was growing suspicious. He
raised himself on his elbow, and the color
came and went on his pale cheek at a rate
that alarmed Valerie. She remembered
suddenly the physician's warning against
any shock or excitement, and she feared
that she had not kept herself under suf-
ficient control. She rose and went to
the bedside outwardly calm once more,
though every pulse was throbbing tumult-
uously and stood looking down on him
with eyes that glowed with something of
their old, lustrous light.
" Gaston," she said, and she strove in
vain, to quite steady her voice "let us
thank God for His great mercy I have
heard news of Maurice ! "
For the first time since he laid his head
down, three long weeks before, the sick man
sprang to an upright, sitting position.
" Of Maurice I Oh, thank God thank
God ! You are quite sure, Valerie ? "
" Quite sure " she had flung herself on
her knees beside the bed. "He is living
220.
VALERIE AYLMER.
he is safe ! Oh, what have vre ever done to
deserve such a great blessing ? "
"What have I ever done? " said Gaston,
faintly. Then he closed his eyes and sunk
hack upon the pillow.
"With a frightened cry, Valerie sprung to
the table, and seized a bottle of ammonia
which stood there. But the swoon if
swoon it really was only lasted a minute.
He gave a gasp as he inhaled the strong aro-
matic spirits which she held to his nostrils,
and then the long lashes lifted again.
" Don't be afraid," he whispered. " It
was only a sudden spasm of the heart
from joy, you know. But joy never kills.
I am better now. Ah, I shall soon be well,
if Maurice is coming! Did you say he is
coming?"
" I hope so I believe so. But you must
not talk just now. I will tell you all about
it after a while."
"And Charley?"
" Charley is safe, too."
He lay silent for a moment then looked
up again with an imploring glance.
"Did he tell you he had seen Maurice? "
"Did who tell me?"
" The man you saw. Surely you said
you had seen somebody who knew."
"I yes, I saw somebody."
" "Who was it? "
Valerie hesitated. She did not know
whether to tell him or not. While she hes-
itated wishing, and yet fearing to do so
part of the truth at least flashed upon Gas-
ton. He threw his arms up, with a cry :
" Charley ! It is Charley w^ho has come !
Oh, where is he ? where is he? "
" Gaston," she cried, authoritatively,
" this will never do ! I did not say it was
Charley ! You must compose yourself, or
you will be ill again. Oh, if only the doc-
tor was here! "
"No," he answered, " you did not say it
was he, but I know it must have been. And
he would never have come without Maurice,
if Maurice was living. Valerie " he raised
himself up again, and caught the hand near-
est him " Valerie, has Maurice come? "
" Gaston ! "
" Ah, I knew it I knew it ! Thank God!
And stop ! There is Hautaine now ! "
It was, indeed. As he spoke, a step
came bounding up the stairs, the door was
burst open without ceremony, and Hau-
taine's handsome, bronzed face appeared, as
Hautaine's self rushed in upon them. Of
what ensued Valerie had only a dim con-
ception. AU of a sudden, she grew weak
and faint, and a black mist came over her
sight. Unconsciously, she sank into a chair
behind the sweeping curtains of the bed, and
she heard Hautaine's voice as in a dream,
when he poured forth his eager story, tell-
ing Gaston how he had found Maurice con-
demned to death with Yafies, the guerrilla-
chief, and on the very verge of execution ;
how it was only through those friends in
power of whom he had once spoken, by
their influence, and especially by their brib-
ery, that he obtained his release in the offi-
cial form of banishment ; and how But
here it was that Gaston cut him short with
a joyful cry, that rang through the room
like music :
" He is coming ! Maurice is coming ! I
hear his step! "
The next moment, a tall form darkened
the door-way a quick step crossed the
floor Gaston sprang forward and the
brothers were in each other's arms.
For a full minute there was silence.
Hautaine drew back, and went toward Gen-
eral Aylmer, who had paused in the door.
They passed away together, but Valerie was
fast prisoned in her retreat ; and, even if she
had not been so prisoned, she was powerless
to move powerless even to speak.
Maurice's voice was the first to break
upon the stillness the quiver of something
that was almost a sob in every tone.
" Gaston, Gaston, can I ever forgive my-
self? Brother the best ! friend the dearest !
to think that I should, in my selfishness,
have gone away and left you to suflfer like
this, alone! "
"Brother, no not alone," Gaston an-
swered. " There has been one who has
taken even your place ! one who has
soothed my pain, and nursed my sickness,
like an angel sent from Heaven ! one, but
for whom I should never have lived to look
upon your face again ! "
" Gaston ! My God ! you cut me to the
THE SUNLIGHT FROM THE SEA.
221
lieart ! A stranger to do this ; and I I,
who ought never to have left you far
awayl"
"A stranger, Maurice! No there is
but one person alive who would have tended
me thus, or been to rae what she has more
than friend and sister. Brother, she is
there ! Have you no word of thanks for
her ? "
He turned; and almost, as it were,
against her will, Valerie rose from her seat,
and stood before him her face shining up-
on him fair and pale as a star. Maurice
recoiled a step in astonishment ; for, though
he knew that she was there, he had not ex-
pected to see her so soon. Then they stood
and looked into each other's eyes. Both
were sadly changed upon the faces of each
sorrow and care had laid stern signet but
what of that? They looked into each
other's eyes, and they read there the love
and faith that had never faltered with
either, and were forever beyond the things
of Earth and Time. Maurice opened his
arms with one cry :
"Valerie!"
After that, there was never any need of
explanation.
THE END.
HARPER'S LIBRARY OF
SELECT NOVELS.
t^" MaiUng .Yo.'icc HAunni & Beotuees trill send their Books by Mail, poalage free^ to any part of the United
atate&i on receipt of the Piice.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
14.
15.
IC.
IT.
18.
19.
20.
21.
22.
23.
24.
25.
26.
27.
28.
20.
30.
31.
32.
33.
34.
35.
3i;.
ST.
38.
39.
40.
41.
42.
43.
44.
45.
46.
4T.
48.
49.
50.
61.
52.
53.
54.
55.
56.
57.
58.
59.
CO.
61.
62.
63.
64.
65.
66.
67.
63.
69.
70.
71.
72.
73.
74,
76.
77.
78.
79.
80.
81.
82.
83.
84.
P5.
80.
PRICE
Pelham. Bv Bulwer $0 75
The Disowned, liy Bulwer 75
IJevereiix. By Bulwer 50
I'aul Clifford. By Bulwer 50
Kugene Aram. By Bulwer 50
The Last Days of PonipeiL By Bulwer 50
The Czarina. By Mrs. llofland 50
Itienzi. By Bulwer 75
Self- Devotion. By Miss Campbell 50
The Nabob at Home 50
Ernest Maltravers. By Bulwer 50
Alice; or, 'I he Mysteries. By Bulwer 50
The Last of the Barons. By Bulwer 1 00
Forest Days. By James 50
Adam Brown, the Merchant. By IL Smith ... 50
Pilgrims of the Rhine. By Bulwer 25
The Home. By Miss Bremer 50
The Lost Ship. By Captain Neale 75
The False Heir. By James 5i)
The Neighbors. By Miss Bremer 50
Nina. By Miss Bremer 50
The President's Daughters. By Miss Bremer.. 25
The Banker's Wife. By Mrs. Li ore 50
The Birthright. By Mrs. Gore 25
New Sketches of Every-day Life. By Jliss Bremer 50
Arabella Stuart. By James 50
The Grumbler. By Miss Pickering 50
The Unloved One. By Mrs. Hofland 50
Jack of the MiU. By William llowitt 25
The Heretic. By Lajetchnikoff 50
The Jew. By Spindler 75
Arthur. By Sue 75
Chatsworth. By AVard 50
The Prairie Bird. By C. A. Murray 1 00
Amy Herbert. By Miss Sewell 50
Rose d'Albret. By James 50
The Triumphs of Tii^ By Mrs. Marsh 75
The H Family, ^y Miss llremer 50
The Grandfather. By Miss Pickering 50
Arrah NeiL By James 50
The Jilt 50
Tales from the German 50
Arthur Arundel. By H. Smith 50
Agincourt. By James 50
The Regent's Daughter 50
The Maid of Honor 5!)
Safia. By De Beauvoir 50
Look to the End. By Mrs. laiis 50
The Improvisatore. By Andersen 50
The Gamblers Wife. By Mrs. Grey .5(1
Veronica. By Zschokke 50
Zoe. By Miss Jewsbury 50
Wyoming 50
De Roh:n. By Sue 50
Self. By the Author of " Cecil" 75
The Smuggler. By James 75
The Breach of Promise 5fl
Parsonage of Mora. By Miss Bremer 25
A Chance Medley. By T. C. Grattan 50
The White Slave 1 00
The Bosom Friend. By Mrs. Grey 50
Amaury. By Dumas 50
The Authors Daughter. By Mary Howitt 25
Onlv a Fiddler, &c. I'.y Andersen 50
The' Whiteboy. By Mrs. Hall 50
The Foster- Brother. Edited by Leigh Hunt. . . 50
Love and Mesmerism. By U. Smith 7.5
Ascanio. By Dumas 75
Lady of Milan. Edited by Mrs. Thomson 75
The Citizen of Prague 1 Oo
The Royal Favorite. By Mrs. Gore 50
The Queen of Denmark. By Mrs. Gore 50
TheKlve3,&c. By Tieck 50
7.5. The Stepmother. By James 1 25
Jessie's Flirtations 50
Chevalier d'Harmental. By Dumas 50
Peers and Parvenus. By Mrs. Gore 5'l
The Commander of Malta, By Sue 50
The Female Minister 50
Emilia Wyndhara. By Mrs. Marsh 75
The Bush- Ranger. By Charles Rowcroft 50
The Chronicles of Clovernook 25
Genevieve. By Lamartine 25
Livonian Tales 2.5
Lcttice Arnold. By ilrs. J!arah 25
rEICE
87. Father Darcy. By Jfrs. Marsh $0 75
8S. Leontine. By Mrs Maberly f^O
89. Heidelberg. By James .50
90. Lucretia. By Bulwer 75
91. Beauchamp. By James 75
92. 94. Fortescue. By Knowlcs 1 00
93. Daniel Dennison, &c. By Mrs. Holland 50
95. Cinq-Mars. By De Vigny 50
96. AVoman's Trials. By Mrs. S. C. Hall 75
97. The Castle of Ehrenstein. By James 50
98. Marriage. By Miss S. Ferrier 50
99. Roland Cashel. By Lever 1 25
100. The Martins of Cro' Martin. By Lever 1 25
101. Russell. By James .50
102. A Simple Stop". By Mrs. Inchbald 50
103. Norman's Bridge. By Mrs. Marsh 50
104. Alamance 50
105. Margaret Graham. By James 25
106. The Wayside Cross. By E. H. Milman 25
107. The Convict. By James 50
lOS. Midsummer Eve. By Mrs. S. C. Hall 50
109. Jane EjTe. By Currer Bell 75
110. The Last of the Fairies. By James 25
111. Sir Theodore Broughton. Bv James 50
112. Self-Control. By Mary Brunton 75
113. 114. Harold. By Bulwer 1 00
115. Brothers and Sisters. By Miss Bremer 50
116. Gowrie. By James 50
117. A Whim and its Consequences. By James... CO
118. Three Sisters and Three Fortunes. By G. 11.
Lewes 75
119. The Discipline of Life 50
120. Thirty Years Since. By James 75
121. Mary Barton. By Mrs. G askell 50
122. The Great Hoggarty Diamond. By Thackeray 25
123. The Forgery. By James 50
124. The Midnight Sun. Bv Jliss Bremer iH
155, 12G. The Caxtons. By 'Bulwer 75
127. Mordaunt Hall. By xMrs. Marsh 50
128. Jly Uncle the Curate 50
129. The Woodman. By James 75
130. The Green Hand. A " Short Yam" 75
131. Sidonia the Sorceress. By Meinhold 1 00
, 132. Shirley. By Currer Bell 1 00
133. The Ogilvies. By Miss Mulock 50
l^A. Constance Lyndsay. By G. C. H 50
135. Sir Edward Graham. By Miss Sinclair 1 00
136. Hands not Hearts. By Miss Wilkinson 50
137. The Wilmingtons. By Mrs. Marsh 50
138. Ned Allen. By D. Hannay 50
13^1. Night and Morning. By Bulwer 75
140. The Maid of Orieans 75
141. Antonina. By Wilkie Collins EO
142. Zanoni. By IJulwer 50
143. Reginald Hastings. By AVarburton 50
144. Pride and Irresolution 50
145. The Old Oak Chest. By James 50
146. Julia Howard. By Mrs. Martin Bell 50
147. Adelaide Lind.=ay. Edited by Mrs. Marsh. .. . 50
148. Petticoat Government. By Mrs. TroUope 50
149. The Luttrells. By F. Williams 50
150. Singleton Fontenoy, P.. N. By Hannay 50
151. Olive. By Mi.'is Mulock 50
152. Henry Smeaton. By .James 50
153. Time, the Avenger. By M rs. Marsh 50
154. The Commissioner. By James 1 00
155. The Wife's Sister. By Mrs. Hubback 50
1.50. The Gold Worshipers 50
157. The Daughter of Night. By FuUom 50
1.58. Stuart of Dnnleath. By Hon. Caroline Norton 60
15;. Arthur Conway. By Captain E. H. MUman. . 50
160. The Fate. By James 50
161. The Lady and the I'riest. By Mrs. Maberly. . 50
162. Aims and Obstacles. By James 50
163. The Tutor's Ward 50
164. Florence Sackville. By Mrs. Burbury 75
16.5. RavensclifFe. By Mrs. .Marsh .50
IfiO. Maurice Tiernay. Bv Lever 100
167. The Head of the Fam'ily. By Miss Mulock... 75
16^. Darien. ByWarburton 50
169. Falkenburg 75
170. The Daltons. By Lever. 1 50
171. Ivar; or, The Skjuts-Boy. By Miss Carlen . . 50
172. Pequinillo. By James 50
173. Anna Hammer. By Temme 50
Harper's Library of Select Novels.
PKICE
1T4. A Life of Vicissitude?, r.y James $0 50
175. Henry Esmond. Ijy Thackeray 75
17(3, 177. My Novel. By liulwer 1 50
17S. Katie tte\vart. By Mrs. Oliphant 25
179. Castle Avon. By Mrs. Marsh 50
150. Agnes .Sorol. liy James 50
151. .Agatha's Husband. By Miss Mulock 50
ISJ. Villette. By Currer Bell 75
1S3. Lover's Stratagem. By Miss Carlen 50
ISl. Clouded Happiness. By Countess D'Orsay. .. 50
1S5. Charles Auchester. A Memorial 75
ISU. Lady Lee's Widowhood 50
137. The Dodd Family Abroad. By Lever 1 '25
1S8. Sir Jasper Carew. By Lever 75
ISO. Quiet Heart. By Mrs. Oliphant 25
190. Aubrey. By Mrs. Marsli 75
191. Ticonderoga. By James 50
192. Hard Times. By Dickens 50
193. The Voung Husband. By Mrs. Grey 50
194. The Mother's liecompense. By Grace Aguilar. 75
195. Avillion, and other 'I'ales. By Miss Mulock. . . 1 25
19G. North and South. By Mrs. Gaskell 50
107. Country Neighborhood. By Miss Dupuy 50
198. Constance Herbert. By Miss Jewsbury 50
199. The Heiress of Haughton. By Mrs. .Marsh. . . 50
2u0. The Old Dominion. By James 50
201. John Halifax. By Miss Mulock 75
202. Evelyn Marston. By Mrs. Marsh 50
203. Fortunes of Glencore. By Lever 50
204. Leonora d' Oreo. By James 50
205. Nothing New. By Miss Mulock 50
206. The Itose of Ashurst. By Mrs. Marsh 50
20T. The Athelings. By Mrs. Oliphant 75
208. Scenes of Clerical Life. By George Eliot 75
209. My Lady Ludlow. By Mrs. Gaskell 25
210. 211. Gerald Fitzgerald. By Lever 50
212. A Life for a Life. By Mis.s Mulock 50
213. Sword and Gown. By Geo. Lawrence 25
214. Misrepresentation. By Anna H. Drury 1 00
215. The .Mill on the Floss. By George Eliot 75
210. One of Them. By Lever 75
217. A Day's Hide. By Lever 50
21 S. Notice to Quit. By Wills 50
219. A Strange Story. By Bulwer 1 00
220. The .Struggles of Brown, Jones, and Robinson.
By Trollope ,50
221. Abel Drake's Wife. By John Saunders 75
222. Olive Blake's Good Work. By Jeaffreson 75
223. The Professor's Lady 25
224. Mistress and Maid. By Miss Mulock 50
225. Aurora Floyd. By M. E. Braddon 75
22(. Barrlngton. By Lever 75
227. Sylvia's Lovers. By Mrs. Gaskell 75
223. A First Friendship 50
229. A Dark Night's Work. By Mrs. Gaskell 50
230. Mrs. Lirriper's Lodgings 25
231. St. Olaves 75
232. A Point of Honor 50
233. Live it Down. By Jeaffreson 1 00
234. Martin I'ole. By Saunders 50
2.35. ISLaiy Lyndsay. Dy Lady Emily I'onsonby.. . 50
236. Eleanor's Victory. By .M. E. Braddon 75
237. Kachel Kay. By Trollope ."iO
238. John MarchmonVs Legacy. By M. E. Braddon. 75
239. Annis Warleigh's Fortunes. By Holme Lee. . 75
240. 'I'lie Wife's Evidence. By Wills 60
241. Barbara's History. By Amelia B. Edwards. . . 75
242. Cousin Phillis. By Mrs. Gaskell 25
243. What will he do with It? By Bulwer 1 ,50
244. The Ladder of r.ife. By Amelia B. Edwards.. 50
245. Denis Duval. By Thadceray 50
246. Maurice Dering. By Geo. Lawrence 50
247. Margaret Denzil's llistory 75
24^. Quite Alone. By George .Augustus Sala. .' .... 75
249. Mattie : a Stray i^
2.50. My Brother's Wife. By Amelia "li." Edwards!." 50
251. Uncle Silas. By J. S. Le Fanu 75
252. Lovcl the Widower. By Thackeray '. . 25
253. Miss Mackenzie. By Anthony 'I'rollopo. !....' .50
2.54. On Guard. By Annie Thomas .50
25.". Theo Leigh. By Annie Thomas 50
256. Denis Donne. By Annie Thomas .50
257. Belial "" 50
253. Carry's Confession. P.y the Author of "Mat-
tie : a Stray" 7.5
2.59. Miss Carew. By Amelia P.. i:dwards. ........ .50
2G0. Hand and Glove. By Amelia B. ICdw.ards . 50
26L Guy DevereU. By J. S. Le I'anu 50
262. Half a Million of Money. By Amelia B. I'.d-
wards 7.5
203. The Belton Estate. By Anthony Trollope! '. '. '. .50
264. Agnos. By Jlrs. Oliphant 75
205. Walter Goring. By Annie Thomas 75
266. Ma.vwcU Drewitt. By Mr.-'. J. U. Kiddell .... 75
rKicK
267. The Toilers of the Sea. By Victor Hugo $0 75
268. Miss Marjoribanks. By Mrs. Oliphant 50
269. The True llistory of a Little Kagamuflin 60
270. Gilbert Rugge. By the Author of "A First
Friendship" 1 00
271. Sans Merci. By Geo. Lawrence 50
'272. Phemie Keller. By Mrs. J. H. Itiddell 50
273. Laud at Last. By Edmund Yates 50
274. Felix Holt, the Radical. By George Eliot 75
275. Bound to tho Wheel. By John Saunders 75
276. All in the Dark. By J. S. Le Fanu 50
277. Kissing the Rod. By Edmund Vates 75
278. The Race for Wealth. By Mrs. J. H. Riddell. . 75
279. Lizzie Lorton of Greyrigg. By Mrs. K. Lynn
Linton 75
280. The Beauclercs, Father and Son. By Clarke. 50
281. Sir Brooke Fossbrooke. By Charles Lever .. . 50
282. Madonna Mary. By Mrs. Olipliaut 50
283. Cradock Nowell. By R. D. Blackmore 75
284. Bernthal. From the German of L. Muhlbach. 50
285. Rachel's Secret 75
286. The Claverings. Bv Anthony Trollope 50
287. The Village on the Cliff. By Miss Thackeray. 25
288. Played Out. By Annie Thomas 75
289. Black Sheep. By Edmund Yates 50
290. Sowing the Wind. By Mrs. E. Lynn Linton.. 50
291. Nora and Archibald Lee 50
292. Raymond's Heroine 50
293. Mr. Wynyard's Ward. By Holme Lee 50
294. Alec Forbes of llowglen. By Mac Donald 75
295. No Man's Friend. By F. W. Robinson 75
296. Called to Account. By Annie Thomas 50
297. Caste 50
298. The Curate's Discipline. By Mrs. Kiloart 50
299. Circe. By Babington White 50
300. The Tenants of Malory. By J. S. Le Fanu 50
301. Carlyon's Year. By the Author of " Lost Sir
Massingbeid," &c 25
302. The Waterdale Neighbors. By the Author of
"Paul Massie" 50
.S03. Mabel's Progress. By the Author of " The Sto-
ry of Aunt Margaret's Trouble" 50
304. Guild Court. By George Mac Donald 50
,305. The Brothers' Bet. By Eniilie Flygare Carlen 25
311O. Playing for High Stakes. By Annie Thomas. . 50
307. Margaret's Eng.igement 50
303. One of the Family. By^ie Author of "Car-
lyon's Year" ". 25
309. Five Hundred Pounds Reward. By a Barrister 50
310. Brownlows. By Mrs. Oliphant 37
311. Charlotte's Inheritance. By M. E. Braddon . . 50
312. Jeannie's Quiet Life. By the Author of "St.
Olaves," &c 50
313. Poor Humanity. By F. W. Robinson 50
314. Brakespeare. By Geo. Lawrence 50
315. A Lost Name. By J. Sheridan Le Fanu 50
316. Love or Marriage ? By William Black .^O
317. Dead-Sea Fruit. By M. E. Braddon ,50
318. The Dower House. By Annie Thomas .50
319. The Bramleighs of Bishop's Folly. By Lever. .50
320. Mildred. By Georgiana M. Craik 50
321. Nature's Nobleman. By the Author of "Ra-
chel's Secret" 50
322. Kathleen. By the Author of " Raymond's He-
roine" 50
.323. That Boy of Norcott's. By Charles Lever 25
324. In Silk Attire. By W. Black .50
325. Hetty. By Henry Kingslcy 25
326. False Colors. Bv Annie Thomas 50
327. Meta's Faith. By the Author of " St. Oliivt's." 50
328. Found Dead. By tho Author of "Carlyou's
Year" 50
329. Wri eked in Port. By Edmund Y'ntes 50
330. The Minister's Wife. By Mrs. Oliphant 75
331. A Beggar on Horseback. By the Antlior of
"Carlvon's Year ' 50
332. Kitty. By the Author of "Doctor Jacob" 50
333. Only Her.self. By Annie Thomas 50
334. llirell. By John Saunders 50
.33.'). Under Foot. Bv Alton Clyde 50
336. So Runs the \Vorld Away. P.y Mrs. A. C. Steele. .50
.337. 15aftled. liy Julia Godiiard 75
338. Beneath the Wheels. By the Author of "Olive
Varcoe " 50
3.39. Stern Necessity. By F. W. Robin.son 50
340. Gwendoline's Hai-vest. By the Authorof "Car-
lyon's Year " 25
341. Kilmeny. By W. 151ack .50
34'2. John: a Love Stoiy. By Mr.^. Oliphant .50
343. True to Herself. By F. W. Robinson 50
'344. Veronica. By the Author of "Aunt Mnrg.aret's
'I'rouble" ' 50
315. A Dangerous (Juest. By the Author of "Gil-
bert Rugge" 50
VERONICA.
A NOVEL,
By THE AUTHOR OF
"AUNT MARGARET'S TROUBLE," "MAPEL'S PROGRESS," &c.
NEW YORK:
HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS,
FRANKLIN SQUARE.
1870.
y E R N I C A.
BOOK I.
CHAPTER I.
A NEW VICAR FOK SHIPLEY.
The Church Intelligence announced one day,
much to the tluttenng of the village of JShiplev,
and also to the fluttering of some disappoint-
ed hearts in clerical breasts, that the Keverend
Charles Levincourt was presented to the vacant
living of Shipley-in-the-Wold.
The Reverend Charles Levincourt was pre-
sented to the living of Shipley-in-the-Wold by
Sir William Delaney, to whose only son he had
been tutor.
Sir William had always expressed his sense of
obligation to Mr. Levincourt for the unremitting
and judicious care he had bestowed on his son
James's education. The young man was sickly
in body and inert in mind ; nevertheless he had
passed through his university career in a fairly
creditable manner. This was mainly owing, as
every one admitted, to his tutor's talents and
zeal. Tiierefore when the not veiy lucrative liv-
ing of Shipley fell vacant, it was the most natural
thing in the world that Sir William should bestow
it on a gentleman for whose services he professed
liimself sincerely grateful. But neither Shipley-
in-the-Wold nor the world out of the Wold by any
means understood the mainspring of this sincere
gi-atitude.
James was the baronet's only son, but Sir
William was also the father of two daughters.
While the elder of these young ladies Hilda
was going through the gayeties of a London
season (at the end of which she became Lady
Tallis), Clara a girl of seventeen was quietly
falling in love with her brother *^s tutor in the
country.
The Delaneys were Irish people. They lived
chiefly at the place which bore their family
name an estate called Delaney Park in the
South of Ireland. James passed the long va-
cation at home, and Mr. Levincourt came with
him. CliU'a was a delicate, shy, sweet-natured
creature ; motherless, and more innocent of
worldliness in her eighteenth year than many
a precocious inmate of a Belgravian nurseiy.
Charles Levincourt loved her better than he
was destined ever to love another human being.
But he "behaved admirably," Sir William al-
ways declared.
llow? Well, in a word, he went abroad with
a rich minor to whose guardians Sir William
Delaney warmly recommended his son's tutor.
Before two years were over the family at De-
laney Park learned that Mr. Levincourt was mar-
ried in Italy, to a foreign lady of great beauty,
but no fortune.
Soon aftenvard Clara yielded to her father's
solicitations, and accepted the hand of Sidney
Power Desmond, Esquire, of Desmond Court,
County Cork : a gentleman of good familj',
wliose estate adjoined her father's. On his sec-
ond daughter's Avedding morning, Sir William
wrote to Charles Levincourt, promising him the
next presentation, then likely to fall in very
shortly, to the English living of Shipley-in-the-
Wold. No one save hei" father knew that it was
Clara who had asked and obtained this boon.
But she had said to Sir William in her quiet
sweet voice, " Pajia, James had a letter the oth-
er day from IMr. Levincourt. lie has not suc-
ceeded in getting appointed to the foreign chap-
laincy he was trying for. His wife has just had
a little girl. I am afraid they are very poor. I
wish you would promise him the ne.xt presenta-
tion to Shipley. You could not do better. He
is so clever and so learned, and and he was very
good to James, papa dear."
In this way the Reverend Charles Levincourt
became vicar of Shipley-in-the-Wold.
CHAPTER IL
SHIPLEY V I C .\ R A G E.
The small and obscure village of Shipley-in-
the-Wold stands in one of the westernmost of
the midland counties.
Its name was given in days before the whole
of that part of England had been marked by the
plow and spade, like a page by the tracings of a
])en. Generation after generation has left its
sign-manual on the face of the land : each writ-
ing the record of its labors in straight fuiTOws on
many a fertile field : furrows eff"aced and changed
and renewed, from season to season, and from
age to age, as are the waving ripples on a sea-
side sand washed by the eternal tides.
A stretch of furze-grown common is, perhaps,
the only remnant of that characteristic aspect of
the country which gave Shipley its distinctive ap-
jjellation.
There are wide, flat meadows all round about
it, where herds of cattle gi-aze on the dew-fed
grass. The principal faims in the immediate
neighborhood of Shi])ley-in-the-Wold are graz-
ing fanns. All the land is flat and monotonous
as far as the eye can see : save to the westward,
where the horizon line is broken by a range of
low turf-covered hills, called by the inhabitants
of those parts emphatically " tlie Hills. " Behind
" tlie Hills"' lies another Shii^ley ; Shipley Mag-
na, a tiny market-town.
VERONICA.
If it could be reached by a direct line cut
tlirough one swelling green mound, Shipley
Magna would not be more than two or tliree
miles distant from Shipley-in-the-Wold. But
tlie road winds about and over the hills ; and
it is six miles from the village to the town.
iSouthward the landscape grows prettier and
more smiling. Tliere are trees, and there is
arable land where, in summer, wide fields of
sun-burnt grain wave, and rock, and change col-
or in the breeze, as a face pales or flushes at a
sudden whisper.
But fShipley-in-the-Wold only beholds these
things from afiir. The stretch of furze-grown
common already mentioned, and beyond that a
considerable extent of oozy marshland separate
it from the smiling southern country.
In the winter season bleak winds sweep scy the-
\vinged over Shipley ; the snow lies deep about
it ; and often a single track of hoofs, and wheels,
and feet may be traced in long black lines and
uncouth dots, for miles across the otherwise un-
broken whiteness of the level.
The village straggles over a considerable extent
of ground, but its houses are few and its popula-
tion is scanty. Tliere is nothing which can be
called a main street belonging to it.
The dwellings stand scattered irregularly ; here
a cottage, and there a cottage, and each one is
set witliin its own little patch of kitchen-garden.
The place is remote from any great centre of
commerce and activity. No railway passes near
it.
Twenty miles to the southward, among the
trees and the coi'u-fields, lies the cathedral city
of Danecester ; with its bishop, and its dean,
and its minster, and many other civilizing and
excellent institutions. But Danecester is, after
all, but a silent, sleepy, old-fashioned city ; and
it wots little, and cares less, about poor little
Sliipley out on the bleak, wind-swept flats.
Tiiere is a very ancient church in Shipley : a
low-roofed, stone church with round arches, pil-
lars of disproportionate thickness, and a square,
squat tower. It has a deep porch, to enter which
you descend two stejis from the grave-yard.
The laboring centuries have piled their dust
liigh around the massive masonrj' of St. Gil-
das's church, and the level of the outside earth
is considei'ably above that of tiie stone pavement
within the little temi)lc.
The grave-yard is inclosed by a low wall, and
its gateway is a relic of antiquity coeval with the
church itself. Tiie said gateway is of hewn stone,
with a projecting jient-house roof, and beneatli
it on one side is a large stone slab, cracked,
weather-stained, and Indf sunk into the earth.
Here, in the old time, the coffin-bearers were
wont to set down their burden, and a prelimin-
ary prayer for the dead was said before entering
the church-yard.
There is no beauty in St. Gildas's grave-yard.
It lies defenseless and exposed to every wild
northeasterly gale that sweeps over the flats.
Its clustered mounds are turf-grown. Sheep
graze there sometimes in sunnner. The few
grave -stones, as yet undefaccd by time and
weather, bear Inmible names of yeomen and
peasants, born, living, and dying at Shipley,
generation after generation.
There are some rank flaunting marigolds grow-
ing beside the porch, and a sickly-hued chrysan-
themum raises its head to peer over the lo^v rough
wall of the grave-yard. Other growth, save net-
tles, dock leaves, and dank, shadow-loving, name-
less weeds, there is none.
Hard by the church stands the vicarage house.
It is a lonely dwelling. There is no habitation
of any kind within a mile of it : none above the
rank of a peasant's cottage within two miles.
Shipley vicarage is either not old enough or
too old to be picturesque. It was built in the
middle of what may be termed, emphatically,
the ugly age ; the period, namely, during Avhicli
the four Georges successively occiipied the throne
of these realms. It is a nearly square house of
yellowish-brown brick. Its rooms are oblong
and rectangular, its windows mean, its staircases
narrow. There is no break or relief in the flat
wall-surfiices, nor in the blank desert of the white-
washed ceilings.
Behind the house extends a large garden, the
high wall of which skirts a by-lane branching
from the main high-road to Shipley IMagna. In
front is a lawn, cut in two by a long, straight
gravel path that leads from an iron wicket in tlie
box hedge up to the hall-door. This lawn is
only divided by a paddock from St. Gildas's
church-yard.
Two ((uivering poplars whisper to each other,
and nod mysteriously from either side of tlie
iron gate : and the windows of the lower rooms
in the front of the house are darkened Iiy clumps
of evergreens, among which an old yew-tree rises
gloomily conspicuous.
The vicarage foces due south, and looks across
the common and the marsh to where tufiy wood-
lands break the level and iiide the distant spires
of Danecester.
The Eeverend Charles Levincourt, vicar of St.
Gildas, arrived to take possession of his new home
on a dreary day in the latter autumn, when the
rain dripped sadly from the sombre evergreens,
and low, lead-colored clouds were melting into
slant showers over the common.
"It is not a hopeful scene," said he, as he
looked about him and shivered.
He afterward saw the scene under a countless
varietj' of aspects ; but that first dispiriting im-
pression of Shijiley struck the ke^'-note of the
place, and became an abiding uiuler-tone, sound-
ing through all subsequent changes.
CHAPTER III.
A WARD.
Mn. Levixcoukt had been established some
years at Shij)ley, when one day he received a let-
ter from the junior j)artner in a London firm of
solicitors, Erost and Lovegrove. informing liini
that lie (the Reverend Charles Levincourt, vicar
of Shii)ley-in-the-AVold) had been appointed co-
executor witli the writer (Augustus Lovegrove)
of the will of tlie late Mrs. Desmond, relict of
Sidney Power Desmond, Esquire, formerly of
Desmond Court, county Cork ; and further re-
questing the vicar's presence in town as soon as
might be.
Connnunication between the country clergy-
man and the fiimily of his old puj^il had loi);
since worn away and died out. Tiie old jiupii
himself had died, at five-and-twenty ; his sorrow-
VERONICA.
ing father bad not long survived him ; and this
was the first intimation diaries Levincourt re-
ceived of the widowliood and death of his old
love.
lie journeyed without delay to London, and
saw Mr. Lovogrove. The latter informed liim
that their joint responsihilit^v, as regarded the
administration of ]Mrs. Desmond's will, would
not he an onerous one : tlie property she had had
to leave being very small.
"Rut," added the solicitor, "your share of
the business will be more troublesome. Here
is a letter which I solemnly i)romised our poor
friend to deliver into your own hand. IShe in-
formed me of its main object. It is to request
you to undertake the guardianship of her daugh-
ter."
" Her daughter ?"
"Yes; a nice little girl about nine years old.
The only suniving child of a large family. But
I tliought you knew all the circumstances. You
were one of ^Irs. Desmond's oldest friends, were
you not ?"
' ' I I yes ; I was a friend of Mrs. Des-
mond's family many years ago. But Time flies
away very fast, and many things tly with him.
Was not Mr. Desmond wealthy ? I had always
understood so."
"My dear Sir, Sidney Power Desmond ran
through a fine fortune, and sent his paternal
acres to the hammer. I saw a good deal of him,
and of her too, at one time, when I was pi-ofes-
sionally engaged in 'winding up his iiffairs,' as
he would persist in calling it. A tangled skein
that refused to be wound, I can tell you. Mrs.
Desmond was a sweet woman. She had a bad
life of it, I'm afraid. Not that he treated her
ill. He was fond of her, ift his way. But he
shook her children's inheritance away out of the
dice-box, and then he died, several years later
than he ought to have done for the welfare of his
family."
Tile vicar declined Mr. Lovegrove's proffered
hospitality, and went back to his dingy hotel
chamber to read Clara's letter in solitude.
The letter was short and simjile. It appealed
to him, on the ground of old friendship, not to
decline the trust imposed on him.
" My husband's relatives," thus it ran, " have
long been estranged from us. Papa and poor
James are dead, and distant cousins who know
little and care less about me or mine, possess
my old iiome. My sister, Lady Tallis, is child-
less, and she would gladly adopt my little one,
and would, I well know, be tender and kind to
the oqjhan. But her unhappy domestic circum-
stances render this impossible. Neither, to say
truth, is Hilda's husband a man beneath whose
roof I should like my daughter to be l)rought up,
even were he willing to jjermit it. Hilda has
her own troubles. I mention these things, not
in any spirit of bitterness, but simply that you
may understand how utterly friendless my Maud
will be when I am gone ; for I know her help-
lessness v.'ill appeal strongly to your kind heart."
The letter was commonplace and prosaic
enough in form and exi)ression ; but to Charles
Levincourt, sitting there with the sheet of folded
paper in his hand, and thinking of the dead wo-
man he once loved so well, there was both pa-
thos and eloquence in the sharply wnntten char-
acters. He mused long and sadly on the events
' of the past years that had so strangely resulted
in giving Clara's only surviving child to his care.
I But whatsoever refiections or regrets these mus-
I ings awakened in his mind he imparted to no
one.
! Tlie next day the vicar returned to Shipley,
i bringing with him a new inmate to the vicarage
i house. The little orphan was kindly received
by the mistress of her new home. Mrs. Levin-
j court was an Italian by birth. Her mother had
j been an Englishwoman, her father a Neapolitan.
I She had lived abroad all her life until her mar-
riage ; was very uneducated, very frivolous, and
! very beautiful. She had perhaps as small a share
of imagination as ever fell to the lot of a human
being. The self-confidence arising from this to-
tal inability to conceive another person's point
of view, to imafjine, in short, how others might
feel or think, was a power which carried her tri-
umphantly over many difliculties. She would
reply to an argument or a remonstrance by some
irrefevant platitude which made her husband
tingle with shame, but which, to her apprehen-
sion, was entirely convincing. On the whole,
however, she did her duty well (as far as she un-
derstood it) by the little stray lamb brought into
her fold. Gentle it was not in Stella Levin-
court's nature to be, but she was kind and attent-
I ive to the child's bodily requirements. Mrs. Lev-
incourt's first impression of the little girl she con-
! fided to her husband on the night of his return
from London.
" I have put her to bed in a crib in "Veroni-
ca's room, Charles. She is a quiet, docile child
enough. But oh, caro mio, what a stolid little
thing ! Just lost her mother, and as cool and
as calm as possible ! "
The vicar remembered the child's quivering
lip, pale cheek, and anxious, yearning look into
the strange faces that had surrounded her ; and
! he made answer, "Maud is c[uiet, but I think
I not stolid, my dear."
! "She is English, English, English to the
bone!" retorted Mrs. Levincourt, shrugging her
I graceful shoulders. "Only figure to yourself if
I I were to die, Veronica but then our darling is
' so sensitive!"
In Charles Levincourt's mind there arose a
vision of a sweet, pale, girlish face, which he had
last seen gazing after the coach that carried him
away from Delaney I'ark forever. And the
vision, from some unexplained cause, stung him
into the utterance of a sarcastic speech. He had
long ago ceased to use sarcasm or irony habitu-
ally in talking with his wife.
"I have no doubt, my dear," said he, "that
if Veronica were suffering in mind or body she
would take care that eveiy one around her should
suft'er too."
" That she would, poverina !" exclaimed Stel-
la, energetically.
When little Maud Desmond came to live at
the vicarage she was nine years old, and Ve-
ronica, the vicar's only child, was eleven. After
a short time the two little girls were sent to school
at Danccester. Veronica had hitherto refused
to go from home, and her refusal had sufficed to
prevent her going. Her mother indulged her
and worshiped her Avith a blind devotion, which
was repaid (as such devotion often is) by a min-
gling of fondness, disdain, and tyranny.
But now that Maud was to go to school Ve-
VERONICA.
ronica declared that she would accompany her ;
and she did so. And between their home and
the quiet Danecester school the two girls passed
several years of their lives.
During the long ISIidsummer holidays they
rambled over the common at Shipley-in-the-
Wold, or rode about the country lanes on a
rough pony provided for their joint use. In the
winter time they would steal into tiie kitchen of
an evening, and coax old Joanna the cook to tell
them some of her quaint country legends, or
stories of ghosts and runaway marriages, and
mysterious warnings, which were supposed to be
the exclusive (and one would think unenviable)
privileges of sundry ancient county families in
whose service Joanna had lived.
Or else they would sit in the gloaming at Mrs.
Levincourt's knee and listen to her tales of the
brilliant life she had led in Florence, the gayety,
the brightness, the company! The balls at the
Pitti and at the noble mansions of the Princi-
pessa dell a Scatola da ISalsa and the dowager
Countess Civetta, and the Russian lady, whose
exact rank was not known, but who was sup-
posed to be the wife of a hospodar. Only she
and the hospodar did not agree, and so they lived
apart ; and they met once a year in Paris, and
were admirably polite to each other ; and the
hospodaress allowed the hospodar several mill-
ions of rubles jjer annum to stay away from
her ; and she had a necklace of emeralds as big,
very nearly, as pigeons' eggs ; and she smoked
the very finest tobacco extant, and she was alto-
gether a most charming person.
These narratives, and many more, did Maud
and Veronica greedily devour. jNIaud believed
them with the same sort of good fiiiih with which
she threw herself into Aladdin, or the exquisite
fancies of Undine. She was willing to accept
the Russian lady, pigeons'-egg emeralds and all.
Such people might exist did, no doubt, but
in a far-off' way, altogether out of her sphere.
She no more expected to meet such an individu-
al hung with chains of barbaric splendor, and
puffing forth clouds of incense from an amber
pipe, than she anticipated the appearance of a
geni twenty feet high, when she rubbed her little
turquoise ring to keep it bright.
Veronica, however, being two years older, and
owning a diff'erent turn of mind, looked at mat-
ters in a much more practical light.
" And did you go to balls nearly every night,
mamma ? And did you wear white dresses with
short sleeves, and have flowers in your hair ? Oh,
how beautiful you must have looked!"
"I was never half so handsome as thou, tesoro
mio," the fond mother would reply.
' ' When I am grown up I won"t stay at Ship-
ley."
That was the burden of the song, the moral
of the story, the issue of it all, for Veronica.
On the whole the family at the vicarage led an
isolated life, and the tone of thought and feeling
that pen'aded their home was very singularly at
odds with the general notion of their neighbors
as to what was becoming in the household of a
clergyman.
In the first place, Mr. Levincourt was entirely
devoid of the least tincture of what may, without
otfense, be called professional j)arsonism. It is
by no means asserted that he was altogether the
better for having no such tincture. Men are
naturally and legitimately influenced in their out-
ward bearing by the nature of their calling in
life. The work which a man does heartilv, earn-
estly, and constantly, will most assuredly com-
municate a certain bent to his mind, and even a
certain aspect to his body. But the work which
a man does grudgingly, without thoroughness
and faitli, will be to him as irksome as an ill-
litting garment, and will, like such a garment,
be laid aside and put out of sight altogether,
whensoever its wearer can get rid of it.
People did not get intimate at the vicarage.
The neighborhood was but sparsely peopled with
families of the rank of gentlefolks.' Without the
command of some vehicle, visiting was out of
the question.
At first Mrs. Levincourt had gone out rather
frequently to formal dinner-parties at great dull
country houses, and also to some country houses
that were not dull. The hosts sent tlieir car-
riages for the vicar and his wife, if they lived at
a great distance from Shipley. Or a lumbering
old chaise was hired from the Crown at Shipley
Magna.
Bat gradually such intercourse dropped. Mrs.
Levincourt was not strong. Mrs. Levincourt did
not care for dinner-parties. Mrs. Levincourt
had her little girl to attend to. The fact was,
that Stella liked society, and she was by no
means conscious of the surprise which her say-
ings and doings were apt to excite among the
Daneshire magnates. But her husband was very
thoroughly conscious of it. And, as the only
kind of visiting they could have afforded han no
amusement, their life became more and more se-
cluded.
When the two girls were aged respectivelv
seventeen and fifteen ]\Irs. Levincourt died, and
then Veronica returned home to " take charge,"
as they said, of her father's house.
Maud also came back to Shipley vicarage,
having "completed her education;" in other
words, having learned all that they could teach
her at the Danecester school.
For two years Veronica reigned mistress of
her father's household. Perhaps the burden of
the song, "\^eronica being nineteen, had only so
far changed as to run tiuis : ' ' Now that 1 atn
grown up, I won't stay at Shipley. "
We shall see.
CHAPTER IV.
AN ACCIDENT.
Some subtle influence a sight, or sound, or
smell touched the long-drawn links of associa-
tion in the vicar's mind as he stood at his own
door one February afternoon, and made him re-
member that dreary autumn day on ^^hich lie
had first seen Shipley.
His thought flashed back along the ])ast years,
as the electric .spark thrills through a long chain
of clasping hands.
''Poor Stella!" he .said, half aloud.
Mr. Levincourt was apt to sjjcnd a good deal
of his available store of compassion on himself.
But there is no more effectual check to the in-
dulgence of our own failings and weaknesses
than the exaggerated manifestation of the same
defect in another. That which in us is onlv a
VERONICA.
9
reasonable and well-grounded dissatisfaction, be-
comes mere selfish unjustifiable repining in our
neighbors.
So long as his wife lived, therefore, Mr. Levin-
court was shamed by her loud and frivolous com-
plainings from expressing one-half the distaste
he really felt for his life at Shipley-in-the-Wuld,
although he had secretly deemed his wife far less
entitled to pity than he was, whose qualities of
mind and retinement of education enabled him
to understand much better what he had lost in
being thus buried alive at Shipley.
But Stella Levincourt, bona Barletti, slept in
St. Gildas's grave-yard, and a wiiite tablet glim-
mering out of the gloomiest corner in tlie dark
little church bore an inscription to her memory.
And since her death he had occasionally felt
much retrospective sympathy with his wife.
"Poor Stella I" he said again; and, shutting
the door behind him, he walked down the gravel
pathway, passed through the iron wicket, crossed
the paddock, and proceeded thus through St.
Gildas's church-yard toward the village.
It was not a day to loiter in. It had snowed
a good deal the previous night, but since ten
o'clock that morning a steady thaw had set in.
The roads were deep in mud, whose chill pene-
trated the stoutest shoe-leather. An ice-cold
dew seemed to exude from every thing one
touched, and the sky spread a lead-colored cano-
py from horizon to zenith.
Mr. Levincourt made for the school-house.
This was a bare lath-and-plaster building, erect-
ed at the cost of the late vicar to serve as a Sun-
day-school. The present incumbent, while ad-
hering to its founder's first intention, had found
an additional use for the whitewashed school-
room. It served, namely, as a place for the
choir of St. Gildas to practice in.
Before Mr. Levincourt's day the music at di-
vine service in St. Gildas consisted solely of por-
tions of Tate and Brady, bawled or snuffled out
in monotonous dissonance. ' Jlr. Levincourt's re-
fined and critical ear sufi'ered many a shock from
his congregation's strenuously uplifted voices.
He resolved to amend the singing, and flattered
himself that he would find support and encour-
agement in this undertaking. But folks were as
loth to be amended in Shipley as in most other
places ; and Mr. Levincourt's first attempts to
teach them harmony resulted in discord dire.
By degrees he lowered his pretensions. He
had begun with high-flown ideas of foreign mass-
music adapted to English words. Then, some
of the simpler compositions of our English cathe-
dral writers were attempted. At length he re-
solved to be satisfied with .Martin Luther's Hymn,
and Adeste Fideles, sung in parts. Things be-
gan to go better. The younger generation,
trained to some knowledge of music, became
capable of succeeding in such modest attempts
as these. Nor was it, indeed, from the younger
generation that the great difficulties had arisen.
Farmer Meggitt, and Farmer Sack, and other
middle-aged farmers and graziers, could not be
got to understand that it behooved them to be
passive listeners to the music during service.
"What do ye mean then, by 'Let us sing to
the praise ?' Let us," Farmer Meggitt said
oos, " sing I Xot ' let the little lads and wenches
in the organ-loft, sing to the praise I ' Parson
Levincourt's on a wrong tack altogether. And
1 as to his.new-fangled tunes why they're Popish ;
that's what they are : and I don't care who hears
me say sol''
I Tlie implied slight to Farmer ^leggitt's vocal
abilities made him very Protestant indeed. And
the charge of Popery against Mr. Levincourt was
j supposed to be a very colorable and serious one,
seeing that he had a foreign wife.
1 However, Time went on in his task of turning
[ " new-fimgled" things into old-fangled. And the
congregation of St. Gildas had long grown very
proud of their singing. JMiss Desmond had a
class of village children to whom she taught
some of the mysteries contained in the queer
black-headed hieroglyphics on the musical statt";
and the choir met to practice every Saturday aft-
ernoon. And on this one special Saturday after-
noon in February, Mr. Levincourt having floun-
dered through the thick mud of the lane, arrived
at the scliool-house door, turned the handle, and
walked in, when the practicing was just over.
The children were making ready to troop out.
Some of the little boys, uneasy under the stern
glance of Mr. ^lugworthy, the parish clerk, still
sat on the wooden benches, from which their
corduroy-clatl legs dangled and swung, as un-
restingly as the pendulum of the big white-fiiced
clock that ticked away the hours above the door.
At a little deal-cased harmonium sat Herbert
Snowe, the son of a rich Danecester banker.
This young gentleman had been educated in
Germany, where he had caught a taste for mu-
sic. His dilettanteism was strong enough to in-
duce him to make the journey from Danecester
nearly every week, in order to supply, at the
Saturday rehearsals, the place of the proi^essional
organist, who was only engaged to come to Ship-
ley for the Sunda}- services.
Not far from him stood Mr. Plew, the village
doctor, talking to the vicar's daughter. Mr. Plew
had the meekest and weakest of high tenor voices,
and gave the choir the benefit of his assistance
whenever his professional avocations would per-
mit him to do so.
Then there were Kitty and Cissy Meggitt, with
their governess. Miss Turtle. ^Irs. jMeggitt was
of an aspiring nature, and had prevailed on her
husband to engage a "real lady" to teach her
girls manners. Farmer Meggitt paid the "real
lady" five-and-twenty pounds per annum, and he
thought in his heart that it was an exorbitantly
high price fur the article.
Then there were Captain and Mrs. SheardoA\Ti,
of Lowater House. '1 hey did not sing ; but they
had come to fetch their son, jNIaster Bobby Shear-
down, who sat on a high school-bench among the
"trebles."
Lastly, there was Maud Desmond.
"Good-evening," said the vicar, walking into
the room.
Immediately there was a shuffling and scrap-
ing of feet. Every boy slid down from his bench,
and drew each one a hob-nailed boot noisily over
the bare floor in homage, raising at the same
time a bunch of sun-burnt knuckles to his fore-
head. The little girls ducked down convulsive-
ly, the smaller ones assisting themselves to rise
again with an odd struggling movement of the
elbow.
This was the ceremony of salutation to a supe-
rior among the rustic youth of Shipley.
"How have you been getting on, Herbert?"
10
VERONICA.
said Mr. Levincourt. "How do j-ou ^o, Mrs.
Sheardown ? Captain, wlien I saw "that tlie West
Daneshire were to meet at Hammick, I scarcely
expected to have the pleasure of seeing you this
evening I"
"No; I didn't himt to-day," answered the
captain.
Captain Sheardown was a broad-shouldered
man of some five-and-fifty years of age. His
Ijlutf face was fringed with white whiskers. His
eyes were surrounded by a net-work of tine lines
tiiat looked as though they had been graven on the
firm skin by an etching-needle, and he generally
stood with his legs somewhat wide apart, as one
who is balancing himself on an 'unsteady sur-
face.
The gentlemen gathered together into a knot
by themselves while they waited for the ladies to
put on their warm shawls and cloaks.
"J wonder what sort of a run they had with
the West Daneshire?"' said Herbert Snowe.
" I heard. Sir, as there were a accident on the
field," said Mr. Mugworthy, who had edged him-
self near to the group of gentlemen.
"An accident!" repeated the vicar. "What
was it? Nothing serious, I trust?"'
"No, Sir; from what I can reap out of the
rumor of the boj', Sack, it warn't a very serious
accident. Jemmy Sack, he seen it. Sir. It hap-
pened close up by his father's farm. "
"Sack's farm, eh?" said Captain Sheardown.
" Wlw that's at Haymoor!"
"Well, Sir, it is," rejoined jMr. Mugworthy,
after a moment's pause, as though he had been
casting about in his mind for some reasonable
means of contradicting the statement, but find-
ing none, was resolved to be candid, and make
a clean breast of it. " It is. Sir, at Haymoor, is
Sack's farm. I can't say no otherways."
"Whew!" whistled the captain. "Who"d
have thought of a fox out of the Hammick
cover making for Haymoor! With the wind
as it is, too and as it has been all day."
"Why shouldn't he?" asked Herbert Snowe,
whose foreign education had left him lamentably
ignorant on certain matters of which Captain
Mieardown conceived that an English gentle-
man ouglit to know a good deal.
"Why shouldn't he?" echoed the captain,
screwing up his eyes and mouth into an ex-
pression of comical vexation, and thereby deep-
ening the finely-graven lines before mentioned.
" Why shouldn't he ? 151css my soul, Herbert !
Because a fux going from Hammick to Haymoor
to-day must have run straight up \\ind the whole
time! Thatswhy. Why shouldn't he? Tshah!"
"A dog-fox, Sir," put in Mugworthy, solemn-
ly, "?(// sometimes run up wind at this time of
the year when he"s agoing home. Sir."
" Well, well," said the vicar, with the slight-
est possible air of contempt for the whole sub-
ject : " we will suppose that this was a Haymoor
fox, who hud been visiting his relations at Ham-
mick. IJut about the accident, Mugworthy ?"'
"Jemmy Sack, he seen it, Sir. Come up
here, Jemmy, and tell his reverence about the
gentleman as was precipitated off of his horse
alongside of the five-acre field."
Jemmy Sack, a lank lad of thirteen, came and
stood licforc tlie vicar, and with many writliiiigs.
and in agonies of bashfulness, delivered himself
of his ston'.
The story simply amounted to liis having seen
a gentleman flung from his horse with a good
deal of Aiolence. The others had ridden on,
either not seeing or not heeding. After a while
the gentleman's servant had galloped up to his
assistance. The gentleman had risen and mount-
ed again : but not the same horse. He took the
beast that his servant had been riding, and sent
the groom away with the animal that bad thrown
him. The gentlemen had then ridden after the
rest of the hunt toward Upper Haymoor.
" Ah ! Well, there was not much harm done,
I'm happy to find. If the gentleman went on
following the hounds he could not have been
mucli hurt," said the vicar. "You didn't know
the gentleman by sight, Jemmy, did you?"
Jemmy did not know the gentleman's name;
but he knowed that he was a-staying at the Crown
Inn, Shipley Magna, and that he had four horses
in the stables there, and that the people said as
he was a friend of Lord George Segraves, him
as had taken Hammick Lodge for the hunting
season. And Jemmy, becoming accustomed to
the sound of his own voice addressing gentle-
folks, and finding himself listened to, began to
grow loquacious and to volunteer his opinion
that the gentleman had a-got a oogly spill, for
he turned welly green and seemed all queer in
his head like. But he was a good plucked 'un,
for he would go on a-horseback again, and he
(Jemmy) had run nigh enough to hear him
a-cussin' and a-swearin' at the groom like foon.
In fact, so loquacious and graphic in his nar-
rative did Jemmy become that JMugworthy per-
emptorily ordered him to hold his tongue and be-
gone with the other iads.
Tiie boys shuffled out. glad to be released, and
were presently heiird whooping down the lane
after the manner of iheir kind.
CHAPTER V.
AN INVOLUNTARY GUEST.
By this time IMrs. Sheardown had enveloped
herself and Bobby in water -proof wra]ipings.
]\Iaud IJesmond was waiting, warmly protected
by a thick shawl, at the vicar's elbow. Herliert
Snowe shut and locked the harmonium. Every
one was preparing to depart.
"Veronica!" called the vicar.
Miss Levincourt was still conversing with Mr.
Blew.
"Veronica!" repeated her father, im'patient-
ly, "are you not coming?"
She turned round at the summons, giving her
hand in a flxrewell grasp to the doctor as she did
so.
She was very handsome.
The first thing that struck you on looking at
her face was its vivid coloring. Her skin was
of a clear, pale, brown tint ; and on each smooth
cheek there glowed a rich blush like the heart
of a June rose. She had large, dark eyes, fringed
round with thick lashes, and sunnounted by semi-
circular eyebrows, black as ebony. Her hair
was also black, shining, and very abundant. It
was disposeil in elaborate coils and ])laits. which
displayed its luxuriance to the full, and was
i)rougiit down low on the forehead in crisp waves.
Her lips were very red and her teeth very white.
VERONICA.
II
There were defects in the form of her face. But
the brilliant eyes, glancing under their arched
brows, so attracted attention to themselves that
few observerswere disjjassionately critical enough
to observe that the lower j)art of the face over-
balanced the u])i)er ; that the nose was insignifi-
cant ; the mouth so full as to be almost coarse ;
and the clieeks and chin so rounded as to tlireat-
en to lose all comeliness of outline, and to be-
come heavy in middle life. Now, however, at
nineteen years of age, Veronica Levincourt was
a very beautiful creature. But there was some-
thing in her face which was not so easily ana-
lyzed by a casual observer as the form and color
of it. There was a dissonance in it somewhere,
^lost women perceived this. Many men did so
also. But they perceived it as a jierson with a
good ear, but ignorant of harmony, perceives a
false note in a chord. ^Something jars : what he
knows not. Tiie skilled musician comes and
jiuts his finger on the dissonant note.
When \^eronica laughed hcrwhole countenance
grew harmonious at once. And herein lay the
key to the i)uzzle.
The habitual expression of her fiice in repose
seemed to contradict the brilliant glow of youth
and health which made her so strikingly beauti-
ful. The rich gipsy color, the ripe red lips, the
sparkling eyes, the gleaming teeth, seemed made
to tell of light-hearted, aboimding, girlish hai)iii-
ness. But the expression of Veronicas lace
when she let it fall into its habitual lines was
wistful, sad, sometimes almost sullen.
For the rest, her figure was slight and straight,
and she carried herself with an erect and yet
easy grace.
'"Coming, papa," said she, carelessly. And
then she gathered about her shoulders a scarlet
cloak with a hood to it.
" You should have had your shepherd's plaid,
Veronica," said her father. "That red thing is
not nearly warm enough for such an evening as
this."
"Oh, it is so becoming to Miss Levincourt,"
said little Miss Turtle, the governess. She
and her pupils had been watching Veronica un-
winkingly all the afternoon, as their custom
was.
The choir of St. Gildas dispersed. The Shear-
downs drove away in their little pony-carriage,
carrying with them Herbert Snowe, who usually
staid with them on Saturday evenings. Miss
Turtle took her pupils, one on each arm, and
her gray cloak and shabby hat with its black
feather disappeared down the lane. The vicar,
A\ith his ward and his daughter, walked in the
opposite direction toward their home.
The nearest way to the vicara5,e-house was
across St. Gildas's church-yard. But the melt-
ed snow lay in death-cold pools between the
swelling grave-mounds ; and although the lanes
atlbrded no good walking in the present state of
the weather, they were yet rather better than the
way by tiie church-yard.
Mention has been made of a by-road through
the village from Shipley Magna which skirted
the garden wall of the vicarage. Mr. Levincourt
and the two girls had not gone many paces down
this by-road when they perceived through the
fast-gathering dusk a figure, which had evidently
been on the watch for them, start and run toward
them verv swiftlv.
"I do believe it is Jemmy Sack!" exclaimed
]\Iaud Desmond.
Jemmy Sack it was, who jiresently came to a
sutlden stop in front of the vicar, and began a
breathless and incoherent speech.
"Dunnot ye be frighted, please. Sir, Joe Dow-
sett says. They ha'n't a took him into the house,
please. Sir. And it's the same un as 1 seed tum-
ble off afore. On'y this here time he's in a reg-
'lar swound like. But Joe Dowsett says as ye
hain't to be frighted, nor yet the young ladies
nayther, please Sir."
Long before the combined cross-examination
of the vicar and the young ladies had succeeded
in eliciting any explicit statement from Jemmy,
they arrived at the garden door, and then the
matter to a certain extent explained itself.
A man in a scarlet hunting coat thickly crust-
ed with mud lay on his back in the road beneath
the garden wall, and close by a heap of flint
stones piled up for the use of the road-mend-
ers. On to these he had apparently been flung,
for his face was cut, and a thin stream of blood
trickled slowly down his forehead.
The prostrate man was totally insensible. His
head was sujiiiorted on the knee of Joe Dowsett,
the vicar's gardener, groom, and general facto-
tum, who was endeavoring to pour some brandy
down his throat. A carter, in a smock-frock,
held a handsome horse by the bridle. Three of .
the village boys who had been practicing in the
school-room stood at a little distance looking on,
and two frightened women-servants, with their
aprons huddled round their shivering shoulders,
peeped nervously fiom the garden door, and plied
Joe Dowsett Mith shrill questions, of which he
took no notice whatever.
A clamor of voices arose as soon as the vicar
was ]ierceived : but a few words will suffice to
put the reader in possession of the facts of the
case. The fallen man was the same gentleman
whom Jemmy had seen thrown earlier in the
day. The day's sport had terminated at a con-
siderable distance from Shij^ley Magna. The
gentleman was a stranger, had probably missed
his way, and gone by roundabout roads. He
had evidently at last been making for Shipley
Magna, having struck into Bassett's Lane, as
the by-road was called. His horse and he were
both tired out, and he had begun to feel the' ef-
fects of his first fall more severely than he had
felt them in the heat of the chase and at the be-
ginning of the day. The carter had perceived
the gentleman's l\orse stumble, and at the same
instant the boys returning from the school-house
had a])peared shouting and wiiooping at the end
of the lane. In a moment the gentleman had
been pitched heavily off his horse, and had fallen
on the heap of flint stones. The carter couldn't
say for sure, but he believed that the horse stum-
bled before the lads startled him. And now
what was to be done'r' This question was jnit
by Joe Dowsett, looking up at his master with
the brandy bottle in his hand.
The first thing to be done was to send for a
doctor. Mr. Blew would probably not have
reached his own home yet. Jemmy Sack was
dispatched to fetch him, and set off running at a
famous rate, throwing out his long legs, and fol-
lowed by the other boys, to all of whom the oc-
casion seemed to be one of intense and concen-
trated ecstasv.
12
VERONICA.
But pending ]\Ir. Plew's arrival, the swooning
man could not lie there, with the night falling
fast, and a bitter wind blowing from the marshes,
that was fit, Joe Dowsett said, to freeze the very
marrow in your bones.
There was no other house at hand. The vic-
arage was a lonely, isolated dwelling. Joe Dow-
sett and the carter, with a little assistance from
Mr. Levincourt, carried the stranger into the
house. The women hurried to take from an
old oaken press blankets and coverlets for the
spare bed. A fire was lighted in tlie guest's
chamber a room on the ground-floor, looking
toward the garden. For that niglit, at least, the
injured man must remain at the vicarage.
Mr. Levincourt was very uneasy, and asked
Joe over and over again if he thought it was se-
rious. To which queries Joe invariably replied
that it might be or it mightn't, but that for his
])art he didn't think 't wouldn't be much : an
oracular utterance in which his master seemed
to find some comfort. Veronica sat at the win-
dow, straining eye and ear to catch the first sig-
nal of the doctor's coming.
"He's quite old, this poor man, isn't he, papa?"
said she, with her face pressed against the
glass.
"Old? No. What do you call 'quite old?'
It is difiicult to judge under the circumstances,
but I sliould say he can't be more tlian fifty."
"Ah! well that's what I meant. Here is
Mr. Plew at last ! I hear his step on the gravel,
although I can't see him yet. "
Mr. Plew's opinion was not very reassuring.
If the patient were not better by to-morrow, he
should fear that he could not safely be moved for
a day or two. Meanwhile Mr. Plew would like
])r. Gunnery, of Danecester, to be called in, in
consultation.
When Dr. Gunnery arrived on the following
afternoon he shook his head very gravely, and
said that he had no hope of the patient being
able to leave his bed for some weeks. Even if
and here Dr. Gunnery lowered his voice, and
reversed the movement of his head : nodding it
u)) and down instead of sliaking it from side to
side even if he pulled through at all !
CHAPTER VI.
SUSPENSE.
The vicar's first thought on,hearing Dr. Gun-
nery's opinion was that it behooved him (the
vicar) to communicate with tlie family of the
stranger whom Fate had thrown literally
tiirown into the midst of the quiet Iiouselu)rd
at the vicarage. As it was, they could hardly
have known less about him had he drop])ed
among them from the moon, instead of from the
back of a startled liorse.
Put for many hours the injured man was in-
capable of communicating Avitli his host. Fever
set in. He became delirious at intervals. And
on no account must he be (listurbed or annoyed
by questions. Dr. Gunnery confirmed Mr. Plew's
first statement, that no irreparable injury had been
done to the stranger by his fall.
"Put," said he, " he is a bad subject. If we
liad a young constitution, or even a sound con-
stitution for ids years, to deal with the whole
aff'air would be a mere trifle. But in this case
it is very different."
"Very different, indeed," assented Mr. Plew.
" No stamina," continued the Danecester phy-
sician. "The whole machine is in a worn-out
condition constitution gone to the deuce."
"To the ahem! quite so!" assented Mr.
Plew, again.
"Then, Dr. Gunnery," said Mr. Levincourt,
nervously, "do you mean to say that he is in
danger? Dear me, this is dreadful! Really
dreadful!"
But to so direct a question Dr. Gunnery could,
or would, give no direct reply. He merely re-
peated that, in his opinion, I\lr. Levincourt ought
to lose no time in communicating with the sick
man's family. And then, saying that he would
return the day after to-morrow, and that mean-
while the patient could not possibly be in better
hands than those of Mr. Plew, the great Dane-
cester doctor drove a\\ay.
Beyond the facts that had come under his
own eyes, the vicar knew but two circumstances
regarding his involuntary guest. The first cir-
cumstance was that he had been staying at the
Crown, in Shipley Magna ; the second A\as that
Lord George Segrave was said to be a friend of
his.
Mr. Levincourt dispatclied a note to Lord
George, and ordered Joe Dowsett (to whom the
note was intrusted) to ride on from Hammick
Lodge to .Shipley jNIagna, and tell the people at
the Crown what had happened.
Fiom Hammick Lodge, Joe Dowsett brought
back a very iiolite note.
It appeared tliat the acquaintance between
Lord George tSegrave and the stranger was of
the slightest ])ossible kind. They had met in
Rome one season, and had hunted side by side
on the Campagna. Lord George knew nothing
whatever of the gentleman's family. His name
was Gale, Sir John Gale. Lord George was
deeply distressed that the vicar of Shipley and
his family should be so seriously inconvenienced
by this accident. At the same time he could
hardly regret, on Sir Jolin Gale's account, that
the latter should have fallen into sucli haiuls.
Lord George would do himself tlie honor of
calling at Shipley vicarage, and, meanwhile, he
begged to know if tliere were any way in Avhich
he could be of service, either to Mr. Levincourt
or to the invalid, under these painful circum-
stances.
This note, although extremely civil, left mat-
ters pretty much as they had been before. But
from tlie Crown Inn Joe Dowsett brought back
sometliing more tangible and unexpected.
He Iwought back, that is to say, Sir John
Gale's foreign servant, who announced himself
as "Paul," and who immediately took upon
himself all the duties of waiting on the sick man.
"If you will permit, Sir," said I'aul, in very
good English, ''I will have a nuittress laid by
the side of my master's bed for a few nights.
When Sir John gets better, and needs not to
have me all niglit, I shall find to sleep at the
village. There is a small cabaret there, as I
have informed myself.''
Tlie arrival of this man, whicli was at first
looked u))on with dismay by tlie inmates of the
vicarage, i)roved l)efore long to be an inestima-
ble comfort and relief.
VERONICA.
13
r
Tn tlie first jjlace, he eased tlie vicar's mind
liy tnlciiig 111)011 liiinself the responsibility of com-
municating witli Sir John's friends. Or rather
lie proved that no siuli responsibility existed.
Sir John had, Paul declared, no relatives, lie
had neither wife nor child, brother nor sister,
uncle nor cousin. He had lived a good deal
abroad. I'aul had not been with Sir John in
England before this winter. He would write to
Sir John's agent and man of business. That
was all that would be necessary.
Mr. Levincourt, never unwilling to shift re-
sponsibility on to the shoulders of others, told
Paul tiiat he must do as he thought best. There
was sometiiing in the grave, steady asj)ect of the
little man that inspired confidence. 'J'lien Paul
took upon himself the whole business of the
sick-room. He waited by day, and watched by
night. He administered the medicines. He re-
jiorted progress to the doctors witli an intelli-
gence and accuracy which won those gentlemen's
good opinion veiy soon. He relieved the vicar's
servants of all trouble as regarded Sir John
Gale. He even we^t into the kitchen, and, with
a certain grave tact which characterized him,
won over old Joanna to allow hira to prepare
sundry articles of invalid diet for his master.
He was always at hand when wanted, and j'et
entirely unobtrusive. He was never tired, nev-
er sleepy, never sulky, never indiscreet.
In a word, before many days of his sojourn at
the vicarage had passed over, the whole house-
hold began to wonder how they had managed
to get through the few hours that had inter-
vened between the accident and the arrival of
the admirable Paul.
He very soon contrived to let it be understood
that money expenses would not at all events be
added to the burden thrown on the vicar's fam-
ily by his master's accident and illness. Sir
John was rich : very rich. No expense need be
spared. If, even, it were deemed necessary to
send to London for additional medical assist-
ance, they need not hesitate to do so. This,
however, did not ajiijcar to be desirable. And
as soon as Sir John was enabled to understand
liis own condition he expressed himself entirely
satisfied with the skill and care of the doctors
who were attending him.
Lord George Segrave fulfilled his promise of
calling. Lord George \\as a bachelor. He was
a great sportsman, and some folks said that he
was too fond of other pursuits which persons
holding strict views could not approve. Lord
George was well known on the turf; and in his
youthful days had been a patron of the Prize
King. Without belonging to the category of
those whose lives were openly scandalous, he yet
was a man whose acquaintance could by no
means be taken to be a certificate of good char-
acter.
Retired as was Mr. Levincourt's life at Ship-
ley-in-the-Wold, he yet knew this much of the
jnesent occupant of Hammick Lodge, and the
knowledge had not sensed to make Sir John
Gale's enforced ]iresence beneath his own roof
the more agreeable to him.
But Lord George Segrave soon made it ap-
parent that his acquaintance with Sir John was
really and truly no closer than he had stated in
his note. It need scarcely be said that Lord
George had no idea what a signal service he
was rendering to the invalid in his host's oi)in-
ion by disclaiming any thing like intimacy with
the former.
Lord George was rather good-natured, and
extremely selfish, and he desired that it sliould
be at once clearly understood that, while he was
willing to send his servants scouring the country
on any errand for Sir John that the vicar might
suggest, he (Lord George) by no means intend-
ed to jiut himself to the personal inconvenience
of making frequent visits of inquiry at the vicar-
age.
"Pray, command me, INIr. Levincourt," he
said, as he took his leave, "in any way. I quite
feel what an uncommon bore this business must
be for you. Though, as I said before. Gale may
think himself in luck that he didn't get spilt on
any other heap of flint stones than tlie one at
your door. I'm sure I hope he'll pull through,
and all that sort of thing. You know I had only
just a kind of bowing acquaintance with him in
Koine. And then he hailed me on the hunting-
field at Stubbs's Corner the other day, you know,
and and that sort of thing. Hammick Lodge
is twelve miles from Shipley as the crow flies,
you know, and and so I'm afraid I sha'n't be
able to look him up myself very often, you know.
But I hope you will do me the favor to command
me if there's any thing in the world my fellows
can do, or or that sort of thing."
And then Lord George Segrave departed, feel-
ing that he had done all that could reasonably be
expected of him.
Dr. Gunnery came again and again. And Mr.
Plew was unremitting in his attentions.
The house, always quiet, was now hushed into
stillness. The piano remained closed. Joe Dow-
sett ceased to whistle as he worked in the garden.
The servants stole up to bed past the door of the
guest-room, making every board of the staircase
creak under their elaborately cautious footfall.
Paul's noiseless step glided through the passages,
and he came on you like a ghost.
Riot and merriment are contagious. So are
silence and the hush of suspense. But though
the vicarage was stiller than it w^as wont to be,
it was less dull. All the household was conscious
of a suppressed excitement, which was mei'ely
stirring, and did not reach to pain. Every day,
every hour of the day, presented a question whose
answer was deferred Will he live or die ? And
on the answer to this question hung no agonized
human heart none, at least, within that house.
Was there any where a breast fluttered by
hopes, oppressed by fears, for the sick man who
lay feverish and uneasy on the stranger's bed in
Shipley vicarage'?
No letters came for him. No friends inquired.
He was discussed in the vicarage kitchen, and
in other kitchens in the neighborhood. He was
discussed in the village ale-house, in the farm-
houses, in the tap-room and the stables of the
Crown at Shipley Magna. He was spoken of,
once or twice, at the difl'erent meets of the West
Daneshire hunt. Lord George Segrave men-
tioned that he believed Gale was going on all
right, you know, and that sort of thing. That
was a niceish nag of his, not the one he had
been riding when he was thrown, you know; no,
that little chestnut. Lord George wouldn't mind
having him. He wondered what the figure would
be. If Gale's horses were still at the Crown he
14
VERONICA.
had a, good mind to go over and have another
look at the chestnut, and to ask Gale's groom
wliether he thought his master would sell him.
lie supposed that Gale had had enough of hunt-
ing in England. He was dooced sorry for him,
you know, and that sort of thing, but what the
'- could he expect ? With that seat he (Lord
George) only wondered how Gale had been able
to stick on his saddle five minutes ! And most
of the field wondered too. For it has been ob-
served that of all the trials to which human can-
dor, modesty, and magnanimity are- ordinarily
apt to be subjected, the trial of comparing your
own riding with another man's is tlie one tliat
most frequently develops mortal frailty.
There was probably not a man who habitually
hunted with the West Daneshire who did not se-
cretly nourish the conviction that his own seat
on horseback was admirable, and that the ma-
jority of his friends and acquaintances rode like
tailors !
Little it mattered to Sir John Gale Avhat was
said of him in parlor, kitchen, stable, or hunt-
ing-field. Little, perhaps, would it ever matter
to him more. For althougli, as Dr. Gunnery
had said, the absolute injuries resulting from
the accident were trifling, and to a young and
vigorous constitution would have been matters
of small im})ortance, yet in this case there seem-
ed to be no elasticity or power of rebound in the
sick man's frame. A low fever took hold of
him : a dreadful insidious fever, that might be
figured as a weird phantom, invisible to tlie eyes
of men, but with two bony, cruel hands, whose
touch was terrible. Of these hands one was
cold as ice ; the other burning, like the heart of a
furnace. Alternately the viewless fingers stroked
the sick man's body, drawing long shuddering
thrills tln-ougli every limb, or clutched him with
a lingering gripe tliat made his very heart sick.
Now lie was consumed with scorcliing heat ;
anon he shivered to the marrow of his bones.
Mr. Plow did not trouble his brain or per-
haps it were better to say his brain was not trou-
bled ; seeing that such fancies come to a man,
or stay away from him, without any conscious
exercise of liis will with any fantastic embodi-
ment of a Fever Phantom. Put he reported day
after day that Sir Jolin was in a nasty low way
a i-e-ri/ na-u.sii/, low way and that lie couldn't
get him to rally.
"Do you tliink he is troubled in his mind?"
asked Mr. Levincourt. "Is his heart ill at ease ?
lie is perfectly conscious now ; and, I tliink,
clear-headed enough to give orders. And yet
Paul tells me tliat his master has entirely ap-
])roved ^vllat has been done, and what has been
left undone. He desires to see no one ; has re-
ceived no letters except, as Paul tells me, one
from his agent sent to the Post-otHce at Shipley
Magna and, in short, appears to be singularly
isolated in the world, for a man of his wealth
.and position. I should fear his life has not been
a very happy one."
"Well," said Mr. Plew, musingly, "I don't
know, of course. Hut but he doesn't seem to
me to be at all that sort of man."
Mr. Plow's statement was vague enough ; and
the vicar did not care to be at tlie ])ains f)f prob-
ing the little surgeon's meaning. Vet the latter
had a meaning, although he would have found it
difficult to put it into clear words.
His meaning was this ; that from his obsen'a-
tion of Sir John Gale he had, half-instinctively,
drawn the conclusion that his rich patient was
not a man to allow sentimental troubles to prey
on him.
Wounded love, tender regrets, affectionate
j-eariiings after a lost friendship, or a longing for
softer tendance and closer companionship than
could be had from sen'ants and strangers, did
not seem to Mr. Plew likely to enter into the
category of drawbacks to Sir John's recovery.
Material comforts, nay luxuries, he did not
lack. As to sentiment Mr. Plew of course had
encountered ailments arising from purely spirit-
ual causes. Very troublesome ailments they
were, and very inefiicacious proved the power
of jihysic to cure them. He remembered a say-
ing of an old clergyman who had been a famous
preacher in the days ^hen Benjamin I'lew was
walking the hospitals in London. The saying
was to the effect that the bodily health of half
the world would be marvelously improved if a
mechanical, cunningly contrived piece of granite
could be substituted for a liArt of flesh in the
human breast. "We might defy the doctors
then," said this old clergyman, "and life would
not be worth having !" But of Sir John Gale,
neither IMr. Plew nor the reader as yet knows
enough to enable him to judge whether the bar-
onet's heart be of flesh or of stone.
A fortnight passed ; three weeks ; a month
had nearly dragged itself away since the accident,
when the doctors pronounced that Sir John was
somewhat stronger.
The phantom hands, the hand of fire and the
hand of ice, slowly relinquished their prey. By
degrees the intervals between their alternate
touches grew wider. At last they ceased. Dan-
ger was over ; and from the beginning of March
the invalid began slowly, but surely, to mend.
CHAPTER VII.
MR. PLEW.
At Shipley-in-the-Wold people dined at two
o'clock, and took tea at six or seven. "Tea-
time" was the vicar's favorite hour of the twen-
ty-four, es])ecially in the winter season. The
work of the day was over. The fire blazed uj)
com])anionably, and filled the pauses of conver-
sation with light and warmth. And if a forlorn
wind went moaning without upon the "gloom-
ing flats," its voice only heightened, by imagined
contrast, the comforts of tlie ingle nook.
The family sitting-room named in Daneshire
parlance, the parlor was no exception to the
assertion that Shipley vicarage was an ugly
house. Yet even here the magic of the leajiing
Hame and glowing coals worked wonders. It
sent flickering shadows to jilay over the bare
ceiling; it made the glass panes of a tall book-
case sparkle with flasliing rubies ; it found out
every gleam of gilding on the tarnished bindings
of the well-woi-n books ; it mellowed the hue of
the faded crimson window-curtains, subdued the
staring pattern of the wall-paper, and made tlie
old-fashioned chintz covering on the furniture
seem rich and harmonious as an Indian car-
pet.
"Give me another cup of tea, Veronica," said
VERONICA.
15
the vicar, sitting in the parlor on a drear March
evening.
His daughter and his ward were both with
him. On each of the three faces there was, for
once, a looiv of cheerfuhiess. That morning
their guest had been jironounced out of danger.
The shadow which had darkened tlie house was
passing away.
" Give nie another cup of tea," said tiie vicar
once more, rubbing his liands togetlier. And
tiien lie pursued tlie discourse which his demand
had interrupted. " Yes ; and I assure you I am
very much ])leased with Sir John altogether.
Nothing could be better chosen than his man-
ner of expressing himself"
"What did he say, pa])a?''
" Oh, well ! I can not recollect word for word.
Thanks, of course, and gratitude, and and so
on. lut not overdone. Very earnest and gen-
tlemanlike. He appears to be a man of the
world, yet not exactly worldly. He has, in short,
I should say, a great deal of savoir vivre."
"Savoir vivre!" repeated Maud, musingly.
"That would be an art to learn ; how to live 1"
"The quintessence of all arts, Maudie."
" Yes ; and it would include would it not ?
how to die; if one did but consider aright."
"Maud I" cried Veronica, with a little shud-
der, "I do beg of you not to be solemn. Don't
talk of such things. It makes me cold. Y^ou
are worse than a northeast wind blowing over
the snow-drifts."
Veronica inherited from her mother a more
than ciiildisli horror of death. The slightest al-
lusion to it sufficed to cloud her bright face and
make her irritable.
"Well," answered Maud, quietly. "Sir John
Gale is not going to die just yet, they say, so
there is no need to be solemn, as you call it. It
is to be hoped he will give up hunting, or learn
to get a better seat on horsel)ack. Joe Dowsett
says that that hunter of his is as gentle as a lamb,
and has such a mouth that a baby miglit ride
him. And yet Sir John could not contrive to
stick on his back."
"That's not quite foir, IMaud," observed the
\acar. "When Sir John was thrown opposite
the garden gate he was in a half-fainting con-
dition, j'ou must remember. But it was not then
that the mischief was done. It was an ugly fall
he got earlier in the day from a fresh, hot-tem-
pered beast. He changed horses afterward, and
persisted in continuing to 'assault the chase, 'as
Mugworthy says. So I do not think we are just-
ified in concluding any thing to the disadvantage
of his horsemanship."
"Eut don't you know, papa," Veronica put
in, " that Joe has inoculated .Maud with tiie true
Danesliire notion that only Daneshire folks, born
and bred, can ride ?"
IVIaud smiled and shook her head.
"Sir John charged me," said the vicar, "with
' a thousand heart-felt thanks to my amiable
daughters.' "
" Thanks ?" exclaimed Veronica. " Truly we
have done nothing for him. Paul takes care
that his master shall lack no service. So, then.
Sir John thinks that Maud is your daughter as
well as I?"
"I suppose so. It matters nothing. In a
short time he will go away, and in a perhaps
rather longer time, will have forgotten all about
us; so that it was very unnecessary to trouble
him with family details."
"If he forgets all about you^ it will be very
ungrateful. Uncle Charles," said Maud.
From the earliest days of her coming to the
vicarage, Maud Desmond had been used to
call Mr. Levincourt and his wife "uncle" and
" aunt ;" although she was, of course, aware that
no relationship really existed between them and
herself.
" Ungrateful ? Well, I don't know. It would
scarcely have been practicable to leave liim out-
side the garden gate all night. Do you know
any one who would have shut the door'and gone
in quietly to bed under the circumstances ?"
"Forget us!" cried Veronica, with an impa-
tient shrug of her shoulders ; "no doubt he will
forget us ! Who that once turned his back on
Sliipley would care ever to think of it again "
"/ would," replied Maud, very quietly.
"Would you? I am not sure of that. But
at all events the cases are widely different. Sir
John is wealthy. He can travel. He has seen
many countries, Paul says : France, Italy, the
East. He can go where he pleases ; can enjoy
society. Oh, Shipley -in -the -Wold must be a
mere little ugly blot on Ids map of the world !"
The vicar sighed, uncrossed his legs, and
stretched them out straight before him, so as to
bring his feet nearer to the fire.
" What made him come to the little ugly blot,
then, when he had all the sunny places to choose
from ? ' demanded Maud, indignantly.
" He came for the hunting, I suppose."
"Very well, then; you see there was some-
thing in Shipley that he couldn't get in his France,
and his Italy, and his East !"
Veronica burst out laughing. She seated her-
self on the rug at Maud's feet, and leaning back
looked up into her face. "What a chihl you
are, Maudie ! " she exclaimed. ' ' His France and
Ids East ! Y'es ; I sujipose rich people find good
'things every where even in Shijjley. "
"And they get pitched off their horses, and
are bruised and cut, and burnt by fever, and
prostrated by weakness, in spite of their riches,"
observed Maud, philosopliically.
"Children," said the vicar, suddenly, " do you
want to go to Lowater on the nineteenth ?"
"Of course we do, papa. What is it ? Have
you had an invitation ?"
Veronica's eyes sparkled, and her rosy lips
smiled, and she clapped her slender hands to-
gether joyously. Maud, too, looked eager and
interested.
"Yes," answered Mr. Levincourt ; "I have
had an invitation for us all to dine with the
Siieai'downs on the nineteenth. It is their wed-
ding-day."
" How exquisite !" cried Veronica, seizing one
of Maud's hands that rested on her shoulder, and
squeezing it hard. " A dinner-pai'ty ! A well
in the desert ! A tuft of palm-trees in a barren
land!"
" I suppose we must go," said the vicar, plaint-
ively.
"I 'suppose we must,' indeed. Why, papa,
von know you like the idea of it as much as we
do."
"I am always charmed to meet Mrs. Shear-
down and the captain."
"No doubt of it," cried Veronica, now in a
16
VERONICA.
full glow of excitement. "We know that you
are Mistress Nelly Sheardown's most devoted
cavalier. But it isn't only that, papa mio. You
like the idea of a change, a break in the monot-
ony, a peep at something beyond Shipley. You
would like to go, if it were even to dine at Ilay-
moor with old Lady Alicia. And quite right
too, say I."
The vicar made an attempt to assert his pre-
rogative of victimhood, but in vain.
The varying thermometer of Veronica's spirits
liad risen to fever heat, and she rattled on volu-
blj'', speculating as to who there would be at Lo-
water ; whether Mrs. Sheardown would contrive
to give tliem a dance in the evening ; what she
should wear (exhaustless theme), and so forth.
At length the stream of words slackened, and
then ceased. The rival merits of scarlet and
amber ribbons demanded an absorbed and silent
consideration.
" Don't you tliink. Uncle Charles," said Maud,
"that Mrs. Sheardown is the sweetest woman
you ever saw ?"
"She is charming, in truth; charming and
excellent ; and, moreover, possesses a mind of
a very superior calibre."
"Bravo, Uncle Charles! And then she is
in my eyes, at least so pretty. That quality
must not be omitted in the catalogue of her per-
fections."
" I am not quite sure on the point, Maudie.
Is she very pretty ? I don't think that any jnan
would ever have fallen in love witli Mrs. Shear-
down for her beauty."
"Perhaps not. And if so, all the better.
Sure I am that any one Avho once loved her
would never cease to think her beautiful."
Veronica looked up. "All true," she said.
"I agree with your eulogium. And observe
that it is pure magnanimity which prompts me
to do so. For sweet Mistress Nelly does not
like me one bit."
"Oh, Veronica !"
" Oh, Maud ! It is so. I have a sixth sense
which never deceives me in these matters. I
/:no2ii that to Mrs. Sheardown I am not sim-
patica."
"Simpatica! Nonsense. Whenever you use
an Italian word where an English one would
serve, 1 know that you are saying something
tliat won't bear daylight. Why should not JNIrs.
Sheardown like you?"
Veronica c]asi)ed her hands behind her head,
and rested both head and arms on Maud's knee.
Then, with her eyes cast contemijlatively up-
ward, " Because I am not good," said she.
The vicar's brows contracted into an uneasy
pucker as he looked down on his daughter's
beautifid face.
"Veronica," he said, almost sternly, "I wish
you would not say such things."
" Very well, ])a])a ; I won't."
"Still more, 1 wish that you would not think
such thoughts."
"Ah, (piesto poi "
" If you please. Sir," said Catherine, the maid,
putting her rosy face into tlie room, "here is
Mr. Blew."
Mr. Blew was hospitably invited to enter.
The surgeon of Sl)ii)ley was a small man, with a
fringe of straight, light hair round a bald crown.
His eyes were of a weak blue tint, his skin usu-
ally pale yellow. On the present occasion, how-
ever, it burned with a fiery red, in consequence
of the change from the piercing outer air to the
temperature of the vicar's well-warmed and well-
lighted parlor. His eyes watered, and his frost-
intlamed nose glowed like a hot coal, above the
white woolen comforter tliat enveloped his throat.
"I fear I am intruding at an unseasonable
hour," said Mr. Blew, speaking with a strong
provincial accent and a gentle, deprecating man-
ner.
"By no means. Pray come in. It is our
idle hour, you know. Veronica, ring for a
clean cup, and give Mr. Blew some tea," said
the vicar.
"Not any, thank you. Pray don't move. Miss
Levincourt. I have just left our patient's room.
I could not resist coming to congratulate you
on the favorable verdict that Dr. Gunnery pro-
nounced this morning. Paul told me. I was
unable to be here earlier in the day. But from
my own observation of Sir John's condition this
evening, I am quite able to indorse what Dr.
Gunnery said. Danger is over for the pres-
ent."
Mr. Blew spoke in a rather hesitating, shy
waj'. And, although he seemingly tried to con-
trol his wandering glances, he could not help
turning his eyes at every minute toward the
hearth, M'here Miss Levincourt still remained in
her nonchalant attitude on the rug.
"Veronica, get up," whispered Maud.
' ' Wliy ? I am very comfortable. i\Ir. Blew
is an old friend. We don't treat him with cere-
mony ; do we, Mr. Blew ?" said Veronica aloud.
"Oh dear. Miss Levincourt, I trust not. I
beg that is I hope you would not think of
disturbing j'ourself on my account."
"Then you must seek another cushion," said
Maud, bluntly. "I am weary of your weight.
You are as well able to support yourself as 1 am
to su])i)ort you."
With that Miss Desmond rose, crossed the
room, and took a chair beside the vicai'. Mr.
Blew's face uttered a mute and disapproving
commentary on the action.
Veronica caught his look, and instantly an-
swered it by speech.
"Is Miss Desmond bound to give way to my
whims, pray ? I have more selfishness in my
little finger than she has in her whole comjjosi-
tion. She is worth three times my weight, in
pure gold. Ain't you, I\Iaudie?"
"I should say," answered IVLaud, stiffly, "that
a discussion of our comjiarative merits would be
highly uninteresting to Mi: I'lew."
Mr. Blew looked amazingly uncomfortable.
The vicar came to his rescue.
"We are much obliged to 30ur unremitting
attention, Mr. Blew. And to it is owing, under
Providence, the hajipy issue of this affair. I can
venture to say that Sir John is very sensible of
his debt to you. I have seen and spoken with
him to-day for the first time."
" Oh, indeed. Sir?"
" Yes ; a very agreeable man, Sir John."
"I dare say he is, Mr. Levincourt. But you
know tlie circumstances under which I have seen
him have not been ffivorable e.xactly." Here Mr.
Plew tittered faintly.
" H'm ! Not a good patient, eh ?"
"I won't say that, Sir. But I should say he
VERONICA.
17
had not lieen accustomed to be restrained in any
way. His servant manages him, though. "
*' Paul is a capital fellow ; one of tliose excel-
lent servants that one never finds in England."
"Indeed, t^ir?"
" No, our soil won't grow them. Or, if one
is to be found here and there, they are, at any
rate, not indigenous to Danesliire. "
"Danesliire people, high or low, are not re-
markable for civiUty," observed Veronica.
"Nor servility," added Maud.
" I suppose we shall soon be losing our guest,"
resumed the vicar. "He spoke to-day of re-
lieving us of liis presence, et cetera. The fact
is, that to us personally his stay involves scarcely
any inconvenience. I5ut he will naturally be
anxious to be gone as soon as may be. blow
soon do you tliink he will be able to travel ?"
Mr. Plew could not tell. He would be able
to judge better on that point when the sick man
should have left his couch. He anticipated that
tSir John would find himself very weak. There
had been much ])rostration.
"I hear," proceeded I\Ir. Plew, "that ?ir
John Gale's groom and three hunters have been
sent away from the Crown. I was at Shipley
Magna to-day, and was told that the servant and
horses had left for Danecester on Wednesday.
They are bound for a place that Sir Jolm owns,
in the south somewhere. I forget the name of it.
lie is immensely rich, from what I can gather."
As thus Mr. Plew gossiped on, in a monoto-
nous tone, the vicar listened, or seemed to listen,
witii half-closed eyes. His thoughts were in
reality harking back to Veronica's phrase that
Shipley must be "a mere little ugly blot" in Sir
John's ma]j of the world. And then the vicar
indulged in some "sweet self-i)ity;" contrasting
his days spent among Daneshiie hinds, and un-
der Daneshire skies, with the brightness of his
three years' sojourn abroad. And yet those
years spent in foreign lands had been haunted
by the ghost of a lost love, and by a vain re-
gret.
Presently Mr. Plew's talk turned on the choir
of St. Gildas, the progress it had made, and the
desirability of introducing still further improve-
ments. Then Mr. Levincourt roused himself to
attend to what was being said. He began to
talk himself, and he talked very well. Veronica
and Maud sat a little apart, away from the glare
of the fire, and iield a whis|iered consultation as
to their toilets on the nineteenth.
Maud had her share of natural girlish interest
in the topic ; but she tired of it long before her
companion. With a C[uiet movement she drew
a book from beneath a heap of colored wools and
canvas in her work-basket, and began to read,
almost stealthily, half hidden behind the vicar's
arm-chair.
^'eronica advanced to the hearth, drew her
chair up opposite to Mr. Plew, and disposed one
foot, coquettishly peeping from under the folds
of her dress, on tlie polished steel bar of the
fender.
Mr. Plew stumbled, stammered, and lost the
thread of his discourse.
"I beg your pardon," said the vicar, "I don't
comprehend }"Our last remark. I was saying
that there are some jretty quaint bits of melody
in those sonatas of Kozeluch. ]\Iiss Desmond
plavs the piano-forte part. Bring your flute some
B
evening, and try them over with her. The jjiano-
forte may be unlocked again now, I suj)pose.
When I said that Sir John's stay involved no
jiersonal inconvenience to us, I reckoned on our
being allowed to hear the voice of music once
again."
"Mr. Plew's flute lias the softest of voices,
papa. I am sure its aeiial breathings could not
penetrate to the blue chamber."
"All, tliere, now there. Miss Veronica Miss
Levincourt you're chafiing me."
"Eh?" (with wide-opened eyes and superb
arching of the brows.)
"I beg pardon laughing at mc."
" How can you think so, Mr. Plew?"
"Oh, I know. But you are pjrivileged, of
course."
"Ami?"
"I mean young ladies in general are privi-
leged to say what they please. I'm sure, now,
that you don't really care about my flute-playing.
You would not like to hear it."
" But it is papa and JNIiss Desmond whom you
play fiji'. If they are satisfied, all is well. I
don't i)retend to be a virtuosa. And I will say
this for your flute, Mr. Plew it is very unob-
trusive."
The sparkle of raillery in her eyes, the saucy
smile on her li]), the half-disdainful grace of her
attitude, appeared to entrance the little surgeon.
His eyes blinked as he looked at her. There
was no revolt in his meek soul against the scarce-
ly disguised insolence of her manner.
The vicar was a man of fine breeding. His
daughter's behavior to-night jarred on his taste.
Mr. Levincourt did not usually trouble himself
to observe, still less to correct, such shortcom-
ings. But his interview with Sir John Gale had
awakened old associations. He was conscious
of the impression which his own polished address
had made on his guest.
When Mr. Plew had departed the vicar said,
-in a tone more of complaint than rebuke : " You
should not tease that mild little man, Veronica.
He does not understand raillery, and will either
presume on it to become familiar, or else sufi'er
from wounded feeling. Neither alternative is to
be desired."
" Papa mio, he likes it I"
"But I do not. Besides, it is of yon that I
am thiid^ing. Flippancy in a woman is of all
things the most detestable. Not to s])eak of the
matter on higher grounds" (the vicar habitually
avoided all appeal to " higher grounds" in his
non-professional moments), "it is utterly in bad
taste mauvais genre. "
Veronica flushed high with anger, for her amour
propre was stung ; but by the time that she and
^Maud retired for the night the cloud of temper
had dispersed. Veronica came into Maud's
room, and began chatting gayly about Mrs.
Sheardown's dinner-party.
"Maud," said she, "Maud, I have decided
on amber a good rich amber, you know. I
shall wear an amber satin sash with my white
dress, and a streak of the same color just a band
of it in my hair."
" Ver}' well."
"Very well ? Are you in one of your frozen
moods, Maud Hilda Desmond? If so, thaw as
quickly as may be ; I want to talk to you."
i\Iaud wrapped a white dressing-gown around
18
VERONICA.
her, seated herself by the fire, and proceeded to
loosen her straight silky hair from its plaits.
After a pause slie said : " I do not wish to he
frozen, Veronica; but your sudden changes of
temperature are fatiguing. Just now you were
like a brooding thunder-cloud. At present all
is sunshine and blue sky. Do you suppose you
are likely always to find persons able and willing
to follow these capricious variations?"
Veronica took this speech very meekly. " I
cant help it, Maudie," said she.
' ' Yes, you can ; you can command yourself
when there is a sufficient object in view. You
don't exhibit these vagaries in the presence of
people whom you desire to charm."
"I wonderwiiy I let you talk so to me. I
am your elder by two years, you little solemn
white owl!"
Maud quietly released the last coil of her hair
from its bonds, and said nothing. Suddenly
Veronica knelt down by her companion's side
and clasped her arms round her waist. So she
remained, still and silent, for some minutes.
Then she slid down into her favorite ])osture on
the rug, and exclaimed, without looking up, "I
wish I could be good like you, Maud !"
"Nonsense! Good like me? I am not very
good. But we can all be better if we try
hard."
" I can not. No ; I can not. I I want so
many things that good people despise or pre-
tend to despise."
"What things?"
"Oh, I don't know; all sorts of things. Is
there nothing you want ?"
" Plenty of things I should like. But I don't
see how wanting things should prevent your be-
ing good."
"But I want vain, wicked, worldly things,
Maudie I"
"And do you think vain, wicked, worldly
things would make you happy?"
"Yes, I do. There! Uon't look so scared,
and open your eyes so wide, white owl. That's
the truth. You always advocate speaking tlie
truth, you know. Good-night."
" Good-night, Veronica. You are in one of
your perverse moods to-night. There is no use
in arguing with you."
"Not a bit of use!"
" But you are wiser than your words. You
know better. "
" That's the worst of it ! I wish I didn't know
better. The fools are never troubled Ijy know-
ing better. I know the better and want the
worse. There, now, you are frozen into an ice-
maiden again ! "
Maud remained pale and silent, gazing straight
before her.
Veronica waited a minute, lingering near the
door, and then, with a little defiant toss of the
head, shrugged iier shoulders and left the room
without another word.
The house was still ; the vibrations of the last
stroke of eleven, boomed out by the deep-voiced
liell of St. Gildas, were dying away; the glow of
the fire had died down to a fixint red glimmer,
when a white tigure glided noiselessly to Maud's
l)edside.
" Maudie ! Maudie ! Are you asleep ?"
" Veronica ! What is it ? What is the mat-
ter?"
"Nothing. Kiss me, Maud. I can not sleep
until you have done so."
Maud raised her head from the pillow and
kissed the other girl's cheek.
" Good-night, dear Veronica," she whispered.
" God bless you, Maudie I"
CHAPTER VIII.
CONVALESCENT.
" Paul !" cried a harsh, querulous voice from
behind the curtains of the bed in the guest-cham-
ber at Shipley vicarage. "Paul! Where the
devil "
Then followed a string of oaths in English,
French, and Italian ; not pretty rose-water ex-
pletives, such as are occasionally attributed in the
pages of fashionable novels to irresistible young
guardsmen and such-like curled dai-lings of the
world. Tiiere \\as no odor of rose-water about
these oaths. TJiey were vile, fierce, blasphemous
phrases, borrowed from the vocabulary of the ig-
norant and degraded.
Sir John Gale was the speaker. Sir John
Gale was impatient and angry. When that was
the case. Sir John Gale was apt to express him-
self in the strongest, coarsest, most ferocious lan-
guage with which his tongue was ac(]uainted.
Presently the door o]jened, and Paul came into
the room. Paolo Paoli was a Piedmontese.
He was a short, thick, ugly, middle-aged man,
\vith grave light-cohjred eyes, set under over-
hanging brows. He had a shock of grizzled
hair, and a broad forehead, and his face was
clean shaven.
Paul had been a courier, and in this capacity
had attracted the attention, and won the favorable
opinion, of Sir John Gale. The latter had eleva-
ted Paul to tiie post of confidential and personal
attendant on himself. A " confidential" attend-
ant might seem at first sight to be of small value
to Sir John, considering that he never volunta-
rily made a confidence to any human being. But
there are /Hvoluntary confidences which we all
make daily and hourly respecting ourselves. The
recipient of these in Sir John's case needed to be
standi, ])atient, and discreet. Paul was all three.
He entered the chamber, bearing in his liand
a tray covered with a napkin,, on which was placed
a small basin of sou]).
His master saluted him with a volley of abuse
fur having delayed.
I'aul very gravely set down the tray, raised his
master in tiie bed, supported his back witli pil-
lows, threw a dressing-gown over liis shoulders,
and then, pulling fiom his waistcoat pocket a
large silver watch attached to a black ribbon,
said, " It is time for your soup. Sir."
Sir John tasted tlie soup, made a grimace of
disgust, and launched another volley of oaths at
Paul.
" This is uneatable beastly ! They have put
sage, or some damned tiling into it. Ugh !'
"Very good soup. Sir," replied Paul, imper-
turbably. "No sage. I saw it made. You eat
it warni. Sir. It will give strengtli. Very good
soup."
Tlie convalescent continued to grumble at ev-
ery spoonful ; but he swallowed the savory, nour-
ishing broth to the last drop. And then I'aul
VERONICA.
19
removed the tray, niendeil the fire, and proceed-
ed to lay out liis master's clothes ; for tiie invalid
was to leave his room to-day, for the first time
since his accident.
Sir John looked ujiward from among his pil-
lows to where the window gave a glimpse of pale
blue March .^ky, fretted by the skeleton branches
of the yet bare trees.
" It's a fine day, eh?" he asked.
"Yes, Sir. Cold. You must be well wrapped,
Sir."
"What sort of place is the sitting-room?"'
Paul described, as well as he could, the apart-
ment which he called the salon, and with the
aspect of which the reader is already acquainted.
He further stated that tlierc was a comfortable
arm-chair at tSir John's disposal ; that a screen
and a curtain had been arranged behind this
chair so as to exclude all draitglits ; and tliat a
foot-stool had been placed in front of it.
"How devilish weak I am!" exclaimed Sir
John, with an almost piteous expressitjn of face,
as he essayed, with his servant's assistance, to
dress himself
This was not the first time that he had left
his bed. He had been wrajijied in a dressing-
gown, and seated in an easj'-chair by the fire-
side in his own chamber, on several previous
occasions. But now he was to venture into the
sitting-room, have tea with the vicar's family,
and make the acquaintance of the young ladies.
On the part of these latter there was a good
deal of curiosity respecting their guest. The
two girls did not even know with any accuracy
what his personal appearance might be. True,
they had seen him if it could be called seeing
when he was swooning, bleeding, mud-bespat-
tered, on the ground at their gate. But who
could judge of a gentleman's looks under such
circumstances ?
\Ylicn Sir John Gale stood for a moment at
the open door of the parlor leaning on Paul's
arm, and looking his first look at the vicar's
daughter and ward, this is what their eyes be-
held : a man of middle height, slenderly made
and somewhat high shouldered, dressed with
scrupulous neatness even with elegance and
bearing traces in his face and his attitude of re-
cent severe illness.
How much of the worn aspect of his face, and
the unwholesomeness of the skin which looked
as though it should naturally have been ruddy
and plumply filled out, but which now hung
white and flaccid over the cheeks, and in baggy
wrinkles beneath the ])rominent dark eyes how
much of the sickly whiteness of the bony hands,
white as a woman's, but knotted and plowed
with dee]) lines like those of a very aged man
how much, in brief, of the general debility, and
air of being used-up, now perceptible in Sir
John's aspect, was due to recent sufiering, and
how mucii of all this had belonged to it for j-ears
past, the vicar's family could not tell. They ac-
cepted liis appearance as being the natural ap-
pearance of a man no longer 3-oung, who had
just arisen from a bed of sickness where his
mind and body had both been severely tried.
He had sandy hair, slightly grizzled, carefully
brushed, and so disposed as to hide, as far as
possible, a bald patch on the crown of tiie head.
He wore a pointed beard, and mustaches that
curved fiercely upward. His nose wa well
shaped, although rather sharp and beak-like.
The tell-tale mouth was partly concealed by the
fringe of m\istaclie. Altogether he might have
been i)ronounced a handsome man ; and he ivas
pronounced to be so by many persons.
In the sitting-room awaiting him were Jlr.
Levincourt with Maud and Veronica. The lat-
ter wore a winter dress of rich claret color, re-
lieved at the throat and wrists by rnfiles of white
lace very fine old lace that had belonged to her
mother, and that was, in truth, a little out of
place on her plain stuti" gown.
Maud was an inch or two shorter than her com-
panion ; she had broad, finely moulded shoul-
ders, and a noble white throat "supporting a head
whose form and ])roportions were almost perfect.
Her features were irregular, and not one of
them could be called handsome, save the al-
mond-shaped blue eyes set rather deeply under
broad brows. Her wide mobile mouth was not
beautifid, though its sweetness, when she sjroke
or smiled, was irresistible. But one beauty
Maud Desmond possessed which appealed to the
least cultivated appreciation : this was her hair,
which was of a rare golden hue. When the sun-
light fell on it, it shone as though each separate
hair had been drawn out of burnished metal,
and it was softer to the touch than silk.
On these two girls, and on their surroundings,
looked, for the first time. Sir John Gale.
The vicar hastened forward to otter his guest
the support of his arm, which the latter gentle-
man accepted after a moment's hesitation.
" I am ashamed," said Sir John, with a frank
smile, which showed a bright range of fitlse
teeth, " ashamed and sorry to be such a bore
and a nuisance. But the truth is, I had no
idea, until I began to dress just now, how en-
tirely my strength was prostrated. It seems
absurd, but I am absolutely as weak as a baby."
"We are truly rejoiced, most truly so, to
welcome you among us. Your strength will
come back, undoubtedly. It is now only a ques-
tion of time. Have patience yet a while. My
daughter. Sir John Gale. My ward. Miss Des-
mond. Paul, be so good as to wheel j'our mas-
ter's chfiir a little more this way."
The baronet took the hand which Veronica
had half offered, half withheld, and bowed low.
Maud saluted him by a smile and a bend of
the head, which he returned by a still lower bow
than the first.
"I trust," said Sir John, when he was seated,
" that Mr. Levincourt has been so very kind as
to exjdain to you how impossible I find it to ex-
press in any adequate way my sense of your great
goodness and hospitality."
His glance, as he spoke, included the two young
ladies.
" We arc very glad to see you so much better,"
said Maud.
"And the truth is, we have done nothing at
all for you. Sir John; Paul would not let us,"
added Veronica.
"That man of yoiu's is an excellent fellow,"
said the vicar, when Paul had left the room.
"There are no such servants to be had in En-
gland nowadays. Veronica, give Sir John some
tea, and then ring for another large cup for me.
I can not be persuaded to drink my tea out of a
thing no bigger than an egg-shell," he added,
turning to his guest.
20
VERONICA.
"Not to mention, papa, that these tiny tea-
cnps are quite old-fashioned now I" exclaimed
Veronica, with a bright, saucy smile, which be-
came her infinitely.
"Are they? How do you know? "We live
here, Sir Joliii,- in the most countrified of coun-
try parsonages, and yet But, ujjon my hon-
or, I believe that if you were to stick a woman
on the top of the column of 8t. Simeon Stylites,
slie would nevertheless contrive in some myste-
rious way to know what was 'in fashion' and
what wasn't."
' ' Perhaps it is a sixth sense implanted in us
by nature. Uncle Charles," said Maud, demure-
ly. " You know the inferior animals have these
mysterious instincts."
Sir John's eyes had hitherto been contempla-
ting the glossy coils of Veronica's ebon hair, as
she bent her head over the tea equipage. Now,
he turned and regarded Maud more attentively
than he yet had done.
"I beg pardon," said he to the vicar. "I
thought that when you did me the honor to ])re-
sent me to Miss Miss Dermott you called her
your ward ?"
" Yes ; and so I am," answered Maud, taking
no notice of the mispronunciation of her name.
"I have no right whatever to call Mr. Levin-
court ' Uncle Charles,' Sir John. But I have
been let to do so ever since I came here as a
very small child. I began by calling him ' Zio,'
as Mrs. Levincourt taught me, in Italian f;ish-
ion. But very soon my British tongue translat-
ed the ajjpellation, and my guardian has been
' Uncle ('harles' ever since."
Sir John did not appear profoundly interested
in this explanation, although he listened with po-
lite attetition while i\Iaud spoke.
Presently he and the vicar began discoursing
of foreign travel and foreign places, and the girls
listened almost in silence.
"Ah!" sighed the ^-icar, plaintively. "Bel
ciclo d'ltalia ! I know not what price I would
not pay for another glimpse of that intense living
blue, after the fogs and clouds of Daneshire."
^Ir. Levincourt had succeeded in persuading
himself that the three years he liad spent abroad
had been years of unmixed enjoyment.
"I tell you what it is, Mr. Levincourt," said
Sir John, passing his bony white hand over his
mustache; " Ital}' is not the pleasant residence
for foreigners that it must have been when you
first knew it. \Vhat with their unionism, and
constitutionalism, and liberalism, they've sent
tlie whole thing to tiie ; they've spoiled the
society altogether," concluded the baronet, dis-
creetlv changing the form of his phrase.
"lieally?"
" Well, in fifty ways, things are altered for
the worse, even in my experience of Italy, which
dates now, at intervals, s(jtne twelve or fourteen
years back. For one thing, tliat British ]\Ioloch,
Mrs. (jrundy, has begun to be set u)i there."
Veronica raised her eyes and uttered a little
exclamation expressive of disgust.
"I should not think that mattered very much,"
said Matul, half aloud.
Sir John caught the impulsively uttered words,
and replied at once. "Not matter? Ah, Jeu-
nesse ! I assure you, my dear young lady, that
it matters a great deal. Mrs. (Jrunily is a very
terrible and hideous old idol indeed. She can
bully you, and wony you, and rap you on tl:e
head with her twopenny wooden staft'."
Maud colored high at being thus addressed,
but she answered bravely. "Still I can not
see that she has power to hurt good people. I
thought it was only the professional pickpocket
who objected to seeing a constable at every
street corner I"
Sir John Gale's studied good-breeding partook
less of the nature of polish which beautifies and
displays the natural grain of the wood than of
veneer. The veneer, though not unskillfidly ap-
plied, occasionally cracked, revealing glimpses
of a rather coarse and ugly material beneath it.
He had especially an egotistical proneness to at-
tribute chance allusions to himself.
" Keally !" he exclaimed. " I am to conclude
that you suppose that I dislike i\Irs. Grundy be-
cause I fear her? She is the ])oliceman at the
street corner, and your humble servant is the
professional jnckpocket ?"
Maud kioked painfully shocked. The color
receded from her face, and then flushed back
brigiiter than ever as she said, " Oh, Sir John I
How could you suppose ? I I beg your par-
don. 1 had no intention or idea of any such
meaning."
But Sir John had already begun a discussion
with the vicar as to the comparative merits of
Tuscan and Neapolitan wines, and seemed to
have dismissed Claud's unlucky speech from
his mind.
The rest of the evening passed pleasantly, un-
til the early hour at which it was deemed well
for the invalid to retire.
The vicar was delighted with his guest. Mr.
Levincourt declared that he felt like some ship-
wrecked mariner who had passed years in a sav-
age island, and to whose door the winds and the
waves had drifted a stranger from the distant
lands of civilization.
" It would be more civil, papa, if you had said
tliat we were three shipwrecked mariners. A
kind of Swiss Family Kobinson,"' observed Ve-
ronica, laugiiing.
The exaggeration of all this grated on Slaud's
common-sense. 15 ut slie repressed the j)rotest
which trembled on her lips.
" Maudie looks sagely disapproving," said
Veronica, glancing at her.
"I am disapproving myself." replied Jlaud.
"IIow pert aiul flippant Sir John must have
thought me ! JNIy impulsive speeches are always
getting me into trouble."
" Oh I I do not believe that Sir John will give
the matter another thought. But if it weighs on
your conscience you can explain, the next time
you see him, that "
"Ah, no: there are some things that can not
be explained to Sir John Gale."
"Why not to him ? He is not stupid."
" No,"he is not stu]id, but He is like some
richly embroidered stulf 1 once saw: very gor-
geous and magnificent at a distance, but a little
coarse in the grain, and not to be touched with
im]uuiity by a sensitive skin."
" H'm : ' Y'ou little shy, proud, Enfjllsh owl 1"
exclaimed Veronica.
And tlien fur a full half hour she remained
staring silently into the fire, until her satin
cheeks were quite scorched and crimson.
Tlie next dav was the nineteenth, and the two
VERONICA.
21
girls were in a state of agreeable excitement at
the prospect of the dinner-party which awaited
them.
The kitchen was penaded by a smell of iron-
ing. Joanna was smoothing out dainty Httle
tuckers and .a long white muslin skirt, over
whicii Veronica's gold-colored sash was pres-
ently to stream gracefully. Early in the after-
noon a wooden box arrived by a sjiecial mesi^eii-
ger from Danecester, and was found to contain
two bouquets carefully wrapped in cotton wool.
Sir John Gale who had not yet left his room
at that early hour sent I'aul into the vicar's
study with a little note, in whicli Sir John begged
that the young ladies would do him the honor to
wear a few flowers that he had taken the liberty
of procuring for them.
"A few tlowers I" cried Veronica, with spark-
ling eyes. " They are exquisite. They come
from Covent Garden. There's the man's name
in the box. Look at these white moss-roses and
the Cape jasmine I Your bouquet is mixed,
Maudie ; mine is ail white. How perfect I L)o
look pleased, little icicle I"
"I am pleased," said Maud, with a certain
constraint. "And very, very much obliged."
Veronica carried the superb exotics into the
kitchen, and exhiijited them with transjjort to
the servants. The young lady had a genuine
passion for applause and admiration. She could
not be entirely happy without an audience to
witness her happiness. It had been the same
from her balw days. When, as quite little girls,
they had owned a shaggy pony which was sup-
posed to be the joint property of the two chil-
dren, Maud had heartily enjoyed trotting out
into the wildest bits of country bhe could find ;
bat Veronica's delight had been to find an ex-
cuse for riding through the village, or even, if
that might be, into Shipley Magna. And her
chubby cheeks would glow and her eyes would
brighten when she heard passers-by exclaiming
that that was the vicar's little lass ; and hadn't
she a pair of eyes? And didn't she look like a
fairy, flying along with her black curls stream-
ing over her shoulders ? So now, when she had
the costly flowers in her hand, she could not re-
sist displaying them to the servants ; and she took
a creamy spotless camellia from the outside of
her own bouquet and laid it among the rich
waves of her hair, and stood with a beaming
face to be admired.
Catherine was in ecstasies, and declared, when
her young mistress had gone away again, that
she liked Miss Veronica, that she did, for she
had such pleasant, good - natured ways with
her.
Eut old Joanna smiled shrewdly, and observed
that the lass was the very moral of her poor mo-
ther in some things ; and that a bit of show-off
was the breath of her nostrils. " Xot but what, "
added Joanna, ''^Nliss Veronica has more sense
in her little finger than the poor missis had in
all her body. And a w-ill she has, has the lass,
that's as stout as steel! A will for any thing
she fancies, I mean : she can't be stubborn and
strong about doing things as is only her duty.
Bnt if there's sum mat as she wants for her own
good pleasure, you'll see she'll get it. It was
the same wi' her since she could toddle, poor
lass I ^I;my a forbidden fruit she's aten, an'
many a stomach-ache she's had for her pains!"
CHAPTER IX.
THE DIXXER AT I.OW.VTER.
Veuy jolly Captain Sheardown looked, and
very radiant his wife, as they welcomed the party
from the vicarage into their warm, well-lightetl
drawing-room.
"Your reverence has had a cold drive," snid
Captain Sheardown, jocularly. And then he
and the vicar and Mr. Snowe who, with his
son, Herbert, had arrived not many minutes
previously stood on the hearth-rug and talked
of the weather, and the hunting, and the Colenso
controversy, or whatsoever topic was then chief-
ly arousing the attention of the British public.
]\Irs. Sheardown, meanwhile, welcomed the girls,
and installed them in comfortable arm-chairs,
one on either side of her. Nelly Sheardown was
about thirty-five years old. She had not been
married more than eight years, for she and the
captain liad been constant to each other through
a long engagement ; and Tom Sheardown 's head
was gray before he could declare that his fight
witli fortune was fought out, and could claim
Nelly Cherbrook for his wife. He was twenty
years her senior ; and there appeared to be even
more dift'erence between their ages. For Mrs.
Sheardown looked younger now than she had
done before her marriage, during the wearj-
years of waiting that had sickened the heart with
hope deferred, and graven lines in the foce.
" How is your guest ?" asked Mrs. Sheardown
of Veronica.
"Sir John is getting much better: nearly well,
thank you. It is such a comfort for papa to feel
assured that all danger is over. It was a great
responsibility, you know, having a total stranger
in the house in that state ;" thus, Veronica.
" None of his relations came to see him ':'"
" He has lived abroad, and has no family ties
in England, Mrs. Sheardown. "
"Poor old man! It is a lonely position for
him."
Veronica gave a rapid glance at her hostess's
honest face, and then buried her own among her
flowers.
Maud laughed heartily. "Hear Mrs. Shear-
down," she said, " do you know I have a notion
that Sir John Gale does not by any means look
upon himself in that light."
"In what light?"
"As a 'lonely old man.'"
" Oh ! I thought I didn't know "
"Lady Alicia Kenwick,"' cried Captain Shear-
down's old servant, throwing open the door.
And the hostess rose and went to welcome the
new arrival.
Lady Alicia Kenwick was the daughter of a
Scotch peer, and the widow of a gentleman who
had made a large fortune in some iron-works.
Still further to the south than Danecester was a
great black district whose horizon glared at niglit
with a hundred lurid fires. And there the de-
ceased Mr. Kenwick had owned strange-looking
brick structures, like pyramids with the angles
rounded off", and with smoke and flame issuing
from their summits. Lady Alicia did not in-
herit all the gold that was melted out of the iron
ore in these grimy crucibles. Mr. Kenwick had
a numerous family by a former wife, and had
provided for them all, handsomely. But his
relict enjoyed an income which would have ap-
'22
VERONICA.
jieared piincel}' in her maiden eyes, and which
she now characterized as "genteel stanation."
For there is nothing we become more easily ac-
customed to than the possession of riches. And
a genuine love of money is one of the few pas-
sions that age, witli its hollow voice crying "All
is vanity 1" has no power to weaken.
Lady Alicia was a tali, handsome, stiff old
per annum to call her own, and without any aris-
tocratic connections, would have found it a rather
hard task to make both ends meet. "Besides,
my dear," she would say, confidentially, to some
intimate friend, "I don't really humbug any
body. Papa and mamma were both tlioroughly
well connected. It never did them any good that
I know of; but you see it is a great mercy for
lady, who took a gloomy view of life, and who ; me. If it were not for my family and my knowl-
had a good deal of wit of a dry, bitter, biting
flavor.
Iler ladyship's entrance into the room was
closely followed by that of a gentleman. Cap-
tain .sheardown, after having greeted Lady Ali-
cia, called to him.
" Come here, Hugh. I want to introduce you
to the vicar of .sliijiley. I\Ir. Levincourt. tliis is
my young friend Hugh Lockwood.
have heard me s])eak of his father."
- "Who is tlie gentleman ?" asked Lady Alicia,
half aside, of JMrs. Sheardown, and looking across
the room as she spoke, with a not unfavorable
glance.
"Jlr. Hugh Lockwood, Lady xMicia. You
may remember, perhaps, that his father was a
great protege of the old Admiral many, many
years ago, that is, before I ever saw my hus-
band."
"Oh, ay, to be sure! I recollect it all very
well now. Kobert Lockwood was a Danesliire
man born and bred. He came of humble folks,
edge of who's who, I might mope by myself in
a dingy lodging from January to Decembei'. And
for me, v-ho am the most sociable creature living,
and who detest solitude, it is really and truly a
blessing and a most providential circumstance
tliat there are persons who care ver}^ much for
that kind of thing."
JMiss Boyce, then, was not unduly proud of
You may | her descent, but she had a pet vanity, founded
I as are not most of our vanities ? on a much
less real and solid basis of fact ; she had some-
how lost her reckoning of time, thought herself
still an attractive-looking woman, and devoutly
believed that mankind was deluded by her wig.
Captain Sheardown gallantly led out Lady
Alicia Henwick to dinner, and tlie rest followed
in due order.
To old ]Mr. Snowe, the banker, was allotted
the honor of conducting J\Iiss Boyce. Mr. Snowe
was a slow-witted, matter-of-fact man. His
manner was pompous, and the habitual expres-
sion of his heavy face seemed to say, with an air
small tradespeople in vShipley ^lagna, but he liad i of puzzled surjjrise, " God bless my soul ! If I
an aspiring soul, and he got it into his head that ! did not know myself to be so very important a
he was born to be a great painter. Admiral personage, I should suspect you to be laughing
Sheardown had a taste for the arts, and helped ' at me. "
the lad to an education. And that is his son,
eh ? Not bad-looking I "
Mrs. Sheardown explained in a few words that
Hugh's ilxther had done credit to his patron's dis-
crimination, and had attained a good position
among British artists. Kobert Lockwood had
During the early part of the dinner Mr. Snowe
was too honestly engrossed in eating and drink-
ing to paj' much attention to his neighbor ; but
when the later stages of the repast arrived he
found himself compelled to observe Jliss Boyce's
lavish coils of false hair, flowing curls, and colos-
died some years ago. His son was articled jnipil sal chignon. He became a prey to a species of
to an architect in London ; and having had oc- fascination that obliged him to watch some deli-
casion to visit Danecester on professional busi- i cate artificial flowers which crowned the lady's
ness. Captain Sheardown Iiad invited the young head-gear, and which nodded, shook, and treni-
man to stay fi)r a few days at Lowater House.
Presently arrived Dr. Begliie, rector of Ham-
mick, with his wife and daughter, and Miss
Boyce, a lady who was staying at tiie rectory on
a visit ; and these completed the number of in-
vited guests.
l?etsy Boyce, as her friends and ac(|uaintances
called her, was a simpering, lively old lady who
prided herself on her thorough knowledge of
".society." She lived in London when she did
not happen to be visiting at some country house.
But her residence in the metropolis was never! grasped her hf)st's hand with her bony
l)rotracted ; and her address when there was not | as she tossed off the Champagne
revealed to many ])ersons. She called cousins
with half the names in the Peerage ; and indeed
INliss Boyce found a jihrase or two out of that
august volume act as an " open sesame" to many
a comfortable home where bed and board were
at her service for as long as she chose to remain.
She was herself perfectly good-humored and
humble minded ; and, despite her eccentricities,
she was liked and esteemed iiy those peo])le who
knew her best. But she had taken uj) the Peer-
age as a kind of profession, just as some reverend
Mussulman divine adopts the Koran. Slie lived
by its aid veiy comfortably ; whereas Miss Eliza-
lled, without inteiTnission, in dumb accomjiani-
ment to their wearer's vivacious flow of talk.
The dinner-party ])assed pleasantly under the
genial influence of the host and hostess. When
l)i: Begbie rose, and, in an efl'ective speech,
rolled out in his richest tones, p'rojiosed the
health of his dear friends. Captain and ISIrs.
Sheardown. and wished them many happy re-
turns of that auspicious day, the general enthu-
siasm was quite ardcTit. Even Lady Alicia de-
sired the servant to fill her glass a bum])er, and
fingers
Mrs. Begbie shed tears. But that may have
been from habit: for j\Irs. J^egbie always made
a point of crying at her husband's sermons.
And jierliaps his manly voice, alone, had ])ower
so to art'ect her. As compensation, howcAer,
wiien Captain Sheardown returned thanks, Mrs.
Begbie was ))erfecily dry-eyed.
When the ladies left the table by which time
Jlr. Snowe was openly and undisguisedly con-
templating JNHss Boyce's luxuriant locks with a
fixed and stony glare and returned to the draw-
ing-room, they resumeil a theme \\ Inch had l)een
discussed at tlic dinner-table, and on v hicli Lady
beth Sophia Augusta Boyce, with very few pounds I Alicia and Bet.sy Boyce were tlie chief talkers.
VERONICA.
"Gale? Gale?" said Miss Boyce, meditative-
ly. *' No such name among the jieople / know.
tSir John Gale I Never heard of him."
*' How vertf strange I"' murmured Mrs. Eeg-
hie.
'"But there must he some people, I suppose,
of whom Miss Boyce never heard ?" said Lady
Alicia. !he sjioke with a strong Scotch ac-
cent, rolling her r's very much, and pronounced
'never heard" "neverr harrd."
'Millions!" exclaimed IMiss Boyce, abso-
lutely squeaking in her desire to be em])liatic.
" (.)h, millions ! Your ladyship's married name,
for instance, was quite unfamiliar to me, al-
though I remember \qv\ well that is, I have
often heard mamma speak of your father, Lord
Strathgorm."
Lady Alicia smiled grimly.
"Well," said she, "my dear Miss Boyce, ye
might veiT well remember poor pa]ja yourself,
for he only died in the spring of ' 'thirty.' "
"Goodness!" exclaimed Miss Begbie, clasp-
ing her hands. " Suppose Sir John Gale should
turn out to be an impostor! A liighwayman,
or something. No : 1 don't mean a highway-
man ; I believe there are no highwaymen now,
but I mean a swindler, or something ; don't you
know ? Goodness I "
"Nonsense, Emmy!" said Miss Begbie's
mamma. Veronica's fiice looked unutterable
scorn, but she said nothing. The hostess asked
Jliss Begbie to play for them, and that young
lady com]jlied, not unwillingly. She drew very
good music out of the grand piano. Her mo-
ther was complacent. Lady Alicia listened with
a softened face. Betsy Boyce's ringlets quiv-
ered again as she nodded her head in time to a
waltz of Chopin. Upon this peaceful scene the
gentlemen entered in a body. Captain Shear-
down took a seat beside Miss Boyce, and made
her a fcAv gallant speeches.
"Go along, you false creature!" cried Miss
Betsy, smiling and tossing her head. "Men
were deceivers ever. One foot on sea, and one
on shore. P^xactly ! And you sailor animals
are the most faithless of all. But I always loved
the blue jackets from a girl, from a mere cliild !
I recollect a most chaiTning creature with whom
I once fell desperately in love. He was an Ad-
miral of the lied, and had only one leg, and a
frightful scar on his face where a cutlass had
gashed one of his eyebrows in two. He was
seventy-four, and I adored liim. It was in Ire-
land, at Delaney Park, in the year after in
short, I was a mei-e baby, not fifteen!"
' At Delaney Park ? Really ! That was your
grandpapa's place, Maud, was it not?" asked
Mrs. Sheardown.
"Possii)le ! Are you of the Delaneys of De-
laney, Miss Desmond? Ah, I remember the
youngest girl man-ied Sidney Desmond. To be
sure ! The eldest, Hilda, made a great mamage
at the end of her first season. Poor girl I H'm,
h'm, h'm ! What is she doing, poor Lady Tallis ?
And where is she? No one hears or sees any
thing of her now."
' ' We do not hear veiy often from my Aunt
Hilda," said ilaud, gravely. " Do you want me
to accompany that song of Schumann's for you,
Mr. Snowe?"
Maud walked away to the piano, and Betsy
Boyce poured into the greedy ears of Mrs. Beg-
bie and the old banker a recital of Lady Taliiss
troubles.
" It was considered a great match, the match
of the year (excepting, of course, the young Earl
of Miniver, wlio was, you know, the richest
minor in England, and married Lady Ermen-
garde Ennine, the day after he came of age) ;
and, I remember, poor old Sir William Delaney
was so delighted."
Mrs. Begbie, who was transported with delight
at hearing Iter friend and visitor so fluent and fa-
miliar witii these noble names, shook her head
gently, and said that that was what came of
woildliness. And how strange it was that pa-
rents should seek heartless grandeur for their
children ! For her part, she fervently trusted
that P^mmy would choose the better jiart, and
look for sound principles in her husband, pre-
ferring tliem to wealth or rank. Though, on
the score of birth fif Emmy were influenced by
such mundane attractions), there were few fam-
ilies to whose alliance she might not aspire, her
grandfather on one side having been a Gaffer
and it was unnecessary to say that the Gaffers
were among the few oldi pure Saxon families ex-
tant and her paternal great-grandmamma a De
Wynkyn.
' ' How was it, then ?" asked IMr. Snowe, senior,
in his pompous, deliberate tone. "Do I follow
you ? Was Lady Tallis's maiTiage an inauspi-
cious one, hey ?"
"Mercy on us!" cried Betsy Boyce. "In-
auspicious ! Her husband is one of the most
dreadful persons ! Hilda Delaney was a pretty,
good-natured fool when he married her. It was
like the wolf and the lamb ; he gobbled her up
in no time crunched her bones."
"Lawi" exclaimed Miss Emmy.
Mr. Snowe cast a rolling and rather bewil-
dered glance around. '"That," said he, im-
pressivelj-, "is shocking, indeed."
"But how do you mean, iliss Boyce?" said
Emmy, who took things a little literally, and
was excessively inquisitive. " Of course I know
that Lady Tallis was not really gobbled up he,
he, he ! you have such funny sayings but what
did her husband do ?"
Herbert Snowe's song ceased at this moment,
and the conversation at the other end of the room
came to an abrupt close.
Before the party broke up Mrs. Sheardown
came and sat by the vicar of Shipley, and told
him, smilingly, that she had a petition to prefer
to him. She wanted him to allow ]Maud to re-
main at Lowater for a few daj-s. The captain
and she would bring Maud in to Shipley when
they came to Church on Sunday ; meanwhile
taey would send to the vicarage for any thing
she might need. In short, they had set their
hearts on it, and Mr. Levincourt must not re-
fuse.
"I suspect you are not often accustomed to
have any request of yours refused, ^Irs. Shear-
down," said the vicar, gallantly. " If Maud be
wiUing as, no doubt, she is I consent with
pleasure to her remaining. "
Presently, Maud made her way quietly across
the room to Veronica. The latter was seated
on a small ottoman, which was made to hold
only two persons, and was so contrived that one
of its occupants must turn his back on the com-
pany in the drawing-room while the other faced
24
VERONICA.
them. Veronica was leaning back against the
crimson cushion. Tlie dark rich back-ground
enhanced the purity of her white dress and the
pearly tints of her shoulders. Familiar as her
beauty was to JNIaud, she yet paused an instant
to look admiringly on the picture presented by
the vicar's daughter. Veronica was radiant
with gratified vanity and the consciousness of
being admired. It heightened the bloom on her
cheek, and made her eyes bright with a liquid
lustre.
As JMaud approached, a gentleman, who had
been occupying the other seat on the ottoman,
rose to yield it to her.
"Do" not let me disturb you," said Maud,
" I merely wished to say a word to Miss Levin-
court. "
The young man bowed, and walked a few
paces apart.
Maud told her friend of Mi's. Sheardo\vn"s in-
vitation.
A strange look passed over Veronica's face.
At first it seemed like a flash of satisfaction ;
but then came an expression of regret ; almost,
one would have said, of a momentary alarm.
"Shall you stay, Maudie?" said she, taking the
other girl's hand in both her own.
"Uncle Charles has said that I may, and
But I will not stay, dear, if you think it selfish,
or if you fancy you will miss me."
"Uf course I shall miss you, IMaudie."
"Then I won't stay. I will tell Mrs. Shear-
down so."
At this moment Emma Begbie came up to
them, giggling after her manner, which was
half spiteful, whole silly.
"My goodness, Miss LevincourtI" she ex-
claimed, bending over the ottoman, ."f^a a
flirtation you have been having with that young
Lockwood ! Wiiat is he like to talk to ?"
"Very much like a gentleman," answered
Veronica, with cold hauteur.
"Oh gracious! But he isn't really one, you
know. Lady Alicia knows all about his father.
He was quite a common person. But isn't he
handsome, this young man ? You must mind
what you are about if you stay in the same house
with him. Miss Desmond, for I am sure Miss
Levincourt would never forgive you if you were
to make yourself too agreeable to him. She
evidently lookfe upon him as her conquest.
Don't you. Miss Levincourt? He, he, he!"
Veronica looked after her scornfully as she
went away. " What an ill-bred idiot that girl
is!" she said. Then, after a moment, she add-
ed, "Of course I shall miss you, Maudie. But
you must stay. You will not be away very
long ?"
" Only till Sunday. Was that gentleman who
was talking to you Mr. Lockwood? I had not
been introduced to him."
"Yes. Good -night, Maudie. The fly is
come, I supi)Ose, for I see papa telegraphing
across the room. Good-by. "
Veronica threw herself i)ack in a corner of the
fly, wrapped in her warm shawl and hood, and
remained silent. The vicar fell asleep. In about
ten minutes their vehicle drew aside to allow an-
other carriage to pass. It was the wclI-api)ointed
equi])age of the rector of Ilammick. The horses
dashed along swiftly, their silver-mounted har-
ness glistening in the moonlight.
Veronica drew still further back into her cor-
ner and closed her eyes. But she did not sleep.
Her brain was busy. And the jolting of the
crazy old fly from the Crown Inn at Shipley
IVIagna kept up a sort of rhythmic accompani-
ment to the dance of strange fancies, hopes, and
plans that whirled through her mind.
CHAPTER X.
THE GAUNTLET.
Sir John Gale, after his first appearance in
the vicar's parlor, came daily to sit there.
His afternoon visit became an established cus-
tom, and, after the second time, it seemed as
though he had been familiar there for years.
He grew stronger very quickly. It was not
long before he began to speak of departing.
There seemed, indeed, to be no valid reason why-
he shoidd linger at the vicarage. And yet he
staid on.
"I shall go abroad as soon as we have some
assurance of milder weather," he said to Mr.
Levincourt. "Spring is delicious in Italy. I
shall wait, however, until I hear that the Aljjs
are not too impassable ; for, of all things, I de-
test a sea voyage, and the two hours in the
Channel are always worse to me than a week's
land traveling. Meanwhile "
"Meanwhile, why not remain here?" said the
vicar. " There is no need for you to make a
move until you set ott' for the south."
To this Sir John Gale replied that his intrn
sion at Shipley vicarage had already been long
enough ; that he should never forget his host's
kindness, but it behooved him not to trespass on
it too fivr ; that, although he certainly had no
ties of friendship or relationship which specially
claimed his presence just then in any other part
of England, he must nevertlieless make up his
mind to say farewell to Shipley as soon as the
doctor's permission to travel could be obtained.
All this, and more to the same purpose, said
Sir Jolin Gale. And yet he lingered on.
The s])ring set in early, after a severe winter.
By the beginning of April there came soft, bright
days, with a southerly breeze which tempted the
inmates of the vicarage forth from the house.
Some such days immediately followed tlie din-
ner-party at ISIrs. Sheardown's.
One afternoon Sir John, beholding from his
chamber window Miss Levincourt strolling in the
garden, presently ventured fortli to join her.
"May I walk here, IMiss Levincourt?" he
asked, ])ausing at the threshold of the glass door
that led into tlie garden.
"Oh, by all means! But is it sunny enough
here ? The evergreens give a very damp shade.
If you are not afraid to venture further, you
woidd iiave more warmth and a southern aspect
there, beyond the gate.''
So Veronica and her father's guest wandered
slowly on and on, looking out over the common
dappled with cloud shadows, gazing at the far,
hazy horizon. ))ausing now and again for a mo-
ment, but still proceeding in their course until
they reached the church-yard of St. Gildas.
Sir John declared that tlie Inilmy air was a
cordial that diil him moie good than any medi-
cines. Still, warm as it was for the season, he
VERONICA.
25
daved not sit in tlic clnirch-yard to rest, and, as
lie turned to go back, lie was evidently tired.
A frown darkened his face. " I ought not to
have come so far without I'aul," he .said. "1
am still so dev so unaccountaMy weak."
"It is my fault !" exclaimed \^eronica. " Let
me be Paul's substitute." She otVered Sir John
the sujiport of her arm with perfect tact and
self-possession, as though it were the most nat-
ural and ordinary proceeding in the world.
After that occasion the daily walk became a
matter of course.
The temjiorary absence of Miss Desmond from
the vicarage was by no means regretted by Sir
John. In truth, he did not like Maud. Some
word to that ett'ect escaped him in sjieaking to
Veronica.
" You must not say that to papa, Sir John,"
said she, looking quietly up at him.
" Say what?"
"That you do not like Miss Desmond."
" Of course not. I never said so to an}' one.
It would be untrue. Miss Desmond is a veiy^
charming young lady, very charming and very
young, and pei'ha])s her youth explains a slight
touch, the very slightest touch, of self-sufficien-
cy. We grow tolerant and skeptical as we get
older. Helas ! "
"Maud is not self-sufficient. She is only veiy
earnest and very honest."
"Miss Desmond is happy in having so warm
and generous a friend. And pray do not accuse
rae of any want of respect for Miss Desmond. I
have no doubt that she possesses the most ad-
mirable qualities ; only her manner is a little a
little hard and chilly, if I may venture to say so."
"At heart she is really very impulsive."
"Is she?"
" But she has groat self-command in general. "
"I am bound to ^ay that she must have. Any
thing less impulsive than Miss Desmond's man-
ner I have seldom seen. But forgive me. I will
not say another word that shall even seem like
disparagement of one for whom you entertain so
warm an afiection."
Sir John spoke with a winning deferential soft-
ness of manner, and looked with undisguised ad-
miration into the beautiful foce by hia side.
Such looks were now not rare on his part.
Veronica, in her retrospective meditations, could
recall many such glances ; could recall, too,
many soft words, so soft as to be almost tender,
spoken in her ear during the afternoon stroll in
meadow or garden. She was flattered and touch-
ed by the deference toward herself of this man,
whose character she perceived to be imperious,
almost arrogant, to the rest of the world.
Others had been admiring and deferential be-
fore now. Mr. Blew wculd endure her scornful
raillery with abject submission ; but then Mr.
Blew was habitually submissive to every one,
and w^as, after all (she reflected), a very insig-
nificant individual indeed.
That young man, that ]\Ir. Lockwood, the
other evening had shown himself very sensible to
the fiiscinations of her brightness and her beauty.
He was not abject, truly. No; he was manly
and modest, and he looked, and spoke, and
moved in a way which sliowed that he thought
himself the e(|ual of any one among Captain
Sheardown's guests. Nevertlieless, in Veroni-
ca's apprehension, he was not so. Although she
had chosen to ]nit down Emma Begbie's ill-
breeding, she had been, to a certain degree, mor-
tified by her contemptuous tone.
Sir John Gale was a different kind of person
from this young Lockwood, whose father had
been educated by the bounty of Admiral Shear-
down.
To be "my Lady Gale!"
Tlie words rang in her ears. She whispered
tliein to herself in the solitude of her chamber.
Wealth, station, and all that was alluring to the
girl's vanity and ambition, were in the sound.
In those earliest years of existence during
which, as some think, the deepest and most abid-
ing impressions are made on the character, the
ideal of hapjiiness held w.\) before Veronica's eyes
was an essentially ignoble one. The possession
of such delights as may be summed u]) in the
vulgar word "finery" she was directly or indi-
rectly taught to look upon as an aim to be at-
tained. As she grew older, and the life that lay
before her in Shipley-in-the-Wold became clear
to her ap]n-ehension, an eating discontent took
hold upon her like a slow poison. At times, in
recalling her mother's stories of her young days
in Florence, a passion of envy and longing would
make the girl's heart sick within her. Not that
those things which had made Stella Barletti gay
and happy would have altogether satisfied her
daughter. The latter had more pride and less
simplicit}'. Stella liked to " fiir figura," as the
Italian phrase goes ; to make a figure in the
world. But her ambition never soared on a very
daring wing. She was perfectly contented to
accept Russian hospodaresses laden with eme-
ralds, or even Princesses Delia Scatoli da Salsa,
crowned with paste diamonds and enameled with
effrontery, as her social superiors, and to enjoy
the spectacle of their real or sham splendors ex-
actly as she enjoyed the spangles and tinsel of
the ballet in carnival.
Not so Veronica. She would willingly be sec-
'ond to none. There were moments when the
chance mention of Maud Desmond's family, or
an allusion to the glories of the ancestral man-
sion at Delaney, made her sore and jealous. She
would even be rendered irritably impatient by
Maud's simple indifierence on the score of her
ancestry ; though the least display of pride of
birth on the part of her father's ward would have
been intolerable to Veronica's haughty spirit.
Yet Veronica was no monster of selfish con-
sistency. She was often visited by better im-
pulses and a longing for a nobler aim in life.
But the first shock of jji-actical effort and self-
denial repulsed her like a douche of ice-cold wa-
ter. There came no reaction, no after-glow, and
she shrank back shivering, with a piteous cry of,
"I can not be good."
She knew herself to be wretchedly dissatisfied.
And, although her youth and bodily health at
intervals asserted their elasticity, and broke forth
into a wild flow of gayety and good spirits, she
was yet, at nineteen years old, secretly consumed
by dreary discontent.
Then she told herself that it was easy for hap-
py peoi)le to lie good. "If I were but happy, I
should be good and kind and generous," she
said.
And latterly the thought had taken possession
of her that it woidd make her happy to become
my Lady Gale.
26
VERONICA.
Opportunity is the divinity which shapes the
ends of most love affairs, let them be rough-hewn
how they will. Under the favoring influence of
residence beneath the same roof, daily walks to-
gether, and evenings spent in each other's soci-
ety, the intimacy between the vicar's daughter
and the sti'anger sojourning in her father's house
grew rapidly. The disparity of age between
them ottered no obstacle to the familiarity of
their intercourse.
There are some men who accept the advance
of age, and even make a step to meet it ; there
are others who painfully and eagerly fend it off;
again, there are some who simply ignore it. To
this latter category belonged Sir John Gale.
You could not say that he indulged in any undue
affectation of juvenility. lie merely seemed to
take it for granted that such att'ectatiou would
have been entirely superfluous.
From the first moment of seeing Veronica he
had been struck by her remarkable beauty. And
not the least attraction in his eyes was the con-
trast between her character and her position.
"Who the deuce would have dreamed of find-
ing such a girl as that in an English country
parsonage !" he said to himself.
In their conversations together Veronica had
spoken of her mother's early life, and had not
attempted to conceal her own longing to quit
Shii)ley-in-the-Wold, and Daneshire altogether,
for other and brighter scenes. He had noted,
with a sort of cynical gcod-humor, the girl's as-
piration after wealth and display ; her restless
discontent with the obscurity of the vicarage ;
the love of admiration which it required no very
acute penetration to discover in her. But these
traits of character were by no means distasteful
to Mr John. Coupled with a plain face or an
awkward manner they would have-not disgust-
ed so much as bored him. United to rare
beauty and a quick intelligence they amused and
attracted him. And then, to com]jlete the spell,
came that crowning charm without which all the
rest would have wasted their s\\eetness on Sir
John Gale : the fact that this young, brilliant,
and beautiful girl desired very unmistakably to
be pleasing in his eyes.
If she be not fair for me,
What care I how fair she be?
might have been said, and said truly, by the
baronet, respecting the loveliest woman ever cast
in mortal mould. Time and self-indulgence, in
])roportion as they had indurated his heart, liad
rendered his egotism more and more keenly sens-
itive.
It gratified his egotism to be, from whatever
cause, an object of attention to Veronica. He
cared not to ask himself whether she would have
lowered her beautiful eyes to have regarded him
for an instant had he been poor and obscure.
His wealth and rank were part of himself; in-
separable from tiiat capital 1, winch filled up for
him so large a space in (iod's universe.
"The girl would make a furore if she were
known," he said to himself. "Her coloring,
hair, and eyes are perfect. And she has sjjirit
enough for Lucifer!"
Nevertheless he had not gauged the height of
Veronica's ambition.
Day by day, and hour by hour, the attraction
exercised over him by her beauty grew stronger.
"You are not such a votary of Mrs. Grundy
as your friend," he said to her one day.
"x\s Maud?" answered A'eronica, laughing.
Then she continued, with a disdainful toss of her
head, "No, truly; I suppose my Italian blood
renders me incapable of worshiping at that shrine.
Dio mio ! Life is so short ! And so little sweet I
Why embitter it voluntarily with Mrs. Grundy ?'
" Yet in your heart confess now you are a
little afraid of her?"
"I might answer you as yon answered Maud :
am I a pickpocket to be afraid of the police-
man ?"
' ' Miss Desmond's retort did not hit the case.
The policeman merely admiiiisters laws : Mrs.
Grundy makes them."
"She shall make none for me," said Veronica,
looking very handsome in her sconi.
Sir John gazed upon her curiously ; but he
said no more at that time. The subject, how-
ever, seemed to have a peculiar attraction for
him, and he returned to it frequently.-
On the Friday morning preceding the Sunday
fixed for IVIaud's return home there came a let-
ter to the vicar from his ward. The purport of
it was, to ask his leave to stay a short time lon-
ger at Lowater House. There was to be a con-
cert at Danecester, to which Mrs. Shcardown
had promised to take her. At the end of the
letter were a few words about Hugh Lockwood.
" Do you know, Uncle Charles," wrote Maud,
"that I\Ir. Lockwood knows my Aunt Hilda?
He heard accidentally that I was a niece of Lady
Tallis, and he then mentioned that he and his
mother had made her acquaintance at a water-
ing-place three or four years ago ; and that Mrs.
Lockwood and my aunt became quite intimate.
They have not seen her for a long time ; but she
promised to let them know whenever she came
to London. I can not have seen Aunt Hilda
since I was seven years old, when she came one
day to see poor mamma ; yet my recollection of
her is a correct one, forJMr. Lockwood describes
her as a small, slight woman with delicate feat-
ures and beautiful eyes. This is just what I
remember. Onlv he savs she is now sadlv
faded."
"Dear me!" said the vicar, "odd enough
that these Lockwoods should have come across
Lady Tallis ! Here is a postscript for you, \c-
ronica, asking you to send back some dress or
other by Captain Sheardown's man. See to it,
will you?" Then the vicar, having handed his
daughter the letter, went away to his study.
Veronica read the letter from beginning to
end. .She read it more than once. There was
a good deal in it about that Hugh Iockwood,
she thought. She remembered Avhat i\Iiss Beg-
bie had said about him, and her lip curled. S/ie
care for the attentions of such a one as I\Ir.
Hugh Lockwood ! Emma Begbie should change
her tone some day. Paziaiza!
Veronica got Kjgether the articles for which
Maud had asked, and as she did so she scarce-
ly knew whether she were glad or sorry that
Maud was going to remain a while longer at
Lowater House.
"Dear old Maudie ! I hope she will enjoy
herself." Then she wondered what Maud wouUl
say to her daily walk with Sir John (iale, and
whether Maud would jicrceive the growing iJevo-
tion of his manner toward herself. And then
VERONICA.
27
slic looked in the glass with a tiiiimi)hant smile.
Hut ill i\ moment the blood rushed up to her
brow, and she turned away impatiently. Was
she afraid in her sei'ret heart, as bir John had
said ? No ; not afraid of the gossiping malice
of the world ; not afraid of .Mrs. Grundy. But
she had a latent dread of Maud's judgment.
Maud had such a lofty standard, sucii a pure
ideal. Bah ! People all wisiied to be happy ;
all strove and stmggled for it. IShe, Veronica,
was at least honest to herself. She did not gild
her motives with any line names. She longed
to be hapjiy in her own way, instead of jsrctend-
ing to be hajipy in otlier peojjle's way.
That very afternoon. Sir John Gale announced
that Mr. PJew had told him he might quite safe-
ly venture to travel. He made the communica-
tion to Veronica as they stoocVside by side lean-
ing over the low wall of St. Gildas's church-yard,
and looking at tlie moss-grown graves, all vel-
vety and mellow under the slanting rays of the
declining sun.
"Air. riew was very hard and cruel," said
Sir John, in a low voice. " Very hard and inex-
orable. I tried to hint to him that my strength
was not yet sufficiently recovered to render my
taking a journey a safe experiment. But it was
in vain. "Was he not cruel?'
Veronica stood still and silent, supporting her
elbow on the low wall of the grave-yard, and
leaning her cheek on her hand.
"Was he not cruel, Veronica ?"
His voice sank to a whisper as he uttered her
name, and drawing nearer, he took the unoccu-
pied hand that hung listlessly by her side.
Her heart beat quickly ; a hundred thoughts
seemed to whirl confusedly through her brain.
But she stood immovably steady, witli her eyes
still turned toward the green grave-yard.
" I I don't know. 1 sujipose I should think
not. You ouglit to be glad to be well enough to
go away."
He drew yet nearer, and pressed the hand that
lay passive in his clasp.
" You think it natural to be glad to leave Ship-
ley ?"
"Very natural."
"You hate this place and this life. I have
seen how uncongenial all your surroundings are
to you. You are like some briglit tropical bird
carried away from his native sunshine, and caged
mider a leaden sky. Leave it, and Hy away into
the sunshine!"
" That is easily said !"
"You are not angiy?" he asked, eagerly, as
she made a move to walk back toward the house.
"Why should I be angry? But the sim is
sinking fast, and papa will expect me. We had
better return to the house."
"Stay yet an instant I This may be our last
walk together. AMiat would yapa, do if you did
not return home at all ?" I
" Really I do not see the use of discussing so
absurd an hypothesis."
" Not at all absurd. It must happen some day."
"There is Catherine at the gate, looking for
us. I must go back." j
"Ah, Veronica, you are angiy with me I" i
"No." '
"Then it is the shadow of Mrs. Grundy that
has darkened your face. Why does she come
between poor mortuL and the sunshine ?" )
"Nonsense I"
"I told you that you were afraid of Mrs.
Grundy in your heart.'
"And I "told you tliat you were mistaken."
They had been walking toward the house, side
by side, but apart, and had by this time reached
the little iron wicket which gave access to the
lawn. Here Sir John jiaused, and said, softly :
"Well, I have been obedient. I have come
home ; or rather, you came, and I followed.
Perhaps there was no great merit in that. But,
Veronica, if you are not angry tiiat I have dared
to call you so, give nie a token of forgive-
ness. "
"I have told you that I am not angry."
"Yes; but you say so with your face turned
away. Not one look ? See that glove that you
are pulling off give me that."
"Pray, Sir John!" murmured Veronica, hur-
rying up the gravel ])ath, "I request that you
will not touch my hand. The servant is there,
within sight."
"The glove, then! Fling it down as a gage
of defiance to Airs. Grundy, if you refuse to give
it as a token of pardon to me !"
She ran past him quickly, up the steps and
into the house.
As she entered it a little brown glove fluttered
in the air and fell at the feet of Sir John Gale.
CHAPTER XI.
SIR JOHN IS DISCUSSED.
DuRixCr the first four or five years of Aland
Desmond's stay at Shipley, Lady Tallis had
written several times to Mr. Levincourt. asking
news of her niece, and pouring out tidings of
her own troubles and injuries in long, tangled
skeins of sentences, wherein verbs and their
nominative cases were involved together in inex-
tricable confusion. Moreover, as she wrote with
very pale ink, on very thin paper, and crossed
eacli page of writing, the trouble of deciphering
her epistles speedily became a greater one than
Mr. Levincourt was willing to give himself.
Her ladyship's mode of expressing herself was
singularly enigmatical. This did not arise from
any intention of being mysterious, but simply
from what the vicar styled " puzzle-headedness,"
and from a conception of the grammatical con-
struction of the English language considerably
at variance with the best authorities.
Lady Tallis invariably wrote of her husband
as "he." This was intelligible until some other
male individual requiring the same personal );iro-
! noun appeared in the letter. But when that
i other individual whoever he might be had to
' be mentioned, the difficulty of distinguishing the
! "he's" became considerable.
I Add to this that every word which could be
: abbreviated was cut down to two or tlwee let-
ters : "which" became wh, "your" yr, "morn-
ing" mrg, and so forth. As though time and
letter-paper were so inestimably precious to the
j writer that they must be economized at all haz-
I ards. Though, in truth, she had quite as much
' both of the one and the other as she knew what
to do with.
Mr. Levincourt would glance at the beginning
and the end, and then would fold up the letter,
28
VERONICA.
saying to himself, as he placed it in his desk,
that he would read it carefidly "by-and-by."
As rears went on tlie communications be-
tween Lady Tallis and the family at the vicar-
age grew rarer and rarer. Her ladyship was
traveling about. The town-house was let on a
long lease. Her address was uncertain. It be-
came more and more apparent or would have
become so to any one taking the trouble to con-
sider the poor lady's epistles with patience and
sympathy -that her married life was wretched.
She would, she said, very gladly have received
her niece for a while, but ''circumstances for-
bade her doing so." "What tliose circumstances
were, the vicar knew with tolerable accuracy.
Veronica, too, had learned from her mother
more of Lady Tallis's history than was known
to Maud. iSIrs. Levincourt had often expressed
her contempt for Lady Tallis's weakness in sub-
mitting to be crushed and tyrannized over by
her husband, and had said that the woman must
be an imbecile.
Veronica was inclined to think so too.
Occasionally Maud had spoken of her aunt to
the vicar. "I should like to see Aunt Hilda,"
she had said. " She is the only one left of dear
mamma's relatives. And I know mamma loved
her very much."
Then the vicar had explained that although
Jlrs. Desmond loved her sister, she by no means
loved or esteemed her sister's husband ; and that
there was no possibility of Maud's desire to
see her aunt being gratified, unless Lady Tallis
should come to Shipley-in-the-Wold.
{,)nce Maud had said a few words to Veronica
on the subject.
"I can understand plainly," said she, "that
poor Aunt Hilda is very harshly treated, and very
much to be jiitied. During dear mamma's life-
time I was, of course, too mere a child to know
any thing about it. I remember once Aunt Hil-
da came to see mamma : and she cried and talked
very excitedly, and mamma sent me out of the
room."
*' I think," answered Veronica, "that Lady
Tallis's histoiy may be summed up in a few words.
She was good-natured and weak. Her husband
was bad-natured and strong. Ecco I"
" run I wonder why he does not love her!
Aunt Hilda had beauty and gentle birth, and a
kind, sweet nature."
"I believe, Maud, that men love what amuses
them. Now it is possible to be handsome, and
well-born, and good-natured, and yet to bore peo-
ple to death. "
When, during the first day of her stay at Lo-
water House. iSLiud discovered that Mr. Lock-
wood knew her aunt, she asked liim many ques-
tions about her.
'"I am unfortunately not able to tell you as
much of Lady Tallis as my motlier would be,"
answered Hugh Lockwood.
" Mrs. Loikwood and my aunt were quite inti-
mate, were they not ?''
"They lived in the same boarding-house at
Tonjuay for some time. My mother was an in-
valid, and had been advised to go to Devonshire
for the winter. Lady Tallis was there alone ; so
was my mother ; and they found eacli other's so-
ciety more congenial than that of the rest of the
people in the house."
"And Aunt Hilda was quite alone?''
" Quite alone. At first we supposed her to be
a widow ; but after a short time she became very
confidential with my mother, and explained that
her husband was still living, but that that her
marriage was not a fortunate or happy one. You
must understand, Miss Desmond," proceeded
Hugh, seeing Aland's countenance fall and the
color flush into her cheek, "that Lady Tallis
volunteered this statement. My mother, how-
ever, has a singidar jjower of winning confidence.
It has more than once happened to her to receive
the most curious particulars of their private his-
tory from almost total strangers. I think that if
you knew her you would not distrust her."
"I never distrust people," answered Maud,
looking up candidly into his face. Then a
thought came into her mind, and she added,
hastily, " Kot quie never ; of course I am bound
in conscience to own that there are some faces,
and especially some voices, which inspire me
with distrust, perhaps unjustl}-."
She was sitting alone with her hostess next
evening before dinner. The twilight still strug-
gled with the blaze of the fire. It was that
peaceful hour between day and night when old
people are apt to dream of the past, and young
people of the future.
"Maud," said Jlrs. Sheardown, "do you
know when your guardian's guest is to take his
departure "i*"
"Not certainly. As soon as he was well
enough to travel, he said, when I left the vicar-
age. That is vague, of course. But I should
think he might go by this time."
" That sounds a little like ' I wish he would go. ' "
"Does it?"
"You don't like this Sir John Gale, Maud.
Have you any reason for not liking him, or has
/le one of those faces or voices which ins])ire you
with distrust? I'll make a confession, Maud.
/ have a strange distrust of this man, and with
less excuse than you ; for I have never spoken
to nor even seen him. It is one of what I call
my presentiments, and what Tom calls my un-
reasonable feminine prejudices ! I wish the man
were fairly away out of the vicarage. Does Jlr.
Levincourt like him ?"
" Very much. Uncle Charles finds him amus-
ing, and aMe to talk upon subjects wliich my
guardian seldom has an opportunity of discuss,
ing."
"And Miss Levincourt does she like him
too ?"
"Oh Yes: I think so."
"That he admires her is a matter of course.
She is very handsome."
" Veronica lias the most beautiful face I know."
" Yes, she is strikingly handsome. Our young
friend, Hugh Lockwood. was quite captivated by
her beauty the other evening.''
"Yes.'"
" I warned him not to burn his wings, for I
do not think a poor man would have much chance
with Miss Levincourt."
"X no I don't know."
" I don't say that she wotdd be deliberately
[ mercenan- only only I don't think she would
hapjicn to fall in love with a poor man."
1 "Dear Mrs. Sheardown, I always cite you as
one of the most Just persons I know. Rut
I don't be angry with me I do thiid you are a
1 little unjust to Veronica."
VERONICA.
2!)
" Am I ? I will try not to be, Maudie. "
" It would seem pi-csumptnoiis in me to talk
to you in this way, only that I, of t-omse, know
Veronica so thoroughly. IShc has line quali-
ties; indeed she has."
" She has, at all events, one good quality,
which I am willing to admit ; she is fond of you,
I truly believe."
" Indeed slie is, Mrs. Sheardown. And you
don't know how I try her. 1 lecture her and
scold her sometimes terribly. And you know
I ara two years younger than she is. And yet
she bears it all so well. I am sure that if Ve-
ronica loved only flatterers she would detest me."
" Wlio is it that does not detest Miss Des-
mond?" demanded Cajjtain Sheardown, enter-
ing the room at this moment with ^Ir. Hugh
Lockwood.
"Never mind," returned his wife; "the ref-
erence you heard on coming in concerned neither
you nor Mr. Lockwood."
"We have been to Shipley-in-the-Wold, Ncl-
" Wliat took yon to Shipley-in-the-Wold ?"
" Captain Sheardown was kind enough to go,
partly on my account," said Hugh. " I wanted
to have a look at the church there ; and as we
are to go to Danecester for the Sunday service
at the cathedral, I thought I might not have
another opportunity of seeing St. Gildas, which
is curious, and very complete in its way."
"Had I known we were going to Shipley,
I\Iiss Desmond," said the captain, "I should
liaVe asked if you had any commands to give
me. But we only made up our minds to push
on when we were already a good mile on the
road. This young gentleman found my descrip-
tion of St. Gildas's church irresistibly attract-
ive. He was rather disappointed when I told
him I was going to call at the vicarage. But he
consoled himself with the hope that Miss Levin-
court might not be at home."
"I assure you, Mrs. Sheardown," said Hugh,
turning to his hostess with a vehement earnest-
ness that made iier smile "I assure you that I
did not even know, until we were within sight
of the vicarage liouse, that Miss Levlncourt lived
there. If 1 had been told, I iiad forgotten."
"Did you see Uncle Charles?" asked Maud
of Captain Sheardown.
" No ; there was no one at home. The vicar
was at Haymoor on parish business, and Miss
Levincourt was out walking."
"Then," continued Maud, "you did not see
Veronica ?"
"Stop a bit I We had left our cards at the
vicarage, and had walked to St. Gildas and thor-
oughly inspected that very squat specimen of
Saxon architecture oh j'es, I dare say it isn't
Saxon at all, Hugli ; but never mind I Miss Des-
mond does not know any better! and we were
crossing the church-yard, when wliom should we
see but Miss Levincourt and Sir Sir what is
the man's name?"
" Sir John Gale," said his wife, gravely.
"Of course! Sir John Gale I Hugh saw them
first."
"Miss Levincourt wore a red cloak, and the
color caught my eye," Hugh explained.
"Sometliing caught your eye? Yes, and
fi.xed it, moreover! For it was your intense
gaze that made me look in the direction of the
common. And there I saw Miss Levincourt
and Sir Thingumbob strolling along arm in
arm."
"The dressing-bell has rung, Tom," said Jlrs.
Sheardown, rising from her chair.
"All rigiit, Nelly. But I was surprised to
see such a young-looking man ! I fancied he
was quite an old tbgy ! "
" No," said ilaud, "he is not what one would
call an old fogy. Did Veronica see you, Cap-
tain Sheardown ?"
" We walked half across the common to have
the honor of accosting Miss Levincourt. Hugh
sacrificed his inclination to a sense of politeness.
Miss Veronica received us very graciously, want-
ed us to go back to the vicarage ; but Sir Jolui
looked uncommonly black. I don't think lie
half liked being interrupted in his tete-ii-tete.
And upon my word "
"Please go and dress, Tom," interrupted
Mrs. Sheardown. "And you, too, Mr. Lock-
wood. You will both be late as it is."
While the captain was finishing his toilet
his wife came into his dressing-room, and said,
"Oh you blundering, tiresome Tom !"
"What have I done now?" asked Captain
Sheardown, wheeling round with a huge hair-
brush in each hand.
"I didn't want you to talk about that man
before Maud."
' ' What man ?"
"That Sir John Gale."
"Why upon earth shouldn't I?"'
" Well, it does not so much matter your
speaking about him as coupling his name witli
\'eronica's. It makes Maud uneasy. I always
knew Veronica to be a flirt ; but, upon my word,
I think iier conduct with this man jiasses all
limits. What is the vicar about ? He knows
nothing whatever of this man witli whom he lets
his daughter wander about tlie country."
"Gently, Nelly! They were not wandering
about the country. They were taking an after-
noon stroll within sight of her father's house."
"It's all the same!"
"Not quite, my dear."
"Tom, would you like your daughter to do
so ?"
"My dear Nellv, if vou are speaking serious-
"Quite seriously. '
"Then, seriously, I think you are making a
mountain of a mole-hill. The man is not a jjleas-
ant-looking fellow, though I sujipose he is hand-
some after a fashion. Neither v/as he particu-
larly civil in his manner. I dare say he thinks
himself a very magnificent three-tailed bashaw.
But, after all, neither his looks nor his manners
constitute a crime. And if the vicar and his
daughter are satisfied, I don't think we have any
business to object."
" Why should Sir John Gale linger at Shipley ?
He is quite well enough to travel. ^laud was
saying "
"Oh, it is Maud who has been putting tiiis
into your head ?"
" No. But she distrusts and dislikes the man.
I am not fond of Veronica Levincourt; but I
can not help feeling that I ought to hold out a
hand of womanly help to her ^ought to give her
a word of counsel. The girl is motherless, and,
in spite of all her self-confidence, we must re-
30
VERONICA.
member that she is but nineteen. I wish I had
in\ited her here with Maud ! But, to say the
truth, I was afraid of Hugh Lockwood getting
entangled by her. He was greatly taken witii
her beauty. And her love of admiration would
lead her to encourage him without the smallest
compunction."
" Well, my dear child," said the captain ;
"this iSir John Gale will be gone in a few days,
and "
"Is he going?"
"Yes, to be sure! Oh, I forgot to tell you.
His man a little foreign fellow, who opened tlie
door to us at the vicarage said that his master
M'ould be leaving Shipley at the end of the week."
"Oh, how relieved and glad I am ! You stu-
pid boy, not to tell me that, the very first thing !"
"So you see, you need not attempt the very
disagreeable duty of giving a word of counsel to
Miss Levincourt."
"Disagreeable enough! And ten to one I
should liave done no good by it. Well, Sir John
is going, and it is all smooth. Maud will be de-
lighted to get rid of him."
" I can not understand why you two should
take such a hatred to the man, thougli ! As for
you, Mrs. Kelly, you know simply nothing wliat-
ever about him. He may be a model of manlj'
virtue for any thing you can tell."
"I hardly think tliat a boon companion of
Lord George Segrave's is likely to be that I But
I am willing to allow him every virtue under tlie
sun, if he will only relieve Shipley vicarage of his
presence. "
"There's the dinner-bell. Come along, you
illogical, prejudiced, unreasonable dear little
woman 1 "
CHAPTER XII.
THE VICAR IS NOT ALARMED.
Rain, rain, rain ! It poured down on the
open roads. It ))lashed and dnp])ed from gutter
and gargoyle. It sank deep into the miry up-
lands, and covered the marsh-rushes on the wide
flats with beaded pearls.
Tlie sun went down amidst clouds that looked
like dun smoke reddened by the reflex of a dis-
tant conflagration.
Splash, splash, from the slated caves came tlie
water-drops on to the evergreens outside the sit-
ting-room window at Shipley vicarage. Splash,
splash, si)lash !
The log hissed in the cliimney. They always
crowned their coal (ire with a log of wood at tiie
vicarage of an evening. It was a custom wliich
Stella Levincourt had lirouglit witli her from
foreign jiarts. She said she liked the smell of
tiie wood.
Not tliat the i)ungent, acrid odor was grateful
in her nostrils; not that tlie blue flame leaped
brighter than the deep glow from the steady coal ;
no, not for these reasons did the economical
housewife (who iiad learned to cherish a six-
pence with the lingering grip that had been wont
to caress her Tuscan paul) insist on the ex-
travagance of a log of wood upon the evening
fire.
It was the memory of her youth that she loved,
and to which she offered this burnt -sacrifice.
Phantoms of old days revisited her in the pale
gray smoke that cui-led up on her hearth-stone,
like the smoke of the Tuscan fires, firr away.
And the custom survived her. It was con-
tinued on the same ostensible ground as that on
which she had commenced it. The vicar "liked
the smell of the wood. " Veronica " thought the
bright flame so much prettier than the nasty coal-
gas, that flared, and glared, and scorched one."
The vicar of Shipley-in-the "Wold sat alone by
his hearth. He was depressed, and a little out
of humor. His guest had left him, and the
vicar missed his evening chat.
Maud was still at Lowater, and Veronica had
gone to pay a long-promised visit to old Mrs.
Plew, the surgeon's mother.
"JNIrs. Plew has asked me to drink tea with
her so often," Veronica had said. "I ought to
go. I will walk over there after the afternoon
practice in the school-room."
The vicar had made no opposition at the time.
But now that he was alone he began to think
himself hardly used. Veronica could stay at
home, evening after evening, while there was a
stranger in the house. But she cared nothing
for her father's society. She never considered
that he might feel solitary. She iiad declared
herself to be moped to death, and so had gone
out to seek a change. Selfish, selfish ! How
selfish and inconsiderate people were!
Splash, splash, splash, fell the drops from the
slates of the roof On the garden the spring
rain was falling, fine and close. Now and again
came the west wind, flying fast, and with a swoo]
of his wings scattered the trembling drops, and
dashed them against the window-panes.
Each time that the vicar heard the rain pat-
tering against the glass he looked up from his
book and moved uneasily in his chair. Some-
times he stirred the fire. Sometimes he moved
his reading-lamp. Once he rose, went to the
window, drew back the curtains, and put his face
close to the glass. There was not much to be
seen. As iiis eyes got used to the darkness he
could distinguisii the outline of the old yew-tree,
solidly black, against the vague, shadow-like
clouds. A wet, stormy night! How would
Veronica get hinne? Joe Dowsett had gone
to Shipley IMagna to buy corn, or the vicar
would have made him take a mackintosli and
water-proof shoes to his young mistress. He
could not send either of the women out in this
weather. Then he sighed, and went back to his
chair and his book.
In the kitchen old Joanna was knitting a
coarse gray stocking, feeling ratlier than seeing
her work ; and Catherine, with the solitary can-
dle drawn close to her, was trimming a smart
cap.
" How solitary-like the house seems now !" ex-
claimed the latter, after having plied her needle
for some time in silence.
"Quiet," res])onded Joanna, briefly.
"Oh, quiet enough! But for that matter it
warn't never noisy. 1 like a little life in a ))lace.
Somehow, Sir John being here, and Paul, liv-
ened US uj) a bit."
"You've a queer notion of liveliness, Cathe-
rine. It was more like deadliness a deal for one
while! And very nigh hdn(j deadlines*;, too."
The old woman nodded her head in grim satis-
faction at her joke.
" Well, but there was something going on all
VERONICA.
31
the time. Not but what Paul gave us little
enough of his company ; and as for Sir John, I
didn't hardly set eyes on him from week's end
to week's end."'
"No great loss, neither!"
"Laws, Joaima, why are you so set agin' Sir
John ? Tm sure he was quite a handsome-look-
ing gentleman for his time of life. And be-
haved handsome too, when he went aw.ay."
"J/// liking ain't to be bought with guineas.
Nor yet with five-pound notes."
'"Well," observed Catherine, reflectively, "I
think guineas helps liking. I hate stingy folks."
"You're young and foolish. It's a jiity as
wisdom and judgment mostly comes when folks
hasn't no more need on 'em."
There was another and a longer silence, dur-
ing which the wind rose higher, and the rain
rattled against the casement.
"We shall have JMiss Maud back to-morrow,
I suppose," said Catherine. " .She's a nice young
lady : only a bit high. I don't mean high ex-
actly, neither ; but she has a kind of way of
keeping you at a distance somehow. Miss V^e-
ronica's more to my taste."
"H'm!" grunted out old Joanna, with closed
lips.
"She's a bit overbearing sometimes," pursued
Catherine. "But then she has such pleasant
ways with her when she is in a good-humor. "
" Did ye ever remember Miss Veronica taking
any trouble about you V I don't mean tdlhuj
somehodi else to take trouble, and her getting the
credit of being very kind and generous for it !
but right-down putting of herself out of the way
for 3'ou (juietly, where there was no show-ofl:" in
the matter ? Because I've know'd her ever since
she was born, and / can't call such a thing to
mind."
Catherine opined, under her breath, that Jo-
anna was "crusty" to-night.
The old woman's ears were quick enough to
catch the words, and she answered, emphatical-
ly, "No, Catherine; you're mistaken. It ain't
crustiness as makes me speak as I spoke then ;
but I'm nigh upon fifty year longer in the world
than you, and I've seen a deal of people, high
and low. I'd do more for that young lass than
yon would ; but, all the same, I read her as plain
as print. I tell you, it makes me sorry to see
her sometimes."
" Sorry ! What for ?"
"What for? AVell, there's no need to say
whether it's for this or for that ; but I am sorry
to see a young creature with no more religion
than a heathen Lord forgive me! and her
head turned with vanity and vainglory, and
caring for nothing but show-oflF and being ad-
mired. I tell you, if Miss Veronica was sent
to live among black Indians, she'd paint herself
blacker than any of 'em, if that was what they
considered handsome. Ah, deary me, Cather-
ine child, don't get to think too much of that
rosy face of yours. It is pretty now. You
needn't plume yourself up. God made it, and
he didn't make it to last ven.' long."
"There's the door-bell !" said Catherine, jump-
ing up, not unwilling to escape from Joanna's
moralizing.
In a few minutes the hall-door was shut heav-
ily, and almost immediately afterward the vicar
rang his bell.
"Was that Miss Veronica?" he asked, as the
girl entered the room.
"No, Sir; it was Jemmy Sack, Sir. He
brought a message from my young lady to say
as she wouldn't be home to-night."
"Not be home to-night!"
" No, Sir. Jemmy Sack saw IMiss Veronica
at the school-house, and she bade him say, as it
threatened rain, slie should very likely stay at
Mrs. riew's for the night. And you wasn't to
be alarmed, ])lease Sir."
"iUarmed ! No, of course I am not alanned.
But Where is Jemmy ? Is he gone?"
"Yes, Sir; he's gone. He wouldn't hardly
stay long enough to give his message. He was
running down with rain."
" Ha ! It is raining still, then, is it ?''
"Pouring, Sir. And the wind beats the rain
against your face so as I couldn't hardly shut
the door."
"Let me know when Joe Howsett comes
back."
' ' Yes, Sir. "
"What o'clock is it?"
"After eight. I looked at the kitchen clock
just afore I came up stairs."
When Catherine related to her fellow-seiTant
what had passed, the old woman shook her head.
"Ah," said she, " that's the way. The strange
face is gone. There's nobody at home to amuse
my lady, so oft' she goes to make a fool of that
soft-hearted little surgeon, that would just lay
down and let' her walk over him, if she had a
mind to."
" But, Joanna, it's a real bad night. I don't
wonder as she didn't like the walk home, all
along that sloppy lane, or through the church-
yard, as is worse a deal, and lonesomer."
"It ain't sloppiness, nor yet church-yards, that
could keep Miss Veronica if she wanted to come.
And, what's more, if Miss Maud had been at
home she wouldn't have staid at old ilrs. Plew's.
For Miss j\Iaud she do take her up pretty short
about her goings on with that soft little man. If
there's any body on God's eartli as Veronica minds
or looks np to, it's Miss Desmond. And I've
wished more than once lately that Miss Maud
hadn't been away this fortnight."
"Why?" asked Catherine, gazing with open-
mouthed curiosity at Joanna.
" Well, it's no matter. I may ha' been wrong,
or I may ha' been right; but all's well that ends
well, as the saying goes."
And with this oracular response Catherine
was fiiin to content herself.
CHAPTER xin.
JOE doavsett's news.
It was not far from ten o'clock when Joe
Dowsett returned from Shipley Magna. Joe
was in some respects an excellent servant, but
he had his failings among which might be reck-
oned an inability to resist strong liquor when
proffered gratuitously. During twenty years Joe
had not been known to be drunk at his own ex-
jiense. But a visit to the Crown at Shipley
.Magna, where he was an old crony and customer
of tlie head hostler, was pretty sure to result in
Joe's partial intoxication.
32
VERONICA.
On the present occasion he had ridden to Ship-
ley and back on the old pom", the sole beast of
burden belonging to the vicar. And Joe attrib-
uted the enoimous amount of time occupied in
the journey to his own remarkable liumanity to
the pony.
"^lustn't press him hard, the old beast, "said
Joe on his return, standing before the kitchen
fire, the heat of which caused his wet clothes to
steam again.
"No fear of you pressing him hard to come
away from the Crown," retorted Joanna. "I
advise you to get to your bed, and take off them
damp things. Else you'll be getting a fever, or
the rheumaticks, or something. Only," she add-
ed, under her breath "only we know there's a
special providence for certain folks ; and I'm sure
you're one on 'em this night, Joe Dowsett."
"All right, Jo-anna. I feel pretty comforta-
ble, thank 'ee. No, no ; mustn't press the old
]3ony. The merciful man is merciful to his
beast."
At this moment Catherine came back from the
f^itting-room, whither she had been, according to
orders, to give her master the tidings of Joe's re-
turn.
"Master's fine and vexed," she said, "at Joe
being so lute. He said he wanted to send Joe
to fetch home Miss Veronica if he had come at
any reasonable hour. IJut now it's too late."
"Why was he unwilling to let her stay at
]\Irs. riew's ?' asked Joanna.
"Oh, I don't know. JNIiss Veronica has staid
there before. But the vicar said as he'd have
gone to fetch her hisself, only it's such a night,
and been getting worse and worse since sun-
down. I think master feels lonely after being
used to Sir John's company. And then both the
young ladies being away the first evening and all
it's made him cross. He says he shall go to
bed, and you're to send him up a slice of dry
toast and a glass of negus, with not too much
nutmeg in it."
" Negus ain't a bad thing," obsen'cd Joe Dow-
sett.
" You go to your bed, Joe, for mercy's sake !"
cried the old woman, in)patiently. ' ' Don't stand
a steaming there like a co])per on washing day."
" I feel pretty comfortable, Jo-anna. I see a
friend of yours at the Crown this evening ^Ir.
Paul."
"Paul at the Crown!" exclaimed Catherine.
"Yes, Paul at tiie Crown. He jireteuded not
to see me, and skulked through the tap-room
like a rat. Sir John's a gentleman. I say no-
thing against Sir John. But Paul P.ud's a
sneak."
"Don't you talk nonsense. I'aid never did
you no harm," said Joanna. " And I don't be-
lieve you saw him at all to-night."
"You don't believe ?"
"No, I don't. Him and his master was to
sleep at Dancccster last niglit, anil go oif by an
early train this moining. It ain't likely as Paul
should be at the Crown at Shipley Magna all
alone. You must have took somel)ody else for
him. Paul would liave spoke to you if it had
been him. Why shouldn't he?''
.Joe turned on her with crushing severity.
" Praps you'll say I was drunk next, Jo-
anna !"
"0 Lord, no, / sha'n't say so. Maybe you
were dreaming. But never mind now. Go to
bed ; there's a good man."
It proved very difficult indeed to induce Joe to
go to bed, however. He protested o^er and over
again that he felt pretty comfortable. Then he
required Joanna and Catherine to declare sol-
emnly that they believed his statement about
having seen Paul ; which, finding it hopeless
to get him to go to bed on any other terms,
they unscrupulously did. Then he very unex-
pectedly declared that he and Paul liad lived to-
gether like brothers ; that there was no one for
whom he felt a warmer regard ; and that Paul's
cold and unkind behavior had cut him to the
heart. At last, by dint of scolding and coaxing,
he was got to his own room, the door of which
Joanna shut, with a fenenl jirayer that they
might not all be burned in their beds, and
with a gleam of comfort in the knowledge that
the end of candle intrusted to Joe could not last
above five minutes.
"Ain't it queer, Joe taking that notion about
seeing Paul ?" said Catherine, when she and Jo-
anna were alone together. " Do you think it
could ha" been could ha' been what's that you
call it when a person's ghost walks before they're
dead, as a kind of a warning? Like that story
you tell of the eldest son where you lived kitchen-
maid long ago. Oh, I know a fetch. That's
the name. Do you think it could ha' been Paul's
fetch ?"
' ' Pooh, child ! Servants don't have no fetches.
Them kind of things only belongs to great fam-
ilies. Don't you go scaring your wits with such
fancies, or I shall never tell you no more of my
stories."
"But," persisted the girl, "Joe said that the
figure passed through the room very quick and
silent, and with its head turned away, and "
" Well, if its head was turned away how was
Joe to know who it was? It's just a drunken
man's fancy, I tell you. Go to your bed. It's
nigh upon eleven, and I have seen to the fasten-
ings of the doors. Good-night. When Joe's
sober to-morrow he will tell another story, I
warrant."
But the next morning Joe told no other story.
On the contrary, he persisted in his former as-
sertion, and confirmed it by ])roof which it was
imjjossible to doubt. He had remarked Paul's
presence at the Crown to his friend the head
iiostler, and the hostler had said, yes ; he knew
him well enough. He was the foreign servant
of that rich banrowknight as owned such neat
nags, and had jjut up at the Crown for his hunt-
ing ipiarters. But in reply to a question as to
what Paul had come there for the hostler pro-
fessed ignorance. It might be to fetch some
traps of his master's. The hostler believed that
there had been a porknianty or something of
that kind left in the landlord's care. Paul had
brought a fly from the hotel at Danecester, and
was to go back in it. So he (the hostler) sifpposed
that he iiad to carry luggage.
" But why Paul "shouldn't speak to me I don't
know, nor Idon'tmuch care," said Joe Dowsett,
whose feelings toward his dear friend had come
down to tlieir ordinary level of stolid inditVerence
since the influence of his potations iiad subsided.
" I couldn't have believed as Paul would have
give hisself such airs," exclaimed Catherine, with
a toss of her head. She felt that Paul's sliglit of
VERONICA.
33
Joe Dowsett was a reflection on the rest of the
vic;ir's lioiisehold.
About eleven o'clock in the forenoon Maud
arrived from Lowater. Captain 8heardown had
diiven her to Sliipley, and liad set her down at
the vicarage without alighting himself, purposing
to proceed to Ilaymoor.
"Where is Veronica?" was Aland's first ques-
tion to her guardian.
" Veronica has displeased me \ery much," an-
swered the vicar. " .She went to drink tea with
old Mrs. Plew, and chose to remain there all
night, although she knows or might know if
she had any sort of filial desire to ascertain my
sentiments on any subject whatever that I ob-
ject to her putting herself under any obligation
of that kind to the Plews."
]Maud looked grave, but said, sweetly, " Please
don't be very angry with her, Uncle Charles. It
was a dreadfully stormy night. Perhaps she was
afraid of the walk home."
"She was assuredly not afraid of incumng
my displeasure, whatever else she may have
feared," said the vicar.
Maud made no further direct efforts to avert
her guardian's wrath ; but slie took the most
efl'ectual means of putting him into a good-hu-
mor, by gayly chatting about all the little inci-
dents of her visit to Lowater, the concert at
Danecester, and the people who had been to the
house.
She was in the midst of her talk, sitting, still
with her hat in her hand, in the vicar's study,
when the door of the room was opened a very
little way, and a voice cried : "Miss Maud! Miss
Maud ! Would ye please step here a moment ?"
The voice was old Joanna's; but so strange
and muffled in its tone that an unreasoning ap-
prehension of impending evil fell upon Maud's
heart.
She sprang up, and forcing a smile, said :
"Uncle Charles, I must go for an instant to say
a word to Joanna. I'll be back as soon as pos-
sible. The dear old woman has some mighty
mystery on hand."
She closed the study door with an instinctive
care, for which she could never afterward ac-
count, and faced a countenance which seemed,
like Medusa's fabled head, to turn her into stone.
The countenance was Joanna's. But so
changed, ghastly, and aged was it that JMaud
would hardly, under other circumstances, have
recognized the familiar features.
" What is the matter, Joanna?"' she asked, in
quick, low tones, whose firmness surrnised her-
self
" ily dear Maudie," answered the trembling
old woman, "my sweet young lady, don't ye
lose your head. It's all we've got to depend on I
I feel my years now as I never felt 'em before."
Maud made a silent, eloquent gesture of im-
patience.
" Yes, I will speak, dear}-. Mr. Mr. Plew's
here. He looked in by by chance like. And
O Lord be merciful to us, and spare us ! he
says. Miss Veronica is not at his mother's, and
what's more, hasn't been there all night. And
what to do, or what to say, or what will become
of the vicar, I don't know !"
' ' Hush 1 Where is Mr. Plew ? Take me to
him. There is some mistake, some misunder-
standing. Xo harm can have happened to Ve-
C
ronica, here, in her own home, among her own
people ! It is impossible I"
" (Jh, my deary, Mr. Plew is more like a mad
creature than any thing else. And as to harm
My innocent young lady, it goes to my heart to
hurt you, but I'm afraid I'm sore afraid "
"Of what?"
The old woman made no answer., but moaned
and wrung her hands.
A dreadfid ajjprehension took hold of Maud
that Mr. Plew had brought some fatal and de-
cisive tidings ; that Veronica was dead, and that
the old servant was endeavoring to break the
news to her. Collecting her senses as well as
she could, she bade Joanna take her to Mr,
Plew at once, and let her know the worst.
Joanna pointed to the door of the dining-par-
lor, and Maud sprang into the room.
CHAPTER XIV,
JoAXNA had not much exaggerated in saying
that Mr. Plew was "more like a madman than
any thing else." He did seem to have nearly
lost his senses.
"Oh, Miss Desmond!" he cried, as soon as
he caught sight of Maud, and then stood dumb
with clasped hands.
" Please to tell me at once. It will be kind-
er, indeed it will ! Is she dead ?"
The utterance of the word seemed to force a
gush of tears from Claud's eyes, but she strug-
gled hard to command herself.
The little surgeon recovered some spark of
manhood and courage at sight of the young
girl's piteous, innocent face. His professional
helpfulness came to his aid, and took him away
from the conternplation of his own distress.
"Don't try too violently to force back your
tears," he said. "Let them come. You will
not let them master you. Ko; I do not think
Veronica is dead. No, on my honor. I would
not deceive you."
"What is it, then? Is she ill? Has there
been any accident ? Is she in danger?"
"I wish to Heaven, I\Iiss Desmond, that I
could answer your questions. All I know is,
that iMiss Levincourt did not sleep at my mo-
ther's house last night did not even go there at
all and yet she sent word here by the boy that
she meant to do so. "
' ' But the boy may have mistaken her mes-
sage. She may have said that she was going
elsewhere. Have you asked ? Have you in-
quired in the village ? Joanna's face and and
yours have infected me with terror. But I can
not I can iwt believe that there is any real
ground for alarm."
"Alarm!" echoed the voice of !Mr. Levin-
court, and the next instant he stood in the room.
Any attempt at concealment was out of the
question. A glance at the faces of JIaud and
^Ir. Plew sufficed to show the vicar that some
terrible misfortune had happened.
"Dear Uncle Charles," said IMaud, taking
his hand, "Mr. Plew has told us that Veronica
was not at his mother's house last, night. Don't,
pray don't, give way to terror, dear Uncle
Charles. It has been some mistake of Jemmy
34
VERONICA.
Sack. 1 am sure, quite sure of it. What haiin
can have happened 'i We should have been sure
to hear of any accident, you know. Ill news al-
ways travels quickly. We were startlel at first,
but now I am coming to my senses a little, and
I see how foolish it was to be so frightened I"
The poor child was trembling in every limb,
and the hand with which she clasped the vicar's
was as cold as marble.
Some men in Mr. Levincourt's case would
have rushed instantly forth ; would have sought
here and there ; would have inquired feverishly ;
would, in brief, have been spurred by their anxi-
etj- into immediate energy and action.
But the vicar was at first stunned, not stimu-
lated, by the blow. He sank down in a chair
like one whose bodily powers had been suddenly
paralyzed.
" The first thing to be done," said jNIaud, " is
to send Joe into the village. Let him go to
Sack's farm and try to find Jemmy. Then he
might go or send to the Meggitts. It is possible
that Veronica may have gone there. Miss Tur-
tle and the girls were always asking her. And
you will make inquiries, won't you, Mr. Plew ?
I see more and more how foolish it was to be
so frightened!"
The vicar, as he recovered from the first shock,
and as Maud's elastic courage and young hope-
fulness rose higher and higher, and began to
chase away the first ghastly fear that had crush-
ed him, displayed an unexpected ])liase of feel-
ing : he grew angry. He resented the pain he
had been made to suffer.
" I think, Mr. Plew," he said, in a voice whose
trembling tones were by no means under control,
" 1 must say that I think it highly inconsiderate
on j'our part to come here and cause so very ter-
rible so unspeakably terrible an alarm with-
out having better grounds for it."
The little man, who seemed to.be entirely un-
influenced by Maud's cheering suggestions, stood
silent, and cast an appealing glance at the young
girl.
"Law dear. Sir!" cried old Joanna, who had
remained in the room, "don't ye say that ! Mr.
Plew came here without knowing a thing about
JMiss Veronica. He was took aback and scared
well-nigh as much as you was when I o))ened
the door and asked him where she was, and why
she hadn't come home with him."
" Is Joe gone? Is he going?'' exclaimed the
vicar, rising from his chair, and speaking now
with nervous rapidity. "Why does no one ex-
ert any energy ? I shall go in one direction my-
self Joe must take another to Sack's farm
d'ye hear? And, Plew, you will you will
search " Then a sudden terror overcame
him, and he fell back into the chair again with
a groan. "My child! my child!" he cried.
" Oh, my child! At this moment she may be
dead ! "
"No, no, no not that !" exclaimed Mr. Plew,
eagerly. "Not that! I do not believe she is
dead. I do not believe she is hurt. That is
not what I fear."
"Then, Sir, what is it you do fear ? It is not
this, and it is not that ! What means have you
of knowing? And how should you understand
a parent's natural apprehensions, or undertake
to limit them? Have you," he added, sudden-
ly, having caught a glimjise of intelligence that
passed between the surgeon and Joanna "have
you any information that you are concealing
from me ?"
"No! N*o!"
' ' You have ! I see it in your face and in
hers. Joanna, I insist, I command, vou to
speak! Plew, if you think it kind to keep me
in suspense you are cruelly mistaken. Tell me
the truth ! " "
"Mr. Levincourt, as God is my witness, I
know nothing! I do not, upon my soul! But
I I had a momentaiy fear a mere moment-
ary suspicion that "
" Susjncion, Sir !"
" That that Miss Levincourt might have left
her home, purposing not to return to it."
"H how dai-e you?" gasped the vicar; and
then suddenly ceased, as though the words were
arrested in his throat and were almost choking
him.
"Untie his neckcloth!" cried the surgeon,
springing forward. The vicar waved him off,
but suffered old Joanna to obey ]Mr. Plew's di-
rections.
Maud looked fiom one to another in an agony
of bewilderment.
"Left her home!" she exclaimed. "Veron-
ica leave her home. i)urposing not to return to
it ! How ? Why ?"
"Whisht, my deary!" muttered Joanna, still
busied about her master. " ])on"t ye gi\e way.
It may not be so bad as we're afeard."
"So bad as what? What does Mr. Plew
mean ? What are you all afraid of? Oh, Ve-
ronica ! "
" Here he is, Sir ! Here's Jemmy !" cned Joe
Dowsett, dragging Jemmy Sack into the room
after him. " I was on my way to the farm when
I met him. Now speak, you young rascal, and
tell his reverence what JMiss Veronica said to
you I"
The boy was flushed, panting, and very much
frightened. Joe had ex])ended a great part of
his own painful excitement in hauling Jemmy
Sack to the vicarage with very unnecessary vio-
lence.
" I hain't a young rascal !" said Jemmy, driv-
en to bay. "And I told the message here last
night as Miss Veroniky said, so I did."
" Don't be afraid, Jemmy," said JMaud, trying
to soothe the boy. " No one will hurt you. You
have done no hann. "
"No, I knows I haven't!" retorted Jemmy.
"But you will tell us what what I\Iiss Ve-
ronica said, won't you. Jemmy ? We are all in
sad trouble because we're afraid some harm has
happened to her, and we want to find out where
she is.''
The sight of the sweet, pale face, down which
the tears were now streaming fast, and the sound
of the sweet, tremulous voice, instantly melted
the boy's heart, and he professed his readiness
to say all that he knew. But that amounted
to very little. He had seen Miss Veronica at
the school -house. But she had not remained
until the end of the practicing. Before leaving
she had said to Jemmy tliat she was going to
Mrs. Plew's house to drink tea, and that, as the
evening was turning out wet, she should slecj)
there. Jemmy was to go and take that message
to the vicarage. But he was not to go until
quite late ; not until after seven o'clock at all
VERONICA.
events. And Miss Veronica had given him a
silver sixpence, and bade him earn it honestly
by doing exactly as she told him.
" And so I did," protested Jemmy. " I niver
goe'd near the vicarage initil nigli upon eight
o'clock, and it was powering wi' rain, and I was
soaked through, and when I got home daddy
thrashed me."
Old Joanna stood by, emphasizing eveiy word
that the boy altered by a nod of the head, a
sigh, or a gesture with u])Iifted hands, as who
should say, "Ay, ay ; it is just as I thought!"
Ever since the speaking of those words by Mr.
Plew which so aroused the vicar's indignation
the latter had sat passive almost sullen in his
chair. He had listened to Jemmy Sack's story
in silence, and had apparently relinquished his
purpose of going forth to seek his daughter. Now
he rose, as though struck by a sudden idea, and
hastily left the room. His footsteps were heard
ascending the staircase and entering the apart-
ment overhead. It was Veronica's chamber.
The steps ceased, and there was silence in the
house. The little group in the dining-parlor
stood staring blankly at each other.
Maud's tears had ceased to flow. She was
frozen by a new and but half-comprehended fear.
Presently Catherine ran in from the kitchen.
People had come to give what information they
could. By this time the whole village was ac-
quainted with Veronica's disappearance. IJoger
the plowman's wife had seen Miss Levincourt by
herself walking along the Shipley Magna road
ver}' fast. Miss had not said good-afternoon to
her. But she (Roger's wife) thought slie might
not have seen her, for she was going along in a
quick, scared kind of a way, looking straight be-
fore her.
Immediately after this woman appeared a wit-
ness who testified to having seen the vicar's
daughter in a carriage, driving swiftly on the
road between Shipley Magna and Danecester,
between five and six o'clock on the previous even-
ing.
This man was the ShipIey-in-the-Wold and
Danecester carrier, who knew Veronica well by
sight, as he did most people within a circuit of
twenty miles round Shipley. He had just heard,
he said, down at the Red Cow that the young
lady was missing. So he thought he would step
up and say when and where he had last seen her.
On hearing the first words of this man's storv'
Maud had rushed breathlessly up stairs to call her
guardian. In a few minutes she returned alone
to the door of the dining-room, and beckoned
^Ir. Plew to come to her.
The babble of voices, which had arisen high
and confused when she had left the room, ceased
suddenly as soon as her white foce was seen again
in the doorway. There was a pause of expect-
ation.
"What is it?" whispered Mr. Plew, obeying
Maud's summons.
"Will you please step into the study to Uncle
Charles for a moment, Mr. Plew ?"'
She preceded him into the study. The vicar
was sitting there with a paper in his hand.
"Is there news?" cried Mr. Plew, eagerlj-.
The vicar's face showed a strange agitation
an agitation different from the first emotions of
surprise and alarm which he had exhibited on
learning that his daughter was not to be found.
"Yes," he said; " tliere is news. I am
happy thankful that Veronica is in safety.
It has been a false alarm a a mistake. I am
quite relieved."
" Thank God !" cried the surgeon, fervently.
Mr. Levincourt tried to speak with some de-
gree of self-control. His hand shook, and his
features twitched.
"I have cause to be thankful," he began, and
then suddenly broke down and turned away.
"Tell him what I wanted, ]\Iaud," he mur-
mured in a stifled voice. Tiien he bent his
arms on the table, and bowed his head, and hid
his face in his hands.
"Will yon do us the great kindness," said
Maud, addressing the surgeon, "to get ridof idl
those ]jeople? Thank them, and say what is
fitting."
" But what am I to say ?"
IMaud glanced at the vicar, hut seeing him
motionless, with his face buried in his hands,
she a!iswered :
' Mr. Levincourt wishes them to be told that
Veronica is in perfect safety. There is no cause
for alarm. He has found a letter from her."
"Impress upon them," murmured the vicar,
with still averted face, " that there has been a
misunderstanding. If I had seen the letter soon-
er ]\Iiss Levincourt did not leave my house
without informing me."
^Ir. Plew still hesitating, Maud made an im-
ploring gesture.
"Pray, pray, !Mr. Plew, send those people
away!"
IVIr. Plew proceeded to obey the vicar's direc-
tions as well as he could. The poor little man's
heart was acliing and his spirit was troubled. At
length he succeeded in inducing the little crowd
to depart. They went unwillingly and with a
perfect hunger of unsatisfied curiosity. They
would foin have lingered in the kitchen to talk
and to hear; but old Joanna very unceremoni-
ously bade tliem begone, and was obdurate to-
ward all attempts at discussing the question of
Miss Veronica's departure.
" I know no more than my betters chooses to
tell me," said Joanna. "'J'hank God the lass
isn't murdered, nor any way hurt, nor yet drown-
ed, nor yet kidnapped. That's all I know. And
her father knows where she is. And so I don't
see as the rest is any of our businesses."
" Mr. Plew," said the vicar, when the surgeon,
having knocked at the door of the study, had been
readmitted liy Maud "Mr. Plew, if I showed un-
due resentment for what you said just now, I ask
your pardon."
' ' Oh, Mr. Levincourt ! Don't, pray don't speak
of my pardon ! But ]Miss Desmond said you had
found a letter "
" I have found a letter from my daughter, and
I am going to London to-night."
"To-night!"
"Yes."
"To meet ]\riss Levincourt?"
" To meet JMiss Levincourt if possible. I take
Maud with me. I may be absent some time, and
she can not remain here alone. I shall ])lace her
under the protection of her aunt. Lady Tallis,
who is in London. If you are asked about Miss
Desmond, I wish you to be able to say that she,
at least, is in safety."
There was a bitterness in the vicar's tone as he
36
VEKOXICA.
spoke the last words which sent a pang through
the surgeon's heart. lie was, as Joanna had
called him, " a soft little man."'
"I hope," said he, wistfully, " that I may be
able to say so of Ve of Miss Levincourt too."
" Jlr. Plew, I believe you are a sincere friend,
and that you wish well to us all," said the vicar,
suddenly. "I will trust you."
" You may, 'Mr. Levincourt. I of course I
knew all along that it was of no use ; and I never
scarcely ever allowed myself to feel any thing
like hope. She was so superior in every way.
But I am not altogether seltisli. Veronica's hap-
piness is very dear to me. It's all over now, of
course. But if if there is any thing in the world
I can do for you, or for her, you may be sure I
shall not flinch."
Tlie vicar took the little man's hand. "Ah !"
he moaned, with the cruel candor of a man ab-
sorbed in his own trouble; "it might have been
better if she had been able to bring herself to
care for you. Any thing would have been bet-
ter than this ! She has run away, j\Ir. Blew ;
run away with that "he checked himself, "with
feir John Gale."
" I knew it !" cried the surgeon. " I am not
sui-prised." But his face grew deadly pale as he
spoke.
"Let it turn out as it may," resumed the vic-
ar, "I can not easily forgive her. She has been
imgrateful and deceitful. But she is my child,
my only child. I can not abandon her to her
fate. She wi-ites me here that Sir John had
private reasons for making a secret marriage "
' ' Marriage ! Is she married Y '
"If she is not he shall answer it, the infernal
villain! But," added the vicar, recovering him-
self somewhat, "you perceive how all-important
it may be not to give evil tongues a handle. You
will speak of you will defend a runaway match,
nothing more. That is bad enough. I must go
to London to-night. A train leaves Danecester
at midnight. I might drive to a by-station at
once, but I should be no better off. "We must
wait for the twelve o'clock mail ; there is no di-
rect train to London between tliis hour and mid-
night. Every hour seems an age. "
^'' Yes, yes; you must go. God grant you
may find her ! Have you any clew ?"
" A few words dropped by that man's servant.
And his own intention, expressed some time ago,
of going to Italy. If I can but be in time to pre-
vent their leaving England "
"And Miss Desmond goes with you?"
"Yes. ]My poor Maudiel Ah, how little
your motlier tliought to wliat contact with mis-
ery and disgrace she was exposing you when siie
bequeathed you to my care!"
They were the first words of consideration for
any human being's sufferings, save his own, that
the vicar had spoken.
Arrangements were hastily made ft)r the de-
parture tiiat evening. Mr. Blew was helpful and
active, lie ordered a vehicle to take the vicar
and iiis ward to Danecester at seven o'clock. Old
Joanna was to be in cbargo of the liouse. Cath-
erine sobbed as she packed up a few clothes for
Maud.
" Seems like as if a earthquake had corned
and swallowed us all tij), n/iss,'' said Catherine.
The vicar had fought hard to show a brave front
to the servants, to keep up appearances; but
without much success ; for there was no convic-
tion at the bottom of his own heart to enable him
to persuade others that all would be well with his
daughter. He was too much a man of the world
to give credence to the assertion made in the
hurried letter left behind her by Veronica, that
weighty private reasons had prevented Sir John
Gale from openly demanding her hand, and had
induced him to urge her to consent to a clandestine
marriage. " Eor a man of his iige and jtosition
there can exist no such reasons," muttered the
vicar between his clenched teeth. "Miserable,
wretched, misguided, degraded girl! But if
there is justice on earth he shall marry her. He
shall find that he can not thus outrage and defy
the world. He shall marry her by "
The dusk was falling when the vicar and his
ward drove away from the garden gate of the
vicarage. As they passed the .spot where Sir
John Gale had been found bleeding and insens-
ible on the ground Mr. Levincourt closed his
eyes and groaned aloud.
Maud started, as the scene recalled to her
mind the fact that the accident had happened lit-
tle more tiian two months ago.
"Two months !" she said to herself, while the
tears blinded her eyes and streamed down her
cheeks. " How ha])py we were only two mouths
ago!"
CHAPTER XV.
LADY TALLIS.
It was not until !Mr. Levincourt had been seat-
ed for some time in the railway carriage that he
remembered that he was ignorant of Lady Tal-
lis's address. Young Lockwood had said that
she was in London, but where the vicar knew not.
"iMaud!" said lie, suddenly, "how are we to
find your aunt ?'
Maud was leaning her weary head against the
cushions, and her eyes were closed. She had
not been sleeping, however, for she immediately
opened her eyes, and repeated the vicar's words :
'' How are we to find my aunt?"
"Yes, how? In the wliirl and confusion and
misery of this dreadful departure it never oc-
curred to me that I do not know Lady Tallis's
address! Her last letter was dated from tlie
country. "
"3Ir. Mrs. Lockwood knows where Aimt
Hilda is," answered Maud, after a moment's re-
flection.
"Yes, yes, yes," said the \icar, with jieevish
irritability. "I^Irs. Lockwood knows I But
wliere can these people be found ? ^lercifiil
Heavens, it is enough to madden one ! It is all
confusion and hojicless misery!"
"Dear Uncle Charles, in this I think I can
help you. I remember the Lockwoods' address.
They live in a street called Gower Street. Do
you know it?"
"Gower Street? Are you sure? IIow do
you know?"
"Mr. Lockwood mentioned that his mother
had a house there. Her husband bequeathed it
to her, and she lives there."
" \Vell. I supjjose we must drive there the first
thing. 1 know of no other way."
After tliat the vicar closed his eyes also. But
for a, long time his brain was tormented by whirl-
VERONICA.
37
ing thoughts. Occasionally a gleam of something
like hope darted into his mind. JMight it not be
possible that all would yet go well with Veronica?
Some fathers would have deemed that by no i)0s-
sibility could it be altogether well with her. It
could not be well to be the wife of a man who
had induced her to leave her home clandestinely,
to deceive and inflict torturing anxiety on her
father; a man who had, at tlie least, caused a
temporary slur to be cast on her reputation, and
who had risked tarnishing her good name for-
ever. But in his present wretchedness it seemed
to the vicar that to know Veronica Sir John
Gale's wife wotdd in itself be happiness and peace
of mind. And it must be remembered that
Charles Levincourt was at heart a worldly man ;
that the somewhat lax tone of morals and want
of high principle which he had oljserved in Sir
John Gale's conversation would b\' no means
have induced him to refuse the baronet his
daughter's hand had he asked for it openly.
But he was keenly alive to the disgrace of his
daughter's elopement ; and not the least sharp
pang he felt was caused by the reflection that
Veronica had thoroughly deceived him.
At lengtli he fell into an uneasy sleep, through
which he was dimly conscious of mental pain,
and of a dread of waking. From this slumber
he was aroused by IMaud's hand on his shoulder
and ^Maud's voice in his ear, foltering out that she
believed they must have reached London.
Tliey were in London. The railway station
looked inexpressibly dreary, with its long vistas
ending in black shadow, its sickly lamps blink-
ing like eyes that have watched all niglit and ai-e
weary, and its vast glazed roof, tln-ough which
the gi'ay dawn was beginning to glimmer.
It was yet too early to attempt to go to Mrs.
Lockwood's house. They must wait at least a
couple of hours. The vicar looked so worn,
aged, and ill that Maud tried to persuade him
to seek some rest at the hotel close to the sta-
tion, promising that he should be roused in due
time. But he refused to do so.
"Sit here," he said, leading Maud into a
waiting-room, where there was a dull coke fire
smouldering slowly, and where a solitary gas-
light shed a yellow glare over a huge, bare, shin-
ing centre-table, leaving the rest of the apart-
ment in almost darkness. "You will be safe
and unmolested here. I must go and make
some inquiries try to find some trace Re-
main here till I return."
Maud thought she had never seen a room so
utterly soul-depressing. No place would have
appeared cheerful to her at that moment ; but
this railway waiting-room was truly a dreary
and forlorn apartment. She sat tliere cower-
ing over the dull red fire, sick, and chilly, and
sad ; listening nervously to every echoing foot-
fall on the long platform without ; to the whis-
tle of some distant engine, screaming as though
it had lost its way in the labyrinthine net-work
of lines that converged just outside the great ter-
minus, and were wildly crying for help and guid-
ance ; listening to the fieijuent clang of a heavy
swing-door, the occasional sound of \oices (once
a man laughed aloud, and she involuntarily put
her hands up to her startled ears to shut out the
sound that jarred on every quivering nerve with
agonizing discord), and to the loud, deliberate
ticking of a clock above the waiting-room door.
At length how long the time had seemed !
Jlr. Levincourt returned.
JtLiud started up, and tried to read in his face
if he had any tidings of Veronica, but she did
not venture to speak. He answered her appeal-
ing look :
"I have seen the station-master," he said.
"Thej have not been here. I believe that much
is certain. The man was civil, and caused in-
quiries to be made among the people oh my
God, that I shoidd have to endm-e this degrada-
tion! but there was no trace of such people as I
described. This man made a suggestion. They
might have left the main line at Dibley, and
either come to London by the other line, thus
arriving at a station at the op])osite end of the
town; or as I think more probable have
reached the junction that communicates with
the coast railways, and so got down to the sea
witliout toucliing London at all."
"Oh, L'ncle Charles I"
"Come, my poor child, let me at least put you
into a shelter were you wiU be safe from the con-
tamination of our disgrace. You look half dead,
my poor Maudie I Come, there is a cab waiting
here outside."
As ^laud moved toward the door to oliey his
summons the liglit of the gas-lamp fell full on
her pale face, and he almost exclaimed aloud at
her startling resemblance to her mother.
It seemed to the vicar that the remembrance
of his old love, thus called up at this moment,
filled his heart with bitterness even to overflow-
ing.
"Oh me!" he groaned; "I wish it were all
over! I am weary of my life. "
The cab rattled over the stones through the
still nearly empty streets.
Maud's remembrance of any part of London
was very vague. She had never even seen the
neighborhoods tln-ough which she was now being
jolted. It all looked squalid, mean, grimy, and
uninviting under the morning light. At last
they came into a long street, of which the fur-
ther end was veiled and concealed by a dense
foggy vapor.
*' \Yhat number, miss?"' asked the cabm.an,
turning round on his seat.
" What do you say?" asked Maud, faintly.
"What number, miss? This 'ere is Gower
Street. "
"Oh!" cried Maud, despairingly. "I don't
remember the number!"
The cabman had pulled up his horse, and was
now examining the lash of his whip with an air
of philosophical indiff"erence, like a man who is
weighed upon by no sense of responsibility. Aft-
er a minute or so he observed, with great calm-
ness, " That's ockkard ; Gower Street is raythur
a long street, and it '11 take some time to knock
at all the doors both sides o' the way." Then
he resumed the examination of his whip-lash.
"Oh, Uncle Charles, I am so sorry!" mur-
mured Maud. " What shall we do?"
INIr. Levincourt jumped out of the cab, and
ran to a door where there was a young woman
washing the steps.
" Do you happen to know," he asked, "where-
abouts in this street a Mrs. Lockwood lives ?"
"Mrs. Lockwood!" echoed the girl, drying
her streaming arms on her apron, " t/iis is Mrs.
Lockwood's."
VERONICA.
The vicar beckoned to the cabman, who had
also ahghted by this time, and who now led his
raw-boned horse up to the door at a funereal
pace.
"My good girl," said the vicar, "will you
take a message to your mistress at once? It is
of the greatest importance."
"IMissis ain't up yet," rejoined the servant,
staring first at him, .then at Maud, and lastly at
the cabman, from whom she received a confi-
dential wink, which seemed to claim a common
vantage-ground of Cockneyhood between him-
self and her, and to separate them both from
the vicar and his ward.
"I will send up this card to her," said Mr.
Levincourt. lie took out a card and pencil, and
wrote some words hastily. Then he gave the
girl the card, together with a shilling, anil begged
her to lose no time in delivering the former to
her mistress, while she was to keep the latter
for herself.
The administration of the bribe appeared to
raise the vicar in the cabman's estimation. The
latter officiously pulled down the window-glass
on the side next the house, so that Rlaud could
put her head out, and then stood with the handle
of the cab door in his hand, ready for any
emergency.
The progress of the sen'ant to her mistress's
bedroom was retarded by her efforts to decipher
what was written on the cai'd, an attempt in
which she only partially succeeded. In about
five minutes she came down again, and said to
the vicar :
"Missus's best compliments, and the ladj- as
you're a looking for is lodging in the "ouse.
She's on the first-floor, and will you please walk
into the drawing-room ?"
The vicar and Maud followed the girl up
stairs into a front-room, furnished as a sitting-
room. It communicated by folding-doors, which
were now^ closed, with another apartment.
The servant drew up the yellow window-blinds,
desired the visitors to be seated, and asked, as
slie prepared to leave the room :
" Who sliall I say, please? '
"Mr. Levincourt, and Stay! You had
better take my card in to her ladyship, and say
tiiat her niece is here with me, and would be
glad if she might see her."
The servant departed into the adjoining cham-
ber, as it appeared, for the sound of voices very
slightly mutiied by the folding-doors was heard
immediately. In a very few minutes the girl
returned, begging Maud to follow her.
" She ain't up yet, but she'd like to see you,
raiss ; and she'll come out to you. Sir, as soon as
possible."
Maud obeyed her aunt's summons, and the
vicar was left alone, standing at the window,
and looking at the monotonous line of tlie op-
posite houses. He was, in a measure, relieved
by the fact that the first surprise and shock to
Lady Tallis of his presence and his errand in
London would be over before he saw her. He
felt a strong persuasion that tact and self-pos-
session were by no means jioor Hilda's distin-
guishing characteristics, and be had nervously
dreaded the first meeting witli licr. Although
he had placed himself as firr as possible from the
folding-doors, he could hear the voices rising
and falling in the adjoining room, and occasion-
ally could distinguish her ladyship's tones in a
shrill exclamation.
He tapped his fingers with irritable impatience
on the window, ^\'hy did not IMaud urge her
aunt to hasten ? She knew that every minute
was of imjjortance to him. lie would wait no
longer. He would go away, and return later.
As he so thought the door opened, and there
appeared the woman whom he had last seen in
the bloom of her youth more than a score of
years ago. The remembrance of the beautiful
Hilda Delaney was very distinct in his mind.
At the sound of the opening door he turned
round and beheld a figure startlingly at variance
with that remembrance ; a small, lean, pale old
woman, huddled in a dark-colored wrapper, and
with a quantity of soft gray hair untidily thrust
into a brow^n silk net.
"I\Iy dear friend," said she, taking both the
vicar's hands " my poor dear friend !''
Her voice had an odd, cracked sound, like the
tone of a broken musical instrument which has
once given forth sweet notes ; and she spoke with
as unmistakable a brogue as though she had nev-
er passed a cL\y out of the County Cork.
"Ah! you wouldn't have known me now,
would ye?" she continued, looking up into the
vicar's face.
"Yes," he answered, after an instant's glance
"yes, I should have known you." And, in-
deed, as he looked, her face became familiar to
his eyes. She retained the exqui.-ite delicacy of
skin which had been one of her chief beauties,
but it was now blanched and wan, and marked
with three or four deep lines round the mouth,
though on the forehead it remained smooth.
There was still the regular, clear-cut outline, but
exaggerated into sharpness. There were still
the large, finely-shaped, lustrous hazel eyes, but
w ith a glitter in them that seemed too bright for
health, and with traces of much wailing and
weeping in their heavy lids. She was a kind-
ly, foohsh, gaiTulous, utterly undignified wo-
man.
"I have come," said the vicar, "to ask you
to give shelter and protection to this dear child.
jNIy house is no home for her now% and Heaven
knows when I shall return to it myself. I sup-
po.se Maud has has told you?"
"Ah, my dear ]Mr. Levincourt, where would
the child find shelter and protection if not with
her poor dear mother's only sister? And hasn't
it been the wish of my heart to have her with me
all these years? And, indeed, when Clara died
I would have adopted her outright, if I'd been
let. But not having any daughter of my own
though, to be sure, a boy would have been best,
because of the baronetcy, and he never forgave
me, I believe, for not giving him a son of course
I But indeed I am truly distressed at your
misfortune, and I ho]ie that things may not be
so bad as ye fear. A runaway mar'ge is objic-
tionable, there's no doubt of that in the world.
Still, ye know, my dear Mr. Levincourt, it won't
be the first, and I'd wager not the last. And,
upon my honor, I can't see but that the runaway
mar'ges may turn out as well sometimes as those
that are arranged in the regular way ; though,
goodness knows, that is not saving much, after
all."
Here the poor lady pau.sed to heave a deej)
sigh, and then, seating hei-sclf do.se to Maud,
VERONICA.
39
she took her niece's hand and pressed it affec-
tionately.
Tlie vicar perceived that Lady TalHs had but
a very imperfect conce])tion of tiie real state of
the case. The truth was that she had not per-
mitted Maud to explain it to her, being too much
absorbed in the joy and surprise of seeing her
niece to give heed or sympathy to the fate of the
vicar's daughter. Her life had been so utterly
joyless and empty of affection for so many years
tiuit the lonely woman not unnaturally clutched
at this chance of happiness with the selfish ea-
gerness of a starving creature who snatches at
food.
" It is very, very dreadful. Aunt Hilda," Maud
had said, lowering her voice lest it should reach
the ears of the vicar in the next room. '"Mr.
Levincourt will be heart-broken if he does not
find her. And I love her so dearly. My poor
Veronica! Oh, why, why did she leave us?"
But her aunt could not help dwelling on the
hope that out of this trouble might come a gleam
of comfort to her own desolate life.
She had soothed and kissed the sobbing girl,
and had poured out a stream of incoherent talk,
as she hastily huddled some clothes about her.
"Hush, dear child! Uon't be fretting, my
poor pet ! You will stay here with me, safe,
now! Sure they'll find her beyond a doubt.
Of course tlie man will marry her. And as to
running away, why, my darling child, though I'd
be loth to inculcate the practice, or to recommend
it to any well-brought-up girl, still ye know very
well that it's a thing tliat happens every day.
There was Miss Grogan, of the Queen's County,
one of the most dashing girls that ye ever saw in
all your days, eloped with a subaltern in a march-
ing regiment. But she had fifty thousand pounds
of her own the very moment she came of age ;
so of course they were very comfortable in a
worldly point of view, and the whole coimty vis-
ited them just as much as if they had had bans
published in the parish church every day for a
year. And yet, at first, her family were in the
greatest distress the very greatest distress
though he was the second cousin of Lord Clon-
tarf, and an extremely elegant young fellow.
But of course I understand Mr. Levincourt's feel-
ings, and I am sincerely sorry for him I am, in-
deed."
tSo, in speaking to the vicar, her tone, although
not unsympathizing, was very different from what
it would have been had she at all realized the ter-
rible apprehensions which racked his mind.
" Ye'U stay and have a mouthful of breakfast
with me, my dear Mr. Levincourt?" she said,
seeing him about to depart. " I will have it got
ready immediately. And indeed yoi; must both
be fainting, after traveling all night, too
What's the matter?''
The question was caused by a ghastly change
which had come over the vicar's face. His eyes
were fixed on the direction on an envelope wiiich
lay on the table. He pointed to it silently. Lady
Tallis stared in alarm and bewilderment ; but
Maud, springing to the vicar's side, looked over
his shoulder at the writing.
"Oh, Aunt Hilda!" she gasped. "^Yhat
does this mean ?"
"AYhat, child? What in the world is the
matter ? That ? Sure that's a bill, sent in by
my shoemaker!''
"But the name?" said the vicar, with a sad-
den, startling fierceness.
"The name? Well, it's my name; whose
else should it be ? Oh, to be sure I see now !
Ah ! ye didn't know that he took another name
about two years ago. Did ye never hear of his
uncle, the rich alderman? The alderman left
him thirty thousand pounds, on condition that
he should tack his name on to his old one, and
give him the honor and glory of sending down
his own plebeian appellation with the baronetcy.
So, of course, when he changed his name I
changed mine ; for I am his wife, though I
make no doubt that he would be ghid enough
to deny it if he could. Only that, being his
wife, he has more power to tyrannize over me
than he has over any body else. But tlien "
"But what is he called now. Aunt Hilda?''
interrupted Maud, seeing that her guardian was
in an agony of speechless susjjense. "What
names does does your husband go by?"
" Indeed, my pet, t/uit's more than I can say ;
but his rightful style and title is Sir John Tallis
Gale, Baronet, and I suppose you knew that
much before !"'
" Oh my God !" groaned the vicar, sinking into
a chair, and letting his head drop on his hands.
"Uncle Charles!" screamed ISIaud, throwing
her arms around him. "Oh, Uncle Charles!
It will kill him!"
But the vicar was not dying. He was living
to a rush of horrible sensations ; grief, astonish-
ment, shame, and anger. The indelibility of the
disgiace inflicted on him ; the hopelessness of
any remedy ; the infamy that must attend his
child's future life, were all present to his mind
with instant and torturing vividness. But of
these mingled emotions aiiger was the predom-
inant one, and it grew fiercer with every second
that passed. His love for his daughter had ever
been marked more by pride than by depth or
tenderness. This pride was now trampled in
the dust, and a feeling of implacable resentment
arose in his mind against her who had inflicted
the anguish of such, a humiliation.
He raised his face distorted by passion.
" From this hour forth I disown and abandon
her," he said, in quivering tones. " Xo one is
my friend who speaks her name to me. In the
infamy she has chosen let her live and die. And
may God so punish her for the misery she has
caused "
Maud fell on her knees before him, and seized
his hands. "Oh, hush; oh pray, pray hush,
dear ffncle Charles !" she sobbed out. "Think
how sorry you would be if you said the words !
How you would repent and be soitv all your life
long!"
"For mercy's sake!" exclaimed Lady Tallis,
in a tremulous voice, "what is it all about ? My
dearest child, you positively must not sob in that
heart-breaking manner ! Sure vou'll make your-
self ill"
"And for one who is not worth a tear !" add-
ed the vicar. " For one who But I will never
mention her name again. It is over. She is
lost and gone irrevocably. Lady Tallis, I would
have spared you this if I could have guessed the
extent of the degradation that has fallen upon
me. My presence in your house at this moment
is almost an outrage."
The poor lady sat down in a chair, and press-
40
VERONICA.
ing her hands to her forehead, hegan to whimper.
"I'd be unspeakably obliged to ye, Mr. Levin-
court," she said, "it" you would do me the lavor
to explain. My poor head is in a whirl of con-
fusion. I really and truly am not strong enough
to support this kind of thing I"
' ' ' We have each of us a horrible burden to
support," rejoined the vicar, almost sternly.
"And God knows that mine is not the least
heavy. You have been entirely separated from
your husband for some years ?"
"Oh, indeed I have! That is to say, there
never has been a legal separation ; but "
Tiie vicar interrupted her. " He has assumed
another name and has been living abroad ?"
"As to the name, I am sure of that, because
I learned it from his agent, to whom I am some-
times compelled to have recourse for money.
But for where he has been living, I assure you,
my dear JMr. Levincourt "
" The villain who has carried away my daugh-
ter stolen her from a home in which he had re-
ceived every kindness and hospitable care that
my means ])ermitted me to lavish on him that
black-hearted, thankless, infamous scoundrel,
Lady Tallis, is Sir John Gale. ''
BOOK II.
CHAPTER L
AUNT AND NIECE.
In the first shock of amazement at the calam-
ity which had overtaken the family at the vicar-
age, none of those who participated in it had had
room in their minds for tlie entertainment of any
minor sensation of surprise.
But it was not very long not many days, that
is to say before Lady Tallis, or, as her proper
title now ran. Lady Tallis Gale, began to won-
der how Mr. Levincourt had discovered her
whereabouts, and to question Maud on the sub-
ject.
The latter had been very ill during the first
days of her stay in London. Grief and anxiety
alone would not have prostrated the youthful
vigor of her body. But so many harrowing emo-
tions preceding a long night-journey, and so over-
whelming a shock awaiting at the close of the
journey a frame jn great need of food and rest,
had stricken down the young girl, and laid her
on a bed of sickness.
Her aunt forgot iier own delicacy of health and
inert habits to tend IMaud. She would scarcely
allow a sei-vant to come near the sutiering girl,
but waited on her day and night with untiring
care.
In spite of the terrible circumstances which
had brouglit Maud to London, in spite of the
dreadful discoveiy that the man who had been
guilty of the abduction of Veronica Levincourt
was the husband who had wronged, outraged,
and finally abandoned herself, it would not Ije
too much to say that Hilda Tallis enjo\^d the
first moments of happiness she had known dur-
ing many weary years by the bedside of her sis-
ter's child.
It was sweet to feel that there was some one
bound by the ties of blood to feel kindly toward
her. It was still sweeter to find a being who
at least for a time depended upon her for love,
and care, and tendance.
The poor lonely wife, in the first days of the
discovery that her husband had ceased to feel
for her even such love as can be ins])ired by a
fair face, had longed with all her heart for a
child.
The conduct of Sir John Tallis, wiiich had
gone on deepening through every shade, from
gray inditlereuce down t9 absolutely black bru-
tality, had effectually quenched whatever germ
of regard for him poor Hilda might once have
cherished. But for some time she clung to the
idea that he would be kinder to her if there were
any prospect of her bringing him an heir. She
was the kind of woman who would probably have
loved her children better than her husband, e\en
had that husband been good and affectionate.
She would have enjoyed superintending the
government of a nursery, and have craved for
no other companionship than that of her prat-
tling babies.
The dependency of sickness made Maud ap-
pear almost like a child in her aunt's eyes. Lady
Tallis nursed her with more than needful devo-
tion. She was jealous of any person save her-
self approaching her niece to render any service.
The sound of Maud's voice calling on her for the
least tendance was music in her ears. She would
even have liked the sick girl to be more exacting
in her demands. And had Maud been the most
fretful and imperious of invalids, instead of be-
ing, as she was, thoroughly patient and self-con-
trolled. Lady Tallis would have joyfully indulged
her in every whim.
In a few days, however, the illness passed
away, and Maud insisted on rising, although
Lady Tallis declared that she ought not to leave
her bed for at least another week to come.
The vicar remained in London until JMaud's
health was re-established. He lingered about
the house in Gower Street fitfully, and would
seldom consent to enter Lady 'Fallis's apart-
ments ; but he informed himself daily of his
ward's conilition.
At length, after rather more than a fortnight's
sojourn in London, he returned to Sliipley.
" It is a horrible trial to go back," said he, in
his farewell interview with ]\Ltud.
"Must you go. Uncle Charles?" she asked,
her eyes brimming with tears, which she kept
from falling by a strong eftbrt of will.
"Must I ? " Yes : I can not give up the vicar-
age. I can not exist without it. I can not af-
ford to pay another man to do my duty there,
and retain enough to live upon. I might put
off the evil day a while longer. But to what
l)ur])ose ? The" sight of the place the very name
of the place is loathsome to me. But wiiat can
Ido?"
" 1 wish I could help you !"
" You can not help me, Maudie. No one can
help me."
VERONICA.
41
Then ^Faud asked a timid faltering qnestion,
holding his hand and turning away her head as
slie spoke. Had he heard any tidings of of
the fugitives ? '
She conld not see his face, but his voice was
very stern and deep as he answered her. They
had gone abroad together, he had learned. Gone
to Italy. It mattered nothing to what place.
,67(e was dead to him henceforward. Maud must
mention her name no more. He had answered
her question ; but she nuist promise never to
speak to him of liis lost daughter more.
"I ran not promise it, dear Uncle Charles,"
said Maud, no longer able to restrain her tears.
" Maud ! Do not you separate yourself from
me too!"
"No, no! I shall always love you, and be
grateful to you. But I I can not make that
promise. Some day you might be glad yourself
that I did not make it."
Mr. Lcviucourt rose. " Good-by, Maud," he
said, abruptly. "The time is drawing near for
my departure. I have but a couple of hours be-
fore leaving London."
He went out and closed the door.
She heard his footsteps descending the stairs
slowly and heavily. He ]iaused, came back, and
re-entering the room \\ here ilaud was silentlj-
weeping, took her in his arms and kissed her
forehead. She clung to him, sobbing. "Oh,
thank you, ' she murmured "thank you for
coming back. You are not angry with me, dear
Uncle Charles ?"
" No, no; not angry never angry with thee,
my sweet childie. God bless thee, Maud ! God
forever bless thee !"
" You will write to me. Uncle Charles, will
you not?"
"I perhaps well, well, I ztvV/ write to you."
"And I may ci.me and stay with you again
some day? If even it is but for a time, I may
come ? You will be so loneh" !" she added, with
a ))assionate burst of tears.
"Heaven knows, my child! It may be that
some day Good-by, Maud. God Almighty
bless and guard you forever !"
Then he went away.
Lady Tallis's intentions in her behavior to her
niece were all kindness, ijut it often happened
that she inflicted pain from want of judgment.
But on the evening of the day on which the above
interview took place Lady Tallis's garrulity was
grateful to IMaud's feelings. So long as her aunt
would talk on indifferent subjects, and let her
listen in silence, oiat most with the occasional
contribution of a monosyllable, the voung girl
was able to retain a calmness and quietude that
were soothing to mind and body.
Lady Tallis's conversation rambled on dis-
cursively from topic to topic. She talked of
scenes familiar to her own childhood, and of
persons who died before Maud was born, as
though the latter must naturallv be thoroughly
acquainted with what s/ip knew so well.
All at once she laid down her work, and ex-
claimed : "Oh, bv-the-by, now ! There's some-
thing I pnrticulnrl;/ wanted to say to ye, and I
have never said it yet I"
Maud was beginning to understand that her
aunt's emjdiasis was by no means always pro-
portioned to the importance of that which she
bad to say ; at least as far as she (Maud) could
judge of the relative amount of importance that
could fairly be attributed to Lady Tallis's speech-
es. She was, therefore, less startled than slie
might have been a fortnight earlier by her aunt's
impressive annouticemcnt.
" What is it that you wanted to saj', Aunt
Hilda?"
"Why, mj' goodness, my darling child, I won-
der how in the world I never asked the question
before ! It has been in my mind hundreds of
times !"
Maud waited patiently, with an attentive fiice.
" How in the world did you and Mr. Levin-
court find out that I was living here? D'ye
know, my dear pet, I am perfectly astonished to
remember that I was not more astonished at the
time ! Can ye understand that state of mind ?
It was all such a whirl, such a sudden, unex-
jiected kind of thing altogether, that I sujipose a
little wonder more or less didn't make much dif-
ference !"
"Our coming straight to the place where you
lived was a mere chance. Aunt Hilda. We
came here with merely a hope, and not a very
strong one, that we might get your address from
]\Irs. Lockwood. And even then we should not
have found you, had not Uncle Charles's card
been carried \\\) to Mrs. Lockwood with an in-
quiry for Lady Tallis written on it. Otherwise,
as you are now Lady Gale, we should have
missed you, though you were so close to us.
But Mrs. Lc)Ckwood knew at once that you were
the person we were asking for."
"And did ye know Mrs. Lockwood? Why
now, just imagine her never mentioning in the
most distant manner that she had the smallest
acquaintance with any of the family ! I declare
it's most extraordinary ! And the times I have
spoken to her of my niece ! For, my darling, I
needn't say that if we have been separated all
these years, it has not been from any indiffer-
ence on my part !"
' Maud quietly explained that she had never
seen or known Mrs. Lockwoo 1, but that she had
met her son at a country house ; and that he
liad spoken of Lady Tallis, and of the manner
in which he and his mother had made her lady-
ship's accpiaintance.
"It's all perfectly true, my dear, every sylla-
ble of it!'" said Lady Tallis, with as much so-
lemnity of corroboration as though Maud had
expressed the gravest doubts of ^Ir. Hugh Lock-
wood's veracity.
" Yes, aunt ; I did not feel any doubt of
that," she answered.
' ' No, ye need not, child. An exceeding ami-
able and gentleman-like young man he is. And
his mother is a delightfid person. I called on
her according to promise, when I came to Lon-
don. I was staying in a boarding-house ; and
that's what I would never advise any one I cared
for to do the longest day they had to live ! Oh,
upon my honor and word, the dreariness and
miseiy of the l)oartling- houses I have lieen in
exceed description. I thought I would find
something like society, but, oh dear me ! the
people you have to put up with are something
unspeakable ! However, that wasn't what I was
going to tell ye. Well, I asked Mrs. Lockwood
did she happen to know of any respectable lodg-
ing in her rieigldtorhood. For I was resolved
to get quit of boarding-houses altogether. And
42
VERONICA.
I wished to be within hail of some human being
that would say a kind word to me once a month
or SO; lor, indeed, child, I was very lonely."
"Poor Aunt Hilda!" whispered Maud, strok-
ing Lady Tallis's thin hand.
'Oh, indeed ye may say 'rich Aunt Hilda,'
now I have you, JMaiidie. Here, let me put this
loot-stool iinderyourfeet. Nonsense, child, about
' troubling myself.' You're not Iialf as stiong yet
as you fancy yourself. There I Well, so just
fancy my delight when she said that she would
be very glad to let the first-floor of her own
house to a person tliat she knew! My dear, I
jumped at it. And here I am, and extremely
comfortable it is. And c/teap. For you know,
my dear child, that he keeps me shamefully short
of money. Sometimes I have much ado to get
any at all. Well, there, then, we won't say any
more on that score just now. But ye'U like Mrs.
Lockwood oh, indeed ye will I"
"Is she I mean is her son at all like her?''
" Not the very least bit in the world," rejoined
Lady Tallis, with a sort of almost triumphant
emphasis. " Not one atom. I never, in the
whole course of my days, saw a mother and son
more entireli/ unlike each other."
"Oh!"
" Entirely unlike each other. Why, now, the
young man Hugh is a strapping handsome
young fellow as you'd be likely to meet in a long
summer's day. Isn't he?"
"Oh yes."
"Oil yes! Upon my honor, you don't seem
more than half to agree with me. But I can
tell you that if you don't think Hugh Lockwood
a remarkably fine young man, you are moi-e fas-
tidious than the girls used to be in my time. It
may be true that he hasn't quite the grand air.
And if you are as much of a Delaney as your
poor grand]japa you may object to that. Hugh
certain!}' is taut soit peu bourgeois."
"Oh, I thought, Aunt Hilda we all thought
atLowater House that Mr. Lockwood was thor-
oughly a gentleman."
"Well, I'm delighted to hear it. I fancied
you were turning up your nose at him a little.
How flushed you are, child ! Let me feel your
forehead. No ; there's no appearance of fever.
And now the color is fading away again. I shall
send you to bed at nine o'clock not a moment
later."
" Very well. Aunt Hilda. But you were say-
ing that that Mrs. Lockwood "
"Oh, to be sure! Yes; let me see. Mrs.
Lockwood Oh, now I have it ! I was say-
ing that she is so unlike her son, wasn't I?
Well, she is. He is, as I said, a strajjping, ro-
bust-looking creature. I suppose he inherits
liis burliness from his peasant ancestors. His
father's father, you know, was Ah! you do
know all about it ? Y'es quite rustics. And
Hugh is not in the least ashamed of his grand-
father."
" Ashamed ! Why should he be ashamed ?"'
"Well, luy dear, if you come to that, why
should we he proud of o//r ancestors? Ujion my
word, / don't know. Still, there is a kind of
feeling. However, llugli is too manly and up-
right for any mean ])retensions, and 1 quite re-
spect him for it. But as to his mother, she is
the tiniest fairy of a woman you ever saw in all
your days. She really is more like one of the
' good people' that our old nurse at Delaney used
to tell us about than any thing else in size, I
mean for there is nothing fantastic about her."
"I am sure to like her for her kindness to
you. Aunt Hilda."
"Indeed, she is very kind. And so thought-
fid ! and has such good manners ! She came
every day while you were in bed, and inquired
about you. But she never intrudes. But I
thought of asking her to take tea with us quiet-
ly some evening, if you don't mind. For now
her son is not at home, she is lonely too. And
before I had you, Maudie, I was very glad of
Mrs. Lockwood's company."
Maud, of course, begged that her aunt would
invite Mrs. Lockwood as often as she chose.
But in truth she shrank from the sight of a
stranger. There was no hour of the day when
Veronica was absent from her thoughts. There
had been no preparation for the terrific blow
that had fallen. She had bade Veronica fare-
well that night at Lowater House with no faint-
est foreshadowing of what was to come. She
tormented herself sometimes with the idea that
if she (Maud) had returned to the vicarage and
remained with Veronica the evil would not have
happened. There were moments when she
longed, with a painfully intense longing, to set
forth to follow the unhai]y girl, to find her, and
bring her back, and soothe and cherish her, and
shelter her among them again. She could not
understand that her gu.ardian should abandon
his daughter without an effort. Then the doubt
arose whether Veronica herself would consent
to return.
"If I could go to her, see her, and persuade
her, she would come back ; she would leave that
dreadful man. She can not care for him "
So ran her thoughts. And then the remem-
brance would startle her like a sudden blow, that
the man was the husl)and of her mother's sis-
ter ; and she would hide her face in her trem-
bling hands, and shudder with a confused sensa-
tion of terror.
She was spared the spectacle of any acute suf-
fering on the ])art of her aunt.
Lady Tallis made no pretensions to outraged
wifely aft'ection. All such sentiment had been
killed in her long years ago. But there was a
curious phase of feeling the last faint jirotest
of her trampled self-respect the one drop of
gall in her submissive nature which nuide her
regard Veronica with something as near rancor
as could be entertained by a character so flavor-
less, meek, and weak. .
Maud slu-ank with instinctive delicacy from
any mention of \'cronica to the wife of Sir John
Gale. But her aunt had voluntarily spoken of
the vicar's daughter on one or two occasions :
and had mentioned her in terms that caused
Maud the most extpiisite pain. The relations of
the latter to all concerned in this misery and
shame were peculiarly complicated and delicate.
And the sorrowing girl strove to hide her grief.
Maud's was still the same nature which had
caused Mrs. Lcvincourt to characterize her as
"stolid" and "unfeeling," when she had sup-
pressed her childish tears at sight of the strange
faces in her new home. Mrs. Leviiuourt never
knew that the i)illow iu the little crib had been
wetted that first night with bitter, but silent
tears. Maud could bear the pain of her wound,
VERONICA.
but she could not bear that it shoukl be ap-
pioaciied by a coarse or u:isym))athi/.iiig toudi.
Foi" all these reasons, and iVoni the knowl-
edge, speedily acijuired, that her aunt was too
entirely devoid of dignity to be reticent upon
any subject which it entered her bead to discuss,
Maud looked forward with nervous dread to the
introduction of Mrs. Lockwood into Lady Tal-
liss drawing-room.
CHAPTER 11.
THE LOCK MOODS.
ZiLLAH Lockwood was a very remarkable-
looking woman. It was not merely the small-
ness of her stature that made her so. Ijhe was,
as Lady Tallis had said, extremely fragile and
fairy-like, with very delicate, well-formed hands
and feet, and an upright straiglit figure. But
this small, frail creature conveyed an almost
startling impression of power and resolution :
])o\ver of an undemonstrative, steadv, suppressed
kind.
"How enchantingly pretty Mrs. Lockwood
must have been I" was the exclamation of nine
))eople out of ten, after seeing her for the first
time.
Those who remembered Zillah Lockwood in
her youth deslared that she had been enchant-
ingly pretty. But it may be doubted whether
she had ever been so, in the strict sense of the
word. There could be no doubt, however, that
hers must always have been a singularly attract-
ive face. And it was perhaps even more gener-
ally attractive at fifty years of age than it had
been at twenty. She had an abundance of gray
hair, soft, fine, and carefully dressed. Her fore-
head was low and broad ; h;r eyes were black
and sparkling, but their lids were discolored, and
there was a faded, weary look about tlie whole
setting and surrounding of her eyes that contrast-
ed with the fresh, delicate paleness of the rest of
her complexion.
" Crying spoils the eyes. Years ago I cried,
almost incessantly, for six weeks," she once said,
quietly, to one who remarked this peculiarity of
her face. *' At last they told me that I was risk-
ing total loss of sight. So then I got frightened,
and left off weeping with my eyes."
Her jaw was slightly what is called under-
hung, and when the lips met and closed firmly
(as they habitually did when her face was in re-
pose) this peculiarity gave an expression of sin-
gular resolution to her mouth. It looked as
though it were forcibly comjiressed by a special
efiTort of her will. The upper lip was thin and
straight. When she spoke, she showed two per-
fect ranges of small shai-p teeth.
Her whole person was pervaded by an air of
scrupulous and dainty neatness. She always
wore black, and her head was adorned, not cov-
ered, by a white muslin cap, wiiose crisply-frilled
border of delicate lace was a marvel of freshness.
The collar at her throat and the cuff's at her
wrists were of plain linen in the morning, of lace
in the evening, and in either case were guiltless
of soil or stain.
"How she does it in this smoky London is
more than I can conceive!" would poor Lady
lallis exclaim, casting a pathetic glance on her
' own dingy and crumpled garments. But her
ladyship was one of those unfortunate persons
for whose clothes dust and smoke and stains seem
] to have a mysterious attraction. " Smuts' Hew
to her collar, and settled there fondly. Dust
, eddied round her in suffocating clouds whenever
she ventured into the streets, or else she found
herself wading ankle -deep in mud. Gravy
sjilashed itself over her sleeves at dinner ; ink
pervaded her attire when she wrote a letter; and.
the grease from lamp or candle droiii)ed on her
silk garment with a frequency which almost
seemed to argue conscious malice.
The first impression which jMaud Desmond
derived from Mrs. Lockwood's ajjpearance and
manner was a sense of relief.
She had half expected a vulgar, bustling, good-
natured, noisy woman. ^laud had gained suf-
ficient knowledge of Lady Tallis to be aware
that her perceptions were not acute, nor her taste
refined. Indeed Maud, in pondering upon her
aunt's character, was frequently brought face to
face with problems, the pursuit of wliich would
have led her into deeper speculations than she
contemplated attempting. Why was this wo-
man, gently born and bred, endowed with blunt-
er sensibilities, duller brains, coarser yes, truly
coarser manners than the jjoor widow of a hum-
ble artist, who sprang from mean obscurity and
eked out her living as a letter of lodgings ? Why.
of the two sisters, Hilda and Clara Delaney, liad
one been a refined, gracefid, elegant gentlewo-
man, and the other such a woman as Latly
Tallis? I\Iaud remembered her mother, and
contrasted her bearing and manners with Lady
Tallis's. Had Clara Desmond pronounced any
woman to be kind, thoughtful, and well-man-
nered, those persons who knew the speaker would
have expected the object of her praise to be one
whose society might be pleasant to the most fas-
tidious. But when Hilda Tallis used the same
phrases, JIaud perfectly understood that they
must be accepted with due reservations.
Her first sensation on meeting ^Iis. Lockwood
was, therefore, as has been stated, a sensation of
relief. It was soon evident that there was no
fear of Mrs. Lockwood's failing in discrimina-
tion or tact.
"You met my son at Lowater House, Jliss
Desmond ?" said Mrs. Lockwood, stitching away
with nimble fingers at the hem of a handker-
chief. She had been drinking tea with Lady
Tallis, and had seen Maud for the first time that
evening.
"Yes. I\Ir. Lockwood was staying there at
the same time with myself."
"Captain Sheardown has always been very
kind to Hugh. His father. Admiral Sheai'-
down, was my husband's earliest friend and ])a-
tron. The admiral had a great taste for art."
"So had poor papa!" exclaimed Lady Tallis.
" I remember Clara your dear mother, my ])et
had a very pretty taste for flower-painting.
And papa had a master from Dublin to stay
in the house nearly the whole of one summer
on Clara's account. My brother James and I
couldn't erijure him I Sure he was the snufiiest
old wretch je can imagine. We would plague
his life out by hiding his snuff-box."
"I expect Hugh home next week," pursued
Mrs. Lockwood. calmly.
"And, indeed, I will be dehghted to see him
44
VERONICA.
again," said her ladyship. "lie is a pearl of
j-oiing men."
" I don"t know about being a pearl," said Mrs.
Lockwood; " but Hugh is a good son. I think
he is on the whole a good man."
' ' Of course he is ! Why wouldn't he be ?
Hugh is an excellent creature."
"It is a bold assertion to make. In all my
life I have only met with two good men."
"Well now, on my honor, I do believe there
are a great many good men in the world if one
only knew wliere to find them!" said Lady Tal-
lis. Then she added, "As for you, you ought to
go down on your knees, and thank Heaven for
such a son as Hugh. Oh, if I had only had a
boy like that I'd have doted on him I"
The faintest possiljle smile flitted over Mrs.
Lockwood's f\ce. She kept her eyes fixed on her
work, as she answered, "I have a sneaking kind-
ness for Hugh myself. But he has his faults."
"I don't believe he has a fault in the world!"
protested Lady Tallis, energetically.
"I can assure you that he has, though!
Among others obstinac}^ Hugh is very ob-
stinate. Ask Miss Desmond if she did not get
the impression that my son has a strong will of
his own."
]Maud had been listening silently to the talk
of the two elder women, and had been watch-
ing Mrs. Lockwood's face with an intentness
that would have been ill-mannered had it not
been for the fact that the latter kept her eyes
cast down on her work, and so was unconscious
of the young girl's close observation. IMaud
was a little disconcerted when the hca^T dark
lids were suddenly raised, and the bright eyes
beneath them were fixed upon her own.
"Oh, I I don't know," she said. "I sup-
pose a man ought to have a strong will."
" And a woman ?"
"Oh, a woman," inteiTupted Lady Tallis,
"must just make up her mind to have no will
at all ! You may fight and struggle, but a man
is always the strongest, au bout du compte!
And as he has all the power, I don't see what
use her ic'dl can be to a woman !"
" Is that your philosophy. Miss Desmond?"
"Oh, I? I don't think I have any philoso-
phy," answered Maud, simply.
" At all events, rightly or wrongly, my son
is obstinate, and he wisjies to take a step tliat
I think ought to be deferred yet a while. He
is dying to set up on his own account, as the
phrase goes. Digby and West, to whom he was
articled, have ofi'ered to keep him in their ofiice,
on advantageous terms, for a cou]ile of yeans. /
say, hold fast your one bird in tlie haiul ! Hugli
hankers after the two in the bush. We shall see.
1 am afraid Captain Slieardown's councils have
confirmed Hugh in his desire. My son writes
me that several of his father's old friends in the
neighborhood of i^hijdey and Danecester have
l)een encouraging him to make the attempt ;
and liave been ])roniising him all sorts of things.
Hugh is only twenty-four years old ; and he be-
lieves most of what is said to jiim."
" I am (piite sure," said Maud, with some
warmth, " that Captain Sheardown woidd say
nothing that he did not mean."
" Doul)tless. But promises impossible of ful-
fillment are made with the most perfect sincerity
every day."
After a little more desultory chat Mrs. Lock-
wood folded up her work, and went away, say-
ing that she would leave Iiss Desmond to go to
rest ; and that she would j^repare with her own
hand a basin of arrow-root for the supper of Lad v
Tallis, who was not looking strong, she said".
" My arrow-root is excellent, I assure you," said
Mrs. Lockwood to Maud. "Her ladyship Mill
give me a certificate. I am a veiy fair cook, am
I not, my lady "i*"
" Indeed, then, I don't know the thing you can
not do, if you try ! " said Lady Tallis, enthusiast-
ically. And, when Mrs. Lockwood was gone,
she descanted to ISIaud on their landlady's tal-
ents and good qualities in a strain of unmixed
eulogy.
"Kow, are you not enchanted witli her?" she
asked of her niece.
" I yes ; I like her very much. She is very
clever, I think."
" Oh, clever's no word for it. She is an ex-
traordinary little creature ; quite extraordinaiy.
You don't know all that's in that head of hers
yet, I can assure you."
"I should imagine that she has known much
soiTOw and trouble," said I\Iaud, musingly. "I
wonder what her history is !"
"Oh, as to that," rejoined her ladyship, to
whom the suggestion ajipeared to be a new one,
"I don't suppose she has much of a history at
all. How would she ? She ancf her husband
were quite humble people."
"But, aunt, she has evidently received a good
education, and she has the manners of a lady,
moreover. Did you notice, too, in reading the
title of that French book that lay on the table,
how admirably she pronounced it ?"
"jMy dear child, for that matter, we had a
dancing-mistress once who spoke French beau-
tifully ! And she was quite an ignorant person.
Her father was a Parisian barber, we were told ;
but she called lierself ^lademoiselle de Something
or other. I forget the name now. Am- way,
Mrs. Lockwood is vastly superior to her!"
The incoherence of these remarks, and the im-
possibility of conjectin-ing what it was x\\c\ in-
tended to prove, silenced Maud.
Presently Lady Tallis exclaimed, in a sudden,
pouncing way, which her delicacy alone prevent-
ed from being absolutely violent: "And ye
haven't told me yet how you like my little
Queen of the Fairies!"
" Yes, aunt, I said that I liked ]Mrs. Lock-
wood very much : only "
"Only what?"
" Weil, it seems rather a pity that she should
take such a gloomy view of things, does it not ?"
" Gloomy ! Kow u])on my word and honor a
cheeifuler little creature I never saw or heard
of! That is my notion, my dear girl."
"Gloomy is not the right word, either."
"Very much the wrong word, / should say."
" Yes"; but what I mean is, that that It
is rather difiicult to exjilain. Mrs. Lockwood is
cheerful, but it is not because she finds things to
be good. Aunt Hilda."
" Well, then, all the more credit to her for
being cheerful."
" I think she would be more likely to be cred-
ulous of an evil report than a good re])ort ; not
because she is ill-natured, but because she ex-
pects evil to happen, and thinks it likely. I am
VERONICA.
sure that she must Iiave had some great trouble
ill her life."
At the beginning of the following week Hugh
Lockwood returned home.
He had, of course, already learned from his
mother the fact that Lady Tallis and her niece
were inmates of the house in Gower Street.
He was able to inform his mother of many
particulars of the blow which had fallen ou the
family at the vicarage. The whole country was
ringing with the story. Hugh had heard it dis-
cussed in all sorts of tones, by all sorts of peoijle.
A great number were inclined to blame Mr. Lev-
incourt severely for having been culpably negli-
gent in regard to his daughter's association with
a man like Sir Jolin Gale. On the other hand,
many persons (especially matrons of ^Irs. Eeg-
bie's stamp) declared that bolts and bars would
not have sufficed to keep Veronica Levincourt
in respectable oliscurity ; that they had always
known, always seen, always prophesied, how it
would end ; that the girl's vanity and coquetry
had long made them cautious of permitting her
to associate with their daughters ; and that it
was all very well to blame the man of course
he was a wretch I no doubt of it I but he must
have been regularly hunted down, you know,
bv that artful, abandoned, dreadful, dreadful
girl:
"There is nothing so cruel as the cruelty of
one woman to another!" said Hugh, after re-
counting some of these sayings to his mother.
"Is there not?"' said Mrs. Lockwood, com-
posedly. "And Mrs. ISheardown," she pursued,
after a moment's pause, "is she too among the
number of the cruel ? "
"Xo; Mrs. feheardown could not be cruel I
Ko, she is not cruel. But she is even she is
a little hard on the g'll. "
" H'm I Is this Miss Levincourt so very hand-
some as they say? You have seen her?"
"Yes; I saw her at Lowater. She is strik-
ingly beautiful. I do not know that I ever saw
such eyes and such coloring."
"And not vain or coquettish, as these 'cruel'
women say ?"
"I well, yes, I think she is fond of admira-
tion. But her manner was very ciiarming."
" That is charming, Hugh ; that lo\e of ad-
miration. Masculine vanity is always tickled by
the implied flattei'y of a pretty woman's airs and
graces. "
" Flattery !"
"To be sure. Haughty or espiegle, stately
or languid, what a coquette wants is your atten-
tion ; and that flatters you. How many men,
do you suppose, would think Venus herself beau-
tiful if she honestly did not care two straws
whether they looked at her or not ?"
"Well, mother, despite my 'masculine vani-
ty,' I can truly say that I nver in all my life
saw a girl whom I shoidd have been less likely
to fall in love with than Veronica Levincourt."
"That was fortunate for you !"'
" Good, kind Mrs. Sheardown thought me in
some danger, I believe, for she dro])ped a word
or two of warning That man must be as black
u scoundrel as ever existed!" cried Hugh, sud-
denly breaking off.
"Is the identity of Sir John Gale with Sir
John Tallis known in Shipley ? '
"Yes; I had learned it from your letters.
But, except to the Sheardowns, I said no word
of the matter. But an old woman wlio was stay-
ing at IJr. Begbie's a certain Betsy Boyce
wrote up to some gossip-mongering crony in Lon-
don for information about Sir John Gale. And
in that way the whole story became known."
' Of course you did not see ^Ir. Levincourt
again ?"
"No one has seen him except his own serv-
ants and little Blew, the surgeon, since his daugh-
ter's flight."
" Not even in church ?''
"Oh, in church, of course, he has been seen.
The Sheardowns purposely staid away from St.
Gildas the first Sunday after the vicar's return.
But I was told that the rustics, who compose the
majority of the congregation, behaved with more
delicacy than might have been expected from
them. Tliey kept out of the vicar's way on leav-
ing church ; and those who did see him content-
ed themselves with silently touching their hats,
and passing on. By-the-way, the person who
told me all this is horribly cut up by this dread-
ful affair. It is a certain Mr. Blew, a surgeon,
and a really good little fellow. The village gos-
sips say that he was a bond-slave of ^liss Levin-
court. I never saw a man look more miserable.
He fought her battles tooth and nail until it be-
came known that Sir John Gale had a wife al-
ready. Then, of course, there was no more to
be said of the girl's being married to him. But,
althougii Flew is tlie mildest-looking little fellow
you ever saw, I should not care to be in the shoes
of any man who spoke an ill word of I\Ii.ss Levin-
court in his presence. And the Shipley folks
understand this so well, that if a group of them
are discussing the vicar's daughter, they break
oft' at Plew's approach as though he were her
brother. He is a loyal little fellow, and I am
sorry for him with all my heart."
" He must be a veiy uncommon sort of man,"
obsened ]Mrs. Lockwood, dryly.
' "Ah,mother, mother!" exclaimed Hugh, kiss-
ing her forehead, and looking at her half fondly,
half sadly, "our old quaiTcl ! I can not under-
stand how it is that such a good woman as you
are should find it so hard to believe in good-
ness."
CHAPTER IIL
IN 3IR. frost's sanctum.
Messrs. Frost and Lovegrove, solicitors,
had their offices in a large old house in Bedford
Square. The whole of the ground-floor Avas used
for offices. In the upper i)art of the house lived
the family of the junior partner.
The chief reason for selecting the locality of
the offices which did not sound, ]\Ir. Lovegrove
said, an altogether ' ' professional" address
was that he might enjoy the advantage of resid-
ing at his place of business ; of being, as he was
fond of mentioning, "on the spot."
'That is exactly what I doni want," said !Mr.
Frost. And accordingly he inhabited a house
at Bayswater.
But the Lovegroves, especially the female
Lovegroves, declared in family conclave that Mr.
P'rost lived at Bayswater rather than at Bedford
Square because Mrs. Frost deemed Bedford .Square
vulgar. She wa.s reported to have asked where
46
VERONICA.
it was, with a vague air of wonder, as of an in-
quirer into the geography of Central Africa. And
Augustus Lovegrove, Junior, tlie only son of the
family, gave an imitation of Jlrs. Frost setting
out to visit her husband's office, furaished witli
a sandwich-case and a flask of sherry, as though
for a long journey ; and mimicked the tone of
foshionable boredom in which she asked the
coachman where one changed horses to go to
Bedford Square. But that, said his sisters, was
only Gus's fun.
In fact, there was a suppressed, but not the less
deadly, feud between the houses of Frost and
Lovegrove on all social points. In their business
relations the two partners seldom jarred.
Mr. Frost was a much cleverer man than Mr.
Lovegrove. He was also the better educated of
the two, and nature had gifted him with a com-
manding person and an impressive address.
i\Ir. Lovegrove was a commonplace individual,
lie said of himself that he had a great power of
sticking to business ; and he said truly. Mr.
Frost entirely appreciated his partner's solid and
unobtrusive merits. He declared Lovegrove to
be " a thoroughly safe, dependable fellow." And
the flavor of patronage in his approbation was in
no degree distasteful to Mr. Lovegrove.
In the office their respective ciualities and ac-
quirements were the complement of each other;
and they agreed admirablj-. Out of the office their
views were so dissimilar as to be antagonistic.
Mr. Lovegro\e was a very devout High-Church-
man, and shook his head gravely over ^h. Frost's
want of orthodoxy. Indeed, to describe Mr.
Frost's opinions as unorthodox was to character-
ize them with undue mildness. Mr. Frost was
a confirmed skeptic, and his skepticism was near-
ly allied to cynicism.
There is a homely illustration, immortalized
by the pen of a great modern writer, which may,
perhaps, convey an idea of the state of Mr. Frost's
mind.
In one of that great writer's well-known pages
political reformers are warned, when they empty
the dirty water out of the tub, not to send the
baby wliose ablutions have been made in it float-
ing down the kennel likewise. Get rid of the
dirty water, by all means ; but save the baby !
Now Mr. Frost, it was to be feared, had not
saved the baby.
Then the women of the Uvo families did not
stand in amicable relations toward each other.
Mrs. Lovegrove was envious of Mrs. Frost, and
Mrs. Frost was disdainful of INIrs. Lovegrove.
The two husbands would occasionally remon-
strate, each witli the wife of his bosom, respect-
ing this inconvenient, not to say reprehensible,
-tate of things; and would openly, in marital
fashion, wonder why the deuce the women were
so spiteful and so silly !
"I wish, Georg}-," JNIr. Frost would say, "that
you would behave with decent civility to Love-
grove's wife when you meet her. She does not
come in your way often. I think it very selfish
that you will not make the least efibrt to oblige
me, when I have told you so often how serious
an inconvenience it would be to me to have any
coolness with Lovegrove."
" \V/ii/ can't you get on with Mrs. Frost, Sa-
rah?" ]\Ir. Lovegrove would ask, gravely. "I
and Frost never have a word together ; and two
more different men vou would scarcelv find."
But none the less did a feeling of animosity
smoulder in the breasts of the two ladies. And
perhaps the chief circumstance that prevented
the feeling from breaking out into a blaze was
the wide distance which separates Bayswater
from Bedford Square.
At the latter ])lace ]\Ir. Frost had a little pri-
vate room, the last and smallest of a suite of
three, opening one within the other, which looked
on to a smoke-blackened yard some five feet
square. Mr. Frost had shut out the view of the
opposite wall by the expedient of having his win-
dow-frame filled with panes of colored glass.
This diminished the already scanty quantity of
daylight that was admitted into the room. 'But
Mr. Frost neither came to his office very early
nor remained there very late ; so that his work
there was done during those hours of the day in
which, when the sun shone at all, he sent his
beams in through the- red and purple panes of
the window.
It was understood in the oflUce that when Jlr.
Frost closed the outer one of the green-baize
double doors which shut in his private room, he
was not to be disturbed save on the most press-
ing and important business. So long as only
the inner door lemained closed, Mr. Frost was
accessible to six-and-eightpence-yielding mor-
tals. But when once the weight which usually
kept the outer door open was removed, and the
dark green portal had swung to, with a swift
noiseless passage of the cords over tlieir pulleys,
then no clerk in the employ of the firm, scarcely
even I\Ir. Lovegrove himself, willingly undertook
the task of disturbing the privacy of the senior
partner.
And yet one morning, soon after Hugh Lock-
wood's return to London, Mrs. Lockwood walked
into the offices at Bedford Square, and required
that Mr. Frost should be informed of her pres-
ence ; despite the fact, carefully pointed out to
her notice, that Mr. Frost's I'oom was shut by
the outer door ; and that, consequently, Mr.
Frost was imderstood to be particularly engaged.
"I feel sure that Mr. Frost would see me if
j'ou would be good enough to take in my name,"
said the little woman, looking into the face of
the clerk who had spoken to her.
There was something almost irresistible in the
composed certainty of her manner. Neither
were the lady-like neatness of her dress, and the
soft, sweet, lefined tonp of her voice, without
their influence on the young man.
"Have you an appointment?" he asked, hes-
itating.
"Not precisely an appointment for this spe-
cial morning. But I have frequently been ad-
mitted at this hour by Mr. Frost. If you will
kindly take in my name to him, I am quite will-
ing to assume the responsibility of disturbing
him."
"Well, you see, ma'am, that's just what you
can't do. The responsibility must be on my
shoulders, whether it tin-ns out that I am doing
right or wrong. However, since you say that
Mr. Frost has seen you at this lime before
Perhaps you can give me a card to take in to
him."
Mrs. Lockwood took a little note-book out of
her pocket, tore oflT a blank jiago. and wrote on
it with the neatest of tinv pencils, the initials
Z. L.
VERONICA.
47
' I have no card." she said, smiling ; " but if
you will show ^Ir. Frost that pajter I think you
will find that he will admit me."
The clerk disappeared, and retunicd in a few
moments, begging the lady to step that way.
The lady did step that way, and the green-
baize door closed silently behind her short, trim,
black figure.
Mr. Frost was seated at a table covered with
papers. On one side, and within reach of his
liand, stood a small cabinet full of drawers. It
was a handsome anticpie piece of fumiture of
inlaid wood, and would have seemed more suit-
ed to a lady's boudoir than to a lawyer's office.
But there was in truth very little of what IVIr.
Lovegrove called ''the shop" about the furni-
ture or fittings of this tiny sanctum. The pur-
j)le carpet was soft and rich, the walls were
stained of a warm stone-color, and tlie two easy-
chairs the only seats wliich the small size of
the room gave space for were covered with
morocco leather of the same hue as the carpet.
Over the cliimney-piece hung a landscape;
one of the blackest and shiniest that Wardour
Street could tui-n out. Mr. Frost called it (and
thouglit it) a Salvator Rosa.
The only technical belongings visible in the
room were a few carefully-selected law books on
a spare shelf near the window.
" Lovegrove does all the pounce and parch-
ment business," Mr. Frost was wont to say, jo-
cosely. " He likes it."
But no client who had ever sat in the purple
morocco easy-chair opposite to Mr. Frost failed
to discover that, however mucli that gentleman
might profess to despise those outward and visi-
ble symbols of his profession which he charac-
terized generically as pounce and parchment, yet
he was none the less a keen, acute, practical,
liard-headed lawyer.
Mr. Frost looked up from his papers as Mrs.
Lockwood quietly entered the room.
His face wore a look of care, and almost of
premature age ; for his portly upright figure, per-
fectly dark hair, and vigor of movement betok-
ened a man still in the prime of his strength.
But his face was livid and haggard, and his eye-
brows were surmounted by a complex series of
wrinkles, which drew together in a knot, that
gave him the expression of one continually and
painfully at work in the solution of some weighty
problem.
He rose and shook hands with ^Irs. Lock-
wood, and then waved her to the chair opposite
to his own.
"Tell me at once," he said, folding his hands
before him on the table, and slightly bending for-
ward as he addressed the widow, " if \our busi-
ness is really pressing. I scarcely think there is
another person in London whom I would have
admitted at this moment."
" My business is pressing, and I am much
obliged to you,'' replied Mrs. Lockwood, looking
at him steadily.
" You think, with your usual incredulity, that
I had no real occupation when your visit inter-
rupted me. Sometimes, I grant you, I shut my-
self in here for a little Hah I I was going to
sny peace '. for a little quiet, for leisure to think
for myself, instead of hiring out my thinking
faculties to other people. But to-day it was not
so. Look here!"
He pointed to the mass of papers under his
hand (on the announcement of Mrs. Lockwood's
approacii lie had thrown a large sheet of blot-
ting-pajier over them), and fluttcicd them rapid-
ly with his fingers. '" I have been going through
these, and was only half-way when you came."
" Bills':*" said Mrs. Lockwood.
" Some bills, and some Yes ; chiefly bills.
But they all need looking at."
As he spoke he thrust them aside with a care-
less gesture, which half hid them once more xm-
der the blotting-paper.
]\Irs. Lockwood's observant eyes had per-
ceived that one of them bore the heading of a
fashionable milliner's establishment.
"I am sorry," she said, "to internipt the cal-
culation of your wife's bonnet bills ; but I really
must intrude my prosaic business on your no-
tice."
"What a bitter little weed you are, Zillahl''
rejoined ]\Ir. Frost, leaning back in his chair and
regarding her thoughtfully.
''Yon have no right to say so."
"The best right; for I know 3-ou. I don't
complain "
"Oh ! you don't complain !'' she echoed, with
a short, soft laugh.
"No," he proceeded; "I do not complain
that your tongue is steeped in wormwood some-
times ; for I know that you have not found life
full of honey. Neither have I, Zillah. If you
knew my anxieties, my sleepless nights, my
But you would not Ijelieve mc, even if I had time
and inclination to talk about myself. What is
it that you want with me this morning?"
"I want my money."
" Have you come here to say that ?"
"That's the gist of what I have come to say.
I put it crudely, because shortly. But you and
I know very well that that is always the burden
of the tale."
" Uo you expect me to take out a pocket-
book full of bank-notes and hand them to you
across the table like a man in a play ? But," he
added, afier a momentary struggle with his own
temper, "it is worse than useless for us to jan-
gle. You are too sensible a woman to have
come here merely for the pleasure of dunning
me. Tell me what has induced you to take
this step ?"
"I desired to speak with you. To the first
note I sent you, asking you to call in Gower
Street, I got no answer "
" I was engaged day and night at the time. I
meant to come to you as soon as I had an hour's
leisure."
j "To the second note you replied that you
I were going out of town for three days."
; "It was quite true. I only got back last
night."
; "And therefore I came here this morning."
. " Has any thing new happened ?"
' " Something new is always happening. Hugh
is bent on setting up for himself His father's
friends in the country have urged him to do so."
" It would be folly on his part to leave Digby
and West for tlie next year or so. I give this
opinion just as I should if I were asked for ad-
vice by a perfect stranger. You doubtless think
that I am actuated by some underhand motive.'
"No; I do not think so. And. moreover, I
i should agree with you in your opinion, if I did
48
VERONICA.
7iot know that Hugh is entitled to a sum of
money which would suffice to make the experi-
ment he contemplates a judicious instead of a
rash one."
"I do not see that."
"Hugh, at all events, has the right to judge
for himself. "
"And you have the right to influence his
judgment."
"Sometimes I am tempted nay, often, very
often, I am tempted to tell Hugh every thing,
and let him fight his own fight. I am so tired
of it!"
"Tell him, then!" ejaculated Mr. Frost, im-
patiently. "I, too, am weary, God knows!"
"You have the power to put an end to your
weariness and to my importunities. Do me jus-
tice. After all, I am but claiming what is my
own. "
"It is your own. I know it. I have never
bought to deny it. You can not say that I
Imve. "
He rose with a quick, irritable movement from
his Qhair, and stood leaning against the mantle-
piece, with his back to the empty grate.
"Then why not restore it at once, and end
this weary business ?"
"Surely you must imderstand that such a sum
is not to be had at a moment's notice I"
"A moment's notice! How many yeare is it
since you promised me that it should be restored
as soon as Hugh came of age ?"
"I know, I know. But during this last year
or two there have been embarrassments, and
and difficulties."
Mrs. Lockwood leaned her head on her hand
and looked up at him. "Do you kuoiv," she
said, slowly, " what I begin to be afraid of?
That you have been telling me the truth lately,
and that you really are in pecuniary difficulties !"
The blood rushed darkly over the lawyer's
face, but he met her look with a smile and an
ironical raising of the eyebrows.
"Upon my word," he said, "you are civil
and ingenious ! You begin to be ' afraid that I
have been telling you the truth!' I presume
you have hitherto supposed that I kept your
cash in hard, round, yellow sovereigns, locked
lip in a box, and that 1 had nothing to do but
to take them out whenever I chose and hand
them over to you ! I am sorry that I can not
altogether dissipate your apprehensions. I have
been telling you the truth, but, nevertheless,
your money is safe!"
The air of superiorit}' in the man, his voice
and bearing, were not without their efl'ect on
Mrs. Lockwood. She faltered a moment. Then
she said, "You can at least name some time for
a settlement, can you not? Give me some fixed
date to look forward to. I have been \ery pa-
tient."
"Look here, Zillah, I have a very advanta-
geous thing ill view. It will be highly lucrative,
if it comes ort" as 1 anticipate. It has been pro-
posed to me to go abroad in the character of
legal adviser to a very wealthy and powerful
English comjiany, and "
"To go abroad!"
"Temporarily. For a few months merely.
It is a (piestion of obtaining a comession for
some im]iortant works from the Italian govern-
ment. If the alTair succeeds, 1 sliall be in a po-
sition not only to pay you back your own that"
he added, M'atching her face, "is a matter of
course in any case but to advance Hugh's pros-
pects very materially. Will you have a little
more patience and a little more faith, and wait
until the winter ?"
"Six months?" said Mrs. Lockwood, weari-
"lies; six months. Say six months ! And
meanwhile As for Hugh, since he knows no-
thing, he will be suffering no susjjense."
" Hugh ? No, thank God ! If it had been a
question of subjecting my son instead of myself
to the grinding of hope deferred, the matter
should have been settled in one way or the other
years ago!"
Mr. Frost looked at the small, frail figure be-
fore him ; at the pale, delicate-featured fiice,
framed in its soft gray curls ; and he wondered
at the strength of resolution to endure that was
expressed in every curve of her mouth, in the
firmness of her attitude as she stood with her
little nervous hands clasped in front of her, in
the steadiness of the dark eyes whose setting
was so worn and tear-stained.
" Good-by, Zillah," he said, taking her hand ;
"I will come to Gower Street soon."
"Yes; you had better come. Hugh misses
you. He wants to talk to you about his plans,
he says."
"I shall give him the advice I told you to
stay with Digby and West for at least another
year on the terms they ofi'er. Bless my life, it
is no such hardship! What hurry is there for
him to undertake the responsibilities and cares
of a professional man who has, or thinks he has,"
added Mr. Frost, hastily correcting himself, "no-
thing in the world to depend upon but his own
exertions ?"
Mrs. Lockwood made as though she were about
to speak, and tlien checked herself with a little,
quick sigh.
"Zillah!" said IMr. Frost, taking again the
hand he had relinquished, and bending down to
look into her face, "there is something new!
You have not told me all that is in your mind,"
"Because what is in my mind on this subject
is all vague and uncertain. But I fancy I
think that Hugh has fallen in hive."
" Ail, you are like the rest of the women, and
put your real meaning into the postscript. I
knrw tliere was something you had to say."
"I did not mean to say it at all. It is only a
surmise "
"I have considerable fiiith in the accuracy of
vour surmises ; and it furnishes a likely enough
"motive for Hugh's hot haste to make himself a
place in the world. Can you guess at the wo-
man ?''
"I know her. She is a girl of barely eight-
een. She lives in my house."
"Wiiat! that Lady Lady "
" Ladv Tallis Gale s niecej ]\Iiss Desmond."
"Stay! Where did I hear of her? Oh, I
have it! Lovegrove is trustee under her mo-
ther's will. She has a mere pittance secured to
her out of the wreck of her father's forttme. Be-
sides, those kind of people, though they may be
almost beggars, would, ten to one, look down
on your son from the height of their family
grandeur. This girl's father was one of the
, Bower-Desmonds, a beggarly, scatter-brained,
VERONICA.
4!)
speiultlirifr, Irish gentleman ! I dare say the
young huly has been taught to be jiroud of lier
(probably hypothetical) ilescent from a savage
inferior to a Zulu Kaffir."
" Very likely. I5ut your eloquence is wasted
on me. You should talk to Hugh. I'm afraid
he has set his heart on this."
" Set his heart ! Hugh is how old ? Three-
and-tw enty ?"
' Hugh will be twenty-five in August."
"Ah I Think of a woman of your ex])ericnce
talking of a young fellow of that age having ' set
his heart' on any thing ! No doubt he has set
his heart.' And how many times will it be set
and unset again before he is thirty ?"
" God forbid that Hugh should be such a man
as some whom my experience has taught me to
know!"
"Humph! Just now this love on which
Hugh has ' set his heart' was a mere surmise on
your part. Now you declare it to be a serious
and established fact, and ' God forbid' it should
not be!"
"When will you come?" asked Mrs. Lock-
wood, disregarding the sneer.
"I will come to-morrow evening if / c.
You know that my time is not mine to dispose
of."
" True. But it is sometimes easier to dispose
of that which belongs to other jieople than of
one's own rightful propert}', is it not?"
^Vith this Parthian dart Mrs. Lockwood dis-
appeared, gliding noiselessly out of the small
room through the next chamber, and acknowl-
edging by a modest, quiet little bend of the
head the respectful alacrity of the clerk who had
first admitted her, in rising to open the door for
her exit.
CHAPTER IV.
Z I L L A H ' S STORY.
The M'idow's reflections as she thought over
her interview with Mr. Frost were bitter enough.
Her situation was that of one who, in. endeav-
oring to reach a wished-for goal, has chosen the
speciously green path over a morass, ratlier than
the tedious, stony way, which, although painful,
would have been safe. Now the treacherousJtog
quaked beneath her faltering feet. 15ut it was
vain to look back. 8he must ])roceed. To go
forward with a step at once firm and light was,
she felt, her only chance of safety. And it was
but a chance.
Years ago, vv'hen Zillah Lockwood was a young
woman and a newly-married wife, Sidney' Frost
had through the knowledge of certain passages
in her life which he had gained accidentally
come to have a secret power and influence over
her.
He had used his knowledge at first to protect
her against the persecutions of a ruffian, and in
so doing he had acted disinterestedly.
Afterward he was temjjted by circumstances
to avail himself of the power he held over Zillah
Lockwood in order to help himself forward in
the world.
The case stood thus :
Robert Lockwood and Sidney Frost were ear-
ly and intimaie fiiends. When the former mar-
ried Miss Zillah Fenton a governess in the fam-
ily of a rich merchant, named Elythe, who liked
pictures, and sought the society of the jiainters
of pictures Frost had still been cordially wel-
comed at his friend's house.
Miss Fenton was an or]ilian, without a rela-
tion in the world. Her early life had been pass-
ed in Paris ; and Mrs. Jilythe said she had reason
to believe that her father, Captain Fenton, had
been a needy adventurer of disrejiutable charac-
ter. But against the young lady no one had a
word to say.
At first the young couple were entirely happy.
To the day of his death Robert Lockwood adored
his wife. He believed in her with the most ab-
solute trust. He admired her talents. He was
guided by her advice.
But when, within a few months of their mar-
riage, Zillah became melancholy, nervous, and
silent, Robert was ])ainfully i)uzzled to account
for the change in her.
She declared herself to be quite well ; but her
husband insisted on her seeing doctor after doc-
tor, in the hope of discovering some cure for the
unaccountable depression of s])irits under which
she was sun'ering.
It was all in vain, however. Robert was in
despair; and seriously contemplated sacrificing
his connection and daily-rising reputation as an
artist, in order to take his wife abroad for total
change of air and scene.
A mere chance, connected with his profes-
sional business, gave Sidney Frost a clew to the
cause of the mysterious malady under which his
friend's wdfe was pining. The clew was furnish-
ed by a few words dropped by a man of very vile
character, a professional black-leg, who had come
to London for a time to escape the too vigilant
attention of the Parisian jiolice, and fi'om whose
clutches Mr. Frost was endeavoring to extricate
a foolish young scape-grace, the son of one of his
clients.
^ His professional and natural acuteness enabled
Sidney to make a shrewd guess at the real state
of the case. lie surprised Zillah one day, when
her husband was absent at his studio, into a con-
fession that she knew this man. And after a
little gentle cross-examination, the trembling
woman burst into tears and revealed the whole
story.
Zillah's motherless youth had been passed in
Paris, in the home of a father for whom it was
impossible for her to feel either aflPection or re-
spect. His associates were either men of his
own character, or young scions of rich or noblo
houses, who frequented Fenton's shabby, tawdry
little salon for the purpose of enjoying the ex-
citement of high play.
Amidst such surroundings Zillali grew to be
sixteen ; little more than a child in years, but a
woman in one sad and sordid phase of world's
lore. Her notions of right and wrong were sole-
ly derived from her own untutored instincts.
These were, in the main, good and pure. But
she was ignorant, luicared for, motherless and
she fell.
Coarse appeals to vanity or greed would have
been powerless on Zillah. But the poor child
was unable to resist tlie impulses of an undisci-
plined heart. She scarcely even conceived that
it behooved her to resist them.
She believed the passionate protestations of
love j)rotestations not wholly insincere when
50
VERONICA.
uttered of a noble gentleman whom she looked
up to as the ideal of every thing splendid and
heroic.
The story was trite. Its de'nouement was
trite also, save in one particular. This one ex-
ceptional particular was the unexpected and ab-
surdly unreasonable despair of Zillah when she
perceived that her god was an idol of clay that
lie had ceased to love her; and when he inform-
ed her, with a good deal of well-bred dexterity,
that he was about to make a mariage de conve-
nance at the urgent solicitation of his noble fam-
ily, he was quite amazed at the girl's violence.
He was willing to behave handsomely. But
when Zillah started away in horror from his of-
fers of money, like one who suddenly sees the
flat, cruel head of a snake rear itself from a flow-
er he has been caressing, M. le Vicomte was re-
ally shocked. In what Fool's Paradise had the
girl been living, to give herself such mock-heroic
airs? The daughter of le vieux Fenton! Que
diable! His lordship began to look on himself
as a victim, and to pity himself a good deal ;
which state of mind had the desirable effect of
quenching the pity for /ler, which the girl's pale,
passionate face and streaming eyes had aroused
to a quite uncomfortable degree.
Then came a second blow. Cajitain Fenton
was willing to receive his daughter back again,
but on conditions against which tlie girl's whole
nature rose up in revolt. He had discovered
that his daughter was attractive. Why should
she not assist him in that devil's recruiting serv-
ice, which he still carried on zealously, but with
very fluctuating success?
In brief, to return to her father's liome would
be to plunge into a black gulf of shame. Zillah
told herself that she was desperate ; that she
cared not what became of her ; but from her fa-
ther and her father's associates she shrank Avith
a shuddering, invincible repulsion.
Then the extraordinary reserve force of cour-
age and endurance with which natui-e had en-
dowed the girl made itself felt. She was eighteen
years old, alone in Paris, and almost penniless.
But she struggled like a strong swimmer buff'et-
ing the waves. She thought that she wished to
die ; that the waters should close over her wretch-
ed head, and let her be at rest. But her youth-
ful, vigorous limbs struck out, as it were, invol-
untarily.
Then oue watching on the shore stretched out
not a hand, not a warm, comforting human
clasp, but a staft'to her aid. A dry, hard stick
was held to her, and she clasped it. It was
something to cling to. A woman who knew her
history engaged Zillah to attend on her children,
and to teach them English.
For five years the poor girl was a drudge
whose physical fatigues and privations were the
lightest and least regarded part of her sufl'erings.
But she pursued her solitary way inflexibh-. In
teaching she learned. She worked with amazing
industry to qualify herself for a better position ;
and she succeeded. Her blameless life and un-
wearying activity had softened even Iier mistress's
dry heart toward her ; and when Mecs.i Fenton
left her employment this woman gave her such
recommendations as procured for her a situation
in England.
From that time her worldly prospects seemed
clear and traiKpiil.
After a year or two she had known Kobert
Lockwood, and the world was changed for her.
" I loved him sol" said Zillah, sobbing, to Sid-
ney Frost. "I had thought I should never love
any human being more, and that men were all
false, sensual, and selfish. But he came to me
like God's sunshine after the long, black winter.
I felt young again, I who had deemed myself old
at five-and-twenty. I ought to have told him all
my miserable story. I had man}- a struggle with
my conscience about it. But but Kobert
honored me so highly. He had such an exalted
ideal of what a woman ought to be. I was a
coward. I dared not risk losing him. I had
been so unhappy, so unhappy I I think none
but a woman can understand what I had suffer-
ed. And here was a glimpse of Paradise. Was
I to speak the word which might bar me out for-
ever, back into the desolate cold to die ? I cov/d
not do it. I thought 'when we are marrieii,
when he has learned to believe in my great love
for him, and to trust me as his faithful wife, I
will kneel down and hide my face on his knees,
and tell him.' But as I learned to know him
better, I found what a fatal mistake I had made
in delaying my confession. You know Rolert.
He says that he could never again trust any one
who had once deceived him. The first time he
said so a knife went into my heart. Oh, if I had
but told him at first, he initj/it have jjitied, and
forgiven, and loved me I for, God knows, I was
more sinned against than sinning. I was but
sixteen. Think of it ! Sixteen years old !
Well, this concealment bore bitter fruit. Sly
father has been dead three years ; but recently
one of his old associates, the man you have been
speaking of, came to London, found me out, and
came to me for assistance ; being always, as all
his kind are, either flush of money or a beggar.
]My horror at sight of him ; my dread lest Kob-
ert, who was at the studio, should return and
find him, showed him, I suppose, what hold he
had upon me. From soliciting alms, he came
to demanding money like a highwayman. I gave
him what I could. Since then he has persecuted
me, until life is almost unendurable. I see Rob-
ert's anxiety; I am tormented fur him. But I
dare not tell the truth. This wretch threatens
me, if I do not comply with his demands, that
ha|ill tell my proud English huband all the
hiMiry of my youth. You, who know something
of the man, can conjecture in what a hideous
light he would put the facts he has to relate.
If Kobert were to spurn me and despise me, I
should die. Oh, I am afraid ! It is so horrible
to be afraid !"
Sidney listened sympathetically. He was (as
is not uncommon) better than his creed, which
was already a somewhat cynical one. He
soothed and encouraged Mrs. Lockwood; prom-
ised to rid her of the scoundrel forever; and
adroitly said a word or two to the eft'ect that she
had better not trouble her husband with so an-
noying and c(mtemptible a matter.
" I know Kobert very well," said he ; " and I
am sure he would not rest until he had thrashed
our French friend soundly. Kow a kicking more
or less in his life would not matter to /lim at all.
It would put Kobert in the wrong too, and dis-
tress you. I undertake to punish the mi.screant
much more efiectually."
How he managed to get rid of her tormentor
VERONICA.
ni
Zillah never certainly knew ; Init the man dropped
out of her life never to reappear in it.
Sidney Frost was actuated chiefly by motives
of kindness toward the Lockwoods. Whatever
this woman's past might have been, she made his
friend a good wife. Robert idolized her. He
was happy in his unfaltering faith in her. But
he would not have been able to be happy had his
faith once been shaken. That was the nature
of the man. Frost would serve both husband
and wife, and would keep his own counsel.
Added to all these considerations, there was
another incentive influencing his conduct : the
professional zest, namely, with which he contem-
plated balking a rascal's schemes a zest quite
as far removed from any consideration of ab-
stract right and wrong as the eagerness of a fox-
hunter is removed from moral indignation against
the thievish propensities of the fox.
The two years that ensued were the happiest
Zillah had ever known or was foted to know.
She was the joyfid mother of a son. Iler hus-
band's fame and fortune rose day by day. Sid-
ney Frost never reminded her of the secret they
shared between them by word or look. And she
had grown almost to regard the days of her mis-
ery and degradation as something unreal, like
the remembrance of a bad dream.
But a cliange was at hand.
Robert Lockwood fell ill. His was not a rap-
id, alarming disorder, but a slow wasting away,
as it seemed. A short time before his health
began to foil he had yielded to the urgent solici-
tation of his friend Sidney Frost, and had con-
fided to the latter a large sum of money the
savings of his life to be invested in certain spec-
idations which Sidney guaranteed to be highly
flourishing ; and, as has been previously stated,
Sidney, in accepting the trust, honestly meant to
fulfill it with a single-minded view to his friend's
advantage.
Then came temptation : a combination of
temptations. Ho needed a large sum to com-
plete the amount necessary for the purchase of a
share in a flourishing legal business. On his ob-
taining the share dejjended his marriage with a
woman whom he jiassionately loved. He used
the greater portion of Lockwood's money for this
purpose. He described the transaction to him-
self thus : " Robert shall find this a better invest-
ment than any I proposed to him. The business
is as safe as the Bank of England. With an in-
fusion of skill and energy such as I can bring to
it, wealth, great wealth, is absolutely certain. I
horroio Roi)ert's money at handsomer interest
than he could easily obtain in any other way !"
All the while he was desperately ashamed and
troubled in his inmost heart.
Zillah had been told by her husband of his
having confided his money to Frost. She had
almost as undoubting faith in their friend as Rob-
ert had. But she asked, "You have a fonnal
acknowledgment for the money, of course ?"
" He wrote me some kind of receipt, or I O U.
I don't think it is what you call a ' fonnal ac-
knowledgment,' little wife. But from Sidney it
is sufficient."
"You will keep it carefully, dear Robert?"
" Oh j'es ; of course. "
" Because you know if Mr. Frost were to to
die!"
Zillah's quick intelligence discovered that
something was wrong with Sidney after he had
undertaken her husband's trust. He kept away
from their house more than had been his wont.
He was going to be married. He had obtained
his long-coveted partnership. A suspicion of the
truth darted into her mind. She endeavored to
take him oil" his guard by adroit questions. But
her woman's cunning was no match for Sidney
Frost.
He confronted the matter boldly and with out-
ward coolness, although he inwardly writhed with
mortification to be abased before this woman
wlio had l)een so humbly grateful at his feet.
He told Zillah how he had applied her husband's
money.
"It is not exactly the investment I had pro-
posed, but it will be, in the end, a for better one
than any other for you all. I Jiave not mention-
ed my change of plan to Robert. He is not well
enough to be bothered about business. He is
tiie best-hearted, dearest fellow in the world ;
but you kmnv tliat it is sometimes necessary to
hoodwink him for his own good. '
At the word the hot blood rushed to Zillah's
face, and her temples throbbed painfully. She
understood perfectl}'' the kind of bargain that
was being made. She reflected that her first
deception was now bearing its legitimate fruit.
She was helpless. She carefully locked ilr.
Frost's informal receipt into her writing-desk,
and submitted in silence.
"When Robert gets better," she said to her-
self, "I loill summon I'esolution to tell him ev-
ery thing. I wUlf
But Robert never got better ; and within a few
months he was laid in his grave.
CHAPTER V.
A MORNING CALL.
Mr. Frost drove home to Bayswater after
business hours, on the day on which Mrs. Lock-
wood had visited him, veiy weary in body and
sick at heart.
j\Irs. Frost had the most stylish of tiny
broughams, drawn by a pawing steed, whose ac-
tion gave one the idea that it had been taught
to dance on hot iron, like a bear.
Mr. Frost used a street cab when he drove at
all. Very often he returned home on foot. On
this special afternoon he was thoroughly tired.
He had been into the City, into offices wherein
his partner would have been much amazed to see
him, and on business of which that partner had
not the faintest suspicion.
As the cab jingled and rattled along the busy
streets toward Bayswater, Mr. Frost leaned his
head back against the frouzy cushion and closed
his eyes. But he could not deaden his hot brain.
That was alive, and feverishly active. He ground
his teeth when he thought of Zillah Lockwood.
And yet he pitied her. *
"If I could coin my blood into guineas she
should have her own," said he, mentally.
But if Mr. Frost could have coined "his blood
into guineas in one sense he did coin flesh, and
blood, and health, and life into lucre it is prob-
able that still Mrs. Lockwood would not have
had her own ; for Mrs. Frost had an insatiable
appetite for guineas, and would have received
52
VERONICA.
any amount of them with the greedy immobility
of a gaping-mouthed Indian idol.
She was an idol that had cost her husband
dear, and yet he still worshiped her worshiped
her and did not respect her ! Like the poor sav-
age of tlie south, who alternately rails at, and
grovels before, his tawdry Madonna.
Gcorgina Frost was a magnificently beautiful
woman. Her face and figure were noble and
majestic. She was graceful, eloquent, dignified.
" Mrs. Frost looks every inch a duchess," some
one said, admiringly. But JNIrs. Frost had once
stood for ten minutes side by side with a real
duchess at a picture show, and after that she told
her husband, with a superb, languid smile, that
she should decline to be likened to a duchess any
more.
"A little, skinny, painted, flaxen-haired creat-
ure in a short gown, and with the most atrocious
bonnet that ever was perched on a human head,"
said Mrs. Frost, disdainfull_v. "I am not at all
like a duchess, if she is a fair specimen of the
genus!"
But nevertheless Mrs. Frost was pleased to be
likened to a duchess.
]\Ir. Frost did not reach his home until a few
minutes before seven. Seven o'clock was his
dinner hour.
"Dinner ready?" he asked of the man who
opened the door to him.
"Whenever you please. Sir. Shall I tell the
cook to send it up at once ?"
" Where is your mistress ?"
"My mistress is dressing. Sir. She had an
early dinner at three o'clock."
]\Ir. Frost walked into the dining-room, bid-
ding the man send up his dinner directly. He
threw himself into a chair, and sat still, with a
gloomy face. The complex lines in his forehead
were twisted and knotted tightly together.
He had got half-way through his solitary re-
past, eating little, but drinking a good deal, in a
feverish \^'ay, \\hen the door opened, and his
wife came into tlie room.
She was in full evening costume. A rich silk
dress, of the brownish-golden hue of ripe wheat,
enhanced the clear paleness of her skin. The
dress was simple and ample, as became the ma-
jestic figure of its wearer. Its only ornament
v/as a trimming of white lace round the sleeves
and bosom ; but this lace was antique, and of
the costliest. In her dark wavy hair she had
placed a branch of crimson pomegranate flow-
ers, and on one marble- white arm she wore a
broad thick band of gold with a magnificent
opal set in the midst of it.
"Ah, you arc there, Sidney I" she said, not
looking at him though, but walking straight to-
ward a large mirror over the mantle-piece. She
stood there, with her back to her husband, con-
templating her own image very calmly.
He raised his eyes and stealthily looked at her
in the glass.
" AVhere are you going?" he asked, surlily.
"You told me nothing about going out tliis even-
ing."
' ' Oh yes, I did ; but I might as well have
omitted it. You never remember. I am going
to the opera. Patti sings the 'Sonnambula,'
and the Maxwells made me promise not to fail
them. "
Mr. Frost sat looking at his beautiful wife
with a strange expression of mingled discon-
tent and admiration.
Suddenly his face changed. "Turn round,"
he said, sharply. She obeyed leisurely.
"Let me look. Is it possible? Yes; you
have yowhave taken that bracelet, despite all
I said to you!"
" I told you when the man showed it to me
that I must have it. It is the finest single opal
I ever saw."
IMr. Frost dashed his hand down on the table
with an oath. " By Heaven, it is too bad !" he
cried. "It is incredible ! Georgina, I wonder,
upon my soul I do, that you can have the heart
to go on in this way !"
I\Irs. Frost looked down at him with a slow
Juno-like turn of the throat.
" Don't be silly, Sidney. What is the use of
your getting into passions? Nothing would go
either with this dress or my black velvet but
opals. And this matches the ear-rings so well."
" And how. pray, do you imagine I am to pay
for this jewel ?"
Mrs. Frost shrugged her shoulders.
" How should I know? How you are to pay
for it is your business, not mine! When you
married me I suppose 30U were aware of the
responsibilities you were undertaking! Oh, is
tlie carriage there? Tell him to drive first to
Lady Rlaxwell's, Edward. And ask my maid
for the ermine cloak to put into the can-iage in
case I should want it coming home."
He walked angrily uii and down the room aft-
er .she was gone ; breaking out now and again
into half-uttered sentences and ejaculations.
"I will not stand it; I icill not. Heavens
and earth ! To tliink of her coolly taking that
opal, whose fellow it would be difficult to find in
London, as though it were a glass bead! She
cares no more for me tlian for the stone pave-
ment she sets her dainty foot on ! I am a money-
machine. That's all ! But it shall come to an
end. I can not live so. I irill not. Why
should I grind my A^ery soul out for a woman
with no vestige of heart or feeling? I'll send
her to live in the country. I'll sell her wardrobe
by auction. Millions wouldn't suffice for her ex-
travagance. I have told her that I don't know
which way to turn for money and people think
me a rich man ! Well they may Avhen they see
my wife decked out in finery worth a king's ran-
som. Good Heavens, that opal ! To-mon-ow
I will make the jeweler take it back. She shall
not keep it. It is too monstrous."
The next day Mrs. Frost, who occasionally
made small concessions that cost her nothing,
when it became apparent that she had roused
her husband's indignation too far, offered to
drive with him to IBedford Square and call on
Mrs. Lovegrove.
As they drove along eastward Mrs. Frost
looking very lovely in a moniing toilet, for the
perfection of whose freshness and simplicity she
had paid more to a fashionable milliner than
Mrs. Lovegrove had ever expended on her finest
gown Mr. Frost lectured his wife as to the ne-
cessity of comporting herself with civility toward
the Lovegroves.
" I'm sure I don't know how to conciliate Mrs.
Lovegrove," said the fair Georgina. " Unless,
perhaps, by rigging myself out from top to toe in
Tottenham Court Road, and arriving at her door
VEKONICA.
in the dirtiest hackney cah to ho found ! I real-
ly would have borrowed Davis's honnet and shawl
to come in, if I had thouglit of it : only, to be
sure, Davis is always three months nearer the
fashion than the Lovegrove women !"
Davis was Jlrs. Frost's cook.
Mr. Frost went into his office, saying that he
would open liis letters and go up to pay his re-
spects to IMrs. Lovegrove by-and-by. His wife
was ushered into tlie drawing-room, and waited
while her card was carried to the mistress of the
house.
Mrs. Lovegrove's drawing-room was hot. The
sun shone full in through the windows, and there
was a large fire in tlie grate. Tiiere was a stuffy
fragrance in tlie room from two enormous jars
of pot-pourri whicli stood one on each side of a
gilt cabinet. On the cabinet were ranged what
Jlrs. Lovegrove called her nick-nacks : namely,
a huge dish of wax fruit under a glass cover ;
some Dresden figures; a Cliinese puzzle; a Swiss
chalet in card-board ; two or three cups of egg-
shell porcelain ; a statuette in the so-called Pa-
rian ware, representing a Spanish lady clothed
entirely in lace flounces, and with a foot about
the same length as her nose; and a blue satin
box worked with white beads.
The furniture was drab, with red satin stripes
in it. The curtains were the same. The carpet
was also drab, with splotchy cabbage-roses strewn
over it. On the mantle-piece stood a French
clock, Ranked on either side by a cut-glass lustre
whose pendent prisms jingled and shook when-
ever a foot crossed the floor. There was a grand
l)iano in the room, dark and shining. There
was also a harp, muffled up in brown holland.
On the round centre-table, covered by a red vel-
vet cloth, were disposed with geometrical accu-
racy several books. Tlie middle of the table was
occupied by a silver card-basket full of visiting-
cards, on the top of which was conspicuously dis-
played a large ticket, setting forth that General
Sir Thomas Dobbs and Lady Dobbs requested
the honor of JNIrs. and the Misses Lovegrove's com-
pany at a ball, bearing date two months back.
Mrs. Frost waited. The house was very still.
She peeped into one book after the other. Two
were photograph albums. A third was a little
volume of poetry containing verses in celebration
of the month of INLay, which the Puseyite writer
looked on exclusively from an ecclesiastical point
of view, and styled the " JMonth of Mary. " There
was likewise a Peerage, bound in red and gold.
Mrs. Frost waited. She had ensconced her-
self in a comfortable corner of the couch. It
was hot, and tlie end of it was tliat Mrs. Frost
fell into a doze, and woke with a sensation of
being looked at.
Mrs. Lovegrove stood opposite to her.
Mrs. Lovegrove had a pale, smooth face, with
a pale, smooth, and very high foreliead. Her
features were not uncomely. Her eyes must
have been pretty in youth ; well-shaped, and of a
soft dove-gray. Her teeth were still sound and
white. They projected a little, and her upper
lip was too long for beauty. It gave one the
idea, when her mouth was closed, of being
stretched too tightly, in the effort to cover the
long, prominent teeth.
Mrs. Lovegrove was lean and flat -chested.
She wore a lead-colored merino gown, and a
small cap with lead-colored satin ribbons. She
affected drabs, and browns, and leaden or iron
grays in her own attire. She said tliey were
" so chast,e."
"How do you do, Mrs. Frost? I am so
shocked to have kept you waiting. Your visits
are such unexpected and rare favors that if I
could have come instantly I would."
Mrs. Lovegrove spoke in a very Ioav voice, and
with pedantic distinctness.
"I almost fell asleep, I think," said Mrs. Frost,
with much nonchalance.
"You were excuse me snoring," replied
Mrs. Lovegrove, in her gentlest and most dis-
tinct accents.
Mrs. Frost did not at all like to be told that
she had been snoring. But as this is an accu-
sation against which we are all helpless, seeing
that in the nature of things we can not be con-
scious whether we haxe snored or not, she did
not attempt to reliut it.
"Don't you think you keep your room rath-
er stuffy?" she said, wrinkling up her hand-
some nose.
"Stuffy? If I apprehend your meaning, I
think 72ot. You see, you live in one of those
new lath-and-plaster houses that really are bare-
ly weather-proof. No doubt you find some com-
pensating advantage in doing so. But I confess
that for myself I prefer a solid, well-built, old-
fashioned mansion. How is Mr. Frost ?"
"Quite well, I believe. He said he was com-
ing to Avait upon you b^'-and-by."
"/s he quite well? Now is he? I am re-
joiced to hear it. Mr. Lovegrove has been
thinking him looking rather fagged of late.
We live in high-pressure times. The friction
on a railway, for instance, is so much more
tremendous than the friction on an old mail-
coach road. And j-et it may be doubted Is
any thing the matter?"
"No : I I only want to sneeze. How very
pungent the stuff" in tliose jars is ! You don't
put snuff in it, do you ?"
"Snuff"! My dear Mrs. Frost !"
"I feel as though I had some grains of snuff
up my nose."
' ' My pot-pourri is prepared after a recipe that
was always used down at our family place."
"Ah!" said Mrs. Frost, languidly. "I dare
say it is very nice when one gets a little sea-
soned to it."
Then Mrs. Lovegrove led the conversation
into her own ground. She discoursed of ritual-
ism, of stoles, tapers, and censers. After these
subjects came the British aristocracy, collective-
ly and individually. Thence, she slid easily to
the immense number of invitations her girls had
received this season. Finally, reserving her bonne
bouche to the last, she spoke of their dear young
friend, Miss Desmond, Lady Tallis-Gale's niece,
and herself connected with some of our most an-
cient families.
"I am no leveler," said Mrs. Lovegrove, in a
kind of self-denying way (as who should say,
" If I did but choose it, I could lay existing in-
stitutions as flat as a bowling-green!"). "No.
I approve and reverence the distinctions of rank
and birth. You may tell me that these are in-
born prejudices "
"Not at all," drawled Mrs. Frost, checking,
but not concealing, a yawn.
" Well, I will not deny that there mai/ be some
VERONICA.
tinge of eaily prejudice. But wlien we lived at
our family place papa always impressed on us
to pay the same respect to those few persons
who were above us in rank as we exacted from
our inferiors. Papa was a stanch Tory of the
old school. But he had no arrogant pride of
birth. He used to say Ah, here is Mr. Frost.
How do you do, IMr. Frost? We were speak-
ing or, at least, / was speaking, for I do not
tliink your wife knows her of our dear Miss
Desmond. You can not think how the girls
have taken to her. She is not here half as
much as we could wish, though. For her at-
tendance on Lady Tallis is most unremitting.
But we feel toward her as a daughter. As to
my son Augustus ! "Well, do you know, I
scarcely know how to describe the impression
the sweet girl has made on Augustus !"
ISlr. Frost smiled very graciously, and seemed
much interested.
"We are going to have I M'on't call it a par-
ty a little social gathering, to which we have
persuaded Miss Desmond to come, on the Feast
of Saint Werewulf that is," added Mrs. Love-
grove, Avith a melancholy smile, "next Saturday.
I dare say you are not familiar with the saints'
days ?"
"I don't know any thing about Saint Were-
wnlf," said Mrs. Frost.
"We shall have music, and endeavor to be
innocently gay ; none the less gay for having
attended a matin service in honor of the saint.
Our religion is not gloomy and mirth-forbid-
ding. If you and ]\Irs. Frost would join us we
should be unaffectedly glad."
Mrs. Frost had opened her mouth to decline
the invitation, but her husband interposed.
" You are extremely good, Mrs. Lovegrove,"
he said. "We will come with pleasure."
" Why in the world did you say yes to that
oppressive woman's invitation, Sidney ?" asked
his wife, as he was handing her into the car-
riage, "/sha'n't go. She really is too much.
If you had heard the stuff she was talking about
her family place ! And she devoin-ed me with
her fi.shy eyes. If I had not had the conscious-
ness of being thoroughly well dressed she would
have given me a nervous fever."
"Well, that consciousness must support you
on Saturday next. For we must go. And
listen, Georgy make yourself pleasant to Miss
Desmond."
CHAl'TER VL
COKUESPONDENCE.
Three letters from abroad had come to the
vicarage. Mr. Levincourt burned them all, and
said no word of them to any one.
One evening, when IMr. Flew returned from a
round of professional visits, his mother j)ut into
liis hand a large letter covered with foreign post-
marks.
" Of course, Nathaniel," said the poor old wo-
man, tremblingly watching his face, "I guess
who it's from. But yon would have nothing to
say to her now, my dear}-, would you r"
"Mother!"' gasped the little surgeon, clutch-
ing at the letter.
"There, there, Nathaniel, don't be angry with
me, love. I have never said a wit word about
the girl at home nor abroad ; nor I don't want
to. But of course I know you are a grown
man" (Mr. Plew was three-and-forty), "and can
act for yourself; but you know, Nathaniel, love,
I'm the mother that bore you, and in some ways
you'll always be a child to me ay, if you were a
hundred! And it goes to my heart to see you
badly treated by them that ain't worthy to
There, my deary, I've done."
Mr. Plew shut himself up in his little bedroom,
and opened his letter.
His foce, eager, anxious, all aglow with excite-
ment, fell, and the light fitded out of it. The
bulky packet contained a sealed letter addressed
to "jNIiss Maud Desmond." Within the outer
envelope were written these words :
"I rely on you to convey the inclosed into
Maud's hands. I think you will not fail me.
"V."
Mr. Plew opened his shabby little writing-
desk, took out a sheet of paper, wrapped the
letter in it, sealed it, and directed it to !Miss
Desmond, No. 367 Gower Street, London.
Then he pressed the outer envelope to his lips,
flusliing a hot, painful crimson as he did so, and,
finally, he sat down beside the bed, hid his flice
on the pillow, and cried.
The next day Maud received her letter. It
ran as follows :
"I will begin with a warning. I wam you
not to waste compassion and wailings and lam-
entations upon me. I desire, and need, ^jo pity.
I have chosen my fate, and the day may come,
icill come, when you will all acknowledge that I
have chosen wisely. I have written to you once
before, and twice to papa. Having received no
answer, the idea occurred to me that papa had
suppressed mine to you. I know the kind of
twaddle contamination, evil communications
must hold no parley with I will not write the
trash. It can not apply to me. Believe that.
"It may be, on the other hand, that you have
received my letter, and have chosen to make no
sign. If it be so, so be it. But I give you tliis
chance, by directing the present letter to the
care of Jlr. Plew. I believe him to be a faith-
ful creature, and I hope that Sir John and my-
self may one day have it in our power to show
him that we tliink so."
The words "Sir John and myself" made
Maud recoil, when slie read them, as though
she had received a physical blow. The letter
proceeded :
" You will, of course, be taught to think all
evil of me. I know the jialtry, envious malice
of a place like Shipley. How 1 loathe the name
of it ! And it is, no doubt, true that I caused
]iapa some temporary anxiety. I trust it was
brief. I left the letter on my toilet-table, and I
conjectured that it could not long remain imseen.
The letter, when once read, ought to have reas-
sured him. Sir John gave me weighty reasons
for not wishing to make our marriage public at
once. I was bound to respect his .secret. From
the fact of papa having ]reserved an obstinate
silence I am led to guess that lie is nouri.shiug
resentment against me. I shall be sorry if this
be so, but can stoop to no more entreaties.
"The knowledge of the position I shall one
day hold in the eyes of all the world sustains me
against the idea of ])assing misconstruction.
" Sir John is all kindness and consideration to
VERONICA.
me. I am surrounded by all the elegant luxu-
ries Unit wealth can j)urcliase or wateliful affec-
tion suggest. I am traveling through exquisite
i-cenery, and drawing near to my motiier'.s nati\e
sunny land. I hate att'ectation of sentimentali-
ty, hut, in truth, my heart beats faster as I look
at the snowy peaks, and think ' beyond there
lies Italy ! ' Direct to me, I'oste Restante, Arena,
].,ago Maggiore. Witliin a fortnight we shall be
there. Your letter muisl be addressed to Ladj
Gale.
"Your affectionate (if you will let it be so)
" V^EUONICA.
" ^Faudie, INfaudie. tell me how papa is, how
you are. Love me, ^Nlaudie. V."
The last few words were apparently added hur-
riedly. They were blurred and almost illegible.
But ^laud dwelt on them rather than on the rest
of the letter. They showed that Veronica's heart
was not dead, although her haughty spirit dis-
dained sympathy or compassion.
Twice, three, four times did Maud read the let-
ter through her blinding tears before she laid it
down on her lap, and fairly thought over its con-
tents.
One conviction stood out clear in her mind
eitlier Veronica was deceived or deceiving.
That she could have no right to tlie title of
"Lady Gale" they in England knew but too
well. But was it equally certain that Veronica
knew it? Was it not much more ]jroba!)le that
t~ir John was continuing to deceive her ? Jlight
he not even have gone through a false ceremony
of marriage ? Such things had been I
Maud pondered and pondered. Suddenly she
took a resolution. Come what might, she would
answer Veronica's letter. It could not be right
to leave her in ignorance of the real facts of the
case. She would write to Veronica, and would
then inclose Veronica's letter to Mr. Levincourt,
and tell him what she had done. He mi;iht be
angry at first, but in his heart he would thank
her. He coidd not really desire to abandon his
only child to shame and misery. If Veronica
could only know the truth, she would leave that
wicked man. ii\iQ must .'
Maud peeped into the drawing-room before
sitting down to her little desk in her ov. n room.
. Lady Tallis was asleep on the sofa. She al-
ways slept regularly after her early dinner, and
with equal regularity was always very much sur-
prised when she awoke to find that she had
"dropped off," as she phrased it.
Without allowing herself time to hesitate,
Maud wrote a letter, eaniestly and affectionately
conjuring the unfortunate girl to return to them,
telling her, with simple directness, that Sir John
Tallis Gale had a wife living, and \^ho that wife
was ; imploring her to disbelieve any sjtecious
tale he might tell her, and to wrench herself away
from him at any cost. "If you will only believe
in the true love of your friends, dear Veronica,"
she wrote, "and come back to us, you shall never
re])ent it."
Who the friends were whose love Veronica
was conjured to believe in was not so clear.
Maud secretly feared that Mr. Levincourt would
be obdurate for a time. But he could not hard-
en his heart against a repentant child forever.
Then slie thought of the Sheardowns, and be-
lieved that they would be kind and charitable.
They might assist Mr. Levincourt to leave Shij)-
lev', and to go elsewhere to some place in which
his daughter's story was not known. Fifty plans
passed through Claud's brain, as her pen ran
swiftly, eagerly over the paper. She wrote with
all the eloquence she could.
Would Veronica be willing to return even
when she knew the truth '? IJid she assuredly
not know it already ? On these questions Maud
would not dwell, although they kept jiresenting
themselves importunately to her mind. Her
one plain, obvious duty was to tell ^'eronica the
truth. How might not the lost girl one day re-
proach them all if they left her in ignorance if
they did not stretch out a hand to rescue and re-
claim her !
"I do love you, ^"eronica," she wrote at the
end of her letter. "And so does Uncle Charles.
You would not think him hard if you had seen
him as I saw him on that dreadful day when we
lost you. Oh, come back, come back to us I
If you want means, or help, or protection, you
shall have them, I swear that you shall I Write
to me here. I am with my Aunt Hilda. She
knows nothing of this letter, nor of yours to me.
Do not let false shame or false pride keep you
apart from us. Be strong. Oh, look forward a
little, dearest Veronica! Is not any thing bet-
ter than But I know your heart is good ;
you will not let your father die without the con-
solation of knowing that you are safe, and that
you have given up that wicked tempter so soon
as you knew his real character. There is no
disgrace iu being deceived, and I know, I am
sure, he has deceived you. Wiite to me, Ve-
ronica, soon, soon!"
The letter was sealed, directed (not witliout a
pang of conscience at the written lie) to "Lady
Gale," and dispatched to the post-office, at the
same time with a few lines to ]Mr. Levincourt,
inclosing Veronica's letter, begging him to read
it, and telling him what she (Maud) bad
done.
To this latter epistle came an answer within a
few days.
"I can not be angry with you, my sweet
child," wrote the vicar, "but I am grieved that
you should have followed this impulse without
consulting me. It is my duty, Maud, to guard
3-ou from contact with such as that wretched
girl has made herself. The hardened audacity
of her letter astounds me. If such things could
be, I should believe that that fiend had cast a
spell upon her. May God Almighty forgive
her ! I struggle with myself, but I am a broken
man. I can not hold up my head here. Blessed
are the peace-makers, Maudie. You plead for
her with sweet charity. But she has not injured
you she has injured no one as she has injured
"me. Still, I will not shut my mind against any
ray of hope. It may be, as you say, that she
has been deceived. If this be so, and she re-
turns humbled and repentant repentant for all
the evil her treacheiy and deceit have heaped
on me, we must crawl into some obscure comer
and hide our shame togetlier. At the best, she
is branded and disgraced for life. But, my pure-
hearted Maud, I warn you not to be sanguine.
Do not make sure that she will abandon her
wicked luxuries, and pomps, and wealth, to live
in decent, dull jjoverty with me. I can send no
message to your aunt. My name must be loath
56
VERONICA.
some ill her ears. It were better for her and
you to forget us altogether."
The tone of this letter was softer than Maud
had dared to hope. Here, at least, he showed
no stubborn wrath. It now remained to see
what answer her letter to Arona would bring
fortii.
yhe waited eagerly, anxiously, fearfully, de-
spondingly ; but no answer ever came.
ller poor letter had been forwai'ded from
Arona to Milan in accordance with the written
instructions of Sir John Gale (he having changed
his plans, and gone on to ]\Iilan sooner than had
been arranged), had been opened by hira, read
by him, and burned by him in the flame of a
taper in his bedroom, until it was browner and
more shriveled than an autumn leaf.
CHAPTER VII.
A FEW FRIENDS.
Before the receipt of the letter from Italy
Maud had promised to go to Mrs. Lovegrove's
party.
She wished, after she had got tlie letter, to
withdraw her promise. She was anxious, agi-
tated, ill at ease. She dreaded meeting stran-
gers. And although the women of Mr. Love-
grove's family had been kind and civil to her,
they were not people ^vhose society was at all
congenial to her.
She had hitherto had no experience of town
vulgarity. The poor peasants at Shipley were
lougli and ignorant. But that was difierent
from the Cockney gentility which some of the
Lovegroves assumed. The young man, Augus-
tus, was peculiarly distasteful to her, from an in-
stinctive knowledge she had that he admired
herself, and would upon tlie slightest encoui'age-
ment, or, she much feared, without any encour-
agement at all, avow as much in plain terms.
She had yielded to her aunt's urgings, and had
consented to go to Mrs. Lovegrove's party, how-
ever. But now she much desired to avoid doing
so.
"My darling pet!" cried Lady Tallis, when
Maud hinted tliis to her. " Now how can ye
think of disappointing the poor woman? 'Twould
be unkind, dear. And I have had tliat poplin
turned, it looks beautiful by candle-light but
sure I wouldn't think of going without you,
Maud dear."
" Oil yes, Aunt Hilda ! Why not ?"
"Not at all, child. I wouldn't dream of it.
If you are not feeling well, or any thing, we'll
just stay at home the two of us. And I'll send
a little note to Dr. Talbot."
"Dear aunt, I am (piite well. I do not need
any doctors."
"Then why in the world, now, wouldn't ye go
to Mrs. Lovegrove's? I don't like to see you
moping, a young creature like you. You want
rousing a bit. And if you stick" at home like an
old woman I shall be quite uulia]jpy."
After this Maud could no longer resist. She
could not make her aunt understand that the
jiarty at .Mrs. Lovegrove's could not by any pos-
sibility conduce to the raising of her spirits.
" But if I am not feeling gay myself," thought
Maud, "I will not be so sellish as to cast a damp
on poor Aunt Hilda when she is inclined to be
cheerful. It would be cruel to stand in the way
of any of her few enjoyments.''
So the turned poplin was put on ; and Lady
Tallis yielded with some reluctance to the mod-
est suggestion of Mrs. Lockwood, who was invit-
ed to superintend her ladyship's toilet, that a
bow of tartan ribbon at the throat scarcely har-
monized with the pink ribbons in the cap.
"That soft rose-color goes admirably with the
gray poplin. Lady Tallis," said Zillah, quietly.
"But, do you know, I am afraid the tartan bow
will be a little a little too conspicuous?"
"Do you think so?" said my lady, taking it
off with much docility, but with evident disap-
pointment. " Well, to be sure, you have excel-
lent taste. But when I was a girl 1 always used
to be told that tartan went with any tiling. I
remember dancing in a Caledonian quadrille at
Delaney once, the time poor James came of age,
and we had myself and three other girls white
silk dresses, trimmed witli the Koyai Stuart tar-
tan, and every body said they looked lovely."
It took some time to get Lady Tallis dressed ;
for the ill fortune that attended her outer attire
pursued all her garments. Buttons and strings
dro])ped from her clothing like ripe apples from
the tree. She would have riddled her clothes
with pins had not Mrs. Lockwood, neat and dex-
trous, stood by with a needle and thread ready
to repair any damage.
"I think a few stitches are better than pins,"
observed Zillah. "Don't you, my lady?"
"Oh, indeed I do! jNIuch better. But, my
dear soul, I am shocked to give ye tins trouble.
When I think that I had, and ought to have at
this moment, attendants of my own to wait on
me properly, and that 1 am now obliged to tres-
pass on the kindness of my friends, I assure you
I am ready to shed tears. But I won't give way,
and spoil my dear Maud's pleasure. Don't ye
think 1 am right in making her go out and en-
joy herself?"
Despite the truth of Maud's assertions that she
was ill at ease in spirit, and disinclined to go into
the society of strangers, her cuiiosity and at-
tention were aroused by the novelty of all she
saw and heard at Mrs. Lovegrove's.
This was not like a Shipley tea-drinking with
old Mrs. Blew, or a dinuer-jjarty at INIrs. Shear-
down's or Lady Alicia Benwick's.
She desired and wished to sit still and unno-
ticed in a corner, and watch the comjiany. But
to lier dismay, she found it to be Mrs. Love-
grove's intention to draw Iier into notice.
That lady, clad in a stif^' metallic gray silk
gown, drew Maud's arm through her own, and
walked witli her about the drawing-room, into
the small room behind it, and even into the third
room, a tiny closet above Mr. Frost's jnivate of-
fice, where three old gentlemen and one old lady
were playing whist at a green table, and glared
at the intruders fiercely.
" I wish to make you known to the Dobbses,
dearest Miss Desmond," said Mis. liOvcgrove.
"Those are the Misses Dobbs in a])ple-grecn.
I am so grieved tiiat the General and Lady Dobbs
can not be here to-night. Tiiey are charming
people. I know you would be delighted with
them !"
Maud felt inwardly tliankful that the charm-
ing Dobbses were not present. She had no de-
VERONICA.
57
sire to form nc\v acquaintances, and after a time ]
slie complained of fcelin}^ rather tired, and asked
to be allowed to go and sit beside iier atnit.
But when she reached Lady Tallis she found
Mr. Augustus Lovegrove, Junior, seated close to
her ladyship, and talking to her with much vi-
vacity.
Mr. Augustus Lovegi'ove was very tall, and
was awkward in his gait ; and carried his head
hanging backward, so that when he wore a hat
tlie hinder part of the brim rested on the collar
of liis coat ; and sometimes sang comic songs to
his own accompaniment on tlie piano-forte ; and
his friends considered him little inferior to Mr.
John Parry. They allowed, indeed, tliat he had
not "quite Parry's touch on the piano. But
that was only a knack, j-ou know." His mother
called liim an excellent son, and the Puseyite
clergyman of the church he attended pronounced
him a model to all young men. His little bed-
room at the to]) of the house was stuck over with
paltry colored lithographs of saints and illumin-
ated texts in Latin. It was rumored among
his sisters that he possessed a rosary which had
been blessed by the Pope. lie was being brought
up to his father's calling, and Mr. Lovegrove,
who knew what he was talking about, pronounced
that Gussy had a very fair head for business ;
and that he understood that two and two make
four quite as well as most people.
"Here she is!"' exclaimed Mr. Augustus, as
Maud approached. "We were just talking
about you. Miss Desmond my lady and 1."
The intimation was not altogether pleasing to
!Maud. i^he bowed with Tather stiff politeness
and sat down next to her aunt.
"I was just saying to my lady," proceeded
the gallant Augustus, "that their painted hair
lias no chance beside yours. They can't get the
shine, you know." And he slightly nodded his
liead in the direction of the Misses Dobbs's ap-
jile-green skirts, which were disappearing into
tiie second drawing-room.
Maud felt disgusted, and made no reply.
Lady Tallis, however, raised her eyebrows
and inquired with much interest, ' ' Do you, now j
do you think that those young ladies dye their
hair?"
"Not the least doubt of it, ma'am. I've ^
known Polly Dobbs ever since I was a small '
l)oy. And when she was fifteen her hair was as
brown as a beny. They both came back from j
the Continent last year with orange - colored ]
locks. Their mother says it's climate that did
it. It's the kind of ' climate' they sell in the '
Burlington Arcade at seven-and-six per bottle I"
"Really I You don't say so':'" cried I^ady ,
Tallis. not more than half understa:iding him. \
" Well, I know that you can get the waters
almost any foreign spa-waters in stone bottles,
imported. But of course when you talk of cli- ,
mate in bottles you're joking." !
At this moment, greatly to Maud's relief, for
she began to find young Lovegrove intolerable,
a duet for harp and piano was commenced ; and
there was enforced silence among the company.
The players were Miss Lovegrove and Miss I
Lucy Lovegrove. Miss Phoebe Lovegrove turned
over the music for her sister at the harp ; and
Miss Dora Lovegrove did the same tiling for tlie
pianist. The piece was very long and not par-
ticularly well executed. But Maud was sorry
when it came to a close, for while it continued
she could remain quiet and look about her un-
molested.
Her eyes were attracted in spite of herself to a
magnificently beautiful woman sitting in a non-
chalantly graceful posture on a sofa on the op-
posite side of the room. She looked so differ-
ent from all the other j)ersons present, and seem-
ed to regard them with such calm contempt,
that Maud found herself wondering who she
could be : how she came there ; and above all,
wliy, having come, she should be uncivil enough
to allow her face to express boredom so undis-
guisedly.
No sooner had the duet come to a close than
this beautiful lady rose, took the arm of a gen-
tleman, and came across the drawing-room to
where Lady Tallis and IMaud were sitting.
The lady and gentleman were Mrs. and ]Mr.
Frost. The latter bowed profoundly to Lady
Tallis, and begged permission to present his wife
to her.
"Most happy ! delighted!" said Lady Tal-
lis, holding out her hand, f^he had seen i\Ir.
Frost in Gow'er Street very often.
There was no difficulty in making my lady's
acquaintance. She began to chat directly with
as much familiarity as though the Frosts had
been known to her all her life.
Mrs. Frost appraised her ladyship's attire w ith
a glance, of whose meaning Lady Tallis was hap-
pily unconscious.
ilr. Frost furtively watched IMaud, and at
length, during one of the rare pauses in Lady
Tallis's flow of talk, said, hesitatingly, "Your
niece, is it not ?"
"Indeed and in truth she is my niece, ]Mr.
Frost, and a great blessing and comfort it is to
have her with me ! 3Iaud, my darling, this is
Mrs. Frost. Mr. Frost, Miss Desmond."
Mr. Frost sat down beside the young lady
and began to talk to her. He perceived at once
that she was very difl'erent in every respect from
her aunt. It was quite impossible to jump into
terms of familiarity with Maud Desmond.
" You have been ill, I was sorry to learn,"
said Mr. Frost.
" I was a little ill : very slightly. I am quite
well now, thank you."
"Perhaps London does not altogether agree
with you. You have been used to a country
life, have you not ?"
"I have lived nearly always in the country;
but I am very well in London now."
"You ai-e living in the house of a very old
friend of mine, I\Irs. Lock wood."
The change in Maud's face from apathy to in-
terest when he uttered the name was not lost
upon ilr. Frost.
" You are an old friend of Mrs. Lockwood's ?"
repeated Maiid, smiling. ^
"A very old friend. I knew her husband
before he was married. I have known Hugh
ever since he was bom. He is a right good fel-
low."
"Oh yes."
" But his mother is a little disturbed about
him at present. He has taken an obstinate fit
into his head, and wants to set up as an archi-
tect on his own account, instead of remaining
longer in Digby and West's offices. Perhaps
vou have heard ?''
-,8
VERONICA.
"Yes; I heard something of it from Mrs.
Lockwood ; and from my friends, Captain and
IVIrs. Sheardown."
"Ah, exactly.''
"Captain .Sheardown seemed to think that
Jlr. Lockwood was justified in his plan."
"I have no doubt that Captain Sheardown is
an excellent gentleman."
" He is very good and very sensible."
"No doubt. Still, on this point his opinion
is scarcely the most valuable that could be had.
I am going to Italy myself in a very short time
You are looking pale. Is the heat of the room
too much for you ?"
"No. thank you. Yes I am rather oppress-
ed by it. You were saying "
"That I am going to Italy on business which,
if carried out successfully, would enable me to
throw an excellent thing in Hugh Lockwood's
way. It might keep him abroad for a year or
two, but that would be no disadvantage ; on the
contrary, if we can only persuade Hugh not to
be in a hurry to assume responsibilities on his
own account "
"The carriage must be here by this time, Sid-
ney," said i\Irs. Frost, rising and touching her
husband s shoulder. " Do inquire ! "
"Not going yet, surely I" exclaimed ilrs.
Lovegrove, with stern distinctness. "A^o go-
ing before partaking of our humble refresh-
ments?"
"Oh, tliank you very mucli," returned Jlrs.
Frost, " but I really couldn't eat any thing. AVe
rushed away from dinner in order to get here
before it was all over. Your hours are so virtu-
ously early !"
It was perhaps strange that Mrs. Lovegrove
should feel otTended at being told that she kept
virtuously early hours. But the fact was that
she did so feel.
"I saw," said the hostess, "that you had
scraped acquaintance with my friend Lady Tal-
lis Gale. I would have presented you to her,
but the fact is, she does not iiarticularly care for
making acquaintance out of lier own set."
"Oh, that talkative elderly lady in the turned
gown ? Yes ; Sidney presented me to her.
What an odd person !"
" In lier ])eculiar and painful position," pur-
sued Mrs. Lo\egrove, loftily, "Mr. Lovegrove
does not feel justified in intruding strangers on
her acquaintance."
"What's the matter with her? Is .she not
quite right in her head?" asked Mrs. Frost,
slightly toucliingher own forehead as she spoke.
This was too much for Mrs. Lovegi'ove. She
had felt that she was getting the worst of it
throughout ; for she was i)iqned, and Mrs. Frost
was genuinely cool and unconcerned.
"I don't understand you, Mrs. Frost," said
Mrs. Lovegrove, "nor can I conjecture why
you should wish to to insult my friends."
"Oh dear me, I assure you I hadn't the least
iilea of insulting tlie poor woman, ''rejoined Mrs.
Frost, iinperturbabiy. " It would be her mis-
fortune, not her fault, you know, after all ! But
you said something yourself about her peculiar
and painful position."
Mrs. Lovegrove faced round solemnly. "I
did so, Mrs. Frost," she saiil. "And poor dear
LadyTallis's position is indeed a .sad one. Her
husband a man of enormous wealth, but of so
profligate a character that I shudder to breathe
his name in the same atmosphere where my
daughters are her husband," continued ISIrs.
Lovegrove, reaching a climax of impressiveness,
and lowering her voice almost to a whisper,
" has gone off and deserted her .'"
"Eeally? Very shockingi But," added
Mrs. Frost, ' ' do you know, I think not, on the
whole, very surprising !"'
That night, in the seclusion of their chamber,
Mrs. Lovegrove informed her husband that,
come what miglit, she would never, on any con-
sideration, invite "that woman" so she desig-
nated jMrs. Frost inside her doors again.
"Pooh, Sarah!" said IMr. Lovegrove, "wliy
not?"
" 'WTiy not, Augustus? I wonder that you
can ask! Her insolence and airs are beyond
bearing. And did you see her gown ?''
"A black gown, wasn't it? It looked very
neat, I thought."
"Very neat! If three guineas a yard paid
for that lace it was trimmed with I will under-
take to eat it. That is all, Augustus !"
But yet that proved to be not quite all. And
Mr. Lovegrove had to listen to a long cata-
logue of Mrs. Frost's misdemeanors until he fell
asleep.
Mrs. Frost, on her side, declared that she had
been bored to death; that she had never seen
any thing like the collection of creatures Mrs.
Lovegrove had gathered together ; that they had
stared at her (Mrs. Frost) as though she were a
savage ; and, finally, she asked her husband what
good had been done by her going there at all,
seeing that that absurd woman, Mrs. Lovegrove,
had chosen to take oft'ense, and walk away from
her in a huft'!
"No good at all, Georgina, certainly, unless
you had chosen to beliave with civility, when you
knew how I had begged you to do so."
"Really, I was ])erfeetly civil. But Mrs.
Lovegrove tried to quarrel with me because I
was not overwhelmed by the honor and glory
of being introduced to that ridiculous old Irish-
woman."
"Lady Tallis's niece is, at all events, a very
charming creature."
" The golden-haired girl in white ? Well
y yes, perhaps ; I did not sy)eak to her. Cer-
tainly she did look difl'erent from the rest of the
menagerie. Those apple-green creatures! Ugh!
They set one's teeth on edge ! "
" You must call on Lady Tallis, Georgina. I
want you to invite the girl, and take her into so-
ciety a little."
"I? Thanks! I really can not undertake
to chaperon all your clients' daughters and
nieces and cousins, and Heaven knows who be-
sides."
" Lady Tallis Gale is no client of mine."
"Why do you trouble yourself about her,
then?"
" Georgy, listen : this is a case in which your
woman's tiict might help me, if you would em-
ploy it on my behalf. Tiiere is some foolish love-
making going on between Hugh Lockwood antl
this Miss Desmond. The girl is difierent from
what I expected, ^'.e is very attractive. Now,
it is very undesirable that young Lockwood
should entangle himself in an engagement just
now. "
VERONICA.
59
" Very undesiratile for wliom ?" asked Mrs.
Frost, yawning behind her fan.
"For for his niotiier."
"Really? Well, I should suppose that very
trenchant little person with tlie prominent jaw
was able to manage her own business. I am
sorry I can not get up any vital interest in the
case. But you know Mrs. Lockwood is not a
dear old friend of mine!"
Mrs. Frost liad for a brief time been really a
little jealous of Zillah. And she still atfected
to be so whenever it suited her, although she felt
tolerably certain that whatever were the strong
tie of intimacy between her husband and Mrs.
Lockwood, there was no echo in it of an old
love-story.
"Suppose I tell you, Georgina," said Mr.
Frost, suppressing tlie hot words of anger which
rose to his lips, "that it would be undesirable
for me that Hugh Lockwood should engage him-
self at present. "
"What in the world can it matter to you, Sid-
ney ?'
'There are business complications in the af-
fair," said Mr. Frost, slowly. "But so long as
these young folks are living in the same house
and meeting daily, and so long as the young
lady is mewed up there without any otiier so-
ciety, it is in the course of nature that she should
be disposed to fancy herself in love with Hugh.
As to him, I am not surprised. The girl is fall
of sense and sweetness, and is a thorough gentle-
woman. But Hugh ought to marry some one
with a few thousands of her own. Miss Des-
mond is very poor. Now, if you would give her
some pleasant society, and let her see something
of the world, there would be less fear of Hugh
and her making ipols of themselves."
' ' Why don"t you tell all that to Lady What's-
her-name?"' asked IMrs. Frost, leaning back in
the carriage with closed eyes. ' ' She is the prop-
er person to look after her niece."
" I tell it to you because I choose that you
shall obey me!" thundered Mr. Frost, furiously.
" It is not enough that you drive me half wild
by your extravagance ; that you have neither
common gratitude nor common consideration
for your husband ; but you tlnvart nie at every
turn. You deliberately put yourself in opposi-
tion to every plan or wish of mine. You dis-
gust by your arrogance the peo]jle whom it is
my special interest to be on good terms with ;
and you seek the company of fashionable fools
who teach you to squander my money and de-
spise my friends. Take care, ( jeorgina ! I warn
you to take care ! There are limits to even my
indulgence."
Mr. Frost had uttered the last words in his
heat, after the carriage had drawn up at his own
door. And the words had been heard by the
servant who opened it.
Mrs. Frost was mortified. She even shed a
few tears. But her husband's wrath was flam-
ing too high to be extinguished by a few tears
at that moment.
"That is all I get," said Mrs. Frost to her-
self, as her maid was brushing out her hair, "for
consenting to go near that odious Bedford Square
set at all ! I was a fool to consent. I don't be-
lieve a word about its being important to Sidney
whether Hugh Lockwood marries a princess or a
pauper. It is merely to carry out some scheme
of that artful little creature Mrs. Lockwood. But
she shall lind that whatever her iniiuence over
my husband may be, she can not make me au
accomplice in her ])lots. '
CHAPTER VIIL
HUGH WILL NOT KE AMBITIOUS.
About the middle of June Mr. Frost departed
for Italy. He was only to be away a fortnight
at first. He would then return to London ; and,
if all went well, would go back to Naples in the
autumn.
He had been to Gower Street several times be-
fore leaving England. He had spoken to Hugh
about his prospects, and had said tliat if matters
succeeded with the company who were employ-
ing him he should be able to offer Hugh a splen-
did chance of distinguisliing himself.
" But," said Hugli, " this great company will
have a great architect of their own. There will
be subordinates, of course, to do the drudgery,
and the big man will get the credit. I do not
say that that is unfair. Big men have to earn
their bigness, mostly, and I am the last fellow in
the world to grudge them what they've earned.
Besides, I do not want to be wandering about
the Continent. I have sened my a])prenticesliip
and learned my trade, and now I want to try to
make a home for myself and a place in the world.
I am not ambitious "
"A man ought to be ambitious," said Jlr.
Frost.
"There might be a good deal to be said on
that subject. But at all events, a man ought not
to say he is ambitious if he isn't."
His mother and Mr. Frost succeeded, however,
in persuading Hugh to remain some months lon-
ger in his present position. He was engaged by
Digby and West at a weekly salary, and no per-
manent arrangement had j-et been come to. He
would let things go on as they were for a while.
Zillah had gained a reprieve, but her anxieties
remained active. At the best, she had trouble
before her. If all went well, and her money
Hugh's money were restored by the end of the
year, it would still devolve on her to give her son
some explanation as to this accession of fortune.
Her son's love and respect were very precious
to her : even as her husband's had been. She
knew that Hugh inherited his father's stem ha-
tred of deception. What would he say when he
knew that his mother had concealed so import-
ant a matter and one which he surely had a
right to be made acquainted w'ith all these
years? And if he asked her, " \Iother, it-hi/
have you done this?" how should she answer
him?
She was a woman of acute and observant in-
telligence in most cases. In all that concerned
her only son she was, of course, peculiarly quick
to see and to understand. She knew that Hugh
had fallen in love, and that his love was not the
light, boyish foncy that Mr. Frost had tried to
persuade her it would prove to be. Hugh had
said no word to her on the subject, but ere
needed no word to convince her that she was
right. And she liked Maud. She did not love
her. She was not clingingly affectionate by na-
ture, and all the love in her heart was absorbed
60
VERONICA.
by her son. But she had a kindly regard for the
girl, ir-lie admired and approved her. She was
not grudging or unjust because this stranger with
the deep blue eyes and golden hair had become
paramount in Hugh's thoughts. She knew him
to be steadfast and true ; and she was well as-
sured that neither lover nor wife would push her-
self from her due place in her son's love and re-
spect. But as she watched Hugh's growing love
for jNIaud, the thought of falling from her own
high honorable place in his i-egard became more
and more painful and intolerable to her. Hugh
had implicit faith in his mother's purity and
goodness. She was his high model of woman-
hood ; and he had often said to her, "I only
hope my wife may be as good as my mother ! I
can't wish for any thing better." But could he
still say so when he knew ?
There was a little human jealousy within her
breast which made her feel that to humble her-
self now before Hugh, and say to him, "]\Iy
son, I have sinned. Forgive me!" would be to
3'ield to that other woman whom he loved a too
absolute supremacy ; to abdicate in her favor the
sole pride and glory of her life. She did not hate
Maud for stealing Hugh's heart. Tiie wife would
be nearest and dearest ; that she was resigned,
if not content, to bear. She would still be his
honored mother. But she thought she would
come to hate Maud if Hugh ever were to dimin-
ish by one iota his tribute of filial reverence.
And all this time Maud knew no more of the
])Osition she occupied in tlie thoughts of the mo-
ther and son than we any of us know of the place
we hold in each other's minds.
After the party at ]\Ir. Lovegrove's Maud had
seriously begged her aunt not to take her out to
any similar gathering again.
" I would not say this, dear Aunt Hilda," said
Maud, " if I thought that i/ou derived any grati-
fication from the society of those people. But I
Avatched you the other night, and I saw, I fan-
cied, that you looked very weary and uninterested."
" Not uninterested as long as my pet was
there. I like to see ye admired, IMaud."
" Admired I Dear Aunt Hilda "
" Well I know, I grant ye that tlie folks there
were not of the class 3'ou ought to associate with.
And if I were but in my rightful and proper posi-
tion, what a delight it would be for me to j)resent
ye to the world you were born to live in ! But as
to presenting, my dear cliild, sure how would I
go to court in a street cab? and living in (jower
Street! I don't say any thing against it, and
some of the old family mansions are in drearier
places ; but. after all, yon know, there would lie
a degree of incongruity about attempting to en-
tertain, or any thing of that sort, in a lodging of
this kind ; and ye know, Maud, /le barely allows
me enough for the necessaries of life as it is.
Some women would run him into debt. But I
couldn't bring myself to do that barring abso-
lute necessity : not to mention that I'd have to
hear all the l)tdlying and annoyance, seeing that
he's safe and comfortable away beyond seas!"
Maud endeavored to ]icrsua(le her aunt that it
was no feeling of jiride which rendered her nn-
wiihig to go to the Lovegroves. She disclaimed
such a sentiment with much warmth. jS'o ; it
was simply that the people she met there were
imcongenial to her. That might be jiartly her
own fault, but the fact remained so.
Maud did not say that the anxiety of suspense
about Veronica made it irksome to her to see
strangers. It was a subject that could not be
mentioned between her aunt and herself But
as the weeks wore on, and no answer came to
her letter, her heart sank. She had scarcely
been aware how strong a hope had sprung up
within her on the receipt of Veronica's letter,
until she began to measure the depth of her dis-
appointment as the time rolled by and brought
no further communication.
In the old days at Shipley IMaud would have
enjoyed the oddity and newness of the society she
had met at the Lovegroves'. But now such en-
joyment was impossible to her. She was con-
scious of nervously shrinking from a new face,
of nervously dreading a chance word which might
touch on the still recent shame and sorrow that
had befallen them all, as a wounded person starts
away from the approach of even the gentlest
hand, lest it should lay itself unawares upon his
hurt.
INIr. Frost's sudden mention of his proposed
journey to Italy had disturbed her for this rea-
son ; tliough she told herself how absurd and
weak it was to be so disturbed. Hundreds of
people went to Italy, of course; many even of
the few people she knew were likely enough to
do so. But in the frequent silent direction of
her thoughts toward \'eronica she had gro^vn
to associate her entirely with the word " Jtaly,"
as though that country held but one figure for
all men's observation !
The question persistently presented itself to
her mind : Did Mr. Frost know the story of
"S^eronica? Was he aware who the man was
with whom she had fled ?
Something a little forced and unnatural in Mr.
Frost's manner of iniioducing the subject of his
a])proaching journey had struck her. AMiy should
he have selected her to speak to respecting Hugh
Lockwood's prospects ? Had he had any jjurpose
in his mind of sounding her respecting her feel-
ing toward Veronica, and had he chosen this ex-
cuse for giving her the information that he was
bound for Italy ?
The impossibility of discussing this matter
with her aunt, and il. necessity she was under
of shutting herself up from the consolation of
symjjathy or companionship regarding it, made
her morbidly sensitive. She bi'ooded and tor-
mented herself.
At last she took a resolution : she would
speak to Mrs. Lockwood. That the latter had
learned the whole story from her Aunt Hilda,
she was well convinced. But even were that not
so, Mrs. Lockwood would have heard it all from
Hugh. ]\Ir. Frost was the Lockwoods' old and
intimate friend. JIaud resolved to speak to Mrs.
Lockwood. One afternoon after their early din-
ner she stole down stairs, leaving Lady Tallis
asleep according to custom. Her tap at the par-
lor door was answered by Mrs. Lockwood's soft
voice, saying, "Come in ;" and she entered.
Mrs. Lockwood sat at the table, with an ac-
count-book before her. She looked, IMaud
thought, old and harassed.
"Do I disturb you, Mrs. Lockwood ? Please
say so, if I do ; and I will take another oppor-
tunity "
"You don't disturb me in the least, my dear
Miss Desmond. I have just finished my ac-
VERONICA.
Gl
counts for the month. Do sit down and tell me
what 1 can do tor you. There is nothing the
matter with my lady?" she added, hastily, look-
ing at Maud's tace.
"Nothing, nothing. Do not let me startle
you. I wanted to take the liberty of speaking
to you in conlidence may I ?"
Mrs. Lockwood took oft" the spectacles she
was wearing, passed her hands over her fore-
head and eyes, and answered, quietly, "Pray
speak."
Iler manner was not tender nor encouraging,
nor even very cordial ; but it nerved Maud bet-
ter than a too great .show of feeling would have
done. In a few words she told JNIrs. Lockwood
what Mr. Frost had said to her at the Love-
groves' about his journey to Italy, and so forth.
"Now what I wanted to ask you was this,"
said Maud: "You know Mr. Frost well, and I
do not ; do 3"0u sujipose he had any special mo-
tive in saying all tliis to me, a total stranger ?"
"Any special motive?" repeated Mrs. Lock-
wood, reddening, and looking, fur her, singular-
ly embarrassed.
" I mean what I mean is this, Mrs. Lock-
wood : the story of the great sorrow and afflic-
tion that has befallen the home that was my
home from the time I was a little child until the
orher day, is known to you. 1 am afraid that
is, no doubt it is known to man}', many other
people. Is Mr. Frost one of those who know it ?
And did he mean to learn any thing or tell any
thing about Veronica when he spoke to me of
going to Italy ?"
" Oh !" said I\Irs. Lockwood, drawing a long
breath and then covering her mouth with one
white, delicate hand. "You were not thinking
of yourself, then, Miss Desmond ?"
"Of myself? What could Mr. Frost's jdans
be to me, or why should he care that I should
know them?"
" It waj of Hugh he spoke, I thought."
" Ah, yes ; but incidentally almost. He spoke
to me as of something that it concerned vie to
know I I think of Veronica so constantly, and
I am obliged to lock my thoughts up from Aunt
Hilda so jealously, that perhaps I grow morbid.
But I thought you would forgive my speaking to
you."
"As to I\Ir. Frost, I can answer you in two
words. He knows from the Lovegroves that
you have left Mr. Levincourt's house because his
daughter ran away under particularly painful cir-
cumstances. But if your aunt has been dis-
creet" (it was a large "if," and Zillah plainly
showed that she knew it was so), "neither tiie
Lovegroves nor Mr. Frost know the name of tlie
man she ran away with. It has been a subject
of gossip, truly, but not in the circles of society
where the Lovegroves move. Sir John Gale has
lived so long out of England that he is almost
forgotten."
"Thank you, IMrs. Lockwood," said Maud,
absently.
"I infer from what you say that you have
some reason to believe that j'our guardian's
daughter is at present in Italy ?"
"Oh yes, I forgot that you did not know.
I I had a letter from her."
Mrs. Lockwood raised her eyebrows and look-
ed at Maud aitentively.
"I know I can trust you not to mention this
to my aunt. You understand how impossible it
is for me to speak of Veronica to her. Aunt
Hilda is kind and gentle, and yet, on that sub-
ject, she speaks with a harshness that is very
painful to me."
" Lady Tallis has been infamously treated."
"You must understand, if you please, JMrs.
Lockwood, that I have told Mr. Levincourt of
my letter. It is only a secret from Aunt Hilda."
"You were very fond of this young lady?"
said Zillah, with her eyes observantly iixed on
Maud's changing face.
"Yes," answered Maud. Then the tears
gathered to her eyes, and for the moment she
could say no more.
"Your fondness has not been destroyed by
this miserable business?" pursued Zillah.
Maud silently shook her head, and the tears
fell faster.
" Would you see her and speak to her again if
3'ou could? Would you hold out your hand to her?"
Mrs. Lockwood, as she spoke, kept her mouth
concealed beneath her hand, and her eyes on
Maud's face.
Maud was aware of a certain constraint in the
elder woman's tone, t^he thought it sounded
disapproving, almost stern.
"Oh, Mrs. Lockwood," she cried, in much
agitation, "do not judge her too hardly! You
have such a lofty standard of duty ; your son has
told me how excellent j'our life has been ; he is
so proud of you. But do not be too hard on her.
If the good have no" pity for her, what will be-
come of her? I do not defend her. She failed
in her duty toward her father , but she has been
most baselv and cruelly deceived, I am sure of
it!"
" Deceived by her great love and faith in this
man ?" said Zillah, unwaveringly preserving the
same look and attitude.
Maud grew very jjale, and drooped her head.
"_She she trusted him," she murmured.
Zillah removed her hand from her mouth, and.
Clasping both hands, rested them on the talde
before her. When her mouth was no longer
concealed, she cast her eyes down, and ceased to
look at Maud while she spoke.
"See now. Miss Desmond," said she, in her
soft voice, "how unequally justice is meted out
in this world ! Once I knew a girl little more
than a child in years very ignorant, very un-
protected, and very confiding. She was not a
handsome, haughty young lady, living in a re-
spectable home. This girl's associates were all
low, vile people. She was not b}" nature vicious
or wicked, but she loved with her whole child-
ish, inexperienced heart, and she fell. She was
' most basely and cruelly deceived' I quote your
words. It was neither vanity nor vainglory that
led her astray nothing but simple, blind, mis-
placed affection. Well, nobody pitied her, no-
body cared for her, nobody helped her. If you,
or any delicately nurtured young lady like you,
had met her in the street, you would have drawn
your garments away from the contamination of
her touch."
" No, no, no ! Indeed you wrong me ! If I
had known her story I should have pitied her
from the bottom of my heart. "
Zillah proceeded without heeding the inter-
ruption. "And all her sufferings they were
acute I knew her very well could not atone.
62
VERONICA.
Her fcinlt (I u?e the word for want of a better.
Where fault lay, God knows perliaps He
cares !) "
"Oh, Mrs. LockwoodI"
"Do I shock you ? That gu-l's fault pursued
her through life still pursues her "
"Is she alive?"
"Alive? No; I think she is dead, that girl.
Her ghost walks sometimes. But another wo-
man, in some respects a very different woman,
inherits her legacy of trouble and sliame and sor-
row. That seems hard. But if yon tell me
that all life is hard ; that we are blind to what is
our bane or what our good, or utter any other
fatalist doctrine, I can understand the reason
and sequence of it. But when you preach to me
that 'Conduct makes f^xte,' that we reap as we
sow, and so forth, I point to these two cases.
The one an innocent yes, an innocent child ;
the other a well-educated, proud, beautiful, be-
loved young woman. The loving-hearted child
is crushed and tortured and forsaken. The
forgive me, but I speak what you know to be
true the selfish, vain, arrogant, ambitious lady
commits the same sin against the world, and is
rich, petted, and pampered. The rougli ])laces
are made smooth for her feet. I'eojile cry ' How
sad I A lady ! The daughter of a clergyman !'
Her friends hold out their hands to take her back.
Even you a pure, fresh, young creature like
you are ready to mourn over her, and to forgive
and caress her with angelic sweetness and pity."
Maud could not help perceiving that ]\Irs.
Lockwood was mentally visiting on Veronica the
hard usage of the poor betrayed young girl she
had sjjoken of It seemed as though in propor-
tion to the pity tliat she felt for that young girl,
slie grudged every pitying word that was bestow-
ed on Veronica. Maud felt it very strange that
it should be so ; and she had almost a sense of
guilt herself for having become aware of it. But
her intellect was too clear for self-delusion, and,
albeit most unwillingly, she could not but under-
stand the spirit of Mrs. Lockwood's words, and
be repulsed by it.
" I think " said Maud, gentl}-, and turning
her pale face full on Mrs. Lockwood: "I am
young and inexperienced, I know, but I do
think that having loved one suffering person
very much should make us tender to other suf-
ferers."
" Sufferers !" repeated Mrs. Lockwood, with a
cold contempt, and closed her mouth rigidly when
she had spoken.
"Yes," answered I\Iaud, fii-mly. The color
rose very faintly in her cheek, and her blue eyes
shone. "Sly unhappy friend is a sufferer. Not
the less a sufferer because there is truth in some
of the words you have applied to her. Pride and
ambition do not soften such a fall as hers."
Again JMaud could not help perceiving that
]Mrs. Lockwood was balancing Veronica's fine
against the fate of the betrayed young girl ; and
that she derived a strange satisfaction from the
suggestion that Veronica's haughty spirit could
be tortured b}^ humiliation.
" There would be a grain of something like
justice in that," said Zillah, under her breath.
Maud withdrev/ with a pained feeling. Her
mind had at first been relieved by the mere fact
of uttering the name of one who dwelt so con-
stantly in her thoughts. But Mrs. Lockwood's
manner had so repulsed her that she inwardly
resolved never again to approach the subject of
Veronica's fate in speaking to her. But to her
surprise tlie tojjic seemed to have a mysterious
attraction for Mrs. Lockwood. Whenever she
found herself alone with Maud she was sure,
sooner or later, to come round to it.
Once she said, after a long pause of silence,
during which her fingers were busied with nee-
dle-work and her eyes cast down on it, " If that
])oor young girl she is dead now, you know
could have had a friend like you, Miss Desmond,
years and years ago, it might have gone differ-
ently witli lier. It would have given her courage
to know that such a pure-hearted woman pitied
rather tlian blamed her."
"I should think all honest hearts must be
filled with compassion at her story," answered
Maud, in a low voice.
" Do you think a man's heart would be? Do
von think that, for instance, mv mv son's would
be?"
" Surely ! Can you doubt it ?"
"Boor girl! !She was so ignorant of the
world ! Slie knew there was a great gulf be-
tween her and such as yon are. 8he had never
lived with good people. They were as distant
from iier as tlie inhabitants of the moon might
be. If she had had a friend like you, IMiss Des-
mond, that poor girl who is dead, it would have
given her courage, and it might have gone difl'er-
ently with her."
BOOK III.
CHAPTER L
THE RO.VD THAT LED NOWHITHER.
Vert near to Florence is the valley of the
Ema.
Tlie Ema is a small stream which strikingly
contradicts the proverb, " As you make your
bed, so you must lie on it," the bed the Ema
has formed for itself being a valley a mile or so
broad in some ])laces, reckoning from hill to
hill; and tlie little river trickliug through it,
nowadays, m a disproportionately small chan-
nel, which may be (and is in more than one
part of its course) spanned by a bridge of a
single small arch. The ridge of hills dividing
the valley of the Ema from that of the Arno is
well known by sight to most of the many stran-
gers who go to Elorence. Few casual visitors,
however, cross the ridge. The landscape seen
from its summit is peculiarly Tuscan, and to the
unaccustomed eye there is something drear and
melancholy mingling with its bcatity. After a
time that impression is much softened. The
peculiar delicacy of coloring ; the long vistas of
hills that fold like clouds one over tlie other, and
present nearly as much variety of outlin^ as the
I
A^EKOXICA.
C3
cIoikIs themselves ; the countless towers, villas,
nnil churclies that lie scattered over the scene,
and peep forth from amidst the hoary olive-
trees, combine to charm the sight.
\Vc come to learn the loveliness, as we learn
the expression of a face whose stranger aspect
was so dirterent from its known and familiar
one that the recollection of our first impression
startles ns.
The great enchantment of this Tuscan land-
scape lies in the atmosphere through which it is
viewed. The wonderful lights and shades, the
exquisite tints, the limpid clearness of the skies,
are inestimable in their effect upon the scenery.
In a winter afternoon at sunset, the bare, dis-
tant Apennines are touched with such ethereal
hues such lilacs, silvery -grays, blues, and rose-
colors that they look like mother-of-pearl
mountains in some fairy story. Not Hope her-
self can more delusively beautify the barren dis-
tance than does this southern air.
Then, as the sun goes down, and the brief
twilight deepens, there grows a. solemn purple
on the hills a color that seems, in its intense
bloomy depth, to fold around them like a cloud-
garment. It is not that the hills grow purple,
but that the great purple descends and wraps
itself about the hills. Or, in the early summer
days, what a fathomless ocean of dazzling blue
is it that the swallows sail across ! Bright, rapid,
gladsome little skiffs upon that silent sea ! Every
projecting stone in the cottages is precious, cast-
ing as it does an island of black shadow on the
glare of wall or road. The springing wheat is
almost too emerald-bright to be gazed upon.
Beside the burned brown tower on the hill
stand the strong cypresses, writing dark char-
acters against the shimmering sky hieroglyj)h-
ics which different eyes so differently interpret,
and which to some remain dumb and unread
forever.
It is June. Through the vale of Ema ripples
the shrunken river among the parched, thirsty
sand. Here and there comes a stretch that
seems to have absorbed the little stream. You
can cross it dry-shod. But, lo ! some furlongs
off", it purls and gurgles once more amidst the
reeds. The frogs keep up an incessant ciy,
tremulous and guttural ; and now and then one
of them plashes luxuriously into the cool water
beneath the shadow of the bank. The cicala,
in his bronze coat of mail, sends forth a shrill
sound, like the springing of an infinitely tiny
rattle made of the finest steel. It seems to be
to the ear what the hot quivering of the air is
to the eye, and to be equally suggestive of sun-
shine. Swarms of colored butterflies flutter
brightly around. Orange, crimson, blue, white,
purple, yellow ; if a rainbow could fall from the
sky, and be scattered into a thousand fragments
as it fell, it could shower down no bright tint
these winged flowers would fail to match.
On the dry, dustj-, crumbling paths that climb
the hills bounding the valleys the light beats
fiercel}'. The grass is parched, and sparsely
grown, and dry. Here and there glitters a bunch
of glaring yellow Aveeds, made bold and flaunt-
ing by the munificent sun, like a coarse favorite
of fortune. Little cold bright-eyed lizards glide
in and out of the chinks in the rough stone-walls
that flank the main roads. Some of the lizards
are as green as emeralds. Others, again, are of
the same hue as the brownest of the blocks df
stone. Sometimes they will remain as motion-
less as the stone itself, gazing with their round,
unwinking, black diamonds of eyes, until the
passer-by might tliink that they were hardened
and baked stiff and stony by the heat. But sud-
denly, at some sound or sight wiucli startles it
or, it ma}' be, from pure caprice the little reji-
tile flits away as swift and noiseless as a flash of
light, and is gone.
Over the top of the wajl tumbles a laden branch
of roses or the starry clematis. The wheat is
high, and the green vines, full of leaf, hang rich-
ly on the pollard mulberry-stems. The gray
olive stands up to his middle in a sea of grain.
The corn and wine and oil all grow together on
the same fertile field. Every thing is steeped in
sunlight. Only the olive's silvery foliage con-
veys a thought of coolness. It is always a moon-
Ihjht tree. In the sultriest summer noontide its
soft gray tint, and the fantastic weirdness of its
shadowy form (especially in the older trees,
which have been scooped and cut until nothing
but a seemingly unsubstantial shell of trunk re-
mains to them), and the trembling, feathery
plume of branches recall the cold bright pallor
of the moon, that makes the shuddering flowers
so wan and bloomless when the night breeze
ruflfles their dewy breasts.
Drought and a sultry silence, which the cicala's
cry seems but to emi)iiasize, not break, prevail
along the dusty road, as we wander along the
Ema"s course, further and still further away
from the fair city of Florence, going eastward.
Presently, with many a laboring creak and jar,
comes lumbering by a clumsy country cart,
^Irawn by two of the colossal, dove-colored Tus-
can oxen. The driver or he who should be
driving, rather lies asleep under a shady awn-
ing of matting at the bottom of his rude vehicle.
The cart is one which might have been copied
inch for inch from a Boman bass-relief, and lias
been copied through a long series of models from
the cart that bore home the produce of the teem-
ing Italian soil in Horace's day. The docile
heavy beasts that draw it turn their grand dark
eyes askance upon the passenger as they meet
him, and blow a fragrant breath from moist,
am])le nostrils.
Eollowing the windings of the road, which now
runs for a short space on the level, close to the
Ema, we come to a steep ascent on the right,
leading up to the summit of one of the highest
eminences overlooking the valley. Instead of
sloping gently down toward the river, as most
of the neighboring hills do, th.is one terminates
on the side of the Ema in an abrupt precipice.
The steep ascent before mentioned leaves the
main highway to climb this height. The road
is narrow, strewn thickly with great smooth peb-
bles, like the bed of a torrent, and only kept
from crumbling bodily down into the valley in
summer, or being washed away by the rain in
winter, by horizontal lines of rough stone pav-
ing, placed like the rungs of a ladder, which suc-
ceed each other at wide intervals, and afford a
foothold to any laden mule that may be driven
up or down. To wheels the road is quite inac-
cessible. Arrived on the summit, it turns abrupt-
ly to the left between high stone-walls, within
which the soil is so much higher than the road
a common circumstance in Tuscan farms that
64
VERONICA.
thi corn and ^^'ild flowers peep over the top
uf the wall, and the olives and frnit trees rear
nearly their whole height above it. The walls
and the foliage shut out all glimpse of the view
to right or left ; but presently we coine to an
open space, a little piazzetta, and the wide land-
scape bursts upon us. It is so bright and airy
and unexpected tliat we feel as though we had
come out of a dark room into the daylight. We
are on the topmost ridge of a line of hills that
slope down on either han^ this way toward the
Ema, that way toward the Arno.
Close, here in the fore-ground, is a tiny church
with a low campanile, or bell-tower, on its roof.
It is the church of Saint John in Jerusalem.
"But the neighboring peasants know it by no
other name than ISan Gersole, that being tlie
l)opular contraction of the ten syllables neces-
sary to tlie pronunciation of San Giovanni in
Jerusalemme. In front of the church lies the
little piazzetta, bounded on the side opposite to
tlie church-door by a low parapet wall, and en-
tirely surrounded by huge cypresses. Beyond
this parapet what a dream of purple hills, veiled
slightly here and there by a silvery gauze of liot
mist ! What a widening plain, e\er widening
toward the sea, that is green near at hand, and
tlien in the distance bluish -gray, and holds
Arno, sleepily flowing on his course, brighten-
ing it with rare gleams reflected from the sky !
What a vision of a city, whose house-roofs seem
to press and throng like a holiday crowd, and
of an awful dome, and soaring towers and spires,
and churclies and palaces, and old arclied gate-
ways, showing burned and brown as colossal frag-
ments of Etruscan pottery ! What a dazzling
speck of whiteness on the far horizon, that looks
like a wandering cloud, but is the jagged line
of the Carrara marble mountains many a mile
away! What a strange melancholy charm as
tlie eye explores the naked Apennine, discrown-
ed long ages of his ricli regal wreath of woods,
rearing parclied and crumbling heights to the
relentless sun, and with black gashes of shadow
where a deep ravine winds its mysterious way
into the central strong-hold of the hills ! What
a waveless sea of azure air, into whose limpid
depths the very soul seems to plunge an,d float
as we gaze! And subtly steeping all this in a
flood of glory, what a divinely terrible, divine-
ly beneficent, dazzling, flaming, white-hot sun-
shine !
Drought, and a sultry silence, shaking to the
shrill song of the cicala, as we stand and gaze.
Suddenly a jangling bell breaks forth discord-
antly. Uj) in the square campanile of San Ger-
sole' it is swinging in uneasy jerks ting-tang,
ting-tang, jingle-jangle jingle without any
rhythm.
Out of the dark little church comes a pro-
cession. Two priests ; boys in white surplices
swinging censers ; men carrying a lofty crim-
son banner bearing the painted miracle of some
saint ; and some dozen or so of peasant men and
women (the latter largely jn-edoTninating) in holi-
day attire, carrying missals, and shouting forth
a Latin liymn in a quaint, monotonous chant.
Round the little j)iazza they marcli solemnly,
sending up curling clouds of incense into the
leafy darkness of the cypresses, and jealously
edging on to every inch of shade as they walk
slowly, bareheaded, under the summer skv.
Once, twice, three times, they make the circuit
of tiie piazza. Then the dark church-door swal-
lows them again. The bell ceases to jangle, and
the last whitt' of incense floats away into the air.
Standing with San Gersole on the left, and the
parapet wall on the right, and looking straight
before us, whither does the road lead ?
"Nowhither," answers an old contadino, who
has been tending his cows in a shed close at hand.
Cows know no difl'erence between work days and
feast days, but need their fodder and litter all
the same, though it be the festa of the saint whose
legend is commemorated on the crimson banner.
Therefore the old contadino has been tending
tliem, with a large apron made of coarse blue
linen tied over his holiday clothes. And if you
ask him again whither tlie road leads he will still
answer "nowhither." You do not '"come out,"
he says ; the road leads nowhitlier, save as, if
you press him hard with cpiestions, he will be
driven to tell you to the extreme edge of the
precipice that overhangs the valley of the Ema.
But is there nothing, then, between San Ger-
sole and the edge of the precipice, save a strip
of road leading nowhither ? Ah, truly, yes : there
is a garden ; a large garden. And there is a
house ; a large house : the Villa Chiari. OJi
yes, as to that ; yes, yes. But the road what
would you ? leads nowhitlier.
Proceeding along it, nevertheless, we reach a
forlorn-looking, grass-grown sjiace. The grass
is burned straw-color, and a foot-path is worn
across it. The foot-patli shows tlie bare brown
earth beaten and baked quite hard. Across it
streams an endless procession of big black ants,
as zealously busy a crowd pressing importantly
along the road that "leads nowhither" as yon
shall ever have seen even in Fleet Street, London
City. No other living thing is to be beheld, not
even a butterfly ; but the cicala still springs his
tiny steel rattle in the sultry silence.
Before us is a high wall, whose plaster is
crumbling and peeling oft'. There are massive
iron gates, worked by some cunning artisan of
the old Florentine time, rusty and bent, and part-
ly oft" their hinges. One-half of the gate stands
open. It must have stood open this many a long
day many a long year, perhaps for the grass
has grown around it thickly, and one side of it is
l)artly buried in the soil, and a colony of wild
flowers has sprung up in the shelter of its crook-
ed shadow. On either side of the gate hangs
down a tangled mass of leaves and branches
clothing the unsightly wall, and nearly hiding a
marble tablet moss-grown and discolored
whereon are graven the words "Villa Chiari,"
suimounted by an elaborate coat of arms. The
ivy, dog-rose, and honey-suckle are all matted
together, so as to form a thick screen over the
tablet. But it matters the less, in that this is
not the grand entrance to the house. No one
enters by this old gate, save the contadini belong-
ing to the adjacent farm. On tlic other side is a
good road, well engineered, and mounting by due
zigzags to a green jjainted gateway, and a grav-
eled sweep before the portico.
But that is a long way oft", and there are some
acres of garden ground between the road that
"leads nowhither" and that which officially con-
ducts to Villa Chiari.
In the old times many a lady's palfrey, and
many a churchman's ambling mule, and many a
VERONICA.
cr,
rich litter borne by liukeys, and hoklin|T a lux-
urious Medieeau noble, may have jjassud along
the old steep way. Then tlie fine scroll-\vork of
the iron gates cast the black tracery of its sliad-
o\v on fair faces and bright hair glistening in the
sunshine, and made them fairer and more bright
by contrast. And they, too, have gone their wav
along the road that "leads nowhither," and the
sculptured marble is white above their tombs,
and the wild ilowers twine fearlessly around the
unhinged gate.
We pass the gateway and find ourselves in a
neglected garden neglected in this part of it,
that is ; for near the house the walks are rolled
and weeded, and the flower-beds are as trim and
bright as patterns iii a kaleidoscope. Eut here
are paths all overgrown with greenery, tangled
thickets of laurestinum, lilac, rose, and oleander.
There is a pergola, or trellis, covered with vines.
And the eglantine and clematis and clinging hon-
ey-suckle have usurped its gujiport, and pushed
their fragrant faces peeringly in here and there
amidst the leaves and the grape blossoms. From
the bosky gloom of a grove of acacia and ilex
trees, thickly nndergrown with laurel and lilac,
comes tlie mellow fluting trill of a nightingale, like
the perfume out of the heart of a rose. Now and
again is heard the flutter of wings, as some little
brooding bird stirs in his noonday dieam, and
tJien is still again. Onward we wander beneath
the freshness of the pergola, then out again into
the fiery air. Still onward, past a broken mar-
])\e basin, once a fountain, where a tiny stream
drips out of a crevice and makes a green track in
the parclied herbage, and where a harmless snake
is sunning himself asleep. And we come to a
deep blot of shadow that shows against the glare
of the ground, like a black mountain tarn amidst
snow. The shadow is thrown fiom an ancient
cypress that stands, lonely as a sentinel, upon the
brink of the precipice, at the end of the road that
"leads nowhither." And in tlie shadow sits a
lad}', young and beautiful, looking out at the
far-away Apennine, and quite alone.
CHAPTER II.
VILLA C H I A K I.
The lady sitting in the shadow was Veronica.
She wore a Tuscan hat with a wide flapping
brim, such as the peasant women wear. And
beneath it her eyes gleamed and her cheeks
glowed brighter than ever. She had wrapped a
white burnous as fine as gossamer around her
shoulders, and sat huddled together under the
cyjjress, with her elbows resting on lier knees
and her cheeks resting on her hands. It was
shady beneath the cypress, but it was not cool.
No s])Ot to which the hot sun-impregnated air
had free access could be cool. Still, Veronica
sat there looking out at the far-away barren Ap-
ennine, with her elbows resting on her knees
and her cheeks resting on her hands.
A man came through the garden toward her,
a short, thick-set, gray-haired man, staid and re-
spectful, who bared his head in the sunshine as
he addressed her.
"Signoral" said the gray-haired man, and
then stood still and waited.
Veronica neither turned her head nor her eves
E
toward him. Eut her color rose a very little,
and through her jiarted lijjs the breath came
(piicker.
"Miladi!" said the gray-haired man. No
shade of difference could be discovered in his
tone. It was the same to him whether he used
the one title or the other. If this lady preferred
the English one, why should she not have it ?
He had learned that she liked it best ; but he
was very far indeed from imderstanding whv.
"What is it, Paul?"
"Pardon, miladi, but Sir John, on awaking
from his siesta, demanded to know where you
were ; and when I told him that I supposed you
were beneath the accustomed cypress, sent me to
pray you to come in."
Paul spoke in Italian which was nearly as
much a foreign language as English to his Pied-
montese tongue and addressed her with jjerfect
respect, but with an indefinable air of taking it
for granted that she would comply with any ex-
]n'essed wish of Sir John's, which grated on the
sensitive soreness of her iiaughty spirit.
"I am very well here, and shall remain," said
Veronica, briefly. Then she turned her eyes
away (she had never relinquished her careless
attitude) and seemed to dismiss him from her
thoughts.
"It is bad to stay here in the heat, miladi,"
returned Paul. He spoke with the same calm,
imperturbable air of knowing his duty and do-
ing it which Be had assumed toward Sir John
Gale in the most irritable moments of his ill-
ness.
" I am in the shade," said Veronica. And
wdien she had said it she bit her lip at having
been betrayed into what seemed an excuse or
apology.
Paul gravely unfurled a huge 3-ell()W sun-
shade, lined with purple, which he had brought
with him. It was characteristic of the man,
and of the perfect sense he had of his own po-
sifion, that, albeit his bare head was scorching
in the glare, he had never thought of unfurling
the sunshade for his own use.
It came into the month's wages to endure
personal inconvenience of some sort. A little
roasting, a little freezing, a little wetting what
mattered? There was that village u]) in the
Alps, and there were the two boys waiting to he
educated to a point that would make them in-
dependent of such disagreeable exertions and
sacrifices.
Paul put up the yellow umbrella, and held it
over Veronica's head ; he seemed so absolutely
certain that she would get up oft' the ground and
come with him into the house that she rose as
though some spell were moving her limbs. Sud-
denly the willful, spoiled-child mood came upon
her, and she threw herself down again beneath
the tree, saying, "Go and get me some cush-
ions and a shawl. I shall stay here. I am en-
joying the view."
"In the evening, signora miladi it is very
fine here. Noir, the sun will burn your skin,
and spoil your eyes. It is not like in England,
miladi ; at this hour in the summer, even up on
a height like this, it is not good to be out in the
sunshine. It makes the women look old soon.
See our contadine !"
With this masterly stroke Paul gravely bent
down, hat in hand, and held his arm out for
66
VERONICA.
Veronica to lean on when she should rise and
she did rise.
Paul walked a pace behind her holding the
umbrella, and they proceeded toward the house.
Instead of passing beneath the pergola they
turned on reaching the old fountain where
their footsteps disturbed the snake, that slid
away at their approach into the dry grass to
the ieft, and entered a path leading through a
shrubbery. Here the walks were neat, the
grass clipped, and the flowers duly tended. The
grounds had not the fresh perfection of an En-
glish garden. There was a want of finish about
all the details the finish that comes from doing
tlioroughly whatever is done but nature had
filled the place with light, and color, and per-
fume, and it was very lovely. At a turn in the
path the house came in view. Villa Chiari was
an old and vast building, solid, heavy, and with
few windows in proportion to the great extent
of wall-space. This circumstance, which would
make a house gloomy in a northern climate, is
suggestive only of grateful shado and coolness
to a dweller beneath Italian skies. "Wealth had
been unsparingly employed irithin the villa to
make it a comfortable and luxuiious residence,
in accordance with modern English ideas of
what is comfortable and luxurious : but without,
Villa Chiari remained much as it had been any
time these three hundred years. It was cov-
ered with yellowish plaster. Wtuated as the
house was, on a height, and fronting to the
north, it had become much stained by wind and
weather. The plaster was discolored, cracked,
and, in some ]ilaces, had peeled off altogether,
revealing a rough solid wall constructed of min-
gled brick and stone, after the Tuscan fashion.
To ench window were double wooden shutters
or jalousies, painted green. Tiiese were open
on the side of the house that was in shadow, and
were carefully closed whenever tiie sun's rays
beat against tliem like a flight of burning ar-
rows. All the windows on the basement story
were protected against more earthly assailants
by massive wrought-iron bars.
Immediately beneatli each of the lower win-
dows was a stone bench, the sad, graj' color of
which was diversified by bright lichens. A large
archway, closed by double doors, in the centre
of the facade, gave access to a paved court-yard
open to the sky. Around the court-yard ran an
open arcade called here a loggia and from it
opened various doors leading to the interior of
the dwelling. The roof was covered with an-
cient tiles, mellowed into a rich sombre brown
by time and sunshine. And from it, at one end
of the building, rose a square tower, also tiled,
and with overhanging pent-house eaves.
There was something melancholy and forlorn
in the exterior aspect of the house. The crum-
bling plaster, the shut jalousies, the moss-grown
uneven pavement before the door, the brooding
stillness that hung over the whole place a still-
ness that seemed of death rather than sleep
were all depressing.
Paul lield open a low door beneath the loggia
for Veronica to pass.
She entered a shady corridor, whose marble
pavement seemed icy cold to one coming from
without. A moment ago she had hmged for shade
and coolness. Now the air of the house struck chill,
and she shuddered, drawing the cloak around her.
At the end of the corridor was a large saloon.
The floor was still covered with a rich and ver}'
thick carpet, contrary to Italian usage, which re-
quires that all carpets be removed from the mar-
ble or painted brick floors in summer. There
were luxurious chairs, and sofas, and ottomans :
cabinets of rare workmanship and costly mate-
rials ; silken hangings and gold-framed mirrors
in the saloon. It had a lofty, vaulted ceiling,
adorned with colossal stucco garlands, white on
a blue ground. The air was faint with the rich
perfume of flowers disposed in massive groups
about the room ; and only a dim sea-green twi-
liglit filtered in through the closed jalousies.
Sir John Gale was lying on a coucli when Ve-
ronica entered. He rose when she appeared,
took her hand, and led her to a chair. He was
more high-shouldered than ever, and lean ; and
in the greenish light his fitce looked ghastly.
Paul had followed ^'eronica to his master's pres-
ence, and had waited an instant ; but at a wave
of Sir John's hand he had withdrawn, closing
the door noiselessly after him.
Veronica tossed her broad-brimmed hat on to
an ottoman near her, and threw herself back in
her chair with an air of consummate languor.
Sir John's eyes were accustomed to the dim-
ness. He could see her better than she could
see him, and he watched her with a half-admir-
ing, half-savage glance.
"You have been out," he said, after a silence
of some minutes.
She slightly bent her head.
" I thought that you had been taking a siesta
in your own apartments."
She made a negative sign without speaking.
"Am I not deemed worthy of the honor of a
word y asked Sir John ; and though his mouth
smiled as he said it, his eyebrows frowned.
"Too hot to talk I" murmured Veronica.
"If you had remained indoors, as I have so
frequently advised, at this hour, you would not
now have been overcome by the lieat, which is,
of course, my first consideration ; and I should
have enjoyed the pleasure of your conversation."
Veronica shrugged her shoulders, and smiled
disdainfully.
" Well, perhaps you are right," said Sir John,
answering the smile with a sneer Mephistopheles
might have owned. "Perhaps you would not
have made yourself agreeable if you had staid in.
But at all events you would have done more
wisely for yourself You positively run the risk
of getting a coup-dc-solcil by running out in this
incautious manner!"
Veronica sighed a little impatient sigh, and
pulling down a rich plait of her hair, drew its
glossy length languidly across and across her lips.
"Magnificent!" said Sir John, softly, after
contemplating lier for some time.
She looked up inquiringly.
"Magnificent hair! Quantity, quality, and
hue, all superb ! I never knew but one other
woman with such an abinidance of hair as you
have. And hers was blonde, which I don't ad-
mire."
The expression of his admiration had not lost
its power to charm her. Indeed, it may be said
that to hear her beauty praised by any lips, how-
ever false and coarse, was now the one delight
of her life. That the flattery was jjoisoned she
knew, as the drunkard knows what bane he swal-
VERONICA.
67
lows in each fiery draught. But she turned from
it no more than he retrains from the fatal wine-
cup. Her face briglitcned, and she coquettishly
released all the coils of lier hair with a sudden
turn of her hand. It fell in plaits, or loose ri])-
pling tresses, all around her. 8ir John looked
on com])lacently with a sense of ownership.
"Will you drive this evening?" asked Ve-
ronica.
"Drive? I don't know. Where? There are
no drives."
*' I want to go to Florence."
"To Florence! '
"You know yon said I should do so some day.
I have never seen it. When we passed through
from the railwaj' station it was dark. It is so
dull here. Besides, " she added, as if angry with
herself for having assumed a pleading tone, "I
rcant to go."
"There can be no necessity, Veronica. The
servants will procure you any thing you want. "
"But I wish to see the city! Why should
you not come?"
" What is the use of making me recapitulate
my reasons ? I am known there. You would be e.x-
posed to to disagreeable rencontres ; in short,
it is better not to go into Florence at present."
He spoke in an imperious tone of masterhood,
and then sank back on his couch as though the
discussion were closed. Veronica sat quite still
for a minute or so. The minute seemed very
long to her. She was trying to school herself to
be politic, and to answer calmly. But self-con-
trol is not to be acquired in an instant.
Her own impulse of the moment, her own likes
and dislikes, caprices and whims, had been para-
mount with Veronica all her life. Xow, after
telling herself sternly that it would not do to be
hasty, and tiiat every thing depended on her
power of self-command, she broke out on a sud-
den with childish vehemence ; declaring that she
was moped to death ; that she was dull, wretched,
bored, all day long ; that if there were any rea-
son for Sir John's shrinking from being seen in
Florence it rested with Iiimself to remove that
reason ; that she was sick and weary of the de-
laj's and disappointments ; finally, that she ivould
go to the city that evening.
At first Sir John listened to her petulant,
broken speech with the detestable enjoyment of
a cruel school-boy, who watches his newly-caged
bird fluttering in ten-or arid impotent anger
against the wires. But some word she said
touched on a theme which threatened to give
him trouble.
That prospect was not amusing. Besides,
Veronica looked verj' handsome so long as she
was merely passionate and angiy. But after
the first outburst symptoms of rising tears be-
came apparent, and that prospect also was not
amusing.
"Good Heavens, Veronica!" exclaimed Sir
Jolm, " how can you be such a baby ? Go, go, if
you like. If you care about it so much, order the
carriage at any hour you please. Only let me sug-
gest that it be not before the sun has begun to
lose some of his power. It will be hot enough in
any case in those narrow stuffy streets. Ouf I"
" And you?'' said Veronica, standing looking
at him iiTesolutely.
" Oh, I shall not go, Y'ou can take your maid,
and Paul will attend vou,"
" I don't want Paul," muttered Veronica, but
in so low and indistinct a tone that Sir John
might plausibly art'ect not to hear it if he chose.
And he did choose.
" Of course Paul will attend you," he repeat-
ed, quietly. "You will find Paul indispensable.
That lout of a Tuscan coachman would get you
into some scrape, to a certainty."
All Sir John Gale's servants, with the excep-
tion of Paul and the cook, were Tuscans : not
town - bred Florentines, but country people.
Their service was clumsily rendered, but Sir
Jolm had known what he was about when he
charged Paul to see that no servant accustomed
to wait on foreigners, and to flit from house to
house gossip-laden, was engaged among his do-
mestics.
When the carriage was announced there stood
Paul, bare-headed, to hand "miladi" in. Her
maid placed herself on the back seat, and Paul
climbed up to the box beside the coachman.
"Where to, miladi?" asked Paul, leaning
down, hat in hand.
"To Florence. Any where. I don't know.
Stay ; I want to buy a a fan. Drive first to a
place where they sell fans."
The carriage had not gone a quarter of a mile
down the steep incline that led from Villa Cliiari
it was down hill thence in every direction
when she called to Paul, and bade him make the
coachman stop.
"I think," said she, with a not quite success-
ful assumption of being an independent agent
"I think I will take a drive in the park the
Cascine they call it, don't they ? Go there first."
Paul bent down lower into the carriage, and
said, in I^nglish, "At the hour when we should
arrive there, miladi, the Cascine would be terri-
bly unwholesome. Sunset is a bad time, or even
the hour before sunset. There is a mist. It is
damp. You get colds oh, veiy dangerous colds.
Does miladi care which fan-shop she goes to ?"
Veronica drew from her pocket a delicate gold
watch incrnsted with jewels, and looked at it
with a meditative air while Paul was speaking.
" It is later than I thought," she said, slowly.
" Tell the coachman to drive straight into town.
I must buy my fan by daylight. Never mind
the Cascine. Go on."
She looked veiy imperial and grand, leaning
back in the handsome carriage, and folded in a
soft cloud of black lace. Peasant women passed
and stared at her. Peasant children shouted.
Working-men, returning from their daily labor,
shaded their eyes to look at her dashing by.
Paul sat, square-shouldered and steady, beside
the coachman. And the pleasure of her weak,
selfish vanity, and the petty delight of being ad-
mired and envied by poor ignorant passers was
dashed with a bitter drop the consciousness
that that man was invested with power to con-
trol her movements, and that, brave it out as she
might, she was a slave, and Paul her keeper.
CHAPTER III.
A COUSIN.
The carriage bearing Veronica rolled along
smoothly down a long avenue. It was the road
leading from an erst grand-ducal villa which
G8
VERONICA.
stands on the top of an eminence scarcely high
enough to be termed a liill in a country of Alps
and Apennines, but which is of very respectable
altitude nevertheless, and is called the Toggio
Imperiale. The avenue is flanked by cypress
and ilex trees of ancient growth.
Veronica had heard her mother speak so much
and so often of Florence that she thought she
knew it. But coming to view city and suburb
with her bodily eyes, she found every thing
strange, foreign, and, on the score of beauty, dis-
appointing. Later she understood the amazing
picturesqueness of that storied town, and with
every glance its attractions grew on her. But
there are some places as there is some music,
and that among the noblest which do not take
at once the senses by storm, but need time and
familiarity to develop their wealth of beauty and
resource.
What Veronica saw with her unaccustomed
eyes was, first the long, dusty, squalid Roman
road, into which the carriage turned at the foot
of the avenue ; then the Porta Romana, with its
huge, yawning archway, through which carts of
all kinds were struggling ; those coming in hav-
ing to stop to be examined by the officers of the
town custom dues, and those going out pushing
boldly through the gate and grazing w^heels
against the stationary vehicles.
pjvery body was talking very loudly. The
few who really could by no exercise of ingenuity
find any more articulate words to say, solaced
themselves by half-uttered oaths and long-drawn,
lugubrious howls addressed to the patient, lean
beasts that drew the carts.
In odd contrast with this nimble energy of
tongue were the slow and languid movements
of all concerned. The octroi men lounged
against the walls on high, four-legged stools set
out before a queer little office, very dim and
dirty, with glazed windows. They had within
reach long iron rods, with which they probed
trusses of hay or straw, or which they thrust in
among bundles of linen or ])iles of straw-colored
flasks, or poked down amidst the legs of people
sitting in country chaises, or under the box-seat
of hackney-coachmen. And when they had thus
satisfied tliemselves that there was no attempt
being made to defraud the municipality of Flor-
ence of the tax on food and wine, and whatso-
ever other articles are subject to duty, they al-
ways with ineflable languor put their hands into
their pockets again and bade the driver proceed.
One man especially, with melancholy, dark eyes
and a sallow face, uttered the permission to pass
on, "Avanti!" in a tone of such profound and
hopeless dejection, that one might have fancied
him a guardian of that awfid portal his great
townsman w^rote of, rather than a mortal custom-
house officer at the city gate, and that he was
warning the doomed victims : " Abandon hope,
all ye who enter here !"
Sir John Gale's carriage only paused for an
instant in passing through the Porta Romana.
The spirited horses chafed at the momentary
check, and dashed on again rapidly over the re-
sounding pavement.
A succession of objects seemed to flit past Ve-
ronica's eyes like the swift changes in a dream.
There was a long street paved with flat stones,
fitted into each other angle for angle and point
for point, like the i)ieces in a child's puzzle.
There was in this street no side pavement for
foot-passengers, and ^the street being very full
the coachman kept uttering a warning cry at in-
tervals, like a minute-gun. Indeed, as they ap-
proached the busier parts of the town, their pace
was slackened perforce. Xo vehicle short of the
car of Juggernaut could have rutlilesslj- kept up
a steady progress througli such a crowd.
There were houses of various styles and di-
mensions on either side of the long street, nearlv
all plastered ; one or two, however, with a heavy
cut-stone front to the basement-story. Every
window had the inevitable green jalousies, and
neaii}' ever}' window had a group of heads framed
in it, for it was a summer evening, and there
were people taking the air they called it pigliare
il fresco, albeit it was yet hot enough, and stifling
in the narrow ways of the city ; and there were
bright bonnets to be criticised, and acquaintances
to be recognized, and familiar conversations
touching the privatest family affairs to be held
in brassy voices, between ladies and gentlemen
standing in the street, and other ladies and gen-
tlemen leaning on their elbows out of third-floor
windows. And the talkers in the street jilanted
themselves in any spot that came convenient, and
remained there immovable, as regardless of the
pressing throng of passers-by as a stubborn,
broad-based stone in a stream is regardless of
the rushing current. And the passers-by yield-
ed as the water yields, and skirted round these
obstructive groups, or if the subject of their
discourse struck them as peculiarly interesting
lingered a while to listen to their talk with a
grave jjlacidity, which might be characterized as
good-humored, only that that word suggests some-
what of merriment to an English ear, and these
people wore few smiles on their brown faces.
Then came a vision of an o])en space, with
houses on the left hand, and on the right a steep
incline covered with gravel, on the summit of
which stood a vast ])alace (its facade seeming, at
the first glance, somewliat low for its width),
flanked by open arcades that advanced from the
main body of the building and embraced two
sides of the graveled space. Tliese arcades were
based on titanic blocks of rough stone, and un-
der the shade of the arches a military band was
making lively music, and a dense mass of citi-
zens with their wives and families was listening
to it, still with the same nonchalant placidity.
Onward through a very narrowstreet of gloomy,
frowning, iron-barred stone i)alaces ; across a
quaint bridge with shops and houses on it, where
the gems and gold in the jewelers' windows flashed
brightly beneath the beetle-browed pent-house
shutters ; ))ast an open arch making a gap in the
line of buildings on the bridge, through which
was seen a glimpse of gold and puriile hills swim-
ming in a haze of evening sunshine ; along a
stone cpiay with tall handsome houses on one
hand, and on the other a. deej) wide trench more
than half fall of brownish sand, and with pools
of water here and there, and a shrunk middle
stream sluggishly crawling toward tiie sea, w liich
.stream was the classic Arno, nothing less I ]iast
the end of another bridge, wide and handsome,
at whose foot a dense crowd was assembled in a
small piazzetta : some standing, some sitting on
stone benches, some jierched on the jjarapet over-
hanging the river, all watching the passers-by on
foot or in vehicles ; down another street which
VERONICA.
GO
widened out into a consideralile sjiace and then
contracted again, and where a tall column stood,
and hackney-coaches were ranged hard hy, and
a vast old medieval palace more like a fortress
than a palace heaved its hulk i^hove the narrow
ways iieiiind and about it, like a giant raising his
head and shoulders out of a jircssing throng to
breathe ; and where a few elegantly-dressed gen-
tlemen (rather attetmated about the legs, and
im wholesome about the skin, and with a general
vague air pervading them though some were
handsome, dark-eyed youngsters, too of having
not quite enough" to eat and considerably too
much to smoke) were lounging at the door of a
club-house, utterly unlike any club-house known
to the dwellers beyond the Straits of Dover, or
perhaps nearer than that ; and at last the car-
riage drew up suddenly with a mighty clatter at
the door of a smart shop, all French mirrors and
gilding, Avhere fans were disjilayed for sale, and
Paul descended nimbly, but decorously, from
the box to hand " miladi" out.
All the sights that she had seen in her rapid
drive were vividly impressed on Veronica's eyes,
but she had not had time to give herself an ac-
count of them : to dige- them, as it were, in her
brain. She felt almost giddy as she alighted and
entered the shop. But one circumstance had
not escaped either her observation or her com-
prehension : the foct, namely, that her beauty
and elegance had attracted much attention from
the loungers at the club door. One man es-
pecially had gazed at her, like one enchanted, as
her carriage whirled past.
She was looking at a bright glittering heap
of fans on the counter, turning them over with
a disdainful air, and pushing them away one by
one with the tips of her gloves, when she became
aware of a face looking furtively in through the
spacious pane of the shop window. The face
disapjieared, and its o^^^^er walked away. Pres-
ently he repassed, glanced in again (when he did
so, Veronica's quick eye recognized him as the
man who had stared at her so admiringly in the
street), and finally stopped and addressed Paul,
who was standing in sentimental fashion at the
shop door.
To Veronica's surprise, Paul answered him at
once, touching his hat respectfully. She hastily
chose a couple of fans, bade her maid pay for
them and bring them to the carriage, and went
to the door, where Paul was still so busily con-
versing with the stranger that he was not aware
of her approach until she spoke to him.
At the sound of her voice he turned hastily,
and the stranger took off his hat and bowed pro-
foundly.
lie was a well-looking, slender man, of about
thirty. He had fine teeth, and bright dark eyes,
which latter, however, seemed to elude youis like
a picture badly hung, on which you can not get a
good light, shift and strive as you will. It was
not that he turned his glance aside either, for he
seemed to look boldly enough at whoever ad-
dressed him, 1,'ut the glittering eye could not be
fathomed. He was prematurely bald al)0ut the
forehead, but the back and sides of his head
were sufficiently well covered with dark waving
locks, and he wore a short beard and mustache
of glossy black. His dress was of the latest
fashion, and, although perhaps slightly brighter
in color than an insular eye would deem fitting
for masculine attire, was well chosen and per-
fectly made. He wore a glass in his eye, at-
tached to a short black ribbon. And when he
bowed the glass fell and dangled across his waist-
coat.
"A thousand pardons, Madame," he said,
speaking in French, but with a strong Italian
accent; "I formerly had the honor of knowing
Monsieur le Paron (-lale, and just recognized his
servant."'
Veronica bowed, with an easy hauteur, which
yet was not calculated to repulse the speaker.
So at least he thought, for he ventured to press
forward and offer the support of his arm to as-
sist Veronica into her carriage. She touched it
with the tips of her fingers as she got in. Paul
stood holding the door open with a grave face.
" I was charmed to find that my good friend
Gale had retmiied to Italy," said the gentleman,
still standing bareheaded by the side of the car-
riage after Veronica was seated. "And," he
added, "under such delightful circumstances.
Paul tells me that he is in the Villa Chiari. I
shall do myself the honor if I may hope for
your amiable permission of paying my respects
to my good Gale, my homage to JMadame. "
Veronica bowed, smiled very slightly, mur-
mured some inarticulate word, and gave the
signal to drive on, leaving the stranger, hat in
hand, on the pavement. When she had driven
some distance she asked Paul in English who
that person was.
He was the Signor Cesare Parletti, dei Prin-
cipi Barletti ; not the head of the house; a
younger brother. The Barletti were a Nea-
politan family. The Prince Cesare had known
Sir John at Naples. Oh yes ; that was quite
true. And Sir John had liked him to come
and play piquet or ecarte with him when he
was laid up at his hotel, and could not go out.
He (Paul) certainly thought that Sir John would
Jike the ]irince to call and see him ; otherwise
Paul would have taken good care not to men-
tion Sir John's present address. The Principe
Cesare de' Barletti was not a Florentine : miladi
understood did she not? that it was the re-
newal of old Florentine "relations" which Sir
John objected to at present.
" Miladi" leaned back with an assumption of
indiff'erence and inattention while Paul spoke.
But no syllable of what he said was lost upon
her.
Barletti! Cesare de' Barletti! This man,
then, was a cousin of her own ! Her mother's
father had been dei Principi, of the Princes Bar-
letti.
Sir John knew and cared nothing about Ve-
ronica's mother. He in all proliability had never
heard Mrs. Levincourt's maiden name. But Ve-
ronica knew it well, and had nourished a secret
pride in her Neapolitan ancestry.
That the man who had accosted her was her
cousin did not much matter. But his intention
of paying a visit to Villa Chiari mattered a great
deal." It off'ered a hope of change and society.
She had been a little suryirised that Paul should
have gi\en him the address. But Paul had
himself explained that. It was old Florentine
acquaintances whom Sir John wished to shun.
This man being a stranger in Tuscany might
have the entre'e to Villa Chiari. Doubtless Paul
knew what he was about. If Sir John knew that
70
VERONICA.
Barletti was Veronica's cousin, would it make
any difference in his reception of him? She
mused upon the question until she reached the
villa. It was quite evening. The sun had set
behind the hills; but there was still a bright-
ness in the sky. " Miladi" hastened to her
own room to dress for dinner. She made a
gorgeous toilet every day, finding a great deal
of real pleasure in her fine clothes. The sus-
picion that this was a pleasure which some oth-
er person in her presence genuinely disdained,
would have much imbittered her delight in the
rich silks and gay jewels and fine lace. But
such a mortification never befell her in Sir John
Gale's company.
At dinner they talked of Cesare de' Barletti.
" Paul has told you, of course," said Veronica,
"about the man who spoke to him, and after-
ward to me ?"
"Oh yes Barletti. Ah yes; I knew him
at Naples. Wonder what brings him here!"
"He said he would call."
" Not a doubt of it ! He likes a good dinner
and good wine ; and he never gets either at his
ovn.1 expense."
' ' I should suppose that the Principe de' Bar-
letti does not need to come to his acquaintances
for food ! " said Veronica.
Sir John burst into a grathig laugh. ' ' Bah !"
he cried, "you are impayable with your Principe
de' Barletti ! The real prince and head of the
family is poor enough. He lives nine months of
every year in the diird-floor of a mangy palazzo
at Torre del Greco, in order to scrape together
enougli to spend the other three months in Paris.
But this fellow is only dei principi a younger
son of a younger son. He has twopence a year,
which he spends on shiny boots (I dare say he
blacks them himself) and cheap gloves. But he
plays a good game of piquet ; and I found it
worth while to let him come nearly every even-
ing when I was once laid by the heels or the
toe, rather, for I got a confounded fit of the gout
in a beastly hotel at Naples. Of course he
was very glad. It paid hiin capitally!"
Veronica's temper was chafed by this slighting
mention of a Barletti. It vexed her. She knew
that Sir John's coarse insolence was directed
against this man in utter ignorance of the fiict
that he was in any degree connected with her-
self. Still it vexed lier. But she had no inten-
tion of incurring the risk of ridicule for the sake
of championing her newly-found relation. She
had been considerably elated by the thought of
being cousin to a prince ; and proi)ortionally de-
})ressed by the discovery that to be dei Principi
Barletti was no guarantee of important position.
"Then you mean this man to come here?"
asked Veronica.
" Mean him to come ? Yes ; if he makes him-
self amusing. If not, I shall give him his conge'."
"If you feel tiiat you want amusement, why do
you not go into Florence sometimes ?"
" La bella idea ! Go to Florence for amuse-
ment in .June! There's nol)ody there; and if
there were, it's much too hot to do any thing.
Besides no, no ; we must get through the sum-
mer here as best we can. Tlie dry heat suits me
rather ; esi)ecially on this hill, where one gets
plenty of air, even if it be hot air. In the au-
tumn and winter we will move south. Mean-
while if Barletti drops in our way, so be it. "
"Nobody in Florence?" replied Veronica,
whose mind had been dwelling on those words.
" It seemed to me that there were a great manv
carriages "
"You did not go to the Cascine?" interrupted
Sir John, quickly.
"No; I was too late. But I saw the people
driving along the Lung' Arno."
She perfectly understood from Sir John's man-
ner that he had given orders to Paul not to take
her to the Cascine, and that he had felt a mo-
mentary suspicion that his orders had been dis-
obeyed. The question presented itself to her
mind, what would have been the result if Paul
had yielded to her desire? But when she re-
tired to her own apartment which she did early
she lay awake for some time, occupying her-
self exclusively with another and \ery different
problem, namely, which of her dresses she should
put on to-morrow evening, when Cesare de' Bar-
letti might be expected to make his appearance
at Villa Chiari.
CHAPTER IV.
IN THE GARDEX.
' ' I WAS so delightfully astonished ! "
"At seeing Paul? He does not usually pro-
duce ecstasy in the beholder. But ' tutti i gusti
son gusti,' all tastes are tastes, as they say here."'
"Pardon! no: not at the sight of Paul for
Paul's sake, but "
" But for mine?"
"For yours, caro mio. I had never Iieard
that you were married ; never."
"I wonder if he had?" thought Sir John.
"He says it so emphatically, that it is probably
a lie."
"And the sight of miladi positively dazzled
me ! What eyes ! What a grace ! How beau-
tiful!"
"Take another cup of coffee," said Sir John,
dryly, interrupting the raptures of his comjian-
ion. And yet the raptures did not altogether
displease him.
Sir John Gale and the Principe Cesare de'
Barletti were sitting together beneath the loggia
on the western side of the Villa Chiari. The
setting sun was flushing all the sky before them.
They looked out on the garden, where, among
the laurels and acacias, a white figure ])assed
and re})assed slowly.
The cracked scagliola pavement of the loggia
was covered, where the two men sat, by a thick
carjjct. Foot-stools and cushions were there,
too, in abundance. Between Sir John and his
guest stood a little marble-topped table bearing
coffee and wine. Sir John was half reclining in
an easy-chair, with his legs stretched out before
him, sup))orted by cushions. Barletti sat in a
rocking-cliair, on ^vhich he swung slowly back-
ward and forward. Both men were smoking.
" The coffee is not bad, eh ?" said Sir John.
"It is very strong."
"Better than the stuff they give j-ou at your
caffe, isn't it ?"
" Ma, si ! Better, no doubt. But ver}- strong.
I should like a little cold water, if I may have
it."
Sir John rang a bell that stood on the table.
VERONICA.
71
Before a servant ooukl answer the summons
Veronica approached. !She had heen strolling
up and down the garden, and had just reached
the spot in front of the loggia when the bell
sounded.
"What do you want?" she asked.
"The Principe would like some cold water,
lie finds the cotlee stronger than he is accus-
tomed to."
There was an indefinable sneer in the tone In
which Sir John pronounced these words. The
words were innocent enough. But Veronica
understood the tone, and it ofiended her.
"I dare say he does," she retorted. "It is
made to suit our English taste, which likes
strong flavors some people would say, coarse
flavors."
"Oh no!" protested Barletti, not having in
the least understood either the sneer or the re-
tort ; " the flavor is very good indeed."
"There is some deliciously cold water always
in the marble basin of the broken fountain yon-
der," said Veronica, impulsively. "Let us go
and get some ! It will be better than any the
servants will bring."
The words were addressed to Cesare de' Bar-
letti, who threw away his cigarette with secret
i-eluctance, bv-the-wav and rose to follow " mi-
ladi."
She had taken up a goblet from the table,
and was running toward the fountain.
She had resolved to impress this stranger al-
ready appreciative enough of her beauty with
her dignity, hauteur, and airs de grande dame.
And on a sudden behold her skipping through
the garden like a school-girl !
The first plan was too slow, and required too
much phlegm and patience to carry out. Bar-
letti took her queenly mood veiy much as a mat-
ter of course. She could not bear to be ten
minutes in the society of a stranger without pro-
ducing an f'ffect. And, moreover, she required
to see an immediate result. She was vain and
arrogant, but not proud, and not stupid ; so that
she could neither disregard the opinion of the
most contemptible persons, nor delude herself
in the teeth of evidence w ith the dull, comforta-
ble faith that she was beiijg admired when she
w'iis not. And then came the irresistible crav-
ing to make a coup to shine to dazzle.
Sir John looked after her in surprised vexa-
tion. He remembered her having done similar
things for his behoof; that had been very nat-
ural and laudable. But for a beggarly Neapoli-
tan principino ! Sir John felt himself defraud-
ed. Had a pet animal ap])roached him at the
moment he would certainly have kicked it. As
it was, all he could do to reheve his feelings was
to swear at the frightened senant who answered
the bell, for not coming soonei*.
Cesare de' Barletti wondered much within
himself that any human being should move more,
or more quickly, than was absolutely necessary,
on a hot June evening. He at first attributed
Veronica's unexpected proceeding to that inex-
haustible and incomprehensible cause, British
eccentricity.
But when he rejoined her at the edge of the
broken fountain, another solution presented it-
self to his mind. She had perhaps seized this
opportunity of speaking to him out of sight and
hearing of her husband. Why not ? It was im-
possible that she could cai-e a straw for that eld-
erly roue', ^'ery natural to have married him .
he was so rich. Very natural also to admire the
Principe Cesare do' Barletti, who was not eligible
as a husband as he very well knew, and very
candidly acknowledged but who was decidedly
well-looking and well-born, and would make a
very jewel of cavalieri servcnti ! There was but
one circumstance which caused Cesare to hesi-
tate before accepting this solution as final. Ve-
ronica w as an Englishwoman I And really there
was no judging Englishwomen by the rules that
hold good in estimating the motives of the rest
of the sex I And whosoever should supjjose that
this reflection implied in the Italian's mind any
special respect or admiration for Englishwomen
would have been very much mistaken.
Veronica filled the goblet at the fountain. The
filling was a slow process, inasmuch as the water
dripped sparely through the crevice before men-
tioned. While the drops of bright water were
falling one by one into the glass, Veronica kept
her eyes fixed on the latter, and her attention
was apparently absorbed in watching it.
"I jn-ay you not to give yourself the trouble
to do that for me, Signora," said Barletti, bend
ing forward, and oft'ering to take the goblet.
She waved him back with her hand, and said,
"I am watching to see how long it takes to fill
the glass. The drops fall so regularly. Drip,
drip, drip!"
He stood and looked at her. Now, at all
events, he was not taking her behavior as a
matter of course.
As soon as the water touched the brim of the
glass, she relinquished it into Barletti's hands,
and walked away slowly, as though she had lost
all interest in his further proceedings. The prince
drank a long draught. He had no idea of not
enjoying its delicious coolness because he was
so puzzled by "miladi." When he had done,
he walked after her and overtook her.
' " That was very fresh and pleasant," he said.
"A thousand thanks."
"Eh?"
" The water was so good. A thousand "
"Oh!"
"Decidedly," thought Barletti, glancing at
the beautiful face beside him, " she is English,
thoroughly English ! Who is to make out such
people ?"
They found, on returning to the house, that
Sir John had gone in. He was in the httle
salon, the sen^ants said. Would il Signor Prin-
cipe join him there ?
H Signor Principe complied with the request.
Veronica lingered in the loggia and looked out
over the landscape. The sun had gone down.
The brief twilight was nearl}' over. The trees
stood out dark against the back-grotmd of pure
sky, pale green near the horizon, and deepening
toward the zenith to an intense dark blue. Not
a leaf stirred in the breatiiless calm. There was
no moon, but the heavens seemed to grow full of
stars as the daylight faded. They quivered and
shook with a liquid silvery lustre. And below
on the earth sparkled and danced to and fro a
thousand golden gleaming specks, threading a
mazy pattern just above the crests of the ripen-
ing w'heat. They were fire-flies. When one of
the bright insects chanced to come near Veron-
ica, she saw him glow and pale with a palpitating
72
VERONICA.
intermitt-et flame. And sometimes the whole
field full of them appeared to shine and fade sim-
ultaneously, like the successive showers of sparks
from a smithy fire that respond to the deep breath
of the laboring bellows.
It was all as different as possible from Dane-
shire. And yet Veronica began to think of a
certain summer night in iShipley long ago, when
she and Maud were children together, and her
mother had sat by an open window telling them
stories of her Italian life. She remembered the
black old yew-tree, only a little blacker than the
cloudy, sultry, starless sky. She remembered
the sound of her mother's voice, and Maud's
dimly-seen little white face, and the touch of
Maud's soft, warm, little hand, stroking her
(Veronica's) hair in a sort of rhythmic accom-
paniment to Mrs. Levincourt's narrative. She
did not think she had been very hajijjy in those
days. She pitied herself as she recalled some of
them. Nevertiieless their remembrance caused
a vague yearning in her heart, and filled her eyes
with tears. A conviction, which she tried to ig-
nore, was in her mind. She did not fight against
it by self-deluding arguments ; she simply tried
to avoid acknowledging its existence, as we turn
away our eyes from a disagreeable object that we
know to be lying in wait for us on a path where-
by we must pass. But it was there ; she knew
it was tliere. And this conviction was, that she
had given all and gained nothing that she had
been duped and defrauded.
She did not believe that what she aimed at
would, if obtained, have turned to dust and
ashes. And she knew she had not got what
she aimed at. The horrible sense of the irri'v-
ncnblencs/i of the past came over her. The tears
brimmed over and ran down her cheeks, and
they brought no solace. They only humiliated,
and made her angry.
A maid, going into one of the upper rooms to
close tlie shutters for the night, looked out and
saw " miladi" leaning, with folded arms, against
a column at the end of the loggia, and apparent-
ly absorbed in watching the fire-flies.
It was an odd idea to stand there alone, when
she might chat, and lounge on a sofa, and drink
iced lemonade in the saloon! But gentlefolks
were odd esi)ecially foreign gentlefolks. And
Beppina went down to the servants' rjuarters,
not ill-contented with her own lot, and prepared
to discuss her master and mistress, and to thank
her stars with a side glance at Ansano, the
footman that .;/((? was not tied to tliat "vecchio
brontolone" that grumbling old fellow, as she
irreverently styled Sir John (Jale.
Meanwhile Veronica, who never yielded her-
self long to any ])ainful mental impression, re-
turned to the house, and entered tiie saloon,
where Sir John and the prince were engaged
over their game at ])iquet.
The room was brillianth- lighted, and dazzled
her, coming from without. She felt more angry
with her tears than ever, on becoming suddenly
aware, as she entered the saloon, tliat her eye-
lids were swollen, and lier -eyes weak, and that
they must be red and ugly.
"Oh," she cried, sto])i)ing short, and clasping
her hands before her face, "what a glare I It
blinds me!"
Sir elohn was too intent on his game to regard
her. Ccsare de' Barletti looked up, and fell in-
stantly into a trance of admiration for a costly
diamcvnd that glittered on Veronica's slender fin-
ger. " He played a wi-ong card (as he afterward
confessed, an imbecile card !) and was vanquished.
Sir John was pleased. So was Veronica. The
former attributed the victory to his own skill, on
which as he played very ill he valued himself
The latter had no doubt that her presence had
agitated de' Barletti into forgetting his game.
Barletti himself was well satisfied to have put
his host into good -humor. Tiie stakes for
which they played were very trifling, and he
thought the small sum he had lost not ill-in-
vested.
" Will you have your revenge, prince?" asked
Sir John, throwing himself back in the chair,
with a complacent smile.
Barletti shook his head, doubtfully.
" Aha! You show the white feather? Pos-
itively I did not think I should be able to tell
one card from another, it is so long since I
have played. You ought to have beaten me,
you really ought. Ila, ha, ha!"
Veronica seated herself on a couch near the
window. Her white dress was soft and flowing,
and her black hair shone in its rich ripples, as
she leaned her head against the dark velvet
couch. Diamonds glittered on her neck and
arms and hands, and trembled in her ears.
There was no speck of color about her dress,
and its pure whiteness enhanced the rich glow
of her brunette complexion. She still shaded
her eyes with one hand, complaining of the
light.
Sir John, having finished his game, was full
of solicitude for her. Should he have the can-
dles removed to another part of 'the room ?
Would she like a screen? Had she caught
cold, or what was it ? Her e3"es were usually
so strong! Being now the central ol)ject of at-
traction, her spirits rose buoyantly. She co-
quetted and commanded, and made Sir John
move and remove the wax tapers a dozen times
before their position was satisfactory to her. At
last he got tired, and rang for Paul to carry
them away and bring a shaded lamp instead.
Barletti looked on admiringly, and when, on
the lamp being carried in, there a]i]ieared in its
wake a tray with galantine, atul chicken, and
wine, and sweets (these English are such eat-
ers!), /lis sjiirits rose too, and tliey were all
three quite brilliant over the little impromjitu
supper. The conversation was carried on in
French, ^ir John not being able to speak Ital-
ian fluently. But suddenly Veronica addressed
Barletti in Italian, and intensely enjoyed his ad-
miring suri)risc at the ]urity of her accent.
' How admirably miladi speaks Italian !" he
exclaimed, with enthusiasm.
" My mother was an Italian," said Veronica.
"Was she?" asked Sir John, carelessly.
"Tiens! I never knew that. Or stay. oh
yes, to be sure! I think I remember hearing it
mentioned."
"How distrait you are to-night!" said Ve-
ronica, with an assumption of tolerant good-
humor.
Cesare Barletti took away in his bj-ain three
themes on which his thoughts, jjassions, and
prejudices made endless variations, as he drove
down the Avenue of the Poggio Imi)eriale. The
first was : It is odd that a man shoidd not know
VERONICA.
or remember who his wife's mother was I Tlie
second was: Mihuli wanted to make it appear
that Gale was speaking in preoccu])ation, or ab-
sence of mind; now, Gale is never "distrait;''
it is not in his character. The tliird was;
That liandsome creatnre is not an Enghshwo-
man. jMno sangne ! The f:\ct of her having had
an I ulian mother brings lier more into the cate-
gory of hnnian beings whose manners and de-
velopment I nnderstand. I wonder whether
she was oft'ended with me because I did not
fall at her feet when we were in the garden to-
gether, or, at least, make some preparations
for a future prostration of myself at her shrine '
On this last theme the variations were brill-
iant and inexhaustible.
CHAPTER V.
A SHADOW ACROSS THE SUNSHINE.
The summer passed away monotonously at
Villa Chiari. The heat increased steadily,
reached a climax, and then began as steadily
to abate. All through the blazing months Sir
John remained at the villa. The house basked
in the glare of the long day with closed blinds,
like a living tking asleep in the sunshine. Then,
toward evening, doors and windows were thrown
open, and figures were seen seated beneath the
loggia, or pacing the shadiest garden walks, and
the sound of footsteps echoed on the flagged
court-yard.
As the days and weeks and months went by,
and brought no tidings from Maud or the vicar,
Veronica grew restlessly discontented. For some
time anger supported her spirits. But by degrees
she became tormented by apprehensions for her
father's health. The apprehensions were onh^
momentary, but they returned oftener and oft-
ener. She debated the possibility that none of
her letters had been received, and twisted the
matter this way and that way in her mind.
Once she spoke to Sir John on the subject.
It was after a fit of depression and tears, and
she was unable to suffer alone. She felt im-
pelled to make him share her pain.
"I do wonder how papa is I"' she said, unex-
pectedly, as they were sitting alone together in
the twilight.
Sir John made no answer, but turned nneasi-
ly in his chair.
"I do wonder. I want to know. I must
know!"
"What is the meaning of this sudden anx-
iety?"
"It is not sudden. Because I have kept it to
myself so long, you can not understand that I
have been suffering all this time !"
Veronica really thought for the moment that
she had been generously sparing him. She knew
herself to have been unhappy at inten'als, and
omitted to observe that the first moment she had
felt the desire to speak of her unhappiness to Sir
John, she had yielded to it without a thought of
restraining herself for his sake.
" Well, what can I do ? Can I help it if they
take no notice of you ? Besides, what is there
to be anxious about? No news is good news."
"I wrote to Maud. I did think slie would
have answered me !"
"Bah I You are infatuated with that girl.
I wonder that a person of your intellect should
be so taken in by her missish airs."
" You know nothing about Maud !" cried Ve-
ronica, quickly. " You can not understand her
one bit."
"Neither, it seems, can you," retorted Sir
John. Braise of Maud always displeased him.
Veronica's reverence and admiration for her ir-
ritated him peculiarly.
Veronica started up with a little childish ex-
clamation of impatience, and walked to the win-
dow.
"I mzist know how papa is!" she said. Her
voice was changed now. There were certain
deep tones in it which the mention of ]\Iaud
alone called forth.
Her pettishness disturbed Sir John much less
than her earnestness.
"Amor mio," he said, soothingly, "rest as-
sured that if any evil had happened to your fa-
ther, or if any evil threateneil him even, you
would not fail to hear of it. There are plenty
of kind, pious people in that Arcadian village
who would cheerfully take on themselves the
duty of imparting any thing disagreeable."
She was willing to be put on good terms with
herself at any liody's expense save Maud's
and she smiled contemptuously at the recollec-
tion of the Shii)ley people.
"Can't you fancy their gloating over such a
chance of punishing you for having had the cour-
age to escape from among them ?'
"II Principe Cesare de' Barletti," announced
a servant at this moment, and the tete-a-tete in-
terview was at an end.
The prince was a constant, and nearly the
only, visitor at Villa Chiari throughout the sum-
mer. One or two other men came occasionally ;
a stray attache, left behind in solitary responsi-
bility during the absence of his chief, and be-
wailing his fate ; a belated Prussian grandee,
passing through on his way from the sea-baths
at Leghorn to the northern side of the Alps.
No English came, and no ladies.
Early in September people began to return to
Florence. Veronica made various indirect at-
tempts to see and to be seen by such of the fash-
ionable world as were already to be found driv-
ing in the Cascine toward the sunset hour, and
inlialing the evening miasma heroically. But
Sir John opposed her desire in this particular.
And had it not been for a hope which never
abandoned her altogether (though it flickered
low at times), and for Prince Cesare de' Barlet-
ti, she would, she told herself, have found the
ennui of her secluded life intolerable.
Sir Joini encouraged Barletti to come. If he
had not desired Barletti's presence at the villa,
Sir John would unquestionably have been re-
strained by no delicacy from making his senti-
ments manifest.
There were several causes which made Sir
John willing to receive Barletti. The first was,
that the- Neapolitan amused him, played picquet
fairly well (in truth, he could play much better
than his host, but had tact and temper enough
never to hint at the fact), and brought up from
the city little gossiping stories which Sir John
relished. The second M-as, that Veronica was
either pleasantly gay^ and good-tempered under
the excitement of the stranger's i)resence, or, if
74
VERONICA.
she were otherwise, vented the liaughty self-as-
serting humor of the hour on Barletti, whom she
treated at times with absohite insolence. Both
these moods of hers were agreeable to Sir John :
the latter especially so. Then there was the cir-
cumstance that Barletti, with all his poverty and
pliancy, was undoubtedly the scion of an illustri-
ous race. Now Sir John was not the scion of
an illustrious race. lie would not have openly
admitted the fact, but he knew it. And it was
ineffably soothing to any irritating doubts which
he might occasionally entertain as to his own im-
portance in the world, and as to the supremacy
of wealth, to contemplate a penniless piince flat-
tering him for a dinner.
As we are all apt to believe what we wish,
Sir John rather overestimated tiie attractions
of his dinners, and the impression that his riches
made on Barletti.
Early in October Sir John announced his in-
tention of going to Naples for the winter. Ve-
ronica was genuinely delighted at the news.
But, with a petty perversity which she some-
times indulged in toward Sir John, she received
it very coldly. He had made her summer pass
in inexpressible boredom ; and she was resolved
not to gratify him by any too great readiness to be
amused, the moment it suited him to amuse her.
" We shall be able to have a little gayety and
society iu Naples," said Sir John. "You de-
serve some compensation, poverina, for the dull-
ness of the summer."
This provoked Veronica, and she answered,
without deigning to turn her eyes toward him :
"I doubt tlie power of Naples to give me com-
pensation."
Sir John happened to be in a good temper.
His dinner had been varied, savor\-, and digest-
ible three conditions not often combined and
he humored her with an exasperating ostentation
of forbearance.
" ]\Iechante ! Did you in truth find the sum-
mer spent alone with me so dull ? '
"Very!"
" Ha! I wonder, then, that you do not show
more pleasure at the prospect of a change."
" I see no prospect of a change."
The words were barely uttered before she re-
pented them. Sir John's good temper, too rough-
ly strained, had snapped. It was at all times
brittle and untrustworthy.
He growled out an inarticulate oath. It was
not the first she had heard from his lips ad-
dressed to herself.
"What a fool I am ?" she thought ; " I never
take advantage of his good moods. Oh, if I
could but command myself 1"
The truth was, tliat his "good moods" were
almost the only moments in wliich slie was not
afraid of liim. And the moments in which she
was not afraid of him tempted her to revenge
herself for her subjection at most other times.
There were other moments when, being roused
to passionate anger, she lost fear and prudence.
But such moments were still rare in her intei--
course witli the man whom she had made the
master of her fate.
She came and knelt beside him, resting her
hand on his as it hung over the cushioned arm
of his chair.
"What will you do for me at Naples?" she
asked, coaxingly.
He was about to answer not, as it seemed by
his frowning brow and sneering smile, very gra-
ciously when his face changed, he made a
strange inarticulate sound, and leaned back,
gasping, in his chair.
Veronica flew to the bell to summon assist-
ance, then she bathed his forehead with some
perfume from a bottle that stood near at hand,
and fanned liim with her handkerchief.
' What is it ? What is the matter ?'' she kept
asking, wildly. She reiterated her questions
when Paul came into the room.
Paul wasted no time in reassuring her. With
a swiftness very surjirising and unexpected in
one whose movements were habitually so delib-
erate, he loosened his master's cravat. Then he
ran to Sir John's bedroom aiid returned with a
traveling flask, from which he poured a few drops
of brandy down his master's throat.
When he had done so, he answered Veronica
as calmly as though she had that instant put
some ordinary question to him.
"A fiiintness, miladi. He will be better now.
It is passing."
Veronica stood by, scared and trembling.
Paul fetched some cold water, and threw it
sharply on his master's cheeks and forehead.
"Shall I not call some of the other servants ?"'
said Veronica, clasping and unclasjiing her hands
nervously. " Some one must be sent for a doc-
tor."
"Better not, just yet. We shall hear what
he .says. He is coming to himself."
Sir John did revive. Some semblance of life
returned to his face, which had grown strangely
livid.
His eyes fell on Veronica, and he turned them
away with a look of impatience.
"What is it?" she cried, bending over him.
" Can you not speak to me ?"'
Sir John feebly tried to raise his handkerchief
to his mouth, and failed. He looked appealing-
ly at Paul,wlio immediately wiped the water from
ills master's face, in a steady matter-of-course
way. Still Sir John did not speak.
Paul watched him intently ; and at last said
to Veronica : "You had better go away, miladi.
I shall call Ansano by-and-by, and help Sir John
to his room. He will lie down and repose for
an hour or so, and then he will be quite well
again. The heat made him faint."
During tins speech Paul kept his eyes fixed
on his master's face, and seemed to read in it
approval and confirmation of his w ords ; for he
added, almost instantly: " Yes, yes; that is it.
The heat made him faint. It is nothing; and
you had better go away, miladi."
Veronica obeyed in bewilderment. She was
glad to escape from the room ; and yet she some-
what resented being sent away.
She was walking quickly along the corridor
that led to her own room, when she heard a
voice close behind her : " ISIiladi !"
Her heart leaped at the suddenness of tlie
sound, and she turned round in terror. It was
Paul.
" Pardon, miladi. I fear I startled you. Tlie
matting is so soft, it deadens footsteps. I only
wanted to say that Sir John much wishes that
the other domestics should not be told of his lit-
tle indisposition. He dislikes a fuss, he says,
miladi."
VERONICA.
"Oh! he has spoken to vou, then I How is
he?"
"Sir John is mufli better, niiladi. The heat
made liini faint. It is iiothinj:;. "
A'ernnica sat down in her bondoir, and tried
to think steadily of what had just happened.
She did not behcve tiuit it had been a mere
i'ainting fit. There had been a strange look in
Sir Joim's face, unlike any thing she had ever
seen before. Was he very ill ? Was he going
to die ?
She rose and moved restlessly about the room.
Then she stopped suddenly, and reflected that
Paul had shown no appreliension. Paul had
even recommended that no doctor should be sent
for. Paul knew Sir John well. He must know
whether there were danger or not !
If oh, if Sir John were going to die !
Her knees shook under her, and she threw
lierself on to a sofa. She lay there, stretched at
fall length, with her face buried in the cushions ;
her hair pushed aside, and her hands covering
her ears, as though to shut out some terrible
sound, for a long time.
Once the shutting of a heavy door echoed
through the liouse, and for many minutes after
tlie last reverberation had died away her heart
l)eat with dreadful rapidity, and she waited in
the tremor of suspense and fear, expecting to be
summoned by Paul's voice. No one came. The
afternoon was waning, and at last she heard one
of the women-sei-vants singing a Tuscan love-
song, as she moved about the house at her work.
That was a reassuring sound. Veronica sat up,
feeling dizzy and half blind as she faced the
light. There were no tears on her face, but it
was deadly pale, except one crimson streak,
where she had pressed her cheek against the
cushion. Her first act was to lock the door
which communicated with the corridor. There
was another door in the boudoir leading to her
bedchamber, to which there was no other ac-
cess. Then she went to the looking-glass and
contemplated herself.
"What a ghost I look!" she thought, "and
how I have been tormenting myself! And per-
haps for nothing, after all !"
She hesitated for a moment, but finally took a
book from the table, unlocked the door of the
boudoir, rang the bell, and returned to the sofa.
" Miladi rang?" said her maid, coming to the
door. Veronica had taught all the servants to
give her that title.
" Yes. What o'clock is it ? I shall not dress
for dinner. I fell asleep over my book, and
have made my head ache. Get me some eau
de cologne. Put on my peignoir, and shut out
that glare. How red the sunset is ! \ ou must
brush my hair in the dark as well as you can.
I can not bear the light."
It was not dark when the maid had closed
the persiennes, but it was dim. Veronica's
white wrapper gleamed in the twilight. The
maid stood patiently brushing out her mistress's
thick tresses in silence.
"Did you ever faint, Beppina?" asked her
mistress.
"Faint? No, miladi."
"You have seen people in fainting fits, per-
haps?"
" Yes ; I saw a girl once, who was in a dead
s.voon."
"There is no danger in them, of course?"
"Who knows!" answered Beppina, with an
expressive shrug.
" What made the girl you saw faint ?"
" Hunger, miladi."
" Hunger!"
"Yes. Her damo* had been a Garibaldino,
and he got wounded in the wars ; and wlien he
came back to Florence, weak and sickly, he
coftld get no work, and his jieople were too jioor
to help him, so Gigia she was a dress-maker's
a])preiitice kept him, and gave him nearly all
her food. And one day, when she was going to
her work, she turned gidd}", and fell down in
the street, and they took her to a hosjjital, and
the doctor said she Iiad not had enough to eat ;
and that tliat was all that was the matter with her."
"How dreadful! It must be awful to be so
poor ! "
"Eh, che vuole ? She couldn't have loved
liim more if she had been rich ! And she saved
his life, and that Mas a consolazione di Uio."
"Sir John's love, miladi, and will you excuse
him from coming into the dining-room ? He
will have the honor of joining you in the evening
afterward."
Paul said these words from the boudoir, hold-
ing the door that communicated with the bed-
room in his hand.
" How is Sir John?" asked Veronica, in En-
glish. _
"Sir John has reposed, miladi, and is cjuite
well, onl}' a little fatigued with the heat."
"I shall not come down to dinner. Tell them
to serve it in the little blue room next my bou-
doir. "
" Yes, miladi. Then I shall tell the signor
principe that miladi does not receive this even-
ing?"
Veronica was emboldened by the fact that,
while Paul's face could be seen illumined by the
setting sun, wliose light streamed into the bou-
do'ir, her own face was in shadow-. She had
sometimes been vexed with herself for being in
a kind of awe under Paul's grave glance, and
for having allowed more than one caprice and
manifestation of willfulness to be checked by its
silent influence. Now she resolved to consult
her own will and pleasure, and she threw a lit-
tle superfluous asperity into the voice in which
she answered .
"No; certainly not! I have given you no
such directions."
"Miladi wishes to have the dinner sen-edybr
tico in the blue room ?"
"Yes. No! I will dine in the dining-sa-
loon, and is the prince here?"
"The signor principe is under the west loggia,
smoking a cigar."
" Have you mentioned to him that Sir John
was was not well ?"
"Sir John does not choose me to say so, mi-
ladi."
"That will do. You will have a cover laid
for the prince. I shall try to jiersuade him to
stay to amuse and cheer Sir John a little this
evening. "
After all, she had not succeeded in simply is-
suing her commands without apology or expla-
nation to Paul.
Sweet-heart.
76
VERONICA.
The latter bowed and withdrew.
Veronica waited until his footsteps had died
away in the corridor ; then she said, jiiitting her
hand to her forehead with the gesture of one
struck with a sudden remembrance: "Oh, I
forgot to give Paul a message for ^-ir John !"
"Shall I go, miladi?" asked Beppina.
"No, never mind. I will go myself. Give
me a lace scarf, or something to wrap over my
head. That will do. Lay out a dinner dress
any thing light and cool. I shall return in a
few minutes."
Veronica passed through her boudoir and de-
scended the staircase leading to Sir John's apart-
ments, which were on the ground-floor. Ar-
rived at the basement story, however, she en-
tered one of the long suit of reception-rooms
which occn])ied the whole west side of the villa ;
opened a glass door, and stepped out into the
loggia, ("esare de' Barletti was smoking in the
loggia, as Paul had said. As soon as he per-
ceived Veronica, he threw away his cigar and
advanced toward her, hat in hand.
CHAPTER VI.
The prince was a little near-sighted, and not
deeming it good-manners to use the glass tliat
dangled by the black ribbon over liis waistcoat,
when he found liimself face to face with "miladi,"
lie had apjiroached to within a short distance of
her before he became aware of the agitated ex-
lu'Cssion of her face, and the unusual careless-
ness of her toilet.
The instinct of coquetry would have prevented
Veronica from presenting herself before Barletti
in any unbecoming attire. But if she had given
the matter lier most serious consideration she
could have fjund none better calculated to set
otf her striking beauty than that which she now
wore. A long wliite wrapper fell to her feet.
She had covered her head with the voluminous
folds of a white lace shawl, one end of which was
thrown across her breast and fell over her shoul-
der ; and beneath the delicate snowy lace her
long black hair streamed rippling to her waist.
"Oil, prince, there you are I" said Veronica.
"Paul told me you were in tiic west loggia, and
I van down to catch you before I dressed for din-
ner."
The words were flattering, inasmuch as they
imi)lied great eagerness on the lady's part to see
him. But he must have been a fituously vain
man who could have looked in Veronica's face
as slie sjioke, and have supposed her to be think-
ing of paying him ci)mi)liments.
Barletti bowed, and stood awaiting wliat more
she had to say.
" Have you seen Paul ?"
" Yes, signora. I saw him as I came in, but
I did not s])eak to him."
"Then you do not know that Sir Jolin has
been, and still is, ill ?"
"])i(j buono ! 111? No. I know nothing.
What is the matter with ce bon Gale?" .
" I hope it is nothing serious ; but I can not
tell. I am uneasy about him ; very uneasy."
Barletti did not believe that miladi could be
sulfering any acute anxiety on the score of her
lord's health. And he would have considered it
a priori very unlikely that she should so suffer.
But he thought it highly proper and becoming
that slie should assume anxiety. A frank show
of indifference would have disgusted him.
"Oh, you must not alarm yourself, cara sig-
nora," he said, soothingly. "What are the
symptoms ? How long has he been ill ? I won-
der that Paul said nothing to me I"
Veronica hurriedly described the singular
swoon or trance into wiiich Sir John had fallen.
"lie says the heat made liim faint," she added ;
"but " And she shook her head, doubtfully.
"lieally it is not unlikely," said Barletti.
"It may have been a giramento di capo a
mere swimming of the head. Such things are
not uncommon, and il nostro caro Gale is not
very strong. Pray tell me if there is any thing
I can do for you in Florence. I shall, of course,
go back at once. I could not think of intruding
on you under the circumstances."
"No, no, no! That is just the very thing t
hastened down to say. You must remain and
dine here, and stay all the evening until Sir John
retires."
"But would he not prefer " began Bar-
letti in some astonishment. V'eronica interrapt-
ed liim, speaking very fast, and in a low tone,
and glancing round nervously to see that they
were not observed.
" Yes ; no doubt he would prefer that you
should go away. But I prefer that you should
stay. I beg you to stay. He has a whim to
disguise that he is ill. He will not have a doc-
tor. He has given Paul orders to keep it secret
from the servants. It may be nothing, but I
am so inexperienced in illness I can not judge.
I am alone here. I am afraid of of of the re-
sponsibility. You in .St remain and watch him,
and let me know what you think. And listen
do not allow it to be seen that I have urged you
to stay ! Do not admit that I have said a word
to you about his illness. I rely on you, remem-
ber I And, above all, say no syllable to Paul. "
She turned away, re-entered the saloon by the
glass door, and ran swiftly and softly up the
stairs, leaving Barlei.i in a condition of consid-
erable perplexity.
He remained in the garden wandering up and
down until the dinner-hell sounded. Then, as
he was going into the house across the paved
court-yard, a servant, who had been sent to seek
iiiin, met him and preceded him into the dining-
saloon. It was a vast vaulted hall, whose dreari-
ness was on too great a scale to be much miti-
gated by such French upholstery as had been
hastily employed to decorate it for Sir John
Gale's use.
The table was as big as the deck of a small
yacht. 'I'he wax lights abundantly set forth on
a huge black walnut-wood side-board, and on
the tall marble mantle-piece, and on the table
itself, seemed to glimmer with liopeless feeble-
ness, as though they were conscious of their in-
ability to illuminate the vague dimness of the
space. There was a little island of light in the
centre of the table-cloth, but it seemed only to
enhance the surrounding gloom.
Veronica was already in the dining-hall when
Barletti entered it. Paul, too, was there, of-
liciating as butler at the side-board.
Barletti bowed profoundly, and saluted Ve-
VERONICA.
77
ronica as though lie tlien saw her for tlie first
time that evening.
" Good -evening, j)rince," said she, witli ii
careless, liaughty bend of the head.
In her rich evening dress, and with her com-
])0sed, disdainful grace, she seemed a very dif-
I'orent woman from her who had spoken to him
in the loggia half an hour ago.
A cover was laid for Sir John in his ac-
customed place. Barletti observed it, antl stood
for a moment after \'eronica was seated, as
though waiting for some one. "And Gale?"
he said, interrogatively.
"Oh, Sir John will not dine with us. lie
felt a little tired with the heat this afternoon.
AVe shall find him after dinner in the salottino.
t.-it down, prince."'
" You permit? I am not de trop?"
" No, no. I am glad of the sight of a human
face. This hall is the gloomiest, dreariest
])Iace! I have never quite got over an idea
that it is haunted, and 1 find myself sometimes
making out mysterious shapes in the dark cor-
ners. One evening in the summer, wiien the
windows were wide open, a great bat flew in,
and almost brushed my face I Ugh !"
They ate their dinner under Paul's grave, im-
passible eyes, ami with Sir John's empty chair
between them.
"Thy master is not really indisposed, friend,
eh ?" asked the prince of I'aul, as the latter was
seiTing him with wine.
"Sir John missed his usual siesta, and was
tired. He is quite well now, Signor Principe. "
"Ah, bravo! It has been a devil of a sum-
mer. And the heat seems as if it would never
leave oflT any more. "
The dinner seemed to be spun out to an intol-
erable length. Barletti had a very excellent ap-
]jetite, and ate on steadily. Veronica ate but
little ; but she drank otf tli.cc glasses of Cham-
]iagne, whereat Barletti, accustomed to the al-
most ascetic temperance of his own countrywo-
men in the matter of wine, marveled considera-
bly. He could not help observing, also, that she
did appear to be really thoughtftd and anxious,
falling every now and then into fits of musing.
And at this, attributing hei' careful brow to un-
easiness regarding her husband, he marveled
still more.
When the dessert was put on the table Paul
prepared to withdraw. Veronica desired him to
remain : speaking in English, of which language
Barletti understood very little wlien he saw it,
and almost nothing when he heard it.
" I must return to Sir Joim, miladi."
"Then tell Ansano to remain, and as soon as
Sir John is in the salottino let me knov."
The other servants went away, leaving An-
sano to hand round tlie dishes of fruit, which,
in his zeal, and the elation of being left to his
own devices free from Paul's supervision, he did
with feverish energy, until Veronica put an end
to his service by desiring him to go and stand
still at the side-board.
The diuing-hall, like all the suit of rooms on
the west side of tlie house, had a door commu-
nicating with the loggia outside. Veronica bade
Barletti finish his wine at his leisure, and rose
from her chair, saying that she would go and
walk in the loggia until Sir John should be
ready to receive them.
A recpiest to be permitted to accompany her
was on l?arletti's lips, but she checked Inm by a
look, and went out alone, pacing slowly and reg-
ularly up and down under the stone arcades.
The night was dark, and since sunset the air Jiad
grown cool. Veronica lifted the gauze njjper tu-
nic of her dress, and wra])])ed her shotdders and
arms in it. As she walked solitarily, a feeling
of intense loneliness came u])on her, such as she
had never experienced in her life.
Outside, in the darkness, she looked in at the
lighted hall each time she jiassed the glass door.
She saw the brightness of the table, glittering
with glass and silver, and adorned with flowers.
She saw Barletti seated there. His face was to-
ward the window. The light fell on his bald
forehead and dark eyes, and mellowed the tint
of his pale skin. He looked like a i)ortrait by
Vandyck. She regarded all this with an inex-
pressible sensation of strnii(jeness. It seemed to
her that she was looking on the room and on
the man for the first time. It seemed to her
that she had no part in any thing within those
walls. No one could see her out there in the
darkness. And to look on even the most famil-
iar face, being one's self unseen, gives it an un-
familiar asjject.
The fact of being shut out there alone in the
darkness, and of looking in upon the lighted
rooms, produced in her a sense of com])lete iso-
lation isolation of spirit as well as of body.
What did her existence matter to any one ? If
she could at that moment transport herself to
Shipley-in-the-Wold, and peep in at the vicarage
windows, she would see no void that her absence
had made. It would all be going on much as
usual. Her father would be reading by the fire
they must have fires now in the evening and
Maud would be reading too, or ]5erha)js jilaying
softly on the old piano. Or it might be that Mr.
Plew was there, j^rosing on in his mild, monot-
onous voice. And outside the wide flats would
be looming dreary and vague ; and near Sack's
farm the sheep and the white cattle would glim-
mer, dotted about the pastures fast asleep. She
could fancy it all ! So, thought she, a ghost
must feel revisiting unperceived the haunts of
the body.
The idea of death, thus conjured up, made her
shiver, and nervously walk fester. How lonely
she felt ! How lonely how lonely !
Veronica had never in her life comprehended
what was meant by a "pleasing melancholy."
Sadness of any kind was utterly distastefid to
her, and aroused either a species of impatient
resentment or a headlong aljandonment of her-
self to despair, which had some anger in it too.
All at once the windows of the salottino threw
out r.ays of brightness into the night. Sir John
must be there. The rays came through the in-
terstices of the wooden Venetian blinds. She
could not look into the salottino as she could
into the dining-hall, where the shutters were left
open. She felt a sudden yearning for fight, and
shelter, and companionship. It was too intoler-
able being out there alone with her own thoughts
in the darkness.
She went into the house through the dining-
room, where Barletti was still sitting at the ta-
bic. He had drunk scarcely any wine since Ve-
ronica left him ; but, to kill the time, he had
eaten nearly the whole contents of a large glass
78
VERONICA.
dish of sweetmeats, and was beginning to find
that occupation pall on him when she reappeared.
Ansano stood sentinel in the back-ground.
He had not found the half hour a pleasant one
either. If he might have been permitted to dis-
tinguish himself by handing to the signor prin-
cipe every dish on the table in regular sequence,
he would have been content ; for Ansano, like
the rest of the servants, was little more than a
mere rustic, and the delighted pride he felt in
such professional promotion as was implied in
being trusted to do any service unwatched by
Paul wore still the gloss of novelty. But to
stand there at the side-board, still and silent,
while the other servants were supping socially to-
gether, was a severe trial.
Veronica walked at once through the dining-
hall to the salottino, and Barletti followed her.
Sir John was lying on a sofii. A lamp stood on
a small table near his head, but it was so shaded
as to throw no light on his face, although it illu-
minated the gay flowered dressing-gown he wore,
and his white, wrinkled hands.
" Here is Prince Cesare de' Barletti," said Ve-
ronica, seating herself on a low chair near the
sofa. " He wanted to go away when he heard
that you were not well ; but I made him stay."
" Oh !" said Sir John, in a kind of grunt.
The greeting was so exceptionally uncourt-
eous even for Sir John, that Barletti rose up as
though he wei'e moved by a spring over which
his will had no control, and said, "I regret my
intrusion. If I had supposed for a moment that
monsieur le baron was seriously ill "
"Who says so? I am not seriously ill!"
snarled Sir John.
' Of course not !" inteq^osed Veronica, quick-
ly. "I said so. If Sir John had been seriously
ill, it would be another matter. But his indis-
jiosition was of the very slightest, and it is now
quite gone."
Either, she thought, he must confess to being
so indisposed tiiat the presence of a stranger irked
him, or he must ask Barletti to remain. But
Sir John did neither. Whichever one of several
given courses of action Was most pleasing to Sir
John's state of temper at the moment, he habit-
ually adopted. Such cobwebs as duty toward,
or consideration for, others, were entirely ]iow-
erless to restrain the passions or caprices of his
monstrous egotism.
"Yes," he said, speaking, as he had spoken
throughout, in a muffled, strange voice, and ar-
ticulating indistinctly: "I am quite well, Init I
don't feel energetic by any means. I shall not
ask you to stay to-night, prince ; it would only
bore you."
It was almost impossible to resist this hint,
but Barletti caught a glance from Veronica
which so plaiidy begged him to remain, that he
answered: "Now, my good Gale, I won't liear
that. Bore me ! Not at all. I shall stay and
chat until your bedtime. Or, if you prefer it,
well have our partie of piquet. Which sluiU it
be?"
Sir John was surprised at this unwonted in-
sistence. The man had had his dinner ; why
did he wish to stay? That he evidently did
wish it was, however, no inducement to his host
to yield.
"Frankly, my dear friend," said Sir John,
making an odd grimace, as though he had tried
to smile and failed, "I will to-night have nei-
ther chat nor cards. I decline your company !
That is the charm of having an intimate friend.
I know you won't be angiy if I beg you to leave
me to myself, or," he added, slowly turning hi?
eyes on Veronica, "to miladi. That is myself;
it's quite the same thing."
But in looking at Veronica he surprised a
glance of intelligence passing from her eyes to
Barletti. Sir John could not change the direc-
tion of his own gaze quickly enough to catch the
answering look on the prince's face; his facial
muscles appeared not to be under full com-
mand ; but he saw an expression of irresolution
and conflict in Barletti's whole bearing.
The pi-ince rose and then seated himself again,
and then again rose with more detennination, and
advanced to the side of the sofa, holding out his
hand to Sir John, and saying, " Good-night, then,
caro Gale. Angry? No; of course I shall not
be angry!" Then he bowed low to "miladi,"
and said, in a low tone, and with intention, "I
regret to be banished from our good Gale, mi-
ladi ; but I am sure he will lie quite himself to-
morrow. You need not none of us need be
uneasy about him."
" Uneasy !" echoed Sir John. " Que diable,
Barletti, who is likely to be uneasy ?"
And as he spoke he looked not at the prince,
but at Veronica.
" Who, indeed ?" said Veronica, returning Bar-
letti's parting salutation with the stateliest of bows.
She was reassured at heart. For she argued thus :
" If Barletti thouglit there were any thing serious
the matter he would not have been restrained by
any fear of Sir John from giving me a hint of it
by word or look.''
And the first fiiint dawn of a project rose dimly
in her mind a project of attaching and binding
this man to her, so as to secure his assistance
and protection if if any thing sliould happen to
Sir John. And already in the dawn of her proj-
ect the prospect of that dread "something which
might happen" showed a little less dreadful.
Meanwhile Sir John lay on the sofa watching
her from under tlie shadow that covered his face,
and thinking of the look he had suiin-ised her giv-
ing Barletti. The look had put a new idea into
his mind, a very unpleasant idea, not unpleasant
merely because, if correct, it would argue some
of the ideas he had hitherto entertained to have
been wrong (though that contingency alone was
disagreeable enough), but because, also, it would
have the effect of making him imeasy in the fu-
ture.
CHAPTER VII.
WHAT TIIEY SAID AT THE CLUB.
Pat'l had sucli a terrible time of it that night
in undressing Sir John and getting him to bed,
that when he Avas alone in his own little room
within easy reach of his master's, and communi-
cating witii it by means of a large bell hanging
at the head of his bed lie began to go over
some calculations in his mind, with the half-
formed intention of retiring from the baronet's
service with a thousand or so fewer francs than
the sum he had determined on as the limit of
his savings.
Sleep brought counsel to Paul, however, and
VERONICA.
79
he arose in the morning prepared to {;o tliiough
the term of service he had set himself. But
whether sleep had hroiight counsel to Sir John
or not, it is certain that he woke in a humor
worse, if possible, than that in which he had
gone to bed.
He did not feel so much recovered from the
indisposition of yesterday as he had expected to
feel. He was extremely feeble, exce])t in tem-
j)cr; there, he was as vigorous and ferocious as
a healthy tiger with a fine appetite and nothing
to eat.
Paul attended on him silent and watchful.
At length he said, with grave deliberation :
"You must have a physician, Sir John."
The reply was a volley of oaths, so fiercely
littered that they left the baronet panting and
glaring breathlessly from his pillow.
"Excuse the liberty. Sir John," said Paul,
with a shade more gravity, but otherwise quite
unmoved, "but you must have a physician.
You are a little feverish. It is nothing. A
little draught will make you quite strong soon
for your journey."
"A lit-tle draught," muttered Sir John, try-
ing to mimic Paul's accent. " A little devil !"
" In this country fevers go quick. Excuse
the liberty, Sir John. If you allow, I will go
for a physician myself."
The man's steady persistence had some effect
on his master. Sir John moved his head rest-
lessly and said, "Go? Where will you go?
You don't know any of the doctors here, curse
them!"
"There is a good and esteemed English phy-
sician. Sir John, lives in "
"Damn the English physician ! You infernal
idiot, do you think I will have any of them, jab-
bering and boasting, and telling in the place
that they have been attending Sir John Gale?
Do you think I want n pack of British fools
rushing up here to stare at me ?"
" Bene, bene," said Paul. In his secret mind
he had but a poor opinion of the English facul-
ty, whose views, on the subject of bleeding espe-
cially, appeared to him to be terribly limited.
" Benissimo ! Better so. Sir John. I will fetch
a most excellent medico. One who will cure you
immediately Dr. MafFei. _ He is well known,
Sir John."
"Well known, you fool!"
' ' Well known among the Italians, Sir John, "
added Paul, astutely. " The signori Inglesi
mostly employ their own physicians."
" Whatever he may say, I shall start for Na-
ples on the nineteenth : remember that I"
In this way Sir John gave a tacit consent to
the visit of the Italian doctor.
When that gentleman arrived at Villa Chiari
he declared that there was no fever about Sir
John. Paul had been mistaken there. But he
let slip another ugly word, which Paul, who was
present during the whole interview (acting as in-
terpreter occasionally, for Sir John's Italian .and
the doctor's French sometimes came to a ca\\ de
sac, out of which Paul had to extricate them),
smothered up as well as he could, in the hope
that it might not reach Sir John's ears.
"I got a fall from my horse last year and
was badly hurt, and had a long illness in con-
sequence," said Sir John, feeling that the phe-
nomenon of so wealthy and important a person-
age as himself being reduced to a condition of
great weakness needed some explanation : " I
tliink it shook me more than they thought at the
time. That's the only way I can account for
being in such a devil of a state."
"Ah, yes. And then, you see, you are get-
ting old, and you have probably been rather in-
temperate in your youth," answered Dr. INIafFci,
with disconcerting sincerity.
Sir John began to tliink he had been wrong
in not having an English physician, if he must
have any at all.
Dr. Mafl'ei prescribed some medicine, and a
plain, but nourishing diet.
"I am going to Naples on the nineteenth,"
said Sir John, lirusquely.
" I do not know. I do not tliink I should
advise your making a journey so soon. ''
"I shall not trouble you. Sir, for your opin-
ion on that point. I am going on that day.
Good-morning !"
The wild-beast temper had leaped out and
shown its fangs so suddenly that the doctor's
brown smooth-shaven face remained for a few
seconds absolutely blank with amazement. Then
he bowed silently ; and, with a certain dignity,
despite his short, stubliy figure and ungraceful
gait, walked out of the room.
An amazement of a livelier and more agi-eea-
ble nature overspread his countenance when,
driving down tiie hill in his fiacre, he inspected
the bank-note which Paul had handed to him in
an envelope. Its amount was more than ten
times what he would have considered a sufficient
fee from any of his compatriots it was, indeed,
ostentatiously excessive. Sir John had some
vaguely vindictive notion in his head that the
beggarly Italian would repent not having been
more civil to a man who could afford to pa)'
such a fee. But he was wrong. Tlie doctor
was pcndering upon the extraordinary and ab-
surd constitution of a universe in which so anom-
alous a nation as the English was permitted to
exist.
It would be difficult to decide whether or not
the medicines sent by Dr. ^laffei did the patient
any good ; but the fact was, that Sir John did
not get worse, and was able to keep his resolu-
tion of going to Naples on the nineteenth of Oc-
tober.
Between the day .of his tete-'a-tete dinner with
Veronica and that date, Cesare de' Barletti had
to undergo many buffetings of fortune. He was
tossed backward and forward from sunshine to
shade, by the selfish caprice of a little white hand
and these little white hands can strike hard
sometimes. A man who has nothing to do from
morning to night is glad of a habit which saves
him the fatigue of deciding how he shall bestow
himself at a given hour. He likes to say, "I
must be with So-and-so this evening." It has a
cheap air of duty. Thus mere habit had caused
the Neapolitan princeling to be a regular visitor
to the English baronet in the old days at Naples,
when the latter was bound to his room by a fit
of the gout.
The visits had been begun at the promptings
of good-nature, combined with a natural taste
for a superior cuisine. Sir John, at that time,
employed a very accomplished cook.
Then in Florence it must be admitted that
curiosity had been the chief spur which at first
80
VERONICA.
induced the prince to undergo the fatigue of sit-
ting behind a cab-horse, and seeing him strug-
gle up the steep road to Villa Chiari. He wanted
to see the interior of the menage, whose master
and mistress seemed so ill-assorted. But very
soon it began to appear to him a necessity of ex-
istence that he should pay his evening vi^~it to
the villa. He even found some satisfaction in
his game of piquet. An Italian is usually amaz-
ingly i)atient of boredom : or, it may be, is un-
conscious of it, which is pleasanter for himself.
Barletti admired Veronica extremely. And her
presence was a strong attraction to him. By-
and-by it began to occur to him that it might be
worth his while to pay his court to this beautiful
woman, after a more serious fashion than he had
at first contemplated. I'^ir John was failing. He
luight die and leave a rich widow, who would
become a prey to needy fortune-hunters ; to for-
tune-hunters who would not have the same -ad-
vantages to offer in exchange for wealth as could
be found in an alliance with Cesare dei Principi
Barletti ! It would be a pity to see her sacrificed
to such men as he had seen and known engaged
in the chase after a wife with money. He made
no definite ]jlan, but suftered himself to drift ou
lazily, with just so much intention as sufiiced to
modify his beiiavior in many subtle, nameless
ways. But after the incident of ISir John's in-
disposition there arose a diflerent feeling in his
breast toward her.
Barletti really had a fund of kindliness in him.
lie was becoming fond with a fondness truer
and more tender than that inspired by the fine
contrast of diamonds on a satin skin of this
girl, so young, so beautiful, and so lonely I From
the moment when she had appealed to him in
some sort for advice and supjiort, a fibre of
manhood was stirred in him on her behaU\ He
would have even made some kind of active sac-
rifice for her. So, despite Sir John's irritability
and insolence, Barletti continued to endure see-
ing his cab-horse toil up the hill overhanging the
Ema, evening after evening.
And Sir John Gale did not scruple to make
use of Barletti. He would give him little com-
missions to execute in the city, and expected
him to read up the news of the day and retail the
gossip of the hour for his amusement.
One afternoon, in search of this latter com-
modity, Barletti was standing at the door of the
club with a knot of others.
"I remember him at Rome," said a portly
man with dyed whiskers, continuing a desultory
conversation with Uarletti. "A red-haiied man
who hunted, t^uite the tyi)e of an Englishman."
"That's a mistake you all make," observed a
languid, spindle-legged young nobleman with a
retreating chin. "I believe there are as many
red-haired people in Italy as in England."
The sijindle-legged young nobleman had mar-
ried an English wife, and had been in England,
and s])oke with authority.
"No, no, it's the Irish that have red hair!" ox-
claimed a third. "OrtheScotch. I forget wliich. '
"Zitto!" whispered the, first })()rtly s])eakcr,
as a tall old man ajjjieared at the club door, " the
captain won't hear you assert tluit the Irish have
red hair!"
The captain was a half-pay officer, who play-
ed an uncommonly good game at billiards. He
was understood to live chiefly by his wits ; but he
had the entree to several distinguished families
who clung theoretically, for a more practical
clinging would have involved an amount of in-
convenience which it would have been mere
Quixotism to encounter to the old regime ; he
was a zealous Roman Catholic, and, it is scarce-
ly necessary to add, was descended from one of
the ancient kings of Ireland!
"Who has red hair?" asked the captain,- in
Italian flavored with a rich Kerry brogue.
" We were talking about a man I know here,
un riccoue, an immensely rich fellow," said Bar-
letti.
"Indeed! Who is he?" said the captain,
aff"ably. He had no constitutional prejudice
against rich fellows.
"Baron Gale."
" Baron ichal? I never heard the title."
" He is an English baron Sir John Gale. I
knew him in Naples. "
"Oh, a baronet! Per Bacco!" exclaimed
the captain, ])ronouncing tlie name of the hea-
then deity precisely like the last syllable of " to-
bacco," with a very sharp a. "It isn't Tallis
Gale, is it ?"
"No, no; John Sir John Gale."
"Ay, ay, that is the baptismal name. But
he took the name of Gale when he came into a
fortune, being richer than enough already ; that's
always the way. lie's a thin, high-shouldered
man, with sandy hair and black eyes ?"
' ' Gia. "
" And has a handsome w ife ? '
" Bellissima!"
" That's the man!" cried the captain, rolling
the end of his cigar between his lips relishingly.
"I knew him in Ireland in the year '49. JNly
lady is a great beauty icas, that is, for she must
be quite pasr.ee by this time and married him for
his mone}'."
"Passee !" echoed Barletti, on whom that word
alone, of all that the captain had uttered, had
made an impression. "Diamine! What do
you cajl ' passc'e ?' She is as fresh as a Hebe, and
young enough to be his daughter !"
"Pooh, pooh, my dear friend ! There's some
mistake. Lady Tallis Gale must be fifty if she's
a day ! "
The by-standers burst into a derisive laugh.
Barletti had allowed'himself to boast a little of
his intimacy at Villa Chiari, and had exalted
"miladi's" beauty to the skies. It is naturally
agreeable to find that one's friend has been ex-
aggerating the charms of a society iVom which
one is one's self excluded. Barletti had to un-
dergo a great deal of banter; and many pleas-
antries were uttered on tlie humorous topic of
Lady Gale's su])posed age and infirmities, which
])leasantries being (like some other things which
are grateful to the truly geiUeel jndate, as caviare
and old Stilton) of a somewhat high flavor, we
may be dispensed from laying before the reader.
Barletti finned and ])rotested and gesticulated
in vain. T'he joke at his exj)ense was too good
to be lost.
"That's why she never sliowed, then, in the
Cascine or any where," said he of the spindle-
legs, reflectively. That young nol)leman was
not. strictly sjieaking, imaginative, and liad tak-
en little part in the shower of jests which had
been flung at Barletti. " I iliouyht it was queer,
if she was so handsome as all that I"
VERONICA.
SI
The conception of a strikingly liandsome young
woman wlio did not want to sliow herself in the
Cascine was entirely heyond this young gentle-
man's ])owers of mind, lie was as incredulous
as an African to whom one should describe a
snow-storm.
That evening Barletti, seated at the jjiquet-
table opposite to Sir John Gale, caused the latter
to dash his cards down with an oath, by asking
him a simple question: "Have you been mar-
ried -twice, caro Gale?"
" What the devil's that to you. Sir ?" demand-
ed the baronet, when he had recovered breath
enough to speak.
Barletti drew himself up a little. "Pardon,
monsieur le baron," said he, "but I do not quite
understand that mode of address."
At another moment he might have passed over
the brutal rudeness of his host's words, but his
amour propre was still smarting from the jeering
he had received in the morning, lie was there-
fore ready to resent a small offense from one
from whom he had endured greater oticnses witli
equanimity. That was not just. But man oft-
en deals as blindly with his fellows as fortune
deals with him ; and it is the first comer who re-
ceives the good or evil he may chance to hold in
his hand, quite irrespective of the claims of ab-
stract justice.
Sir John was not in a mood to take any notice
of Barletti's sudden access of dignity.
"What put that into your head, pray?" asked
Sir John, fiercely.
"No matter, monsieur le baron; if I could
have conjectured that the topic was a painful
one, I should not have adverted to it. Let us
say no more."
"Trash, Sir! I insist upon knowing what
j-ou mean."
Barletti had resolved not to be bullied further,
and had raised his head, confronting Sir John
with a proud air, when he caught a glimpse
through the glass door of a gi'aceful figure, with
long, sweeping skirts, passing slowly along the
loggia. It was j;et early. Tliey had not dined.
Although the cai-d-table was illumined by a lamp,
the daylight was not excluded, and the loggia,
with part of the garden, was distinctly visible
from the interior of the room. Veronica was
pacing along with her head bent down in a pen-
sive attitude. As she came opposite to tlie window-
she raised her head for a moment and looked in.
Sir John had his back to the window ; but
Barletti could see her. She looked full at him,
and he saw, or seemed to see, something plaint-
' ively appealing in her eyes. It all passed so
quickly that there appeared to be scarcely any
pause between Sir John's last words and Barlet-
ti's reply, tittered coldly, but not angrily.
"'Insist," caro Gale, is an absurd word to
use. But if you really wish it, I have no objec-
tion to tell you what made me ask if you had
been twice married. It is no secret. Your
name was mentioned at the club to-day, and a.
man declared that he had known miladi years
ago, and that she was was not quite young
now. I thought it might have been a former
wife of whom he spoke. He said, by-the-by,
that you had another name besides Gale Salli
Talli I forget it now."
Sir John laughed a little grating laugh.
"Well," said he, taking up his cards again and
arranging them in his hand, " I suppose you can
judge for youiseif about the correctness of your
friend's information on one point, at least. Mi-
ladi would be much obliged to him if she could
know that he said siie was 'not quite young.'
Ila, ha ! I sujjpose the fellow was trying to
hoa.K you. By-tlie-by, I would advise you, if
you want to be in miladi's good books, not to
tell her that you have been discussing her at the
club. She's so devilish i)roud that she'd never
forgive you. Allons, let us finish our game."
Barletti understood very well that he had got
no answer to his (ptestion. But he was too glad
to have avoided a (juarrel with Sir John to care
about that. And he was more glad than ever
that he had commanded himself when Veronica
entered and sat a little behind Sir John's chair,
talking little and smiling less, but gentle, ami-
able, and looking exquisitely beautiful.
All through dinner her unwonted softness of
mood continued. She had lately, as has been
hinted, displayed a good deal of caprice and
hauteur in her behavior to Barletti : so that her
mildness was made precious by conti'ast. It was
the last evening he was to spend at Villa Chiari.
On the following day Sir John had decided to
start for Naples.
" Good-by, prince," said Veronica, gidng him
her hand. It was the first time she had ever
done so ; and Barletti's heart beat suddenly fast-
er as he clasped her fingers for a moment in his
own.
"We shall see you in the winter?'' added
Veronica.
" I hope I shall be able to get away. I came
here, thinking I should stay jierliaps a fortnight,
on some business for Alberto" (Alberto was his
elder brother, and the head of the family), "and
these tiresome lawyers have kept me broiling in
Florence throughout the whole summer. Pazi-
enza ! I do not regret my detention," he added,
a, little awkwardly, as he bowed once more to
"miladi."
Then he went aw-ay through the garden, past
the broken fountain, and out at the wide gates.
There his fiacre was awaiting him. But he told
the man to drive on slowly, and stay for him at
the foot of the hill. And after standing for a
few minutes gazing at the old house, white in the
moonlight, black in the shadow, he absolutely
walked more than three-quarters of a mile down
the hill, under the autumn sky sjjangled with
stars ; walked through the thick," soft dust, which
speedily covered his well-varnished boots with a
drab-colored coating. And even when he reached
the foot of the descent he had not yet exhausted
the excitement which made it irksome for him
to sit still in a carriage. He paid the coachman
and dismissed him, and tramped home through
the streets on foot.
All which might have proved to a discerning
eye that Cesare dei Principi Barletti was feeling
powerful and unwonted emotion.
CHAPTER VIII.
CATCHING AT A STRAW.
During the first three weeks of his stay at
Naples Sir John Gale appeared to be better than
he had been for a long time previous. He did
82
VERONICA.
not pay many visits, but he received a consid-
erable number of guests twice a week. The
guests were chiefly gentlemen, but a few ladies
came also.
Veronica's magnificent toilets were criticised
by the women, and her striking beauty discussed
by the men. She received homage and flattery
enough to satisfy even her appetite for such
tribute. She drove out daily in an elegant equi-
page. She had servants at her command. Her
vanity and indolence were ministered to as as-
siduously as tliough she had been the most pam-
pered sultana who ever dyed her fingers with
henna. But although these things did afibrd
her real delight at moments, they utterly failed
to make her happy. A ceaseless undercurrent
of anxiety ran through her life. She passed
liours of suffering from unspeakable apprehen-
sion of evils to come.
Pier pain of mind spurred her on to pursue
the one object slie iiad in view, witli a courage
and energy wliicli slie wondered at herself. The
prospect of humiliation, exposure, and contempt,
in lieu of homage, flattery, and envy, was un-
bearable. It roused in her a passion of terror :
and passion is powerftd.
The strange indisposition which had so sud-
denly seized Sir John at the Villa Chiari had
suggested to her tiie thought that he might die
suddenly. For a time that anxiety was ap-
peased by the improvement in his health after
they had first reached Naples : it was appeased,
but still it lived.
Her feelings toward him underwent strange
revulsions. Sometimes she told herself that slie
hated him with all her heart ; at other times
she clung to him from the sheer necessity of
having some human creature to cling to. She
was unable to live solitarily self-sustained, and
there were moments when she would rather have
been reviled in anger tlian made to feel that she
was an object of indifference.
But, to Sir John at least, slie was not the
latter. She occupied more of his tiioughts than
she was aware of. He had not forgotten tlie
look of intelligence he had seen on its way from
Veronica's eyes to iBarletti's. He often thought
of it : especially as he got better, and had leis-
ure to direct some of his private meditations to-
ward other objects than himself.
When lie thought of that look Sir John was
jealous; jealous not so much with the jealousy
of Love as with the jealousy of Power. He
would have been jealous of Paul if he had sus-
pected him of diverting any of the attentions due
to his master into another cliannel. It w-as not
displeasing to Sir John that Barletti should ad-
mire Veronica. Sir John liked that every thing
belonging to him should be admired. It amused
him to see Veronica jtlay off her ]iretty airs on
tiie prince, and treat him with an alternation of
condescending smiles and stares of cold hauteur.
But that look he had intercepted implied no
playing oft" of pretty airs : it expressed a confi-
dential understanding, appeal, and reliance.
Veronica had been so perfectly i)rudent that it
was difticult for Sir John to conjecture what op-
portunity there could have been for the establish-
ment of any thing like a confidence between her
and Barletti. Siiehad not remained alone with
him for a moment during dinner, and she had
been careful to speak to him in Italian, so that
the servants might understand what was being
said. All this Sir John well knew, and was
puzzled. He would have been glad to convince
himself that he had misinterpreted that fugitive
glance ; but that could not be. It was such a
look as Veronica had never given him Sir John.
The man who has a secret consciousness that he
has injured you is, we know, very ready to find
cause of oftense or complaint against you. It
balances matters somewhat.
Sir John was always telling himself how gen-
erous he was to Veronica ; how he Iiumored her
caprices ; what a dull, wretched, miseral)le, ])ov-
erty-stricken existence it was he had taken her
from ; and so forth. And he compared tlie flat-
tering graciousness of her manner in the old days
with the languor or violence which made up the
present time. And then she teased him. She
importuned him for that which he was unable to
grant ; and he especially desired to avoid ex-
plaining the reasons of his inability to grant it.
It really seemed hard. .But now tliere had aris-
en a real and important excuse for his resent-
ment, and lo ! he was inconsistent enough not to
welcome it ! On the contrary, it absolutely dis-
turbed him very seriously.
Had he really cared more for this girl than he
had fancied? Was there -a fibre of tenderness
yet lurking in tliat tough heart ? He, at least,
began to think so, and to pity himself with quite
a soft sympathy. But that which was sympa-
thy for himself became very bitter antagonism to
others. After all, what had he to comjilain of?
He did not desire Veronica to be tenderly trust-
ful and confiding in her manner toward him !
He had never longed for a sad, appealing, ques-
tioning glance from her large, dark eyes ! No ;
but he none the less resented the bestowal of
such a look on anotlier.
He had flattered himself that Veronica enter-
tained a due contempt for a man so poor as Bar-
letti. If poverty were not contemptible, why
then what advantage did he. Sir John Tallis
Gale, possess over Prince Cesare in the eyes of
a joung lady ?
That was an unpleasant thought. It came
nnwelcomed, and remained without leave. It
seemed to Sir Jolni that unpleasant thoughts in-
creased and mu]ti])lied witli amazing fecundity.
One produced anotlier.
Then, after the first fallacious improvement in
his health, which had been wrought by change
of air, his bodily ailments returned upon him.
And amidst all these troubles there was Veroni-
ca pursuing her own aim witli tlie blind persist-
ency of desi)eration. It had never entered into
her head that Sir John could be nourishing any
feeling of jealousy toward Barletti.
It was not long before the latter followed them
to Naples, and he was received at Sir John Gale's
house there on the same familiar footing as he
had held at Villa Chiari. Sir John easily fell
back into his old habit of relying on Barletti for
his evening's amusement ; and, besides, he had
a hungry curiosity to observe his behavior with
Veronica. He lay on his sofa in a kind of am-
bush, with his shaded lamp beside him, watch-
ing the two, evening after evening, and feeding
high the fire of jealous hatred within his own
breast.
It required no great acumen to discover that
Barletti was becoming daily more enthralled by
VERONICA.
Veronica. He would sit and gaze at liev like a
man spoU-bound ; and the light gallantry, the
high-tlown compliments, tlie conventional flat-
tery, had all disapjjeared from his speech and
from his manner, lie was silent in her pres-
ence, or, if he spoke, it was seldom to her that
his words were addressed. He iiad grown se-
rious, and almost sad with the vague sadness
that belongs to all deep emotion, and that no
mere butterfly flirtation ever awakens.
Veronica's feeling was less easy to read.
It was not, at all events, deep enough to be
self-forgetting. Sir John coming to his evening
watch with .1 certain preconceived idea, inter-
preted many chance words and looks into a cor-
roboration of that idea. Yet even Sir John's
suspicion could not blind him to the fact that,
let Veronica regard 15arletti as she might, the
prince was fiir from being the all-engrossing ob-
ject of her life. He well knew what that object
was. But it infuriated him to think that she
was possibly urged on to pursue it by the hope
of one day sharing her success with IJarletti.
Toward Sir John himself Veronica showed a
gentleness and an assiduity that were seldom in-
terrupted. Sometimes, however, it did happen
that her temper, unused to curb or discipline,
broke forth into violent reproaches and even
threats, and caused him much annoyance. But
then, when the burning anger had cooled a lit-
tle, she would come to him again with a peni-
tent, tender, earnest pleading for forgiveness
which would have been infinitely touching to an
mibiased witness.
There had been a time when the vehemence
of an angry woman's tongue, and the impotent
rebellion of a woman's mortified spirit, would
have mattered little to him. He w"ould have op-
posed passion to passion, violence to violence,
self-assertion to self-assertion, and would even
have enjoyed his victory. But it was no longer
with him as it had been. It was still dangerous
to provoke him too far, and Veronica's cheeks
had once been blanched by a torrent of invectives
launched at her by his quivering lips. Still, such
an ebullition of passion cost him too dear to be
indulged in often. He had grown very feeble.
He felt it, although he would not acknowledge
it. For some time he made light of his illness,
and refused to see a physician. But one day
Veronica made the alarming discovery that he
did see one of the leading doctors of the place
daily. The doctor came in a secret sort of way,
and was admitted to Sir John's apartment by
Paul.
Veronica's maid (no longer Eeppina, but a
Frenchwoman, the Tuscan servants had all been
dismissed on leaving Villa Chiari) found this
out, and told her mistress : less by way of im-
parting information than as a means of discov-
ei'ing whetlier Veronica knew it, and co-operated
with Sir John in keeping the servants ignorant
of the gravity of the case.
Veronica was terrified. She turned her
thoughts this way and that way in search of
help. There was no one within reach, no one
to be relied on, but Barletti. What better lot
lay before her than an alliance with him ? She
had learned to like him ; he was gentle, and he
loved her. The latter she could not doubt.
But yet that would avail her little, if she missed
her aim and failed in her great purjiose. Any
secret communication with Barletti risked utter
ruin and loss of all.
But on the evening of the day on which she
had learned the fact of the doctor's visits the
need of sympathy and encouragement became
paramount, and when Barletti was saying "good-
night" she gave him her hand, and, with a warn-
ing pressure, conveyed into his a little folded
paper with these words written on it, "To-mor-
row morning at eight, o'clock I shall be walking
in the Villa Keale. Be there. I wish to con-
sult you."
Tiie moment Barletti was gone, v.ith the nate
in his hand, Veronica had a revulsion of feeling.
She would have done any thing to recall it. She
trembled at the thought of the risk she had run.
But after a night's sleep she awoke, still uneasy
and frightened indeed, but resolved to meet Bar-
letti at the hour appointed.
CHAPTER IX.
IN THE VILLA KEALE.
" Why do you not write to his family ?"
"He has no living relatives ; not one."
"To his friends?"
"His friends! I do not knoiv any of ins
friends."
"You do not know any of his friends !"
"I I I know a man a nobleman, in En-
gland, who knew him years ago in Rome. I
know that Spanish attache', and the Russian who
came to Villa Chiari. I know the Duca di Ter-
racina here, and his sister-in-law, the withered
little woman with the pearls. These are scarcely
the sort of friends who would be likely to aiford
one much comfort."
Barletti drew near her.
"I am only such a friend as these," he said,
"-if one counts by date of acquaintance. And
yet you speak to me with confidence."
Veronica raised her eyes to his sadly as she
answered : " Yes ; because I think )'ou care for
me, and feel for me, and would, perhaps, do a
friendly action for my sake, if not for his."
She was not without a consciousness of the ef-
fect she was producing on the man beside her,
nor without an enjoyment of that consciousness.
But there was truth enough in her words, and
reality enough in her emotion, to send both the
words and the look that accompanied them home
to Barletti's heart.
The exhibition of herself as Beanty in distress,
to an admiring spectator, had a certain pleasure
in it that could not be altogefner destroyed by
the serious terrors and troubles that encompassed
her.
Barletti glanced around him with the habitual
caution of an Italian (and, be it said, of a lover.
There is nothing that so speedily forms an ac-
complished hypocrite in small precautions as a
clandestine attachment). Seeing no one in the
long alley of the Villa Reale where they were
pacing side by side, he took Veronica's hand and
pressed it to his lips. He was very pale, and
there were tears in his eyes, and his voice was
unsteady as he said :
"Ah, Veronica! There is nothing in all the
world I would not do for your sake."
"I think you are a true friend."
84
VERONICA.
"No fiiend was ever so true, so tlevoted, as I
Avill be if you will trust me."
Certainly the words thus written down do not
display much eloquence on either side. But it
seemed to both the speakers that they had said a
great deal, and had been talking for a long time.
They walked on silently until they came to a
little pier of masonry, railed in with iron bars,
and abutting on the sea. They stood side by
side, leaning over and looking out over the blue
Mediterranean sparkling in the sunlight. A few
fishing barks flitted across tlie horizon. Near at
hand, a little gayly-painted boat, moored to the
stone-wall, rocked up and down, and the waters
made a Ia])ping sound around the keel.
White garments fluttered on the beach, where
a party of washer-women had established a dry-
ing-ground. The women talked and laughed
loud and volubly, and the breeze carried the
shrill sounds fitfully hither and thither. No oth-
er human being was within sight. Eehincl them
Avere the green alleys of the Villa Eeale; in front,
the blue sea and the blue sky.
Veronica and Cesare de' Barletti stood quite
silent, she staring straight before her, he with
his gaze upon her face, and holding her hand in
his.
It seemed to him as though it were all a dream.
She broke the silence. He little guessed how
far away her thoughts had been from him dur-
ing all those minutes. He little guessed that
they had been busy with persons and ]jlaces he
had never heard of. He had interpreted the
tender melancholy in her eyes after his own
fashion.
Her mind had flown away cajjriciously to the
old days at lShii)ley, and the principal figure in
her musings was Maud. But she broke the si-
lence; and in the instant of opening her li])s she
was back again in the present, and nervously
alive to every detail of her position.
" Do you think you could find out from that
doctor I can give you his name whether bir
John's illness is really of an alarming nature ;
whether he thinks there is immediate danger ?"
"Physicians will not speak of their patients
to a stranger," answered Barletti. He, too, was
prompt to enter into the prosaic actualities ; but
he came back to them out of fairy -land with a
sigh, and a little shock, such as we feel in sleep
Vihen a long, delicious flight on dream-wings
ends with a sudden jar, and we alight.
"But you may not be a stranger to this phy-
sician ! You maj' know him ! Besides, if 30U
spoke with him, I think you could easily discover
what his impre^ion was, without direct ques-
tioning. It womd be such a relief to my mind
to know."
"Why do you not jilainly ask Gale?"
"Oh, I dare not!"
"You dare not ! Is he harsh ? Is he cruel ?
I know his temjjer is furious, but cmi he be harsh
to you ? These Englishmen are sometimes very
brutal."
" When I say I dare not, I mean for fear of
exciting him too much. You need not alarm
yourself for mc; nor expend any indignation, on
that score, ujion Sir John."
"Oh! Veronica, the thought of your being
treated with unkindness is insupportable to me.
Veronica, there can be no tie of affection be-
tween you and that man. He can not value you,
he can not understand you. It is horrible to see
you bound to him!"
Barletti's horror of a loveless and ill-assorted
marriage was of very recent date. It was not
long since he had looked upon the union of the
rich Sir John Gale with the beautiful Veronica
as a quite matter-of-course and expedient ar-
rangement, transacted on fair principles of ex-
change.
' ' You must not speak so to me, " said Veroni-
ca, in a low voice.
"Veronica, I have told you that there is no-
thing in the world I would not do for your sake.
And it is true. But there are some things be-
yond my power. One of them is to feign not to
love you. I would even do that, if you desired
it, but I can not. Y'ou might as well ask me to
fly to Capri yonder. "
The strength of passion brushed away her
small reserves and affectations like summer gos-
samer before a great wind. She felt frightened
at the potency of the spirit she had evoked. She
desired to be loved, but within a convenient
measure. She had thought to conjure up a
sprite to serve her, not to rule her.
Her instinct taught her to appeal to his com-
passion. She did it genuinely, for she felt that
she stood in need of helj) and forbearance.
"I trusted you," she said, brokenly, "and
and^you seemed to be true and gentle."
"You will not tell me that you did not know
I loved you, A'eronica! You did know it. Oh,
mio Dio, how I love thee!"
" Men are selfish and cruel ! There is none
whom I can trust. You should not have said
this to me now. You should not!"
The tears began to roll down her cheeks as
she spoke. He was penitent when he saw tears,
but he was perjjlexed too. She had surely known
that he was deeply in love with her, and, know-
ing it, had come voluntarily to claim his help
and sympathy ! Wh}', then, did she call it cruel
and selfish that he should speak to her of his feel-
ings ? He had no conception of the kind of hope-
less devotion she wanted, and would have accept-
ed, at any cost of pain to him.
She would fain have had him behave like ^Ir.
Blew, at least for the present, or until the dec-
laration of his passion should no longer be
fraught with risk or trouble to herself But
Cesare de' Barletti was not in the least like Sir.
Blew. And IMr. Plew's manner of loving giv-
ing all and getting nothing was inconceivable
to him. And yet, after Jtis manner, he did love
her with the first deep and genuine passion of
his life.
' ' What do you command me to do, Veronica ?
Tell me. I can not bear to see you shed tears,"
he said, speaking less vehemently.
"I can not command you I do not wish to
command you. But 1 ask you, as a friend, to
ascertain what you can about Sir John's illness.
It is not a very great thing to do, perhaps. And
yet it is more than I have any right to de-
mand."
"I will do it. Tell me, Veronica, do yon-
are you so very anxious about your husband ?"
"About Yes."
"Don't frown! Your frown chills me like a
cloud coming over the sun. Ah, how coldly you
look! There is some northern snow in your
veins, even though you have Italian blood in
VERONICA.
you. And why should you be angry? You
can not love tliat man ! It is impossible."
"I said nothing of loving."
"True. But you seem so anxious, so dis-
tressed "
"^ Can not you understand how terrible my
position would be, alone here in a strange coun-
try, if if any sudden misfortune should hap-
pen ?"
"Alone! You would not be alone. Should
/ not be by your side ? Ah, you speak of trust,
but you do not really trust me."
"I do trust you. My presence here this
morning is a proof that I trust you. But I
must go back now. It is getting late. I came
out quite alone. I did not bring even my maid. "
"Oh, stay a wliile a little longer! Let me
look at you, and speak to you yet a few minutes
longer!"
"No, no: I must go. I shall be missed.
Paul is always on the watch."
"To the devil with Paul! Yon are not in
fear of your servant ! Will you go ? Well, see
how I obey you. There, I will not try to detain
you. But, Veronica, one word. W^hen will you
meet me again? I must give you an answer,
you know ; I must tell you if I get any informa-
tion. Will you come here to-morrow morning ?"
Veronica mused a moment. " Could you not
contrive to make me understand whether the
doctor's answer is favorable or unfavorable, this
evening when you come to /liin? A word or a
look would suffice."
"No," said Barletti, resolutely. "Not a
glance, not a quiver of an ej'elash shall you
have! I will impart no information unless you
will consent to come here for it."
"Did I not say men were all selfish? That
is your friendshi]) ; t/int is your devotion !"
"And you, Veronica, are you not very hard
with me? What is that I ask ? But to see you
for ten minutes away from that blighting pres-
ence ! But to speak one word to you of all that"
is in my heart!"
"Yes : you demand the price that pleases you
for your service!"
He started back as though she had struck
him.
" Signora, I demand no price. It shall be as
you choose."
She saw he was v^ounded to the quick, and
was eager to soothe him ; although at the same
time she felt somewhat indignant at his indigna-
tion as a spoiled child, accustomed to give way
to its humors, is startled and hurt when its ar-
rogant pettishness is taken seriously, and resent-
ed as an injury.
" Oh, forgive me !" slie said. " i am very un-
happy."
Those words melted him at once. But he
had been deeply wounded. He could under-
stand tears, caprice, frowns, even fury. But a
bitter sarcasm, a pitiless probing of motives, was
infinitely repulsive. It seemed to him so es-
sentially unwomanly. A woman might die for
you, if she loved you ; or might kill you if slie
were jealous. Tiiat was in accordance with the
arrangements of Providence. But to hear a
satiric sneer from female lips was to the Nea-
politan prince almost as shocking as to have be-
held a lady with a dissecting-knife in her hand,
and readv to use it.
" I did not think you coidd have spoken so
unkindly, Veronica, to one who is devoted to
you heart and soul, as I am," he said, reproach-
fully. But he took her hand again, and kissed
it.
"Perhaps," said Veronica, "it will be best
that I sliotdd meet you here again, to-morrow.
The place is a public promenade. There can
be no reason why I should not enjoy the sun-
shine here of a morning. I will come."
"May I not walk with you now, until you
are within sight of the Palazzo?"
"No. I will go home alone. It is best so.
Addio."
"Addio! I shall see you this evening. But
it will be like looking at the sky from behind
prison bars. To-morrow! Until to-morrow !"'
As Veronica neared the porte cochere of tlie
house she lived in, she became aware of a step
close at her heels. She turned her head at the
sound, and saw Paul.
"Good-morning, miladi," said Paul, with his
habitual grave and respectful salutation.
"Where have you been at tliis hour?" asked
Veronica, startled out of her self-command.
" Sir John sent me to the Via Toledo, miladi.
There is no more eau de Cologne in his dressing-
case, and Sir John desired to have some got at
once."
The Via Toledo was far enough from the scene
of Veronica's interview with Barletti.
"The sun was so delightfully bright that it
tempted me out early. I have been walking by
the sea," said Veronica.
She could not for her life have resisted the
temptation to make this sort of excuse for, or
explanation of, her having been out at that un-
usual hour. And yet she hated herself the in-
stant the words were said, and swept past Paul
with intensified hauteur in her always haughty
gait.
"I could not think what had become of ma
pardon, I mean of miladi," said the French
maid, when Veronica re-entered her chamber.
"And miladi dressed herself! Mon Dieu!"
The Abigail cast up hands and eyes at the
tremendous thought.
" I had a caprice to go out by myself. I went
to walk in the sunshine. This January sun is
like June in England. It warms the blood in
one's veins."
"Oh, it is very true, miladi. But it burns
one's skin. See how basane all these Neapoli-
tans are! But Monsieur Paul also had a fancy
to go out this morning."
"I saw Paul. His master sent him out, to
the Via Toledo."
"Ah, Sir John sent him ? That is different.
But he must have made a long de'tour, for I saw
him from mv bedroom window coming from the
Villa Keale.""
CHAPTER X.
ABSIT OMEN.
Veronica dismissed the woman and sat down
to consider the situation. She was frightened to
the bottom of her heart.
Paul coming from the Villa Reale at that hour
of the morning, and on that special morning,
was alarming. But Paul denying that he had
8G
VEKONICA.
been there, and stating that he had come from
an opposite quarter, was more alarming still I
;he had been watched overheard ; to what ex-
tent? How nmch had Paul seen and listened
to ? She sat twisting a ring round and round
on her finger, and pressing it pitilessly into the
tender flesh until a deep red mark grew beneath
tlie gold circlet she who was usually so sensitive
to bodily pain, and shrank from it with such ab-
ject dread !
Above the great fear that seemed to fill her
being, there flashed now and again a recurrent
sentiment of anger; like white foam surging
over a dark sea. fc'he was angry with Barletti.
\yhy had he chosen that time to speak to her so
unguardedly? True, the appointment to meet
him was of her making, but she had never con-
templated having a love-scene. She wanted sym-
pathy and service ; not a passionate declaration !
The passion was good in so far as it lent zeal to
the service and fervor to the sympathy. The
moment it lifted its voice to plead and demand
on its own account, passion was a hindrance and
an injury to her. It was inopportune. There
might come a moment when it would be wel-
come. But now ! Who could tell the extent
of the ruin that Barletti's rashness might bring
upon her ? She pushed her liair up from her fore-
head, thrusting her fingers through and through
the rich rippling locks, and rocked from side to
side on her chair.
"^Yhat shall I do? what shall I do?" she
murmured, in a kind of chant over and over
again, making her voice rise and fall in a regu-
lar monotonous inflection ; as though she were
trying to lull her terrors to sleep as a nurse lulls
a baby, by the mechanical repetition.
The hours went by. All was cpiiet in the
]:ouse. Every thing seemed to be going on as
usual. It was nearly twelve o'clock when Ve-
ronica looked at her watch. She was a little
reassured by the calm that reigned unreason-
ably reassured, as she told herself; for the
storm whose Ijreaking she dreaded was not
likely to burst forth in such sort as to startle
the whole household.
Presently her maid tapped at the door, whicli
Veronica had fastened on the inside.
" Will miladi please to dress for I he dejeuner?''
said the woman. She had been scandalized by
the fact of her mistress having dressed herself,
and chose to ignore the possibility of her appear-
ing at breakfast in a toilet achieved without due
professional assistance.
A^'eronica admitted her.
"I shall not change my dress. Julienne," slie
said. '"But you can throw a wra]Ji)er over me
and brush my hair. I have a sliglit headache,
and that will soothe me."
In fict, the regular ]iassage of the skillfully-
wielded brush through lier long hair did soothe
her. And under its influence slie ^^as enabled
to collect herself and to tliink a little, instead
of merely feeling and fearing, as slie had done
hitherto.
" Is Sir John coming to breakfast ?" she asked,
afi'er a while.
' ' No, madame miladi ; I believe not. When
Paid took him his chocolate at nine o'clock he
said that he was not to 'oe waited for at break-
fast. All li h !"
The woman gave a long sigh, so elaborate, and
so evidently meant to attract attention, that Ve-
ronica asked, "What is the matter with you.
Julienne?"
" With me, miladi ? Nothing ! But with Sir
John all h h I '
It seemed to Veronica that her heart stood
still for a moment, and then went on beating
again Avith a great leap that sickened her. " As
usual she resented the painful sensation, and re-
venged herself on the maid. Veronica A\as a
perfect conductor of pain. She transmitted it
instantly to the nearest recipient.
" Julienne, you are insupportable ! How dare
you startle me in that manner ? What do you
mean ? Are you crazy ?"
'"A thousand pardons, miladi, no; I am not
crazy. But "
Veronica saw the woman's face in the glass.
It Avas a little sullen, but through the sullenness
pierced an eager, self-important look. She had
something to sa}', and would not allow herself
to be balked of saying it by resentment at her
mistress's asperity.
"Well? Is Sir John worse? Is any thing
the matter? Do you know any thing?"
"Miladi, I know this much: I saw the doc-
tor who has been coming every morning every
morning so quietly slipping in and out, /watch-
ed him well, I saw him this morning, but not
alone. No, miladi, there was another with him
a consultation, you seel And as they were
going away I heard them talking ; and though I
did not understand every word, I have Italian
enough to make out that they thought it a very
bad case. And the new doctor said to the old
one as they went out, 'I give him a month.'
Then the other muttered something, and the
new doctor said again, ' Ah, but in this case the
constitution is shattered.' And then he said
something else: I don"t know wliat, miladi."
Julienne checked herself just in time to avoid
repeating to "miladi" sundry criticisms respect-
ing Sir John's temper, manners, and mode of life,
which were by no means of a flattering nature.
It did not strike Veronica that the maid's
mode of revealing her news, or indeed the fact
of her revealing it at all, was a proof that "mi-
ladi's" aflection for Sir John was not deemed
veiy tender or devoted. Julienne had obviously
no fear that she might be dealing a heavy blow
to her mistress's heart in rcjieating the verdict
of the physicians. But that consideration did
not occur to Veronica.
Her first fear that Paul had watched her,
traced her to the A'illa Reale, and revealed what
he had heard to Sir John, was driven out ; but
it was only driven out by a second and a greater
apprehension. Sir John was very ill ; des]iaired
of; dying! She allowed the maid to coil up
her hair, keeping, herself, a dead silence. Her
cheeks were very ])ale. The face that fronted
her in the glass was a strangel\- difl'erent face
from that wliich had l)een used to be mirj-orcd
in her old bedroom at home. The rich coloring
which had Ijeen its most striking charm had
faded in a great measure. Under her eyes were
dark tints that made tlieir brightness gliastly.
The wliole face seemed to have fallen. There
were even some haggard lines around the mouth.
Her youth still asserted itself in tiie satin texture
of her skin, and the rich abundance of her raven
hair. She was still beautiful. But she was no
VERONICA.
87
longer that embodiment of Ilelje-like, gladsome
beauty that she had been a year ago.
She stared at her own image with a puckered
brow, and pained compression of the lips. "I
look old!" she thought. But she said no syl-
lable.
" Dame ! She seems quite to take it to heart !"
thought the maid, mucli surprised. " Can she
be uneasy about his will ? But these great folks
are always provided for by the contract of mar-
riage. " Mademoiselle JuUenne had lived in veiy
"good" families.
After breakfast Veronica went herself to Sir
John's apartments to inquire how he was. The
answer returned by Paul was, tliat Sir John
found himself tolerably well ; arvd would be glad
to s])cak to miladi, if slie would give herself the
trouble of coming to his dressing-room in about
half an hour. That half hour was a terrible one
to Veronica.
Her thoughts seemed to be hurt wliich way
soever she turned them, like a bruised body to
which the slightest movement is pain. If he
had sent for her to reveal the desjjerate condi-
tion of his health, that would be terrible. But,
on the other hand, if that were not the object of
tills interview if she were to be accused, re-
])roached, how should she meet it? Resent-
ment and defiance seemed her only resources,
lieproach from him I That would be too mon-
strous ! And yet the idea of defiance was fright-
ful to her. It would be decisive, irrevocable.
Veronica had a constitutional antipathy to a
clearly-marked and unwavering course of action.
She loved to leave the outlines of her conduct
blurred, so as to have some imaginary margin
for escape from the legitimate consequences of
her actions. The legitimate consequences of
our actions are frequently cruel in their stern
logic: and her unhappy, undisciplined nature
shrank shuddering from the prospect of sustain-
ed endurance.
At the end of the allotted half hour she tapped
at the door of Sir John's dressing-room ; and
the instant her fingers had made the sound she
was overcome by an access of terror, and would
have turned and run away had not Paul opened
the door immediately upon her summons. He
ushered her in respectfully ; and she found her-
self seated she scarcely knew how on a low
chair beside the sofa on which Sir John was re-
clining.
Their parts seemed to be for the moment re-
versed, for it was he who said in a tone of anx-
iety, "Good Heavens, how pale you are! Are
you not well ?"
He held out his tliin, white hand to her, and
lightly touched her fingers with hia lips as he
spoke. The words, and still more the action,
caused a sudden revulsion of feeling in her flut-
tering heart. The blood nished back to her
cheeks and lips. Her eyes grew bright. The
tension of the muscles of her face relaxed. He
would not have greeted her so had he suspected.
She was safe ! "What a fool she had been to tor-
ment herself as she had done !
She answered sweetly, leaving her hand in his,
"I was not well. I had a headaclie this morn-
ing. I went out early to get rid of it. Perhaps
Paul told you ?"
" Yes ; Paul told me."
The tone of the reply startled her. She in-
voluntarily glanced round at Paul, who was ar-
ranging his master's dressing-case. Paul looked
grave, honest, melancholy, as usual.
"Basta! Go away, Paul, and don't come
back till I ring for you," said Sir John, sharply.
Paul obeyed.
When they were alone together, Veronica said :
" I feared you were not so well this morning,
so I came to inquire for you myself."
"How considerate you are!" said Sir John,
shading his eyes with his hand, and looking at
her from beneath that shelter.
It was not unusual with him to adopt a sneer-
ing tone, even in his Ijcst humors. But the ring
of his voice now seemed to \'eronica falser than
usual. It might be that this was the effect of
the fear whicii had left her nerves sensitive and
quivering. At all events slie would not display-
any mistrust of him at tliis moment.
"y4re you feeling stronger this morning?" she
asked.
' ' Stronger ? Yes. Oh yes, certainly : a good
deal stronger. Had you any reason for suppos-
ing the contrary ?"
For a moment she hesitated in a little embar-
rassment. Then she answered, ' ' ily reason was,
as I told 30U, that you did not come to break-
fast."
"Ah yes: true! Of course. But now tell
me you were out early this morning, you say ?"
"Yes."
She began to play with a string of amber beads
that hung round her neck, and slie shifted her
chair a little.
"You are not comfortable," said Sir John,
still watching her from beneath his hand.
"The the light. There is such a glare."
"Ah, the light? Yes: when one has such a
headache as yours or even has had such a head-
ache the light is disagreeable. I am ashamed
that you should have the trouble of moving that
chair for yourself. But you see what a helpless
creature I am comparativelj', that is ; for the
fact is, I am stronger, really stronger. Your
kind anxiety about me does me good. It acts
as a cordial."
"Then you do care for my kindness still?"
she said, glancing at him, and then letting her
eyes fall again immediately.
"Care for it ! "What else have I to care for,
Veronica ? It is every thing to me. And it is
so precious, so infinitely precious, in itself!"
She knelt down beside him. Her hand was
still twisted in the string of amber beads, and
she played with them nervously as she spoke.
"And why do you not secure it, this kindness
that you value, forever? "Why do you not re-
lieve me from the suspense that I confess it
makes my temper fretful and my spirits dull at
times?"
"You do not doubt me, Veronica?"
"No, no. But suspense and procrastination
are wearing."
" You do trust me?"
"Yes."
"You trust me as as I trust you. And you
shall find that your confidence will meet with its
deserts. Do you know what news I heard yes-
terday ?"
"No. Xews? News from England ?"
"Don't excite yourself. You will make your
headache wdrse."
88
VERONICA.
"Oh, my headache is gone."
" Av, but it may come back. It is of a kind
that may return at any moment."
Still the old sneer "in his tone ! And some-
tliing subdued and lurking in his whole manner
that she could not define to herself, but that made
its impression upon her.
" Your news ! Did you send for me to tell it
to me?"
" Y yes, partly, mia cara."
" Speak then !'' she cried, with a flash of im-
jiatient temper that made him smile.
"Well, the news I heard yesterday is, that
her Majesty's ship Furihond is here at Najiles,
imder the command of my old acquaintance,
Captain Reginald Burr."
"Well?" said Veronica, after a moment's
pause of expectation.
"He is a very pleasant fellow, very pleasant
indeed. I met him years ago at Spezia."
Veronica twisted her fingers more impatiently
in the amber necklace, and drew her black brows
together. She thought that Sir John had sim-
]ily introduced this topic to avoid the turn their
conversation had been taking, and to break the
thread of it.
"What is his pleasantness to me?" she ex-
claimed, pettishly.
"llis pleasantness? Not much. But his
presence is a good deal to you."
" IIow ? AVhat do you mean ?"
"Veronica, you know what I said just now
about our trust in one another. Faith is to be
crowned at last. It has not been my fault as
you ought to know that you have been kei)t in
suspense so long. You have blamed me, but un-
justly, as you will find."
She seemed stricken motionless, with her eyes
fixed on his face ; only the breath came and
went quickly between her parted lips.
' ' I am not well enough to travel to Florence, "
he continued, watching her eager face with a
strange, gloating look. "But, listen, Veronica,
mia bella !" He drew her head down to his lips
and whispered a short sentence in her ear.
Her face glowed and changed like a scorched,
drooping July rose after a summer shower. She
sprang to her feet and clasjied her hands togeth-
er. In the sudden gesture of withdrawing her
fingers from the necklace the string snapped, and
the aml)er beads rolled scattered hither and thith-
er about the floor.
"You consent?" said Sir John.
' ' Yes, yes, yes. I I have wronged you some-
times in my thoughts. Forgive me!" she ex-
claimed, impulsively, taking his hand in hers and
kissing it.
" You will remember that it was this day I
conceived the plan. This day. You will keep
in your memory the date of the day on which
you went out so early to the Villa Reale for your
headache."
" I am not likely to need any thing to remind
me of to-day."
" No ; but there is a good deal in association.
Association aids memory so. wonderfully. Now,
tesoro mio, ring for Paul, and leave me. I am
a little tired and overexcited."
"I will not disobey you to-day of all days,"
she said. Her countenance was radiant, her step
elastic. Before she went away she stopped to
gather up the amber beads.
" There is some superstition about losing am-
ber you have once M'orn," she said, smiling.
"They say it is unlucjcy. But I shall prove the
fallacy of the notion. ^ly amber necklace broke
and fell at a moment of great happiness and good
fortune."
" Yes. You will prove the fallacy of the su-
perstition quite triumphantly. Ha! It is cu-
rious we, at least, may defy augury. "
CHAPTER XI.
HER MAJEStY's SHIP THE "fORIBOND. "
The Prince Alberto Barletti passed the great-
er part of his time in Paris. He was a jjoor man
for bis rank, and if he could have found some way
of increasing his income without risk, he would
have been very glad to avail himself of it. But
he shrank from the idea of speculation. As to
earning money, that was out of the question.
And a desirable way of increasing his income
without risk or trouble had not yet occurred to
him. One day, however, fortune seemed to re-
member him in a good-natured mood.
A compan}' of English speculators commenced
operations in Naples. They were to build and
beautify. The first preliminary, of course, was
to destroy. Many houses must be pulled down,
and their proprietors reimbursed. A good deal
of diplomacy was expended on the powers that
ruled such matters. People who possessed in-
fluence were canvassed diligently.
It chanced that Prince Barletti was, rightly or
wrongly, su])posed to be one of the influential.
But how to obtain his good-will ? The English
spectdators, some of them, would have been a lit-
tle clumsy in conducting the affair. But they
had a clever man in their pay who knew the
world. The clever man was Mr. Sidney Frost,
of the firm of Lovegrove and Frost, solicitors to
the company. Mr. Frost soon learned that Prince
Barletti was not rich in projiortion to the illus-
triousness of his rank. In plain words, he might
be open to a bribe. But the mode of otVering
the bribe was all-important. ]\Ir. Frost, in con-
sultation with the architects and sm-veyors, dis-
covered that it would be very desirable to run a
new road right through a palazzo owned by
Prince Barletti. No one had thought before that
the road could pass within half a nule of the
palace. But Mr. Frost's opinion was speedily
ado])tcd.
Negotiations were set on foot with the piince.
He had hitherto been understood to express
himself hostilely toward the whole undertaking
of this foreign company of speculators. But Mr.
Frost thought it so desirable to persuade his
Signoria Illustrissima, and to bring him roimd,
that he started otT from Nai)les after he had been
there but a short time, and went to I'aris armed
with a letter of introduction, and with schemes
and i)lans in which the new road over the site
of the Palazzo Barletti was not forgotten. The
])rince showed himself open to conviction. He
became a strong partisan of the English com-
jKinv, and his change of mind was followed by a
cori"csponding change of mind in sundry indi-
viduals in Najiles. Jt was a ]]ity, said the prince,
to destroy the old house. It had been associated
with the family name for several generations.
VERONICA.
89
But he understood what was meant by public
spirit, and he would not let his private feelings
interfere with it.
"This Prince Bah-letty charges a pretty long
price fur his private feelings I" observed one of
the directors of the English company when l\Ir.
Frost laid before them the result of his mission
to Paris. But Mr. Frost said he thought that
the jjrince's ])rivate feelings were not very dear,
considering that he was a jirince. And he added
tliat he thought they woidd be found to comci
cheap in tlie end.
The arrangement of this affair caused Mr.
Frost to come in contact with the prince's youn-
ger brother, Cesare. The latter was charged by
the head of the family to watch his interests.
Cesare became greatly impressed by the com-
bination in ^Ir. Frost of business shrewdness
with an engaging manner. This was another
kind of man from tlie slow, snuffy, solemn old
"legale" Dottore Chia])pi, with whom he had
transacted business for his brother in Florence.
They met, Cesare de' Barletti and Sidney Frost,
nearly every morning, either at the company's
offices or at ^Ir. Frost's hotel.
About a week after tiie memorable day of the
interview in the Villa Keale between Veronica
and Cesare, the latter was sitting with Mr. Frost
in his rooms at Santa Lucia. They were seated
near the window ; and were vaguely looking out
at the blue, sparkling sea, and settling some few
last particulars relative to their business. For
Mr. Frost was to leave Naples by the steamer for
^Marseilles, on his way to England, the next day ;
unless which he thought unlikely a telegram
should arrive from England to detain him.
"You and the English squadron will depart
almost together," said Barletti.
"Ay ? The queen's ships are going away ?"
"So I hear."
" Have you ever been over an English man-of-
war?'' asked ^Ir. Frost.
"No; I dont understand ships. When we
were boys we used to go out sometimes from
Capri, my brother and I, with an old fisherman.
But I never cared about it."
"H'm!" grunted 3Ir. Frost, eying his com-
panion aside, "/don't understand .ships either ;
but a British man-of-war is a fine sight."
And the lawyer broke out into a little national
boasting.
"Ah, you like it because you are proud of
j'our fleet. I am not an Englishman, and 7 should
not be proud of it, you know," said Barletti,
quietly.
"Look there!" exclaimed Mr. Frost, staring
out to sea. "Do you see that boat putting off
from the sijuadron ? I think, from tlie dii-ection,
she must be coming from the Furihnnd ; but
without a glass it is impossible to see the ships.
How they pull, the blue-jackets ! Just watch
them. It's artistic. Strength, and the kind of
grace that comes from strength skillfully used.
See how they bend and rise, and how the oars all
flash together. They are pulling for this nearest
landing-place."
Mr. Frost craned his head out of the window
to watch. Barletti, too, rose and looked out.
On came the trim boat manned by trim sailors.
She seemed to scud over the sea like a living
thing. As she drew near, they could see the
dark blue uniform of an officer, who was steer-
ing. And they began to make out also two
other figures a man and a woman.
" Visitors to the squadron, whom they're go-
ing to put ashore,'' said Mr. Frost.
The landing-jtlace to which the boat came was
at a considerable distance from the hotel. They
cotdd not distinguish the features of the persons
in the boat. But they saw a carriage which had
been driving slowly u]) and down come to a stoj)
close by. Two servants descended from it, and
half supported, half carried the gentleman who
had been in the boat into the vehicle. The lady
followed, and tliey drove off. The ship's boat
then was pulled back again toward the squadron,
and swiftly diminished to a mere speck on the
waters.
The carriage, however, passed close beneath
the windows of the hotel, and Barletti gave a
little exclamation as lie recognized Paul seated
on the box. The blinds of the carriage were
down, and it was impossible to see its occupants ;
but Barletti had no doubt that they were Sir
John Gale and Veronica.
' ' Tiens ! " said Barletti. ' ' I know those peo-
ple who have just come from the Furie^ix Fu-
ribon what do you call it ?"
Mr. Frost was looking at his watch. " I am
sorry to turn you out," he said ; "but I have an
appointment with some of our directors at half
past ten. It is u quarter past ten now. I must
be off."
"Nay," replied Barletti, pulling out his own
watch. " You are fast, I think. By my watch
it is only five minutes past ten."
"Ah, you're wrong, prince. If minutes were
as precious with you as they are with me you
would regulate your watch better. You reckon
your time as rich men reckon their money in
large sums ; and know nothing of small subdi-
visions. But mine is a working watch, a busy
man's watch, right to a second. And I set it
Jast night by railway time. Will you go first, or
shall I lead the way ?"
"Che diavolo!" muttered Barletti, following
the lawyer down stairs. "It didn't strike me at
first, but now I think how early it is, what in the
world could have brought him out at this hour
in the morning!"
"Eh ?'' said Frost, half turning round on the
staircase.
"Nothing. I was only wondering why my
friends chose such an hour to visit the squadron. "
"The gentleman seems to be an invalid."
"Yes, he is ill and regulai'ly used up. I
heai'd from his physician that his doom is fixed.
He can't last much longer."
"Ah, indeed!" returned Frost, indifferently.
Ilis attention was more occupied in finding the
hook in the iiall marked twenty-seven, on which
to hang the key of his room, than in listening to
Barletti.
" He is very rich one of your English mill-
ionaires. Perhaps you know the name Baronet
Sir John Gale."
"Gale! TallisGale?"
"Ah, you know him?"
"I know of him, and nothing to his credit.
I'm sorry if he's your friend ; but in England he
bears a very bad character."
"Oh, / have no special love for him," an-
swered Barletti. " I believe him to be a roue
and a vaurien."
90
VERONICA.
" He used that poor wife of his infernally ill."
" Used her ill ? The brute ! I have suspect-
ed it."
" Oh, it's not a matter of suspicion. The story
is well known enough. Well, I must be off. I
may not see you again, prince. But I suppose
our little affair is settled. Good-by !"
"Good- by! You really start to-morrow?
Well, bon voyage!"
]Mr. Frost walked away briskly. Barletti re-
mained in tlie doorway of the Iiotel. He stood
there pondering with an unlit cigar in his hand ;
and was roused from a reverie by the conscious-
ness that some one was behind him wanting to
pass out. He looked round, and saw an officer
in the uniform of the Enghsh navy.
"Pardon!" said the otiicer, raising his cap
courteously. Barletti took off his liat.
The officer had moved away a few paces, when
he stopped, came back, and said iu French :
"Excuse me, but are you staying at this hotel?"
" No. I came liere merely to see a friend."
"Then you don't liappen to know whether
there is any one of tliat name here ?" said the
officer, showing a card with an English name on
it. " Tiie porter is very surly, or very stupid. I
can make nothing of liim. But I have an idea
that my friend must be here, if 1 could but get
at him."
Barletti good-naturedly went into the porter's
little glass den, and began to speak in voluble
Neapolitan to a man who was doing duty tliere.
He proved to be the porter's deputy, that chief
functionary being absent temporarily from his
post.
"If you don't mind waiting a few minutes,"
said Barletti, returning to the doorway, "the
porter will be back. That fellow knows nothing ;
understands only two words of French, and won't
confess his ignorance. I have rated him in the
strongest vernacular."
The officer made iiis acknowledgments, of-
fered Barletti a liglit for his cigar, and waited
beside him for the ])orter"s return.
" You have had some friends of mine ^isiting
the squadron this morning," said Barletti, glan-
cing curiously at the square -jawed, smooth-
shaven face of the sailor, who stood there with
a certain massive imperturbability.
"Indeed? This morning?"
" Is your ship the Furicux?'"
" The Fiiri/jund, yes. Do you mean that the
lady and gentleman who were aboard the Furl-
bond this morning are friends of yours ?"
"The gentleman is old and feeble?"
"Yes; not so very old, perhaps, but awfully
shady and used up."
"The lady young and beautiful?"
" ^lagnificently handsome."
"Yes, yes. Oh, I know them well. I was
surprised to see him out so early."
" I suppose he tliought tliere was' no time to
be lost. Besides, it is customary with us to
manage tlicse matters so that they shall be over
before twelve o'clock."
"Before twelve? I had no idea that that
was a rule in your navy."
"Oh, not exclusively in the navy,'' answered
the officer, smiling a little.
"llow? I don't understand."
"Afloat or ashore, marriages take place with
us before twelve at noon. "
^''Marriages .'"
The amazement in Barletti's face was so deep
and genuine that the officer stared in his turn.
' ' iJid you not know ?" he said. ' ' I thought
you told me that the bride and bridegroom were
friends of yours ?"
"The the bride and ? Oh, it must be a
mistake. I was speaking of the lady and gen-
tleman who were rowed ashore at that lairding-
]jlace, not a quarter of an hour ago, in a little
boat."
"To be sure! I was steering. I am ashore
on leave."
" He is an Englishman a rich "
"Sir John Gale."
" Sir John. And they were, you say ?"
"They were married by our chaplain. The
old boy the baronet, I mean was not strong
enough to take the journey to Florence, where
they might have been married before the British
minister. So, as he knows Cajjtain Burr, he got
him to allow the ceremony to take place aboard
the Fnribond. The young lady has the pros-
pect of a speedy widowhood before her, it seems
to me."
Barletti had felt like a man groping in a mist.
Now, the last words of the Englishman came
like a sudden ray clearing the dim confusion.
They suggested a pathway foi his conjectures to
follow ; whereas, before, all had been blank and
formless. His first and most imperative impulse
was to get away and think of what he had heard,
alone. He touched his hat hastily in farewell
salutation to the officer, hailed an empty fiacre
that was passing, and jumped into it.
The driver, with that penury of articulate
speech and abundance of gesticulation which
characterizes the lower Neapolitans, asked in
dumb show which direction he was to drive in.
"Any where," said Barletti, throwing him-
self back on the seat. "To to the Villa
Keale. Drive on till I stop you !"
CHAPTER XII.
NO LESS THAN KIN, AND MORE THAN KIND.
That a woman who has pledged herself sol-
emnly before the world and her own conscience
to be faithful to a man, should be false to him,
did not seem, in Barletti's confused code of
ethics, to be blameworthy. Veronica, fiilse to
her husband, would have sunk no jot in Ce-
sare's esteem. It would all have been accord-
ing to the experience of the world in which he
had lived : a loveless, ambitious marriage, and a
subsequent compensating attachment. The ex-
perience of the world iu Avhich he had lived was
his religion ; its o])inion, his conscience. He
would, no doubt, have acted in contradiction to
his world's opinion under sufficient temptation :
as men with a higher creed have acted against
their conscience. But he would have experi-
enced the same sort of iain in so doing as at-
tends the conscious disregard of whatever we arc
accustomed to consider as a sanction.
Now he was called ujjou to readjust all his
ideas regarding Sir John Gale and Veronica.
His first strong sentiment in the matter was
l)lame of Sir John. And it was not altogether
unjdeasant to find a justification for an even
VERONICA.
91
stronger dislike to the baronet than he liad yet
confessed to himself that he entertained. Mr
John was an old villain ! lie had brought this
girl away from lier home. lie mnst have de-
ceived her hasely. I'oor, lonely, helpless, inex-
perienced girl I
Tliis, tlien, accounted for her apjireliension on
hearing that Sir John's life was in danger ! IShe
knew how horrible her jiosition would be should
he die before making her his wife. It seemed
]jretty clear that the sentence of tlie i)hysicians
had fixed Sir John's wavering mind, and de-
termined the jierformance of tliis act of re})a-
ration toward Veronica. She had conquered !
Barletti felt some admiring triumph in that
thought. Ijut it did not soften him toward
the baronet.
He believed Sir Jolm to be thoroughly cynical
and unprincipled; but that did not make it in-
credible that the old roue should have been
frightened into doing right by the near ap-
proach of death. It was quite conceivable to
him that .uch tardy reparation might avail him
before the Tribunal to which Sir John must
shortly be summoned. The priests taught the
etficacy of a death-bed repentance. He (Bar-
letti) did not much believe in the priests ; but
these were professional mutters which they prob-
ably understood. It was no concern of his to
inquire further. He had no more idea of ar-
raigning the morality of such teaching than of
repudiating all law because a thief might possi-
bly escape punislnnent by a technical flaw in the
indictment. And he was ])erfectly at liberty to
detest the thief all the same.
This late selfish restitution could not obliterate
the memory of the harassing anxiety to which
Veronica had been cruelly subjected. And there
was, too, the latent consideration flavoring the
whole current of his reflections that he himself
had narrowly escaped being placed in an unpleas-
ant position. It was one thing to be the favored
suitor of a wealthy widow ; and quite another to
be bound to a woman without rank, or money, or
influence ; whose sole dowry would be her beauty,
and an imperious appetite for the luxuries that
only great wealth can purchase.
What had he to ott'er to Veronica if she were
poor? He might have lost her altogether! And
his instinctive conviction that she was incapable
of loving hina with a love which should enable
her to endure poverty for his sake, did not mili-
tate against the strength of his passion for her.
But suppose, after all, she were to throw him
over, now that she was secure? She would be
very rich that he took for granted ; and would
have a brilliant position in her own country. He
became nervously impatient to see her again, and
yet he dreaded to find a change in her manner.
He had met Veronica twice since their first
memorable interview in the Villa Keale. She
had debated anxiously with herself whether she
had not best break her ajjpointment. But she
had come to the conclusion that she did not
dare to drive Barletti to desperation. He might
in his rashness dash the cup from her lips, even
at the last moment. They had met, therefore,
and Barletti had given his report of the doctor's
opinion, and then had claimed in reward of his
zeal the privilege of protesting his devoted love.
Veronica had made the interview as brief as
possible on each occasion. But she had been
gentle and soft in her manner to Barletti, and
iiad jirofcssed herself very grateful for the trou-
ble he had taken.
He tried to recall the minutest circumstances
of these interviews ; at one moment twisting and
interpreting Veronica's looks and words into an
acknowledgment of her love for him ; at another
telling himself that it was jilain she cared no jot
for him, and was only using his devotion without
a thought of reciprocating it. All his medita-
tions resulted in an impatient longing to see and
sjjeak with Veronica. He resolved to take the
step of going to the palazzo she inhabited at
once, instead of waiting for the usual hour of
his evening visit.
The wretched little cab horse, which, like most
of its class in Naples, seemed to have a mysteri-
ous force not derived from food, and which had
continued its shuffling trot as though, poor beast,
it \vere desperately trying to run away from ex-
istence, was ])ulled up with a sudden check at a
signal from Barletti. He alighted, paid for his
drive, and walked hastily away. The sum he
gave the driver inspired in that individual senti-
ments of mingled contempt and self-reproach.
The contempt was excited by the spectacle of a
man a native Neapolitan, too, per Bacco ! so
soft as to pay him three times his fare. The
reason of his self-reproach, of a rather poignant
kind, was that be had not had presence of mind
to demand double the money !
Barletti, on presenting himself at Sir John
Gale's house, was told by the porter that his
master could see no one. He had been out
that morning, and was fatigued and unwell.
" Miladi, then?" asked Barletti.
The man looked a little surprised at the un-
precedented circumstance of Barletti 's asking
for " miladi" at that hour ; but he said he would
send to ask M'hether the signora could receive
the signor principe. While he waited for the
message to be taken up, Barletti's mind mis-
gave him as to the advisability of the step he
had taken. He wished he could have gone
without delay into her presence. This waiting
gave one time to cool, and to take account of
unpleasant possibilities.
When Veronica's maid tripped down stairs
and invited Barletti to follow her to miladi's
boudoir, he was in a state of great trepidation.
The boudoir was untenanted wlien he entered it,
and for the moment he felt this to be a relief.
He sat down and waited, looking round on the
evidences of wealth which met his eye, and feel-
ing a very unaccustomed amount of self-depre-
ciation and timidity.
The door opened and Veronica appeared. She
wore a changing silk dress, whose hue deepened
in the shadows of its sweeping folds from silver-
gray to dove-color. Round the throat and wrists
was a small frill of fine lace. There was not a
gleam of jewelry about her, save on the third
finger of her left hand, where a massive gold
ring was half hidden in the blaze of a single
S]jlcndid diamond set in a broad band of gold,
and surmounting the plain ring. She was pale,
and looked tired.
"What is it ?" she asked, advancing with slow
grace, and giving him her hand.
He forgot every thing in the encliantment of
gazing on her beauty, and stood silently holding
her hand in his, and feeling his heart so full of
92
VERONICA.
mingled emotions that the tears welled up into
his eyes. A little faint color fluttered over her
cheeks and throat. She slowl}' withdrew her
hand, and motioned him to a seat. She was
keenly alive to his speechless admiration, and
it revived her like a cordial. She had been
feeling languor and the reaction of intense ex-
citement, like a runner who drops tlie moment
after he has reached the goal.
" What is it ?" she asked again. " You asked
for Sir John. He is not visible. Is it any thing
important that has brought you here so early?"
"I did not expect to see your liusband," said
Barletti, not accepting the proffered chair, but
standing before her as she sat, and looking down
upon her.
A vivid blush crimsoned her flice and neck.
Barletti had spoken with intention, and she had
noted that he had done so. She tried to mask
her real emotion by a feigned one, and threw
some haughty resentment into her voice as she
replied : " You did not expect to see him ? Why,
then, did you come at this hour? I should not
have received you but that I thought you had
some real business with Sir John."
" I came to see you, Veronica.'"
" Then you acted imprudently and inconsider-
ately. "
"Imprudently for myself, perhaps. It may
be that the most prudent thing I could do would
be to see you no more. But I have not acted
inconsiderately toward you in commg. Y^ou
have no longer any reason to fear Sir John
Gale's anger or cajnice. Y'esterday it would
have been different. '
She put her hand on her breast, which was
rising and falling quickly. She preserved the
haughty attitude of her head as she looked up
at him ; but her lips quivered in spite of her-
self, and she could not trust them to frame a
word.
" I saw you being rowed to the landing-place,"
he proceeded. "And then I accidentally got into
conversation with an English officer of marine
who belonged to the ship that you visited this
morning. I could scarcely believe my eyes or
my ears at first. But then suddenly a great
many tilings that had puzzled me grew clear."
Still slie was silent ; hut her head drooped a
little, and she turned her eyes away from him.
He had not expected this. He hai.1 thought to
see her triumphant, but she seemed downcast
and oppressed. Or was this the beginning of
the change in her toward himself, which he had
dimly foreboded ?
" Veronica," he said, pleadingly, "you might
have trusted me I I should have been true to
you. But you were so i)roud and so secret.
How you must have suffered !"
She hard been o])pressed by a crowd of con-
fused feelings : suqirise, mortified pride, an un-
defined sense of relief in the knowledge that Ce-
sare knew the real facts of her position and was
still devoted to her ; at the same time a hostile
movement of amour ])ropre whicii shuddered at
the idea of falling from the liigh ])lace she had
occupied in his thoughts. His last words, and
the tone of compassion in his voice, touched a
morbidly sensitive chord in her overstrained
nerves, and, suddenly dropping her face ujjon
her open palms, she burst into a passion of
crying. Perplexed and distressed he came and
leaned over her chair, muiTnuring her name at
intervals, and timidly touching the folds of her
long sweeping gown. Her tears relieved and
soothed her, and as she cried she thought. Even
after the first burst of weeping had exhausted it-
self she kept her face hidden, feeling that her at-
titude and her distress afforded a kind of ambush
wherein to collect her thoughts.
" Veronica, you are not angry with me ?" said
Barletti.
She had by this time been inspired with an
idea which was as balm to her hurt pride. It
was intolerable to her to be an object of pity to
the man who had worshiped her. Sympathy
even compassion, so long as it were blended
with sufficient admiration she could endure.
But she must regain the level she fancied she
had lost. She would reveal to Barletti the
fact of their relationship. She had concealed
it until she could look her kinsman freely in
the face without communicating any breath of
dishonor to her mother's race ! As the thought
passed through her mind she began to believe in
it, as an actor believes for the moment in his
mimic sorrows. And she felt quite magnani-
mous with a sense of noble self-sacrifice. The
anticipated enjoyment of her coming "point"
gave her face an expression of exaltation as she
raised it from her concealing hands, and pushed
the clustering hair back from her forehead.
" Cesare," she said, in a voice which had not
quite regained its steadiness, "I have something
to tell you."
It was the first time she had ever called him
"Cesare," and the soimd of his name uttered by
her lips overpowered him with joy. He fell on
his knees and kissed her hand in his demonstra-
tive southern way.
" Anima mia, do I not know alread}' what you
would tell me ?"
"No," replied Veronica, with a faint melan-
choly smile; "yon do not know or guess. Sit
down there, opposite to me, and listen. You
said a reproachful word to me just now about
not having trusted you. I want you to under-
stand how little I deseiTe a rejiroach from you. "
Barletti began to protest that he had never
meant to reproach her ; but she checked him.
"No, no; say no more. Hear me out. J^ast
autuinn at the Villa Chiari, when I was startled
and alarmed by Sir John's illness, you remember
that I spoke to you about it ?"
" Hemember! Ah, Veronica, can I forget any
word of yours ?"
"Many, I should think: but probably not
those words. Well ; it was not merely that
you were the only intimate acquaintance who
ficquented our house : it was not even that I
thought you kind-hearted and sympathizing,
and that in my utter loneliness 1 yearned for
kindness and sympathy. No : all that would
not have sufficed to make me confide in you as
I did. I knew that there was a tie between us
which gave me a real claim on you. Cesare,
you and I are cousins. "
"Cousins! You and I are cousins! But
how ? Oh, Veronica, and you never said a ^vord
never gave a hint that "
"No. I never said a word, nor gave a hint
of our relationship. I never should liave done
so, had not Sir John done me justice and placed
me in a position which I could acknowledge to
"VERONICA.
93
my kindred. 'My motlier was Stelhi ^laria de
Barletli ; and your grandfather and my grand-
father were brothers."
" Die mio ! But he Gale must have known
this?"
Veronica had not anticipated this common-
sense remark. J3arletti did not ajipear sutKcient-
]y impressed by the greatness of iicr conduct.
When a sensitive artist has made his ]joint, he
requires to be sustained and encouraged by the
enthusiasm of his auditors.
"Sir John Gale," replied Veronica, haughti-
ly, "probably never heard the name of my mo-
ther. She has been dead many years. I have
not been in the habit of speaking to him of my
maternal ancestors. lie is a parvenu, and, like
all parvenus, pretentious and jealous on the score
of family."
This magnificent tone a little bewildered Bar-
letti. He knew very well what value was set on
a member of the younger branch of tlie princely
family de' Barletti in their own country. Poor
princes had been plentiful in his world ever since
he could remember ; but rich English baronets
had not. He recollected having heard that his
respected great-uncle ("N'eronica's grandfather)
had married a young English lady with a very
moderate dowry (as to her pedigree, no one had
tiiought of inquiring, so far as he knew), and
that his respected great-uncle was thought to
have done uncommoidy well.
"And so we are really cousins!" he said,
looking wistfully at Veronica's tear-stained face.
" Ah, idolo mio, no cousinship can make me love
you more than I love you already !"
" You do not seem to understand, Cesare, that
I refrained from claiming you as my kinsman,
or of hinting at our lelationship to Sir John, sole-
ly out of regard to the honor of our family," said
Veronica, impatiently. "Some women might
have appealed to you to sec them righted. But,
although / kiieio tliat the facts of my story could
do you no dishonor, I resolved to keep my se-
cret until I could face the world, which judges
only by outside appearances."
This was clumsy enough. The inspiration
which enables such imitative temperaments as
Veronica's to deceive tliemselves had faded from
lack of responsive sympathy. But the applause
must be had, at whatsoever cost of ihsistence!
At last Cesare understood what was ex])ected of
him. And, be it noted, there was nothing in
his mind to make his response otherwise than
genuine.
"Dear, noble Veronica !" he exclaimed, gaz-
ing into her face with intense admiration.
"Ah, Cesare, you did not underst^.nd me!"
"But I know, now, how brave and noble you
have been ! And I know how utterly unworthy
of you is that man who "
" Hush ! Let that rest. He is very, veiy ill."
"I saw him lifted into the carriage. But,
A''eronica, he may linger a long time yet."
She made no answer, but drew a little apart
from him, as he seated himself beside her.
"I wish I wish, Veronica, that you would
throw me a word of hope to feed on in these
weary days ! "
" What can I say, Cesare ? This is not a mo-
ment to press such words on me. Do not make
me feel that I could not dare to rely on you and
appeal to you if if I were left alone here."
" You might give me a riglit, then, to be relied
on, and ajjpealed to. Veronica, I adore you!
I would devote my life to you!"
" Cesare, at such a time ! WHien he is lying
there so ill!"
"But he has been ill all these months!" said
Barletti, simjjly.
"Then think of tne ! I am worn out, and
can not bear much more excitement. If you
will talk to me calmly, as a friend and a kins-
man, you may. If you can not promise to do
that, you must go away at once."
"You are hard witii me, Veronica."
" It is most ungrateful to say so. Tell me
that English officer you spoke with, did he say
did he speak do you think he will talk to every
comer as he did to you ?" asked Veronica, flush-
ing hotly as she brought out the question.
Barletti reassured her. The otHcer had spok-
en merely because Barletti had mentioned Sir
John as his friend. Of course a ceremony per-
formed in that way, on board a ship of war, could
not be supposed to be in any sense a secret. But
the squadron was to depart immediately. There
would be no opportunity for the thing to spread
among the people who knew her here. Barletti,
as he said this, did not believe it. But he saw
that she greatly dreaded the secret getting abroad ;
and he thought only of soothing her anxiety. He
tried, then, to induce her to tell him about her
home and her family, and how it had come to
pass that she had left England with Sir John
Gale. But on this sulyect she Avas not willing
to speak quite unprepared.
" You told me to talk to you as a friend and
a kinsman, ^^eronica," said he. "A kinsman,
surely, has some right to your confidence."
"Some day, Cesare," she answered, "you
shall know the story of my life. The life has
not been long, but the story can not be told
quickly. I can not bring myself to make the
-etfort now. You must have patience, and some
daij I will not refuse what you ask me. There
is my hand on it. It is a promise."
Her tone, and look, and gesture conveyed
more than the mere words. He was about to
speak, but she lightly laid the fingers of her left
hand (he held her right hand in his) on his lips.
"Not a word more," she said. "Go now.
You will come this evening ; and, above all, do
not allow Sir John to guess that you saw him
this morning! Farewell!"
" Veronica, one word ! It is a question I have
wanted to ask you ; do you know an Englishman
named Frost?"
"Frost? No."
" He knows you, and spoke of you. Or it
may be now I think of it that he only knows
}ou by report. I forget his exact words."
"Knows me ! What did he say ? '
" He said that Gale treated you very ill."
" He said that? Tell me exactly, word for
word, what he said ! "
"Well, I think," replied Barletti, pondering,
' ' that his words were, ' Sir John Gale uses that
poor wife of his very ill.' "
"Wife ! Ah !" exclaimed Veronica, drawing
a long breath. " He spoke of me as Lady
Gale ?"
"Yes, yes; I am sure of that. But where
can he have known any thing about you ?"
' ' It matters very little. In Florence, perhaps.
94
VERONICA.'
You have told me enough to show what a hot-
bed of gossijj there is there. Quiet as we were,
we did not escape the tongues of those creatures
who lounge at the club-door, I dare say. "
Barletti felt a little uncomfortable twinge of
conscience as he remembered that he himself had
made one in a discussion respecting her, at the
very spot she mentioned. And her flashing eye
and disdainful attitude recalled to him, moreover,
Sir John's warning not to tell " miladi" that her
name had been spoken at the club.
" Farewell until this evening, Veronica, mia
adorata !"
" Good-by, Cousin Cesare."
When he was gone she sat down opposite to a
large miiTor. "Princess!" she said, softly, to
herself. "Principessa de' Barletti!" Veronica
understood, although Cesare did not, what the
worth of such a title would be in England. Then
she stretched herself on a sofa and rested her
liead on soft cushions. She was really weary in
mind and body, and presently fell off into a
sleep.
Toward the end of her sleep she began to
dream. She dreamed that she was going to be
married to Mr. Plew, and that she was reluct-
antly walking by his side through St. Gildas's
grave-yard, toward the church. And, as they
came near to an ancient upright stone she well
remembered. Sir John Gale, white and ghastly
in his grave-clothes, darted out from behind it,
and, with a yell of hoarse laughter, bade them
stop.
CHAPTER XIII.
REPARATION.
_ " 'To my beloved wife.' That will be s^iffi-
cient. Take these things awaj'-, and put another
pillow behind my shoulders, Paul. I'aul ! Paul !
do you hear ?"
Then followed a hoarse muttered volley of
oaths, and Sir John sank back on his pillow.
Veronica and Barletti stood beside his bed.
The former very jiale and excited : the latter
wondering, and imjjressed by the change in Sir
John's face. There was an awful look upon it.
The skin seemed to be burned and shriveled by
an inward scorching fire. The eyes looked out
glassy and prominent from under their red eye-
bro\vs. There was a harsh stubble of beard upon
the cheeks and chin.
"You have explained to him, have you?"
asked Sir John, in a faint voice, making a slight
movement with the emaciated hand that lay out-
side the coverlet, toward Barletti.
" lie understands the purport of what you tell
us you have written," answered Veronica.
"Ay, that is riglit. I want him to understand.
The estate in Dorsetshire is entailed, and will go
to a cursed snob, a third cousin who inherits the
baronetcy, curse him ! But the money in the
English funds, the plate, the house in town, the
railway shares, and and every thing else, in
short, will bo 'my beloved wife's.' "
He said the words witli so strangely malevo-
lent a grimace on his witiicred face that A'eron-
ica stared at him" with wide eyes, for once uncon-
scious of their own expression. Barletti, too,
was struck by the look, though he could not fully
comprehend the words of Sir John. The latter
had lately daring the last day or so, that is
ceased to speak any language but his own. It
troubled him to talk Erench, he said. At any
time of his life, and under any circumstances, it
would have appeared to him a sufficient reason
for refraining from doing any thing to say that
it troubled him. But as things were with him,
it was very obvious that he was unequal to mak-
ing much continued effort.
"Does Gale say it has been signed?'' asked
Barletti of Veronica.
Sir John's ear had caught the question, and
he answered it.
" Oh yes ! Yes, the witnesses ! Ay, we must
have witnesses, or it would not be a legal instru-
ment. Ha, ha, ha ! Yes, yes. Oh, it is signed ;
it is witnessed. I have taken care !"
In obedience to a sign from his master, whose
every movement he watched attentivel,y, Paul
took a small key from a ring attached to his
master's watch-chain, and with it unlocked a
desk that stood at one end of the room opposite
to the bed. He then opened an inner compart-
ment of the desk, which was fastened by a spring,
and took out a folded paper covered with writing
on one side. When all was done. Sir John
stretched his hand out for the paper to be given
to him. His eyes traveled over the writing it
was very short and then glanced at Barletti and
Veronica as they stood side by side near the bed.
With a sudden movement his fingers cramped
themselves on the paper they held, creasing it
into irregular folds.
"Go away, go away!" he gasped out. "Go
and leave me. x\.nd Paul, Paul! Take 3"ou
this precious paper, and lock it up again care-
fully in the drawer of that desk. Let them see
you do it. So ; so. And you are a witness to
it, remember. You will know and recollect that
that is my will, which leaves the bulk of my
jjroperty to my wife ' to my beloved wife. ' Now
go."
The latter command was addressed to Barletti
and Veronica, who, nothing loth to leave that
jiresence, withdrew. It was the fifth evening
after the day the incidents of which have been
narrated in the preceding chapter. On return-
ing home from the ship Sir John had taken to
his bed, and had not since left it. He was in a
strangely e.xcited state, and fuller than usual of
capricious ill humor.
After Sir John had dismissed them from his
bedside, Veronica and Barletti remained tete-a-
tete in the large dimly-lighted saloon. No one
observed them. Tliey were free to remain to-
gether as long as they chose. Sir John, fiir from
displa3-ing susjiicion, seemed to desire Barletti's
presence in the house. But yet the prince made
no attempt to ])rofit by tliis opportunity of mak-
ing love to the beautiful Veronica. S!ie sat
down silently, and with a disturbed countenance.
He walked to the window, whose s!uitters were
unclosed, and looked out into the moonlight.
The oppression of Sir John's looks and words
weighed upon them both like a hot, stifling air.
Veronica broke the silence. She spoke in a
sulidued voice, although there was, as she well
knew, no human creature within car-shot.
"Cesare! Why don't you speak to me? I
feel so horribly unstnmg."
"Cara! You have been too much tried. You
must try to be strong and composed. Coraggio."'
VERONICA.
95
" I hate such meaningless talk," she replied,
fretfully. " ' Coraggio ! ' It is not courage I
want. Courage wont explain and make clear.
Do YOU think, Cesare, tiiat he is really dying ?"
"lie is undoubtedly very, very ill."
"There again I Meaningless, empty words.
I know we all know that he is very, very ill.
But I ask if you tliink tlie end is near?"
Cesare really loved her, and he was patient
with her as real love is. lie seated himself near
her, and softly ])laced his hand upon her head.
"Veronica mia," he said, "I am not skilled
in sucii signs. But it does seem to me that there
is to-night a warning change in him."
Veronica shuddered and drew close to him,
pressing her shoulder against his with the ges-
ture, not of a lover, but of a little frightened
child that seeks the comfort of human contact in
the dark.
"lie must feel deeply the wrong he did you,"
proceeded Cesare. " It must be owned that he
is doing what he can to save his soul. The
testament he has made is a generous one."
"Yes I don't know "
" You don't know ?''
" I I feel I can not explain it; but I have
a strange feeling as thougli he were fooling me
to the last."
"Fancies, my child. What puts them into
your head ?"
"I can not explain it, I tell you. lie looks
at me sometimes almost fiendishly. And with
a kind of exultation in his eyes too. Just now
I almost believed his mind was wandering."
" No, no ; he was in perfect possession of his
senses," said Barletti, hastily, feeling that this
suggestion was an extremely imprudent one for
Sir John's legatee to make. " He has done ev-
ery thing with forethought and deliberation.
The marriage on board ship was his own idea,
was it not ?"'
"Yes."
" And on the first distant hint of his making
a provision for you which you uttered in ac-
cordance with mj' suggestion lie met your wishes
by telling you that he had already made a will
with which his widow would have no reason to
be dissatisfied?"
"Yes."
"The will is clearly expressed and duly wit-
nessed, is it not?"
" He did not show it to me. He merely read
a few words from it."
"But he stated what its purport was, in the
presence of Paul, who had witnessed it. And
its terms surpassed your expectations. Is all
that not true ?"
"Y yes, I suppose so. Yes; it is true,"
added Veronica, in a firmer tone. Barletti's re-
capitulation of the facts was reassuring her. She
had, in truth, spoken at first with an indistinct
hope of eliciting some such reassuring statement
of the case.
" But," she added, after a pause, during which
her memory had vividly recalled certain of Sir
John's looks and words: "although all that is
tnie, quite true, I can not help being made un-
easy by his manner. W/ri/ should he do this for
me if he hates me, as I most thoroughly believe
he does ?"
" Hates you, Veronica ! What wild folly !"
" No, no, no ; it is not wild folly. It is sober
sense," pursued Veronica, speaking with vehe-
mence, now that she had once begun to reveal
the secret thougiit that was in her. "I have
long guessed it. I may say that I have long
Icnoirn it. What love he ever felt for me has
been over this many a day. I always know
when people love me always. And he hates
you too. He is jealous of you. I have seen
his eyes, when he did not know that I saw
them, under the shadow of his lamp-screen on
the little table. And I believe he set Paul to
watch us. I do!"
The strong conviction in her tone was not
without its ert'ect on Barletti. But he answered
with the confident calmness of one who is re-
butting an obvious absurdity, and with a slight
nodding of his head up and down : "Well, it is
the most original demonstration of hatred I ever
heard of, to bestow his name and his fortune on
you at the very moment when he is about to
leave you free to enjoy both as you please.
Most people would call such conduct affection-
ate and generous."
"Yes. And it is because I know him to be
incapable of either afi'ection or generosity that I
can not be easy."
"Veronica, that is morbid!"
^' Well, you may say \shat j-ou please, but I
knoiv that man means me no good. Do yon
remember what he said last night as we sat be-
side his bed? Dio mio ! How it all comes
back plainly to me. He said, 'Ah! you are
both young, and handsome, and healthy. How
delightful it: is to think of the years of happiness
that stretch before you!' And did you not see
the diabolical sneer he gave ? Oli ! Cesare,
there is some evil to come. I am sure of it."
She wrung her hands tightly together, and be-
gan to pace quickly up and down the room.
"Veronica,'' he said, after a minute's con-
sideration, "it maybe that you do not much
,wrong Sir John's nature. And yet I am con-
vinced you are mistaken in your conclusions.
If he does not care for you he cares for himself,
and the fear of death is a powerful motive to
reparation."
"He does not believe in reparation. He
scoffs at every thing. He has no religion."
"But those are the very people to be afraid.
I have known men who have never been to
mass or to confession for twenty years turn like
soft wax in the hands of the priests when there
came any question of dying. "
"Ah, in your church, perhaps. But with us
it is dirt'erent."
"And then, don't you see, Veronica, that the
struggle in his mind between evil promptings
and the desire to save his own soul may pro-
duce all the strange fluctuations you observe in
his manner ?"
She shook her head doubtfully, but she liked
that her vague fears and suspicions should be
combated. She leaned on this man who loved
her. She had been riglit in her assertion that
she always knew when she was loved. With
whatever motive he had first sought to make
himself pleasing in her eyes, she was unshaka-
bly sure that now, at all events, he loved her for
herself; and that were she destitute to-morrow
he would not desert her. And then, too, her
apprehensions seemed less alarming now she had
uttered them than they had appeared while she
%
VERONICA.
brooded over them silently. Perhaps Cesare
was right, and she was wrong after all I What
flaw conlcl there be in her fortunes? Yes; no
doubt Cesare was I'ight ! IShe was very glad
she had spoken to him so openly. Before they
parted she took his head between her hands,
and pressed her lips to his forehead. The ac-
tion was little more than an expression of the
relief to her mind which his word had brought :
and partly it was the selfish instinctive clinging
in peril to a clasping hand the clinging of a
child tliat knows no compunction in throwing
all its weight of care and fear on to the patient
Milling shoulders of those who love it.
Tlie next day about noon Cesare de' Barletti
was breakfasting in one of the principal cart'es
in Naples, when Mr. Frost walked in and took
his seat at a small round table near him.
" All, Jlr. Frost ! .So you are not gone then ?"
said Barletti, shaking hands. TJiis was a cere-
mony he never omitted with an Englishman,
conceiving that to have done so would have
been as great a solecism in good-manners as to
decline tlie proffered pipe of a Turk.
"No," returned Mr. Frost. ''I am not gone,
as you see. The telegram came after all. I
may be detained here another week or so. I
have not seen you these last days, prince."
"I have been nowhere nowhere except to
the house of a sick friend. He is dying, I fancy.
Do you remember " Barletti suddenly checked
his speech and dropped his coffee-cup with a
clatter that brought the waiters hurrying up.
In the little momentary bustle his sudden pause
and confusion escaped notice, as he fancied.
Cesare had been on the point of mentioning
that his sick friend was no other than the bride-
groom wliose marriage had taken place on board
the Furibond, when he remembered that Frost
had spoken of " Lady Gale." If Frost supposed
Veronica to be Sir John's wife already at the
time of their conversation at the window of the
hotel, it would be injudicious, to say tlie least, to
proclaim that siie had only been married that
very morning. Besides, Veronica had so shrunk
from having the date of the marriage known. It
might be nay, it was probable that IMr. Frost
had already heard of it. But at all events he
(Cesare) would say no M'ord on tlie subject. Mr.
Frost had clearly perceived that the dropping of
the coffee-cup had been a mere feint on Barletti's
part to divert attention from his unfinished sjieech.
But it was a matter of considerable indifference
to Mr. Frost whether Prince Cesare de' Barletti
were close or candid in his communications, now
that the business which had brought the two men
into contact was satisfactorily concluded. He
tlicrefore began to chat easily and amusingly as
lie sipped his cofiee, and Barletti listened with
lazy satisfaction.
Presently he observed, during a pause in the
talk : " What a devil of a pace those fellows
drive at! The liackney cabmen, I mean. Just
listen how one is tearing up the street at this
moment. Neck or nothing 1"
"Yes," replied Mr. Frost, "I often wonder
that in your teeming streets more accidents do
not haiijicn. This fellow, whoever he may be, is
coming here, by the sound. By Jove ! What's
the matter?"
The exclamation was elicited by tlie sudden
pulling up of an open cab at the door, and the
hurried descent therefrom of a pale, frightened
servant in an English livery. The man looked
about him eagerly, and elbowed his way through
the crowd of coffee-drinkers with a disregard of
their convenience which would ha^e brought
down considerable wrath on his head had it not
been for the expression of his countenance, which
aroused curiosity and kept resentment in abey-
ance.
''Oh, there you are, signor principe!" ex-
claimed the man, catching sight of Barletti ;
"I've been half over Naples looking for you I
At last I heard you were here. Will you come
at once to miladi? Here's the cab waiting."
"What is it, Pietro?" asked Barletti, rising
with a face yet paler than the senant's.
He had no reason to fear for Veronica, and
yet his unreasonable lover-like aiiprehension could
fix on no other object.
"My master, signor principe, is dying or dead.
I don't expect to find him alive when we get
there, and miladi she's been falling from one
fainting fit into another. And as soon as she
had consciousness she sent for you."
Barletti seized his hat and rushed to the door.
Before he stepped into the cab he called out to
Frost, "Let me see you tliis evening! I may
have business. Something important! Come
to the Palazzo Diiiori at six o'clock, if you possi-
bly can, and ask for me I"
Then Barletti got into the cab, and was whirled
away with a mighty whooping and clattering of
hoofs.
CHAPTER XIV.
"JIY BELOVED WIFE."
Mr. Frost called at the Palazzo Dinorl a
few minutes after six o'clock that evening. He
was admitted immediately by the porter, who had
been told to expect him, and was ushered into a
small, sumptuousl}-- furnished room, overladen
with ornament. It was Veronica's boudoir.
Mr. Frost had not come to the palazzo without
trying to gain some information respecting the
person who lived there. A rich Englishman
very, very rich ! A millionaire at the least.
IMilordo Gale. That was the report of the land-
lord of Mr. Frost's hotel. His cook was a supe-
rior jierson a man of talent a cordon bleu I
The landlord had the honor of a slight acquaint-
ance with that distinguished artist, wlio some-
times cracked a bottle of "Lacrima"' or fine
Capri with him in his private room. As to ^li-
lordo Gale all, yes, he was rich. Diavolo!
Poor men did not enjoy the services of such a
cook. The landlord liad known the latter long,
and esteemed him highly. He had been chef de
cuisine to the Russian embassador, years ago : in
the old days, you understand.
Sir. Frost would perhajis not have complied
with Barletti's request to go to the I'alazzo
Dinori so promptly had he not felt a considera-
ble amount of curiosity respecting its inmates.
He sat down in the luxurious room, and con-
trasted it with poor Lady Tallis's shabby lodg-
ing in Gower Street. That thought brought
others in its train : other thoughts of a painful
and liarassing nature. His promise to Zillah
Lockwood had not vet been redeemed. And
VERONICA.
97
Hugh was growing more and more lieadstrong.
It was move than a fortnight since lie had liad
any private letter from England, and the hrst had
been from liis wife a tissue of comphiints and
demands for money from beginning to end. IMr.
Frost's private meditations were not sootliing.
They were a bitter cud to chew. So with a
wrench of his mind, and a movement of his body
as though he were shaking a tangible weight froni
his shoulders, he turned his thouglits to other
matters. Things had got to that jioint with him
now when a man tells himself that it is no use
thinking of his troubles : thinking will mend no-
thing. Some turn of luck must come may
come, at all events. And if not ? If not, why
still it is no use thinking. The devil must have
bis own way !
Mr. Frost had not sat ten minutes in the bou-
doir before Barletti came in.
"Caro amico," said he, grasping the lawyer's
hand hard, "you are come! Thanks, many
thanks. I have great need of you."
Barletti had never addressed Mr. Frost as
"caro amico" before.
"What can I do for 3'ou?" asked the latter,
observing Barletti's face attentively, but not os-
tentatiously.
"It is all over here. That man Sir John
Gale"
"Your friend?"
" My friend ! Yes, j-es, my friend ! The most
unheard-of cold-blooded villain ! Maria San-
tissima, forgive me ! He has gone to meet his
deserts."
"Humph!" ejaculated Mr. Frost, with closed
lips and an indescribable inflection in his voice.
''Has he ? That is to say that he is ?"
"Dead."
"Oh! Yes. I see. Was it sudden ?"
" One can hardly say so after all these months
of wasting away. But yet at the last it was sud-
den. It was a hideous sight to see. When I
got here they took me straight into his room.
I turned sick and faint as a girl," said Barletti,
growing pale, and shuddering at the recollec-
tion,
" How ? What was the hideous sight ?"
" He had broken a blood-vessel, and was lying
there just as he had died. They had touched
nothing. It was horrible!"
The impressionable Italian hid his face with
his hands, as though to shut out the remem-
brance of the scene.
"Who was with him? How was the causd
of death ascertained ?"
"The two physicians who attended him ar-
rived just after it happened. He had been rav-
ing in a fit of maniacal fury. That killed him,
there's no doubt. "
A thought occurred to Mr. Frost. If Sir John
Gale had died intestate his widow would un-
doubtedly be a wealthy woman. In any case
his death would benefit her, for there were set-
tlements under which she would have at least
such an income as befitted her rank. Lady
Tallis Gale's niece would now be in very differ-
ent circumstances from those she had been in
hitherto. Maud would be Lady Tallis's heiress
of course. And then then that might make a
difference in the prospects of Hugh Lockwood !
The thought passed through Mr. Frost's brain
so quickly that there was no percentible pause
. G
before he said, "You will allow me to suggest
that you shoidd at once telegraph to England.
Perhaps j'ou have already done so ?"
Barletti was resting his elbows on the table
and alternately bringing his open ]alms together
on his forehead, and slowly separating them with
a stroking movement toward his ears. He made
a little negative gesture with his liead, in answer
to Jlr. Frost's question.
" You asked me to come here, prince, in such
a manner that I concluded you stood in need of
professional advice from me. If I was wrong,
you will forgive me for reminding you that my
time is ])recions, and that if there is no service I
can render you I must withdraw."
"No, no, don"t go! Pray don't go! I do
want you. I have the greatest need of you ! I
have been half distracted all day. More for her
sake, God knows, than my own !"
"For her sake ?"
" I am her cousin. I have a right to be near
her and protect her. Her mother was Maria
Stella de' Barletti. Thei'e is no other relative
in Italy to take care of her."
"Prince, I do not in the least doubt your right
to take care of the lady in question. But who
is 's/ief"
' ' Do j-ou remember that morning, now nearly
a week ago, when we saw Sir John Gale being
rowed ashore from the English shij) ?'"
"Certainly. Ah, I see. Yes, yes; I begin
to understand. There was a lady with him a
young lady as it seemed to me. Humph !"
"Yes, that was she. She was in a dreadful
state this morning when I came here. She had
been fainting, falling from one swoon into an-
other, and that was best for her, provera anima
softerente ! For when she became conscious
again her misery was terrible to witness."
" May I ask what was the occasion of the
lady's agitation ? Did they permit her to see
the scene which so affected you ? That was in-
judicious!"
"Oh yes! She saw it all. She has not yet
been able to give me a connected account of it ;
but from what she said, and from what Paul said
Paul was that man's valet I have ascertained
that the scene must have been appalling."
Mr. Frost was secretly very much surprised
at Barletti's acknowledgment that the beautiful
young woman whose position in Sir John Gale's
household could not be doubtful was his cousin.
The young prince's visits to Palazzo Dinori, and
his devotion to the lovely woman who inhabited
it, were well-known and much-discussed topics
of gossip in Naples, as they had been at Flor-
ence a fiict of which Barletti was as innocent as
a child. For there are minds which, although
shrewd enough to judge their neighbors, can
never conceive that the same standard is natu-
rally applied to measure t/imi. Some breath of
this gossip had floated by Mr. Frost, and had re-
mained in his memory. Veronica was usually
spoken of as " La Gale," a mode of designating
her which conveyed no idea of wifehood to Mr.
Frost's ears. Mr. Frost was not unacquainted
with foreign life. He had lived in Paris, and
called himself a man of the world. But he did
not quite understand Italian manners ; nor was
he aware that their social morality is presided
over by a stern goddess called Decorum, to out-
rage whose laws is a blasphemy condemned by
98
VERONICA.
all well-bred persons. It would not sting an
Italian man of quality to talk to him about
'"whited sepulchres." There ?iiust be sepul-
chres, and the least you can do is to whitewash
them!
"Well," said Mr. Frost, shragging his shoul-
ders, "the poor signora ought not to have been
allowed to witness such a scene. But I suppose
it will jjass away. Did Sir John make any pro-
rision for her ?"
" It is on that point," said Barletti, changing
color, "that we wish to consult you. She has
been the victim of a base deception. But I be-
lieve that Providence has not forsaken her. This
man in his will leaves every thing absolutely "
" His will !" cried the lawyer, suddenly on the
alert. "He left a will ? Are you sure ?"
"Most sure. I saw it only last evening."
" Last evening ! You read it ?"
"No ; I can not say that I read it. I should
not have understood it all, being in English,
though I might have made out a word or two.
But he told us the contents in presence of one
of the witnesses Paul, the valet I spoke of just
now."
"And this will leaves every thing absolutely,
you say, to ?"
"To his wife."
"To his wife!"
" 'To his beloved wife. ' Those are the words. "
"By Jove !" breathed out Mr. Frost in a whis-
per of amazement. ' ' Why then your cousin will
not get a penny, not a soldo, not a centime!
Unless stop ! was there a codicil ? Any other
legacies ?"
"There was nothing more. And it was all
meant for Veronica. .She must have it ! She
was his wife when he died."
"My dear prince," said Mr. Frost, in a low,
.-leady voice, laying his hand on the other man's
arm, "you had best be frank with me. It is
useless to call in a doctor unless you will tell
him all your symptoms. Some folks try to cheat
even the doctor ! But that is not found to result
in a cure very often. This lady, for whom, as
your relative, I profess every respect, was not,
according to English law, the wife of Sir John
Gale. And English law is terribly inflexible and
nnromantic. I don't think Phryne herself would
have a chance in the Court of Chancery which
is not without its good side when you don't hap-
pen to be Phryne!"
" Phryne ! What do you mean, Sir ? What
are you talking of? I say that my cousin Ve-
ronica is Lady Tallis Gale, and can be proved to
be sp in any court in Europe. She was married
on board tiie iMiglish Queen's ship Furibond on
Tuesday morning."
"What!" shouted ]\Ir. Frost, springing to his
feet. " He did that ? Then he was a bigamist. I
tell you his lawful wife is living. I know her well !"
"No, you are wrong !" said a low voice which
startled them both.
The door communicating with the adjoining
room, which was "miladi's" dressing-room, was
opened, and Veronica stood in the doorway.
She was as white as the muslin wrajiper that
was folded round her. Iler hair fell in disorder
over her shoulders. Her eyes were swollen and
heavy. But in the midst of her very real ab-
sorption in the trouble that had fallen on her, she
was not altogether indifferent to tlie effect she
should produce by her appearance. And it was
as striking as she could have desired it to be.
"Angelo miol" exclaimed Barletti, running
to support her with tender sympathy," why didst
thou venture here? Thou art too feeble, my
dearest ! "
"Leave me alone, Cesare. I can stand and
walk by myself. Look at this, IMr. Frost!" she
added in English, holding out a letter to him as
she spoke.
"You speak you are English?" murmured
Mr. Frost, more and more bewildered, but tak-
ing the letter and opening it.
His eyes had not mastered two lines of its con-
tents before he gave a violent start, and the let-
ter fluttered from his hand on the table while he
gazed searchingly at Veronica, with all his keen
wits about him.
"That killed him," said Veronica, bitterly.
"He had thought to betray and to trap me.
And the rage of disappointment was more than
he could bear."
"But," said Mr. Frost, all his professional in-
terest aroused in the case, "we must be careful
to assure ourselves that he did not succeed in be-
traying and trapping you !"
She was about to interrupt him imjjetuously,
when he held up a warning hand to check her.
"Stay a moment! This bears date ay, the
same day. Tuesday last, was it not ? Then tliis
much I see plainly it will all depend vjwn the
hour. And now tell me your whole story. Have
no more i-eserves than if I were your father con-
fessor. The only chance I have of helping you
is to know the whole truth."
"Go away, Cesare," said Veronica, after a
jiause. "I would rather speak to Mr. Frost
alone. I will send for you by-and-by."
"Do not let her tire herself, ])overina," said
Barletti, moving reluctantly away. He turned
when he had reached the door, and, coming back,
took her hand and kissed it with a touching,
humble tenderness. Then he was gone.
The letter which Veronica had handed to Sir.
Frost ran thus :
London, March 5, 186-.
Sir Joiix, It is my painful duty to inform
you of the decease of your respected wife. Lady
Tallis Gale, who expired, at her apartments in
Gower Street, yesterday morning. Her lady-
ship's niece. Miss Desmond, was witli her to the
last. Awaiting any instructions with wliicli you
may be jileased to honor me. and with my re-
sjiectful condolence on the sad event,
I remain, Sir John, your very humble servant,
Adam Laxk.
To Sir John Tallis Gale, Bart.
P.S. Her ladyship's disorder was consumption
of the lungs. The arrangements for the funeral
have been made, in your absence, by IMiss Des-
mond's directions. Her ludyshiji's relative, Sir
Thomas Delaney of Delaney, has been invited to
attend. A. L.
CHAPTER XV.
WHAT SATS THE LAW?
Mr. Frost's cross-examination elicited more
truth from Veronica than she had intended to
tell, or than she was aware she had told. She
VEKUXICA.
99
had meant, indeed, to narrate the main facts of
her case as they were ; but at tiie same time to
present tiiem in such a manner as to gain iier
hearer's sympathies wiiolly for herself. She
could not ha\e sjioken to the raggedest laza-
rone without trying to make an effect ; only in
ditierent cases she adopted ditierent means for
the attainment of the same end.
Mr. Frost read her like a book. For Mr.
Frost's clear judgment was not dazzled by the
glamour of her beauty. He was infatuatedly in
love with another woman. He thought Georgi-
na far handsomer and more stately than this girl.
And how superbly indifferent she was to his feel-
ings ! He knew that her heart was as hard as
the nether millstone. But he had taken the
first downward step in his life to win her.
When a man like IMr. Frost has done so much
to gain any object, he does not easily cease to
prize it. That would be to acknowledge his
whole life a failure; and INI r. Frost hated fail-
ure, and, more deeply still, he hated the cic-
knoicled(jment of failure.
The natural bias of his mind being toward
hard judgments, and his professional experience
having taught him to expect evil, he had at first
been more than half inclined to suspect Veronica
of having known all along that Sir John was a
married man, and of having been an accomplice
in the commission of bigamy. But at last he
satisfied himself that she had been duped.
" But still I do not quite understand why
he should have run that risk," said Mr. Frost,
thoughtfully.
" He ran no risk. His doctors had told him
that he could not live a month. And I I "
"You importuned him, I suppose?"
" I did not importune Sir John. I never im-
portuned him. And as to our maiTiage he was
bound by the most solemn obligations to make
me his wife."
" Obligations which he never could have looked
upon as binding, in the least ; since he knew, al-
though you did not, that his real wife was living.
No, no ; the ' solemn obligations' had nothing to
do with it."
"But I had threatened to leave him, unless he
did me right and justice."
"No doubt he would not have liked that. His
pride (to speak of no other feeling) would have
sufficed to make that painful to him. But, ex-
cuse me, that threat would scarce!}' have had
any influence so long as he thought it a vain one ! "
" It was not a vain threat ; and he knew it was
not. I could have left him, and I would have
done so. I should have ajtpealed to my cousin,
Prince Cesare, for assistance and protection."
"Ay, ay, that, indeed! Jealousy, and re-
sentment, and bitterness, and envy of the folks
who are going to live after he was dead ! Yes ;
and then he secured peace and cjuietness for him-
self at the last, and prevented your leaving him."
"And he thought he was snaring me I" said
Veronica, her breath coming quickly, and her
splendid brows creasing themselves near togeth-
er. "He thought I was his dupe and his vic-
tim. He meant me to awaken to unspeakable
shame and misery after he was dead. And he
thought he was preparing an overwhelming disap-
pointment for Cesare, too ! Ohy it was devilish !"
Mr. Frost declined to enter into the question
of Sir John's devilry.
"It is one of the strangest stories altogether
that ever came under my notice," said he. "And
we lawyers, of course, come in the way of strange
stories; or they come in ours."
Veronica had had much to learn as well as to
narrate. It will be remembered that she had
received no communication from her old home
since her flight. And almost the bitterest drop
in her cup was the discovery of the identity of
Sir John's forsaken wife with Bland's aunt, Ladv
Tallis.
It was so intolerably galling to her to think
thai; her story must now be known and^anvassed
by all the people she knew ! Had Sir John left '
a lawful wife in Spain, or Algiers, or Australia,
there might (or so Veronica fancied) have been
some hope that the world she cared to shine in
would never have been made acquainted with
the real circumstances. By skillful management
they might liave been kept back. But now there
was no hope of that. Lady Tallis had belonged
to a well-known family. People like Miss Betsy
Boyce, whose after-dinner gossip at Lowater now
came back vividly to Veronica's mind, would re-
call all the old story and industriously piece it
on to the new one. It would be the town talk I
The thought Avas distracting. For in propor-
tion as Veronica could never be entirely happy
without an audience to witness her happiness,
so was the idea that she must have spectators
of her humiliation and misfortune intolerable to
her.
Evil that could be hidden did not seem so
evil to Veronica.
She had clung during so many months to the
hope of some day returning to England as Lady
Gale, throughout the gradual progress of Sir
John's illness she had suffered such fluctuations
of hope and fear, that she felt as though some
compensation were due to her.
Had she not been injured? Had she not suf-
fered ? As to others what had others done fop
her ? The good people had drawn off fiom her.
(And ivere they so much better than she was,
pray? except Maud? Maud was good! She
understood now, how it was that I\Iaud had
seemed to desert her, and had never answered
her letter. But then ilaud was difl'erent from
any one else. Her aunt must have prevented
her from writing.) And as for the bad people,
they had been desperately bad to her.
These thoughts passed through her brain as
she sat with her hands clasped before her, lean-
ing back in the easy-chair wherein Cesare 's care
had placed her. And she looked full of a noble
melancholy, with her dark eyes fixed abstracted-
ly on vacancy, and her rich lips apart.
If Mr. Frost had seen her portrait faithfully
reproducing that look and attitude, he would
have formed all kinds of exalted ideas about the
original. But Mr. Frost had fathomed her na-
ture, as he flattered himself. She could cast no
sorcery over him .' And yet and yet it is cer-
tain that he would not have behaved to her quite
in the same manner if she had been fat, or freck-
led, or had lost her front teeth.
"Veronica !" said Cesare, timidly entering the
room, "you promised to send for me. It is so
long ago. I have been so anxious. Let me stay
with you. You see, IMr. Frost, how exhausted
she is. Ought she not to take some rest ?"
"I had been resting since two o'clock, iintil
100
VERONICA.
]Mr. Frost came," she answered, languidly. "It
is not bodily rest I want!"
"You understand, my friend," pursued Bar-
letti, addressing Mr. Frost, "that I am Miladi
Gale's nearest male relative in Italy ; and that I
am, therefore, the proper j^erson to give her ev-
ery assistance and protection in the position in
which she is so unexpectedly placed."
" Oh, undoubtedly, prince. Ahem I Your
cousin naturally looks on you as standing in the
place of a brother to her."
The most subtle of mocking smiles lurked
about theJines of Mr. Frost's mouth as he spoke.
Cesare, with a grave bow, accepted the posi-
tion assigned to him by the Englishman's phrase :
wholly unconscious of its irony. But Veronica
answered at once with disdainful frankness :
" Not so, Mr. Frost. I do not look on Prince
Cesare de' Barletti as a brother. My cousin he
is truly, and as such I have a claim on his pro-
tection. But it will be as well for you to under-
stand at once tliat he is, moreover, my promised
husband ; and that our interests are identical.
It will, doubtless, not surprise ijoii that I do not
think it necessaiy to condescend to any hypocrisy
of grief at my widowhood. The prince and I
do not hesitate to repose full confidence in you
as our legal adviser."
Cesare took her hand and kissed it gratefully,
but he was a little startled, and one might al-
most say, shocked. Why be so outspokeu ? Of
course Mr. Frost understood their real position.
But, why speak of it? At such a moment it
seemed almost indecorous. Of course she could
not be supjjoscd to mourn for kSir John Gale, but
why not make-believe a little, if even only to the
extent of saying nothing ?
Mr. Frost looked at Veronica with a good deal
of imdisguised admiration, and no little secret
sui-prise. She had more spirit and cleverness
than he had supposed ! He had not quite fath-
omed her character after all !
And Veronica was perfectly sensible of the
impression she had made.
"I suppose," she said, after a little pause,
" that the best thing will be for me to go to Lon-
don at once ?"
"It will be well to do so as soon as possi-
ble," said Mr. Frost.
" Our good friend has no doubt of your get-
ting your rights?" said Barletti, glancing from
the lawyer to Veronica.
"Prince, we must speak to the i)oint. The
fact is, tliat the legality of your cousin's marriage
will, in my judgment, depend entirely on tlie
lionr at which Lady TaUis Gale ex])ired. If she
died before tlie ceremony at Na])les took place,
the marriage is good. If she survived that cer-
emony even by five minutes !"
]\Ir. Frost finished iiis sentence by an express-
ive shrug. There was a dead silence.
At length Cesare said, " But the will, tlie prop-
erty ; that will be my cousin's ? It must be I"
Mr. Frost slowly sliook his head. "I have
not seen the documents, but neither have you,
nor has your cousin. And I do not disguise
from you that, taking all the circumstances of
tlie case into consideration, I think it likely that
Sir John made that will jjiior to the ceremony
on board the Furiiond, intending really to be-
queatii his property to his real to his first
wife."
"It would be monstrous! Infamous! Un-
heard of!" exclaimed Barletti, in much excite-
ment.
' ' He was capable of it, " said Veronica. Then
she turned sharply on Barletti.
"Did I not tell you? Did I not warn you
last night ? I told you that I was sure all was
not clear that he meant to fool and delude me !"
Cesare looked blankly from one to the othei".
"Then," said he, at length, "my cousin will
have nothing ? Absolutely nothing ?"
"Gently, prince," replied Mr. Frost. "You
go too fast. The whole matter turns upon the
legality of your cousin's marriage. If that mar-
riage were good, any will made previous to it is
null and void mere waste paper, ilarriage
vitiates any former testamentary dispositions."
Veronica drew a long breath, and raised her
eyes to the la^\yer's face.
' ' Ah ! " she exclaimed, in a low A'oice ; " then,
if she that woman his his wife, died before
the hour of my marriage ?"
"In that case your marriage was legal; Sir
John must be held to have died intestate ; and
you, as his widow (there being no child to in-
herit), will take your legal share of the personal
property. No inconsiderable fortune, I appre-
hend."'
"But," persisted Cesare, wlio could not re-
linquish the idea that Sir John had meant to
make some kind of restitution, and to whom the
idea of a dying man doing deliberate evil was
horrible: "but I think he did mean to leave
Veronica the money ! "
"You think! Bah! You are mad!" cried
Veronica, in a tone of exquisite irritation, throw-
ing herself into a chair. She had been pacing
up and down. Her face was worn and haggard,
her eyes were swollen, her hands fevered.
"The only way to decide the question," said
Mr. Frost, " would be to see the will. Who has
the custody of it?"
" Paul the valet I spoke of has the keys of
his master's desk in his own ))ossession. The
will was locked up in a draw er of the desk in our
presence," rejjlied Barletti.
"Ay! You consider this Paul to be trust-
worthy ?" asked ISIr. Frost.
' ' I will tell you what I think would be the
best thing," said Cesare. "If JNIr. Frost would
undertake to see us remove the document from
the place where it was put last night, and exam-
ine it, and then seal it u]i, and keep it in his
own possession, until we go to England ; that
would be quite satisfactory."
]Mr. Frost had no objection to do so, and at
Barletti's request rang the bell to summon Paul.
"Cesare," whispered Veronica, as the lawyer
turned to the other side of the room to reach the
bell, "I need not it will not be necessary for
me I I can not go in there!"
" IMy Treasure, I think it would be best if you
could stand at the door for a moment even ! It
will be but for a moment."
l]arietti did not know but that the omission
of some trifling precaution might imperil the j)os-
session of the i)roi)crty. He had a vague idea
that the law was a ticklish and complicated ma-
chine, something like a conjuror's jjaraiihernalia,
in the handling of which great nicety and cun-
ning were required, lest by the touching of a
wrong spring, or the non-touching of a right one,
VERONICA.
101
thai instrument should go wrong, and produce
quite unexpected results. He really had faith
in the justice of Veronica's cause, and deemed
that it would be a crying shame to deprive her
of the money that he persisted in believing had
been bequeathed to her.
But none the more for that faith would he
have neglected any wile that the wiliest lawyer
could have suggested to him.
Blunt -fingered Honesty will never pull the
yards of ribbon out of the conjuror's box. That
is not blunt-fingered Honesty's business.
The servant who answered the bell was told to
send Paul to the boudoir immediately.
" Wait for me an instant," said Veronica to
Frost and Barletti. "I I will come."
yhe took a lamp from the table, and went into
her dressing-room, shutting the door behind her.
CHAPTER XVI.
THE WILL.
On the toilet-table in the dressing-room stood
a large dressing-case. It was open, so as to dis-
play ostentatiously its rich gold fittings and vio-
let velvet lining.
Veronica selected one of the crj-stal bottles it
contained, and turned its contents into a drink-
ing-goblet ; but only a drop or two dripped out.
The liquid it had contained was can de cologne.
She poured a little water into the goblet, and
drank it off; but there Avas scarcely enough eau
de cologne to flavor the water.
Impatiently she searched about, opening an-
other case that stood near, and then shaking a
wicker-covered flask that lay uncorked on a side-
table. It was quite empty.
After a minute's hesitation she took up the
lamp again, and hastened veiy noiselessly through j
her bedroom into a corridor, and so to the din- i
ing-room. The large room was empty. The
cloth was still spread. The plates, dishes, and
glasses were just as they had been left after din-
ner on the preceding evening, when Veronica
and Cesare had dined tete-a-tete, before the mak-
ing of Sir John's will. The machine-like regu-
larity of the household service had beentenibly
interrupted since then.
The air was close, and there was a faint sick-
ening smell of fruit, and of the lees of stale wine
in the room.
Veronica peered about, holding her lamp up
so as to throw its light here and there in the great
shadowy space, and moving with a kind of
stealthy hurry. On the side-board "^tood a row '
of bottles and decanters. She examined them
one by one. They were mostly uncorked, and i
some were nearly empty. On the gi'ound beside \
the side-board was a large plated ice-pail, and in j
it was a small bottle of f Champagne. She set ;
down her lamp, knelt on the floor, and took out {
the bottle all dripping from the melted ice. It '
was corked, and she had no means of opening it. '
For a moment she listened intently, turning her i
head toward the main door of the saloon. There '
was no sound to be heard. Then all at once she '
rose, seized a tumbler from the table, and broke I
off the neck of the bottle by striking it sharply '
across the rim of the ice-pail. The foaming
wine poured out over the floor, and over her
hands, and some of it half filled the tumbler.
She drank it desperately, as though it had been
some draught on which her life depended. Then
having thrown the broken flask back into the ice-
pail and replaced the tumbler on the table, she
hastened back breathlessly to her dressing-room.
Her going and return had occupied but a few
minutes. In her confused haste she was hardly
conscious how long it Avas since she had left the
boudoir. But when she re-entered it, Paul had
only just made his appearance in presence of the
two gentlemen.
"You ha\e the key of Sir John Gale's desk,
Paul, have you not ?" said Barletti.
"Of the desk that stands in his bedchamber?
Yes, Signor Principe."
" We wish to open it to take out the testament
which your master read to us last night, and
which you signed."
Paul very quietly raised his left hand, and put
the thumb and forefinger of it into his waistcoat
pocket. Having done so he made no further
movement, but stood looking gravely and silently
at Barletti.
"Well," said the latter, impatiently, "where
is the key ?"
"It is here, illustrissirao," said Paid, very re-
spectfully, but still not attempting to produce the
key.
Barletti colored with anger. He had never
liked Paul, having derived a prejudice against
him from Veronica ; and the steady non-compli-
ance of the man was irritating.
"I think you need a lesson, Signor Paolo
Paoli," said Barletti, haughtily; "you do not
quite imderstand your position in this house-
hold. I recommend you to give up the key at
once, and to refrain from any attempt at inso-
lence."
' ' Insolence, Signor Principe ! " exclaimed Paul,
genuinely shocked at the accusation. "Pardon,
illustrissimo, I never was insolent in my life. I
know my duty to my superiors. But "
"The man has some scruple, some hesitation,
in giving up the key ; is that it ?' asked Mr.
Frost, who had been watching both the inter-
locutors attentively.
"Yes, Sir," replied Paul immediately, in En-
glish. " I have a scruple. I humbly demand
the pardon of Prince Cesare ; but you see, Sir,
I was always a faithful domestic of Sir John
Gale. And Sir John Gale left me, as I may
say, in charge of many things. Now, Prince
Cesare demands to have my master's will.
Prince Cesare" (Paul made a deferential bow
in Barletti's direction every time he mentioned
his name) "was doubtless a respected friend of
my master ; but not a brother, not a cousin,
not a nephew, not any relative at all, of my
master."
"No; that is quite trae, Paid," said ]\Ir.
Frost, gently nodding his head.
" Well then, Sir ; you see, how can I give up
my master's testament to one who has no right
you see, .Sir?"'
" Paul's new-born nicety of .scrupulous honor
would be diverting, if it were not impertinent,"
said Veronica. Her eyes sparkled, her cheeks
were flushed, her face had lost its dragged and
weary lines.
Paul did not look at her, but he made a little
deprecating gesture with his head and shoulders,
102
VERONICA.
and stood there with the mild, melancholy obsti-
uacy of a dumb beast.
''Pardon me," Mr. Frost put in. "Allow
nie one moment. I must say that I respect our
friend Paul's scruples. But, Paul, a proper and
fit person to have possession of Sir John Gale's
will is his widow ; is it not ?"
"His widow, Sir?"
" This lady. Lady Gale. It is on her behalf
that we wish to see the will. You know the
contents of it, do you not ?"
" Not altogether, Sir. I was at the other end
of the bedchamber when Sir John was speaking
to iniladi and the Signor Principe, and Sir John's
voice was very low ; very low indeed, Sir."
"But you had previously signed the will as a
witness, I am told."
"Yes, Sir, I was witness ; but my master did
not inform me what was in the will. "
"And was there no other witness but your-
self?"
' ' There was yet another, Sir, Sir John did
not like that any of his own servants should be
witness, so he told me to get a loyal person to
sign the testament. Sir John wished he should
be English, that other person. So I found a
man who had brouglit horses here for a gentle-
man ; and this man was going back to England ;
and before he went, I asked him one evening to
supper with me, and then Sir John signed the
testament, and I signed it, and the other witness
signed it. The man can be found. Sir. Sir John
made him leave his name and address in my care,
and I iiave them."
Every word that Paul uttered fed Veronica's
rising indignation.
Barletti understood very little of what was
being said ; but he watched Veronica's face, and
reflected its expression unconsciously.
"Ha! Yes, yes ; very systematic," muttered
Mr. Frost. Then he asked aloud, "How long
is this ago, Paul ?"
" About a fortnight ago. Sir. The Signor
Principe may remember the date. It was three
days after the morning when I saw him and mi-
laili in the Villa Keale."
"Ah!" cjacidated Mr. Frost. "That's de-
cisive. A fortniglit ago. There niatj, however,
be a codicil added later."
\'eronica's mind was less impressed by this
fact than by the other one admitted by Paul,
that he had watched her and Barletti in the
Villa Reale.
"You have the audacity to confess " she
broke out in high excitement. But Mr. Frost
stop])ed her.
"Pray, Madam," he said, gravely, "do not
let ns allow anger to enter into our discussion
of this matter."
There was a short silence.
At lengtii Paul said, bluntly, addressing Mr.
Frost : " Were you a fi lend of my master's, Sir ?
Did you know him well?"
"1 am an English lawyer, Paul. IMy name is
Frost. You have heard my name mentioned
here. You have, eh ? Well, 1 am that same
^Ir. Frost. I did not know Sir Jolin liale per-
son.ally; but you may be sure that in allowing
your master's will to be inspected in my jjres-
once you are running no risk of failing iu your
duty."
I'aid looked somewhat reassured, thougli he
still hesitated. "May I say one word to you.
Sir ?" he whispered.
Mr. Frost stepped with him outside the door,
which Paul closed and held in his hand while he
spoke.
"Sir," said he, "she is not his wife. You
see, I knew it all along, but it was not for me
to interfere. How could I ? I am but a do-
mestic. But the parents the relations, I mean
of Sir John in England will know very well
who has a right to the propert}'. I say nothing
against miladi, but the truth is, that Sir John
was angry with her for some time before he died.
Now why does she want the will. Sir? If there
is any thing left to her in it she will get it safely
by the law."
Paul emphasized his speech by a prolonged
and grave shaking of his ]iead from side to
side.
"Paid," said ]Mr. Frost, after a moment's de-
liberation, " miladi, as you call her, teas married
to Sir John Gale." Then he told him in a few
words when and where the ceremony had been
performed.
Paul remembered the expedition to the ship
of war, and how ill and exhausted his master
had been after it. He was much astonished by
]Mr. Frost's statement, and reiterated his asser-
tion that Sir John had been very angry with
"miladi" before he died. How was it then
that he had made her his wife at the eleventh
hour ?
It appeared clear to Mr. Frost that Paul had
no suspicion of the existence of a former wile,
or of any fraudulent intention on the part of his
late master.
" At all events I suppose you believe my word,
do you not?" said Mr. Frost. "The marriage
on boai'd the man-of-war I have reason to be
sure did take place."
"Oh, no doubt, Sir!"
"And remember, Paul, although I perfectly
appreciate your fidelity to the interests of your
late master, that you have no conceivable right
to retain possession of that key when Lady Gale
bids you give it up."
"I am sure. Sir, I desire nothing but to do
my duty. Sir John was hard in some things,
but he has done a great deal for me. He took
me from being a courier to be his valet ; and he
gave me a liberal salary, Sir, and I have been
able from my sparings to do well for my family.
I could not go against my dutv to Sir John,
Sir!"
There was rbsolutely a quiver of emotion in
Paul's well-regulated voice as he spoke. He
was so fond of his boys in the I'iedmontese hills,
that Sir John, from constant connection witii
them in his mind, had attracted some soft senti-
ments of Paul's to his own share. And besides :
under the little man's grave imperturbability
there was quite a feminine power of becoming
attached to that which needed him, in projjortiou
as it was unattractive to tlie rest of the woild.
He had often told himself that if he were to
leave Sir John, the latter would never get any
one to serve him so well. For Sir John was a
terribly hard gentleman, to say truth ! During
Sir John's lifetime Paul had occasionally come
nigh to finding him intolerable. But now that
lie was dead, the man actually missed and
mourned for his daily plague.
VERONICA.
103
' ' Have you succeeded in making my servant
understand that he will have to obey me, Mr.
Frost';"" a^^ked Veronica, wlien the two men re-
opened the door of tiie boudoir.
"Paul quite understands," said Mr. Frost,
quietly.
Barletti looked angiy, but he gave liis arm to
Veronica without making any remark, and they
all descended the stairs to the ground-floor, on
which iSir John's bedroom was situated.
"Go on, Paul, and open the door," said ^Ir.
Frost. Then, as the servant obeyed him, he
fell back a step or two, and said in a low voice to
Barletti and Veronica : " If you will take my
advice you will conciliate Paul. He is honest,
I think. And it might come to pass that you
would be glad to have him on your side."
"Conciliate him!" echoed Veronica, with a
frown and a cruel compression of her red lips.
"I would turn him into the street tliis moment.
He should not be another night beneath this
roof if I could have my way."
"Cara mia! Per pieta! Be reasonable!"
whispered Barletti, on whom the lawyer's warn-
ing produced a strong efiect.
Paul unlocked the door of the dead man's
chamber, and, holding a lamp high above his
liead, stood aside just within the threshold to
let the others pass. All traces of disorder had
been removed from the room. It was dim and
still. The one oil lamp that burned there threw
deep shadows on the walls, and faintly illumined
the objects that immediately surrounded its pale
llame. The floor was covered with a thick car-
pet into which the foot sank noiselessly. Gleams
of gold shone out mysteriously here and there ;
and a soft glow of ruby velvet "from the furniture
and hangings made itself seen in the dimness,
wliere some salient fold caught the light. At
one end of the room was a large swing glass
that reflected the blinking lamp and the rich
dark curtains touched here and there with light,
and the bed with its vague, ghastly burden cov-
ered with a large white sheet.
Veronica, when her eyes encountered this ob-
ject in the glass, stopped, shuddeiing, and clung
to Barletti's arm. He, too, was not unm.oved by
the scene, and he pressed her hand silently.
"No one watches here?" said Mr. Frost, in a
subdued voice, which yet seemed to startle the
solemn silence.
"Ko one, Sir. But I have the key of the
chamber. And, as for that, not one of the do-
mestics would venture to come here now if the
room \\as all unguarded and unreckoned gold
was scattered on the floor."
In silence they proceeded to open the desk ;
I\Ir. Frost holding the light while Paul unlocked .
it, opened an inner drawer, and took out a small, ;
folded paper. j
" You recognize this as being the paper which
j'our master told you was his Avilj, and made you
sign ? And you see that, as far as you can tell, [
it has been quite undisturbed since you put it
there, by his command, last night ?"
"Yes, Sir."
"And A'ou, prince ?" asked Mr. Frost, hand-
ing the will to Barletti.
The latter bent forward and examined it,
without touching it. Veronica barely glanced
at it for a moment, and then her gaze returned ,
to that white, ghastly picture in the mirror,
which seemed to fascinate her.
" I believe it to be the same paper which he
had in his hand last night," said Barletti, speak-
ing scarcely' above his breath.
JNIr. Frost unfolded the will and read it si-
lently.
It bore date the seventeenth of February, and
was expressed in short and clear sentences. It
bequeathed the whole of Sir John Tallis Gale's
personal property absolutely to his "beloved
wife" during her lifetime ; and, in case of her
death before the death of the testator, to her only
surviving niece, Maud Hilda Desmond. There
was no subsequent codicil, and no mention of
any one else, save a legacy of two thousand
pounds to Mr. Adam Lane, Sir John's agent,
who was also ap]iointed sole executor.
"What does it say?" whispered Barletti.
"What it says is of less consequence than the
date it bears. If your cousin's marriage was a
good one, this will is mere waste paper."
Then, turning to Paul, Mr. Frost added : "In
accordance with Lady Gale^s desire, I shall by-
and-by, in your presence, seal up this document,
and retain it in my possession until we ail arrive
in England. You understand that I am responsi-
ble for its safety until then."'
Paul answeied, after a little grave delibera-
tion : "Of course. Sir, I desire to do my duty to
Sir John. I hope you will not take it per male
that you will not be offended if I say that I
shall write to Mr. Lane, the agent of Sir John.
I do not know any of my master's faniily ; but I
shall tell I\Ir. Lane that 1 am ready to bear testi-
mony if I am needed."
"That is quite right, Paid," answered Mr.
Frost, a little stiffly. "You may be sure that
eveiy thing will be done in a pro]jer manner."
Then Paid proceeded to rejilace the empty
drawer, and to re-lock the desk ; and, as he did
so, making no sound in the process, the others
stood by in profound silence. It was a silence
truly of death. Death was there in a tangible
shape beneath the cold white linen that was
slightly raised, with an outline at once terribly
unmistakable and terribly indistinct.
Veronica had not dared to look directly at the
bed, but she continued to stare at its image in
the glass. All her old horror and dread of death
seemed to be stealing over her. The factitious
excitement which had given her courage to enter
the room was fading fast. Her head throbbed,
and her eyes were hot, and she felt dizzy. The
impression of the awful scene during Sir John's
last moments seemed to come back to her with
the sickening terror of a bad dream.
In coming away from the desk Paul accident-
ally gave a slight touch to the great glass, and it
instantly swung to a different angle making one
who looked into it giddy with a sudden vague
sense of insecurity.
As the mirror swung slowly down, it seemed
to Veronica's eyes as though the white form on
the bed were stirring and rising.
" He moves, he moves ! he is not dead, he is
moving!" she cried. And with a stifled shriek
that died in her throat, she burst from Cesare,
who was scarcely less hon-or-stricken than her-
self, and rushed into the corridor, where, after
a few paces, she fell down heavily in a swoon.
104
VERONICA.
BOOK IV.
CHAPTER I.
TEMPTATION.
By the end of March Veronica arrived in En-
gland. The news of .Sir John's death and of her
marriage had, of course, preceded her thither.
Telegrams and letters had been sent to Mr.
Lane, tlie agent, in the name of the self-styled
Lady Tallis Gale. But besides these, there had
come to Mr. Lane a letter from Taul. The
agent had lost no time in communicating with
the inheritor, of the late baronet's estate and
title. This was an elderly bachelor who had
made a small competence in trade, and had re-
tired from business, and was living obscurely in
a suburb of the large manufacturing town in
which his life had been passed. Sir John had
as much as possible ignored his plebeian con-
nections; and, without ever having set eyes on
him, detested his presumptive successor. Mr.
Matthew Tallis. or, as he must henceforward be
styled, Sir Matthew Tallis Gale, had hastened
to London, and had had a meeting with Mr.
Lane; and Mr. Lane had seen Sir Matthew's
lawyer ; and they were all three prepared to meet
and discuss matters with Veronica's legal adviser.
Mr. Frost had written to his partner, stating
that he should bo in England on the twenty-fifth
of March. But the fact was, that he arrived
three days sooner than that date. And one of
his first proceedings was to go to Mrs. Lock-
wood's house in Gower Street. The yellow
window -blinds that had been drawn closely
down I)etween the day of Lady Tallis's death"
and that of her funeral were now again raised ;
and the front rooms were pervious to as much
daylight as ever visited that side of Gower Street
on a March afternoon. The little parlor into
which Mr. Erost was shown looked neat as ever,
but, he thouglit, very threadbare and poor. The
air in it was close, though it was a chilly raw day.
And there was a heavy silence in the house.
Mrs. Lockwood entered the room with her
noiseless, light footfall, and touched Mr. Frost's
outstretched hand very coldly with her fingers.
For a few moments neither spoke.
"Well, Zillah, I have got back, you see," said
Mr. Frost, with the slightest possible overas-
sumption of being at his ease, and in the supe-
rior position.
"Yes, you have got back, and I hope you
bring some good news for me."
" Your greeting will not turn my head b}' its
cordiality."
"I hope you bring some good news for me,"
repeated Mrs. Lockwood. "1 have waited lon-
ger than the time you mentioned. You said,
'Wait until the winter.' We are now at the
end of March. I have had no word from you
directly, all this time. And now that I see you
it is natural I should recall -our conversation last
summer."
She spoke very dryly, and with more than lier
ordinary deliberation of manner. Mr. Frost
seized on an unimportant twig of her discourse,
so to speak, hojiing thereby to divert her atten-
tion from the root of the matter.
"You had no word from me!" he echoed,
knitting his anxious forehead. "Why, I begged
Georgina to come and give you ray news several
times. I was busy, day and night. My wife was
the only person to whom I wrote a line save on
business."
" Your wife came here once or twice not spe-
cially to see me and she said some vague word
about your kind regards, and that afi^airs were
going well. But, of course, neither you nor I
can pretend to each other that there was any sat-
isfaction in that ! 1 dare say it was all very well
as regards other people. "
Mr. Frost commanded himself with an effort.
Even while he repressed the rising temper, he
told himself that it was cruelly hard that he
should always have to be smooth and civil,
while every one else he knew could have the
satisfaction of lashing out when they were ir-
ritated ; he wavered up to the instant when his
lips began to form the words of his reply as to
whether he should not give M-ay and ease his
goaded spirit at whatever cost !
"Well, Zillah," he answered, "I have good
news for vou. "
"ThaiikGod!"
"At least, I suppose it \vill be considered to
be good news. At Hugh's age / should have
thought so."
"xVh!" exclaimed the widow, with a weary
sigh. ' ' If there can be a question about its good-
ness, your 'good news' is not good enough."
" Hugh has the offer of a position which may
be the stepping-stone to fortune. The directors
of the Parthenope Eml)ellishment Company will
be happy to employ him, on my recommenda-
tion, for a twelvemonth certain. And it is a
kind of employment which must bring him into
notice. The salary offered is most liberal. The
residence in such a charming jjlace as Naples will
be"
" It is of no use. Not the least, Sidney," in-
terposed IMrs. Lockwood. She had not called
him by his Christian name for years. And the
return of the once familiar appellation to her
tongue was a proof of unwonted excitement in
hei-.
' ' No use ! No use !"
"It is of no use at all, if what you have to
oft'er Hugh involves exile to a foreign country.
I was in hopes that you had something better to
tell me than that. I was in hopes that "
"Exile!" repeated ]\Ir. Frost, impatiently in-
terrupting her. "What nonsense! Exile to
Naples! How can a woman of your sen.se
talk in that way? One would think I was
proposing to send him to Sierra Leone."
"If 30U were, it would not be more unlikely
that Hugh should accejit it. He has made uj)
his mind to set up for himself. He has formed
new ties, and assumed new responsibilities. ( 'ap-
tain Sheardown has olfered to try to hel]) Hugii
to raise the necessary sum for the purchase of a
business in Daneshire. If Captain Sheardown
had the money himself, I believe he would ad-
vance it directly. But he is not rich enough."
' ' Is Hugh married ?" asked ^h: Frost, abruptly.
VERONICA.
1(,
"Xo : but he has engaged himself to Maud
Desmond."
Mr. Frost felt, on the whole, relieved. If these
friends would advance the money that Hugh
needed, it might be a reprieve for him, Sidney
Frost.
And then then it was possible that the mon-
ey might never be needed at all! How good
that would be I What an excellent way out of
the difliculties that beset him ; what an admirable
liostponement (not canceluifj, oh no ! Of course
Hugh's money should be paid when the fortune
that was budding for every one connected with
tlie Parthenope Embellishment Company should
be full-blown) of the debt that weigiied on him
so irksomely! AVhat a deser\-cd solace to the
anxieties of the widowed mother whose heart
was heavy with care and self-reproach !
"Engaged himself, has he?"
"Yes."
"Then the family difficulties I once hinted at
on the score of rank, you know have been got
over?"
" Lady Tallis, the i)Oor woman who died here,
was very fond of Hugh. I think that at first she
did not quite like the idea of her niece's marry-
ing him, tliough. But she was as soft as wax,
poor soul, and hadn't a real 'no' in her. And
the girl loves him very much."
A stranger might have detected no discontent
in Zillah's voice or words. But Mr. Frost knew
her well, and he was sure that her son's engage-
ment did not altogether please her.
" It is not so bad a match for Hugh, after all,"
said he. "It is true that I did not like the idea
when you first spoke of this thing as being likely,
but It might have been worse. Sliss Des-
mond has very little a mere pittance but small
as her dowry is, it may be usefid to Hugh."
"Maud wanted to give it all to him, to pur-
chase this business with. But "
" But I suppose her trustees wouldn't hear of
that?"
^^Iliifjh would not hear of that! He is re-
solved that every shilling she has shall be settled
tightly on herself."
" That is so like Hugh!"
"Now you imderstand that I can not cer-
tainly will not allow my son to commence liis
career hampered by debt, even though the debt
be incurred to friends who would not press him
unduly. I have thouglit of the matter in all
ways, for many wearj' days and wearier nights,
and I have come to a fixed resolve on this point."
Mr. Frost sat leaning his head on his hand,
and witii his other hand twisting and untwisting
his watch-chain. He did not look at Mrs. Lock-
wood while he spoke to her.
" Zillah, I am going to risk making you hard-
er against me than you are already," he began.
"I am harder against no one than against
myself," she answered ; and then set her mouth
again inflexibly after she had spoken.
" I am going to risk making you harder against
me than you are already,' by confessing that my
chief object in coming here to-day so immedi-
ately after my arrival was not Hugh's business. "
"That does not make me any harder against
you. I am not hard in order to please myself,
Heaven knows."
" Have you heard any thing from Mr. Lane,
lately ?"
"Sir John Gale's agent? Not since the fu-
neral. He undertook to let that man know of
his wife's death."
"You do not see the papers, nor hear much
news, I suppose?"
" I ? No ; you know I do not."
"But I sujjpose you have heard that Sir John
Tallis Gale is dead, and that Sir Matthew reigns
in his stead ?"
"Dead! Sir John Gale dead!"
" You did not know it, then ?"
" Not a word, not a hint ! When did he die ?"
"Twelve days ago, on tlic 10th of March.
And you had not heard of it ? Miss Desmond
had not been informed ?" said Sir. Frost, looking
half-uspiciously at Zillah.
"Maud has scarcely seen a soul since her
aunt's death. The vicar of Shipley came up to
attend the funeral, by Lady Tallis's express de-
sire, and he and Maud have been shut up in the
house all day, and only go out to take a Uttle
walk in the Begent's Park in the evening. Hugh
has been away at the Sheardowns. I expect him
home to-morrow or the next day. And that
man is dead ? Within a week of his poor wife ?
How strange ! Poor Lady Tallis was unfortu-
nate in her death as in her life. If she had sur-
vived him but a day, she might have had it in
her power to make some provision for Slaud."
"How so?"
" Well, I suppose that man, bad as he was,
would have bequeathed his wife some part of his
fortune. And if he had died intestate, she would
have been a rich woman. That would have
been the most likely. Men like Sir John Gale
often m;ike no will at all. "
" By an odd enough chance, I happen to know
that this man did make a will, though."
"You?"
' ' Yes ; I have seen it. "
Zillah knew Sidney Frost well enough to be
quite sure that in saying this he was not in-
dulging in mere purposeless gossip. Besides, he
had said that he had not come to Gower Street
on Hugh's business. Was the business he had
come upon in anv wav connected with Mr John
Gale ? with Lady Tallis ? with I\Iaud ?
The latter thought sent a sudden hope through
her heart a hope which seemed almost a pang.
She was so imused to hopes, that the barest
glimpse of good fortune which her imagination
might perceive was instantly followed by a move-
ment of repression. If a thing appeared good,
then it was unlikely ! That was Zillah's expe-
rience of life at fifty odd years.
"You have seen Sir John Gale's will?" sh.e
said, folding her small, fair hands quietly on the
table by which she sat, and bending over a little
toward Mr. Frost.
" He died in Naples. I was there at the time.
I became, through some business transactions,
acquainted with a gentleman who is a great friend,
and he says a relative of the very beautiful
young lady who was called in Na])les Lady Gale."
"Ah, 1 see I He has left all his money to her
to that vicar's daughter ! Wliat a fool I was
not to think of that before ! I might have known
that the person who least deserved it would get
the prize!"
Zillah would not have admitted to herself that
she had hoped ; and not having hoped, she could
not be said to be disappointed. Nevertheless it
.106
VERONICA.
was a secret feeling of disappointment that gave
an extra flavor of bitterness to her words.
"I have always thought you one of the most
clear-headed women I ever knew, Zillah," said
Mr. Frost, ' ' as well as one of the most discreet
and trust-worthy ; and I am going to prove the
sincerity of my opinion by telling you a strange
story, on the condition that you keep it strictly
to yourself for the present."
"A secret? No, no, no! For Heaven's sake
give me no more secrets to carry about with me !"
"This can not be a secret long," answered
Mr. Frost. Tlien he told her, with great clear-
ness and accuracy, the story of his acquaintance
with Barletti, of Veronica's marriage on board
the ship of war at Naples, and of the subsequent
sudden death of Sir John Gale, and the finding
of the will.
Mrs. Lockwood listened with ever deepening
attention. When he came to the contents of the
will, she removed the hand which had hitherto
covered her mouth, and let it fall on the table.
" Was the will witnessed duly made out
was it a legal document ?" she asked.
" It was unimpeachably correct, and unusu-
ally clear and brief."
"Then, Maud Desmond is a great heiress!"
She sat very still, and spoke ver}' quietly, but an
unusual flush suffused her pale face, and the blue
veins in the little worn hand tliat lay on tlie table
swelled, revealing the force with which she was
pressing it down.
"I can not tell you whether she is, or not.
But you can tell me."
"i? /can tell you?"
"A true marriage invalidates a will; a false
one does not. If there were still any breath in
the body of Hilda, Lady Tallis Giile, at a quar-
ter past ten o'clock on the morning of Tuesday,
the fourth of March, the will is good, the second
marriage is void, and your son's wife is one of
the wealthiest women in this kingdom."
Zillali gave a great sigh. Her hands dropped
nervelessly into her lap, and slie sank back in
her chair, staring at Mr. Frost in silence.
CHAPTER II.
MRS. LOCKWOOD S MEMORY.
Hdgh returned from Lowater House on the
day after Mr. Frost's interview with his mother.
Mr. Levincourt was still in London, but intended
to return home by the end of the week. The
vicar's consent to his ward's engagement had
been given before Lady TaHis's illness had begun
to display cause for immediate alarm. The vic-
ar had been once to London since the terrible
journey when he luul taken Maud to her aunt,
having been summoned thither by Lady Tallis's
urgent request that she miglit have an ojjportu-
nity of speaking to him about Maud.
"I Can not jiut all that 1 want to say upon
paper," she \irote. And imlecil the poor lady's
epistolary style did not improve with years.
When the vicar arrived, in compliance with
Lady Tallis's entreaty, she urged him not to op-
pose the wishes of tlie young pcojjle.
" If you do not object. Lady Tallis," said l\Ir.
Levincourt, " I suppose I can not do so, either."
"It is not what Maud miglit have e.\pected,
if things had been diff'erent with ?e," the poor
lady observed. " But what has the child to look
to? Sir Thomas Delaney has eight children,
six of 'em daughters I So it isn't very likely lieYL
do any thing for Maudie. And you know, my
dear friend, liirth and riches don't always make
marriages happy. Goodness knows I had the
first. At least poor papa always would be tell-
ing us that his was some of the best blood in Ire-
land not literalli/, of course, ye understand;
for the fact is, he suffered a martyrdom from
gout all his life. But what did my birth do for
me? And as to money well, to be sure, I'd
like to have a little more of that to do as 1 like
with ! But still money won't buy the best things.
Now at one time I had more than I knew what
to do with in the early days, ye know but I'd
a thousand million times sooner have my dear
girl to be kind to me and be poor, than be as rich
as a Begum without a soul that cared a quarter
of a straw about me ; and that brings me round
to what I was saying to ye, that it would be a
pity to lose a good husband for our dear INIaud,
just for a bit of family pride. I've reflected a
good deal about it lately, my dear friend. And
ye know good husbands don't grow on every
bush!"
The vicar had no personal wish to oppose the
engagement. He liked Hugh, and thought well
of him. And, besides, there was another feel-
ing in his mind which tended to make him favor-
able to the engagement. He had never lost the
conviction that JMaud's mother would have been
a happier woman as the wife of a certain poor
clergyman whom she loved, than it was possible
for her to have been under any circumstances of
loveless prosperity. And he had a vague no-
tion that in forbearing to oppose Maud's love-
match, he was making a kind of rejiaration for
the share he had had in destroying her mother's
young romance in the days when Clara Delaney
had wandered with him under the old trees in
her Irish home, and dreamed her girlish dream
of unworldly happiness.
Lady Tallis's interview with the vicar had
taken place early in December, and the engage-
ment had been formally sanctioned before Christ-
mas.
" We needn't proclaim it just yet," said Lady
Tallis, "until Hugh sees his way a little more
clearly. And JMaudie is quite young enough to
wait."
' Dear Aunt Hilda, there is no one I know of
to ])roclaim it to !" ^laud had answered, simjily
and sadly. And Lady Tallis had acquiesced ;
not without a sigh that the alliance of a daugh-
ter of the united houses of Delaney and Des-
mond should be, perforce, thus mutely inglori-
ous.
Hugh had, however, compounded for permis-
sion to tell his happy news to his old friends, the
Sheardowns. And Captain Sheardown had been
moved to the ott'er of trying to assist Hugh in his
project of raising the money for the purchase of
the architect's and surveyor's business in Dane-
shire, by the announcement that Hugh was to
marry ]\Iaud Desmond.
"bid your ears burn, dearest what pretty
little white ears they are! while I was away?"
asked Hugh on the first evening of his return,
holding Maud's hands in his, and looking down
at her golden hair. "They ought to have been
VERONICA.
]07
of the fieriest crimson, if the okl saw were true;
for we talked of you, you, you scarcely any
thing else but you all the time I was at Lowa-
ter."
" We talked I Dear Hugh, I am afraid you
must have teased them with my name."
"No, darling; ]Mrs. Sheardown spoke of you
constantly. What a delightful creature she is !"
added Hugh, with a naive earnestness that
brought a smile to ^Maud's lips, and a blush to
her pale cheek.
JIaud is not much changed in outward aspect
since she was last presented to the reader, .she
is perhaps a trifle paler and thinner, but that has
come within the last montli. .She had grieved
for her aunt, but without acute pain of mind.
l^lle had the peace-bestowing assurance that her
]resence had been a solace and a joy to poor
Aunt Hilda ; and had made the forsaken woman
some amends for years of hard usage and neg-
lect. And there was in IMaud's spirit none of
that unappeasable sorrow which comes from re-
morseful memories of duties left imdone, or done
grudgingly without heart-felt kindness. ^
Lady Tallis's death had been almost painless.
She had not known that her end was near until
within three days of her decease, and then she
spoke of it calmly and cheerfully. And she had
uttered many a solemn injunction to Hugh to be
true and tender to the orphan girl wlio loved
him. "jNIy only regret in the world is that I
can do nothing for the sweet child," she had said.
"If she had been my daughter instead of my
niece, she would have inherited a pretty penny
under my marriage-settlement. But, as it is, it
all goes back to him. But maybe it is all for
the best."
After a pause, she had added : "I can't speak
of him to Maudie, my dear Hugh. But if if
ever any chance God only knows how strangely
things come about sometimes if ever chance
should give ye the opportunity of letting him
know that I that I die in peace with him, I'd
be glad he should be told so. It might be good
for him to know it, some day. And and of
course I can't altogether make excuses for him,
but I know I was not very wise in times gone
liy, and maybe I tried him. And I did love him
once, Hugh. And those whom God has joined
together, I don't believe can ever be quite put
asunder. Distance won't do it. And time
won't do it. And I'd like him to know that I
prayed for him, Hugh, and asked his pardon if
I vexed him or did wrong by liim in past years."
"Dearest Lady Tallis, I am sure you have no-
thing to reproacli yourself with!"
"Ah, Hugh, Hugh, looking death in the face
gives the foolishest of us wisdom enough to see
our own shortcomings. And I'd like him to for-
give me my trespasses as I forgive his and as I
hope to be forgiven."
Again she paused ; this time for so long that
Hugh thought she had fallen asleep. But as he
began softly to move away she stopped him and
motioned him to bend down his head over the
couch where she was lying. And then she said,
"And, Hugh, when I'm gone, he may do justice
to that that young woman. I have felt veiy
bitter toward her, that's the truth. And I don't
mean to tell you that I feel quite as a good Cliris-
tian ought to feel at this minute. But I have
forgiven her, my dear, though it was hard. I
dare say she is to be pitied, poor creature ! And
I won't distress our darling just now witii speak-
ing of it, but fi/tcrward, Hugh, when she's calm,
and can think of me without pain, ye may tell
her what I said. tShe loved the other girl, and
'twill comfort her."
And so tlie poor, gentle, kindly spirit had left
the world, in ciiarity with all men.
Hugh had much to say to JMaud on that first
day of his return. They walked out together at
dusk, and he spoke of his jtlans. Matters had
not yet been definitively arranged, but Captain
.Sheardown had great hopes tliat Mr. 8nowe
would advance tlie money required. Herbert
Snowe was now a partner in his father's bank,
and was good-naturedly desirous of helping
Hugh. The old gentleman was slow and cau-
tious and difiicult to satisfy. But Hugh had
good hopes that he would consent to advance the
money after a decent delay.
"And then, my own darling, we will be mar-
ried directly, will we not ? There is nothing to
wait for, is there ?'
" N no, dear Hugh. If you will take me in
my black gown, I will come to you when you are
ready. Dear Aunt Hilda would not have wished
us to delay our marriage."
"Far from that! You know what she said,
the good kind soul. And as to the gown, it must
be a white one, for that day at all events."
When they got home again, Hugh had some
papers and plans to look over for his em]^loyers,
Digby and West. He had not left their oHice,
but was continuing at a weekly salary, on the
understanding that he should be allowed to quit
them at a fortnight's notice. They all sat in
Mrs. Lockwood's little parlor. The sitting-room
up stairs had not been used since Lady Tallis's
death. JMaud had a book, but it lay for the
most part idly in her lap, while her eyes dreami-
ly wandered toward Hugh as he bent over his
papers, and every now and then stuck a short
blunt pencil between his teeth to hold it, and knit
his brows portentously over the consideration of
some difficult point. The vicar, too, had a book,
which he read, or seemed to read. And Mrs.
Lockwood's nimble fingers were busy with a
basketful of soft gray woolen stockings Hugh's
stockings which she was mending on an infal-
lible principle that almost apjieared to make a
darned stocking superior to an undarned one ; so
daintily dextrous was the crossing of the threads !
Usually the widow was not by any means lo-
quacious. To-night, however, her tongue moved,
if not as rajjidly, almost as unrestingly, as her
fingers. She harped on the topic of Lady Tal-
lis's death, returning to it again and again, until
the vicar at length shut his book with a look of
resignation.
" You remember what day it was she died,
Maud?" said iMrs. Lockwood.
" Remember it!"
" I mean you remember the date and all. Of
course you do. Tuesday, the fourth of March,
it was ; yes, that was the date."
"Yes."
" And and when I came up stairs again after
preparing the beef tea that she had asked for, she
had fallen asleej)."
"Yes," said Maud, again. She did not un-
derstand why these details should be recapitu-
lated, but she answered sweetly and patiently.
108
VERONICA.
' ' We have never spoken of the particulars to Mr.
Levincourt, have we?" pursued Mrs. Lockwood.
The vicar was not specially desirous of hearing
more particulars than he knew already respecting
Ladv Tallis's death ; and Zillah perceived this
perfectly. But with an utter absence of her usual
fine tact, she continued to harp on the subject.
" She seemed a little better, and very cheerful
that morning, did she not, Maud?"
"Yes ; she was free from suffering at the last,
thank God 1"
"Oh, quite; quite. Wlien I first came into
her room, she said, ' I feel much stronger than I
did yesterday.' Who would have thought that
by noon that day she would be dead I "
The vicar, feeling himself called on to say
something, gave a little sigh, and murmured,
"Ah, it is often the case in that disorder that
the patient feels unaccountably better just before
the end comes."
" I was with her a long time after ^laud went
away that morning, Jlr. Levincourt. ^laud had
been sitting up all night, and was worn out. I
sent her to bed. Was I not right ?"
"Very right, and considerate."
"And so ]Maud was not with her aunt at the
last. Put Lady Tallis passed away in a kind of
gentle slumber. She slept a long time until
past ten, I should say. Indeed I am pretty sure.
And Jane says so too. I was talking to Jane
about it this morning. I could swear Lady Tal-
lis was alive until past ten o'clock I And Jane is
sure of it too."
" You had better not swear it, either of you,"
said Hugh, looking up from his papers, "for you
would be mistaken."
" ^listaken I Why, Hugh, the the more I
think of it, the surer I feel that "
" Darling mother, we need not pursue the dis-
cussion. It is not likely that j'ou will have to
make oath about it."
" Not at all likely. IMost unlikely, as far as
as far as we know. But still, Hugh, as far as
the matter of fact is concerned, I feel convinced
that she must have been still alive after ten
o'clock. She must ! I am sure of it."
Mrs. Lockwood's tone was so petulant and sharp,
and so unlike her usual tone of resolute compos-
ure, that Hugh looked at her with some uneasiness.
"She has been overworn and harassed, the
poor little mother, " he thought. Then he glanced
at Maud, whose eyes were brimming with tears :
and pushiug his papers aside, to be finished when
the others should have gone to bed, he set him-
self to speak cheerfully of his prospects and of
liis plans ; how they would let the house in Gower
Street; and how he had seen a tiny cottage near
the spot he had set his heart on living at, in Dane-
shire, that would just suit his mother ; and how
he had already projected sundry inex])ensive al-
terations that would make the tiny cottage a de-
lightful residence. And so no more was said
that night about Ladv Tallis.
CHAPTER IIL
A CLOSE KUN".
Ox the following day Hugh Lockwood had
two surprises. The first was of a very disagree-
able nature. The second, though it at first ap-
peared to him to be a very simple matter, was
of great importance in its results.
When he reached the office of Digby and West,
at Westminster, he found a letter there addressed
to himself. The sight of the Danecester post-
mark made his pulse beat a thought qiucker as
he opened it.
It was from Herbert Snowe, and to the fol-
lowing effect :
IMr. Snowe, senior, regretted that he should
not be able at present to advance the sum of
m'oney Mr. Lockwood had desired to borrow of
the bank. The present time was a period of
anxiety and uncertainty in the money market.
Mr. Snowe did not feel himself justified in en-
tering into any transaction of the kind contem-
plated, without better security than could be of-
fered by Mr. Lockwood's friends. 3Ir. Snowe
had every confidence in ^Ir. Lockwood's being
able to find the money elsewhere. Meanwhile
he begged to assure him of his kindest esteem.
Hugh crushed the letter in his hand, and went
straight to his desk, where he began to write at
a fierce rate. After a few minutes he put down
his pen, and took up the letter again and read it
through with compressed lips ; the under pro-
jecting over the upper, in a way that gave him a
strong resemblance to his mother.
Theie were a few words at the end of the
letter expressive of Herbert Snowe's personal
regret that the matter had not been arranged.
"I think, Lockwood, that, if you can wait a
while, we may yet be able to do the loan for
you," wrote young Snowe. "j\Iy father is a
cautious man, and I believe the fact to be as he
asserts, that the present moment is not one in
which prudent men can afford to run any money
risks."
"Risks!" exclaimed Hugh, contemptuously.
" Risks, to a house like Snowe's ! I believe the
old man could put his hand in his pocket and
pull out the poor little sum I want, and scarcely
miss it !"
Then he thought that it was of no use to scold
or sulk, and resolved to bear his disappointment
manfully. But it u-cm a disappointment, and he
worked on with an increasing sense of depression.
It often happens thi.: tlie first .shock of misfor-
tune is fiir from being the hardest part of it. We
take up our burden with untired muscles, and
find it lighter than our fears had anticipated.
But with every mile of our journey the weight
grows more and more oppressive.
Before the time came for him to leave his of-
fice, a note was brought to him by a messenger.
And this was the second surprise. The note was
as follows :
"Bedfout) Sqcake, Wedncuday.
" My dear Hugh, I have got back from
foreign parts, where I have been very busy all
the winter. I should be glad to see you, either
this afternoon or to-moiTow, at my office here,
as I have something advantageous to communi-
cate to you. I shall be ready for you at any
time between five and six. Yours always.
"S. Fkost."
"Somethhig advantageous! It will be very
welcome just now," thought Hugh. But he did
not allow himself to be too sanguine, knowing
that Jlr. Frost's ideas of his advantage were a
little at variance with his own. He sent a line
VERONICA.
109
back by the messenger, to say tliat he would be
with ilr. Frost a few minutes after five. And
as soon as he left his office he made for Bedford
Square.
IMr. Frost received him in his private room
with all his accustomed kindness cf manner, and
bade him be seated in the purple leather chair
opposite his own.
"Well, Hugh, and how goes on business?
You are still with Digby and West, I suppose?"
"Yes, for the present."
"When I went away, you had some idea of
leaving them and setting up for youiself."
" I have the idea still, JSir. But it is a mighty
difficult idea to carry out."
"Naturally ! And I hope you will do nothing
rashly. You know the homely proverb about
not throwing away the dirty water before you
have got the clean."
" I shouldn't call Digby and West dirty water.
They have behaved ^ery handsomely to me. But
as to your pro^erb, if a man were always con-
tent to stay as he is, it would be a poor business
for the world in general."
"I have not been unmindful of you wliile I
have been away, Ilugli. 1 have had your inter-
ests in view ; and I come back empowered to
make you an offer."
"Thank you, with all my heart, for kindly
thinking of me."
"Oh, that is nothing. I consider myself
bound ; I am your father's old friend, you know.
There is nothing to thfink me for. But I ho])e
you will consider my news good news."
"Whatever I think, I shall not be the less
obliged to you for your good-will."
Mr. Frost perceived that Hugh was not going
to bind himself blindfold to accept whatever
should be o&'ered him : he saw that there was a
quiet preparation on the young man's part for
making resistance, if resistance should be neces-
sary.
"Well, I am commissioned by the Directors
of the Parthenope Embelhshment Company to
ofier you an engagement as assistant architect and
surv'eyor to the works they are employed on at
Naples. And if you will cast your eyes over this
letter of the secretary to me, and over these pa-
pers, 1 think you will allow that the offer is not
a bad one."'
Mr. Frost pushed the letter and papers across
the table as he spoke.
Hugh read them attentively ; and then, rais-
ing his eyes to IMr. Frost's face, said : "The of-
fer is a most liberal 1 may say an extraordinari-
ly liberal one, indeed."
"The fact is that nearh' all the power would
be in your hands. They have a bi^ name on
their prospectus to catch the public, of course.
But the man with the big name would be in
London ; and I dare say would practically trou-
ble himself veiy little about the works."
"But tlie assistant architect would have to re-
side at Naples?"
"It is a charming place. One does not get
many opportunities of being paid to go and live
in such a lovely spot. Upon m^- word, I should
think a year or so's residence at Naples the most
tempting part of the business I"
"Not to me, ]\Ir. Frost."
"Well, to be sure, the other advantages are
substantially greater."
"They are very great, no doubt. But the
fact is, I can not avail myself of tliem."
"j\Iy dear Hugh I You don't mean to say
that you will be so But 1 won't be angry
with you ; and I won't take you at your word.
"What possible reason can there be against the
scheme ?"
"I hate to seem so ungracious: ungrateful, I
assure you, I am not. The truth is, there are
several reasons against it, which all seem good
and sufficient to me."
"IMight one ask what they are?"
" It is really not so easy to explain them."
" Excuse me, Hugh ; but, in general, when a
man can't exj)lain his reasons, I take it thev are
not clear to his own mind ; or else tliat he is
ashamed of them."
"I am certainly not ashamed of mine," an-
swered Hugh, good-luimoredly.
"And you really mean to throw up this pros-
pect without more reHection?"
" I do not believe that further reflection would
alter my intentions. And besides, you know, it
would not be fair that I should hesitate too long.
Since it is so desirable a tiling, there will doubt-
less be plenty of candidates for it."
"I dare say the position will not go a-beg-
ging," answered Mr. Frost, stiffly.
" Look here, jMr. Frost. You know that I am
not ungratefid for your kind interest in me. But
I am not a child, and I iiinst be allowed to judge
for myself in this matter."
"Oh, certainly!"
" Now you are angry with me; and yet, on my
honor, I would do almost any thing rather than
that you should be. You remember that we
talked of my prospects last year. And I told
you then that I was resolved to endeavor to make
a little career and home for myself. I am still
in the same mind. I believe I am rather a con-
stant fellow by nature well, obstinate, if you
lile I I see the word in your face. If I ani to
be in any one's emjiloy, I will remain with Digby
and West. They have treated me well. Anij
they are safe as the Bank. This Parthenope
Company offers very magnificently; but it may
be all a flash in the ]ian, you know. These com-
panies sometimes collapse unexpectedly. These
are reasons that I can explain, you see. There
are others that I am not at liberty to speak of,
and that I must ask you to take my word for. "
" Hugh, if I guess one of these reasons aright,
will you tell me ?"
" Why, I don't know what to say about that !"
"That means that you won't I But I can tell
you that, last year before I left England, I had
a conversation with your mother; who foresaw,
even then, that you were very likely to lose your
heart to a fair young lady."
"Did she, 8ir ?" said Hugh. He was inward-
ly a good deal surprised that his mother should
have spoken confidentially to INIr. Frost on a
subject which she had never broached to him-
self at that time.
"Yes; and I will say candidly that I then
thought that prospect a bad one."
"That I should lose my heart to a fair young
lady ? After all, it was rather natural I"
"I thought at the time that the loss of your
heart to the special young lady I had in view
would lead to trouble. But it may be that I was
wrong. To go back for a moment to the busi-
no
VERONICA.
ness I sent for you upon ; am I to understand
that your definite answer to the proposition is
' no' ?"
"'No, thank you!' at the very least," said
Hugh, smiling. Then he added, seriously : "If
you would piefer that I should take a day or two
to consider of the matter "
"I should certainly think it advisable."
"Then I will do it. I don't wish to seem
pig-headed. I will talk over the matter at home,
and let you know my final decision in two days.
But I must add that you must not expect me to
give a different answer from the one I have given
already."
" In two days ? Good. The Parthenope Em-
bellishment can wait that time. Now tell me
how is all at home your mother?"
" My mother is not very well, I fear. She
does not complain, but I believe she has been
harassed and tried too much. She frets more
than she ought to fret, about troubles. But yet
she is wonderfully placid in her manner at most
times. Last night, however, she was ruffled and
unlike herself. "
"Indeed?"
" Yes. You know we have had trouble in the
house, in the death of poor Lady Tallis?"
" I heard of her death. It was on the fourth
of March, was it not?"
"Let me see. I think so. Y'es."
"Had she been ill long?"
" 111, yes ; but not long in ajiparent danger."
" And she died on the evening of the fourth
of March."
" IMorning ! On the morninfj of the fourth."
"Oh, morning was it? Ay, ay. I suppose
her niece was with her to the last ?"
"By an odd chance, I believe I was the last
person who saw Lady Tallis alive."
" Keally ! Then I suppose her death took place
very early before you went to Westminster ?"
"I did not go to Westminster to my office
that day. I could not leave my mother and
Maud Miss Desmond alone. I had no very
special work on hand, and had taken a few days'
leave of absence."
"I see, I see. Boor Lady Tallis ! On Tues-
day morning the fourth of March. At about
ten or eleven o'clock, I supjiose. You said it
was in the forenoon, I think ?"
Hugh could not but be struck by the coinci-
dence of Mr. Frost's harping on the particulars
of Lady Tallis's death, in the same way in which
his mother had har])cd on them last night.
"Why, Mr. Frost," he .said, abruptl}-, "is it
a matter of any importance at what hour Lady
Tallis died ?"
Mr. Frost was in nowise disconcerted by the
question, but answered with a comjilex frown
on his knotted forehead, and a shrewd smile on
his closed lips. " It may prove to be so, indeed,
Hugh. It is astonishing on what small hinges
an im])ortant matter may sometimes turn."
Hugh could not resist an uneasy feeling, like
the first cold touch of suspicion, as he recalled
liis mother's manner of the i)revious evening.
What was there what ioull there be to sus-
pect? He did not know. But the cold touch
was there, at his heart.
"Well," he answered, "if it hr of import-
ance, I believe I can set the matter at rest. She
died "
"Stop, Hugh! W\ait a minute. Things of
this kind are easily said, but not easily unsaid."
" Unsaid! I do not understand you."
" I mean that in a case where accuracy is of
vital importance, a person not previously warned
of this importance may speak thoughtlessly an
inaccurate word to which he will stand commit-
ted, and which may produce a great deal of
mischief."
"But I"
"So," proceeded Mr. Frost, speaking through
Hugh's words, "so I will, if you will allow me,
explain to you how very important, to others,
it is that j-ou should weigh your words care-
fully."
Point by point, Mr. Frost went over the story
he had told to Jlrs. Lockwood. Hugh fixed his
eyes on him while he spoke, with a candid, un-
disguised ex]iression of wonder. Mr. Frost did
not look at him often, though from time to time
he met his eye openly and steadily. But he took
a sheet of ruled paper that lay on the table before
him, and, as he spoke, occujjied his fingers in
folding it over and over, with accurate care to
make the creases correspond with the blue ruled
lines.
When Mr. Frost had made an end of his stoiy,
lie leaned back in his chair, and began twisting
his folded paper into a spiral form.
^' Now," said he, "are you quite sure you
know at what hour Lady Tallis died ?"
Hugh nodded his head gravely and slowly be-
fore he answered. "She died in time to make
that marriage a good marriage, if her death were
all that was necessary to do so."
The twisted ])apcr in Mr. Frost's hands was
suddenly rent in half throughout its folded thick-
nesses.
"Indeed? Y'ou speak very confidently, but
your answer is not categorical. And the evi-
dence may he conflicting. Y'our mother thought
dirt'erently on this j)oint."
" My mother ! If my mother thought differ-
ently, she was mistaken. And by leading ques-
tions it may be possible to elicit an answer of
whose bearing the answerer is not fully aware."
"Leading questions! You speak as though
/had some advantage to gain by disi)roving this
marriage ! What in Heaven's name do you sup-
]iose it matters to me? I don't quite compre-
hend you, Hugh."
"And to say truth, ]\Ir. Frost, I do not at all
comjjrehend you."
"I have no taste for mystery, I assure you.
Nor for Quixotism. It is, perhaps, not difficult
to throw away other people's fortunes with a
high-and-mighty flourish. I am a plain, cynical
kind of man ; and I should think twice before I
did so." T
No twinge of conscience prevented Mr. Frost's
handsome face from being scornful, or weakened
the contemptuous force of his shrug, as he said
those words.
Hugh was pained and uneasy. His mother,
then, had seen .Mr. Frost ! And she had been
guilty of something like deception in su])i)ress-
ing the fact! This, to Hugh, was an almost in-
tolerable thought. Yet he would not ask any
(piestions, on this point, of IMr. Frost. After a
jiause he said : " I honestly do not know what
you mean, or what you would have me do. I
can but speak the truth I"
VERONICA.
Ill
"Oh, of course," answered Mr. Frost, diyly.
"The truth by all means; so soon as you are
quite sure what is the truth. The other party
intend to litij;ate."
"To litigate?"
" Tiiey intend to litigate, I believe (understand
I am not acting for the soi-disant Lady Gale.
Lovegrove is Miss Desmond's trustee and quasi-
guardian, and there would be a certain indelica-
cy in one of the firm ajijiearing on the other
side) : they intend to litigate, vn/ess they find
beforehand by testimony as to the period of Lady
T.'s death that tliey haven't a leg to stand on I"
Hugh passed his hand over his foreliead. Mr.
Frost watched him keeidy.
"Tiiere are circumstances in this case," said
Jlr. Frost, "which would render the jiublicity
of litigation peculiarly painful. Miss Ue^mond's
position would be most distressing."
Hugh continued to rub his forehead with the
air of one trying to resolve a painful problem.
Sir. Frost got up and stood in his favorite
posture with ids back to the fire-place. He
averted his gaze from Hugh, and played with
his watch-chain. " ^ly own impression is," he
said, " tliat Lady T. died at a more convenient
time for her niece's fortunes than you seem to
think. Mrs. Lockwood, when I saw her yes-
terday (Perhaps she did not mention having
seen me ? Ah I Well, it was quite a confidential
interview) Mrs. Lockwood was of opinion that
if the thing rested on her testimony, and that
of the servant, it would come right for Miss
Desmond."
Hugh got up from his chair and stood o]3posite
to Mr. Frost, looking at him with a very stern
face. And his voice was louder than usual as he
answered : " But the thing will rest on mi/ testi-
mony. And I have already told you to wliat ef-
fect my testimony will be." And he walked out
of the office without another word.
Mr. Frost stood without moving for some time
after Hugh was gone. Then he clasped his
hands over his head wearily. "It iiirii/ be,"
thought he, "that the marriage on shipboard
was begun earlier than I fancied. People are so
vague about time. We must make pro]jer in-
quiries. But, by Jove, it will be a wonderfully
close run.'"
.not help it,
'that man"
CHAPTER IV.
GOSSIP.
"I don't believe a word of it!" said Mrs.
Lovegrove.
"My dear!" remonstrated her husband.
"I do not," repeated ^Irs. Lovegrove, dis-
tinctly. Then she added, " Now I put it to you,
Augustus, does this thing stand to reason ?"
"It may not stand to reason, and yet it may
be true, mamma. When a woman is in the
case, things very often do not stand to reason ;
but they happen all the same," observed Augus-
tus Lovegrove. junior.
There had been for some time past a tone of
bitterness and misanthropy obser\"able in this
young gentleman's language and manners. He
also frequented matins with inflexible punctual-
ity, and dined off boiled greens and bread on
Wednesdays and Fridays. This severe self-dis-
cipHne and mortification was atti'ibuted bv his
mother and sisters to a disappointed attachment
to Miss Desmond. But no word was ever spok-
en on the subject in the family when Augustus
was i)rcsent.
"Why, yes," said Mr. Lovegrove, gravely.
"As regards men or women either, many things
haiijjcn which one can't exactly say stand to rea-
son."
" I have been told," said ilrs. Lovegrove, mak-
ing her upper lip very long, "that my intellect
is too logical for a woman's. If it be so, I can
15ut, I repeat, I can not believe that
here Mrs. Lovegrove shuddered
"committed such a horrible act of injustice at
the very brink of the grave."
"I don't see any thing surprising in it. The
man had been committing horrible acts of in-
justice cU his life ; and there was no reason to
expect him to become a changed man at the last
moment. Besides, it is not a question of what
any body thinks, or of what seems likely or un-
likely. The marriage either can be proved or it
can not," said Mr. Lovegrove, folfling back his
Times newspaper so as to read it more conven-
iently, and giving it a sharp tap with the back
of his hand.
" I would not for the world that the girls heard
this repulsive stoiy mentioned," said JNIrs. Love-
grove.
"I don't see how you're to keep it from them,"
replied her husband. "They haj)pen to he
spending the day out to-day ; but that is only
once in a way. Tliey will be at home to-mor-
row, and you can't prevent people chatter-
ing."
And, indeed, it was not long before the Misses
Lovegrove were informed of the decease of Lady
Tallis Gale's husband ; and had heard of the
person who claimed to be his widow ; and of
the large fortune depending on the issue ; and
of a great many details respecting the innermost
thoughts and feelings of the parties concerned.
The Lovegroves' servants knew the story. So
did the Frosts'. So did the little maid"-of-all-
work at Mrs. Lockwood's; and she retailed the
relishing gossip to the green-grocer's wife, and
to the baker, and to the milkman ; and like a
rolling snow-ball, the tale grew in the telling.
I\Irs. Lovegrove, after her declaration of un-
belief, sat and pondered on the extraordinarv
caprice of fortune wliich was said to have oc-
curred.
She did not believe it. No ; she did not be-
lieve it ! But she should like to hear a few more
particulars. It was really a long time since she
had called on Mrs. Frost. Heaven forbid that
she, Sarah Lovegrove, should be the one to bring
dissension between partners ! Poor ^Irs. Frost's
weak vanity was objectionable. But not -for
tliat w-ould she abstain from paying her due civil-
ity, so long as such civility were not incompati-
ble with principle. Sarah Lovegrove had ever
been considered to possess a masculine intelli-
gence, superior to the petty foibles of her sex.
The upshot of Mrs. Lovegrove 's meditations
was, that she sent for the fly which was hired
out from an adjacent livery-stable, and was
driven in state to Mr. Frost's residence.
It was a good opportunity. Her daughters
were absent ; and she would run no risk of con-
taminating tlieir ears with the details of a kind
of story with which, alas! elder persons were
112
VERONICA.
obliged to be acquainted in tlieir journey through
the world!
Mrs. Lovegrove always arrayed herself with
especial care for a visit to Mrs. Frost. Her
toilet on this occasion was a matter of more hes-
itation and mental debate than she would will-
ingly have acknowledged even to herself. At
one moment she would resolve to adhere to the
strict principles that usually regulated her attire,
and that resulted in the general sad-colored ef-
fect of it ; at another, she would be tempted to
relieve the leaden dullness by a bright bow of
ribbon or a flower. She was divided between a
desire to vindicate the strength of her intellect
by showing herself to be above the frivolities of
fashion, and a secret fear of IMrs. Frost's satir-
ical glances, and, possibly, speeches.
Mrs. Lovegrove never confessed to herself that
she was afraid of Mrs. Frost, and certainly the
latter had no suspicion of the fiict, but spoke to
Mr. Frost of his partner's wife as "that self-suf-
ficient, woodm-headed woman." Nevertheless,
Mrs. Lovegrove was by no means self-sufficient
enough to be indiftei-ent to the opinion of Mrs.
Frost. And she concealed more feminine gen-
tleness and timidity under her hard exterior than
had ever entered into the composition of the
beautiful Georgina ; which is not, however, say-
ing much.
It was about half past four o'clock in the after-
noon wlien Mrs. Lovegrove's fly drew up at the
door of iMr. Frost's house. Mrs. Lovegrove was
ushered into a small, shady drawing-room, where
she found the libstess talking with a lady whose
appearance struck ]\Irs. Lovegrove with amaze-
ment, mingled with disapproval. The visitor
Avore a brilliant costume made in the most girlish
mode ; and on the top of a heap of iiilse hair,
whose excessive quantit}' displayed a sovereign
contemi)t for probability, was perched a small
white hat adorned with peacock's feathers. As
the face beneath the hat must have faced at least
sixty summers, the contrast between it and its
head-gear was startling.
"Oh!" exclaimed Mrs. Frost, in a tone that
said plainly, Who would have thought of seeing
you! " How do you do, j\lrs. Lovegrove?"
]\Irs. Lovegrove suddenly became conscious,
as she sat down, of the disagreeable fact that her
gloves were of a staring yellow color, which
stood out objectionably against the leaden hue
of her gown. She had hesitated long before put-
ting on these gloves, but had at last decided on
wearing tliem, as being the only spot of bright-
ness'about iier attire. And now, when she saw
Mrs. Frost's fine eyes lazily inspecting them, she
became painfully aware tluxt they were obtrusive,
that they attra'ctetl the eye to every movement
of her hands, and tliat she could not so much
as raise ber handkerchief to her face witliont
demonstratively exiiibiting two yellow glaring
patches.
But Mrs. Lovegrove was not one of those
whose emotions are quickly translated into the
expression of their fixccs ; she seated herself op-
posite to the mistress of the house with a stern
countenance.
" You have got Mr. Frost back again," she
said, after the first greetings were over. " IIow
is he ?"
"Well, really," rejoined Mrs. Frost, "you
ought to know better than I do ! You people at
Bedford Square have more of his company than
I have."
" But he is at home generally in the evenings,
my dear, is he not ?" asked she of the peacock's
feathers.
" Sometimes. But in the evening /am often
out. "
"Out?"
"Yes. I am never sure whether he will be at
home or not, and so I do not put off" my engage-
ments."
"Well, / wouldn't stir if I were in your place.
I would give up fifty engagements for the chance
of having a long evening with ]\Ir. Frost."
"I am sure Mr. Frost would be immensely
obhged to you, Betsy! I'll tell him," said
Georgina, with a languid smile.
All this time INIrs. Lovegrove was sitting si-
lent, with her yellow gloves folded in her lap.
She felt very uncomfortable. She had thought
to find IMrs. Frost alone, and to have drawn
from her some word about the business which
had so excited her curiosity. But Mrs. Love-
grove was not recklessly indiscreet ; she would
not have thought of touching on the topic before
a stranger, although she would have thought it
foir to find out, if she could, all that Mrs. Frost
knew about it. And now here was this simper-
ing old woman, in whose presence she could not
say a word, and whose dress Mrs. Lovegrove was
inclined to consider a disgrace to a Christian
country. And, besides, neitlier IMrs. Frost nor
her guest seemed to take any notice of her !
The simpering old woman, however, very un-
expectedly turned round just as IMrs. Lovegrove
was thinking these thoughts, and said, in a brisk,
good-humored manner: "Now I want you to
present me to Mrs. Lovegrove, Georgina."
Mrs. Frost somewhat ungraciously complied.
"Miss Boyce IMrs. Lovegrove."
"I am an old friend of Mrs. Frost's," said
Miss Boyce, " and I don't approve of the fashion
of not introducing people."
" Every body is supposed to know every body
else," said Mrs. Frost.
IMrs. Lovegrove quite understood that she, who
lived in Bedford Square, was not included in the
"every body." But she merely bowed rather
grimly, and said nothing.
"Uh, but that's a very nonsensical supposi-
tion, my dear," returned Betsy Boyce, waving
her hand up and down contemptuously. "That
rule can only apply to a very limited and ex-
clusive circle indeed ; and not to your ' every
body,' nor my 'every body' eitlier!"
sirs. Lovegrove felt quite grateful to this odd
little person ; and began to think that her gay
])etticoat was not quite so short as she had at
first supposed.
" Well ; aiul isn't this a queer business about
Sir John Tallis ?'' proceeded Miss Boyce, with-
out the least circumlocution.
IMrs. Lovegrove, being uncertain how much
the otlier woman knew, shook her head mys-
teriously, and said, "But is it all true that we
hear?"
"All true? I should suppose not. Very few
things that one hears are nil true. But I believe
there is no doubt that the man is dead dietl
rather suddenly I was told and that lie has left
a tangle of trouble behind him. Unravel it who
can!"
VERONICA,
113
"What has he left ?" asked Mrs. Frost. She
had been leaning back in htr chair calcnlating
how in;iny yards of some fine old j)oint lace that
she had seen would sutKcc to trim iicr ])nri)le
velvet gown, and wondering whether Mr. Frost's
business in Naples had gone well enough to make
him generous with his money.
"My goodness, (Jeorgina! I say he has left
misery and worry and vexation, and i)eihai)s
worse, behind him."
" How do you mean ?"
"How do I mean! Wliy onlj- think what a
dreadful position that poor dear girl, tlie nicest,
sweetest creature, Maud Desmond, will be ]jlaced
in ! They say that that young woman, the vic-
ar's daughter I'm sorry to say I have a very
bad opinion of her, and had from the first mo-
ment I saw her handsome face claims to be
Sir John's widow. And I\Iaud Desmond was
brought up with her as a sister. The vicar is
her guardian. Poor Lady Tallis was her aunt. I
never heard of such a horrid entanglement."
"Oh, well," said Mrs. Frost, "if Miss Des-
mond cares about the person who went abroad
with Sir John Gale, I suppose she will find it
more satisfactory that her friend should have
been duly married to him."
"But, my goodness, Georgina, j-ou don't ap-
pear to understand the case," said Miss Eoyce,
impetuously.
"No, I dare say I do not," replied Mrs. Frost,
with a shrug which said plainly, "and I don't
care to understand it."
Miss Eoyce chattered volubly, pouring out
statements, some of which were true, some found-
ed on fact, and some as airily unreal as the
"baseless fabric of a vision." She had heard
something of a will left by Sir Jolin Gale ; but
that part of her information was very vague and
confused. Some people had told her that Miss
Desmond would inherit a million of money ; oth-
ers declared that the vicar's daughter would have
it all ; a third story was that Sir John had be-
queathed the bulk of his wealth to a newly-dis-
covered relative of his in Naples.
"But how in the world did you hear all this ?"
asked Airs. Lovegrove, during a breathless pause
in Miss Boyce's talk.
Miss Boyce was rather flattered by the question.
"Oh, my dear soul," she answered, smiling
shrewdly, "although I do not know (piite 'ev-
ery body,' I have a considerable circle of ac-
quaintance nevertiieless. And as to hearing, I
never wonder at people hearing of things ; I'm
only puzzled when they don't hear of 'em ! The
world is very small, after all. And I declare to
you that I often solemnly thank Providence that
I have no episode in my life to hide, either for
my own sake or any one else's ; for I protest on
my honor the fable of the ostrich burying his
head in the sand is a trifle to the sort of thing I
obseiwe in the world, where, positively, people
will tie a bit of a gauze veil over tlieir noses, and
fancy that nobody can see through it !"
Mrs. Lovegrove returned to Bedford Square
primed with intelligence, which, like a good wife,
she was minded dutifully to share with her hus-
band.
But he met her first words with a grave ad-
monition to say as little as possible on the sub-
ject of Sir John Tallis Gale's affairs.
"Frost brings a queer account of the state of
H
the case. There is, it seems, a will. But if the
second marriage be proved valid, the will is, of
course, waste pa))er," said Mr. Lovegrove.
' ' My dear Augustus, let me understand ! Who
inherits the i)ro])erty under the will ?"
"The last person one would expect to inherit
it : ]\Iiss Desmond !"
Mrs. Lovegrove's maternal thoughts flew back
to her son. Jf ]\Iaud should ])rove to be an
heiress, and if she could be induced to like Au-
gustus !
She said a word or two on the subject to her
husband. But Mr. Lovegrove's feeling on the
matter was not quite in harmony witii her own.
"Augustus is a capital fellow," said the fa-
ther; "but I don't believe he has a chance in
that quarter."
"Why not? He would be a husband any
young woman ought to be proud and thankful to
win !"
"I suppose most mothers say the same of
their sons, Sarah. But put the case that our
Dora were to come into a great fortune, would
you think such a young man as Augustus a fit-
ting match for her ?"
" That's quite different "
"Aha! It is, is it?"
"Be so good as not to interrupt me, Mr.
Lovegrove. I mean I mean that I don't
know where to find such another young man as
Augustus. I'm sure ayiij girl might go down on
her knees and thank Heaven for such a husband
as Augustus."
"Did you go down on your knees and thank
Heaven, when I proposed to you, Sally ? I don't
much believe in the girls doing that sort of
thing."
And then Mr. Lovegrove retired behind his
newspaper, and no more was said on the subject
between the husband and wife.
CHAPTER V.
THE NEW BARONET.
Veronica, Lady Gale, as she styled herself,
was established in a respectable, but by no means
fashionable, hotel, at the West End of London.
She had brought none of the Italian servants
with her, and had even dismissed her French
maid, and taken in her stead a middle-aged Swiss
woman of staid ugliness.
For Prince CJesare de' Barletti lodgings had
been found, within a convenient distance of the
hotel. At these modest apartments he was known
as Signor Barletti merely. And this temporary
lopping of his title had been executed at Veroni-
ca's express desire, lest the glories which she had
anticipated sharing with him by-and-by should
be tarnished in their passage through regions of
comparative poverty and obscurity. She also
had enjoined on Cesare to keep himself aloof
from such of his comp.atriots as he might chance
to meet in London. This latter injunction, how-
ever, he had not kept to the letter.
The truth was that poor Cesare was desperate-
ly dull and forlorn. His visits to Veronica were
of the most rigidly formal character, and the in-
variable presence of the Swiss maid during these
inteniews had caused some sharp words to pass
between the cousins.
lU
VERONICA.
"At Naples, at least, I could see you and
speak to you, sometimes, without a hideous du-
enna," complained Cesare.
' ' At Naples things were different. Have pa-
tience. We must risk nothing by imprudence.
Louise understands no Italian. You can say
what you please before her. "
" But I hate the sight of her. Dio mio, how
ugly she is !"
Then Veronica would bid him go out and
amuse himself. But he declared that London
depressed his spirits with a leaden weight ; that
he could not speak ten words of English so as to
be understood, nor understand half that number
when spoken ; that he could not wander about
the streets all day ; that he had no club to re-
sort to ; that London was cold, ugly, smoky,
noisy, dull ; and that there had not even been
one fog since his arrival a spectacle he had all
his life longed to see.
At this climax Veronica lost patience.
"In short," she observed, disdainfully, "you
are like a spoiled child, and don't know what you
want."
' ' On the contrary, I know but too well. Cara,
if I could only be with you, the time would pass
quickly enough. But I am more banished from
your society now than I was when he was alive. "
And in his utter ennui Cesare had scraped ac-
quaintance with certain of his own countrymen,
who frequented a foreign cafe, and smoked many
a, cigar with men whose appearance would have
mortified Veronica to the quick, could she have
beheld her cousin in their company. And )'et
the difference of a coat would have transformed
some of them into as good men as he, even in-
cluding the pedigree of the Barlettis in the list
of his advantages. But it was just the coat
which Veronica would very well have understood
to be of extreme importance.
Mr. Frost had, as he had said to Hugh Lock-
wood, declined to act as Veronica's legal adviser.
But he had, at Cesare's request, given her the
name of a respectable lawyer who would assume
the responsibility of looking after her interests.
Cesare could not be got to understand Mr. Frost's
motives for not conducting the case himself, but
Veronica declared that she understood them.
Meanwhile there had been several interviews
between Mr. Lane and the respective lawyers of
Sir Matthew Gale and Veronica.
Mf- Simpson, Veronica's lawyer, of course
quickly perceived that the new baronet had no
interest in establishing the validity of the will.
If it were established, he inherited nothing l)e-
yond the entailed estate; if it were set aside, he
would receive a certain proportion of the person-
al property. Sir Matthew's lawyer, Mr. Davis,
perceived tliis also as soon as he was made ac-
quainted with the contents of the will. It had
been read at Mr. Lane's office, there being pres-
ent Sir Mattbcw, ]Mr. Frost, the agent who, it
will be remembered, was named executor and
the two lawyers above mentioned.
Mr. Simjjson, a heavjMnannered, pasty-fiiced
man, witli two dull black eyes, like cin'rants stuck
in dough, conceived the idea of making Sir
Matthew acquainted with his client. Their in-
terests were nearly identical, and he felt that it
would be a desirable thing for "Lady Gale" to
be recognized by tlie late baronet's successor.
lie trusted, too, to the effects of the lady's per-
sonal influence on the shy, awkward, provincial
bachelor.
The meeting was consequently brought about.
"It can do you no harm to call on her. Sir
Matthew," said Mr. Davis. "It would not prej-
udice your case to say she was Lady Tallis Gale
fifty times over."
"I I I wish to do what's right, Davis. It's
ticklish work meddling with wills, you know."
"Meddling! God forbid, my dear Sir JMat-
thew! But this either is a will, or it is not, you
see. That is what we have got to prove. If it
is a will, the dispositions of the testator must be
held sacred sacred. If it is not a will, you ob-
serve, the testator's intentions are In short,
it is quite another matter," responded Mr. Davis,
winding up a little abruptlj'.
Sir Matthew called at the hotel at which Ve-
ronica was staying. He was accompanied at his
own request by Mr. Davis, and, on sending up
their cards, they were both ushered into Veroni-
ca's presence.
She was dressed in deep mourning, of the rich-
est materials and most elegant fashion, and look-
ed strikingly lovely.
"I am glad to see you, Sir Matthew," she
said, making him a superb courtesy, which so
embarrassed him that, in his attempt to return
it by as good a bow as he knew how to make, he
backed upon Mr. Davis, and nearly hustled him
into the fire-place.
"It is naturally gratifying to me to be on
good terms with my late husband's family," pur-
sued Veronica, when the two men were seated.
"Thank you, ma'am I mean my my lady
that is Of course, you know, we must
mind what we're about, and do what's right and
just, and not make any mistakes, you know.
That was always my rule ^vhen I was in busi-
ness."
"An excellent nile!"
"Yes. And as to your late as to Sir John
Gale's family I don't suppose you ever heard
much good of them from him, nia'am. My
cousin John was an overweening kind of a man.
But we come of the same stock, him and me."
"Certainly."
" Yes. We come of the same stock. There's
no doubt of that in the world."
Sir IMatthew rubbed his knee round and round
with his handkerchief, which he had doubled up
into a ball for tlie purpose ; and looked at every
part of the room save that in wliich Veronica
was seated.
She was in her element. Here was an oppor-
tunity to charm, to dazzle, to surjjrise. This
man was vulgar, rather mean, and not overwise.
No matter, he could be made to admire her and
he should !
It was already evident that Sir INIattliew had
not expected to find so elegant and dignified a
lad}- in the person who claimed to be his cousin's
widow. The history of her relations with Sir
John was known to him, and the ideas conjured
u]) by such a history in the mind of a man like
Matthew Gale were greatly at variance with Ve-
ronica's manners and aspect.
"I am sorry that Sir John was not on terms
witli his ver}'' few sin-viving relatives," she said,
with the least possible touch of hauteiu'. " You
sec his path in life had been very dift'erent from
theirs."
VERONICA.
115
"So much the better fur them, if all tales be
true!" exclaimed Sir Matthew. He had now
screwed his handkerchief into a rope, and was
fettering his leg with it.
Veronica was not embarrassed by having to
meet his eyes, for he tnrned them stndiously
away from her. Her cheek glowed a little, but
she answered, quietly, "Family differences are
of all others the most difficult of adjustment. I
have never entered into them. But I hope ive
may be friends."
She said the words with such an air of infinite
condescension of almost protecting good -na-
ture, that Sir Matthew felt himself obliged to
replv, ' ' Oh, thank you, ma'am I mean my
lady!"
Mr. Davis was lost in admiration of this young
woman's talents. "Why, she might have been
a duchess, or any thing else she liked I" thought
he, marking the impression that her manner was
prodncing on Sir ^latthew.
" My feeling on the matter," said IMr. Da^ns,
" is that we should tiy to avoid litigation."
"Litigation !" echoed Veronica, turning pale.
"Oh yes, yes. Litigation would be terrible !"
The word represented to her imagination brow-
beating counselors, newspaper scun-ility, and the
publicity of that " fierce light tliat beats upon" a
court of law. She had all along shrunk from the
idea of going to law. She had relied on IMr.
Frost's dictum, that if her marriage could be
proved to be valid, there would be no further
question of the will. And she rested all her
hopes on this point.
' ' / sha'n't litigate, " said Sir Matthew, qnickly.
" I don't see what I've got to litigate about. The
bit of money that would come to me wouldn't be
worth it. For there's lots of second, and third,
and maybe fourth cousins, for what I know,
that '11 turn up to divide the propertj-, if it is to
be divided. And my motto always has been,
'Keep out of the way of the law.' You^l ex-
cuse me, Mr. Davis ! " And Sir Matthew laughed
with a dim sense of having made a joke, and hav-
ing in some way got the better of his attorney.
"The only person that has any thing to go to
law about, as for as / can see," said .Sir Mat-
thew, after a minute's pause, "is the person that
inherits the property under the will ! This Miss
Desmond. I don't know why my cousin John
should have gone and left all his money to his
wife's niece. He was none so fond of her fam-
ily, nor of her, during his lifetime ! And I fancy
they looked down on him. I suppose he did it
just to spite his own relations."
Veronica was silent.
"Oh, by-the-way," pursued Sir Matthew,
"there's some one else that wouldn't much like
the will to be set aside that's Mr. Lane. He's
executor, and a legatee, besides, to the tune of a
couple of thousand pounds."
" Mr. Lane appears to be an honest, upright
person," said Veronica. " I have seen him once
or twice. And he speaks very reasonably."
Mr. Davis glanced piercingly at Veronica.
"Oh, " said he ; " your ladyship finds Mr. Lane
reasonable ?"
At this moment the door was opened, and
Cesare walked into the room. He stared a little
at the two men, neither of whom he had ever
seen before. But Veronica hastily informed him,
in Italian, who the visitors were, and turning to
I Sir Slatthew, presented Cesare to him as ' ' My
cousin, Prince Cesare de' Barletti."
Cesare bowed, and said, " Ow-dew-doo ?"
Sir Matthew bowed, and said nothing ; but he
was considerably impressed by Cesare's title.
"Oh, I didn't know," he stammered ; " I was
not aware I mean I had never heard that you
were connected with foreigners, ma'am, so to
speak."
"My mother," said Veronica, with graceful
nonchalance, "was a daughter of the house of
Barletti. The principality is in the south of the
Neapolitan district."
"Oh, really!" said Sir ^latthew.
" Jlr. Simpson informed me that he was to
have an inteniew with Miss Desmond's guardian
to-day," said Mr. Davis, addressing Veronica.
"Her guardian?" said Veronica, breathless-
ly. The word had sent a shock through her
frame. JMaud's guardian ! Why that was her
father! "Is he is he here?" she asked,
quickly.
"Oh yes. Did you not know? It is a Mr.
Lovegrove, of Frost and Lovegrove. A very well-
known film."
" Ah ! Oh yes, I understand."
' ' Mr. Lovegi'ove acts for Jliss Desmond, I un-
derstand. Do you know if ]Mr. Simpson has
been at the Admiralty since I saw him ? I read
the other day that the Fnrihond was j^aid oflT at
Portsmouth last week."
' ' I believe he has," answered Veronica, faintly.
"Then, madam, I make bold to say that, un-
less the other side are determined to litigate at
all hazards, you will soon be put out of suspense."
Cesare's ear had caught the fiiint tones of
Veronica's voice, and Cesare's anxious eye had
marked her pallor and agitation as the prospect
of a speedy verdict on her fate was placed before
her. He came immediately to her side. " Thou
art not well, dearest," he said, in his own lan-
^guage.
"Yes, quite well. Don't make a scene, Ce-
sare ! I will go into my room for a smelling-
bottle, and come back directly."
" Can I not ring for Louise?"
"No. Stay here."
And Veronica, with a munnured apology to
Sir JIatthew, glided out of the room.
"Is any thing the matter ^^^th Lady with
your with the lady?" asked Sir Matthew.
Cesare, left alone with the two Englishmen,
felt himself called upon to make a great conver-
sational eflfort. He inflated his chest slowly, and
answered :
" She went for some salt."
"Eh?" exclaimed Sir Matthew, staring at
him.
' ' English salt. Sale inglese. Come si dice ?"
In his despair Cesare raised his closed fist to
his nose and gave a prolonged sniff".
"Aha!" said Mr. Davis, -with a shrewd air.
"To be sure; smelling salts. Eh? Headache?"
"Yes: eddekke."
' ' Poor lady ! She has been a good deal ex-
cited. Her position is a very trying one. "
"Very well," said Cesare, a good deal to Sir
Matthew's bewilderment. But Cesare merely in-
tended an emphatic affirmative.
Sir Matthew would have liked to stinke into
the conversation himself, but was withheld by
an embarrassing ignorance of the proper form in
116
VERONICA.
which to address Barletti. He could not certain-
ly call him "your highness," and while he was
deliberating on tlie propnety of saying senior
which was his notion of pronouncing the Italian
for " sir" Veronica returned.
She looked a changed creature. Her cheeks
were flushed, and her eyes extraordinarily lus-
trous.
"Hope you're better, ma'am," said Sir Mat-
thew.
"Thank you. I have been suffering a little
from headache. But it is not severe. I must
have patience. My nerves have been greatly
shattered."
Her tone was so plaintive, and her face so
beautiful, as she said this, that Sir Matthew be-
gan to feel a rising indignation against his dead
cousin, who could find it in his heart to deceive
so charming a creature.
"I I hope it will come right for you," he
said. "I do, upon my soul !"
"I only ask for justice. Sir Matthew. I have
undergone great and unmerited suffering. But
on that topic my lips are sealed."
Sir Matthew thought this very noble, and
looked at Mr. Davis for sympathy. But the
attorney was gazing at Veronica, with eyes in
whose expression admiration was blended with
a kind of watchful curiosity.
By the time the visit was bi-ought to a close
the new baronet was completely converted into
a partisan of "his cousin's widow,*" as he now
markedly entitled her.
" SJie's not at all the sort of person I had ex-
pected," he said to Mr. Davis, as they walked
away together.
"Is she not. Sir Matthew?"
"And that cousin of hers I suppose he is
really a prince, eh ?"
"I suppose so an Italian prince."
' ' Yes, of course. 'W'ell, it isn't for the sake
of the share of the money that would come to
me I've got the entailed estate, and no thanks
to my cousin John either ! He would have loft
it away from me if he could. No, it isn't for
that ; but I do hope her marriage will turn out
to be all right. "
' ' It can not be long before we know. Sir ]Mat-
thew."
"Well, I do hope it will come right for her.
My cousin John belnived shamefully to her. He
did his best to spite his own family into the bar-
gain. And I don't mind saying that I should
be glad if it turned out to be the case of the biter
bit. Only," he added, after a minute's pause,
during which he grew almost frightened at his
own incautious tone, "only, of course we mustn't
go and be rash, and get ourselves into any trou-
ble. A will's a will, you know."
"^Vliy that is just what remains to be seen,
Sir Matthew."
CHAPTER VI.
THE TURNING OF THE SCALE.
Mft. Simpson, Mr. Lane, and Mr. Lovegi-ove
were assembled in the office of the last-named
gentleman. They had been talking together for
more than an hour, and, to judge from their coun-
tenances, the conversation had not been altogeth-
er pleasant. IVIr. Simpson, indeed, preserved a
pasty placidity of face. But Mr. Lovegrove look-
ed angry, and Mr. Lane sulky.
"It is a most extraordinary thing," said Mr.
Lovegrove, "that you should have been so luke-
warm in the matter, Mr. Lane."
"I don't know what you mean by 'luke-
wann.' If I was to consult my own pocket it
wouldn't take long to see which side would be
best for me," retorted the agent. "But I am
not the man to do that. Two thousand pounds
is of as much consequence to me as to most peo-
ple. But 1 go according to law and justice."
"I can't tell how much you may know about
justice," said Mr. Lovegrove, "but I take the
liberty of supposing that your knowledge of law
is not extensive."
"Well, well," said Sir. Simpson, moving his
jaw slowly as he spoke, somewhat in tlie man-
ner of a cow chewing the cud, "it don't take a
very profound knowledge of the law to under-
stand tlie case before us. I suppose you are
satisfied that the ceremony of marriage on board
the Furibond did take place. "
Mr. Lovegrove passed his hands irritably
through liis hair without answering.
"And if every thing hadn't been conducted
in an honorable way, why should the will ever
have turned up at all?" said ]\Ir. Lane. "It
wouldn't have been so difficult to say nothing
about it."
Mr. Simpson felt this to be injudicious, and
hastened to say, " Oh, my dear Sir, with the
parties concerned in this business such a pro-
ceeding would have been entirely out of the
question."
" Mr. Lane doesn't seem to think so," obseiTed
Mr. Lovegrove, dryly.
"No, no, no," proceeded Mr. Simpson; "it
is mere waste of time to consider such an hypoth-
esis. Out of the question, entirely out of the
question. The will being there, my client's first
proceeding was to show it to a respectable and
well-known lawyer your own jiartner, I\Ir.
Lovegrove and to intrust it to him for safe-
keeping."
' ' I don't know what could be fairer or more
honorable," ])ut in Mr. Lane.
" It was a matter of course that the proceed-
ings of the lady in question should be fair and
honorable."
"Mr. Lane doesn't seem to think so," said
Mr. Lovegrove again.
]\Ir. Simpson interposed to prevent a retort
from the agent. " Permit me," said he. " The
lady in question was treated in the most heart-
less and treacherous manner. But my present
business is not to insist upon that part of her
story. The question is, was the first Lady Tal-
lis living or dead at the time of the second mar-
riage ?"
"Sir John supposed her to be alive. Tliat
much is clear," said IMr. Lovegrove. "He
never intended to make Miss Levincourt his
wife."
"Possibly. But I need not remind you, Mr.
Lovegrove, that persons can not play fast and
loose with the marriage ceremony to gratify their
own convenience or evil passions."
Mr. Lane opined, under his breath, tiiat it
would be a pretty sort of game if they could.
"I have laid before you," continued Mr. Simp-
I
VERONICA.
117
son, looking as tliough lie were engaged on the
mastication of a very tough mouthful indeed,
" the i)roofs of the performance of the marriage
ceremony between the late Sir Jolin Gale and
Miss Levincourt. You are not at present pre-
pared to bring fonvard any testimony as to the
hour at which Lady Tallis Gale expired?"
"JMr. Frost is of opinion," said ^Ir. Love-
grove, "that Jlrs. Lockwood's testimony, and
that of the servant-girl, will go to prove "
^Ir. Lovegrove paused in his speech as the
door of his office was opened, and one of his
clerks appeared.
"I said that you were particularly engaged,
Sir," said the young man, "but the gentleman
would take no denial, lie said that "
" What do you mean by admitting any one at
this moment ? Who is it ?"
"Mr. Hugh Lockwood, Sir," answered the
clerk, making good his retreat as Hugh pushed
past him and entered the room.
There was a momentaiy silence and pause of
expectation.
" ;Mr. Lockwood," said Mr. Lovegrove, grave-
ly, "I am sorry you have chosen this moment
for insisting on seeing me. If my clerk did not
succeed in making you understand that I am
particularly engaged, I must tell you so myself
in plain terms."
"I ask pardon of you, and of these gentle-
men," said Hugh ; "but I think you will excuse
me when you know that the business on which I
come is precisely the business you are engaged
in discussing."
Hugh's manner was very resolute and quiet.
He looked like a man who has recently subdued
some strong emotion to his will. Mr. Lane
stared at him nndisguisedly. ISIr. Simpson ob-
served him in his ruminating manner. Mr. Love-
grove made answer: "May I inquire how you
know what is the business we are engaged in dis-
cussing?"
"If I mistake not, 3-ou are discussing the le-
gality of the eecond maiTiage of the late Sir John
TaUis Gale."
"Quite so," said Mr. Simpson. "Have you
anv information to give us on the subject ?"
"Yes."
" Mr. Lockwood," said Mr. Lovegrove, hasti-
ly, "allow me to say one word. This gentle-
man is acting on behalf of the lady who calls
herself Lady Tallis Gale. This gentleman is the
appointed executor of the will of the late baron-
et. I am only sorry that I can not add that I
am fully empowered to act for IMiss Desmond in
this matter as I should desire to do. From the
peculiar and painful circumstances of the case I
have not been able to urge Miss Desmond's
guardian who is co-trustee with me under her
mother's will to come forward and look after
her interests. But as far as my legal knowledge
and ser\ice3 can avail her, they are entirely at
her disposal. Now, believing you to be the
young lady's friend, I strongly advise you to re-
frain from volunteering any statement on this
subject at the present moment. Observe, I have
no idea of what nature your statement may be.
But I assure you that you had better leave the
matter in my hands. "
"Mr. Lovegrove, you speak in a manner which
commands my sincerest respect, and will cer-
tainly make Miss Desmond very gi-ateful. But
I come here at Miss Desmond's urgent re-
quest. "
"Indeed, Sir?" said Mr. Simpson, who had
listened attentively, "Are you a relative of the
young lady's ?"
Before Hugh could speak, Mr. Lane answered
in a hoarse whisper, " He's the son of the person
in whose house Lady T. died."
Mr. Simpson's ruminating jaw moved slowly,
but he said nothing.
"I will answer for myself, if you please, Mr.
Lane," said Hugh, to whom the agent was slight-
ly known. Then, turning to Mr. Simpson, he
continued: "No, I am not a relative of Miss
Maud Desmond, but she is my promised wife.
Our engagement was sanctioned by Lady Tallis,
and by Miss Desmond's guardian."
IMr. Lovegrove made a little suppressed sound
with closed lips, and raised his eyebrows in sur-
prise. "Oh," said Mr. Simpson, slowly, "oh,
indeed ! And you have, you say, some informa-
tion to give respecting the hour at which Lady
Tallis died ?"
"I have the only information to give which
can be of value ; for I was the last person who
saw the poor lady alive."
The three men looked at each other without
speaking. Mr. Simpson made his f;ice as near-
ly blank of expression as possible. But there
was a gleam of expectation in Mr. Lovegrove's
eyes as he turned them again on Hugh.
" It happened in this way," proceeded Hugh.
" I will tell you the circumstances as plainly and
shortly as I can. On the night preceding the
day she died "
"That is to say, on the night of the third of
March?" asked Mr. Simpson.
" Yes, on the night of the third of March,
Lady Tallis had been very ill, and had suffered
from difficulty of breathing. It had been found
necessary for some one to sit up with her. That
had happened once or twice before. But on this
occasion she seemed so ill that neither my mo-
ther nor Miss Desmond went to bed at all. In
the morning, quite early, Lady Tallis fell asleep.
And then my mother sent Miss Desmond to rest.
She my mother went down into the kitchen
to prepare some beef-ten, for which the sick wo-
man had asked. The little servant-maid was
busy about her household tasks. I had made
up my mind not to go to business that morning,
and as it was desirable that some one should be
within call of Lady Tallis, I took a book and
sat in the drawing-room, which opened by a
folding-door from her bedroom."
"This was at what hour?" asked Mr. Simp-
son.
" I can not say with accuracy. But certainly
between seven and eight o'clock. During the
first part of the time that I sat there my mother
came up stairs with the beef-tea, and found Lady
Tallis still sleeping. She seemed so peaceful and
tranquil that I persuaded my mother, who was
much worn out, to take some rest on the sofa in
our little parlor down stairs, saying that I would
remain at my post. Well, I sat there a long
time or what seemed a long time. The house
was veiy quiet : and at that period of the day
our street is not noisy. There was scarcely a
sound to be heard. All at once, as I sat alone
in the silence, a strange feeling came over me
that I must go into the next room and look at
118
VERONICA.
the sleeper. I could not tell why then, and I
can not tell why now, but the impulse was irre-
sistible. I got up softly and went to the bed-
side. And then in an instant 1 saw that there
was death. I had never seen a dead person be-
fore, but there was no mistaking that solemn
look."
"No mistaking!" echoed Mr. Lovegrove.
"How can you know that? Your impression,
tlie mere result of your looking at her,' may
have Ijeen erroneous. She may have been still
asleep."
"She was in that sleep that awaits us all, and
from wliich there is no awaking. I stood and
contemplated her face for a minute or so. The
eyes were shut, the forehead placid ; she had not
even moved on her pillow. Although I was per-
fectly convinced that she was dead, I took a lit-
tle hand-mirror from the toilet-table and held it
to her lips. There was not a breath."
"Still," said Mr. Lovegrove, catching a glance
that was exchanged between Mr. Lane and Mr.
Simpson, " still, you do not know at what hour
this took place. Your guessing is of no use !"
" Wait. It is true I do not know exactly
the moment at which Lady Tallis ceased to live ;
but I know what will suffice, as you will see. I
knew that the first thing to be done was to get
.some one to render the last services to the dead.
There was a woman living near at hand, who had
occasionally come in to help to nurse our poor
friend, and I knew that she would be able to do
what was needed. I resolved to go myself and
fetch her without disturbing my mother or Maud.
I went out of the front-door quietly, sought for,
and found the woman I spoke of, and brought
her back to our house before any one there knew
that I had left it. And as I turned into our street
to come home the church clocks were striking
half past nine."
"That," said Mr, Simpson, rising from his
chair, " is conclusive. I have evidence to prove
beyond a doubt that the ceremony on board the
ship was not commenced before a quarter to ten
at the earliest."
There was a dead pause.
Mr. Simpson deliberately gathered together
his papers. Mr. Lane took up his hat. Mr.
Lovegrove remained in his chair with his hands
thrust deej) into his pockets.
"I presume," said Mr. Simpson, "that you
perceive how unassailably strong Mr. Lockwoods
testimony makes Lady Gale's case ? JMy client
is, I assure you, greatly averse to litigation, very
greatly averse to it. But if JNIr. Lockwood is ])re-
j)ared as no doubt he is to repeat upon oath
every detail he lias just given us, I should ad-
vise Lady Gale, and the next of kin, to resist to
tlie uttermost all attempt to carry out the provi-
sions of Sir John's last will and testament. I
wish you a good- morning, gentlemen."
" Good-morning, Mr. Simpson. I beg to state
that if Miss Desmond were my client and I were
empowered to act for her, I should he very far,
indeed, from considering the cause lost. I am
not aware what course Miss Desmond will be ad-
vised to take, but 1 would take the Iil)erty to warn
you not t& be sure of victory even now. And
good-morning to you, I\Ir. Lane," added Love-
grove, with a considerable change from the tem-
perate and courteous tone in which lie iiad ad-
dressed the other attorney. "I might condole
with you on the prospect of losing your legacy if
I were of Mr. Simpson's opinion on this matter.
Though upon my word I never saw a gentleman
let two thousand pounds slide through his fingers
with greater equanimity, or make less effort to
keep them!"
When Messieurs Simpson and Lane had de-
parted, ]\Ir. Lovegrove got up and began pacing
about the office. Suddenly he stopped opposite
to Hugh, and addressed him.
"Do you mean to say that Miss Desmond
urged you to -come and say -svhat you have said
to that woman's attorney ?"
"She did, most earnestly."'
"And j'ou, well knowing what interests were
at stake, were fool enough to do it !"
"Mr. Lovegrove, what I said was the truth.
It might as well be told first as last."
" No, it might not ! And who knows whether
it ever need have been told at all? I should
have taken a very dift'erent tone with this self-
styled Lady Gale. I believe if she had been
tlioroughly frightened and bullied she would not
have dared to talk of going to law !"
"But if she had dared "
"Well, I Avould have fought her."
"That is just what Maud desired to avoid."
" Desired to avoid ? Desired to Miss Des-
mond desired to avoid running any risk of inher-
iting a fine fortune duly and legitimately be-
queathed to her ?"
"You know what her life has been. You
know that Mr. Levincourt and his daughter have
been like a father and sister to her from her
babyhood. And as to Sir John Gale's money,
she says she felt as though it would bring a curse
with it."
"Trash! No money brings a curse that is
honestly come by."
" This would not have been honestly come by,
I believe that Veronica Levincourt can prove
herself to have been duly married to Sir John
Gale. And it would be inexpressibly painful
and shocking to Maud and to others to force her
to prove it in a court of law,"
"Well, INIr, Lockwood," said Lovegrove, aft-
er a minute or two's pause, "it is clearly no
concern of mine. But I am interested in I\Iiss
Desmond for auld lang syne. I knew her mo-
ther. And she is a veiy sweet, and I thorough-
ly believe, a very good young lady. Prost will
be sorry too However, I suppose we can not
interfere."
" Mr. Frost will not be surprised ; for I men-
tioned something of this to him before,"
"You did?"
"Yes. Well, now, Mr. Lovegrove, I must
thank you very heartily for the sincerity and
kindness with which you esjioused ^Miss Des-
mond's cause. She will be very grateful. She
goes away with her guardian the day after to-
morrow. And it is her great effort to keep all
this painful business from him for the present.
lie knows notliing of it as yet. He has lived
quite secluded in my motlier's house since he
came up to attend Lady Tallis's funeral."
" Mr. Levincourt does not know ?"
" Not a word. When they are in the country
she will tell him as much as is needful.''
"I wish Mrs. Desmond had api)ointed me
guardian to her daughter, instead of But it
can't be helped. It's an ill wind that blows no-
VERONICA.
119
body good ! The new Lady Gale will just walk
over the course, I suppose. She is clever: or
somebody is clever for her. ]\Ir. Lane has been
mar%-elously converted to the side of what he
calls 'law and justice.' "
" I presume he Avas convinced that he could
not fight for the will against the evidetice they
brought. "
"/ presume that Sir JLitthew Gale and this
lady have been able to convince him that it
would be quite as much for his interest to let
his two thousand pounds go quietly as to strug-
gle for them. lie does not seem to have had
any strong desire to carry out his late patron's
wishes."
"I do not believe that desire was possible in
the breast of any human being employed bv Sir
John Tallis Gale!"
"Well, for a man who had his own way, as
far as I can learn, all his life, it must be admit-
ted that his power broke down altogether at the
last in a very strange I should be inclined to
say marvelous manner. "
"And when a man's ' way' is such as his was,
I don't know that there is much cause to feel
surprise at his plans proving barren and futile. "
CHAPTER VII.
Cesare had understood partially how desira-
ble a thing it was for Veronica to be acknowl-
edged liy Sir Matthew Gale. But in liis ennui
and ill-humor he was inclined to be captious and
jealous.
" You could receive those men without having
Louise in the room ?" he said, reproach full}', aft-
er the baronet and ^Ir. Davis were gone.
"Certainly I could !"
" I suppose if that old blockhead of a Sir Gale
were to come alone, you would receive him in'
the same way?"
"Most Ukely. What then? *Don't be ab-
surd, Cesare."
"Ebbene, I think it verj' imjust, unkind, cruel,
that I should be the only person debarred from
your society in the way I am !"
"Debarred from my society? Dio mio! It
seems to me, Cesare, that you are here all day
long."
' ' Oh, I trouble you ? I importune you ? You
have no heart. You do not love me. "
Then came a quarrel, not the first by many,
which ended, as all its predecesstn-s had ended,
by Cesare's making humble apologies, and prot-
estations of devotion.
"Ah, Veronica mia," he sighed, "I wish
sometimes that there had never been any ques-
tion of this money! You would have married
me, and we should have been together all this
time. We would have gone down to the coun-
try house beyond Salerno. How happy it would
have been ! I hate this England of yours ! I have
scarcely had a happ}' moment since I came here. "
"Cesare, that sounds all verj- fine; but how
much does it mean ? If you and I had man-ied
and staid in Italy, we should have been dining
off dry bread and melon-rinds by this time.
And how charming for me to be going about in
a coarse petticoat and jacket, with a copper pin
stuck in my hair, and no shoes or stockings !
Neapolitan peasants are veiy picturesque at the
Opera ; but I fancy the real life of the real peo-
jile would not quite suit you. It would not suit
me, at all events."
"iSIy wife would not have had to live as you
say," remonstrated Cesare.
"Oh, andiamo, cugino mio! I know pretty
Avell what sort of style ' your wife' Mould have
had to live in. And the fact is, we should have
been much worse off than the peasants, because
we should have had to aj)pear something differ-
ent from what we were. Shabby gentility Ouf !
it makes me shudder ! And as to your not liking
England, you know nothing of it yet. If we were
rich, Cesare, you would see how the world would
be cap in hand to us!"
"I don't think I want the world to be cap in
hand to me. I only want you to love me, " an-
swered Cesare, pathetically.
Then Veronica gave him her hand and sent
him away, alleging that she was tired. In truth,
she was tired in spirit. She was getting verj'
weary of Cesare's complaints and importunities.
She had felt herself to be in the position of guid-
ing spirit since their arrival in London. In Na-
ples, where she had, while domineering over him,
depended on him for support in many things, she
had liked him better. For her own nature was
too entirely undisciplined not to be irked by the
task of leading another. She hated the trouble
of thinking, arranging, and deciding. And there
were in her some glimmerings of nobler things,
which made lier scorn herself at times, and con-
sequently scorn Cesare for his submissi\"e idolatry
of her.
As she had once told Maud, she saw the bet-
ter and chose the worse. If Cesare woidd but
assume a more manly tone if he would even be
rough and self-asserting she fancied she should
be less discontented. He complained and grum-
bled, indeed : but it was in the tone of a child
who \ents its temper, well knowing all the while
that it must finall}' submit. Once, in a moment
of irritation, she dropped some word of the kind
to Cesare. And his amazed and sorrowful re-
ception of the word nearly drove lier wild.
"I don't understand you, \"eronica," he had
said, reproachfully. "It seems to me that you
are very ungrateful. No woman was ever loved
more truly than I love you. Do you wish for
unkindness and tyranny ? Who can comprehend
a woman ?"'
Poor Veronica did not comprehend herself.
She could not tell him that his complaisance for
her whims, his devotion to her wishes, alien-
ated her from him. She could not tell him that
his humoring of her haughty temper degraded
her in her own esteem. vVnd yet she wished to
love Cesare. She was full}' minded to become
Principessa de' Earletti, and the ]irospect of that
union without affection afforded a glimpse of
something so terrible that she shut her mind's
eyes before it, shuddering.
But she would be true to Cesare. And she
ivould love him. Poor Cesare ; he was kind and
gentle, and s!ie was really fond of him. And by-
and-hy so she told herself she would be able
to influence and change him in many things.
But meanwhile that which she yearned for, and
thought of at every solitaiy moment of her wak-
ing time, was to see Maud.
120
VERONICA.
She had been much moved when, at Naples,
Mr. Frost had made known to her the contents
of Sir John Gale's will. For a moment the
thought had flashed across her mind that she
would give up her own claim, and allow the will
to be put in force in Maud's favor. If she made
no sign, the will would be proved and executed in
due course. It was a wildly Quixotic idea, she
told herself in her calmer moments ; but it re-
curred to her again and again. Yet it may be
truly said that never for one moment did the
idea amount to an intention. The result to her-
self of carrying it out would be ignominy, obscu-
rity, poverty. Poverty I No ; that was beyond
her strength. Maud, she knew, could be happy
witiiout pomp and wealth ; happier without them
than their possession could ever make her (Ve-
ronica). Yet she did not deceive herself with the
jiretense that this knowledge influenced her con-
duct.
' ' I am no canting hj-pocrite," she said to her-
self.
It is a negative merit not seldom assumed by
those who find it desirable to feed their egotism
at all costs. And the implied assumption is,
" You, who do not act in accordance with what
you must feel for do not / feel it ? are canting
hypocrites."
But despite eveiy thing, there was in Veroni-
ca's heart a craving, hungry desire to see Maud.
Maud's had ever been the one influence that had
awakened whatsoever imjiulses of good lay dor-
mant in the vicar's daughter. Even when slie
had ciiafed against that influence it had been
dear to her. And Maud alone, of all the beings
slie had ever known, she had loved unselfishly,
and from lier heart. SHe shrank from the idea
of seeing lier father as yet. She would like to
go to him victorious, assured, bearing a new and
illustrious title, whose blaze should ert'ace Mhat-
cver dimness now overshadowed her name. She
knew, without reflecting much about it, tiuit by
her father much might be forgiven to the Princess
de' Barletti which could never have been pardoned
to Veronica Levincourt. But with Maud it was
different. She thouglit of Maud day and night,
and devised schemes for getting to see her, which
schemes, however, never took shape in ac-
tion.
Late in the afternoon of the day on which Sir
Matthew Gale had visited her, Mr. Simpson ar-
rived at Iier liotel. lie had come in all iuiste to
be the first to communicate to her the news of
Hugh Lockwood's statement. And he was fol-
lowed within a very few minutes by Mr. Lane,
who was bound on the same errand.
"Then," said Veronica, rising in an excited
manner, after having iieard what they had to tell
her, " the cause is won !"
" I believe that I may safely congratulate you,
i.ady Gale," said Mr. Simpson. "You will as-
suredly meet with no opposition from Sir John's
family."
"And did Mr. Lockwood give this decisive
testimony voluntarily ?"
" Oh yes, my lady," said !Mr. Lane. " That,
I must say, he did. Mr. Lovegrove showed plain-
ly enough which way /lis feelings jnmped in the
matter. If it had depended on h'nn we should
have had plenty of trouble."
" Mr. Lovegrove was doing what I should have
done in his place," said Jlr. Simpson, gravely.
" He was endeavoring to protect Miss Desmond's
interests."
" Well, he might have done that without being
so bumptious. If it hadn't been for not wishing
to make trouble for my lady and Sir Matthew, I
would have given him a good setting down !"
"Ahem I I have a great respect for Mr. Love-
grove," said Mr. Simpson, in the same slow, im-
perturbable manner.
During this talk, Veronica was standing at the
window, with her back to the two men, and her
hands pressed on her temples. She M-as think-
ing of the strange chance that had made Hugli
Lockwood the arbiter of her fate.
There are no limits to the vagaries and self-
delusions of indulged vanity, none to its glutton-
ous appetite. There is nothing on earth it will
not clutch at to feed upon.
Veronica well remembered the evident admira-
tion she had excited in Hugh when they had met
at Lowater. And without putting it even men-
tally into words, she had an idea that his coming
forward unasked to give witness in her favor, was
in some way due to the resistless influence of her
beauty. What would he think when he learned
that she was to be Princess Barletti ? The ques-
tion gaje rise to some not unpleasing specula-
tions, Mr. Lane's next Avords, however, rudely
disturbed them.
"Young Lockwood certainly did behave very
straightforward. I wonder that ]\Ir. Lovegrove
didn't bully /lini ! For if I lost two thousand
pounds by the business, young Lockwood lost
more, seeing that he is engaged to the young
lady."
Veronica turned round to listen.
"I must be going now. Lady Gale," said Mr.
Simpson. " I merely wanted to give you the
news. There is a great deal to be done yet. I
must try to see Mr. Davis without delay."
" One moment, if you please, j\Ir. Simpson.
Did you say that Mr. Lockwood was was '
"Engaged," put in Mr. Lane. "Yes, ray
lady ; he is engaged to marrj' Miss Desmond
so he said, at least. I believe him to be a most
respectable young man," added the agent, with
a patronizing air.
Considerably to ]\Ir. Lane's surprise, Veroni-
ca, after having given lier hand to jMr. Simpson
as' he took his leave, dismissed him (Lane) with
a haughty bow. And ]\Ir. Lane observed tci the
lawyer, before tliey parted comiauy at the hotel
door, that " my lady" was beginning to give her-
self great airs already.
Left alone in the gathering dusk, Veronica
hegan to pace np and down the room, in a rest-
less manner that had recently become habitual
with her. She had gained what she had striven
for. She was Lady Gale. And although the
whole of Sir Jolm's vast fortune would not be
hers, she would still be a rich woman rich even
in rich England. She would be reinstated in the
world, and take a far higher rank than that of a
mere baronet's lady. All that she had longed
for and dreameil of since her childhood seemed
to be within her grasp.
Of ten persons who should liave seen her,
knowing her story, nine would certainly have
concluded that it was on this imjiortant revolu-
tion of Fortune's wheel she was meditating, as
she passed regularly up and down the room, the
heavy folds of her long black dress making a
VERONICA.
121
monotonous dull rustling sound on tlie caii)et.
But it was not so. How often it Ii:ip])ens tliat
the outer and the inner life arc thus distinct and
dirt'erent I That which we strive for, is often not
that which really most occujiies our hearts.
There was as yet no tlavor of i)ead Sea fruit in
Fortune's gifts to Veronica. She believed still,
as she had believed at fifteen, that to be rich,
fashionable, envied, and flattered, would suffice
to make her happy. But in these very first
moments of her triumph, her thoughts and feel-
ings were busy with "Viand and Hugh !
All at onceslie ceased her pacing to and fro,
and seating herself at a little table covered with
writing materials, she dashed oft' a hurried note.
She wrote without pause, almost as though she
feared she might repent what she was doing, if
she staid to reflect on it. Having written and
sealed the note, which consisted only of a few
lines, she gave orders tiiat a messenger should be
dispatched with it forthwith.
" Where is it to go, my lady ?" asked the
waiter.
The tidings of Veronica's golden fortunes
must, one would have thought, have hovered
in the air, or emanated from herself in some
siil)tle manner, for the man, always civil, was
now obsequious.
"It must be taken to Mr. Lovegrove, the
folicitor in Bedford Square. He is easily to be
found. There is my card. Give my compli-
ments, and say tliat I shall be exceedingly
obliged if Mr. Lovegrove will do me the favor
to add the number of the house to the address
on this note. Then let the messenger take
the note to Gower Street without delay. He
had best drive. Let him take a cab, and go
quick!}'."
The reader may as well see the contents of
the note :
"I thank you for what you have done for me
to-day. But my thanks are doubtless of small
value in your eyes.
"But I have a request an entreat}- to make to
you. Let me see Maud. I shall be quite alone
all this evening and to-morrow. Others may
think me triumphant, but tell Maud oh ! pray
tell Maud that I long and yearn to see her and
to hear her voice.
"I only learned to-day that you are to be her
husband. Veronica Gale.
'W trust to you to speak of this to no one but
Maud.
"To HcGii LocKwoOD, Esq."
CHAPTER VIIi.
CONFESSION.
HcGH did not communicate to his mother the
fiict of his interview with Mr. Frost until after
his visit to Mr. Lovegrove's office, and he in-
formed her of both circumstances at the same
time. He could not refrain from saying a word
about her having kejit Mr. Frost's visit to Gower
Street a secret from him.
"I was so surprised, mother," he said. "It
seemed so unlike you. But I suppose he per-
suaded you in some way that it would be right
not to mention his having come to our house."
"Was I bound to speak of it, Hugh before
Maud, too, and ]\Ir. Levincourt?"
" Xo, of course not bound. But it would have
seemed more natural if you had mentioned it
quietly to me."
IMrs. Lockwood was silent.
"Look here, mother dear," said Hugh, after
a short silence, " I am not good at hiding what
I feel. I was a little hurt and vexed when Mr.
Frost told me that you and he had privately dis-
cussed my feeling for Maud long before you had
ever said a word to me on that subject. Now
the truth is out!"
" He Mr. Frost told you that, Hugh?"
" Well, he did not say it verbatim et literatim,
as I have said it ; but he certainly gave me to
understand that such was the case."
" I meant for the best, Hugh."
" i\Ieant for the best! Dearest mother, you
don't suppose I doubt that ? But don't let that
man come between you and me, mother dear."
"I thought you liked Mr. Frost, Hugh?"
"So I did. He was my father's friend. I
have known him all my life. But lately there
has been sometliing about him that revolts no,
that is too strong a word there has been some-
thing about him that seems to put me on my
guard. I hate to have to be on my guard !"
"It is a very good attitude to face the world
with."
"Ah, mother, you know we might have some
discussion on that soon. But, at all events, it is
not the posture I like or, indeed, that I am
able to assume toward my friends. With mis-
trust affection vanishes."
Mrs. Lockwood winced, and turned her pale
face from her son.
"But, mother," he proceeded, "I have an-
other piece of news to add a disagreeable piece
of news ; but you must try not to take it too
much to heart."
Then he told her of the disappointing letter
he had received from Herbert Snowe. This,
liowever, did not seem to grieve her so much as
he had expected. In truth, she could not help
faintly hoping that it might give her anxieties a
reprieve by putting oft" yet a while Hugh's en-
deavor to make a start for himself. But he did
not leave her long in this delusion.
"I must try to borrow the money elscAvhere,"
said he. " The opportunity of buying that con-
nection is too good a one to be lost without an
eft'ort. "
"Did he not say something did not JNIr.
Frost make you an oft'er of a desirable position
elsewhere ?'' asked Mrs. Lockwood, hesitatingly.
"Oh, I suppose he mentioned that to you also
during his mysterious visit ? Well, mother, I am
not mysterious, and I was about to tell you that
he did make me an oft'er on the part of this new
company in which he is interested. But "
" But you refused it !"
Hugh "explained to his mother that in order
not to appear obstinate and ungracious, he had
taken t'.vo days to consider of the proposition.
But he added tliat his mind was already made
up on the subject.
"The truth is," he said, "that I mistrust the
wiiole business. There are rumors afloat about
ilie company which would make a prudent man
tliink twice before he had any thing to do with
it."
122
VERONICA.
You
"But you would be a paid employe,
would run no risk."
"I should risk losing my time and getting \
neither cash nor credit." i
"Is it really thought so ill of, this undertak- [
ing?" I
" In our office it is spoken of as a very unsafe
concern. My own opinion is this : if things had
gone well in the English money market the Par- [
thenope Embellishment 7iii(jht have turned up
trumps. But it is all hazard unprincipled
gambling on a great scale, and with other folks'
money ! One or two more failures of great I
house's such as we have had lately would involve
the company in ruin. But you need not look
so anxious, dear little mother. Our unambi- j
tious little craft is out of such deep waters, and '
will keep out of them."
"Do you suppose, Hugh," asked ]\ Irs. Lock-
wood, in her usual deliberate calm tones, but
with cheeks even paler than usual, "have you
any reason for supposing that Mr. Erost has ven-
tured money in this company?"
"///s oicn monej/ you mean? for of course
he has ventured other peoples' if he puffs the
thing to every one as he did to me ! well, I can
not say. People are beginning to say that he is
not so solid a man as was supposed. I hear
Heaven knows how these things get about that
he has a very extravagant wife, and that he has
been rash in speculating. IMother, what is the
matter?"
Hugh suddenly checked his speech to ask this
question ; for INIrs. Lockwood had dropped her
head on her hands, and the tears were running
down her face.
"Mother! Darling mother, do speak to me!
For God's sake tell me what is the matter? Is
it 7111/ fault? Have I done or said any thing to
vex you ?"
8he shook her* head silently; but the tears
gathered and fell more quickly and copiously at
every moment.
"Hugh," she faltered out at last, "I tried to
do right. "
"Tried to do right! You hai-e done right
always right. You are the best woman in tlie
world."
"Don't, Hugh! Don't talk so! It goes to
my heart to hear you when I know how your
tone would change if I were to tell you "
"To tell me what?" asked Hugh, almost
breathless with surprise and apprehension.
"Oh, Hugh, Hugh, you would not love me
if I were to confess some great fault to you.
You are like the rest of the men ; your love is
so mingled with pride!"
"Some great fault I" echoed Hugh.
"There! There it is, the stern look on your
face like your father!"
The poor woman i)owed her fiace yet lower,
and hid it in her hands, while her delicate frame
shook with sobs. For a few minutes, which
seemed an interminable time to her. Hugh stood
silent, and looking, as she had said, very stern.
He was struggling witli himself, and undergoing
a painful ordeal which wa.s not expressed in the
set lines of his strong young fixce. At length
lie went to his mother, knelt beside her chair,
and took her hand.
"Mother," he .said, "nothing can blot out all
the years of love and care and tenderness you
have given to me. I can not believe that you
have been guilty of any great fault. Your sens-
itive conscience exaggerates its importance no
doubt. But" here he made a little pause, and
went on with an etibrt "but ichatever it mav
be, if you will confide in me, I shall never cease
to love you. You are my own dear mother!
Nothing can alter that."
" Oh, my boy !" she cried, and threw her arms
round his neck as he knelt beside her.
Then in a moment the weary secret of years
came out. She told him all the truth, from the
miserable story of her youth to the time of her
marriage, and the subsequent persecution from
which Mr. Frost had relieved her, and the price
she had to pay for that relief. As she spoke,
holding her son in her arms and resting her
head on his shoulder, she wondered at herself
for having endured the torments of bearing her
solitai7 burden all these jears, and at the appre-
hension she had felt at the thought of the con-
fession which now seemed so easy, sweet, and
natural.
Hugh heard her without speaking, only now
and then pressing the hand he held in his to give
her courage when she faltered.
"Oh, mother, how you have suffered in your
life!" That was his first thought when she
ceased to speak. His next thought he was fain
to utter, although it sounded like a reproach.
" If you had but trusted my fother ! He loved
you so tndy."
" Ah, Hugh, if I had, but it was so terrible to
me to risk losing his love. And he often said
as you have been used to say after him that he
could never reinstate in his heart any one who
had once been guilty of deliberate deception.
You can not know, you strong upright natures,
how the weak are bent and wai'ped. You can
not or so I feared make allowance for tempt-
ation, or give credit for all the hard struggle
and combat that ends sometimes in defeat at last."
Hugh could not quite easily get over the reve-
lation his mother had made. He had struggled
with himself to be gentle with her ; he would not
add to her pain by look or gesture, if he could
help it. But he knew that all was not as it had
been between them. He knew tiiat he could
never again feel the absolute proud trust in his
mother which had been a joy to him for so many
years. Tenderness, gratitude, and pity remained.
But the past was past, and irrevocalile. The
pain of this knowledge acted as a sjii.r to his re-
sentment against Mr. Frost.
"You have the paper acknowledging this man's
debt to my father ?' said Hugh. "It will not be
difficult to make him disgorge. IIv to patronize
me, and iielp me, and oft'er me this and that, when
an act of common honesty would have put me in
a position to help myself years ago!"
"Hugh, the dreadful idea that you hinted at
just now has been in my mind for some time
])ast, although I dared not dwell on it. I mean
the fear that he may not be nhJe to make imme-
diate restitution of the money due to jou."
"Eestitution or exposure: I shall give him
j the choice, though I feel that even so I am in
some degree comjjounding with knavery."
I Mrs. Lockwood clasped and unclasped her
j hands nervously.
I "He always found some excuse for putting
I me off all thesi years," she said.
VERONICA.
123
"He shall not put me off, I promise him."
"Oh, my boy, if through my cowardice you
should lose all tliat your poor lather worked so
%ard to be(iueath to you !"
''We will hope better, mother dear. This
man must have enough to pay me what he owes.
It is a great deal to us, but not much to a rich
man. lie has been in a fine position for years,
and the name of the firm stands high."
"And about about tlie will, and Maud's in-
heritance y" stammered Mrs. Lockwood.
The calm security of lier manner had given
place to a timid limitation in addressing Hugh
that was almost pathetic.
"Do not let ns speak of that, dear mother,"
said Hugh, "or my choier will rise beyond my
power to control it. That man is a consummate
scoundrel. He was I am sure of it now, I sus-
pected it tlien trying to sound me as to the prob-
ability of my being induced to bear false wit-
ness."
"Oh, Hugh!"
" He thought it might be higlily convenient
for him, and might ease his pocket and his cares
(not his conscience ; that he is not troubled with)
if I It won't bear thinking of."
" May you not be mistaken ? And may there
not be some excuse ?"
"Excuse I" echoed Hugh.
His mother shrank back silently at the fierce
tone of his voice. He walked to the door, and
had almost passed out of the room, when she
called him, but in so low and hesitating a tone
that he stood uncertain whether she had spoken
or not.
"Did you call me, mother?" he said.
"You never left me before without a word
or a kiss, Hugh, since you were a toddhng
child."
He came back at once, and took her in his
arms, and kissed her forehead, fondly. But aft-
er he was gone, she sat and cried bitterly. A
strange kind of repentance grew up in her mind
a repentance not so much for the evil done as
for the tardy confession of it. Yet it had seemed,
so long as the confession was yet unspoken, and
even while she was s])eaking it, as if it must take
a load from her heart.
" If I had held my tongue," she thought, "my
son w'ould have loved me and trusted me still.
Jsow I am afraid to see him again, lest I should
find some change in him, my boy whom I love
better than my life I What signified the money ?
I might have let it go. He knew nothing of it,
and he would not have grieved for it. What
])hantom of duty was it that haanted and harried
me into doing this thing?"
She forgot, in the present pain of her mortified
love and pride, all the miserable hours that se-
crecy had cost her. Her soul was tossed to and
fro by many revulsions of feeling before her med-
itations were ended. The untoward teachings
of her youth were bearing bitter frnit. She did
not lack courage. She could endure, and had
endured much, with fortitude and energy. But
the greatness of Kenunciation was not hers. She
had balanced her sufferings against her faults all
her life long. She had been prone to demand
strict justice for herself, and to think that she
meted it out rigidly to others. There had been
a secret sustaining consolation amidst the heart-
breaking troubles of her younger days, in the
conviction that they were undeserved. Pride
has always a balm for the sting of injustice. But
fur the stroke of merited calamity humility alone
brings healing.
Zillah thought that she had paid her price of
suffering. She had faced the pain of confessing
to her son that she had sinned. And yet the
peace which that pain was meant to purchase
did not descend ujjou her heart. She had not
learned even yet that no human sacrifice can
bribe the past to hide its face and be silent.
We must learn to look upon the irrevocable
without rancor : thus, and thus only, does its
stern sphinx-face reveal to us a sweetness and a
wisdom of its own.
CHAPTER IX.
COXFIDEXCE.
It was past six o'clock on that same spring
evening when Veronica's note was delivered at
Gower Street. Hugh had just quitted his mo-
ther, after the interview recorded in the preced-
ing chapter, and was crossing the little entrance
hall when the messenger arrived.
"Are you Mr. Hugh Lockwood, Sir?" asked
the man. " I was told to give the letter into his
own hands."
Hugh assured the messenger that he was right ;
and began to read the note as he stood there, with
some anxiety. When he had glanced quickly
through the note he turned to tlie messenger.
"Are you to wait for an answer?" he said.
"No, Sir; I had no instructions about that."
"Very good. I will send or bring the reply.
Tell Lady Gale that her note has been safely re-
ceived. "
When the man was gone Hugh ran up to his
own room to read the letter again, and to con-
sjder its contents. What should he do ? That
he must tell jNIaud of it was' clear to him. He
did not think he should be justified in withhold-
ing it from her. But how should he advise her
to act ? He cogitated for some time without
coming to any conclusion ; and at last went in
search of her, determined to let himself be great-
ly guided by her manner of receiving that which
he had to impart.
He found iMaud in the little drawing-room
that had been so long occupied by Lady Tal-
lis. She was selecting and packing some music
to take away with her; for she was to accom-
pany her guardian to Shipley in two days. Mrs.
Sheardown had invited her to stay at Lowater
House f(jr a while. But Maud had declared that
she could not leave Mr. Levincourt for the first
week or so of his return home. Afterward she
had promised to divide her time as nearly as
might be between Lowater and the vicarage.
'"What are you doing there, my own? You
look as pale as a spirit in the twilight," said
Hugh, entering the room.
"I am doing what sjtirits have no occasion
for packing uji," she answered. "Luggage
is, however, a condition of civilized mortality,
against which it is vain to rebel."
" It is a condition of mortality which you of
the gentler sex accept with great fortitude, I
have always heard. Perhaps there may be
something of the martyr-spirit in the persever-
124
VERONICA.
ance with which one sees women drag about
piles of portmanteaus and bandboxes!"
He answered lightly and cheerfully, as she had
spoken. But his heart sank at the prospect of
so speedily parting with lier.
"!See, dear Hugh," said Maud, pointing to a
packet of unbound music she had put aside,
"these are to be left in your charge. The
rest Beethoven's sonatas, Haydn's, Hummel's,
and a few of the songs 1 shall take with me. I
have packed up the sonatas of Kozeluch that
I used to play with Mr. Plew poor Mr.
Plew!"
She smiled, but a tear was in her eye, and her
voice shook a little. Presently she went on. "I
have chosen all tlie old things that Uncle Charles
is fond of. He said the other day that he never
had any music now. JIusic was always one of
his great pleasures."
"I have not heard you play or sing for some
time, Maud."
"Not since not since dear Aunt Hilda died.
I have not cared to make music for my own sake.
But I shall be thankful if I can cheerUncle Charles
by it."
Hugh drew near her, and looked down proud-
ly on the golden-haired head bending over the
music. " And must I lose you, my own love?"
he said, sadly.
' ' Lose me, Hugh ! No ; that you must not.
Don't be too sorry, you poor boy. Ivemember
how I shall be loving you all the time yes, all
the time, every hour that we are parted."
She put up her hands on his shoulders, and
laid her shining head against his breast with
fond simplicity.
" All, my OMTi, best darling ! Always unself-
ish, always encouraging, always brave. What
troubles can hurt me that leave me your love?
My heart has no room for any thing but grati-
tude when I think of you, i\Iand."
"Are there troubles, Hugh?"' she asked,
quickly, holding him away from her, and look-
ing up into his face. " If you really think me
brave, you will let me know the troubles. It is
my right, you know."
"There are no troubles no real troubles.
But I will tell you every thing, and take counsel
of my wise little wife. First, I must tell you
that I carried out our plan this day. Don't start,
darling. I went to Mr. Lovegrove's office, where
I found Mr. Simpson, the lawyer employed by
by the otlier side, and Lane, the agent. I told
them what I had to say, as briefly as possible,
just as you bade me."
" Oh, I am so grateful to you, Hugh. And
the result? Tell me in a word."
" I have no doubt Veronica's claim will be es-
tablished. Indeed, I believe that it may be said
to be so alreadv."
"Thank God!"
" I will give you the details of my inteiTiew
later, if you care to hear them. But now I
have something else to say to you. Sit down by
me licre on the couch. 1 have just had a note
You tremble ! Your little liniids are cold ! Maud,
my darling, there is nothing to fear!"
" No, dear Hugh. I do not fear. I fear no-
thing as long as you hold my hand in vours.
But I I"
"Yr)u have been agitated and excited too
much lately. I know it, dearest. I hate to dis-
tress you. But I am sure it would not be right
to conceal this thing from you."
"Thank you, Hugh."
" I got this note not half an hour ago. Can*
you see to read it by this light?" She took the
small, perfumed note to the window, and read it
through eagerly. 'While she was reading Hugh
kept silence, and watched her with tender anx-
iety. In a minute she turned her face toward
him and held out her hand.
" ^Vhen may I go ? You will take me, Hugh ?
Let us lose no time. "
"You wish to go, then?"
"Wish to go! Oh yes, j-es, Hugh. Dear
Hugh, you will not oppose it?"
"I will not oppose it, IMaud, if j-ou tell me,
after a little reflection, that you seriously wish
to go."
"I think I ought to see her."
" She does not deserve it of you."
"Dear Hugh, she has done wrong. She de-
ceived her father, and was cruell}- deceived in
her turn. I know there is nothing so abomina-
ble to you as insincerity. "
Hugh thought of his own many speeches to
that ert'ect, and then of his mother's recent rev-
elation ; and so thinking, he winced a little and
turned away his head.
' ' You are accustomed to expect moral strength
and rectitude, from having the exani])le of your
mother always before your eyes. But ought we
to set our faces against the weak who with to
return to the right ?"
"I know not what proof of such a wish has
been given by Lady Gale."
" Dearest Hugh, if she were all heartless and
selfish, she would not long to see me in the hour
of her triumph."
"She says no ^\ord of her fcther."
Maud's face fell a little, and she bent her head
thoughtfully.
"Does that show much heart?" continued
Hugh.
"Perhaps I think I do believe that she is
more afraid of him than she is of me. And that
Avould not be unnatural, Hugh. Listen, dear. I
do not defend, nor even excuse, Veronica. But
if, now having seen m what misery, for herself
and others, ambition, and vanity, and worldliness
have led she is wavering at a turning-point in
her life, where a kind hand, a loving word, may
have power to strengthen her in better things,
ought I not to give them to her if I can ?"
"If," said Hugh, slowl}-, "you can do so
without re])ugnance, without doing violence to
your own feelings, perhaps "
" I can ! I can, indeed, Hugh ! Ah. you, who
have been blessed with a good and wise mother,
can not guess how much of what is faulty in Ve-
ronica is due to early indulgence. I'oor Aunt
Stella was kind ; but she could neither guide nor
rule such a nature as Veronica's. And then,
Hugh, don't give me credit for more than I de-
serve I do long to see her. She was my sister
for so many years. And I loved her I have
alw.ays lovad her. Let me go !'
They debated when and how this was to be.
"I hate the idea of your going to see her un-
known to Mr. Levincourt," .'aid Hugh. "1 be-
lieve he will be justly hurt and angered when he
hears of it. If you have any influence with her,
vou must trv to induce her to make some ad-
VERONICA.
125
vances to her father. It is her barest duty.
And listen, my dearest ;" as he spoke he drew
her fondly to his side as thougli to encourage
her against the gravity of his words, and the
serious resolution in his face. "Listen to me,
Maud. You must make this lady understand
that your path in life and hers will henceforward
he widely different. It must be so. Were we to
plan tiie contrary, circumstances would still be
too strong for us. She will be ricli. We, my
jMaudie, shall be only just not ver}' poor. She
will live in gay cities ; we in an obscure provin-
cial nook. The social atmosphere that will in
all probabilitj- surround Lady Gale, would not
suit my lily. And our cHmate would be too
bleak for her. "
"I will do what you tell me, Hugh. When
may I go ? To-night ?"'
"She says in her note that she will be at home
all to-morrow. "
" Yes ; l?ut she also says ' this evening.' And,
besides, to-morrow will be my last day with
you !'
" Thanks, darling. Well, Maud, if you are
prepared if you are strong enough we will go
to-night."
Hugh went down stairs, and informed his mo-
ther that he and Maud were going out for a while,
but would return to supper.
It was not unusual for them to take an evening
walk together, after the business of the day was
over for Hugh.
"Are you going to the park, Hugh?" asked
Mrs. Lockwood.
"No, mother."
At another time she would have questioned
him further. But now there was a sore feeling
at her heart which made her refrain. Was he
growing less kind, less confiding already ? Were
these the first-fruits of her miserable weakness in
confessing what she might still have hidden ? She
was too proud, or too prudent perhaps at the bot-
tom of her heart too just to show any temper or
suspicion. She merely bade him see that Maud
was well wrapped up, as the evenings were still
chilly.
And then, when the street door had closed
upon them, she sat and watched their progress
down the long dreary street from beliind tlie
concealment of the wire blind in her little par-
lor, with a yearning sense of unhajjpiness.
Arrived at the bottom of the street, Hugh
called a cab. "Y'ou must drive to the place,
my pet," he said, putting Maud into the vehi-
cle. "It is a long way; and you must not be
tired or harassed when you reach the hotel."
"Oh, where is it, Hugh? How odd that I
never thought of asking ! But I put my hand
into yours and comft with you, much as a little
child follows its nurse. Sometimes I feel you
won't laugh, Hugh ?"
"I shall not laugh, IMandie. I am in no
laughing mood. I may smile, perhaps. But
smiles and tears are sometimes near akin, you
know. "
"Well, then, I feel very often when I am with
you, as I have never felt with any one except my
mother. I can remember the perfect security, the
sense of repose and trust I had in her jtresence.
I was so sure of her love. It came down like
the dew from heaven. I needed to make no
effort, to say no word. I was a tiny child when
I lost her, but I have never forgotten tliat feel-
ing. And since, since I have loved you, Hugh,
it seems to me as tiiougli it had come back to
me in all its peace and sweetness."
"My own treasure!"
They sat silent with their hands locked in each
other's until they had nearly reached the ])lace
they were bound foi-. Then Hugh said: "We
are nearly at our destination, Maud. I shall
leave you after I have seen you safely in the
hotel. It is now half past seven. At nine
o'clock I will come back for you. You will be
ready ?"
"Yes, Hugh."
" God bless you, my dearest. I shall be glad
when this interview is over. ]My precious white
lily, these sudden gusts and storms shake you too
much I"
"Oh," she answered, smiling into his face,
though with a trembling lip, "there are lilies
of a tougher fibre than you think for! And
they are elastic, the poor slight things. It is
the strong stiff stubborn tree that gets broken."
"Am I stiff' and stubborn, ]\Iaudie?"
" No ; you are strong and good, and I am so
grateful to you !"
He inquired in the hall of the hotel for Lady
Gale, and found that directions had been given
to admit Maud whenever she might present her-
self.
"Miss Desmond?" said the porter. "Lady
Gale begs you will go up stairs. This way, if you
please."
The man directed a waiter to conduct Miss
Desmond to Lady Gale's apartment. Hugh
gave her a hurried pressure of the hand, whis-
l)ered, "At nine, Maud," and stood watching
her until her slight figure had disappeared, pass-
ing lightly and noiselessly up the thickly-carpet-
ed stairs.
CHAPTER X.
THE MEETING,
When Maud, following her conductor, reached
the door of the sitting-room, she stopped the serv-
ant by a quick gestui'e from opening it and an-
nouncing her.
" I am expected," she said, almost in a whis-
per. "I will go in by myself."
She entered a large, dimly-lighted room. The
furniture, always sombre, had once been also
rich, but was now merely dingy. A fire burned
in a low, wide grate at one end of it. On the
tall, old-fashioned mantle-jjiece stood a couple of
branch candlesticks, holding lighted wax tapers.
From their position, these illumined only the
upper part of the room ; tlie rest was more or
less in deep shadow. There was a large arm-
chair drawn to one side of the fire-place. Its
back was toward the princi])al door of the room.
But one entering from the staircase could see
the long draperies of the occujjant of the chair,
against which a white drooping hand was strong-
ly relieved.
]\Iaud stood still for a second. Xot for lon-
ger than a second ; for, almost immediately, she
closed the door behind her ; and the noise, though
slight, attracted the attention of the solitarj^ per-
son who sat there. Maud had but an instant in
which to obsene her melancholy drooping atti-
126
VERONICA.
tude, when the lady turned her head, peering
into the dimness of the distant part of the room,
and suddenly rose and leaned with both hands
on the back of her chair.
" Veronica!"
Veronica drew m her breath with a great gasp,
almost like a sob, and held out her arms. In
an instant Maud held her in a close embrace,
kissing her and ci-j'ing over her with a gush of
unrestrained tears.
But Veronica stood as silent as a statue, strain-
ing the other tightly in her arms, tearless, and
with ice-cold hands and lips, until all at once
she pressed I\Iaud down into the chair, and sank
on to the floor at her feet in her old familiar
posture, burying her face on INIaud's knees.
Presently jMaud spoke. ' ' Dear Veronica, will
you not get up and sit beside me ? I want to
see j'ou."
Veronica raised her head.
" And I want to see you, Maudie. It all
seems unreal. I can't believe that I am hearing
your voice."
She slowly rose up fi-om the floor, and stood
bending a little over INIaud, and holding her
hands. Both girls were in deep mourning.
JMaud wore a plain merino gown, trimmed with
a little crape. Veronica's rich rustling silk robe
swept the ground, and was elaborately adorned
with all the art of a Parisian dress-maker. Jet
gleamed mysteriously here and there upon it,
and its deep crape trimming was of a veiy dif-
ferent texture arid quality from that which Maud
wore.
Veronica fixed her eyes on INIaud's face. The
latter was rather pale, and her eyes bore traces
of the tears they had just shed. But she was
still the same Maud whom Veronica had known
and loved. Her bright hair shone like a golden-
tinged cloud at sunset above her black garments.
There was tlie broad clear brow, the mobile
mouth, the eai-nest blue eyes, unchanged in the
character of their expression.
On her side, what did Maud see ?
A face undeniably, strikingly beautiful ; but
with its chief beauties all exaggerated, as it
were, in some undefinable way. Veronica's fig-
ure was a little fuller than it had been. And
the tendency to heaviness about her cheeks and
jaw had slightly developed itself Her thick
e)"elashes were intensel}^ it seemed almost un-
naturally black. The semicircle of her jetty
brows was defined with the hard precision of a
geometrical line. Her glossy hair was pulled
down in waves as accurate as those that edge a
scollop-shell, so as to leave visible scarce a fin-
ger's breadth of forehead an arrangement which
at once lowered, and made ignobly sensual, the
whole type and character of her face. Her
cheeks and lips were tinged with a vivid red.
Her once supple waist was compressed into a
painfully small girdle. In a Avord, Artifice had
laid its debasing hand on her every natural grace
and beauty.
" A thing of beauty" painted, pinched, padded,
yielded up to the low devices of coquetry, becomes
not a "joy," but a toy, forever. And then, with
the contemptible and gi-otcsque, what tragedy is
mingled, when we see a living human soul pris-
oned behind the doU's mask, and fluttering its
maimed pinions against the base enameled false-
hood ! Such a soul looked out of Veronica's lus-
trous eyes into Maud's as they remained gazing
at each other, hand in hand.
" I would ask you to forgive me, Maud," said
Veronica, "but that I think you are happy."
" To forgive you, Veronica ?"
"To forgive my depriving you of your for-
tune," said Veronica, quickly. "That is what I
mean. But you never coveted wealth."
Veronica had, unconsciously to herself, ac-
quired the habit of assuming, with complacent
security, that whosoever refrained from grasping
at an object, or repining at its loss, must be in-
different to it, and exempt from any combat with
desire : like those savages who, modern travelers
tell us, are incapable of conceiving any check to
tyranny save the limit of power to tyrannize.
"Don't speak of that dreadful money!" cried
I\Iaud, impulsively. "I hate to think of it."
Veronica dropped Maud's hands, drew back,
and seated herself on a low prie-dieu. There
was an air of self-assertion in her nonchalant at-
titude, and she toyed carelessly with a magnifi-
cent diamond ring that glittered on her finger.
"Dear Veronica," said Maud, clasping her
hands together as they lay on her lap, " it does
indeed seem, as you say, like a dream. All that
weary, weaiy time. Oh, my poor Veronica, if
you could know how we missed you and mourn-
ed for you ! "
JIaud did not realize as yet how far apart they
two were. Veronica's life during her absence
from England was unknown to ]\laud. She im-
agined it confusedly to herself, as a time of dis-
appointment, remorse, and sorrow. The two
girls had always been very different e"\'en in child-
hood. But the courses of their lives had been
parallel, so to speak ; and as time brought to
each character its natural development, they did
not seem for a while to grow more widely sun-
dered. But from the day of Veronica's flight
and doubtless for many a day previous, only that
the divergence up to that point was too slight and
subtle to be observed the two lives had branch-
ed apart, and tended ever further from each oth-
er to the end. Veronica was more sensible of
this than Maud. She felt instinctively that the
downward-tending path she had been pursuing
was not clearly conceivable to ]Maud. Nor, in
truth, had the latter any idea of the degrading
flatteries, the base suspicions, the humiliating
hypocrisies, the petty ambitions, the paltry pleas-
ures, and corroding cares, ennobled by no spark
of unselfish love, which had made up the exist-
ence of the vicar's daughter.
The one had been journeying through a home-
like countiy, which never in its dreariest parts
quite lost tiie wide prospect of the sky, or the
breath of pure air; although the former might
drop chill rain, and the latter might blow rough-
ly at times. The other had plunged into a trop-
ical jungle ; beautiful on its borders with gay
birds and flowers, but within dark, stifling, and
deadly.
Veronica was conscious of a shade of disap-
pointment on once more beholding JIaud. She
was disappointed in herself. She had been
moved and startled by the first sight of Maud ;
but no tears had welled up from lier heart into
her eyes. No deep emotion had been stirred.
She felt, with a sort of unacknowledged dread,
that she had grown harder than of old. She had
yearned for the luxury of genuine feeling, and
VERONICA.
127
recalled the sweetness of impulsive affectionate
moments when she had forgotten, by Maud's
side, to be vain and seltisli. But now tlie springs
of pure tenderness seemed to be dry. She was
uneasy until she could assert her grandeur, her
success, her triumph. She wished to love Maud,
and to be loved by her ; but she also wished that
Maud sliould be brought to see and to acknowl-
edge how brilliant was her fortune, how great a
lady the Princess de' Barletti would be, and how
far above jiity or contempt she had raised herself
She had written perhaps too humbly to Hugh
Lockwood, dashing oft" the note without stopping
to weigh her words. If so, she must let them
all see that she was no penitent to be pardoned
and wept over, but a woman who had gained
what she aimed at, and who understood its value.
She turned the flashing diamond round and
round on her finger, as she answered slowly,
"You mourned for me? Yet you did not an-
swer my letter ! Your mourning cost you little
trouble. "
" Not answer your letter ! Indeed, Veronica,
I did. And on my own responsibility, and at
the risk of oftending at some risk. Did you
never get my answer?"
The blood rushed into Veronica's face as she
listened, and a suspicion of the truth crossed her
mind : namely, that Maud's letter had been sup-
pressed by Sir John Gale. But she merely said,
" Never. I never heard from any one at home,
although I wrote several times. If you did
write," she paused and changed her phrase after
a quick glance at Maud's face ; " since you did
write, your letter must have gone astray in some
way."
"Oh, Veronica, how cruel you must have
thought me I And yet you could not, surely,
think me so ? You did not doubt my affection
for you ?'
"Oh, I alternately doubted and believed all
sorts of things. Well ; it is over now. "
" Dear Veronica, I have been told Hugh
told me of his iifterview with those gentlemen
to-day. And we are both unfeignedly relieved
and thankful to know that that that your
claim will be established."
"Although you lose by it! There was no
doubt of the illegality of the will. Any court
would have given the case in my favor. But I
am not the less sensible, " added Veronica, after
an instant's hesitation, " of your generous for-
bearance. To have gone to law would have been
very terrible for every one."
"It should never have been done with my
consent. Veronica, you have not asked you
have said nothing about Uncle Charles. Did
you fear to ask? He is well, thank God."
"I had heard that my father was alive and
well from Mr. Frost. 1 hope he is also a little
less obdurate against his only child than he was."
Maud was shocked by the hardness of the tone
in which this was said. Veronica's manner alto-
gether was unexpectedly chilling after the warmth
of her first embrace, and the tenor of the note
she had written.
" He has been very unhappy, Veronica."
" I regret it : although mi/ unhappiness seems
to have been indifterent to him."
"As you begged in your note that no word
should be said of it to any one, we did not even
tell Uncle Charles that "
" Tell him ? Is he here, in London ?"
"Yes, dear. Did you not know it? Ah, I
am glad you did not know it ! That explains.
If you had known he was here, you would have
asked to see liim, would you not ?"
Maud's eyes were full of tears as she spoke,
and she took Veronica's hand in both hers ca-
ressingly.
" Pajia is here! You have been with him
quite lately to-day ?"
' ' Yes. I left him at Gower Street. You will
not be angry, dear, when I tell you that, as you
had made no sign, we had resolved Hugh and
I to say nothing to your father about all the
trouble, now past and over, until he should be at
home again in Shipley. I am going back with
him. And then, when we were quietly together
in the old house, I should have told him."
"Then papa does not know that 1 that Sir
John Gale is dead ?"
"No; he has lived quite secluded from the
chance of hearing it."
"AVhat brought him to town?"
JIaud cast her eyes down, and her voice sank
as she answered: "He came for^unt Hilda's
funeral. "
There was a painful silence. Even Veronica's
egotism was dumb before all the considerations
connected with those words. Presently ISIaud
said, "But now you will try to see your father
before we go away, w^illyounot, dear Veronica ?"
Veronica was agitated. She rose from her
chair, and'walked quickly about the room. Then
she returned to Maud's side, and, bending over
her, kissed her forehead,
" Maudie, Maudie, do you think he has any
love left in his heart for me ?''
" Yes, dear Veronica ; I am sure he loves you.
Do not let that doubt stand between you."
"No; but I had intended something differ-
ent. I meant, of course, to see papa. I meant
to try to see him later, after I . I believe it
will be best that I should not see him yet."
""Will that be quite right, Veronica?"
"I must act. according to my own judgment,
and the judgment of those who have a right to
advise me."
Maud looked at her in sorrowful surprise.
Veronica's tone had changed again to one of
haughty coldness. And who were they who had
"a right to advise" her?
" I think," said Maud, gently, "that any one
would advise you to relieve your father's mind
as soon as possible. Think what he has suf-
fered !"
" I will write to papa when he gets to Ship-
ley," returned Veronica, after a pause. "And
I believe that will be the best on the sole ground
of consideration for him. I do, indeed, iNIaudie.
But now tell me about yourself"
"There is little to tell. My great good news
you know already."
"Great good news? No. Oh, stay. You
mean your engagement ?"
"What else should I mean ?" answered Maud,
while a bright blush came into her pale cheek,
and her eyes shone, as she looked at Veronica,
with bashful candor.
" Is it really such good news? lie is a man
of no family, and "
"Veronica! Do you speak seriously? He
comes of honest people, I am glad to say. But
128
VERONICA.
if he (lid not, he is he. And that is enough for
me."
"You never cared about your own ancestry.
But then, Mr. Lockwood is quite poor."
"Not poorer than I am," said Maud. The
next instant she feared that the words might be
taken as a comphiint or a reproach to Veronica,
and she added, quickly, " I never expected rich-
es. I always knew that I should be poor. I had
no right to look for wealth, and, as you said your-
self, I do not covet it."
" No ; not wealth, perhaps. But look here,
Maudie ; I shall come and put myself at your
feet as I used to do. I can talk to you bet-
ter so. It will seem liko old times, won't
it ?"
But the gulf that divided the old times from
the new was forcibly brought to Maud's mind
l)y tlie tact that Lady Gale cautiously fastened
the door that led into her bedroom, where lier
maid was sitting, lest the woman should enter
the drawing-room and surprise her mistress in
that undignified posture. Further, ]\Iaud ob-
served that Veronica, by sitting on a low stool
at her feet, was not compelled to meet her eyes,
as she had done when they had conversed to-
gether before.
Veronica's rich draperies flowed over the dingy
carpet ;is she placed herself on the foot-stool, with
her head resting against IMaud's knees. Maud
timidly touched the glossy coils of hair that lay
on her lap. And her pale, piu'e face shone above
them like a white star at twilight.
"Now, Maudie," began V^eronica, in a low
voice, that had something constrained in its
sound, "I don't want to speak of the past A'ear.
Yon got my letter thanks to little Tlew, poor
little fellow! although I did not get your an-
swer. You know the contents of that letter.
They expressed my genuine feeling at the time.
Beyond having left Shipley without papa's knowl-
edge, I consider that I have nothing to reproach
myself with."
]\Iaud gave a little sigh, but said nothing.
The sigh or the silence, or both, annoyed Ve-
ronica; for she proceeded, with some irritation
of manner: "And I do not intend to be re-
proached by others. Evil and trouble came
truly, but they were none of my making. I
was the victim and the sutTerer. I was entitled
to sympathy, if ever woman was. But through-
out I kept one object in view, and I have achieved
it. I shall be replaced in my jiroper position in
the world in a position i\ir loftier, indeed, than
any one could have ))rop]iesied for me."
All this was inexpressibly painful to Maud.
Instead of the trembling gratitude for deliver-
ance from ()l)lo([uy ; instead of the ingcnnous
confession of her own faults, and the acknowl-
edgment of undeserved good fortune, which she
had expected to find in Veronica, there was a
hard and hostile tone of mind that must be for-
ever, and by the nature of it, barren of good
things. Maud was very young; she had her
share of the rashness in judgment that belongs
to youth. lut, besides tliat, she had a (juality
by no means so commonly found in the young
a single-minded candor and simplicity of soul,
which led her to accept words at their standard
dictionary value. She made allowance for no
depreciation of currency, but credited the bank
whence such notes were issued with an amount
of metal exactly equivalent to that expressed by
the symbol.
That Veronica, in speaking as she did, was
fighting against conscience, and stiiving to drown
the voice of self-reproach, never occurred to Maud
Desmond. She was grieved and disappointed.
She dared not trust herself to speak ; and it was
the strength of her constant, clinging aflection
that made Veronica's speech so painful.
Veronica continued: "You must not think
that I mean to be unmindful of you, Maud, in
my prosperity. I know that in a measure I mav
be said to have deprived you of a fortune, al-
though, had it not been to injuie and cut me to
the quick, that fortune would never have been
bequeathed to you."
"Veronica! I implore you not to speak of
that odious money! I had no claim to it in jus-
tice, no desire for it. For Heaven's sake let us
be silent on that score!"
"No," returned Veronica, raising herself a
little on her elbow as she spoke, and looking up
at the other girl, with cheeks that revealed a
deeper flush beneath the false color that tinged
them: "No, jMaud, I can not consent to be si-
lent. I have made up my mind that you shall
have a handsome dowry. It should have been
a really splendid one if all the money had come
to me. As it is, I dare say Mr. Lockwood will
be"
jMaud put her trembling hand on Veronica's
lips. "Oh, pray, pray," she said, "do not speak
of it!^ Dear Veronica, it is impossible! It can
never be!"
Veronica removed her arm from IMaud's knee,
a dark frown knitted her brows for an instant,
but almost immediately she said, lightly, as she
rose from the floor : "Oh, Maudie, Maudie, what
a tragedy face! Don't be childish, Maudie. I
say it must be. I shall not speak to you on the
subject. Mr. Lockwood will doubtless be more
reasonable. "
"Do not dream of it ! You do not know
him."
" I am not in love with him," retorted Veron-
ica, smiling disdainfully ; " but that is quite an-
other thing!"'
However, she suddenly resolved to say no
more on the subject to ISIaud. She had another
scheme in her head. She coidd not quite forget
Hugh's old admiration for herself, and she meant
to seek an interview with him. She would do
no wrong to JMaud, even if Hugh were to put
aside for a few moments tlie ]crfectness of his
allegiance. But she would like to assert her
personal influence. She wished him to bend his
stifl-necked pride before the power of her beauty
and the charm of her manner. And in so wish-
ing, she declared to herself that her main olject
was to be generous to JMaud, and to give her a
marriage portion.
" Maudie, let my maid take your hat and
cloak. This room is warm. ^Ve must have
some tea together," she said, going toward the
door of her bedchamber as she spoke.
"No, Veronica, I can not stay. And pray
don't call any one. I could take off my hat and
cloak myself, if need were."
"You can not stay ? Oh, IMaud !"
" Hugh will come for mo at nine o'clock. And
I promised to be ready."
" He is a bit of tyrant, then, your Hugh ?''
VERONICA.
129
Maud shook her head and smiled faintly.
" Do you love him very much, white owl?"
The old jesting ejiithet, coming thus unawares
from her li])s, touched u chord in Veronica's
heart which had hitherto remained dumb. .She
burst into tears, and running to j\laud, i)ut her
arms around her, and sobbed upon her neck.
Maud was thankful to see those tears; but for
some time neither of the girls said a word. Then
Maud began to speak of Hugh : to say how good
he was, how true, honest, and noble-minded, and
how dearly she loved him. And then still hold-
ing Veronica's head against her breast she spoke
of the vicar, of the folks at Shipley, and gave
what news she could of all that had i)as.sed in
her old home since she left it. She tried, with
every innocent wile she could think of, to lead
Veronica's thoughts back to the days of her child-
hood and girlhood, that seemed now so far. so
very far away.
" I shall never see the old place again, Maudie.
Never, never ! But, dear white owl, I have
something to tell you. I I how shall I be-
gin ? I found a relation in Naples : a cousin by
m}' mother's side."
"Was she good to you? Did you like her,
dear ?"
' ' It isn't my fault, it is the fonlt of your stupid
English language, if I was unable to convey to
you at once that my relative is is engine, not
cuginff. Don't look so amazed !"
' ' I didn't mean to look amazed, dear Veronica. "
" Well, this cousin Cesare his name is is a
Principe de' Barletti. Barletti, yon know, was
mamma's name. And he is a good fellow, and
very fond of me, and I mean to marry him,
by-and-by."
"To many him?"
"Yes."
"And and he is good, you say? and you
really love him ?"
"Oh yes; I Hove him, of course. And he is
devoted to me. AVe do not speak of our engage-
ment as yet ; because you do not need to be
told why. But I shall assuredly be Princess de'
Barletti', Maud."
Maud's mind was in such a chaos of astonish-
ment that she could hardly speak. It all seemed
incredible. But she clung to the only hopeful
point she could discern, and repeated once more,
" He is good, and you do really love him, Veron-
ica ?"
"I tell you there is nothing in the world he
would not do for me," said Veronica, a little
sharply.
Her soft mood was wearing away. ]\Iaud did
not show herself sufficiently delighted ; by no
means sufficiently impressed. Astonished she
was, truly. But not quite in the right manner.
"And and is he in Naples now, your cous-
in?"
* ' In Naples ! " still more sharply. ' ' Certainly
not. He is here."
"Oh! I did not know it. I had not heard
of it, Veronica. "
" I had no other male relative to whom I could
look for due jirotection and support," said Veron-
ica, with some bitterness.
At this moment a servant appeared, saying
that ]Miss Desmond was waited for.
"1 must go, dear. Indeed I must," said!
^laud, springing up. "And I have not said |
half that I wanted to say to yon. I will write.
TeU me where I can write to you."
Veronica dismissed the servant, who was lin-
gering near the door, and bade him say that Miss
Desmond would come immediately. Then she
kissed and embraced Maud, and told her that a
letter sent to the care of Mr. Simpson would al-
ways find her.
"God bless you, Maudie! Thank you for
coming. How you hasten ! Ah, this Hugh is
a tyrant ! Can not he be kept waiting for a mo-
ment ?"
" Good-by, dear Veronica. Think of what I
have said about Uncle Charles! If you would
but try to see him before we go. God bless you,
Good-by !"
]\Iaud drew down her veil to hide her tearful
eyes as she went swiftly down the staircase. Ve-
ronica stole out after her, and looking over the
balusters into the lighted hall, saw Hugh Lock-
\NOod standing there ; saw Maud run up to him ;
saw the face of protecting fondness he turned
upon the girlish figure at his side ; saw the quiet
trustful gesture with which she laid her hand
upon his arm, and they went away together.
And then Veronica Lady Gale turned back into
her own room, and throwing herself on her knees
beside the chair that Maud had sat in, and bury-
ing her hot face in its cushions, yielded herself
n]) to a tearless paroxysm of rage and yearning
and regret. And the staid Louise was much sur-
prised next day to find her mistress's delicate
cambric handkerchief all torn and jagged just,
she declared, as though some creature had bit-
ten it.
CHAPTER XI.
THE PARTNERS.
After having been introduced to her at Bays-
water, Miss Betsy Boyce called on INIrs. Love-
'grove. The latter was a good deal flattered by
the visit ; which might have been inferred by
those who knew her well, from the loftily patron-
izing tone she assumed in speaking of Miss Boyce.
"Miss Boyce is a thoroughly well-connected
person," said Mrs. Lovegrove, sj)eaking across
the dinner-table to her husband with much im-
pressiveness.
" Ah !" said Mr. Lovegrove, w^ho was engaged
in carving beef for the family.
"It is curious how immediately one recog-
nizes blood."
" H'm !" murmured Mr. Lovegrove. " A lit-
tle of the brown, Augustus ?"
"No meat for me, Sir, thank you! Vigil of
Blessed Ranocchius," retiu'ned the son of the
house, austerely.
"My papa was wont to sa}'," proceeded Mrs.
Lovegrove, " that his was some of the best blood
in England in a genealogical sense, I mean.
Not literally, of com'se, poor man, for he was a
martyr to gout."
"Oh!" exclaimed Mr. Lovegrove, whose in-
terest in his dinner appeared to be more intense
than that which he felt in his wife's respected
parent.
"And in Miss Boyce," continued Sarah, in an
inatructire manner which was one of her pecvd-
iarities, "there is, despite eccentricity, an air of
birth and breeding quite unmistakable."
130
VERONICA.
"She seems a good-natured old soul," said
Mr. Lovegrove. AV'liereat his voungest daugh-
ter, Phoebe, began to giggle.
"Levity, rhoebe, is low," said Mrs. Love-
grove, sententiously. "MissBoyee gave me a
terrible account of " Mrs. Lovegrove broke ort'
in her speech, and pointed downward with her
finger in a manner tliat might have seemed to
argue a startling allusion to regions usually ig-
nored in polite society. But her family under-
stood very well that she intended to signify Mr.
Frost, whose office was on the floor beneath the
room they were sitting in.
"Eh?" said Mr. Lovegrove. And this time
he raised his eyes fronr his plate.
"I mean of the wife of the wife. De-
plorable 1 "
" Well, then, she is a less good-natured old
soul than I thought, "said i\Ir. Lovegrove. grave-
ly. "Mrs. Frost is her friend. I don't like
that in Miss Bett^y, my dear."
"Understand me, Augustus!" said Mrs.
Lovegrove.
This pin-ase was frequently the preface to a
rather long discourse on her part.
Her husband pushed his plate back, and began
to cut his bread into little dice, which he after-
ward arranged in symmetrical patterns with
much care and exactitude.
" Understand me ! I am not im])licating Miss
Boyce. Far from it. 'I'lie deductions drawn
from what she said are mine. I only am re-
sponsible for thera. If too severel}' logical, I can
but regret it. But I conceive they will be found
to be correct when the facts are stated."
The focts, when arrived at, were not altogether
new to My. Lovegrove. Mrs. Frost was extrav-
agant. ]\Irs. Frost was selfisli in seeking her
own pleasure and society in a circle which her
husband did not frequent, and of which be dis-
a])proved. Mrs. Frost, wlio after all was but the
wife of a respectalile solicitor, had costly jewehy
fit for any lluly in the land ! These were tlie
main counts of Mrs. Lovegrove's indictment ;
and they were closely intermingled with mucii
extraneous matter.
Tliat afternoon Augustus Lovegrove said a few
words to his father when they were alone togeth-
er in the office.
"Do you know, father, I think tliat Mr. Frost
ought to look after that wife of his a little more. "
" Look after her ! What do you mean ?"
"I mean that he ought to curb her expendi-
ture a little."
"I sui)pose he knows his own business best,
Gus."
" Well, he certainly is very clever at other
people's Inisiness. I don't deny that. But it
may be that he is making a mess of his own.
Such things sometimes luip])en. I did hear "
" Kb? What did you hear?"
"Well, tliere are ugly rumors about the Par-
theno]je ICmbellishment Company. And I did
hear tliat Mr. Frost hail di]jped pretty deep in it."
" Gus, I hope you have not repeated any such
gossip ! It is always injurious to a ))rofessional
man to be supjtosed unable to keep his tongue
between liis teeth."
"I, Sir? Oh, no; you may be quite easy
about that. But I thought 1 would mention it
to you."
"I don't attacli any importance to it, Gus,
Frost is too clear-sighted and long-headed to
burn his fingers."
"So much the better, Sir," returned Augus-
tus, quietly. And there was no more said at
that time on the matter.
But ]\Ir. Lovegrove thought of it seriouslv.
Mr. Frost's proceedings had been by no means
satisfactory to him of late. It was not that he
had neglected tlie business of the firm, nor that
he had seemed absent and absorbed in his own
private affiiirs on occasions when matters pertain-
ing to the office should have claimed his best
energies. Nor was it that Mr. Lovegrove had
accidentally heard that his partner had dealings
with a money-lender of questionable reputation ;
nor the floating rumors that tradesmen had been
dunning for their bills at the elegant little house
in Bayswater. It was not any one of these cir-
cumstances, taken singly, that made Mr. Love-
grove uneasy ; but the combination of them un-
questionably did so. And his wife's gossip re-
specting Mrs. Frost's extravagance, to which he
would at another time have attached no import-
ance, became disquieting as adding one more to
tlie accumulation of other facts. Later on that
same afternoon, as he was leaving the office, he
saw Hugh Lockwood coming out of ]\Ir. Frost's
private room. On the day wlien Hugh had given
testimony as to the hour of Lady 'J'aliis Gale's
death l\Ir. Lovegrove and the young man had
conceived a strong respect for each otlier. There
had been the slightest possible acquaintance be-
tween them up to that time.
"Good-day, ]\Ir. Lockwood," said Lovegrove,
offering his hand. He was not surprised to see
the young man coming from ^Ir. Frost's room.
He was aware of the old and close intimacy that
had existed between the latter and Hugh's father.
" Good-day, Sir."
" Is any tiling the matter, l\Ir. Lockwood ?"
asked Lovegrove, struck with the exjuession of
Hugh's face.
" Nothing, thank you. That is to say truth,
I Iiave been put out a little."
And Hugh hastily shook Sir. Lovegrove's
hand, and walked away with a quick step. Mr.
Lovegrove stood looking after him thoughtfully
for a moment. Then he turned, and went into
Mv. Frost's inner sanctum. He opened the
door without first knocking at it, and, as the
heavy panels swung back noiselessly, he had time
to see his partner before his jiartner was aware
of his presence.
Mr. Frost was standing at the little fire-place
witli his back to the door. He was leaning with
his elbow on the mantle-piece, and supporting his
head on his hands. At a slight noise made liy
j\Ir. Lovegrove he turned round, and the other
man almost started on seeing the haggard face
that fronted him. Mr. Frost's forehead was
knit and creased into deeper folds than usual.
There was a dark red flush upon it, and it seemed
expressive of iiitmise ])ain of mind or body. His
jaw hung, and his usually firmly closed lijis were
jiarted. His eyes stared wiklly, and seemed
Jiardly to take note of that which they looked
upon.' All this lasted but for a second. He
passed his hands over his forehead, and said :
" Hullo, Lovegrove ! I didn't hear you come
in. Do you want me? I hope not, just now;
for I have an ajijjointment, and must lie off."
"I did want to sav a word to you. I can
VERONICA.
131
wait, however. Do you know, Frost, that you
are not hjoking at all well ?"'
" Am I not]:' Well, I have a devil of a head-
ache."
"Don't you do any thing for it? You really
do look uneonimonly ill."
"There's no cure for these things but time
and patience. I have been overworking my-
self lately, I suppose. Or else I'm growing old."
"Old! nonsense! You arc why you must
be five years my junior, and I "
"Oh, you are as sound as a roach, and as
fresh as a daisj'. But, my dear fellow, ago can
not always be counted by years. I feel worn
out sometimes. How I hate this ceaseless grind,
grind, grind at the mill!"
"H'm! "Well, for my part, I can never be
thoroughly happy out of harness for long to-
gether. When we take our sea-side holiday
eveiy summer, I am always the first to get tired
of it. I long for what you call the pounce and
parchment."
" lla])py you!"
"If you hate it so, why don't you retire and
give up your share of the business to my Gus?
You haven't a tribe of daughters to provide for.
You must be rich enough."
" Kicli I" echoed Mr. Frost. " Who shall say
what ' rich' means in these dajfs ? And besides,
you know, one always wants a little more."
He had by this time nearly recovered his usu-
al mien, and spoke w'ith the self-confident care-
less air of superiority which had never failed to
impress Mv. Lovegrove.
"Ay, ay, one knows all that," said the lat-
ter. " Why then, on the whole, you have
things have not gone so badly with you, eh ?"
Frost gave him a quick and curious glance.
Then his mouth stretched itself in a forced smile,
to which, in the impossibility of attaining any
thing like spontaneity, he communicated an ex-
aggerated e.xpression of irony. He was con-
scious of this exaggeration ; but his muscles were
not vmder his own control.
' ' Oh yes, they have 1 " he exclaimed. ' ' Things
have gone very badly indeed with me. I haven't
got what I want by some ten or fifteen thousand
])0unds."
"Ten or fifteen thou -by Jove !"
"Well, you know, Lovegrove, every man has
his hobby. ]\Iine has been to die worth a cer-
tain sum. I sha'n't tell you what sum ; you
would be shocked at the extravagance of my de-
sires. Not having yet reached the figure 1 had
set myself, I consider that I have the right to
grumble. Consequently I do grumble to the
world. But," he added, with a sudden change
of manner, "but between friends -.ind partners,
like you and me, I may say that on the whole
on the whole, my nest isn't badly feathered."
"I thought it was I thought so!" replied
Lovegrove, nodding his head with a kind of
sober triumph.
"Ah, but I grumble!"
"Rich men always do. Only, if I were you,
Frost, I wouldn't grumble too much!"
"Eh?"
"Folks might take you at your word. And
as all the world does not know how rich you
want to be why don't you see?"
Mr. Frost laughed a little dry laugh, and I
clapped his partner on the sho'ahler. j
"Ah," said he, "God knows there is where-
withal for jilenty of grumbling without being
poor. I'm harassed to death!"
"You have just had young Lockwood with
you. I met him coming out."
"You met him! Did he did he say any
thing ?"
"Say any thing? He said, 'Good-day.' Oh,
and he said, too, that he had been a good deal
put OlU."
" I'ut out ! He is terribly i)ig-headed."
"Is he ? Well, I rather liked him. I thought
he came out so well in that ati'air of proving
the time of Lady Tallis's death. But I always
thougiit you were sucii a gieat friend of his."
"I tried to be. I oftered to get him a fine
position with a company abroad. But there are
people whom it is impossible to befriend. They
won't let you."
"Dear me ! Then he refused your off'er ?"
"Yes; I had given "him a little time to con-
sider of it. But he came to-day to to say that
he would not hear of it. And that not iu the
most civil terms, either."
" Oh ! So that was what he had been to see
you about?"
"Of course ! Did he say that he had come
for any thing else?'
"Not at all. I told you what he said. But
talking of companies abroad, Frost, I wanted to
say one word to you. I did hear "
"Another time another time, Lovegrove. I
shall be late as it is. I have an appointment iu
the City;" and Mr. Frost pulled out his watch
impatiently.
"Oh, well, I won't detain you. Some day
some evening, after business hours, I should like
to have a quiet chat with you, though."
"Of course. Delighted. Whenever you like.'
I\Ir. Frost hurried ofi-", and threw himself into
the first empty cab that happened to be passing.
As Mr. Lovegrove came out again through the
front office, the senior clerk was putting on his
hat and gloves preparatory to going home.
"Oh, I\Ir. Lovegrove," said the clerk, "you
were asking me about the bill of costs in Bow-
clier V. Bowcher I "
"Yes, I was. Has it been paid?"
"It has. Sir. Tlieir solicitors sent down this
afternoon, and the bill was paid. You were not
here. Mr. Frost took the notes, saying that he
was going into the City this afternoon and \\'ould
bank them."
" Oh, very well, Mr. Burgess."
When the clerk had left Mr. Lovegrove's face
changed.
"Another instance of Frost's thoughtless-
ness," he muttered. "He takes money to the
bank for the firm, and does not go to the City
until after banking hours. It had much better
have been sent in the regular way. I suppose
the truth is, he is too busy growing rich on his
own account. I should never have guessed that
Frost had the ambition of being wealthy. I hope
he won't burn iiis fingers with speculations in try-
ing to grow rich in a hurry. But he certainly
is a very su])erior man ! A most sujierior man
is Frost. AH tlie same, when your clever fellov/
does make a mistake, it is apt to be a big one."
132
VERONICA.
CHAPTER XII.
TROUBLE.
Mr. Frost left his office in a state of pitiable
disorder and anxietj of mind. It has been said
that Sidney Frost hated failure ; and still more
the avowal of failure. He had originally in-
volved himself in a web of dishonorable compli-
cations for the sake of winning the woman who
had inspired the sole strong ])assion of his life.
And it was still his infatuated love for her that
caused the greater part of his distress. What
would Georgy do? What would Georgy say?
How would (jeorgy bear it if the worst should
happen ? These were the chief questions with
which he tormented himself. And at the same
time he well knew, in his heart, that she would be
cold as ice and hard as granite to his sufferings.
His business in the Cit}', and the rumors he
heard there, did not tend to reassure him. He
drove to his home jaded and wretched. The
headache which he had ftilsely pleaded to Mr.
Lovegrove had become a reality. He threw
himself on a sofa in the drawing-room and shut
his eyes. But his nerves were in a state of too
great irritation to allow him to sleep. Nor did
the cessation from movement seem to bring re-
pose. He tried to stretch and relax his limbs
into a position of ease ; but he ached in every
muscle, and was as weaiy as a man who has
gone through a day of hard bodily labor. Pres-
ently his wife entered the room. Care, and
toil, and anxiety had set no mark on her. Her
peach-like cheeks were smooth and fresh ; her
eyes bright and clear ; her hair was glossy, abund-
ant, and unmingled with a thread of gray. !She
was dressed in a dinner costume whose unob-
trusive simplicity might have deceived an nnin-
structed eye as to its costliness. Jiut, both in
material and fashion, Mrs. Frost's attire was of
the most expensive. Not a detail was imper-
fect : from the elegant satin slipper that fitted
her well-formed foot to a nicety, to the tine old
cream-colored lace round her bosom. There
was no jewel on her neck or in her ears ; not a
chain, not a brooch, not a pin. But on one
round white arm she wore, set in a broad band
of gold, the famous opal, whose mild, milky lus-
tre, pierced here and there by darts of fire, con-
trasted admirably with the "deep purple of her
dress. Her husband, lying on the sofa, looked
at her from beneath his half-closed eyelids, as
she stood for a moment uncertain whether he
were awake or asleeji. She was very beautiful.
Wliat dignity in t!ie simple steadiness of her
attitude ! How placid the expanse of her broad
white forehead ! How sweet and firm her closed
red lips! How mild, grave, and matronly the
light in her contemjilative eyes I She seemed to
bring an air of peace into the room. Even the
slight perfume that hung about her garments
was soothing and delicious. If she would but
stand so, silent and adorable, until her husband's
eyes should close, and sleep come down upon
them like a balm !
Thought is wonderfully rapid. Sidney Frost
had time to see all that we have described, and
to frame the above-recorded wish, before his wife
opened her handsome mouth, and said, in the
rich, low voice habitual to her :
"Sidney, that man has been dunning again
for his bill."
Crash ! The sweet vision was gone, shattered
into broken fragmentslike a clear lake-picture dis-
turbed by a stone thrown into its waters. The
veins in Frost's forehead started and throbbed
distractingly. He could not suppress a gi-oan
more of mental than physical pain, however
and he pressed his hot hands to his still hotter
brow.
' ' Sidney I do you hear ? That insolent man
has been dunning. You don't seem to consider
how disagreeable it is for me!"
"What insolent man? Who is it that you
mean?" muttered Frost, closing his ej-es com-
pletely.
"You may well ask. Duns have been quite
numerous lately, ' rejoined IMrs. Frost, with a
sneer, as she seated herself in an arm-chair op-
posite to the sofa. "But none of them have
been so insupportable as that Wilson. "
"The jeweler?"
"Yes; the jeweler. And yon know, really
and truly, Sidney, this kind of thing must be
put a stop to."
Frost smiled bitterly.
" How do you suggest putting a stop to it?"
he asked.
" / suggest ! You are too amusing. "
It would be impossible to convey the disdain
of the tone in wljicli this was said.
" Wilson came here and saw you, and was in-
solent ?"
" Verv."
" What did he say ?"
"How can I repeat word for word what he
said ? He declared that he must have the jnice
of the opal bracelet. I happened to have it on,
and that put it into his head, I sujjpose. He
said, too, very impertinently, that people who
can not afford to pay for such jewels had no
right to wear them. I told him that was your
ati'air."
" I\Iy aflair. I don't wear bracelets."
"You know that it is nonsense talking in that
way, Sidney. I beg you to understand that I
can not be exposed to the insults of trades-
people."
"Can you not? Listen, Georgina. To-mor-
row you must give me that oj)al when I go to
business. I shall drive first to Wilson's, and
ask him to take back the bracelet. He will
probabl}- make me pay for your having had it
so long ; but, as the stone is a really fine one, I
think he will consent to take it back."
"Take back my bracelet !"
" It is not your bracelet. Do you remember
that, when you first spoke of buying it, I forbade
you to do so, and told you the price of it was be-
yond my means to jiay ?"
"Take back my bracelet!"
" Come here, Georgy. Sit down beside me.
Ah, how fresh and cool your hand is ! Put it
on my forehead for a moment. Listen, Georgy.
I am in great trouble and embarrassment. I
have a considerable sum of money which I I
which I owe, to make u]i within six months. Six
months is the limit of time allowed me."
Mrs. Frost shrugged her shoulders with the air
of a person who is being bored by unnecessary de-
tails. " Well ?" she said.
Her husband suppressed his indignation at her
indifierence, and ])r()ceeded :
" During that time 1 shall have to strain every
J
VERONICA.
133
nen-e, to tiy every means, to scrape together ev-
ery pound. I shall have "'
" 1 thought," said Georgina, interrupting him,
"that your journey to Naples was to make your
fortune. I have not yet perceived any of the line
results that were to flow from it."
"Matters have not gone as I hoped and ex-
pected. Still 1 do not despair even yet. No: far
from it. I believe the shiu'cs will come all right,
if we can but tide over " He checked himself,
after a glance at her face. It was calm, impas-
sive, utterly unsyrapathizing. Her eyes were cast
down, and were contemplating the opal bracelet
as the arm which it adorned lay gracefully on her
lap. Sidney Frost heaved a deep sigh, that end-
ed in something like a moan.
"I don't know whether you are listening to
me, or whether you understand me, Georgina ?"
" I heard what you said. But I can't see why
you should want to take away my opal. I never
heard of such a thing. I little expected that such
a thing would ever happen to me.''
" Be thankful if nothing worse happens to
you. "
"Worse! 'What can be worse ? I promised to
wear the bracelet at Lady Maxwell's, on Wednes-
day, to sliow to a friend of hers, a Polish count-
ess, who boasts of her jewels. Lady IMaxwell had
told her of my bracelet, and had said, moreover,
that mine was far handsomer than any single opal
she had ever seen."
" You must make some excuse to her."
" What excuse can I make? It is too bad!"
And jNIrs. Frost put her delicate handkerchief to
her eyes.
Her husband remained silent ; and after a lit-
tle while she looked up at him in perplexity. She
did not often have i-ecourse to tears. But she had
hitherto found them infallible in softening Sid-
ney's heart toward her, let him be as angiy as he
might.
Presently the dinner-gong sounded. After a
short pause, ^Irs. Frost wiped her eyes, and said,
in a cold voice, " Are you not coming to dinner,
Sidney 'i''
"No ; it is impossible. I could eat nothing."
"Why not?" asked Georgina, tuming her
large eyes slowly on him.
"Oh, you have not, of course, obseiwed so
trifling a matter ; but the fact is, I am very un-
well. "
"Xo; I hadn't noticed it," she responded,
with cool naivete.
After an instant's reflection it struck her that
this indisposition might be the cause of her hus-
band's unwonted severity. Sidney was often
hot-tempered and cross, but such steady oppo-
sition to her wishes she was quito unused to.
The opal might not be, lost after rdl. She went
to him and touched his forehead with her cool
lips.
" Poor Sidney, how hot his head is ! " she ex-
claimed. "I will send you a little soup. Try
to take something, won't you ?"
He pressed her hand fondly. The least act
of kindness from her made him grateful.
"Dear Georgy! She does really love me a
little," he thought, as she glided with her peace-
ful step out of the room. And then he began to
meditate whether it might not be possible to
spare her the humiliation of parting with her
bracelet.
But soon a remembrance darted through his
mind, which made his head throb, and his heart
beat. No, no ; it was impossible! Any sacri-
fice must be made to avoid, if possible, public
disgrace and ruin. It would be better for Geor-
gy to give up ever}- jewel she possessed than to
confront that final blow. Yes ; the sacrifice
must be made, for the present. And who could
tell Avhat i)iece of good luck might befall him be-
fore the end of the six months?
This was but the beginning of a period of un-
speakable anxiety for Frost, during which he
sufll'ered alternations of hojje and despondency,
and feverish expectation and crushing humilia-
tion, and during which he was more and more
delivered up to the conviction that his Mife was
the incarnation of cold egotism. He strove
against the conviction. Sometimes he fought
with it furiously and indignantly; sometimes he
tried to coax and lull it. When he should be
finally vanquished by the irrefragable truth, it
would go hard with him. Of all this Georgina
knew nothing. Had she known, she would have
cared ; because she would have perceived that
when the truth should have overcome the last of
her husband's self-delusions it must also go hard
with her.
JNIeanwhile there was anxiety enough with
which Frost was intimately connected at the
house in Gower Street. ISIaud and the vicar
were gone away to Shipley. The upper rooms
were shut up, and the house seemed almost de-
serted. There had come to be a barrier between
Hugh and his mother. It did not appear in
their outward behavior to each other. He was
as dutifully, she as tenderly, affectionate as ever.
But the unrestrained confidence of their inter-
course was at an end. It must always be so
when two loving persons speak together with the
consciousness of a forbidden topic lying like a
naked sword between them. Concealment was
so intrinsically antagonistic to Hugh's character
that his mother's aversion to speak confidingly
with him respecting the confession she had made
once for all was extremely painful to him. And
his pain, which was evident to her, only served
to make her the more reticent. She thought,
' ' My son can never again love me as he loved
me before I wounded his pride in me. He is
kind still; but I am not to him what I was."
Maud was sadly missed by both mother and
son. Her presence in the house had been like
the perfume of flowers in a room. Now that
she was gone, Zillah often longed for the silent
sweetness of her young face. Maud had been
able to soften the touch of sternness which
marked Hugh's character, and which had in
past years sent many a pang of apprehension to
his mother's heart as she thought how hard his
judgment of her would be when the dreaded
moment of confession should arrive. And now
the confession had been made, and her son had
been loving and forbearing, and had uttered no
hint of reproach, and yet and yet Zillah tor-
mented herself with the thought that she was
shut out from the innemiost chamber of his
heart. Hugh had lost no time in telling his mo-
ther of his interview with ]Mr. Frost. He re-
lated all the details of it conscientiously, but
without his usual frank spontaneity ; for he saw
in her f;\ce how she shrank from the recital ;
and ill the constraint of his manner, she, on her
134
VERONICA.
part, read coldness and estrangement. She felt
frightened as slie pictured to herself the conflict
of those two strong wills. Zillali, too, coidd be
strong ; but her strength lay in endurance less
than action. And, besides, twenty years of se-
cret self-reproach and the sting of a tomiented
and tormenting conscience had sapped the firm-
ness of her character.
"You did not show him any mercy, then,
Hugh ?" she said, with her head leaning against
her small pale hand, when her son had finished
his narrative.
' ' Mercy ! Yes, mother, surely I showed him
more mercy than he deserved ! I gave him six
months' grace."
"Six months' grace. After five-and-twenty
years of ])rocrastination, how short those six
months will seem to him !"
"And how long the five-and-twenty years
seemed to you ! But I told him the facts of the
case plainly. The chance of buying the business
I have set my heart on will j-emain open to me
for yet half a year longer. If by the end of tliat
time I have not given my answer, the chance will
be lost. He viust repay the money he stole by
that time."
"Stole, Hugh! You did not use that word
to him ?'"
"No, mother, I did not use that word; but I
should have been justified in using it."
"And how did he did he seem? Was he
angry and defiant, or did he seem secure of his
power to pay the money ?"
"He was greatly taken by surprise; but he
has great self-command. And he is so clever
and specious that 1 do not wonder at his having
imposed on you. He tried to take a high hand
with me, and reminded me tliat he had been my
father's friend. 'Yes; a false friend,' said I.
Then he was silent. I did not reproach him with
violence. I could not have brought myself to
speak even as harshly as I did, had he met me in
a different spirit. "
"Do you think he will really have a difficulty
in repaying the money ? I can not understand
it. He must be rich. Every one says that the
fiiTTi is so prosperous."
"He recovered himself after a minute or so,
and began to expatiate on the brilliant prospects
of the speculations in which he is engaged. He
waxed eloquent at the sound of his own voice ;
but I stopped him. ' Deeds, not words, are the
only arguments that I can accept from you, i\Ir.
Frost,' said I. ' You have not now got a woman
and a child to deal with. I am a man, and I
shall exact my own unflinchingly.' Before I left
the office, he offered me his hand, but I could
not take it."
' ' You refused his hand ? That must have cut
him to the quick. He is such a proud man.''
" So am I," retorted Hugh, dryly.
Zillah bent silently over her work. Hugh did
not see the tears that brimmed up into her eyes.
Hugh did not guess the sharp pain that was in
her heart. He had so fully and freely forgiven
whatever injury his mother's weakness had occa-
sioned to him he had such pity in his man's
heart for the unmerited sufferings that this frail,
delicate, defenseless woman had undergone from
her youth upward, that it never entered into his
mind how her sensitive conscience made her at-
tribute to herself a large share of the contempt
and disgust he expressed for Mr. Erost.
"I am at least an accomplice in defrauding
my son of his inheritance !" said the poor woman
to herself. " Hugh does not mean to be unkind ;
but he must feel that all blame thrown upon Sid-
ney Frost reflects on me."
The next time Mrs. Lockwood spoke, it was
on an indiflerent topic ; and her son was hurt
that she should so resolutely, as it seemed to liiin,
shut him out from any confidential communion
witli her.
There needed some link between them : some
one who, loving both, should enable tliem to un-
derstand one another. I\Iaud might have done
this good office. She might have served them
both with head and heart. But Maud was not
there, and the days passed heavily in the widow's
house.
BOOK V.
CHAPTER I.
A RETROSPKCTIVE MEDITATION.
Ax April day smiled and wept over Shipley.
Wherever the clouds broke after a shower, the
sky showed of a pale blue color. Near the ze-
nitli floated white robes of vapor. Below them
were long lateral bars of gray cloud stretching
singularly straight across the horizon. They
were vague and unfinished at the ends, like
lines drawn by a soft lead -pencil; and they
seemed of about that color against tlie blue and
white. A few early flowers pce])ed out in the
garden borders. When the sun shone fitfully
on the old yew-tree, it was seen to glisten with
trembling diamond-drops of rain. A blacklird
jujjed liis sweet clear song from the shrubbery.
J.i^lit and shadow animated tlie flatness of the
distant wokl, whence came the many-voiced bleat
of lambs blended into one sound. A solitary
sheep cropped the short turf in Kt. Gildas's
grave-yard.
A young lady sat there on the low ^tone-wall,
looking across the fiats toward Daneccster. She
sat so still that the grazing sheep c-;;me quite
near to her as its teetii cut the short grass with
a crisp sound in regular cadence. If was Maud
Desmond who sat there on the wall of the gr.ave-
yard, and wliose golden iiair was ruffled under
her hat by the April breeze. She was absorbed
in a reverie. She had l)een in Sliiidcy now near-
ly a week, and slie was mentally passing in re-
view all the traits and circumstances she had
observed during that time, which served to show
what changes had taken place in the vicar's mode
of life, and in the vicar himself, since she had
left his house for her aunt's.
At first sight things had seemed little altered.
But she soon found that there was a change in
Mr. Levincourt which she had not observed in
\t=:roxica.
13S
him in LothIoii. In the first i)lace, he seemcil
to huve brtiken completely the tew relations he
had ever held with his country neighbors in the
rank of gentlefolks. That was jierhaps to be ex-
pected with a character such as ^Ir. Levincourt's ;
it was natmal that lie shotdd shun any possible
occasion of reading in the manner, or even in the
faces, of his ecjuals that he had beconie an object
of pity to them. IJut this was not all. It seem-
ed to Maud that after the first paroxysm of grief,
and wounded feeling, and crushed j)ride had
ceased, the whole cliaracter of her guardian had
subtly deteriorated, lie shrank from the socie-
ty of his equals ; but, on the other hand, he ap-
peared by no means to shun that of his inferiors.
He would sit for hours enduring the baldest chat
of Airs. Meggitt, and women such as she. ^Maud
was shocked and astonished to find him, one
day, listening almost with avidity to some gos-
siping details of village scandal from the lips
of Mugworthy, the parish clerk. The air of
personal refinement which had formerly dis-
tinguL-hed him seemed to be disappearing un-
der the influence of a slipshod laziness a kind
of slothful indifference to every thing save his
own immediate comfort. He was by turns
querulous, almost lachiymose, and self- assert-
ing. It was terrible to ^Maud to see his whole
character thus lowered ; and she tried to believe
that the change was but temporary, and that
perhaps slie even exaggerated it in her aftection-
ate anxiety.
During the journey from London her mind
was full of that which she had to reveal to him
respecting Veronica. And she had dreaded the
task, being entirely uncertain how he would re-
ceive it. But when she began to perceive the
change in him, she conceived the hope that her
tidings might at least have the good effect of
rousing him from the apathy into which he
seemed to have allowed all the higher part of his
nature to fall, while he fed the daily life of his
mind with contemptible trivialities. She had
approached the Subject one evening when she
and her guardian were alone together in the old
chintz-furaished sitting-room after tea. Maud
had quietly opened the piano-forte, and had
played through softly a quaint andante from one
of Haydn's sonatas.
The piece was chosen with the cunning instinct
of affection. It was soothing and gracious, and
yet, in its old-fashioned stateliness, it did not too
deeply probe the spring of grief. The somewhat
wiry tones of the well-worn instrument rendered
crisply eveiy twirl and turn of the brave old
music under Maud's light fingers. In the very
twang of the yellow keys there was a staid pa-
thos. It affected the ear as the sweot worn voice
of an old woman. affects it that thin quavering
pipe, to which some heart has thrilled, some pulse
beat responsive, in the days of long ago. IVIaud
played on, and the spring twilight deepened, and
the vicar listened, silent, in his arm-chair by the
empty fire-place. He had taken to smoking
within the past year. He had bought a great
meerschaum with a carved fantastic bowl, and
the color of the pipe bore testimony to the per-
sistency of its owner in the use of the weed. As
Maud pl.ayed softly in the gathering dusk, the
puffs of smoke from the vicar's chair grew rarer
and rarer, and at last they ceased. Maud rose
from the piano, and went to sit beside her guard-
ian. He was still silent. The influence of the
music was upon him.
" Uncle Charles," said Maud, in a low voice,
"I have something to tell you, and something to
ask you. I will do the asking first. Will you
forgive me for having delayed what 1 have to say
until now ?"
"I do not think it likely that you have need
of my forgiveness, Maud. What forgiveness is
between us must be chiefly from you to me, not
from me to you."
"Uon't say that, dear Uncle Charles I You
touch my conscience too nearly. And yet, at
the time, I thought and Hugh thought that it
was better to keep the secret for a while. I hope
you will think so too, and forgive me. Uncle
Charles, some one is dead whom you kncv."
Tiie vicar gave a violent start. INIaud, with
her hand on the elbow of his chair, felt it shake,
and she added, quickly: "It is no one whose
death you can regret. It is awfid to think that
the extinction of a human life should be cause
for rejoicing, rather than sorrow, in the hearts
of all who knew him. But it is so. Sir John
Gale is dead." The vicar drew a long, deep
breath. His head drooped down on his breast ;
but Maud felt, rather than saw for it was by
this time almost dark within the house that he
was listening intently. In a trembling voice,
but clearly and with steadiness of purpose, Maud
told her guardian of Veronica's marriage, of her
inheritance, and of her actual presence in Lon-
don. She merely suppressed in her narrative
two fiicts. First, the will, which had made her
(Maud) heiress to Sir John Gale's wealth ; and,
secondly, the late baronet's intention of defraud-
ing Veronica at the last. She and Hugh had
agreed that it would be well to spare Mr. Levin-
court the useless pain of these revelations. The
vicar listened in unbroken silence while Maud
continued to speak.
When she ceased, after a little pause he said :
"And she was in London! My daughter was
within a few streets of me and made no sign I
She made not any the least attempt to see
me or to ask my pardon !"
His tone was deep and angry. He breathed
quickly and noisily, like a man fighting against
emotion. Still Maud felt that in his very re-
proach there was a hopeful symptom of some
softening in the hardness of his resentment.
' ' She should have done so, dear Uncle Charles.
I told her so, and she did not deny it. But I
I believe she was afraid."
"Afraid! Veronica Levincourt afraid ! She
was not afraid of disgracing my home and im-
bittering my life. But she was afraid to come
and abase her wicked pride at my feet, when she
might have done so with some chance of bring-
ing me not comfort ; no, nothing can cancel
her evil past but at least some little alleviation
of the weight of disgi-ace that has been bowing
me to the earth ever since her flight."
Maud could not but feel, with a sensation of
shame at the feeling, that the vicar's words did
not touch her heart. There was nothing in them
that was not true. But in some way they rang
hollow. How different it had been when the
vicar had first discovered his daughter's flight,
and afteiTvard the name of the man she had fled
with ! Then everj- word, everv' gesture, had been
full of terrible rage, and grief, and horror. The
136
VERONICA.
vicar had been in agonized earnest then, no doubt.
But now, as he spoke, it was as though he felt
the necessity of assuming something that was
not in his heart, as though he were ashamed of
expressing relief at Maud's news, and made it a
point of pride to excite his own wrath against
his daughter.
Maud had yet more to tell him. She must
reveal the fact of Veronica's engagement to the
Prince IJarletti. And she much feared that the
communication of this fact would imbitter her
guardian still more. She could not see the ex-
pression of his face as she spoke, and he did not
interrupt her by the least word until she paused,
having finished what she had to say. Then the
vicar murmured in an artificial voice, as though
he were restraining its natui'al expression :
" Her mother was a Barletti."
" Yes. This gentleman is Veronica's cousin."
"Prince Prince Barletti! Is that the ti-
tle?"
"Prince Cesare de' Barletti. Veronica as-
sured me that he is devotedly attached to her.
He was a friend to her in her trouble abroad,
and "
"Barletti is a noble name an old name.
That wretch was a parvenu sprung from the
mud a clay image covered with gilding."
There was a long silence. At length the vicar
spoke again :
" And my daughter was in London, and made
no attempt to see me. She allows me to learn
this news from other lips than her own ! My
son-ow, my misery, my suspense, matter nothing
to her."
" Veronica told me that she would write to
you as soon as we got back to Shipley. She said
that she believed it best, on the sole ground of
consideration for you, for her to wait before ad-
dressing you until all should be settled."
"Settled!" cried the vicar, sharply. "What
was there to settle ?"
" Her her inheritance ; and and the proof
of her marriage. She may have been mistaken
in delaying to communicate with you ; indeed, I
think she was mistaken ; but I do believe she
was sincere when she professed to think it for
the best."
The vicar rose and walked to the door. Ar-
rived there, he paused, and said, " Until she
does address me, and address me in a proper
spirit, I shall take no notice of her whatsoever.
None ! She will still be to me as one dead.
Nothing no human power shall induce me to
waver in my resolution."
Maud could see the vicar's hands waving
through the gloom with the action of repulsing
or pushing away some one.
"She will write to you, dear Uncle Charles,"
said Maud ; still with the same disagreeable per-
ception that the vicar's words and tone were hol-
low, and with the same feeling of being ashamed
of the perception. Then the vicar left the room
and went out into the garden. He relit his pipe,
and as he paced up and down the gravel path
Maud watched his figure for a long time, loom-
ing faintly as he came within range of the light
from the windows of the house, and then reced-
ing again into the darkness. Next day there
came a letter for Mr. Levincourt from Veroni-
ca. Maud recognized her large, j)retentious
handwriting on the black-bordered envelope,
with its crest and monogram, and faint, sweet
perfume. The vicar took the letter to his own
room and read it in private. He did not show
it to Maud, nor communicate its contents to her
further than to say that evening, just before re-
tiring to bed : " It appears, Maud, that the pres-
ent baronet. Sir Matthew Gale, has behaved in
a very becoming manner in immediately receiv-
ing and acknowledging his cousin's widow."
" Oh, dear Uncle Charles, the letter teas from
Veronica! She has written to you. I am so
thankful!"
The tears were in Maud's eyes as she clasped
her hands fervently together and looked up into
her guardian's face. He put his hand on her
head and kissed her forehead.
"Good, sweet, pure-hearted child!" he said,
softly. "Ah, Maudie, would to God that I hail
been blessed with a daughter like you! But I
did not deserve that blessing ; I did not deseiTe
it, Maudie."
It was on all these sayings and doings just
narrated that Maud Desmond was pondering as
she sat alone in the church-yard of St. Gildas.
CHAPTER II.
MISS TURTLE,
Maud sat absorbed in a reverie that prevent-
ed her from hearing a footstep that approached
quickly. Pit-jiat, pit-pat, the step came nearer.
It was light, but as regular as that of a soldier
on the march. Presently, a shabby hat, with an
erratic feather in it, rose above the wall of the
church-yard, and little Miss Turtle, ]\Irs. Meg-
gitt's governess, appeared, with a parcel in one
hand and a basket in the other. She walked
straight up to Maud, and then stopped.
"Good-afternoon, Miss Desmond," said Miss
Turtle, and looked into IVIaud's face with a de-
mure exjjression, half sly, half shy.
"Oh, I I did not see you, iVKss Turtle. How
do you do ?"
"I startled you, I'm afraid. I hope you're
not subject to palpitation. Miss Desmond ? I
am. Oh dear me, I am quite tired! Would
you allow me to seat myself here for a few min-
utes and rest ?"
Maud smiled at the humility of the request.
The wall of St. Gildas's church-yard was cer-
tainly as free to IMiss Turtle as to herself She
made room for the little governess beside her.
Miss Turtle first disposed her ])arcel and basket
on the tn]i of the rough wall, and then made a
queer little spring something like the attempt
to fl,v of a matronl}' barn-door hen unused to
quit terra firma and seated herself beside
them. IMaud was by no means delighted at
thus encountering Miss Turtle. But she was
too gentle and too generous to risk hurting the
little woman's feelings by at once getting up to
dejjart. So she made up her mind to sit a while
and endure ]\Iiss Turtle's discourse as best she
might. They had met before, since Maud's re-
turn to Shipley. Miss Turtle and her two pu-
pils. Farmer Meggitt's daughters, had saluted
Maud as she came out of church on the first
Sunday after her arrival at the vicai'age, having
previously devoured her with their eyes during
the service.
VEllONICA.
137
"And how, if I may venture to inquire, is our
respected viciir?" said Jliss Turtle.
"^Ir. Levincourt is quite well, thank you."
' ' Is he, really ? Ah ! many changes since wo
last had the honor -of seeing you in Shipley, Miss
Desmond."
" Indeed ! If you did not say so, I should
suppose, from what 1 have seen and heard hith-
erto, that there were, on the contrary, \evy fe\v
changes."
"Oh dear me! Mrs. Sack you have heard
about Mrs. Sack ?"'
"No. Is she ill?"
"Joined a AVesleyan congregation at Sliipley
JIagna. Gone over to Dissent, root and branch !
I am surprised that you had not heard of it."
^laud explained tiiat Mrs. Sack's conversion
to Methodism had not been widely discussed in
London.
"And she's not the only one, Miss Desmond,"
pursued the governess.
" Indeed!'
"Oh no, not the only one by any means. A
considerable number of the congregation of St. j
Gildas's have gone over too. They say tliat the ,
dissenting gentleman who preaches at Shipley
Magna (he is not, strictly speaking, a gentle-
man either. Miss Desmond, being in the retail
grocery line, and in a small way of business) is
so veiy earnest. I hope you will not think I did
wrong ; but the truth is, I did go to an evening
meeting at their chapel once, witii Mrs. Sack,
and I must say he was most eloquent. I really
thought at one time that he would have a stroke
or something. The glass in the windows jingled
again, and I came home with a splitting head-
ache."
"He must have been extraordinarily eloquent,
indeed," said Maud, quietly.
" Oh, he was I But then, as I say, where are
your principles, if you let yourself be tempted
away from your church like that? Didn't you
notice. Miss Desmond, how thin the congrega-
tion was last Sunday?"
Maud was obliged to confess that she had no-
ticed it.
"Then there's Mr. Snowe, junior."
" He has not joined the Methodists, has he.
Miss Turtle ?"
" Oh no. Quite the contrary. But he is en-
gaged to be married, I believe, and the lady hates
music. Just fanc\' that, Miss Desmond, and he
such a confirmed amachure. "
Little Miss Turtle shook her head in a mel-
ancholy manner, as though she had been reluct-
antly accusing Herbert Snowe of "confirmed"
gambling or " confirmed" drunkenness.
"Then," said Maud, "I am afiaid we may
lose Mr. Herbert Snowe's assistance at the week-
ly practicings in the school-house."
" Practicings ! Oh dear. Miss Desmond, the
singing-class is nothing now ; nothing to what it
used to be. ^Ir. Mugworthy, he does what he
can. But you know. Miss Desmond, what's the
use of the best intentions when you have to con-
tend with a voice like there! Just like that,
for all the world !"
And ^liss Turtle screwed up her mouth, and
inclined her head toward the distant common,
whence came at that moment the tremulous,
long-drawn ba-a-a of some fleecy mother of the
flock.
Maud could not help laughing as she recog-
nized the resemblance to Mr. Mugworthy's pro-
fessional utterance of the Amen.
"Wh}-, Miss Turtle," she said, "I didn't
know you were so satirical."
"Satirical! Oh pray don't say that. Miss
Desmond. I should be loth, indeed, to think
so of myself. If I was satiiucal, it was quite un-
awares, I assure you."
Miss Turtle fidgeted with her paper parcel,
tightening its strings, and putting it into shape.
Then she peeped into the basket, as if to assure
herself that its contents were safe. She showed
no symptoms of being about to resume her walk,
and there was a mingled hesitation and eager-
ness in her face every time she looked at Jlaud.
These conflicting sentiments at length resolved
themselves into a question that indirectly ap-
proached the main point to which her curiosity
was directed.
" Ahem ! And so. Miss Desmond, you don't
ahem ! you don't find our revered vicar much
broken by all he has gone through ?"
Maud drew herself up, and looked full at the
speaker. But Miss Turtle's wishy-washy little
countenance was so meek and meaningless that
resentment seemed absurd.
The governess's straw hat was somewhat on
one side ; and so was the long ragged feather
tliat adorned it, as it had successively adorned
a long series of hats, beginning Anno Domini
but no matter for the date. JNIiss Turtle and
her black ostrich feather were coeval in the
chronicles of Shipley ; for the good and sufficient
reason that they had immigrated into Daneshire
together. The long feather, wafted hither and
thither by the capricious airs, and made lank and
straight by the capricious showers of spring,
drooped carelessly over the brim of the hat, and
overshadowed Miss Turtles little snub nose, with
a shabbily swaggering air ludicrously at variance
with the expression of the face beneath it.
"I told you that Mr. Levincourt was quite
well," said Maud.
"And you. Miss Desmond," said IMiss Tur-
tle, timidly putting out the tip of her cotton
glove to touch island's black dress, "you too
have had a good deal of trouble. "
" I have lost a dear relative and a true friend."
"To be sure. Oh dear me! Life is a shadow.
How it flies ! Don't you find it so, Miss Des-
mond ? Yon have lost your aunt ; a lady of title
too," added Miss Turtle, with so comical an air
of being shocked and surprised by this circum-
stance above all, and of murmuring reproachfully
to the great democrat. Death, " How covld you ?
a person so well connected, and habitually ad-
dressed by mankind as ' my lady !' " that I\Iand's
sense of humor conquered her sadness, and she
turned away her face lest ]\Iiss Turtle should be
scandalized by the smile on it.
Miss Turtle's next words, however, effectually
sobered the mobile, dimpling mouth.
"Yes; you have lost j-onr aunt and your
unrlf, if what we hear is true."
Maud's heart beat fast, and she could not
speak. Her ner%-es quivered in tlie expectation
of hearing Veronica's name. It was not yet
pronounced, however. Miss Turtle dropped her
chin down on her breast, at the same time throw-
ing back her shoulders stitflj-, and infused a melt-
ing tearfulness into her habitually subdued voice
138
VERONICA.
as she tisked : "And liave. you yet seen INIrs.
riew, Miss Desmond ?"
" Mrs. Mrs. Plew ? No. Poor old Lidy,
how is she ?"
" She's pretty well, thank you, Miss Desmond.
As well as she ever is. She is quite a character
of the olden time ; don't you think so, Miss Des-
mond ?"
"Well, I I I don't know. She seems a
very good old woman," answered Maud, consid-
erably at a loss what to say.
"Of course, Miss Desmond, you have had
great scholastic advantages. And I shouldn't
j)resume to But as far as Pinnock goes. Miss
Desmond, I should say that Mrs. Plew was quite
the moral of a Koman matron!"
jMaud stared in unconcealed surprise.
"I should indeed. Miss Desmond," pursued
the governess, still with the same tearful tender-
ness and a kind of suppressed writhing of her
shoulders.
" I have not read the Roman History in the
original. But, if Pinnock may be relied on, I
sliould say tliat she quite came up to my idea of
tiie mother of the Giacchi," which Miss Turtle
jironounced " Gratcli}'."
Tliere was so long a pause, and Miss Turtle
so jdainly showed that she expected Maud to
speak, that tlie latter, although greatly bewil-
dered, at length said, "I have always supposed
]\Irs. Plew to be a very kind, honest, good old
woman. I can not say she ever struck me in
the light of a Roman matron. I'erhaps, on the
whole, it is a better thing to be an English ma-
tron ; or we, at least, may be excused for think-
ing so. But the fact is, I never was very inti-
mate with Mrs. Plew. It was my"
Maud stojjped, with a flushed face and trem-
bling lip. She had been about to mention V"e-
ronica, and Miss Turtle pounced on the oppor-
tunity thus afforded.
" it was your cousin, or at least we all called
her so. Miss Desmond, although aware that no tie
of blood united you together ; it was Miss Lev-
incourt who was most intimate at the Plews'.
Oh yes, indeed it was ! But, of course, that is
all over. Iliglier s])heres have other claims,
have they not. Miss Desmond ? And that which
tlie ))roud and haughty liave rejected may be very
precious to the humble and lonely, if it would but
think so; may it not. Miss Desmond?"
A light began to dawn in Maud's mind, which
illumined the oracular utterances of Miss Turtle.
Through tlic mincing affectation of the little wo-
man's speech and manner there jiierced tlie tone
of genuine emolion. Still Maud did not under-
staiul why Miss Turtle should have chosen to re-
veal sucii emotion to her.
]\Iaud rose .and held o\it her hand. "Good-
by. Miss Turtle," she said. "Please tell Kitty
and Cissy that I ho])e to see them at the prac-
ticing next Satin-day."
" (lood-by, Miss Desmond. I hojie you won't
take it amiss that I ventured to enter into con-
versation with you."
"By no means! How can you imagine that
I should do so?"
"Nor look upon it in the light of a liberty ?"
"Certainly not. Pray do not s])eak so !"
"Thank you, iMiss Desmond. You were al-
ways so kind and affable !" There was the least
l)Ossiblc stress laid on the personal pronoun, as
though Miss Turtle were mentally distinguishing
^laud from some one who was not always kind
and affable. "And you are just the same as
ever, I'm sure. Miss Desmond. And and if
I didn't fear to offend you, which I wouldn't do
for the world indeed I would not ! I should
like to to to ask " The governess made a
long pause. Maud did not speak ; in fact she
could not. She was too sure in her heart about
whom Miss Turtle desired to ask. The latter
remained silent for some minutes ; but, although
timid in her manner, from years of repression
and snubbing. Miss Turtle was not exquisitely
sensitive, and she had that sort of mild obstinacy
which frequently accompanies stupidity.
Neither Maud's silence, nor her pale, distressed
face, availed therefore to turn ]\Iis Turtle from
the purpose she had had in view when she sat
down on the wall beside the vicar's ward. That
purpose was to ascertain, if possible, what the
truth of Veronica's position really was.
Of course Shipley-in-the-Woki had rung with
gossip about her ; and latterly the gossip had re-
])orted most wonderful to relate something not
far from the actual state of the case.
"I should like to ask," proceeded ^liss Turtle
at length, "if it is true what we hear, that Bliss
Levincourt that is, if all be as we have heard
rumored, she is not, of course, Miss Levincourt
any longer if she is in England again, and and
quite wealthy, and I hope you are not offended,
Miss Desmond !"
"She is in England. She is a widow, and is
left in possession of a considerable fortune."
"Oh dear me ! So it u-as true ?"
Maud bowed, and was moving away.
"One instant. Miss Desmond. I'm afraid
you are angry with me for speaking. But, after
all, it was natural that we should wish to know
the truth ; wasn't it now, Bliss Desmond ?"
Bland reflected that it ivds natural. Her con-
science told her that the movement of sensitive,
pride which made her shrink from hearing Ve-
ronica mentioned by indifferent persons, was far
from being wholly a good movement. She con-
strained herself to hold out her hand once more
to Miss Turtle. The gratitude in the governess's
face rewarded her for the effort.
"Oh, thank you. Bliss Desmond! I should
have been so sorry to hurt your feelings. Of
course you will see BIr. Plew befm-e long, and
then I suppose you you will tell him, won't
you? Of course he will know, so intimate as he
was with the family ; and always sjieaks with
the greatest respect, I'm sure. When he knows
something certain about Bliss Levincourt that
is I'm so used to the name, you see we hope,
his mother and I hope or, at least, slie hopes
for of course I can't presume to put myself for-
ward that he may get to be more comfortable
and settled in his mind. We think him a good
deal changed. Bliss ])esmond. His spirits are
like a plummet of lead, to what they were, I do
assure you. (iood-by, Bliss Desmond, and thank
you very much."
Bland walked home across the paddock and
up the long gravel path in the vicarage garden,
with a feeling of heaviness at her heart. She
was half inclined to hate Bliss Turtle, BIrs. Plew,
and all the people in Shipley. But she resisted
the im])ulse of irritated temper. What was her
vexation compared with the sorrow and trouble
VERONICA.
139
innicteJ on others? If Veronica could but inive
known, if she could but have foreseen !
As she thus thought, she entered the liouse
through the garden door, wliich stood open.
She was going into tiie sitting-room, when she
paused for a moment at the sound of voices
within.
" Go in, go in, Miss Maudie," said old Joanna,
who happened to be in the hall. "You won't
disturb no one. It's only that jjoor creetur, Mr.
riew. a-talking to the vicar."
CHAPTER III.
MRS. PLEW.
"Ax illustrious house, Sir!" the vicar was
saj'ing, as iMaud entered. " A family renowned
in the history of their country. ]\Iy wife was a
scion of a nobler stock than any of these bucolic
squires and squiresses who patronized and looked
down upon the vicar's lady!"
Mr. Plew was standing with his hat in one
hand and his umbrella in the other, beside the
fire-place, and opposite to the vicar's chair.
IMaud had already seen him several times ; but
looking at him now, with the governess's words
ringing in her ears, she perceived that he was
altered. There was the impress of care and suf-
fering on his pale face. JMr. Plew was, on the
whole, a rather ridiculous-looking little man.
Ills insignificant features and light blue eyes
were by no means formed to express tragic emo-
tions. He had, too, a provincial twang in his
speech, and his tongue had never acquired a bold
and certain mastery over the letter h. Never-
theless, more intrinsically ignoble individuals
than Benjamin Plew have been placed in the
onerous position of heroes both in fact and fiction.
" How do you do. Miss Desmond ?" said he.
Maud gave him her hand. His was ungloved,
and its touch was cold as ice. The vicar had
abruptly ceased speaking when Maud came into
the room. But after a short pause he resumed
what he had been saying, with a rather superflu-
ous show of not having been in the least discon-
certed by her entrance.
"The family of of the late baronet have
shown themselves entirely willing to receive her
with every respect. Sir ]\latthew called upon
her, and so forth. But she will have no need of
people of that stamp. The prince's position is
in all respects very different to that of these
parvenus. "
Mr. Plew stood bravely to listen, though with
a dolorous visage. Maud was silent. The vic-
ar's tone pained her inexpressibly. Ic was over-
bearing, tiiiuTiphant, and yet somewhat angi-y ;
the tone of a man who is contradicting his bet-
ter self.
"If," said Mr. Plew, without raising his eyes
from the ground "if Miss Le if Veronica is
happy and contented, and j)nt right with the
world, we shall all have reason to be truly tliank-
ful. She must have gone through a great deal
of suflFering. "
" She gone through a great deal of suffering !"
cried the vicar, with a swift change of mood.
'And what do you suppose her suffering has
been to compare with mine, Sir? We shall all
have reason to be thankful ! We ! Understand
that no one can associate himself with my feel-
ings in this matter ; no one! Who is it that can
put his feelings in comparison witii mine!"
Maud glanced up ciuickiy at Mr. Plew, fear-
ing that he might resent this tone. But the sur-
geon showed neither surprise nor anger. He
passed his hand once or twice across his bald
forehead like a man in jiain, but he said no word.
The vicar jiroceeded for some time in the same
strain. Had any one ever sutfcred such a blow
as he had suffered ? He, a gentleman by birth
and breeding a man of sensitive pride and un-
blemished honor ! Had not his life, jiassed among
stupid peasants and uncultivated country squires,
been dreary enough all these years, but this mis-
ery and disgrace must come to crush him utter-
ly ? Maud was trembling, and distressed be-
yond measure. Mr. Plew remained passive.
Presently the vicar, who had been walking about
the room, ceased speaking, and throwing him-
self into a chair, he covered his eyes with his
hands.
Then Mr. Plew turned to Maud, and said,
"Miss Desmond, I am glad you came in before
I went away, for I came chiefly to sec yon. I
have a message to deliver to you from my mu-
tiier."
,Hc spoke quite quietly, only his face betrayed
the agitation and pain which the vicar's tirade
had caused him.
" A message from Mrs. Plew ? What is it ?"
said Maud, trying to echo his steady tone.
" My mother hopes yon will excuse the liberty
she takes in asking you, but she is almost entire-
ly unable to go out now. Very often she can't
get as far as the church for* weeks together. As
she can not go to see you, Avill you come to see
her. Miss Desmond? It will be a charitable
action."
"Surely I will, if she wishes it."
"She does wish it. Poor soul! she has not
many pleasures, and makes, of course, no new
friends. The sight of your kind face would do
her good."
"When shall I come?"
" Would you drink tea with her tliis evening?
I will see you safe home."
"I don't know whether " Maud was begin-
ning hesitatingly, when the vicar interposed.
"Go, go, Maudie," he said. "I see that yon
are hesitating on my account. But I would rath-
er that you went, my child. I shall be busy this
evening. "
Thus urged, Maud consented, promising to be
at Mr. Plew's cottage by six o'clock. And then
the surgeon took his leave. Maud was surprised
to see the vicar shake hands witfl him, and bid
him good-by, as unconcernedly as though no
hansli or unpleasant word had passed his lips.
But as she walked to Mi-. Plew's cottage that
evening with .loanna, Maud learned from the
lips of the old servant that it was no new thing
for her guardian to be what Joanna called "crab-
by'' with Mr. Plew.
"Lord bless you. Miss Maudie, don't I know,
don't I see it all, think ye ? I'm old enough to
be your grandmother. Miss Maudie, my dear.
And you mark my words, that little man, for all
his soft ways, and bein' in some respects but a
poor creetur, he's gone through a deal for the
vicar. He has his own troubles, has Mr. Plew,
and it isn't for me to say any thing about thcjn.
140
VERONICA.
But I do declare as I never see any mortal bear
with another as he bears with the vicar, except
it was a woman, of course, you know, Miss
Maudie. A woman '11 do as much for them as
she's fond of. But to see his patience, and the
way he'd come evening after evening, whenever
his sick folk could spare him, and talk, or be
talked to, and never say a word about hisself,
but go on letting the vicar fancy as he was the
worst used and hardest put upon mortal in the
world which the poor master he seemed to take
a kind of pride in it, if you can make tliat out,
Miss Maudie. Lord bless you, my dear, it was
for all tlie world like a woman ! For a man in
general won't have the sense to pretend a bit,
even if lie loves you ever so !"
Mrs. Blew received Maud with many demon-
strations of gratification at her visit, and many
apologies for having troubled her to come and
spend a dull evening with a lonely old woman.
Mrs. Blew was rather like her son in person,
mild-eyed, fair, and small. She was somewhat
of an invalid, and sat all day long, sewing or
knitting, in her big chair, and casting an intelli-
gent eye over the household operations of the
little orphan from the work-house, who was her
only servant. She wore a big cap, with a muslin
frill framing her face all round, and a "front"
of false hair, which resembled nothing so much,
both in color and texture, as the outside fibres
of a cocoa-nut. Maud could scarcely repress a
smile as slie looked at the meek figure before
her, and recalled Miss Turtle's grandiloquent
comparisons. The surgeon was not able to be
at home for tea. His portion of home-made
cake, and a small pot of strawberry-jam, were
put ready for him on a small round talle, cov-
ered M'ith a snow-white cloth. The little servant
was instructed to keep the kettle "on the boil,"
so that when her master should return a cup of
hot, fragrant tea should be prepared for him
without delay.
"There," said Mrs. Blew, contemplating these
arrangements, " that '11 be all nice for Benj}-. He
likes strawberry-jam better than any thing you
could give him. I always have some in the
honse."
Maud felt that it was somehow right and char-
acteristic that Mr. Blew should be fond of straw-
berry jam, although slie would have been puz-
zled to say why. Then the old woman sat down
with a great web of worsted knitting in her hand,
and began to talk. Her talk was all of iier son.
What " Bcnjy" said, and did, and thought, fur-
nished an inexhaustible source of interest to her
life.
"Ah, I wislf I'd known more oi you in days
past. Miss Desmond, love," which Mrs. Blew in-
variably pronounced Joove. "Well, well, by-
gones are by-goncs, and talking mends nothing."
Mrs. Blew paused, heaved a deep sigh, and pro-
ceeded.
"To-day Benjy went to the vicarage to a::k
you here, and, wiien he came back, I saw in his
face that minute tiiat he had been upset. ' Any
thing wrong at Siiipley Vicarage, Benjy ?' I said.
' No, mother,' says he. ' Til tell you by-and-by. '
With that he went up stairs into his own room.
I heard liis step on the lioanls overhead ; and
then all was as still as still, for better than an hour.
After that he came down and stood, with his hat
on ready to go out, at tlie door of the parlor.
And he said, ' There's good news for Mr. Levin-
court, mother. ' And then he told me what I
have no need to tell you, love, for you know it
already. And as soon as he'd told it he went
out. And do you know, ]\Iiss Desmond, that
for all he kept his face in shadow, and spoke
quite cheerful, I could see that he'd he'd been
shedding tears. He had indeed, love!"
"Oh, Mrs. Blew!"
"Ay, it is dreadful to think of a grown man
crying, my dear. But it was so. Though I
never set up to be a clever woman, there's no
one so sharp as me to see the truth about my
son. If ever you're a mother yourself, you'll un-
derstand that, love. Well, I sat and pondered
after he was gone. And I thought to myself,
' well now this one thing is certain ; she's far
and away out of his reach for evermore. And
now, perhaps, that things have turned out so,
that there's no need for any one to fret and pine
about what's to become of her, it may be that
Benjy will put his mind at rest, and pluck np a
spirit, and think of doing Avhat I've so long want-
ed him to do.'"
Maud knew not what to say. She felt ashamed
for Veronica before this man's mother, as she
had not yet felt ashamed for her. At length she
faltered out, ' ' Wliat is it you wish your son to
do, Mrs. Blew ?"
"Why, to marry, my dear young lady ; I ain't
one of those mothers that wants their children to
care for nobody but them. It isn't natural nor
right. If my Benjy could but have a good wife,
to take care of him when I am gone, I should be
cjuite happy."
The recollection of IVIiss Turtle came into
Maud's mind, and she said, impulsively (blush-
ing violently the moment the words were out),
"I saw Mrs. Meggitt's governess this after-
noon."
Mrs. Blew had put on her spectacles to see her
knitting, and she glanced over them at ]\Iand
with her pale blue eyes, half surprised, half
pleased.
"To be sure! Miss Turtle. She's a very
good young woman, is Miss Turtle. I'm sure
she has been very kind and attentive to me, and
it don't make me the less grateful, because I see
very well that all the kindness is not for my sake.
I suppose she spoke to you of Benjv ?"
"Yes."
" Ah, to be sure she would I She's very fond
of Benjy, is Miss Turtle, ])Oor thing."
"Does does Mr. Blew like her?" asked
Maud, timidly.
"Oh yes. Miss Desmond, love, he likes her.
He don't do more than like lier at ))resent, I'm
afraid. But that might come, if he would but
make np his mind."
"Miss Turtle seems very fond of you, ma'am,"
said Maud, involuntarily recalling the "Mother
of the Gratchy."
" Why, I do believe she likes me, poor little
thing! She talks a bit of nonsense now and
again about my being so noble-minded and de-
voted to my son. And once she said, that if
she was in my place she was sure that she cotdil
never have the sparkling virtue to give up his af-
fections to another woman, be she ten times Jiis
wife."
"The the what virtue?"'
"Sparkling, I tliink she said. But my hear-
VERONICA.
141
ing is treacherous at times. But, la, my love,
that's only her flummeiy. She means no harm.
And she's good-temj)ered, and lieahliy, and in-
dustrious, and Look here, Miss Desmond,
love," continued the old woman, laying her with-
ered hand on Maud's arm, and lowering her
voice mysteriously; "you have heard IMiss Tur-
tle talk. Any one can see with half an eye how
fond she is of Benjy. IShe makes no secret of
it. Now, if, whenever you've a chance to speak
to Benjy I know he goes to the vicarage i)retty
well every day if you would just say a word for
poor ^^iss Turtle, and try to advise him like "
"Oh, Mrs. riew, how could I do such a thing ?
I am not old enough, nor wise enough, to take
the liberty of otiering my advice to Mr. Tlew, es-
pecially on such a subject. "
"But I don't want you to say it plain right
out, you know. Just drop a word here and a
word there, now and again, in favor of Miss
Turtle. Won't you, now ? Benjy thinks a deal
of what you say."
Thus the old woman prattled on. By-and-by
Mr. riew's step was heard on the gravel j)ath
outside. And his mother hastily whispered to
Maud a prayer that she would not say a word to
"Benjy" about the confidence she h.id been mak-
ing. Then the surgeon came in, and had his tea
at the side-table. And they all sat and chatted
softly in the twilight. It was such a peaceful
scene ; the little parlor was so clean and fragrant
with the smell of dried lavender ; the scanty, old-
fashioned furniture shone with such a speckless
polish ; the clear evening sky was seen through
window-piines as bright as crystal, and the little
surgeon and his mother looked the embodiment
of cozy domestic comfort. How strange it was,
Maud thought, to consider Mr. Blew in the light
of an object of romantic attachment ! Strange,
too, to think of his being a victim to helpless
love ! He ate his strawberry-jam with as quiet
a relish as though the beautiful Veronica Levin-
court had never dazzled his eyes, or made his
pulse beat quickly. Surely it would be good for
him to have a kind little wife to take care of
him !
When she was walking home through the
Shipley lanes with Mr. Blew, Maud endeavored
to lead the conversation on to the subject of
Miss Turtle's merits. Mr. Blew, however, re-
plied absently and monosyllabically to her shyly
uttered remarks. At length, as they neared the
vicarage, Mr. Blew stood still. He took oft' his
hat so as to let the evening air blow on his fore-
head, and looked up at the transparent sky where-
in a few stars twinkled faintly.
"Miss Desmond," he said, "I have not had
!in opportunity of saying a word to you since this
morning. I should not have mentioned her to
you had not the vicar told me that you went to
see her in London. It was very good of you to
see her. God bless you for it, Miss Desmond I"
This was so une.xpected that Maud could find
no word to say in reply.
" How was she looking? Is she changed?"
" Very little changed, I think ; certainly not
less beautiful."
"And did you see the the man she is go-
ing to marry ?"
"No."
" Did she speak of him to \o\\ ? Look here.
Miss Desmond, you need not be afraid to talk to
me of Veronica freely and openly. I under-
stand your kindness and delicacy. You tliink,
jierhaps, that it might jiain me to hear certain
things. But, indeed, to think that she will be
happy gives me great comfort. I am not selfish,
JNIiss Desmond."
"I think that you are most unselfish, most
generous, and it only ])ains me very much to
think of your goodness being unappreciated."
Maud spoke with warmth, and a tear came
into her eye. Site was remembering the vicar's
harsh, unfeeling behavior in the morning.
"Oil, you praise me a great deal too highly,"
said Mr. Blew, looking at her with genuine sur-
prise. "Tlie fact is that I always knew Veroni-
ca to be far above me. I never had any real
hope, though I I Sometimes she liked to
talk to me, and I was fool enough to fancy for a
moment But that was not her fault, you know.
She could not be held responsible for my vanity.
When she went away," he pursued, in a low
voice, almost like one talking to himself, "I
thought at first that I had got a death-blow.
For weeks I believe I did not lightly know what
I was saying and doing. I suppose there was
some kind of instinct in me that kept me from
doing any thing wild or outrageous enough to
get me locked up for a madman. But at the
worst, my grief was more for her than myself;
it was, as true as God's in heaven ! I am not a
fierce man by nature, but if I could have got
hold of of that villain, I woidd have killed him
with no more compunction than you'd crush a
viper. But any man that marries her and treats
her Mell, there's nothing I wouldn't do to serve
Jiim nothing ! All love is over for me. I know
my own shortcomings, and I blame no one. But
she was the first and the last. I know my poor
mother wants me to marry. But it can't be.
Miss Desmond. I'm sorry for her disappoint-
ment, poor soul ! I try to be good to her. She
has been a very good mother to me, bless her !
If it had been possible for Veronica to come
back free, and to have held out her hand to
me, I couldn't have taken it. She could never
be the same woman I loved any more. But
neither can I love any other. I dare say 3'ou
don't understand the feeling. I can not explain
it to myself. Only I know it is so, and must be
so, for as long as I have to live." Then sudden-
ly breaking oft', and looking penitently at Maud,
he said, "Oh, forgive me. Miss Desmond! I
Imasted of not being selfish just now, and liere I
am wearying you witii talk about myself. I hope
you'll excuse it. The truth is, I have no one
that I can s]jeak to about her. I dare not s.ay to
the vicar what I have said to yon. And of course
I don't put forward my trouble when he has so
much of his own to bear. I was led on to talk
almost unawares. You listen so i)atiently and
quietly. Here M^e are at the garden-gate. Shall
1 come up the patliway ? There is Joanna at tlie
door. Good-night, Miss Desmond."
Maud's eyes were so bluri-ed A\itli tears that
slie did not at first perceive that old Joanna had
hastened to the door in order to be the first' to
give her a letter which she now held up triumph-
antly as M.'uid entered.
"A letter. Miss Maudie! One as you'll be
glad to have !"
It was from Hugh. Maud took it, and ran
to her o^vn room to enjoy her treasure.
142
VERONICA.
After a few fond lover's words of greeting, the
first that lier eye lighted on were these: "I
have had a long interview with Ladv Gale."
CHAPTER IV.
AN CNEXPECTED ARRIVAL.
"I HAVE had a long interview witli Ladv
Gale."
It was a minute or so before JIaud recollected
Veronica's announced intention of bestowing a
marriage portion on her, and of speaking to
Hugh on the sixbject. But j\Iaud had warned
her not to ex])ect that Hugh would yield. And
yet Veronica had persisted in her intention. It
was, doubtless, in order to fulfill it that she had
sought Hugh. The further perusal of her letter
contirmed this supposition. Maud might, of
course, have satisfied her mind at once .ts to the
correctnessof her guess; but, instead of doing so,
she had sat for a minute or two, letter in hand,
vaguely wondering and supposing a wayward-
ness of mind that most people have occasionally
experienced under similar circumstances.
" I told her that it could not be," wrote Hugh ;
"that I knew you had already answered for your-
self, and that I must entirely approve and con-
firm your answer. Was not that right, dearest?
She tried, when her first attem]it had failed, to
take a diU'erent tone, and to tell me that it was
ri'/ht and just that you sliould have a jiortion of
the wealtli left by Sir John Gale. She even said
a word about the duty of carrying out her late
husband's intentions! Think of tiiat, Maudie!
But I took the liberty of pointing out to her,
that if tJiat were her object, she must make over
every farthing to you without loss of time, since
it was clear that Sir Joliu Gale had never in-
tended that any j)ortion of his wealth should be
enjoyed by ]ir. I don't think she is used to
such plain speaking, and she looked mightily
astonished."
That was all in the letter relating to Veronica,
excejit a word at the end. "I forgot to say
that her ladyship did me the honor to make me
a confidence. She informe^l me tliat she was to
be married to Prince J5arletti almost immediate-
ly. For obvious reasons the marriage would be
quite quiet. I saw the said prince ; not an ill-
looking fellow, although tliere is something queer
about his eyes. Veronica told me that Sir ^lat-
thew Gale had consented to remain in town in
order to give lier away! I had a strong impres-
sion that she was telling me all this in order that
it might be communicated to you, and by you to
Mr. Levincourt. Oli, my sweet, pure ^laudie,
what a jierfume of goodness seems to surround
you! Only to think of you, after being with
that woman, refreshes one's very soul."
I\Iaud ran down stairs, after reading her letter
through, to communicate to the vicar that ])art
of it which related to his dangliter. But Jlr.
Levincourt was not within. It was past nine
o'clock, yet Joanna said that it was very likely
her master would not be at home for another
hour or more.
"Do you know where he is?" a-ked Maud.
" r don't know for certain. Miss ^laiidie," said
the old woman, dryly ; " hut I'd lay a wager he's
at Meggitt's. lie hasn't lieen there yet since
you've come back. But, for better than three
months before, he's been there constant, evening
after evening. They're no tit company for such
a gentleman as master, farmer folks like them.
I wonder what he can find in them ! But thev
flatter him and butter him up. And i\Irs. ISIeg-
gitt, she goes boasting all over Shipley how thick
her and hers is with the vicar. Good Lord I if
men ben't fools in some things!"
"Hush, Joanna; j-ou must not speak so.
The vicar knows better than you or I either
where it is proper and fit for him to go."
But although she thus rebuked the old serv-
ant, Jlaud did not, in her heart, like this new
intimacy. It was part of the general lowering
she had already noticed in the vicar's character.
She sat down alone in the parlor to re-read
her dear letter. There was but little ne\\s in
it. Hugh was well ; was working hard ; and al-
though he had not yet succeeded in finding the
necessary money for the purchase of the business
in Daneshire, he by no means despaired of doing
so. His mother sent her fond love to Maud, and
missed her sadly. The remainder of the epistle
was full of words of the fondest and warmest
aft'ection. They were very precious and inter-
esting to Maud, but would scarcely be deemed
so by the reader.
It may as Mell be mentioned here that ]\Iaud
was in ignorance of Air. Frost's debt to Ilugli.
He had debated witli himself whether he should
or should not make her acquainted with it ; and
he had decided in tlie negative, perceiving that
it would be impo.ssible to do so without reveal-
ing his mother's story, and that he conceived he
had no right to do without her permission.
]\Iand sat and read, and re-read her letter.
And then she took out the little plain wooden
desk she had used as a child, and set herself to
begin an answer to it. ]\Iore than ludf an hour
passed thus. It was half past ten o'clock, and
still no vicar !
Maud at last began to think that Mr. Levin-
court might prefer not to find her sitting up on
his return. She had an instinctive feeling that
he would a little shrink from saying to her that
he had been passing !iis evening at Farmer Meg-
gitt's. He had never yet. in sjie;dcing witli her,
alluded to the growtli of his intimacy with the
farmer's family. "With this feeling in her mind,
she resolved to write out the words about Veron-
ica's marriage, stating that she copied them from
Hugh's letter, and to lay the paper on the table,
so that the vicar could not fail to see it when he
sliould come in. Just as she had finished her
task he returned.
" You up still, Maud !" said he. " 'Why did
you not go to bed ?'' He spoke with a shar],
querulous tone, very unusual with him when ad-
dressing his ward, and made no allusion as to
where he had been. IMaud was glad that she
had written what tlie vicar had to learn. Siie
slipped the ])a])er into his hand, kissed his fore-
head, and ran quickly up to bed.
The next morning tiie vicar was as bland as
usual, ])erhaps a trifle more bland than he had
been for a long time. He asked Maud how she
had passed the c\euing at Mr. Plew's, and seem-
ed (piite amused l)y her account of Mrs. Plow's
anxiety that her son should marry.
"That little :\Iiss Turtle, hey? Ha, ha. ha!
How absurd it seems to look tqion Plew in tlie
VERONICA.
143
light of an object of hopeless attachment ! There
is an incongruity about it that is deliciously ri-
diculous. "
"I tliink," said Jraud, rather gravely, "that
Mr. riew well deserves to be loved, lie is very
kind and unselfish."
"Oh yes, child. That of course. That is
all very true. There is a great deal of home-
spun, simple goodness of heart about poor Plew.
But that does not prevent his being extremely
comic when considered in a romantic point of
view. But you're a wee bit matter-of-fact, Mand-
ie. Yon don't (juite perceive the humor of the
thing. Wiiich of our modern wnters is it who
observes that women very larely have a sense of
humor? Well, wliy in the world don't Blew
marry little INIiss Turtle? Upon my word I
should say it would do admirably!"
"I'm afraid I think that INIr. Blew is not in
love with Miss Turtle, Uncle Charles."
"My dear ^Nlaudie! How can you be so in-
tensely what shall I say ? solemn ? The idea
of a ' grande passion' between a Blew and a
Turtle is too funny!"
"I think. Uncle Charles," said Maud, reso-
lutely, and not without a thrill of indignation in
her voice, " I do believe that, absurd as it may
seem. Mr. Blew liai^ felt a true and great ]iassion;
that he feels it still ; and that he will never over-
come it as long as he lives."
For one brief instant the vicar's face was cloud-
ed over by a deep, dark frown a frown not so
much of anger as of jiain. But almost imme-
diately he laughed it otf, stroking Maud's bright
hair as he had been used to do wTien she was a
child, and saying, "Booh, pooh, little Maudie!
Little soft-hearted, silly Maudie thinks that be-
cause she has a true lover all the rest of the
world must be in love too ! Set your mind at
rest, little Goldielocks. And go whenever yo\x
can to that poor old woman. It will be but
charitable. Don't think of me. I have occupa-
tions, and duties, and besides, I must learn to
do without your constant companionship, INIaud-
ie. I can not have you always with me. Don't
mope here on my account, my dear child. And
to visit the sick and aged is an act, positively, of
Christian duty."
Again Maud had the painful perception of
something hollow in all this ; and the sense of
being ashamed of the perception. The suspicion
would force itself on her mind that the vicar pur-
posely shut his eyes to the truth of what she had
said of Mr. Blew ; and, moreover, that in urging
her not to stay at home on his account, her guard-
ian Mas providing against her being a check on
his full liberty to pass his own time how and with
whom he ]3leased. Mr. Levincourt srid no word
about the contents of the written paper Maud
had given him. And at the close of the above-
recorded conversation he rose and took his hat,
as though about to go out according to his cus-
tom after breakfast.
"Uncle Charles!" cried Maud, in a low, jjlead-
ing voice, "you have not said any thing did yon
read the paper I gave you last night ?"
"Yes, oh yes, I read it, thank you, my dear
child. I I was not whollv unprepared to hear
that the marriage wotdd take place so soon. In
my daughter's letter to me she said ^justly
enough that there was no real reason for a very
long delav." I
Then the vicar sauntered out of the house, and
down the long gravel-walk, with as unconcerned
an air as he could assume.
" lie seems not to care," thought Maud, with
sorrowful wonder. " He seems to care so much
less than he did about every thing.'"
"Master tL-an at Meggitt's last night. Miss
Maudie,' said Joaima, as she cleared away the
I breakfast things. This was not her usual task.
Catherine, the younger maid, habitually per-
formed it ; and, indeed, Joanna very seldom
now left her own domain of the kitchen. But
it seemed that on tiiis occasion she had come nj)
stairs puri)osely to say those words to Maud.
"Yes, he jrri-e," she repeated, doggedly, i)ro-
voked at Maud's silence, and changing the form
of her affirmation as though she conceived em-
phasis to be in an inverse ratio to grammar.
" Well, Joanna?"'
" Oh, very well, of course. Miss Maudie ! It's
all right enough, I dare say. Bless your sweet
face! " added the old woman, with sudden com-
punction at her own ill-humor, "I'm pleased and
thankful as you'll have a good husband to take
care of you, and a house of your own to go to,
my dearie. It was real pretty of you to tell old
Joanna all about it when you came back. 'Tis
the best bit of news IVe heard this many a long
day."
Catherine coming into the room at this junc-
ture (much surprised to see herself forestalled in
her duty), began with youthful indiscretion to
announce that she had just seen Mrs. Meggitt at
the "general shop ;" and that Mrs. Meggitt was
as high and saucy as high and saucy could be;
and that folks did say She was, at this point,
ignominiously cut short by Joanna, who demanded
sternly what she meant b}- gossiping open-mouthed
before her betters. She was further informed
that some excuse might be made for her igno-
rance, as not having had the ad\antage of having
lived with "county families!" not but what she
-might have picked up a little manners, serving
as she did a real gentleman like the vicar, and a
real, right-down, thorough-bred lady like Miss
Maudie! And was finally sent down stairs,
somewhat indignant and very much astonished.
Maud was pained and puzzled by all this. And
her mind dwelt more and more on the change
she observed in her guardian. Tliere was only
one person (always saving and excepting Hugh.
But then Hugh was far away. And, besides, her
great endeavor was to make her letters to him
cheerful, and not to add to his cares) there was
but one to whom she could ventuie to hint at this
source of trouble.
The friend in whom she could unhesitatingly
confide was IVIrs. Sheardown ; and IMaud longed
for an ojiportunity of talking with her. But
here, again, things had become difTerent during
her more than twelve months' absence from
Shipley. The vicar had withdrawn himself from
the Sheardowns, as he had withdrawn himself
from other friends and acquaintances. The cap-
tain and his wife still came to St. Gildas, but
Joanna said it was nearly three months since
the}' had set foot within the vicarage ; and the
master never went to Lowater. Maud had seen
her kind friends at church. They had greeted
heron leaving St. Gildas with all their old warmth
of affection ; and Mrs. Sheardown had said some
word about her coming to Lowater so soon as the
Hi
VERONICA.
vicar could spare her. But they had not been to
tlie vicarage, nor liad Maud tliought it right to
otter to leave her guardian alone so soon after
her return. Now, however, she yearned so much
for the sweetness of Nelly Sheardown's womanly
sympathy, and the support of Nelly Sheardown's
womanly sense, that she sent otf a note to Lowa-
ter House, asking what day she might go over
there, as she longed to see and speak witli its
dear master and mistress. A reply came back
as quickly as it was i^ossible for it to come. This
Mas the answer :
"Darling Maud, How sweet of you not to
mistrust us ! Wc have not been to see you, dear
girl, but the wherefores (various) must be ex-
jilained when we meet. Come on Saturday and
sleep. We will bring you back when we drive
in to church the next day, if it needs must be so.
Tom and Bobby send you their best (Bobby
amends my phrase. He insists on veri/ best)
love. Present our regards to the vicar.
"Ever, dear Maud,
"Your loving friend, N. S."
This was on Monday. Maud easily obtained
tlie vicar's permission to accept Mrs. Shear-
down's invitation.
"Oh, certainly," he said. " Go by all means.
It would be hard to expect you to give up your
friends and share the loneliness of my life."
The fact was tliat the vicar's life was not lone-
ly. Maud, as she thought of the companions he
chose, and the society he had voluntarily aljan-
doned, felt that a lonely life would have been
better for her guardian than that which he led.
However, she looked forward eagerly to her visit
to Lowater.
But before the appointed Saturday arrived an
event happened whicli put every thing else out
of Maud's mind for a while. She iiad been out
one morning, visiting some poor sick people in
the village, and her way homeward lying in tlie
neighborhood of IMrs. Flew's cottage, she had
called tliere, to have a chat with the old lady.
It was rather later than she had intended when
she left Mrs. Flew's ; and she hastened home,
fearing to be late for the two o'clock dinner.
"When slie readied the vicarage, tlie house door
stood ajar. That was no new thing. Maud en-
tered quietly and looked into the dining-room.
There was no one there, nor in the parlor. Her
guardian had not yet come in, then. The house
was very silent. She called Joanna. No one
answered, and there was no sound of voices in
the kitchen. Maud ran down stairs, and found
the kitchen emjity ; but through tlie lattice win-
dow she saw Joanna, Catherine, and Joe Dow-
sett, the groom, apparently in eager conversa-
tion. Tliey were standing beside the stable door
at some distance from the house.
"Joanna," called Maud. "Is it not dinner
time? Where is Mr. Levincourt?"
"Lord a mercy, there's Miss Maudiel" cried
Joanna, as excitedly as though the young girl's
apparition was of the most unexpected and tre-
mendous nature. Then she hobbled (piickly up
to the kitchen door, where- JMaud stood, followed
by Catherine.
"Is any thing the matter?" asked Maud.
" Not a bit on it, Miss Maudie. Don't ye be
flustered. Only the master's not coming home
to dinner. He's gone to Sliii)ley I\Iagna."
"To Shipley Magna!"
"Yes: here's Joe Dowsett as '11 tell you all
about it. Joe, Joe, come here ! And who do
you think, Miss INIaudie, my dear, is at the
Crown Inn there?"
" At the Crown Inn ? What do you mean ?"
" Why, IMiss Veronica ! At least JNIiss Veron-
ica as was. And her new husband."
CHAPTER V.
PRINCE AND PRINCESS.
At the Crown Inn in Shipley Magna there
was intense excitement. Nothing like it had
been known there within the memory of man,
for, although the house boasted a tradition that
a royal and gallant son of England had once
passed a night beneath its roof, no one living
in the old inn at the period of our story could
remember that glorious occasion. Now there
occupied the best rooms a foreign prince and
princess I And there was the princess's maid,
and the prince's valet, who were extremely supe-
rior, and troublesome, and discontented. And
there had arrived a pair of horses, and a gor-
geous carriage, and a London coachman, who
was not quite so discontented as the maid and
the valet, but fully as imposing and aristocratic
in his own line. And as if these oircumstances
were not sufficiently interesting and stirring,
tliere was added to them the crowning fact that
tlie "princess" was a Daneshire lady, born and
bred in the neighborhood, and that the scandal
of her elopement and she a clergyman's daugh-
ter! was yet fresh and green in the chronicles
of Shipley Magna. What had they come for?
The hunting season was over; and the hunting
was the only rational and legitimate reason why
a stranger should ever come to Shipley JNIagna
at all. At least, so opined the united conclaves
of stable-yaid and kitchen who sat in permanent
judgment on the actions of their social supe-
riors.
"Mayhap she have come to see her father,"
hazarded an apple-cheeked young scullery-maid,
timidly. But this suggestion was scouted as
highly improbable. Father, indeed ! -What did
such as her care for fathers ? She wo#ldn't ha'
gone off and left him the way she did if so be
she'd ha' had much feeling for licr fatlier. Siie'd
a pretty good clieek to come back there at all
after the way she'd disgraced herself And this
here prince if so be he icere a prince must
feel pretty uncomfortable when he thought about
it. But to be sure lie was a I-talian, and so,
much in the way of moral indignation couldn't
be exi)ccted from him. And then, you know,
/icr mother was a foreigner. Certainly Mrs.
Levincourt had never done nothing amiss, so far
as the united conclaves could tell. But, you see,
it come out in the duiKjhter. Once a foreigner
always a foreigner, you might depend upon that !
Nevertheless, in spite of the opinion of that
critical and fallible ]iit audience that contem-
plates the performance of the more or less gilt
heroes and heroines Avho strut and fret their
hour on the stage of high life, a messenger was
dispatched in a fly to Shii)ley-in-tlie-WoId, on
the first morning after tlie arrival of tlie Prince
aud I'riucess de' Barletti, and the messenger
VERONICA.
14.-)
was the bearer of a note aclilressed to the Rever-
end Charles Levinconrt, Shipley Vicarage. Tlie
motives which liad induced ^'elonica to revisit
Daneshire were not entirely clear to herself. It
was a caprice, she said. And then she supposed
that she ought to try to see her father. Unless
she made the first advance, he probably would
never see her more. Well, she would make the
advance. That she felt the advance easier to
make from her jiresent vantage-ground of pros-
perity slie did not utter aloud.
Then there was in Veronica's heart an unap-
peased longing to dazzle, to surprise, to over-
whelm her old acquaintances with her new grand-
eur. She even had a secret hope that such
county magnates as Lady Alicia Ilenwick would
receive her with the consideration due to a
Princess de' Earletti. Lastly in the catalogue
of motives for her visit to lShii)ley Magna must
be set down a desire for any change that prom-
ised excitement. She had been married to Ce-
sare five days, and was bored to death. As to
Prince Cesare, he was willing to go wheresoever
Veronica thought it good to go. He would fain
have entered into some of the gayeties of the
London season that was just beginning, and have
recompensed himself for bis enforced dullness
during the first weary weeks of his stay in En-
gland. But he yielded readily to his bride's de-
sire ; and, besides, he really had a strong feel-
ing -that it would be but decent and becoming
on her part to present herself to her'father.
Veronica, Princess Cesare de' Barletti, was ly-
ing at full length on a broad squab sofa in the
best sitting-room that the Crown could boast.
Her husband sat opposite to her, half buried in
an easy-chair, "whence he rose occasionally to
look out of the window, or to i)lay with a small
Spitz dog that lay curled up on a cushion on the
liroad window-sill. Veronica gave a quick, im-
patient sigh, and turned uneasily.
"Anima mia," said Cesare. "What is the
matter?"
"Nothing! Faugh! IIow stuffy the room
is!"
"Shall I open the window?"
"Nonsense! Open the window with an east
wind blowing over the wolds right into the room?
You don't know the Shipley climate as well as I
do !"
"How delicious it must be at Naples now!"
observed Cesaie, wistfully.
"I hope I may never see Naples again! I
hate it!"
"Oibo! Never see Naples again ? You don't
mean it!"
" What a time that man is gone to Shipley !"
" Is it fiir to your father's house?"
" I told you. Five English miles. It is no
distance. 1 could have walked there and back
in the time."
" It is a pity, cara mia, that you did not take
my advice and go yourself. I should have been
delighted to accompany you. It would have
been more becoming toward your father."
"No, Cesare; it is not a pity. And, j'ou do
not understand."
"I can, in truth, see no reason why a daugh-
ter should not pay her father the respect of go-
ing to him in person. Especially after such a
long absence."
"I tell vou, simpleton, that papa would rath-
K
er himself have the option of coming here if he
prefers it instead of my walking in to the vicar-
age unexpectedly, and causing a fuss and an es-
clandre, and who knows," she added, more
gloomily, "'whether he will choose to see me
at all?"
"See you at all! Why should he not? He
he will not be displeased at your marriage
with me, will he ?"
"No no. I do not fancy he will be dis-
pleased at that !" returned Veronica, with a half-
compassionate glance at her bridegroom. In
truth Cesare was very far from having any idea
of the service his name could do to Veronica.
Ho was a poor devil ; she a wealthy widow.
Per Pacco ! How many of his countrymen
would jump at such an alliance! Not to men-
tion that the lady was a young and beautiful
woman with w hom he wiis passionately in love !
"Very well then, mio tesoro adorato, then I
maintain that it behooved us to go to your father.
As to a fuss why, of course, there would be
some agreeable excitement in seeing you once
more in j'our own home !" said Cesare, to whose
imagination a "fuss" that involved no personal
exertion on his own part was by no means a
terrible prospect. After a moment's silence,
broken only by the ill-tempered "yap" of the
sleepy little Spitz dog, whose ears he was pidl-
ing, Cesare resumed: "What did you say to
your father, Veronica mia? You would not let
me see the note. I wished to have added a line
expressive of my respect and desire to see
him."
' ' That doesn't matter. You can say all your
pretty speeches viva voce."
The truth was that Veronica would have been
most unwilling that Cesare should see her letter
to her father. It was couched in terms more
like those of an enemy tired of hostilities, and
willing to make peace, than such as would have
befitted a penitent and affectionate daughter.
But it was not ill calculated to produce the ef-
fect she desired on the vicar. She had kept well
before him the facts of her princess-ship, of her
wealth, and of the brilliant social position which
(she was persuaded) was awaiting her. A prod-
igal son, who should have returned in rags and
tatters, and been barked at by the house-dog,
would have had a much worse chance with Mr.
Levincourt than one who should have appeared
in such guise as to elicit the respectful bows of
every lackey in his father's hall. People have
widely different conceptions of what is disgrace-
ful. Then, too, Veronica had clearly conveyed
in her note that if her father would come to see
her, he should be spared a "scene." No exi-
gent demands should be made on his emotions.
A combination of circumstances favored the re-
ception of her letter by the vicar. He was alone
in his garden when the fly drove up to the gate.
Maud was absent. There was not even a serv-
ant's eye upon him, imder whose inspection he
might have deemed it necessary to assume a rig-
or and indignation he had ceased to feel. There
was the caniage waiting to take him back at
once if he wou'.d go. He felt th.it if he did not
seize this opportunity, he might never see his
daughter more. After scarcely a minute's hesi-
tation, he opened the house door, called to Jo-
anna that he was going to Shipley Magna, and
stepped into the vehicle. It chanced, as the
146
VERONICA.
reader is aware, that liis servants knew as well
as he did who it was that awaited him at Ship-
ley Magna. Joe Dowsett had met his friend,
the head hostler of the Crown Inn, at Sack's
farm, that morning, and the arrival of the prince
and princess had been fully discussed between
them. But of this tlie vicar was in happy ig-
norance, as he was driven along the winding
road across "the hills" to Sliipley.
"Here is our messenger returned !" exclaimed
Barletti, suddenly, as from his post at the win-
dow he perceived the fly jingling up the High
Street. " It is he ! I recognize the horse by his
fiitness. Sommi dei, is he fat, that animal ! And
I think I see some one inside the carriage. Yes
yes! It is, it must be your fotherl"
Veronica sprang from the sofo, and ran to-
ward a door that led into the adjoining chamber.
"Stay, dearest; that is not the way!" cried
Cesare. " Come, here is the door of the corri-
dor; come, we will go down and meet him to-
gether. "
But that had been by no means Veronica's in-
tention. In the first agitation of learning her fa-
ther's approach she had started up with simply
an instinctive, unreasoning impulse to run away.
At Cesare's words she strove to command her-
self, and sank down again in a sitting posture on
the sofo.
"No no no, Cesare," she said, in a low,
breathless tone. "I I was crazy to think of
such a thing ! It would never do to meet pajja
in the inn -yard before nil those people. He
would not like it. Stay with me, Cesare."
She took his hand in hers, and held it with an
almost convulsively tight grasp. Thus they wait-
ed silently, hand in hand. Her emotion had in-
fected Cesare, and he had turned quite pale. It
was probably not more than three minutes from
the moment of Cesare's first seeing the fly that
they waited thus. But it seemed to Veronica as
though a long period had elapsed between that
moment and the opening of the sitting-room
door.
' ' The vicar of Shipley, " announced the prince's
English valet, who condescended to act on occa-
sion as groom of the chambers.
"Papa!"
"^ly dear child ! My dear Veronica!"
It was over. The meeting looked forward to
with sucli mingled feelings had taken place, al-
most without a tear being shed. The vicar's eyes
were moistened a little. Veronica did not cry,
but she was as pale as the false color on her
cheeks would let her be, and she trembled, and
her heart beat fast ; but she alone knew this,
and she strove to hide it. She had put her
arms round her fother's neck and kisseil him.
And he had held her for a moment in his em-
brace. Then they sat down side by side on the
sofa. And then they perceived, for the first
time, that Prince Cesare de' Barletti, who had
retired to the window, was crying in a ([uite un-
concealed manner, and noisily using a large white
pocket-handkerchief, which filled the whole room
with an odor as of a perfumer's shop.
"Cesare," called Veronica, "come hither.
Let me present you to my father."
Cesare wiped his eyes, put the odoriferous
handkerchief into iiis pocket, and advanced with
extended hands to the vicar. He would have
embraced him, hut he conceived that that would
have been a solecism in English manners ; and
Cesare flattered himself that although his knowl-
edge of the language was as yet imperfect, he
had very happily acquired the outward bearing
of an Englishman.
" It is a moment I have long desired," said he,
shaking the vicar's right hand between both his.
"The father of my beloved wife may be assured
of my truest respect and affection."
There was a real charm and grace in the way
in which Cesare said these words. It was entire-
ly free from awkwardness or constraint ; and ut-
tered in his native Italian, the words themselves
appeared thoroughly simple and natural.
Mr. Levincourt was favorably impressed by
his son-in-law at once. He warmly returned
the grasp of Cesare's hand, and said to his
daughter, "Tell I'rince Barletti that, although
my Italian has grown rusty on my tongue, I
fully understand what he says, and thank him
for it."
" Oh, Cesare speaks a little English," returned
Veronica, smiling. She was growing more at
her ease every moment. The reaction from her
brief trepidation and depression sent her spirits
up rapidly. She recovered herself sufficiently to
observe her father's face closely, and to think,
"Papa is really a very handsome man still. I
wonder if Cesare expected to see a person of
such distinguished aiijiearance." Then in the
next instant she noticed that the vicar's dress
was decidedly less careful than of yore : and she
perceived in his bearing in the negligence of
his attitude some traces of that subtle, general
deterioration which it had so pained Maud to dis-
cover. But she was seeing him under a better
aspect than any ]Maud had yet witnessed since
her return to Shipley. The vicar was not so far
changed from his foimer self as to be indifferent
to the impression he was making on Prince Bar-
letti. Tiiey all three sat and talked much as
they might have done had Veronica parted from
her father to go on a wedding -tour with her
bridegroom, and was meeting him for the first
time after a happy honey-moon. They sat and
talked almost as though such a being as Sir John
Gale had never crossed the threshold of Shij)ley
vicarage. In Cesare this came about naturally
enough. But Veronica, des])ite her languid prin-
cess air, was ceaselessly on the watch to turn his
indiscreet tongue from dangerous to])ics.
And so things went on with delightful smooth-
ness. The vicar, being pressed, consented to re-
main and dine with his daughter and son-in-law,
and to be driven home by them in the evening.
Down stairs the united conclaves were greatly in-
terested in this new act of the drama, and criti-
cised the performers in it with considerable vi-
vacity.
CHAPTER VI.
IIOMIC, SWEET HOME !
"And how long do you purpose remaining
here?" asked the vicar, addressing his son-in-
law, as they sat at table. "I presume this is
merely on the way to some other jilace. Do you
go northward? It is too early for the Lakes,
and still more so for the Highlands."
Cesare looked at his wife.
"Well, how long we remain will de])end on
VERONICA.
h;
several things, " ansncied Veronica. " We were
not en route for any .special destination. 1 did
not know that JShipley Magna roiild be en route
for any place. No ; we came down here to see
you, papa."
"Yet you have had a carriage sent down, you
say ?"
"Ah, yes; an' 'orses," put in Cesare; "I-a,
want-a, to guide-a."
" Don't be alarmed, papa. Cesare is not go-
ing to drive us this evening. We have a pretty
good coachman, I believe."
"Then you had some intention of making a
stay here?"
"Well, yes, I sup])ose so. But really I don't
think I ever have what you would call an inten-
tion. That suggests such a vigorou.s operation
of the mind. We shall stay if it suits us. If
not not ; don't you know ?"
Veronica uttered these words with the most
exaggerated assumption of languid fine-ladyism.
The time had been when such an affectation on
lier part would not have escaped some caustic
reproof from the vicar's tongue. As it was, he
merely looked at her in silence. Cesare followed
his glance, and shook his head compassionately.
"Ah," said he, in his own language, "she is
not strong, our dearest Veronica. She has cer-
tain moments so languid, so depressed."
The vicar was for a second uncertain whether
Barletti spoke ironically or in good faith. But
there was no mistaking the simplicity of his face.
"Is she not strong?" said the vicar. "She
used to be very healthy. "
"Oh, I am quite well, papa. Only I get so
tired," drawled out the princess.
Her father looked at her again more attentive-
ly. Her skin was so artificially colored that
there was small indication of the real state of
her health to be drawn from that. But the dark
rings round her eyes were natural. Her figure
had not grown thinner, but her hands seemed
wasted, and there was a slight puffy fullness
about her cheeks and jaw.
" She does not look very strong," said the vic-
ar; "and I have observed that she eats no-
thing. "
"No! Is it not true? I have told her so,
have I not, mia cara? You are right. Signer
Vicario ; she eats nothing. More Champagne ?
Don't take it. Who knows what stuff it is made
of?"
"Cesare, I beg you will not be absurd," re-
turned Veronica, with a frown, and an angry
flush of her eyes. "It keeps me up. I require
stimulants. Don't you remember the doctor
said I required stimulants?"
" Apropos of doctors," said the vioar, with an
amused smile, "you have not asked after little
Plew. "
"Oh, poor little Plew! What is he doing?"
asked Veronica. She had subsided again into
her nonchalant air, temporarily interrupted by
the flash of temper, and asked after Mr. Plew
with the tolerant condescension of a superior
being.
" What - a is Ploo ?" demanded the ])rince.
The vicar explained. And, being cheered by
a good dinner and a glass of very fair sherry (he
had prudently eschewed the Crown Champagne)
into something as near jollity as he ever ap-
proached for the vicar was a man who could
smile, but rarely laughed he treated them to a
burlesque account of JMiss Turtle's passion.
"How immensely comic!" said Veronica,
slowly. She had reached such a point of prin-
cess-ship tiiat she could barely take the trouble
to part her red lips in a smile at the expense of
these lower creatures. Nevertheless there was
in her heart a movement of very vulgar and
plebeian jealousy. Jealousy ! Jealousy of i\Ir.
Plow? Jealousy of power ; jealousy of admira-
tion ; jealousy of the hold she had over this man ;
jealousy, yes, jealousy of the possibility of the
village surgeon comjjaring her to her disadvan-
tage with any other woman, and giving to that
other something that, with all his blind idolatry
of old days, she felt he had never given to her
sincere and manly respect. She would not have
him feel for any woman what an honest man
feels for his honest wife.
"I suppose," she said, after a pause, "that
poor little Plew will marrj' her. "
"Oh, I suppose so," returned the vicar, care-
lessly. "It would do very well. Maud thinks
he will not ; but that's nonsense. Plew is not
verj^ enterprising or ardent, but if the lady will
but persevere he 11 yield : not a doubt of it !"
"Ah!" exclaimed Veronica, toying with her
bracelet, and looking as though she were ineffa-
bly weary of the whole subject. In that moment
she was foreseeing a gleam of wished-for excite-
ment in Shipley.
After dinner which had been expressly or-
dered a couple of hours earlier than usual they
all drove along the winding turf-bordered road
toward Shi])ley-in-the-Wold. It was a clear
spring evening. The distant prospect melted
away into faint blues and grays. A shower had
hung bright drops on the budding hawthorn
hedges. The air blew sweet and fresh across
the rolling wold. Not one of the three persons
who occupied Prince Cesare Barletti's handsome
carriage was special!}^ pervious to the influences
of such a scene and hour. But they all, from
whatsoever motive, kept silence for a time. Bar-
letti enjoyed the smooth easy motion of the well-
hung vehicle. But he thought the landscape
around him very dull. And, besides, he was the
victim of an unfulfilled ambition to mount up on
the high box and drive. He was speculating on
the chances of Veronica's permitting him to do
so as they drove back from the vicarage. But
then, even if she consented, what was to become
of Dickinson, his man, who was seated beside
the coachman ? He coidd not be put into the
carriage with his mistress, that was clear. To
be sure the distance was not very great. He
might he might perhaps walk back ! But even
as this bold idea passed through Cesare's mind
he dismissed it, as knowing it to appertain to
the category of day-dreams. Dickinson was a
very oppressive personage to his master. His
gravity, severity, and machine-like imperturba-
bility kept poor Cesare in subjection. Not that
Cesare had not a sufficient strain of the grand
seigneur in him to have asserted his own will and
pleasure, with perfect disregard to the opinion of
any servant of his own nation, but he relied on
Dickinson to assist him in his endeavor to acquire
the tone of English manners.
His first rebuff' from Dickinson had been in
the matter of a pair of drab gaiters which the
prince had bought on his own responsibility.
148
VERONICA.
These he had put on to sally forth in at St.
Leonard's, whither he had gone with his bride
immediately on his marriage; and in conjunction
with a tartan neck-cloth fastened by a gold fox's
head with garnet eyes, they had given him, he
flattered himself, the air of a distinguished mem-
ber of the Jockey Club at the very least. Dick-
inson's disapproval of the gaiters was, however,
so pronounced, that Cesare reluctantly aban-
doned them. And from that hour his valet's
iron rule over his wardrobe was established.
On these and such-like weighty matters was
Prince Barletti pondering as he rolled along in
his carriage. Veronica leaned back in an elab-
orately easy attitude, and while apparently steeped
in elegant languor, was keeping a sharp look-out
in case her secret desire of meeting some old ac-
quaintance on the road should chance to be ful-
iilled. The vicar was busy with his own private
thoughts and speculations. The road was quite
deserted until they neared the village of Shipley.
Then the noise of the passing carriage attracted
one or two faces to the cottage windows, and a
dog or two barked violently at the heels of the
horses. Such of tiie denizens of Shipley as saw
Prince Barletti's equipage stared at it until it
was out of sight. It was all so bright and showy,
and brand-new. Very different from the solid,
well-preserved vehicles in which most of the
neighboring gentry were seen to drive about the
country. There was a great blazon of arms on
the shining panels. The coachman's livery was
of outlandish gorgeousness, and the harness glit-
tered with silver. A vivid recollection darted
into Veronica's mind, as the carriage dashed
tin-ough the village street, of that moonlit night
when the jingling old fly from the Crown Inn,
which she and her father occupied, had drawn
aside to let Dr. Begbie's carriage pass, as they
drove home from the dinner-party at Lowater
House.
"Who is that respectable signora?" asked
Cesare of his wife, at the same time raising
his hat and executing a bow with much suav-
ity.
" Eh ? Where ? What respectable signora ?
' ' There that rotund, blooming English ma-
tron. What a freshness on her cheeks '. "
It was Mrs. Meggitt to whom Barletti alluded.
The worthy woman's cheeks were indeed all
aglow with exciten3nt. She stood by the way-
side, nodding and smiling to tiie vicar, who
slightly one might almost say furtively re-
turned her salute. From behind the ample
shelter of ]\Irs. Meggitt's shoulder appeared the
pale, pinched countenance of Miss Turtle. Her
eyes saw notiiing but Veronica. Their wide,
steady stare took in every detail of the beau-
ty's rich garments : the delicate, costly little
bonnet sitting so lightly on a comjjlicated mass
of jetty coils and plaits ; the gleam of a ciiain
around her neck ; tlie perfection of Iier gray
gloves ; the low, elaborate waves of hair on her
forehead ; and be sure tliat Miss Turtle did not
fail to observe that the princess was painted I
"Cesare! Percarital. What are you doing?
Pray, be quiet!" exclaimed Veronica, quickly,
as she saw her lord about to pull olf his hat once
more.
"Ma come? Cosa c'e? Why may I not
bow to the respectable matron?"
"Nonsense; be quiet! She is a farmer's
wife. And I must say, I never saw a more
presumptuous manner of saluting her clergy-
man. What has come to the woman, papa?
She is nodding and grinning like a ridiculous
old china image I"
" She did not nod and grin at you, Veronica,"
returned the vicar, with unexpected heat, and in
a flurried, quick way. "I have a great liking
and and respect a great respect for Mrs.
Meggitt. I have received kindness and com-
fort from her and hers when I was deserted and
alone. Yes, quite lonely and miserable. And
let me tell you, that it would have done you no
harm to return her salute. If you expect Ship-
ley people to ko-too to you, you are mistaken.
Your husband, who was to the manner born, un-
derstands how to play prince a great deal better
than you have yet learned to act princess !"
Veronica was too genuinely surprised to utter
a word. But silence was in keeping with the
tone of disdainful nonchalance she had lately
chosen to assume, and eked out by a slight
raising of the brows, and a still slighter shrug
of the shoulders, it was sufficiently expressive.
Cesare did not understand all that had passed
between the father and daughter, and indeed had
paid but slight attention to it, being occupied
with gazing after ^Irs. IVIeggitt. He was de-
lighted with the good lady's appearance, as ap-
proaching more nearly than any thing he had
3-et seen to his ideal of the color, form, and size
of a thorough-bred, average Englishwoman.
He had not got over his fit of admiration when
the carriage arrived at the corner of Bassett's
Lane, which, as the reader knows, was skirted
on one side by the Mall of the vicarage garden.
The coachman pulled up his horses, and Dickin-
son, hat in hand, looked down into the carriage
for orders.
"Which way is he to take, your 'Ighness?''
demanded Dickinson.
Suddenly it rushed upon Veronica that she
could not bear to be driven up Bassett's Lane
to the back-door of the garden. She had felt no
emotion, or scarcely any, so far, on revisiting
her old home. But the events of a certain Feb-
ruar}' gloaming were so indissolubly associated in
her memoiy with that one special spot that she
shuddered to approach it. The whole scene was
instantly present to her mind the chill miuky
sky, the heap of flint stones, tlie carter holding
the trembling horse, and on the ground Joe Dow-
sett, with that unconscious, scarlet-coated, mud-
bespattered figure in his arms !
Siie sank back shivering into a comer of the
carriage, and said, in a voice little louder than
a whisper, "Not that way, papa!" The vicar
partly understood her feeling. But he could not
understand why that spot, and that alone, out
of all the numerous places and persons connect-
ed with the past that she had hitherto seen,
should so move her. She herself could not have
told wliy ; but it indubitably was so.
Cesare had marked her changing face and
voice. He leaned forward and took her hand.
"Cara mia diletta," he murmured, "you are
chill ! This evening air is too sharp for you.
j I saw you shiver ! Did not your maid jiut a
shawl into the carriage ? Let me wrap you more
I warmly."
Veronica accepted his assumption, and suff'er-
I ed herself to be enfolded in the shawl. The vicar
VERONICA.
Ht)
meanwhile explained to Dickinson the road which
the coachman must follow to approach the vicar-
age by the side of St. Gildas.
"You will see a specimen of our ancient
church architecture," said ^Ir. Leviiicourt to
his son-in-law, in labored and highly uncollo-
quial Italian.
Cesare professed himself much interested.
But when his eyes liglited on the squat tower
of the old church, and the bleak, barren grave-
yard, he stared around iiim as though he had in
some way missed the object he Mas bidden to
look at, and as though that could not surely be
the "specimen of ancient church architecture."
"Why, there is Maudie on the look-out for
me," said the vicar. "How surprised she will
be ! And who is that with her? I declare it is
yes, positively it is ]Mr. Plew!"
CHAPTER VII.
MRS. PLEVV SPEAKS HER MIND.
Maud's visit to Lowater took place as ar-
ranged. Only instead of remaining merely a
day with the Sheardowns she staid in their house
a week. Mrs. Sheardown had strongly urged,
almost insisted on, this.
" You have not now the plea that you can not
leave the vicar to be lonely," she said. "The
vicar has no lack of society and excitement at
present. As for you, I don't tliink you desire
to share in either the society or the excitement.
Do you think Hugh would like that you should ?
Stay with us. I shall tell Hugh that I have tak-
en good care of his treasure, and he will be grate-
ful to me."
As to Veronica's presence in Shipley I\Iagna,
Mrs. Sheardown did not trust herself to say very
much on that score to Maud. She did say a few
words quietly, but sternly, disapproving the pro-
ceeding. And Maud was unable to gainsay her.
But in si)eaking to her husband, Nelly Shear-
down gave utterance to her disgust and indigna-
tion quite vehemently.
" Did you ever hear of such a thing, Tom ?
Did any one ever hear of such a thing ? The
woman must have lost all sense of decency I"
"Why, Nelly," retumed the captain, "have
I not heard you say more than once that if that
misguided girl were to return you would not
turn your back on her, but would hold out a
helping hand to her in any way that you could?
Have I heard you say that, or did I dream it?"
"You know that you have heard me say it.
And I do not repent of having said it. But you
are not speaking fairly. You know very well,
Tom, that my ' helping hand' was to lie con-
tingent on a very different state of things from
that which actually exists. If slie had shown
any penitence, any remorse for the misery she
caused, any consideration for others, I would
have done what I could for her; more, I con-
fess, for Maud's sake and the vicar's than her
own. But to come back here under the present
circumstances ; not letting even a sufficient time
elapse to soften the memory of her disgi-ace ;
flaunting her ill-gotten riches and her contempt-
ible husband in the face of eveiy body who has
known her from childhood "
" Contemptible husband ! Why, my dear lit-
tle wife, you know nothing about him at all
events!"
"Do I not know the circumstances under
which his marriage was made?"
"Certainly not."
"I know, at least, so much of them as suf-
fices to prove that he must be a man without
any sense of honor, or dignity, or even decency!
That he is, in short, as I said contemptible !"
Tiie captain had thought it necessary to en-
deavor to stem his warm-hearted wife's vehe-
mence with a little show of that judicial impar-
tiality which so becomes a man, and which he
is usually so ready to display for the edification
of the weaker sex in cases that do not touch his
own passions or prejudices. But in his heart
Captain Sheardown was little less shocked and
disgusted at Veronica's conduct than his wife
was, and he warmly concurred with her in de-
siring to keep Maud as far as possible apart from
the vicar's daugliter. There were other rea-
sons, also, why the Sheardowns considered the
vicarage to be no longer a pleasant or desirable
home for Maud Desmond. But of these they
did not speak to her fully.
"Perhaps it may be all idle gossip and ru-
mor," said Captain Sheardown, half interroga-
tively, to his wife.
" Perhaps it may," she returned, with an ex-
pressive shake of the head.
"At all events, there is no need to vex Maud
with what may turn out to be all false, vulgar
scandal."
" No need at all, dear. But it is not very easy
to me to dissemble. Once or twice lately Maud
has spoken with some anxiety of the vicar, and
I assure you it has been on the tip of my tongue
to tell her the report we had heard."
"Gulp it down again, like a brave little wo-
man."
Meanwhile the reappearance of Veronica in
her new character of Princess de' Barletti was
the theme of discussion and animadversion in
half the houses in the county. Mrs. Begbie had
nearly fointed when she heard it. She had said
to her maid, who had first conveyed the infonna-
tion to her, "No, Tomlins. I can not believe
you. I will not, I must not, think so evil of my
own sex." AVlien subsequently the atrocious
fact had been confirmed, Mrs. Begbie had been
thrown into quite a low, nervous state by it. The
sight of her innocent Emmie, and the recollection
tliat that pure scion of the united houses of Gaf-
fer and De Wynkyn had been in the same room,
had actually breathed the same air with the creat-
ure, was too much for her. But finally I\Irs.
Begbie had found strength to rouse herself, and
to take a stand against the barefticed audacity
of continental corruption, as she characterized
the visit of the Prince and Princess de' Barletti
to the Crown Inn at Shipley Magna. Sucli, at
least, was Mrs. Begbie's own account of the va-
rious phases of feeling she had gone through.
Lady Alicia Kenwick was very grim and sar-
castic on the occasion. Disapproving Veronica's
proceeding quite as strongly as Jlrs. Begbie dis-
a[)proved it, her ladyship could not resist tlic
pleasure of metaphorically digging her sharp
beak into the pulpy self-complacency of Miss
Emma.
"Ay," she said, dryly. " It's a curious social
fact that yon brazen flirt, without a penny to her
150
VERONICA.
tocher, as we say in the north, should have got
two husbands (for, ye know, that wretch Gale
married her), one a baronet and the other a
prince, no less and the young fellow really and
truly well bora : the Barlettis come 6f an illus-
trious line that that good-for-nothing hussy, I
say, should get two such husbands by nothing in
the world but her handsome face, while so many
of our -N-irtuous young virgins can"t manage to
get married for the hfe of them. And dear
knows it isn't for want of energy in trying, as
far as my obsen-ation goes."
"Lady Alicia," said INIrs. Begbie, with dig-
nity, "no well brought-up girl would put forth
the the lures, for so I must call them, which I
have seen exercised by that creature f Men
are unfortunately weak enough to be attracted
by that sort of thing."
"Oh, men are fools enough for any thing, 1
grant you," replied Lady Alicia, giving up the
male sex en masse with the greatest liberality.
"They tell me," pursued Mrs. Begbie, who,
despite her virtuous indignation, seemed unable
to quit the discussion of Veronica's altered for-
tunes, "that this person has brought down a
caiTiage and horses splendid horses! and a
suit of servants with her to the Crown Inn. And
her dress is something incredible in its extrava-
gance. She makes three toilets a day "
"Four, mamma," put in Miss Begbie.
" p]mmie ! I beseech you not to enter into this
topic. Indeed, I regret that it has ever been
mentioned before you at all."
" Oh, I don't think it will do Miss Emmie any
harm," said Lady Alicia, with an inscrutable
fiice.
"No, Lady Alicia. You are right. I feel
obliged to you forjudging my child so correctly.
But still it is a pity that the bloom of youthful
freshness should be injured by a too early ac-
quaintance with the wickedness of the world !"
"And they sny she painis awfully!" observed
Miss Begbie, in whose mind the word "bloom"
had conjured up by association this crowning
iniquity of Veronica.
Mrs. Begbie executed a quite g}-mnastic shud-
der.
"It positively makes me ill to think of her !"
said she.
" H'ra. I don't remember that ye were so
overcome when the girl first ran off', were you?
Ay ? Well, my memory may be at fault. But
I understand very well it is aggravating to peo-
ple especially to people with daughters to see
that sort of thing flourishing and prospering."
"Vice, Lady Alicia, never prospers in the
long run!"
" Oh, of course not. To be sure not. "We
have high authority for that, Mrs. Begbie. But
then ye see it's often such a very long run."
The above conversation is a jjretty fair speci-
men of the light in which the Princess de' Bar-
letti's appearance at Shipley was looked on by
the Daneshire society.
Could Veronica have overheard one morning's
chat in any dressing-room or boudoir whose in-
mates' favor or countenance she desired, she
would have at once despaired of making good
her footing as a member of the " county" circles.
It may seem strange that she had ever for a mo-
ment conceived the hope that the gentry of the
neighborhood would receive her. But she had
an exaggerated idea of the power of monev.
And she thought that the bright refulgence of
her new rank would dazzle the world from a too
close inspection of old blots and spots on her fair
fame. And then it had all been vague in her
mind. There had perhaps been hardly any defi-
nite expectation of what would occur when she
should be at Shipley. But she had had a gen-
eral idea of awaking envy and admiration and
astonishment ; of dashing past old acquaintances
in a brilliant equipage ; of being addressed as
"your highness" within hearing of unpolished
Daneshire persons devoid of a proper sense of
the distinction of classes, and who had habitual-
ly spoken of her in her childish days as "the
vicar's little lass!" And these things in pros-
pect had appeared to her to suffice. But after a
day or two she became aware how strongly she
desired to be visited and received by persons
whose approval or non - approval made Fate in
Daneshire society. She was entirely unnoticed
except by one person.
This solitary exception sened but to empha-
size more strongly the marked neglect of the rest.
Lord George Segrave called on her. Lord
George had taken Hammick Lodge for a term
of years. He had never been down there at that
time of year before. But his health wouldn't
stand a London season ; getting old, you know,
and that sort of thing. to, as he had to pay for
the place, he had come down to the Lodge to
pass a month or so until it should be time to go
to Schwalbach. And he had heard that Prince
Cesare and the princess whom he had the hon-
or of perfectly remembering as JMiss Levincourt
were at the Crown. So he had called, and
that sort of thing. And he should be uncom-
monly charmed if the prince would come and
dine witli him and one or two friends, any day
that might suit him. And Cesare accepted the
invitation with something like eagerness, and
announced that he should drive himself over to
Hammick Lodge very soon. This promise he
kept, having his horses harnessed to a nonde-
script vehicle, which the landlord of the Crowu
called a dog-cart; and sending tlie London
coachman, who sat beside him, to the verge of
apojilexy by his unprofessional and incompetent
handling of the ribbons. The vicar had pleaded
his parish duties as a reason why he could not
go very frequently to Siiipley INIagna. Maud
was with the Sheardowns. And besides, Hugh
Lockwood, in his interview with Veronica, had
so jdainly conveyed his determination to keep his
future wife apart from her, that Veronica had
chosen not to risk a refusal by asking Maud to
come to her. They had met but for a reW min-
utes on the evening when \'eronica had driven
her fiither back to the vicarage. Veronica had
niH alighted. She had looked at her old home
across the drear little grave-yard, and had turned
and gone back in her grand cariiage. But on
that same occasion she had seen Mr. Plew.
There needed but a small share of feminine
acuteness to read in the surgeon's face the in-
tense and painful emotions which the sight of
her awakened within him. She was still para-
mount over him. She could still i)Iay with idle,
careless, capricious fingers on his heart-strings.
It was a pastime that she did not intend to deny
herself.
But what she could not see, and had not no-
VERONICA.
151
bleness enough even to guess at, was the intense
pity, the passion of sorrow over the tarnished
brightness of her piuitv, that swelled her old
lover's heart almost to breaking. She hud never
jjossessed the tiiialities needful to inspire the best
reverence that a man can give to a woman. And
it may be that in the little surgeon's inmost con-
science there luul ever been some unacknowledged
sense of this. 15ut he had looked njjon her with
such idolatrous admiration ; he had been so unself-
ishly content to worship from a hund)le distance ;
he had so associated her beauty and brightness
with every thing that was bright and beautiful in
his life, that her degradation had wounded him
to the (juick. She hud never been to him as
other mortals, wlio must strive and struggle with
evil and weukness. He hud not even thought of
her as of a woman fust clinging to some rock of
truth in the great ocean of existence, and sup-
plying her own feebleness by its steady strength.
She had been to his fancy a creature to whom it
v.-as simply natural and inevitable to be brilliant
and stainless as the petal of a lily. And novv^ she
was smirched and fallen. After the first parox-
ysms of impotent rage against the man who had
taken her away, almost the bitterest reflection of
all was the reflection how base a bait had tempt-
ed lier.
When her carriage stopped at the gate of St.
Gildas's church-yard, and he advanced, liat in
hand, and touched very sliglitly touched her
proffered hand, and stammered a few incoherent
words of greeting, in his shy, awkward, unpol-
ished manner, Veronica thought, " He is over-
come at seeing me again, and seeing me in this
pomp ! Poor little Tlew ! He really is not a
bad fellow ; and I sha'n't forget the good turn he
did me about forwarding my letter. " Her grat-
itude did not by any means go to the extent of
relinquishing her power to torture his feelings.
Eut the truth, could siie have read it in his heart,
was, that he was crushed by the humiliation of
being ashamed for her. And yet lie loved her
still. A more perfect being would doubtless have
ceased to love that which his moral sense told
him ought to be utterly unlovable. But ]\Ir.
Plew was a very far from perfect being; and
from the nature of the case, and the nature of
the man, there was mingled with his love an al-
most feminine passion of pity which rendered it
indestructible.
" You used to have patients in Shipley Magna,
Jlr. riew, "the " princess" had said, graciously.
"Whenever your professional duties bi-ing you
there, mind you come and see ns !"
But two days, three days, passed, and Mr.
Plew did not appear at the Crown Inn. Veron-
ica had, in her security that he would come, given
orders that he should be admitted at any time.
Still, he did not appear. Then came Lord
George Segrave's invitation to Cesare. Veron-
ica told him by all means to go, and told herself
that it was a relief to get rid of him for a day.
Poor Cesare was very fond of her ; almost too
fond of her. It became a bore to have his con-
stant presence. But when he was gone, and she
was left alone with no companion but her maid,
and no resource but the inspection of her jewel-
box, she began to feel depressed.
" I'm getting into a horrible habit of being
low-spirited," she thought. " It is hubit, I sup-
pose. I want keeping up. This leaden weight
is intolei'able. Bah ! I won't stay in this odious
hole ! I always hated it. I don't know whether
one always comes back to one's old loves, but I
do believe one returns unfailingly to one's old
hates. I will go away. But where? Diomio!
Any where ! Back to town. But meanwhile I
positively am not well. I ought to see some one.
I'll send' for little Plew!"
Miss Turtle hap])ened to be spending the aft-
ernoon with old Mrs. Plew, when the Princess
de' Barletti's ])ink, perfumed note was brought
into the cottage by a servant fiom the(^rown Inn.
Mr. Plew was not at home. He was expected
back in the course of an hour or so. Very good,
the man said. He would jnit up his horse and
gig in the village, and return in the course of an
hour to see if the doctor (so Mr. Plew was al-
ways styled in Shipley parlance) had come in.
He had orders to Avait and drive him back to
Shipley Magna. Was any thing the matter?
Any one ill ? Not that he knew, special. The
lady as they called Barley-etty seemed a bit out
o' sorts. But /te couldn't say much about it.
The moment the groom's back was turned, the
two women pounced upon the note. They felt
it, they smelt it, they turned it this way and that.
"V. B.," said ]\Iiss Turtle, deciphering the
monogram. "And a crown above. The paper's
for all the world like satin. And lioiv it is per-
fumed !"
"Ah! It smells to me like them yellow loz-
engers in tlie surger}'," said Mrs. Plew, pushing
the note away from her with a little dissatisfied
gesture.
" What a bold handwriting !" exclaimed Miss
Turtle. " Quite the aristocrat. Oh, dear me!
I suppose Mr. Benjamin will be taken up with
high society now. "
The tip of the poor governess's little nose be-
came red, and her eyes filled with tears. Mrs.
Plew grasped her wooden knitting-needles more
tightly than was her wont, and shook her head
^vith the tremulous movement of age.
. "If you could but have seen the carriage she
was in," whispered Miss Turtle, plaintively. She
was by nature and habit so humble-mincled that
her jealous comparison of herself with Veronica
had only resulted in her crushing sense of the
latter's overwhelming superiority in all points.
" But I did describe it to you, didn't I ? And
the silver on the horses' liarness ? Mrs. Meggitt
thinks a deal of her spoons, but la ! Mrs. Plew,
I tell you Mrs. Meggitt's spoons would be but a
drop in the ocean if you were to melt them down
to ornament that harness. And then the bonnet
slie had on. And leaning back with such an el-
egant kind of a loll against the cushions. She
was painted," said poor Miss Turtle, making a
faint little protest on behalf of her own self-re-
spect. She at least was never painted. But she
added almost immediately, with a profound sigh,
" But I have been told they all do it in high life."
Still old Mrs. Plew kept her lips closed, and
her head shook tremulously. In a few minutes
the surgeon came in. Miss Turtle looked at his
mother as though expecting her to speak of the
note from Shipley JMagna. But the old woman
said not a word.
" There's a a note for you, Mr. Benjamin,"
said JMiss Turtle, timidly ; and at the same in-
stant his eye lighted on it as it lay on the table.
He took it up (juickly, and walked to the window
152
VERONICA.
as though to get i better light as he read it, turn- 1
ing his back on the tv/o women.
" Where is the n^essenger ?" he asked, looking
round. " There is mention here of a man and
gig waiting to take me back."
"The man said he'd be here again in an hour,
Mr. Benjamin. We thought that is, your mo-
ther expected you back by tlien. "
"I must wait for him then, I suppose," said
Mr. riew, pulling out his watch, and beginning
to walk softly up and down the room. "It's a
a patient. The Princess Barletti, in fact.
She is not very well, and wishes to see me. It
really is very good of you to give my mother so
much of your company. Miss Turtle."
Then Mrs. Flew unclosed her lips and spake.
" Benjy, love, don't you go."
"Mother!"
"Benjy, darling, don't you go."
"Not go to see a patient when I am sent for !"
"Benjy, love, I don't believe she's ill a bit
more than you are. Nor so bad either, if feel-
ings could count. And if she is bad let her send
for Doctor Gunnery from Danecester, and not
for them that she's treated so heartless, and
cruel, and shameful."
Mr. Plew had turned ashy pale, and was stand-
ing quite still, staring at his mother. The little
governess sat with clasped hands and parted lips,
glancing nervously from one to the other. IShe
was dumfoundered at Mrs. Plew's unexampled
boldness and eloquence. The Mooden needles
clicked and rattled in the old woman's trembling
hands. A bright red spot burned on each with-
ered cheek ; and she went on in a strained voice
unlike her natural soft tones.
"Shameful, and cruel, and heartless she's
treated one that she's not worthy to tie his shoe-
strings! A painted, wanton thing, i)laying her
airs to break an honest man's heart! A man
that might have had a good loving wife, and good
loving children at his knee but for her. Beauty !
Why there's women in the world, common, plain-
looking women, with common coarse clothes on
their backs, that to my eyes seem as beautiful as
the saints and angels beside her ! She's bad ;
bad, and wicked, and wanton ! And a paint-
ed"
She stopped suddenly with the opprobrious
word on her lips. Her son, without uttering a
syllable, had dropped into a chair and covered
his face with his hands. The governess cow-
ered, awe-stricken, and trembling like a fright-
ened bird. The knitting fell from the old wo-
man's hands. She sat as still as tliough she had
been turned to stone for a minute or so, looking
at her son. Tlicn all at once she got up, went to
him, and put her hand on his bowed head.
"Benjy," she said, "my own dear boy, for-
give your ])oor old mother ! And may God for-
give her for saying a word to hurt the best son
that ever mortal woman bore into this world !
I don't know what came over me, Benjy. I
couldn't help it. 'Twas as if I fain must speak.
I'll not say another word, love ; not another
word. Oh, my boy, don't. be angry with your
poor mother. I sh.i'n't be here to trouble you
long ! And Benjy 'twas only because I love
you so, my own dear darling." Mr. Plew re-
moved one hand from his face, and jnit it out to
take his mother's. She raised it to her lips and
kissed it. "Thank you, my boy," she said, with
pathetic humility. And then with all the an-
gry flush gone from her face, and the tears
streaming down it she feebly tottered out of the
room. Miss Turtle rose and followed her to the
door. There she turned, and said, in a quite
placid, almost cheerful, tone. " You needn't be
anxious about your mother, Mr. Benjamin. I'll
stay with her, and look after her whilst you're
gone. Your mother's used to me. And for me
it's a real pleasure to do any thing for her; it
is indeed !"
" God bless you for your kindness. I shall
always be grateful to you, and be your friend
with all my heart if you will let me be so," an-
swered the surgeon.
Within a quarter of an hour he was on his
road to Shipley Magna.
CHAPTER VIII.
AN AWKWARD lUIOM.
"But, I assure you, I suffer unspeakably from
nervous depression ! You don't know how I sink
down like a leaden weight dropped into water
sometimes. It is the most dreadful feeling!
And besides, I take scarcely any thing. A glass
or two of Champagne at dinner is the only thing
that keeps me up !"
"It seems to me that the reaction you com-
plain of feeling ought to be sufiicieut to convince
you that even the small quantity of wine you
take is doing you harm instead of good."
"Ah, bah! I don't beUeve you understand
the case."
Veronica threw herself back on her chair witli
the pettish air of a spoiled child.
j\Ir. Plew sat opposite to her, ver\' grave, very
quiet. He had put aside all her gracious coquet-
ries, and entered into her reason for sending for
him in a manner so entirely unexpected by her
that for some time she could not credit her
senses, but kept awaiting the moment when he
should go back to being the Mr. Plew of old
days. At last, when she found that he persisted
in his serious demeanor, she lost her temper, and
showed that she had lost it.
But not even this change of mood availed to
shake Mr. Plew's steadiness. And gradually a
vagus fear stole over her. He looked at her so
earnestly, with something so like compassion in
his eyes! Good God, was slie realh/ very ill?
Did his practiced observation discern latent mal-
ady of which she was herself unconscious ? Was
the weariness and depression of soul from which
she did in truth suffer but the precursor of bodi-
ly disease, perhajjs even of ? She shuddered
with a very unaffected terror, and her smiles,
and archings of the brow, and haughty curvings
of the lip, and pretty, false grimaces, dropped
away from her face like a mask.
" Do you think I am ill ?" she asked, with di-
lated eyes.
"Do not 1/ou think so, since you sent for
me ?"
"Yes, yes; but I mean vert/ ill seriously ill,
you know ! You look so strange ! "
" 1 do not think you are well, madam."
"What is it?'"' she asked, faintly. "You
must tell me the truth. But there can't be dan-
ger. Don't tell me if you think so ! It would
VERONICA.
'153
only frighten me. And of course I know it's
all nonsense. And you ivill tell nie the truth,
won't you ?"
Her self-possession was all gone. The unrea-
soning terror of disease and death, which she
inherited from her mother, had taken hold upon
her.
The egotism which enabled her so effectually
to resist the sorrows and sufferings of others, be-
yond a mere transitory movement of dilettante
sentiment, made her terribly, exquisitely sensitive
to her own.
'"Don't be alarmed," said Mr. I'lew, gently.
"There is no need."
"Why do you look so, then? And sjieak
so ? I have never been ill since I was a child
not really ill. It would be so dreadful to be ill
now!"
The tears were absolutely in her eyes as she
spoke. In the presence of a stranger she might
have succeeded in commanding herself more,
but with I\Ir. Plew she did not even attempt to
do so.
It pained him greatly to see her tears.
"There is really no cause for your distress,"
he said. "You are frightening yourself quite
needlessly."
"You said I was not well," she answered, in
a tone of peevish reproach.
"You have no ailment that a little care and
common-sense will not cure. You do not live a
liealthy life. You do not take sufficient exer-
cise. Y'ou were accustomed in your girlhood to
walk, and to be out in the open air. There is
something febrile and overstrained about you."
"I can't walk. Y"ou see that I am easily tired
that I want support. I have no appetite. I
am not so strong as I was."
" You will never be stronger unless you shake
off the habits of inertness and languor that have
crept over you."
"I am not languid when there is any thing to
interest or excite me. But what am I to do
when I feel bored to death ?"
" Boredom" was not a disease with which IVIr.
Plew's village practice had made him fomiliar.
" If you were to get up at six o'clock, and
take a walk before breakfast, I am sure you would
feel the benefit of it," said he, very simply.
Veronica's panic was passing away. A dis-
order that could be alleviated by getting up and
walking out at six o'clock in the morning was
evidently, she conceived, not of an alaiming na-
ture.
"My dear Mr. Plew," she said, with a little
faint smile, "you are accustomed to prescribe
for Shijfley constitutions. Now, Shijiloy peojilc,
among other charming qualities, are famous for
robustness ; if I were to say rude health, you
would think I was malicious. As fur me, such
violent proceedings as you speak of would simply
kill me. Can't you give mc something to keep
me up a little ? 8ome some what is the prop-
er technicalitv? some stimulants isn't that the
word ?"
"Fresh air is an excellent stimulant tlie best
I know."
Veronica looked at his candid, simple f;ice
searchingly. She looked once, and withdrew
her eyes. Then slie looked again, and the sec-
ond time she waved her hiind as though dismiss-
ing something.
"Let us talk no more of my nonsensical ail-
ments," she said. "I ought to be ashamed of
myself for having brought you here to listen to
the recital of them."
"No, Veronica I beg pardon. No; do not
say that. I hoi)e you will send for me wlienever
you think I can be of use. It would be more to
me than, perhaps, you can imagine, to know
that I was of real use to you, and that you relied
on mc."
Her face briglitened. This was move like the
tone she had expected from her old adorer. Poor
little Plew ! Yes ; she really did like him very
much. After all, there was something touching
in his humble worship.
She made answer with a soft, liquid, beaming
glance of her beautiful eyes: "My dear, good
Mr. Plew we always ircre good friends in the
old days, were we not':* I think I gave you
proof once upon a time that I relied on you. I
have never had an opportunity of saying to you
how grateful I A\as, and am, and always shall be,
for your forwarding that letter!"
She held out her jeweled hand to him as she
spoke, with a gesture of irresistible grace and
spontaneity. I\Ir. Plew \\as not in the least
graceful. He took the slender white hand for
an instant, looked at it as though it were some
frail, precious thing, which a too rough touch
might break or injure, and then gently let it go
again.
He liked to hear her speak so, to hear her al-
lude to the "old days," and acknowledge so
candidly her obligation regarding that letter he
had sent to Maud (the outer cover, with its few
words addressed to himself, was treasured in a
little rose-wood box, which was the only reposi-
tory, except the chest in the surgery containing
poisons, that Mr. Plew ever locked). It showed
a heart still unspoiled, still capable of generous
movements. Poor Mr. Plew !
Veronica saw the impression she had made.
Without conscious and deliberate duplicity, but
from sheer habit and instinct, slie assumed the
tone most of all adapted to win the surgeon's ad-
miration. He was not quite so meek and so
weak, not quite so easily dazzled by tinsel glo-
ries, as she had been wont to think him. She
had made a little mistake with her airs of "bonne
pvincesse" and spoiled child.
Now she was all feeling, all candor, all ingen-
uous confidence. She had suffered much, very
much. She had too much pride to ajtpeal to the
sympathies of the envious vulgar. To strangers
she presented a front as cold and impassible as
their own. So few had enough nobility of nature
to be exempt from love of detraction. Her rank!
Well, her husband was of her own kindred. Her
mother had been a Barletti. Those who grudged
her her social elevation did not know that in ac-
cepting it she was but assuming tlie rank of her
ancestors. But all that was of trifling conse-
quence to her. She had married Cesare because
he was devoted to her, and because she was grate-
ful and really yes, really attached to him. No
one knew the real facts of her story. Those
were betweeri herself and one who was gone for-
ever. If she revealed them the world would un-
derstand and forgive much that it had judged
harshly. No matter. She was incapable of
stooping to make such an appeal to those whom
her heart did not value. With a true friend it
loi
VERONICA.
was diflevent. She had never vet spoken to anv
one as she was speaking then to Mr. Flew.
He took his leave in a state of bewildennent,
out of which only three clear convictions arose
namely, that Veronica Levincourt had been more
nnhappy than culpable, that her beauty was the
least of her attractive and lovable qualities, and
that few of her sex would be capable of her mag-
nanimous candor.
As he stood for an instant, hat in hand, in the
doorway, Veronica resolved to put the crowning
spell on her enchantments.
"Do you know what I mean to do, IMr. Flew?"
said she, with a smile of mingled sweetness and
melancholy. "I mean to drive over to-morrow
afternoon and see your good mother. She must
not think I have forgotten her."'
I\[r. Plew almost staggered. If a reservoir of
ice-cold water had been opened above his head
he could scarcely have been for the moment more
disconcerted.
"Oh, no, no, yon mustn't!'' he exclaimed,
with as hasty an impulse of fright and apprehen-
sion as though the Princess de' Barletti had been
about to transport herself into his cottage that
instant.
" ^Mustn't !" echoed Veronica, thinking he had
misunderstood her. " I must not do what?"
" I don't mean ' must not,' of course. And it
is very good and kind of you to think of it. But,
I think I believe I should advise in fact, you
had better not."
"Why?" demanded Veronica, more puzzled
than oft'ended by the unceremonious rejection of
her profl'ered condescension.
"Because Well my mother is a dear,
good woman. No son ever had a better mother,
and I love her and respect her with all my heart.
But she is old ; and old peo]jle are not easily
]jersuaded. And she has some notions and prej-
udices which can not be overcome ; and I should
be sorry to treat them roughly. I would it were
otherwise : but I think you had better not come
to see us."
Veronica understood it all now.
"Poor dear old soul!"' said she, with a com-
passionate smile. "I did not know she had
grown too feeble to see people."
" She did not comprehend she misunderstood
my meaning about mother," thought j\Ir. Plew,
as he walked slowly and meditatively out of the
inn -yard. "Perhaps it is all the' better. It
would only have hurt her to know the truth."
^Meanwhile, tlie subject of his reflections was
pondering with knit brows, flushed cheek, and
tightly-closed lips, on the incredible and infuii-
ating circumstance that "that ignorant, low-
born, idiotic old woman" should dare to refuse to
receive the Princess Cesare de' Barletti !
When Cesare returned that evening from
ITammick Lodge, and gave his wife an account
of Lord George's dinner-party, which he said
had been exceedingly pleasant, he appealed to
her for enlightenment as to an Lnglish phrase
whicli had puzzled him.
" English!" said Veronica, conveying into her
voice and manner a skillful mingling of insolence
and indifference for Mr. Piew's revelation had
galled her unspeakably, and she was by no means
in an amiable mood. "You don't mean to say
that you tried to speak English ?"
"Yes, I tried!' answered Cesare, simply.
"But Lorgiorgio speaks French pretty well, and
so did some of the others. So I was not embar-
rassed to make myself understood. And, do vou
know, signora mia, that I make progress in my
English ! Per Bacco, I shall soon be an accom-
plished Cockani I"
"An accomplished ichat ? Cockney ? IIov/
ineffably absurd you are, Cesare!"'
"Tanle grazie! You don't spoil one with
compliments ! But listen : what do they mean
when they say that one wears a tight corset ?"
"How can I (juess what you have in your
head ? Who says so ? I suppose that if any one
says so, he means simply what the words' con-
vey. "
"Niente! Not at all! There is another
meaning. You shall judge. There was a yoimg
man at dinner named Sno. I remembered that
name Signor Neve! What a comical patro-
nymic ! AVell, Signor Sno asked me if we had
seen much of your friend Miss Desmond since
we had been in this place. He spoke in French.
And I told him no ; we had not had that pleas-
ure, for she was visiting in the house of some
friends. Then a man a great hunter of t!ic
fox, Lorgiorgio told me laughed, and said to
Sno in English, 'No, no. They took Miss Des-
mond out of the way. They did not want her to
have any thing to say to the princess. They are
too' I can not remember the word, but I know
it meant "
"Strait-laced?" suggested Veronica, with
flashing eyes, and quickly-heaving bosom.
"Ecco! Precisely! And now what did he
mean by saying that the friends in question were
too tight-laced ?"
" He meant He meant to be insolent, and
odious, and insulting ! How could Lord George
permit such audacious impertinence in your pres-
ence?"
"Eh?" exclaimed Cesare, greatly amazed.
"I had no idea! I thought it was a jest!
Xorgiorgio called out to the man to take some
wine and stop his mouth. The others did not
laugh, it is true," he added, reflectively. "And
they looked at me oddly."
"I will not stay another day in this hateful,
barbarous, boorish den !" cried Veronica. And
then she burst into a passion of angry tears.
"Diavolo!" muttered Cesare, staring at her
in much consternation. " Explain to me, cara
mia, what it means exactly, this accursed tight-
lacing!"
" I have told you enough," retunied Veronica,
through her tears. "Don't, for Heaven's sake,
begin to tease me ! I ran not bear it."
"Listen, Veronica,'' said Cesare, stroking
down his mustache with a quick, lithe move-
ment of the hand that was strangely suggestive
of cruelty, "you must answer me. Ladies do
not understand these things. But if your red-
faced chaser of the fox permitted himself an im-
])ertinence in my presence at the exjiense of my
wife he must receive a lesson in good manners.''
" Cesare ! I hope you have no absurd notion
in your head of making a scandal."
" No ; I shall merely correct one."
" Cesare ! Cesare ! you surely are not indulg-
ing in any wild idea of Oh, the thing is too
ridiculous to be thought of. Entirely contraiy
to our modern manners and customs "
" Giuro a Dio!" exclaimed her husband, seiz-
VERONICA.
15.'
iug her wrist, "don't preach to mo, but answer,
do yon hear?"'
Tlie sudden explosion of animal fury in his
face and voice frightened her so thoroughly that
she was for the moment incapable of obeying
him.
" Oh, for Heaven's sake, Cesare ! Don't look
so! You you startle me. What is it you want ?
Oh my poor head, how it throbs! Wait an in-
stant. Well the foolish word means means
I hardly know what I'm saying it means
strict, prudisli, coliet-monte'. Sviiat that man
was saying I dare say he was not quite sober
was that the Sheardowns were too prudish and
particular to like Maud to associate with me.
There, I have told you. And I'll never for-
give you, Cesare, for behaving in this way to
me, never I"'
Cesare dropped her wrist. " Che, che !" he
said. "Is that all? Diamine, it seems to me
that the impertinence was to those others, not to
you. Do ice want the visits of prudes and ' colli
torti !' And you cry for tliat? Women, women,
who can understand you ?"
Veronica gathered her draperies together and
swept out of the room with her face buried in her
handkerchief. She told her maid that she had
a violent headache. And her maid told Dickin-
son that she was sure "monsieur and madarae"
had been having a dreadful quarrel ; which an-
nouncement ]\Ir. Dickinson received with the
profoundly philosophical remark : "Oh! Well,
you know, they'd have had to begin some time or
other. "
And the prince lit a cigar, and leaned out of
window to smoke it, partly peiutent and partly
cross. And as he smoked he could not help
thinking how very much pleasanter and jollier it
had been at Ilammick Lodge than it was in the
best sitting-room of the Crown ; and hS\v utter-
ly impossible it was to calculate on the capricious
and unreasonable temper of his wife.
CHAPTER IX.
A Ri;sorECK.
The evening of Lord George Segrave's dinner-
party was the first occasion on which Cesare de'
Barletti had given his wife a glimi)se of the brute
fuiy that was latent under his gentle lazy de-
meanor. They had had quarrels before : lovers'
quarrels ; in which Cesare had protested against
Veronica's cruelty, and Veronica had ])layed otl"
her despotic airs, and they had both been vehe-
ment, and demonstrative, and childish. And the
end of such quarrels had invariably HQan to bring
back Cesare humbly imploring ^j^ardon at the feet
of the triumphant beauty.
But never had his looks and tones been such
as met her astonished eyes and ears on that mis-
erable evening.
And there was no deep repentance afterward,
no humble suing for pardon on his part. He ap-
proached her tlie next morning with a smile and
a kiss! and when she drew back in dumb resent-
ment, he merely shrugged his shoulders, lit his
cigar, and sauntered otl' into the stable-yard.
In truth Cesare considered himself to be the
injured person. His wife, by her inconceivably
absurd temper, had led him into an error, which
error had tin'cjwn him into a rage. That was
no trifle. Cesare was always jjarticularly care-
ful not to fly into a passion if he could avoid it.
And his temper was so indolently mild in gen-
eral that he had no great difficidty in avoiding
frequent ebullitions of anger.
To an unaccustomed English eye, indeed, he
might have seemed to be in paroxysms of fury
on many occasions when his feelings were scarce-
ly stirred. He Iiad the national characteristic
of instantly translating slight and superficial emo-
tions into very violent outward expression by
means of voice, face, and gesture, and of thus
working oft' excitement at a cheap cost, if the
phrase may pass.
But whenever angry motion went beyond the
slight and superficial stage with him, it was apt
to become very terribly intense indeed, and to
assume the form of personal hatred, and a dead-
ly desire of vengeance against the object of it.
To talk to Cesare Barletti about hating a sin
but pardoning a sinner, or to use any phrase in-
volving a similar idea, would have appeared to
him very much like uttering meaningless jargon.
lie never conceived or thought of any thing in
an abstract form. The unseen the intangible
had no power over his imagination. Hate a sin,
indeed ! Why should he hate a sin ? Che, che !
But he could hate a sinner, or a saint either, if
need were with a relentless animosity of which
it would be difficult to exaggerate the bitterness.
On the occasion in question, however, his
anger had been merely evanescent. It was all
an absurdity and a mistake. What if a man did
express his opinion that such and such people
were too rigid in their notions to desire to asso-
ciate with Veronica? Well, so much the worse
for such and such people, as he had said to his
wife. He had all his life heard about English
prudery. Theie were even persons \\ho object-
ed to play cards and to go to the opera. Was
he to distress himself about that? Veronica
was Princess Cesare de' Barletti. That was suf-
ficient with persons who knew the world. He
would permit no man to insult the Princess Ce-
sare de' Barletti with impunity.
Cesare's quickness of perception was rapidly
bringing him to the conviction that it was a far
finer thing to be a "prince" in England than in
Naples. Veronica, in bestowing her wealth and
herself upon him, had not then made an entirely
one-sided bargain. The consideration was not
an unpleasant one.
He drove over to Ilammick Lodge more than
once after his first visit to Lord George, and met
several guests there, mostly bachelors, and, witli
few exceptions, active patrons of that noble in-
stitution the Turf. Cesare found these gentle-
men pleasant and unaffected ; entirely devoid of
the insular stiffness which he had kept continu-
ally looking for since his arrival in Great Brit-
ain, and had found up to the height of his ex-
pectation in only one individual the accom-
plished Mr. Dickinson.
The " turfy" gentlemen, on their part, found
Barletti a ciiarming fellow, and were delighted
to make his acquaintance. But the " turfy" gen-
tlemen were greatly disappointed at discovering
one singular blemish in Barletti's moral nature ;
he steadily refused to " speculate" on any com-
ing event whatever, on the extraordinarily na'ive
plea that he did not understand betting.
1.-6
VERONICA.
"My dear fellow," said one tall, thin gentle-
man, with a long, sharp chin and dull, fishy eyes,
"it's as simple as A, B, C."
"Ah, gia!" returned the prince, with much
suavity. "But A-a, B-a, C-a is not simple un-
til you have learned it. "
Nevertheless, despite this deplorable lack of
enterprise on Cesare's part, he was very popular
at Hammick Lodge. He played an uncommon-
ly good game at e'carte, a very fair one at whist,
and that he was no match for his host at billiards
did not certainly operate against him in Lord
George's good graces.
He had no formal reconciliation with his wife,
but the coolness between them which in fact
had only existed on her side passed away in a
day or two.
Cesare never knew how much it cost Veronica
to condone his violent behavior, without an ex-
pression of the deepest penitence on his part.
And his ignorance of the sacrifice her haughty
spirit was forced to make rendered that sacrifice,
perhaps, a little less ditficult than it would other-
wise have been. At least there was in his mind
no perception of what she deemed a bitter hu-
miliation.
In her loneliness and she was very lonely;
but, as Cesare said, it was she who had desired
to come to Shipley, and could he help it if the
people would not call on her ? she had recourse
to the only human being on whose entire devo-
tion she could rely. She took to writing letters
to Mr. I'lew.
The letters at first were short; mere notes
written with the excuse of asking his advice
upon this or that trifling point of regimen. She
would follow his advice. She had been think-
ing over it, and she really believed that exercise
would be good for her. Could he not come to
see her? M'hy had he not been ? The first note
brought, not Mr. Blew, but a brief professional
recapitulation of the points he had urged upon
her consideration. In the second note, she asked
again why he had not been to see her. Was it
true, as had been Avhispered to her, that the at-
tractions of a certain meek dove had succeeded
in engrossing him altogether? No sooner had
she dispatched this note than she wished to re-
call it. She was ashamed of it. It was too fa-
miliar too condescending.
The answer to it, however, contained no allu-
sion to her hint ; neither denial nor confirmation.
It merely stated that Mr. Plow would willingly
go over to Shipley Magna if he could be of real
service to her ; but that, unless she had need of
his presence, he must refrain from doing so. His
motlier was ill, and required all the care and at-
tention he could give her.
This reply of the surgeon reached Veronica
on a rainy afternoon. She was dull and dispir-
ited. Her husband was at Hammick. The
quiet sorrow in the tone of Mr. Blew's letter
chimed in with Veronica's mood at the moment
of receiving it. A few slow tears trickled down
her cheeks as she sat with her head leaning on
her hand, looking down on the note. She must
have some sympathy ! She must dissipate some-
what of the weight of sadness that oppressed her
soul, by confiding to another human heart a few,
at least, of her sorrows.
She sat down to write to Mr. Blew. As she
wrote on, the half revelations she had intended
became whole revelations. She found a relief
in the depiction of her feelings even in that of
her faults. She would rather speak evil of her-
self than not speak of herself at all. She poured
forth her complaints and her disappointments
without reserve.
Here was one who would listen patientlv, who
would sympathize sincerely, who would feel her
sorrows as his own. Here was a heart that
might be trusted to beat faithfully, let it ache as
it would. His judgment might' condemn her,
but his feelings would take her part. He might
preach, warn, reprove her even, but the reproof
would have no sting. She could accept such re-
proof, she could embrace it, for she would know
tiiat it came out of the depth of a great love.
He would ask nothing, he would expect nothing,
he would resent nothing. He could thrust him-
self aside with a sublime magnanimity, and think
only of her.
So she sent the letter.
' ' What do you write so often to that man for,
Cara Veronica?" asked Cesare, unexpectedly, on
the day following that on which her third letter
was dispatched.
"So so often ?" she stammered. The ques-
tion took her by surprise, and she was startled
by it.
" Yes ; it is often, I think. Two letters in
one week. This lying on the table" and Ce-
sare took up a pink envelope sealed and directed
"is the second that I know of.''
" It is kind of you not to recollect that I told
you I had consulted ]\Ir. Blew about my nervous
headaches ! I write to him partly about them ;
and, besides, he is one of my oldest and most
intimate friends. I have known him from a
child."
"Ah, Benissimo!" replied Cesare, carelessly.
And the\iext minute he seemed to have forgot-
ten the whole affair.
But when, in tlie course of two more days, a
reply ariived from Air. Ble', Cesare, playing
with the Spitz dog in one corner of the sofa,
watched his wife when the letter was delivered
to her watched her while she opened it and be-
gan to read it, and finally asked, "Is the letter
from our good papa, il reverendissimo Signor
Vicario ?"
" No ; it is from Mr. Blew."
The instant directness of the answer seemed a
little unexpected by him. He looked up at her
for an instant, and then began to stroke the dog
in a more caressing way than he had used be-
fore.
"Where are you going, dearest?" he asked,
presently.
" To my own room."
"To read vour letter in peace? May I see
it?"
' ' See it ? See this letter ?"
"Yes; is it indiscreet?" he asked, showing
his white teeth in a smile that flashed for a sec-
ond and was gone.
For a scarcely ]3crceptible space of time Ve-
ronica hesitated. Then she tossed him the let-
ter disdainfully.
" You are as curious as a baby!" she said.
lie took the letter and pored over it gravely.
Then he brought it back to her and kissed her
hand. "I can"t read it," he said. "What a
devil of a writing!"
VERONICA.
157
Veronica had fully reckoned on this inahility
of Cesare's. Between his imperfect knowledge
of English and the cramped characters of Mr.
Flaw's handwriting, that looked as though it
were expressly invented and adojited for the pur-
pose of scrawling the hieroglyphics familiar to
our eyes in doctors' prescriptions, she had been
tolerably sure that Cesare would fail to glean
much information from the letter, let it contain
what it might.
' Why should Cesare have wanted to see that
letter !" she asked herself when she was alone in
her own room. "It must be from the mere
suspicious dislike that any thing, however tri-
fling, should pass between me and any one else
witli which he is not fully acquainted. I have
noticed this trait in him lately only lately. He
used not to be so in Italy."
Veronica forgot that in Italy Cesare had been
himself her sole possible confidant.
\Ylien she had perused Mr. Plew's letter she
felt glad that Cesare had been unable to deci-
pher it. There was no word in it which should
have made him justly discontented witii JMr.
Plew ; but there were many words which would
have roused his anger against his wife.
" The account of your unhappiness cuts me to
the heart," lie wrote in one place. "I am not
at all skillful with my pen, nor able to express
what I feel. But I am so sure you are wrong
in giving way to these morbid feelings ; and yet
I pity you so much for having them. I had
hoped that you were at last happy and content-
ed. God knows that there is nothing I would
not give to see you so."
And again : "I am solemnly certain that your
first duty now is to try to gain your husband's
whole confidence and affection, llemember you
chose him freely, and he loved you when there
was no one else, whom you knew of, to love you !"
And once more: "I wi-Ii I was clever and
could write like you. But I can not. I can
only beg and beseech you to east off gloomy and
repining thoughts. There is one thing we can
all do try to be useful to others. Think of
their sorrows more than your own. Even in mj-
humble way I find that this soothes my pain of
mind as nothing else soothes it. And you who
are so rich, and so young, and so clever, might
do a deal of good. You don't know the suffer-
ing there is in the world that a few co])per coins
would lighten. I feel your confidence in writing
to me very much. But I wish for your sake
that you would have no secrets from your hus-
band. You ask me to come and see you. I can
not just at present. My mother is very ill ; and
there is an epidemic fever in the parish. My
life is not altogether a bed of roses. '
Within a week after the receipt of that letter
Mrs. Flew was dead. And the Frince and Frin-
cess de' Barletti had gone away to London in
great haste ; for a malignant form of typhus fe-
ver was raging iu Shipley Magna.
CIIAFTER X.
A FRIENDLY TEA-DRINKING.
It was near the end of a very sultry summer
day in London a day in the quite late summer.
The people who were able to leave town next
week pronounced that tlie season was over. The
people whose business, or interest, or impecuni-
osity obligeil them to linger a while longer, de-
clared that there was so much going on still they
positively didn't know how to keep all their en-
gagements.
It was, however, near enough to the period
styled by London tradesmen " the fag end of the
season" to bring it to ])ass that Miss Betsy Boyce
had no dinner invitation for that day, and no
invitation to any later assembly, and that she
was consequently drinking tea at about half past
seven o'clock in JNIr. Lovegrove's house in Bed-
ford Square.
Betsy Boyce was quite free from any vulgar
prejudices on the score of fashionable or unfash-
ionable hours. She would drink tea at seven
o'clock, or dine at eight, or breakfast at any hour
from nine a.m. to two i'.m., with perfectly ac-
commodating good-humor.
"It matters very little what you call a meal,"
she would say. " If you eat between eight and
nine o'clock at night, and like to call that din-
ner, I'm quite content. If you have your real
solid dinner at two or three, and your old-fash-
ioned tea at five or six, and like to call that
lunch, or kettle-drum, or any thing else, I'm
equally content. When one lives in the world
one must do as the world does in those matters.
I have heard papa say that when he was at Vien-
na, and knew the old Frince Metternich, he has
seen him often at a grand banquet, playing with
a plateful of brown bread-and-butter, and tasting
nothing else. Well, he ate his wholesome food
at a wholesome hour, of course. But he never
thought of changing people's manners and cus-
toms. No more do I."'
Something of this kind she had said in answer
to Mrs. Lovegrove's ostentatiously humble apol-
ogy for inviting her to tea at seven o'clock.
"It is not," said Mrs. Lovegrove, with a kind
of virtuous, self-denying severity that would have
exasperated any one less genuinely tolerant and
good-natured than Betsy Boyce "it is not that
I do not understand the usages of the circles in
which you habitually move. It would be strange,
bred up as I was at our place in the country,
among the elite of our country society you
won't mind my saying that country society is,
as a general rule, more exclusive and more
rigid on the score of birth than the mixed
and ever-vaning circles of the metropolis ? it
would be strange if I did not understand those
usages."
"To be sure," said Miss Boyce, pleasantly.
" What good cake this is ! Thanks ; I will have
a piece more of it."
"But when I married Mr. Lovegi'ove I put
all that aside at once and forever. I looked my
position in the face, and accepted all its condi-
tions."
"And a very comfortable position it is, too,
Mrs. Lovegrove. And excessively delighted a
good many ladies of my acquaintance would be
to jump into such another."
It will be perceived that the acquaintance be-
tween Mrs. Lovegrove and Miss Boyce, begun in
Mrs. Frost's drawing-room, had advanced toward
something like intimacy.
Betsy Boyce was, as she herself declared, em-
inently a social being. She was just as cheerful
and content in the solicitor's house in Bedford
]58
VERONICA.
Square as at my lord duke's in Carlton Gardens.
And while she regaled the lawyer's wife with
stories of the Olympian feasts she sliared with
the gods and goddesses, whose mythology (care-
fully edited with a view to its meeting the public
eye) is contained in fir Bernard Burke's red vol-
umes, she never offended iier hosts by appearing
to despise their earthlier hospitality.
Mr. Lovegrove considered Miss Boyce to pos-
sess extraordinary spirits and an immense fund
of anecdote. Mrs. Lovegrove said she had a
pensive pleasure in her conversation, as it remind-
ed her of the old times passed at her papa's place
in the country. Augustus asked her serious opin-
ion as to the spread of High-Church doctrine
among the aristocracy, and was it true that a cer-
tain illustrious person was going over to Rome ?
yMtogefher, she was a general favorite with the
whole family.
(Jne frequent topic of her conversations with
Mrs. Lovegrove was the lamentable state of
affairs in the houseliold at Bayswater, as she
designated Mr. Frost's residence. Things were
going on there from bad to worse ; tliat is, be-
tween husband and wife, she meant. Georgina
was an old friend of hers, but slie must say
Georgina was to blame. She was so indifferent
to Mr. P'rost's comfort, so neglectful of his home,
so careless to please him, and so indifferent about
displeasing him. She on her side complained
of her husband's meanness and parsimony. He
grudged her this, and declined to give her that.
Which, said Miss Boyce, was certainly odd in a
man wlio had always been so lavishly indulgent
a, husband.
" Perhaps he has at last been able to see what
a fool that woman has been makingof herself by
her extravagance, and is beginning to turn over
a new leaf. Let us hope so ! Let us, at least,
trj to hope so !" said Mrs. Lovegrove, with all
the fervor of charity.
"Georgira tells me," said MissBoAxe, "that
tliere is at times something so strange about her
husband, that he seems scarcely in his right mind.
Something is i)reying on him, I fancy. It isn't
business troubles, I suppose, eh?" It was for-
tunate for her acquaintances that Betsy Boyce
was good-natured, for she was rarely discreet,
and not a little curious.
"What business troubles Mr. Frost may have
on his private account I am unable to say," re-
plied Mrs. Lovegrove. "But as to Frost and
Lovegrove, there is no cause for anxiety about
them ; of that you may be quite assured."
"Ah, tlien I dare say it is mostly, if not en-
tirely, Goorgina's fault. He is desperately fond
of her, and siie is as hard and cold to him as a
block of ice."
"I consider Mr. Frost's infatuated weakness
for his wife to be positively culpable ! But what,
alas ! can one expect from a man totally devoid
of religious principles ?"
In order to avert the stream of Mrs. Love-
grove's indignation from Sidney Frost for whom
tlic kindly old maid had a real liking Miss Boyce
changed the subject of discourse.
"Ah, dear me!" she exclaimed, fanninc: her-
self, "it is a queer world! Talk of book ! I
know much stranger stories than ever I saw in a
liook yet. There's that Princess de' Barletti, for
instance. AVhat a career hers has been !"
" Oh, do tell me, Miss Boyce, is she received
in the highest society ? I trust not, for the credit
of our aristocracy. "
" H'm ! Well, I don't know that one more or
less would much affect the credit of our aristoc-
racy."
"Eh?"
" However, that's neither here nor there. I
believe the fact is she is not much received. She
might have been taken up at one time by a cer-
tain set. But she is devoured by ambition. She
wanted to be as great a lady as the greatest, and
to play princess ; and that wouldn't do."
" Ambition indeed ! pretty ambition !"
"Yes; pretty ambition. But j-et it seems
a strange thing to say ; but I am not sure there
is not a grain of perverted good in it."
"Good ? How do you mean ?"
"Well, I I tliink a woman who would have
been downright, frankly bad and unscrupulous,
might have had a better chance. "
"My dear IMiss Boyce !"
"Yes; I know it sounds very horrible. But
w'hat I mean is this : this young woman can't be
contented with the society of flashy folks of
doubtful reputation. She might have got that,
Jiaving money and beauty, and a certain notori-
ety. But you may call it pride, or ambition,
or whatever 3'ou like the fact remains that she
knows there is something higher and better than
that sort of thing, and that she aspires to it. She
can't be at peace without the good opinion of per-
sons she can respect, and she will never get it."
'' I should think not."
"She will never get it, because she has not
strength to make any real sacrifice of her vanity
and selfishness. And yet I believe she is eating
her heart out with misery and mortification in
the midst of all that she paid such a terrible
price to gain I "
Mrs. Lovegrove stared at the speaker in sur-
prise. She had never seen such a giave expres-
sion on Bets}' Bo3-ce's round, rubicund visage.
The brisk, lively old lady had gradually fallen
into a serious tone as she spoke, and when she
ceased there was something like a tear in her eye.
Sarah Lovegrove's heart, altliough it did not
beat witli remarkable Avarmth, was better than
her creed. But she repressed a womanly move-
ment of pity by way of asserting the stern purity
of her principles, and replied, with elongated up-
per lip and incisive brevity, " That is tlie natural
result to which such ini(pnty leads, IVIiss Bovce."
"Dear me," said Miss Boyce, "I've been
making quite a preachment! But it is not al-
together my own wisdom that I have been ut-
tering. The fiict is that I was yesterday with
that sweet creature, Maud Desmond, and she
talked to me a little about the vicar's daughter ;
and when she was out of the room, Jlrs. Shear-
down talked of her a good deal, and, between
the two, I got a pretty clear notion of the state
of the case. "
"You don't mean to say that Sliss Desmond
visits her?"
"No, no; their lives are apart altogether.
But I do believe that if Veronica needed any
thing if she were sick, for instance Maud
would go to her directly."
"Would Mr. Lockwood allow that?" asked
Mrs. Lovegrove, with something like a sneer.
"Yes, I think he would. He's not the good
fellow I take him for, if he would oppose it!"
VERONICx\.
ir.o
^Irs. Lovegrove had not q'.iito forgiven Maud
for preferring Hugh to lier son. As Maud had
not turned out to be an heiress, the thing was
the less to be regretted. But to do Mrs. Love-
grove justice, she had been almost as willing to
encourage Augustus's penchant before there was
any idea of Maud's being wealthy as after. And
her maternal vanity had been ruillcd by the young
lady's cold discouragement of her darling Giis.
ilrs. Lovegrove's character was not malicious
at bottom, however, and, after a minute or so,
she saij, "I do think Miss Desmond is a really
good girl."
"Good? She's an angel! And so clever!"
"Indeed? I did not perceive much~a
much solidity of intellect in Miss Desmond, I
confess ; but she is very young still. However,
it was a very proper attention on her part to call
on us directly she came to town. ]\Ir. Love-
grove knew her mother well, lie is, indeed, in
some sort, the young lady's guardian, and he was
gratified by her coming. "
" JIaud Desmond always does the right thing,"
said Miss Boyce, in serene unconsciousness of
Augustus's ill-starred wooing. " It was a good
thing that the feheardowns brought her to town
with them on a visit. Very nice people the
Sheardowns. I knew them at Sliiple}'. I hear
often from that neighborhood, and I fancy the
vicarage was no fitting or pleasant place for the
girl. "
"Really!" exclaimed Mrs. Lovegrove, with a
strong gleam of curiosity in her gray eyes.
"No, I'm afraid not. Emma Begbie writes
to me there, I've let her name slip out. But
you don't know her, and, probably, never will,
so it don't much matter. Well, this young lady
tells me that the vicar is going to the dogs that
isn't her phrase, but it is her meaning as fast
as he can. He has cut his old friends, and
formed low connections. And he doesn't even
attend to the duties of his church, but has got a
wretched curate, at twopence a year, to do his
duty for him, and, in fact, the whole thing is as
bad as it can be. He's no fit guardian, and his
house is no fit home, for a young girl."
"A clergyman of the Church of En-
gland !" said Mrs. Lovegrove, witli portentous
slowness, nodding her head at each word.
"Oh dear, yes! There's no doubt in the
world about that."
Then the tea things were cleared away, and
presently the Misses Phoebe and Lucy and Dora
Lovegrove made some music. And Augustus
sang a Latin hymn, accomi)auying himself; and
if the vocal portion of tills performance were al-
most inaudible at the other end of the drawing-
room, the piano-forte part was attacked with un-
sparing vigor. Then Miss Boyce's cab was sent
for, and she went home, having passed, as she
protested, a very pleasant evening.
CHAPTER XL
te:ipkst.
Their life in town, however it may have
proved to be dust and ashes in Veronica's mouth,
was mightily to the taste of her husband. One
great drawback to his pleasure at first was Ve-
ronica's perverse determination to be discontent-
ed, as he deemed it. AVliat could she desire tliat
she had not? They were rich, yoimg, fond of
one another he, at least, still loved her, although
she seemed resolved to try to cure him of his fond-
ness arid surrounded by companions who asked
nothing better than to be merry and enjoy them-
selves. What thougli this dowager had declined
to be introduced to her ; or that dowdy countess
refused her invitations ; or that it had hitherto
been impossible to find a lady to present her at
court ? Were not the ladies whom slie did know
incomparably more lively and amusing than these
dull persons ? And was it not an incredible per-
versity in Veronica to long for that which, had
it been offered to her or so Cesare thought she
would have loathed ? The husband and wife had
many a sharp discussion on this score.
When Veronica now told Cesare that he did
not understand this or that, he would argue the
point with vivacity. Indeed, but he did under-
stand : quite as well as she did ; perhaps better I
She was but a woman. And if he were a for-
eigner in England, he yet knew the world it
might be that he even knew the English world
a great deal more thoroughly than she thought
for. His friends mauvais genre ? Bah ! ]\Irs.
Douglas De Kaffville was one of the most fash-
ionable women in London. Lord George, who
had introduced her to them, said so. She was,
at any rate, very handsome, very brilliant, and
very good-natured : that they could see for them-
selves. Per Bacco! These simagre'es on her
part were too amusing! Did she know the his-
tory of the withered little Duchess with the
pearls, to whom slie had been so civil at Naples ?
Then for a day, perhaps, Veronica would break
out into wild gayety. She would be all ablaze
with excitement, until even the rather noisy mirth
of the society that surrounded her would grow
dumb, and its members would stare at her un-
easily, or indulge in expressive shrugs and gri-
inaces to each other. These fits of feverish spirits
were invariably followed by prolonged depression
and gloom ; sometimes even l)y attacks of illness
that obliged her to keep her bed for a day or so.
But she would see no physician. Her husband,
more and more sejjarated from her companion-
ship, and absorbed in his own pursuits, gradually
ceased to disquiet himself about these strange
fluctuations of health and spirits. There was no
one at hand who cared for her. Her father wrote
rarely and briefly. J\laud was separated from
her as though the thickness of the globe wei'e be-
tween them.
One afternoon Veronica was lying half asleej)
on a couch in her boudoir. Her Swiss maid
Louise entered the darkened room quietly, and
stood listening.
"Is Madame la Princesse asleep ?"
"Eh? What is it? My head aches,'' an-
swered Veronica, in a drowsy voice.
" I should not have ventured to disturb Ma-
dame la Princesse, but the gentleman was so im-
portunate that the footman begged me to come
and speak with madame. "
"A gentleman? I can't see the card by this
light. Tell me the name."
" Mistare Mistare Frost."
" ]\Ir. Frost ! Well yes ; let Mr. Frost come
up stairs. Give me the eau de cologne. Draw
that curtain a little more. No light, no light !
Ah, Dio buono, how my head throbs!"
IGO
VERONICA.
In another minute Mr. Frost was ushered into
the boudoir.
"Have I the honor of speaking to the Princess
de'Barletti?"' asked Mr. Frost, to whom thegloom
of the chamber seemed at first ahnost pitch dark-
ness.
Veronica greeted him, and told him where to
find a seat. tShe half rose from her sofa, but fell
back again with a murmur of pain.
"You are suffering? I grieve to intrude.
But my business is of such importance "
"Of such importance?"
"To me of the very deepest."
Veronica poured some eau de cologne on her
hands, and passed them over her forehead. Then
she looked steadily at Mr. Frost, and her eyes,
more accustomed to the dimness than his, could
perceive that he was changed ; bent, and thin,
and haggard. And that his restless hands wan-
dered constantly to his mouth, and that he bit his
nails furiously. He, for his part, could but just
discern the outline of her face and figure.
"Madam," said Mr. Frost, " I will not waste
your time or my own minutes are very precious
by useless preamble. In preferring the request
I am about to make, I know that I am doing an
unusual some might say unwarrantable thing.
But I am hard pressed : temporarily only tem-
porarily. And I was to-day inspired suddenly
with the hope that you miglit help me."
"In what way can it be in my power to help
you ?" said Veronica, in a strange, dreamy voice.
"Will you lend mc some money?"
' ' Lend you some money ? I thought you were
very rich !"
" I shall be. I am, virtually. But there is a
temporary pressure a severe pressure." Mr.
Frost put his hand to his head, as though the
]jressui-e he spoke of were there. "I will be
frank with you. Women can be com]jassionate
and generous sometimes. If you will lend me
the sum I want you will save me from ruin!"
"From ruin I" Veronica made an effort, and
seemed to rouse herself from a lethargy that had
apparently benumbed her faculties. Her voice
was more like her own as she said, "But can I
do this ?"
" I tliink you can. The sum I need is a large
one. But I know 30ur means are large. I want
two thousand pounds."
" It is indeed a large sum !"
"If I can have that sum by the end of this
month the rest may go. I shall not care. That
is I mean I shall be safe."
"I should like to do good to somebody," mur-
mured Veronica, half aloud.
"You can do good to more than one person.
You know young Lockwood, who is engaged to
marry Maud Desmond?"
" Yes : is it for /(/;/( .**"
"You love Maud Desmond, do you not? I
have heard that you loved her so much as to of-
fer her a part of your fortune !"
" I do love her. But wiiat "
" I can not explain particulars. But I will
swear to you by any solemn oath you choose,
that in lending mc this money you will be serv-
ing them. If I can not induce you to believe
that believe at least that, as I said, you will be
saving me from ruin. God is my witness that
that is true !"
The manner of the man so different from
the self-possessed, easy, dignified air she remem-
bered in him impressed her greatly.
" I should like," she said again, "to do good
to somebody."
Mr. Frost gathered all his energies to plead
his cause. His words were eloquent. But more
eloquent to Veronica were his trembling lips, his
wrinkled brow, his eager and restless hands.
"If I can do this thing I will," she said, at
length.
He sprang up and took her hand. "I can
not thank you in words," he said. "It was a
good inspiration that made me think of applying
to you !"
"But I shall need my husband's consent."
" Your husband's only?"
" Certainly. Whose else ?"
"You have no marriage settlement? No
trustees ?"
This was the first time that the idea of having
her money settled on herself had occurred to her.
Her marriage had been hurried and private.
There had been no one to watch her interests or
advise her. And, lest it siiould be supposed that
Cesare had purposely taken a dishonorable ad-
vantage of her confidence or imprudence, it must
be explained that marriage settlements are mi-
known in his country ; and that he was too ig-
norant of English customs to be aware of their
existence here.
"No," she answered, after a moment's pause.
" I have no settlement ; no trustees. I have no
one but Cesare."
" Indeed!" said i\Ir. Frost, looking at her for
an instant with his old searching keenness.
"Fortunately for me," he added, "your influ-
ence over Prince Barletti is unbounded. I re-
member noting that."
" Do you?"
"Yes. If I have your promise, I am secure
about the prince. But he may require more ex-
planations than you have asked for. Yon have
l)een generous in refraining from questioning me.
I feel it. I shall not forget it. But he will say,
perhaps, ' Why did not this man a]iply else-
where? to his partner, for example? to those
connected with him by business ties?' I reply
that in certain circumstances to be seen to need
a thing is fatal. The very urgency of the case
excites mistrust and apprehension. And the
small sum which divides ruin from security can
not be obtained, bemuse it is so essential to obtain
it. But I will see the prince. I will speak with
him. I will give him any guarantee in my power.
Only let me have your promise. That is suffi-
cient. One word more! I rely on your gener-
osity and honor to keep this application a secret."'
" If I can do this thing, I will," said Veronica
once more.
Then INIr. Frost took his leave, scarcely dar-
ing to believe in his success ; and yet feeling as
though a mantle of lead, such as Dante gives to
certain wretched souls in purgatory, had been
lifted from his head and shoulders since entering
that house.
Cesare returned late in the afternoon from his
ride. Ccsare's riding, though better than his
driving, was yet not altogether satisfactory to in-
sular eyes. There was a wooden rigidity about
his legs, and a general air of being keenly alive
to the i)ossibilitv of ids horse having the best of
it in case of anv dill'erence of opinion arising be-
VERONICA.
IGl
tween thcin iiiiraicnl to grace. Nevertheless as
lie luul good Iiorses, and was willing to lend one
of them now and then to a friend, he foiuid eom-
])anions content to join him in ctinestrian excur-
sions to places in the neighborhood of London ;
or even though of this his friends were more
shy in a canter in the Kow. On the present
occasion he had been honored by the society of
two ladies, in addition to that of his friend Count
rolyopolis, a Greek gentleman of very varied ac-
complishments, wiiich were apj)arcntly not duly
appreciated in his own country, but for the exer-
cise of whicli he found a favorable field in Lon-
don, after having exhausted Paris and Vieima.
They had all been very merry, and Cesare en-
tered in high good-humor.
' You were wrong not to come, ma belle
princesse," said he, gayly. "It was very pleas-
ant. We alighted at a village inn, and had beer!
Figurati ! And there was a garden to the inn,
where there was a target. We sliot at the target
with bows and arrows. Nobody could hit the
mark. It was immensely amusing!"
Veronica's headache had apparently passed off.
She was dressed with care and elegance. Her
voice was gentle, and her manner conciliating,
as she said to him,
" Come here and sit down by me, Cesare mio !
I have a word to say to you."
"Must I not dress for dinner?"
"There is time enough. Come here for a
moment. "
He obeyed. Seating himself beside her, he
pressed her hand to his \\\)s. It was very thin,
and burned with a feverish heat.
"Cara!" he said, touched with a vague pity
as he looked at the wasted little fingers on which
the sparkling rings sat so loosely. " If you would
always be kind to me, I would rather stay here
with you than divert myself with those others ! "
"Ah, you would get tired of staying here with
me, Cesare! and I do not wish you to do so.
But I like to hear you say so. Do you really
love me, Cesare ?"
"Ma si !"
"I had a visitor while you were out this after-
noon ; an unexpected visitor."
" II Vicario ? No ? It was not that accursed
doctor ?"
"Oh, Cesare! Why shonld you speak so of
po(fr Mr. Plew ? What reason on earth have you
to dislike him ?"
"How can I tell? It is an antipathy, I sup-
pose. Witli his insipid face, and his eyes like
your English sky, neither blue nor gray ! He
attacks my nerves. Well, it was 7iot he?"
Veronica made an effort to suppress an angry
reply.
"It was Mr. Frost," she answered, shortly, not
trusting her self-control to say more at that in-
stant.
' ' Mr. Frost ! Davvero ! Mr. Frost ! Ah il
povero Frost! He was tres bon enfant at Na-
ples ; and what was better, a very good lawyer !"
"He is in trouI)le."
"Si, eh?" said Cesare, whose interest in this
announcement did not aii)ear to be keen.
"And I have promised to help him."
"Oh! that was very kind of you," obser\'ed
Cesare, with a shade of surprise, that yet was not.
I'vely enough to rouse him to any great demon-
stration of caring about what Veronica was saying.
"Yes; I have promised to lend him some
money."
"]V/iat?" He was not indifferent now. "You
are jestinj;! Lend Mr. Frost money!"
"I, too, was surprised at his request."
"What was it? How was it? Oh!" ex-
claimed Cesare, struck by a sudden idea, "per-
haps he had forgotten his pocket-book, and want-
ed a few pounds. Were you able to give them
to him ?"
"Then you would not have objected to my
doing so ?"
"/ that case, no."
"I am glad of that," said Veronica, ignoring
the words in italics, "because I promised to
assist him. It is a large sum he wants. But
we can afford it, I suppose. I never enter into
the details of our fortune, but I make no doubt
that it will not be difficult for us. In serving
him, I shall be indirectly serving others in whom
I am interested. I do not exactly understand
how; but if you were to ask him he might tell
you more explicitly. I was greatly struck by
the change in Mr. Frost's appearance. He seems
to have been harassed nearly to death. But if
you had seen the light that came into his face
when I said ' Y'es ! ' It gave me quite a new
sensation. I promised to lend him two thousand
pounds!"
Cesare had sat silent, listening to his wife with
growing uneasiness in his face. At these last
words he jumped up and uttered a loud ejacu-
lation. But in the next instant he burst into a
mocking laugh :
"What a fool I am! Y'ou made me believe
you were in earnest."
But even as he said the words his angry face
belied them.
"I am in earnest, Cesare."
For all reply he laughed again, and began to
walk up and down the room, switching his rid-
irfg-whip right and left with a sharp, vicious mo-
tion.
Veronica proceeded to recapitulate Mr. Frost's
words as well as she could remember them. She
spoke earnestly and eagerly. At length, finding
that she made no impression on her husband,
she began to lose patience. ' ' It would be some-
what less grossly ill-bred and discourteous," she
said, " if you were to favor me with your objec-
tions, if you do object, instead of sneering and
strutting in that intolerable manner."
"My objections are that the whole idea is
contrary to common-sense. Tu sei pazza you
are mad, mia cara."
"How contrary to common-sense? I do not
think it at all contrary to common-sense."
"You do not see, for example, that this man
must be at the last extremity before he would
attempt such a desperate forlorn hope as this ?
That he must be as good as ruined already ? Tu
sei pazza!"
" But if Ave could save him and others?"
"Pazza, pazza, pazza!"
"Cesare, I gave him my promise."
" You must have been bewitched, or dream-
ing when you gave it," he answered, with a sin-
gular look.
"After all, the money is mine, and I choose
to claim the disposal of it," she cried, her long-
repressed resentment blazing out on her cheeks
and in her eves.
162
VERONICA.
Cesare wheeled sharp round in his walk, and
looked at her.
"Do joii know," he said, slowly, "I begin
to be afraid that you really are not in possession
of your senses."
" I am in full possession of my senses. I de-
spise your sneer. I despise you ; yes, I despise
you ! I will not forfeit my word to please your
grudging, petty meanness ! The money is mine,
mine, I tell you. And I will have some share
in the disposal of it."
Then he let the demon of rage take full pos-
session of him. From between his clenched
teeth he hissed out such words as speedily made
her quail and shudder and sink down, burying
her head among the cushions of the couch. He
had learned much during the past three months,
both of her position and his own in the eyes of
the world ; and he spared her no detail of his
knowledge. lie knew his privileges ; he knew
that there was nothing in all the world which
she could call her own ; and he also knew that
his name and title were looked on as more than
equivalent for the surrender of herself and all
she possessed. He had lately had increasing rea-
son to be displeased with her. His new friends
did not love her. They resented her pride, and
ridiculed her pretensions. A hundred taunts
which, but for the accidental firing of the long
train of discontents, and spites, and vexations,
might have remained forever unspoken, leaped
from his tongue. His passion grew with speech,
as a smouldering fire rushes into flame at the
contact of the outer air. He turned and twisted
the elastic riding-whip ferociousl}' in his hands
as though it were a living thing that he took
pleasure in torturing. And at length, approach-
ing nearer and nearer to Veronica as she cow-
ered on tlie sofa, bending closer and closer over
her, and hissing his fierce invectives into her ear,
he suddenly drew himself upright, whirled the
twisted whip with a crash into the midst of some
porcelain toys that stood on a distant table, and
dashed headlong from the room.
CHAPTER XII.
IN TIME.
Mr. Lovegrove was very uneasy in his mind.
His uneasiness was not the less irksome in that
he confidetl it to no one. A small circtnnstance
had put the climax to a heap of doubts and sus-
picions which had long been accumulating. It
may be remembered that Mr. Lovegrove had ex-
pressed to his iartner his desire to have a little
confidential talk witli him, and that bis jiartner
had expressed Iiimself perfectly willing that the
confidential talk should take ])lacc. It had not
yet taken j)lacc, however. Mr. Frost always
found some excuse for ])Osti)oning it.
On the same day on which Mr. Lovegrove had
first spoken of this desire on his part it may also
be remembered that a sum of money just received
by the firm had been taken away by Mr. Frost,
to bank, as he said. IMr. I^ovegrove had asked
him about it later, and Mr. Frost had answered,
Oh yes ; it was all riglit. And there the matter
had dropped. But two days after Mr. Frost's
visit to tiie Princess de' Barletti ^Ir. Lovegrove
made the very disagreeable discovery that the
money in question had never been paid into the
bank at all ! The sum was an insignificant one,
after all ; and could he have looked upon the cir-
cumstance as a mere instance of carelessness and
forgetfulness on the part of Mr. Frost he would
have been irritated and annoyed by it, certainly,
but he would have felt no more serious distress
than those epithets might convey. But ]\Ir.
Frost, when questioned, had not clapjied his hand
to his forehead and exclaimed that the matter had
slipped his memory : he had not even acknowl-
edged that he had not yet paid the money, and
promised that he would remedy the omission. He
had answered with composure that the matter was
all light. Mr. Frost, then, had told his partner
a lie. Mr. Lovegrove was more hurt by this dis-
covery than he would willingly have acknowl-
edged. He had a very strong attachment to Sid-
ney Frost. He had the habit of looking up to
his talents and character with much the same
admiring delight ;\ith which an ingenuous little
boy contemplates the cock of his school. Though
at the same time Mr. Lovegrove understood very
well what were the solid plodding qualities in
which he himself excelled his partner, and which
were especially useful to the success of their joint
att'airs.
]\Ir. Lovegrove knew himself to be a plain man
plain in looks, plain in mind, and plain in
manners.
But he had great pride and delight in Mr.
Frost's brilliant sujieriority on all these points.
If one might dare to hint at the existence of
any thing like romance in the regard of one mid-
dle-aged lawyer for another, it might almost be
said that Mr. Lovegrove's feeling for his friend
was romantic. And be it understood that there
was no human being on the face of the earth who
would have more derisively scouted such an idea,
could it have been broached to him, than JNIr.
Lovegrove himself. Mr. Lovegrove had no soon-
er made the discovery above mentioned than he
resolved with an inflexible resolution to lose no
more time in coming to an explanation with his
partner. The discovery was made after office-
hours. Mr. Frost had, therefore, already left
Bedford Square. The junior partner debated
with himself what measures he should take in
order to carry out the pui'pose he had formed.
i\Ir. Lovegrove having once formed a purjjose,
never permitted himself to discuss ichetlier ot no
he should carry it out : he merely considered
how he should fulfill it, wliich was one of the re-
sults of the smallness of his faculty of imagina-
tion and also one of the secrets of liis success in
life.
"Sarah, my dear," said he to his wife, after
tea, "I am going over to Bayswater this even-
ing."
"To a party?" demanded Mrs. Lovegrove,
with a ra])id jealous notion that her long-nour,
ished suspicions of ISIrs. P'rost's intention to in-
sult her unmistakably had at length been con-
firmed.
" To a party ! JNIy dear Sarah, what are you
dreaming of? Do I ever go to a party without
you ? And is it likely that the Frosts would in-
vite me alone ?"
Mrs. Lovegrove, a little ashamed of her too
.hasty conclusion, murmured something to the
eftect that there was no knowing what " tiiat
woman" might not do.
VERONICA.
1C3
" But I am not Roing to see ' that woman ;' I
am going to see 'that man.' My visit is solely
on business."
"It's a strange hour to have a business ap-
pointment. I think, Augustus, that you might
consecrate your evenings to domestic iieace. I'm
sure you work hard enough in the day, poor old
Gus!" said Mrs. Lovegrovc.
The lady's sudden descent from the regions of
lofty severity to undignified and familiar affec-
tion was due to tiie ])ressure of her husband's
arm encircling her waist and the touch of her
husband's lips on her forehead.
" You know I never want to leave you and
the girls, ^i\\\y. But I want to speak to Frost
particularly. I must speak with him. Give me
a kiss, Sally. I don't go because I like going,
and I sha'n't spend a pleasant time, you may de-
pend on it. "
Mrs. Lovegrove was \erj sincerely fond of her
husband ; and as she marked his face and gauged
the tone of his voice every vibration of which
had become known to her as thoroughly as those
things are known which love teaches, behind the
accuracy of whose instructions all other powers
and passions limp at a long distance she per-
ceived that there was, as she phrased it, "some-
thing on his mind." And she refrained from
saying another provoking word to add to the
burden. Mr. Lovegrove walked part of the way
toward Bayswater, meaning to pursue his jour-
ney from a certain point in the omnibus. But
the night was fine, and the walk was agreeable
to the lawyer after his day spent busily in a hot,
close office ; and he therefore strolled on and on,
until he found that he might as well proceed to
his destination on foot. Thus, as it turned out,
it was close on ten o'clock by the time he reach-
ed Mr. Frost's house in Bayswater. He had no
need to knock or ring for admittance. The
street door was open, and a couple of servants
a man and woman were lounging on the steps
enjoying the evening air.
"Is Mr. Frost within?" asked Lovegrove, al-
most fearing to be answered in the negative.
"Mr. not Mrs.?" asked the man, who did
not at first recognize Mr. Lovegrove. The vis-
its of the laftter to Bayswater were not frequent
enough to render his face very familiar to the
servants there.
"Mr. Frost. I wish to see your master if he
is at home."
"Oh, Mr. Lovegrove! I beg pardon, Sir; I
asked because my mistress is gone. I suppose
you know."
"Gone! Good Heavens ! not dead?"
"Oh no. Sir; but she has left masier. Sir. I
shouldn't say any thing only you're of course so
intimate, and such a friend."
"I had heard notliing! I had no idea! Per-
haps you are mistaken. Mrs. Frost has merely
gone on a visit for a time. It canf be !"
"Well, Sir, I'm afraid you'll find it is true.
As for our knowing it, why, we couldn't help
ourselves. The next-door neighbors might have
known it very likely they do." (The speaker
had already discussed the affair in its minutest
details with half the servants in the neighbor-
hood.) " And I'm glad you've chanced to come
up to-night. Sir, for master's in a awful state
indeeSd, I thought that was what you come for."
Mr. Lovegrove was iit much consternation.
"Do you iliink I had better try to see him?"
he asked, douiitfidly.
The very fact of his asking the sen-ant's opin-
ion would have sufficed to prove to any one who
knew Mr. Lovegrove the extraordinary jierturba-
tion of his spirit.
" I think you had, Sir. Some one ought to see
him. He's shut hisself up in his study since six
o'clock, and wouldn't take food nor do nothing.
Half an hour ago he ojiened his door and called
to us that we might go to bed, and sliut up the
house as soon as we liked. We weren't to go
near him again. He wanted nothing."
"I will go in," said Mr. Lovegrove, with de-
cision. " I don't want you. I know my way."
The door of the little room behind the dining-
room, which Mi\ Frost occupied as his study,
was shut. Mr. Lovegrove approached it and
paused, hesitating whether or not he should
knock for admission. But after a moment he
turned tiie handle and went in.
Frost was sitting at a table with writing ma-
terials upon it. A tumbler with some brandy in
it stood by his right hand. On tiie other side
was placed a polished wooden box of peculiar
shape. Before him lay two or three sheets of
letter-paper closely covered with writing. At
the opening of the door he looked up quietly,
and tossed some papers over the box that stood
on the table. He had expected to see the serv-
ant merely. When he recognized Lovegrove his
face changed, and he looked at him fixedly with-
out speaking. Lovegrove had no need to ask a
question. The haggard countenance that met
his eyes, with the light of the lamp falling full on
it, was confirmation stronger than words that the
servant had not exaggerated the state of matters.
"Frost !" he said, and held out his hand.
The other did not take it. "So you have
heard !" he said, hoarsely.
"Only this instant. I was more overwhelm-
ed more amazed than I can say. I I had
some hope that the man your servant had
misstated in some way. But I fear My dear
Frost, I feel for you if ever one man felt for an-
other. I do, upon my soul!"
"Why did you come here, then?" asked Mr.
Frost, in the same monotonous hoarse voice.
" I came no matter now for the business that
brought me here. I can not harass you with it
now. But, Frost, you must not break down in
this way ! For all sakes you must take courage ! "
"Break down !" echoed Frost, in precisely the
same tone and manner as before ; "no; I have
not broken down."
" This," said Lovegrove, pointing to the bran-
dy, "is a bad comforter and a worse counselor.
You should take food ; and perhaps a glass of
sherry when you have eaten. God bless my soul ! I
I feel like a man in a dreadful dream ! When
did it happen ? I mean, when did did she "
" She went away this afternoon. She Avas
gone when I came home from the office. She
took her maid, and her jewels, and her clothes.
She was very fond of her clothes. Tliey were
the only objects that ever touched her affections. "
Sidney Frost laughed a short laugh as he said
the last words : a laugh that made the man op-
posite to him shiver.
" For Heaven's sake, man, don't don't laugh !
if that hideous sound can be termed a laugh.
Then she Mrs. Frost did she go alone f
lol
VERONICA.
"I tell you she was accompanied by all that
she loved in the world ! But you mean, did she
elope ? Did she leave me for a lover ? Did she
disgrace herself? Oh no ! Not so. I would
have you to understand that Mrs. Frost is a wo-
man of spotless virtue spotless, spotless virtue !
l?he only breaks her husband's heart ; but in no-
wise tarnishes his honor."
And again the horrible laugh sounded through
the room.
" Here is her letter. She left a letter. That
was very considerate, was it not ? Would you
like to read it ?"
Frost tossed a letter across the table to his
partner, and then, leaning liis elbows on the ta-
ble, buried his face in his hands. Mr. Lovegrove
read the letter slowly and attentiveh\ When he
had finished it he threw it down with an expres-
sion of disgust, and something like an oath rose
to his lips.
"By G ! such heartlessness is incredible!"
Georgina Frost had left her home, as her hus-
band had said, taking with her her jewels and
the greater part of her costly wardrobe. She
wrote that her life had long been intolerable to
her ; that her husband was either a ruined man,
or was growing rapidly to a pitch of parsimony
which threatened to become a monomania.
In the lirst case he would be relieved by her
absence ; in the second, she must decline to make
herself a victim to his avarice and his temper.
She was going to her mother and her widowed
sister, who resided abroad. They would willing-
ly receive her. Her mother's property would
eventually be hers, and she had no scruple in ac-
cepting a home with her parent. If brighter
days should come, they might meet again. But
Sidney must be aware that his conduct and tem-
per during the past three months had been such
as to alienate her affection to a great extent.
Indeed, there were moments when she had fear-
ed ))ersonal violence. He would scarcely be sur-
prisedif indeed he were at allsurjirised at the
step she had taken. And she remained his af-
fectionate and unhappy wife.
"Frost," said Mr. Lovegrove, laying his hand
on the forsaken husband's arm, "you .said some-
thing about a broken heart. You are not going
to break your heart for a woman who could write
such a letter as that !"
Mr. Frost looked up at him with a ghastly
face. His features writhed and worked convul-
sively, but no tears fell from his hot eyes.
" What is the use of your talking ?" he gasped
out. " You did not love her. She was not your
wife, your life, your idol. All these years that
she lay in my bosom I loved her more and more
day by day. I had not a thought nor a hope nor
a wish that did not tend to her pleasure and com-
fort and happiness. I knew she did not love me
as I loved her. How could she? How could
any woman have the strength to love as I loved
her? I'ut I thought she had some gleam of
kindness for me some human i)ity. Not break
my heart ! It is broken, and crushed, and dead.
The light has gone out of my life."
"Sidney Frost," exclaimed Lovegrove, sud-
denly springing up and laying his hand on the
wooden box, the significance of which had at that
moment flashed on his mind for the first time,
"I thank Almighty God that I came here to-
night to save you from an awful crime. Give
me the pistol-case. I will have it. I am not
afraid of you. Sit down. Sit down, and sit still.
And listen to me!"
After a brief and unavailing struggle for his
strength was worn out, and he was, although a
powerfidly built man, no match just then for the
other's cool, determined energ}- Frost obeyed.
He sank back into his chair, and a great burst
of tears came to relieve his overcharged brain.
Then Lovegrove talked to him gently and firm-
ly. Mr. Lovegrove was not a man of command-
ing intellect ; and he used many arguments at
which Sidney had been accustomed to scoff, less
from conviction than a careless, irreverent tone
of mind, to which cynicism appeared a short and
easy method of cutting sundry Gordian knots
that could not be unraveled. But Lovegrove
possessed the enormous advantages of thorough-
ly believing what he said, and of speaking with
a heart-felt interest in the man he addressed.
Gradually Frost grew calmer. He said nothing,
but he listened at least with patience : and once
he put out his hand, with his face turned away,
and pressed the other man's for a moment.
"You you do not know all," he faltered at
length, when Lovegrove paused.
"Confide in me. Frost, I beseech you! We
have known each other many years. We liave
always been friends, have we not ? Confide in
me fullv. You will not repent doing so. " .
"I had written to you a farewell letter a
letter of explanation. I had tiiought it would
meet no human eye until I should be out of reach
of Well, I had made a clean breast of it.
You may see it if you will. It matters little. I
am past caring for any thing, I think. But I
have a dull, dim sense of your goodness, Love-
grove. I think you are a good fellow. "
Poor ]\Ir. Lovegrove had little conception of
the revelations that awaited him. His first act
was to ring for the servant. He gtood at the
door of the room to prevent the man from enter-
ing it. When the servant appeared he bade him
bring a tray Avith food : cold meat, or whatever
could be had, he said, and a little wine and bread.
This tray, when it was brought, he received at
the door, and set before his partner with his own
hands. Then he shut the door, and, standing
over Frost, commanded him peremptorily to eat.
Having seen the latter reluctantly swallow one or
two mouthfuls, Mr. Lovegrove sat down, with the
pistol-case under his elbow, to ])eruse the close-
ly-written sheets of his partner's confession.
More tiian once, during the jjerusal, Mr. Love-
grove wiped the perspiration from his forehead,
and breathed hard, like a man undergoing severe
bodily exertion. But he read on, with a steady,
silent perseverance, little less than heroic. Frost
had indeed, as he had said, made a clean breast
of it.
The reader is already acquainted with the
main points of the confession. He acknowledged
his fraud in depriving Hugh Lockwood of his
rightful inheritance during so many years
merely suppressing, with a lingering trait of the
generous honor he had once possessed, and
which he had forfeited for the wife who had de-
serted him, Zillah's part in the deception of her
husband and her son. Then came a record of
disastrous speculations, recklessly entered into,
in the sjjirit of an unsuccessful gambler, who
throws one stake to bring back another, and with
VKROXICA.
]CJ
the object of supplying the extravagsint expend-
iture of his household. Debts pressed on every
side. Latterly there had been the threat of dis-
grace and exposure sliould he fail to refund Hugh
Lockwood's money. There had been a tempo-
raiT gleam of ho]je when his attempt to borrow
from Veronica had seemed crowned with success.
The affairs of the wretched rarthcnope Company
had also, just at that time, flickered up into
brightness. But a few hours had wrested this
last hope from him. He received from Cesare a
note, couched in tiie most courteous and almost
atiectionate terms, regretting much that tiie Prin-
cipessa had been led by an impulse of sympathy
(which Cesare begged to say he thoroughly
sliared) into promising that wliich it was out of
their jx)wer to perform. Their expenses had
been very heavy. And Mr. Frost avus aware
tliat the fortune inherited by Sir John Gale's ]
widow represented only a comparatively small
portion of the late baronet's wealth. In brief, '
I'rince Cesare was deeply afflicted, but he could '
not lend Mr. Frost a guinea ; and he trusted '
with all his heart that the latter would sijeedily I
tide over his embarrassments. '
After getting this note Frost confessed that he
had almost despaired. There was but one mo- '
live left to induce him to struggle on Georgina.
He reached his home, and found that she had
fled from the falling house. Her letter, proving
beyond all possibility of self-delusion that her
heart was entirely hardened against him, had |
broken down the last remnant of his courage, '
and he had resolved, as Lovegi'ove had divined, i
to die by his own hand. ^Iv. Lovegi'ove thought |
long and anxiously as to the course it behooved '
him to follow; and at length, after a conversa-
tion which lasted far into the night, he made the
following propositions to Mr. Frost. First, that
the latter should retire from the partnership, giv-
ing up his share of the business to Augustus, who
was now qualified to take it. For this conces-
sion Mr. Lovegrove would undertake at once to
settle Hugh Lockwood's claim, and to make such I
other advances as might be agreed on hereafter, j
Secondly, Frost was to give his word that he '
would, as soon as his retirement from the ftrm of
Frost and Lovegrove should be announced, call a '
meeting of his creditors, and lay his affairs candid- j
ly before them. If a composition was found to be
impracticable, he must then become a bankrupt : i
but in an open and upright manner, giving up
whatsoever property he had, without reserve.
Thus the disgrace of having the name of one
of its*members in the gazette would be averted
from the firm, which point weiglied a good deal
with Mr. Lovegrove. Finally, Mr. Lo\egrove
Avould undertake to assist his fonner partner in
any way that might seem, on due consideration,
to be advisable, and within the limits of what he '
(Lovegrove) considered compatible witli justice
to his own family. All this Mr. Lovegrove set
forth at length, and with a cleaniess of state- ]
ment which, even in that depth of misery and
despair in which he found himself, impressed
Frost with the conviction that he had hitherto a
little underestimated his partner's powers of mind.
" I am not in the least a sentimental man, you
know. Frost," said Mr. Lovegiove. "And 1 do
not pretend that in proposing these aiTangements
I am not, as far as is fair and practicable, con-
sulting my own interests. "
Nevertheless the fact was that the juriior part-
ner was willing to make more than one sacrifice
for the senior, and to treat him with generosity.
But Mr. Lovegrove would have been much an-
gered hud he been taxed with any such weak-
ness as a tender desire to spare Sidney Frost's
feelings at the expense of solid advantage to him-
self. Frost was broken down in mind and body.
He had no will to oppose to that of his friend.
And he knew in his heart that the other man
was using his position with forbearing kindness.
He agreed to all.
Mr. Lovegrove deemed it his duty to admon-
ish Mr. Frost once more with some sternness on
the fatal intention he had entertained.
"Suicide," said he, " is not only criminal, but
cowardly. A man of your sort has better things
to do than to die like a dog because he finds life
hard."
He extorted from Frost a solemn promise that
he Mould make no further attempt on his own
life. And he did not leave him until he had seen
him prepared for his night's rest.
"I think he will sleep," thought I\Ir. Love-
grove. "Nature is wearied out. And I believe
there is no further fear of that .'"
Nevertheless, before quitting the house, Mr.
Lovegrove took the precaution of plunging the
loaded pistols into a basin of water, and then
locking them up in the case, damp and dripping
as they were.
CHAPTER Xin.
ZILLAH S RESOLUTION.
"Mother!" cried Hugh Lockwood, coming
hastily into the little parlor in Gower Street, and
taking his mother in his arms, " good news,
mother! Let me see your dear face a little
brighter than it has been for this long time.
There is good news for you, little mother, do
you hear ?"
"Good news for me? T/iat can only mean
good news for you, my son !" replied Zillah, un-
consciously epitomizing all her widowed life in
the sentence.
"Of course ; good for me, good for you, good
for Maud. Darling Maud ! Kiss me, mother."'
Then he told her that Mr. Frost had that day
informed him by letter that the sum of money
borrowed from his late father so the note was
worded plus the interest on the capital during
the last twenty-five years, was lying at his dis-
posal at Mr. Lovegrove's office in Bedford Square,
and that on his personal application it would be
handed over to him.
"Why, mother, it is more than I hoped to get
out of the fire. Five per cent, for twenty-five
years! It will more than double the original
sum I"
' ' Oh, thank God ! My Hugh, my Hugh, what
a weight of remorse is taken from my heart!
And he has done well, after all, poor Sidney!"
"Done well? Not at all," said Hugh, whose
sense of justice was not obfuscated by his joy as
his mother's was. " Veiy far from well he has
done, mother. Five per cent, on the capital
every year is the very least that could pretend to
approach fiiir dealing and, in fact, nothing can
make his conduct out to be fair. But he has
166
VERONICA.
done better tlian I expected ; and I am very
glad and thankful, and mean to tliiuk of nothing
but the bright side of things, I assure you."
When Hugh went to receive Ins money he
perceived that the brass plate on the outer door,
which usually stood open dining office hom's,
had been removed, and a man was painting out
the black letters on a drab ground on the door-
post, which formed the words, "Messrs. Frost
and Lovegrove, Solicitors." Hugh was shown
into Mr. Lovegrove's office, and received by that
gentleman in person.
" The last time we met in tliis office, IVIr.
Lockwood," said the lawyer, "your errand here
was to repudiate a fortune. Now you come to
receive well, not a fortune, perhaps, but a sum
of money that in my young days would have been
looked upon as attbrding a very pretty start in
life. I am glad of it, and wish you every suc-
cess. "
"Thank you heartily."
"You have ahem! you have Mr. Frost's
acknowledgment for the money lent by your fa-
ther, Mr. Lockwood?"
Hugh took from his pocket-book a yellow bit
of paper with some words in J^idney Frost's bold
clear writing upon it. At one corner of the pa-
l)er there was a green stain, and near it the im-
pression of a thumb in red paint.
" Here it is, Mr. Lovegrove. My poor father
must have been at work in his studio when that
paper was written. It is marked with the traces
of his calling. "
"H'm!" said Mv. Lovegrove, examining the
])aper gravely. "A sadly informal document.'
Ha! well, here is the money, Mr. Lockwood.
Will you be kind enough to count the notes in
t!ie presence of my clerk ? Just step here for a
moment, if you please. Mr. Burgess."
"It is all quite right, f^ir," said Hugh, when
this had been done. Then, when the clerk left
the room, he said, with a slight hesitation, " I
don't know how intimate your knowledge of Mr.
Frost's private affairs may have been, but I can
not help entertaining an idea that I owe the re-
covery of this money mainly to your influence,
Mr. Lovegrove."
' ' As to my knowledge of the state of Mr. Frost's
private fortune, it is now, I may say, extremely
intimate. But I have only (juite recently learned
the existence of this debt to you. And Mr.
Lockwood, I make no excuses for my jiartner.
But I I I will confess to you that it hurts me
to hear any one hard uj)on him. And there were
certain jialliations certain jjalliations. His do-
inestio relations were unfortunate. Upon my
word, when I see the ([uantity of mischief that
women are cajiablc of causing, I feel tliankful,
positively most truly thankful, that they don't ex-
ercise their power more rutiilessly than they do !"
Hugh smiled. " You have had a happy ex-
perience of the sex yourself, Mr," said he.
"Why, yes. My mother was an excellent
woman, and my wife is an excellent woman, and
my girls are good, sound-hearted girls as you'll
find any where, thank God ! Aiul 1 most firmly
believe, Mr. Lockwood, that the young lady
whom you arc about to marry is an ornament
to her sex. You love her and rcs))ect her very
much now, I have not the least doubt. But,
take my word for it, that you will love her and
respect her more when she has been your wife
some dozen years! Oh, of course, that seems
impossible ! Yes, yes, I know. I suppose you
W'ill be married very soon now "r"
"As soon as possible I" said Hugh, with much
energy. "Oh, by-the-by, Mr. Lovegrove, I see
they are painting out the name of the firm on
your door-post. Are you going to make anv
change in the style and title of it 'r"
"Yes; a considerable change. Mr. Frost
retires tVom the business altogether the deeds
were signed this morning and the firm will
henceforth be known as Lovegrove and Lo\e-
grove."
" All success to it under its new name, say I.
But I had not heard that this was in contempla-
tion."
Mr. Lovegrove proceeded to narrate as briefly
as might be the misfortunes that had, as he said,
determined Mr. Frost to give up busi)iess so
much, that is, of his misfortunes as must inevi-
tably become matter of public notoriety. He
spared his old partner as much as possible in the
narrative. But he did not by any means spare
his old partner's wife, to whom indeed he was
inclined to attribute every thing that had gone
ill, even to the total smash and failuie of the
Farthenope Embellishment Company, which had
become matter of public notoriety within the last
week.
Hugh was much shocked. And his good
opinion of Mr. Lovegrove was greatly enhanced
by the feeling he evinced for his old friend.
" He is really a most superior man, Mr. Lock-
wood. I don't know a more superior man than
Sidney Frost is or was was, alas ! lie is a
wreck now, Sir. You wouldn't know him. I
want to send him off to Cannes or Nice, or some
of those places for the winter. He has given up
every thing most honorably to his creditors, and
they have not behaved badly. They understood
to a man whose door to lay the extravagance at.
Any thing like that woman However, it is
unavailing to dilate upon tliat. But when all is
done, there will be a small a small annuity re-
maining, which will suflice to maintain Frost in
comfort at some of those southern places. Ah,
bless my soul, ichat a superior man he was when
I first knew him !"
Mr. Lovegrove did not say that the "small
annuity" was to come entirely out of his own
pocket, and that its amount caused him sundry
twinges of conscience when he looked at his wife
and children.
" Well, Mr. Lovegrove, I hope that one of the
first transactions of the new firm will be to draw
up my marriage settlement. And I shall ask
you to continue to look after Aland's interests.
Perhaps Captain Sheardown will be the other
trustee "j?"
"I shall be delighted. You intend to have
Miss Desmond's little bit of money settled en-
tirely on herself 'f'"
"To be sure I do! I won't detain you any
longer. Your time is precious, and I suppose
you can guess in which direction ini/ steps are to
"be bent. I long to see Maudie's I'ace fiush and
brighten when I tell her my news. Ciood-by."
IMaud's face did flush and brighten in a man-
ner which may be suii)oscd to liave been satis-
factory to her lover. But it also expressed much
pity for Mr. Frost when she heard his story,
ilugli merelv informed her that Mr. Frost had
VERONICA.
167
at length paid an old del)t tliut had been due to
his (Hugh's) father ; and that having entertained
hut slender hopes of ever receiving the money,
he had deemed it best to say nothing about it to
her, lest she might suiTer disa])]iointnient.
"Oh, poor, poor man! llow dreadful to be
deserted by his own wife ! The very one person
in nil the world he might have hoped to rely on
for comfort and sympathy in his troubles. I have
seen her. She is a very beautiful woman. But,
oh how cruel and heartless she must be!"
"Let it be a warning to you not to suffer your
aftections to be engrossed by millinery, and to
keep your husband in the first place in your
heart, Mrs. llugli Lockwood!"
The Slieardowns were scarcely less delighted
than Hugli himself. The captain insisted that
the wedding should take place from Lowater
House.
"Bnt ought I not don't you think what
will Uncle Charles say?" Maud asked, hesita-
tingly.
"Do you think, my dearest, that your guard-
ian will "be hurt if you are not married from his
roof?"
"I I'm afraid so," said Maud.
" Well, I will write and ask his permission to
let it be from Lowater," said the captain.
" Perhaps," said IVIrs. Sheardown, tliought-
fully, "it would be best, after all, for Maud to
be married in London, if slie will, and go down
to .Shipley after the ceremony. Would yoir con-
sent to that, Maudie?"
Maud thought she would consent to that.
If all had gone differently, she would have
liked to be married in the ancient village church
that she had worshiped in from childhood. But
now there would be too many painful associa-
tions connected with St. Gildas! She would
miss Veronica's face beaming out from its accus-
tomed corner ; she would miss Veronica's voice
in the bridal hymn of the choir. It would call
up in the vicar's mind all that was sad and ter-
rible in his daughter's fate. No : it would be
better to be married in town. And, after all, it
mattered very little to herself. Hugh would be
there. Hugh would take care of her. Hugh
would love her. Could any thing matter very
much as long as she had Ilugli? Mrs. Shear-
down took an opportunity of drawing Hugh aside,
and explaining to him her reasons for thinking
that the vicar of ^hipley-in-the-Wold would be
rather relieved than offended by getting rid of
the spectacle of his ward's wedding. Meanwhile
there was much to be done. A letter had to be
written to the architect whose business Hugh in-
tended to purchase. A friend in the neighbor-
hood of Danecester was to be commissioned to
look out for a house for the young couple. The
house must have a garden, at any rate, and, if
possible, a little stable for a pony and pony-car-
riage, which Hugli intended to ])urchase for the
use of his wife. Though this latter desideratum,
he observed smilingly, he could build for himself,
if need were. And there must be a cottage found
in the neighborhood for Mrs. Lockwood.
But when he spoke of this to his mother, she
met him with a request that he would leave that
j)art of his arrangements which concerned her in
abeyance for a while.
"But, mother darling, why? Surely you
mean to live near iis, don't you ?"
"Perhaps not, Hugh. Don't ask me any
more at present. I may have something to tell
you by-and-by. You need not look uneasy. It
is nothing terrible. I will not deceive you
aijain." '
At the end of a fortnight, and when the day
fixed for the wedding was near at hand, Zillah
Lockwood made the confidence she had an-
nounced to her son.
"Hugh," said she, "I have become aKoman
Catholic. "
" A Roman Catholic! Mother!"
" Yes : I humbly hope to find peace and for-
giveness in the bosom of the Church. I shall
at least be able to make some ex])iation, and to
pray for these whom I love. Rome does not re-
ject the humble pious eftbrts after goodness of
the faithful, as your stern Calvinistic creed does.
I always, when I was a girl in Paris, had a great
admiration for the good religieuses, and was at-
tracted by them. The seed of their blessed ex-
ample has borne fruit in my soul. The price of
this house, which your father bequeathed to me,
will suffice to gain me admission into a poor or-
der whose members devote themselves to the sick
poor. On the day of your marriage I shall be-
come a member an unworthy and humble mem-
ber of a j)ious sisterhood in Belgium. The
good priest, whp has been enlightening my dark
mind with the comfortable truths of religion, will
make all the necessary arrangements for me. I
shall pray fervently for you, my son, and for your
sweet young wife. And all I ask of you, Hugh,
is to make me one promise. If ever you feel
your heart drawn toward the ancient and holy
IMother Church, do not resist the impulse. It
may be that it comes from Heaven, in answer to
the petitions of the earthly mother who bore you."
Nor could any expostulations or entreaties
shake Zillah's determination. Hugh was great-
ly distressed by it. But wise, kind Nelly Shear-
down consoled and comforted him.
"My dear Hugh," she said, "your mother
will be happier in following this life than in any
other which you could give her. I do not know
Mrs. Lockwood's history ; but she gives me the
idea of a woman who has suff'ered much, and
who is continually tormented by the contentions
of pride with a very singularly sensitive con-
science."
"You describe my mother with wonderful ac-
curacy. How could you learn to know her so
well ?"
" Well, you know, Maud has talked to me of
her much. Maud is as clear as crystal, and the
impression she received of your mother she faith-
fully transmitted to me. Your mother has been
accustomed to reign paramount in your affec-
tions; when you are married, that could, of
course, no longer be the case. Indeed, it has
already ceased to be the case. Mrs. Lockwood,
in living near you, would be continually torment-
ed by a proud jealousy of Maud's influence over
you ; and equally tormented by a conscientious
sense of the wrongness of such a feeling. In
her convent, in her care of the sick, and her de-
votion to good works, she will feel that her life
is not useless and wasted, and that if even onlt/
by her prayers, still by her prayers she may serve
you and yours."
So Zillah had her way without further opposi-
tion, and her two children, as she called them,
168
VEKONICA.
were surprised by the air of serenity and cheer-
fulness which liad succeeded to her old repressed
look ; the expression of one who had indeed re-
solved to be calm, but who paid a heavy price
for the carrying out of her resolution. ' But the
chief secret of this change in her was, that her
new creed recommended itself to her notion of
justice, always throughout her life unsatisfied.
According to this creed, her sufterings would
count in Iter favor. Every prayer, every priva-
tion, every penance, would be registered to her
credit in the records of the Great Tribunal. She
would suffer perhaps yes ; but she would not
at least sutf'er in vain. And this thought con-
ciliated Zillah's rebellious soul with the decrees
of Providence, and in it her weary spirit found
peace.
CHAPTEE XIV.
THE LAST PLANK.
Veronica was more wretched than she had
ever yet been after the scene in which Cesare
Imd asserted his mastcrhood over her and her
fortune. She had fancied a week before that
she could hardly be more unhappy than she then
was. But she was doomed to taste a yet bitter-
er cup. It was bitter, with a bitferness at which
her soul shuddered, to see herself so treated by
one who had been the slave of her caprices, and
had sworn that he loved her better than his own
life. Men were all tyrants ; all base, and fickle,
and cruel. All, all, all No, stay! Did she
not know one man who was none of tliese things ?
One obscure, humble man whom slie had dis-
dained and derided in her old happy days. Hap-
py days ? Oh yes, how happy, how heavenly, in
comparison with these ! And she had been dis-
contented and complaining then ? How could it
have been ? She must have been mad. Why
had no one taught her, warned her, helped her?
Oh, if the past would but come back !
"Come back, come back, come back!" she
cried aloud, with outstretched arms ; and then
crouched down sobbing and wailing in her misery.
The thought of Mr. Plew, however, came to
strengthen an idea that had been vaguely float-
ing in her mind. What if she could be separa-
ted from Cesare ! She would give him half her
fortune Give him ! Had he not said himself
that all she had was his? No; she could give
him nothing. But might he not consent to some
arrangement being male ? She did not love him
now. She detested him, and she feared him. It
was dreadful so to fear one with whom one lived
one's daily life ! She could not appeal to her fo-
ther. He would do nothing. He would reproach
lier, and would not help her. She doubted even if
he could. He seemed to have lost all energy. But
Mr. Plew ! Perhajis ! She would write to Mr.
Plew. When .she had half finished her letter,
she remembered that his mother was recently
(lead, and that he, too, must 1)C in aifliction.
She tried to say some word of condolence. But
it was flat and unmeaning. Slic could think of
no grief, she could feel no sorrow save her own.
Would the fact of his mother's death prevent his
attending to her letter? No: surely not. It
miglit even leave him freer to serve iicr. In any
case she must send the letter. It was her last
chance. Tln-ce days elapsed, and no answer
came. She had reckoned that she might receive
an answer on the afternoon of the third day.
When the time passed, and brought no reply, her
heart sank woefully.
"Has he forgotten me?" she thought, and
clasped her hands together until her sharp rings
drew blood from the soft flesh.
But that night it was nine o'clock, Cesare
was absent, as he was most evenings except when
he had company at home, and Veronica, declin-
ing to accompany him, was at home in solitude
that same night there came a gentle ring at
the bell, and the servant who answered it pres-
ently came up stairs Avith an insolent, half-sup-
pressed smile of amusement on his face, and an-
nounced "Mr. Plew." Veronica by a great ef-
fort sat still on her accustomed sofa until the
man had disappeai'ed ; but no sooner had he
closed the door than she rushed to the little sur-
geon, and almost threw herself into his arms.
"Oh, God bless you for coming ! I was fret-
ting that you did not write ; but it is bettei'
how much better that you have come yourself!
I did not dare to hope that T'
The tears gathered in his eyes. That she
should be so overjoyed to see him! The fact,
thought Mr. Plew in his unselfishness and hu-
mility, was more eloquent than words to express
the uttemess of her desolation.
' ' Yes, princess "
"Call me Veronica."
" Yes, Veronica. I came, because I could
speak to you better than I could write. And I
have much to say."
He looked very pale and wobegone in his black
clothes.
"I was sorry to hear of your loss," she said,
glancing at his mourning garments.
"Ah, my poor mother! She did not suffer
much. And I I did what I could to make her
life happy."
"You have only just arrived. You must
want food. Let me get you something."
" I do not feel as though I wanted Ibod ; but
on principle, and to set you a good example, I
will try to eat something. It is not well to fast
too long. And if I am knocked up I can't do
any good. I must be in possession of what en-
ergy and fixculty I possess."
Veronica gave her orders. There was a dif-
ficulty in executing them. Wine there was, cer-
tainly, of various kinds ; but^ as to supper, Ma-
dame la Princesse did not usually take supper.
They did not know ; they could not say that
there was any thing provided !
"Get some supper, immediately!" said Ve-
ronica, imperiously.
Her command was literally obeyed. A non-
descript subordinate, who served the servants,
was dispatched to bu}'' some cooked meat. It
was sent up on a porcelain dish, flanked by two
flasks of rare wine, and served with fine damask,
and silver brave with the foreign-looking showy
crest of the Barlettis. The village surgeon be-
gan to perceive that homely comfort and hospi-
table abundance did not always belong to the
mansions of jn-inces. In short, that things meant
for Jiuman governance had an obstinate habit of
declining to "govern themselves!"
"I'm afraid I have given you a good deal of
trouble," said Mr. Plew, meekly.
" You see what kind of a banquet it is I am
VERONICA.
1G9
able to set before you," suiil Veioiiica. And
she added, with a bitter hxugh : " Wlieu I xised
to come to your cottage, and have tea with your
mother, she was able to give me abundance of
sweet, wJiolesome, a|iieiizing food. But she was
a poor widow in a country village. I am a prin-
cess with a grand retinue! However, here is
sometliing that tlie cottage could not furnish.
This is good." And she rapidly poured out two
goblets full of foaming wine, and drank nearly
the whole contents of one at a drauglit. Mr.
riew laid down his knife and fork, aghast.
"Take care, Veronica ! That is a dangerous
experiment! You have tasted no food, I'll be
sworn, since dinner. And perhaps you ate but
little at dinner? Am I not right?"
"Quite right. I never eat now. I hate eat-
ing."
" Good God !"
"Wei. not quite never! Don't look so.
You make me laugh, in spite of every thing, to
see your horror-stricken face !"
But Mr. Flew showed no symptom of joining
in the laugh. Timid and self-distrustful in most
things on his own ground, in matters pertaining
to his profession, he could be strong and decided
and resolute enough. What had contributed to
make him so had been that his practice lay nei-
tlier among educated persons who could in some
measure be trusted to understand their own
maladies, nor among idle, fanciful, imaginary
invalids, who took to being "delicate"' by way
of amusement, and found life uninteresting until
they could succeed in persuading themselves that
they ran some risk of losing it ; but among the
lowest ranks of the ignorant poor, who had to be
cm'ed in spite of themselves.
"You don't know what you are doing," said
Mr. Plew, gravely ; and, without the least cere-
mony, he took the flask away from the neigh-
borhood of Veronica's hand, and placed it near
his own.
"Ha, mio povero Plew," she said, nodding
her head at him, "you little know! This will
have no effect upon me. I am past that."
"What do you mean, Veronica?" he said,
sharply and sternly. "If you are joking, the
joke is a very bad one. I tliink you are talking
without rightly weighing the meaning of what
you say."
" Ah, per Bacco, it is likely enough. I often
do ! But come, you don't eat and you don't
drink ! Won't you try this wine ? It isn't bad."
"What is it? I am not used to these costly
vintages. I think I never tasted that kind of
wine in my life before."
"That which I poured out is spavkling Mo-
selle. The other is Hock. Which are you for ?"
"Well a little of this, I think," said Mr.
Plew, filling a small wine-glass full of Hock.
" Oh misericordia, don't pour the Hock into
that thimble ! The bigger glass the green glass
is meant for the Hock !"
"Thank you, this will do," said Mr. Plew,
sipping the wine gravely. "That effervescent
stuff I should take to be very heating and un-
wholesome."
Veronica leaned back on her sofa cushions and
looked at him. He was small, common-look-
ing, ill dressed, unpolished. His boots were
thick and clumsy, his hands coarse and un-
gloved. She saw all this as keenly as she had
ever seen it. But she saw also that he was good
and generous and devoted. Tiie only human
being, she told herself, who was true to her;
the only one !
"I aiu so thankful you are come!" she ex-
claimed. The words broke from her almost in-
voluntarily. Mr. Plew pushed his jjlate aside.
In s]nte of wiiat he had said, he had scarcely
touched tlie food they had set before him. Then
he drew his chair so as to front her sofa, and sat
with his knees a little aiuvrt, his body leaning
forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and his
hands loosely clasped together. It was a fomil-
iar attitude of his. Veronica had seen him sit-
ting thus a hundred times in the vicarage parlor,
listening to her father, and looking at herself.
"Now," said he, "let us talk seriously."
" You must not oppose my wish ! You must
not! I tell you I can not go on living this life.
I must part from Cesare. lie will not care !
Why should he ? He has the money !"
As he now saw her, looking at her intently,
and marking her face, her voice, her attitude,
he perceived that she was greatly and deplorably
changed. It cut him to the heart to see it.
"Before we speak of that, Veronica, I had
best tell you something which I have it in charge
to tell you. "
"/h charge to tell me? It is not about your-
self, then ?" An unreasonable suspicion flashed
through her mind that he was going to tell her
he was married or betrothed. She forgot how
unlikely his very presence there rendered such a
suspicion : she forgot his mother's recent deatii.
She only thought, "I shall lose him! He will
slip through my fingers !"
Poor, wasted, fevered, clinging fingers, grasp-
ing with desperate selfishness at the kind true
hand which offered the only touch of sympathy,
the only chance of safety that remained to her !
" No : it is not about myself It is news that
you will, I am afraid, be vexed to hear. Your
father is married. "
"Married!"
"I feared it would be disagreeable to you."
" Married ! But when ? Whom has he mar-
ried?"
" He was married the day before yesterday to
Farmer Meggitt's youngest daughter."
" Cissy Meggitt! Cissy Meggitt ! It is im-
possible ! Why, in the first place. Cissy is a
child."
"She is A'ery young, certainly, for the vicar.
But she is not exactly a child. She is turned
seventeen."
"My father married to Cissy Meggitt !"
Veronica repeated the words as though tliey
were unintelligible to her.
"You must not let it afflict you too much. I
am sorry for it, I confess. But you must hope
for the best."
She remained silent and tlioughtful for a few
minutes, idly plucking at the lace around her
sleeve.
"No," she said, at length. "I need not be
afflicted. I don't know that it makes very much
difference. In any case my father woidd not
have been likely to do much to help me."
" Perha]is not. But I was not contemplating
the event from that point of view. I was think-
ing, when I said I was sorry of him," answered
Mr. Plew, gently.
170
VERONICA.
"Ah, yes yes very true of liim. I sup-
pose he will it will be a bad thing for papa."
Mr. Plew had dreaded an explosion of wrath
and mortification on Veronica's pai't when she
should learn her father's marriage. He knew
her pride, her social ambition, her notion of her
father's superiority by birth and breeding to
most of those with whom he was brought into
contact at Shipley. Even at Shipley the vicar's
marriage was looked upon as a terrible me'salli-
ance. Every body was offended and disgusted :
the gentry, that the vicar should have stooped
so low ; the farmers, that Cissy Meggitt should
liave been raised so high. ]\Irs. Sack made it a
text for justifying her secession from orthodoxy,
and for prophesying the speedy downfall of the
Establishment. The men wondered what could
have bewitched rosy-cheeked Cissy Meggitt, a
well-grown lass, as might have had her pick in
the county, to go and tie herself up to an old
man like that, and him as poor as a rat into the
bargain. The women pitied the vicar, that they
did. He was a fool, well and good, that they
didn't gainsay. But Mrs. Meggitfs artfulness
and cunning passed every thing. She'd whee-
dled the vicar till he didn't know which end
of him was uppemiost. They had thought it
wouldn't never come to good, having a govern-
ess, and learning to phiy on the pianny. And
now you saw, didn't you ? If the height (a mys-
terious and oft-reiterated charge) of Mrs. ISIeg-
gitt had been onbearable before, what did you
suppose it 'ud be now ? Though what there was
to boast on, they couldn't tell. Cissy wasn't a
lady, and wouldn't never be made into one, not
if .she married fifty vicars!
]\Ir. riew had "been sent for by the vicar on
the evening before the wedding, and had had a
jwinful scene with him. Mr. Levincourt oscil-
lated between haughty declarations that he owed'
an account of his conduct to no man, and that
he fully believed the step he was taking would
be entirely for his happiness, and peevish lament-
ations over tiie misconduct of his daughter, who
had left his home desolate and disgraced, and
thus driven him to find sympathy and compan-
ionship Avhere he could.
" Have you informed Ve the Princess Bar-
letti, Sir ?" asked Mr. Tlew.
" Informed her ! No, Sir, I have not informed
lier. I am not bound to ask my daughter's per-
mission to take what step I please. She deserves
no confidence from me none whatever!"
But presently it appeared that tiie vicar very
much desired "that Mr. Flew should take upon
himself the task of communicating the news to
A'^eronica.
" I promised to write to you," said Mr. Plew,
finishing his recital, in which he had softened all
the points that were likeliest to give her pain.
" But then came your letter, and I I made uj)
my mind to come. Mr. Brown, of Shipley Mag-
na, promised to look after my patients for a day
or two. And there is no one else to miss me."
" Then," said Veronica, raising her eyes, and
coming out of a black reverie in which Mr.
1 'lew's words had but faintly reached her con-
sciousness, "I am quite alone in the world
now!"
" Don't say that ! Don't say that, Veronica !
Your husband "
" .My husband !'
The accent with which she uttered the words
was so heart-breaking in its utter hopeless bitter-
ness, that Mr. Plew was silent for a moment.
What could he oppose to that despair? But he
presently made a brave effort to speak again.
" Yes, Veronica, your husband ! If I cared
less for you I should not have the courage to op-
pose you. But I iimst tell you, I itnist urge you
to consider well that your husband is your natu-
ral friend and protector. No one can come be-
tween you and him. It can not be that recon-
ciliation between you is hopeless. You are
both young. He loves you. He seemed gentle
and "
She burst out into a storm of passionate tears.
"Oh, what shall I do? what shall I do? No
one Mill believe me ! no one will understand I
Did you read my letter? I ask, did you read
it? Gentle! yes, he is very gentle ! Oh, very,
very gentle ! As velvet-footed as a tiger-cat I
Would you like to see the mark of his claws ?"
With a sudden fierce movement she tore open
the long lace sleeve that she wore, and bared her
arm to the shoulder. There were on the white,
tender flesh two livid marks made by the brutal
pressure of a clasping hand.
"Good God! you did not say you did not
tell me that he struck you!"
jNIr. Plew's white fixce grew livid, and then
turned crimson. He clenched his hand involun-
tarily.
"bh no! He did not strike me I He mere-
ly held me down in my chair with gentle vio-
lence, endeavoring to make me promise to re-
ceive a woman whom he desired to invite, and
who had openly insulted me. I cried out with
the pain, but I would "not promise. I said he
might kill me first."
"Oh, my good Heavens, this is dreadful!"
"I should not have escaped so easily and
perhaps I might have given way, for he hurt me,
and I dread pain, I never could bear pain
and and I am afraid of him. Oh, you don't
know what deadly fear I am in sometimes ! But
a servant came into the room liy chance, and I
ran away and locked myself up."
" But but he was sorry he asked your par-
don what a damned cowardly brute the fellow
must be!" cried Mr. Plew, suddenly breaking
down in his efforts to preach patience to Ve-
ronica.
"When I showed him the marks next day,
he said I had provoked him by my obstinacy,
and that if I had had an English husband he
would have beaten me within an inch of my life
for my disobedience."
Mr." Plew got up and walked about the room,
wiping his hot forehead with his handkerchief.
Presently he came back to the sofa. His eyes
were full of tears. He took her hand in one of
his, and placed his other hand on her head.
"Poor child!' he said. "Poor, unhapjiy
child ! Veronica, I would lay down my life to
bring you comfort."
As "he so stood looking at her with a tender
compassion that was almost sublime in its purity
from anv alloy of self, the door was opened quickly
and quietly, and Cesare de' Barletti stood iu the
room.
VERONICA.
171
CIIAPTEK XV,
INFELICE.
Cesaue advanced into the room silently, with
liis eyes fixed on iiis wife. He was very pale,
and his hand i)liicked at his mustache with the
lithe, ser{)entine motion of the lingers that was
^o suggestive of cruelty. Veronica, when she
saw him, started violently, and drop])ed I'lew's
hand. The surgeon stood firm and still, and
looked at Cesare quietly, neither apprehensive
nor defiant. For some seconds no one spoke.
The room was as still as death. Cesarc's eyes
quitted his wife's face, and wandered roinid the
liondoir, looking more than ever like the inscru-
table eyes in a picture on whiclj you can not get
a good light. Tliis glance took in every detail
if the scene. The preparations for sup])cr, the
half-emptied flasks of wine; above all, his wife's
torn sleeve, and the wasted arm with its livid
bruises. Then he spoke.
" Mille sense! I intrude. Xo wonder you
]ireferred to stay at home, cara gioja! But why
did you not tell me that you expected a gtiest?
lla! Quite a carouse a banquet! Per Dio!
It is diverting ! Like a scene in a comedy. It is
complete ! Lelioand Kosaura and the husband I"
He spoke in Italian, and with an insolent,
mocking bitterness of irony, which perhaps only
an Italian can attain. Veronica did not speak.
.She sat still, with parted lips and dilated eyes,
and her heart beat with such suffocating rapid-
ity that she panted for breath as she sat. Sud-
denly Barletti turned to Flew, and addressed
him in English, with a total change of tone.
"What do you here?" he asked, abruptly.
"I came here, Prince Barletti, because "
He saw in Veronica's foce a mute appeal to con-
ceal the fact that she had sent for him. "Be-
cause I happened to be in town, and thought
that, for old acquaintance sake, I might venture
to call on your wife. I am sorry to perceive
by your manner an unnecessarily discourteous
manner, 3-ou will allow me to say, toward one
whom you consider your inferior that my visit
is distasteful to you."
"Distasteful! Come? How can you think
it? Cume, come? llow distasteful? Schiavo
suo ! I am your slave. "
"I think, Cesare, you might be decently
civil if not kind to an old friend of mine
whom I so value," gasped out Veronica,
with her hand pressed to her side to restrain the
painful beating of her heart.
" Angelo mio diletto! I have a great defect.
I confess it with much penance. I am not of
those husbands those amiable and dear hus-
bands who are kind to the old and valued friend
of their wife ! Clie vuoi ? I am made so. Son
futlo cost."
"You are mad, Cesare!"
"Not at all. Ah no I I have the disgrazia
the disgrace to be in my sound mind. I
have a memory oh ! so good me^iory. Did I
tell you of my antipathy another defect I am
full of them for a certain person ? And diil I
say that I like him not to come in my house?''
All this while Cesare was standing, with fold-
ed arms, on the opposite side of the table to his
wife and Plew. The latter left his position near
Veronica, and advanced toward. Barletti, still,
iiowever, keeping the table between them.
"I shall not trust myself to say what I think
of your conduct," said the little surgeon, "llow
you treat me matters little "
"It matters nothing. You are right. It
matters not that!" returned Barletti, snap])ing
his fingers close to the surgeon's face. The lat-
ter stood like a rock.
"You had better take care," said he, quietly.
" You might chance to touch me if you did that
again."
"And if so ? Even if so, eh ? Maledctta ca-
naf//ia die tu seil"
Plow did not understand the words, but the
look and tone that accompanied them were intel-
ligible enough. He colored high, but spoke still
in the same quiet manner, that in its unafi'ected
manliness had a certain dignity.
"You have told your wife in my presence
that you had an antipathy to me why, Heaven
knows! and that you had desired never to see
me in your house. Even had I known this, 1
do not think it woidd have prevented me from
coming "
"Without doubt! Oh, without doubt ! He
is jileasant, this buffone!"
" But I did not know it. And my errand
here to-night was partly to deliver a message
to your wife from her father."
" You lie !"
" Cesare ! Per pieta !" cried Veronica, rising
and holding up her hands as though to shut out
the words from the surgeon's ears.
"Don't be afraid, Veronica," said Plew, with
a quivering lip. " I am not a child, to be car-
ried away into passion by a vile, vulgar insult
from one whom I despise. "
"Be silent, then!" ciied Cesare, turning on
her with savage fury. He spoke now in his own
language, and poured out a torrent of o])probri-
ous taunts and invectives with the volubility of
an angry lazarone.
,He was jealous of Mr. Plew. Wild and in-
credible as the idea appeared to Veronica, it nev-
ertheless was so. Some jesting word dropped by
the vicar about ^Ir. Plew's old adoration for his
daughter had first attracted his attention to the
behavior of Veronica toward this man. He had
been struck by tiie unexampled fact of her taking
the trouble to write letters to him from Shipley
Magna. He had more than once told Veronica,
as the reader knows, that the village surgeon
was, as he phrased it, antipatico to him. Still
she persisted in communicating with him. Ce-
sare had watched the posting of her letters.
Why should she care to write to j\Ir. Plew ?
Friendship ? Bah ! He was not a fool. What
fiiendship could there be between a beautiful,
brilliant young woman like his wife and a man
who, however unattractive he might be in Ce-
sare's eyes, was still far from old, and, moreover,
had loved Veronica in years gone by ? C'he, che !
If she did not love him, she allowed him to make
love to her. Cesare's jealousy was alert and fu-
rious at the thought. Then one night he comes
home unexpectedly, and finds this man with his
wife with his wife, who had refused to go out
with him in spite of his urgent request to her to
do so. She had been complaining of h'y.n, too,
to this accursed doctor. Did he not see the torn
j sleeve, the uncovered arm? There was no re-
, proach that could lacerate a woman's feelings
; that he did not heap on her in his fury.
172
VERONICA.
"Oh, merciful Heaven I" she cried, pressing
her hands to her throbbing temples, "this is
more than I can bear. Listen, Cesare. Since
you are possessed with this insanity yes, insan-
ity ! I would say so with my dying breath I will
tell you now the truth. I can not remain M'ith
you. I have made up my mind to separate from
you, and to live apart. You may have all the
mone}' all the wicked, weary money ; give me
only enough to live on, and let me go. I am
broken and crushed. I only want peace."
"You hear the Signora Principessa !" said Ce-
sare, resuming for a moment his mocking sneer.
"You hear her I Can not you, you valued
friend, persuade her to be wise? I am her hus-
band. Ah, I know your English law I I am
master, she is slave. Can not yon advise her ?
But I fear you are not yourself very wise I You
give her wine. See, here is the fiasco nearly
void. Do you not know that she has too great
penchant for the wine, la nostra cara principessa?
Or did you perhaps teach her to love it, like the
reet of the Inglesi ?"
" You are more base and contemptible than 1
could have believed it possible for a man to be.
I shall not i-emain longer beneath your roof.
But I would have you know, and to understand,
and to lay to heart, that this lady is not without
friends and protectors, and that the English law,
which you profess to know so Avell, does not per-
mit you to treat her with the gross brutality to
which I can bear witness."
"Giuro a Dio!" cried Cesare, in a transport
of fury. "This to me to me! yoet are per-
haps her protector cane maledetto!"
"Don't go!" screamed Veronica, clinging to
the surgeon's arm, and cowering away from her
hnsljand. "lie will kill me when you are
gone!"
With a tremendous oath, Cesare seized a knife
from the table, and made a thrust at the sur-
geon. At the same instant Veronica threw her-
self between the two men, and the knife, glan-
cing oif Plew's thick coat, was plunged into her
side.
" O God ! Veronica!" cried the surgeon, sup-
porting her in his arms, and, as her weight sank,
kneeling down upon the groimd, and resting her
head on his knee. "Oh, my beloved!"
Cesare stood transfixed and motionless, look-
ing at the flowing blood, the dark, disheveled
liair that covered the surgeon's knee, the white
face of his hapless wife.
"Get assistance! Call for help! You have
murdered her. Veronica! Veronica!"
" Is is she dead?" said Cesare. Then, with-
out waiting for a rci)]y, he rushed out of the room
Avith a ra])id, noiseless step, descended the stairs
with headlong vehemence, and was gone. The
surgeon's cries presently brought up a crowd of
scared servants, most of them heated and flus-
tered with a revel they had been Iiolding in their
own domain, and wliich had prevented their hear-
ing Cesare rush down the stairs and from the
house. Tlicre was a chorus of exclamations a
confused Babel of voices. Some of the women
screamed murder.
"Be quiet, for God's sake! Help me to lay
her on the couch."
He had stanched the blood as well as he could,
but it still flowed, and as they lifted her to place
her on the couch it broke fortli afresh, and left a
ghastly trail that marked their path across the
gayly-flowered carpet.
"Go for a doctor instantly! Go you!" said
]\Ir. Plew, singling out one man who looked less
scared and more self-possessed than the others.
He was a groom, and had not long been in the
prince's service.
"I am a medical man myself," said ^Mr. Plew,
" but I must have assistance."
The man set off, promising to make good
speed. Several doctors lived within a short dis-
tance of the house. He would not return with-
out some one. ]Mr. Plew then asked for water
and linen, and sending the other men away, he
made two of the women assist him to do what
could be done. They laid a white sheet over
her, and put pillows and cushions beneath her
head. In a few minutes, as he hung over her
with an agonized face, she opened her eyes.
"Lord be merciful! She's alive!" cried one
of the women.
]\Ir. Plew checked her by putting his hand
over he." mouth.
"Be quiet. It's a matter of life and death
that you should be quiet. Veronica," he added,
putting his lips near to her ear, and speaking
very softly. ' ' Do you know me ?"
She formed the word "yes," with her colorless
lips. Then her eyes languidly wandered about
the room as though in search of some one. Then
for the first time Mr. Plew remarked Cesare's
absence. He had hitherto had eA'es and ears
only for her.
"Where is your master?" he asked of one
of the women, interpreting Veronica's look.
" Master ? Master ? 1 don't know ! Did he
come in ?"'
"Yes, yes; he was here. He Avas here just
now."
" Then," cried one of the women, clasping her
hands, "was it he that done it?"
Veronica made a violent ertbrt to speak. " It
was not all his fault," she gasped. '"I fell-
on the knife."
The exertion was too great for her, and she
swooned again. In a few moments the groom
returned, bringing \\\.\\ him the doctor and a
policeman.
CHAPTER XVI.
THE END.
"There is not the least hope. You had bet-
ter send for her friends at once. Are they in
London ? She can not last many hours."
Tlie sickly gray dawn was creejnug in at the
windows of tlie room where Mr. Plew had watch-
ed all night by the side of the dying girl. Dy-
ing? Ah yes, too surely. Before his colleague's
verdict had been uttered Mr. Plew had known
full well, although he had striven against the
knowledge, that it was beyond mortal skill to
save her. Tle light of a shaded lamp struggled
with the dawn. They had not dared to remove
Veronica from the couch on which she had been
placed at first. Tlie growing daylight gradually
revealed more and more of the horrible aspect
of the chamber. The contrast of its gaudy rich-
ness and bright gilding with the awful stains that
ran along the floor, and with the ghastly white-
ness of the covering tiiat concealed the helpless
.VERONICA.
17'
form on the sofa, .and with tlic livid fiice and for-
lorn, disheveled hair tossed wildly around it, was
horrible.
They had cut the hair oft' roughly here and
there, in jagged ends, to keep it from distressing
her by its long abundance. Both the doctors
had at fii-st concurred in thinking that there
might be some hope. When it was desired to
take her deposition, the medical men had said
that to disturb her with questions would be at
that moment infallibly to kill her. With a little
quiet and patience, she might be able by-and-by
to speak.
Jleanwhile search was being made for her
guilty husband, who, it was clear, had fled from
the consequences of his crime. But, after a few
liours, a violent fever set in. From that moment
Mr. Plew knew that she was doomed. She had
been delirious all night, and had asked constant-
ly for water, water, water. But she spoke chiefly
in Italian. Her faithful, loving friend had watch-
ed by her through the long night of agony, such
as breaks the heart and blanches the head. Then,
with the first gi-ay of morning, came the words
that head this chapter :
"There is no hope."
Her father had been telegraphed for, but it
was scarcely possible that she should survive to
see him, let him make the utmost speed he could.
After the long night of pain, fever, and delir-
ium, the first rays of morning found the sufferer
sleeping. It seemed not, indeed, so much a
sleep as a lethargy that weighed on her eyelids,
surrounded by a livid violet circle that made the
pallor of her cheeks and brow startling.
"Has any news been heard of the man the
Prince Cesare?" asked the London physician, in
a low voice, of Mr. Plew. The former had not
passed the whole night by Veronica's couch, as
her old friend had done. He had contented
himself with sending a nu.se, and promising to
come again in the early morning. This promise
he had kept. 3Ir. Plew shook his head in an-
swer to the physician's question.
"I hope they'll catch the villain," said the
physician.
Mr. Plew at that moment had no thought or
care for Cesare 's punishment. His whole soul
seemed to hang upon the prostrate form from
which the life was ebbing with every breath.
"The magistrate will be here by-and-by," said
the doctor.
" She must not be disturbed I" said Mr. Plew.
" She must not be tortured."
The physician sHghtly shrugged his shoulders,
and looked at the sleeper with a cool compassion
in his face. "They must not delay i-ery long,
if they want to see her alive. The end is near,"
said he.
Mr. Plew remained perfectly still, watching
her face, from which he did not withdraw his
eyes for a moment, even in addressing the other
man. His hands were folded together on his
breast. In his heart he was praying that she
might regain consciousness, and recognize him,
before the end.
"O Lord, may this grace be vouchsafed to
me I"
So ran his prayer.
Mr. Plew was not unskilled in his own science,
and he did not jjray for her recovery. That,
thought he, would be a miracle. A man can
not hope for a miracle. It did not occur to him
that any special answer to special prayer must be
miraculous. The human heart is complex and
illogical, and deduces many contradictory infer-
ences from the simplest premise. Half an hour
passed. Then there came a ring at the door,
which sounded with jjainful metallic vibrations
through the hushed house.
"I will go down and see them," sr.id the phy-
sician, divining who the early visitors must be,
and not sorry to leave a scene in which he could
be of no use.
" She must not be disturbed," said Mr. Plew,
still without moving or changing the fixed direc-
tion of his glance. The other nodded, and
noiselessly left the room. The hired nurse sat,
with closed eyes, in a chair in a distant corner
of the room. She was not fully asleep ; but she
took a measure of repose in the half-waking fash-
ion rendered fomiliar by her avocations. There
was a muffled sound of feet below ; the closing
of a door then all was still.
Suddenly the surgeon's gaze, instead of look-
ing on closed, violet-tinted eyelids, with their
heavy black fringe, met a pair of wide-open, hag-
gard eyes, that looked strange, but not wild:
there was speculation in them.
"Mr. Plew!"
The whispered sound of his own uncouth name
was like music in his ears. All the night she
had been calling on Cesare, begging him to save
her from that other ; imploring hina to give her
a drink of water ; ajjpointing an hour for him to
meet her in the Villa Reale ; always associating
him with some terror or trouble. She had spok-
en in Italian ; but her husband's namQ|fcand
one or two other words, had sufficed to g^ the
watcher an idea of the images that fiUed her poor
fevered brain.
"My dearest," he answered.
She feebly moved her hand, and he took it in
his own. She closed her eyes for a moment, as
though to signify that that was what she had de-
sired him to do.
Then she opened her eyes again, and looking
at him with a terrible, wide stare, whispered,
"Shall I die?"
His heart was wrung with a bitter agony as
he saw her plaintive, pleading face, full of the
vague terror of a frightened child. He pressed
her hand gently, and stroked the matted hair
from her forehead. He tried to speak comfort
to her. But it was in vain. He could not tell
her a lie.
"Don't let me die! I am very young. Can't
I get better ? Oh, can't I get better ? I am so
afraid ! Keep me with you. Hold my hand.
Don't let me die I'
' ' Veronica 1 INIy only love I Be calm ! Have
pity on me. "
"Oh, but I am afraid. It is so dreadful to
to die!"
She hid her face against his hand, and moan-
ed and murmured a little incoherently.
"Our Father, have mercy upon her!" sobbed
the surgeon. Even as he sobbed he was careful
to suppress the convndsive heaving of his chest,
as far as it was in his power to command it, lest
it should shake the hand she clung to.
Again she moved her head enough to enable
her to look up at him. "You are good," she
said. ' ' You can pray. God v.ill hear you.
17i
VERONICA.
Will he ? will he hear you ? Oh yes, yes ; yon
and Maud. You and JMaud you and Do
you see that tombstone in St. Gildas's grave-
yard ? I dreamed once that I was going to mar-
ly you, and he started out from behind the tomb-
stone to prevent it. That was a dream. But
the tombstone is there : white, all white on the
turf. Don't you see it?"'
' ' Veronica ! Do you hear me ?"
"Yes Mr. Plew. Poor Mr. Flew! He
loved me. Was it you ?"
" I loved you. I love you. Listen ! Do
you think you can pray? "
" 0-h-h-h ! I'm afraid! But if you say if
you say it I will try."
He uttered a short prayer.
" Do you forgive all those wlio have done you
wrong?"
"Forgive! I am very sorry. I am sorry.
I hope they will forgive me. Yes ; I forgive."
" My darling, let me kiss you. You are not
in pain ?"
" N-no. It is so dark now! That old yew-
tree shades the window too much. But we shall
go away where there is more light, sha'n't we ?
We won't stay here."
" We will go where there is more light, my
treasure. Lean your dear head on my arm, be-
loved. So. You are not frightened now ?"
" Not frightened now ; tired so tired! How
dark the yew-tree makes the window ! Ah !"
She gave a long, quivering sigh, and dropped
her head quite down upon his hand.
When they came to see if the sufferer could be
spokBi to, they found him standing, rigid, with
her migers clasped in his. He raised his hand
to warn them to be silent as they entered.
"She must not be disturbed!" he whispered.
"Disturbed I" echoed the physician, advancing
hastily. "She will never be disturbed more.
My dear Sir, you must compose yourself. I feel
for 3'our grief You were evidently much at-
tached to the unfortunate lady. But there is no
more to be done she is dead !"
Several years later there arrived in Leghorn,
from the United States, an Italian a Sicilian he
called himself who was supposed by those who
understood such matters to be mixed up with
certain political movements, of a republican tend-
ency, in the South. He was an agent of ]Mazzi-
ni, said one. He was a rich adventurer, who
had been a filil)uster, said another. He was a
mere chevalier d'industrie, declared a thi-d, and
the speaker remembered his face in more than
one capital of Kuro])e. Doubtless he had been
attracted to the neigliborhood of Florence by its
recent elevation to the rank of a metropolis. Or
it might be that he had made New York too hot
to hold him.
One night there was a disturbance at a low
cafd in Leghorn, near the port, frequented chief-
ly by Greek sailors. A man was stabbed to the
heart, and his assassin, a certain Greek of in-
famous character, named Folyopolis, was con-
doinncd to the galleys for life.
Of the murdered man little was known. The
landlord of the cafe' deposed that lie had entered
liis house togetiier with the Greek, the latter
spcming more boastfully insolent and elated than
was his wont; that he (the landlord), perceiving
that the stranger was of a different class to the
generality of his customers, was induced by cu-
riosity to pay some attention to his conversation
(in other words, to listen at the door of the mis-
erable room occupied by the Greek) ; that he
had heard the two men quarreling, and the Greek
especially insisting on a large sum of money, re-
iterating over and over again that twenty "thou-
sand francs was a cheap price to let him" off at.
He supposed there had been a struggle, for he
had soon heard a scuffling noise, and the voice
of Polyopolis crying out that he should not serve
him as he had served his wik I He had got as-
sistance, and broken open the door. The stran-
ger was dead : st^ibbed to the heart. Che vuole ?
Pazienza ! Polyopolis had tried to esca])e by
the window, but was too great a coward to jump.
So they caught him. That was all he knew.
Ecco!
The murdered man was known in Leghorn as
Cesare Cesariid. But there was more than one
distinguished noble who could have given a dif-
ferent name to him. But they never thought of
doing so. The man was dead. There had been
sundry unpleasant circumstances connected with
his history. And would it not have been ex-
ceedingly inconvenahle to stir up sucii disagree-
able recollections, to the annoyance of a really
illustrious Neapolitan family, who had become
quite the leaders of society since their influx of
wealth from the sale of some projierty to an En-
glish company that afterward went to smash ?
Che, che ! let by-gones be bj'-gones !
So Cesare de' Barletti sleeps in a pauper's
grave, and his own people know his name no
more.
Maud was not told of Veronica's tragic fate
until some weeks after her marriage her hus-
band feeling that it would cast a deep gloom
over the early brightness of their wedded life.
Her grief, when she knew the truth, was sincere
and intense. And her only consolation was as
she often said to the poor surgeon to know that
her dear girl had died with his loving hand in
hers, and had not been quite lonely and aban-
doned at the last.
The vicar's affliction was more demonstrative,
but briefer, than Maud's. He soon had troubles
enough in the present to prevent his brooding
over the past. His young wife speedily discov-
ered the anomalous nature of her position : not
received by the gentry, and looked on with cold
jealousy by those of her own class. She became
fretful and slatternly, and turned out to have a
shrewish tongue, and to be energetic in the-using
of it. And her vulgar family established them-
selves in the vicarage, and lorded it over the
vicar as only the callousness of vulgarity can.
Old Joanna left her old master with regret.
But, as she said, she could not stand being crow-
ed over by Mrs. Meggitt. The faithful old wo-
man went to live with ^Irs. Hugh Lockwood,
whose children especially a bright-eyed little
girl, named Veronica she spoiled with supreme
sntisfaction to herself, and unler tlie delusion
that her discipline was Sjiartan in its rigor.
Miss Turtle inherited a trifling legacy from a
bachelor uncle, who was a tradesman in London ;
on the strength of which legacy she set up a day-
school for the children of small shop-keepers, and
such jiersons. As she was very gentle, very hon-
est, and very industrious, she prospered. She
VERONICA.
1]
never married ; ami slio and Mr. Flew continued i suburban cemetery. But of these visits lie never
fast friends to the end of their days,
Of the little surgeon if these pages have suc-
ceeded in iiortraying him as he was it need not
he said that his lite continued to he one of huin-
hlc usefidiiess and activity. He was never mer-
ry, and seldom to outward observation at least
sad. Once a year he made a pilgrimage to
London, where he visited a lonely tomb in a
spoke.
And it was observed in him that, wliile he was
always kind and gentle to all children, he was
especially attacheil to one of Maud's little girls.
But lie always gave her the uncouth name she
had bestowed upon herself in her baby efforts to
talk Wonca! and he never called her Veronica!