CHAPTER XIII.

Miss Mertens' presence lent an additional charm to the circle at Gnadeck. For the first time for long, dreary years the governess found herself an object of interest and affection, and at home. Her gentle nature, so long chilled and repressed, now showed itself, and, combined with her varied culture, made her a most attractive addition to the household. She longed to be of use whenever she could, and took great pains with little Ernst, who had a lesson every day in French and English; while Elizabeth, too, gathered all the advantage that she could from her visitor, and studied diligently, knowing that it was the best resource to ward off sad reveries.

In the mean while, the practisings at Castle Lindhof went on as before. Hollfeld, who had only been absent at Odenberg for one day, was still an enthusiastic auditor, trying by every means in his power to obtain a private interview with Elizabeth. Once or twice he had cunningly contrived that, in the intervals of rest, Helene should leave the room to find something that he wanted, but he gained nothing by these manoeuvres, for Elizabeth always left the room at the same time to procure a glass of water. His attempts to meet her upon her return to her home she frustrated also, for Miss Mertens and little Ernst were always awaiting her at the borders of the park. This perpetual frustration of his endeavours at last made him impatient and less cautious. He no longer held his hand before his face. His looks were entirely unguarded, and it was only owing to her near-sightedness that Helene was spared a most painful discovery. Thus Elizabeth's visits to the castle grew more and more annoying, and she was thankful that the fete day was at last close at hand, since with that celebration the daily practisings would, at all events, be discontinued.

The day before Herr von Walde's birthday, Reinhard announced at Gnadeck that a guest had already arrived at Castle Lindhof.

"That scatter-brain completes our misery," he said, with vexation.

"Who is she?" said Miss Mertens and Frau Ferber, laughing at the same moment.

"Oh, she is said to be a friend of Fraeulein von Walde,--a lady from court at L----. She is to assist in the ordering of the fete. Heaven help us all, for she turns everything upside down."

"Ah, it must be Fraeulein von Quittelsdorf," cried Miss Mertens, still laughing. "Yes, indeed, there is quicksilver in her veins. She is terribly frivolous, but she is not really bad at heart."

Later in the afternoon Reinhard accompanied Elizabeth to Lindhof. As she approached the castle, Herr von Walde's horse was led up to the great entrance on the southern front of it. He himself immediately issued from the glass door, riding-whip in hand, and descended the steps. Elizabeth had not seen him since the afternoon when he had treated her with such harsh want of consideration. She thought he looked very pale and stern.

Just as he was mounting, a young lady, dressed in white, came out upon the steps. She was extremely pretty, and with much grace she hastened down to pat the horse upon the neck and give him a lump of sugar.

Fraeulein von Walde, who also appeared leaning upon Hollfeld's arm, stood at the top of the steps, and kissed her hand in token of farewell to her brother.

"Is not that young lady Fraeulein von Quittelsdorf?" asked Elizabeth.

Reinhard assented, with a wry face.

"She is certainly very pretty," said the young girl. "Herr von Walde seems much interested," she added, in a lower tone, as the rider leaned from his saddle, and appeared to be listening intently to what the young lady was saying.

"Oh, he does not wish to be rude, and therefore gives her a moment's attention. She would talk the moon out of the sky, and, I verily believe, would seize and hang upon the horse's bridle if she saw any danger of his leaving before she had finished what she had to say."

In the mean time they had reached the vestibule. Here Elizabeth took leave of Reinhard, and betook herself to the music-room, where she found Fraeulein von Walde and Hollfeld. The former retired for a moment to her dressing-room, to arrange her curls, that were somewhat out of order, and Hollfeld took advantage of this moment to approach Elizabeth, who had retired to the recess of a window, and was turning over the leaves of a music-book.

"We were provokingly disturbed the other day," he whispered.

"We?" she asked, with emphasis, retreating a step or two. "I, indeed, had reason to complain of being disturbed. I was much provoked, I assure you, by the interruption of my reading."

"Oh, every inch a queen!" he cried jestingly, but in a low tone of voice. "I certainly did not intend to offend you,--on the contrary, do you not know what that rose meant?"

"It would most certainly say that it would a thousand times rather be left to perish upon its stalk than be plucked for such idle purposes."

"Cruel girl! You are hard as marble. Can you not guess, then, what lures me hither daily?"

"Admiration, doubtless, for our great composers."

"You are wrong."

"Then the hope of improving your musical taste."

"Oh, no! That would not bring me a step hither. For me, music is only a bridge----"

"From which you might easily fall into cold water."

"And would you allow me to drown?"

"Most certainly--yes. I am not ambitious of a medal from the Humane Society," replied Elizabeth, dryly.

Fraeulein von Walde returned. She seemed surprised to find the pair conversing, for until this moment there had never been a word exchanged between them. She looked keenly at Hollfeld, who could not control his feeling of annoyance, and then seating herself at the piano, began to prelude, while Elizabeth arranged the notes. Hollfeld took his usual place, and leaned his head upon his hand with a melancholy air. But never had his gaze rested upon Elizabeth with such glowing and passionate intentness. She repented having entered into conversation with him. Her endeavour to repulse him by coldness and severity appeared to have had quite a contrary effect. Repugnance and fear overcame her at sight of him, and, notwithstanding the thought of her uncle's probable smile of triumph, the determination rather to resign the practisings entirely than to subject herself any longer to these insolent glances, gained ground in her mind.

The hour was nearly ended, when Fraeulein von Quittelsdorf entered in haste. In her arms she carried a little creature in a long, white, infant's cloak, pressing its head down upon her shoulder with one hand.

"Frau Oberhofmeisterin von Falkenberg sends her compliments," she said with formality,--"regrets excessively that a cold will prevent her presence to-morrow, but she takes the liberty of sending her lovely, blooming grandchild----"

Here the creature in her arms made desperate exertions, and, with a loud howl, jumped down upon the ground, and ran under a chair, dragging the long robe after it.

"Ah, Cornelie, you are too childish," cried Fraeulein von Walde, with a laugh of amusement and vexation, as Ali's distressed face, surrounded by a baby's cap, peeped out from beneath the chair. "If our good Falkenberg could hear of this, you would play no more tricks at the court of L----."

Bella, who had also just entered, shrieked with laughter, only endeavouring to control herself when her mother, amazed at the noise, appeared and represented to her how unbecoming such loud merriment was. The baroness, smiling, shook a threatening forefinger at Fraeulein von Quittelsdorf when Helene told her what had happened, and then approached Elizabeth.

"Perhaps Fraeulein von Walde has not told you," she said rather graciously, "that all invited to the fete to-morrow will assemble at four o'clock in the large saloon. Pray be punctual. The concert will not be over until near six. I tell you this that your parents may not expect you at home before that time."

At these words, Helene looked down upon the keys of the piano in great confusion, while Fraeulein von Quittelsdorf took her stand beside the baroness, and stared Elizabeth impertinently in the face. Beautiful as were the black eyes that were fastened upon her, Elizabeth was annoyed by their steady stare. She bowed to the baroness, assuring her that she would be punctual, and then looked full and gravely at the fair impertinent. The effect was instantaneous. Fraeulein von Quittelsdorf looked away, and, in some confusion, turned upon her heel like a spoiled child. Just then she discovered Herr von Hollfeld in the recess of the window.

"How, Hollfeld," she cried, "are you here, or is it your spirit? What are you doing here?"

"I am listening, as you see."

"You are listening? Ha, ha, ha! And of coarse enjoying such indigestible food as Mozart and Beethoven! Don't you remember telling me, four weeks ago, at the last court concert, that you always suffered from dyspepsia after listening to classical music?"

She laughed boisterously.

"Ah, pray let nonsense go now, dearest Cornelie," said the baroness, "and aid me in this programme for the fete with your inventive genius. And you, dear Emil, would do me a great favour if you would come too. You know that I am obliged now to enforce my authority by the presence of a masculine supporter."

Hollfeld arose with visible reluctance.

"Oh, take me too, pray! Would you be so cruel as to leave me here alone until tea-time?" cried Helene, reproachfully, as she stood up. She looked displeased, and it seemed to Elizabeth that she noticed, for the first time, an envious expression in the lovely blue eyes as they looked at the tripping feet of Cornelie, who, without another word, had taken Hollfeld's arm, and was leaving the room. Elizabeth closed the piano, and took a hasty leave.

In all the passages of the castle through which she went there was hurry and bustle. The servants were carrying baskets of china, glass, and silver to the rooms adjoining the grand saloon. From the subterranean regions of the kitchens there streamed a fragrant odour, and through the open door of one of the servants' rooms were seen heaps of green garlands and wreaths.

And he in whose honour all were exerting themselves to-day was riding alone in the forest, gloomily devising ways and means for fleeing from the joyless, unquiet life in his home.

Elizabeth went down to the village to execute a commission for her father. A few days before, a violent storm in the night had so shaken the ruinous jutty in the corner of the garden that there was danger that the slightest jar might send it toppling down upon the garden, burying beneath its fragments the beds and paths which had just been so laboriously arranged. Two Lindhof masons had promised to take down the ruin the following Monday, but as the forester had declared that he knew from experience that small reliance was to be placed upon their promises, Elizabeth was to remind them of their engagement, and impress upon them the urgent necessity for keeping it.

The result of her expedition was favourable. One of the workmen swore by all that was Holy that he would be upon the spot, and she was now wandering through the quiet, lonely path towards her home. About midway upon the path leading from the village to the forest Lodge, a much narrower path branched off, and ascended the mountain to Castle Gnadeck. It was seldom used, and might have escaped stranger eyes, for in some places it was overgrown with low bushes, and fallen leaves lay so thick among the gnarled roots of the trees that it seemed never to have been trodden by the foot of man. Elizabeth loved the path, and now chose it for her return home.

She had never encountered a human being here, but to-day she had not penetrated far into the green twilight before she observed, about twenty paces in front of her, towards the right, just by the trunk of an enormous beech tree, something like an arm slowly projected and then dropped. She could distinctly perceive this movement, as just at that spot the trees separated, and encircled a light spot of grass which shone like an oasis in the dark forest. Elizabeth advanced noiselessly and slowly, but as she arrived opposite to the beech tree she suddenly stood still in terror.

A man was leaning against the tree. His back was turned towards her; his head was uncovered save by masses of coarse, uncombed hair. For one moment he stood motionless, apparently listening, then advanced a step, raised his right arm, and pointed the barrel of a pistol towards the light spot in the forest, after awhile letting his arm fall again by his side.

"He is practising at a mark," thought Elizabeth, but she only thought so to compose herself, for an indescribable terror had at once taken possession of her; she did not know whether to run backward or forward in order to escape observation, and so she stood still, rooted to the spot.

Suddenly the noise of a horse's hoofs struck upon her ear. The man started and stood erect as though electrified. A few moments afterwards a horseman appeared where the forest was more open. The horse walked slowly over the soft turf; its rider, lost in thought, had dropped the bridle upon its neck. The man with the pistol rapidly advanced a couple of paces; raised his arm in the direction of the horseman, and at the same moment turned his head so that Elizabeth instantly recognized the former superintendent, Linke, his features deadly pale and distorted with rage and hate, while the horseman, who was slowly coming within range of the deadly weapon, was Herr von Walde. An instantaneous transformation took place in Elizabeth. The girlish terror that had caused her to tremble at sight of the villain, gave place to a wondrous courage and an incomprehensible calmness and self-control at the thought that she was destined to come to the rescue here. She glided noiselessly through the trees and stood suddenly, as if she had risen from the earth, beside Linke, who, his eyes riveted upon his victim, had no suspicion of her approach. With all the strength of which she was mistress she seized his arm and threw it up. The pistol was discharged with a loud report, and the ball whistled through the air and lodged in the trunk of a tree; as the startled wretch fell upon the ground, a woman's loud scream for help rang through the forest. The assassin tottered to his feet and plunged into the thicket. In the mean time the horse had reared and plunged with fright, but, speedily controlled by its rider, came galloping across the clearing to the spot where Elizabeth was leaning against a beech tree, pale as death. The danger was past, and her feminine nature was reasserting itself. She trembled in every limb, but a happy smile illuminated her countenance when she saw Herr von Walde coming towards her safe and unharmed.

At sight of her he leaped from his horse; but she, who had just manifested such extraordinary self-possession, screamed with fright and turned suddenly as she felt two hands laid upon her shoulders from behind,--Miss Mertens' agitated face was close to her own.

"Good God! Elizabeth," cried the governess, breathlessly, "what have you done! he might have killed you!"

Herr von Walde pushed through the underbrush that separated them from him.

"Are you wounded?" he asked Elizabeth, hurriedly and earnestly.

She shook her head. Without another word he raised her from the ground and carried her to the fallen trunk of a tree, where he gently placed her. Miss Mertens sat down beside her and leaned the girl's head upon her shoulder.

"Now pray tell me what has happened," said Herr von Walde to the governess.

"No, no," cried Elizabeth in terror; "not here, let us go,--the murderer has escaped,--perhaps he is lurking among the bushes, and may yet accomplish his design."

"Linke was about to murder you, Herr von Walde," said Miss Mertens, in a trembling voice.

"Miserable wretch! that shot then was for me," he calmly observed. He turned and went into the thicket where Linke had disappeared. Elizabeth almost lost her self control, and was on the point of following him when he returned.

"Reassure yourself," he said to her; "there are no traces of him to be seen; he will not shoot again to-day. Come, I beg you, Miss Mertens, tell me all about it."

It appeared that knowing that Elizabeth was going to the village, the governess had gone to meet her in the narrow forest path. As she was slowly descending the mountain she saw all that Elizabeth had seen. The villain's intentions were plain, but she had been so paralyzed by fright that she had not been able to move nor cry out. She stood fastened to the spot with deadly terror, when suddenly Elizabeth, whom she had not seen, stood behind the assassin. In her horror at her friend's danger, the cry for help escaped her which had been heard simultaneously with the report of the pistol. She related all this hurriedly, and in conclusion added: "Where did you get the courage, Elizabeth, to seize the man? I shudder at the mere thought of touching him, and should have screamed loudly instead."

"If I had screamed," replied Elizabeth, simply, "Linke might have accomplished his purpose, in his involuntary start of alarm."

Herr von Walde listened quietly but intently to Miss Mertens' account. Only when she described how Elizabeth had seized the murderer's arm, did his face lose colour for an instant, as he riveted a keen, anxious glance upon the girl, to assure himself that she had actually escaped the danger unhurt. He leaned over her, took her right hand and pressed it to his lips, and Elizabeth plainly perceived that his hand trembled.

Miss Mertens, who observed how this expression of gratitude confused Elizabeth and called up a burning blush in her cheeks, left her seat, and picking up the pistol Linke had thrown from him in his flight, handed it to Herr von Walde.

"Horrible!" he murmured. "The wretch would have murdered me with one of my own weapons."

Elizabeth now arose, and assured Miss Mertens that all traces of her fright had vanished, and that she was quite able to resume her walk towards Gnadeck. They would both have taken leave of Herr von Walde, but he tied his horse to the terrible beech tree, and said, lightly:

"We know well that Linke's nature is most revengeful; he may perhaps hate her to whom I owe my life even more than he hates me. I cannot permit you to proceed without a protector."

They ascended the mountain. Miss Mertens hastened on, that she might incite Herr von Walde to greater speed, in order to take steps for the apprehension of the criminal as quickly as possible; but her exertions were all in vain. He walked slowly by the side of Elizabeth, who, after a few moments of conflict with herself, begged him, in a gentle, timid tone, not to go back alone to his horse, but to send for him from Castle Lindhof.

He smiled. "Belisarius is wild and obstinate; you know him already," he said. "He obeys no one but myself, and would never allow any one but his master to take him home. Besides, I assure you, that cowardly wretch will attempt nothing further to-day. And if he should, I bear a charmed life. Has not my happy star risen to-day in my heavens?"

He stood still. "What do you think," he asked, suddenly, in a low tone, and his eyes flashed as he looked at her, "shall I listen to the delicious hope that it may shine upon me for the rest of my life?"

"If it is to tempt you to run repeated risks, it were certainly better not to place such unconditional faith in your star."

"And yet I run the greatest risk of all in trusting such a hope," he murmured, half to himself, as his face darkened.

"I do not understand you," said Elizabeth, surprised.

"It is quite natural that you should not," he replied, bitterly. "Your wishes and hopes lie in quite another direction. Notwithstanding all our stern self-discipline, we are sometimes overmastered by a beautiful dream. No, no, say nothing more! I am punished already, for I am awaking."

He quickened his pace, and walked by Miss Mertens' side, while Elizabeth followed more slowly, lost in wonder at the harsh tone which he had suddenly assumed, and which so wounded her. He spoke not another word; and when at last the walls of the old castle appeared through the trees, he took his leave, coldly and shortly, and descended the mountain.

Miss Mertens looked after him in surprise. "Incomprehensible man!" she said at last, and shook her head. "Even though he attaches but little value to his life, as would seem to be the case, surely a word or two of gratitude at parting from you would not be superfluous, when he knows that you have risked your life for his sake."

"I see no necessity for anything of the kind," rejoined Elizabeth. "You attach altogether too much importance to what I have done. I simply fulfilled my duty to my neighbour; and would," she added, with a strange defiance in her tone and manner, "have done the same if the case had been reversed, and Linke's had been the threatened life. I hope sincerely that Herr von Walde understands this, for to his haughty nature the feeling of obligation to another must be intensely painful, and I would not for the world be that other."

At this moment anxiety and anger were striving within her for the mastery. In thought she followed Herr von Walde, and shuddered with horror as she remembered that perhaps he was just passing some spot where the assassin was lying in wait for him; then she reminded herself, as she quickened her steps, of what utter folly it was to waste so much thought and feeling upon a man who persistently turned the roughest side of his nature towards her. Even in intercourse with the baroness, who was so utterly distasteful to him, he preserved his repose of manner, never for one moment forgetting the laws of common courtesy, although he invariably maintained his convictions with the greatest decision. He had never been seen by those about him except when surrounded by an atmosphere of the serenest dignity. It was only when talking with her that he did not appear to consider it worth his while to control himself. How violent and bitter he could be then! How his eyes flashed as he waited impatiently for her replies, when they were not prompt and decided! And he required besides that she should understand him almost before he spoke, and yet was often utterly incomprehensible even when he did speak. Perhaps every one else was cleverer than she, and could more easily comprehend his manner of speaking, which was such a riddle to her. Was it unwise to determine to avoid all intercourse with him for the future? Certainly not. Well, fortunately, his departure was at hand. Fortunately? The structure of self-deception, which her pride and defiance had erected, crumbled to ruins at this thought; yes, it so utterly vanished, that, to Miss Mertens' surprise, she turned and walked quickly down the path that led to Castle Lindhof. She must satisfy herself that he reached his home in safety. Miss Mertens followed her to a grove whence they could see the door where he usually dismounted, and they were greatly relieved when he shortly emerged from the forest.