CHAPTER XVII.

The news of the occurrence at Gnadeck had reached Lindhof Castle even before Reinhard returned thither. The masons on their way home to the village had related the wonderful story to a servant whom they met in the park, and the tale had flashed like lightning from mouth to mouth until it reached the boudoir of the ladies of the castle, where it produced the effect almost of a bombshell.

One of the favourite themes of the baroness had always been her own infallibility with regard to blue blood. She maintained that by means of a very delicate and sensitive organization she could recognize the existence of this life-giving stream even in people whose names she did not know. It was thus only natural that she should be able to detect immediately every noble drop happening to flow in plebeian veins. She always had admitted that "the little Ferber" had something distinguished in her appearance in right of the noble descent of her mother. But with regard to the forester, that delicate perception of hers had been so much at fault that she had never dreamed of acknowledging his bow except by an almost imperceptible inclination of the head, which was all she deigned to bestow upon people of so low a rank in life. Why, in her noble rage at the rude blasphemer, who could forbid his ward, Bertha, to attend the Bible-class at the castle, she had often gone so far as to declare that she could detect his low origin a hundred paces off. And this was the man to bring to nought her reputation for this keen perception of aristocracy! He was the descendant of a lofty line,--the possessor of a name which, centuries back, had glowed in all the light of feudal splendour!

To be sure, there was great consolation for her in the thought that two centuries of ignoble marriages had rendered the noble blood very difficult to recognize. She declared as much very earnestly to Fraeulein von Walde, who, reclining upon her lounge, was observing the baroness' agitation with a slight, rather contemptuous, smile. Personal interest in Fraeulein Ferber, or the more unprejudiced mind of the younger lady, may have prompted some little reproof to her cousin; at all events she lifted her head and said quickly, not without a slight appearance of irritation: "Pardon me, Amalie, but that is a mistake. I know for a certainty that the wife of the forester's clerk is not the only nobly-born person who has married into the Ferber family. They have always been a fine, remarkably intellectual race, whose personal advantages have often conquered the prejudices of birth. I really do not believe that there have been more plebeian marriages in their family than can be found in the pedigree of the Lessens, and you would hardly maintain that there is not a drop of genuine noble blood in Bella's veins."

A delicate colour flickered over the elder lady's faded cheek, and the glance which she directed towards her companion from beneath her half-closed eyelids, was anything but gentle or amiable. A sickly smile still hovered upon her lips. Since the previous day she had, to her horror, frequently felt the ground tremble beneath her feet. It was actually terrifying suddenly to meet with contradiction in a quarter where for years she had found only complete adherence and blind submission.

She was, however, quite right in attributing the change in Helene's demeanour not only to the "unhappy" influence exercised upon her by her brother, but far more to her own son, who had conducted himself so strangely during the last few days. Helene's was, in reality, a noble nature, capable of appreciating all that was lofty and honourable, and animated by the purest desire for the good and true; but she had been accustomed from childhood to consider herself as the centre of the loving care and attention of all around her. Notwithstanding her physical infirmity, she had never known the bitterness of being slighted. That she might forget her weakness, every one around her made her the object of marked attention. While she knew that she could never occupy a wife's position, her heart, overflowing with tenderness, had joyously welcomed a first love; and although, when alone, she might bewail with tears the neglect of nature, which had denied her the crowning joys of life, still she possessed the blissful conviction that her love was returned. Hollfeld's constant attentions, his frequent sojourn at Lindhof, his continual expressions of tenderness, were well calculated to plant this conviction ineradicably in her mind.

Suddenly he had appeared altered and constrained in her presence, and neglected her in the most unaccountable manner. She suffered greatly; her inner self revolted; insulted feminine dignity, an irritation hitherto unknown, and devoted affection, were all at war within her; she was yet far from that height to which, early or late, every noble nature attains: resignation and forgiveness. She grew bitter and violent, and she manifested this change less towards him who had caused her suffering than, by way of indemnifying herself, towards those whose tyranny she had endured for the sake of her love.

Hollfeld had been reading aloud to the ladies, when the old waiting-maid of the baroness entered the room upon some errand, and, before leaving, glibly narrated the remarkable discovery at Gnadeck. If Helene's eyes had not been riveted upon the lips of the speaker, the change in her cousin's features could not have escaped her. He listened breathlessly, with an expression of the intensest delight. In passing from mouth to mouth, the discovered jewels had come to be of "priceless value," and the beautiful Lila's coffin was now pure silver.

The baroness also had not observed the striking change in her son's sullen aspect; and in consequence of Helene's reproof, very naturally darted at him an angry glance, which was not seen by Fraeulein von Walde. She was greatly amazed to see him suddenly approach his cousin. He smoothed the embroidered cushion beneath her head, and pushed the bouquet of flowers in the vase nearer to her, that she might more easily inhale their fragrance.

"Helene is quite right, mother," he said with a kindly glance at his cousin, who replied by a happy smile. "You should be the last to bring in question the nobility of that family."

Although the baroness was tortured by the thought that those who had been so far beneath her, might now be her equals,--nay, even rank considerably above her in wealth; still she wisely suppressed the bitter retort that rose to her lips, and contented herself with observing that the whole story at present had altogether too much the air of a legend or fable to be implicitly believed. For her part, she should require the testimony of more competent eye-witnesses than the two masons, before she could consider it worthy of credit.

A competent eye-witness was just passing beneath the windows. It was Reinhard, who was returning from the mountain. He smiled as his attendance upon Fraeulein von Walde was immediately required; for, from the curious looks of the servant, he guessed that the story of the discovery at Gnadeck had reached the castle, and that information from him upon the subject was what the ladies desired.

At his entrance he was immediately assailed by Helene with questions. He answered them in his usual calm manner, and took a malicious pleasure in detecting the keenest curiosity and the greatest irritation behind the apparently careless and indifferent remarks and questions of the baroness.

"And will the Ferbers venture to lay claim to the old name on the strength of that scrap of parchment?" she asked; taking a large dahlia from the vase of flowers, and smelling it.

"I should like to know who could dispute their claim," replied Reinhard. "It only remains to be proved that they are the descendants of Jost von Gnadewitz, and that can be done at any moment."

The lady leaned back in her large arm-chair, and dropped her eyelids, as if she were weary or bored.

"Indeed! and those treasures of Golconda, are they really as priceless as Dame Rumour reports them to be?" The tone of voice was meant to be contemptuous, but Reinhard's practised ear detected with great satisfaction that it betrayed great eagerness, and something like secret anxiety.

He smiled.

"Priceless?" he repeated. "Well, in such cases so much depends upon the estimation in which such things are held by their possessors, that I can hardly judge."

He might, we know, have told their value, but he thought, rather ungallantly, that a little uncertainty would prove a healthy excitement for the lady.

The examination would probably not have concluded here, if Bella had not suddenly burst into the room with her usual violence.

"Mamma, the new governess has come," she cried, out of breath, shaking back, with a toss of her head, the sandy locks that had fallen over her forehead; "why, she is uglier than Miss Mertens!" she went on, without taking the least notice of Reinhard's presence. "She has a bright red ribbon on her bonnet, and her mantilla is even more old-fashioned than Frau von Lehr's. I won't go to walk with her, you need not tell me to, mamma!"

The baroness put both hands to her ears.

"My child, I pray you, for Heaven's sake, do not speak so loud," she gasped; "your voice goes through and through me; and what nonsense you talk! you will have to walk out with Mademoiselle Jamin whenever I bid you."

This reproof, uttered with considerable emphasis, causing Bella to pout angrily while she secretly tore a piece of the fringe from one of her mother's cushions, was the result of what might have been called the period of martyrdom that had followed Miss Mertens' departure. The baroness had been forced to take upon herself the care of Bella, and it was, as she declared, death to her nerves. To Fraeulein von Walde she always maintained that all her trouble was in consequence of the defects of Miss Mertens' educational system; but in the depths of her soul she acknowledged, that her daughter strikingly resembled in disposition the deceased Lessen,--among whose characteristics an indomitable obstinacy and a determined proclivity to a perpetual _dolce far niente_, were the most prominent. She was, however, far from admitting that any injustice had been done to Miss Mertens; that person had been paid to educate her daughter, and consequently should have known, without ever acting in opposition to the mother's views, or reproving the child, how to correct all her faults. Therefore, the glimpse that she had just had perforce of Bella's character, was of no advantage for the new governess; the unfortunate French woman, with the gay ribbons on her bonnet, had no presentiment of the joyless days that awaited her. Just now, her arrival removed a weight from the mind of the baroness, to whom nothing could have been less desirable than a dispute at present between teacher and pupil, and hence her rebuke of Bella's impertinent remarks.

The baroness arose and went to her apartments, accompanied by her sullen daughter, to receive the stranger. At the same time, Reinhard departed.

"Do you wish me to go on reading, Helene?" asked Hollfeld, after the three had left the room. As he took up the newspaper his manner was almost caressing.

"By and by," she replied with hesitation, looking at him searchingly, with a kind of timid anxiety in her eyes. "I should like to ask you, now that we are once more alone together, to tell me what has changed you so during these last few days. You know, Emil, that it pains me deeply when you refuse to let me share in what delights or troubles you. You know that it is not idle curiosity which leads me to pry into your affairs, but a sincere and heartfelt interest in your weal or woe. You see how I suffer from your reserve. Tell me frankly if I have done anything to make you think me unworthy of your confidence."

She stretched out her hands towards him as if in entreaty. The gentle melancholy in the tones of her voice would have melted a stone.

Hollfeld crushed and twisted the rustling newspaper uneasily in his hands. He held down his head, and avoided meeting the pure, frank gaze of the poor girl. Any one with any knowledge of the world could not have failed to perceive in his attitude, and in the restless eyes that sought the ground, the crafty plotter endeavouring to hit upon some device by which to deceive. To Helene's innocent, loving eyes, the lofty figure, slightly leaning forward, the face beneath the thick, light curls, rather suggested a thoughtful Apollo.

"You will always have my confidence, Helene," he broke silence at last. "You are indeed the only being in the world in whom I can confide,"--Helene's eyes sparkled at these words, the poor child was so proud of the distinction,--"but there are obligations in life whose existence we can hardly acknowledge to ourselves, far less have the courage to confess to others."

Fraeulein von Walde sat upright, in eager expectation.

"I am forced," Hollfeld continued, with a stammer, "to adopt a certain resolution, and it has been weighing heavily upon me for days."

He looked up to see what impression his words had made.

Helene seemed to have no suspicion of what he was about to say, for she never changed her attitude, and looked as if she would have read the words upon his lips. He was therefore compelled to proceed without any assistance from her.

"You know, Helene," he slowly continued, "that for the last year I have had constant trouble with my housekeepers. They are continually leaving me, often without warning even, and I have no way of ordering my domestic affairs. The day before yesterday, the last one, who only entered my house two weeks ago, declared she would not stay. I cannot tell what to do about it; my house is nothing but an annoyance to me under these circumstances--"

"Ah, you want to sell Odenberg?" Helene interrupted him eagerly.

"No, that would be folly, for it is one of the finest estates in Thuringia; but I am forced to find some other way out of my troubles, and nothing is left for me but--to marry."

If some unseen and mysterious agency had suddenly opened a yawning abyss at Helene's feet, her face certainly could not have expressed more horror and amazement than at this moment. She opened her white, quivering lips, but no sound issued from them, and, entirely incapable of concealing her pain, she covered her face with her hands, and sank back among the cushions with a low cry.

Hollfeld hastened to her side, and took both her hands in his.

"Helene," he whispered, in a low, tender tone,--his manner was perfect,--"will you let me speak and show you how sore my heart is? You know only too well that I love, and that this love will be my first and only one as long as I live."

His tongue did not stammer over this odious lie; on the contrary, it aided his plans with such insinuating tones that the poor girl's heart was torn by a wild conflict of emotions. If some good angel would only have whispered to her to lift her eyes for one moment, she could not but have been undeceived, for the look that accompanied his protestations was utterly contemptuous as it glanced at her crippled figure; and perhaps, in the first moments of her indignation, she might have found strength enough to have extricated herself from the snares of the wily egotist. But her eyes were closed as if she would shut out all the world, and revel only in the sound of the voice which for the first time spoke of love to her.

"Would to Heaven," he continued, "that I might follow the dictates of my heart, and live for this love only, for I desire nothing beyond the pleasure of constant intercourse with you, Helene. But you know I am the last of the Hollfelds and must marry. My sacrifice can be lessened only in one way,--I must choose a wife who knows you, and----"

"O tell me quickly!" cried Helene, giving way to her grief, while the tears burst from her eyes. "Your choice is already made! I know it,--it is Cornelie!"

"The Quittelsdorf?" he cried, with a laugh. "That will-o'-the-wisp? No, I would far rather leave the administration of my domestic affairs to the most repulsive of housekeepers! What should I do without an enormous income with such an extravagant, frivolous wife! Besides, let me tell you most emphatically, my sweet Helene, my choice is not yet made,--hear me, and do not weep so violently, you break my heart; I must have a wife who knows and loves you; a simple-hearted woman, of genuine understanding, to whom I can say: my heart belongs to another who never can be mine, be my friend and here."

"And do you imagine that any one could understand you?"

"Most certainly, if she loved me."

"No, I could not,--never, never!" She buried her face in the cushions, sobbing convulsively.

And now an ugly frown appeared on Hollfeld's smooth forehead. His lips were compressed, and for an instant the colour left his cheeks. He was evidently very angry. An expression of hatred lighted up the eyes that rested upon the young creature who was unexpectedly rendering his part so difficult to play. But he controlled himself, and lifted her face with a light, caressing touch. The poor thing trembled beneath his hypocritical contact, and let her delicate head rest passively upon his hand.

"And would you then forsake me, Helene," he asked sadly, "if I were compelled to fulfil so hard a duty? Would you turn away and leave me lonely, with a wife whom I did not love?"

She raised her swollen eyelids, and from beneath them broke a ray of inexpressible love. He had played his part admirably, and that glance told him that the game was in his own hands.

"You are now fighting the same battle," he continued, "which I have struggled through during the last few days, before I could arrive at any fixed determination. At first the thought that any third person may interfere with our relations to each other may well appall you, but I give you my word that shall not be. Think, Helene, how much more I can do for you; how much more truly I can live for you then than now. You can come to me at Odenberg. I will guard your every footstep, and cherish you as the apple of my eye."

Hollfeld possessed very little intellect, but he had a vast amount of cunning, which, as we see, served his turn better than intellect could have done. His poor victim flew into the net, her heart torn and bleeding, her force of will utterly annihilated.

"I will try to endure the thought," Helene at last whispered almost inaudibly. "But what a being that woman must be who could bear with me, and whom I might at last learn to love like a sister! Do you know any such lofty-minded, self-sacrificing creature?"

"I have an idea,--it occurred to me just now quite suddenly,--at present it is vague and unformed. After due consideration I shall certainly unfold it to you. But you must first be more composed, dear Helene. Think for a moment. I place the choice of my future wife solely and entirely in your hands. It depends upon you to approve or condemn what I propose."

"And are you strong enough to pass your life with a woman to whom you cannot give your love?"

He suppressed a contemptuous smile, for Helene's eyes were riveted upon his lips.

"I can do all that I resolve to do," he answered; "and to have you near me will give me strength.--But let me entreat one favour of you,--say nothing as yet to my mother of this important matter, as you know she wishes to control everything and everybody, and I could not now endure her interference. She will learn all soon enough when I present my future wife to her."

At any other time, this heartless, unfilial speech would have disgusted Helene; but, at this moment, she scarcely heard it, for every thought and feeling had been thrown into the wildest uproar by the words, "future wife," which suggested, in spite of the multitude of unhappy wives, the idea of supreme contentment and bliss.

"Oh, my God!" she cried, wringing in an agony of grief the little hands that lay in her lap. "I always hoped to die before this; I was not, indeed I was not so selfish as to think you could lead a lonely life for my sake; but I hoped that the necessarily short period of my life might induce you to let this cup pass from me,--to wait until my eyes should be closed upon my misery."

"But, Helene, what do you mean?" cried Hollfeld, still controlling his temper with difficulty. "At your age, who would think of dying? We will live--live, and in time be, as I confidently hope, happy indeed. Think of the matter, and you will see it all as I do."

He pressed her hand affectionately to his lips, imprinted a kiss upon her brow, for the first time,--took his hat, and left the room.

Outside, as the door closed upon the suffering girl, he gave full play to the expression of contempt that he had so long suppressed, and which gave place only to a look of self-satisfaction still more detestable. One hour before, his heart had been filled with rage. His passion for Elizabeth, fanned into a flame by her rejection of his advances, had been a consuming fire, and had robbed him of all his boasted self-control. But the idea of marriage with the daughter of the forester's clerk had never occurred to him,--such a thought would have seemed to him insane. He had exhausted his ingenuity in contriving plans to procure a return of affection from the object of his passion. The late occurrence at Gnadeck had given his thoughts another direction. Elizabeth was now a most desirable match, noble and wealthy. No wonder, then, that he exulted at the news, and immediately formed the magnanimous resolution of honouring the fair flower of Castle Gnadeck with an offer of marriage. There was, of course, no doubt that she would accept the offer, for although coquetry had led her to reject his advances hitherto, she could not possibly pursue such a line of conduct, in view of the brilliant prospect of becoming the envied wife of Herr von Hollfeld. He was so secure upon this point that not a cloud of distrust darkened the horizon of his future. It was not only his intense desire to possess Elizabeth that urged him on to act as quickly as possible,--the thought, that as soon as the discovery in the ruins became known, other suitors would present themselves for the hand of Gold Elsie, already so famous for her beauty,--this thought made his blood boil in his veins.

Only one obstacle stood between him and the fulfilment of his determination, and that was Helene. It was not that he hesitated, through sympathy, at the thought of how the fondly-loving girl would suffer,--he knew no pity with regard to her,--but he was in dread lest too hasty a marriage might cost him the inheritance which he looked for from her. It was a case for prudence and forethought. We have seen how, in cold blood, he made use of the unhappy girl's deep and blind affection, and, while pretending to submit to her decision the weightiest questions concerning his future life, riveted the chain that bound her to him.

As soon as he had left the room Helene tottered to the door, and bolted it after him. And then she resigned herself to utter despair.

They who have never known the hours of torture that ensue upon the sudden hearing of some unexpected misfortune,--hours when we would fain shriek out our misery into the ears of the universe, and when, needing the sympathy and support of others as never before, we are driven, as by some evil spirit, to darkness and loneliness, as though light and sound were deadly poison to our wound,--they, we say, who have never known the pangs that threaten to efface all the landmarks of a previously harmonious inner life, will scarcely be able to conceive that Helene sank down upon the floor, with her little hands plucking wildly at her fair curls, and her frail, diminutive form shivering as from a fever fit. She had lived and breathed only in her absorbing affection for this man. If a few gloomy looks, some slight neglect of his, had sufficed to plunge her into the deepest melancholy, and make her utterly careless of an event that would once have wrung her sisterly affection to the very soul, how much greater must her agony now be in the conviction that she was about to lose him forever!

In the wild chaos of thought filling her brain, she was entirely incapable of one clear, decided conclusion. The humiliating consciousness of her physical infirmities, which caused her to be thrust out of an earthly paradise; Hollfeld's confession of love to which she had just listened, and which brought such infinite joy and woe; a frantic jealousy of the woman, whoever she might be, who was to stand beside him as a wife,--all these emotions were seething in her mind, threatening to sever the frail thread that bound together soul and body.

It was late, and night had already fallen, when she admitted her anxious maid, and yielded to her entreaties to retire to rest. She emphatically refused to see the physician, sent word to the baroness, who asked to come in to say good-night, that she could not be disturbed, her need of rest was so great,--and then passed the most wretched night of her life.

She grew a little more quiet, that is, the fearful tension of her nerves relaxed somewhat, when the first beam of morning light pierced the curtains of her room. The thin golden ray seemed to glide into her darkened soul, and illumine thoughts which had hitherto been hidden in the wild tumult of her mind. She began to believe that Hollfeld's course was one of the purest self-sacrifice. She had never been able to disguise or thrust from her the haunting conviction that his marriage might one day become an imperative necessity, and she could not fail to be conscious that her idea of his waiting until she should be no more had never occurred to him. Was not his sacrifice great? Loving her, and her only, he must belong to another; ought she to make the performance of a sacred duty difficult for him by her grief? He had asked her to tread a thorny path with him. Should she draw back like a coward when he set her such an example of strength and endurance? And if another woman could be found content with friendship instead of love, should she allow herself to be outdone in self-renunciation?

In feverish haste she rang the bell by her bedside, and summoned her maid. Yes, she would be strong; but she was conscious that only entire certainty could give her courage and the power of endurance; she must know, as soon as possible, the name of the woman whom Hollfeld thought capable of undertaking so hard a part in life. She had passed before her, in review, every unmarried woman of her acquaintance, but had rejected on the instant each and all.

The hour had not yet arrived at which she was accustomed to take breakfast with the baroness and Hollfeld; her brother always avoided this early meeting of his household, but she could not remain in her lonely room, and, as she was greatly exhausted, was pushed in her wheeled chair into the dining-room. To her surprise, she heard from one of the servants that the baroness had gone to walk half an hour previously,--a very strange piece of news, but one that she was most glad to learn, for just as she was wheeled into a recess of one of the windows she discovered Hollfeld pacing to and fro upon the lawn without. He seemed to have no suspicion that he was observed. His fine, manly figure moved with elastic grace. Now and then he put a cigar to his lips with evident enjoyment, and the delicate aroma floating through the air reached Helene at her window. At first the little lady was painfully impressed by his unusually gay and cheerful expression; she could not but confess to herself that youthful exuberance of spirits, love of life, and an unwonted exhilaration of mind were manifest in his every look and motion, even in the half-unconscious smile that now and then parted his lips, discovering his wonderfully white teeth. There was no trace there of those struggles which she had passed through during the night; he certainly did not look much like the victim of an inexorable combination of circumstances. But was not his self-possession the result of great mental force and a strong manly will? He must have reached a height almost too lofty for human nature to attain.

The little lady's brow contracted in a frown.

"Emil!" she cried loudly, almost harshly.

Hollfeld was evidently startled, but in a second he stood beneath her window, and waved a "good-morning" to her.

"What!" he cried, "are you there already? May I come up?"

"Yes," she replied more gently.

And in a few moments he entered the room. Helene had reason to be better pleased with his present air and manner; there was an expression of great gravity upon his countenance as he threw his hat upon the table and pushed a chair close to her side. Taking both her hands tenderly within his own, he gazed into her face, and really seemed struck by her ashy cheeks and the lustreless eyes that met his.

"You look ill, Helene," he said pityingly.

"Do you wonder at it?" she asked, with a bitterness that she was unable to conceal. "Unfortunately I am denied the gift of such perfect self control as could enable me in a few hours after a crushing experience to look forward with content and gaiety to the future. I envy you."

"You are unjust, Helene," he replied quickly, "if you judge me from my exterior. Is it the part of a man to whine and cry when he submits to the inevitable?"

"You certainly do not seem inclined to any such course."

He was provoked beyond measure. The puny, little creature at his side, who, with her crippled figure, ought to be thankful to God if a man could so far control himself as not to treat her with absolute rudeness and aversion, and who had previously been so grateful for the smallest attention, had suddenly taken upon herself to reprove him! Although he had done all he could to inspire her with faith in his ardent love for her, in his soul he thought it showed a measureless vanity in the child to imagine herself capable of inspiring any man with such a passion, and with great irritation he acknowledged to himself that in her case he had to contend with most determined obstinacy and disgusting sentimentality. It cost him great pains to control himself, but he even accomplished a melancholy smile, which became him infinitely.

"When I tell you of the cause of my cheerful looks you will repent your reproaches," he said. "I was just picturing to myself the moment when I could go to your brother and say, 'Helene has decided to live in my family for the future,' and I cannot deny that the thought gave me satisfaction, for he has always regarded my love for you with an eye of disfavour."

They say Love is blind, but in most cases he closes his eyes voluntarily; knowing that perfect vision would kill him, he fights desperately against annihilation.

Helene did her best to reconcile what he said with his previous appearance, and succeeded excellently. With a deep sigh she held out her hand to him.

"I believe and have faith in you," she said fervently. "The loss of this faith would be my death-blow. Ah, Emil, you must never, never deceive me, not even although you think it would be for my good. I would rather learn the harshest truth than harbour the faintest suspicion that you were not perfectly true to me. I have had a terrible night, but now I am composed, and I beg you to tell me more of what you spoke of yesterday. I am but too sure that I shall not regain entire self-command until I know with certainty who it is that is to stand between us. At present she is a phantom, and in her unreality lies the cause of the tormenting anxiety that is consuming me. Tell me the name, Emil, I entreat you."

Hollfeld's eyes sought the ground. Affairs just then did not look very promising.

"Do you know, Helene," he began at last, "that I hesitate to discuss this subject with you to-day? You are greatly agitated. I am afraid that such a conversation will make you ill. And, as I must say that the project which I spoke of yesterday seems more and more feasible to me the more I ponder it, I fear much lest in your agitation you should overlook its great advantages."

"Indeed I will not!" cried Helene, as, sitting upright she riveted her unnaturally bright eyes full upon him. "I have overcome myself, and am ready to submit to the inevitable. I promise you I will be thoroughly impartial; as impartial as if I--did not love." She blushed as the confession escaped her for the first time.

"Well, then," said Hollfeld, with hesitation,--he could not quite master his emotion,--"what do you think of the young girl of Castle Gnadeck?"

"Elizabeth Ferber?" cried Helene, in the greatest astonishment.

"Elizabeth von Gnadewitz," he hastily corrected her. "The sudden change in her social position first suggested the girl to me. Hitherto I have scarcely noticed her, except that her modest demeanour and the repose of her countenance impressed me favourably."

"What! did you see nothing to admire in that lovely, wondrously-gifted creature, except repose and a modest demeanour?"

"Well, yes," he replied, with an air of indifference, "I remember that several times, when you were provoked at some mistake that you had made, she never altered a muscle, but patiently went over the passage with you again and again, until you were perfect in it. That pleased me. I believe her to possess great equanimity of mind, and that is the characteristic that my wife will need above all others. I know, too, that she fairly adores you, and that is the chief consideration. Besides, she has been educated in the strictest economy, her requirements will be few, and she will readily assume her right position with regard to you and me. I believe that she has a certain amount of tact, and she has been notably brought up,--a great advantage to----"

Helene had sunk back upon her pillows, and covered her eyes with her hand.

"No, no," she cried, sitting up once more, and interrupting his eager flow of panegyric,--"not that poor, darling child! Elizabeth deserves to be truly loved."

A loud and sudden howl here caused her to give a little cry of fright. Hollfeld had just stepped upon the paw of his pointer, Diana, who had accompanied him into the room, and was lying stretched out at her master's feet. The interruption was most welcome to him,--for Helene's last words sounded to him so comical, in connection with his own vehement desires, that he could hardly restrain his laughter. He opened the door and sent the limping brute from the room. When he returned to the young girl he was all grave composure again.

"Well, we will both love the girl, Helene," he said with apparent indifference, as he resumed his seat. Helene was in a state of too great excitement to notice the flippancy of his tone and manner. "Let her only leave you the first place in my affections. She must do that. She certainly has enough coolness and presence of mind; she testified those qualities abundantly the day she saved Rudolph's life."

"Oh, how?" cried Helene, opening wide her eyes in amazement.

The servant, who had on the previous day involuntarily let slip some mention of the occurrence in the forest, had, in terror at his oversight, instantly refrained from all further particulars relating to it, simply asserting that the bullet intended for Herr von Walde had fortunately fallen wide of its mark. Hollfeld had heard the exact account of the murderous attempt only an hour before from the gardener. Elizabeth's fearless conduct naturally lent her a new charm in his eyes, and goaded afresh his desire to win her as soon as possible. He related the story, which he had just heard, to Helene, concluding his account by saying: "You now have one more reason to love the girl, and her conduct strengthens my conviction that she is the only one whom I should select."

This was his last round of ammunition. He stroked back the hair from his brow with his delicate white hand, and from beneath it narrowly and eagerly watched the little lady, whose head was so sunk amid the pillows that only her profile was visible. The tears were gushing from her closed eyelids; she said not a word; perhaps she was struggling with herself for the last time.

But why did it never occur to her that Elizabeth might fail to accede to Hollfeld's wishes? Any loving woman can answer this question for herself, if she will only reflect that the loving heart believes the object of its passion irresistible, and learns with difficulty that all the world does not share its conviction.

The silence, which began to be painful, was interrupted by the return of the baroness from her walk. Helene started, and quickly dried her tears. With evident impatience she submitted to the caresses with which the lady overwhelmed her, replying in monosyllables to the tender inquiries with regard to her health.

"Ah!" cried the baroness, as she shook the scarf from her shoulders and left it in her son's hands, while she sank clumsily into an arm-chair. "How very warm I am! That path up the mountain is terrible! No power upon earth shall take me over it again!"

"Did you go up the mountain, mother?" asked Hollfeld incredulously.

"Why, yes; you know the physician prescribed an early morning walk for me."

"Oh yes; but that was so many years ago, and I thought you always maintained that the trouble with your heart made any such exercise impossible."

"Still, everything ought to have a fair trial," replied his mother, a little embarrassed, "and as I could not sleep last night, I determined to try once more; but it will do no good,--I have just had fresh cause for vexation. Only think, Helene, just outside in the gravel walk I met Bella with her new governess,--would you believe it, the woman had the impertinence to let the child walk by her left side! And she looks, too, like a perfect simpleton. I was really angry, and defined her position to her as clearly as I could. But tell me yourself, is it not hard that I cannot even attempt to refresh myself with a walk without encountering what makes me miserable and ill?"

Just as she leaned her forehead in a melancholy manner upon her hand, she discovered that the false curls upon her temples had been pushed considerably awry by her bonnet. She arose hastily, and begged for a little time before breakfast that she might arrange her dress.

"By the way," she said carelessly, turning round to her son and cousin as she reached the door, while she set her bonnet firmly upon the rebellious front, "that fellow, Reinhard, imposed upon us finely yesterday. I accidentally encountered the forester's clerk, Ferber, up there near the ruins,--I congratulated him----"

"Ah! now I understand the ascent of the mountain!" Hollfeld interrupted his mother ironically. "And you actually spoke to the man, mother?"

"Oh! now there is no reason why I should not. The jewels principally interested me."

"Did you wish to buy them?" asked her son contemptuously, remembering the constant ebb in her finances.

"Hardly," she replied with an angry glance; "but I have always had a perfect passion for precious stones; and if your father had not died so suddenly, I should now have had a charming set of diamonds, which he had promised me, and you would have been six thousand thalers the poorer. But to return to the discovered jewels. Ferber told me just what they were, and, when I asked him, frankly replied that they would bring about eight thousand thalers,--that is what that fellow, Reinhard, calls inestimable wealth. Once more adieu for a few minutes."

The contemptuous smile disappeared from Hollfeld's face, as he listened to his mother's words, and gave place to a decided expression of disappointment; he had suddenly experienced a sensation like the shock of a shower-bath.

Scarcely was the door closed behind the baroness, when Helene aroused herself from her apparent apathy, and stretched out both hands to Hollfeld.

"Emil," she said quickly, in a low voice, with trembling lips, "if you succeed in gaining Elizabeth's love, and I cannot doubt that you will, I agree to your plan, but I must always live with you at Odenberg."

"Of course," he replied, although with some hesitation; his voice had lost its former decision of tone, "but let me warn you that you will have to resign many luxuries. My income is not large, and as you have just heard, Elizabeth has nothing."

"She shall not come to you poor, Emil,--rely upon that," the little lady rejoined in a tender voice, and with eyes unnaturally bright. "From the moment she promises to be yours I regard her in the light of a sister; I will share faithfully with her, and will instantly make over to her the rents of my estate of Neuborn, in Saxony; I will talk to Rudolph about it as soon as he returns, and when death closes my eyes, all that I possess will be hers and yours. Are you content with me?"

"You are an angel, Helene," he cried; "you shall never repent your magnanimity,--your generous devotion."

And this time there was no dissimulation in his delight, for the rents of Neuborn made Elizabeth a very wealthy bride.