CHAPTER X.

Scarcely a week had passed since the evening mentioned in the last chapter, but these few days had brought about great changes in the household at the castle of Lindhof. The dismissed superintendent had already been replaced by a new man, whose power, however, was very limited, as Herr von Walde had undertaken the chief oversight of affairs himself. Several day-labourers who had been summarily dismissed, either because they were warm adherents of the village pastor, and had, on account of their work, been frequently absent from prayers at the castle, or because they did not care to listen to the chaplain's sermons, were again working on the estate.

The day before, Sunday, Herr von Walde, accompanied by the Baroness Lessen and little Bella, had attended service in the village church at Lindhof. To the surprise of all, the chaplain, Herr Moehring, had appeared in the organ-loft as one of the audience, and at noon the worthy pastor had taken dinner with the family at Castle Lindhof. Doctor Fels paid daily visits there, for Fraeulein von Walde was sick. That was the reason why Elizabeth had not been requested to give her another lesson, and also, as the forester said, why the Baroness Lessen "had not been banished to Siberia, for," said he, "Herr von Walde would not be such a savage as to make his ailing sister still more ailing, by depriving her of the society which was dearest to her. He knew that if his mother left, Herr von Hollfeld's visits would also cease." It was malicious to say so, but, as he added, "incontrovertibly just."

In the village it was well known that it had required several terrible tempests to clear the air at Castle Lindhof. For the first three days after his arrival Herr von Walde had taken his meals alone in his private apartments, and the letters which the baroness' waiting-maid had delivered to him, at all times of the day, from her mistress, were returned unopened, until at last the violent illness of his sister had brought about a meeting between her brother and her cousin by her bedside. Since that day intercourse had again been apparently established between the two, although the servants declared that they exchanged scarcely a word at table. Herr von Hollfeld had been over once to greet the returned traveller, but it was observed that he rode away with a perceptibly lengthened face, after a very short stay.

On a melancholy, rainy day in August, Elizabeth was again requested by Fraeulein von Walde to spend half an hour with her at the castle. The lady was not alone when she entered the room. Herr von Walde sat in the recess by the window. His tall figure was leaning back on a couch, his head nearly touching the light-coloured wall behind him, so that his dark-brown hair stood out in strong relief against it. His right hand, which carelessly held a cigar, was resting upon the window-sill, while his left was raised as if he had just been speaking. His neighbour, the Baroness Lessen, was bending towards him, and, with a most winning smile upon her face, seemed to be listening intently to his words, although, as it appeared, they were not addressed to her, but to Helene. She was sitting tolerably near him, and had some crochet work in her hand. Fraeulein von Walde was lying upon a lounge. A full dressing-gown entirely enveloped her small figure, and her beautiful brown curls escaped from beneath a morning-cap, trimmed with pink ribbons, which heightened, by force of contrast, the pallor of her countenance. The cockatoo was perched upon her hand, and from time to time she held him caressingly to her cheek. "The terrible bird" was now called "darling," and might scream as loud as it liked,--it was only soothed by a tender "What's the matter with my pet?" Here, then, all was peace and reconciliation.

Upon Elizabeth's entrance Helene beckoned to her kindly, but it did not escape her that there was a slight embarrassment in the little lady's manner.

"Dear Rudolph," she said, as she took Elizabeth's hand, "let me present you to the delightful artiste to whom I owe so many pleasant hours,--Fraeulein Ferber, called by her uncle, and in all the country around, Gold Elsie. She plays so deliciously that I entreat her to make us forget the gray and gloomy skies above us this afternoon. You see, dear child," she continued, turning to Elizabeth, "that I am still too weak to assist you at the piano; will you have the great kindness to play something alone for us?"

"With all my heart," replied Elizabeth. "But I shall play timidly, for there are two formidable powers to oppose me,--the gloomy heavens, and the favourable expectations that you have awakened of my performance."

"Pray allow me to excuse myself for an hour," said the baroness, as she collected her working materials and arose; "I should like to drive out with Bella,--it is so long since the poor child has taken the air."

"Really, I should suppose that she could easily take it here at any time, by simply putting her head out of the window," said Herr von Walde dryly, knocking the ashes from his cigar as he spoke.

"Heavens! are you unwilling, Rudolph, that I should take a drive? I will instantly remain at home, if----"

"I can conceive of no reason why I should be unwilling. Drive as often and as much as you like," was the indifferent reply.

The baroness compressed her lips, and turned to Helene: "We have decided, then, to take coffee in my room. I shall not stay out long, on account of the mist. I shall be back punctually in an hour, and shall depend upon the pleasure of conducting you to my room myself, dearest Helene."

"That pleasure you must resign," said Herr von Walde. "It has been my office for many years, and I hope my sister does not think me grown too awkward during my absence to discharge it."

"Most certainly not, dear Rudolph; I shall be greatly obliged, if you will be so kind," cried Helene, quickly, looking anxiously from one to the other.

The baroness conquered her vexation bravely. She held out her hand to Herr von Walde, with a smile of great sweetness, kissed Helene upon the cheek, and rustled out of the room with an "au revoir."

During this conversation, Elizabeth observed more closely the features of the man, whose glance and voice had impressed her so profoundly. It is true, her terror, for really the emotion caused by her first meeting with him was nothing less, had been renewed for a moment, as on entering she caught sight of Herr von Walde. How quiet the eyes were now, which had seemed before to flash fire; his look, as it rested upon the baroness, was icy cold. With this expression in his eyes, the upper part of his face, which bore the stamp of great sternness, grew to iron. A carefully arranged chestnut-brown moustache covered his upper lip, and his beard; which was unusually fine and silky, fell in soft waves upon his chest. Herr von Walde did not look young, and although his well-knit figure had preserved all its elasticity, there was that indescribable composure and self-possession in his whole manner and heaping peculiar to the man of riper age, and which inspires involuntary respect.

When the baroness had left the room, Elizabeth opened the piano.

"No, no! no notes!" Helene cried to her, as she saw her turning over the music-sheets. "We want to hear your own fancies; pray extemporize."

Elizabeth seated herself immediately, and soon the outer world was all forgotten by her. A wealth of melody welled up in her soul, which carried it far aloft. At such moments she knew that she was gifted beyond thousands of her fellow-mortals, for she had the power of giving expression to the most hidden emotions of her heart. The purity of her whole inner world was mirrored in sound; she had never been obliged to seek for a melody which should embody her feeling, it lay ready in her soul,--ready as the feeling itself. But to-day there was something blended with the tones that she could not herself comprehend; she could not possibly pursue and analyze it, for it breathed almost imperceptibly across the waves of sound. It seemed as though joy and woe no longer moved side by side, but melted together into one. As she was herself impressed by this strange presence, she penetrated still deeper into her world of feeling,--gradually the clear depths of her pure, maidenly soul were revealed to the listeners; they stood, as it were, by some transparent, magic fountain, and saw within its quiet waters the lovely form of the young girl reflected, with twofold distinctness, for there was a perfect harmony between her exterior and her interior being.

The last faint chord died away. Large tear-drops hung from Helene's lashes, and her pallor was almost supernatural. She glanced towards her brother, but he had turned his face away, and was gazing out into the garden. When at last he looked towards her, his features were as calm as ever, only a slight flush coloured his brow; the cigar had dropped from his fingers and lay upon the ground. He said not one word concerning her playing to Elizabeth, as she rose from the piano. Helene, whom this silence distressed, exhausted herself in flattering expressions, that she might induce her young friend to forget, or, at least, not to notice the coldness and indifference which her brother displayed.

"Was it not delicious?" she cried. "The people in B---- could have had no idea of the golden fountain of music bubbling up in Elsie's heart, or they would never have allowed her to wander into the Thuringian forest."

"Have you lived until now in B----?" asked Herr von Walde, fixing his eyes upon Elizabeth. She met his gaze for an instant; the ice had all melted, and was replaced by a wondrous radiance.

"Yes," she answered, simply.

"It was a sad experience to come suddenly from a large beautiful city, which offers every imaginable diversion and enjoyment, to the silent forest, and live upon a lonely mountain. You were, of coarse, inconsolable at the exchange?"

"I regarded it as a piece of undeserved good fortune," was the unembarrassed reply.

"Indeed? Most strange! It seems to me that one would hardly choose the thistle when the rose might be had."

"Of course, I cannot presume to pass judgment upon your opinions."

"True, because you do not know me; but my idea is almost universal."

"Yet surely it is very one-sided."

"Well, then, I will not combat further your peculiar taste, with which you would scarcely find any one to sympathize among companions of your own age. I will rather believe, for your credit, that it was not so easy to leave your friends."

"But it was very easy, for I had none."

"Is that possible?" cried Fraeulein von Walde. "Did you have no intercourse with any one?"

"Oh, yes, with the people who paid me."

"You gave lessons?" asked Herr von Walde.

"Yes."

"But did you never feel the want of a female friend?" cried Helene quickly.

"Never, for I have a mother," replied Elizabeth in a tone of deep feeling.

"Happy child!" she murmured, and drooped her head.

Elizabeth felt that she had unwittingly touched a sore place in Helene's heart. She was sorry, and longed to efface the impression. Herr von Walde seemed to read her thoughts in her face, for, without noticing Helene's emotion, he asked: "And did you desire to live in the Thuringian forest especially?"

"Yes."

"And why?"

"Because I had been told from my earliest childhood that my family had its origin in the Thuringian forest."

"Ah, yes, you belong to the Gnadewitzes."

"My mother's name was Gnadewitz. I am a Ferber," answered Elizabeth, with decision.

"You say that as if you were thankful that you did not bear the name of Gnadewitz."

"I am thankful for it."

"Hm!--in its time it has made a fine noise in the world."

"None pleasant to hear."

"Why, what would you have? At every court it was pure gold, for it was very old, and the last of those who bore it were heaped with dignities and honours, on account of the antiquity of their name."

"Pardon me, but I cannot possibly understand how--" she blushed, and was silent.

"Go on; you have begun the sentence, and I depend upon hearing the end."

"Well, then, how sin can be honoured, because it is old," she rejoined, with hesitation.

"Softly! they say that several of the Gnadewitz lineage were brave and true."

"That may be; but is there not great injustice in the idea of rewarding their merit, centuries after, by honouring those who are neither good nor true?"

"Should not noble deeds live forever?"

"Most certainly; but, if we refuse to emulate them, we certainly are not worthy to share in their rewards," was Elizabeth's prompt answer.

A carriage rolled up the avenue. Herr von Walde frowned, and passed his hand across his eyes as if he had been rudely awakened from a dream. In a moment the door opened, and the baroness entered. She, as well as Bella, who was walking by her mother's side to-day with quite an air of grown-up dignity, had not yet laid aside her bonnet and mantle.

"I am glad to be at home again," she cried. "The air to-day is horrible. I repented a hundred times having left the house, and shall probably atone for my maternal solicitude by a heavy cold. Bella was so anxious to see for herself how you are, dear Helene, that I allowed her to come in with me."

The child went directly up to the lounge. She did not appear to notice Elizabeth, who was sitting close by, and brushed past her so rudely, as she bent to kiss Helene's hand, that a button upon her sack caught in the delicate trimming of Elizabeth's dress and tore it. Bella lifted her head and glanced at the mischief she had done; then she turned and went across to Herr von Walde to give him her hand.

"Well," said he, withholding his hand, "have you no apology to make for your awkwardness?"

She made no reply, and retired to the side of her mother, upon whose cheeks the ominous red spots appeared. The look which she cast upon Elizabeth showed that her daughter was not the cause of her irritation.

"Well, child, can't you speak?" asked Herr von Walde, rising.

"Fraeulein Ferber sat so close," said the baroness in a tone of excuse, as Bella continued obstinately silent.

"Indeed, I should have moved aside. There is no great harm done," said Elizabeth, and she held out her hand to Bella with an enchanting smile. But the child took no notice of it, and hid both her hands in her dress.

Without a word, Herr von Walde approached her, took her by the arm, and led her directly to the door, which he opened. "Go instantly to your room," he said, "and do not come where I am again unless I particularly desire you to do so."

The baroness was raging inwardly. Her countenance worked for a moment, but what could she do? She was powerless to contend with the violence and barbarism of this man, who was master here, and who now took his seat again with a composure that betrayed an utter unconsciousness of the cruelty of his behaviour. Her prudence obtained the upper hand.

"I hope, dear Rudolph," said she, and her voice trembled a little, "that you will not reckon this slight misdemeanour against Bella. Pray, make some allowance,--it is all the fault of her governess."

"Miss Mertens? Indeed, it must have cost her, with her innate gentleness and refinement, infinite pains to train Bella to conduct herself as she has just done."

The baroness blushed scarlet; but she controlled herself. "Heavens!" she cried, determined to change the subject; "this stupid circumstance has made me forget to tell you that Emil has ridden over from Odenberg. He got wet through on horseback, and is just changing his dress. May he pay his respects?"

Helene's cheeks glowed, and a ray of happiness shot from her eyes; but she said not a word, only drooping her face so as to conceal every sign of her inward agitation.

"Certainly," replied Herr von Walde. "Does he intend to make some stay here?"

"He will be here for a few days, with your permission."

"By all means. Then we shall see him in your room when we come to take coffee."

"He will be most happy. Will you not come immediately? My maid tells me that all is in readiness there to receive you."

Elizabeth arose, and prepared to take her leave. Herr von Walde, as soon as he saw this, looked inquiringly at the baroness. Doubtless he expected that she would extend an invitation to the young girl, but just at this moment the lady discovered that the gardener's arrangement of the flower-stand in the window was "too charming," and in enraptured contemplation of a bunch of azaleas she turned her back upon Elizabeth.

Fraeulein Ferber courtesied profoundly and left the room, after Helene had repeated, in a trembling voice, her expressions of gratitude. Without, in the corridor, she met Herr von Hollfeld. At sight of her he quickened his pace, casting a lightning glance around to assure himself that no listener was near. Before she was aware of it, he had seized Elizabeth's hand, imprinted a glowing kiss upon it, and whispered: "How rejoiced I am to see you once more!"

Her astonishment was so great that she could not at first find a word to say. She drew back her hand as though she had been stung, and he accepted her repulse, because at that very moment the door of Helene's room opened, and Herr von Walde appeared. Hollfeld raised his hat to Elizabeth as if he had just seen her, and his features subsided instantly into an expression of utter indifference as he walked towards his relative.

Elizabeth was disgusted with his farce,--first, at the insulting familiarity, which made her blood boil with indignation, and then, at the denial of any acquaintance before a third person. Her maidenly pride was deeply wounded. She reproached herself that she had not rebuked his impertinence boldly upon the spot. A crimson flush glowed in her cheeks with shame that she should have been treated so by any man; it seemed as if the spot upon her hand, where his hot lips had rested, still burned, and she hastily held it beneath the stream of a fountain in the park, that the imaginary stain might be washed away.

Much agitated, she reached her home, and complained with tears to her mother of the insult that she had received. Frau Ferber was a sensible woman, possessed of clear, calm insight. She was convinced by Elizabeth's resentment that her child's heart was not in the least danger, and her fears were laid to rest. It was easy to defend her from attacks from without; but who could guard her from the grief that a misplaced attachment would entail upon her?

"You know now what manner of man Herr von Hollfeld is," she said. "It will not be difficult strictly to avoid all future contact with him, and if he should presume in spite of your efforts, he must be sternly repulsed. His conduct seems to be the result of aristocratic conceit and cowardice, two qualities which will probably deter him from any further advances, when he discovers how disagreeable they are to you. But at all events, familiarize yourself with the thought that your behaviour towards him must of necessity create an enemy who will, at some future day, put a stop to your intercourse with Fraeulein von Walde. Of course such a consideration cannot for one instant lead you to hesitate as to your line of conduct. Go on your way then, my child, quietly and with self-possession. I should certainly not advise you to give up your visits to Castle Lindhof."

"Assuredly not! no, that I will not do!" cried Elizabeth, quickly. "What would my uncle say if the chicken should actually come flying back to creep beneath the shelter of home?" she added, smiling through her tears. "It would be wretched indeed, if with all the strength of which I have boasted, I am not strong enough to repulse an impertinent man so effectually that he shall desist from all future advances."

She recalled her conversation with Herr von Walde, and found, to her great satisfaction, that she must certainly be exceedingly brave, for assuredly it had required no small exercise of courage, while confronting that stern countenance, to declare her own convictions, which attacked so decidedly the proud edifice of his ancestral pride. She had expected every moment to see his glance sheathe itself in ice again, as it had done in conversation with the baroness; but the singular glow and expression which had so struck her when first he addressed her, had not faded from his eyes,--she could almost, in fact, believe that she detected beneath his moustache a smile lurking around the corners of his mouth. Perhaps he had determined to-day to enact the part of the lion towards the mouse. He had magnanimously permitted a little girl to pour out her naive ideas at his feet, where they might remain lying, since to bend his aristocratic back to pick them up and examine them was not to be thought of,--they probably amused him as exemplifying the saying of the dog "baying the moon." She repeated all this continually to herself, that she might stamp afresh upon her treacherous memory his general reputation for boundless arrogance.

She could not tell how she became conscious of it, but she was now perfectly aware that she should suffer unspeakably if Herr von Walde's arrogance was ever exercised towards her; so she must be doubly on her guard and not allow herself to be misled by his observance of the usual forms of common politeness, of his high regard for which the next day brought her a most convincing proof.