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.. meta::
   :PG.Id: 43393
   :PG.Title: At the Councillor's
   :PG.Released: 2013-08-03
   :PG.Rights: Public Domain
   :PG.Producer: Al Haines
   :DC.Creator: \E. Marlitt
   :MARCREL.trl: Mrs. \A. \L. Wister
   :DC.Title: At the Councillor's
              or, A Nameless History
   :DC.Language: en
   :DC.Created: 1876
   :coverpage: images/img-cover.jpg

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AT THE COUNCILLOR'S
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      AT THE COUNCILLOR'S;

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      OR,

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      A NAMELESS HISTORY.

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      BY

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      \E. MARLITT.

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      TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN
      BY MRS. \A. \L. WISTER,

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      TRANSLATOR OF "THE GREEN GATE," "THE SECOND WIFE," "ONLY A GIRL,"
      "HULDA," "THE OLD MAM'SELLE'S SECRET," ETC.

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      PHILADELPHIA:
      J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
      1893.

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      Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1876, by
      J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO.,
      In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.

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   NOTE.

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In Germany, the title of "Councillor" (*Rath*) can be
purchased by those who achieve a certain eminence in their
several walks of life, or it may be conferred as an honour by
the Prince or King.  The merchant who gives the name to
this romance is thus "*Councillor of Commerce*," a compound
word so unwieldy in English that the translator preferred to
render "In the house of the Councillor of Commerce" by
"At the Councillor's."

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   A.L.W.

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.. contents:: CONTENTS
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   :backlinks: entry

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   AT THE COUNCILLOR'S.

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CHAPTER I.
==========

The rays of a December sun shone dimly into a room in
the large castle mill, calling forth feeble sparks of light from
the strange objects lying on the broad stone window-sill, and
then vanishing in a bank of snow-clouds that were rising
slowly but steadily in the west.  The objects sparkling so
strangely on the window-sill were some portion of a surgeon's
apparatus; those instruments the cold, steely glitter of
which startles the eye and sends a shudder through the nerves
of many a brave man.  A huge bedstead, the head and footboard
clumsily painted with gaudy roses and carnations, and
piled with feather-beds and patchwork quilts, stood directly
in the broad light from the window, and upon this bed lay
the castle miller.  The skilful hand of the physician had just
relieved him of a tumour in the throat that had several times
threatened his life with suffocation.  It had been a perilous
undertaking, but the young man who now pulled down the
window-shade and began to put up his instruments looked
entirely satisfied,—the operation had succeeded.

The invalid, who shortly before, when only partly under
the influence of chloroform, had pushed away the hand of the
physician, abusing him in a hoarse voice as a robber and
murderer, now lay quiet and exhausted among the pillows.  He
had been forbidden to talk,—surely an unnecessary prohibition,
for it would have been difficult to find a face bearing so
unmistakable an impress of dull taciturnity as did this square,
clumsy countenance, which had but one beauty to boast of,—the
thick, silvery hair that enclosed it as in a frame.

"Are you satisfied, Bruck?"[#] asked a gentleman, who now
approached the physician from the foot of the bed, where he
had been standing.  His handsome features wore an expression
of keen anxiety.

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[#] Pronounced Brook.

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The doctor nodded.  "All right so far; the patient's strong
constitution will stand him in stead now," he said, quietly,
glancing towards the old man.  "At present all depends upon
the nursing; I must leave.  For some time he must not stir
from his present position.  There must be no hemorrhage
from the wound——"

"I will see to that," the other interrupted him, eagerly; "I
will stay as long as careful watching is needed.  Will you not
leave word at the villa that I shall not come back to tea?"

A slight flush mounted to the physician's cheek, and there
was some embarrassment in the tone of his reply: "I cannot
go round through the park.  I must get to town as quickly
as possible——"

"You have not seen Flora to-day, doctor——"

"I know that well enough.  I——"  He paused, compressed
his lips, and took up his case of instruments.  "I have
some patients very ill," he went on, calmly: "the little Lenz
girl will die before to-morrow morning.  I cannot save the
child, but the parents, who are utterly exhausted with nursing
and anxiety, are counting the moments while I am away from
them; the mother will eat only when I insist upon it."

Ho approached the bed, where the sick man raised his
eyes to him with a look of perfect consciousness; there was
even a glimmer of gratitude in them for the sudden and
unspeakable relief he had experienced.  He would have taken his
benefactor's hand, but the latter imposed quiet with his own,
as he reiterated the necessity for avoiding all motion whatever.
"The councillor will remain here, Herr Sommer," he added,
"and see that my injunctions are strictly obeyed."

This seemed to content the old man; he looked towards
the councillor, who confirmed by a nod the physician's words,
and then he closed his eyes as if to try to sleep.  Doctor Bruck
took his hat, gave his hand to the councillor, and left the
room.

To an anxious wife seated by the bedside of the patient his
departure would have been the signal for a weary sense of
forlornness,—the opposite of the fresh courage with which his
coming inspired the poor mother who took needful nourishment
only at his request.  But no such loving anxiety
watched by this man's couch.  The old housekeeper, who
came into the room to put it in order after the doctor's visit,
looked coldly indifferent; she flitted about like a bat, and
seemed much more distressed by a few drops of water that
marred the polish upon one of her tables than by the danger
that had threatened her master's life.

"Pray let that be for the present, Susie," the councillor
said, in his most courteous tone.  "Your rubbing that table
makes a noise very irritating to the nerves; Doctor Bruck
prescribes absolute repose for Papa."

Susie hastily picked up housecloth and broom, and betook
herself to her neat and shining kitchen, there to forget the
stains upon the table.  As perfect quiet as was possible in the
mill reigned in the room she had left; up through the floor
came the continuous, measured beat of machinery; the water
tumbling over the weir outside sang its perpetual refrain, and
now and then the doves fluttered against the window-pane, or
cooed in the branches of the ancient chestnuts, through which
the western light faintly illumined the room.  These mingled
noises did not exist as such for the sick man, however: they
were as much part and parcel of his existence as the beating
of his heart.

It was indeed a repulsive face which the elegant figure at
the bedside watched, according to his promise, so carefully.
Its coarseness, the hard lines of low vulgarity about the
pendulous nether lip, had never so impressed and disgusted him
as now, when sleep or exhaustion had robbed it of force and
revealed all its original characteristics.  Yes, the old man
had begun life low enough in the scale, as a hard-worked
mill-servant, but he was now the owner of untold wealth; trade
had made a money-monarch of the invalid upon the clumsy
old bedstead; and this fact, doubtless, had something to do
with the familiar epithet of "Papa" bestowed upon him by
the councillor, who was not bound to him by any tie of blood.
The councillor had married the daughter of the deceased
banker Mangold by his first wife.  For his second, Mangold
had wooed and won the daughter of the old miller.  This
was all the relationship that existed between the miller and
his nurse.

The councillor arose and stepped softly to the window.  He
was a man of vivacious temperament, and sitting still in this
way made him nervous; he could not bear the constant gazing
upon that unsympathetic face, those coarse, sinewy fists, now
buried in the down coverlet, which had once wielded the whip
above the mill-horses.  The chestnuts before the window had
long since shed their last leaf; every opening left in the
tracery of their boughs formed a rural landscape picture, each
lovelier than the other, although for the moment the dark
December sky dimmed the lustre that was reflected from the
little lake, and veiled in misty gloom the hazy purple of the
distant mountain-tops.

There, on the right, the river, after turning the wheels of
the castle mill, made a sudden bend; a frame-work of boughs
on that side enclosed a strip of its shining course, and a
structure the purposes of which it was made to serve, a huge,
square, unornamented stone building, with rows of windows
enhancing its naked ugliness.  This was the councillor's
factory.  He too was a rich man; he employed hundreds of
weavers at clattering looms, and this property of his placed
him in a kind of dependent position with regard to the castle
miller.  The mill, built hundreds of years before by a lord of
the land, had been endowed with immense prerogatives, which,
still in force, controlled a considerable stretch of the river, and
were irritating enough to the dwellers upon its banks.  Upon
these prerogatives the burly master of the castle mill took his
stand, and showed his teeth to any one who dared to lay a
finger upon his rights.  Once only a tenant of the mill, he
had slowly but surely stretched forth the arms of his growing
wealth, until not only the mill was his own, but also the
baronial estate to which it had originally belonged.  This he had
accomplished shortly before the marriage of his only child
to the respectable banker Mangold.  The extensive forests
and farm-land upon the estate were all that the miller cared
for; the magnificent villa in the midst of its stately park had
always been an eye-sore to him; nevertheless, he had kept the
"costly toy" in perfect repair, for the pleasure of seeing his
daughter rule as mistress where the former haughty lord had
always disdained even to answer his salute.  The councillor
now rented the villa; there was every reason, therefore, that
he should be upon the best terms with his landlord, and one
who possessed such control of the river.  And this was the
case: the councillor was as a docile son to the surly old man.

Four o'clock struck from the factory tower, and the gas
instantly lit up the counting-room windows.  Twilight came on
early indeed on this afternoon: the air was filled with that
moisture that brings snow; the smoke from city chimneys
hung low over the earth, while the slate roof of the factory
and every stone door-step were glassy with intense damp; the
doves, until now huddled together upon the bare chestnut-boughs,
suddenly left them and flew to the warm, dry dove-cote.
The councillor looked back into the room with a shiver.
By contrast it looked almost comfortable and cosy to the man
to whose refined taste it was usually so repulsive, with its
constant smell of cooking, its smoky ceiling, and the coarse
prints here and there upon the walls; but Susie had just
replenished the fire in the stove with pine wood, the
old-fashioned sofa against the wall looked inviting with its huge
soft cushions, and upon the bright panes of glass in the
recess-door the last gleams of daylight were reflected.  Ah, behind
that door stood the iron safe: had he remembered to take
out the key?

Just before the operation, the miller had made his will; as
Doctor Bruck and the councillor entered the room, they met
the lawyers and witnesses leaving it.  Although outwardly
composed, the patient must have gone through much agitation
of mind: his hand had evidently been uncertain, for in putting
away his papers he had left one of them lying upon the table.
Noticing this omission, after the doctor's arrival he had
requested the councillor to lock it up in the safe.  A second
door led from the recess where the safe was placed into an
antechamber, and there were all sorts of people continually
coming and going in the mill.  The councillor had put away
the paper, but left the door of the safe unlocked,—an
inexcusable neglect,—and he hastily went to the little room.
What would the old man, who guarded this precious place of
deposit like a dragon, have said at seeing his money thus
exposed!  No one could possibly have entered the room, the
councillor consoled himself by thinking; the slightest noise
could not have escaped him; but he would make sure that
everything was in order.

He opened the iron folding-doors as noiselessly as possible;
there were the money-bags untouched, and before the packets
of valuable papers were ranged columns of glittering gold
pieces.  He glanced rapidly over the paper, which in his
former natural haste and agitation he had put carelessly into one
of the neatly-arranged pigeon-holes: it was an inventory of
the miller's entire possessions.  What enormous sums those
rows of figures represented!  He carefully put it where it
belonged, and in doing so he accidentally overthrew one of the
columns of gold pieces: a number of napoleons fell noisily
upon the floor.  What an ugly sound they made!  He had
touched money belonging to another!  A mixture of terror
and uncalled-for shame sent the colour to his cheeks; he
stooped in haste to pick up the money.  As he did so, a heavy
body fell upon him from behind, and hard, coarse fingers
clutched his throat.

"You scoundrel, I am not dead yet!" the miller hissed in
his ear, in a strange, muffled tone.  There was a momentary
struggle; all the councillor's strength and vigor were
necessary to shake off the old man, who clung to him like a
panther, grasping his throat so tightly that a shower of sparks
seemed to flash before his eyes; he seized with both hands
the mass that weighed him down, gave one strong thrust
and push, and he was on his feet and free, while the miller
staggered against the wall.

"Are you mad, Papa?" he gasped, breathlessly.  "What
vile suspicions!——"  He paused in horror: the bandage
beneath the old man's whitening face suddenly became crimson,
and the dreadful colour crept rapidly downward over his
white night-dress.  This was the hemorrhage that was to
have been so carefully guarded against.

The councillor's teeth chattered as in a fever-fit.  Was this
misfortune his fault?  "No, no," he said to himself instantly,
as he put his arm around the invalid to support him to his
bed; but the old man thrust him away angrily, and pointed
to the scattered gold; each piece had to be carefully picked
up and arranged in place; in care for his money he either
forgot or ignored the danger that threatened him.  Not until
the councillor had locked the safe and put the key into his
hand did he totter back into his bedroom, there to fall helpless
upon the bed; and when at last, summoned by the councillor's
repeated cries for help, two mill-servants and Susie rushed
into the room, there lay the castle miller on his back, his
glazing eyes, from which all consciousness seemed to have
departed, staring downward at the crimson dye which the
welling life-stream was so rabidly spreading on every side.

A servant was dispatched to town to summon Doctor
Bruck, while the housekeeper hurriedly brought water and
linen.  They were of no avail.  The councillor anxiously
applied cloth after cloth to the wound,—the stream would not
be stayed.  There was no doubt of it, an artery had burst.
How had it happened?  Was the old man's mental and physical
excitement alone to blame, or—his heart seemed to stop
beating at the thought—had he in defending himself struck
and mortally aggravated the wound in the throat?  How can
there be any exact memory of the moment of defence against
a furious assault?  Who could tell whether, with murderous
fingers clutching his throat, and his overcharged brain
kindling thousands of fires in the air, he had seized shoulder or
throat of his assailant?  Why imagine so ghastly a possibility?
Was not the spring out of bed, the excess of rage, quite
enough to bring on the disaster which the physician had
predicted would be the result of any sudden movement?  No,
no, his conscience was clear; he had nothing to reproach
himself with, whatever might have been the cause of this terrible
event.  He had gone to the safe solely in the old man's
interest; there had not been in his mind even a fleeting desire
to possess any of that wealth; this he was sure of.  How
could he help the low suspicions of the miserable old
corn-dealer, who saw a possible robber in every man, no matter
what his position and culture?  Anxiety and horror gave place
to indignation in the councillor's mind.  This came of his
amiability, the innate courtesy for which his friends declared
he was distinguished; it had often induced him to take upon
himself responsibilities which had involved him disagreeably.
Had he but stayed at home,—in his comfortable library,
at the whist-table, or smoking a cigar in peace!  His evil
genius had prompted him to play the part of self-sacrificing
nurse, and here he was in this terrible situation, shuddering
with horror and disgust, his hands moistened with the
blood of the wretch who would have strangled him.

The minutes were surely weighted with lead!  The miller
now seemed aware of the peril he had brought upon himself;
he did not stir, but his eyes turned anxiously towards the
door whenever footsteps were heard without; his hopes for
rescue lay in the physician.  The councillor, dismayed, marked
the change in his countenance.  That ashen hue was the sure
forerunner of death.

Susie brought in the lamp; she had been repeatedly to the
door to look for Doctor Bruck, and she now stood at the side
of the bed, shaking her head in mute horror at the sight that
the faint lamp-light revealed.  A few moments more, and the
miller's eyes closed.  The key, until then clutched convulsively
in his hand, fell upon the counterpane.  Involuntarily
the councillor extended his hand to put it away, but as he
touched the bit of iron the thought suddenly struck him, like
an unexpected blow, of the aspect this unfortunate accident
might wear in the eyes of the world.  He knew only too well
what slander could do with its poisonous breath,—how it could
glide through his halls and apartments, received by men as
well as by women with malicious satisfaction, ambiguous smiles,
and finger-pointings.  If a single person should say, with a
shrug, "Aha, what was Councillor Römer looking for in the
miller's safe?" it would be enough.  Such words would not
be spoken by one voice only.  Like all fortunate men, he
numbered many among his acquaintances who envied and
disliked him; he knew that it would be everywhere told in
town to-morrow how the operation had been quite successful,
but that the irritation produced in the patient by seeing
the man self-installed as nurse secretly visiting his safe
had brought on a fatal hemorrhage.  And there would be a
stain upon the name of Römer, the envied favorite of fortune,
which no legal investigation could remove, for there could
be no friendly witnesses.  Would not his previous honourable
career be sufficient testimony in his favour?  He laughed
bitterly to himself as he wiped the drops of cold perspiration
from his brow.  No one knew better than he how ready the
world is to stigmatize as mere sham any uprightness of
character as soon as appearances are against it.  He leaned over
the unconscious man, whose temples Susie was bathing with
spirits, and suddenly regarded him in a different light: should
he never recover sufficient strength to tell of what had occurred,
it would be buried with him: there were no other lips to speak
of it.

At last the watch-dog barked outside; hasty steps crossed
the court-yard and ascended the stairs.  Doctor Bruck paused
for a moment, as if petrified, at the door of the room, then
silently laid his hat upon the table, and approached the bed.
The solemn moment that ensued seemed to throb with expectation
of the verdict about to be pronounced.

"If he would only come to himself again, Herr Doctor,"
the housekeeper said, at last, in an anxious whisper.

"He will hardly do that," Doctor Bruck replied, looking
up from his investigation.  All colour had fled from his face.
"Be quiet," he sternly ordered, as Susie was about to break
out into loud lamentations, "and tell me why the patient left
his bed!"  He took the lamp from the table and pointed to
the floor beside the bed: the planks were sprinkled with blood.

"That comes from the cloths we have been using," the
councillor explained, in a decided tone, although he had grown
very pale; while the housekeeper affirmed by all that was
holy that the castle miller was lying just as the doctor had
left him when she entered the room.

Doctor Bruck shook his head.  "This hemorrhage never
came on without cause; it must have been produced by some
violent agitation."

"None that I know of; I assure you, none!" said the
councillor, meeting the physician's keen glance with tolerable
firmness.  "What do you mean by looking at me thus?
I cannot see why I should conceal from you that the patient
had sprung from his bed in an excess of fever, if such had
been the case."  He would keep to the path he had chosen,
although the last words seemed to stick in his throat.  To
save mere appearances he sacrificed his honour, he lied with a
brazen brow; but then he had not been in fault with regard to
what had occurred; his life had fairly been in peril.  There
was not a single consideration that could make an explanation
of the real facts of the case necessary.

The physician turned silently away and busied himself with
his patient.  Once or twice the miller opened his eyes, but
they gazed unmeaningly into space, and the effort to speak
died away in a rattle in his throat.

A few hours afterwards, Councillor Römer left the castle
mill.  All was over.  Across the doors of the recess broad
strips of paper were already pasted.  As soon as the miller
breathed his last, the councillor advised the legal authorities
of the fact, and, like a conscientious, prudent man, saw seals
placed upon everything before he left the spot.





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CHAPTER II.
===========

He walked home through the park.  The feeble glimmer
of the mill-lights which accompanied him for a few steps of
the way vanished behind him, and he went on alone in the
black darkness.  It was not the keen breeze sweeping by him,
nor the few snow-flakes touching his cheek like some fluttering
bird of night, but the memory of the last few hours, and
his excited fancy, that made him shiver as if with bitter
cold.  That very afternoon he had left his well-furnished
table, and along this path, where now the pebbles beneath
his tread grated discordantly, he had walked, secure, as he
thought, in the protection of his lucky star; and now, after
so short a time, it would almost seem as if he, Councillor
Römer, whose sensitive nerves would not allow him to witness
the suffering even of a brute, had been partly guilty of the
death of a fellow-creature.  Surely the gods, impatient of a
mortal lot without a thorn, had envied him, and had thus
burdened his conscience that there might be some infusion of gall
in the clear stream of his prosperity,—and all for nothing.  He
could be reproached with nothing but silence; and whom
could his silence injure?  No one,—no one in the wide
world!  Basta! no more of this.  He turned into the broad
linden avenue that led directly to the villa.  A brilliant
stream of light was issuing from the windows and glass doors
of the lower suite of rooms.  A life of luxury and enjoyment
reached out white, rounded arms to him from those rooms,
beckoning him away from the dark night and all his anxiety.
He breathed more freely, threw off the evil influence of the
last hours, and let it vanish with the sound of the mill-stream
that was dying away in the distance.

There, around the Frau President Urach's tea-table and
card-tables a numerous evening company was assembled.  The
large, low panes of glass, and the bronze tracery of the
balustrade of the balcony outside, permitted an excellent view from
without of the interior.  The bright pictures on the walls,
the heavy portières of violet velvet, the chandeliers of gilded
bronze with their gas-lights shining through pearly glass
shades, stood out in relief against the surrounding blackness
of the winter night like a scene upon some fairy stage.  A
sudden gust of wind swept down the avenue, tossing
snowflakes and dry linden-leaves madly against the balcony, but
the hurly-burly had no effect upon the dignified repose
reigning within: there was not even a motion of the airy lace
curtains; the fire alone flickering upon the marble hearth might
blaze more brightly for an instant when breathed upon by the
blast down the chimney.

The man outside looked in with a sensation of trembling
delight upon the group assembled there.  Not that he saw
there fair and dark curls, slender women and girls to enchant
his eye.  No; the fairy heralds of spring painted on the
ceiling extended their rosy flower-filled palms above matronly
caps, gray hair, and bald heads; but then the names of
their owners!—officers of high rank, pensioned maids of
honour, and members of the ministry sat at the card-tables,
or, leaning back in the velvet lounging-chairs, chatted by
the warm fireside.  The arrogant old councillor of medicine,
Von Bär, was there too.  As he dealt the cards, sparks of
light flashed from the jewels upon his hands,—all gifts from
loyal personages.  And these people were in his house,
Councillor Römer's house; the ruby wine sparkling in the
goblets was from his cellar, and the fresh, fragrant strawberries
which liveried footmen were handing about in crystal
saucers had been bought with his money.  Frau President
Urach was his deceased wife's grandmother, and did the
honours in the house of the widower, with unlimited
command of his means.

The councillor walked around to the western side of the
house.  Here only two windows on the ground-floor were
illuminated; a hanging lamp between the crimson curtains of
one of them gleamed out into the darkness, bathing in rosy
light the white limbs of a marble nymph by a fountain in the
grove.  Herr Römer shook his head as he entered; then,
giving his overcoat to a servant, he opened the door of the
red-curtained apartment.  The room was all red,—hangings,
furniture, even the carpet was of the same dark crimson hue.
Beneath the hanging lamp stood a writing-table of peculiar
Chinese form, with golden arabesques covering its fine black
lacquer; it was made for use in the fullest sense of the word;
open books, sheets of writing-paper, and newspapers were
scattered over it, with a manuscript, across which a pencil was
lying, beside a small silver salver holding a goblet half full of
a strong, dark-red wine.  It was a room where flowers would
not have flourished nor birds have sung.  In each of the four
corners stood a black marble pedestal, each supporting a bust
of the same material, which brought into harsh relief the
features it portrayed; book-shelves lined the long wall,
harmonizing in colour and decoration with the writing-table, and
containing finely-bound modern books as well as parchment-covered
folios, and piles of pamphlets.  It almost seemed as
if the deep uniform crimson of the hangings and carpet had
been chosen as the only fitting frame for the severe style in
which the room was furnished.

As the councillor entered, a lady who had evidently been
walking to and fro stood still.  One might have thought that
she too had just come in covered with snow from the flurry
without, so dazzlingly white did she look upon the crimson
carpet.  It would have been difficult to say whether the soft
folds of her long cashmere robe were draped so loosely about
her waist and hips for the sake of convenience, or whether
this strange and becoming toilette were the result of careful
study; certainly the figure that stood out upon the crimson
background was noble in outline, and as purely white as an
Iphigenia.  The lady was very beautiful, although no longer
freshly young.  She had a fine Roman profile, and a delicate,
supple frame, but her light hair was wanting in thickness; it
was cut short, and, smoothed away from the brow, curled in
soft, flimsy curls about the head and neck.  She was Flora
Mangold, a sister-in-law of Councillor Römer, the twin-sister
of his deceased wife.  Her arms were lightly folded across
her bosom, and she greeted her brother-in-law with evident
eagerness.

"Well, Flora, have you left the drawing-room?" he asked.

"Do you suppose I could stay beside grandmamma's tea-table,
in the midst of stockings and swaddling-clothes for poor
children, and all that old woman's gossip?" she replied, in a
tone of irritation.

"But there are gentlemen there, too, Floss——"

"Greater gossips than the rest, in spite of their orders and
epaulettes!"

He laughed.  "You are out of humour, ma chère," he said,
sinking into an arm-chair.

She threw back her head and pressed her folded hands to
her breast.  "Moritz," she said, breathing hard, as if after a
momentary struggle with herself, "tell me the truth; did the
castle miller die beneath Bruck's knife?"

He started.  "What an idea!  No misfortune can be so
black but that you women——"

"I pray you make me an exception there, Moritz," she
interrupted him, haughtily.

"Well, with all due respect for your talent and remarkable
powers of mind, are you in fact any better than the rest?"  He
got up and paced the room in great annoyance; this new
view of the matter was startling indeed.  "Beneath Bruck's
knife!" he repeated, in an agitated voice.  "I tell you the
operation was performed before two o'clock, and the man died
scarcely two hours ago.  Besides, I cannot imagine how you
if all others can venture to give utterance to such a thought
so curtly and coldly,—I might almost say, so pitilessly."

"I of all others," she said, with emphasis, as she pressed
the carpet with her foot; "I of all others, because I cannot
endure to keep anything hidden in the depths of my soul.  I
am too proud, too unbending, to share and conceal the
knowledge of wrong done by another, let that other be whom he
will.  Do not think that I do not suffer!  It cuts me to the
heart like a knife.  But you have used the word 'pitilessly';
you could not better have confirmed my suspicions.  Pity for
bungling in science is absurd, impossible; and you as well
as I are perfectly aware that Bruck's reputation as a physician
has already suffered from his entire failure in the case of
Countess Wallendorf."

"Oh, of course nothing could induce that worthy lady to
moderate her appetite for pâté de foie gras and champagne."

"That is what Bruck says; her relatives tell another story."
She pressed her palms upon her temples, as if her head ached
violently.  "Do you know, Moritz, when the news of the
miller's death arrived, I went out of the house and ran hither
and thither like one insane?  Old Sommer was well known to
high and low: everybody was interested in the success of the
operation.  Even if, as you say, he did not die immediately
beneath Bruck's knife, every one of medical knowledge will
maintain, and justly, that the further struggle with death was
due to his strong constitution.  Can you, who have no
medical knowledge, be better informed?  Rather do not deny that
you are impressed with the same conviction!  You have no
idea how pale you are with agitation."

At this moment a side-door opened, and Frau President
Urach appeared upon the threshold.  In spite of her seventy
years, she entered with an elastic step; in spite of her seventy
years, she looked a wonderfully youthful grandmamma.  She
was not apparelled in the dress of old age; a fichu of white
lace was crossed upon her breast and knotted behind at
the waist.  The overskirt of her pearl-gray silk gown was
richly trimmed.  Her gray hair, still streaked here and there
with its original hue of shining gold, was puffed thickly above
her brow, and above these puffs she wore a veil-like scarf of
white tulle, the long ends of which concealed the throat and
the neck just below the chin, where age so surely sets its
seal.

She was not alone.  At her side there entered a creature
most strange in appearance, evidently stunted in growth, not
ill proportioned in figure, but extremely small, and very thin.
This insignificant body was crowned by the strongly-developed
head of a young lady of perhaps twenty-four years of age.
The three women now in the room had a strong family
resemblance in their features; the close relationship between
grandmother and grandchildren was evident, but the noble,
regular profile of the youngest of the three was too long for
perfect beauty, and the chin was too broad and decisively
prominent.  She had a sickly complexion, and her lips were
bluish in hue.  In her fair hair was twisted a flame-coloured
velvet ribbon, and she was in very elegant full dress, save that
by her side, where other ladies wear a chatelaine, she carried
a small oval osier basket lined with little cushions of blue
satin, among which sat a canary-bird.

"No, Henriette!" cried Flora, impatiently, as the little
bird left his nest and flew about her head, "that I will not
have.  You must leave your menagerie outside."

"Pray now, Flora,—Jack has neither elephants' feet nor
horns on his head; he cannot harm you," the little lady
replied, indifferently.  "Come, Jacky, come!" she called; and
the bird, after flying around the ceiling, dutifully came and
perched upon the forefinger she held out for him.

Flora turned away with a shrug.  "I cannot understand
you or your guests, grandmamma," she said, sharply.  "How
can you tolerate Henriette's childish nonsense?  Before long
she will set up her pigeon-cote and daws'-nests in your
drawing-room."

"And why not, Flora?" laughed the little lady, showing a
row of small, sharp teeth.  "They all tolerate you, going about
everywhere with a pen behind your ear, your pockets crammed
with bookish stuff, and——"

"Henriette!" the Frau President sternly interrupted her.
In her bearing there was great dignity, and as she graciously
gave her hand in greeting to the councillor, an unmistakable
air of condescension mingled with the kindliness of her
manner.

"I have just heard of your return, my dear Moritz; must
we wait any longer for you?" she asked, in a gentle voice that
was still musical.

Ten minutes previously he had come home, resolved to don
his evening dress immediately.  Now he replied, with
hesitation, "Dearest grandmamma, I must beg you to excuse me
this evening.  The event at the mill——"

"True, it is very sad; but how can it affect us?  I really
cannot see how to excuse you to my friends."

"They can hardly be so dull of comprehension, those
worthy people, as not to understand that Kitty's grand-papa
has died?" Henriette remarked, looking back over
her shoulder from where she was standing in front of the
book-shelves, apparently reading assiduously the titles of the
books.

"Henriette, I pray you spare me your pert observations,"
the Frau President said.  "You can, if you choose, tone down
your flame-coloured head-dress, for Kitty is your step-sister;
but with regard to Moritz and myself, the connection is so
slight that we need take no conventional notice of the death,
deplore it as we may.  And, for Bruck's sake, the less said
about it the better."

"Good heavens, are you all determined to be so unjust to
the doctor?" cried the councillor, in despair.  "No blame—not
the smallest—can be attached to him; he brought all his
skill, all his scientific knowledge, to bear——"

"My dear Moritz, you should hear what my old friend
Doctor von Bär has to say upon that point," the Frau
President said, in interruption, lightly tapping him upon the
shoulder and making a significant motion of her head towards
Flora, who had gone to her writing-table.

"Oh, do not mind me, grandmamma!  Do you think me so
blind and deaf as not to know what Bär's opinion is?" the
beautiful girl exclaimed, with bitterness.  "Bruck has,
besides, condemned himself: he has not ventured to come near
me this evening."

Hitherto Henriette had been standing with her back towards
the rest.  Now she turned round; a burning blush suddenly
coloured her sallow cheek and as quickly faded.  Her eyes
were wonderfully fine, revealing depths of passionate feeling.
They glowed like stars as she turned them, with a mixture
of shy terror and positive hatred, upon her sister's countenance.

"Your last accusation he will refute in person; he will
shortly be here, Flora," said the councillor, evidently relieved.
"He will tell you himself that he has been driven hard
indeed, to-day.  You know how many patients he has seriously
ill in town,—among them the poor little Lenz girl, who cannot
live until morning."

The lady laughed a low, bitter laugh.  "Is she going to
die?  Really, Moritz?  Well, Bär, too, came here to me
before going to grandmamma; he spoke of the child, whom
he saw yesterday, and thought not very ill; he feared, however,
that Bruck was upon a false track.  Bär is an authority——"

"Yes, an authority filled with envy," said Henriette, in a
clear, ringing voice.  She had hastily approached, and laid her
hand upon her brother-in-law's arm.  "Give up trying to
convince Flora, Moritz.  You must see that she is determined to
find her lover guilty."

"Determined?  'Tis false!  I would give half that I
possess to regard Bruck as I did in the beginning of our
engagement,—with the same proud trust and confidence,"
Flora exclaimed, passionately.  "But since the death of the
Countess Wallendorf I have been a silent prey to doubt and
mistrust; now I doubt no more: I am convinced.  I know
nothing, it is true, of that feminine weakness that loves
without ever asking, 'Is he whom I love worthy my devotion?'  I
am ambitious, wildly ambitious; I care not who knows it.
Without that mainspring I too might saunter along the broad
highway of the commonplace like the weak and indolent of
my sex.  God forbid such a fate for me!  How an aspiring
and intellectual woman can pass her life quietly and
composedly, linked to an insignificant husband, has always been
incomprehensible to me; I should writhe beneath the shame
of such a position."

"Oh, indeed! would it so shame you?  Well, well, I
suppose it would require more courage than is needed to hold
forth to a roomful of students upon æsthetics and what not,"
Henriette said, with a smile full of malice.

Flora cast a contemptuous glance at her sister.  "Hiss,
little viper, if you will.  What can you know of my ideal?"
she said, with a shrug.  "But you are right in thinking I
should be more at home in the lecture-room than by the side
of a man who has stamped himself a bungler in his
profession; I could not endure such chains."

"That is your affair, my child," the Frau President coolly
remarked, while the councillor looked up in dismay.  "You
must remember that no one forced you to fetter yourself
thus."

"I know that perfectly well, grandmamma; I know, too,
that you would greatly have preferred that I should become
the wife of the Chamberlain von Stetten, physical and financial
bankrupt though he be.  I grant you, also, that I refuse
to allow myself to be influenced or led by others, since I know
best what best beseems me.

"There, too, you are your own mistress," her grandmother
rejoined, with frigid dignity; "only remember one thing,—you
will find in me a determined opponent to anything like a
public scandal.  You surely know me well enough to be aware
that I would far rather endure great personal annoyance than
give any occasion for gossip.  I reside here with you, and take
upon myself the duties of mistress of the house with pleasure,
but I must in return exact an unconditional respect for my
name and position; I will not have society whispering and
tattling about our affairs."

The councillor turned hastily away.  He went to a window,
pulled aside the curtain, and gazed out into the night.  The
wind, which had gradually risen to a tempest, rattled at the
window-frame, and in the red light cast upon the bare,
tossing branches outside, by the lamp hanging in the other
window, the crimsoned snow-flakes whirled madly hither and
thither like the tormenting thoughts in his own brain.  He
had a short time before debated in his mind whether he
should not explain matters fully, at least to Flora; now he
knew that she was the last person to whom he could speak
upon the subject, if he did not wish that the whisper and
tattle of society should drive the Frau President from his
house.  No; he saw clearly that his ambitious sister-in-law
would publish his confession far and wide, less from solicitude
for her lover than from a desire to prove that her heart,
or rather her head, could not have been mistaken in its
choice.

Meanwhile, Henriette turned a face of anger and scorn
towards her grandmother.  "It is solely to avoid furnishing
gossip for society, then, that you would have my sister bear
herself blameless?  She can easily satisfy you.  You will
instantly acquit her if she can cover her breach of faith with
a silken mantle.  But indeed you need not be so sensitive
upon the subject of scandal, grandmamma: those living in
the world as we do, soon find out that society regards many a
sinner of rank and wealth much as it does an old piece of
valuable porcelain,—the more patched the more precious."

"I must request you to pass the remainder of the evening
in your own room, Henriette," the Frau President said, now
seriously angry.  "In your present mood, I cannot permit
you to return to the drawing-room."

"As you please, grandmamma.  Come, Jack, we will go
with the greatest pleasure," she said, smiling, smoothing
with her cheek the bird's plumage as it sat on her forefinger.
"You hate those old court-ladies, too; and you regularly
peck at the great medical authority, Herr von Bär, and
nip his finger, you good little fellow, when he tries to coax
you with sugar.  Good-night, grandmamma; good-night,
Moritz."  She paused in her hasty departure, and turned
back.  "That strong-minded lady there," she said, with
cutting emphasis, "will probably pursue the path which her dead
father would have inexorably forbidden to her; while he lived
there was no chance for her boasted exercise of her own will.
He would never have allowed her to break her troth with an
honourable man."

She left the room with her head proudly erect, but, even as
she crossed the threshold, the tears which had been plainly
audible in her voice as she spoke the last words gushed from
her eyes.

"Thank God, she has gone!" cried Flora.  "What an
amount of self-control is required not to lose one's patience
with her!"

"I never forget her invalid condition," the Frau President
remarked, in a reproving tone.

"And she is right, in a certain sense, Flora," the councillor
ventured to interpose.

"You may think as you choose upon that point, Moritz,"
the young lady rejoined, coldly; "but I must earnestly
entreat you not to make my task more difficult by your
interference.  I am used, as I said just now, to judge for myself
in what concerns me, and I shall do so in this case.  And
you may be perfectly easy,—you and grandmamma.  I excessively
dislike any sudden and harsh measure, and I have a
noiseless ally,—time."

She took the goblet from the writing-table and moistened
her pale lips with a few drops of its contents, while the Frau
President, without further remonstrance, prepared to leave the
room.

"Apropos, Moritz," she said, with her hand upon the knob
of the door, "what is to be done with Kitty now?"

"We must leave it to the will to decide all that," he
replied, drawing a long breath of relief.  "I have no idea how
the castle miller has arranged matters.  Kitty is his natural
heir, but it is doubtful whether he has left all his property
to her; he always resented the fact that her birth cost
his daughter her life.  In any case she must come here for
a while."

"Do not trouble yourself about that; she will not come;
she is tied as securely to-day to the apron-string of her
detestable old governess as she was during papa's lifetime," said
Flora.  "That is easy to see from her letters."

"Well, perhaps it is better that she should stay where she
is," the Frau President remarked, with a shade of eagerness.
"To be candid, I have no great desire to shelter her beneath
my wing and waste my time in schooling her; it is very
tiresome.  I never really liked her; not because she was
the child of my daughter's successor,—that I have always
declared,—but she was altogether too much at home in the
mill, getting her clothes and hair covered with meal; and then
she was a self-willed little thing."

"A genuine 'child of the people,' and yet—papa's darling,"
Flora added, with a bitter smile.

"Apparently, my dear, because she was his youngest
child," said the Frau President, who never permitted a
suspicion, either in herself or in others, that any one belonging
to her could be slighted.  "You were just as much his
darling at one time.  Well, Moritz, are you coming?"

He hastily complied.  As they left the room, Flora rang for
her maid.  "I wish to retire to my dressing-room to write;
take my writing-materials and these papers there for me,"
she ordered.  "Of course I can see no one this evening."

The red glow was no longer seen outside the windows, but
the brilliant light from the drawing-room gleamed over the
tempest-swept avenue until long past midnight.  The councillor
was at one of the card-tables.  Upon his entrance every
one received him with a kindly greeting or a warm pressure of
the hand, that fell like sunshine on his anxious, troubled heart.
Here, among these faces, stamped with the pride of noble
birth or official arrogance, his line of conduct seemed so
perfectly justifiable that he could hardly understand the
tormenting scruples that assailed him.  Why expose one's self to
hostile criticism when one is conscious of entire innocence even
in thought?  And then such a low affair altogether!  All this
delightful scandal which was now whispered about, these stories
over which each noble guest was glad to throw "a silken
mantle," concerned high-born errors; but what mercy could these
people show to one among them, not legitimately of them,
accused of a vulgar attempt to rob the castle miller's safe?  He
could, however, no longer console himself with the idea that
his silence harmed no one: it threatened to sever two human
souls united by a betrothal ring.  Pshaw!  Flora was an
eccentric creature.  The next time some special distinction was
awarded to Bruck, which his great learning and ability made
certain, matters would be all right again.  And with a glass
of delicious punch he drained down his last scruple.





.. vspace:: 4

CHAPTER III.
============

The castle miller had in fact left his granddaughter, Katharina
Mangold, his sole heiress, and confirmed as her guardian
the man previously selected as such by her deceased father.
This guardian was Councillor Römer, who, at the reading of
the will, shook his head and pondered deeply upon the
inconsistencies that exist in the human soul.  The old man who
had wellnigh throttled him under the influence of a mad
suspicion that he was robbing him of his gold, had, scarcely
an hour before, appointed him his executor, with almost
limitless authority.  He had provided that in case the operation
about to be performed resulted in death, all his real estate,
with the exception of the castle mill, should be sold.  With
regard to this exception, he declared that the mill had made him
a wealthy man, and that his granddaughter, even although she
came to be as "proud and haughty" as her step-sisters, had
no need to be ashamed of bringing it to her future husband.
The baronial estate to which it belonged was to be divided,
and each portion—forest-land, farm-land, farm-buildings,
meadows, and kitchen-gardens—sold singly to the highest
bidder.  As for the villa, with its surrounding park, it was to
be sold likewise, and Councillor Römer was to be allowed to
purchase it, if he wished to do so, at the rate of five thousand
thalers less than its taxable value.  These five thousand
thalers were his, not only as some indemnification for his
trouble as guardian, but in token of the "esteem" of the
testator for a man who had never been haughty "like the
rest of them at the villa," but more like a kind and even
devoted relative.  The will further provided that the whole
property should be invested in government securities and
other solid stock, the choice of which should be left entirely
to the guardian, as a prudent and careful man of business.

The young heiress had lived for the past six years away
from home.  Her dying father had left her in charge to a
Fräulein Lukas, who had been her governess always,—in fact,
had supplied a mother's place to her.  Herr Mangold saw
plainly that his darling, who had held herself shyly aloof from
the step-sisters so much her elders, must not be deprived of
her governess's tender care, and had therefore provided that
she should accompany Fräulein Lukas to Dresden, whither
the latter removed shortly after her employer's death, and
upon her marriage with a physician to whom she had long
been betrothed.  In the young girl's letters thence to her
guardian she had never expressed a wish to revisit her home,
nor had it ever occurred to her grandfather, the castle miller,
to recall her.  He had acquiesced willingly in her removal to
Dresden, because the sight of her constantly renewed his grief
for his daughter, the only being whom he had ever really loved.
Now, after his death, the girl's guardian requested her to
return, for some time at least, arranging at the same time to be
her escort himself from Dresden as soon as the weather should
become warmer, towards the end of April, since—this fact,
however, he naturally suppressed—the Frau President Urach
had protested against her being accompanied by the former
governess.  His ward had acceded to everything, and, upon his
asking her further whether she had any personal wish with
regard to the disposal of her property, had begged that when
the castle mill was rented, the huge corner room and the
recess with which it communicated might be reserved for
her, and that everything in them might be left exactly as it
had been during her grandfather's lifetime.  This was done.

.. vspace:: 2

It was March, and a young girl was walking from town
upon the highway, here and there bordered by neat cottages.
She turned into the broad road leading to the castle mill.  The
traces of the last snow-storm had not entirely disappeared, the
water had not dried in the broad ruts left by the wheels of the
mill-wagons or in the deep footprints of the passers-by; but the
young girl's little feet were encased in stout leather boots, and
her black silk dress was so well caught up that there was no
trace of mud upon its edge.  She looked no elf or fairy as
she walked on with a sure, elastic step.  No; she was rather
like some fair Alpine maid, with veins and sinews full of
vigorous health, nourished by the pure breath of the
mountain air and the sweet fresh milk of mountain-fed cows.
A close black velvet jacket, trimmed with fur, showed the
full, graceful outlines of bust and waist, and upon her brown
hair sat, a little to one side, a cap of marten-skin.  Her
features were far from classically regular: the aquiline nose
was too short for the width and shape of the brow, the mouth
too large, the dimpled chin too strongly marked, the eyebrows
not sufficiently delicate; but all these defects were more than
atoned for by the pure oval of the whole face and the
incomparable freshness and beauty of its colouring.

She turned into the open door of the court-yard of the castle
mill, scattering before her a number of chickens assembled
upon the wagon-road to pick up some scattered grains of wheat.
They flew hither and thither with a loud cackling, and a
couple of watch-dogs, roused from their lazy doze by the noise,
barked furiously.  How bright and golden the warm spring
sunshine looked, flooding the walls of the grand old pile of
masonry heaped up in ancient times beneath the eye of its noble
builder!  The day before yesterday the last thick icicle had
fallen clattering from the open jaws of the lion's head at the
end of the gutter on the roof, above which the air was now
quivering with heat from the sun-baked slate.  The sap
was swelling in the big brown chestnut-buds, making them
glisten as if powdered with diamond-dust; a couple of pots
containing some languishing plants had been put outside of
the window of one of the miller's rooms, to enjoy the first
breath of spring; and upon the well-worn wooden steps leading
from this very room was seated a dusty miller, eating a huge
piece of bread-and-cheese.

"Moor!  Watch! good dogs!" the young girl called across
the yard in a coaxing voice.  The dogs leaped about madly,
whining as they tugged at their chains.

"What do you want?" asked the miller, rising clumsily.

She laughed gently.  "I want nothing, Franz, except to
say 'good-day' to Susie and yourself."

In an instant bread, cheese, and knife were thrown down
on the ground.  The man was not tall,—shorter than the
young girl,—and he looked up speechless into the blooming
face, which he had seen last belonging to a sickly child
not tall enough to reach to his broad shoulders.  She used to
be called the "miller's mouse," and, swift and agile as any
mouse, would follow him about the mill and granary for hours
at a time; now she was mistress here, and he, the former
foreman, her tenant.  "Queer enough," he said, shaking his head
in loutish wonder; "the eyes and the dimples in the cheeks
are the same, but what a size she is!"  And he measured
her with shy, incredulous glances.  "Aha, she gets it all from
her Sommer grandmother; she was just such a white-and-red
creature, and——  Be quiet, you rogues!" he interrupted
himself, shaking his fist at the barking dogs.  "The fellows
really know you, madame."

"Better than you do; the 'size' has not led them astray,"
she replied, going over to the dogs and caressing them as they
leaped up upon her.  "You give me a wonderful title, Franz;
I have not been promoted in Dresden, I assure you."

"But the Fräuleins over in the villa are always called so,"
he said, doggedly.

"Indeed!"

"And you are worth ten of them.  So young and rich,—so
immensely rich!  There's the mill,—the finest far or near.
Zounds! 'tis a prize indeed.  Good gracious!—only a girl,
hardly eighteen years old, and the owner of such a mill!"

She laughed.  "Yes, it is mine; and a dreary life I shall
lead you, old Franz.  But where is Susie?"

"Keeping her room; 'tis in her right side again, poor old
thing!  Her own doctoring did no good, and Doctor Bruck
is there now."

The girl gave him her hand and went into the house.  The
heavy oaken door swung to behind her with a jar that
resounded from all four walls of the large hall.  Beneath her
feet the floor trembled and shook with the dull sound of the
machinery that was heard through a low, open door in a
stone-vaulted archway, and the odour of freshly-ground grain
filled the air.  The young girl breathed it in eagerly; a flood
of memories overcame her; she grew pale with emotion,
and stood still for a moment with folded hands.  Yes, she
had indeed loved to make herself "at home" in the mill,
as the Frau President had said, and her father had often
brushed the flour from her dress and braids and laughingly
called her his "little white miller's mouse."  Thu stern old
man, her grandfather, whom she could best remember shouting
down his orders, in a harsh, authoritative voice, from the
first landing of the stairs, had never loved her; she had
almost always fled from his cross looks either to Susie's bright
kitchen or to Franz; and yet she now thought of him with
deep regret, and wished he were just descending the stairs
that had creaked beneath his heavy tread; perhaps she should
no longer have feared his face, repulsive, as she now knew,
with the insolence of wealth; perhaps he would have been
gentler and kinder, now that she had grown like her grandmother.

She found the door of the corner room up-stairs locked, but
along the narrow passage connecting the back building with
the main part of the mill she heard Susie's wailing voice.
Ah, yes, there was the poor old servant's sleeping-room,—a
dark little chamber, with round, leaded panes of glass in the
windows, through which were seen the gray thatched roof of
a wood-shed, and the pavement, always damp, of the side-yard.
She shook her head impatiently, and walked along the
passage.

As she entered the sick-room, the close, heated atmosphere
of which was filled with smoke, she saw in the dim light that
penetrated the old green glass of the window a man standing
with his back towards her.  He was very tall, much taller
than she, and broad-shouldered in proportion.  He was
apparently about to depart, for he had hat and cane in hand.
Ah, this, then, was Doctor Bruck, of whom her brother-in-law
Moritz had told her when he informed her of the
betrothal of her beautiful sister Flora,—how, as a student, the
young doctor had secretly loved the much-admired and fêted
belle, but had not dared to aspire then to the hand that was
at length his own; this, then, was he.  She had almost
forgotten the engagement, and had never during her journey
thither remembered that she should see this new member of
the family.

The opening door had swung noiselessly upon its hinges,
but perhaps the girl's silk dress rustled, or the stream of fresh
air that she brought with her, and that seemed laden with
the breath of violets, startled the young physician; he
turned hastily.

"Doctor Bruck?  I am Kitty Mangold," she said, briefly
introducing herself; and, passing him quickly, she held out
both hands to Susie, who sat propped up with pillows in an
arm-chair.

The old woman stared at her with bewildered eyes.

"I seem fallen from the skies, do I not, Susie dear?  But
just at the right time, I perceive," she said, stroking back the
old woman's dishevelled gray locks beneath her night-cap.
"How comes it that I find you here in this wretched little
back room?  The stove smokes, and does not give out heat
enough to dry these damp old walls.  Did they not tell you
that you were to take possession of the corner room and sleep
in the recess?"

"Yes, yes, the Herr Councillor told me all that; but it
seemed such a crazy thing for me to be stuck up all alone in
the best corner room, like a lady, or like your blessed
grandmother herself."

The young girl suppressed a smile.  "But, Susie, you
always sat there in grandpapa's time, did you not?  Your
spinning-wheel stood by the window; I am sure I have often
enough put it out of order for you; and your work-basket had
its place on the table.  Will you not allow a change of
apartment, Herr Doctor?" she said, turning to the physician.

"I not only allow it, I have urgently advised it, but have
been met by the patient's most determined opposition," he
replied, with a shrug.  His voice was gentle but sonorous, and
just now tinged with the pitying tone one so readily adopts
in the presence of suffering.

"Well, then, we will not lose a moment," said Kitty, as
she laid her fur cap upon Susie's bed and drew off her
gloves.

"Nothing in the world shall induce me to go there," the
housekeeper protested.  "Fräulein Kitty, don't ask it!" she
entreated, peevishly.  "That room is the very apple of my
eye; I have been cleaning it and rubbing it up every day
since the Herr Councillor told me you were coming.  I had
fresh curtains put up there only the day before yesterday."

"Very well; stay here, then.  I meant to take tea every
afternoon at the mill, as I used to do in my childhood.  But,
since you are so obstinate, I will not come at all, depend upon
it.  I shall only be four weeks here in M——, and then you
can show your 'cleaned and rubbed-up' room to any one
whom you choose."

The effect was instantaneous.  The grave decision in the
young girl's face and bearing showed that she was not dealing
for the first time with a querulous and obstinate invalid.

With a deep sigh Susie drew out the key of the room from
beneath her pillow and handed it to her young mistress,
who was hastily pulling off her velvet jacket.  "Of course the
corner room is not heated," she said, taking up a basket of
wood by the stove.

"No, 'tis impossible you should do that," said Doctor
Bruck, with a glance at her rich dress.  He laid hat and
cane on the table.

"I should be very much ashamed if I could not," she
replied, gravely, but with a blush, as she noticed his glance.

She went out, and in a few moments a fine fire was
crackling in the stove of the corner room, where Doctor Bruck
opened the windows, that the fresh warm breath of March
might replace the odour of soap and water.

Kitty entered.  "I beg you to observe, Herr Doctor," she
said, "that I am still fit to be seen," displaying as she spoke,
not without some scorn in the gesture, her small, rosy hands,
their wrists encircled by snowy linen cuffs.

An expressive smile lit up his grave face; he said nothing,
however, but turned away to close again the southern window,
through which a strong draught came so freshly that it
fluttered the brown curls upon the girl's forehead.  The curtain,
too, blew into the room; Kitty seized it with a skilful hand
and tried to replace each stiff fold as it was before.

"Poor dear Susie! if she only knew how I detest these
curtains!" she said, half laughing, half provoked.  "They
must stay now whether I like them or not, for she must
have coaxed them out of my guardian entirely for me.
Figured muslin curtains before such arched windows in the
finest mediæval room that can be imagined!  I meant to
arrange and furnish it just as it might have been three
centuries ago, with round, leaded panes of glass, and broad, oaken,
cushioned window-seats; and there, upon the huge door leading
out upon the stairs, I meant to have large antique brass
bolts and hinges.  Grandpapa must have had the old ones
taken off; the marks are still there to show where they were.
And then, with old Susie sitting by the window at her
spinning-wheel!—I had imagined it all so pretty and cosy,—and
now I shall have to give up the whole thing."

"But I can't see——  Are you not mistress here?"

"Oh, I shall never be able to do anything in such a case;
I know myself too well," she replied, almost dejectedly.  "In
such matters I am a terrible coward."  The contrast between
this frank confession and the young girl's commanding
exterior was so great that there needed indeed a keen glance
into her hazel eyes to convince one that she spoke only the
simple truth.  These eyes were not very large, but well shaped
and clear; their calm gaze was in thorough harmony with her
independent, self-assured bearing.  How quietly and practically
she arranged everything for the coming of the invalid!
A bed was made up on the sofa; the castle miller's huge
leather-cushioned arm-chair was drawn out of the window-niche
and placed so as to shelter the patient from every
draught.  She brought a little table from the recess, and
placed the well-scoured footstool before the high sofa, and all
was done as regularly and easily as if she had never been
away from the mill.  She was so absorbed in the occupation
of the moment that she seemed to have quite forgotten the
presence of the man standing by the southern window.  Only
when she opened the table-drawer and took out a white cloth
with a woven red border, to spread it upon the little table in
front of the arm-chair, did she turn to him and say, "There
is something delightful in this old bourgeois order; nothing
is ever out of place.  Here it all was before I was born, and
in all these six years that I have been away nothing has been
changed.  I am at home at once."  She pointed to the mirror
above the table.  "There, behind the frame, I see the corner
of the almanac, where grandpapa kept his accounts, and over
the top is still sticking the rod, with its faded ribbon, once
my mother's terror."

"And yours too?"

"No; grandpapa never paid me, poor little thing, enough
attention to care about my improvement."  She spoke entirely
without bitterness, rather with a kind of smiling resignation.
She went on to remove every particle of dust that had
accumulated during Susie's illness upon tables and chairs, and
closed the other windows.  "There must be some flowers
upon these stone window-ledges; their fragrance will refresh
my poor Susie.  I shall beg brother Moritz for some
hyacinths and pots of violets from his conservatory——"

"You will have to apply to Frau President Urach; she has
absolute and sole control of the conservatory; it belongs to
her apartments."

The young girl opened her eyes.  "Is etiquette so strictly
observed at the villa now?  During papa's lifetime the
conservatory was the common property of the family."  She
shrugged her shoulders.  "True, my father's distinguished
mother-in-law was, at that time, only an occasional guest at
the villa."  Her melodious voice sharpened slightly in tone
as she spoke these last words, but she tossed her head as she
finished, as if she could thus shake off a momentarily disagreeable
sensation, and added, with a smile, "'Tis all the better
that I came first to the mill to acclimatize myself."

He left the window and approached her.  "But will they
not be vexed over there that you did not immediately upon
your arrival place yourself under the protection of the
family?" he asked, seriously, as one who would like to hint
a gentle word of advice without presuming.

"They have no right to be so," she hastily and eagerly
replied, with a blush.  "Those 'over there,' 'the family,' as
you call them, are alike strangers to me; I cannot beforehand
feel as if I belonged to them, not even to my sisters.  We do
not know one another; there has not been even the slight
tie of an interchange of letters between us,—I have
corresponded only with Moritz.  While papa lived, Henriette
resided with her grandmother; we saw each other but seldom,
and then always in the presence of the Frau President.  My
sister, Moritz Römer's wife, lived in town, and died long ago.
And Flora?  She was very beautiful and charming,—a belle
who was at the head of papa's household while I was a child.
Flora must have been wonderfully gifted, one always felt so
timid and awe-stricken in her presence.  I never ventured to
talk to her, or even to touch her beautiful hands, and to-day
I feel it would be very presuming for me to adopt towards her
the familiar tone customary between sisters."

She paused and looked to him for a rejoinder, but he was
gazing away far over the distant prospect, and said no word
by way of encouragement.  Had he not served for the lovely
girl as Jacob served for Rachel?  Possibly he did not even
like to think that love for a sister could find lodgment in the
heart that was at last his own.  In spite of the gentleness and
courtesy which were his by virtue of his profession, he looked
as if he could vindicate his rights with great decision and
gravity.

"As matters stand, the villa is no longer my home; I
can visit it only as a guest, upon the same footing with
other guests," she began again, after a moment's pause.
"Here in the mill I am on my native soil, the air of home
about me, and the sensation of home in my heart; and
Franz and Susie will as faithfully protect my minority as
can be done at the villa, with all its strict etiquette."  A
rebellious smile hovered upon her lips.  "Moreover, they
will forgive this breach of decorum sooner than you think,
Herr Doctor; nothing better could be expected of the
'miller's mouse.'"

The pet name her father had given her was certainly most
inapplicable now; any name that suggested a timorous flitting
and gliding hither and thither into holes and corners scarcely
befitted this girl, so calmly presenting to the world the
spotless shield of her fair brow, and with all the supple vigour
of her healthy youth, bearing herself with a kind of calm
dignity.

Gradually a comfortable warmth was diffused by the stove.
Kitty took from her pocket a tiny flask, and, pouring a few
drops of cologne upon the heated iron, the air was filled with
a purifying fragrance.  "Susie will feel very grand and fine
when she comes in here now," she said, gaily, looking about
her once more to see that all was as it should be.  Everything
was in order, except that the recess door was ajar, and through
it could be seen the gay carnations upon the head of the
bedstead near the window.  For the first time the girl's eye fell
upon the well-known, clumsily-painted flowers that had once
been the delight of her childish soul; the bloom left her
cheeks, even her red lips grew pale.

"Grandpapa died there?" she whispered, agitated.

Doctor Bruck shook his head and pointed towards the
southern window of the room.

"Were you with him?" she asked, quickly, coming closer
to his side.

"Yes."

"He died so suddenly, and Moritz gave me such an
unsatisfactory account of his death, that I do not even know
what caused it."

The doctor was standing so that only his profile was towards
her; he wore a heavy moustache and beard, and yet she could
see his lips close tightly, as if it were difficult for them to
frame a reply.  After a moment's pause, he slowly turned
and looked her full in the face.  "They will tell you that he
died in consequence of my want of skill in surgery," he said,
in a voice which emotion made almost husky.

The young girl started back in horror; the glance which
had been fixed upon the lips of the speaker sought the
ground.

"Solely and simply for your own satisfaction," he continued,
with gentle gravity, "I should like to assure you that
such an assertion is utterly untrue; but how can I expect that
you should believe me?  We have never met before to-day,
and know nothing of each other."

She might have easily extricated herself from her present
embarrassment with some superficial commonplace, but it
never occurred to her to do so.  He was right; how could
she know if he were really blameless and public opinion in
the wrong?  True, his whole bearing was stamped with simple
frankness and integrity.  She could not but feel that it was
not his nature to deign one word in self-justification in the
face of unjust suspicion; nay, that even the assurance he had
just given her was a condescension on his part.  And yet she
would not say what she could give no real reason for believing.

He evidently expected no answer, for he turned away, but
with so much dignity and proud composure that Kitty had a
sudden sense of shame, and the blood rushed to her cheeks.
"May I bring Susie in here now?" she asked, in an
uncertain voice.

He assented, and she hastily left the room.  In Susie's little
bedroom she wiped away the tears that had gathered in her
eyes, and learned from the old housekeeper the manner of her
grandfather's death.

"It has done the doctor no end of harm in town," the old
woman concluded.  "He used to be thought the best there,
and had more to do than he could get through with; now
they all say he doesn't understand his business.  That's the
way of the world, Fräulein Kitty.  And he was not to blame
for the misfortune.  Everything went well; I saw it with
my own eyes.  But the castle miller was to keep perfectly
quiet.  *He* keep quiet, indeed!  I know better than any
one how the smallest trifle would make him turn red as a
turkey-cock.  Why, if Franz only spoke too loud, or a wagon
drove too quickly into the yard, he would fall into a rage.  I
have borne enough in his service, and not a penny did he
leave me for my pains,"—she laughed, a short, angry
laugh;—"if *you* had not cared for me I should be begging my bread
now."

Kitty raised her forefinger gravely, to impose silence upon
the peevish old woman.

"Just as you please; I will be quiet," she said, as she sat
like a helpless child while her young mistress wrapped her up
in shawls and coverlets.  "I am only sorry that such a good
gentleman as the doctor should be so abused, and the very
bread taken out of his mouth; and it is too bad for his poor
old aunt, for whom he works so hard.  She gave him his
education out of her scanty means,—the old Frau Dean.
She lives with him: he was always her pride; and for her to
live to see this——"

Kitty put a stop to this talk, which threatened to become
very discursive, by carefully helping the old woman to rise
from her arm-chair.  She was too much estranged from her
former home, her thoughts and hopes were too much
concentrated in Dresden, to admit of much interest at present in
the private affairs of Flora's lover.  She certainly pitied the
physician, whose failure to cure had so suddenly imperilled
position, and even means of subsistence; but grief for her
grandfather, who must have suffered much, far outweighed
that compassion.

Supported upon the young girl's strong arm, old Susie
hobbled along the passage.  The door of the corner room was
open, and at the foot of the stairs leading down to it stood
Doctor Bruck, with arms extended, to receive and assist the
sufferer.  It was a characteristic group that met his eyes.
Kitty had put around her neck the invalid's sound arm,
holding the brown, bony hand firmly clasped in her own upon her
left shoulder, while her right arm was around Susie's waist.
The girl looked the embodiment of self-sacrificing compassion,
as, bending over the crippled old creature, she laid her
glowing young face upon the gray head, above the wrinkled
brow.

In a few moments Susie was comfortably seated in the airy
apartment.  She anxiously examined the famous curtains, was
much shocked at the bed upon the "beautiful sofa," and tried
in vain to conceal her pleasure at being once more able to
count every sack of grain that was brought to the mill or
carried thence.

The girl looked at her watch.  "It is time I should
present myself at the villa, if I would not run the risk of
intruding upon the Frau President's distinguished tea-table,"
she said, with a feigned shudder, taking her gloves from her
pocket.  "In an hour I will come back and make you some
broth, Susie——"

"With those hands?"

"With these hands, of course.  Do you suppose I sit with
them in my lap in Dresden?  Why, you knew my Lukas,
Susie,—she is just what she used to be, always astir, not a
moment lost.  You ought to see her.  Such another doctor's
wife it would be hard to find."  And she left the apartment
to get jacket and cap from Susie's room.





.. vspace:: 4

CHAPTER IV.
===========

The factory clock struck five as Kitty, accompanied by
Doctor Bruck, came out into the court-yard.  It had grown
colder, and the antique sun-dial in the gable of the mill, which
in the warm spring sunshine of the earlier afternoon had
clearly marked the time, looked worn and indistinct again.

A clear peal from the bell at the gate summoned Franz
from the mill, and his wife followed him, stretching her neck
to see all she could of the newly-returned young mistress.
Kitty begged them to pay every attention to the invalid
during her absence, which they duly promised to do.  Just
then something rustled through the air, and a beautiful dove
fell maimed upon the pavement of the yard.

"Drat 'em! will they never stop that rogues' work?" cried
Franz, with an oath, as he sprang down the steps and picked
up the bird.  Its wing was broken.  "Just see here, wife,"
he said to her; "it's none of ours,—I thought so.  They're a
God-forsaken pack of scoundrels over there.  They shoot the
poor lady's pet doves under her very nose.  Ah, if I were the
Herr Councillor!"  And he shook his fist.

"Who is the poor lady, Franz?  And who shoots her
doves?" asked Kitty, in surprise.

"He means Henriette," said Doctor Bruck.

"And they shoot them from the factory," cried Franz,
angrily.

"What! my brother's workmen?"

"Yes, yes, Fräulein, those men who eat his bread.  'Tis a
sin and a shame!  There's the mischief, doctor!  You see
now what rogues they are.  You want to waste kindness on
them; and a pretty business you'd make of it.  What will
you get for your kindness?  Small thanks, and such work
as this.  No, no; down with them!—that's what I
think,—or there'll be no living here."

"Are there strikes here too, then?" Kitty asked the doctor,
whose face wore so grave and beautiful a smile that she
could not help looking at him.

"No, that is not the matter here," he said, shaking his
head.  His calm voice was in striking contrast with Franz's
angry gabble.  "Several of the best workmen, having saved
a little money, asked of Moritz that when the estate was
divided he would allow them to buy a small piece of waste land
near the factory,—of small value in itself.  They wanted to
build houses upon it to rent to the poorer workmen, who can
hardly support their families in town, where rents are so high.
The councillor encouraged their hopes, which he could do
the more readily since the strip of land still belonged to his
park——"

"Excuse me for interrupting you, Herr Doctor," Franz
here interposed, "but that was the very reason why he could
not let them have it.  I never thought the Frau President
would allow it.  Who would have such neighbours if they
could help it?  The ladies over there were provoked, and
right enough they were; they would not have the building
lots sold; no, 'they would have it ornamentally planted,' and
there was an end of the business.  And now the factory-hands
are furious, and play all sorts of tricks in revenge."

"A miserable revenge, indeed.  Poor little thing!" said
Kitty, taking the dove from Franz.

"The worst of it is that the worthlessness of single
individuals is attributed to an entire class.  No one can blame
Frau Urach for not allowing such people near her," Doctor
Bruck said, and his face darkened.

"I don't admit that.  There are evil and revengeful people
in all classes of life," the young girl rejoined, eagerly.  "I see
a great deal of the lower classes: my foster-father has many
poor patients; and where good, nourishing food and other help
is wanted in addition to his medicines, my dear Lukas comes
to the rescue, and of course I accompany her.  One meets
with much coarse ingratitude, 'tis true, but there are also
many true, noble natures to be found among those who are so
poor, so distressingly needy——"

"Not so bad as you think, Fräulein; that kind of people
will always deceive you," Franz interrupted her, with a
contemptuous wave of his hand.

Kitty silently measured him from head to heel with a most
expressive look.  "Heyday, what a magnificent person Franz
has come to be!" she said, with evident irony.  "Whom are
you speaking of?  Are you not yourself one of them?  What
were you in the castle mill?—A labourer just like those in
the factory; a labourer who was forced silently to endure
many an injustice, as I can testify."

The miller's dusty cheeks grew crimson.  He stood utterly
confounded before the young girl, who had known so well how
to remind him of the truth.  "Eh, don't take it amiss,
Fräulein; I meant no harm," he said, at last, in loutish
embarrassment, extending his broad palm.

"I believe there really is no harm in you; but you have
been lucky, and like to play the castle miller with money in
his pockets," she said, after a moment, laying her little hand
in his, although the frown of displeasure did not instantly
vanish from her smooth brow.  She took out her handkerchief,
laid the dove in it, and tied it up by the four corners.  "I
will carry this little sufferer to Henriette," she said, holding
the handkerchief carefully like a basket,—it looked like a
scantily filled traveller's bundle.

The doctor opened a little side-door in the court-yard wall,
leading directly to the park, and the young girl passed through
it, but stood still, amazed, upon the other side.  "I do not
know myself here," she cried, looking around her with an air
of bewilderment; and then turning to her companion: "it
looks as if giant hands had shaken the park to pieces.  What
are those people doing?" She pointed towards an extensive
ditch, where a large number of labourers heads were seen just
above-ground.

"They are digging a pond; the Frau President likes to
see swans mirrored in clear water."

"And what are they building there, towards the south?"

"A tropical conservatory."

She looked thoughtful.  "Moritz must be very rich."

"So they say."  It sounded cool and indifferent, to the
extent almost of an intentional avoidance of hinting his own
opinion upon the subject.  He was a striking person, this
Doctor Bruck, she could not but admit to herself, as he stood
there in the red gleam of the late afternoon.  There was
something soldierly erect in his figure, while his handsome bearded
face, embrowned by sun and air, expressed only a gentle
gravity.  There was not in his bearing a trace of the
depression of mind that one might suppose consequent upon such a
misfortune as had befallen him.  "Let me show you the way,"
he said, as he saw her eyes wander irresolutely hither and
thither over the unaccustomed surroundings.  He offered her
his arm, and she took it without hesitation.  Strange,—just
so her sister Flora, she thought, walked beside him; and the
thought that a few minutes would confront her with this
sister, intellectually so greatly her superior, fell upon her
heart like lead.

She paused, and, after a deep-drawn sigh, said, with an
embarrassed smile, "Oh, what a coward I am!  I really
believe I am frightened.  Shall I see Flora as soon as I
reach the villa?"

She saw the colour mount darkly to his cheek.  "To the
best of my belief, she is out driving," he answered, in an
under-tone; adding immediately afterwards, as if to avoid
further questioning, "You will find the household still in a
certain state of agitation: the prince sent Moritz a patent of
nobility a few days ago."

And he had just thought to tell her this!  "For what?"
she asked, amazed.

"Well, he really has done good service in the cause of
national industry," he replied, quickly and eagerly, as if to
bar any unfavourable judgment.  "And Moritz is an exceedingly
kind-hearted man; he does a great deal for the poor."

Kitty shook her head.  "His good fortune makes me anxious."

"His good fortune?" he repeated, with emphasis.  "That
depends upon how he himself regards these turns of the
wheel."

"Oh, be sure they are just what he delights in," she
replied, decidedly.  "I know from his letters that the getting
and gaining of the goods of this world is his chief aim in
life.  His last communication to me was enthusiastic in tone,
because my fortune had proved to be so much larger than had
been expected."

He walked on silently for a moment, and then asked, with
a side-glance at her, "And you,—does all this wealth find
you coldly indifferent?"

Kitty leaned slightly forward, and looked him in the face
with a pretty air of waywardness.  "You doubtless expect a
very grave 'yes' from my advanced age, but I can't bring
myself to utter it.  I find it excessively delightful to be rich."

He laughed softly to himself, and asked no further question.
They walked on quickly, and soon reached the linden-avenue.
It had not been altered; fresh gravel had lately
been spread upon its entire length.  "Ah, there I see a dear
old-time friend!"  the young girl cried, pointing to a decaying
wooden bridge, the arches of which spanned the stream at
some distance.

"It leads to the fields on the other side——"

"Yes, to the orchard and meadows.  There is a pretty old
house there,—once a dependency of the castle,—embowered in
grape-vines, with a broad flight of stone steps before the door.
Oh, it is deliciously home-like and peaceful there!  Susie used
to make the garden her bleaching-ground; it was blue with
violets every spring; I used to find the earliest there always."

"You may do so still; the little place has been mine since
this morning."  And as he spoke he cast a satisfied glance
towards it.

Kitty thanked him, and looked down thoughtfully as she
walked along upon the fresh gravel.  Was her beautiful sister
to reign as mistress in that house?  Flora, with her haughty
carriage, her flowing robes!  Flora Mangold, whose aspirations
were so lofty that a palace could hardly content them, at home
in the lonely house, with its huge green porcelain stove and
its worn wooden floors!  How she must have changed for his
sake!

A distant noise of wheels startled her.  She looked up, and
found herself so close to the villa that she could distinguish
the pattern of the lace curtains at its windows.  All was quiet
there, but along the drive that swept by the stately front
of the mansion a barouche swiftly approached, drawn by a
pair of magnificent horses and glittering in all the pride of
fresh varnish and silver mountings.  A lady held the reins
with a firm hand; her figure, shown to advantage in a dark
velvet costume, trimmed with fur, sat airily and gracefully
upon the high cushion.  White plumes floated back from her
brow, and about her classic face and white throat clustered fair
curls.

"Flora!  Ah, how beautiful my sister is!" Kitty cried, with
enthusiasm, extending her hand involuntarily towards the fair
driver; but neither Flora nor the councillor, who sat by her
side with folded arms, heard her exclamation.  The barouche
flew past around the opposite corner, and was heard to draw
up before the principal entrance.

A pebble flew across Kitty's path,—the doctor's cane had
playfully, as it were, tossed it away.  Then first the girl
observed that in her eagerness she was outstripping him, and
she turned towards him.  He was walking at his previous
pace, but his bearing seemed to have become a trifle more
erect, more proudly reserved.  As she looked at him, his
glance was hastily averted with what almost seemed
embarrassment.  She suppressed with difficulty an ironical smile,
surmising that she had detected in him some such thought
as, "Heavens, what a clumsy creature is here as compared
with my graceful sylph!"

"Flora's courage in driving surprises me," she said, as they
again walked side by side.

"Her companion's contempt of danger is much more astonishing.
This was a 'trial-trip:' the councillor bought those
young horses only yesterday."  He was greatly irritated.  She
could hear it in his voice, and fell silent in dismay.





.. vspace:: 4

CHAPTER V.
==========

Neither spoke further.  They soon reached the house,
entering by a side-door while the barouche was driving away
from the front.  A servant informed them that the ladies and
the Herr Councillor were in the conservatory, in the Frau
President's apartments.

Kitty had regained her self-possession.  She handed her card
to the footman with a "For the Herr Councillor."

"So formal?" asked Doctor Bruck, smiling, as the lackey
moved noiselessly away and vanished.

"So formal," she assented, gravely.  "The greater the
distance preserved, the better.  It would scarcely become me to
present myself familiarly here.  I am even afraid that my
unannounced arrival may cause the 'Herr Councillor' some
embarrassment."

She was not mistaken.  The councillor came rushing from
within, almost stumbling over the threshold in his eagerness,
exclaiming, "Good heavens, Kitty!"

His surprise was ridiculous, for he evidently looked to see
his ward's face two feet nearer the ground than he found it;
and this well-grown, graceful figure advancing towards him
said, with an inclination full of womanly pride,—

"Dear Moritz, do not be angry with me for not complying
with your suggestions.  Indeed, I am rather too big to give
you the trouble of coming for me."

He stood astounded.  "You are right, Kitty.  The time is
past when I could lead you by the hand," said he, slowly, as
if lost in contemplation of her face, which was bathed in a
rosy blush.  "Well, you are heartily welcome!"  Then, giving
his hand to Bruck, he added, "Ah, you met in the hall.  I
must present you——"

"Don't trouble yourself, Moritz; I have attended to all
that," the girl interrupted him.  "The Herr Doctor was
paying his visit to Susie when I reached the mill."

The councillor's face lengthened.  "You went first to the
mill then?" he asked, surprised.  "But, my dear child,
Grandmamma Urach was most amiably ready to receive you, and
naturally expected that you would come directly to her, instead
of which you have been first to your old flame Susie!  Pray
say nothing about it within," he added, in a hurried whisper.

"Do you seriously desire that I should not?"  The firm
clear, girlish tone contrasted strangely with his timid whisper.
"I cannot deny it if I should be questioned.  I really do not
understand concealment, Moritz——"  She paused a moment,
startled at the sudden flush that overspread his face, but
concluded resolutely, "If I have done wrong, I will confess it:
it cannot cost me my head."

"Oh, if you take my well-meant hint so tragically, there
is nothing more to be said," he replied at once, with some
irritation.  "It will not cost you your head, to be sure, but it
will imperil your position in my house.  Just as you please,
however.  Judge for yourself what success will await your
direct 'up-and-down' tongue in our refined circles."

His tone had already changed to playfulness; and, before
anything further could be said to alter his amiable mood, he
gallantly offered his arm, and conducted her to the former
dining-hall, adjoining the conservatory, and opened the door.

Here was no longer the pleasant dining-room, with its
comfortable old-fashioned leather-covered furniture.  The wall
that had once separated it from the conservatory had disappeared,
and in its place slender pillars upheld the arched ceiling,
which was painted with brilliant colours, after the Moorish
style.  Below, a grating of delicate gilt-bronze tracery ran from
pillar to pillar, separating the mosaic floor of the Moorish
room from the white sand and green sod of the conservatory.
Behind this grating there was a wealth of greenery and bloom:
tufts of May-flower and Parma violets grouped about the feet
of dark laurels, and dragon-trees, with hosts of metallic-leaved
decorative plants,—all this embowered, framed in, as it were,
by the pillars, around which were twined clematis-vines, that
wreathed with white and lilac flowers the slender shafts up to
the graceful arches they supported.

Between the two centre pillars Flora was standing, still
in her driving-dress, apparently on the point of leaving the
room.  The fountain in the conservatory showed its silver
spray just above the plumes in her hat.  One small gloved
hand lifted the heavy brown velvet skirt, which the evening
light tinged with faint gold, while the other, from which the
glove had been withdrawn, rested lightly upon the pillar
beside her, as delicate and fair as the white clematis flower
that hung beside it.

As Kitty entered, she first opened her blue eyes wide with
astonishment, then half dropped the lids in a keen, inquiring
glance, while a sarcastic smile hovered upon her lips.

"Guess, Flora, who this is!" exclaimed the councillor.

"No need to puzzle long over that riddle; it is Kitty, who
has made the journey alone," she replied, in her careless yet
decided manner.  "It would be impossible for any one who
knew old Frau Sommer to doubt for a moment that this stout
girl, with a face like a rosy-cheeked apple, is her grandchild;
her eyes and hair, however, are strikingly like Clotilde's,
Moritz."

She lightly disengaged herself from the hanging flowers,
approached her sister, and, lifting the girl's chin, kissed her
lips.  Yes, this was the same incomparable Flora; but her
long-continued sway over the hearts of men had robbed her
actions of feminine tenderness.  With the same negligence
with which she tendered a kiss to her sister after a separation
of six years, she greeted the doctor with a "Good-evening,
Bruck," extending her hand to him, not as if he were her
lover, but rather as though he were some fellow-student.  He
pressed slightly the hand thus given, and acquiesced in its
instant withdrawal.

This outward reserve between the lovers seemed to be an
understood affair.  Flora turned gaily towards the conservatory,
exclaiming, with a mocking smile, "Grandmamma, our
heiress presents herself to the admiring gaze of yourself and
your friends a month earlier than she was expected."

At Flora's first words the Frau President made her appearance
from behind a group of camellias.  Without being aware
of it herself, perhaps, she had been watching the new-comer
with that keen attention which most people are apt to bestow
upon one whom men dub a favourite of fortune.  Flora's
half-malicious remark quickly altered this expression,
however.  The old lady knitted her brows disapprovingly, and a
delicate flush tinged her pale face.  "I do not remember
having displayed any extraordinary interest in your sister's
heiress-ship," she said, coldly, with a stern glance of reproof.
"If I take great pleasure in Kitty's arrival, and welcome her
most cordially, it is because she is my dear lost Mangold's
daughter, and your sister."

She approached Kitty with outstretched hands, as if to
embrace her, but the girl courtesied profoundly and formally, as
if presented for the first time to her father's haughty
mother-in-law.  A keen observer would have seen in her conduct a
shy recoil from all contact, but the Frau President apparently
regarded it as simply indicative of profound respect.  She
withdrew her hands, and touched the girl's forehead with
her lips.  "Did you really come alone?" she asked, and her
eyes turned towards the door, as if half fearing the entrance
of some unwelcome companion to her guest.

"Quite alone.  I wished for once to try my wings unaided,
and my Frau Doctor willingly consented."  As if unconsciously,
she passed her slender fingers across her forehead
where the Frau President's cold lips had rested for an
instant.

"Ah, that I can easily believe; there I recognize old
Lukas," Frau von Urach rejoined, with a gentle laugh of irony.
"She, too, was always very independent.  Your good father
spoiled her a little, my child.  She did as she chose; of
course only what was right——"

"And sensible, and therefore papa was glad to intrust his
wild young colt to her care," Kitty added, with all the frank
gaiety natural to her.  This freedom of manner, however,
seemed to produce an unfavourable impression.

The Frau President slightly shrugged her shoulders.
"Your father certainly had your welfare at heart, my dear
Kitty, and I made it a rule never to object to any of his
plans.  But his nature was eminently refined; he thought
much of a due sense of decorum.  Might he not, perhaps,
have slightly disapproved of his daughter's dropping down
thus, sans gêne, unceremoniously in the midst of a
household?"

"Likely enough," Kitty replied.  "But papa would
remember what blood runs in this daughter's veins,"—and
there was a wayward gleam in her brown eyes.  "'To wander
when and where it would, ever beseemed the miller's blood,'
Frau President."

The councillor cleared his throat and carefully smoothed
his silky moustache, while the Frau President looked as
dismayed as if an icy blast had suddenly affronted her delicate
face, and Flora burst into a laugh.  "O child of mortality,
you are delightfully naïve!" she cried, clapping her hands
"Yes, yes,—'To wander is the miller's joy,'" she quoted.
"Only let our youngest make her début with such words on
her lips at Moritz's next grand soirée, grandmamma, and see
how every one will stare!" She looked at the old lady with
merry malice, but Frau von Urach had entirely regained her
self-possession.

"I trust to your sister's inborn tact, my child," she said,
as she extended her hand in welcome to the doctor, smiling
as she did so a smile that just showed the tips of her teeth
through her drawn lips and left one in doubt whether it were
sweet or sour.

"Tact, tact,—of much use that will be," Flora repeated,
shaking her head mockingly.  "Her miller tendencies are
just as much inborn.  The worthy Lukas has failed to
inoculate her with a trifle of worldly wisdom,—there's the rub.
Indeed, I am really glad you are alone, Kitty; I am sure we
shall like you far better than if you were pinned to the apron
of your prosaic old governess."

Kitty had taken off her cap; the warm, odorous air had
flushed her cheeks.  Thus, her head crowned with thick
golden-brown braids, she looked still taller.

"Prosaic?  My Frau Doctor?" she cried, gaily.  "No
more poetical woman lives."

"Indeed?  Raves about the moon, I suppose, copies
sentimental verses, etc., or even composes them herself,—eh?"

The young girl's bright eyes were riveted for a moment
upon the face of the mocking speaker.  "No, she does not
copy verses, but quantities of her husband's manuscript,
because the printers of the medical periodicals declare that they
cannot possibly decipher his hieroglyphics," she said, after
a short pause.  "She writes neither verses nor romances: she
has not the time; and yet she is full of poetry.  Ah, you
smile just as you used to do, Flora, with those deep lines at
the corners of your mouth; but I no longer want to run away
from the sneer.  There is a combative vein in me, and I
maintain that there is real poetry in the way in which my dear
Lukas always knows how to grasp the truest and best side
of life, in her knowledge of how to make home lovely and
attractive, with beauty of various kinds peeping out from
every corner, and in the talent she shows for making her
husband, myself, and her chosen circle of friends content and
happy."

As she finished, a shower of fresh violets came raining
against her breast, whence they fell to the floor.

"Brava, Kitty!" cried Henriette.  She was standing in the
conservatory, close to the grating, her pale hands pressed to
her panting bosom.  "I should like to have my arms about
your neck this minute, but—just look at me—would it not
be ridiculous?  You so thoroughly healthy, body and mind,
and I——"  Her voice failed her.

Kitty threw down the cap she had in her hand and flew to
her.  She tenderly embraced the poor, weak form, wisely
suppressing the tears that were ready to flow at sight of her
sister's emaciated face.

Flora bit her lip.  "Our youngest" had not only gained
dignity of appearance, but her clear eyes and outspoken tongue
gave token also of a courageous independence of thought and
of speech that might possibly be inconvenient at times.  She
was aware of a sudden foreboding that with the advent of
this vigorous girl a shadow was to fall upon her path.  She
hastily took off her hat and passed her fingers through the
curls that had been flattened against her temples.  "Did you
really bring that poetic traveller's-bundle all the way from
Dresden?" she asked, drily, with a glance at the knotted
handkerchief hanging upon Kitty's arm.

The girl untied it and held out the dove to Henriette.
"This little patient belongs to you," she said.  "The poor
thing has been shot in the wing.  It fell upon the pavement
in the mill-yard."

This betrayed her visit to the mill, but Frau von Urach did
not appear to have heard her last words; she pointed
indignantly to the wounded bird, and said to the councillor, in a
tone of reproach, "That is the *fourth*, Moritz."

"And my pet besides, my little Silver-crest!" exclaimed
Henriette, brushing away a tear of grief and vexation.

The councillor was quite pale with anger and dismay.
"Dear grandmamma, I pray you do not blame me!" he cried,
almost with violence.  "I do my very best to trace these
abominable outrages to their source, and to prevent them, but their
perpetrators are concealed in the ranks of two hundred angry
men,"—he shrugged his shoulders,—"and there is nothing
to be done.  Therefore I have repeatedly entreated Henriette
to confine her doves until the excitement is over."

"Then it is we who are to submit?  Better and better,"
said the old lady, satirically; and, as she spoke, she loosened
and adjusted the cloud of lace about her face and throat, as
if her agitation made her insufferably warm.  "Can you not
see, Moritz, that such compliance fairly challenges insolence?
They will soon tire of permitted dove-shooting, and aim at
some nobler game."

"Why dress the matter in such phrases, grandmamma?
They themselves do not scruple to speak plainly," Flora
remarked, carelessly.  "My maid found another threatening
letter on the window-sill when she opened the shutters this
morning.  She was forced to pick up the dirty scrap of paper
with the tongs to let me read it, and it is now in her room, in
case you wish it preserved, Moritz.  Of course it contains
nothing new,—the same old story!  I should really like to
know why these men honour me so especially with their
hatred of a class."

Kitty could not help thinking that in this case the hatred
was not so much of a class as of an individual.  She could
easily understand how this queenly figure, apparelled in rich
garments, with scornful lines about her mouth and a
masculine address, might well be held responsible by outsiders for
all that emanated from the house.

"Their low attacks are all the more ridiculous, since I am
particularly interested in the social question," Flora continued,
with a short laugh, "and I have given to the world several
telling articles in favour of the working-classes."

"Nothing can be effected nowadays by mere writing,"
Doctor Bruck said, from the window where he was standing.
"The most gifted pens have written unweariedly upon the
subject, and the waves of popular agitation rise higher and
higher, and float all their theories from the paper."

Every eye turned towards him.  "Ah! and what is to be
done, then?" Flora asked, sharply.

"Meet the people and their demands face to face.  What
avails it to collect laboriously all the evidence 'for and
against' from the mass of memorials and pamphlets that
cumber your writing-table——"

"Oh, pray——"  And her eyes lit up with sudden fire.

"And add your mite to the pile of dead published matter?"
he went on, undeterred.  "These people will scarcely read
your articles, and if they should, what good would it do them?
Words cannot build homesteads for them.  The larger part
of the solution of this problem belongs to the women of the
families of our capitalists, to their mild influence in
modifying masculine severity, their gentle mediation, their wisdom.
But very few take the trouble to reflect upon the matter, or,
what is more important than all else, to question their own
hearts.  They require at the hands of the men the means for
providing for their needs, which at the present day are almost
boundless, and never consider that the elements of a fearful
conflict are gathering and growing at their very doors."

The Frau President slowly passed her slender hands down
the satin folds of her gown, and, without heeding the last
remark, said, complacently, "I like to give, but I am not used
to put my alms directly into the hands of my beneficiaries
myself, and thus it may easily occur that the number and
value of my charities are not known.  I am quite willing to
have them ignored, even although I am thus made responsible,
as it were, for the barbarities to which we are daily
exposed."

"These barbarities are detestable.  No one can condemn
them more severely than I," Doctor Bruck rejoined, in a tone
as cold as her own, "but——"

"Well, 'but'?  You still maintain that we women of the
capitalists' families have provoked them?"

"Yes, Frau President.  You have deterred the capitalist
from coming to the assistance of his people when their
demand was not unreasonable, not one of those extravagant
requirements that at present cast suspicion and discredit upon
the cause of an entire party.  They did not ask for charity,
but simply to be allowed, with the help of their employer, to
struggle upwards to a happier daily life."

The old lady tapped him lightly on the shoulder, and said,
kindly, but in a curt, decisive tone, evidently intended to cut
short all discussion, "You are an idealist, Herr Doctor."

"Only a philanthropist," he rejoined, with a faint smile,
and took his hat to go.

Flora had turned her back to him, and walked to the other
window.  There never was a woman's face more fitted to
express enmity than was that clear-cut profile, that mouth so
closely shut over the teeth.  Had not the man plainly said
that she had laboriously sought to collect the ideas of
others?—she, with her talents!  To be sure, she had never soiled
her dainty foot with the dust of her brother-in-law's factory;
it was true that she knew nothing of the life of those people
whom the clamour for reform had assembled beneath one
banner, where they were grown to be a power that thrust itself
like a wedge into social order, threatening to shatter it.  And
why need she know by sight and contact what she described?
Nonsense!  Of what use, then, were intellect and imagination?
Until to-day the doctor had never uttered a syllable with
regard to her literary efforts,—"from timid reverence," she
had supposed,—and now he suddenly treated her work with
such scant courtesy,—*he*!  "I cannot conceive, grandmamma,"
she exclaimed, with flashing eyes, "how you can dignify him
with the title of idealist.  To my mind, Bruck handles the
great subject prosaically enough.  According to his plan, we
must instantly strip ourselves of every elegance and comfort,
and dress in sackcloth and ashes; never must we indulge in
intellectual pursuits, but must concoct soup for the poor.  To
insist upon quiet and retirement in our own park is a deadly
sin; of course we must encourage the hopeful school-children
to romp and play directly underneath our windows, etc.,
etc.; and if we are not docile, he threatens us with a ghost
at our doors."  She laughed a short, hard laugh.  "Our
philanthropist overshoots the mark terribly with these
sympathies of his.  If the conflict that he foretells ever really
comes to pass, the ghost will make as short work with him
as with us."

"I have not much to lose," the doctor said, with a smile.

Flora hastily approached him.  Her curls stirred lightly,
and her heavy velvet skirt swept the marble floor.

"Oh, since this morning that is not true, Bruck," she said,
ironically.  "You are a real-estate owner, Moritz tells me.
Seriously, have you fulfilled your yesterday's threat and
purchased that wretched barracks on the other side of the river?'

"My threat?"

"What else can I call your presenting to me such a picture
of the future?  You have, as you spoke of doing yesterday,
invested your savings in a spot that is to me the *ne plus
ultra* of desolation, poverty, and repulsive ugliness.  You
certainly cannot have possessed yourself of this gem simply to
feast your eyes upon its beauties, and therefore I ask you
seriously, 'Who is to live there?'"

"You never need cross the threshold."

"I certainly never shall,—you may rely upon that.
Rather——"  The glance with which the doctor raised his
hand to interrupt her was a riddle hard to read, but it had
such power in it that it silenced those beautiful lips.

"I purchased the house for my aunt, only reserving one
room in it for my use,—a corner where I can enjoy a leisure
hour of study amid rural surroundings," he said, immediately,
and far more placidly than could have been anticipated from
the former expression of his face.

"Ah, I wish you joy of it!  A special summer retreat!
And in winter, Bruck?"

"In winter I must content myself with the green room,
which you have assigned me in our future dwelling."

"To tell the truth, that house does not please me.  There
is such constant noise from the street about a corner house, it
would greatly disturb me when I wanted to work."

"Well, then, I will simply pay off the house-agent, and
look for another," he rejoined, with imperturbable equanimity.

Flora turned away with a shrug, so that Kitty could look
directly into her face.  It seemed as if she would have stamped
upon the floor with vexation, while her head was thrown back
and her eyes sought the ceiling, as if to say, "Gracious heaven,
is there no way to reach him?"

At that moment the Frau President rang the bell so sharply
that the sound echoed from the end of the long corridor.
The old lady looked greatly aggrieved; explanations so devoid
of all taste and tact as these should never take place in her
presence.  "You can scarcely have a high opinion of the
hospitality and breeding of your brother's household, Kitty,"
she said to the young girl.  "No one has taken off your
travelling-jacket or offered you a chair; you are forced
instead, whether you will or not, to listen to useless discussions,
and left standing upon the cold marble, while warm rugs are
at hand."  She pointed, as she spoke, to two opposite corners
of the room, furnished with luxurious chairs and lounges and
laid with costly Smyrna rugs, and then she gave orders to the
servant who entered to instruct the housekeeper with regard
to apartments for the guest.

Thus the bystanders were relieved of the disagreeable
sensation left in their minds by the sharp interchange of words
between the lovers.  The councillor hastened to relieve his
ward of her jacket, and Henriette, her wasted cheeks flushed
with a feverish colour, left the conservatory to attend to her
dove.

"Will you not stay to tea, Herr Doctor?" Frau von Urach
asked the physician, as he came to take leave of her.  He
excused himself on the plea of visits to patients,—a plea
which Flora heard with a sarcastic smile.  This, however,
he did not appear to notice.  He shook hands with her and
with the councillor; to Kitty he made a chivalric and respectful
inclination, not at all as if to a new young sister-in-law:
she was still a stranger to him, and the others appeared to
find this view of the matter entirely correct.  Henriette left
the room with him.

"My dear Flora, I must for the future strictly forbid the
recurrence of such distasteful scenes as this which we have
just been compelled to witness," the Frau President said, in
a stern voice and with a deep frown, as soon as the door had
closed upon the pair.  "You have reserved to yourself entire
freedom to attain your end in the manner that shall best
please yourself; so far so good,—you have hitherto encountered
not the slightest opposition on my part; but I protest
earnestly as soon as you show an inclination to fight out the
wretched affair in my presence.  As I said before, that I
strictly forbid!  Must I repeat——"

"Dear grandmamma," the young lady interrupted her, in a
tone of contemptuous banter, "do not repeat!  I know it all.
Commit murder or arson, if you will, in this house, only see
that the Frau President Urach arises like a phoenix from the
ashes.  Forgive me, grandmamma; I will never do so again.
The house is large enough; I need not carry out my designs
directly in your sight.  If my work were only not made so
immensely difficult!  I am afraid that some fine day I shall
lose patience and——"

"Flora!" the councillor exclaimed, in a voice expressing
both warning and entreaty.

"Yes, yes, Herr von Römer, I perfectly understand that
I must pay due regard to your new honours.  Heavens! how
my poor shoulders are weighted down!  And why should I
do penance because hearts cling to me like burrs?"

She took her hat, and gathered up her train to go,—then
paused as she passed Kitty.

"You see, my dear," she said, putting her forefinger
beneath her sister's chin and turning her face up to her, "this
all comes of a poor girl's giving way to sentiment for a
moment and imagining herself in love.  She suddenly finds
herself in a trap, and admits sorrowfully that the trite old
doctrine, 'See, ye who join in endless union, that heart with
heart be in communion,' contains a terrible truth.  Think of
your sister, and take care of yourself, child."

She left the room, and Kitty looked after her in wide-eyed
wonder.  What a strange fiancée her beautiful sister was!





.. vspace:: 4

CHAPTER VI.
===========

Near the western boundary of the park stood the remains
of the former Castle Baumgarten.  Of the entire structure, once
surrounded by a fosse, only a single tower—of considerable
dimensions, however,—was left, flanked on one side by the
blackened ruin of an ancient wing of the building.  Sixty
years previously, the old pile had been torn down.  Its possessor
at that time, residing most of the year in foreign parts, had
erected "Villa Baumgarten" on the opposite side of the estate,
near the frequented road, in order that when in his own
country he might "live among his kind," and the grandly-hewn
blocks of granite from the old castle had been used in building
the modern villa.  The tower, with the ruin adjoining it,
had been spared as an ornament to the park.  It crowned
an artificial mound covered with mossy turf.  Its base was
encircled by a wilderness of woodland shrubs and plants,
hedge-roses and blackberry-vines crept in and out of the
huge window-arches in the ruin and nestled among its
fragments, while the wild hop clambered everywhere, covering
the grim dark stones with a wealth of greenery.

This ruin, encircled by the water of the fosse, certainly
answered the end for which it had first been preserved; but
the succeeding generation, being of an eminently practical
turn of mind, had drained the ditch, and planted vegetables
in the damp, rich soil.  The castle miller had declared upon
purchasing the estate that this proceeding had been the only
sensible thing done by its former possessors, and had
appropriated this spot for his own special use.  As a child, Kitty
had taken great delight in the "little valley," as she called
the former fosse.  Of course, she then thought and knew
nothing of how romance had been outraged in this transformation;
she would while away hours wandering and plucking
with Susie through the wilderness of bean-poles and young
pea-vines, never dreaming that if the dam should suddenly
give way the waters would overwhelm her with Susie and all
the green luxuriance.

Now, on the fifth day after her arrival, she found herself
for the first time in this retired part of the park, and paused
bewildered.  The hop-vines still wove a leafless net-work about
the walls, and the turf on the mound showed as yet no green
blade of grass, but the April sunshine lay broad and full upon
the ruin-crowned hill, throwing it into picturesque relief against
the background of dark firs that covered the mountain-range
in the distance.  There was no trace of fresh mortar on the
walls to tell of modern repair, every stone was old, yet none
were wanting; the high arched windows in the tower, formerly
closed by decaying wooden shutters, gaped wide, and within the
stone window-frames the sunny, tremulous air glittered as if
some imprisoned sunbeam were weaving there a mysterious
golden web.  And fresh life was stirring about the ruined
ancestral home of the Von Baumgartens; above the battlements
of the tower white and coloured doves were wheeling in
airy flight, and from the thicket beneath the ancient chestnuts
which flanked it on the south, two roes came noiselessly and
wandered about the hill.  The "little valley" had vanished;
and, as of old, a shining stream girdled the hill around,
burying beneath its bubbling waters, as if no human hand had
ever usurped its bed, all that had once bloomed and flourished
there.

A bridge suspended by chains spanned the ditch, and,
guarding its hither side, lay a huge bull-dog, his head on his
forepaws, keeping a watchful eye upon the opposite bank of
the stream.

"Here you have Moritz's Tusculum, Kitty," said Henriette,
who was leaning upon her sister's arm.  "Once a castle-keep,
with its paraphernalia of instruments of torture and sighs of
mortal agony; only four months ago an undisputed refuge for
owls, bats, and my doves; and now drawing-room, bedroom,
and even treasure-chamber, of the Herr Councillor von Römer.
In truth, the place still looks ruinous enough, almost as if the
next strong wind would overthrow the walls, but all is really
strong and firm; and there, beneath those projecting stones,
Moritz's servant has his room; the fellow is to be envied."

Flora had come with them.  "No accounting for tastes!" she
said, drily, with a shrug.  "Really a striking and original idea
for a plebeian brain, eh, Kitty?"  She passed her sisters and
crossed the bridge.  A touch of her little foot thrust away the
dog from her path, and she ascended the hill.  The roes fled
timidly from her rustling silken robes, the doves flew away
from the lower window-sills, and the dog growled, and slowly
followed the lordly lady for a few steps.  Standing above, her
slender hands upon the latch of the brazen-studded door of
the tower, and dressed in heavy light-gray silk, gleaming like
silver in the sunlight, with puffed sleeves and skirt caught up
on one side, she was the living impersonation of the beautiful
emperor's daughter of the Kyffhäuser.

Involuntarily Kitty looked from her to Henriette, clinging
to her arm, and her heart ached.  The frail figure, its
emaciation showing plainly in the close-fitting gay-coloured dress,
was actually balanced upon immensely high heels.  Her breath
came in short gasps; but her whole costume was gaudy, and
had so coquettish an air that but for pity one could have
laughed.  Within the last few days she had had repeated
attacks of asthma, almost to suffocation, and yet she *would*
not be ill: the world should not know that she suffered.  A
single compassionate glance, any pitying remark, made her
angry and bitter.  She had been more ill than usual; for
Doctor Bruck, whose patient she was, and who could always
give her relief, was away.  A few hours after leaving the villa
upon Kitty's arrival there, he had received a telegraphic
dispatch from a friend calling him to L——g, to remain there
for several days, he informed Flora in a short note.  Any
medical aid from Doctor von Bär the sick girl persistently
refused to accept.  "Rather die!" she had whispered, when
struggling with one of her attacks.  Kitty had tended her
sister with the greatest care, and now, putting her arm around
her waist, she led her across the bridge towards the ruin.

How often as a child she had run up that hill and
scrambled through the underbrush!  How often she had peeped
through the big key-hole of the door of the tower!  The
servants had said that in its cellars there was still stored
powder from the Thirty Years' War, and that the walls were hung
with "all sorts of horrid things."  But she had never seen
anything within but black darkness.  A heavy, mouldy air had
been wafted out upon her childish face with terrifying effect;
and if an owl above happened to flap his wings, she would
rush down the hill as if pursued by the furies, and cling with
both hands to Susie's apron, quaking with fright.  Now she
stood inside, at the foot of a narrow, carpeted winding
staircase, and admired the effect produced by the wealthy
merchant's money.  Without, a crumbling ruin; within, the home
of knightly ease.  The room her childish eye had never been
able to pierce was a spacious vaulted hall, the massive arches
of which supported the entire structure above.  On the walls
the "horrid things" were still hanging,—helmets and various
weapons,—but they were tastefully arranged, and flashed back
from their burnished surfaces the sunlight that streamed
through the windows.  To preserve the ruinous aspect from
without, there was no division into panes of the glass in the
windows; one unbroken sheet had been set into the stone
frames, hence the strange glitter in them when seen from the
outside.  The place had been what was called in the olden time
a fortress ward; in times of supreme danger, a place of refuge
for the dwellers in the castle.  As such, its upper story had
been furnished after the most primitive fashion; now, its
splendour far eclipsed that of the finest ancient banqueting-hall of
the old castle, so long since swept from the face of the earth.
When the two sisters reached the first room of the upper
story they found Flora gracefully reclining among the crimson
cushions of a lounge, with a lighted cigarette between her
fingers, looking on while the councillor brewed the afternoon
coffee in the silver coffee-pot.  He had invited his three
sisters-in-law to take coffee with him this afternoon.

"Well, Kitty?" he called out to the young girl upon her
entrance, directing her attention by a wave of his hand, as he
spoke, to all that he had effected.

She paused upon the threshold, a black veil thrown loosely
over her golden-brown braids, her eyes full of laughter, her
young frame vigorous and supple as if sprung from the giant
knights Von Baumgarten.

"Most romantic, Moritz!  The illusion is perfect!" she
answered, gaily.  "That fellow down there," and she pointed
through the nearest window to the gleaming girdle of water,
"might terrify us with his martial air, did we not know that
a councillor of commerce of the nineteenth century sits within
his circle."

He contracted his fine eyebrows, and cast from beneath
them a dubious glance at her face.  She did not notice it.
"It certainly was hardly fair to grow turnips and cabbages
in the bed of the fosse," she continued.  "I see that now,
although the 'little valley' was a favoured spot in my
remembrance.  Still, it is a strange and interesting fact, that the
merchant of to-day renews the barriers which even former
knightly lords of the soil wearied of and at last destroyed as
superfluous."

"Do not forget, my dear Kitty, that I myself now belong
among these latter," he replied, in a tone of considerable
pique.  "It is sad to think that an ancient race should so
adapt itself to the spirit of the age as ruthlessly to abolish old
and honourable customs and institutions.  It is a crying
outrage upon us, their successors."

"Idiot!  He is more Catholic than the Pope," Henriette
muttered, angrily.  She advanced farther into the room, while
Kitty mechanically closed the door behind her without averting
her half-startled, half-thoughtful gaze from her brother-in-law.
As a child she had, in common with all who came in
contact with him, been very fond of him.  His father had
been an honest, hard-working mechanic, and Moritz, left an
orphan at an early age, of striking personal beauty and
ingratiating address, had been received as an underling in the
establishment of the wealthy banker Mangold, whose daughter
he eventually married.  Kitty knew how devoted he had been
to her sister Clotilde until she died; she had always seen him
submissive even to servility to her father, and he had been
uniformly amiable and kind even towards those beneath him;
and yet there was now hovering about those finely-chiselled
lips a distinctly-stamped expression of arrogance.  The
ropemaker's son was contemptuously overthrowing the ladder by
which he had climbed thus high, and was so dazzled by his
good fortune that he fell naturally into the jargon of a
genuine country squire.

Henriette had coiled herself up on a low cushioned seat,
and, clasping her hands around her knees, said, sharply,
"Dearest Moritz, I pray you do not take quite so much state upon
yourself; you might provoke some old mistress of these walls
to awaken and see her grand successor and lord of the castle
making coffee, while the castle dame reclines comfortably,
smoking cigarettes.  Oh, how she would stare!"

Flora did not stir a hair's-breadth from her position: she
only took the cigarette slowly from between her lips, and
asked, in a tone of assumed indifference, as she knocked off
the ashes with her third finger, "Does it annoy you, my
dear?"

"*Me?*"  Henriette turned towards her with a hard laugh.
"You know I am never annoyed by the freaks and follies of
your genius, Flora; the world is wide: it is easy to avoid"——

"Hush! don't be so bitter, child.  I asked from the
purest sympathy for your poor chest."

The flitting crimson came and went upon the invalid's thin
cheek, and tears glittered in her eyes, but she controlled
herself.  "Thanks; but expend your care first upon yourself,
Flora.  I know how your every fibre is longing to throw that
smoky thing out of the window, for it discolours your white
teeth like meerschaum, and sends a perpetual shiver of disgust
through you, and yet you persist in the heroic self-subjugation.
From a mania for the emancipation of woman?  Pshaw! you
have far too much taste, Flora, to have recourse to such
distinctive signs of a blue-stocking, and you certainly would
not sacrifice beauty to a rage for public glorification and
applause——"

"See what a lofty opinion the dear creature entertains of
me," Flora said to the councillor, shaking her head, and
laughing ironically.

"You are practising smoking, and will probably continue
to do so for three or four weeks longer," Henriette continued,
undeterred, but with evident irritation, "because there are
people who detest like the breath of the plague the odour of
tobacco from a woman's mouth.  You are trying to offend;
this is your latest attempt to——"

Flora raised herself from her reclining posture.  "And if
it is, Fräulein Henriette?" she asked, with an air of lofty
disdain.  "Is it not my affair, solely, whether I choose to attract
or repel?"

"Not at all.  Your only duty in this case is to please,"
Henriette declared, with vehemence.

"Nonsense!  There is no marriage ring here yet."  And she
pointed to the third finger of her left hand.  "Thank God,
no!  And you of all others should be the last to lay a lance
in rest in this cause.  You are ill, poor child, and more than
ever dependent upon your physician; but he prefers to take a
pleasure-trip, and to remain weeks away perhaps, assigning no
reason for his absence."

Here the councillor put in a word.  "Assigning no reason,
Flora, because he does not happen to have told you all the
why and the wherefore of his absence!" he exclaimed, with
irritation.  "Bruck never speaks of his profession, or of
anything connected with it, as you well know.  He has doubtless
been summoned to some patient——"

"To L——g, where distinguished professors from the
university can be had?  Ha! ha! a charming idea!  Don't
be ridiculous, Moritz!  But this is a point upon which I
positively decline to argue with you."  She held out her
hand for her coffee-cup, and slowly sipped the delicious
beverage.  Henriette sullenly declined the offered refreshment;
she arose, and stepped to the glass door that led out upon the
adjoining ruin.  It was the remains of a colonnade which
had once connected the tower with the castle, and two
finely-vaulted arches, resting upon slender pillars, now formed a
kind of balcony whence there was a magnificent view.

She tore open one of the glass folding-doors, and, pressing
her clasped hands convulsively to her breast, greedily inhaled
the fresh air.  In vain; for a moment she seemed in danger
of suffocation.  Kitty and the councillor hastened to support
the sufferer, and even Flora arose and reluctantly threw away
her cigarette.  "I suppose you will accuse these harmless
wreaths of smoke of causing this attack," she said, fretfully,
"but I know better.  You ought to be in bed, Henriette, not
out in this dry spring air, which is positive poison for your
disease.  I warned you, but you never heed advice, and would
fain persuade us that you are glowing with health and strength.
And you are just as obstinate with regard to your medical
adviser——"

"Because I do not intrust my poor lungs to the first poisoner
at hand," Henriette concluded her sentence in a weak
but very decided tone.

"Oh, dear! you mean my poor old councillor of medicine,"
cried Flora, smiling, and shrugging her shoulders.  "Go on,
child, if it pleases you!  I know nothing, it is true, about his
medicines, but I can affirm that he has never yet been so
clumsy as——nearly to cut a patient's throat."

The councillor turned a pale face towards her and involuntarily
raised his hand, as if to stop the slanderous words upon
her lips; he was speechless as he timidly glanced at Kitty.

"Heartless!" gasped Henriette.

"Not heartless, but bold enough to call things by their
right names, even if the hard words make my own wounds
bleed afresh.  Where is the merit else of uncompromising
truth?  Think of that terrible evening, and ask yourself who
was right!  I knew that a fall from the heights of a mere
superficial adventitious celebrity was sure to come.  It has
come, more disastrously and completely than even I feared,
as you must admit if you would not dispute the unanimous
verdict of the public.  That I will not share this fall every
one who knows me must be aware.  I cannot smooth over
and adjust matters as grandmamma so well understands how
to do.  I would not do so if I could.  No part is more
ridiculous than that of those simple-souled women who continue
openly to adore where the world unites in pronouncing that
there is nothing worthy of worship."

She opened the other folding-door and stepped out upon
the balcony.  She had spoken with passionate emphasis; the
pale marble tint of her Roman profile, seen clearly cut against
the blue sky of spring, glowed with a gloomy fire; her eyes
were full of disdain, her nostrils quivered nervously,—she
was the very personification of burning impatience.

"At least, it was his part to convince me.—How I would
have defended him then, both with tongue and pen!" she
continued, thrusting her slender fingers in among the rustling
tracery of withered vines.  "But he chose to reply to my first
and only question upon the subject, by an icy look, haughty
as a Spaniard——"

"Such a reply should have sufficed you——"

"Not so, my dear Moritz; it was a very convenient and
easy answer, and I am sceptical with regard to speaking looks
and gestures: I require more.  But I show you that my will
is good in the matter by repeating again what I said at first:
'Prove to me and to the world that he did his duty well, for
you were present!'"

He retreated hastily from the threshold of the door and
put his hand over his eyes: the sunlight shining full upon the
balcony was insupportable to him.  "You know well enough
that I cannot do what you ask; I am no surgeon," he replied,
in a stifled tone, that was lost in an almost inarticulate murmur.

"Not another word, Moritz," Henriette exclaimed.  "Your
every attempt to defend him gives some colour to this girl's
cowardly indecision."  Her large eyes, glowing with internal
fever, were riveted with an expression of hatred upon her
sister's beautiful face.  "It would be best that your cruel
designs should attain their end as soon as possible,—to speak
plainly, that your evident estrangement should induce him
voluntarily to break the bond between you.  Your heart, cleaving
as it does to mere externals, would be small loss to him; but
he loves you, and would rather contract an unhappy marriage,
knowing it to be such, than resign you.  His whole conduct
proves this——"

"Unfortunately," Flora said over her shoulder, by way of
interjection.

"And therefore I will stand by him, and defeat your
machinations if I can," Henriette concluded, in a louder voice,
and with quivering lips.

The glance that Flora here bestowed upon her frail, agitated
sister sparkled with cruel scorn, but, as she looked, a startling
revelation seemed to dawn upon her; she suddenly put her
right arm around Henriette's shoulders, and drew her towards
her, as she whispered in her ear, with a sardonic smile, "Why
not make him happy yourself, child?  You will meet with no
opposition from me,—be sure of that."

To such wanton malice can vanity prompt a petted, spoiled,
and worshipped woman!  Kitty stood near enough to understand
the whisper, and, although she had hitherto held herself
passively aloof, her eyes now fairly flashed with honest
indignation.

Flora saw it.  "Just look what a pair of eyes the girl can
make!  Can you not understand a joke, Kitty?" she asked,
half startled, half amused.  "I will not harm your petted
nursling,—although it really would be well to put a final stop
to Henriette's petty malice.  These two people," she pointed
to the councillor and Henriette, "imagine it their duty to
form my morals, and you, our youngest, just out of school,
your head filled with crochet, worsted-work, and a few French
phrases, side with them against me.  You little goose, do you
really think yourself capable of passing judgment upon your
sister Flora?"  She laughed aloud, and pointed to a chestnut-tree,
from the boughs of which a white dove was flying.  The
bird flew high in air, a dazzling point of light.  "Look,
child, a moment ago it nestled amid the branches among its
fellows, now its outspread wings gleam like silver, and it
hangs in the blue, lonely firmament a shining spectacle for
mortal eyes to gaze upon.  Perhaps you may one day
stand what thirsting, aspiring soul it resembles.  Apropos,
Moritz," she suddenly interrupted herself, beckoning the
councillor out upon the balcony, "the old barracks that
Bruck has just purchased must lie behind that grove,—I see
smoke curling above the trees——"

"Simply because there is a fire kindled upon the hearth,"
the councillor replied, smiling.  "The dean's old widow
arrived there yesterday."

"And is in that miserable old place just as it is?"

"Just as it is.  Indeed, the castle miller was too careful a
man to allow any of his property to go to ruin; there is not
a nail wanting in the house, not a slate missing on the roof."

"Well, I wish the widow Godspeed.  Her old-fashioned
furniture and the late dean's portrait will suit those walls
extremely well,—there will be room enough for her pickle-jars
and bake-oven,—and the water for scouring runs past the
very door."  She affected a slight nervous shiver, and, as
though involuntarily, lifted her richly-trimmed skirt, as if
from a freshly-scoured floor.  "We had better shut the
doors," she said, hastily retreating into the room; "the wind
blows the smoke over here.  Pah!"—she waved her
pocket-handkerchief in the air before her face,—"I really believe
the worthy woman is baking her everlasting pancakes even
before she has a chair in the house to sit down upon.  She is
never content unless she is cooking."  And she closed the
folding-doors.

In the mean time, Henriette had quietly left the room.
She had started in terror at Flora's whisper, like some
sleep-walker who, on awaking, finds himself on the brink of an
abyss.  She had not spoken since, and had now mounted to
the uppermost story of the tower, where the doves and rooks
had their nests.  Kitty took up her parasol,—she knew that
the invalid always desired solitude when she thus withdrew
from the society of others; but this room within these
thick walls, the oppressive splendour on every side, and her
domineering, capricious sister rustling to and fro, had a most
depressing effect upon the young girl.  The air that Flora
breathed always seemed full of inflammable matter.  Therefore
she determined to pay Susie a visit.

"Just as you please; go to the mill if you like," the
councillor said, fretfully, after in vain endeavouring to detain
her; "but look here first."  He drew aside a heavy Gobelin
curtain, and behind it, in a deep recess, stood a new iron safe.
"That belongs to you, you lucky child; here is your 'Shake,
shake, little tree, gold and silver over me.'"  And he passed his
hand almost caressingly over the cold iron.  "Everything
that your grandfather owned of real estate is in there, turned
into paper.  Those papers are working for you day and night;
you may draw incredible sums of money from the world in
this quiet corner.  The castle miller knew how to grasp
fortune at the flood,—his will is proof of that,—but even he
could hardly dream how his wealth would increase
metamorphosed thus."

"So that you are on the way to become the best match in
the country, Kitty, and, like the man in the fairy-tale, can
floor your dining-room at your marriage with silver dollars,"
Flora cried, from the lounge, where she was again reclining,
with a book in her hand.  "'Tis a pity!  Don't be angry,
child, but indeed I am afraid you have been drilled in too
strait-laced a morality to know how to fling brilliantly abroad
your golden shower."

"Wait and see," laughed the young girl.  "In the mean
time, I have no present right to take one dollar locked up
there."  She pointed to the safe.  "With regard to the castle
mill, Moritz, I should like to attain my majority, if only for a
single day."

"Does it not suit you, 'lovely miller maid'?"

"My mill?  As well as my vigorous youth, Moritz.  But I
was in the mill-garden yesterday.  It is so large that Franz is
obliged to leave all that portion bordering on the high-road
uncultivated, for want of time and labourers.  He wishes to
sell it to you,—it would divide very well into lots for villas,
and would be a good investment, he says; but I think cottages
ornées might just as well be built elsewhere, and I would
rather let your people, who wish to build near the factory,
have the land."

"Ah! make them a present of it, Kitty?"

"Such an idea never occurred to me.  You need not smile
so compassionately and contemptuously, Moritz.  Such
'exaggerated sentimentality' would disgrace me, truly, in the
Villa Baumgarten.  And, indeed, the people do not ask a gift
or an alms, as Doctor Bruck says——"

"Ah, 'as Doctor Bruck says'?  Is he your oracle already?"
cried Flora, sitting upright on the lounge and fixing her eyes
with a strange, changeful expression upon her young sister's
face.

Kitty's colour deepened for a moment, but she returned
the gaze with cool gravity, and continued, without paying
any heed to Flora's words: "I know, besides, how valuable
is the fruit of one's own exertions.  I prize what I earn myself
more highly than the richest gift, and upon this ground the
people should pay,—pay exactly what they offer for your land."

"You show a fine capacity for business, Kitty," laughed
the councillor.  "My barren strip of shore would be cheap
enough at the price they offer; and that piece of fine arable
land near the mill! ... No, child; glad as I should be to
please you, my conscience as your guardian cannot allow you
to lay aside your minority for a single hour."

"Well, then, your enterprising 'hands' must content themselves
for the present," she rejoined, neither surprised nor
irritated.  "I know that at the end of three years I shall think
just as I do at present, and maybe then I shall even be rash
enough to lend the people the money for their building,
without interest."

She bade a smiling farewell, and left.





.. vspace:: 4

CHAPTER VII.
============

Slowly she descended the winding staircase, so narrow
in the upper half of the tower that there would have been no
room for anything more substantial by her side than the ghost
of some ancestral dame.  Poor ancestral dame!  There was
no place for her here now, even although the new-made
nobleman above-stairs should desire that as an appendage to his
greatness he should own a ghostly white lady to look after the
fortunes of his house, could he but buy one by as heavy a
drain upon his money-bags as his patent of nobility had
already cost him!  There upon the walls hung the armour of
her knightly race,—the weapons with which the old giants
had striven for honour and shame, for lands and blood.  The
heavier the dints upon the old breastplates, the more frequent
the blood-stains upon them, the more precious would they have
been held, the more caressing would have been the nightly
touch of her ghostly fingers.  Now they glittered without a
stain upon the walls, and the weapons of the new inmate of
the tower were his money-bags.

Yes, the strange foreign element that vibrated through all
the social intercourse of the family at the villa, the money-fever,
the spirit of speculation, had intruded here also in this
mimicry of the old chivalric life.  It infected the air, it
glided up and down the stairs, and the mighty tankards on
the sideboards in the hall were not more of a mockery in the
soft hands whose only labour was to cut coupons than were the
giant locks and bolts, but lately burnished afresh, upon the
iron cellar-door that kept guard over the councillor's
champagne, while money by thousands of thousands was locked
up in the safe above, with its small decorated key-hole.  The
historic powder from the Thirty Years' War was still in the
cellar,—tolerated there by the councillor, only, as Henriette
averred, that the inquisitive visitor might have an opportunity
of seeing the costly wines arranged beside it in well-ordered
rows.  It was this that made Kitty a stranger in the
home of her childhood; this display, this estimate of effect,
for which no outlay of money was too great; this feverish
effort to proclaim to the world that the basis of everything
here was of gold,—-all this was in direct contradiction to the
spirit of the old Mangold firm, which had never thus asserted
its undeniable wealth and credit.  Nor during her father's
lifetime had money as power intruded upon his home; strict
as he was in all his business relations in his counting-room,
not one word with regard to them ever escaped him in the
home circle.  And now! even the Frau President speculated.
She had thrown her small property of a few thousands into
the huge lottery,—that is, invested it in stock,—and it was
strange to see her face, usually so calm and impassive, work
nervously, and flush with colour to the temples, when the
subject of conversation was the money-market.

Kitty left the tower and crossed the bridge.  She leaned
for a moment over the railing and looked down into the water,
as if she half expected to see in its depths her old friends
the dwarf fruit-trees and strawberry-vines,—but she saw only
her own head, with its crown of thick brown braids.  This
girl, oddly enough, was the heiress of the family; she was
reminded daily that as such she was distinguished and
flattered, and she was repeatedly taught that she never should
arrange these same brown braids herself, that a lady's maid
was indispensably necessary; but she opposed an energetic will
to the Frau President's admonitions; nothing should induce
her to resign her head to the hands of an artiste, to sit
solemn as some heathen idol for hours in her dressing-gown.
Oh, yes, it was delightful indeed to be rich, but her wealth
should not make a slave of her, should not fetter her warm,
active, shapely hands.

She left behind her the pretty grounds around the ruin,
and walked along the unfrequented path through the meadows
upon the banks of the stream.  Chilled by the melted snow
from the mountains, that swelled it to a torrent, the little
river rolled along, clay-coloured in hue; but the minnows
showed here and there like flecks of molten silver, the soft,
downy buds were thick upon the osiers, and beneath their
protecting net-work the blue flowers of the hepatica were
spreading everywhere,—it was easy to make a spring nosegay.

With a bunch of them in her hand, she sauntered on as far
as the ancient wooden bridge.  There was Susie's old
bleaching-ground, the meadow, planted with fruit-trees.  The
councillor had spoken truly; the low picket fence that enclosed the
garden was in perfect repair, and everything about the house,
from the old tiled roof to the latticed arbour for the
grapevines, was in thorough order.  And it was really a charming
old house, the despised "barracks."  It was situated in a very
retired spot on the banks of the river, and the leafy grove
behind it, on the other side of the fence, gave it the character of a
woodland cottage.  Its exterior was not imposing, to be sure;
it had only one row of windows, directly above which arose the
roof with its gilded weather-cock and massive chimneys, one
of which was actually smoking,—an incredible sight.  It was
long indeed since a fire had been kindled on that hearth or a
lamp lighted within those walls.  During the lifetime of the
castle miller it had been used as a store-house for grain; the
shutters had always been closed, and the door of entrance locked,
except during harvest.  At that time, little Kitty used to slip
into what was called the fruit-room, an apartment adjoining
the kitchen, with whitewashed walls and a large green stove,
and fill her apron with rosy-cheeked apples and mellow pears.
To-day, the shutters were wide open, and the young girl saw
for the first time in her life the glitter of the panes of glass
in the large windows.  It was now Doctor Bruck's home.

Scarcely knowing why, she crossed the bridge and passed
ground three sides of the house.  Her heart beat slightly, for
she really had no right to be seen here; but the soft turf
smothered the sound of her footsteps, which indeed could
never have been heard above the din of the rushing river
and of the sparrows twittering upon the roof.  Some of the
windows were open; she could see, within, hanging baskets
filled with green creeping plants and vines, and the bright glitter
of burnished copper on the kitchen walls; the merry song of
a bird, too, came through the window, mingling with the shrill
chatter of the sparrows; but there was no sound of human life
or occupation.  She cautiously turned around the west corner
to pass by the front of the house, and paused, startled.

In the large doorway that divided the front of the house
into halves, and from which a broad flight of steps led down
to the little lawn, stood a lady, slender, refined, almost virginal
in appearance.  A table standing beside her was piled with
books and pictures, which she was engaged in dusting.  She
looked up in surprise at the shy intruder, and involuntarily
dropped the picture in her hand,—it was Flora's photograph
in an oval frame.

Impossible that this could be the dean's widow!  After
Flora's sneering description, Kitty had fancied her a little,
bent, active housekeeper, her hands rough with hard work,
grown gray amidst pots and pans, and liking nothing so much
as baking pancakes; she could not reconcile the picture of her
imagination with this lady, elderly to be sure, but with
delicate, noble features, and gentle, earnest eyes, her still abundant
fair hair covered with a kerchief of white lace.

Kitty grew more and more embarrassed, as, standing at
the foot of the steps, she stammered out her excuses.  "I used
to play here as a child: I only came from Dresden a few days
ago, and——  That is my sister," she added, hastily, pointing
to the picture, and then breaking into a clear, merry laugh,
and shaking her head at the extraordinary manner in which,
in her confusion, she had introduced herself.

The lady laughed, too.  She placed the picture upon the
table, and, descending the steps, held out both hands to the
young girl.  "Then you are the doctor's youngest
sister-in-law."  A faint shadow crossed her face.  "I did not know
that there were visitors at Villa Baumgarten," she added, with
the slightest tinge of irritation.

A shadow floated across Kitty's mind also at this moment.
Was she, then, such a nonentity, such an entirely insignificant
member of the Mangold family, that Doctor Bruck had not
thought it worth while to mention having met her?  She bit
her lip, and silently followed the lady, who invited her into the
house and opened a door in the large hall.  Every movement
of her slender figure was gentle and gracious.

"Here is my room,—my home for the rest of my life," she
said, in a tone in which was plainly audible her satisfaction at
having reached this harbour of refuge after years of weary
wandering.

"Before my husband received the appointment of dean in
the city, he had charge of a small country parish.  Our means
were not adequate, and all my economy in housekeeping was
needed to maintain the dignity of his position; but it was the
happiest time of my life.  The dust and noise of the city
were never good for my nerves; my longing for the quiet of
woods and fields became almost morbid.  I never spoke of it
but the doctor privately made the purchase of this place with
his savings, and showed it to me as my own a few hours
afterwards."  Her voice was husky with emotion as she spoke the
last words.  With what pride did she call her nephew "the
doctor"! and as she spoke she smiled pleasantly.  "Is it not
a charming place,—quite a castle?" she asked.  "See these
folding-doors, and the graceful decoration of the ceilings.
Those leather hangings, with their tarnished gold, must once
have been very splendid; and out in the garden there are the
remains of clipped yews and old statues of stone.  The place
was originally the dower-house, of one of the women of the
Baumgarten family,—I learned that from an old chronicle.
We have scrubbed and aired and warmed the rooms, but have
altered nothing; we are not rich enough for that, and indeed
there is no need of it."

Kitty was inspecting it all with silent satisfaction.  The
dark mahogany furniture suited the faded leather hangings
admirably.  Against the wall, not far from the large white
glazed antique stove, stood a sofa covered with chintz, and
above it hung the portrait of the late dean in his canonicals,—valuable,
perhaps, as a likeness, but scarcely as a work of art.
The plants at each of the high, broad windows decorated the
room charmingly; there were various kinds of azaleas and
palms, and magnificent india-rubber trees, just now tinged with
gold by the sunshine that came broadly in through the net
curtains.  Gold-fish in a glass bowl, and a canary in a
cage,—those favourites with lonely women,—were here also; and
spring flowers, gay hyacinths, with here and there a white
narcissus bending its fair head dreamily, were upon the
window-sills, while the work-table was fairly embowered in laurel.

"They are of my own growing: almost from the seed," the
old lady said, as she noticed the girl's admiring gaze.  "Of
course I put the finest in the doctor's room."  She opened
the door of the adjoining apartment and invited Kitty to
enter.

"Of course!"  There was a charm in her way of speaking
these words, as if they sprang from a maternal devotion which
must excuse any over-indulgence.  "Of course" she had given
him the pleasantest room in the house,—the corner room,—below
the eastern windows of which the stream rippled past.
On the other side of the water lay one of the finest parts of
the park, and in the distance, behind the lindens, the blue
tiles of the roof of the villa could be seen.  Between these
windows stood the writing-table, so that when the doctor raised
his eyes from his work he could see the flag-staff of the villa
pointing towards heaven,—-towards heaven!  Kitty suddenly
felt her cheeks flush with shame as she thought how the
tenderest care was watching over the man's comfort here, while
there her faithless sister was employed day and night in
devising some way to thrust him from his heaven.  She had
resigned all claim upon him with those frivolous words, "Make
him happy yourself."

Did the warm-hearted, delicate-minded woman standing
beside her dream, or perhaps instinctively feel, that the heaviest
sorrow he could have to endure was hanging over her darling's
future?  She had received Kitty not as a new-comer, a stranger
to the family relations, but as Bruck's youngest sister-in-law,
who must of necessity be so well aware of everything
connected with him that there was no need of any mention that
she was his aunt.  Surely she could not have known much of
the inmates of Villa Baumgarten; and she confirmed Kitty's
suspicion on this head by pointing to the wall over the writing-table,
and saying, "All is not quite ready here; there I shall
hang the photographs of his Flora, and of his mother, my
dear sister."

Nothing else was wanting in the cosy room.  The doctor,
who was to return by the evening train, had no suspicion that
his aunt had left the city.  She had wished to spare him all
the annoyance of moving; and the councillor had been so kind,
she said, as to come to her assistance, by putting her in
immediate possession of the house.

As she talked, the dean's widow went on putting a finishing
touch here and there, gliding about with a step so noiseless
that it could not have disturbed the doctor if he had been
seated at his writing-table, deep in his new work, for the
completion of which he had desired this retirement in the
country.

She now opened a cupboard in the wall beside the bookshelves,
and took thence a plate filled with delicate little cakes.
These she offered to the young girl with a charming air of
hospitality.  "They are fresh; I made them to-day, busy as
I was.  The doctor always has a supply for his little patients,
who often need a bribe.  But I cannot offer you any wine,
for the few bottles that we own I left in town, where they
are required for the sick."

Kitty thought of the papers in her safe, "working day
and night" to fill it with gold, of the well-furnished
wine-cellar in the tower, and of her wayward, cigarette-smoking
sister, buried amid the crimson cushions of the lounge.  What
a contrast it was to this simple content and self-denial!  And
how all this reminded her of her Dresden home!  Her heart
warmed to the dean's widow, and she told her of her dear
foster-mother, of her wise and gentle ways of influencing those
around her, and of her never-failing industry,—an industry
to which she had trained her foster-child.

"But what does the Frau President say to such a system
of education?" the aunt asked, with a smile, as her eyes
dwelt with pleasure upon the blooming young creature.

"I do not know," Kitty replied, with a shrug and a saucy
glance; "but I suppose my movements are too quick for her,
my voice too loud, and I am too robust,—not sufficiently pale.
Heaven knows, I am a trial indeed!  Is that your sister's
portrait?" she suddenly broke off to ask, pointing to an oil
sketch of a very pretty woman, leaning in its frame against
the wall.

The old lady assented.  "I am sorry to have to leave it
in so insecure a place," she said, "for the frame is old;
but I suffer from vertigo, and dare not mount a step-ladder.
A few weeks ago I was obliged to dismiss my servant,"—a
faint flush tinged her withered cheek,—"and now I must
wait until the charwoman comes to hang these last pictures,
and the curtains to my bed."

At the first words of this explanation, Kitty had laid her
parasol upon the writing-table and stuck her little bouquet
of willow buds and hepatica into a pretty little milk-white
vase that stood beside the inkstand.  Then she pulled the
table out into the room, and moved a chair up to the wall.
"May I?" she asked, coaxingly, picking up the hammer and
nails that were placed ready on the window-seat.

With a grateful smile the aunt brought her the portrait,
and in a few moments it was hung upon the wall.  Kitty
shrank back involuntarily when the old lady then handed her
Flora's photograph.  Should she with her own hand place
this picture where it would constantly meet the eyes of the
betrayed lover?  It was no longer his, it would in a few short
days be reclaimed, with the ring which he still wore on his
finger.  How the thought pained her!  The old lady passed
her hand caressingly over the picture.  "She is so lovely!"
she said, tenderly.  "I know her only slightly; she does not
come often to see me; how could an old woman ask her to
undertake so tiresome a task? but I am very fond of her, for
she loves him, and will make him happy."

What an inconceivable absence of all misgiving!  The girl's
cheeks burned with a sense of her own imprudence.  After
all she had heard in the tower, she never should have set foot
within these doors.  She felt like a hypocrite for not snatching
the picture from the old lady's hand and unmasking the
serpent that was ready to dart at her heart.  But she could say
nothing.  She hammered at the nail so vigorously that the
wall shook, then she hung the photograph upon it, and pushed
the writing-table into its former place.  The seductive face
of her sister looked down from the wall with the smile of a
triumphant evil genius.

Kitty took up her parasol to leave the room as quickly as
possible.  As she crossed the threshold she saw through an
open door the old lady's bed,—the step-ladder stood beside it.
"I almost forgot that," she said, as if in excuse, as she entered
the small apartment, and, taking the gay chintz curtains from
where they lay ready, mounted the ladder.  She stood so high
in the dark recess beside the window that she could touch the
projecting foot of one of the angels in the cornice, and began
rapidly to slip the curtain-rings upon their brass rods, while
the old lady, standing by the table in the middle of the
adjoining sitting-room, mixed a glass of raspberry syrup for her
kind assistant.

Suddenly Kitty saw a man of erect, stately carriage pass
the window.  She recognized him instantly, and started, but
before she could determine whether it was best to stay where
she was or to slip hastily down and away, he had come
through the hall and entered his aunt's room.  The old lady
turned, and threw her arms around him with, "Ah, Leo,
here you are already!"  The raspberry syrup was entirely
forgotten, as well as the kind assistant for whom it had been
intended, and who was covered with confusion in her hiding-place
behind the curtains, where she was now obliged to stay,
if she would not break in upon the meeting of aunt and
nephew.

She saw the doctor's handsome bearded face bend tenderly
above the old lady's head as he drew her towards him and,
taking her hand from his shoulder, kissed it reverentially
Then he glanced through the rooms.

"Well, Leo, what do you say to my coming out here
without your knowledge?" his aunt said, noticing his
glance.

"I cannot praise that proceeding.  It was too much for you
to undertake in so short a time, for you know how injurious
all household confusion and worry are for you.  Nevertheless,
you look well and happy."

"I wish you did too, Leo," his aunt interrupted him; "you
have lost the fine colour you used to have, and here"—she
lightly passed her hand over his forehead—"there is
something strange, something of pain and perplexity.  Have you
been annoyed during your absence?"

"No, aunt."  The tone was frank and reassuring, but
evidently intended to stop further question; the councillor had
said that Bruck never spoke of his profession or of incidents
connected with it.  "How attractive this room is to me, in
spite of its shabby walls!" he said, as, with hands clasped
behind him, he surveyed her writing-table.  "It breathes of
the peace of mind of a self-forgetting feminine nature; that
is why I like so to come to our quiet home, aunt, with its
old-fashioned furniture and your orderly arrangements.  I
shall be here a great deal."

The old lady laughed.  "Yes, yes, until a certain day in
June," she said, archly; "you are to be married at Whitsuntide."

"The second day of Whitsuntide."  The words sounded
strangely cold and decided, as if nothing should postpone for
a moment the appointed hour.  Kitty felt something like a
shudder of dread.  She held her breath; it would never do
to be seen now.  Every minute she hoped that the doctor
would go into his room and give her the opportunity of
slipping down from her perch and leaving without meeting
him.  Her whole nature revolted at this involuntary part of
listener that she was playing.  But, instead of going, he
suddenly took up from the table a letter that had been slipped,
apparently by chance, between two books.

His aunt made an involuntary gesture as if to prevent his
reading it; her delicate face grew crimson.  "Ah, heavens!"
she exclaimed, "how forgetful my poor old head is growing!
That letter came from town a few hours ago; it is from Lenz,
the merchant, and I did not mean to let you have it to-day,
but I forgot, and left it on my table.  I think it contains
your fee; and coming at such an unusual time, Leo,—I am
afraid——"

The doctor opened the envelope, and hastily read the note.
"Yes, he dismisses me," he said, calmly, tossing the letter and
the paper money it contained down on the table again.  "Does
it worry you, aunt?"

"Me?  Not for a moment, if I could be sure that you do
not take the ingratitude of these foolish people too much to
heart.  I have firm faith in you, and in your skill, and
in—your lucky star," the gentle voice replied, warmly and
confidently.  "The obstacles that chance and calumny place in
your path do not mislead me,—you will succeed."  She
pointed towards the open door of the corner room.  "Look at
your little study; you can think and write there so
comfortably, so secure from all interruption!  Ah, I cannot help
enjoying the thought of the time, short though it be, during
which we can still be together and I can attend to your
comfort——"

"Yes, aunt; but the retrenchments you have gradually been
making lately in consequence of the unfortunate turn in my
affairs must cease.  I will not have you standing for hours
upon the cold stone floor of a kitchen.  You must send for
our old cook to-day, if you can.  There is no reason why you
should not."  He put his hand into his pocket, drew thence
a heavy purse of gold, and poured out its contents upon the
table.

The old lady clasped her hands in mute surprise at the
golden stream rolling here and there upon her neat table
cloth.

"It is a single fee, aunt," he said, with audible satisfaction;
"our hard times are past."  And, as he spoke, he turned and
went into the corner room.

It was easy to see that his aunt longed to know more; but
she asked no questions as to the cure or the patient whence
came so large a sum of money.

Kitty seized this favourable moment to get down from
the ladder.  How her heart beat, how her cheeks burned, at
having overheard this familiar talk!  The door of the room
led directly into the hall: she could escape unseen; even the
dean's widow might suppose she had left the bedroom long
since, without hearing a word that had been said.  She cast
a stealthy glance through the door of the corner room, where
aunt and nephew were standing by the writing-table.  Just then
she heard the doctor say, "Ah, here are the first spring flowers!
Did you know how fond I am of these little blue blossoms?"

He was interrupted by an exclamation of surprise: "It
was not I, Leo.  Kitty, your young sister-in-law, put those
flowers there.  Indeed, I am absent-minded and forgetful!"  The
old lady hurried into the next room; but Kitty had
already slipped out of the hall door into the open air.

Without, she sauntered calmly and leisurely past the
windows.  Through the first she could faintly descry the gay
flowers upon the still unhung bed-curtain; then came two
windows with pretty net curtains, belonging to the aunt's
sitting-room.  One of them was open, and from it came the
fragrance of hyacinth and narcissus.  Suddenly a man's hand,
strong and shapely, placed among the flower-pots on the
window-sill a milk-white glass filled with blue flowers: it was
her spring bouquet, which the doctor had thus removed from
his writing-table.

She paused, startled by the thought that in her heedlessness
she had placed herself in a false position.  Evidently he
regarded the placing of the flowers on his writing-table as an
officious act on the part of a thoughtless, forward young girl.
With her eyes shining with ill-suppressed tears of indignation,
she extended her hand to the window.  The gesture attracted
the doctor's attention; he looked up.

"Will you be so kind as to hand me out my flowers, Doctor
Bruck? they belong to me; I laid them down for a moment
and forgot them," she said, with difficulty preserving her
self-possession.

For one moment he seemed to be startled by the sound of
the voice so unexpectedly addressing him.  Perhaps he was
annoyed that Kitty had observed him; but, if so, he
instantly suppressed the sensation, and said, kindly, "I will
bring you the flowers."  His deep, quiet voice disarmed her
immediately: he had not meant to wound her.

A moment afterwards he came down the steps.  His figure,
with its broad shoulders and erect carriage, and the fine
bearded face, belonged of right, it seemed, to a soldier, and
should have been clad in uniform, were it only the green coat
of a forester, He handed the glass to the young girl, with a
courteous inclination.

She took out the flowers.  "They are the first little
determined things that were in a great hurry to get out into the
sharp April air," she said, with a smile.  "They need to be
searched for, but, when found, are worth a whole hot-house
full of plants."  He certainly could not suppose now that she
had so far presumed upon their future relationship as to
ornament his writing-table.

His aunt appeared at the open window, and begged the
young girl to repeat her visit frequently.

"Fräulein Kitty is going back to Dresden in a few weeks,"
the doctor answered instantly in Kitty's stead.

She was startled.  Was he afraid lest she should enlighten
the unsuspicious old lady as to his strange relations with his
betrothed?  The idea troubled her, but chiefly because of
the sorrow which she saw he must lock up within his own
breast.  And she could not reassure him.

"I shall stay longer, Herr Doctor," she rejoined, gravely.
"It may be that my stay in Moritz's house will be prolonged
for months.  You, as Henriette's physician, can best say how
many may pass before I can leave my invalid sister without
anxiety and return to my foster-parents."

"You propose to devote yourself to Henriette?"

"Of course," she replied.  "It is a great pity that hitherto
she has been left entirely to the care of strangers.  The poor
child passes nights of suffering entirely alone, rather than
summon attendants whose sleepy, sullen faces irritate her
diseased, sensitive nerves; and, besides, her pride rebels against
any confession of dependence upon her inferiors.  This must
not be so any longer.  I shall stay with her."

"You do not know the task you would undertake: Henriette
is very ill,"—he passed his hands slowly over his forehead,
so that his eyes were hidden for a moment,—"there will be
many a long weary hour to live through."

"I know it," she said, softly.  "But I have courage——"

"That I do not doubt," he interrupted her.  "I have perfect
faith in your patience as well as in your compassion; but
no one can tell how long it may be before the invalid——will
need no further care.  And therefore I cannot advise
your undertaking the case so positively; you could not endure
the physical strain."

"I?"  Involuntarily she held out her arms and looked
down at them with a proud smile.  "Do not your fears seem
groundless even to yourself, Herr Doctor, when you look at
me?" she asked, gaily.  "I am strong and well: in constitution
like my grandmother Sommer, who was a peasant's—a
woodcutter's—child, running barefoot in the fields and wielding
the axe better than her brothers,—Susie has often told me."

He looked from her towards the open window, where his
aunt, half hidden behind her flowers, was lost in admiration
of the young girl; his face grew dark.

"The question is not one of the force and endurance of
muscles," he said, obviously to end all discussion.  "Such
duties as you propose to fulfil act most disastrously upon the
nervous system.  However," he suddenly interrupted himself,
"it is not my part to influence your resolutions.  That
is your guardian's affair.  Moritz must decide, and will
probably see that you return to your home in Dresden at the
appointed time."  These last words were spoken with a hard
emphasis not at all in accordance with the doctor's usual
gentle composure.

His aunt involuntarily withdrew a step from the window;
Kitty stood still.  "But why are you so decided, Herr
Doctor?  Why do you desire that Moritz should control me
so strictly?" she asked, with great gentleness.  "Am I
desirous of doing any thing wrong?  Ought Moritz to use his
authority to prevent me from fulfilling my sisterly duty?  I
think not.  But there is a way out of the dilemma.  Let
Henriette go with me to Dresden.  There my dear Frau
Doctor will share with me the charge of her, and that will not
harm my nerves."  She smiled slightly.

"Well, I will try so to arrange it," he said, decidedly.

"Then I give you my word to be up and away as soon as
possible," she rejoined, just as decidedly, with a meaning look,
before which his glance fell as though he had been detected
in some injustice.

His aunt suddenly leaned from the window and looked him
wonderingly in the face,—he was so strangely silent.  He
stood plucking some withered vine-leaves from the trellis where
they had lodged in falling from the vine, and did not open
his lips.

"Do you so ardently desire to go?" the old lady asked the
girl, kindly, but with some embarrassment.

Kitty drew her veil, which had fallen upon her neck, over
her head again, and knotted it beneath her chin.  Her face
looked like a fresh peach-blossom amid the folds of lace.
"Ought I to say 'no' for politeness' sake, madame?" she
asked, smiling, in reply.  "I think I have had the best of
training, but nothing will eradicate certain prejudices and
individualities from the hidden corners of my nature.  I feel
just the same repulsion for my sisters' grandmother to-day as
when, years ago, my father used to command me to kiss her
hand; hence I constantly come into collision with all kinds
of irritating causes which do not exist for others, and which
tormented and worried me as a child.  And how chilly it has
grown in my father's house!"—she shivered,—"there is too
much marble beneath my feet; and Moritz has become so
frightfully distinguished,"—two roguish dimples appeared in
her cheeks,—"I am positively startled and mortified at the
sight of my simple undecorated visiting-card.  Yes, dear
madame, I shall be very glad to return to Dresden, provided
Henriette may accompany me; otherwise,"—she turned to the
doctor, and the playfulness of her tone was changed to quiet
resolution,—"otherwise, I shall do my best to conform myself
to my present surroundings, and to remain, even although
Moritz should attempt to force me to return to Dresden."

She bade a kindly farewell to the old lady, courtesied slightly
to the doctor, and left the garden to go to the castle mill,
although twilight was at hand.





.. vspace:: 4

CHAPTER VIII.
=============

It had grown quite dark; seven had struck by the factory
clock, and Kitty was still sitting in the bow-window in the
large room at the castle mill.  At Susie's entreaty, she had
inspected the linen-closet, for the old housekeeper insisted that
the miller's wife was not to be trusted, and that "no one could
keep their hands off beautiful homespun linen."  Then she
had, as usual, prepared Susie's evening broth, and put her to
bed; for, although much better, she was still very weak and
helpless.  But the girl had been sitting a long while in the
recess of the window, her hands gravely folded on her lap,
until the shadows of night wrapped her around.  It was
pleasanter here than at the councillor's, where there was no
cosy talk in the twilight hour as in Dresden.  No sooner had
the sun set than the servants invariably drew the curtains,
the gas was lighted, and its dazzling rays banished the shadows
from every corner.

The muffled tick of the old clock against the wall sounded
like a measured subterranean knocking, and through the thick
green curtain before the glass of the closed door of the recess
the night-lamp at Susie's bedside glowed like the eye of some
gloomy gnome.  What a breathless quiet reigned in the darkness!
How intently, when a child, she had listened in such an
hour for the rustle and tripping tread of the dusty brownies
while Susie told her how the cruel and superstitious lord who
built the mill had buried a new-born babe in its foundations
and had mixed the mortar for them with precious wine!  All
these recollections were but faintly present to her now: her
eyes were fixed upon the southern window, whence a faint
light was still visible in the sky,—upon the spot where the
castle miller had breathed his last; and she was thinking of
the way in which Dr. Bruck had told her of the verdict
passed upon him by the public, and of his self-vindication, to
which she now wondered more than ever that he had condescended.
Why, even should the whole world insist upon it,
she never could believe in a reckless disregard of prudence, an
ignorant, unscientific over-estimate of himself, on the part of
a man who was the personification of integrity and honour.
And the hot blood stirred in her veins, and indignation
possessed her, as she remembered the gross terms in which
Flora this very afternoon had stigmatized Bruck's medical
capacity.  What a riddle Flora, admired and adored as she
was, had become—once an object to the child Kitty of
wondering awe and secret admiration!

Henriette, when alone with her young sister, was careful
never to make the betrothed pair the subject of conversation;
but from casual remarks of hers, Kitty had gathered that Flora
must at first have shown a passionate affection for her lover.

Doctor Bruck, after serving as regimental surgeon during
the Franco-Prussian War, and then remaining for some time
in Berlin as assistant to a distinguished surgeon there, had
returned to M——, principally in compliance with his aunt's
entreaty.  There the favourable reputation that had preceded
him, and his fine person, had soon made him a popular physician
as well as a great social favourite.  It was therefore no
condescension even on the part of the haughty Flora Mangold
to yield him the coveted treasure of her hand.  She had
herself made decided advances to him in persisting in placing
herself under the skilful young doctor's care for a painful
sprained ankle; before the ankle had recovered they were
betrothed, and the lady was much envied.  This was, of
course, why she wished to avoid any sudden breach of the
engagement, and laid perfidious plans for inducing a gradual
termination to it, founded upon mutual decline of affection.

Kitty started up; it was intolerable to her to think that if
she remained she must be a witness of this distressing drama,—must
see the unhappy man, in spite of his strong affection
and efforts to the contrary, thrust forth from the paradise he
had dreamed of.  No; she sided with Moritz and Henriette.
Flora could not and should not break her troth; the whole
family must combine to prevent such wretched treachery.
What folly so blinded her as thus to induce her to destroy
her own happiness!  Had she not seen him in his home with
his loving foster-mother?  Did she not know that the winds
of heaven would never be allowed to visit her too roughly if
she bestowed upon him the happiness he craved?

Kitty started and covered her face with her hands.  It had
grown so dark here, so black was the night, that it seemed
a fitting time for sinful thoughts to creep into an unguarded
soul.  She ran across the room and threw wide the door upon
the stairs; the large lamp was burning in the hall below,
throwing slender rays upwards among the pillars of the gallery,
even to her feet, while from the mill itself, the door of which
opened at that moment, came the noise of loud voices.  Light
and sound instantly dissipated the alluring phantoms that were
crowding into the young girl's mind.  There was the huge
whitewashed hall of the castle mill, and from its wall looked
down in ghostly dimness out of the worm-eaten black frame
the figure, in full armour, of its knightly builder.  In former
days the picture had terrified her; now it seemed to her an
old friend, beckoning her back to reality from a treacherous
dream in which she was playing a false part.

She descended the stairs, and left the mill.  The night
wind of spring refreshed her hot cheeks, and stars filled the
clear sky with glittering arabesques.  Kitty was ashamed of
her idle dreaming; but had it not assailed her like a sudden
vertigo which may suddenly attack even the healthiest and
strongest of human kind?

From a distance she saw through the trees the glimmer of
the lights at the villa; and as she entered the hall-door she
was greeted by the sound of the piano.  It was a magnificent
instrument, but was being shamefully maltreated at present.
This was one of the Frau President's reception evenings,—old
and young came to take tea,—the elders went to the card-tables,
and the young people amused themselves with music
and conversation as best pleased them.

Kitty made a hasty toilette, and entered the drawing-room,—the
large balconied apartment on the ground-floor.  There
were but few guests this evening; only one card-table was in
demand, and the tea-table, usually surrounded by young ladies,
looked lonely and deserted.

Henriette was seated at it, making the tea; again she had
scarlet ribbons in her blonde hair, and a sleeveless jacket of the
same brilliant colour over a light blue silk dress.  Her small,
pallid face looked ghostly in so theatric a costume, but her
beautiful eyes shone with an almost unearthly fire.  "Bruck
has come!" she whispered, breathlessly, into Kitty's ear,
pointing through the adjoining music-room, where the grand piano
was being so punished, towards Flora's study.  "Kitty, he
really seems grown, so tall and majestic——  Good heavens! do
not look 'so sober, steadfast, and demure'!" she hastily
interrupted herself.  She was strangely agitated.  "They are
all so cross to-day; Moritz has had a dispatch which has made
him absent-minded, and grandmamma is dreadfully out of
sorts because her rooms are so empty.  But I am so happy,—so
happy!  Do you know, Kitty, that the day before yesterday,
when I had that attack, I really imagined that Bruck
would see me next as a corpse?  That must not be.  I *will
not* die without him!"

It was the first time she had ever spoken to Kitty of dying;
and it was well that the fingers scrambling hither and thither
over the keys in the music-room seemed just now endowed
with fresh energy, and that three elderly gentlemen, standing
by the chimney-piece, raised their voices in the ardour of their
discussion, for the invalid's last exclamation was loud and
passionately uttered.  Kitty gave her a warning glance, and
the Frau President looked keenly and disapprovingly over her
eye-glass towards the tea-table.  Henriette instantly controlled
herself.  "Nonsense! how can any one object to my saying
so?" she said, lightly shrugging her shoulders.  "No one
likes to die alone.  One has a physician in order that his
presence may inspire with hope even one's last breath."

Kitty understood now perfectly that the sick girl would
never return with her to Dresden.  She declined the cup of
tea which Henriette filled for her with a trembling hand, and
drew a small piece of embroidery from her pocket.

"Oh, let that miserable work alone!" said Henriette,
impatiently.  "Do you suppose I can sit here and watch you
calmly stick in your needle and draw out that tiresome
thread?"  She arose and put her hand within her sister's arm.
"Let us go into the music-room.  Margaret Giese will shatter
the instrument and our nerves at the same time if we do not
put an end to this torment."

They went into the adjoining drawing-room, but the lady
at the piano, lost in her own harmonies, remained undisturbed.
The folding-doors leading into Flora's study were,
as was usual when the reception was small, wide open,
allowing a full view of the interior.  Its subdued light made
it seem almost gloomy in contrast with the other brilliantly
lighted apartments, and the dark crimson of its hangings
deepened to black in remote corners.

Flora was standing by the writing-table, her hands nervously
clasped before her, while the councillor leaned back
comfortably in an arm-chair, and Doctor Bruck stood looking
through a new pamphlet.  He was unusually pale; the light
falling from the lamp above him brought out two dark wrinkles
in his forehead and a deep shadow beneath his eyes, but his
expressive head, nevertheless, looked very young in comparison
with that of his future bride.

Henriette entered composedly; the lovers were not alone;
but Kitty, whom she drew with her, paused upon the threshold,
repelled by Flora's air, which was impatient, almost angry.
She was evidently in an ill humour.  She surveyed with a
sarcastic glance her sister's dress, for Kitty had laid aside this
evening, for the first time, her deep mourning, and wore light
gray.

"Come in, Kitty," she exclaimed, without changing her
attitude.  "In stiff silk, I see, as usual, just like a paper
angel, and enough to make the strongest of us nervous with
the perpetual rustle.  Tell me, for heaven's sake, why you
always wear these frightfully heavy silks?  Scarcely the thing,
I should say, for your cooking cares in Dresden."

"Oh, 'tis a weakness of mine, Flora," Kitty answered, with
a smile.  "Childish enough, no doubt; but I like to hear an
attendant rustle of silk,—it sounds majestic.  In the midst of
my 'cooking cares' I do not wear it, of course."

"Why, how proudly she admits the 'cooking cares'!  You
foolish child!  I should like to see you in a linen apron among
your pots and pans!  Well, every one to his liking; I beg to
be excused."  Her large gray eyes slowly turned towards the
doctor, who was just quietly closing his book.

Kitty felt Henriette's little hand clench as it lay within
her arm.  "Nonsense, Flora!" she said, in apparent amusement.
"Five months ago you often paid a visit yourself to
Christel's kitchen.  Whether you were of any use there I
cannot say; but the good intention, as well as your pretty
muslin apron, became you admirably."

Flora bit her lip.  "You make a good story of it, Henriette;
you never were able to understand that jest or to take
it for what it was,—a mere whim."  She folded her arms, and,
drooping her head as in thought, slowly walked towards the
window.  She looked very beautiful in her white cashmere
dress, with its soft, sweeping train.

The councillor sprang from his arm-chair.  "Come, Floss,
will you not go into the drawing-room with me now?" he
asked.  "It is very empty, for a good reason,—the prince
holds a diplomatic audience to-night," he added, by way of
silencing his own discontent; "but we must do something to
put a little life into it, or we shall have grandmamma out of
sorts for a day or two."

"I excused myself to her for half an hour, Moritz," she
said, impatiently.  "I must finish the article I have on hand
to-night.  The manuscript would have been ready now if
Bruck had not interrupted me."

The doctor approached her writing-table.  "Is there such
haste?  And why?" he asked, not without a touch of
merriment in his face and voice.

"Why, my friend?  Because I wish to keep my word,"
she replied, tartly.  "Ah, that amuses you!  It is, to be
sure, only a woman's work, and you cannot, of course,
comprehend how there can be any hurry about such a trifle."

"These are assuredly not my views with regard to women's
work in general."

"In general!" she repeated, with a hard laugh.  "Oh, yes,
the general world-wide idea,—cooking—sewing—knitting!"  She
counted them off upon her fingers.

"You did not let me finish, Flora," he said, quietly.  "I
had reference to mental as well as to physical labour.  I am
much interested in the woman question, and desire nothing
more, in common with all thoughtful men, than that woman
should be an intelligent assistant and co-worker with man in
the department of the intellect."

"Assistant?  How very kind!  We want no such kindness,
my friend; we want more: we would be the equal of
man,—equal in our privileges as in all else."

He shrugged his shoulders and smiled.  The mingled
expression of merry scorn and indulgent gentleness became his
fine face wonderfully well.  "This is indeed the extreme of
these claims.  It has been abandoned long since by the most
intelligent, and will be warmly opposed by all friends of reform
in church and state so long as woman shows herself liable to
such excesses as we have witnessed in the 'praying bands' of
some of the American cities, and in their unscrupulous
adherence here in Europe to the dark host of monkish
confessors.  To do otherwise would be to place the murderous
knife in a small and inconsiderate hand."

Flora grew very pale, but said not a word in reply.  She
took up a new steel pen with apparent indifference and fitted
it into a holder.  Then she drew a casket towards her, and,
with a hand that trembled slightly, took from it a small
object.

Henriette withdrew her hand from her sister's arm and
made one step forward, while the councillor left the room
hurriedly, as if to fulfil some suddenly-remembered duty.
Kitty was troubled.  She saw the trembling taper fingers
take up a penknife and cut off the tip of the cigar which had
just been selected from the box.

"Such a knife as this, not for us to use in this way," Flora
said, with forced gaiety, over her shoulder to the doctor,
who had paced the room once or twice while speaking.
"Strangely enough, however, the feminine brain, although
weighing four ounces less than that of the lord of creation,
shares with it this peculiarity: it thinks more vividly and
works more easily while smoking."  She lighted the cigar and
put it between her lips, smiling nervously.

The performer upon the piano in the next room had finished
her fantasia, and now appeared upon the threshold.  "What,
Flora! smoking?  Why, you never could endure the smell
of a cigar!" she cried, laughingly, clapping her hands.

"Fräulein Mangold is jesting," Doctor Bruck said, with
perfect composure, as he walked to the writing-table, "and
will be quite satisfied with trying it once only.  Another
attempt might cost her too dear."

"Do you forbid it, Bruck?" she asked, coldly, a baleful fire
glowing in her eyes.  She had taken the cigar from her mouth
for a moment, and held it delicately between her fingers.

It was what the doctor had evidently expected.  Without
haste, with imperturbable equanimity, he took the cigar from
her hand, and threw it into the fire.  "Forbid it as your
lover?" he asked, with a shrug.  "My rights, as yet, do not
extend so far.  I might entreat you, but I dislike repetition
and useless words; and you know perfectly how I detest a
cigar in a woman's mouth.  In this instance I forbid it simply
as your physician.  Your lungs are not strong enough."

Flora stood for an instant confounded by this cool
assurance; and his last words evidently impressed her, but she
controlled herself.  "A terrible diagnosis indeed, Bruck," she
said, with a scornful smile.  "And the Councillor von Bär,
who has attended me from my infancy, never said a word of
it.  Tales to frighten children!  Besides, I have no reason for
so loving my life that I should deny myself an enjoyment to
preserve it.  On the contrary, I shall continue to smoke; in
my intellectual vocation I need it, and this vocation is my
delight, my moral support,—in it I live and breathe——"

"Until a certain inevitable crisis arrives to reveal to you
your true vocation," the doctor interrupted her.  His voice
sounded hard as steel.

A burning blush crimsoned her cheek.  She opened her
lips for an angry reply, but her glance fell upon Fräulein von
Giese, the piano-player, the sarcastic maid of honour, who was
still standing in the door-way, her head and shoulders bent
forward, as if eager to catch every word of this interesting
dispute, that from it and from the embarrassed faces of the
bystanders she might extract material for a charming dish of
court scandal.  This was certainly to be avoided.  Flora turned
away with a graceful pout.  "Nonsense, Bruck!" she
exclaimed.  "How prosaic!  You have just returned from a
pleasure-trip, and have been amusing yourself——"

She stopped.  Bruck laid his hand on hers with a firm
pressure.  "Will you have the kindness to leave my vocation
out of the question, Flora?" he asked, emphasizing his words
strongly.

"I was speaking of pleasure," she said, pertly, withdrawing
her hand from his.

The Frau President's face, with its expression of cold
dignity, was never a welcome sight to Kitty, and when unexpectedly
seen, inspired her usually with a kind of shy terror; but
now it was a positive relief when the old lady suddenly entered
the room.  She came in with unusual haste, and evidently in
ill humour.  "I shall have to order my card-tables to be placed
here in future, if I would not have my friends neglected," she
said, in an irritated tone.  "How came you to leave the tea-table
so early, Henriette?  I shall be obliged to place my maid there.
And, Flora, I cannot understand your withdrawing to your
study when we have guests.  If your publisher is really so
impatient that you must work in the evenings, pray close your
door, if you would avoid the appearance of ostentation and
a desire to be thought a blue-stocking!"  She must have been
much vexed, to speak thus in the presence of the maid of
honour.

Flora placed her manuscript before her, and dipped her pen
in the ink.  "Decide upon that as you please, grandmamma,"
she said, coldly.  "I cannot prevent people from coming to
me here, and I should have sacrificed myself long ago, and
been seated at one of your green-covered tables, if I had not
been interrupted."

Henriette stepped past her grandmother, and privately
signalled to Kitty to follow her.  "These exciting scenes kill
me," she whispered, as they entered the empty music-room.

"Be tranquil.  Flora's struggles are vain; he will yet bring
her to his feet," Kitty rejoined, in a strange, agitated tone.
"But I cannot understand him.  Were I such a man——"  Her
eyes flashed, and she held herself proudly erect.

"Do you know what it is to love, Kitty?  Judge not!  You,
with your cool glance and blooming cheeks, have no conception
of the mad intoxication which can take possession of a
human soul."  She paused, and drew a long and labouring
breath.  "You do not know how enchanting and seductive
Flora can be if she chooses.  You know her only in her
present mood,—cowardly, egotistical, pitiless.  Once see her
display affection, and you will understand how a man must
prefer death to surrendering his right to her."





.. vspace:: 4

CHAPTER IX.
===========

She went into the drawing-room to resume her neglected
duties at the tea-table; but Kitty remained standing by the
piano, turning over some music.  Henriette's last words had
moved her deeply.  Could a despised love be so absorbing
that for its sake a man would gladly die?  Could it have
such power over a man like Doctor Bruck?

He was just leaving Flora's room; the Frau President at
the same moment rustled through the music-room,—two
elderly ladies had just arrived, and she was hastening to receive
them.  The study-door remained open; the unfinished article
was surely in process of completion, for nothing stirred there,
even after Fräulein von Giese seated herself at the piano again
and ran her fingers over the keys.

Kitty glanced towards the doctor, who had entered the
drawing-room.  He went to the tea-table to talk with Henriette,
but one of the newly-arrived ladies detained him in conversation.
His air was courteous and composed, but Kitty had
seen his eyes flash and his cheek crimson at Flora's malicious
words, and even now the colour in his face was deeper than
usual,—he was by no means so calm and cheerful as he seemed.
His beautiful adversary in the study was scarcely more
composed; after about five minutes she pushed back her chair,
with audible impatience, and came into the music-room.

"Well, Flora, have you finished already?" the maid of
honour asked, as she went on striking thirds in quick
succession on the keys.

"Nonsense! do you suppose an effective conclusion runs
off your pen's point as quickly as that?  I am not in the
humour, and I will not write unless I am.  The calling of
authoress is too sacred."

Fräulein von Giese's eyes had a malicious twinkle in
them,—their expression was never quite honest.  "I am very
curious to know what the critics will say of your great work
upon 'Woman;' you have talked so much of it, Flora.  Has
the publisher accepted it?"

Flora had noted the glance.  "Ah, how you dear creatures
would rejoice if it were a failure!  But that pleasure must
be denied you, as I am assured by—well, by my little finger."  She
laughed a low, self-satisfied laugh, shook the light curls
from her brow, and prepared to enter the drawing-room with
the regal air she knew so well how to adopt.

"My dear, you stand there with those notes in your hand
as if you, too, wished to besiege our ears," she said to Kitty,
in passing, with a meaning glance towards the diligent
performer at the piano.  "Do you sing?"  Kitty shook her
head.  "It would be an inheritance from the Sommers; our
family have no voices for singing."

"Yes, Flora, Kitty plays on the piano," the councillor
replied from the doorway, where he was standing with
several gentlemen.  "I know that from the bills I have received
from Dresden.  A great deal of money, Kitty,—I meant to
tell you that you employ very dear teachers."

The young girl laughed.  "The best, Moritz.  We are
practical people in Dresden.  The best is the cheapest."

"Well, I have no objection.  Have you really any talent?"
he asked, dubiously.  "A gift for music is not a Mangold
characteristic."

"I have a great love for it, at all events," she replied,
simply, "and a delight in composing melodies."

Flora, who was just upon the threshold of the drawing-room,
turned in surprise.  "Nonsense, Kitty!" she said,
hastily.  "Compose melodies!  You look like it, with those
red cheeks and your prosaic training.  Quite natural that a
polka or a waltz should sometimes flit through the brain of
any one who is fond of dancing——"

"And I am passionately fond of dancing, Flora," Kitty
interrupted her, frankly.

"I thought so.  Scarcely compatible, though, with profound
originality in creation.  You have probably taken lessons in
composition?"

"For the last three years."

Flora clasped her hands and came back into the
music-room.  "Your Lukas"—she always called the former
governess thus by her maiden name—"must be insane, to throw
money away in that fashion."

It was very quiet in the adjoining drawing-room.  The
three old gentlemen by the fire, and the lady who had been
speaking with the doctor, had just seated themselves at a
card-table; Doctor Bruck was talking in a low tone to
Henriette; and Fräulein von Giese paused for a moment to listen;
every one in the drawing-room could hear this tolerably loud
conversation.

Henriette sprang up and came into the music-room.  "You
can play, Kitty," she said, surprised, "and have never touched
the keys since you came?"

"The piano is so near to Flora's study, I could not
presume to interrupt her work by my playing," the young girl
answered, naturally and simply.  "I have longed—I do not
deny that my fingers have fairly burned to try this instrument,
for it is magnificent, and my cottage piano in Dresden is not
worth much.  It was not new when we bought it, five years
ago.  My Frau Doctor wished to ask for a new one long ago,
but I opposed it.  I did not wish you to estimate my musical
powers by such a demand.  But after my glimpse of a certain
safe to-day, I am wonderfully bold: I want just such an
instrument as this."

"It costs a thousand thalers!—a thousand thalers for a
girl's whim.  It requires consideration, Kitty."

"Who in this house plays upon your instrument?" she
now asked, in a hard tone, with flashing eyes.  She was
evidently deeply wounded.  "To whose quiet enjoyment does it
minister?  It is here only for your guests.  Must money
never be spent except to make a show?"

The councillor approached her and took her hand; he had
never before seen the girlish face go informed with energy
and self-assertion.  "Do not agitate yourself, my dear child,"
he said, gently.  "Have I ever been a hard or grudging
guardian to you?  Go play us something to prove that
music is really dear to your heart,—I ask nothing more,—and
you shall have any instrument you desire."

"I do not like to play, after what has passed," she said,
frankly, as she withdrew her hand from his.  "I do not wish
to buy my piano by playing for it; and who can tell what
can convince you that my music is dear to my heart?  But
I will get my notes, for I detest being urged to play."

"Why get any notes?  Play one of your own compositions,"
said Flora, only half suppressing a sneer.

"I do not know even those by heart," Kitty answered, as
she left the room.

She returned in a few moments with a sheet of music.  As
she seated herself upon the piano-stool, which Fräulein von
Giese readily vacated for her, Flora took up the notes she
had placed on the music-desk, and asked, pointing to the
title-page, "Who is the composer?"

"Why, did you not ask me to play something of my own?"

"Certainly; but you have made a mistake: this is printed
music——"

"True: it is printed."

"Heavens! how did that happen?" Flora asked, hastily,
surprised out of her usual self-possession.

"How does it happen, Floss, that your productions are
printed?" Kitty asked, in jest, as she placed her beautiful
slender hands upon the keys.  "I will tell you how I was so
honoured," she added, soothingly.  Flora had evidently taken
her reply very much amiss, for she had drawn herself up with
an offended air.  "My teachers had this fantasia printed
privately, to give me a pleasant surprise upon my birthday."

"Ah, indeed! that I can understand," Flora said, putting
the notes back upon the desk.

Henriette, who had meanwhile been standing behind Kitty,
pointed over her shoulder to the title-page.  "Do not let her
impose upon you, Flora!" she exclaimed, with a laugh.  "Look
there!—Schott & Sons,—that firm would hardly lend itself to
a birthday jest.  Kitty, tell the truth," she begged, with
beaming eyes.  "Your compositions are popular,—there is a
sale for them?"

The young girl assented with a blush.  "But it is true,
also, that I knew nothing of my first appearance in public.
I found my first printed opus upon my table with my birthday
presents," she said, as she began to play.

It was a very simple melody that now fell upon the listeners'
ears; but after the first few notes the players at the card-tables
dropped their cards, so liquid and pure were the tones that
filled the air, so touchingly were they rendered.  The young
composer sat there, her eyes earnestly riveted upon the notes,
so calm and quiet that one could see the jet cross upon her
breast rise and fall with each breath.  Here was no brilliant
execution, no crash of chords,—one hardly asked what style
of performance it was,—there was no thought of the
performance, any more than of the shape of a singer's mouth when
an enchanting song is issuing from it; and when the melody
ceased with a few low notes, breathed as it were from the
instrument, there was a moment of breathless silence, as if
all feared that any noise might scare the fleeting spirit of
music.  Then the drawing-room awoke to life.  The gentlemen
cried, "Brava!" "Charmante!" "Superbe!" and the
ladies lamented that Herr Mangold was not alive to hear it.
They were astonished and touched, and—took up their cards
again.

"You must give me that charming fantasia, Fräulein Mangold:
I will play it to the princess," said the maid of honour,
with an air of patronage.

"And you shall have the finest 'concert grand' that can
be found, Kitty!" the councillor added, with enthusiasm.

But Henriette caressingly laid her pale cheek against her
sister's, and whispered, with tears in her eyes, "You gifted
darling!"

At the first notes, Flora had retreated as if frightened away
from the piano.  She paced slowly to and fro in the red room,
at each entrancing turn of the melody casting a half-scared
glance at the performer, and, when the last tones died away,
the restless white figure was no longer to be seen: it had
probably withdrawn to the recess of a window.

"Ah, Flora seems to take it amiss that she is no longer the
sole celebrity in the Mangold family," Fräulein von Giese
whispered, maliciously, half to herself and half to the
councillor.

The councillor smiled,—he always smiled when any one from
the court addressed him,—but he forbore to reply.

"I am greatly provoked with your Frau Doctor for never
telling us of your musical talent," he said to Kitty, who was
just leaving the piano.

She laughed.  "There is very little said about it at home,"
she replied, quietly.  "The Frau Doctor is seldom profuse in
words of praise; she knows how much I have to learn."

"Nonsense!  That is Spartan training——"

"Or the most refined cunning in producing a grand final
effect," interposed Flora, who now made her appearance.  She
looked flushed with fever.  "You cannot mislead me, Kitty,
with this modest self-depreciation, making so light of your
talent that during the five days you have been here you have
never betrayed your knowledge even of the notes of music.
It is treating me—treating us all—deceitfully, unfairly."  Her
fine sonorous voice was thick with rising anger.

"That may well be your mode of judging, Flora," Henriette
indignantly exclaimed.  "You who are never weary of
vaunting your literary efforts, and already base your
pretensions in society upon a reputation yet to be acquired——"

"Henriette, your tea-table requires your attention," the
Frau President called, in a sharp stern tone,—the talk in the
music-room was growing too loud,—and Henriette sullenly
returned to her charge.

"You are mistaken, Flora, if you think I undervalue my
talent," Kitty said, gently, while her haughty sister bit her
lip and followed Henriette's retreating figure with angry eyes.
"To do so would be untrue to myself, and most ungrateful,
for it gives me hours of delicious enjoyment.  Accident alone
has prevented my speaking of my music since my arrival, for
indeed it is the cause of my coming here a month earlier than
was proposed.  My teacher of composition was obliged to
leave Dresden for a month, and because my waiting would
have cost me two months of instruction, I hastily made up
my mind to leave the city when he did so."

As Kitty finished speaking, Fräulein von Giese went into
the drawing-room, evidently with great reluctance,—these
explanations were so very entertaining; but her father, an aged
and pensioned colonel, had arrived.  The councillor followed her.

Flora again approached the piano, and took the sheet of
music from the desk.  Kitty saw her breast heave and her
hand tremble with nervous agitation, and bitterly repented her
thoughtless introduction of her little work.

"I suppose you have had all sorts of flattering things said
to you about this?" Flora said, striking the title-page with the
back of her hand, as she eagerly watched the lips opening in
reply.

"By whom?" Kitty rejoined.  "My teachers are quite as
chary of praise as my Frau Doctor, and no one else knows of
my authorship; you see, there is no composer's name there."

"But the thing finds a ready sale?"

Kitty was silent.

"Tell the truth.  Has it passed through more than one
edition?"

"Yes."

Flora threw the music upon the piano.  "Fame comes in
sleep to such a bread-and-butter miss as this, with her round
red cheeks and phlegmatic nature, while others struggle
laboriously up each round of the ladder; they almost die in the
agonizing strife before they are even heard of."  She folded
her arms and paced to and fro.

"But what does it really matter?" she suddenly said, pausing
as if relieved.  "The most brilliant rocket vanishes and leaves
not a trace in the air, while the fiery heart of Vesuvius throbs
and glows,—the world knows of its burning core, and exults
or trembles when the flames leap forth.  Be it so.  There
are now two of the Mangold family to step forth into the
arena.  We shall see, Kitty, which of us will have the more
brilliant career."

"Not I, you may rely upon it," Kitty replied, gaily, stroking
back a rebellious curl from her brow.  "I shall take good care
not to enter the arena.  Do not imagine that I do not care
for results.  It is an indescribable pleasure to know that one
can sway and touch the souls of men, and I would not resign
such knowledge for the wealth of the world.  But to live for
that and that alone?  No; I see too much of the happiness
of home, the delights of mutual sympathy in aim and labour.
Of what use were fame to me if it left me lonely?"

"Aha! there we have the root of the matter, the quintessence
of your whole homely training.  You will attain the
same end for which your Fräulein Lukas strove, and which
she has attained,—you will marry."  And a hard laugh
accompanied the sneer.

The exquisite colour in the young girl's cheeks suddenly
flushed her forehead to the roots of her hair, and even her
snowy throat was crimsoned for an instant.  "You sneer
and laugh as if it had never occurred to you to do the same,"
she said indignantly, involuntarily lowering her voice; "and
yet——"

Flora hastily extended her hand, as if to bar further
utterance from the lovely lips.  "Not another word, pray!" she
exclaimed, authoritatively.  Again she folded her arms and
slowly inclined her head in assent.  "Yes, my very wise young
sister, I certainly was so weak and blind for a moment as to
allow myself to be caught in a net; but, thank God! my head
is free again, and is clear and strong enough to win back my
liberty."

"And have you no conscience then, Flora?"

"A very sensitive conscience, my dear; it tells me that it
would be most culpable frivolity to throw myself away.  You
remember your Bible well enough to know that we are each
and all answerable for the employment of our talent.  Look
at me, and ask yourself if it is my rô1e to play the Frau
Doctor and devote my time to housekeeping.  And for
whom?"  She nodded her head towards the drawing-room,
where the conversation was just then rather lively: old Colonel
von Giese's arrival had inspired the guests with some animation.
Doctor Bruck, however, was sitting alone by the tea-table,
looking over a newspaper,—he was apparently absorbed
by it, and had hardly looked up upon Henriette's return to
his side.

"Do you see any of the gentlemen talking with him?"
Flora asked, in a suppressed tone.  "He is ostracized, and
with justice.  He has deceived me and the world.  His
brilliant reputation was the merest tinsel."

She broke off, and retired to her room, obviously to avoid
the talkative old colonel, who now entered the music-room
with his daughter and the councillor to beg for an introduction
to Kitty.  At his request, the young girl seated herself again
at the instrument and played.  Strange!  As she lifted her
eyes from the notes, she found her brother-in law watching
her with an intense and indescribable expression, not at all
like the brotherly air with which he gave her, as a child, a
box of bonbons, or with which he had but yesterday brought
her a bouquet from town.  She willingly resigned her hand
to him when he took it in conversation, and often permitted
him to stroke her hair caressingly from her brow,—he did it
much as her father had been used to do it; and now, when
she had finished playing, and amid the enthusiastic applause
that followed, he came hastily to her side and laid his hand
upon her shoulder.

"Kitty, what a change is this!" he whispered, bending
over her.  "It is Clotilde, your sister, but infinitely more
beautiful, more richly gifted!"

She put up her hand to remove his from her shoulder; but
Moritz possessed himself of it, and held it as if in a life-long
grasp.  For the others it was only a pretty, innocent picture:
the guardian was proudly caressing his ward,—the child entrusted
to his care by his father-in-law.  Henriette's pale face
alone flushed crimson; she smiled oddly.  Doctor Bruck,
standing beside her, looked at his watch, then quietly gave
Henriette his hand, and took advantage of the general
commotion to withdraw unobserved.





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CHAPTER X.
==========

A week had passed since the last reception-evening:
"a terribly fatiguing week!" the Frau President sighed, in
a tone of exhaustion, which did not, however, prevent her
from immediately afterwards finding a great deal of fault
with her modiste for not arranging with sufficient taste the
toilette in which she was to appear on the eighth of these
fatiguing evenings.  The train was not long enough; the lace
not broad enough; and the silk not so heavy as was desirable.
There had been several large festivities in aristocratic
circles, and, in addition, Flora had been requested to compose
and recite verses at some tableaux vivants arranged at a small
fête at court.  "There was hardly time to breathe."

Henriette, in consequence of her invalid condition, could
take no part in these exciting entertainments, and Kitty
remained at home with her, although she was always included
in the invitations to the family.  They drank tea alone
together in the music-room, and Kitty was unwearied in her
efforts to dissipate Henriette's melancholy, by lively talk, and
music.  Keen as was the invalid's power of discrimination,
impressed as she was by the superficiality and unreality of a
life given up to society, she was, and always must be, a child
of the world of fashion; she had grown up in the drawing-room
of her aristocratic grandmother, and often, when the
sound of rolling carriages bound for ball or opera was heard
in the distance, she would smile bitterly, and liken herself
to a broken-down war-horse, weak and lame, who nevertheless
at the blast of the trumpet pricks his ears and longs for
the strife.

Lovely as a fairy, Flora would glide through the
music-room before her departure.  There was almost always a
frown upon her brow and a sneer upon her lip at sight
of her grandmother's youthful toilette; she would lament
the loss of precious time as, throwing a lace veil over her
flower-wreathed curls and gathering up her train, she passed
on to the carriage which was to bear the "victim to the
sacrifice."

The councillor had been absent in Berlin, attending to
business affairs, for six days.  He wrote every day to the Frau
President, and seemed "intoxicated with money-making," she
remarked, with a significant smile.  Four days after his
departure, however, there arrived from him for his sisters-in-law
three magnificent bouquets, at which the Frau President
did not smile.  The gallant brother-in-law had ordered
camellias and violets for Flora and Henriette, whilst Kitty's
bouquet was composed almost entirely of myrtle and
orange-blossoms.  This tender message from a distance might have
escaped the Frau President's observation; she took the
flowers from the box in which they were packed, and was
about to send up to Henriette's room those destined for the
two girls, when Flora, with a laugh, called her attention to
the expressive arrangement of Kitty's flowers.  The old
lady's face lengthened as she looked.  "But, grandmamma,
did you really suppose that Moritz would purchase rank at
such an immense price and then allow his race to die out?"
Flora exclaimed, in her arrogant, frivolous manner.  "You
ought to have known that such a man as he—still young and
rich and handsome—would not remain a widower all his life.
And he will not woo Kitty in vain,—I am well assured of that."

After this a shadow haunted Villa Baumgarten.  Kitty
never suspected its presence; she sprinkled her flowers, all
attached to wires as they were, with fresh water, to keep
them as long as possible from fading, and never noticed their
sentimental signification.  Nevertheless, the gray, menacing
phantom glided hither and thither through the Frau President's
rooms; its presence dimmed the splendour of the costly
satin furniture, the beauty of the bronzes, and the priceless
porcelain; it occupied the Frau President's own favourite
seat in the conservatory, and embittered her enjoyment of
existence.  The old lady was as anxious as to her future as
if but half of her life lay behind her.  The councillor should
not marry again: so much at least he owed to her.  She had
made him what he was, by her aristocratic connections, her
social influence; her incomparable taste had transformed his
home into a palace, that impressed even the spoiled habitués of
the court.  Had she not sacrificed herself most decidedly in
first consenting to take charge of his comparatively simple
bourgeois household?  And now, when everything was at last
arranged precisely as she liked it,—when her efforts had been
crowned with success,—a youthful Frau von Römer was to
arise to take the lead in these splendid apartments, and those
who asked to see the Frau President Urach would be shown
up-stairs to some retired rooms appropriated to her use.  Why,
she would not have liked to see even Flora, her own daughter's
child, in this position, much less the grandchild of the
castle miller!  The Frau President immediately manifested a
deep interest in Kitty's Dresden home; she expressed great
regret that so wonderful a musical talent should lie fallow
for four long weeks, and even spoke of accompanying Kitty
to Dresden in her own august person.

The young girl received this access of courtesy and interest
in silence.  She still hoped that Henriette might be induced
by Doctor Bruck to visit Dresden.  Hitherto he had made
no attempt to do so, apparently for fear lest the invalid's
irritability might be aroused in opposition; for just now she
was irritable and excitable to the utmost.  His visits were
paid every morning at the same hour.  The boudoirs of the
two younger sisters were adjoining, and the door between
them was almost always open.  Kitty could hear his soothing
tones, his gentle voice, and now and then a laugh so merry
that the invalid could not but join in it.  His ringing,
musical laugh had a peculiar charm for Kitty: it seemed to
come directly from a heart the youthful freshness of which
was yet undimmed; it was a proof to her that he felt his
future secure, that he was not in reality affected by the
thousand trials which at present assailed him.

She herself seldom spoke with him.  Sitting at her work-table
in her room, she could see him walk to and fro at times;
but, inseparable though the sisters usually were, Henriette
always withdrew to her own room shortly before the time for
his visit, and Kitty took care never to thwart her evident
wish by taking part in the conversation either by word or by
look.

She frequently saw the dean's widow, however, in the
castle mill.  The old lady paid Susie a daily visit, now that
she lived so near, carrying her strengthening soups and jellies,
and spending hours in cheering the poor old housekeeper, who
was much depressed at being still unable to scrub or spin or
even knit.

Those were happy twilight-hours in the old room at the
mill.  The widow would relate stories of her youth, when
she had been the pastor's wife in her happy village home.
She told of the sad, tearful time when she took her dear Leo,
the doctor, then a boy only eight years old, from his home,
where his parents had died within a few weeks of each other;
and whatever else she talked of or dwelt upon, she was sure
to return to the theme of which she never tired,—her delight
in this nephew, who was, as she said, the very sunshine of
her life.

Kitty used to accompany the old lady on her way home
along the river-bank as far as the bridge across the stream.
The little, wrinkled hand lay confidingly upon the girl's arm,
and the two walked along as if they belonged to each other,
and must together cross the bridge and enter the "Doctor's
house" in its peaceful retirement among the trees in the
twilight.  The evenings were still cold, and from the dark
forest the floating mists would moisten both hair and
dress.  The friendly roof and smoking chimney were very
attractive.  The lamp was usually shining brightly through
the windows of the corner room, clearly illuminating the
bridge.  The old lady could not have missed her way even on
a dark night.  She would enter; the window-shutters would
be closed; and there, in the cosy corner by the stove,—Kitty
could see it all in her mind's eye,—where the faded
green rug lay and the high-backed arm-chair stood, would be
arranged the table for the pleasant evening meal, and his aunt
would sit knitting until the doctor had finished his writing.

She had described it all often to Kitty as they walked
along together, and she liked to pause for a moment upon
the bridge and contemplate her pleasant home, pointing to
her darling's head, with its dark curls, bending over his
writing-table.  He would suddenly spring up and open the
window when the new watch-dog barked and rattled his
chain at the sound of approaching footsteps.  "Is that you,
aunt?" the doctor would call from the window, and at his
call Kitty would withdraw from the circle of light thrown by
the lamp.  With a hasty "good-night," she would run along
the lonely avenue: she could not help feeling thrust out in
the cold.  And would not he at some future day, if he
persisted in forcing Flora to be his, experience the same
sensation when he went from the house here by the stream to his
home in town and met but a cold greeting from his wife, or
found her just arrayed for some evening entertainment?

On the seventh day after the councillor's departure, news
arrived from Berlin that the factory was sold.  The Frau
President was so much pleased by the intelligence that she
mounted the stairs in her dressing-gown and came into
Henriette's room with the open letter in her hand.  Flora
happened to be already there.

The old lady seated herself in an arm-chair and imparted
her news.  "Thank Heaven, Moritz has done with it!" she
said, in the best of humours.  "He has made an excellent
bargain; he himself is amazed at the price paid him."  She
folded her delicate hands upon the table before her and looked
perfectly satisfied.  "He can now break entirely with every
connection with trade.  There will be no more, I trust, of
those dreadful 'business friends.'  Only think how we have
been forced to endure men at dinner whose proper place
was in the servants' hall!  Heavens! what moments of painful
embarrassment I have had!  Yes, yes; there has been much
to be borne in silence."

Meanwhile, Kitty was standing at the window, whence she
had a full view of the huge factory, with its still unfinished
additions.  The gravelled square in front of the building was
swarming at present with people,—men, women, and children
in a state of evident excitement,—gesticulating violently.
The looms were deserted: there was not a workman occupied
inside the factory.

The young girl pointed this out to her companions.

"I know it," the Frau President said, smiling, as she arose
and came to the window.  "The coachman told me awhile
ago that they were in a very agitated state over there,—quite
beside themselves,—because the factory has been sold to a
joint-stock company, principally, they say, under the
management of Jews.  Yes, yes, they are now reaping what they
have sown.  Moritz would never have made such a sudden
tabula rasa,—he clung to the factory in a manner to me
perfectly incomprehensible,—but these last outrages have
disgusted him: he does not want to have anything more to do
with it."

"It looks very much as if our excellent Moritz were afraid,"
Flora remarked, with a contemptuous curl of her lip.  "I,
for my part, would not have parted with the factory at
present for millions.  Those scoundrels should first have been
taught that they are beneath notice, that we laugh at their
threats.  I fairly burn with indignation at the thought that
they may suppose their menacing letters to me have
frightened us!"

"Make yourself easy, Flora.  No one will suspect you.
You have only to be seen to be recognized as an impersonation
of daring and courage," Henriette said, with a sneer.

Her beautiful sister silently moved towards the door,
ignoring the invalid's remarks with her usual cold smile, and
her grandmother arose to go to dress for dinner.

"Bruck ordered you to take a short walk to-day, Henriette,
did he not?" the old lady asked, as she was leaving
the room.

"He wishes me to spend half an hour in the pine forest,
bordering the town, for the sake of the resinous air."

"I will go with you," said Flora.  "I also need air, air
to prevent me from suffocating beneath the burden of
annoyances which fate imposes upon me."

She offered the Frau President her arm, and they left the
room together.

Henriette stamped her foot angrily; she could have cried
for vexation, but she could not prevent her beautiful sister
from presenting herself in the afternoon in a white felt hat,
fan in hand, ready to accompany her upon her woodland walk.

It was a glorious April day: the blue skies were cloudless,
the glistening sunshine was bright on forest and fell, and the
balmy air was fragrant with the odour of the first violets.
The strip of forest which bordered, as it were, the dark
mantle of pines was still light, light as if the dome of dark
green had been removed from its shady aisles.  The wealth
of leaves that would shortly overpower each knotty bough
and transform it to youth and beauty still lay compressed,
a soft down, in millions of brown buds; the underbrush
alone showed a pale, misty green, and from the damp moss
the snow-drops hung upon long, slender stems.  Kitty strayed
aside, plucking these flowers, while Flora and Henriette walked
on in the narrow path leading to the pines.

It was not quiet here to-day: it was the day upon which
the poor of the town were allowed to gather fagots.  There
was the noise of the cracking of dry wood and of loud
human voices, and in among the thickest bushes Kitty
suddenly came upon a swarthy woman who was just tearing
down a branch as thick as her arm that had been sawed from
the parent stem.  Irritated, perhaps, by being detected
carrying off green instead of dead wood, perhaps by the sudden
appearance of the commanding figure, the woman cast from
beneath the purple kerchief she had tied over her head a
savage glance at the intruder, and by the manner in which,
standing erect, she trailed the bough to and fro upon the
ground, seemed to challenge expostulation.

Kitty was not in the least afraid: she stooped to pluck a
tuft of anemones from beneath a bush, when suddenly she
heard a cry from the path,—a faint scream, followed by a
tumult of voices in an under-tone.

The woman listened, tossed aside the bough, and dashed
through the underbrush in the direction of the noise.  Again
the scream was heard: it was Henriette's thin, feeble voice.
Kitty followed close upon the woman's heels; the thorns tore
her dress, and the bushes which her forerunner parted with a
strong arm flew back into her face, but she quickly emerged
upon the path.

At first she saw only a knot of women and ragged lads
gathered about the trunk of a pine-tree; but through the
openings made here and there by the gesticulations of the
throng Flora's white hat and blue feather could be seen
behind the mass of bristly heads and dirty kerchiefs.

"Let the dwarf go, Fritz!" exclaimed a huge woman.

"But she screams like a fool!" said a boy's voice.

"What of that? not a soul can hear her little pipe."  The
woman had a broad snub-nose and small, wicked eyes, and
towered like a giantess above all the rest.

Flora now spoke,—Kitty scarcely recognized her voice.

She was answered by a burst of contemptuous laughter.

"Get out of the way?" the tall woman repeated.  "This
wood belongs to the town, Fräulein; the poorest has just as
good a right here as the richest.  I should like to see any
one drive me away!"  She planted herself in the path more
broadly than before.  "Come, look, all of ye!  Such as we
don't often have a chance to see that face, except in a grand
coach, with the horses tearing around the corners and trying
to drive over poor people.  You are a beauty, Fräulein: your
worst enemy can't deny that.  All real,—nothing laid on,—a
skin like silk and velvet,—good enough to eat."  She thrust
her face close under the white hat.

The woman who had run before Kitty pushed herself into
the circle.  "Here comes another!" she cried, pointing back
towards the young girl.

Those nearest her involuntarily turned to look, leaving an
opening in their midst.  There stood Flora, her lips and
cheeks white as snow, evidently hardly able to stand, in vain
attempting to retain her haughty carriage.

"We don't care for her!" a boy cried out, and the circle
closed again more densely than before.

"Kitty!"  Henriette's voice was heard in helpless terror
from behind the living wall; but the cry was instantly
smothered, evidently by a hand laid upon her mouth.  In
an instant three or four of the boys were thrust staggering
aside, and even the gigantic woman yielded to Kitty's strong
arm as she made her way to her sisters and placed herself in
front of them.  "What do you want?" she asked, in a loud,
firm voice.

For one moment the assailants were dismayed; but only for
one moment.  This was but a girl, and of what avail could
she be to help?  They closed around her with loud bursts of
laughter.

"Body and bones o' me! she asks her questions like a
judge on the bench!" cried the giantess, putting her arms
akimbo on her broad hips.

"Yes, and looks as proud as if she were come direct from
the three kings of Cologne," added the woman with the purple
kerchief on her head.  "Hark ye! your grandmother belonged
to my village; never when I knew her did she have shoe or
stocking to her foot; and I remember very well, too, when your
grandfather fed and drove old miller Klaus's horses——"

"Do you suppose I do not know it, or that I am ashamed
of it?" Kitty interrupted her, calmly and coldly, although her
stern face had grown very pale.

"What need?—you have his money,—heaps of money!"
cried a third, pressing close to the young girl and snatching
at the skirt of her dress, which she rubbed in her grimy
fingers.  "A fine gown this!—a holiday gown!—and worn,
too, o' week-days, and in the woods, where the thorns might
tear it to shreds!  No matter for that,—there's money enough:
they found basketfuls of it when the old man died.  But no
one asks where it came from.  It's all the same to you,
Fräulein, if the castle miller did buy away the grain from poor
people who needed it, and lock it up in his granaries, and
then declare he would not sell a shovelful of it until the
price had risen to what he wanted,—no, not although the
people squeaked like starving mice——"

"Lies!" exclaimed Kitty, exasperated.

"Lies, indeed?  And is it a lie, too, that we are given up
to usurers now, who will take our last potato from us?  'Tis
shameful!  My daughter shall drown herself sooner than
work for those skinflints!"

"And my brother will shoot them dead if they show their
faces here!" bragged a half-grown boy.

"Yes, like the dwarf's doves," said another, with a
grimace, pointing to Henriette, who was clinging to Kitty, half
wild with terror.

Suddenly the bark of a dog was heard near at hand.  In
an instant Flora stood erect, and all the haughty arrogance
of her nature mirrored itself in her face.  "What have I
to do with the sale of the factory?" she asked, scornfully.
"Settle that with the councillor.  He will know how to
answer you.  And now begone, all of you!  You shall suffer
for your insolence, rely upon it!"

She extended her hand with a lordly air; but the tall woman
seized it as if it had been offered for a friendly grasp, shook it
with well-feigned cordiality, and burst into a noisy laugh, in
which the others joined uproariously.  "Oh, Fräulein, have
you grown so brave all of a sudden because"—and she pointed
with her thumb over her shoulder—"a dog barked over there?
That is Hans Sonnemann's terrier: I know his voice well.  He
will not stir from his master, who is stone-deaf.  They are
going to the tavern together, as they do every afternoon.
Make yourself easy,—they'll not come near here.  And you
have nothing to do, my fine Fräulein, with the sale of the
factory, eh?  You'll find no one to believe that.  They need
only look at you to see which way the wind blows.  You and
the old madame rule the roost; the councillor must obey, and,
now that he is rich enough, shake himself clear of all the
common people who have earned him his money.  No, we
can't help it, but we can thank you for it, Fräulein."

She drew nearer, and her small, sharp eyes gleamed with a
cat-like cruelty.

Flora, in horror, covered her face with her hands.  "God
of heaven, they will murder us!" she gasped, with white lips.

The whole rabble laughed.

"Not a bit of it, Fräulein," said the woman.  "We're not
such fools.  Where would be the use of putting a rope here?"  And
she passed her hand beneath her chin, with a significant
gesture.  "But you shall have something to remember us by."

Suddenly, Flora, as in obedience to a momentary impulse,
took from her pocket her porte-monnaie, opened it, and
scattered its contents, gold and silver, upon the ground.
Instantly the circle widened, and the foremost boys were about
to scramble for the money.  "Stop that!" yelled the giantess,
pushing them back into a close crowd with her powerful
arms.  "There will be time enough for that afterwards.
Afterwards, Fräulein."  She turned slowly, and with an air
of coarse irony, to the beautiful woman.  "First, a token for
you!"

"Take care how you touch us!" said Kitty.  She perfectly
retained her composure, while her two sisters were nearly
fainting.

"Ah, you!  What business is it of yours?  Why should
I take care?  What signifies a couple of weeks in the
cage?"  She made a scornful gesture.  "'Tis nothing; and the judge
never gives more for—well, for a box on the ear, or a couple
of scars on the face.  And those you shall have, Fräulein, sure
as I stand here!"  And she turned to Flora and elevated her
voice.  "I will paint your snowy skin so that you will
remember me as long as you live.  You shall show as fine a
striped face as any tiger in the menagerie!"

Quick as lightning she lifted her hands to bury her dirty
nails in Flora's cheek; but Kitty was as quick.  She seized
the bony wrists, and with one vigorous thrust sent the huge
woman backwards among the rabble, making a wide breach
in their circle.  An indescribable tumult ensued.  The mob
rushed upon the strong, steadfast girl, who stood full in front
of her sisters, still deadly pale, but undaunted.  Flora had
sunk on the ground and thrown her arms around the trunk
of the pine, pressing her menaced face against the bark.
Her white hat had fallen off, and was trampled beneath the
feet of the assailants.

"Help! help!" screamed Henriette, with one last superhuman
effort, as the rush was made upon Kitty, whose black
lace mantle was torn to shreds in an instant.  Her hat was
snatched from her head, and the loosened braids of hair fell
down her back, when the boy who had again clapped his hand
upon Henriette's mouth gave a howl of dismay.  "Good
God! what ails her now?" he yelled, and dashed in among
the crowd to escape.

A crimson stream was trickling from the invalid's lips, as,
with failing glances, she clutched wildly at some support,
while all recoiled in horror.  Blood!  In an instant the mob
scattered in every direction.  The bushes snapped and cracked
on all sides, as when a herd of deer break through the
underbrush, and then came a silence so profound that it seemed as
if the rabble rout had sunk into the earth.  Even if here
and there a boy's head emerged from the bushes to peep
greedily at the money scattered about, it did so without noise
and with great caution.

Kitty threw her arms around her sister and sank with her
upon the ground, leaning against the trunk of the pine and
pillowing the invalid's head upon her breast.  In this position
the blood gradually ceased to flow.

"Go for help!" she said, without turning her tearful eyes
from Henriette's death-like face, to Flora, who was gazing
down upon the group, her hands clasped to her bosom in
impatient terror.

"Are you mad?" she exclaimed, in a suppressed tone.
"Would you have me run into the arms of those wretches?
I will not stir from here alone.  We must try to get Henriette
away."

Kitty answered not a word: she saw how vain would be
any appeal to such selfishness.  With Flora's assistance she
got upon her feet, Henriette lying like a child in her arms,
perfectly unconscious, her head resting upon her sister's
shoulder.  Thus she actually glided over the ground, avoiding
even the smallest stones that could jar and thus endanger
her precious burden.  Of course this precaution increased
the difficulty of her task; but she could neither pause nor
draw a long breath.

"Rest as long as you choose when we have reached the
open fields,—but not here, if you would not have me die
of terror," Flora said, authoritatively.  She walked close by
Kitty's side, her head held high with her usual haughty air,
nevertheless keenly scanning each bush on either side of the
path, ready to take to flight at the first suspicious noise.
Where was the courage to which Henriette had ironically
alluded?  Where the self-reliance, the masculine energy, she
had herself so vaunted?  In this terrible hour Kitty could
not but reflect that where a woman ceases to think, to feel,
and to struggle like a woman, her life is a farce, and a farce
only.





.. vspace:: 4

CHAPTER XI.
===========

At last they emerged upon the sunny open fields.  Kitty
leaned for a moment against the trunk of a huge oak-tree,
while Flora walked on a few paces to be entirely free of
the "horrible" forest.  The danger was past: there were
men ploughing within calling distance, the steeples of the
city were in view, and directly in front lay the road leading
to the gates of the park of Villa Baumgarten.

But Kitty's eyes were fixed upon an object which Flora
did not see,—the low roof, with the tall chimneys and gilded
weathercock, that lay so peacefully amid its surrounding
fruit-trees.  She could see distinctly the picket-fence of the
garden,—it was much nearer at hand than the park gates,—and
thither, after a brief rest, she silently directed her steps.

"Where are you going?" cried Flora, who was already on
her way to the park.

"To Doctor Bruck's house," replied the young girl, walking
quietly forward without pausing.  "It is the nearest place
where we can find a bed where Henriette can be laid, and
all necessary assistance.  Perhaps the doctor himself is at
home."

Flora frowned and hesitated; but whether she fancied
herself still followed by the revengeful woman with the long,
bony fingers, or whether she, in the present state of her
toilette and without a hat, feared to encounter pedestrians on
the road to the park, she silently followed Kitty's lead.

Thus they crossed the fields.  The task that Kitty had
undertaken was laborious indeed.  The unfrequented field
was full of holes and very stony; at every false step she
made, her blood fairly curdled with terror lest Henriette
might have a recurrence of the last fearful attack.  Then,
too, the sun, hot as upon a day in August, beat down upon
her unprotected head; now and then the world seemed to
swim in a strange, lurid light around her, and she was in
imminent danger of sinking down with exhaustion.  But at
such moments she riveted her gaze upon the doctor's house;
it came nearer and nearer,—a lovely picture of rural peace
and refreshing repose.  She could now clearly see the order
and care that reigned behind the picket-fence, and in the
midst of her terror and fatigue she was aware of a sensation
of pleasure.  A man in shirt-sleeves was constructing an
arbour, an arbour for the dean's widow: the old lady could
not forget the vine-wreathed arbour in the parsonage garden
of long ago.  Again she would be able to enjoy a seat in the
open air.  How the simple pleasure would delight her!

She herself now descended the stone steps of the front
door in her white cap and apron, bringing to the laborer
some afternoon refreshment.  She stayed for a moment,
apparently talking to the man about his work; it did not
occur to either of them to look abroad over the fields.  Kitty
was just considering whether she should not call to them for
help, when the doctor himself came out of the house.

"Bruck!" Flora called across the field, with all the clear,
silvery strength of her voice.

He paused, gazed for one moment at the advancing group,
and then, tearing open the garden-gate, rushed towards them.
"Good heavens! what has happened?" he cried, as he came up.

"I have been assaulted by a mob of savage Mænads," Flora
answered, with a bitter smile, but with all her old scorn and
proud indifference of manner.  "The wretches meant
mischief; my life was in danger, and this poor creature"—she
pointed to Henriette—"has had a hemorrhage from terror
and agitation."

He only glanced towards her—she was there, safe and
uninjured—as he immediately took Henriette from Kitty's arms.
"You have exerted a superhuman amount of strength," he
said, scanning her face and figure anxiously.  A nervous
tremor possessed her frame, she bit her lip convulsively, and
her cheeks glowed as if the heated blood would burst through
the delicate skin.  And beside her stood Flora, now cool and
quiet, her cheeks flushed, to be sure, but only with the memory
of what had occurred.

"You should not have allowed your sister to bear this
burden alone," the doctor said to her as he carefully carried
the still unconscious Henriette towards the house.

"How can you say so, Bruck!" she exclaimed, with an
injured air.  "Such a reproach from you is very unjust,"
she added, sharply.  "I know my duty, and would have
been only too glad to carry Henriette; but I felt it would
be madness to attempt it with my delicate physical organization,
while Kitty's is one of those sound, robust, Valkyria
natures to whom such a task is a trifle."

He answered not a word, but called to his aunt, who was
hastening towards him, to prepare a bed immediately.  She
hurried back into the house, and when her nephew ascended
thee steps to the hall, she was standing at the open door of a
western room, into which, mutely and with an anxious face,
she motioned him to enter.

It was her guest-chamber,—a tolerably large, sunny
room,—the bare floor worn but white, the walls, once painted
pink, much defaced, and a monster of a stove of black tiles.
The gay chintz curtains before the two windows were perhaps
the only luxury that the dean's widow had allowed herself in
her new home.  At the head of the bed stood an ancient
screen covered with Chinese figures, and upon the walls there
hung in black frames some illustrations, not very artistic, to
be sure, of "Louise," a charming idyl by Vosz.  The air of
the chamber was deliciously fresh and filled with the fragrance
of lavender.

The doctor's face was grave and anxious.  It was long
before his efforts were successful in restoring Henriette to
partial consciousness.  She recognized him at last, but she
was too weak to lift her hand from the bed to extend it to
him.  He sent the man at work in the garden to Villa
Baumgarten at once, to acquaint the Frau President with what had
occurred, and she very soon made her appearance.  Until
her arrival, not a word was spoken in the sick-room.  Flora
stood at one window, gazing out over the fields, and Kitty
sat at the other, her hands clasped in her lap, her eyes riveted
upon the bed, while the dean's widow went and came
noiselessly, fulfilling all her nephew's behests.

The Frau President seemed greatly shocked; she was
startled afresh at the sight of Henriette's waxen face upon
the pillow, and was prepared for the worst when she found
that the sick girl did not open her eyes when she gently
spoke to her.  Henriette had closed them as her grandmother
entered the room.

"Tell me, for Heaven's sake, what has happened!" the
old lady cried, her soft and carefully-modulated voice
sounding almost harsh in the intense quiet that had reigned in the
room.

Then Flora came from the window and told the story.
Indignantly, and with great distinctness, she portrayed the
entire scene in the forest, of course never allowing it to appear
that she had for a moment lost her courage or presence of
mind, although she declared that in the midst of a throng of at
least twenty furies even the strongest nature needed to
summon up all its energy not to succumb to aversion and disgust.

Meanwhile, the Frau President paced the apartment in the
greatest agitation, never heeding that her silken train rustled
over the uneven floor in a way that might be torture to
sensitive nerves.  "What does the philanthropist say to all this?"
she asked, at last, pausing to look at the doctor through her
half-shut eyelids with intense irritation.

He answered not a word.  His whole expression was that
of calm strength as he stood holding Henriette's hand in his,
seeming to have neither eyes nor thought for anything but
the feeble spark of life which each moment threatened to
extinguish.

The old lady again approached the bed, and leaned over
the invalid.

"Herr Doctor," she said, after a momentary hesitation, "the
case seems to me a very serious one.  Shall we not call in my
old experienced friend and physician, the councillor of
medicine, Von Bär, in consultation?  You must not take it amiss."

"Not in the least, Frau President," he said, laying the
sick girl's hand, which just then moved convulsively, gently
upon the bed.  "It is my duty to do everything that can
conduce to your satisfaction."  He then quietly left the room
to send for the required physician.

"Good heavens, what a mistake it was to bring Henriette
here!" the Frau President exclaimed, in an under-tone, as soon
as the door closed after him.

"Kitty is to blame for it," Flora rejoined, crossly.  "It
will be her fault if we are obliged to almost live in this
tumble-down place for weeks to come——"  And she glanced
angrily towards the silent girl at the window.

"And what an oversight to place the poor child so that
every time she opens her eyes she has a full view of that
horrible stove!  And these daubs on the walls!—'tis enough
to frighten her!"  As she spoke, the old lady turned away
from her and examined the bed.  "This seems to be tolerably
comfortable,—the linen, at least, is white and fine; but I will
send over Henriette's silken duvet, with a comfortable
armchair for Doctor von Bär, and, above all, another toilette set.
Stoneware!" she said, contemptuously, as she pushed aside
the basin and pitcher upon the wash-stand to make room for
the painted porcelain shortly to arrive.  "Heavens, how
wretchedly such people live!  And they never feel it——  Do
you wish for anything, my angel?" she interrupted herself,
in a soft voice, as she hurried to the bedside.

Henriette had slowly lifted her head and looked about her
for an instant; she had now sunk back again and closed her
eyes, although her strength had sufficiently returned to enable
her to push away her grandmother's hand as it attempted to
stroke her own.

"Wayward as ever!" sighed the Frau President, as she sat
down beside the bed.

The councillor of medicine was not long in making his
appearance: he came in great consternation.  He needed an
explanation of what had occurred to account for the presence
of his old friend in the house by the river.  He was a
handsome old man, excessively neat in his dress, and with an
arrogant reserve of manner.  He was family physician to the
reigning prince, who had conferred upon him a patent of
nobility in reward of his services, which had also obtained
him quite a number of orders, diamond rings, and gold
snuff-boxes.  His splendid equipage awaited him on the farther
side of the bridge.

"Bad, very bad!" he said, with a critical air, going to the
bedside.  He looked at the patient for a minute, and then
began an examination of her chest.  He did it very
carefully, but the sick girl moaned,—the repeated touch was
evidently painful to her.

Doctor Bruck stood silently beside him with folded arms.
He never moved; but, as Henriette moaned, his brows
contracted: so thorough an examination at this advanced stage
of the disease was entirely unnecessary.  "Shall I give you
my experience of the case, Doctor von Bär?" he asked
quietly, but evidently with the intention of putting a stop to
what gave the patient pain.

The old gentleman glanced towards him.  No one could
confront an enemy with a look of more bitter hatred than
that which gleamed in the sunken eyes of the distinguished
physician.  "Permit me first to investigate matters myself,
Herr Doctor!" he answered, coldly, and continued his
examination.  "Now I am at your service," he said, a few minutes
later, retiring from the bedside, and following the doctor into
his study.

As soon as he had gone, Henriette opened her eyes.  Her
cheeks wore the flush of fever, and, with what was almost
violence, she demanded to see her own physician, Doctor
Bruck.

The Frau President could scarcely repress her annoyance
at such "utter waywardness," but she went, without a word,
to fulfil the invalid's request.  She did not, however, as she
had feared she should, intrude upon a consultation: there had
evidently been none; the councillor of medicine had paid no
heed to the young physician's communications, but had seated
himself at the study-table to write a prescription.

Doctor Bruck instantly left the room, and the Frau President
stayed to hear her old friend's opinion.  He was rather
curt and out of humour, spoke of an entire misconception of
the case, and lamented that the right man was applied to
only in moments of the greatest danger.  The grandmother
should have overcome her grandchild's obstinacy long since,
and consulted the old family physician who had treated her
in her childhood.  In such a case the consideration shown to
Flora's lover was culpable.  "First of all, we must see that
the poor child is transferred as soon as possible, dear madame,
to her own convenient and elegant bedroom," he added.  "She
will be better amid her accustomed surroundings; and then
too I can be sure that my directions will be strictly followed,
which could never be the case here."

He dipped his pen in the ink.  Suddenly his eyes fell upon
a beautiful little open box upon the table in the midst of the
books and writing-materials; it had probably been received
but a few hours previously, for the wrapping-paper still lay
beside it.

Never had the Frau President seen the face of her "cherished
friend" express such blank dismay as at this moment;
the pen fell from his hand.

"Good heavens! that is the order of the royal household
of D——!" he said, tapping the box with a respectful finger.
"How comes it in this house, sent to this obscure address?"

"Strange!" the Frau President murmured, in a startled
tone, her delicate white features flushed with a disagreeable
surprise.  She put up her eyeglass to examine the contents
of the little box.  "I do not know the order, or its
value——"

"No wonder: it is very rarely bestowed," the councillor of
medicine interrupted her.

"Or I might suppose its reception dated from his last
campaign;" she completed her remark.

"No possibility of that!" he ejaculated, harshly,—he must
have been much agitated to adopt such a tone.  "In the first
place, the order is only bestowed as a reward for services
rendered to the royal family; and then I should like to see the
man who could possess such a decoration for more than a year
without the world's knowing it.  If I only knew why,—knew
why!"  He rubbed his forehead absently with a hand
upon which three marks of princely favour glittered in
sparkling diamonds; but of what value were they to him at this
moment?  They were all presents from his own royal family,—not
distinctions awarded by a foreign court.

"This same order is the goal of the hopes of so many,"
he continued; "many a person of distinction has sighed for it
in vain; and here it lies, as if carelessly thrown aside, on this
miserable painted table!—thrown around the neck of a man,
an ignoramus, disgraced by his repeated failures,—pardon me,
dear madame, I cannot help saying so,—thrown around his
neck, I repeat, and no one has an idea of the why or the
wherefore!"

He had arisen, and was pacing to and fro in the room.
The haughty old lady, who so seldom lost her self-possession,
looked at him the while with a strange air of scrutiny.  "I
cannot believe," she observed, in an uncertain tone, "that
the decoration has anything to do with his medical services.
When was he ever at the D—— court?"

The councillor of medicine paused, and laughed aloud: but
it was a forced laugh.  "I must say, madame, such an idea
never entered my head, simply because it is—impossible.
The world must be turned upside down indeed before the
quackery and ignorance of raw tyros can be crowned with
honour, while genuine merit is trampled under-foot.  No, no;
that I cannot believe."  He went to a window and drummed
with his fingers on the glass.  "But who knows what he
may have undertaken to do?  He vanished for eight days,
and no one knew whither," he said, after a short silence, in
an under-tone.  "Hm! who knows anything of his outside
relations?  These schemers, who never speak of their
profession, have good reasons for silence: there is much in their
practice of medicine which no honorable man could
countenance.  Well, I say nothing.  It has never been my way
to lift the veil from the dark designs of others.  We are all
in His hands!"  And he pointed upwards with such well-feigned
reliance upon Heaven that only so intimate a friend
as the Frau President could have failed to be deceived.  He
was always gentle and pious when he imagined himself slighted
or defrauded of his rights.

He sat down at the table again, and wrote his prescription,
but hurriedly, as if the proximity of the fatal box burned his
fingers.  "One thing I pray of your kindness, my dear
friend," he said, as he finished: "try to get to the bottom
of this affair.  I should like to be au fait before Bruck
begins to boast of his ambiguous distinction,—I should like
to have some weapon at hand.  No need to advise you to use
the most refined diplomacy: there you are mistress and at
home."

The old lady did not at once reply: she had watched
him while he had been transcribing on paper the delicate,
mysterious characters, and had admitted to herself that her
old friend had suddenly grown strangely old.  Not that
wrinkles had invaded his still blooming cheeks,—his face
was smooth and plump,—but at this moment, when he was
entirely off his guard, there was in all the lines of his
countenance an indefinable mixture of anxiety, depression, and
peevish discontent; he looked like a man for whom some
secret, disturbing thought ruins the day's enjoyment and the
night's repose.  Now first she remembered that he had of
late occasionally thrown out delicate hints with regard to
the caprice of princes.  Heavens, what if she should lose
this friend!  Not that this thought had reference to his
transfer from this earthly sphere,—she never, if she could
help it, thought of death,—but he might be pensioned off.
He could then stand her in no stead at court, and she dreaded
to think of what this would cost her.  Pshaw! why should
she?  The good old Von Bär was too fond of truffles and
the like good but indigestible things; he loved strong wine
and heavy beer; he was beginning to be hypochondriacal, to
have whims and see phantoms; her refined sensibility was
sure to warn her of the decline of any influence at court, and
she had not as yet detected in that delicate weathercock the
slightest disposition to veer.

"But, my dear friend, how do you know that this decoration
belongs to the doctor?" she asked, with all the assurance
of an experienced woman of the world.  "I cannot believe
that it does, because, with all the will in the world, I cannot
see how it should.  At all events, whatever is the state of the
case, it will do him no good in our capital, where he is, as it
were, dead.  I will willingly investigate the affair, solely for
your satisfaction——"  She stopped; the door of the next
room opened, and the dean's widow entered it to get something
from her closet.

The councillor of medicine arose and gave the prescription
to the Frau President.  Then both passed through the room
where the dean's widow was just closing the closet-door.
Doctor von Bär would gladly have put an end to his anxiety
by provoking an explanation by some facetious remark as he
passed her; but the old lady made him an inclination so cool
and dignified, so full of grave reserve, that he did not venture
to address her.

In the invalid's apartment there was no better chance to
satisfy his mind.  The doctor had brought the glass globe of
gold-fish from his aunt's room, and was busy arranging the
apparatus of a little fountain attached to it; the maid was
bringing fresh water to fill various deep plates on the tables
and a bucket near the sick-bed,—all to moisten as much as
possible the atmosphere of the room.  Who could disturb a
man thus given over to the performance of his duty by
captious remarks with regard to outside affairs?  And, besides,
the councillor of medicine instantly felt relieved upon the
subject.  There must be some hidden and harmless explanation
of the whole matter; for no man who had just been
honoured by so rare a distinction could possibly conduct
himself so quietly and unconsciously as the young physician.

Henriette was sitting propped up with pillows in bed;
fever had set in.  Removal to the villa was out of the
question, however earnestly the Frau President might desire it.
She was obliged to content herself with sending Henriette's
maid to stay through the night, with everything that could
make the sick-chamber "comfortable."  Kitty's entreaty to
be allowed to take charge of her sister during the night was
set aside, not so much by the Frau President and Doctor
von Bär as by Doctor Bruck, who was very decided in the
matter.  Tears rushed to the young girl's eyes as he refused
to yield one jot of his opinion that the maid, acting under
his directions, was all that was required.  Accordingly, it was
arranged that Flora and Kitty should remain until ten o'clock,
and then give place to Nanni.

Flora maintained an impassive silence during this discussion.
She was conscious, as was her grandmother, that she
must not be outdone by Kitty in attention to her own sister
in this illness, which, with the adventure in the wood, was
likely to furnish talk for the capital the next day, and
therefore she was satisfied to abide by the doctor's decision.





.. vspace:: 4

CHAPTER XII.
============

Soon after the departure of the Frau President and her
friend, footmen and house-maids arrived from the villa, bringing
all sorts of cushions, coverings, and furniture, which were
noiselessly transferred to the sick-room.  The simple but cosy
apartment shortly wore the air of an auction-room: an
embroidered screen before the shabby black stove, the gorgeous
toilette set, shining apple-green satin arm-chairs,—how
ridiculously unsuitable, as if blown hither by some unfavourable
wind, they all looked within the faded, defaced walls!

Without a change of countenance, with all her own calm
gentleness of manner, the dean's widow removed her despised
belongings.  Her eyes never once encountered those of the
doctor, who stood, with folded arms, at a window, silently
watching the alterations.  Perhaps the old lady feared he
might detect in her glance some trace of annoyance, and that
must not be.

This invasion of accustomed elegance infused with fresh
energy Flora's hitherto apathetic demeanour; she directed its
arrangement,—put the green silk duvet upon Henriette's bed
with her own hands, and sprinkled a whole bottle of cologne-water
over the bare floor.  Then she had a thick rug laid
by the vacant window, and placed upon it an arm-chair, into
which, as soon as the servants had left, she threw herself,
crossing her little feet upon an embroidered footstool.  It
really looked as if she had fled to an oasis in the surrounding
desert, she so gathered herself together, so coldly scrutinized
everything outside of her carpeted corner.  She had noticed,
in the "ridiculously small" looking-glass enclosed in a brown
frame, that her thin hair was disarranged.  Therefore she
had taken a little white lace fichu from her neck and tied
it loosely over the dishevelled curls: the airy fabric crowned
her charming head like a saintly halo.  The dean's widow
could not help gazing at her; she certainly was a wonderfully
beautiful creature.  For the first time she understood how,
neither in his wild student days, nor upon the battle-field, had
the doctor been able to forget this enchanting being, and her
present strange conduct, her gloomy taciturnity, disappointing
as it was, was but the natural effect of the terrible adventure
of the day.

Meanwhile, the day drew to a close.  The western skies
were aflame, the wreaths of green trailing down from the
hanging-baskets at the windows were tipped with gold, and
the roses on the curtains looked like giant peonies, flooding
the sick-room with fiery splendour.

Henriette lay back among her pillows, with closed eyes.
She had protested against the drawing of the curtains
"because the dull twilight would stifle" her, and she begged
that every one would come in and go out of her room as
usual and speak in ordinary tones,—she could not endure
whispering and "tiptoe tread;" she was even afraid of it: it
made her think that every one thought her dying.  Her wish
was granted.  Without being noisy, all tried to preserve their
usual manner of speaking and stepping.

When the doctor left the room for a few moments to get a
book, the dean's widow entered, bearing a small waiter, and
immediately a delicious fragrance of tea overcame even the
strong odour of cologne water.  The waiter was covered with
a napkin of the finest damask, the cups were of old porcelain,
and the antique silver spoons massive and thick, inherited
through many generations.  The red sunlight illumined and
transfigured the elderly figure that, advancing in spotless
purity of attire, offered some refreshment to the beautiful
woman in the arm-chair by the window.

"Home-made waffles?"  And Flora started up from her
half-reclining posture.  "Oh, yes! even in this corner I
could smell them baking in the kitchen.  How good they
look!"  She clasped her hands as if in naïve admiration.
"Good heavens, one needs to be as entirely unfit for domestic
cares as I am to be as utterly ignorant of how to produce
such a little work of art!  How much patience and how
much time it must take!"

"Time flies so fast that I have learned to accomplish small
tasks quickly," the old lady replied, with a smile, "so as to
have many hours of leisure at my disposal.  My household
cares must not interfere with my intellectual pleasures.  This
last winter I completed the task I had undertaken of reading
the Bible through from beginning to end——"

"For your spiritual welfare?" asked Flora.

"Not at all.  I know by heart all those portions that can
comfort and support me; but the fierce politico-religious
controversy at present raging in the world should interest women
greatly, and, although we may not enter the field, we ought
to range ourselves intelligently beneath some banner, which
we can do only by divesting our minds of prejudices and
superstitions engendered by pulpit and school, and studying
the sacred books themselves."

Flora looked at her in mute astonishment.  Read through
the whole Bible for such a reason!  How intolerably dry and
uninteresting!  Her poetic nature could never have found
patience for such a labour.  Irritated by the discovery of
such unexpected intellectual capacity in the woman whom
she had described as given over to sweeping, baking, and
darning stockings, she entirely forgot the part she herself
hoped to play before the world,—that of an earnest and
profound student.  How had the dean's widow come to know
anything about what was going on in the intellectual world?
Now she knew who had so spoiled the doctor by filling his
imagination with an ideal of a wife who should be housekeeper
and intellectual companion at one and the same time.

Kitty had come forward and taken the waiter from the old
lady.  She marked the amazement painted on her sister's
beautiful face, and, fearing lest she might give utterance to
it in some thoughtless remark, hastened to offer her some tea.

Flora impatiently toyed with her handkerchief, and refused
to take anything, upon the plea that she was "still too much
agitated to taste a morsel," although a few minutes afterward
the young girl saw her take a bonbonnière from her pocket
and refresh herself with its contents; evidently she wished
to avoid accepting any hospitality beneath this roof.  Kitty
perfectly understood that this visit to the old house—this
glimpse of its simple bourgeois interior—had destroyed every
vestige of self-control in Flora's mind; she could easily read
in those large, gray-blue eyes, sparkling with impatience, that
the moment was near at hand when the "yoke must be
thrown off at all hazards."  In her inmost soul the younger
sister breathed a fervent prayer that the blow might not strike
the unhappy man here by his own hearthstone.  Fortunately,
the dean's widow did not observe Flora's conduct.  Never
dreaming of the black, threatening cloud that overshadowed
her peaceful life, she took her waiter from the room after
Kitty had gratefully accepted a cup of tea.

The glowing sunset gradually paled.  The crimson light
faded in the sick-room until it illumined only the beautiful
woman reclining by the window.  Flora sat there like some
evil angel around whom was playing demoniac fire.

The sick girl grew restless.  She plucked at the green silk
coverlet, evidently attempting to throw it off.  "Take it
away! the green is full of arsenic!" she whispered, with all
the hurried vehemence of increasing fever.

Kitty instantly exchanged the silken coverlet for the cool,
white linen counterpane, which she laid smoothly over the
emaciated body of the poor girl whom the mob in the wood
had called "dwarf."  In the glorious eyes there was now not
a ray of consciousness: they rolled wildly hither and thither
beneath the half-closed eyelids.

"That does me good," she said, stretching herself wearily.
"And now do not let them come in again to smother me with
that hot, poisonous silk.  Grandmamma is false, as is all the
society she gathers about her,—she and the old poisoner, the
great authority.  I will strike him if he ever dares to lay his
hateful fingers on my breast!" she muttered, angrily, through
her shut teeth.  Suddenly she sat up in bed and seized
Kitty's hand.  "Mistrust him, Bruck!" she said, holding
up her forefinger; "and grandmamma too!  And she,—you
know who I mean,—the one who smokes cigars, and drives
the new horses furiously because you forbade it,—she is the
falsest of all!"

"Oh, thank you!" Flora said, in an under-tone, with a
malicious smile, as she nestled in among the cushions of her
chair.

Kitty was indescribably distressed as her hand was thus
firmly held.  She never glanced towards the doctor, for
whom the delirious girl mistook her, and who stood at the
head of the bed, half hidden by the Chinese screen.

"Do you remember how it all used to be?" Henriette
continued.  "Do you remember how the footmen used to be sent
after you through wind and storm with letters, four, five a
day?  Do you remember how she used to rush to meet you,
half wild with longing, if you did not come at the appointed
moment?  And how she would throw her arms around you
as if nothing should ever loosen their clasp?"

At this Flora started up, her silken robes rustling, and
her face as crimson as if the lately-vanished western glow had
left its stain on her white cheeks.  "Give her morphia!" she
cried.  "This is madness, rather than the delirium of fever;
she must sleep."

The doctor had just before given the sick girl a teaspoonful
of medicine; he did not notice Flora's words, save by the
slight, fleeting smile with which one receives some ignorant
and foolish suggestion, never even changing his attitude; the
flush called to his cheek by Henriette's last words instantly
faded, leaving him as coldly calm and impassive as before.

Flora sank back angrily in her chair, then turned away her
head and looked restlessly abroad over the darkening fields.

"Did you ever believe that all could be so changed,
Bruck?  That she could declare it had all been a mistake?"
Henriette began again, clasping both her burning hands
around Kitty's right.  The young girl's heart seemed to stop
beating; on those fever-stricken lips were hovering the words
to which no one, not even Flora herself, had yet dared to give
utterance.  Hastily she leaned over her sick sister and
instinctively laid her left hand upon her forehead, as if she
could thus divert her thoughts into another channel.

"Oh, that is cool and kind!" Henriette said, with a sigh.
"But do you remember how Flora used to thrust your hand
away from my aching head?  She was terribly jealous."

A half-suppressed laugh of contempt came from the window.
Henriette did not hear it: she was deaf to the outside
world.

"I cannot sleep, for distress at what must come!" she
moaned, clasping Kitty's hand, locked in her own, passionately
against her poor breast.  "You will avoid us all and
be a miserable man, never even uttering our names.  Ah,
Bruck, what can satisfy her boundless vanity, which she calls
ambition!  She wants to sever the bond between you, cost
what it may."

Involuntarily, Kitty moved her hand as if to lay it upon
the sick girl's lips.  Henriette screamed.  "Not on my
mouth, like that terrible boy in the forest!" she gasped,
turning away.

At this moment Flora stood by the bed and thrust aside
her young sister; her face, her whole attitude, expressed a
sudden determination.  "Let her speak out!" she said,
authoritatively.

"Yes, let me speak out!" Henriette repeated, in a voice
hoarse from exhaustion, but in the tone of a child content
at being indulged.  "Who should tell you, Bruck, except
myself,—myself?  Who else should pray you to be upon
your guard?  Keep your eyes open!  She will fly from you
like the dove from the tree, white coquette that she is; she
wishes to be free——"

"In all her delirium she tells one truth," Flora
interrupted, resolutely advancing a step towards the doctor.
"She is right: I cannot be to you what I promised.  Let
me be free, Bruck!" she added, imploringly, raising her
clasped hands.  For the first time Kitty heard how
indescribably sweet her voice could be.

The decisive words were spoken for which she had planned
and plotted for months.  Kitty had supposed that their first
utterance would annihilate the betrayed lover; but the
lightning produced no visible effect; the man's unshaken
composure was as inexplicable to Kitty as if one apparently
struck by a murderous bullet should walk unharmed out of
the smoke of the explosion.  Grave and silent, he looked
down at the imploring figure; but he was pale, pale as death.
He withheld his hand which she tried to grasp.  "This is
not the place for such an explanation——"

"But it is the moment.  Other lips have spoken what has
hovered upon my own for months, refusing to be clothed in
words——"

"Because it is a notorious breach of faith!"

She bit her lip.  "Your definition is harsh and not correct;
the bond between us was not indissoluble, and I know that
no other image has thrust yours from my heart.  Do not
smile so contemptuously, Bruck!  By heaven, I love no
other man!" she exclaimed, passionately.  "But I will accept
all reproach," she added, more calmly, "sooner than that we
should both be miserable."

"Leave my happiness or misery out of the question.  You
cannot understand the meaning I attach to those words, but
you must admit that they are not to be weighed in the
balance when a man's honour and self-respect are at stake.
And now let me entreat you, for your sick sister's sake, to be
silent for the present."  He turned away and walked to the
nearest window.

She followed him.  "Henriette does not hear," she said.
The sick girl had fallen back exhausted among her pillows,
and was whispering to herself incessantly, like a child telling
itself some story; it was true that she did not hear.  "You
have said nothing decisive," Flora continued, in a tone of
melancholy depression.  "The final word must be spoken.
Why postpone what one quick resolve will accomplish?"  And
as she spoke she turned and twisted the betrothal ring
upon her hand.

Doctor Bruck looked down upon her over his shoulder.
Kitty could not but be struck, as they stood thus, with his
youthful air, which even his manly strength and vigour could
not diminish.  Beneath his moustache the lips showed a
delicate, almost feminine outline, and there was something boyish
in the moulding of the brow about the temples, in the graceful,
easy carriage of the head, and in the quick, melting fire
of the eyes.  Now, however, his glance rested coldly upon the
beautiful woman appealing to him.

"For what do you propose to exchange a life by my side?"
he asked, so suddenly, so sharply, that she started involuntarily.

"Do you need to ask, Bruck?" she exclaimed, stroking
the curls from her forehead and taking a long breath, as if
freed from an intolerable burden.  "Can you not see how
my whole soul is thirsting to embrace an author's profession?
And could I ever succeed there as my gifts, my special
endowments, so imperatively demand that I should, if I took upon
myself the duties of a wife?  Never! never!"

"Strange that this inextinguishable thirst should assail
you for the first time within the last few months, after
you——"

"After I have lived without this fame *twenty-nine* years,"
she completed his sentence with a burning blush.  "Account
for that as you please; call it a result of the feminine nature,
which gropes and errs until it finds the right path——"

"Are you so sure that it is the right path?"

"As sure as that the needle seeks the pole."

He passed her without a word, took the medicine from the
table, and approached the bed.  It was time to administer it
to the patient again, but she had fallen asleep, with Kitty's
hand clasped firmly in both her own.  He seemed to the
young girl to be acting automatically, as if mental agitation
were robbing him of control over his movements.  He never
looked at *her*; it might well humiliate him to have a witness
present during this wretched scene; but had not she, too,
suffered in remaining?  She had several times attempted to
withdraw her hand, that she might flee as far as her feet could
carry her, but at her slightest movement Henriette would
start in uncontrollable terror.

He attempted to feel the sleeping girl's pulse.  Kitty tried
to assist him by placing her left hand beneath Henriette's
wrist; in doing so, her palm for a moment came in contact
with his clasping fingers.  He started, and changed colour so
instantly that she withdrew her hand in terror.  Why was it?
Had what he had just passed through made him so nervous
that any outward contact irritated him?  She glanced aside
at him.  His breast heaved in a long sigh as he turned away
to place the medicine again upon the table.

Meanwhile, Flora had paced the room to and fro in a
state of indescribable agitation and impatience.  Now she
approached the doctor standing by the table.  "It was unwise
to confess my feelings so frankly," she said, with anger
sparkling in her eyes.  His silence and the quiet fulfilment of his
medical duties in the midst of such a conflict had greatly
irritated her.  "You are one of those who despise a woman's
mental power; you belong to the thousands of irreclaimable
egotists who would deny permission to woman to stand upon
her own feet——"

"Most certainly, if she *cannot* stand."

She clenched her small hand upon the table and gazed into
his face for one moment, her lips compressed and white.
"What do you mean by that, Bruck?" she asked, sharply.

He frowned slightly, and a faint crimson tinged his cheek
and forehead; his was evidently one of those sensitive natures
which an interchange of sharp words leading to recrimination
stretches upon the rack.  "I mean," he replied, with equal
firmness, and with well-maintained coolness, "that for this
'standing upon her own feet'—to which woman certainly is
entitled when by so doing she does not interfere with duties that
have a prior claim—that for this 'standing upon her own feet'
a firm, unbending will, an entire eradication of sensitive
feminine vanity, and, above all, genuine talent, are indispensable."

"And you deny me the possession of these latter qualifications?"

"I have read your articles upon the 'Labour Question'
and the 'Emancipation of Woman.'"  His voice, usually so
finely modulated, grew sharp and keen.

Flora started as if threatened with a blow.  "How do you
know that I am the author of the articles you have read?"
she asked, falteringly, but with her eyes intently fixed upon
his face.  "I write under false initials."

"But those initials were well known throughout your large
circle of acquaintance long ago,—before the essays were
published."

She looked confused and ashamed for a moment as she
averted her eyes.  "Well, you have read them," she then
said.  "And what must I think of your never alluding to
these efforts of mine,—your never even mentioning your
disapproval of them?"

"Could I have induced you to lay aside the pen?"

"No, no,—never!"

"That I knew, and therefore intended to say nothing until
I should have the right to do so.  Of course a sensible woman
cleaves to her husband and does not isolate herself in special
interests, even although in common with a keen sense of duty
she possess great gifts, distinguished talent——"

"Which I of course do not," she interrupted him, bitterly.

"No, Flora; you have wit and intelligence, but no originality,"
he replied, gravely, shaking his head and resuming
his usual calm manner of speaking.

For a few seconds she stood petrified by this simple
sentence, evidently the result of entire conviction, and then,
with a half-frantic mixture of affected merriment and
unrepressed anger, she extended her arms.  "Thank God, this
puts an end to all hesitation, all uncertainty!  I should have
been a slave, a poor, down-trodden drudge, from whose soul
the divine spark of poesy would have been torn—to light
with it the kitchen fire."

She spoke too loudly.  The sick girl, who had slumbered
during the exchange of words in an even under-tone, opened
her eyes wide and stared about her.  The doctor hurried to
the bedside; he gave her her medicine and gently laid his
hand upon her forehead.  Beneath his soothing touch the
wild eyes closed again.  Ah, could the poor sufferer have
dreamed what a tempest she had invoked upon this man's
head,—she who had hitherto done everything in her power
to avert such a misfortune!

"I must seriously entreat you not to disturb your sister
further," the doctor said, turning his head towards Flora as
he bent over the bed, his hand still upon Henriette's forehead.

"I really have nothing more to say," Flora rejoined, with
an unsuccessful attempt to smile, as she took her gloves from
her pocket.  "Everything is at an end between us, as, after
your last offensive remarks, you must be perfectly aware.  I
am free——"

"Because I deny your possession of a talent to which you
lay claim?" he asked, controlling his voice by an effort.  And
now his indignation mastered him; he suddenly stood erect
and tall before her.  Everything in his air and bearing that
had bespoken youth and patient gentleness vanished: this
was an angry, indignant man.  "Let me ask you whom I
wooed, the authoress, or Flora Mangold?  As Flora
Mangold, and only as such, you placed your hand in mine,
knowing well that the woman who married me must be my wife,
belonging to me alone, and no flickering will-o'-the-wisp of
society.  You knew this; you took pains to adapt yourself
to my desire,—exaggerated pains, for I never should have
required my wife to devote herself to cooking cares, as your
zeal prompted you to do for a while.  No; she was to be my
intellectual inspiration, my pride, my sympathetic companion,
the light of my household."

He paused for breath, never for an instant averting his
indignant gaze from the beautiful woman, who looked mean
and pitiable enough as she strove in vain to retain her usual
arrogant demeanour and carriage.

"I have followed this change in you, step by step, from
the first wayward frown upon your brow to the words that
left your lips but a moment ago," he began again.  "In the
grasp of your own feminine infirmities,—arrogance, vanity,
and caprice,—you are unutterably weak; and yet you would
play the strong-minded woman, would espouse woman's cause,
arrogating for your sex firmness of purpose, calmness of
judgment, and strength of will that would usurp every manly
prerogative!  What I think of your conduct, what my inmost
conviction is, whether I am to be happy or utterly wretched,
is not the question at present.  We have solemnly plighted
our troth to each other for life—we are bound.  Oh, it has
been often enough said of you that you ensnare and play
with men's hearts at first to make them a public scorn and
mockery in the end!  Mine you shall not thus place in the
pillory, rely upon that!  You are *not* free: I do not release
you.  Perjure yourself if you choose: I shall keep my word!"

"Shame upon you!" she cried, beside herself.  "Would
you drag me to the altar when I tell you that I have long
ceased to love you? that at this moment, standing here, I
can scarcely control my bitter hatred of you?"

At this terrible outbreak Kitty arose; she had succeeded
in gradually withdrawing her hand from Henriette's clasp.
She hurried from the room with averted eyes: she could not
look in the face the man who had just received what must be
his death-blow.





.. vspace:: 4

CHAPTER XIII.
=============

Twilight already reigned in the hall, which looked towards
the north, but in the kitchen the last red gleam from the west
played upon the walls and fell upon the red tiled floor.

The dean's widow stood there by the window, washing the
tea-cups that had been used.  The cook-maid whom she had
been obliged to dismiss was to return on the morrow; she had
been ill, and the chief household duties were therefore still
performed by the old lady.  She nodded kindly to Kitty and
smiled: not the least suspicion of what was going on behind
the opposite broad folding-door disturbed her gentle spirit.
The young girl shivered, and hurried past her into the garden.

It had grown very cool.  A strong breeze came blowing
into her face and over her unprotected shoulders from the
river.  She ran towards it.  Her temperament was sensitive,
prone to emotion; the warm blood of youth circled in her
veins; cheeks, eyes, her whole frame even to her tingling
finger-tips, glowed, aflame with indignant agitation.

It had been terrible, that struggle between two human
souls.  And the guilty one, who alone was to blame for it,
was her sister,—a faithless, frivolous woman, who could
lightly bind the tie that should pledge her to a man for life,
only to sever it at her wayward will, as if it were the merest
summer gossamer floating on the air!  This time, indeed,
Flora had reckoned falsely: where she had expected to tread
beneath her feet a heart subdued to submission by public
condemnation and her own systematic ill treatment, she had
encountered steel.  But what would the firmness and energy
with which he defied her avail him?  He must succumb——

Kitty stepped upon the bridge, and, resting her hands on
the frail balustrade, looked down.  The waters rushed beneath
her feet, struggling against every stone that maintained its
place in the bed of the stream, every root that projected from
the shore, and in the struggle dashing up mimic showers of
spray; but at a little distance the pale crescent moon was
mirrored in its depths as though nothing could ever efface it.
Was love thus steadfast in the human heart?  Could the
fiercest struggles beat around it in vain?  Did it never fade,
although its ideal were shattered?  No; she had just seen
that it did not.

Wondrous indeed must be this passion of love!  Once
already beneath that very roof it had hounded on a human
soul through every stage of misery and despair.  Many years
before, as the dean's widow had related to Kitty on one of
their homeward walks, the lovely young widow of a Baron
von Baumgarten had lived in the house by the river.  Her
husband's heir and successor, the scion of a collateral branch,
a handsome young cavalier, had daily come from his inherited
castle to have one look at the lovely face shrouded in its
widow's weeds.  He might not enter the house, for she
transgressed no bounds that custom had assigned to a young widow.
But he would ride across the narrow bridge on his black steed
and rein in the foaming fiery charger close to the wall of the
house, that he might inhale the air she had breathed and kiss
devotedly her small white hand.  Those who saw him declared
that when her period of mourning was past the beautiful widow
would once more reign as mistress in Castle Baumgarten.

But once he was absent for some months at a foreign court,
and it was rumoured that he would bring home with him a
bride of noble birth.  The fair young widow, when this
rumour reached her ears, only smiled, and watched for him
all the more constantly from her window.  She never credited
such treachery until the sound of trumpets and revelry from
the castle announced the lord's return with his proud, stately
bride, and that a gorgeous banquet had been arranged in
honour of their arrival.

And the next day he rode across the wooden bridge with
his wife, to present her to the fair dame in the house by the
river.  The gay tulips upon her brocade robe glittered in the
distance, upon the fan in her hand a coronet gleamed in
diamonds, and the greyhound that had formerly accompanied
his master ran before her horse, not, as formerly, to hasten to
the window whence a fair hand had fed him with sugar and
bits of bread,—no, it ran along the river-bank to a spot where
it barked and whined piteously.  There upon the water lay
a snow-white garment, tossed to and fro by the waves which
could not float it down the stream, for the long, fair braids
of its owner were entangled among the roots under the riverbank,
and the pale, dead face was held fast, that the false love
might gaze once more into the wide, glazed eyes.

The window whence she had looked so confidently to see
him once more ride across the bridge was the same through
which the doctor's study-lamp threw its nightly beam.  There
she must have stood in her bitter despair, watching the water
hurrying past from the castle resounding with the marriage
revelry, and she had been mastered by a fierce desire to plunge
her fair body beneath the waves, that they might bear her far,
far away from the scene of her past happiness.  And now after
long, long years the same struggle was going on in the same
spot.  No, not the same struggle!  Was he not a man, strong
of soul?  Even should the unhappy woman, who had hidden
all her misery in the grave by one swift plunge, arise from
the water and stretch out her white arms to lure him in, he
would not heed her.  Kitty shuddered.  Had not Henriette
said that whoever had once seen Flora love could understand
that a man would die sooner than resign her?  And was
there now any choice for him, since she had told him that
she hated him?

Kitty ran hastily back into the garden, as if the drowned
woman with the long, fair braids were actually arising by the
dim shore to bar her way.

It was growing dark.  The forest which had been the scene
of the rude attack of the afternoon looked like a black pall
over the low hills, and the ploughed meadow-land lay smooth
and still, giving no token that millions of living germs were
there thrusting forth tiny arms beneath the thin crust, ready
to issue forth into the golden sunlight a waving field of grain.
Upon the roof the weathercock creaked in the moaning
evening wind, which was gradually increasing and would bring
torrents of spring rain during the night.  The boughs of the
silver poplars by the fence tossed to and fro, and the loose
branches in the half-finished arbour cracked beneath its
strong breath.  Those branches were still bare.  When they
were covered with leafy greenery, how would it be with
everything that lay at present unsolved in the dark lap of destiny?
Would the dean's widow ever sit there in the green retreat
she so loved, peaceful and happy as in the little parsonage
garden of long ago?  Never, if her darling were unhappy or
if she lost him.

Kitty timidly turned around the western end of the house.
The softened light of a night-lamp gleamed from the windows
of the sick-room: the struggle was not yet ended.  The
doctor stood by one of the windows, his back turned to the
young girl, his right hand raised as if imposing silence.
What had she just been saying,—that figure in the dim
background, not tall enough to allow more of her to be seen than
the defiant movement of the white lace fichu above the
golden blonde curls on the forehead?  Had she again
impertinently alluded to his profession?

Kitty shivered with nervous agitation, and in her indignation
she half resolved to interfere to recall the faithless woman
to a sense of her duty.  Should she not enter at once, place
herself by his side, and confront her perjured sister with all
the might of her maidenly scorn and anger?  What an idea!
What would he say to such interference on the part of a third
person?  Suppose he should look round at the intruder with
cool surprise, or thrust her aside as he had lately done by
the "determined" little blue flowers—shame and mortification
would annihilate her.

She walked hurriedly on, shivering with cold.  Robust girl
as she was, clear in mind and sound in nerve, she was
suddenly seized with a horror of the solitude about her, of the
pale light of the golden crescent hung in the heavens, of the
monotonous gurgling murmur of the rushing water.  Through
the kitchen window she saw the dean's widow seated by the
shining kitchen lamp, engaged in some household occupation,—a
peaceful contrast to the scene in the sick-room.  Quiet
and soothing as the picture was, in her present feverish state
of mind and body she could not join the tranquil old lady,
whose clear glance would soon have detected her agitation.

The house-door stood open, while the one leading into the
kitchen was closed.  Kitty slipped on tip-toe through the
dark hall and entered the widow's sitting-room.  Here she
would try to become calmer, in this darkening, tranquil spot,
full of the fragrance of flowers and a refreshing warmth.
She seated herself in the arm-chair behind the work-table.
The laurels arched above her, the violets and hyacinths on
the window-sill sent forth a delicious odour, and the canary-bird,
who was just adjusting himself in the gloom for repose,
hopped from perch to perch, with an occasional shrill chirp:
there was some life near her, if only in the breast of a timid
little bird.  But she did not grow calmer.  Through these
rooms the lovely forsaken woman had wandered in her
widow's weeds, and the smiling cherubs still ornamenting the
ceiling had looked down upon her outbreaks of anguish, her
bitter despair.  In vain did Kitty try to banish the phantom,
and the thought that perhaps Bruck, too, might not survive
the pain of separation.  Had not Henriette said so? she had
seen his intense affection in the early days of his betrothal;
she must know how it would be.

The dean's widow entered with the lamp which she placed
every evening upon the doctor's study-table.  She closed the
windows, pulled down the shades, saw that the fire in the
stove burned clear, and then left the room, without having
perceived the young girl in her retreat.  Her gentle step died
away as the door closed, but immediately afterward a manly
tread was heard in the hall, and the doctor came into the
room.

He paused for a moment upon the threshold, and drew a
long breath, passing his hand across his brow; he was as
unconscious as his aunt had been of the presence, behind the
leafy screen at the window, of a human heart throbbing in
mortal agitation.  The girlish figure cowered, breathless,
closer to the window.  Was this a miserable, despairing,
lonely man for evermore?

He hastily traversed this room and his own, and went to
his study-table.  Kitty noiselessly arose.  Standing in the
middle of the room, she could see him in his study where
the light of the lamp clearly illumined his face, which still
showed traces of the passion that had so lately mastered him.
Cheek and brow were crimson, as if he had been walking far
and fast beneath a noonday sun.  He had indeed travelled
a weary road, leading through ruined hopes and illusions
destroyed!  Had he reached the end, the dreary goal where
the lovely Fata Morgana melted away and the terrible
solitude of the future confronted him?

As he stood, he wrote a few lines upon a sheet of paper,
which he then put into an envelope.  He did it hastily, in
evident agitation.  He addressed it as hurriedly.  Whose
name did he write?  Could he think of aught in this hour
save the terrible crisis through which he was passing?  The
letter could be for no one but Flora.  Was it a last farewell,
or the crushing denunciation of a dying man?

And now he poured water into the milk-white glass into
which she had so lately put her wild-flowers, and, opening a
drawer in his table, took from it a tiny vial.  From this,
carefully holding it against the light, he dropped five clear
drops into the glass of water.

The intense emotion which, gradually increasing, had
hitherto seemed to paralyze the young girl as she stood thus
watching the wretched man, now urged her to action.  She
suddenly stood by his side, and, placing one hand upon his
shoulder, with the other seized the glass he was conveying to
his lips, and slowly drew it away.

She could not utter a sound; but all the anguish, the
compassionate pity, that filled her soul shone in the brown eyes
raised to his in a mute entreaty more eloquent than words.
She started back.  Good heavens! what had she done?  She
almost sank on the floor beneath the gaze of astonished inquiry
that she encountered.  Stammering some inarticulate words,
she covered her face with her hands and burst into tears.

He understood it all in a moment.  Placing the fatal glass
upon the table, he took both her hands in his and drew her
towards him.  "Kitty, my dear child," he said, in tremulous
tones, looking into the tearful face which she tried to turn
from him, as she shook her head.  The girl, usually so
self-possessed and strong, looked at this moment what she really
was in years, in experience, and in unspotted purity; her
sensibilities, warm and unhackneyed, had led her on to what now
left her a prey to maidenly confusion.

She gently withdrew her hands, and hurriedly put her
kerchief to her eyes.  "Ah, I have deeply offended you, Doctor
Bruck!" she said, still struggling with her tears.  "You can
never forget my folly.  Good heaven! how could I suppose
that——"  She bit her lip to keep from a fresh outburst of
weeping.  "But do not judge me too harshly," she added,
tremulously.  "What I have endured to-day might well have
confused a far stronger mind than mine."

He scarcely looked at her,—he only glanced at the tender,
quivering mouth, as if he did not wish to show how he was
moved by her self-accusation; but across his face there flitted
the smile which she knew so well.

"You have not offended me," he said, soothingly; "and
how could I dare to sit in judgment on your strength of
mind?  I do not know, I will not attempt to discover, nor
even to dispute, the estimate you must have formed of my
character, my mode of thought, my temperament, to lead you to
such a conclusion.  The error has given me a moment of life
which I shall certainly never forget.  And now calm yourself,
or rather permit me to exercise my office of physician."  He
took up the glass and offered it to her.  "I was not seeking
in this glass the quiet that you feared——"  He stopped, and
there was a moment's pause.  "I had been carried away,
mastered by irritation, passion, and that, too, in a sick-room.
I could not forgive myself, did I not know that I, in common
with the rest of us, have nerves and blood that will not always
yield the mastership to my will.  A few drops of this"—he
pointed to the tiny vial—"will soothe nervous agitation."

She took the glass from his hand and obediently drained
its contents.

"And now let me entreat your forgiveness for the wretched
hour you have so lately passed.  I am responsible for that
miserable scene, for I might have prevented it by a few words
spoken at the right time."  He smiled, so bitterly, so
sarcastically, that it went to the young girl's soul.  "Those few of
my friends who, from pure goodness of heart, have not quite
dropped me, accuse me of a crushing quantity of beggarly
pride, because I am not fond of prating of myself.  This
'beggarly pride' has been a kind of Cassandra-curse to me.
The world takes silence for incapacity, for want of judgment,
and so people see no necessity for imposing moral constraint
upon themselves in their dealings with me.  I see men
professing to be talented and intellectual commit the clumsiest
blunders, and I can predict with mathematical precision their
conduct under certain circumstances—ah, it is too disgusting!"  He
lightly stamped his foot upon the floor, and shook
himself, as if to be rid of some vile reptile.

He was far from self-possessed; the indignant blood was
still in commotion, and the frivolous creature whose wanton
hand had so made discord in this harmonious nature smiled
down from the wall in white Iphigenia robes, her hands
calmly folded, her expression thoughtfully spiritual, almost
holy.  Then she had prized and sought his affection, his
approval; then she had been determined to be the realization
of his ideal, the beneficent fairy of the home of the future
illustrious professor.  She never could have fulfilled this
determination: that home would have been merely the soil in
which her greed of admiration would have flourished.  He
might have had a brilliant salon, but no home; an ambitious
woman of the world to do the honours of his house, but no
true, loving wife, no "sympathetic companion."  He was no
longer blind, and yet he would not release her.  Or was the
link at length broken, now that Flora had flung so boldly in
his teeth her hatred of him?  Kitty did not know what had
occurred after her departure; but, whatever it had been, there
was no longer any reason for her remaining here in his study.

The doctor noticed the dark look she cast at the picture,
and now saw that she was preparing to leave the room.

"Yes, go," he said.  "Henriette's maid has come, and is
already established for the night.  The state of the invalid is
now such as to allow you to return to the villa easy in mind,
to assist the Frau President, according to her desire, at her
tea-table this evening.  I give you my word that you need
feel no anxiety.  I will faithfully watch over your sick sister,"
he repeated, as she tried to protest against being sent away.
"But give me your hand once more!"  He held out his own,
and she quickly and willingly laid hers in it.  "And now,
whatever may be said of me to you to-day, do not let it
influence you to misjudge me.  In a day or two she"—he did not
mention her name, but nodded, with a bitter smile, towards
Flora's picture—"will be of an entirely different mind; it is
this knowledge that makes me firm.  I cannot lay myself
open to the reproach of having taken advantage of a—favourable
moment."

She looked up at him entirely mystified, and he nodded
significantly with a strange air of resignation, as if to say,
"Yes, thus matters stand," but neither of them spoke a word.
"Good-night, good-night," he said, immediately afterwards,
and, with a light pressure, dropped her hand and turned to
his writing-table, while she left the room.  Involuntarily she
looked round as she stood upon the threshold: he was, oddly
enough, raising the empty glass to his lips, but, as he did so,
it fell from his hand and was broken into a hundred
fragments upon the floor.

.. vspace:: 2

In the sick-room she found Flora ready for departure,
looking as if every fibre of her frame were thrilling with
nervous excitement.  "Where have you been, Kitty?" she
said, crossly.  "Grandmamma is waiting for us: it will be
your fault if our tea is flavoured with reproaches."

Kitty did not reply.  She threw over her shoulders the
wrap which the maid had brought her, and went to the bedside.
Henriette was sleeping quietly; the feverish colour was
fading from her cheeks.  The young girl gently breathed kiss
after kiss upon the small transparent hand that lay relaxed
upon the counterpane, and then followed her imperious sister.

In the hall a lamp was burning, and a footman from the
villa stood waiting.  The doctor came from his study at this
moment, and the blush of shame returned to Kitty's cheek
as she saw him hand to the man the note she had supposed
to contain a last farewell to his false love, and which bore the
address of a young physician in town.

Flora swept past him, as if unwilling to interrupt his
instructions to the servant, and vanished in the darkness.  But
Kitty went into the kitchen to take leave of the widow.  The
old lady gravely shook her head when she found that Flora had
actually left the house without even bidding her good-night,
but she said nothing, and followed the doctor into the
sickroom to see the invalid once more before retiring to her own
apartment.

Flora waited just outside of the house until the servant's
footsteps had died away on the other side of the bridge.
The light from the open hall-door feebly illumined her angry
face: it looked as if a curse were hovering upon the parted
lips.  With an air of unspeakable contempt her gaze rested
upon the old house, marking the red tiled floor and bare
walls of the hall, and the entire exterior of the dwelling, as
if to make of the whole a complete picture in her mind.

"Oh, yes; greatly to my taste all this would have been,—a
cottage with the man of my choice!'" she said, with
intense sarcasm, slowly nodding her head: "a husband without
position or influence! a dreary old barn for a home in the
midst of a lonely field! and an isolated existence for the
means of which my own limited income must suffice!  I
have never known before what humiliation was.  To-day, for
the first time, in the midst of those sordid surroundings, I
felt dragged down, as it were, from the pedestal where
spotless descent, easy circumstances, and the possession of
intellectual force have placed me.  God grant that Henriette's
illness may not terminate fatally!  I could not bid her a last
farewell, for this house shall never again see me within its
walls.  Never was woman more shamefully deluded than I
have been; I could rage against myself for having been so
blindly and unsuspectingly lured into such a snare."

She turned and hurried towards the bridge.  The moonlight,
gleaming like a thin silvery veil upon the water, shed
its pale rays upon her; the wind, already rising, fluttered her
dress and, tearing the shiny silken covering from her head,
tossed up the light ringlets in snaky curls above her white
brow.

"He does not release me, in spite of my prayers and struggles,"
she said, pausing in the middle of the bridge, to her
sister, who had followed her, and now would have passed her
without a word.  "You were there; you heard what was
said.  He is acting without honour, without pity, like some
usurer, who has failed to degrade his victim but yet insists
upon the fulfilment of the bargain made between them.  Let
him content himself with the shadow of justice he boasts on
his side.  From this moment I am free!"

With the last words, she drew the betrothal ring from her
finger and hurled it far into the rolling water.

"Flora, what have you done?" Kitty exclaimed, as she
leaned over the railing of the bridge and stretched out her
hand as if to catch the ring ere it fell.  In vain: it had
sunk beneath the stream.  Would the waters bear it away,
or would it fall and lie buried near the house where sorrow
had come with the advent within its walls of faithful, loving
human souls?  The young girl half expected to see the pale,
dead woman who had once found refuge beneath those waves
arise from their glittering depths to bring back the rejected
symbol of fidelity.  With a shudder, she covered her eyes
with her hand.

"You little fool, you look as if I had thrown myself in!"
Flora said, with a cold smile.  "A woman with less force of
character and will might have done so perhaps.  *I* simply
cast from me the last link of a detested chain."  She raised
her hand, and seemed to caress the finger whence the ring
had been drawn.  "It was but a slender circlet of gold,
simple as the man there"—she nodded towards the house—"would
pretend to be with his affectation of Spartan manners,
and yet it weighed upon me like iron.  Let it lie buried and
rust: I begin a new life."

Yes, she had thrown aside the burden,—thrown it aside
"at all hazards," as she herself had said.  The bugbear of a
hated marriage vanished: the sun of fame would rise in its
stead.

Flora hurried on as if the ground were burning beneath
her feet, and Kitty silently followed her.  In her young mind
all was for the moment a wild tempest of confusion and
uncertainty; the sound, healthy judgment she was wont to
bring to bear upon men and things was obscured: she was
tossing, rudderless, between right and wrong, truth and
falsehood.  Did not the beautiful creature beside her—the
personification, as it were, of glaring wrong, arrogance, and cruel
self-will—conduct herself with all the determination and
complacent resolve of one to whom no other course lay open?
Was not Flora trampling beneath her feet her plighted word,
every consideration of truth and honour?

In the vestibule of the villa the servant informed the two
sisters that the Frau President had visitors: two old friends
had come to tea.

"So much the better," Flora said to Kitty.  "I am really
not in the mood to act Scheherazade for grandmamma
to-night.  Madame the general's wife always has her pocket
full of gossip and news from town; so I can be spared."

She went in, as she said, to preside for half an hour at the
tea-table, and then she retired to her room with her
"surcharged heart."  But Kitty excused herself on the plea of a
headache.  It seemed, indeed, as though what she had passed
through were bringing illness to both head and heart.





.. vspace:: 4

CHAPTER XIV.
============

The next morning all were astir at Villa Baumgarten.
Towards midnight a telegraphic despatch had announced the
return of the councillor from Berlin, and an hour later he
had arrived.  He brought with him two business friends,
commercial grandees, who were obliged to continue their
journey in the afternoon, and for whom, to give them an
opportunity of seeing several of their friends in the
neighbouring capital, the councillor, before he slept, arranged a
large breakfast for the next morning,—of course for
gentlemen only.  Cook and housekeeper had their hands full, and
servants ran hither and thither noiselessly.

Kitty passed a sleepless night.  The events of the previous
day, and anxiety on Henriette's account, banished slumber
from her eyelids.  Sitting for hours at her window, she gazed
out over the wind-tossed trees of the park, to distinguish, if
possible, in the waning moonlight and through the falling
rain, a glimpse of the white weathercock on the roof of the
house by the stream; but the low dwelling had vanished, at
it were, and all was quiet there, although Kitty hourly
expected that some messenger sent thence would rouse the
inmates of the villa with evil tidings.

From the other window she had seen the councillor arrive.
In a twinkling, as if sprung from the ground, the villa
servants had ranged themselves about the carriage with their
lanterns; the yellow light illumined the white pillars of the
porch, and sparkled and shone on the silver-mounted harness
and the sleek coats of the horses,—nay, it was even powerful
enough to bring into relief one or two of the marble figures
in the shrubbery on the other side of the drive.  It all looked
most aristocratic.  The councillor of commerce had sprang
lightly from the carriage, in his rich, fur-lined travelling cloak,
every motion of his lithe, youthfully-elastic figure proclaiming
the man of wealth just grown wealthier still,—a gleaming
comet, to whose sparkling track the glittering stream of gold
was magnetically attracted.  He had conducted his guests to
their apartments, leaving the house himself, accompanied by
a couple of lantern-bearing servants, towards two o'clock, to
seek his rooms in the tower.  Then all had gradually grown
quiet in the villa; but the wind, whistling and shrieking
about the house, still drove repose from Kitty's eyes.  At
daybreak, however, she fell asleep, to her great annoyance,
for it made her late: instead of being in the house by the
river at six o'clock, as she had intended, it was nine before
she left the villa.

The morning was clear and beautiful.  The tempest of
wind had moderated to that soft southern breeze that brings
upon its wings the fragrance of the first spring flowers, and
caressingly but persistently seeks to draw the brown veil from
the soft, shy buds.  The birds were twittering upon the roof
of the doctor's house, the boughs of the cherry-trees at one
of its corners were sprinkled with the tender white of the
opening blossoms, and the young grass could no longer hide
from the light in the glorious morning sunshine.  The former
bleaching-ground was covered, as it were, with a misty green
veil.

As Kitty crossed the bridge the waters were flowing clear
and sunlit, almost peacefully, beneath its decaying wooden
arches.  Strange!  The waves that last evening had received
into their depths the rejected ring were far on their way
towards the distant ocean; they alone could tell of the treacherous
white hands that had burst asunder an oppressive chain.

The house by the river was pervaded by what seemed
almost an air of festal solemnity.  The red tiled floor of the
hall was strewn with fine white sand, and there was perceptible
a delicate pastille fragrance; the little table near the
hall-door was covered with a fresh napkin, and upon it stood
an antique clay vase filled with evergreens, snowdrops, and
anemones.  The faithful old cook-maid was once more
installed in her kitchen, with sleeves rolled up and a dazzling
white apron tied around her waist, her round red cheeks
shining with good humour and content.  And why was the
dean's widow thus early in the morning dressed in dark-brown
silk, with a fine old white lace barbe upon her gray hair, and
the same delicate material around her neck and wrists?  Kitty's
heart sank within her.  Was it all in honour of the false love
who was expected to-day to visit her sick sister?

The old lady said not a word with regard to it.  She only
seemed agitated, and in her eyes and in her voice there were
traces of tears.  She greeted Kitty with the joyful intelligence
that the invalid had passed an excellent night, with no
return of the hemorrhage.

In gratitude for this good news Kitty kissed the delicate
hand extended to her, when suddenly the widow, usually so
reserved, clasped her arms about the girlish figure and pressed
her to her heart like a daughter, before leading her into the
sick-room.

Henriette was sitting propped up in bed while her maid
was arranging her abundant hair, the doctor having retired
to take some rest only an hour previously.  The sick girl's
long, thin face, in which the cheek-bones stood out prominently
and the large eyes were encircled by dark rings, looked
almost death-like, and Kitty was shocked at the alteration
produced in it by the last twenty-four hours, although its
expression was much happier.  She could not say enough of
the doctor's kindness and care, nor of how comfortable and
content she felt in the dear old room, which she dreaded to
think of ever leaving.  She begged Kitty to return to the villa
to get a book which she had promised to the widow.  Flora
had borrowed it of her sister and must be asked where it was.
And then she whispered in Kitty's ear that Flora and her
grandmother must not weary her by coming to see her too
often.  She had not the slightest suspicion of the scene that
had been enacted at her bedside on the previous evening, and
that by her means the long-threatened storm had broken forth.

Kitty could hardly bear to meet her eye, and breathed a
sigh of relief when the invalid concluded by begging her to
fetch the book as soon as possible, and to bring her several
articles from her writing-desk, the key of which she handed
to her.

In an hour, therefore, the young girl re-entered the villa.
She was thoroughly possessed by the melancholy impression
made upon her by Henriette's whole appearance,—the waxen
pallor of her face, the sunken features, and the large, brilliant
eyes.  She recoiled as if from a blow when through the open
door of the conservatory she saw the breakfast-table set out
with flowers and silver and every costly delicacy that could
be procured.  A thick Turkish carpet covered the entire
marble floor of the Moorish room.  The feet of the guests
must be made warm enough, and their heads also, to judge by
the flasks of choice wine just arrived from the tower cellar.

Kitty ascended to Henriette's room and collected all the
articles the sick girl had asked for, and then she dutifully
went to bid the Frau President good-morning.  As she
passed along the corridor her light step was unheard in the
hall below by two of the servants, one of whom had just
received a parcel from the letter-carrier.

"Good gracious, here is this parcel back again for the third
time!" he said, fretfully.  "I am tired of the sight of it.  I
shall have to wrap it up again to-morrow and put a fresh
address upon the cover.  Our Fräulein must think we have
precious little to do."  He turned the parcel about
irresolutely.  "The best thing would be to throw it into the
kitchen fire and——"

"What is inside?" asked the other.

"Quantities of paper; and the Fräulein has written upon
it herself, in big, sprawling letters, 'Woman.'  It may be
all very fine——"  He paused, in terror, and put on a
respectful air: Kitty had descended the stairs and passed by
him to the Frau President's apartment.

She was not admitted.  The maid came out and informed
her that her mistress was occupied in receiving an early visit
from one of the ladies of the court.  Therefore Kitty went
to Flora's room to get the book Henriette wished for.  She
felt a repugnance to crossing the threshold, her heart beat
almost audibly from inward agitation, and she was obliged to
admit to herself that with this sister she had not one single
spark of sympathy.  All the indignation which she had so
tried to conquer during the night stirred again within her
and threatened to master her.

Perhaps Flora experienced similar sensations.  She was
standing in the middle of the room, beside a large table
covered with books and pamphlets, and looked up with
flashing eyes at the intruder.  Ah, no; her anger was probably
due to the returned parcel.  There it lay, torn open, and its
beautiful mistress had just scornfully tossed into the
wastepaper basket the letter that had accompanied it.  It was well
that Fräulein von Giese, the malicious maid of honour, was
not looking on.  Flora's "little finger" had apparently made
a small mistake with regard to the destiny of "Woman."

"You have just come from Henriette," Flora said, hastily
covering the rejected manuscript with the blue paper in which
it had been wrapped.  "I hear she is doing very well; I sent
over at eight o'clock to inquire.  Moritz has no consideration;
he sent me a note, written over-night, in consequence of which
I was obliged to rise early to be dressed in time, as he wished
*à tout prix* to present his guests to grandmamma and me
before breakfast.  As if the fate of the world hung upon this
presentation!  Grandmamma will not be greatly edified."

She looked charming.  It has been said that we are all apt
involuntarily to dress in accordance with the mood of the
hour.  If this be true, Flora's awakening must have been
unusually gay and glad, for her whole figure was draped in
the blue of the summer skies.  Even in her light curls there
was a blue ribbon.

The dress harmonized but ill, to be sure, with the
apartment, which looked gloomy and chilly to one entering from
the brilliant sunshine outside, and would have been a more
fitting background for the figure of some pale, worn scholar
than it was for this graceful azure fairy.  Neither did the
bright and yet delicate hue suit the lady's expression of
countenance, which betokened ill humour and a depression
not to be concealed.  Not a word was said of the occurrences
of the previous evening.  Apparently they were buried and
forgotten; even the finger so lately stripped of its ring had
found indemnification for its loss, and sparkled in the
splendour of diamonds.

At Kitty's request, Flora went to a book-shelf and took
from it the wished-for volume.  "Henriette is not going to
read herself?" she asked, over her shoulder.

"Doctor Bruck would hardly allow it; his aunt wishes to
read the book," Kitty replied, coldly, as she took the volume
from her sister.

A sneer hovered upon Flora's lips, and vexation shone in
her eyes.  She evidently regarded this mention of Bruck's
name as great want of tact upon Kitty's part.

Kitty turned to go.  But, as she opened the door, the
councillor made his appearance, in a state of great hurry and
agitation, although he looked quite radiant.

"Stay, Kitty!" he exclaimed, gaily, and stretched out his
arms to bar her way.  "I must convince myself that you are
well and uninjured."  He led her back into the room, closed
the door, and threw his hat upon the table.  "Now tell me, for
heaven's sake, the truth of this harrowing story which Anton
has been narrating to me as I have been dressing!" he went
on.  "My people, foolishly enough, said not one word of it all
to me last night, for fear of spoiling my night's rest.  I have
strictly forbidden any such ill-judged forbearance for the
future."  He ran his hands through his hair.  "I am
outraged!  What will the world think of my want of feeling?
Henriette sick in bed, and a formal breakfast arranged for
this morning!  Tell me the truth of it.  They say you were
attacked by a mob of furies."

"*I* alone was the object of the attack, Moritz," said Flora,
"Henriette and Kitty suffered only because they were with
me.  I cannot help saying that, to my mind, the principal
blame in allowing matters to come to such a point is your
own: you ought to have taken decided measures at the first
hint of discontent among these wretches.  A man of sufficient
force of character is always master of such a situation.  But
your perpetual dread of offending and shocking makes you so
weak——"

"Yes, weak enough with you, and with grandmamma,"
the councillor, pale with vexation, interrupted her.  "You,
especially, never rested until I recalled the promise I had
given my workmen, and so irritated them intensely.  Bruck
is right——"

"I beg you spare me there!" Flora angrily exclaimed.
"If you have no other authority upon whom to rely——"

The councillor approached her and looked into her eyes
with amazement in his own.  "What, Flora, still so hostile?"

"Do you imagine me so deplorably weak that I can assume
and lay aside my views as one puts on and takes off a
garment?" she asked, in reply.

"No, not that; but are you not rash thus to defy our
whole cultivated society?"

"What is society to me?"  She laughed aloud.  "'Our whole
cultivated society!'" she repeated.  "Will you tell me how
you can possibly find any connection between it and your poor
failure of a protégé?"

The councillor shook his head, and took her hand in his;
he was almost speechless with surprise.  "Why, is it—can
it be possible?  Do you not know——"

"Good heavens! what is there to know?" she interrupted
him, with an impatient frown, and a slight stamp of her small
foot.

At this moment the door opened, and the Frau President
entered.  She was simply dressed in violet silk.  It might have
been that the colour made her face look shrunken and sallow,
or perhaps she had had a restless night as the result of her
yesterday's agitation,—she certainly looked haggard and old.

The councillor hurried towards her and kissed her hand
respectfully, reminding her that he had been desirous of paying
his respects to her half an hour before, but had been informed
that she had not yet left her sleeping-apartment, where she
was receiving a visit from Fräulein von Berneck, one of the
court ladies.

"Yes, the good creature came to express her sympathy for
Henriette's illness and the shameful attack made upon Flora,"
she said.  "We shall have a most trying day to-day: the
whole town is ringing with what has occurred, and our friends
are indignant; they will all be here to inquire for us."

She sank wearily into an arm-chair; her voice trembled,
and all the elasticity which usually triumphed so victoriously
over her years seemed gone.  "Fräulein von Berneck had
another reason, and a principal one, be sure, for coming," she
began again.  "I know her well: she is one of those who
long to be the first to tell a piece of good news, and is quite
careless as to whether it may still be a court-secret or not.
She came to tell me privately of the good fortune that has
befallen our family."  She rose and clasped her hands.  "And
yet what a terrible dilemma for me!  I cannot tell absolutely
whether to mourn or to rejoice.  It certainly is most distressing
that at court, where the best example ought to be set, the
old proverbial ingratitude should be shown.  What sacrifices
Bär has made for the royal family!  And suddenly he is set
aside as if the faithful old man were not in existence.  And
so full of vigour as he is, in body and mind,—they are going
to pension him!"

"And this is old Von Berneck's good news?" Flora asked,
indignantly.

"Of course not!" the Frau President replied, emphasizing
her words strongly.  "Flora, the strangest things are
happening every day.  Could you have thought it possible an hour
ago that Bruck should be Hofrath and physician to the royal
household?"

"Nonsensical court gossip!  What will not idle brains
contrive!" laughed Flora.  "Hofrath and court-physician!  And
you listened to such ridiculous stuff, grandmamma, and were
congratulated upon it?"  And she broke again into a ringing
laugh.

"Do you really live so far here from the civilized world
that you read no newspapers?" exclaimed the councillor.
"Do you actually know nothing—positively nothing—of all
that has occurred, and that concerns us so nearly?  Why, I
have returned a day earlier on this very account.  I could
not rest for joy.  All the papers are full of the wonderful
skill Bruck has shown in L——g: it is the topic of the day
in Berlin society.  The Crown-Prince of R——, who is studying
in L——g, had a fall from his horse, and his head was so
seriously and dangerously injured that no surgeon could be
found willing to undertake the only operation that could save
his life: even the famous Professor H—— refused to operate.
But he remembered that Bruck had treated successfully a
similar case in his last campaign, to every one's astonishment.
So he instantly summoned him by telegraph——"

"And you imagine this to have been *your* Bruck, your
protégé?" Flora interrupted him.  She tried to smile, but
her ashy lips, as well as her whole pale, mocking face, seemed
paralyzed to marble.

"It certainly was *my* Bruck, as I am proud to call him,"
the councillor replied, with evident satisfaction.  He was
rejoiced indeed at this fortunate turn of affairs.  True, he had
long ceased to have any scruples with regard to his silence in
a certain matter; the manner of the miller's death no longer
troubled his repose,—for he was a genuine child of the times,
an egotist, who, when the choice was to be made between
"another" and "self," was never for a moment in doubt that
"self" was to be preferred.  "And, besides this, a pamphlet
he has just published has made an immense sensation in
medical circles," he continued.  "They say he has made a
surgical discovery of great importance to the profession.  Oh,
there is no denying it,—a brilliant career awaits Bruck."

"Impossible!" Flora said, in a strangely altered tone.  She
looked like a player who stakes his last guinea upon one card.
"I am not to be imposed upon!  Either there is some mistake
here as to the name, or—the whole story is a fabrication."

At this obstinate and unjustifiable incredulity the councillor
fairly forgot the courteous forbearance and self-control he
was wont to exercise in his intercourse with the ladies of his
household.  He stamped his foot angrily and turned away.

The Frau President stood by the table, her white, wrinkled
fingers playing nervously upon its surface, her eyes fixed
anxiously upon her grandchild.  She entirely understood
what she must feel upon hearing thus extolled the man whom
she had so shamefully depreciated and slandered.  It was a
lamentable defeat; but these were moments in which a true
woman of the world was bound to assert her supremacy.

"You cannot help yourself, Flora," she said, calmly; "you
will have to believe it at last.  For my part, strange as it
is, I doubt no longer.  The Duke of D—— is uncle on the
mother's side to the crown-prince; of course he is rejoiced
at his nephew's recovery, for yesterday evening I saw the
order of the D—— royal household lying upon Bruck's
writing-table."

"And you tell me this *now* for the first time, grandmamma?"
Flora almost screamed.  "Why was I not told
yesterday?  Why have you kept it from me?"

"Kept it from you?" the Frau President repeated, so
indignantly that her head shook with the tremulousness that
frequently attacks the old when angry.  "What impertinence!
What, I should like to know, could induce me to keep such a
matter to myself, except the fact that during the last few
months you have resented the mention of Bruck's name in
your presence?  I have certainly avoided it——"

"Because my views on the subject were quite in accordance
with your own, chère grand'mère."

"Not at all; but because my whole soul revolts at outbursts
of passion.  You have been his bitterest opponent; you have
judged him more harshly than the severest of his colleagues:
the slightest attempt to excuse him always provoked a scene.
Poor Henriette and Moritz can tell a tale upon that subject.
And have you not this very moment shown how any favourable
intelligence with regard to him is received by you?"  She
must have been agitated indeed so far to forget her
almost invariable rule of silence upon disagreeable topics as
thus to pass in review before others Flora's misconduct.

Flora was silent.  She stood at the window, her back
turned to the rest, but her gasping breath showed the
struggle through which she was passing.

"And, besides, tell me when I could have told you," the
Frau President continued.  "Hardly yesterday, when you
scarcely showed yourself in the drawing-room, after you came
home, to say 'good-evening' either to me or to my guests.
Neither was there any time to tell you while we were never
alone at the doctor's, when the meagre comforts of his home
had put you into such an ill humour."

"They were a source of annoyance to you, my dear grandmother,
you will please to remember.  You are mistaken as
regards myself."

Kitty opened wide her honest brown eyes at this audacious
denial; the anathema hurled yesterday against the "dreary
old barn" still rang in her ears.

"There is no reasoning with you.  I know you well.  With
all your boasted love of honesty and straightforwardness,
you are ready to hide behind a falsehood as soon as it suits
you to do so!" the Frau President, by this time thoroughly
angry, declared, and, as she moved her hand upon the table,
she pushed aside the bundle of manuscript lying there.  The
cover again fell off, revealing the "big, sprawling letters" of
the title.

"Ah, is this here again upon its zigzag journey through
the world?" she asked, pointing to the papers.  Her tone
showed how malicious she, the advocate of moderation in
all things, could be.  "I should think you might at last
allow it its natural rest in the waste-paper basket.  This
perpetual offering of it for publication, with the consequent
repeated rejection of it by the publishers, is, since you are so
nearly connected with me, becoming unendurable.  I should
like to know how you would bear it if one of us should even
hint a doubt of your 'great intellectual capacity;' and yet it
comes to you from others every four or five weeks, put down
in black and white——"

"Do not chafe yourself needlessly, grandmamma.  You, as
well as certain other people, may easily be mistaken," Flora
interrupted her, glancing the while angrily towards her young
sister.  Had not the chit heard a like unfavourable judgment
passed upon her mental powers on the previous day?  "You
are out of sorts, because you have lost in Von Bär a good
friend at court,—and indeed I cannot but sympathize with
you, for Bruck will hardly understand how to further your
small interests there, even for my sake.  It is hard for you,
very hard, and yet I cannot see why I should be your victim.
I will ask permission to withdraw until the household skies
are again clear."  She gathered together her papers, and
vanished, like a blue cloud, behind the door leading to her
dressing-room.

"She is so very eccentric," the Frau President said, with
a sigh.  "There is nothing in her of her mother, who was all
gentleness and docility.  Mangold did very wrong in placing
her at the head of his household while she was so young.
I did all I could to prevent it, but I might as well have talked
to the wind.  You know well enough, Moritz, how obstinate
Mangold could be."

Kitty went towards the door to leave the room.  It was
undeniable that Flora's early release from all authority had
been an injury to her, but the young girl could not stay and
hear her dead father so blamed for—refusing, for excellent
reasons, to allow his mother-in-law to take the lead in his
household.

The councillor followed her and took her hand.  "You are
so pale, Kitty, so grave and quiet," he said.  "I am afraid you
we still suffering from the effects of the events of yesterday,
my poor child."  It was not said at all in the tone of an
elderly guardian.

"Kitty has been pale and silent for some days now," the
Frau President hastily remarked.  "I know what is the
matter with her: she is homesick.  You need not wonder at
it, my dear Moritz.  Kitty is used to the quiet life of the
middle classes; they make an idol of her in Dresden;
everything in the modest household revolves about the wealthy
foster-child.  With the best will on our part, that cannot be
so here.  We live too much in the world; all our social
customs, the elements of our society, are so different, that she
must necessarily feel oppressed and uncomfortable with us."  She
approached the young girl and gently stroked her cheek.
"Am I not right, my child?"

"I am sorry to be forced to say 'no,' Frau President,"
Kitty replied, firmly, and, as she spoke, she drew back her
head, evidently in protest against further caresses.  "I am
not made an idol of; everything in the household does not
revolve about the heiress."  She laughed archly.  "The poor
heiress has more than ever expected of her, and her errors
and less indulgence than they did before she was rich.  And
the distinguished elements of your social circle are by no
means so foreign to me as you suppose.  The Prime-Minister
Von B—— is a near friend of my foster-parents.  Our
drawing-room is, it is true, too small to accommodate card-tables,
but it is a rendezvous for eminent literary men, and is often
sought by musical celebrities, when, I assure you, my poor
little cottage piano does good service."  And again a charming
and merry smile hovered upon her lips,—not, however, devoid
of sarcasm: there was, indeed, an antagonistic vein in her
composition.

"Thank God, my temperament is such as not to allow of
my being homesick wherever I know that I am of use," she
said, turning to the councillor.  "So do not be afraid, Moritz,
but rather give me leave to remain here for an indefinite
length of time—for Henriette's sake."

"Good heaven, I have no more earnest desire than to keep
you here!" he exclaimed, with an eagerness that struck even
Kitty as strange.

The Frau President was again standing by the table, turning
over the leaves of a book, at which she was looking so
earnestly that she seemed to have neither eyes nor ears for
aught else.  "Of course, my dear Kitty," she said, indifferently,
"you will remain here as long as you are content to do
so; only your stay must not partake in the smallest degree of
the character of self-sacrifice,—that we must most decidedly
prohibit.  Nanni is an excellent nurse, and my maid is ready
to assist her if necessary.  You can leave your dear invalid
without anxiety."

"Let the motive be what it may, dearest grandmamma, it
suffices that Kitty wishes to stay with us," the councillor
eagerly interposed.  He could not turn his eyes away from the
young girl, who stood entirely unmoved by the words either
of the Frau President or of her guardian.  "Why, in the
joyful hope that you would stay with us, I ordered the new
grand piano——"  He broke off to breathe an ecstatic kiss
upon the closed thumb and forefinger of his right hand.
"Kitty, you have an instrument now in comparison with
which the one in the music-room is a mere spinnet.  I
ordered it, I say, sent directly here."

"Oh, Moritz, that is not what I meant!" cried the young girl,
thoughtlessly, with a look of actual terror in her eyes.  "God
forbid!  Dresden is and always must be my home, and Villa
Baumgarten only a temporary abode."  She laughed merrily.
"A grand piano would be a clumsy piece of luggage to carry
about with me."

"I venture to predict that you will entertain another
opinion with regard to Dresden one of these days," he
rejoined, with a meaning smile.  "The grand piano will be
here to-morrow, and will be placed for the present in your
room."

The Frau President closed her book and rested her small
white hand upon the cover.  "You have made other arrangements
than those we agreed upon," she said, with apparent
composure.  "They embarrass me somewhat, but I willingly
comply with them.  I will write to Baroness Steiner to-day
and postpone the visit she was to pay us during the month of
May."

"But I cannot see why——"

"Because we cannot accommodate her, my dear Moritz.  Her
companion, who comes with her, was to have Kitty's room."

The councillor shrugged his shoulders.  "I am very sorry,
then.  Of course my ward must stay where she is."

He opposed her!  He dared to look calmly into the irritated
old lady's angry eyes and think it quite natural that the
Frau Baroness von Steiner should give place to Kitty,—he
who once would have moved heaven and earth, who thought
no sacrifice too great, if thereby he might tempt any person
of distinction to be his guest!  The thin coating of social
varnish which his intercourse with refined society had given him
had suddenly been rubbed off, exposing the coarse, common
nature of the parvenu.  True, he now possessed rank, and was
wealthier than most others of his present station,—he had just
reaped another golden harvest,—he could plant himself
defiantly upon his money-bags, and—this he was doing.

The old lady bit her lip.  "I will write immediately," she
said, and gathered up her train to go.  "The situation in
which I find myself placed, from no fault of my own, is
scarcely an enviable one, I must say," she said, in a tone of
some bitterness, elevating her eyebrows and speaking over
her shoulder.

"And all on my account!" Kitty exclaimed, approaching,
and extending her hand to detain the Frau President.
"Moritz, you cannot mean that I, young girl as I am, should
exclude any friend of the Frau President's.  It cannot be.
Have I not my own home in the mill?  I shall take up my
abode there when Frau von Steiner arrives."

"That you certainly will not, my dear Kitty; I decidedly
protest against that," the Frau President rejoined, coldly but
firmly, and all the haughty arrogance of her nature shone in
her eyes.  "Your mother never had any unkindness upon
my part to complain of; but this intimate association of the
villa and the mill is repugnant to my very soul, and least of all
would I expose such a connection to the severely critical eye
of my refined and aristocratic friend."  She stiffly inclined
her head.  "I shall be in the blue drawing-room, Moritz, in
case you wish to present your guests."  And she left the
room.

The councillor waited with a scornful air until the rustle
of her silken robes had died away and the door of the
music-room had closed audibly, and then he indulged in a low
chuckling laugh.

"You have had your lesson, Kitty," he said.  "There is
no doubt that the velvet paws conceal sharp claws.  Yes, yes,
the old cat knows how to scratch.  I myself could show scars
enough.  But, thank Heaven, her turn has come!  She must
endure what she most abhors; she is no longer dangerous.
With Von Bär pensioned, her influence at court and in
society is destroyed."  He rubbed his hands in smiling
satisfaction.  "Not a hair's-breadth shall you stir, my dear child;
you have a better right in my house than all the rest of
them,—remember that!"

He was interrupted.  A servant entering announced that
the guests awaited their host.  Moritz hastily seized his hat,
and would have given Kitty his arm, but she slipped past
him into the corridor.  This transformed guardian, with his
bewildering tenderness of voice and manner, pleased her not
at all; his cold, business-like letters had been much more to
her taste.  What a strange change there was in him!
Involuntarily she thought of her recent reception in this house;
she seemed still to hear the anxious whisper in which the
councillor had reminded her of the respect she owed to the
Frau President; and here he was, sneering at her behind her
back, and beginning to set bounds to her power, hitherto so
unquestioned beneath his roof.  All this terrified the young
girl; it was inexplicable, and as uncomfortable as the close
crimson room, with its musty odour of books and papers
upon which she now turned her back to return to the house
by the river.





.. vspace:: 4

CHAPTER XV.
===========

By the afternoon of this day the sick-room in the doctor's
house looked precisely as it had done when the invalid had
first been carried into it forty-eight hours before.  At her
earnest entreaty, the doctor had banished thence the elegant
intruders from the villa.  Outside, in the wide hall, upon the
rough tiled floor, stood ranged against the wall the apple-green
arm-chairs and the elegant screen, while about the simple
earthen vase containing the spring bouquet stood the gilt
porcelain toilet service.  The stoneware was again advanced
to honour, and the old-fashioned cushioned chairs, with their
black serge covers, were in their former places.  The little
fountain shot up its tiny spray from a circle of plants growing
in earthen pots, and upon a table stood the large cage in
which were Henriette's canary-birds, brought hither by the
wish of the sick girl.  The pretty little golden creatures
fluttered in and out, perfectly at home, flying around the
bed, eating sugar from their mistress's waxen hand, and
swinging in the hanging-baskets of vines suspended in the
windows.

Nanni, the maid, had been sent to the villa to rest about
noon, and the dean's widow had taken upon her the charge
of the invalid for the day.  The old lady was still in the
brown silk dress, over which she had tied a large white linen
apron to deaden the rustle of the silk.

Henriette already knew of the change that had taken place.
Her maid had told her how a gentleman from court had been
received in the hall by the doctor's aunt and conducted by
her into the doctor's study,—a gentleman from the court with
Bruck, who had so lately been only dispensary physician!
This, in addition to the festal attire of the dean's widow and
her joyful face, had excited Henriette's curiosity; she grew
restless, and never ceased asking and conjecturing until the
doctor sat down by her bedside and in his simple, quiet way
informed her of what had occurred.  This he had done while
Kitty, in Flora's room, was a witness of the scene occasioned
by the nearly simultaneous announcement by Fräulein von
Berneck and the councillor of their startling news.

In the afternoon Kitty sat at Henriette's bedside.  The
doctor had been summoned to an audience with the prince,
and his aunt was absent to arrange some household matters;
the two sisters were alone for the first time.  Henriette's face
fairly shone with the happiness she dared not speak in words:
rest and silence had been prescribed for her.  The doctor had
strictly forbidden her to indulge again in the fervent
expressions of delight which she had terrified him by uttering when
he first told her all she asked to know.  She obeyed him like
a child, and had asked of him or of his aunt no further
question; but now when his eye was no longer upon her, when
the door had closed behind the careful old lady, she suddenly
raised herself up among the pillows, and asked, in a hurried,
eager whisper, "Where is Flora?"

"You know your grandmamma sends over every hour to
tell you how she longs to be here, but that the visits of
sympathy she is obliged to receive to-day have given her no
chance to leave the villa."

"Oh, grandmamma!" the invalid repeated, peevishly, with
an impatient movement of her head.  "I am not asking for
*her*; I am speaking of Flora."  She clasped her hands and
lifted them above her head.  "Oh, Kitty, what a brilliant
justification of Bruck this is!  Thank God, I have lived to
see it!  If only he is not tempted to stop at the villa on his
way home from the palace!  Flora must meet him again for
the first time here,—here by my bedside.  I long to see her
in the dust before him!"

"Do not excite yourself, Henriette," Kitty entreated, in a
trembling voice.

"Oh, let me speak!" she rejoined, hurriedly.  "If Bruck
only knew how he tortures me with his injunction of silence!
My stifled emotion almost chokes me.  I feel as I did yesterday
before I lost consciousness."  She propped herself on her
elbow and buried her hand in the masses of fair hair from
which she had tossed away the muslin cap.  "Do you
remember how contemptuously Flora alluded to this journey
from which he has returned so famous, calling it a 'pleasure-trip'?"
she asked, looking up at her sister, with eyes gleaming
with scorn and anger, while her voice fell into the same tone
in which she had uttered the delirious fancies of the previous
day, which had been the cause of such a terrible struggle.
Kitty shuddered.  "Do you remember how she sneered and
laughed when Moritz came so near the truth in surmising that
the doctor had been called to some patient in L——g?  No:
although she should entreat his pardon on her knees, she
can hardly atone for such wicked folly, such unexampled
arrogance.  I should like to have one look now into the
depths of her soul.  Such a crushing mortification!  She
will scarcely be able to lift her eyes to him or to us when she
first sees him."

Kitty had folded her hands in her lap, and her eyelashes
drooped above her cheeks as if she were the guilty one.  Her
poor, passionately-moved sister had no idea that this first
meeting never would take place, that Flora's foot would never
more enter the "dreary barn."  Neither she nor the rest
knew that the false love had freed herself by a violent effort,
that the symbol of the tie that had bound her—the "simple"
golden circlet—lay in the depths of the river beneath the
bridge, if the waves had not borne it far away.

"Do say something, Kitty," Henriette complained.  "You
must be cold-blooded indeed to be so calm in the midst of all
this.  It is true, you have had no chance to become
intimately acquainted with the circumstances, and consequently
you may not be able to view matters from a correct point of
view.  Bruck, for example, can scarcely interest you,—you
see him too seldom, and have certainly not spoken ten words
to him; but you have been a witness of Flora's detestable
manoeuvres; you have heard the most heartless expressions
from her lips.  I should suppose that the sense of justice
inherent in every healthy nature might inspire you with a
desire, a thirst, to see the offender punished."

Kitty looked up with a strange gleam in her eyes.  Certainly
the blood was not cold that suddenly dyed crimson her
forehead and checks, and even the round, snowy throat: it
was so stirred that for one moment she forgot that she was
sitting by an invalid's bedside, and that it was her duty as a
conscientious nurse not to allow even the mention of any
exciting subject.  "And what then?" she asked, eagerly.
"What if Flora should acknowledge with shame how wrong
she has been?  Could it really matter much to a man so
insulted, so outraged?  As you yourself say, Flora has openly
testified her dislike of him.  If he were made a prince, it
could not transform this dislike to affection."

"Yes, it would do so instantly in a nature as vain and
ambitious as Flora's," Henriette replied, in a tone of bitter
scorn.  "And Bruck?  You will see how at her first advance
he will ignore the past as if it had never been."  She
leaned back and closed her eyes for a moment.  "Yes, yes;
love is such a profound mystery!" she continued, in a
half-whisper, to herself.  "And he loves her still; how else
explain his patient submission and long-suffering?"  She
opened her eyes, and there shone in their unearthly brilliancy
a mixture of pain and irony.  "Even although a demon
looked at him from her eyes, and she should strike him with
her hands, he would love her still, and kiss the hand raised
against him."  There was a heart-breaking smile upon the
emaciated face, which she turned and buried in the pillow.
After a short pause, she said, with firmness, "The change
in her will make him happy, and therefore we, on our part,
must do all we can to obliterate the memory of these last
few miserable months."

Kitty said not a word.  The sick girl was awaiting with
intense impatience the moment that should see the man
whom she idolized as her physician happy once more.  How
if Flora did not come,—if Henriette should learn at last that
the false love had put an end, with her own hand, to what she
said had been a long torture to her?  "Then you will never
mention our names again," Henriette had wailed to Bruck in
her delirium of the previous day.  The chaos of yesterday
still reigned in Kitty's mind.  Her conception of moral law
was distinct and clear; she was still inexperienced enough to
believe that rewards and punishments are just consequences
of individual action; and here, in this strangely perverted
world, she found it was eagerly desired that falsehood,
treachery, and a systematic denial of duty should not only go
unpunished, but should even be rewarded by rare good fortune.  All
pains were taken to breathe no syllable of the wrong done;
the criminal must be petted, and thanked most humbly for a
conversion which, if it really should occur, would not be the
result of repentance, but the effect of a change of outward
circumstances.  And he whom she had so trampled beneath
her feet,—would he take her instantly to his heart again if
she condescended to return?  Of course; he had never
released her, even when she told him that she hated him, And
Kitty glowed with indignation at the thought of the pitiable
weakness which could induce a man to play so unmanly a
part.  She would have liked to drown in a passion of tears
this knowledge which for a moment darkened all life, even
the glorious sunny world of nature; but she suppressed all
expression of the strange, sharp pain, and sat still, apparently
more "cold-blooded" than ever.  Weep?  What was the whole
miserable story to her?  She had nothing to do with it, and
nothing further to think about it, except with regard to some
wedding-present for her sister, some costly piece of embroidery,
which she must begin immediately if the marriage were
to take place at Whitsuntide.

The dean's widow came in to lay a branch of budding
syringa upon the invalid's coverlet as a greeting from the
golden spring that was flinging abroad all sweet odours and
the songs of birds upon its health-giving breezes.  She insisted
upon resuming her place by the bed, declaring that Kitty was
not needed there at present, but must go out into the garden
and breathe the fresh, sunny air; she surely needed it, for
her face still showed traces of yesterday's agitation.

The young girl left the room.  Yes, air and sunshine had
always proved her good friends, bringing the delicious
consciousness of youthful vigour, clearing her moral perceptions,
and dispelling all morbid sensations.  And the dean's widow
was right: the world was all May, the promise of the year
was everywhere, and the mild air saturated with sunshine
breathed health into mind and body.  Kitty went out of the
house-door and stood upon the steps, inhaling the fresh breeze
as she involuntarily extended her round, firmly-moulded arms.
Then, descending into the garden, she looked beyond the
low picket-fence into the blue distance, beyond the meadows,
beyond the river rolling through them, beyond the cottage-roofs
and the church-spire.  Oh, mysterious human heart, that
in presence of all this glory was still so sad and cast down!

From the low wood-shed at the bottom of the garden came a
constant, melodious twitter, and from beneath the eaves darted
small, feathered creatures, their backs shining with a steely
lustre, their throats rusty brown.  The first swallows had come.
Those eaves had been their nest for years.  How often, as a
child, had Kitty, lying in the grass, watched their outcomings
and ingoings! but then their chatter had sounded lonely and
sad in her ears, accompanied by the monotonous murmur of
the water, the only other sound that broke the desolate silence
reigning about the deserted house, unless upon autumn days,
when the ripe fruit would now and then fall with a soft thud
upon the sod.  Now spoiled petted birds were trilling their
songs from the open windows; the smoke from the chimney
soared aloft, and spread a thin, sun-gilded veil above the
meadow; beside the shed stood the kennel, and the cross,
bristly house-dog tore at his chain and snapped at a pretty
little light-brown hen that boldly ventured near him to get
a few scattered grains of wheat.  The housemaid had brought
from her village house a cock and some hens, at the widow's
request.  Yes, everything must revive the memory of the
country parsonage of long ago.

Kitty chased the cackling hen away from the cross, growling
dog, and wandered slowly about beneath the fruit-trees
The dry, dead grass of the old year was here and there dashed
with that blue which calls up a gleam of pleasure into the
saddest eyes: the first violets were blossoming, and the tall,
shapely girl bent as eagerly to pluck them as had the little
"miller's mouse" years ago.  How strange it seemed to her
that only a few weeks before, as her grandfather's heiress, she
had been mistress here!  The sum which the doctor had paid
for this little homestead belonged to her,—the honest, careful
savings thrown in with the hoarded wealth of the grasping
corn-dealer.  She started, and involuntarily dropped the violets
she had plucked.  The same keen sensation of disgrace and
humiliation which she had experienced yesterday in the midst
of those furious women again assailed her.  At the first shock
she had protested against the terrible accusation; but now,
whenever she called up in her memory her grandfather's
coarse, hard face, she could not but admit to herself that he
might have said the cruel words about the "starving mice,"
and in positive pain she clenched her hands.  She knew well
that on her mother's side she was sprung from the lowest
class of society; she had never dreamed of wishing it
otherwise,—she had rather gratefully acknowledged the splendid
gift of perfect health and vigour bequeathed to her by her
grandmother, whose stalwart arm had wielded the axe in the
bracing woodland air; but the coarseness and brutality with
which the former mill-servant had treated the poor in his
pursuit of wealth disgusted and sickened her, and she could not
bear to think of the iron safe with its hoarded treasures.

Without knowing it, her walk towards the river quickened
almost to a run.  Just where the hawthorn hedge bounding the
little garden ran for a short distance along the river-bank,
glittered some scattered splinters of white glass, the fragments of
the little vessel from which she had on the previous evening
drunk the soothing mixture.  The maid had carelessly thrown
them where the water might perhaps carry them away.  A
sharp pang shot through Kitty's heart, and tears rushed to her
eyes, as she thought of that scene in the doctor's house.  How
far she had been carried by her impulsiveness!  Although the
refined, reserved man had instantly spoken soothing words of
excuse for her rashness, he must inwardly have smiled in scorn
of the strong, healthy girl whose brain could be so filled with
sickly sentimental fancies.  Never again would she be so
misled by her weakly sympathetic nature!  No; she would
rather pass for cruel, hard,—yes, even shrewish.  And the
doctor should never have cause to laugh at her again,—ah,
he would soon have no opportunity to do so.  In a little
while Henriette would be removed to the villa; all connection
between it and the house by the river would be at an end;
the doctor would not even mention the names of the inmates
of Villa Baumgarten.  After what had occurred yesterday
evening,—that scene of which she had been the sole
witness,—Flora's return was impossible, however firmly Doctor Bruck
might insist upon his rights; this very day must convince
him.  All must be at an end between himself and Flora, if she
kept away.  Or would he fulfil Henriette's fears?—would
he be unable to repress the desire, upon his return from the
interview with the prince, to tell Flora himself of the change
in his affairs?  If he did stop at the villa, the diamonds upon
the finger where he had placed he betrothal ring would tell
him instantly, and far more plainly than in words, what he
had to expect.

Suddenly Kitty ran back from the river-bank to the garden;
a terrible noise, that might possibly disturb Henriette, was
heard from the direction of the wood-shed: the chickens were
flying screaming and cackling in all directions, and the dog,
with loosened chain dragging after him, was making straight
for the unfortunate yellow hen that had previously aroused his
ire.  Kitty ran to the rescue; she seized him by the collar
just as he had torn a mouthful of feathers out of the tail of
his unhappy victim.

She laughed like a child at the rumpled hen running with
a querulous cackle into the wood-shed, and dragged the dog
back to his kennel.  The unruly beast tugged and resisted,
snapping at the strong, girlish hand that was firmly leading
him back to captivity.

This struggle for mastery might well have looked dangerous
to a spectator, for the dog was vicious, savage, and large, of a
strong, muscular build, and the tawny stripes on his back and
sides gave him a tiger-like appearance; but he struggled and
writhed in vain.  With her left hand Kitty fastened the chain
again into the iron ring in the side of the kennel, and then,
suddenly releasing the animal, gave a backward spring; the
brute rushed after her, but only succeeded in tearing off a
piece of the hem of her dress.

"You villain!" she said, shaking her finger at him, and
then picking up her skirt to examine the injury it had
sustained.  She heard hasty steps approaching from the bridge,
and knew that it was the doctor returning from town, but she
did not look up.  She hoped he would go into the house
without observing her.  Perhaps he was coming from the
villa in most melancholy mood.  He had been so quiet and
silent to-day, it almost seemed to her that with the gentle,
lingering "Good-night! good-night!" of the previous evening
he had meant to mark a boundary between his former and his
present life.

He did not go into the house, however, but came directly
towards Kitty, raising his cane at the growling, barking dog,
who, thus threatened, became silent, and lay down at the door
of his kennel.  The doctor took a stone and hammered the
link of the chain farther upon the hook.  "I shall have to
get rid of this brute: he is too savage and unmanageable,"
he said, as he threw away the stone.  "His capacity as a
watch-dog is not worth the terror he occasions.  You, it is
true, seemed to have small fear of him; I am afraid that in
your consciousness of strength you might be easily led into
rashness."  This he said in a grave, almost reproachful tone;
he had probably been a witness of the scene that had just
occurred as he approached on the opposite side of the river.

She laughed.  "Indeed you are wrong!  I have as much
capacity of terror as other girls," she replied, bravely.  "Strange
dogs, in particular, are my aversion, and I get out of their way
whenever I can.  But in critical situations there is no help
for it; one must not give way to weakness; so I shut my
teeth tight and take hold, and I suppose it looks very brave."

The doctor was following with his eyes a swallow flying
away from the wood-shed, and he too now smiled, but
without looking at Kitty.  To her this smile seemed one of
incredulity; he probably thought her boasting of her heroism, and
unfemininely proud of her strength,—when nothing could be
more foreign to her taste or to the truth.

"You doubt it?" she asked, with a glance that was only
half merry.  "Let me tell you that not until very lately did
the heroine before you learn to rise superior to the dread of
ghosts in the dark."  An arch smile played about her lips and
deepened the dimples in her cheeks.  "You must know that
the castle mill swarms with gnomes and fairies; its princely
founder sometimes sees fit to descend from his worm-eaten
frame to inspect the bags of grain himself; and there are not
wanting the ghosts of dishonest millers who gave short
measure during their lives.  You may be sure that Susie never
kept one such incontestable fact from my youthful ears; and I
believed them all as firmly as if I had been brought up in a
Thuringian spinning-room.  Not a word of this 'fearful joy'
could I utter to my father or my dear Lukas,—Susie would
have been scolded, and I should have been ashamed; so I
resigned myself to go when it was required of me from garret
to cellar in black darkness, and to conquer my fears, although
my teeth chattered as if from an ague-fit."

"Then you were early accustomed to make heavy drafts
upon your power of self-control.  How, then, did it happen
that you were so ready to ascribe to a man an act of cowardice
and weakness?"

She crimsoned.  "You forgave me that yesterday," she
said, evidently hurt, and yet not without self-assertion, as she
stroked a stray lock of hair from her brow in hopes of thus
concealing her blushes.

He shook his head.  "You should not use that expression,
after my assurance that you had done nothing to displease
me," he rejoined, involuntarily lowering his voice, as if
touching upon some matter known only to her and himself, the
knowledge of which the rest of the world was not to share.
"I only meant to say that I cannot imagine from what source
your yesterday's conjecture sprang."

Kitty glanced towards the house; once more she looked
rosy, lovely, and fresh as an apple-blossom; her head, with
its crown of braids, seemed almost too young for her
Juno-like figure.  She pointed to the window of the corner room.
"In old times a noble lady lived there——"

"Ah, the romantic story told, too, in many a peasant's
spinning-room!" he interrupted her.  "Then it was the
tragical end of that forsaken dame——"

"Not that only.  Henriette made me very anxious and
unhappy——"

"Henriette is ill.  The morbid state of her nerves makes
thought and sensation unnatural in her case.  But you are
healthy in body and mind."

"Yes, that is true; but there are certain things for which
youth and ignorance have no scale of measurement, upon
which their judgment cannot be brought to bear——"

"Love, for example," he hastily interposed, with a rapid
glance towards the girl.

"Yes," she assented, simply.

He bowed his head, and, lost in thought, tapped mechanically
with his cane a large block of sandstone lying in the
middle of a grass-plot opposite the house.  In former years
it had served as a curious but most delightful table for little
Kitty, who had thought it placed there chiefly that there
might be a spot where childish hands could deposit fallen
fruit, flowers, and collections of pebbles.  Now she knew that
it had once been the base of a statue; the remains of a
delicate little naked foot were still to be seen upon its mossy
surface.

Kitty passed her slender hand caressingly over the relic.
"Some nymph or muse once stood here," she said.  "The
airy form stood lightly poised upon one foot, with extended
arms.  I can imagine the whole figure from this fragment.
Perhaps her lovely face was turned towards the bridge, and
she saw the horseman cross it with his haughty bride in
her gleaming brocade——"  Involuntarily she paused; his
thoughts were evidently far away,—he did not hear what she
was saying.  What occupied him must have been sad indeed,
for for the first time, she saw a look of unmistakable
distress on his fine face, usually so composed and calm.  Flora!
She was this man's curse; his passion for her would be his
ruin.

The young girl's sudden silence made him look around.
"Ah, yes," he said, evidently recalling his thoughts; "the
worthy people who lived here for so long took the liberty of
destroying the statues.  The garden must once have been
adorned with these figures: there are several pedestals still
standing in the shrubbery.  I shall try to restore the place to
what it was formerly.  In spite of the neglect of years, the
original plan of the garden can still be traced."

"Then it will be all very fine and grand here; but the view
of all this lovely wild greenery will be lost; your study——"

"My study will be occupied after next October by a dear
friend of my aunt's," he calmly interrupted her.  "In the
autumn I shall remove to L——."

She gazed at him in amazement, and involuntarily clasped
her hands.  "To L——?" she repeated.  "Good heavens! are you
going to leave her?  What does she say to it?"

"Flora?  Of course she will go with me," he said, coldly,
but his eyes gleamed as with an angry pain.  "Do you
suppose I shall leave your sister here?  Be easy on that score."

Kitty had alluded to his aunt, but she could not correct the
mistake: his reply had so startled her, he spoke with such
certainty.  "You come from the villa?" she asked, timidly,
but eagerly.

"No, I have not been to the villa," he said, with emphasis.
It sounded almost as if he who never condescended to a sneer
were indulging in sarcasm.  "I have, indeed, not been so
fortunate to-day as to see any one from there.  I should have
liked to see Moritz; but his guests, who were just leaving him
as I passed there, were so noisily gay that I preferred to go
by without speaking to him."

He had not, then, spoken with Flora since the evening
before, and yet was so decided.  What could it mean?  Kitty
wished she were away from it all; she seemed to herself like
no one but Priam's ill-omened daughter, the only one who
saw where all were blind.  It was fortunate that at this
moment the poor hen once more ventured too near her grim
enemy: it gave Kitty a pretext for breaking off the conversation;
she chased the fowl into the shed, closed the door and
bolted it.





.. vspace:: 4

CHAPTER XVI.
============

When she turned round, the doctor was still standing
where she had left him, but his gaze was directed towards
the bridge, and he had grown slightly pale.  His profile, with
the tightly-compressed lips, reminded her of the moment in
the castle mill when she had asked him about her grandfather's
death; he was struggling with intense emotion of
some kind.  Involuntarily her eyes followed the direction of
his own, and she could not have been more startled and
shocked by the apparition of the drowned woman of former
times than she was by the sight of her beautiful sister
advancing across the ancient structure with as easy a grace as if
she had gone hence on the previous evening with a gay "au
revoir."  Could it be?  She glided lightly over the place
where she had declared herself separated forever from the
man whom she despised; only a few hours had passed since
she had heaped every epithet of scorn and contempt upon
his home, which she had vowed never again to enter; and
here she was, with her lovely, smiling face, confronting the
"dreary barn," her little feet confidently pressing the grassy
paths.  No wave rolled higher, no breeze stirred, to whisper
to her of wrong, wilful treachery, and miserable inconstancy,
while the sunshine played about her graceful form, illumining
it as if she were of all earth's children the most dear.

She had on a dark dress.  Rich black lace covered her fair
curls, and, lying upon the snowy neck, fell in long ends over
her shoulders and down her back, like the drooping wings of
an angel of night.  Behind her walked the councillor; he
looked very animated, and was conducting the Frau President
with an air of such respect that Kitty in all seriousness began
to wonder whether she had only dreamed his contemptuous
looks of the morning and his expressions with regard to the
"old cat" and her "velvet paw."

The doctor slowly advanced to meet the approaching group,
while Kitty stood by the shed as if rooted to the spot, still
unconsciously holding fast the bolt which she had just pushed
home.  She saw the usual greetings exchanged.  Nothing
extraordinary happened; no angry word was uttered.  The
councillor warmly congratulated the doctor; the Frau President
graciously smiled, showing the white tips of her teeth;—and
Flora?  For one moment her cheeks were dyed with a
rosy flush, and her glance, usually so self-assured, wandered
from the doctor's countenance to the ground at his feet, but
she extended her hand with her accustomed air of good-fellowship,
and the tips of her fingers were taken, if not retained,
very much as they had been upon Kitty's arrival, and when
Doctor Bruck turned round, his features were once more
composed to marble.

As she entered the garden, Flora had hastily scanned her
young sister from head to foot, smiling scornfully the while,
and then turning to make some apparently malicious remark
to the councillor; but now, upon her nearer approach, Kitty
saw gleaming in her eyes suppressed anger, amounting to a
kind of hostility.

"Well, Kitty?  You seem to be perfectly at ease here," she
exclaimed; "you really look quite at home, as if the keys to
every drawer and closet were hanging at your girdle."

The young girl mode no reply as she slowly turned from
the door she had just bolted and gazed at her sister.  Was
there no shame in this wayward creature? no shrinking from
the sound of her own voice here upon this spot?  But
yesterday she had declared, "This house shall never again see mo
within its walls," and now here she stood, about to enter it
and to return to the "sordid surroundings."

"Does Flora's jest annoy you, my dear child?" the
councillor asked, hastily approaching her.  He drew her hand
through his arm.  "Console yourself with the knowledge of
the charming picture you presented among the hens and
chickens.  Only wait, and you shall possess the finest
collection of them that can be got together."

The Frau President, who was ascending the steps, paused
a moment, as if her breath had suddenly failed her; her
head, trembling nervously, was turned for an instant with an
of contempt towards the tender guardian, and then she
hastened her entrance into the house.  "Brainless fop, he will
never cease to be the vulgar bagman!" she muttered, angrily,
to Flora, who put her handkerchief to her lips to hide a
laugh.

Kitty, as if unconsciously, let her hand remain within her
brother-in-law's arm.  She scarcely heard what he was saying;
she did not observe Doctor Bruck's mute surprise as he stood
motionless and allowed the pair to pass him: she only saw
Flora's hand, the one in which she held the handkerchief to
hide her laughter, and which was covered with a delicate lace
mitten that harmonized well with the lace of her dress and by
contrast made her hand more snowy white than ever.  The
diamonds had disappeared from the third finger, where the
"simple circlet of gold that weighed upon her like iron"
again gleamed dully through the meshes of the lace.  Impossible!
It lay beneath the waters of the rolling stream.  Kitty
suddenly felt as if all about her were unreal; her eyes and ears
were no longer to be trusted.

"What does this mean?" the Frau President asked, with
a frown, pointing to the assemblage in the hall of the
furniture from the villa.

"I thought it best to humour Henriette in her desire that
these articles should be removed from her room," said Dr. Bruck.

"She was perfectly right.  Begging your pardon, grandmamma,
it was a ridiculous idea to crowd the sick-room with
all those things," Flora remarked, with a shrug.  "The poor
child is often oppressed for breath; this well-stuffed furniture
must have been stifling."

Her grandmother evidently meditated a severe retort, but
the doctor was present, and the maid was standing at the door
of the kitchen; so she refrained, and went on to the
sick-room.  As she entered it, she started.  Henriette was leaning
out of bed, so wasted and pale, and yet with such an eager
expectancy in her large wide-opened eyes, that the Frau
President feared she was again delirious.  The invalid's cool
greeting relieved her, however, and she saw that the look which
had startled her was directed towards Flora, who had entered
the room directly behind her.

The beautiful woman instantly went up to the dean's widow,
who had arisen at the entrance of the visitors, and grasped
her hand, as if she would thus atone for the neglected
farewell of the previous evening, and then she turned to the bed.
"Well, dear," she said to the sick girl, "you are wonderfully
better to-day, we hear——"

"And you, Flora?" Henriette interrupted her, with
irrepressible impatience, as she accorded an absent greeting to
the councillor, who stood by her bedside.

Flora suppressed a mocking smile.  "I?  Oh, tolerably
well only!  Yesterday's fright is still telling upon my nerves,
but my self-control and firm will stand me in stead.  Yesterday
I was indeed in a wretched state; I was really ill, almost
insane, I verily believe, with nervous agitation; at all events,
I have but an indistinct remembrance of what happened
after that terrible walk,—and no wonder!  Daniel in the
lions' den was scarcely worse off than I surrounded by those
furies——"

"But Kitty defended you nobly," Henriette said.  "She
stood like a shield between you and them,—my poor, brave
Kitty!  Moritz, they tore the clothes from her back and
pulled down her hair——"

"This beautiful hair!" the dean's widow said, tenderly, as
she stroked the shining waves that rippled back from the girl's
brow.

"Well, yes; the furies did not deal very gently with her,"
Flora admitted, with a frown; "but I must decline taking
all the blame for it upon my shoulders.  It was mostly due to
her mania for wearing stiff silk dresses.  Those people envy
us our wealth and elegance; her silk dress irritated the
women, and they dinned into her ears, and unfortunately into
ours also, how her grandmother went barefoot, how the castle
miller was once only a mill servant, and amassed the money,
now hers, by usury; and various other edifying facts.  Kitty's
appearance upon the scene greatly increased our danger; their
indignation against the wealthy heiress was unbounded.  Am
I not right, Kitty?"

"Yes, Flora," the young girl replied, in a trembling voice,
with a bitter smile.  "I must work hard indeed to atone for
the wrong done by my grandfather."

While Flora was speaking, the Frau President seemed to
dilate with satisfaction.  This laying bare of a scandalous
pedigree was like music to her ears.  She looked fixedly at the
councillor.  It was impossible that the new-made nobleman
should not shrink at the thought that people would point at
his wife and whisper everywhere the tale of her descent and
of how her fortune was acquired.  "Nonsense, Kitty! that
sounds too ridiculously sensitive and silly," she said, shaking
her head.  "What do you propose to do?"

Flora laughed.  "Open her safe, of course, and scatter her
stocks abroad among the people."

"As Flora did yesterday the contents of her purse in defence
of her charming complexion," Henriette remarked, with an air
of easy banter.  Her rising indignation conquered for awhile
her burning desire to see Flora in the dust at the doctor's
feet.

"I should never be guilty of such folly," Kitty said, calmly,
but seriously, to Flora, who bit her lip at Henriette's remark.
"If a curse rests upon the money——"

The councillor's laugh interrupted her.  "Never vex yourself
about that, child.  A curse!  I tell you there is a charm
about your money; the dividends from some new investments
I have just made for you are enormous."

The Frau President's eyelids, usually drooping over her
eyes in aristocratic lassitude, opened wide at this expression.
The word "dividend" had power to kindle those eyes with an
eager glitter which the desire for conquest in her time of
youth and beauty could scarcely have called forth.

"Enormous?" she repeated.  "Mine are by no means so
large.  I will sell out, and invest in this new stock."

"That can easily be arranged, dearest grandmamma; I will
take the necessary steps immediately.  Yes, yes, the saying
is quite true, 'Where doves alight there doves will flock,' and
never truer than in the present wondrous age.  The capitalist
is a rock upon which the waves toss up treasure of their
own accord——"

"That is not the opinion of the prudent men of the day,
Moritz," said Doctor Bruck.  When Henriette made her
eager retort he had advanced to the bedside and had taken
her hand soothingly in both his own, and he was still standing
thus.  He was in full dress beneath his light overcoat, and
looked a most distinguished figure, but in the face which he
now turned full upon those present there was perceptible a
certain strange look of suffering which Kitty had noticed
to-day for the first time.  "There has been a good deal of
mistrust lately about these sudden gains, and people begin to call
them by a very ugly name——"

"Swindling, I suppose you mean," the councillor gaily
interrupted him.  "My dearest doctor, I have the highest
respect for your scientific attainments, but you must permit
me to excel you in a knowledge of business affairs.  You
are a most distinguished surgeon, and have just achieved
fame——"

Henriette here sat upright, and asked, eagerly, panting as
if almost overcome by her feeling of triumph, "Do you know
that, Flora?"

"Of course I know it, you silly child, although the Herr
Doctor has hitherto not thought it worth while to give me
any personal information of his fortunate cure at L——,"
Flora lightly made answer, while her eyes boldly and as if in
challenge encountered Henriette's gaze.  "I also know that
the sun of princely favour has suddenly shone full upon him
in a most unexampled fashion.  Of course this is still a court
secret, to be kept even from his betrothed."  Her lips parted
in an enchanting smile, and the rosy flush that tinted her
cheek at her last words became her charmingly.

Henriette fell back disappointed among her pillows,—even
she had been mistaken in this chameleon nature.

The Frau President, standing beside the doctor, tapped him
almost affectionately upon the shoulder.  Never before had
she treated him with such condescending familiarity.  "May
we not know something further?  Are the preliminaries not
yet arranged?" she asked, in a gentle, flattering tone.

"He has just returned from an interview with the prince,"
his aunt said, never turning her gaze from her darling, her
eyes beaming with proud affection.

"Ah, then the report that Herr von Bär has been pensioned
off is true?" the old lady asked, with well-feigned
indifference, masking her eagerness.

"I do not know; that is no affair of mine," the doctor
quietly replied.  "The prince desires that as long as I remain
here I shall take charge of his chronic inflammation of the
foot——"

"As long as you remain here, Bruck?" Flora interrupted
him, quickly.  "Are you going away?"

"I shall establish myself in L—— in the beginning of
October," he coldly answered, without looking at her.  His
eyes were fixed upon the budding apple-tree outside of the
window.

"What! you have declined a position and a title at our
court?" the Frau President exclaimed, clasping her hands in
amazement.

"I am not permitted to decline the title."  An ironical
smile flitted across his features.  "Evidently his Serene
Highness thinks it contrary to all the laws of etiquette to be
attended by an untitled physician.  He insists upon making
me Hofrath."

As he spoke, his aunt, struggling against her evident
emotion, held out her hand to him, and he—usually reserve
itself—put his arm around her slender form and clasped her close
to his breast.  The suffering, the calumniation, which they
two had steadfastly endured together isolated them, in the
moment of recompense, from the rest of the circle.

Flora turned away and walked to the window, biting her
lip until it nearly bled; one could see how she longed to
thrust away the faithful friend from the place which the false
love had forfeited.

"But he is going away, aunt," Henriette said, in a low,
hoarse tone.

"Yes, to where fortune and fame await him," the old lady
answered, lifting her tearful face from his shoulder.  "I can
gladly stay behind in the home which his filial love has
provided for me, if I know him appreciated, honoured, and
esteemed where he is.  And, besides, my mission is almost at
an end,—another is to take my place."  The tenderness of
her tone gave way to profound seriousness, as her eyes,
usually so gentle in their expression, looked almost sternly
towards the beautiful woman at the window.  "She, with
her rich endowments of intellect, will appreciate more fully
than I can the sanctity and, at the same time, the frequent
trials of his profession, and will surely create for him a home
whither he may flee from the cares that beset his public
career, and where affection and serenity will abide *uniformly*."  The
emphasis she placed upon the last word told Kitty that
the widow had observed, and ascribed to caprice, Flora's
behaviour on the preceding day.

"That is all very charming and delightful, my dear Frau
Dean, and I have no doubt that Flora will make an admirable
professor's wife," the Frau President remarked,
evidently piqued by the tone which the simple widow of a dean
had adopted towards her grandchild; "but nowadays there
can be no home without comfortable apartments, and I am
having an immense amount of trouble in arranging them.  I
have just had a most fatiguing discussion with the cabinet-maker;
he insists—Heaven knows why!—that it will be impossible
to have Flora's buhl furniture, ordered months ago,
finished by Whitsuntide.  And Flora, too, has had trouble
with her trousseau,—the workwomen have been so dilatory
that it cannot be ready before the beginning of July.  What
is to be done?"

"We will wait," Doctor Bruck said, briefly, and took up
his hat and cane to put them in the hall.

The Frau President started, and a perplexed expression
crossed her countenance; but she instantly recovered herself,
and, laying her hand on his arm, said, "How kind and good
you are, my dear doctor, to help us thus out of our dilemma!
I was afraid of encountering your opposition.  Whitsuntide
has been quite a nightmare to me, you so insisted upon that
time."

"Yes; but my removal to L—— makes some change
necessary," he said, quietly, and left the room.

"And what does Flora think?" the dean's widow asked,
in an uncertain tone; she was apparently rather shocked at
the doctor's cool behaviour, and the sudden, embarrassed
silence on the part of the others.

Flora turned towards her a beaming countenance.  "I am
very glad of the postponement, since my future position is to
be so different from what I had expected.  There is need of
much preparation and reflection.  Good heavens, think of the
change!  A very different mode of life is looked for by the
world from the wife of a famous professor from that expected
of the wife of a simple doctor, Hofrath and physician to the
royal household though he be."  There was undeniable
arrogance in her whole bearing; every word she said showed the
exultation she could not suppress: she had reached the
pinnacle of her most ardent aspirations.

The councillor rubbed his hands in a state of great satisfaction;
he would have liked to laugh in her face.  But the Frau
President had some trouble to conceal her rising indignation;
her grandchild evidently contemplated achieving at her husband's
side a higher social position than she herself, the wife
of an exalted government official, had ever attained.

"What are you talking of, Flora?" she said, with a disapproving
shake of her head.

"Of my brilliant future, grandmamma," she replied, with
a supercilious little smile, as she turned away with the air
of one who would not by any word or look be reminded of a
disagreeable past.

"And now I resign myself entirely to you, dear aunt," she
said to the dean's widow, who was closely observing her every
look and word.  "Do with me what you will.  I will obey
you in everything; only show me how I can make Leo happy;
I will sew, cook——"  And, as she spoke, she drew off her
lace mittens as if impatient to begin; but, as she did so, she
made a grasp at the empty air, with a sudden exclamation of
dismay,—the "simple golden circlet" had slipped from her
finger.  No one had heard it fall on the floor; every one
looked for it, but in vain: it seemed to have vanished into air.

"It must be among your pillows, Henriette," Flora declared.
She had grown quite pale.  "Let me raise you up for a
moment and see——"

"That I cannot allow," the dean's widow firmly interposed.
"Henriette must not be disturbed, nor her position
unnecessarily altered——"

"Unnecessarily," Flora repeated, reproachfully, pouting like
a child.  "Why, aunt, it is my betrothal-ring."

Kitty fairly trembled at these words.  Was Flora really such
a child of good fortune that some miracle had restored to her
the ring she had flung away? or was this all a brazen
falsehood?  In vain did she look for an answer to this in the
anxious eyes of the beautiful sphinx.

"It is an unlucky accident," the dean's widow said, "but
the ring cannot be lost; we shall find it when Henriette's bed
is made, and my servant shall take it over to the villa to you."

"She shall be rewarded with a handful of gold if she
brings it to me this evening," declared Flora, who was
evidently much disturbed.

The Frau President and the councillor seated themselves
by the bedside of the sick girl, who had taken no further part
in the conversation.  Only once had she raised her head, with
her lips opened as if to speak.  When her grandmamma had
said she could not understand the delay upon the part of
the cabinet-maker, she had been upon the point of saying,
"Because your orders have been all but countermanded."  But
she remembered before it was too late that the past must
never again be alluded to.





.. vspace:: 4

CHAPTER XVII.
=============

The dean's widow left the room, to provide some refreshment,
and Kitty followed her.  Disgust and aversion drove
her from the room in which such a farce had just been played.
She begged the old lady to resign to her for an hour her
household cares, and the widow willingly handed her her keys.
"Here, my dear, dear child, my faithful, true-hearted Kitty,"
she said, gently, in a voice which trembled as if she were
suppressing a sigh, and then she put her arm around the
girl's waist and drew her towards her.  "It rests me only to
look into your frank, sweet face.  I am always reminded of
Luther's beloved Catharina, the true wife standing so firmly
and boldly by her husband's side."  And then she sighed
deeply as she released the blushing girl and returned to the
sick-room.

Kitty brought from the store-room the coffee, and a cake
baked in honour of the day, and, while the stout,
good-humoured maid made the fire in the stove, she filled the
pretty old-fashioned bowl with sugar, and was just cutting
the cake in slices, when she heard some one leave the
sick-room.  The kitchen-door was ajar, and through the wide
opening she saw Flora come into the hall.

The beautiful woman looked around her with a troubled,
uncertain air,—the geography of the "dreary barn" was
unknown to her,—but it seemed as if those searching eyes had
magnetically attracted the doctor.  At that moment he came
out of his aunt's sitting-room.

Flora flew towards him with open arms.  Her long black
robe swept the floor, and the ends of her black lace scarf
streamed behind her like loosened tresses of dark hair.  With
her white hands, which the black lace ruffles made to seem
childishly small, and her pale face, she looked like one of those
fair, ghostly dames who, according to popular superstition, arise
from the grave to murder those whom they attract.

"Leo!"  It was gently breathed, and yet it vibrated through
the hall.

Kitty listened with bated breath,—it pierced her very soul.

Was that Flora's voice?  Did that delicious sound of soft
entreaty, of trembling longing, really issue from the lips that
could utter such stinging words, that could smile in such
cutting scorn?  The young girl turned away, and cast down
her eyes; the knife trembled in her hand.  She longed to
shut the door, that she might neither see nor be seen, but
strangely enough she lacked the force and courage to stir.
There was no answer without, and no further step was heard.

"Leo, look at me!"  Flora spoke louder, half in entreaty,
half in command.  "Why torture yourself by thus doing
violence to your own heart?  I know how manfully you are
struggling to suppress your most sacred impulses, that you
may seem hard and cold, to punish me.  And why?  Because
yesterday I was half wild with what I had suffered, and did
not know what I did or said.  Leo, my life which belongs to
you had been in danger, my blood was in a ferment, and—then
you irritated me further."

Kitty involuntarily looked up.  Beside her stood the maid,
with a broad grin on her good, fat face: it certainly was
delightful to hear the pretty lady begging something of her
young master.  Kitty instantly recovered her self-control;
she took the plate of cake in her hand and went out into the
hall.  She saw the doctor standing with folded arms and
averted face gazing through the open house-door; his brown
cheek looked pale, his teeth were firmly and angrily set, while
Flora's trailing black figure hung upon his neck, clinging to
him like the fabled vampire.

At the noise made by the opening door, the doctor started,
and his glance encountered Kitty's.  He recoiled as if detected
in some crime.  Flora's eyes followed the direction of his own,
but the lovely arms were not unclasped from about his neck.
"It is only Kitty," she murmured, and leaned her head upon
his breast.

Kitty glided past them into the sick-room.  Her heart beat
almost audibly with terror and shame: she had interrupted a
love-scene à la Romeo and Juliet.  With trembling hands she
placed the plate upon a table, and by Henriette's desire, who
feared that her pets might make an inroad upon the cake and
sugar, she lured the fluttering canaries into their small aviary
and closed its door behind them.

As she did so, she saw the ring that had eluded their search
lying upon the clean white sand on the floor of the cage.  Oddly
enough, it had dropped through the wires and upon the soft
sand without noise.  Kitty took it up and slipped it into her
pocket, and then she should have gone into the kitchen to
superintend the making of the coffee, but she almost shivered
with terror and dislike.  She seemed to herself about to be
thrust forth to death, to destruction.  She still stood by the
table, busying herself with the birds, while the Frau President,
in a pleasant, subdued voice, talked on about Flora's
trousseau, and the dean's widow reckoned up upon her fingers
the various additional articles that the change of residence
would make necessary; the old lady seemed quite convinced
that her distinguished nephew was about to marry a kind of
princess.

Kitty was released from torment sooner than she had anticipated.
The doctor entered the room after a few minutes, and
she slipped past him without looking up.  The hall was empty.
Flora must have gone into the garden.  The grinding of the
coffee-mill was heard in the kitchen; perhaps that harsh noise,
and not, as she had suspected, her appearance, had terminated
the reconciliation scene thus quickly.

Her duties were soon concluded, and, while the maid was
putting on a clean apron preparatory to carrying the coffee to
the guests, Kitty went to the window and examined the ring,
which with a throbbing heart she took from her pocket.
E.M., 1843, was engraved on the inside,—Ernst Mangold.
Then she held in her hand the betrothal-ring of Flora's mother.
She stood paralyzed by the utter frivolity with which Flora
had thus discovered a means of relieving herself from all
embarrassment.  Hers was one of those feminine natures
which master a situation by a bold stroke as soon as it is
comprehended, and by a reckless ignoring of all that is
unpleasant in the past come down upon their feet in any
change of circumstances and instantly take up afresh the
threads of their intrigues and continue to weave them
successfully.  And this was the sister before whose intellectual
and moral superiority her childish soul had prostrated itself
in timid awe!

The unpretending symbol of conjugal fidelity worn by
Flora's gentle mother to the hour of her death had been
desecrated by the daughter's wanton hands.  It seemed almost
to burn Kitty's fingers.  She would have liked to throw it
far away, never to be found again by human hand; but it
was her sister's by inheritance, and must be returned to her.

She left, the kitchen and went into the garden, at the
bottom of which Flora stood gazing abroad over the
picket-fence.  Her back was turned to the house, and her arms
folded across her breast, while the sunlight tinged her fair
hair through the meshes of the lace with pale gold.  The
watch-dog was barking incessantly and angrily at the mute,
strange figure, with the long, rustling train lying dark upon
the grass.

The dog's barking drowned the noise of Kitty's approaching
footsteps; Flora did not observe her until she stood close
beside her.  Then she started and turned round, her face
still flushed with agitation; she was evidently in a very
irritable frame of mind, for she frowned still more darkly, and
her eyes flashed with anger.

"Are you here again, like an inevitable Deus ex machina?
Awkward creature, to come blundering in!" she exclaimed, as
if there stood beside her not this stately, dignified young girl,
but an ill-bred, naughty child, whom the discipline of the rod
awaited.

Righteous indignation almost overpowered Kitty; hers
was no submissive nature; her youthful blood did not flow
so gently in her veins as to prompt her to turn the other
cheek to so insulting a reception: but she controlled herself.
"I bring you your ring," she said, briefly and coldly.

"Give it to me!"  Flora's features assumed a more tranquil
expression, as she hastily took the little circlet from Kitty's
open palm and put it on her finger.  "I am very glad to have
the truant once more.  It is such bad luck——"

"You are not alluding to any evil omen in this case?"  The
young girl's voice almost failed her at the display of such
incredible audacity.

"And why not?  Do you suppose people of our position
in life are necessarily free from superstition?  Napoleon the
First was as superstitious as any village crone, let me tell you;
and I, child, also confess to a faith in omens."  She looked
fixedly at Kitty, as if to defy criticism and to bar all allusion
to the past, nay, even all memory of the display on the part
of her youthful sister.

But there confronted her now a being undeviatingly true,
whose indignant blood was boiling.  "You forget," Kitty
said, "that you were not standing alone there last
evening."  And she pointed to the bridge.

Flora laughed angrily.  "This comes of having one's
footsteps dogged by a younger sister.  In the true school-girl
fashion, she puts on an air of confidential familiarity, and
delights in hinting at what were best gone and forgotten.
Did you not hear me say just now that the adventure of
yesterday in the forest so shattered my nerves that I could
not be responsible for anything that occurred afterwards?
I suppose, my esteemed Kitty, that, in your profound
sagacity, you would remind me that I cannot connect any omen
with my betrothal-ring because—well, because it lies at the
bottom of the river.  Eh, my dear?"  Again she laughed.
"What if, in spite of my agitation and confusion of mind,
my indignation at an unjust and prejudiced criticism that
had just been launched at me, I had yielded to a feeling of
compunction, and had not thrown away my precious jewel?
Did you hear the ring drop, child?  Certainly not! for here
it is," and she turned the ring about on her finger, "after
having really been upon the point of leaving me of its own
accord——"

"Because it is too large for you.  Your fingers are more
slender than your mother's were," Kitty sternly interrupted
her.

Flora raised her hand in menace.  "Viper!" she muttered,
between her teeth.  "In the first moment that I saw
you I felt, I knew, that your clumsy person would cast an
ugly shadow upon my life!  How dare you undertake to play
the spy upon me?  Upon me?  These honourable principles
are the fine effects of the teachings of your excellent Lukas!"

"No need to mention my Lukas!" said Kitty, who opposed
a perfectly calm demeanour to this passionate outburst.  "My
education has had nothing to do with my mode of thought
and action in this instance.  These 'honourable principles'
I inherit from a good father.  I detest deceit, and would
rather die than call falsehood truth.  You may be able to
silence those about you by your treacherous audacity, and
thus make them accomplices in your deceit, but this you
cannot do with me, young and inexperienced though I be.
I am not to be blinded: I have excellent eyes and a good
memory——"

"Very sound natural endowments; hardly to be equalled
by any one gifted with delicate sensibilities and refined
feeling!" Flora exclaimed.  While Kitty was speaking, she
had several times turned as if to leave "the chit."  She had
clenched her hands, bitten her lip, and mercilessly stripped
of its first green leaves one of the boughs of a bush that stood
near, but she had not gone, and now she spoke as composedly
as though she had not for a moment lost her self-possession.

"Will you ever understand me, child?"  She shrugged
her shoulders.  "I think not; you cling with childlike
credulity to your tiresome code of what you call morality, and
can never appreciate the soul of things, estimating everything
by your rule, as the tradesman does his stuffs by the
yard, be they coarse or fine, green or red; but I will try to
make myself clear."

She approached her sister, so closely that Kitty felt her
breath upon her cheek.  "Yes, you are right," she said, in a
low tone, and with a hasty side-glance towards the window
of the house, "my betrothal-ring is lying in the depths of
the river.  I flung it away in a paroxysm of despair, in
utter disgust,—disgust at the prospect of a life of poverty at
Bruck's side.  Girls of your stamp cannot, of course,
understand this.  You choose a husband for certain qualities, a
good figure, perhaps, or a fine beard, and when once you
have said 'yes' you follow him through thick and thin; and
rightly,—such girls make excellent mothers of well-taught sons.
They cower in the domestic nest and timidly and humbly
close their eyes when an eagle soars to dizzy heights above
them.  But such an eagle must be my mate.  Upon those
heights I breathe my native air; close by his side, I cheer
him onward and encourage his lofty flight——"

"And if some malignant arrow lame his wing, you
proclaim him a crow and leave him like a coward," Kitty
interrupted her, thus trenchantly stigmatizing her ambitious
sister's shameless treachery; and, as she spoke, she stood
with folded arms, the personification of indignant womanhood.
"You did not even have the grace to go quietly to work about
your faithless schemes, as is the wont of traitors, but you
openly declared your bitter hatred, and proclaimed yourself
deceived, betrayed, on this very spot, where now you stand
again——"

"Bruck's idolized love, who needed to pass through all
her errors to appreciate the magnitude of her good fortune,"
Flora completed the sentence, in a tone of triumph.  Then,
with a malicious gleam in her eyes, she added, "But you can
be excessively impertinent, child.  I am really struck by the
fine turn you gave to my simile.  I admit that a fair share
of quite respectable intelligence has fallen to you,—just enough,
indeed, to mislead you entirely in your estimate of genius, of
a soul of fire.  What can you know of a psychological problem?
If I had uttered yesterday one word of friendship forfeited,
you would be right in your indignation at my sudden change,
for nothing of passion can come of friendship; while hate
and love are close akin in the human soul,—they enkindle
each other; excess of love often lies at the foundation of what
seems bitter hatred.  You, with your blunt sensibilities, can
never understand this.  You would propitiate your husband
by some triumph of cookery, while a nature like mine, in the
intensity of its desire to atone, might commit a crime for
him, nay, even suffer death."

She pressed her clenched fist to her breast, as if she were
even then thrusting a dagger into her heart.  "And now let
me tell you, never have I loved Bruck so passionately, so
intensely, as since I have known how he has endured like a
martyr, like a hero, in silence,—since I confessed to myself how
bitterly I have wronged him; and never,"—she suddenly seized
Kitty's hand in a clasp that was as cold as the wind which
came blowing from the water,—"and never," she whispered,
"have I been so fiercely jealous.  Heed what I say, child!
This is *my* domain.  And although you are the last to be held
dangerous by me,—he has no liking for you, as I have long
observed, and, besides, will never have eye or ear for any
other save myself,—still, I am not disposed to endure the
presence near me of any one who so evidently seeks to please.
Your 'homely' ways and conduct here, your intimate going
and coming, do not suit me.  For the future all this must
cease.  Do you understand, child?"

Having thus spoken, she picked up her train and turned
hastily towards the house, as if to bar all reply,—a needless
precaution, for Kitty's pale lips were firmly closed.  Youth
and innocence had no reply for such a heaped-up measure of
arrogance, waywardness, and deceit.





.. vspace:: 4

CHAPTER XVIII.
==============

It was May.  The trees had shaken off their snowy
blossoms, and the huge beds of hyacinths and crocuses, which
had been so admired on the lawn before the villa, had quite
done blooming.  The lilacs and syringas were in flower, the
tender green buds were just peeping forth upon the
rose-bushes, and the shade in the shrubbery and in the linden
avenue was growing deeper and darker.  The river ran once
more clear through the garland of green that bordered it on
either side, and over the dear old house upon its bank there
clambered a web of greenery that, day by day, concealed
more and more of the white walls.  The healthy grape-vines
drooped their tendrils even above the overhanging eaves.

The guest-chamber stood untenanted once more.  Henriette
had been removed some time since to the villa, apparently
quite recovered; indeed, her disease seemed to be
checked: its progress was not perceptible; and this beneficial
change the dean's widow ascribed to Kitty's nursing.  The
two sisters in their third story led a pleasant, isolated
existence that was full of fresh charm since the new piano had
been placed in Kitty's room.  Not to Kitty's care alone was
Henriette's improvement due: her intimate intercourse with
the doctor's aunt had proved of great advantage to her.
Her views of life and of its duties and pleasures had
undergone a change in the quiet of the house by the river.  She
no longer recoiled from the thought of a retired life,—the
whirl of fashion and society aroused in her now no eager
longings.

And, in truth, the councillor's home had never been so
gay in a worldly sense as at present, since the elevation of
its master to the aristocracy.  There were many occasions,
and very welcome ones, for festivities of various kinds, and
the Frau President's invention and the councillor's purse
seemed alike inexhaustible.  The man's good fortune was
wondrous indeed.  Disturbed by no loss, no failure, whatever
was touched by the enchanted wand of his business genius
seemed to turn to gold,—his wealth was estimated by millions.
And he thoroughly understood how to wear the glory of his
new distinction, how to make it interesting, an inexhaustible
theme of wonder and admiration for rich and poor.  The
road past Villa Baumgarten became a fashionable
promenade; strangers were shown the magnificent estate which
was always being added to and improved.  They told of
costly pictures and statuary, of rare collections gathered
together within those marble walls of a plate-room not to
be equalled in the royal palace.  The crowd halted and
gaped when one of his equipages waited before the gates, and
wondered whether the light cloud of sand, stirred by the
wind upon the gravel-walks, were not gold-dust.

Large additions were building, making long stretches of
road through the park almost impassable, heaped up as they
were with blocks of granite and marble to be used in these
additions and in the new stables, the old ones, although
spacious and convenient, having long been too small for the
councillor's passion for fine horses.  The ground selected for
the artificial lake proved rather unsuitable for such an
adornment, and this, with the new tropical conservatory, absorbed
enormous sums of money.  And one day a multitude of
workmen arrived to undertake the repair of an extensive and
very elegant pavilion, which had been hitherto locked up and
in disuse.  It was situated in the forest, at a considerable
distance from the villa, but from its upper windows there
was a good view of the road and the town.  A graceful
wing was added to the original building, the windows were
all provided with plate-glass, and from time to time the
councillor would produce from his pocket patterns of stuffs for
covering furniture, or drawings for parquet floorings, and beg
the aid of the Frau President's taste in their selection.  On
such occasions she was wont to be very curt and ungracious,
while Flora smiled behind her pocket-handkerchief; but the
old lady was forced to choose, in spite of her declaration that
she was not at all interested in the renovation of the old
"barracks," and had quite enough of work to last her lifetime in
the arrangement and ordering of the villa, without troubling
herself about a lodging-house for business friends of the
councillor's, a place where she certainly never should set her
foot.  Therefore she steadily ignored the new building, in
spite of the incessant noise and hammering that resounded
thence, much as the ambitious spouse of a reigning sovereign
ignores her future dower-house.

In all this bustle, this hurry of beginnings and endings,
the councillor came and went like a bird of passage.  He
made many business excursions, but these were shortly all
to have an end, he said, and then he should purchase a large
estate in the country and become really one of the landed
aristocracy.  Whenever he had two or three holidays, he spent
much time in the third story; he drank coffee there regularly
in the afternoon, to the great vexation of the Frau President,
who thereby lost her favourite hour in her conservatory; for
she was naturally far too attentive to leave "dear Moritz"
to the society of a peevish invalid and an unformed
school-girl, and almost always made her appearance with him.

This was a great relief to Kitty, who had conceived an
unconquerable, shy dislike of her guardian since he had
grown so strangely affable and even tender in his demeanour
towards herself, and so false, so deceitful in his external
politeness towards the Frau President.  Involuntarily she
adopted, in her intercourse with him, the dignified reserve of
a woman, where she had formerly shown the confidence of a
child.  And this very change seemed to please and encourage
him in his new, strange rôle.  He divined her wishes and
fulfilled them; he had long since consented that the unused
portion of the mill-garden should be sold to the workmen.
He placed no obstacles in the way of any of her benevolent
schemes, and, when her purse was empty, filled it without a
word of remonstrance.  "Deny yourself the fulfilment of no
whim, Kitty; I shall soon have to buy you another iron
safe," he said, in allusion to the astounding increase of her
capital.  She listened in gloomy silence.  With all his
finesse and diplomatic replies to her grave inquiries, he had
never yet disproved the complaint made by the people, that
her wealth had been gained by pitiless usury,—a complaint
to which the Frau President never lost an opportunity of
alluding.  The naïve childish delight Kitty had formerly
taken in being so rich had been converted into a kind of
dread of the money which was so swiftly, so strangely
accumulating, only, it might be, to fall upon and crush her at
some future day in just retribution.

She had grown notably graver.  The sunny smile that
her lively temperament had so often called up upon her face
was now rare.  She was never unreservedly gay, except in
the house by the river, and there only at certain times.
The dean's widow had been for some time charitably
teaching a number of poor children to knit and to sew, every
Wednesday and Saturday afternoon.  In this little scheme
Kitty, with the joyful consent of the old lady, had taken
part.  Intercourse with children was something entirely novel
in her experience, stirring chords in her nature the existence
of which she had never suspected.  She took heartfelt delight
in the little creatures, and admitted to herself that the care
and instruction of them was an occupation beyond all others
to her in interest.

She clothed them when they needed it,—there was always
an apron or little dress in her work-basket,—and she
provided (which the dean's widow could not have afforded)
fruit and biscuit for their refreshment when the hour of
industry was over.  In the summer the lessons were given in
the garden, and when they were over the children, for the
most part living in the closest and darkest alleys of the
town could enjoy a romp on the grass in the shade of the
fruit-trees.  Kitty had provided portable benches for seats,
and balls and hoops for the hour of recreation that followed
work.

Flora was greatly vexed at all this, which she chose to
regard as an infringement of her rights with regard to the
doctor's aunt, but she was wise enough to suppress all
evidence of her annoyance in the house by the river, since
"the old woman took it so very ill if the tall girl with vulgar
red cheeks and genuine Sommer features was not regarded
as a perfect pattern-card of every imaginable virtue."  The
beautiful betrothed visited the house daily; she had had a
dozen embroidered white aprons made, trimmed with lace,
and never appeared without this domestic adornment, which
became her admirably.  No one could accuse her of not
making every exertion to gain the approval of the doctor's
aunt.  She exposed her delicate face to the heat of the
kitchen fire that she might learn how to bake cake; she
took lessons in pickling and preserving, and once even took
the flat-iron from the maid-servant's hand and herself ironed
a table-napkin; but, in spite of these tremendous exertions,
she never succeeded in inducing the dean's widow to depart
in the smallest degree from the courteous but excessively
reserved demeanour that she had adopted towards her
nephew's betrothed ever since that most unlucky evening.
She seemed to know perfectly well how, after these efforts,
Flora would withdraw to her dressing-room as if fatigued to
death, there to pull off her apron and toss it into a corner,
and then usually to refresh herself by a round of visits in
the carriage to her friends, whose ill-concealed envy was an
inexhaustible source of satisfaction for her.  These friends
maintained unanimously that the university professor's future
wife gave herself the airs of a full-plumaged peacock as she
rolled along in her coupé, and that her arrogance was almost
unbearable.

The sudden change in Doctor Bruck's career was still a
nine-days' wonder.  Many could hardly yet believe that the
calumniated and depreciated young physician of a few weeks
since now walked the streets of the capital an actual Hofrath.
The man grew daily in the estimation of court and public;
and, since his removal to L—— would in future make him
unattainable, every sufferer was desirous of benefiting by his
skill.  Thus it happened that Doctor Bruck was actually
overwhelmed with patients.  His manuscript lay untouched
upon his writing-table; he slept in his lodgings in town,
taking his meals there usually, and thus declining to avail
himself of the councillor's daily invitations to dine; any
time spent at the villa or with his aunt had to be stolen, as
he expressed it, from his patients.

Kitty saw him but seldom, and was all the more struck
with the great change in him, probably in consequence of
hard work, she thought.  He looked pale and wearied; his
former quiet but gentle reserve had become gloomy taciturnity.
With Kitty he had scarcely interchanged two words
since she had surprised his tête-à-tête with Flora in the hall,
and his curt manner towards her had been such as to
convince her that her inopportune appearance on that occasion
had greatly angered him.  It wounded her that it should be
so, and she avoided him whenever she could.

In his conduct towards Flora, on the other hand, there
was not the slightest change; he was the same grave,
dignified person whom Kitty had seen the first time she had seen
the betrothed pair together.  Sometimes she half believed
that the terrible scene by Henriette's bedside was either a
freak of her own imagination, or else that Doctor Bruck
possessed a power, common to no other mortal, of forgetting, of
absolutely obliterating from his memory, disagreeable
occurrences.  Flora had evidently expected that her entreaty for
forgiveness, her manifest repentance, would restore the intimate
intercourse of the first weeks of their betrothal.  Loving her
so passionately as he did, must he not be intensely happy in
knowing her now irrevocably his own again?  Perhaps the
happiness was there, only concealed for the present, and his
beautiful betrothed might console herself by reflecting that a
man of Bruck's stamp was not too easily appeased, that all
would be as she would have it by September, the month now
fixed for the marriage.

In the meanwhile, the twentieth of May, Flora's birthday,
had come.  Every table in her room was covered with
flowers, the usual gifts of her friends.  Even the princess
had sent a magnificent bouquet to the betrothed of the
Hofrath, whom she delighted to honour, and the most flattering
congratulations poured in from various grandees of the court.
Yes, it was a day of triumph for Flora; a day to strengthen
her in the conviction that she was a favourite of the gods,
one destined to an exceptionally brilliant career.

And yet there was a cloud upon her brow, and now and
then she frowned darkly upon the table in the centre of the
room.  Among the gifts from her grandmother and her
sisters stood a handsome mantel-clock of black marble.
Doctor Bruck had sent it to her early in the morning, with an
accompanying congratulatory note, excusing his non-appearance
before the afternoon, on the ground of anxiety concerning
a patient who was very ill.

"I cannot understand why Leo could find nothing prettier
for me than that clumsy thing," she said, as she pointed
to the clock, to the Frau President, who had taken the
princess's bouquet from a vase and was smelling it eagerly,
as if it must exhale a peculiar perfume.  "No one likes to
give a *black* birthday present; for my part, I consider it at
least very bad taste."

"The clock is very suitable, chosen quite in accordance
with your taste, Flora; it is intended to complete the
decoration of this room," said Henriette.  She was lying on the
crimson couch, and, as she spoke, she glanced contemptuously
at the black marble pedestals in the corners of the room.

"Nonsense! you know as well as I that I cannot take this
furniture away with me.  Moritz furnished this room entirely
according to my desire, it is true, but so far as I know he
has given me neither the furniture nor the hangings.  And
I would not take them away with me if he offered them to
me,—one grows just as tired of a stereotyped style of
furnishing as of a dress that has been often worn.  What in the
world shall I do with that black thing in L——, in my new
boudoir that is furnished in lilac with bronze ornaments?"

"I, too, should have preferred a fresh bouquet; but you
are not sentimental, Flora," Henriette remarked, not without
a shade of malice.  Kitty, dressed in white to-day for the
first time, was standing beside a beautiful myrtle-bush which
the dean's widow had reared herself and sent as her gift.
The girl, with a sorrowful smile, passed her hand as if in a
caress over its shining tender leaves.  No one appreciated
this beautiful present, which it must have cost the giver a
pang to resign.

In the afternoon, also, the reception-rooms were open, for
visitors were still coming with congratulations.  The entire
suite of these lower rooms, when opened, presented a
charming coup-d'oeil.  The warm air blew in through the gilt
bronze tracery of the balcony, bearing on its wings the odour
of the lindens in the avenue and of the opening flowers
on the lawn; the golden May sunshine streamed through
the high windows.  In the crimson room alone it was powerless
to awaken a single bright reflection.  There all looked
dark and cold as ever,—it seemed cruel to imprison all
the lovely flowers upon the tables within those four dark
walls.

Henriette reclined in a rocking-chair opposite the open
door of the balcony.  She would have liked to look as like
the May as Kitty, and her emaciated figure was enveloped
in clouds of white muslin; but she was cold, and had
wrapped about her shoulders a soft white shawl of
embroidered crape, over which her abundant hair fell in rich
waves; it had never been coiled up since her last attack.

Thus lying motionless in the flickering sunlight, with her
large dark-blue eyes wide open, shaded by their long dark
lashes, and her snowy skin only near the temples tinged with
faint carmine, she looked like a waxen doll.  She had sent
Kitty to the piano in the music-room, and was awaiting, with
hands folded in her lap, the beginning of Schubert's "Lob
der Thränen."  Suddenly the faint flush near her temples
deepened to rose, and her clasped hands involuntarily sought
her heart—Doctor Bruck entered the drawing-room.

Flora flew towards him and hung upon his arm.  She
scarce gave him time to speak to the others, but drew him
into her room to look at her birthday gifts.  The beautiful
woman who had endeavoured for so long to impress all with
her learning and studious habits of research, to-day, on her
twenty-ninth birthday, manifested the naïve grace of a girl
of sixteen, and was indeed, with her lovely animated face
and supple lithe movements, charmingly youthful.

Kitty stood by the music-stand, looking for the notes of
the song, as the pair passed her on the way to Flora's room.
She looked around for an instant, to receive Bruck's
half-embarrassed bow, and then went on diligently with her
search.

"Look, Leo, to-day I close with the past, wherein I erred
so sadly and almost destroyed the happiness of my life," Flora
said, in her irresistibly sweet voice, as Kitty took from the
shelf a thick portfolio of music.  "I would not recall the
memory of that wretched evening, when I lost all self-control
and, in my excitement and agitation, uttered words in which
my heart and soul had no share; but, for the truth's sake,
and because I owe it to myself, I must tell you that you too
were wrong then in your adverse criticism of me.  It was no
desire for notoriety that drove me to authorship, but true
talent,—to speak plainly, genius.  Ask me no further!  I can assure
you I could have made my way by my work, 'Woman,'
which you have never seen.  According to the verdict of
competent judges, it is indeed calculated to win me name
and fame in the world; but how could I desire, by your side,
to follow any path of my own, or to exercise any of my special
gifts?  No, Leo, I will bask solely in the light of your fame,
as is fitting for a woman, and, in order that temptation may
never in the future again assail me, these pages, the result of
diligent study and of the fount of poesy in my soul, must
vanish from the world."

Kitty, who had just found the notes she had been seeking,
turned at this moment to take her place at the piano.  She
saw Flora hold a lighted match to her manuscript, and throw
it, blazing, into the fire-place.  The beautiful woman turned
her head towards the window where the doctor was standing;
perhaps she wished that he should make an attempt to hinder
her from what she was doing; but no step was audible, no
hand was extended to snatch the precious fuel from the flames.
The smoke of the burning paper, borne on the wind of spring,
floated into the music-room; and as Flora, biting her under
lip, and with a strange gleam in her eyes, stepped back from
the fire-place, Kitty took her seat at the piano and began
Liszt's arrangement of the "Lob der Thränen."

Kitty would not listen to Bruck's reply; it was terrible to
her to be perpetually an involuntary witness of these scenes
between the betrothed pair; it would end in Bruck's hating
her.  But she was indignant at the farce she had again seen
played.  The battered manuscript, repeatedly pronounced to
be worthless by competent critics, had been dragged out
once more, to play the part of a tragic sacrifice made by a
high-minded woman, who thus in submission to a stern lord
and master renounced the genius which she was aware she
possessed.

Through the melody that Kitty's fingers evoked from the
piano the girl could hear a continuous murmur of sound, in
which she distinguished the grave tone of the doctor's voice,
although, to her great satisfaction, no distinct word was
audible.  As she concluded, Flora entered the room to pass
through to the balconied apartment.  She no longer hung
upon Bruck's arm, but walked beside him with the princess's
bouquet in her hand, looking like a child who has been
reproved and dares not reply.  Flora had found her master.
She darted an angry glance towards her sister, whose hands
were just lifted from the keys of the piano at the close of the
piece.  "Thank heaven, you have done, Kitty!" she said,
standing still.  "You bang away so that I can scarcely hear
my own voice.  You see, you play your own little things very
fairly,—they are nursery airs, without any depth; but really
you ought not to attempt Schubert or Liszt; you have neither
sufficient taste nor execution."

"Henriette asked for that piece," Kitty calmly replied, as
she closed the instrument.  "I do not pretend to be a skilled
musician——"

"No, my darling, indeed you do not; you do not care to
make people stare at your wonderful dexterity," suddenly
interrupted Henriette, appearing upon the threshold of the
door as she spoke; "but never was there girl who could
interpret Schubert as you can.  Or does Flora think that the
tears you bring to our eyes start entirely out of conventional
politeness?"

"They come from morbid nerves, nothing more!" replied
Flora, laughing, as she followed the doctor into the drawing-room,
whither the Frau President had called him.

The old lady was looking somewhat perplexed, as she sat
with her eye-glass in one hand, and in the other a letter,
which the servant had just brought her.  "Ah, my dearest
Hofrath,"—she used this title as often as she possibly could,
for the sound of it flattered her ear,—"my friend Baroness
Steiner writes me that she is coming here in a few days to
consult you.  She is very anxious about her little grandson,
the hope of the ancient family Von Brandau.  The boy has
limped a little for some time, and our most skilful physicians
have searched in vain for the cause of the trouble.  Will you
examine the child, and take him in charge?"

"Certainly; provided the lady does not make too great a
demand upon my time."  He well knew how fond the high-born
dame in question was of being waited for, and that she
chose to have a cold in any one of her family respected as if
it were a mortal illness.

The Frau President was evidently offended at the indifference
with which her request was treated; she made no reply.

"The Baroness seems piqued by my recent postponement
of her visit," she said, addressing Flora; "this letter,"
tapping it with her eye-glass, "is full of satire; if she had not
been worried and anxious, she never would have written to
me.  I can hardly tell you how it pains me.  Now she wishes
to take rooms in the best hotel that can be found, where
our Hofrath can visit her, and begs me *at least* to do her the
favour to secure a suite of five apartments for her."  And as
she spoke she cast an annihilating glance from beneath her
drooping eyelids towards the lovely girl in the white dress,
who, standing opposite her, behind a large arm-chair, rested
her arms upon the back of it, and grew alternately red and
pale as she listened to what was, every word of it, intended as
a reproach for her.

"She might be very comfortable on the third floor, if she
did not really need five rooms," the Frau President continued.
"But she must have a drawing-room for herself and her
daughter Marie, a school-room for little Job von Brandau
and his governess, and three sleeping-rooms at the very least.
Of course she brings her maid."  Much out of humour, she
leaned her head on her hand, in anxious reverie.

"All of which means that, during the visit of this pretentious
Baroness, Kitty will be in the way," Henriette angrily
exclaimed.

"I have offered to go to the mill," Kitty said, without a
trace of irritation, as she passed her hand soothingly over
Henriette's hair.

"Oh, no; I have thought of a far better plan, Kitty, if you
must go," the invalid cried, with sparkling eyes.  "We will
beg the dean's widow to give you her lovely spare room; I
know she will be delighted, for she fairly dotes upon you.
Your piano can be taken over there, and I can go to you
whenever I choose——"  She stopped as her eyes met those of
the doctor.  He had turned away at first towards the window,
but he looked around now with undeniable disapproval on his
face,—he scarcely seemed like himself.

"I propose what seems to me far more fitting and practicable,
that the boy and his governess shall be lodged in my
house," he said, coldly.

The Frau President loosened the cloud of lace beneath
her chin, and could not suppress a fleeting, ironical smile.
"That can scarcely be arranged, my dear Hofrath," she
replied.  "Nothing could induce my old friend to be separated
from Job, and then—you have no idea what a spoiled child
he is.  Our own little prince is not so delicately brought up
as this last and only scion of the Brandaus; the poor, puny
little creature is bedded in satin and down.  Yes, those people
think such luxuries only en règle.  But we are put to it to
make them comfortable."

"And why, Leo, should you prefer to give your aunt the
trouble of having that little monster—the petted scion of the
Von Brandaus is positively the naughtiest and most good-for-nothing
little wretch in the world—in her house?" Henriette
indignantly asked; her nerves were in just the irritated state
that prompted her to say what she might hereafter regret.
"What has Kitty done to you?  It has pained me for some
time to see how unjust you are to her.  Do you despise her
because her grandfather was the castle miller?  You hardly
ever speak to her; and it is ridiculous, for at all events she is
Flora's sister.  She is the only one of us who never addresses
you by your Christian name."

"My dear," Flora interrupted her, "I have long objected
to that familiar address, and if my wishes were consulted, no
one would use it.  To tell the truth, I grudge an iota of my
right to any one else.  With regard to yourself, Henriette, I
let it pass; but I really entreat that Kitty may not allow herself
such a liberty."  And she put her hand within the doctor's
arm and looked tenderly up in his face.

Embarrassed, perhaps, by this public display of affection, or
irritated by Henriette's reproof, the doctor started as if the
white hand had been an odious reptile, and his colour changed.

Kitty turned to leave the room.  She could have burst
into tears of wounded feeling, but she bravely endured her
pain and maintained a calm demeanour.  Just as she reached
the door, it opened, and the councillor entered.  She forgot for
the moment the dislike she had felt for him of late, remembering
only that he was her guardian and stood in a father's
place with regard to her, and as a result of this she lightly laid
her hand on his arm in greeting.

He looked surprised, but with a satisfied smile and an arch
twinkle in his eyes he pressed the little hand to his heart.
His own hands were not free: they held a small chest, which
he placed upon the table by which the Frau President was
sitting.  His entrance interrupted a most painful scene, and
Henriette, who had been the cause of it, could have fallen
upon his neck in gratitude to him for the easy, happy tone
which he adopted in his unconsciousness.

"Now I am content; my birthday gift for you, Flora, has
come at last," he said.  "My Berlin agent accuses the
manufacturers of the delay in its arrival."  He lifted the cover.
"Apropos, I have another birthday pleasure for you," he
added, with a gay, jesting air.  "I have just heard that you
are avenged,—the leader of the attack upon you in the forest,
she of the menacing nails, has been sentenced to-day to a
considerable term of imprisonment; the others, who were either
very young or misled by her, have escaped with a reprimand."

"I cannot think that your news will really give Flora any
pleasure," cried Henriette; "of course such offences must not
go unpunished, and it can do that fierce Megæra no harm to be
shut up alone for a while; but there was something so terrible
for us all in that whole adventure, it is so dreadful to be so
hated, that I wish you had said nothing about it, Moritz."

"Do you think so?" Flora asked, with a laugh.  "Moritz
knows me better; he knows I am quite above being moved
by it, and would not stir a finger for the sake of popularity.
And you were the same a while ago, Henriette.  I should like
to know what you would have said eight months ago if any
one in our circle had advocated the rights of the people; all
that was entirely beneath your notice.  But since Kitty has
been here, such questions and discussions are the order of
the day on the third floor, to such a degree that one stands
abashed in presence of such Spartan virtue and feminine
heroism.  I should not wonder if Kitty had already been searching
her cook-book for recipes for nourishing soups to keep the
culprit strong in her confinement."

"No, not that," Kitty bravely replied, looking full into the
beautiful and impertinent face turned towards her; "but I
have made inquiries about her family.  She has four little
children, and her unmarried brother, who was one of Moritz's
workmen and helped to provide for the fatherless little ones,
has been lying ill for a long time.  Of course these five
helpless creatures must not suffer; and I have undertaken to
provide for them as long as they are thus destitute."

The councillor turned round, and a remonstrance seemed
hovering upon his lips.  "Yes, Moritz," the young girl said,
hastily, "at such moments I have less horror of my
grandfather's hoards."

The Frau President pushed back her chair impatiently.
This "maudlin sentimentality" was beyond a jest.  "These
are most extraordinary statements and strangely perverted
views of life and the world!  Wealth could not possibly fall
into more dangerous hands," she cried.  "Yes, my dear
Hofrath, I see you look in wonder at the hand now laid so
beseechingly on Moritz's arm because he would fain restrain
it from such wilful expenditure."

Kitty instantly withdrew her hand.  She saw the doctor
gloomily avert his gaze, but he made no reply to the Frau
President's remark.

"Ah, grandmamma, that was surely no glance of disapproval,"
Flora cried, as she watched suspiciously the changing
colour on the doctor's cheek.  "Bruck always was a kind of
enthusiast for the lower classes——"

"He surely is so no longer, my child,—now that he
frequents the court and enjoys the prince's most distinguished
regard."

"And why should such intercourse undermine my principles?"
the doctor asked, with apparent composure, although
his voice sounded uncertain, as if he were undergoing a mental
struggle.

"Good heavens! you would not ally yourself with the
revolutionary party—with those social democrats?" the Frau
President cried, in dismay.

"I think I have already explained several times that, for very
humanity's sake, I belong to none of these extreme parties.
I endeavour to preserve that clear judgment which party hate
is sure to cloud, and which is most desirable if one wishes to
labour for the true weal of his fellow-mortals."

Meanwhile, the councillor had been busy unpacking the
chest.  He especially disliked to have any topic touched upon
the discussion of which might endanger the peace of his household.
He now unfolded a piece of rich maize-coloured satin and
another of violet velvet.  "A couple of toilettes for your first
début as the wife of a distinguished professor," he said to Flora.

His end was gained.  The splendour of the stuffs was too
attractive for female eyes; even Henriette forgot her irritation
at sight of a couple of exquisite fans, and some boxes of
artificial flowers from Paris.  But the contents of the chest were
not yet exhausted.  "The other ladies of my household must
not go empty-handed, especially since I am to be at home now
for some time and shall have no other opportunity of bringing
them gifts," the councillor continued.

The Frau President, with a gracious smile, accepted a costly
lace shawl, and Henriette a white silk dress, while into Kitty's
reluctant hand the councillor, with a peculiarly significant
glance, put a tolerably large morocco case.

This glance aroused in an instant in the girl's soul a perfect
tempest of emotion, calling into life all the aversion that had
of late stirred within her towards her guardian and brother-in-law.
No, no, a thousand times no,—he should not gaze at
her thus, as if together they shared a secret which none else
might know; once for all, she would put a stop to this.
Shame, annoyance, and an almost irresistible desire openly to
proclaim her aversion now before every one, filled her soul
and were mirrored on her face, although its changing
expression was misunderstood.

"Well, Kitty, is it such a novelty for you to receive a
present?" asked Flora.  "What has Moritz given you?  We
must be told the sweet secret some time.  Let me see it,
child."  She took the case as it was nearly dropping upon the floor,
and pressed the spring that opened the lid.  A crimson light
flashed from the stones forming the necklace that lay inside
upon black velvet.

The Frau President put up her eye-glass.  "Superbly set;
almost too artistically antique for imitation, although modern
fashion certainly sanctions its being worn.  This paste is
uncommonly clear and sparkling."  She negligently extended her
hand for the case, that she might more conveniently examine
its contents.

"Paste?" the councillor repeated, much piqued.  "How,
grandmamma, can you accuse me of such want of taste?  Is
there a thread here that is not genuine?"  He passed his
hand over the pile of glistening silks.  "You ought to know
that I never purchase imitations."

The Frau President bit her lip.  "I do know it, Moritz;
but really in this case I am astounded,—these are such rubies
as even our beloved princess does not possess."

"Then I am sorry that the prince cannot afford to give
them to her," the councillor rejoined, with a conceited smile.
"I certainly should be ashamed to present Kitty with a
valueless gift,—Kitty, who in a couple of years will be her
own mistress and will be able to buy as many jewels as she
pleases.  Any imitation would then be tossed contemptuously
aside."

"I agree with you there," the Frau President remarked,
ironically.  "Kitty has a decided preference for the solid and
expensive,—witness the heavy silks which she always wears.
But, my child," and she turned to the young girl, who had
folded her trembling hands again on the back of the chair by
which she stood, and made no motion to possess herself of the
jewels, "a knowledge of how to dress one's self must be the
result of taste, acquired by intercourse with people of
refinement.  Such gorgeous stones are not befitting your eighteen
years; a plain cross or locket is more becoming so youthful a
neck.  The most you should wear would be a simple coral or
pearl necklace."

"But Kitty will not always be eighteen or always a girl,
grandmamma," Flora exclaimed.  "We know that well
enough,—eh, Kitty?"

The young girl's eyes flashed indignantly at the air and
tone of the speaker.  She turned proudly away to depart
without a word.

"Only see how dignified the child can look!" Flora said,
with a forced laugh.  She could not succeed in quite concealing
her vexation.  "She behaves as if my harmless trifling
had betrayed a state secret.  Is it a crime, then, to want to be
married?  Nonsense, you little prude!  Never deny in public
what may be confessed in confidential moments."  She ran
her fingers over the sparkling rubies with a mischievous and
significant glance at the councillor.  "Yes, Moritz, this
certainly is a necklace fit only for—the wife of a millionaire."

The Frau President now arose, hastily gathered up her
letters and her eye-glass, and drew her scarf over her
shoulders to leave the room.  "I hope you will never falter in
your love of the genuine, my dear Moritz," she said, coldly.
"The champagne in which we drank Flora's health to-day was
wanting in that quality: it has given me a headache.  I
must lie down for a while."

At the door she turned once more.  "When I have refreshed
myself a little, I must beg you to come to some conclusion,"
she said, holding out a letter to the councillor.  "Read
that, and you will see that the Baroness must not be put off and
offended a second time.  I yielded the other day for the sake
of peace, but indeed I cannot submit so entirely again.  People
of position really cannot be pulled about like puppets and
shaken off at pleasure.  Remember that, I beg you, Moritz."

She left the room with a stately inclination and an air of
severe dignity.





.. vspace:: 4

CHAPTER XIX.
============

"You will have hard work, Moritz," said Flora, pointing
towards the door through which the Frau President had
vanished.  "Grandmamma is evidently on her mettle and armed
to the teeth."

The councillor laughed gaily.

"Well, well," Flora continued, "you will see whether she
will yield one inch of the authority you have allowed her
to exert so absolutely.  I have warned you repeatedly; now
see——"  She suddenly interrupted herself, and anxiously
seized Bruck's hand.  "For heaven's sake, tell me, Leo, what
is the matter with you?" she cried, passionately.  "You are
struggling with some grief which you would conceal from me.
Ah, you cannot deceive me!  Here, and here"—she passed her
white fingers across his forehead, that flushed to the roots of
his hair—"I see lines that distress me.  You are working
too hard.  After to-day, I shall take the liberty of sending
one of the servants every day to your house in town to deny
you positively to that tiresome crowd, who, after defaming you
in every possible way, are killing you with their importunity."

Henriette stared at the speaker like one dismayed, and the
councillor cleared his throat and stroked his delicate
moustache to conceal a slight sneer, while the doctor, whose face
had hitherto maintained a rigid composure, smiled a faint
smile of bitter contempt.  "That you will certainly not do,
Flora," he said, in a peremptory tone.  "I must decidedly
forbid any interference with my practice, either at present or
in future.  Just now," and he turned to the councillor, "I
have a word to say to you on behalf of a very sick man, quite
broken down physically and mentally by violent business
excitement; will you let me speak with you alone?"

"A very sick man?" the councillor repeated, dubiously.
He knitted his brows, and the lines about his mouth grew
hard and pitiless.  "Oh, yes; I know whom you mean,—that
hair-brained fellow Lenz.  The man has been speculating in
the wildest way, and wants me to save him from ruin.  No, I
thank you."

"Will you not wait until we are alone to discuss it?" the
doctor asked, with emphasis.  "At present you and I are the
poor man's only confidants with regard to his terrible
situation; even his wife does not know of it——"

"Well, well, I will hear how far you are able to plead for
him, but I hardly think I can hold out even a finger to save
him.  It is a hopeless affair, I tell you."  He shrugged his
shoulders.  The sudden accumulation of wealth was fast
making the really kind-hearted man hard and cruel; he found
it quite impossible to sympathize with a fellow-mortal beset
by torturing cares.  "You, of all men, should be the last to
say a word for him,—he was one of the most violent of your
accusers."

"Ought that really to influence me?" Bruck asked, gravely,
as he prepared to accompany the councillor into an adjoining
room.  The man of science looked at this moment immeasurably
the superior of the mere moneyed man beside him.

The three sisters were left alone.  Flora rang for her maid
to take away the councillor's gifts, and Kitty took up her
parasol.

"Are you going out, Kitty?" asked Henriette, who was
again seated in her rocking-chair.

"To-day is a class-day at the Frau Dean's; I am late, and
must hurry——"  The young girl paused involuntarily,—Flora's
face had grown so dark and angry.

"I cannot express how your conduct disgusts me," Flora
said, peevishly.  "The dean's widow, personification that
she is of duty, stern duty, declined my invitation to coffee
to-day because those wretched little things from the lowest
quarter of the town could not on any account be sent away
without their instruction; and Kitty sets off to second her
efforts, with an air of the most righteous devotion to the
welfare of humanity."

She bit her lips, and waited until the maid had left the room,
when she turned and laid a detaining hand on Kitty's arm.
"Patience for a moment!  Let me tell you that your conduct
forces me to play a part insufferably wearisome to me.
September is still far off.  Of course the dean's widow expects
her nephew's betrothed to exercise the same heroic self-sacrifice
practised by her model sister.  I am to take those children's
dirty fingers in mine and patiently initiate them stitch by stitch
into the mysteries of knitting and netting.  I am to wash their
faces, comb their hair, and play games with the little wretches
by the hour.  I have tried it; ugh!  And if I fail to do it,
his aunt's complaints stamp me in Bruck's eyes as a kind of
monster, an unwomanly, heartless creature, who does not love
children.  For this reason, in view of my rights in the matter,
I forbid now and in future this kind of intercourse on your
part in the house of my future husband.  Do you hear?"

"I hear, but I shall nevertheless continue to follow the
dictates of my own conscience," Kitty replied, calmly, freeing
her arm from her sister's grasp.  "Your rights which you
once scorned, and in my presence declared yourself weary
of——"

"Yes, yes!" Henriette interrupted, suddenly standing by
Kitty's side in defiance of her arrogant sister.

"These rights I in no wise interfere with, as I am fully
conscious," Kitty continued.  "Matters must stand ill with
you, Flora, when you see in the kindly actions of others a
hostile element, that can imperil your position——"

"Imperil?" Flora repeated, clapping her hands, with a
laugh.  "Dearest and wisest of young moralists, you are under
a slight mistake.  Love that could pass unharmed through
the fiery trial which I intentionally prepared for it can be
imperilled by nothing in this world."

"Too true," Henriette murmured, in a sad, subdued tone.
"It needs all my remembrance of Bruck's former firmness of
purpose and true manliness to prevent his appearing to me
now utterly weak."

"Of course," Flora continued, noticing Henriette's remark
only by a slight shrug, "I am speaking merely with regard to
the time between now and September, during which courtesy
prompts me to make every concession to the dean's widow.
In L—— everything will be different: matters will arrange
themselves, and Bruck will find in the first weeks of our
marriage that such a wife as his aunt would choose for him would
be not only an insupportable burden, but an actual impossibility.
When he sees me presiding in society he will acknowledge
my superiority,—he will enjoy the lustre that my ease
and grace as mistress of his household shed upon his
distinguished position, when he finds that my holding aloof from
housekeeping cares entails no pecuniary sacrifice on his part.
I have calculated everything, and find that besides my
pin-money I shall have quite sufficient income to pay out of my
own pocket the wages of a housekeeper and capital cook."

As she spoke, she looked at her nails with a smile, and
then turned aside with a haughty bend of her head.  The
tall mirror reflected a face and figure of dazzling beauty, but
it was impossible to imagine that woman bending in love and
anxiety over the couch of a sick child, or engaged in the
thousand offices of affection and care to which the true wife
and mother is prompted by the loftiest impulses of her nature.

Her gaze wandered from the contemplation of her own loveliness
to the girl clad in white standing before the blue velvet
portière, that brought into relief the youthful beauty of her
figure, the incomparable freshness and delicacy of her colour
beneath the heavy plaits of hair that crowned a face in which
the dark eyes shone like stars.  If in Flora was seen the
woman of intellect who had already attempted to pierce the
mystery of existence, her youngest sister was the type of
maidenly innocence and spotless purity.  Perhaps this displeased
her, for she smiled and nodded scornfully at the young girl's
reflection in the mirror.

"Yes, yes, little one, you will not long preserve that
modest-violet air, and the domestic duties which Lukas has in her
exaggerated ideas of this world so foolishly insisted upon your
performing, will be as much out of place in your sphere of life
as in mine.  Moritz will never endure the jangle of a bunch of
keys at your girdle,—rely upon that, even although he should
gallantly promise you ten poultry-yards.  He, with his
brand-new stamp of rank, will insist more upon the aristocratic
whiteness and softness of his wife's hands than does our most
gracious prince himself."

Long before she had finished Kitty had moved, with a blush,
to where the mirror no longer reflected her image.  "What
do Moritz's views upon the subject matter to me?" she asked,
half turning round, while she looked in inquiring surprise at
her sister.

"Oh, Flora, Flora, how can you be so thoughtless?" Henriette
exclaimed, with a timid glance towards Kitty's expressive
face.

"Nonsense!  Moritz will be very grateful to me for
breaking ground for him.  And do you suppose Kitty has not
known all about it this long time?  Never was there a girl over
fifteen whose nerves of sensibility were not electrically aware
of a man's preference for her.  Whoever denies it is either
stupid or a refined coquette."  Again she contemplated
herself in the mirror, and pulled the curls lower over her brow.
"Any one who has observed our youngest's confiding, clinging
manner in a certain direction cannot well be mistaken;
eh, Kitty,—you understand me?"  And from beneath her
raised arm she smiled archly at her sister.

"No, I do not understand you," the girl replied, hastily;
an undefined mixture of indignation and intuitive dislike
stirring within her.

"Come, Kitty, let us go," said Henriette, passing her arm
around her sister's waist, to draw her towards the door.  "I
cannot bear this!" she added, angrily.

"Nonsense! do not be vexed, Henriette," laughed Flora,
holding out the jewel-case to Kitty.  "Here, my child; do
not leave this here, where the servants are coming and going
continually."

Like a child, Kitty involuntarily put her hands behind her.
"Moritz must take them back," she said, decidedly.  "Your
grandmother is quite right;—it is an unsuitable gift; such a
necklace would not become my neck."

"And you expect me to believe in such naïve unconsciousness?"
Flora asked, as if quite out of patience.  "Such
affectation is absurd in a girl of your age.  There is the lace
shawl that Moritz gave grandmamma;—she scorns it; she is
more sensitive than your sisters, who think it very natural that
your gift should outvalue theirs fourfold,—and you pretend
not to understand why?  Do not be ridiculous!  You hear
the hammering yonder in the pavilion every day from
morning until night.  The entire household, down to the very
workmen, know that a home is being arranged there for
grandmamma, so that the councillor's young wife may preside here
alone.  Well, little innocence, shall I speak still more plainly?"

Hitherto the young girl had stood motionless, following her
sister's words with a dawning comprehension of their meaning,
as if some dangerous serpent were slowly uncoiling its slimy
folds in her presence.  But now her lip curled in a proud
smile.  "Do not trouble yourself,—at last I understand you,"
she said, slowly, her astonishment revealing itself in the clear
ring of her voice.  "You have gone about it far more wisely
than did your grandmother to make my further stay in this
house impossible."

"Kitty!" Henriette exclaimed.  "No, there you are wrong.
Flora has been heedless and thoughtless, but she never meant
that."  She went close to her sister's side and looked tenderly
in her face.  "And why should such words drive you away
from the house, Kitty?" she asked, in a caressing but anxious
whisper.  "Are you really unconscious of the love so
unequivocally displayed for you?  See, I have often wished for
death,—but if it were possible that you should ever be mistress
here in our father's house, I could——"

Kitty extricated herself impatiently from the encircling arm.
"Never!" she cried, shaking her head indignantly, her whole
maidenly soul in revolt against the consciousness to which she
had been so suddenly and rudely awakened.

"Indeed,—never?" Flora repeated.  "Perhaps the *parti* is
not sufficiently distinguished, eh?  You are waiting for some
needy count or prince, who, after the fashion of the day, will
come to release, not Dornröschen herself, but her money-bags
from the spell.  Well, the present time is by no means poor
in such marriages!  And we know, too, how that unfortunate
incumbrance, the wife, usually fares.  If you would hear
perpetually how your grandfather drove the mill-wagon and your
grandmother went barefoot, then marry into some noble
family.  I really should like to know what you find to object to
in Moritz, or rather what can justify you in rejecting his hand.
You are very wealthy, to be sure, but we know where your
money came from.  You are young, but no beauty, child;
and as for your talent, which you well know how to bring
forward, it is but a spark assiduously fanned into a little flame
by ambitious teachers, and will soon be extinguished when
they can no longer look to you for the rich reward of their
services."

"Flora!" Henriette interrupted her.

"Be quiet!  I speak in your interest now," Flora continued,
dismissing her remonstrance with a decided wave of her hand.
"Perhaps, Kitty, you think Moritz ought to display a more
passionate affection for you.  My dear child, he is a middle-aged
man, who has long outlived a school-girl's romantic idea
of love.  It is, besides, a question whether you will ever be
loved for yourself alone,—that must always be a question in the
case of such an heiress.  I cannot understand you.  Hitherto
you have devoted yourself to the care of an invalid, as any
confirmed old maid might have done, because—well, apparently
because no one desired you to do so; and now, when Henriette
makes her future existence dependent upon your remaining
here, you wish to go.  For my part, I should be far more
content in L—— if I knew that you had our sister in charge;
and as for Bruck, you have just had a proof, poor child, of
how little there is of sympathy between you,—he prefers to
have that spoiled boy Job Brandau beneath his roof, to your
constant presence there; but, nevertheless, I am sure that,
since he is obliged to leave his patient here, he would like to
know that she has some one with her whom she really loves."

Henriette, pale as ashes, leaned against the wall, incapable
of speech, so great was her distress at Flora's ruthless and
heartless enumeration of everything that could humiliate and
wound her sister's heart.  Kitty, however, had entirely
recovered her self-possession.

"We two will discuss this alone, Henriette," she said,
calmly; but the lips with which she touched the invalid's
brow quivered, and the fingers that clasped Henriette's thin
hand were cold as ice.  "Go to your room now, I pray you;"
she looked at her watch; "it is time for you to take your
drops.  I will come back shortly."

She left the room without looking again at Flora.

"Conceited as ever!  I verily believe she is offended at
being thought no beauty, and thinks that such men as Bruck
should follow in her train," the beautiful woman said, ironically.
Then, while Henriette silently gathered up and carried
away her gift and the jewel-casket, she passed on, humming a
gay air, to the room whither the two gentlemen had withdrawn,
and, tapping lightly at the door, called to them that it
was very impolite to leave the heroine of the day alone for so
long a time.





.. vspace:: 4

CHAPTER XX.
===========

For a long while Kitty wandered aimlessly in the park,
through its quiet leafy alleys to its most secret recesses.  She
did not wish, in her present agitated state, to meet the
observant eyes of the dean's widow; she knew the old lady would
question her, and if she confessed the cause of her distress
she would probably learn that her old friend also desired her
marriage with the councillor.  Upon this point every one was
against her, Flora, Henriette, the doctor.  Egotism ruled each
and all of them, she now comprehended.  But she would not
be imprisoned in the gilded cage; she would escape them all.
Her thoughts were full of bitterness as she paused, wearily,
before the ruin, which she had reached in her walk.  The sun
was low in the heavens; its declining rays bathed in purple
and gold the clouds, the dark forest of firs in the distance,
and the encircling water on either side of the hill.  The
mound, crowned with the tower, stood out from the glittering
background like a monument of black marble, and the group
of chestnuts in full leaf showed like a many-pointed silhouette,
through which gleamed here and there the glow of colour in
the western sky.

The young girl gazed moodily at the picture across the
water.  There, where the heavy silken curtains fell like a dark
crimson blood-stain behind the huge panes of glass, stood the
detested safe.  Hitherto she had feared it, but to-day she hated
those four iron walls that had thrust her own individuality aside
to stand in the stead of a girl filled with youthful hopes and
desires and a profound longing for the true happiness of life.
When lovers sued for her hand, their tender glances were for
the monster that dogged her steps; they wooed the heiress in
her.  This was the attraction for Councillor von Römer; the
wealthy man wished to be still wealthier.  Certainly no worm
gnawing at the core of a delicious fruit could be more
pernicious than this ever-recurring torturing thought which Flora
had wantonly cast into the virgin soil of her sister's mind.

And below, at the foot of the tower, yawned the dark cave
where the rich man's costly wines seethed and sparkled in
flasks and casks.  Only lately the councillor had taken the
Frau President and his three sisters-in-law through the cellar.
He had just increased the precious stock, and it was all
ranged carefully in the huge vaults that burrowed deep into
the hill on all sides of the tower.

The air was cool and dry below there; the tiled floor shone
as if polished; not a grain of dust, not a cobweb, could be seen
upon the stone ribs of the mighty arches, and the glasses on
the shelves, the green for hock, the clear for champagne, were
bright as crystal; it was easy to see that no more care was
expended on the drawing-rooms than upon these subterranean
halls.  And where the finest wine was stored, where only a
faint glimmer of daylight pierced the vaulted gloom, in the very
darkest corner, stood the two barrels of historic gunpowder,
in such complete preservation that Kitty had lately declared
with a laugh that she was sure they must be renewed from
time to time, like the famous ink-spot at the Wartburg.  She
never liked this corner; she could not understand how the
rich man could endure it night and day beneath his feet; and
when her fancy conjured up the ghostly ancestress of the Von
Baumgartens gliding hither and thither with her gleaming
torch, she shuddered with horror.

Her gaze wandered over the blackened pile; one single
spark alighting there below, and the old tower, built for
eternity though it seemed, would burst asunder, and everything
of price or value that human hands had there treasured up
would be dispersed abroad in atoms; those iron walls would
be broken down, and the papers, to which clung the curses of
the poor, be scattered to the winds.

She shrank from the thought, and yet thus her own personality
might be delivered from the golden mask that excited
the greed of the avaricious.  Horrified at the picture of
destruction which her imagination had conjured up, she had
covered her eyes with her hands, and now, letting them drop, she
looked up with a deep-drawn sigh into the golden air above
the tower, where Henriette's doves were wheeling, while
before the window in the steep wall, that bore upon its top the
last remnants of the stately colonnade, hung the thrush's cage
belonging to the councillor's servant.  Rosemary and marigolds
were blooming upon the window-sill, from which drooped
a green curtain of wild hop-vines.  The little bird was singing
at the top of his voice, incited thereto by the flapping of
the doves' wings, while the deer had come noiselessly down
the grassy incline and were gazing across the water at the tall,
slender mortal whose fancies had been so terrible, so full of
despair.

The deer and the doves knew her well,—the young girl used
often to feed them with crumbs and biscuit; but to-day she
only took a silent leave of them, although the doves were
alighting on the grass on the other side of the bridge, and the
boldest of them were venturing across it, looking for the
accustomed food.  Kitty walked along the bank of the stream,
and soon heard the merry voices of children mingling with
the murmur of its waters.  The Frau Dean's little pupils were
still at play in the garden, and in spite of the girl's depression
of spirits, in spite of her mental suffering, the source of which
she hardly understood herself, the sound brought a sensation
of pleasure to her soul.  Those little creatures, with their
innocent eyes and happy hearts, did not love her as the heiress;
they did not even know of the existence of the iron safe; they
took gratefully their simple evening meal, and hardly asked
whence it came.  To them she was the dear "Fräulein Kitty,"
whose words of praise they strove to win, to whose ear they
confided the troubled confession of childish wrong committed
or childish injustice endured.  Here at least she was
loved,—honestly loved for herself alone.

She hastened her steps; the nearer she drew to the house
the more it seemed to her that she was returning to her true
home.  The maid appeared between the two poplars that
stood on either side of the bridge, and walked, basket on arm,
towards the town to make her evening purchases.  She, too,
was a faithful creature, whose services were not all rendered
merely for the sake of money; her good-natured, honest face
seemed to belong of right to the household in the modest
house by the river.

As Kitty crossed the bridge the children were not in sight:
they were playing behind the house; the watch-dog greeted
her with a lazy flap of his tail as he lay at the door of his
kennel.  He had long been her good friend, and his
character had undergone such a change for the better that the
yellow hen was allowed to parade the green within an inch of
his nose without molestation.

The house-door stood wide open, and, as the maid was
absent, the dean's widow was probably within.  Kitty was just
ascending the steps, when she heard the doctor speaking in the
hall.  She stood as if rooted to the spot.

"No, aunt; the noise wearies me.  I have this constant
trouble in my head," he said.  "If I have a moment to spend
in this green retreat, I wish to rest.  I need rest,—rest!"  Was
that voice, trembling with nervous impatience and
suppressed pain, really his?  "I know, aunt, that what I ask of
you is a sacrifice, but nevertheless I implore you to suspend
your classes during the few months of my remaining here.  I
will gladly hire a room in town and engage a teacher for the
time, so that your pupils may not lose anything——"

"Oh, my dear Leo, you know you have only to speak the
word," his aunt interrupted him.  "How could I suspect that
my classes had suddenly grown so wearisome to you?  You
shall never hear another sound from them,—I will take care
of that.  I am sorry only on one account,—Kitty——"

"Always that girl!" the doctor exclaimed, as if his aunt's
gentle mention of that name had destroyed the last remnant
of his patience and self-control.  "You never think of me."

"Dear Leo, what do you mean?  I verily believe you
are jealous of your old aunt's affection," the old lady said, in
surprise.

He did not reply; the girl outside heard him advance to
wards the hall-door.

"My poor Kitty!  It is impossible that her noiseless beneficence,
her kindly presence, should be disagreeable to any man
on earth," his aunt said, following him.  "I have never seen
a girl who combined such childlike innocence with so much
womanly dignity, such keenness of intellect with such kindness
of heart.  I am irresistibly attracted by her; and I cannot
believe that my Leo can be so unjust as to deny merit to any
woman save to the one whom he adores as his future wife."

Kitty started; the doctor burst into a laugh, so bitter, so
loud, that she recoiled in terror.  Involuntarily she turned to
flee; no, she would remain,—she was the cause of that
scornful laugh,—she would hear how the doctor would refute his
aunt's good opinion of her, undeserved though it were.

"You are wont to be keen-sighted, aunt, but here you fail
lamentably," he said, pausing suddenly in his inharmonious
laughter.  "Let it go!  I shall not dispute what you say;
why should I?  I have but one request to make of you: that
until my departure we may be together as we have been
hitherto,—*alone*.  You used to be content without other
society than mine; try to be so again during the few months
of my stay here.  I do not wish to have any one coming and
going."

"Not even Kitty?"

A sound as of an impatient stamp of the foot upon the
sanded tiles of the hall-floor reached the young girl's ears.
"Good heavens, aunt, will you force me to——" he exclaimed,
angrily: the voice was hardly to be recognized as his.

"God forbid, Leo! everything shall be as you wish," the
old lady interrupted him, terrified, and yet attempting no
concealment of her regret.  "I will do all that I can to banish
her as kindly as possible, that she may not suffer more than
is necessary.  But how agitated you are, Leo, and how your
hand burns!  You are ill.  You are wearing yourself out for
your patients.  At least you shall have repose here in your own
home rely upon it!  Let me mix you a glass of lemonade."

He thanked her, but refused the proffered kindness.  Kitty
heard the aunt go towards the kitchen, probably to arrange
the evening meal, and immediately afterwards the doctor
appeared at the hall-door.





.. vspace:: 4

CHAPTER XXI.
============

Just outside stood the young girl, leaning against the
frame; pale, and with a hard, determined gaze, she looked
abroad beyond the man at her side into the empty air,—she
*would* not see him.

He recoiled at sight of her, then stood for one moment
speechless before her motionless figure.  "Kitty!" he called,
softly, in the anxious, hesitating tone of one who seeks to
arouse another from some heavy, troubled dream.

She drew herself up to her full height, and slowly descended
the steps.  "What do you wish, Doctor Bruck?" she asked,
over her shoulder, when she stood upon the grass below.  She
might have been some automaton, but for the indignant light
that flamed in her eyes.

He blushed like a girl, and approached her.  "You heard—"
he asked, with hesitation, but with intense eagerness.

"Yes," she interrupted him, with a bitter smile, "every
word.  Another reason why you should rid your house of
intrusive strangers,—the walls have ears."  She moved away
from the steps, as if to be quite clear of the threshold she was
no more to cross.

Meanwhile he had recovered himself; he threw his hat upon
a garden-table near, and stood erect before her, no longer
blushing, but with an air of relief, as if matters had taken a
wished-for turn, and chance had come to aid him.  "Fear of
being overheard has no part in what I have been telling my
aunt.  This quiet home has no secrets, and those which one
must imprison in his own breast will not escape, even where
the walls have no ears," he said, with calm gravity.  "You
heard every word,—you know, then, that only the desire for
present rest induces me to ask for undisturbed quiet.  Unfortunately,
I must resign any attempt to justify my rude egotism.
You certainly cannot conceive that there are those who are
perpetually fleeing from thoughts and—images; but
perhaps you may more easily imagine the angry pain, the torture
of a man so fleeing, who, hurrying exhausted to his home,
finds there just what he seeks to escape."

As he spoke, he had approached her more nearly, and she
now looked him keenly and inquiringly in the face.  Yes, he
was in earnest; he not only described this torture, he felt it at
this very moment; his strangely disordered glance, the pallor
that overspread his countenance, left her no room to doubt
it; but—he did not flee from his future wife, or from the
innocent children; and none others frequented his room,
except herself.  It was really true, then, as she had frequently
told herself, that she had become utterly distasteful to him
since she had several times been the witness of scenes between
himself and Flora; he did not wish to see her in his house,
and he had begged his aunt to put a stop to her afternoon
classes, that her further intercourse there might cease.  As
this conviction crept over her, her lovely features lost their
usual mobility, and their expression grew stern and hard.

"There is no reason why you should justify your proceeding;
you are master here,—that suffices," she replied, icily.
"But what an unbounded esteem you must entertain for the
Baroness Steiner, since you sacrifice your coveted repose to her,
and wish to receive her spoiled grandchild and his governess
beneath your roof!"  It was a harsh reproof to come from
girlish lips which were wont to be frank and outspoken, but
which had never hitherto uttered words to show how sharp
and cutting the clear, bell-like voice could be.  "No, no; do
not speak!" she cried, with sudden passion, as he opened his
lips to reply.  "I would not have you stoop to frame a false
excuse for courtesy's sake, and say what you do not think.  I
know too well what motives influence you!"  She evidently
struggled to keep down angry tears.  "I have most inopportunely
crossed your path on several occasions, and entirely
understand the irritation with which you exclaimed, a moment
ago, 'Always that girl!'  I cannot forgive myself for my
awkwardness, although upon one occasion only did I wilfully
interfere.  But you judge me still more harshly,—you
persecute me in consequence."

Doctor Bruck did not contradict her, but it seemed as
though he had a struggle to resist the temptation to speak.
He looked down upon her with eyes full of an inexplicable
expression, and his right hand leaning upon the garden-table
was tightly clenched.  As he stood thus, every lineament of
his handsome face showed the strength and resolution that
would to the last resist being forced to an explanation.

"It cost me much to return hither," she began again.
"The Frau President"—she pointed towards the Villa
Baumgarten—"poisoned my childhood with her pride of rank
whenever it was in her power to do so, and I can never forget
the bitter tears which her perpetual insolence wrung from my
poor Lukas.  You know how, upon my arrival, I shrank from
meeting my clever sister Flora, and how, in sight of the villa,
I longed to turn back and flee to my Dresden home.  Would
that I had done so!  In addition to pride of rank and of office,
the arrogance of wealth is now rampant in the villa.  In that
air, filled with pretence and gold-dust, no healthy thought or
feeling can survive.  By my very nature I am incapable of
striking root in such a soil; but here,"—she extended her
arms towards the house and garden,—"here I was at home;
here I could even have forgotten my dear Dresden; why,—I
do not know myself!"

How lovely she was, standing there in spotless white,
thoughtfully inclining her head with its crown of heavy
braids!  "I think your dear old aunt has cast a spell upon
me," she added, with a bright look; "the simple, noble
beauty of her character helps me to a true balance of mind;
she goes her way calmly, noiselessly, and never yields one
iota of what she holds to be just and right, although no word
of contradiction or self-assertion ever passes her lips.  It is
refreshing indeed, in contrast with such unjustifiable pretensions,
such deceitful appearances, and—yes, such pitiable weakness
assailing even the strong masculine intellect."  She tossed
contemptuously aside a spray of blossoms with which she had
been toying as she spoke.

The gesture evidently irritated the man who stood before
her.  A gloomy fire shone in his eyes; he understood her.
"You have forgotten to enumerate one virtue possessed by my
'dear old aunt,'—caution and gentleness in judgment," he
said, reprovingly.  "She never would have uttered such
condemning words as those you have just spoken, for she knows
how easily we may be mistaken, and that often—as, indeed,
in the case to which you so evidently allude—what looks like
weakness demands every possible exertion of strength."  He
spoke with exceeding earnestness; the calm demeanour, which
had never forsaken him even when there had been such
wonderful and sudden changes in his career, had vanished
entirely.

In her first surprise, Kitty's eyelashes drooped upon her
hot cheeks, but she felt that she was right: he was utterly
weak towards himself in his love, as in his dislike.  Had she
not had proof of the latter?

At this moment the children in their play came running
round the corner of the house.  As soon as they saw Kitty
they rushed to greet her, shouting with joy.  They paid no
heed to the doctor's stern face, and in a second the young girl
was surrounded and almost overborne by the merry throng,
in their eagerness for some kind word or caress from their
"dear Fräulein."

In spite of her agitation, Kitty almost laughed outright, for
the wild onslaught of the children in their affection fairly
made her stagger; but the doctor became more angry than
she had ever before seen him.  He harshly reprimanded the
little ones, and ordered them to return behind the house and
stay there until they were dismissed.

Confused and frightened, the children retired.

Kitty looked after them compassionately until they had all
disappeared.  "I should like to go with them to comfort them,
but I cannot again seek the spot which I have left forever,"
she said, half in pain, half in anger.

"'Comfort!'" the doctor rejoined, almost derisively.
"Confess that you would now like to stamp me monster as well
as weakling.  Be consoled: children carry their comfort with
them, their smiles and tears are closely akin.  Do you not
hear them laughing already?"  And he pointed over his shoulder
with a fleeting smile.  "I'll wager their merriment is at
my expense.  I sent them off on your account; I could not
endure——  How could you bear such an attack?  They
are uncouth, rude——"

"Because they are fond of me?  Thank God that it is so!
There at least I may still have faith!" she cried, pressing her
clasped hands to her bosom.  "Or would you perhaps persuade
me that this exhibition of affection is also due solely to my
money?  Oh, no, here I stand firm; I will not be defrauded
of this satisfaction, rely upon it!"

He recoiled in amazement.  "What strange idea has——"

"Ah! is it really so surprising that at last I have been
aroused from the state of childish confidence in which I have
lived, imagining that true honest feeling was worth something
in this world?  It has taken a long time, has it not, to induce
my clumsy German comprehension to open its eyes and see
how unspeakably ludicrous were all its old-fashioned ideas of
right and wrong, truth and falsehood?"  She grew pale and
shuddered.  "There is something horrible in the sudden
conviction that one has no existence as a genuine human creature,
with a right to be happy after one's own fashion."

He turned away his eyes, and she continued: "At our first
meeting you asked me how I liked my sudden accession to
wealth; now for the first time I am able to answer your
question.  I seem drowning in this ocean of money; many hold
out a hand to me, to be sure, to rescue me, not for my own
sake, but for the golden waves that surround me."

The doctor interrupted her.  "In heaven's name, what
induces you to take such a view of your life?"

"Can you ask?  Am I not forced to accept this view
with every draught of air that I inhale, every drop of water
that I drink?  In my dear Dresden home I am cajoled as
the 'heiress,' my teachers exalt the faint spark of musical
talent which I possess for the sake of the high price I pay
for my lessons, and the guardian wooes his ward because he
knows better than any one else—how rich she is."

As she spoke, her gaze had wandered aimlessly over the
distant hills; now she looked at the doctor; he started as if
from an electric shock.  "Has it gone so far?" he stammered,
passing his hand over his eyes as if overcome by dizziness.
"And you of course are pained to think that such thoughts
should influence Moritz," he added, after a moment's pause.

She listened in wonder, his voice sounded so faint and
broken.  "It wounds me still more deeply that every one seems
to feel justified in having a voice in the matter," she replied,
as, standing erect, she looked the personification of a protest
against unwarranted assumption of authority.  Then, shaking
her head gravely, she continued: "Such an unfortunate
heiress as I must be on her guard lest she become a pitiable
plaything in the hands of egotism; and this I will not be,
absolutely will not.  And you, Herr Doctor,—you too are
one of those who think that an orphan girl should submit
herself, her will, her goings and her comings, to the
convenience of others.  Here you would exile me, there you would
fetter me to the spot.  I should like to know what justifies
you in this despotism, or—no"—her lips quivered in the
struggle to keep back the tears,—"I would ask, with
Henriette, 'What have I done to you?'"

The last passionate words died upon her lips: the doctor
grasped her wrist with fingers that were like cold iron.

"Not a word more, Kitty," he said, in a whisper that
terrified her.  "Did I not know that there is not in your nature
a trace of falsehood, I could not but believe that you had
devised this torture to wring from me a secret which has
been strictly guarded,"—he dropped her hand,—"but I too
say, this shall not be, absolutely shall not!"

He folded his arms, and walked away for a few paces as if
to go towards the house, but suddenly, turning, he said, "I
should like to know how I would fetter you to the villa."  His
tone was calmer, and he came again and stood before her.

Kitty blushed crimson; for one instant maidenly timidity
delayed her reply, then she answered, firmly, "You wish me
to be—mistress of Villa Baumgarten——"

"I?—I?"  He laughed again the hard, scornful laugh that
had startled Kitty awhile before in his conversation with his
aunt.  "And upon what do you base this accusation?  Why
should I wish to see you mistress of Villa Baumgarten?" he
asked, controlling himself with difficulty.

"Because, as Flora says, you would not have Henriette left
alone," she replied, with frank decision, born of a determination
to leave no point unexplained.  "You see how fond I am
of my poor invalid sister, how gladly I undertake the care of
her, and you would like to have her future home and comfort
secured by my becoming—the wife of the councillor."

"And you believe me to be at the head of this family
scheme?  You seriously believe this?  Have you forgotten
how I protested long ago against your sacrificing yourself and
remaining longer in Römer's house?"

"Since then much has been changed," she replied,
bitterly.  "In September you will leave M—— forever; it will
then be a matter of indifference to you who rules in the
villa; your comfort will no longer be disturbed by an
unsympathetic presence there——"

"Kitty!" he gasped.

"Herr Doctor?"  She calmly met, with head proudly erect,
his glance of fire.  "The excellence of such an arrangement
is plain, and no one who was not as dull of comprehension as
myself could have been blind to it for so long," she added,
with apparent composure, and with a gravity of tone and
manner that seemed to come of suddenly-added years of knowledge
and experience.  "Then no strange element would intrude
upon the family circle; every domestic arrangement could
remain as it is; the habits of all in the villa, as well as in the
tower, need not be disturbed; nothing, not even my iron safe
in Moritz's 'treasure-chamber,' would have to be moved from
its place.  Oh, it is all so sensibly contrived——"

"And is so natural, that you have not hesitated for a
moment to remain," he completed her sentence, breathing quickly,
and with a look which in its impatience seemed to chide the
lips that delayed confirmation of his words.

"No, Herr Doctor, you exult too soon," she cried, with a
kind of triumph in her tone.  "The obstinate heiress refuses
to be led in chains.  I am going, going this very day.  I
came here only to take my leave of your aunt, and should
have laughed at your decree of exile awhile ago, if it had not
pained me.  My sisters have at length opened my blinded
eyes, and revealed to me in a dazzling vista the 'happiness' to
which I have been destined.  At the moment of revelation I
felt as if there were but one path open to me from the Frau
President's drawing-room,—the road leading directly to the
railroad depot,—and I should have pursued it immediately,
had I not remembered the duties here which I had undertaken
to fulfil.  I am not going to stay away longer than will
suffice to convince Moritz that he can never be more to me
than my legal guardian, and that he arouses my dislike as soon
as he attempts to assume any tone towards me except that of
a fatherly friend and adviser."

She drew a long sigh of relief, and, although she had
crimsoned to the roots of her hair with maidenly shame at
speaking such words, it was easy to see that she was now fully
determined that all should be plain and clear between herself
and the man who, as she spoke, seemed to become more erect
and elastic in form, as if some oppressive weight were suddenly
removed from his shoulders.

"Since the day when Henriette was carried fainting into
your house, a strong tie has been formed between the Frau
Dean and my poor sister," Kitty continued, more quickly,
"and I can go away with an easy mind, leaving Henriette to
your aunt's care.  I wished to bespeak her kind services in
this matter, and came hither for that purpose.  I shall now
write to her from Dresden, for you must be aware that she
whom you have banished from your house will never again
intrude upon your domain."

With these words she turned to go.  "Good-bye, Doctor
Bruck!" she said, with a slight inclination, and walked
towards the bridge.  As she reached the poplars that grew on
the other side of the river, she turned once more to take a
last look at the dear old house.  Around the corner the
children were peeping curiously, but the doctor still stood by the
garden-table, both hands resting upon the top, and leaning
heavily forward, while his face, which was ashy pale, was
turned to her with a wild expression of despair.

Oh, mystery of a girl's heart!  Without thinking what she
did, she flew back across the bridge, over the path she had
thought never to tread again,—she would have traversed the
world to come to his aid.

"Ah, you are ill!" she stammered, laying her warm supple
hands anxiously upon his own.

"No, not ill, Kitty, only what you declared me to be a
while ago, although in a different sense,—a pitiable weakling!"
he replied, impatiently, shaking back a lock of hair that had
fallen over his brow.  "Go, go! can you not see that in my
present condition every word of sympathy, every kind look,
is like a dagger-thrust?" he cried, harshly, while quick as
thought he stooped and pressed his lips for one instant
passionately upon the white hand that lay upon his own.

Startled though she was, for a moment Kitty's heart throbbed
fast and loud with an indescribable sensation of happy
tenderness, and the words hovered upon her lips, "No, I will not
go,—you need me."  But at the same moment he stood erect
before her, mute and pale, and pointed commandingly towards
the bridge.  She turned once more, and fled as though the
angel with the flaming sword stood by his side.

.. vspace:: 2

A few hours later she noiselessly descended a back staircase
in the villa, her travelling-bag in her hand.  She went as
she had come, suddenly, unexpectedly.  Henriette, although
shocked and distressed at her departure, had acquiesced in her
remaining away for a time, since Flora's thoughtlessness had
made such mischief.  She consented that Kitty should leave
thus privately, and write what she thought best to say from
Dresden, she herself engaging to inform the household of her
departure.  One condition she strictly exacted, however, and
that was, that Kitty should instantly return whenever her
invalid sister needed her support and care.

Henriette stood at the top of the staircase with arms
extended in farewell, while Kitty drew her veil down over her
swollen eyelids.  Every hall and passage of the house was
bathed in light, and carriage after carriage rolled up to the
door.  For a moment Kitty was obliged to take refuge in a
side-corridor, whence she saw ladies in full dress rustle by to
the drawing-room.  Footmen threw open the folding-doors,
and, within, Flora appeared in light-blue silk and white lace,
beautiful and gracious as a princess, to receive the guests
assembled in her honour.  The councillor was celebrating her
birthday by a large ball.

As she looked, Kitty's heart ached to breaking.  There
stood her haughty sister, the favorite of fortune that dogged
her footsteps although she had thrust it from her, and here
cowered hopelessness like crime.  Why should every gift of
heaven, all the wealth of love, be heaped upon this one head,—that
did not prize them,—while a weary life of self-sacrifice
lay before the other sister in the midst of her hoarded gold?

The doors were closed, and Kitty hurried out into the park,
filled with such despair as alone can assail a young and ardent
nature; and while the maid awaited her in her room to dress
her for the soirée, she was knocking at the door of the mill to
request Franz to accompany her to the railroad depot.





.. vspace:: 4

CHAPTER XXII.
=============

More than three months had passed, during which Kitty
had studied as never before, giving hours to her music daily,
and trying to find forgetfulness in devotion to duty.
Henriette kept a kind of diary, which she sent every week to her
sister.  It told her how the life in the villa had gone on since
her departure.  She could "read between the lines" that the
Frau President had been evidently much relieved thereby,
and had established a rule in the villa more despotic than
ever.  Henriette told how her grandmother had praised
Kitty's "thorough good taste" in what she had done, while
Flora shrugged her shoulders and spoke of "school-girl's
nonsense."  She herself had informed the councillor of his
ward's absence on the evening of the ball; he had turned
quite pale with anger, and had been out of humour with her
for days in consequence of her share in the affair.  Flora, too,
had been cross and out of sorts all that evening, for her lover
had excused himself from appearing, on the plea of
professional duties.

The councillor had written to Kitty announcing a visit to
Dresden in June, when he had "an explanation to make;"
but Henriette, as the time approached, told of his being
overwhelmed with business, of the myriads of telegrams that were
sent from Berlin to him as soon as he left that capital, where,
indeed, he passed more time than in his home.  The visit
remained unpaid; a short business letter now and then was
all she received from him, and her last remittance was sent
through his bookkeeper,—an unprecedented occurrence.

Kitty breathed more freely,—the dreaded conflict was not
to take place.  Her guardian had seen from her reply to his
letter that his hopes were futile, and had quietly acquiesced.
The young girl might then have returned to her post as
Henriette's nurse, but the doctor's wife decidedly opposed
this scheme, because Kitty, as she often anxiously remarked,
had returned home from her former visit much changed, having
lost all her youthful spirits and the fresh colour in her cheeks.
Besides, the Baroness Steiner, with her suite, had now been
quartered in the villa for two months, and had left no vacant
corner on the third floor.

Kitty herself shuddered at the thought of a return so long
as there had been no removal to L——.  She knew too well
that it would be impossible for her in that circle to maintain
her outward self-possession.  In Dresden she was obliged to
exert all her strength of character not to show that her peace
of mind was fled, that she was always struggling fiercely
against the sweet bewildering force that had taken up its
abode in her heart, and which seemed like a crime.  Henriette
had never recalled her, in spite of the passionate declaration
repeatedly made that she longed for her "true, strong
sister;" on the contrary, she spoke with enthusiastic gratitude
of the tenderness and care lavished upon her by the dean's
widow.  Her diary was a continued narrative, in which two
people played the principal part,—the doctor and his aunt.
Every occurrence in the house by the river was duly detailed,
even to the untimely death of the yellow hen, a victim to a
recurrence of savage hatred on the part of her enemy the
house-dog; and the unusual plenty of the grapes in the garden.
It was even thought worth while to tell of a "snow-white
kitten, whose favorite place was the Frau Dean's own
chair."  These were innocent items; but the diary was usually gloomy
and melancholy in tone; in some parts it read as if the pages
had been wetted with tears, in others as if the pen had been
guided by a hand of fire.  Of the relation between Flora and
the doctor not a word was said, but great distress was
expressed that the latter had been so changed by the wearing
anxieties of his profession: only towards his patients was he
uniformly gentle and kind; in general society he had become
taciturn and irritable, while in appearance every one noticed
how greatly he was altered.

Thus gradually the time appointed for the marriage drew
near.  Flora had neglected to invite her distant half-sister.
Henriette wrote that her head was full of a series of fêtes
that were being given in her honour, and that with regard
to her trousseau and her marriage festivities her whims had
almost driven the trades-people to despair.  The invalid
seemed in great distress of mind; she repeatedly dwelt upon
her inability to sustain alone all the bustle and excitement of
the approaching marriage.  The dean's widow could be of no
assistance to her at that time, since she herself was suffering
greatly at the thought of a separation from her nephew, and
was often absent-minded and sad.  These complaints grew
more and more frequent, until one evening a few days before
the marriage a telegram arrived which ran, "Come instantly;
I am miserable and ill."

No delay was to be thought of; even the doctor's wife
consented that Kitty should go immediately; and the girl
herself—she shivered in nervous dread of what was to come, and
yet she exulted in the blissful thought that she should see
once more the man who was—her future brother-in-law.

Again on a morning in September she found herself in the
large room in the castle mill.  She had come by the night
train, having telegraphed to Franz to meet her.  And certainly
a mother's hands could not have prepared everything for her
arrival more lovingly than had old Susy.  The room, illumined
by the green light penetrating the chestnut-boughs before the
windows, was redolent with the fragrance of the heliotrope,
roses, and mignonette upon the window-sills, fresh white covers
had been put upon all the tables, a tempting snowy bed
stood in the recess, and upon the large oaken table stood the
familiar copper "machine" full of hot coffee.  Even the
home-made cake was ready strewn with sugar, beside the gilt china
cup that had been the pride of the corner cupboard during
the lifetime of the old miller's wife.

Again the girlish tread was heard upon the white scoured
floor, and through the open window came the cooing of the
doves and the murmur of the distant weir,—she was at home.
She would visit her invalid sister from here, and upon no
account accept the councillor's hospitality, in spite of the
Frau President's scorn of "familiar intercourse between the
villa and the mill."

Kitty was in a strange mood.  Dread of her first visit to
the villa; painful longing for the house by the river, the
weather-cock upon the roof of which she discerned with a
beating heart from her southern window, and which she might
not approach; passionate impatience to see, if only once more,
the tall figure which she had first seen here in the mill, and
which it was torture to confess to herself, as she did daily,
she had loved from that moment; all this stirred within her,
in addition to the strange, inexplicable foreboding and anxiety
that possessed her soul.  For months the columns of the
newspapers had been filled with sensational intelligence in
regard to the bursting of the great swindling bubble of the
day in Vienna, and shortly afterwards of a similar catastrophe
in Berlin.  The destruction of this modern Tower of Babel
was the topic of the day in every public place, in every
drawing-room; it had been discussed even in the small æsthetic
circle in Kitty's Dresden home.  In the railway-carriage on
the road from Dresden to M—— it had been the inexhaustible
theme for conversation among her fellow-travellers, and now
with her own eyes Kitty could behold one of the results of
this calamity.  Through the cooing of the doves and the
distant murmur of the weir came the sound of excited human
voices, and just behind the last chestnut the young girl had a
view of the gravelled space in front of the factory.  It was
swarming, as she had seen it once before, with workmen, some
silent and gloomy, others gesticulating wildly and talking
loudly.  The stock company that had purchased the factory of
the councillor had failed; the officers of the law had already
appeared in the building, and the employés had not yet
recovered from the shock of the sad news.

"Yes, yes, so it goes," said Franz, as he brought in Kitty's
trunk.  "Those people were too well off, and they thought
they deserved more,—now they will live for a while from hand
to mouth, and then from bad to worse.  All of them would
like to pick up money off the streets; and who can blame
them, when their betters do the same?  He's a fortunate fellow
who gets safely through the stream," he went on, slapping his
pockets; "'an honest store by work made more' is my motto;
no need to lie awake o' nights then.  Those who don't know
how to speculate had better let it alone.  There's the Herr
Councillor, to be sure, firm as a rock; he's too long-headed to
be touched."  Then, with an air of great wisdom, raising his
forefinger, "Yesterday he got back from Berlin, finer than
ever.  I had just taken a load of corn to the station,—hey,
how his black horses flew past!  He understands it all.
They said he had just made another lucky hit, and he looked
like a man with millions at his command.  He has been away
for a long time, and I dare say would not have returned now
but for the fine doings they are to have over there to-night."

To-night!  The wedding was to take place on the next
day but one, and immediately afterwards the newly-married
pair were to set off upon a bridal tour.  Kitty knew it, she
had read it often enough in Henriette's diary, and yet the
thought came to her now with a shock of terror.

"They are to have a fine time at the villa to-night," Susy
said, as she handed her young mistress a cup of coffee.  "I
was talking yesterday with the councillor's Anton, and he
says they haven't room enough for all the guests who are
coming.  They have built a theatre, and ever so many young
ladies from town are to dress up, and the evergreens have
been coming by wagon-loads to ornament the house."

The factory clock was striking eleven as Kitty walked over
to the villa.  The murmur of voices was still audible as she
went through the mill-yard, but scarcely had the small door
in the wall separating the park from the mill-garden closed
behind her before an aristocratic silence reigned around.

Franz was right; one felt here that the noise and confusion
of the money-market could not touch the rich man and his
belongings; that the devouring waves of misfortune and ruin
could not even wet the soles of his feet.  Ah! there stretched
the beautiful lake.  It had absorbed the azure of the sky, and
lay a giant sapphire of spotless purity.  It had been finished
thus quickly at an enormous expense of money and labour.
Swans were gliding to and fro upon its placid waters, and near
the shore rocked a gaily-painted boat, fastened at the end by a
chain.  Kitty had left the park a mass of tender spring green;
now the shadows had deepened.  The sun's fiery rays, pouring
down in all their summer splendour, had burned away the
delicate colours of the flowers of spring, and had kindled in
their stead the torches of the cannas and the straight stems of
the gladiolus upon every bit of lawn that peeped forth among
the shrubbery.

How many hands must be employed to maintain such exquisite
neatness everywhere!  Not a fallen leaf lay upon the
paths, not a blade of grass broke the even line of the gravelled
roads, no fading blossom was left upon the bushes.  And in
the distance, among the groups of majestic trees, appeared the
imposing façade of the new stables; their erection also had
been so swift as to seem almost the work of magic.  For all
there had been expended immense sums; whatever was flung
abroad in the stock market, the golden stream here seemed
inexhaustible.  None of the electric shocks that had wrought
such destruction in the business world had been felt here.

Passing on beneath the shady arches of the linden avenue,
Kitty approached the villa.  Never had the fairy structure
seemed to her so aristocratically unapproachable as to-day in the
golden light of morning, the gay flag waving from the roof,—a
fluttering sign of welcome floating on the air.  Involuntarily
the young girl laid her hand upon her throbbing heart;
she had not been invited, and yet she had come.  It was
a sacrifice indeed to sisterly affection, this crushing down of
her own proud nature.  Behind the bronze tracery of the
balcony, the Frau President's lap-dog was running to and fro,
barking at the visitor with all his old hostility, and the parrot,
in his gilded cage in the blue drawing-room, screamed in chorus.

As Kitty entered the door, a lady glided past her, holding
her handkerchief to her face, and above its lace border she
glanced shyly at the young girl from eyes swollen and red
with weeping.  Kitty recognized her; it was the gay young
wife of a major, accustomed to every luxury.  The elegance
and variety of her toilettes had been the talk of the capital.
She hurried around the corner of the house towards the
shrubbery, probably to remove there the traces of tears before
she was seen upon the public highway.

"There is nothing left for her husband but to shoot himself;
they say he has lost every stiver," Kitty heard one of
the servants say, as she passed through the hall.  "Serves him
right!  What has an army officer to do with speculating in
stocks that he knows nothing of?  Then his wife comes to
our master, and cries her eyes out to beg him to help them
out of the mire.  A pretty piece of business!  If he were to
help all those who have been to him lately, he might take up
his staff and beg on the road; he would have nothing left
for himself."

Another victim, then, of the terrible crisis!  Kitty shuddered,
and ascended the stairs unperceived.  A solemn silence
reigned in the third story.  Mechanically she opened the door
of the room that had formerly been assigned to her.  It was
plain that the Frau Baroness Steiner reigned here no longer;
but the room had evidently not been arranged to receive
another guest.  Much of the furniture had been removed,
and in its stead the walls were lined with draped tables
covered with a profusion of articles, displayed with great taste and
care,—the gorgeous trousseau of the professor's wife in spe;
in the centre of the room, upon a tall dress-stand, hung a robe
of snowy satin, covered with lace and orange-blossoms, the
heavy train lying long upon the floor,—Flora's wedding-gown.
Kitty turned away her eyes, and closed the door; and in a
few moments she clasped in her arms Henriette, who, at sight
of her sister, broke into such a transport of joy that it seemed
the result of relief from terrible pain.

The sick girl was alone.  No one had any time to give her
to-day, she said.  The councillor had taken upon himself all
the arrangements for the festival given in honour of Flora's
marriage, and everything was to be conducted upon a scale of
great magnificence.  He was determined to show the capital
what money could do.  To be sure, this was the weak point
in his character.  With her usual inconsequence, she had
neglected to tell any one of the telegram she had dispatched
to Kitty.  Such an announcement would have been entirely
superfluous, she declared, in reply to Kitty's look of surprise
and dismay; every one knew that she had promised to return
and nurse her poor Henriette whenever she was sent for, and
as for an unexpected encounter with the councillor, Kitty
might rest perfectly easy; Moritz had "a new flame" in Berlin,
whence he had returned of late, and especially yesterday,
remarkably absent-minded; only smiling archly, and making no
denial, when Flora had rallied him.

To these communications Kitty made no reply; she was
possessed by the conviction that it had been high time for her
to return.  She found the sick girl much changed, and in a
state of feverish agitation.  The hard hollow cough shook her
emaciated frame much more frequently than formerly, her
hands were burning hot, and her breath came with great
difficulty.  She had hitherto always denied herself the relief
of tears; her will was of iron.  But to-day her beautiful eyes
were swollen and disfigured with weeping.  She was consumed
by fear, she wailed, hiding her head on Kitty's breast, lest
Bruck, with all his love for Flora, should be wretchedly
unhappy; and although nothing had been said by the dean's
widow about it, she was sure the old lady felt as she did,
and was miserable.  Kitty admonished her, rather curtly, that
this was solely Bruck's affair; no one had had more opportunity
than he of being thoroughly aware of Flora's egotistical
nature.  If he persisted in making her his wife, he was surely
prepared to meet the consequences.  Henriette started up in
alarm; the words sounded so harsh.  Indeed, there seemed
a strange alteration in Kitty; a kind of stern reserve was in
her whole manner, as though she had accepted her fate after
a hard struggle.





.. vspace:: 4

CHAPTER XXIII.
==============

Not long afterwards, Kitty, carefully supporting her invalid
sister, descended the stairs to announce her arrival to the
family.  They passed through the narrow corridor where
Kitty had taken refuge for a moment on the evening of her
departure.  It ran near the ball-room, which occupied almost
the entire floor of a wing of the villa.

"They are rehearsing for this evening, and the men are
decorating the room at the same time," Henriette said,
listening, with a quiet, scornful laugh, as dramatic declamation,
mingled with knocking and hammering, was heard through
the open doors.  "Those girls are utterly disgusting!  They
would one and all be glad to scratch the bride's eyes out as
they stand upon the stage, and yet they spout away about the
'loveliest flower' lost from their circle, the genius of poesy
having kissed her brow, and the like wretched stuff.  And
Moritz, with his boundless extravagance, is behaving like a
fool.  Yesterday evening, after his return from Berlin, he
scolded the workmen as if they had been school-boys.  They
had to tear down the 'worthless trash' they had put up,
because in two dark corners they had substituted woollen for
silken damask.  Always the same parade of his millions!
Just look here!"

She noiselessly opened a little wider one of the doors,
through which was visible a magnificent canopy of crimson
velvet fringed with gold, beneath which the bridal pair were
to stand in the evening.

"Think how *he*, with his pale, gloomy face, will look
beneath all that finery!" Henriette whispered, leaning her
blonde head upon her sister's shoulder.  "And she will stand
beside him, victorious, triumphant as ever, in her studied
toilette of innocent white muslin and marguerites.  Oh,
Kitty! there is something strange and inconceivable in the
whole affair.  I often feel as if a miserable secret were lurking
behind it all, like a glimmering spark beneath gray ashes."

In the dining-room the Frau President was sitting at breakfast
with Flora and the councillor.  Flora's beautiful morning
dress was of white, trimmed with pink, and a charming
breakfast-cap covered her hair, which was *en papillotes*.  Kitty
was startled,—her beautiful sister's strongly-marked profile
looked so sharp and thin without the golden glory of the
curls above her brow; for the first time she saw that Flora
was no longer young, that at last her restless ambition had
begun to grave deep lines in the lovely oval of her face.

"Heavens, Kitty! what put it into your head to drop down
upon us to-day?" she cried, with an irritation which she did
not care to conceal.  "I cannot tell you how it embarrasses
me.  I must assign you some place now whether I will or not,
and I have twelve bridesmaids already,—you see yourself I
cannot want a thirteenth——"  She paused with a faint
exclamation.

The councillor had been sitting with his back to the door,
and had just poured out a glass of Burgundy which he was
raising to his lips, when Flora's words apprised him of the
entrance of the sisters.  Either the glass slipped from his
hand in his surprise, or he did not look to see how he placed
it upon the table,—its dark crimson contents were spilled upon
the white damask cloth and stained Flora's dress.

For a moment he stood confused, dismayed, his face colourless,
his eyes staring at the door as if some bodiless phantom
were entering there instead of the stately girl with serious eyes
and an assured bearing.  But he recovered himself quickly.
Apologizing to Flora for his awkwardness, he rang the bell
for servants to repair the disaster, and then, hastening to Kitty,
drew her into the room.  There was in his air and manner
not a trace of the rejected lover; in every word, as he took her
hands kindly, there spoke only the former fatherly guardian
who rejoiced to see his ward again.  He patted her on the
shoulder and bade her welcome.

"I did not venture to invite you," he said, "and indeed
I have been too busy with business matters of late to be able
to think much of Dresden.  You must forgive——"

"I am here solely upon Henriette's account, and as her
nurse," Kitty hastily interrupted him, without the least air
of offence at Flora's unsisterly reception.

"You are kind and good, my child," the Frau President
said, with a smile of relief; every fear was banished from her
mind by the entire ease of this meeting.  "But where shall
we put you?  Your former room is occupied by Flora's
trousseau, and——"

"Therefore you must permit me to remain in my own home,
where I have just established myself," Kitty courteously and
modestly finished the sentence.

"I am afraid there is no help for it," the old lady replied,
in the best of humours.  "This afternoon our house will be
full to overflowing, and everything is in the greatest bustle
and confusion,—our breakfast-table is in the only peaceful
spot.  From early dawn they have been hammering and
rehearsing——"

"Yes; they fairly shake the walls with their declamation
in the ball-room," said Henriette, wearily leaning back in the
arm-chair the councillor had placed for her.  "As we passed,
we heard 'Pallas Athene,' 'the roses of Cashmere,' and
'learned professor,' in admirable confusion——"

"Ugh!" Flora exclaimed, putting her fingers in her earn,
"it is really too bad to force such an amateur production upon
me, when I have performed myself in so many of our court
fêtes.  And there one must sit and not move a muscle of
one's face, when the ridiculousness of the thing is half
killing one with inward laughter——"

The Frau President imposed silence upon her by an
emphatic gesture, for the amateur performers, who had taken a
cup of chocolate in the dining-room before the rehearsal,
made their appearance now in search of the hats and
parasols they had left behind them.

Flora slipped into the adjoining boudoir.

With an affectation of great delight, the maid of honour,
Fräulein von Giese, hastened up to Kitty and welcomed her
among them once more.  Then, holding out her hand to the
councillor, she exclaimed, "So glad to see you, my dear Herr
von Römer.  Now we can thank you in person for the
delightful way in which you have seconded our efforts to
make our fête this evening charming.  Everything is superb,
like the work of enchantment."  She rapturously kissed her
finger-tips.  "Only in Villa Baumgarten can one enjoy such
'Arabian Nights' Entertainments:' every one agrees to that.
Apropos, have you heard the terrible news about Major
Bredow?  He is totally ruined, and many others are trembling
in terror.  Good heavens! what times these are in which
we live!  Shock follows shock with such rapidity——"

"But Major Bredow has been speculating so insanely," the
Frau President said, indifferently, adjusting herself
comfortably among the cushions of her arm-chair.  "How could
any one act so entirely without sense or reason?"

"It is his wife's fault.  She spent too much: three
thousand a year on her dresses alone."

"Oh, my dear, she might easily have done that of her husband
had shown more sense in his investments; but he mixed
himself up with projects that carried swindling on the face of
them."  She shrugged her shoulders.  "In such matters one
should always take the best advice, as I have done; eh,
Moritz? we need have no fears."

"I should think not," he replied, smiling with easy
assurance, and, filling his glass with Burgundy, he emptied it at
a draught.  "Of course, in such a general crash no one is
entirely untouched; here and there small sums vanish that have
been risked just for the sake of trying,—pin-pricks, that draw
no blood——"

"Ah, that reminds me that I have not had my newspaper
to-day," the Frau President interrupted him, with animation.
"It usually comes punctually at nine o'clock."

He shrugged his shoulders.  "Some negligence of the
post-office, or it may have slipped in among my papers and been
sent to the tower.  I will see about it."  And he filled his
glass again.

"I beg pardon, ladies," he said, alluding to these repeated
draughts.  "I am threatened with an attack of headache, to
which I am subject, and my best mode of prevention is a
brimming glass of wine."  His face did indeed seem to have
borrowed the dark hue of the wine he was drinking.

He hastily opened a bottle of champagne and filled several
glasses.  "I pray you drink with me to the success of our
evening's entertainment," he said to the ladies, who each
followed his example in taking up a glass.  "To the flower-fairy
and her train!  To youth and beauty, and the delights of life,
so dear to us all,—ay, to existence itself!"

The glasses clinked, and the Frau President shook her head,
with a laugh.

Involuntarily Kitty had withdrawn to a window recess, in
which stood Henriette's arm-chair.  She saw a tear tremble
beneath the invalid's eyelid at the thoughtless toast as she bit
her lip in indignant pain; for her, existence was a rack of
torture,—for her, the delights of life were purchased by
suffering with every breath she drew.  The young ward had taken
no glass, and the guardian had offered her none.  The girl's
glance rested gravely and searchingly upon his mobile features.
She had never suspected that a tempest of feeling could arise
behind the man's smooth, passionless face; and yet there it
was, plainly indicated in the uncertain wandering eyes, in the
quiver of the lips, in the forced merriment of the voice.

Her guardian seemed conscious of her look; involuntarily
he glanced towards the window, and then hastily placing his
glass upon the table he passed his hand across his brow and
ran his fingers through his hair,—an attack of dizziness seemed
to threaten him for an instant, in addition to the headache
which evidently defied his remedy.





.. vspace:: 4

CHAPTER XXIV.
=============

By the afternoon, preparations for the evening greatly
increased the noise and confusion.  The families of rank from
the neighbouring estates arrived, and apartments had to be
assigned them.  Trunks filled with costumes were brought from
town: the performers were to dress in the villa.  Barbers and
milliners came and went, and through it all the gardeners were
bringing palms, orange-trees, and tropical plants from the
conservatories.

In spite of all the noise and bustle that could be heard in
her room, Henriette had fallen into what seemed a refreshing
slumber.  In the adjoining dressing-room sat Nanni, sewing
spangles upon a cloud of gauze that was wanted by the
decorators of the stage below-stairs.  Kitty softly opened the
door, and, bidding the girl pay special heed to her sleeping
mistress until her return, she left the room and went downstairs
to go to the mill, where she still had some arrangements to make.

She avoided the large hall,—it was swarming with people,
coming and going,—and turned into the passage beside the
ballroom.  It was quieter, but at the low door at the end of it
leading into the open air stood the councillor, a straw hat on
his head, apparently about to go to the tower.  He was
instructing Anton, his servant, who lodged in the tower, with
regard to commissions which he was going to town to fulfil.
"Take time enough," he called after him; "I shall not dress
before six o'clock."

Kitty walked slowly on along the corridor in hopes he would
now leave the door and go into the park, but he thrust his hands
mechanically into the pockets of his light coat and stood still.
He was standing on the topmost of three or four steps, and
the view obtained thence of a considerable portion of his
beautiful domain apparently delayed his descent.  Perhaps he had
never before so enjoyed this view in all its wondrous beauty,
when the rosy light of the charming afternoon invested it with
a tender splendour.  The movement of his head showed that
his gaze was wandering hither and thither, but the young
girl also saw that he was trembling with profound, suppressed
emotion, as with his right hand he suddenly covered his eyes.
He must have been struggling with the illness of which he
had spoken, and which he was determined should not disturb
the evening's festivities.

She walked more quickly and with less caution, and he
turned hastily at the sound of her approach.

"Is your headache worse?" she asked, kindly.

"Yes; and I have just had a slight attack of giddiness,"
he answered, in an uncertain voice, as he pulled his hat down
over his eyes.  "No wonder!  If I had had the least idea of
the thousand annoyances inseparable from this ball I never
would have given it," he added, more calmly, although his
manner was not natural.  "Those stupid workmen have made
all kinds of mistakes in my absence; they did not understand
my ideas, and what they had been hammering away at for
a week had to be pulled down and put up again in twelve
hours.  That is why this bustle and noise must go on until
the very moment when the curtain rises."

He descended the steps slowly and cautiously, as if everything
were again swimming before him.

"Shall I go back and get you a glass of Seltzer-water?" she
asked, as she stood in the door-way; "or would it not be
better to send for the doctor?"

"No, thank you, Kitty," he replied, in a strangely gentle
tone, and his moistened glance rested lingeringly upon the
girl who had expressed such kind anxiety, "And indeed you
are mistaken if you think Bruck is to be had so easily.  He
is overwhelmed with practice; I believe he will have to be sent
for to leave some sick-bed to come to his very marriage, the
day after to-morrow."  A sarcastic smile flitted across his face.
"My best remedy is, I know," he instantly added, "my vaults
in the tower.  I am just going there to select the wine for
this evening; the air in those cellars will act like a cooling
bandage."

Kitty arranged her hat upon her head and came out upon
the door-steps.

"And you are going to the mill?  No farther, I hope?" he
said, looking at his watch.  It was a simple question, and
negligently uttered, and yet it seemed to Kitty that he caught
his breath as he asked it.

Descending the steps, she told him her errand to the mill,
and then, nodding a farewell, she crossed the road while the
councillor turned towards the tower.  Behind the first group
of shrubs, she turned and looked after him; he was surely
suffering more than he would admit.  His knees seemed to
tremble beneath him; he had thrust back the hat from his
forehead as if his brow were burning, and his eyes were
wandering aimlessly over the park.

Suddenly her temples throbbed; a vague terror assailed her.
That sick man tottering so uncertainly alone in the
tower-cellar!  Like some fever-bred phantom, the horrible thought
that had shocked her once before in sight of the tower again
occurred to her.  "I pray you, Moritz, be careful with the
light," she cried anxiously after him.

He might have been deep in thought, or perhaps his nerves
were in that unusually irritable state when a loud voice sufficed
to terrify; he started as if struck by a shot.

"What do you mean by that?" he called back, hoarsely.
"Are you seeing ghosts by daylight, Kitty?" he instantly
added, with a burst of laughter that mortified his ward, as he
vanished among the trees, waving his hand and holding
himself erect.

Scarcely half an hour later, Kitty was walking along the
river-bank.  Her errand to the mill accomplished, she found
she had time to snatch one sweet, stolen glance at the house by
the river.  How her heart beat as she saw the weather-cock
on the roof gleaming in the sunlight through the quivering
birch-leaves!  How she started at the crunching of the gravel
on the path beneath her tread!  She came like an exile to
have one last look of a beloved country.  She leaned against
the trunk of the poplar that stood by the bridge, whence she
had stamped that last scene so ineffaceably on her memory,—the
peeping children, their heads showing against the brilliant
landscape beyond as upon a golden background, the strong
stern man by the garden-table seeming crushed by some
inexplicable emotion.

All was quiet now in the shaded garden.  The trees, then
in all the pride of spring, were now bending with the load of
bright-coloured fruit that filled the air with its fragrance, and
the trellis was hardly seen beneath its purple load.  Only
one shy glimpse towards the corner window, where stood the
doctor's writing-table.  He was not at home; he was hastening
from one bedside to another, driven by professional cares.
And he no longer occupied that room.  White muslin curtains
adorned the window; upon the sill, among the pots of Alpine
violets in full bloom, lay a snow-white kitten, and two knitting
hands and a woman's head crowned with snowy hair beneath
a muslin fichu could be distinguished there; the Frau Dean's
old friend was already established.  He too had burned his
ships behind him; he was ready to go, and the day after the
morrow, the "last moment" would come, when her proud,
heartless sister would stand beside him in glistening white
satin, to become mistress of the mansion to a man of note.
Had she once struggled as bitterly—that fair young dame of
by-gone days—as did the girl who now, in a burst of tears,
clasped her arms about the poplar's slender stem and pressed
her brow painfully against the rough, hard bark?  She of the
legend had once been loved, if deserted at last; no blame could
be attached to her; but here an evil jealousy was gnawing at
the heart of one unloved, and she whom she envied was—her
own sister.

A loud footfall behind her made her look around.  Franz
the miller, with an iron crowbar over his shoulder, was passing
by, to look after the upper weir, he said.  His presence sent
the blood to her cheeks and scared her from her post of
observation.  While Franz hurried on she walked slowly along
the bank of the stream.  She could not yet make up her
mind to return to the villa; her toilette for the evening would
be completed long before Henriette, who was determined to
be present at the fête, had half finished the adornments which
were to make the ravages of disease less conspicuous.

The solitude here was so delicious; there was no one to see
how red her eyes were, or how angrily her wayward heart was
battling with the sinful desires that had urged her hither,—yes,
they had been the cause of her coming.  She would not
spare herself or lie to her own soul!  She had not come to
see the quiet house, and the dear old friend whose home it
was, and she had not been sure that he was not there.  She
had hoped—what?  And when another face than his had
appeared at the window the whole place had been to her
lonely and deserted.

Franz had vanished in the distance.  She was approaching
the ruin.  The circle of water about it glistened, and through
the shrubbery she could see the graceful bridge spanning the
ditch.  At the moment a man was crossing it from the tower.
A thick reddish beard covered the lower part of his face; he
wore a labourer's blouse, and was driving two roes before him
with his stick.  They leaped across the bridge and fled into
the recesses of the park.

Kitty would have paid the man no especial attention—workmen
were continually employed in and about the tower—if
his conduct had not seemed strange to her.  The councillor
was very fond of these roes; he was provoked when they
strayed into the park, and here this stranger was intentionally
chasing them across the ditch!  Was he one of the discontented
crowd of factory-hands who envied the rich man and
wrought mischief to his possessions whenever they could?
He turned into a path leading through the park-gates out
upon the high-road; she followed him with her eyes until he
was lost in the thicket.  The resemblance was wonderful!  In
his carriage and height, in his whole make, indeed, the man
in the blouse might have been the councillor's twin brother.

She stood involuntarily rooted to the spot, looking towards
the tower whence he had come.  How charmingly the
landscape here harmonized with the structure!  How well the
modern architect had known how to spare and now to efface
so as to weave about the old ruin a romantic charm!

Silence reigned again; no sound was heard but the faint
flapping of the doves' wings; those graceful sailors of the air
were floating in the crimson evening light, slipping through
the interstices of the mural crown of the tower as it showed
clear against the western sky—No, it was no mural crown! in
a flash it was a burning crater, vomiting forth with a noise
like thunder a cloud of pitchy vapour into the serene skies.
The ground seemed to be torn from beneath the girl's feet.
She was dashed to the earth and in an instant immersed in
the cool waters of the fosse.

.. vspace:: 2

What was it?  Every one came running from the villa to
take refuge in the garden.  The house tottered from foundation
to roof-tree.  An earthquake?  As if bereft of all sense,
the members of the household stood still in the open air as
though expecting to see the earth yawn at their feet.  Little
rills of water were trickling through the grass of the lawn.
The air began to be filled with smoke, and to scatter
everywhere on the gravel walks particles of burned material.  The
panes of plate-glass in the windows were broken; and in the
ball-room the huge mirror stretching from floor to ceiling lay
shattered into a thousand pieces, the silk and velvet draperies
had dropped from their fastenings around the stage, and the
workmen had with difficulty escaped injury from the falling
framework.

Passers-by rushed in from the road, among them Anton,
who was just returning from town.  "There! there!" they
cried to the Frau President, who was leaning half fainting
upon Flora's arm, and as they spoke they pointed to the
distant portion of the park.  There was a fire in that direction,
and huge volumes of smoke were pouring upwards so thickly
that the sparks showed in its pitchy blackness like rockets in
a dark night.

"The powder in the tower has exploded!" a voice cried
from the midst of the throng.

"Nonsense!" Anton replied, with an attempt at a laugh,
although his teeth were chattering in his head with terror.
"That old stuff has long been past exploding, and the few
pinches of fresh which the Herr Councillor had stored there
in jest could not have stirred a tile from its place."

Nevertheless he ran wildly in the direction of the tower
across the flooded lawn,—he knew his master had gone thither.
The crowd followed him, whilst the fire-alarm from the
neighbouring town began to toll.

What had become, in a moment almost too brief to suffice
for one human breath, of the Eden which wealth and luxury
had evoked from the ruins of knightly splendour?  When the
black vapour darkened the heavens there had burst into air the
infernal force as if from some subterranean fountain; huge
masses of granite had been tossed forth to lie here and there
half buried in the soft sod of the lawn, having broken strong
trees like reeds in their descent, while towards the south the
new conservatory stood like a sieve of glass, each splinter
sparkling and gleaming in the evening light.  There must
have been a perfect hailstorm of stones poured upon it, thus
to shatter the exquisite toy, so lately the admiration of the
capital.

It was indeed a sight to horrify the breathless crowd as
they emerged from the shrubbery that had partially concealed
the extent of the disaster.  Had the ghostly ancestress of the
Baumgartens indeed lighted the train to put an end to the
farce which the modern parvenu was playing above the hoary
ruins of the home of her race?  Those builders of old must
have cemented their walls with iron.  The upper portion of
the tower, with its machicolated summit, was indeed scattered
to all the four winds of heaven, but of the lower and more
ancient building only the smaller part had been destroyed; it
lay in huge masses near the fosse, whilst the rest still stood
threateningly erect in air, and from its depths the yellow
flames ascended, greedily devouring every particle of wood or
inflammable material within.

"My poor master!" Anton groaned, stretching his arms in
despair across the ditch, the waters of which had been raised
from their bed by the force of the explosion to flow here and
there over the park.  They were now pouring back again, and
dashing once more upon their accustomed way, carrying with
them gravel, grass, and the bleeding bodies of slain doves and
rooks.  The pretty arches of the bridge had vanished, the
green artificial hill was seamed by huge rifts, and the old
chestnuts which it had nourished were thrust forth from its
bosom to lie stretched on the ground, their boughs interlaced
like the horns of deer dead in mortal conflict.

Of what use were the crowds of men hurrying hither with
their fire-engines?  There was nothing to save.  Where in
that glowing crater could be found the costly furniture, the
famous collection of ancient tankards, the pictures, statuary,
ivory carvings, and rich carpets?  As if in ghastly mockery,
a crimson silk curtain that had floated uninjured from one of
the windows was still hanging from a fragment of stone sill
down over the remains of the outer wall, like a stream of blood
flowing from some terrible wound.

And among the crowd there ran whispers of the piles of gold
and silver—or no, papers, bundles of papers, representing
incalculable sums, factories, mines, landed property,—all of
which the old tower, with its mighty walls, its impregnable
locks, and its fosse, had guarded like a dragon.  Where were
they now?  Where were the sheets of iron that had
imprisoned them?  Had the safes fallen undestroyed into the
vaults of the cellar, to await there a future resurrection in
defiance of the flames?

And what had become of him,—of the man who, as Anton
declared, had gone to the tower an hour before to select the
wine for the evening's entertainment?  All gazed helplessly
at the flaming mass, while the faithful servant ran to and fro
on the bank of the ditch, wringing his hands, and shouting his
master's name across the water.  It had been inconceivable
folly to keep the powder there where an unguarded lamp was
so frequently used.

"The old historic powder has had nothing to do with this.
Some very different explosive material has been at work here,"
a loud voice said from the crowd.  The speaker was an
engineer, and had been passing by the villa at the moment of
the catastrophe.

"But how came anything else in the cellar?" Anton stammered,
standing still, and looking at the speaker with wonder
and inquiry.

The man shrugged his shoulders with a meaning look, and,
turning, was lost in the crowd, whilst the engines did their
work.

As long as the fire raged, the jets of water hissed upon
the flames, the alarm-bell tolled unceasingly, firemen brought
planks and poles from the villa to construct some kind of a
bridge over the fosse, and the noise and confusion increased
from moment to moment.  In the midst of it all, a piercing
shriek was heard at some distance; on the path leading to the
upper weir Franz the miller had been found; a heavy stone
had prostrated him and crushed in his chest; the man was
dead.

This shriek, uttered by his wife as she threw herself upon
the body, seemed re-echoed from all parts of the park it was
so resounded with cries from hundreds of throats.

"Moritz,—they have found him!" the Frau President
murmured, with a start.  She had sunk down upon a garden-seat
not far from the house,—her feet refused to carry her
farther.  She now made an effort to rise; in vain!  The
infirmity of age, hitherto so resolutely ignored, asserted itself
at this moment of nervous agitation.  "Have they found him?
Is he dead?  Dead?" she stammered, incoherently, her eyes,
usually so coldly calm, staring wildly in the direction of the
ruin, whilst she clutched the arm of Flora, who was standing
beside her.

The beautiful woman alone preserved her composure.  There
above the trees the thick vapour rolled lazily and heavily
upwards, painting the heavens far and near in dull ashen gray,
and here before the house, with its shattered window-panes,
the orange-trees were overturned upon the lawn, where the
water trickled and flowed in little rills, to gather in pools in
the deep furrows cut by the fire-engines.  The air was filled
with wild outcries, crowds of people were rushing past each
moment from the town, and in the midst of this desolation
stood a lovely woman, clad in white, with marguerites on her
breast and in her fair curls, pale to the lips, but collected and
self-assured in her demeanor,—a being set apart from all
personal misfortune.

"If you would only loosen your hold of my arm, grandmamma,"
she said, impatiently, "I might possibly convince
you that you are needlessly alarmed.  Why must Moritz
have perished?  Pshaw!  Moritz, with his constant good
fortune!  I am perfectly sure that he is there in the midst of
the crowd, safe and sound, and those stupid servants, who, by
the way, pay us no attention, except to shout out some
unintelligible nonsense in passing, are so frightened that they do
not know their own master when they see him."  She looked
down at the wet sod, and then at her white boot that peeped
forth from beneath the flounces of her muslin dress.  "One
would say I too had lost my senses," she continued, with a
shrug, "but I must go and see——"

"No, no, you must stay here!" cried the Frau President,
grasping the skirt of white muslin.  "You will not leave me
alone with Henriette, who is still more helpless than I, and
is of no use to me?  Oh, God, I shall die!  If he should
be dead, if—what then?"  Her head sank upon her breast,
that gleamed with diamonds; she looked old and infirm, and
her form seemed bent and shrunken in the stiff folds of her
yellow moiré dress.

Henriette crouched upon the seat beside her, ashy pale,
with wide, terrified eyes.  "Kitty!  Where can Kitty be?"
she repeated to herself with trembling lips, as if it were a
sentence she were learning by rote.

"God in heaven grant me patience!" Flora muttered between
her teeth.  "Such weakness is terrible.  Why in the
world, Henriette, are you continually asking for Kitty?  No
one means to take her from you!"

She looked impatiently towards the house, but no one was
to be seen who could relieve her of her charge; every one had
gone to the ruins,—the newly-arrived guests, the footmen, the
servants from the kitchen; even the neatly-shod ladies' maids
had run through the wet towards the scene of the disaster.
But aid approached from town in the persons of the amateur
performers, who came breathlessly round the corner of the
house.

"For heaven's sake, tell us what is the matter!" cried
Fräulein von Giese, rushing up to the lonely group of women.

Flora shrugged her shoulders.  "We know nothing more
than that there has been an explosion in the tower.  Every
one runs past us; no one answers our questions; and I cannot
stir from the spot, because grandmamma has lost her head, and
in her agitation is positively tearing the clothes off my back.
She imagines that Moritz is killed."

The young girls stood as if turned to stone at this horrible
idea,—the strong, handsome man who only a few hours
before had emptied his glass to the "delights of life" already
perished in the flames or crushed to atoms!  It could not be.
"Impossible!" exclaimed Fräulein von Giese.

"Impossible?" the Frau President repeated, with a
mingling of sobs and wild laughter: she had struggled to her
feet, but she tottered like a drunken man as she pointed a
trembling finger towards the nearest grove.  "There—they
are bringing him!  My God!  Moritz, Moritz!"

In solemn silence an object was being borne along, and within
the circle of those who were accompanying it walked Doctor
Bruck, without his hat, his tall figure towering above the rest.
Flora flew towards him, whilst the Frau President burst
into a fit of convulsive weeping.  At sight of the lovely
commanding figure the group involuntarily parted.  Flora gave
one hasty glance at the form extended upon a litter, and
instantly turned back to say soothingly, "Be calm,
grandmamma!  It is not Moritz——

"It is Kitty,—I knew it," Henriette murmured hoarsely,
in a voice that was half sob, half whisper, as she staggered
across to where the bearers had put down their burden for a
minute to take breath.

The poor girl lay upon the old-fashioned couch from the
doctor's study.  Her dress hanging over its side was dripping
with moisture.  Soft pillows were beneath her back and head;
with her eyelids so gently closed and her hands resting so
calmly upon her breast, one might have imagined her
sleeping, but for the bandage above her brow and the blood
trickling down her cheek.

"What has happened to Kitty, Leo?  What was she
doing near the ruin?" Flora asked, approaching the couch,
both in tone and in manner displaying more irritation at
her sister's supposed forwardness than terror at what had
happened.

At her previous remark, intended to soothe her grandmother,
the doctor had turned in sudden anger; now he
seemed not to hear her speaking, so firmly closed were his
lips, so stolid was the look which passed her by to rest with
interest upon Henriette.

The poor invalid stood before him gasping for breath,
looking up to him with eyes dimmed with tears.  "Only one word,
Leo; is she alive?" she stammered, raising her hands clasped
in entreaty.

"Yes; the concussion and loss of blood have stunned her;
the only danger at present to be apprehended is from her wet
clothes.  The wound on her temple is trifling, thank God!"
he answered in vibrating tones, which seemed to come from
the depths of his heart, while with all a brother's tenderness
he put his left arm around the frail form that could hardly
stand upright.  "Go on," he said to the bearers, with evident
anxiety and impatience.

The accompanying crowd dispersed; there was no danger
here, and most of them returned to the ruin.  The couch
was carried on towards the house, past the Frau President,
who gazed at the unconscious form as if bereft of all
capacity to understand and appreciate.  The group of horrified
girls stood huddled together, looking helplessly towards
the young physician who walked beside the couch without
noticing them.  He kept his left arm around Henriette's
waist; his right hand he had laid lightly upon Kitty's brow,
as if to shield her from any shock if consciousness should
return.  He who was usually so reserved, who so carefully
concealed all emotion, the man whom of late all had seen so
gloomy and constrained, was now looking down with unconcealed
tenderness upon the pale face lying upon the pillows,
as if nothing existed for him in the world except this most
sacred and dear treasure which he had just snatched from the
grave.

Flora followed the silent group apart, as if bound by no
tie to the three people whom misfortune had suddenly shown
to be so closely allied.  On the spot where the bearers had
rested the water was standing in little pools; she walked
through them not heeding the wet, and her long muslin train
dragged damp and dirty over the gravelled path.  Suddenly
she tore the wreath of marguerites from her hair; it was a
bitter mockery in the midst of all this horror; she plucked
and pulled it to pieces mechanically as she walked along, and
the little white stars lay scattered upon the ground over which
she had passed.

She too passed her grandmother and her friends without
heeding them.  Her flashing glance rested immovably upon
her lover's tall, commanding figure; evidently she
momentarily expected that he would turn to her, and thus she
followed him step by step to the house and across its threshold.
The Frau President called after her; the earth was shaken by
another loud crash from the ruins, followed by shouts and
cries.  She did not look round; the world might be dissolved
behind her; she was inexorably resolved to assert her "rights."





.. vspace:: 4

CHAPTER XXV.
============

A silent night of anxious, breathless suspense ensued
upon this horrible day.  No one went to bed; the gas was
lighted all over the house, the servants glided noiselessly about
on tiptoe, or huddled whispering in corners, and when some
fireman passed near the house, or a door was softly opened, all
started as from an electric shock and hurried into the corridors,
sure that some intelligence would be brought of the master of
the house.  But the night waned, and the dawn peeped in at
the windows,—he never, never came.

The rosy light of a glorious morning shone upon Villa
Baumgarten, making the broken window-panes glitter and
shine.  It entered the ball-room and kindled the crimson of
the fallen canopy, it kissed the fading leaves of the festoons of
green and the broken boughs of the plants brought from the
conservatory;—what chaos reigned there!  One single minute
had converted the costly but frail "Arabian Nights' Entertainment"
into a heap of ruins and fragments.  The charming
verses in praise of the bride were unspoken, and upon the spot
where the bespangled genius should have hovered in a rosy
cloud, the keen morning breeze toyed mockingly with shreds
of pink and white tulle.

It was the first time, perhaps, that the light of dawn had
seen these splendid interiors; no shutter had been closed,
no shade drawn down,—it even stared in upon the gorgeous
bedroom in the northeastern angle of the building, upon the
violet silk draperies, the richly-carved bedstead covered with
lace, and it might mirror itself in the diamonds strewn
among the puffs of the Frau President's hair.  The maid had
not dared to offer her services to the old lady, who now and
then would totter through the long suite of apartments,
dragging after her her heavy yellow train among overturned
furniture and statues toppled from their pedestals.

The cloud of tulle which she always wore about her neck
and chin had become loosened, and the sharp, withered
outline of the lower portion of her face and of the throat was
painfully evident.  Yes, she was very old, and the sun of her
life was low on the horizon; nevertheless, her aged brain was
busy with but one absorbing thought, "Who is Moritz's heir?"  She
herself had not the slightest claim upon the wealth of the
man so suddenly snatched away, not even upon the bed in
which she slept or the plate from which she ate.  The
councillor had been early left an orphan; so far as she knew, he
had no existing relatives of his name; but had he not
continually sent a subsistence to a sister of his mother's living on
the Rhine?  Would she inherit his wealth?  The idea was
maddening.  The wife of an obscure clerk, a needy seamstress,
would then take possession of this colossal fortune, and the
Frau President Urach, who for years had not been able to
conceive how any one could move without silken-cushioned
equipages, how any one could dine without lackeys in waiting,
or sleep unless in a bed canopied with silk, would have to rout
out her old furniture from the garrets whither it had been
banished, and hire narrow lodgings where there were no stables
filled with horses, no liveried servants and princely *ménage*,
for neither she nor her granddaughters were connected by any
tie of blood with the millionaire who had gone out of the world
intestate.

The guests invited from the neighbourhood had remained
with the old lady until midnight, and, although no distinct
mention had been made of this subject, there had not been
lacking allusions to the business complications that must
ensue upon the catastrophe, since the councillor had kept all
his ledgers and business papers of every description in the
tower, and not a scrap of them was to be found.

But, although enormous sums had thus been destroyed,
did not she, the Frau President, at present make her home
upon an estate valued at many thousands?  Were not the
vaults of the plate-chamber beneath her feet?  Were not
the stables full of thorough-bred horses?  And was not the
collection of paintings of incalculable value?  All this would
more than suffice to ensure a luxurious existence to the old
lady to the end of her days, if only she could prove that one
drop of blood in her aristocratic veins came from the same
source that had given life to the rope-maker's son.

And they spoke also of her who lay at present above-stairs,
in Henriette's sitting-room, the castle miller's granddaughter;
they knew that her entire fortune had been kept in the tower.
Upon this theme the Frau President in her nervous agitation
did not care to speculate; what was the old miller's hoarded
wealth to her?  Flora, on the contrary, maintaining an entire
self-possession in spite of the horrors of the day, pondered
long upon the possible consequences to her half-sister of the
destruction of the safe in the tower.

There was an angry frown upon her brow as she came down
from the third story about ten o'clock in the evening.  She, the
admired centre of a large and aristocratic circle, the beautiful
woman whose intellectual force and ripe judgment had been the
wonder of her acquaintances, had been obliged, to her intense
disgust, to play the pitiable part of a supernumerary in the
sick-room.  In addition to Henriette, who had taken up her
position on a couch and would not consent to leave the room,
the dean's widow had made her appearance as Kitty's nurse.
She had sought refuge in the villa, for the house by the river
being the nearest to the tower had suffered much from the
explosion; the chimneys had been thrown down, the southern
wall was much damaged, the windows were shivered to pieces,
and none of the doors would latch or bolt.  The friend and
companion had gone with the maid to Susy, at the mill, and
the doctor had left two watchmen to guard the house during
the night.

There had been no place for Flora at the wounded girl's
bedside.  At the head sat the dean's widow, her eyes red with
weeping, and opposite her the doctor.  "The old woman"
had behaved as if the trifling injury that Kitty had sustained
were the gravest consequence of the disaster, and the doctor
had never stirred from his post, only relinquishing his clasp of
Kitty's hand when the bandage upon her brow needed renewing.
It required more patience and self-control than Flora
had at command to look quietly on at such anxious care
bestowed upon "a tall, robust girl, with nerves and muscles
inherited from the former woodcutter's daughter."

Weary of the perpetual whispering, and perceiving that
there was no sensible word to be extorted from all these
frightened people, the beautiful woman had at last left the
room alone and greatly irritated: the doctor had not even
accompanied her to the door.  Of course she did not go to
bed; she took off her evening dress, and, putting on a white
cashmere dressing-gown, reclined towards morning upon her
crimson lounge.

The former study looked desolate and dreary enough.  The
black writing-table had been emptied of all its papers, and
stood dusty in the recess by the window; most of the books
had been taken from the shelves and were packed in boxes in
the middle of the floor; the pedestals were overturned, while,
over all, the hanging lamp but carelessly lighted by the
servants threw a pale uncertain gleam, which, now that the
morning air and dawning light came freshly in through the
broken panes of glass, swung to and fro in its white globe
like the last faint spark of fire from the ruins.

When the day had fairly broken, Flora sent up-stairs to
request the doctor to come to her, and as his firm, military step
was heard in the corridor she hastily arranged her curls
beneath her lace morning cap, leaned back among the crimson
cushions, and looked from under her half-closed eyelids
towards the door by which he was to enter.

He came in.  Never had she seen him thus, and involuntarily,
mechanically, she arose as if to greet a stranger.

"I am not well, Leo," she said with hesitation, not turning
her glance of surprise from his face, which although pale and
weary was as if inspired by some light from within that had
totally changed its character.  "My head burns; fright and
wet feet must have brought on an attack of fever."  She
added this uncertainly, whilst his eyes dwelt upon her with
the cool searching gaze of the physician.  The look irritated
her.

"Have a care, Bruck!" she said, in a perfectly calm tone,
but her breath came quick, and her finely pencilled eyebrows
contracted so that two deep lines showed between them.
"For months I have borne to see that your practice is
your best beloved, to which I am subordinate."  She shrugged
her shoulders.  "I can foresee that such must be my fate,
and possess magnanimity enough to acquiesce in it, since such
devotion to his profession will bring fame to the man whose
name I shall bear."  She turned her head as she spoke with
a haughty air, as if looking through a world filled with his
renown.  "But I protest against being set aside when I have
need of your medical skill," she continued.  "We have all
suffered from the terrible catastrophe.  It was my task, and
one of indescribable difficulty, to protect and soothe
grandmamma, who was half insane with terror, and Henriette;
and yet it has never occurred to you to ask, 'How have you
borne all this?'"

"I have not asked because I know you pride yourself upon
subordinating all emotion to the intellect, and because I can
see at a glance how little your physical condition has been
affected."

She listened amazed to his tone, which, with all its wonted
calmness, trembled audibly as if in consequence of throbbing
pulses.

"With regard to your second assertion you are wrong,"
she said, after a moment's silence.  "My temples throb with
nervous excitement.  Your first may be correct; I do strive
to compose myself in view of every event whatsoever, that I
may bring my calm judgment to bear upon it.  From your tone
you would seem to disapprove of this method of mine, although
just at present it certainly deserves your praise.  I have
never been induced to speculate with my paternal inheritance;
I have never been tempted by fortunate chances; were it
otherwise I should stand here this moment with empty hands, my
dowry would have been dispersed upon the air like the papers
that were destroyed yesterday.  Yes, look dismayed if you
will, Bruck,"—she lowered her voice,—"I am not deceived,
and I choose to call things by their right names.  Grandmamma
is pacing her room and wringing her hands in fear
lest the 'colossal fortune' should fall into stranger hands.
Our precious guests spent half the night bewailing the fate
of the wealthy man, fortune's darling, torn by cruel destiny
so tragically from his earthly paradise.  But *I* say, this
theatric exit was tolerably well put upon the stage,
nevertheless there is a rent in the curtain which lets in the light
of reality upon the corpse.  In a short time, perhaps in a
day or two, the fact will be spread abroad that Römer was
at first only a bold speculator, it may be, but in the end—a
scoundrel."

There could not have been a more striking illustration of
the wayward turns of fortune than was presented at this
moment.  There stood the beautiful woman in her white
Iphigenia robes, the crimson carpet beneath her feet, the
swinging lamp above her brow, upon the very spot where in
the preceding December she had stigmatized as pretended
her lover's medical skill, and had declared, "I cannot endure
concealment of my opinion."

Flora was right; she certainly called things by their right
names; she gave utterance to what the man standing before
her could not in his inmost soul deny, and which since
yesterday had caused him great pain; but to hear the naked fact
thus boldly stated by those finely chiselled lips, in order that
their owner might vaunt her keen insight, naturally offended
deeply his sense of delicacy and refinement.

"Ah, I see I am so unfortunate to-day as to displease you,"
she began again, half sarcastically half poutingly, as she
followed him to the window recess whither he had gone in
evident irritation.  "It may be that my speech was too
downright; perhaps in view of many little kindnesses shown me
now and again by Römer it would have been well to be less
frank and true,"—she elevated her eyebrows and shrugged
her shoulders,—"but I am the sworn foe of all hypocrisy
and have reason enough for indignation.  My sister Henriette,
with whose inheritance Römer has been speculating, will
be a beggar; and Kitty?—rest assured that not a stiver of
all her immense fortune is left."

"So much the better!" came as if only breathed from the
lips that seemed at this moment to be curved beneath the
thick moustache in a tender smile.

Faint as was the sound, Flora's ear caught it.  "So much
the better?" she asked, in surprise, half laughing as she
clasped her hands.  "Our youngest is certainly not much to
my taste, but what crime has she committed, that her ill luck
should so content you?"

He bit his lip, and, pressing his forehead against the
window-frame, looked abroad into the garden, where the golden
morning light was just touching the head of the marble
nymph at the fountain.

"Of course Kitty will not be so badly off as Henriette;
she will have the castle mill, and that is worth a good round
sum," she added, after a pause.  "She can live there when
matters are arranged; and indeed I know of no better refuge
for our poor invalid.  The sisters are very fond of each other,
and would like to be together.  In fact, no other arrangement
is possible, for grandmamma's limited income will make it
impossible for her to take charge of Henriette, and of course
I should not think of burdening you with my sick sister."  She
suddenly put her hand within his arm and looked up at
him tenderly.  "Ah, Leo, how thankful I shall be when we
are seated together in the carriage to-morrow, leaving behind
us all this disaster and misery!"

With a passionate gesture and a face in which shone an
indignation she had never seen there before, he snatched his
arm from her clasp.  "Would you really forsake them all,
leave them helpless and alone to meet the terrible shocks of
the near future?" he cried, as if beside himself.  "Go then
whenever you choose,—I remain here!"

"Leo!" she almost screamed, and then stood for a moment
speechless, overpowered by anger.  She laid her clenched hand
upon her heart, as if she had received a stab.  "Surely you
do not estimate the full meaning of your hasty words," she
said, slowly and emphatically.  "I will regard them only as
they call for this reply from me.  If we do not set out upon
our tour to-morrow, before further revelations are made as to
Römer's affairs,—and surely no one can take it amiss of us
that we quietly carry out plans so long decided upon,—our
union must be indefinitely postponed."

He made no reply, but stood motionless in his former position,
looking from the window.  His silence evidently irritated
her further: passion gleamed in her large gray eyes.

"I said before that I am willing to yield the first place in
your heart to your practice, to your devotion to your
profession," she went on, with increasing emphasis, "but I will not
yield one jot of my rights to other women,—remember that,
Leo!  I cannot see why I should be forced to struggle through
the fearful crash that must come here, with grandmamma and
my sisters, when I have the right to flee to the calm
protection of the home you have promised me.  Can I do anything
to alter the state of affairs?  Nothing whatever.  Why, then,
do you wish to consign me to needless suffering?  Must I too
be an object for universal compassion?  I would sooner depart
on the instant.  I *will not* be pointed at and pitied."

She paced the room in agitation.  "You have not the
faintest excuse to make me for remaining here," she said,
standing at a distance from him, frowning darkly, when she
had waited in vain for a reply.  "You cannot even plead the
necessity here for your professional aid.  You would have had
to leave Henriette to her fate; and as for Kitty, you will not
assert that the scratch on her forehead which you yourself
declared to be trifling demands all your medical skill.  To
tell the truth, I could scarcely suppress a laugh last night at
your aunt's conduct and your own.  It is allowable for
Henriette to shed childish tears over a few drops of blood,—she is
weak and nervous,—but for you to behave as if our youngest,
the robust child of a race of peasants, were framed of snow
and air——"  She paused at the menacing look that Leo
turned upon her as he raised his finger, unable longer to control
the expression of his indignation.

She laughed angrily.  "Do you think I am afraid?  I
return menace for menace.  Take care, the 'yes' has not yet
been uttered before the altar; it still lies with me to give
a turn to affairs that you would hardly like.  I repeat that
your whole conduct yesterday with regard to Kitty was
distasteful to me.  Am I not to sneer at your treating her like
a princess——"

"No, not like a princess,—like the best beloved of my
heart, like my first and only love," he interrupted her, in a
deep, melodious voice.

She started as if the earth had suddenly yawned at her
feet; involuntarily she raised her arms towards heaven, and
then she approached him.

He extended his hands as if to ward off her touch, and
stood erect and decided.  "Yes, I confess to you what I
have hitherto struggled fiercely to lock within my own
breast, from a shame that was the result of a perverted idea
of right and wrong.  I do it without a word of excuse or
self-justification——"  His voice sank.  "I have been
faithless to you from the moment of my first meeting with
Kitty."

Flora slowly dropped her arms.  Plain and distinct as the
words were, they were the most incredible she had ever heard.
Pshaw! why had she betrayed such foolish terror?  It was
true that the petted Flora Mangold had ensnared many a
man's heart to reject it pitilessly in wanton love of power: not
a season had passed without bringing her such triumphs; but
that a man should prove faithless to her—ridiculous!  The
idea was too absurd; no one in the capital would credit it,
herself least of all.  It was far easier to believe that Doctor
Bruck had at length summoned courage to attempt to revenge
himself.  She had pushed her fiery trial to extremes; in her
justifiable irritation she had threatened to withhold her "yes"
on the very altar-steps, and his long-suffering was exhausted;
he was trying to punish her by arousing her jealousy.  Her
boundless vanity and frivolity postponed for a few minutes the
bitterest experience of her life.

She curled her lip ironically and folded her arms.  "Ah,
at first sight, then!" she said.  "Was that outside in the
corridor, where she made her appearance like a genuine child of
the people, the dust of travel on her boots and the poetic
kerchief bundle in her hand?"

It was plain that her trifling irritated the man almost to
madness.  At this terrible moment, when his "first and only
love" had asserted itself after suffering and struggles
unspeakable, he was laughingly taken to task like a school-boy.
He controlled himself, however.  This question must be
decided now; to see that it was decided with dignity was his
task.

"I had then been Kitty's guide and companion from the
mill, where I first saw her," he replied, with tolerable
composure.

A dark blush of surprise crimsoned Flora's cheek.  Her
eyes sparkled: she bit her lip.  "Ah! this is the first I have
heard of that.  She too,—the hypocrite of the 'pure' heart
had her reasons for suppressing all mention of this interesting
meeting."  She laughed a short, hard laugh.  "And what
more, Bruck?" she demanded, her arms still folded, one foot
advanced upon the carpet.

"If you persist in this tone, no explanation is possible for
me except in writing."  And he indignantly attempted to pass her.

She stepped before him.  "Good heavens! how tragically
you take it!  I am only doing my best to play my part in
your little farce.  What! you would strive with me in a
warfare of the pen?  Dear Leo, believe me, you would come off
the loser there, in spite of the telling medical brochures you
have given to the world."

The arrogant smile that accompanied her words faded upon
her lips in the presence of the stern cold glance that met her
own.  Gradually the suspicion dawned within her that he was
indeed in earnest, bitter earnest; not as to his pretended affection
for Kitty,—that passed all belief,—but as to his resolution,
in spite of his passionate love for herself, to break with his
capricious betrothed at the last moment rather than submit
to a life-long "fiery trial."  She regretted the words she had
spoken, but arrogance and vanity retained their mastery of her.

"Then go!" she said, stepping aside.  "I will not bear
such looks as the one you have just given me.  Go!  I will
not stir a finger to keep you."  She burst into a scornful
laugh.  "Oh, rare masculine nature, so vaunted and so sung!
There was a time when I begged almost upon my knees for
my freedom; the chains were only the more closely riveted
upon me.  Look then, and learn from me what in such
moments is the sole and only stay even for a 'vain, weak,
feminine nature:' pride——"

"It was pride that then made me inexorable,—invincible
pride, although a very different quality from the mixture of
anger and defiance which you designate as such," he interrupted
her.  "I confess I was wrong,—very wrong.  I will trouble
you, as I have said, with no self-justification that might seem
to throw blame upon others however remotely.  The motive
for my conduct then sprang from a fancied need to assert my
own force, my masculine will, which as I thought should rise
superior to all vagaries of feeling.  I would not give you back
your troth because I had been accustomed to regard my own
when once plighted as pledged for all eternity.  From that
point of view our betrothal was as indissoluble as a Catholic
marriage.  I do not deny that the relics of my student days
had weight with me in a false conception of honour.  I spoke
of one spring of action to you on that evening, and I refer to
it again.  I did not choose to join the throng of those who
had been bound to your chariot-wheels only to be publicly
rejected.  I repeat that this was a boyish, unformed view to
take, since in such cases it is not the man's honour, but the
woman's, that is compromised."

She turned from him and drummed angrily with her fingers
upon the table.  "I never concealed from you the fact that I
had been wooed repeatedly before our betrothal," she said,
with proud indifference.

"You never did, nor did any of my acquaintances," he
interposed.  "But you must not forget that you were the lofty
ideal of my boyhood.  At the university, in my last campaign,
I was spurred on by the thought that the proud heart so often
wooed had never inclined to any, that it would bless him who
should win it——"  He broke off; he would not refer to the
coquetry she had displayed; he scorned to bring the slightest
recrimination to his aid.

"And do you assert that I ever loved a single one of this
throng of inevitable adorers?" she asked, indignantly.

"*Loved*?  No, Flora, not one; not even myself," he
exclaimed, carried away for the moment.  "You loved only the
incomparable beauty, the elegant carriage, the vaunted wit,
the future fame, of the petted Flora Mangold."

"Aha!  I have looked in vain for loving flattery from your
lips.  Even in the first days of our betrothal you had no
caressing words for me, and now in your anger you paint a
picture of me with which I may well be content."

He blushed like a girl.  It was long since he had kissed
that beautiful mouth, and yet that he had ever done so now
seemed to him an offence against that other, whose purity
made her the first and only true embodiment of his ideal
woman.  Involuntarily he withdrew his glance from the eyes
that gazed at him with laughter in their depths.

Ah, she had done well to remind him of those happy first
days,—the game was her own.  "Did you really come to
me, Leo, only to find fault and quarrel with me?" she asked,
approaching him again and hastily laying her hand on his arm.

"You forget that you sent for me, Flora," he replied,
gravely.  "I should not have come of my own accord.  I
have two patients above-stairs; Henriette's condition became
critical towards morning.  If you had not expressly desired
my presence I should not have left her, nor should I, at
this miserable and unhappy time, have brought affairs to the
crisis you have just provoked."

"Crisis?  Because in a fit of childish vexation I told
you to go!  How can you take girlish pique in such bitter
earnest?"  What words from one who usually repudiated all
maidenly emotion as unworthy her masculine intellect!  This
slippery eel-like nature was hard to grapple with.

The doctor looked dismayed.  Her capricious words had
caused him merely to describe a circle; he was no farther
with her than he had been at the beginning of the interview.
"There I do not blame you," he answered, with a passionate
impatience that would not be suppressed.  "I allowed myself
to confess to you——"

"Ah, yes, you told me of your masculine will, which must
rise superior to all vagaries of feeling.  Has it played you false
at last?"

"No, not played me false, but submitted to better and purer
convictions.  Flora, I told you awhile ago that my refusal to
dissolve the engagement between us was the result of a false
principle.  I had long known that in your heart there was not
a trace of true self-sacrificing love for me; and I too had
entirely outlived my feeling for you, which had never been a
warm genuine emotion of the heart, but merely enthusiastic
admiration.  We had both been mistaken.  True, I suffered
severely in the thought of the loveless future that awaited
me,—me to whom nature had given a heart craving affection;
but I resigned myself to it, and you had less difficulty in
reconciling yourself to your pretended rival, my profession,
because our estrangement required of you no real sacrifice."

She was silent, and her eyes sought the ground; she could
not look into the grave intense face of the speaker and
contradict the truth he uttered.

"And I clung to keeping my troth to the letter, all the
more that my spirit was faithless to you——"

"Ah!—indeed?"

"Yes, Flora, I have struggled with my inclination as with
a deadly foe."  He sighed heavily.  "From the first moment
I have dealt cruelly with myself, and with the girl who
inspired me with this invincible passion.  I would not permit
the slightest, the most innocent approach upon her part.  I
would not even endure in my room the flowers she had held
in her hand and thoughtlessly forgotten.  She liked to be in
my house.  I forbade her coming as if she had desired to
fire my roof.  I was coldly uncivil to her even while I looked
into her face that was heaven to me——"

"Ah, yes, one can well conceive it.  Divine to the eye
of a physician,—round and healthy, pure white and red
painted in strong colours by Nature herself."  With these
words the breathless listening figure awoke to life.  "And
you dare to tell me this?  What! this naïve, innocent
creature throws flowers into the rooms of the men whom she
would ensnare——"

"Hush!"  He raised his hand with an air of such
command as silenced even those wayward lips.  "Overwhelm me
with reproaches, I shall not justify myself; but in defence of
Kitty I am armed to the teeth.  She never wittingly attracted
me; she returned to Dresden with no knowledge of my heart
or—of her own.  Why she went you well know.  Whilst from
one quarter she was met by persuasions to contract a loveless
marriage, from another she was informed that the rooms which
she occupied were needed for the comfort of a high-born
guest.  I was witness to this uncivil treatment, and almost
forgot myself so far as to remonstrate indignantly with the
Frau President; yet when an indirect request was made to
me to receive the unwelcome inmate in my house I had no
room there for her; nay, more, an hour afterwards she was an
involuntary auditor of my request to my aunt to break off all
intercourse with her until I should have removed to L——.
And she went, wounded to the core of her proud firm and
yet gentle nature, and I was brutal nay wicked enough, for
the sake of a false principle, for the sake of the idol of clay
which represents certain ideas of honour, to persist in the
monstrous lie which I tried to make credible to her, to myself,
and to the world about me."

As if overpowered by his own description, he paused for
some seconds.  Flora threw herself upon the couch and
clasped her head between her hands, as if she chose to hear
no more; but he continued: "I pitilessly allowed her to go,
and breathed again; now I should be better of this mental
torture.  Folly, folly!  I did not see that at the moment
she vanished from my sight a demon glided to my side and
clutched my very heart-strings.  It was not the cares of my
profession that hollowed my cheeks and made me gloomy and
taciturn in society,—incessant labor is my delight and steels
my nerves and muscles,—it was longing, a longing that
increased as the days went by."

He had left the window, and was pacing the room in
evident agitation of mind, while Flora sat upright and tossed
back the curls from her forehead.

"Upon Kitty's account?" she cried, with a bitter laugh.
"Oh, if papa could only see now how just was the instinct
that guided his first-born when she refused to call the miller's
daughter mamma, and when she turned away in anger from
his youngest born because she already had two real sisters and
did not want a half-sister!  And it is no false principle which
you have hitherto adopted as your spring of action,—no!
How many thousand 'monstrous lies' are maintained and rule
men's actions for the sake of this principle!—and those who
maintain them victoriously will be respected as honourable men
forever——"

"I vowed to myself that during this decisive interview I
would not allude to the past," he interrupted her, standing
still, his voice trembling, but evidently determined to make
an end of the matter, "yet you force me to refer to the scene
between us which took place after the attack upon you in the
forest.  I then allowed my betrothed to tell me to my face
that she hated me, or rather despised me, because untoward
chance seemed to prevent my proving to be the celebrity
to whom she had first plighted her troth.  The following
day I endured the unexampled transformation of this hatred
into fond affection, in consequence of my title of Hofrath
conferred upon me by the prince, and I silently suppressed my
contempt and dragged on my chain, because I wished to be
'respected as an honourable man.'  And I should have
carried out the detestable falsehood if we two had been the only
ones concerned in the matter, if the burden of a ruined
existence had been mine alone to bear.  I should like to summon
these three human hearts for judgment before the bar of true
morality; one pronounces the solemn 'yes' before the altar
because she thereby ensures to herself a desirable worldly
position, and the two others who have suddenly become
conscious of the true sacred love that unites them,—who belong
to each other although they may be as far asunder as the
poles——"

A half-stifled cry interrupted him.  "Did she really dare
then, hypocrite that she is, to raise her eyes to her sister's
betrothed?  Has she avowed her sinful love to you?"

He looked at her for an instant with speechless indignation.
"However base the accusations you may utter, you cannot
sully the stainless purity of that character," he said, firmly.
"Since that departure I have never heard one word from her
lips, not even during the past night when with returning
consciousness she opened her eyes.  She returned yesterday,
but I did not know of it.  I had retired to my garden to
avoid the noise and bustle of the evening's entertainment,
reports of which had pursued me from patient to patient
during the day, when I suddenly saw her upon the bridge, an
exile who dared not cross it, banished thence by my cruel
words."  He paused, and his face flushed; never could he
confide to these ears how then and there the entrancing
conviction had possessed his soul that the girl weeping by the
poplars loved him.

"After the fearful catastrophe I sought her in the park,"
he continued, forcing himself to proceed calmly, "and as I
raised her from the ground I told myself that death had
passed her by that I might yet be happy.  I tore myself
loose from the fetters of conventionality and a false sense
of honour, I rose superior to the malice of a calumniating
world, and resigned all claim to the title of a 'respected'
hypocrite."

During his last words Flora's air and manner underwent a
transformation; she had lost her game, all was at an end,
and the cold designing woman used her quick wit to become
mistress of this situation also.  All that was defiant in her
bearing vanished, and was replaced by a soft cat-like
suppleness.  She hurriedly drew her morning cap over her curls,
and looking up from beneath them with a Satanic smile that
showed her sharp white teeth, she said, as if in reply to his
last declaration, "What! without asking *me*, Herr Doctor?
Well, let it go!  In view of all these naïve confessions, I
cannot but ask, with a sigh of relief, 'What would have become
of me at the side of such a sentimental enthusiast?'  And
therefore it happens well, well for each of us.  I give you
back your troth, but only as one might let loose a bird tied
fast by a string that has one end wound around one's finger."  She
smiled again, and touched the betrothal-ring upon her
hand with her delicate finger-tip.  "Woo the most charming
girl in the capital, one who hates and envies me,—and there
are enough who do so,—and I will resign the ring to her, but
never to Kitty, never!  Do you hear?  Although you should
flee across the ocean together, or stand before the altar in the
most obscure village church, I shall be there at the right
moment and forbid the union."

"Thank God you have no power to do so!" he said, drawing
a deep breath, and very pale.

"Do you think so?  Trust me to bar the fulfilment of
your hopes in the future, pitiable traitor that you are, who
could trample down a superb flower-bed to pluck a daisy!
You shall hear from me again!"

With a low, sneering laugh, she hastily retired to the next
room, locking the door behind her, and almost at the same
moment a footman knocked, to request the doctor to come
instantly to Fräulein Henriette, who had suddenly become
much worse.





.. vspace:: 4

CHAPTER XXVI.
=============

For years nothing had excited such universal interest and
sympathy in the capital as the explosion in the tower, to
which not only the Councillor, but also Franz the miller,
had fallen a victim.

Two days had passed since the catastrophe, and in these
forty-eight hours the horror and grief occasioned by the death
of the millionaire had gradually been replaced by dark reports,
alarming the business world, and carrying dismay among the
labouring classes.  The rich man's name, it was said,
represented upon various books many thousands of indebtedness.
The councillor had undertaken all the improvements upon
his Baumgarten estate at the same time, and consequently
only a small portion of their cost had been defrayed.  The
statement made upon the spot immediately after the
explosion by the engineer, and afterwards confirmed by others,
began to be widely circulated, and Von Römer's debtors asked
one another anxiously how the explosive material came to be
in the vault just below the chamber containing all his bonds
and securities.  They did not wait long for a reply.
Confidential letters from Berlin, where news of the councillor's
terrible death had not yet been received, spoke of immense
losses which he must have sustained from the failures in quick
succession of various houses there.  He had indeed
understood as few speculators ever had done how to keep his
confidential business friends in ignorance of his money
transactions; even the former book-keeper of the factory, whom
after its sale he had retained as his private secretary, had no
knowledge of his affairs.  He had also been able so to dazzle
the eyes of those with whom he had dealings by the splendour
of the golden cloud in which he enveloped himself, that the
dark side of his schemes and speculations never was evident
to them.  And thus, in spite of these revelations as to his
losses, his fate might always have been bewailed as a result of
his antiquarian love for the historic powder in the ruins, had
he not made the mistake of selecting for his instrument of
destruction a modern explosive material.  This was the rent
in the curtain which let in the light of reality upon the corpse,
as Flora had said.

While the town was thus being prepared for the avalanche
of ruin which must ensue, certain changes were taking place
in the house of mourning.  On the first day crowds of friends
had hastened to offer their sympathy, and, although every
one stepped softly and spoke in whispers, there had ensued
in consequence a certain noise and bustle.  The second day
on the contrary was marked by a profound and gloomy silence,
which reigned below- and above-stairs,—all the more oppressive
since in most of the rooms the shutters were closed behind the
broken panes of glass, causing a vague, uncertain twilight.
The Frau President did not yet dream that a second shock
was to follow the terrible event in the ruin; all her thoughts
were occupied with speculations as to the amount of the
immense fortune left by the unfortunate man, and the heir to
whom it would fall.  With all the egotism of old age her
mind had already ceased to dwell upon the dead man
himself.  The selfishness that animated alike the grandmother
and her eldest granddaughter had never been so evident as
in this time of trial.

Immediately after her interview with the doctor, Flora had
briefly informed the Frau President that her engagement was
broken off, without assigning any reason for the fact, and the
old lady had shown no curiosity upon the subject, merely
rousing herself from her self-absorption for a moment to listen,
and then shrugging her shoulders by way of reply.  This change
in her granddaughter's prospects appeared to her of but small
consequence compared with the tragedy which threatened to
plunge an aristocratic, high-born woman from a position of
princely luxury into all the horrors of straitened circumstances.
Flora then withdrew to her own room, and under the pretence
of a violent headache denied herself to visitors, spending
her time in packing and arranging her effects.

In the servants' hall the day which had been so long looked
forward to as the wedding-day was marked by a confusion and
subversion of all custom and order, such as only sudden
preparations for departure can produce.  The reports current in
the town had fallen among the crowd of domestics and hangers-on
like a bomb-shell, all the more terrifying since some among
them on the morning after the disaster had hazarded a suspicion
that "matters might not be quite straight."  They hourly
expected the officers of the law to make their appearance; each
one looked out for himself or herself; the long tables set for
the ball were stripped of everything eatable, and the bowls of
punch were drained to the dregs.

From these regions the first intimation came to the Frau
President Urach that her rule in Villa Baumgarten was considered
by others as at an end; whereas formerly her first touch
upon her bell had been answered instantly, she was now obliged
to ring repeatedly—yes, even to call—before her orders were
sullenly obeyed.  She could hear too how her lap-dog, once
caressed by the servants as their mistress's pet, yelped under
many a kick slyly administered, while eyes that had been wont
to be cast down respectfully in her presence now stared her
boldly in the face.

The inmates on the third floor of the villa knew nothing of
this changed demeanour on the part of the servants.  Henriette
had always been kind and considerate; the men and maids had
regarded the poor invalid as doomed to death; they had been
used to walk on tiptoe in her presence, and to speak in whispers;
and in this respect they now redoubled their efforts, since
"the Herr Hofrath" had told them that her state at present
was critical.

Yes, she lay in her bedroom, scarcely to be recognized
except for her marvellously beautiful blue eyes, resigning at last
willingly and without a pang her frail weary frame to the dark
power that had dogged her footsteps for so many years.  She
was perfectly conscious that she was dying, and had put away
from her with loathing all the gaudy colours with which she
had always seemed to hope to borrow a show of youth and
health.  As if in a snow-drift, she reclined among spotless linen,
shaded by soft muslin curtains.  She was to be spared the
pain of being turned away from her home to seek, according
to Flora's arrangement, a refuge in the castle mill.  She would
be gone before the law in the name of hundreds of anxious
creditors laid its hand upon the remains of the fabulous wealth
which had been dispersed upon the winds; she was to depart
before hearing her brother-in-law's memory branded with
disgrace and crime,—his terrible end had loosened her last weak
hold upon earth.  And her ardent desire was fulfilled: her
beloved physician watched over her to her latest breath; he
promised that he would remain with her and not go to L——
until she was "much better."  Once more she was as happy
as she had been in the house by the river; Doctor Bruck
watched over her, and Kitty was his aid.—the two people
whom she loved most in the world.

Kitty recovered very quickly, leaving her bed on the
afternoon of the second day.  She wore a narrow bandage about
her brow, and the heavy braids of hair, too massive to be worn
around her head for the present, hung down her back; but this
was all the change that could remind one that the terrible
explosion had hurled her to the ground and overwhelmed her
with the waters of the fosse, where she must have perished
if loving eyes had not sought and loving hands rescued her.
Her bearing was as energetic and assured as ever, whatever
tempests might assail her soul.  In addition to her profound
sorrow for her dying sister and Römer's tragic fate, the
certainty forced itself upon her mind that her guardian was not
without blame in what had occurred; Doctor Bruck, to whom
she had hinted her fears, had said not one word to contradict
them.  He was as quiet and taciturn as ever.  This might
well be the result of Henriette's condition, but there was a
peculiar solemnity in his reserve, which seemed also to have
infected the dean's widow.

The old lady on the afternoon of the first day had issued
from the room adjoining Henriette's, where she had had an
interview with the doctor, her eyes full of tears, but evidently
agitated by pleased surprise.  She had then taken her leave
to superintend the removal of various articles of furniture
from her home to the doctor's town-house, where she was to
take up her abode with her friend until the repairs in the
house by the river should be concluded.  She came to the
villa from time to time to see Henriette for a few moments,
always avoiding any meeting with Flora.

The beautiful woman had only come up-stairs once to see
Henriette, just at the time when Doctor Bruck had obeyed
an urgent request for his presence from the prince.  It was
strange that she should pass through the room where Kitty
lay without even a glance towards the wounded girl, who lifted
her head to address her.  She left Henriette's bedside and
went down to her own apartments without again entering the
adjoining room, and Nanni reported that Fräulein Flora was
preparing shortly to leave the house.

Once or twice during the day the Frau President ascended
the stairs, a cloud of black crape around her gray head, her
countenance troubled, and utterly bereft of that proud
composure the maintenance of which in times of trial she had
always asserted to be the distinguishing characteristic of a
well-balanced mind.  She could do nothing but weep and
wring her hands convulsively at the terrible change that one
moment had made in the villa and its inmates.  The exhausted
invalid always breathed more freely when the door closed upon
the melancholy figure shrouded in black.

On the morning of the third day after the explosion, the
old lady suddenly opened the door of Flora's study and
tottered across the threshold, holding in her hand a newspaper.
Flora was busy writing tickets for her various trunks and
packages; she arose, with a foreboding of what was to come,
and approached her grandmother, who had sunk into an armchair.

"My four thousand thalers!" she moaned.  "Child, child,
I have been robbed by scoundrels of my little all, the
miserable pittance left me by my grandfather!  My four thousand
thalers which I guarded like the apple of my eye——"

"No, grandmamma, tell the truth,—your four thousand
thalers which you foolishly risked!" Flora interrupted her,
harshly.  "I warned you, but I was laughed at and scorned
because I would not invest my bonds and securities in the
same way.  The company in which you took stock has failed,
I suppose."

"Disgracefully! wickedly!  Read that!  I shall have
hardly fifty thalers to call my own," the Frau President cried,
with a failing voice, covering her face with her hands.  "But
there is one thing I cannot understand," she said, starting up
again as Flora was hastily perusing the article in question:
"the paper refers to earlier statements; the crash must have
come four or five days ago; and Moritz knew nothing of
it,—impossible!"

"Might it not have something to do with your not receiving
your newspaper a few days since?"

"Ah! you think, then, that our poor Moritz wished to spare
me the shock during the marriage festivities, and suppressed
the paper?  Oh, yes,—of course!  And he would have made
good the loss to me, I am sure; he himself persuaded me to
do as I did.  There is consolation in that thought at least, for
if necessary I can swear that Moritz assumed the responsibility
of my investment; and surely I may hope to be repaid
my four thousand thalers from his estate."

Flora tossed the paper upon the table.  Regardless as she
was wont to be of the feelings of others, in this case she
scarcely knew in what words to dispel the illusion under
which her grandmother laboured.  She had been silent upon
this point until now, in hopes that some one of their dear
friends from town would undertake the task of enlightening
the Frau President; but the dear friends had absented
themselves; on the previous day not one had been near the villa,
and now she must speak herself.  She could not permit her
grandmother to expose herself to ridicule by this inconceivable
want of all suspicion of the truth.

"Grandmamma," she said, in an under-tone, laying her hand
upon the old lady's arm, "the first thing to be considered is
the possible value of the estate to which you allude."

"Oh, my child, only look out of the window and you will
acknowledge that the payment of my poor four thousand would
scarcely be felt by the heir, whoever it may be.  Even if the
enormous capital employed by Moritz in his business operations
be lost in consequence of the destruction of his books and
papers, the real estate and personal property which he owned
will amount to a handsome fortune."  She sighed sadly,—"I
should be thankful indeed if I were his acknowledged heir."

Flora shrugged her shoulders.  "You might never come
into possession——"

The Frau President started up.  "Are you mad, Flora?
Weak as I am, I would run for hours, and fast for weeks, if I
might thereby win the right to claim this inheritance.  It is
incredible that fate should be so cruel!  I, I, in my position,
to be thrust forth from the house that owes its splendour, its
aristocratic prestige, to me alone, and an obscure old woman,
who has spent her life in darning linen, to be installed here in
my place!"

"That need not vex you, grandmamma; his old aunt upon
the Rhine will no more inherit than you will."

"Ah!  Other heirs have appeared, then?"

"Yes,—his creditors."

The Frau President staggered back to her arm-chair, with
a low cry.

"Hush!  Pray do not make a scene," Flora said, almost
in a whisper.  "The people below-stairs know it much better
than I; they are all ready to flee from the house like rats from
a sinking ship.  I cannot and must not leave you any longer
in ignorance of the state of affairs.  We must be *au fait* if
we would not be laughed at as dupes."  She drew the cloud
of black tulle closer about her grandmother's chin and neck
and rearranged her disordered hair.  "No one must see you
thus, grandmamma," she said, sternly.  "We must retire as
gracefully as possible: the affair is too dishonourable and
disgraceful; there is no longer any doubt that the explosion
was the work of despair—to give it its right name, a piece of
villainy—on Römer's part."

"The wretch!  The infamous scoundrel!" shrieked the
Frau President, rising, and fairly running to and fro in the
apartment, rage lending strength to her feeble limbs.

Flora pointed to a window before which there hung no
protecting shade.  "Remember, every one outside can hear you!"
she said.  "Since early dawn tradesmen have been hovering
near the house, the excitement in the capital is tremendous;
some people have almost lost their senses with anxiety.
Everything consumed by this large household for the last six
months is unpaid for.  The butcher has even dared to invade
the house and demand that you should be called to speak with
him.  He wishes, of course, before the officers of the law
appear, to extort from you, as the head of the household, the
six hundred thalers owing him.  He was insolent enough to
tell my maid that the ladies of the house, as well as the
councillor, had eaten his meat."

"Ugh! what a slough that miserable fellow has thrust us
into, while he has made his own cowardly escape!" the Frau
President exclaimed, half choked with rage, and yet
instinctively withdrawing from the open window.  She wrung her
hands.  "Gracious heaven! what a fearful situation!  What
is to be done?"

"First of all, we must pack up everything that is our own
and leave the house, if we would not have the officers seal up
our effects also; we might wait long before they would be
returned to us.  I am just going up-stairs to put away my"—she
interrupted herself with a laugh—"my trousseau in chests
and trunks.  Then I am going to make an inventory of the
household articles, and if you yourself will not take charge of
handing them over——"

"Never——"

"Then the housekeeper can do it.  We have reason enough
to plead illness."  She took from her writing-table the key of
the room where her trousseau was, whilst the Frau President
retired to place her possessions if possible beyond the risk of
being officially sealed up.





.. vspace:: 4

CHAPTER XXVII.
==============

The morning air came, blowing over the tops of the trees
in the park, through the open window, bringing into the
church-like stillness of the bedroom a dreamy murmur of waters
from the distant river, and breathing the fragrance of
mignonette and heliotrope above the white face of the sleeping
invalid.  The crimson leaves of the wild vine that wreathed the
window-frame quivered in the soft, gentle breeze that seemed
to have plucked the reddened leaves as it passed to strew them
upon the white coverlet, the fair hair, and the pale hands.
Henriette had asked to have them brought to her, "as a
farewell from the summer that was *also* passing away."

Kitty sat by the bedside watching her sister's slumber.  She
had, by a gentle gesture, scared away the robin that,
accustomed to find crumbs scattered for him upon the window-sill,
had boldly ventured into the room, his gentle twitter sounding
alarmingly loud in the profound silence, in which each gasping
breath issuing from the narrow chest was painfully audible.
Doctor Bruck had been obliged to leave his patient for half an
hour; the prince made a point of seeing at least once a day
the physician who had cured him in a few weeks of a trouble
of long standing.  And so Bruck had chosen for this visit a
time when Henriette was sleeping and would not miss him.

The maid had taken her place with her sewing behind the
bed-curtains to be within call if needed.  Every now and then
she glanced towards the motionless figure in the arm-chair.
They had declared below-stairs that the "Fräulein from the
mill" would be the worst sufferer from the master's failure,
but it seemed to Nanni that a girl who had just lost half a
million must show it in some despairing way, and not look
at all like the fair young creature who, with a bandage about
her brow, and dressed in soft creamy white, sat watching by
the bedside, grave but composed, and motionless as a statue.
"So young, but so steady, so fresh and blooming, but with
so little care for the good things of life," the maid thought
after true lady's-maid fashion: the beautiful Fräulein packing
up her trousseau in a neighbouring apartment was far wiser.
She was taking care of everything belonging to her; sending
her maid up- and down-stairs for every pocket-handkerchief
that might have been mislaid; she was determined to lose
nothing—nothing.  Ah, she had always known how to take
care of herself, and was just as rich as ever: she had not lost
a penny.  Now she was going to set off for L—— before her
lover, with all her trunks and boxes, and so got rid of the
trouble that might come upon the villa at any moment.  It
was vexing enough, but everything prospered with her; she
might do as she pleased, and every one thought it all perfectly
right.  Suddenly there was such a noise in the trousseau-room
that the sick girl started and moaned in her sleep.

"Fräulein Flora is packing up her things there," Nanni
said, with affected unconcern, as Kitty started up and laid her
hand soothingly upon that of her half-awakened sister.

Henriette's boudoir separated the two rooms, and Flora had
of course supposed that no noise she made could be heard in
this bedroom, or she would have been more careful in having
her trunks moved.  Kitty arose, and, closing behind her the
door of the bedroom, crossed the sitting-room and entered the
apartment whence the noise proceeded.

Flora uttered a low cry—whether from fright or vexation
was doubtful—as the tall white figure appeared upon the
threshold and in a low voice begged for quiet for her sleeping
sister.

"I am sorry.  I did not think the noise made in moving
the trunks could be heard in Henriette's bedroom," she said,
curtly.  "You glide about so white and noiseless that one
might suppose the ghostly Baumgarten ancestress, now that
her wanderings in the tower are no longer possible, had taken
up her abode in the villa.  Mischief enough attends you.
A good Christian ought to cross herself three times at sight
of you."

She motioned to her maid to leave the room.  "Stay!" she
cried, tossing aside her bridal veil, as Kitty was about to
follow the girl.  "If there is a spark of honour alive in you,
answer me now."

Kitty quietly released her dress from the detaining hand
that grasped it, and turned back into the room.  "I am at
your service," she said, her clear, earnest eyes fixed calmly
upon her sister's agitated face.  "Only I must beg you not
to speak so loud, lest Henriette should be disturbed."

Flora made no reply; she seized Kitty's hand and drew her
towards a window.  "Come here!  Let me look at you!  I
must see how wooing suits you."

The young girl recoiled from the bold, flashing eyes,
which, together with the insulting words, sent the blood to
her face.  "As the elder sister, you should be ashamed to
adopt such a tone——"

"Oh, divine innocence!  I tell you that, as the youngest
sister, you should be ashamed to raise your eyes to your elder
sister's betrothed."

Kitty stood paralyzed.  Who had searched the depths of
her heart, and plucked thence the secret which she had
guarded with all the force of her nature?  She was conscious
that she lost colour; she felt that she was standing like a
culprit detected in some crime; and yet no word came from
her pale lips.

"See what a guilty conscience!  It could not be more perfectly
personified," Flora said, with a laugh, touching the girl's
breast with her finger-tips.  "Yes, yes, you will admit, my
dear, that for all your fine plots there is no duping your elder
sister.  She sees through such 'purity of soul'; her keen
eye detects each tender approach, from the first spring flowers
left in the man's room, in the innocent hope that they may
attract his notice."

Life now returned to the motionless figure.  Involuntarily
she clasped her hands.  It seemed to her that ever since she
had set foot upon the soil of her native place her unconscious,
secret soul had been tracked like some wild animal by the
huntsman.  Was it possible that such hateful designs could
be attributed to her because of the trifling negligence which
had already caused her tears of vexation?  Righteous
indignation stirred within her.

"I have already regretted my negligence on the occasion
to which you seem to allude," she said, proudly.  "But
whoever spoke of it to you——"

"Whoever?  He himself, child!"

"Then it is you who represent the trifling circumstance in
an entirely false light."

"Ah, take care, take care, child!  The passion so long
suppressed gleams in your eyes," Flora exclaimed, and,
although she smiled coldly, her foot tapped the floor impatiently.
"*I* am false, then?  Not *he*, when he boasts of his conquest?"

Again the colour left Kitty's cheek as she firmly shook her
head.  "No!  Although you should repeat that to me a
thousand times, I would not believe it!  I would sooner doubt
all that I have been taught to believe in as good and true!
He—even think a falsehood?  He, like some brainless fop,
boast of a conquest?  He, who——"  She paused, as if terrified
at the passionate tone of her own voice.  "You calumniated
him vilely when I first came home," she added, controlling
herself.  "Then I could not answer you, although instinctively
I espoused his cause; but now that I know him I will not
have a word breathed against him.  It is monstrous that I
must say this to you.  How can you find it in your heart,—how
dare you persist in attainting the honour of the man
whose name you will shortly bear?"

As she uttered these last words Flora turned and gazed at
her incredulously, as if doubting the evidence of her senses.
"Either you are a most finished actress or—a declaration
of love must be handed to you in black and white before
you can understand it.  You really know nothing of it?"  With
an impertinent smile, she laid her hands upon Kitty's
shoulders and gazed keenly into the clear brown eyes.  Then
thrusting her from her, she exclaimed, "Pshaw!  What more
do I need?  Have you not just fought for him as if you were
willing to spend your last breath in his defence?"

Kitty turned towards the door.  "I cannot see why you
detained me here," she said.

"Ah! was I too figurative, then?  Must it be said plainly
in good German?  Well, then, my dear, I wish nothing more
or less than to know what has passed between Bruck and
yourself yesterday and to-day."

"What passed between us," Kitty replied, "you may
readily learn word for word.  He took great pains, and I
made his task very hard, to destroy my blind reliance upon
some future improvement in Henriette's condition; he took
pains to prepare me"—her voice trembled and tears glistened
in her eyes—"for her departure."

Flora, in evident confusion, walked away to the window.
With all her idolatry of self, the suspicion faintly dawned
upon her that she played but a poor part in contrast to these
two people.  "Child, you must have long known of that,"
she said, in a subdued tone.  "And have you not felt that
we all ought to pray that the poor sufferer might be released
from the burden of pain she has borne so long?"  She approached
the girl once more.  "And was that really all that
was said, word for word?"

A feeling of unutterable scorn awoke in Kitty's mind
This, she thought, was the jealousy, not of a loving woman,
but of a vain one, who would watch her lover stealthily, and
control, if she might, every word that he spoke.  "Do you
suppose that in an hour when he lends support and consolation
to the dying, Doctor Bruck has either mind or heart for aught
else," she asked, with grave reproof in her tone, "and when,
besides, in the sufferer to whom he ministers he loses the
dearest friend he has upon earth?"

"Yes, she loved him," Flora said, coldly.

Kitty's cheeks burned.  Flora fairly exulted in the girlish
embarrassment which was so evident.  "Yes, yes, the man
may congratulate himself upon the charm which he
unconsciously possesses, and which attracts female hearts as the
light of a candle allures moths.  The world will laugh to
learn that all the daughters Mangold the banker left behind
him succumbed to the spell.  Stay!"  She had spoken in
what was almost a playful tone, until Kitty once more
hastened towards the door, and then the authoritative word came
like a command from her lips.  The young girl paused as if
rooted to the spot, for fear lest a louder repetition of the
word might arouse her sleeping sister.  "Even our youngest,
the fair miller's maid, hardy of limb and strong in soul, has
proved weak," Flora continued.  "Oh, you may protest as
you please, with that defiant air and that pitiable pretence of
offended pride.  Well, I will believe you; you can clear your
name, if you will retract the eulogium you pronounced upon
Bruck just now with such incomparable emphasis——"

"I do not retract one iota!"

"Do you not see, wicked girl, that you are bound hand
and foot in the fetters of your sinful love?  Look in my eyes!
Can you look your betrayed sister in the face and say 'No'?"

Kitty raised her bowed head and looked back over her
shoulder; she put her hand up to the wound in her forehead,
which was beginning to throb, but it was done mechanically;
even if her life-blood had been streaming from it, she would
hardly have heeded it at this moment, when thought and
feeling were concentrated upon one point.  "You have no
right to require from me an answer to such a question,"
she said, firmly, although her heart throbbed loud and fast;
"and I am not bound to reply to you.  But you have called me
wicked, and have spoken of treachery; these are the very words
with which I reproached myself until I understood the true
nature of the affection which you call sinful——"

"Ah, a confession after the most approved style!"

A soft smile played about the pale lips; the face, white it
seemed as the bandage about the brow, was transfigured for
the moment.  "Yes, Flora, I confess, because I have no cause
for shame.  I confess too for our dead father's sake.  I will
not, in view of that dear memory, bear upon my soul even
the appearance of treachery towards one of my sisters.  We
are not responsible for our feelings, but for the power that we
allow them; this I know after a fruitless struggle with a
mysterious affection, which seems to have been born with me, to
have been present with me always, though slumbering.  Is it
a crime to approach reverently another's domestic altar?  Is
it a crime to look up gladly at a tree growing in another's
garden?  Is it a crime to love and not covet?  I desire
nothing of you; I shall never cross your path or your lover's.
You shall never hear of me again; you need never even
remember me.  How can it harm either of you that I shall love
him while I have breath, and be faithful to him as to one
taken from me by death?"

A low laugh interrupted her.  "Take care, child!  In a
moment your rhapsody will clothe itself in rhyme."

"No, Flora, that I leave to you, although I know that
my whole conception of life has been more exalted since this
affection has had lodgment in my heart."  She stepped back
into the room, past the stand upon which hung the wedding
gown.  Without knowing it, she brushed by the hanging
train, and, with a low rustle, the whole silken fabric fell upon
the floor.

Kitty stooped to raise it, but Flora pushed the satin
scornfully aside with her foot.  "Let it lie!" she said, bitterly.
"Even the lifeless stuff rebels against a sister's treachery."

"And are you free from blame, Flora?" Kitty asked.
Her blood was easily roused; her sense of justice was strong,
and not even for the sake of peace would she submit to
the persistent injustice of wayward egotism.  "What was
it that first filled my heart?  Sympathy, unutterable
sympathy for the noble man whom you misunderstood, whom you
reviled to the world, and from whom you struggled to be free.
If all this were not wrong, why did you ask forgiveness?  I
have seen you penitent——  When you threw the ring into the
river——"

"Good God, Kitty! do not retail again that old vision of
yours," Flora cried, putting her fingers to her ears for a
moment, and then turning to her sister and holding up her hand
before her eyes.  "There, there it is.  And I can assure you
it is genuine; the letters engraved inside leave nothing to be
desired.  And besides let me tell you, to put an end to the
matter, that the thing will play no further part in my life,
except that of a wire with which to guide a puppet.  My
engagement with Bruck is broken——"

Kitty started in amazement.  "You tried in vain to break
it a while ago," she stammered.

"Yes; then the fellow had some remnant of strength in
him; now he has become weak as a child."

"Flora, he has released you?"

"Good heavens, yes! if you must hear the joyful news a
second time."

"Then he never loved you.  Then he insisted upon his
rights, prompted by some other motive.  Thank God, he may
yet be happy!"

"Do you think so?  I still have a voice in the matter,"
said Flora.  She laid her hand with a firm pressure upon her
sister's arm, and looked with a diabolic expression into the
honest brown eyes.  "I will never forgive him for letting me
beg in vain for my freedom.  He shall know now what it
is to have the cup dashed from thirsting lips.  I will never
resign his ring——"

"The counterfeit——"

"How can you prove that, child?  Where are your witnesses?
Your accusation of me has not a foot to stand upon.
I have been rightly credited with legal acumen.  But do not
be alarmed.  I would not be so cruel as to forbid marriage
altogether to my former betrothed; he may marry—to-morrow,
if he pleases; but only one whom he does not love,—I have
not the least objection to a marriage of convenience.  I shall
haunt his path, detect every emotion of his soul which he
may happen to betray.  Woe be to him should he attempt
to defy me!"

She had picked up one of the sprays of orange-blossoms
scattered about the room, and as she waved it to and fro she
looked like some beautiful tigress circling with subtle, supple
windings her destined prey.

"Well, Kitty, since you love him, do you not wish to beg
for him?" she began again, slowly emphasizing her words.
"Look, I have his happiness in my hands.  I can crush it, or
bid it live and flourish, according to my pleasure.  This
absolute power is priceless to me, of course, and yet I can hardly
resist the temptation to resign it, chiefly to test the strength
of what is so vaunted as true love.  Suppose I were to place
this ring in your hands, with the right to dispose of it as you
please,—understand me, I myself should from that moment
resign all claim, all right of protest,—would you, in order
that Bruck might from this time be free to choose, submit to
any conditions that I should impose?"

Kitty had involuntarily pressed her clasped hands tightly
to her throbbing breast,—there was a terrible conflict going
on within her.  "I will comply with any even the hardest
conditions immediately, if only I may free him from your
toils," came hoarsely but resolutely from her lips.

"Not too fast, my child.  You might possibly destroy the
happiness of your own life by too ready a self-sacrifice."

The young girl paused for a moment, and put one hand up
to her aching head.  Evidently, strong though she was, one
support after another was failing her, her youthful ardour,
the elastic force that breeds self-reliance, faith in her own
power of self-conquest: her will alone remained firm.  "I
know what I mean; there is no need for reflection," she said.

Flora held the orange-spray before her face as if she were
inhaling the fragrance of the artificial blossoms.  "What if
his choice—perhaps only to humiliate me—fell upon yourself?"
she asked, looking askance at her young sister.

Kitty's breath failed her.  "It never will,—he never liked me!"

"True.  But suppose he should tell you that he loves
you, the pledge of his freedom would scarcely be safe in your
hands, I am afraid.  Some day he would woo his beloved,
and I might fare ill with my conditions.  No!  I will keep my
ring!"

"Just heaven! can it really be that one sister can so
torture another?" Kitty cried, in indignant pain.  "And yet
at this very moment, seeing as I do your incorrigible egotism,
your pitiless nature, your invincible passion for intrigue more
clearly than ever before, I am all the more impelled to deliver
your former lover at any price from the vampire that thirsts
for his life-blood.  You *must* not retain any hold upon him.
He shall begin his life anew, in a home where he will find
happiness and peace, now that he is no longer condemned to lead
a mere life of society by the side of a heartless coquette——"

"Many thanks for your flattering description!  You show
far too much enthusiasm for his happiness to allow of my
entrusting my treasure to your keeping."

"Give it to me; you may do so without fear."

"Even if he should indeed and in truth love you?"

The girl's lips quivered in absolute agony, she wrung her
hands as in despair, but she was firm.  "What if it were so?
I should be no irreparable loss.  He can easily find a better
than I.  His past bitter experience is warrant that he will not
again deceive himself.  Give me the ring, the counterfeit.
Although I know that not the least particle of value attaches
to it in reality, I promise you to respect it as the one now
lying in the river, since it is a sign and pledge of Bruck's
enfranchisement."  She held out her hand.

"I know you to be honourable enough never to use it for
your own advantage," Flora said, slowly and with emphasis,
drawing off the ring.  A tremor shook Kitty's limbs as the gold
touched her palm, and her fingers closed tight upon the circlet,
while a contemptuous smile hovered upon her lips; she was
too proud to assert by a single syllable her purity of purpose.

"Well?" Flora cried.

"I have given you my word; now I am the puppet whom
you rule by this wire,"—she raised her closed hand,—"are
you satisfied?"  And she left the room.

As she crossed the threshold, Doctor Bruck was ascending
the opposite staircase.  He glanced towards the two figures,
the one erect and triumphant in the middle of the room,
coldly smiling, while the girl, issuing from it flushed and
agitated, almost broke down at sight of him.

He hurried to her side, and, regardless of all else, put his
arm around her to support her.  The door closed behind them
to the accompaniment of a low, mocking laugh.





.. vspace:: 4

CHAPTER XXVIII.
===============

In the afternoon the tempest which flying reports had
presaged, as sea-mews announce the coming storm, broke over the
house.  The legal authorities had been expected since the
early morning, and yet when they made their appearance it
was like an electric shock.  They came too soon for every one.
The servants were engaged in moving the Frau President's
old-fashioned mahogany furniture, with its dusty and torn
coverings, from the garrets down into the hall; Flora's trunks
were still awaiting the tardy express-wagon; the cellars were still
filled with the wine that there had been no time to remove.

The Frau President proudly retired to her bedroom, refusing
to see the gentlemen; but, although they were perfectly
respectful in demeanour, they could not regard her nerves, but
were obliged to ask if the furniture of the room belonged to
her, and, when answered in the negative, to request her to
remove to an adjoining empty cabinet, since the room must be
officially sealed up.  In this small apartment the old furniture
was placed, the bed aired, and covered with the faded brown
silk coverlet which the Frau President had not seen for years,
and which caused her a shudder of disgust.  Her maid arranged
everything as comfortably as possible, putting flowers upon the
little mahogany table, and bringing from the bedroom many
a trifle that her spoiled mistress had been accustomed to use;
but the old lady never noticed the pains she was taking: she
sat by the window gazing towards the pavilion, the new roof
of which was just visible among the trees.

This dreaded and detested "dower-house" had grown into
a fairy habitation.  Rich curtains hung at the windows;
everything shone in newness and beauty,—the smooth floors,
the elegant furniture, the frescoes, the chandeliers; even the
kitchen was thoroughly fitted up, down to the commonest iron
spoon.  This "bijou" was to have been hers as long as she
lived, and she had scorned it for fear lest it might exile her
from the society wont to gather at the councillor's.  And
now—and now!

Meanwhile, Flora was contending for her possessions; but
all her arguments, even her appeal to the testimony of the
servants, were in vain.  "Fräulein Mangold," the officials
courteously persisted, "might reclaim her own afterwards, but
at present everything must be placed under seal."  And for
hours there was a passing to and fro, up and down stairs.  All
the plants adorning the house were placed in the conservatories,
one key after another was turned in the lock, and every
open window was closed.  It was dreary to mark the silence
and darkness that settled down wherever the officials had
finished their work.  Amidst it all the servants grumbled
openly about the wages due them; but each one made ready
to leave the house, where every comfort lay behind lock
and key, and where the flesh-pots no longer simmered on
the fire.  The gardener alone remained, and was lodged in the
servants' hall.

While this confusion reigned, the soul of the sick girl
above-stairs unfolded its wings to leave, calmly and peacefully,
after the conflict of years, the worn and weary body.

Henriette's room was unvisited by the officials; everything
about the dying girl was her own.  Great pains were taken to
avoid even a loud footfall on the third floor, and nothing
approached the parting soul that could startle or annoy it.
She looked through her window into the rosy heavens; she
watched the swallows, their white breasts and wings looking
like silver crosses floating among the pink evening clouds.  On
the previous day, thin wreaths of vapour had still floated above
the ruin, and distant noises had troubled the sick girl's mind,
causing it to dwell painfully upon the terrible spot where the
crashing walls had buried beneath their fragments the "rash
man" to whom, with all his weaknesses, she had clung in
sisterly affection.  But at this solemn evening hour, at the close
of the day and of a brief mortal existence, there was nothing
to remind one of previous horrors.

The doctor sat by Henriette's bedside.  He saw how the
rapid finger of death emphasized and sharpened each outline
of the face, still informed for a brief space of time with
consciousness.  The ebbing stream of life moved her pulses
in faint isolated throbs, like retreating waves returning now
and then to plash once more upon a deserted shore.

"Flora!" the dying girl whispered, with a speaking glance.

"Do you wish to see her?" he asked, making ready to go
for her.

Henriette faintly shook her head.  "You will not be vexed
that I wish to be alone with you and Kitty until——"  She
did not finish the sentence, but plucked at the fading crimson
vine-leaves upon the coverlet.  "I will spare her, and she will
be grateful,"—there was a faint shade of irony in her smile,—"she
detests touching scenes.  You will take her my farewell, Leo."

The doctor silently inclined his head.  By his side stood
Kitty.  Her heart beat fast; her dying sister had no
suspicion that the relations upon which her mind was dwelling no
longer existed.  Should she learn the truth?  She glanced
anxiously at the doctor's face: it was grave and composed;
no sudden and unexpected announcement should disturb the
peace of the departing soul, and for preparation there was no
time.

Henriette's eyes wandered to the evening sky.  "How
exquisitely clear and rosy!  It must be a heavenly delight for
the freed soul to bathe in such splendour!" she whispered,
fervently.  "Will it ever be allowed to look back here?  I
only want to look once, to see"—she turned her head on the
pillow with difficulty, and gazed, with eyes glowing for the
first time with unutterable love, full at Bruck—"if you
are happy, Leo.  Then I care not how distant are the starry
worlds to which I may be borne."  Even in this her last hour
the poor girl could not bring herself to say, "I must know
you happy, or I shall not be content, for I have loved you
intensely with every fibre of my heart."

A transfiguring glow seemed to illumine the doctor's bowed
head.  "All is well with me, Henriette," he said, with
emotion.  "I dare to hope that I shall not pass a lonely and
embittered life; nay, better still, I know that even at the eleventh
hour my dream of the true happiness of existence will be
fulfilled.  Does that content you, my sister?"  He pressed
his lips upon the small hand that was growing cold in his own.
"I thank you from my soul," he added.

A blush, faint and rosy as the evening sky, came and went
upon the cheek of the dying girl; her timid glance involuntarily
sought her sister, who, her hand leaning upon Bruck's chair,
was evidently struggling to control her grief.  At sight of her
Henriette's heart melted in pity and sympathy.

"Look at my Kitty, Leo!" she said, imploringly, in a failing
voice.  "Let me tell you of what has so often distressed
and pained me.  You have always been so cold to her,—once
harsh even to cruelty,—and yet there is none to be compared
to her.  Leo, I have never understood your prejudice against
her.  Be kind to her—befriend her——"

"To my latest breath! while life lasts!" he interrupted her,
scarce able to master his emotion.

"Then all is well!  I know you will take care of her,—and
my strong, brave darling will stand between you and all
annoyance——"

"Like a faithful sister, which from this moment I am,"
Kitty completed the sentence, in a choking voice.

An ecstatic smile hovered about Henriette's mouth.  She
closed her eyes, and did not see the shudder that shook her
strong sister's frame as the doctor held out his hand to her
and she rejected it as if she had no right to its mute pressure.
The smile faded, and the dying girl struggled for breath.
"Say farewell to grandmamma.  Now I would rest,—ah,
give me rest, Leo, I entreat!" she gasped.

"In ten minutes you will fall asleep, Henriette," he said, in
a low, soothing tone.  He laid her hand upon the coverlet,
and softly put his arm beneath the pillow supporting her head;
she lay like a child upon his breast,—a happy death!

And before the ten minutes were passed she slept.  The
fluttering vine-leaves at the window stirred, as if lightly
touched, and the rosy light in the sky, in which the parting
soul had longed to bathe, suddenly glowed to deepest crimson.
The little tame bird perched upon the window-sill as usual
at sunset,—his soft twitter towards the waxen face upon the
pillow was heard for the last time,—and then these windows
also were closed, not to be opened until the councillor's house
had passed into stranger hands.

The Frau President came up to the room, bowed as with a
sudden added weight of the age she had so steadily tried to
ignore.  The white cloud of tulle once more enveloped cheek
and chin: no mourning should be worn for a scoundrel,
she said.  She went to the bedside, and a spasm passed over
her features as she gazed upon the calm countenance of the
dead.  "She is happy," she said, in a broken voice.  "She
has chosen the better part,—she need not go into exile,—she
is spared the bitter, bitter struggle with poverty."

But Flora came and went without a word.  She took no
note of the two faithful guardians at the bedside.  She kissed
her dead sister upon the brow, and then walked with head
erect to the door by which she had entered.  She paused, it
is true, upon the threshold, but she never turned either her
eyes or her head towards where the doctor stood and gravely
delivered to her her sister's last message.  She bent her head
almost imperceptibly in token that she heard what was said,
and then rustled down the stairs, to put on her bonnet and go
to the nearest hotel, where she had engaged lodgings for herself
and her grandmother.  No one, not even the dead, was
permitted to pass another night beneath the criminal's roof.

And when, after nightfall, Henriette's form had been borne
away to the hall, where all, clad for the grave and heaped
with flowers, await the opening of their latest earthly portal,
the last room on the third floor was closed and locked, and the
doctor and Kitty descended the stairs together.  Their steps
echoed drearily through the silent, deserted house.  The
lantern carried before them by the gardener shed abroad a ghostly
light over the lonely walls and passages, where so lately the
stream of life had flowed in luxurious evidence of what was
after all but a false, fleeting show of wealth.

The soft night air, as they walked along, was as balm to
Kitty's burning eyes.  A clear, starry sky canopied the silent
park, the single groups of trees could be distinguished, and
the mirror of the pond gleamed like dull silver through a
misty veil.  The gravel crunched beneath their tread, and
from afar was heard the water of the weir, but not a leaf or
a twig stirred,—it was as quiet as it had been for hours in
Henriette's room.  And therefore Kitty started in terror when
the doctor's full deep voice broke the silence.  They had
reached the leafy entrance of the avenue, and he paused.

"I leave the capital in a few days, and I fear that, until
then, you will neither visit my aunt nor allow me to come to
the mill," he said, with both sorrow and eagerness in his tone.
"I tell myself also that we are walking together for the last
time,—that is, for the present——"

"Forever!" she interrupted him, sadly but firmly.

"No, Kitty!" he said, as firmly.  "It would be a
separation forever if your words spoken a few hours since could
not be gainsaid.  I do not want a *sister*.  Do you think a
man can content himself with sisterly letters when he is
thirsting for loving words from beloved lips?  But no,—I did not
mean to speak thus to-day.  Only selfishness could betray me
into such entreaties while you are suffering as at present.
One thing I must say to you, however.  This afternoon you
had an interview which, when I met you, had agitated you
profoundly.  You had been told what has happened, and of
course the whole odium that always attaches to the sudden
rupture of an engagement had been thrown upon me,—I saw
that in your face; and afterwards, when for love of Henriette
you promised to be a *sister* to me, I *heard* the power that evil
whispers had gained over you,—thank God, not for always!
I know—I know that your clear, just insight may be dimmed
for a while; but this cannot last.  Kitty, on that terrible
afternoon I was in my garden, and saw how, on the opposite
river-bank, a girl leaned her brow against a tree and wept
bitterly."

Kitty turned as if to flee down the avenue, but Bruck had
taken her hand and held it in a firm grasp.  "I saw before me
the girl whom I was longing to clasp in my arms.  I had just
been victorious in the last of those self-conflicts from which I
had suffered for months; victorious, because I had liberated
myself from false views of life and had admitted that I should
be a perjured traitor if I contracted a hated marriage while
my whole being was filled with an invincible passion.  There
stood the one who was dearer to me than all else beside,
and my heart leaped, for her streaming eyes did not look
towards my aunt's windows, but——"  He paused, and
pressed the hand which he held to his lips, while she
leaned against the trunk of a linden, incapable of uttering
a word.

"I cannot blame her who was to have been my wife; that
matters have been allowed to go so far is my fault,—mine only.
I was weak enough, for dread of what the world might say,
to continue our engagement after I had discovered, with shame
and anguish, that I had been attracted by a beautiful exterior
animated by no qualities of mind or heart that did not crumble
to insignificance if subjected to the slightest test.  This
discovery I made in the first weeks of our betrothal."

He was wrong; the qualities enshrined within that lovely
form were not insignificant.  Flora's was a nature incredibly
malicious.  She had known then of Bruck's love for her sister,
of course from his own confession.  What a contemptible plot!
Her victim had the ring in her possession; she had bought it
with a price; her word was pledged even though Bruck should
woo herself.  The young girl's eyes wandered in despair to
the starry heavens.  She knew that Flora would never release
her from her promise although she should implore her on her
knees.  There would be no need even of Flora's eloquence to
convince the world that she was betrayed and deceived, the
dupe of her younger sister, who had lured her lover from her.
That this was the colour she would give to what had taken
place was clear as the stars above.  How they sparkled, those
shining worlds!  To which of those golden orbs had the spirit
of her sister been borne upon the rosy evening air?  Could
she look back to see how the happiness of the man whom she
had loved would be wrecked?

"You do not speak, Kitty.  Your silence rebukes me; I
ought not to have spoken to-day," he began again.  "I will
not press you further.  I do not ignore the fact that my desires
will arouse a conflict within you: you were not else the strictly
just and honourable girl that you are; but I know also that
I shall attain the goal I so long for without stormy arguments
and entreaties.  I will leave you time for consideration and
recovery from the grief that now fills your soul and colours
every thought and feeling.  I go without the assurance that
alone can give me peace, but—I shall come again.  And now
we will go on to the mill.  Take my arm in full confidence
that no brother could care for you with less thought of self
than fills my soul at this moment.  You might with equal
tranquillity put yourself in charge of my aunt and myself
when we set out on our way to L——."

"I shall not return to Saxony," she said.  She had placed
her hand within his arm, and they walked slowly along the
avenue.  The girl's limbs seemed possessed with a mortal
torpor that clutched at her throbbing heart and deadened
the voice that came so hard and cold from her lips.  "I found
when I was last in Dresden that in my present state of mind
there is no help for me in incessant study or the performance
of my trifling household duties.  I must have some occupation
requiring sustained absorbing labour day after day.  Until a few
days ago I hesitated to express this need; I knew my first hint
at such a thing would arouse a storm of expostulation from my
guardian.  The heiress's duty was all marked out for her, and
consisted in spending her income as brilliantly as possible.  All
that is past.  The dreaded safe is no longer in existence, or
rather its paper contents were worthless before it was destroyed.
This I have been quite sure of, since Nanni whispered to me
this afternoon that everything was being sealed up.  I am
right, my hundreds of thousands have vanished, have they not?"

"I hardly think anything can be saved——"

"But I still have my mill, and there I will stay.  I shall,
perhaps, lay myself open to your serious disapproval when I
tell you that from this time I wish to attend to my affairs
myself.  It savours, perhaps, of 'women's rights' for a young
girl to undertake the management of business affairs and
represent a firm in her own person."

"I am not so prejudiced; I advocate warmly such independence
upon a woman's part, and I know that you, with your
force and energy, would do well; but it is not your vocation,
Kitty.  Your place is at the head of a happy home, not standing
day after day reckoning up columns of figures at a desk
in a counting-room.  Do not begin it!  For at some future
day you will be carried off without a question as to the debit
and credit in your books, and terrible confusion might be the
consequence."

If the light of the stars could only have illuminated the
dark avenue, the speaker would never have allowed the girl
at his side to leave him, so hopeless a despair was painted on
her face; he would have taken her in charge then and there,
and wrung from her the thoughts that were torturing her.
But the darkness covered the terrible struggle that was going
on beside him, betrayed by no word or sign, not even a sigh,
and he ascribed the depression and discouragement which had
made her voice so dull and monotonous to the misery of the
parting scene she had gone through with her dead sister.

Now and then a pebble rattled from beneath their feet on
the gravelled road, and the rushing of the waters of the stream
sounded loud and near in the silence that followed the doctor's
last words.  The lindens of the avenue retreated; the heavens
stretched broadly above, and standing clear against their
sparkling depths were the two slim poplars that flanked the
wooden bridge.

At sight of them the doctor involuntarily pressed the girl's
arm closer to his side.  "There, Kitty," he whispered; "there
you used to look for the first violets.  I promised you you
should do so in future, and I can keep my word: I shall
always spend my Easter holidays here."

Kitty pressed her clenched hand to her breast; she thought
the violent throbbing of her heart would suffocate her; and
yet she asked, quietly, "Will your aunt accompany you to L——?"

"Yes; she will undertake the care of my household so long
as I am alone.  She sacrifices much to do so, and will be
thankful to shake the dust of the large city from her feet and
return hither to her green country home.  I know that the
brave, true heart for which I sue will not delay her release too
long," he added, in a tone of tender entreaty.

A light appeared twinkling from the mill window.  Franz
the miller had been buried this afternoon, leaving behind him
a widow and three children.  The roof that still sheltered
them did not belong to them, and the miller's small savings
were not sufficient for their support.  Susy had been to the
villa for a few moments to look after her mistress, and had
described to Kitty the despair of the poor wretches, and
mourned over "the topsy-turvy state of the business without
any master."

The bow-window of the room in the lower story looking
towards the park was dark.  The outline of the mill buildings
rose black and shapeless against the sky,—it all seemed lonely
and deserted; the bark of the watch-dog, who resented the
approaching footsteps, sounded lost as in some endless desert.
The wheels were silent, and the huge room was so empty and
echoing that one might have fancied that, since the strong
human hand so lately working here had stiffened in death,
each friendly busy elf had pulled his cap over his peevish face
and slipped away.

The doctor drew the young girl towards him before he
opened the gate.  "I seem to be leading you into exile," he
said, anxiously.  "You ought not to give me the pain of
knowing you alone after this sad and weary day.  Come with
me; my aunt will be only too happy to receive and take care
of you."

"No, no!" she said, hurriedly.  "Do not think that I shall
resign myself to a passion of useless grief when I am alone.
I have no time for it, and I shall not do so.  I must," and she
pointed to the bow-window, where the dim light of a lamp
began to shine behind the chintz curtain, "play the part of
comforter there.  Those four poor people are dependent upon
my energy and assistance."

"Dear, dear Kitty!" he said, clasping her right hand in
both his own and pressing it to his breast.  "Go then in God's
name!  I should hold it a crime to place one stone in the hard
but sure path you have chosen through your present suffering.
Only remember that you are not yet quite recovered.  Do not
make too great a demand upon your strength; and wear the
bandage upon your forehead for a few days longer.  And now
farewell: at Easter, when the last wintry mist has flown, when
the ice and snow are thawed, when human hearts throb
joyously,—at Easter I shall return.  Until then, think of one
whose every thought is yours, and do not let slander or
mistrust come between us!"

"Never!"  This one word came almost like a groan from
her lips.  She withdrew the hand he pressed to his lips, and
the gate in the wall clanged to behind her.  She took no step
forward; leaning against the cold damp wall, her face buried
in her hands, she listened breathlessly to his departing
footsteps.  What was death in comparison with the tortures of
this wildly-beating heart condemned to live?  She listened
until the soft night air, brushing her cheek, brought no sound
upon its wings, and then, with tearless, weary eyes, she passed
on into the house, to enter upon her mission of comforter and
protector.

Three days later, immediately after Henriette's burial,
Doctor Bruck and his aunt left the capital.  Kitty had not
seen the doctor again, but his aunt had repeatedly passed an
hour with her.  The same day Flora left also, accompanied by
the Frau President.  The old lady was to visit the baths; and
Flora went to Zürich, where, report said, she was to devote
herself for a time to the study of medicine.





.. vspace:: 4

CHAPTER XXIX.
=============

More than a year had passed since the day in March when
Kitty Mangold, grandchild and sole heir of the wealthy castle
miller, had been walking upon the high-road from the town on
her way to present herself at her guardian the councillor's in
her new character of heiress.

Those who now turned aside into the by-road leading to the
mill found upon their right a row of pretty little cottages, that
belonged to the workmen in the factory, and had been erected
upon the waste portion of the mill-garden,—the strip of land
that Kitty had begged of her guardian for the convenience of
these men.  And the townspeople liked much to walk in
this direction.  Formerly the high massive wall enclosing the
mill-grounds had cast its shade so far that the footpath beneath
it was almost always damp and had long been avoided.  Now
the wall had gone, and the pretty path was planted with
acacias.  The cottages looked neat and trim, with their air
of Dutch cleanliness, the pretty porch in front of each, and
the small gardens which had been planted the previous autumn
with all kinds of flowering shrubs.

Behind them loomed the castle mill, hoary with age, its
windows looking in the opposite direction, as if angry that its
ancient mantle of green had been thus bordered with gay
embroidery.  It had undergone no alteration, save that the shabby
old dial had been brightened, and the little gate leading through
the wall into the adjacent park had been walled up.  There
was no longer any connection between the mill and the former
estate of the vanished Von Baumgartens from whom the old
structure had derived its high-sounding title.  But the
deafening noise, the throbbing heart of the old pile went on with
rejuvenated vigour, and the road to the mill-yard was more
frequented than ever,—the masterless business was directed by a
firm cool hand and a prudent head.  Kitty's undertaking
had been attended with success.  She had found an experienced
foreman, and poor Lenz, the merchant who had lost his
all, was her assistant book-keeper.

She set herself to work in the office she had fitted up in
the mill, to learn the mysteries of business, and her thorough
education and excellent capacity soon enabled her to acquire
all that Lenz could teach.  She did actually work like a man,
"day by day;" the business increased, and produced such
results as would have astonished the old castle miller
himself.  And the sight of the contented faces about her smoothed
the rough path she had chosen to tread.  She had taken
charge of poor Franz's widow and orphans, giving them rooms
for life in a small out-building of the mill, which she had
fitted up for their occupation.  The woman continued, as
heretofore, to assist Susy in her housekeeping, while the
children received such an education as their father, whose mind
had been occupied entirely with material considerations, had
never dreamed of giving them.

It was true that of all the vast wealth left behind him by
the castle miller nothing remained for Kitty but the mill and
a few thousand thalers which she had induced her guardian
to allow her to lend to the workmen to enable them to build
their cottages upon the mill-land.  Her hundreds of thousands
had vanished in the flames, and the small amount of gold and
silver recovered in a melted condition from beneath the ruins
was far more likely to be the remains of tankards and platters
than of coin.  In the disastrous confusion that followed the
explosion there were many creditors whose claims even the
real estate and valuable collections were not sufficient to satisfy;
the failure proved to be one of the worst and most hopeless
that occurred in that time of ruin and uncertainty.  Villa and
park passed again into the hands of an old and noble family,
and the new owner had the ruins of the ancient tower cleared
away, the ditch filled up, and even the artificial mound levelled,
that there might be nothing upon the aristocratic soil to bring
to mind the miserable parvenu who had there met his wretched
and disgraceful death.  And the ancient wooden arched bridge
leading across the stream to the house by the river was also
destroyed.  The doctor's house was now reached by a stone
bridge, crossing the river near the factory, and a pretty
footpath along the opposite shore.

The house, which had been completely restored late in the
autumn, was still unoccupied; the Frau Dean's old friend had
passed the winter in the doctor's former town-house, and was
to move out only with the return of fine spring weather.
Kitty used to stroll hither almost every day.  Although the
autumn mists hung dank and chill, although snow-flakes filled
the air, and the wind blew keen from the north, at the
approach of twilight she would lay aside her pen, put on her
wraps, and sally forth into the open air.

Then for half an hour she would throw away all thought
of the columns of figures, the dry business details in which
she sought all day to bury her warm, longing heart.  She was
no longer the strict mistress, whose watchful eye never
overlooked the smallest irregularity, who exacted a rigid
performance of duty from herself as well as from her people,
inducing it in the latter case by such a judicious mixture of
praise and blame that no harsh word was ever needed from
her lips.  At this twilight hour she was only the young ardent
girl, who, hard and stern as she might be to the passion that
possessed her soul, still permitted herself some moments of
dreaming melancholy, of unrestrained suffering.

Then she would pass through the narrow, creaking wicket-gate
leading out into the fields; the gate to which, after the
attack in the forest, she, with Henriette in her arms, had bent
her weary steps.  As she reached the moss-grown fragment
of a pedestal in the centre of the grassy lawn, beside which
she had stood with Bruck, she would pass her hand lightly
over it, as if in a caress, and then seek the spot where the
pardon-table had stood, where the doctor, as she now knew,
had so suffered for her sake.  She walked around the lonely
house, with its closed shutters, its new unblackened chimneys,
and its creaking weather-cock, to mount the damp, slippery
steps and listen at the house-door.  Through the key-hole came
the soft, low sigh caused by the draught of air sweeping
through the wide hall, the withered vines about the doorway
rustled, and now and then a belated sparrow would dart in
beneath the eaves.  This was the only sign of life stirring in the
loneliness, but the girl looked for it eagerly; at least the silence
was not that of the grave.  The right to open this door
belonged to beloved hands, and some day footsteps would resound
within and dear faces look from the windows; this was sure,
although Kitty, at the thought of it, told herself that then
she should leave her home and wander afar, until—Bruck
should conduct hither some bride to whose hand she might
confide the ring.

His career in L—— was a brilliant one.  His reputation
spread from day to day.  Large and distinguished audiences
attended his lectures, and several fortunate cures, of which
the objects were individuals of high rank, were everywhere
talked of.  His aunt's letters to Kitty—she wrote
frequently—breathed peace and content; they were a source of immense
enjoyment to the young girl, but also of terrible mental
conflict, for which reason she replied but seldom and briefly.
The doctor himself never wrote,—he adhered strictly to his
promise not to assail her with entreaties, and contented himself
by sending some message of remembrance, which she kindly
and punctually reciprocated.

In this solitude her young life passed, day after day.  She
never dreamed that she was a subject of great interest in the
town, that her bold assertion of her independence, her resolute
and energetic assumption of authority at the head of her
affairs, excited far more attention and respect than had ever
been awarded to the heiress.  The distinction thus falling to
her lot was the cause of a series of visits to the castle mill,
of which the first when paid was received with no little
astonishment.  The Frau President Urach when walking with her
faithful maid no longer disdained to make the mill a resting-place,
in order, "as her duty to her poor dear lost Mangold
required, to look after his youngest child."

The old lady had returned to the capital a few weeks after
her departure from the villa.  She occupied a couple of rooms
very high up in a narrow little street, living in a pinched way,
in accordance with her very small means, and half forgotten
by the world.  The councillor of medicine, Von Bär, had
purchased a country-seat, and grumbling turned his back upon
the capital; for her he had vanished entirely, and of all her
former acquaintance her only visitors were some few of the
friends of her youth and the pensioned Colonel von Giese, who
sometimes came to play cards with her.

She suddenly found it very comfortable "in this fine old
room in the castle mill, where there is really space to breathe
in," and, weary with her walk, she would seat herself contentedly
in the old-fashioned chintz-covered sofa, that had once
sustained the castle miller's burly form, and enjoy the delicious
coffee which Kitty always prepared for her, making no sort of
remonstrance when Susy, at a nod from her young mistress,
hung upon the maid's arm a basket filled with fresh butter
and eggs.

It was best not to speak to her of Flora, who of course
had not lost one penny of her fortune, and who now indeed
paid the rent of her grandmother's rooms and the wages of
her maid, but could do nothing more, since, as she wrote, she
needed all the rest of her income for herself, and could hardly
manage to live upon it.  She had soon quitted Zürich, where
the study of "that disgusting medicine irritated the nerves
almost to madness."  She was one of those intellectual
coquettes who pose for a certain part, greedy for notoriety and
a reputation for profound and thorough attainment, while in
reality they recoil from the slightest amount of genuine serious
study.

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Easter was at hand.  For several weeks improvements had
been going on in the garden of the house by the river.  The
doctor had sent a gardener from L——, who laid out new
paths, or rather tried to restore the pretty old garden to its
original plan.  Many men were busy digging and planting, and
places were arranged for some statues which had arrived from
L—— and were still unpacked in the hall.  The shutters of
the house had been thrown open for two weeks; the rooms
had been freshly painted and papered, and a flag-pole had been
erected upon the roof.  Then the Frau Dean's friend moved
out from town, bringing with her a host of charwomen, who
made the house a shining mirror of neatness and cleanliness
from garret to cellar.

Kitty had not discontinued her walks.  On the very day
before Easter she came hither once more, at noon.  The men
were still at work in the garden, but the evergreens that had
overgrown the land belonging to the house, forming here and
there an impenetrable thicket, had been thinned and left only
within the boundaries first assigned them, while from among
their dark foliage gleamed the new statues.  The winding
paths were freshly gravelled, the old creaking wooden gate
had been replaced by one of wrought iron; the Frau Dean's
arbour had been freshly painted, and behind the house a high
picket-fence enclosed a new poultry-yard.

Upon the familiar stone pedestal before the door stood a
Terpsichore with arms gracefully extended, just as Kitty had
imagined her from the remains of the little marble foot.

"The statue is very pretty," the strange gardener said to
her with a shrug, "but it ought to be more elegantly placed.
This lawn," and he looked around upon the old bleaching-ground,
"is quite wild, by no means in proper order, but
the Herr Professor strictly forbade my touching it."  Kitty
stooped with crimson cheeks and plucked the first violet,
winch had opened fully in all its fragrance at the base of
the pedestal.  "Yes, the grass is full of weeds," the man said
over his shoulder, as he walked on.

And the house, now really a little castle, actually shone with
freshness and beauty—"fitted up as if for a bride," the Frau
Dean's old friend remarked to Kitty with an unsuspecting
smile.  The snow-white kitten came softly to the door over
the new tiles of the hall.  In the Frau Dean's sitting-room,
behind the crocheted curtains, in the midst of the laurels and
large-leaved plants that had been moved out from town, the
canary-bird piped his clear shrill song.  The former life was
beginning here anew, and the Frau Dean herself was to arrive
by the afternoon train.  She was to bring a guest with her,
her old friend had remarked with a mysterious twinkle of the
eye; who it was she did not know, but she had been commissioned
to provide the guest-chamber with new furniture.  And
as she spoke she threw open the folding-doors leading into it
from the hall, and tears filled Kitty's eyes as she thought of
Henriette, who had lain here in such pain, and yet peaceful
and happy as never before in her sad life.  But even while
her thoughts were thus occupied she was conscious of a sharp,
unfamiliar pang of jealousy.  Who was this guest who had
become so dear to the Frau Dean's heart that she had been
invited to stay with her?

The gay rose-covered curtains and the hanging-baskets filled
their old places, but the rickety furniture had made way for
what was new and pretty, although very simple, and instead
of the faded illustrations of Vosz's "Luise" some fine landscapes
hung upon the freshly-papered walls.  The well-remembered
room had been converted into a pretty sitting-room, and an
adjoining cabinet that had formerly stood empty had been
arranged for a sleeping-apartment.

All this Kitty looked at once more, with tear-dimmed eyes,
and then walked home to place herself at her desk and answer
several business letters.  Lenz was to return in the evening
from a business trip he had undertaken, and his young mistress
was anxious to have all in readiness to be entrusted to his
hands while she spent the next fortnight with her
foster-parents in Dresden.

Ah, how difficult it was to fix her attention!  Her pulses
throbbed, and the handwriting, usually so clear and firm,
looked scrawled and careless.  She was interrupted too by the
Frau President's maid, who came with a large empty market-basket
on her arm, on her way to make her Easter purchases
of provisions, and the Frau President had told her, since it
was only a little out of her road, to stop at the mill and give
Fräulein Kitty Fräulein Flora's letter to read.  It had just
come.

Susy was immediately instructed to fill the basket with all
sorts of delicacies from her pantry, but the letter lay untouched
upon Fräulein Kitty's writing-table long after the maid had
returned to her mistress.

The Frau President had several times previously sent the
young girl her step-sister's letters.  The sheets had seemed
to burn beneath her touch, but she had dutifully read them
through that she might not seem ill-natured.  And now a
flickering flame seemed creeping towards her from the perfumed
envelope lying near her elbow.  Impatiently she moved her
arm and pushed it beneath a pile of bill-headings.  She could
not see why, to-day, she should give herself the pain that the
reading of these letters always caused her, made up as they
were of frivolity, arrogance, and conceit.

She took up her pen again, but only for a few moments.
In her agitation she bent her head, as towards a protecting
talisman, over the violet she had just placed in a tiny vase of
water, and inhaled its sweet cooling fragrance; she went to
her piano and played a soothing, peaceful air; she opened one
of the windows and stroked the tame doves perched upon the
sill, trying to persuade herself meanwhile that the sending of
the letter was in fact only a masked advance upon her pantry—but
there must have been an evil spell in the mischievous
envelope.  She could no longer resist the impulse to open it,
but pushed aside the pile of papers, and removed the cover.

As she did so a sealed enclosure fell from it.  She did not
notice it: her eyes wandering over the first page opened wide
in amazement, and involuntarily, strong girl as she was, she
grasped at some support.  Flora wrote thus from Berlin:

——"You will laugh and exult, dear grandmamma, but
I now see that it is best,—an hour ago I was betrothed to
your former favourite, Karl von Stetten.  He is uglier and
more awkward than ever, and his bull-dog physiognomy is
not improved by the blue spectacles he has lately begun to
wear.  *Fi donc*—I shall never be very proud to walk by his
side, but his dog-like constancy to his really insane passion for
me has moved me at last, and since through the unexpected
death of his young cousin he has suddenly fallen heir to
Lingen and Stromberg, and stands very well at court here and
in society, I really had no further objection to make——"

The letter was tossed upon the table.  Bruck was free,—no
longer fettered so that he could not come to the castle mill.
Ah, what a change after all these seven terrible months of
torture, of effort to train and bend her stubborn heart,—to
scourge each wandering thought so that she might attain at
last to the strong stoicism that would enable her calmly to
transfer the hated ring to the hand of his betrothed, and then
to pursue her own course, lonely but blameless!

She covered her eyes with her hand, as if some phantom
had appeared in the midst of her bewildering delight.
Perhaps she had not read the words aright!  Could it be
so?  Flora was betrothed?  At the eleventh hour, after so
many unsuccessful attempts to achieve fame, was she taking
refuge in matrimony?  Kitty again took up the thick
perfumed sheet,—yes, yes, there it really was in the "sprawling
hand."  And then followed long and exact instructions as
to how the betrothal was to be announced in the capital;
and there was much talk of the marriage, which was to take
place upon Easter Monday.  Then came the invitation to
her grandmamma to be present.  This was all as clear as
daylight; but the girl grew deadly pale and felt faint and
sick as she read on.  Flora wrote further:

"On my way to Berlin I stopped for a day or two at L——.
It will interest you to hear that a certain Hofrath and
Professor has achieved not only name and fame, but also won the
heart of a fair countess.  I was everywhere told that he has
been privately betrothed to this charming patient of his, whose
cure he effected after her case had been given over as
hopeless by all other physicians.  The noble parents are
abundantly content with their daughter's choice, and the dear and
pious old aunt has not refused to bestow her blessing upon the
pair.  I saw her seated beside them in a box at the theatre,
as eminently peaceful and virtuous as ever, wearing, if I am
not mistaken, cotton gloves upon her hands.  The girl is very
pretty,—a doll's face with no expression.  And he?—I can
speak out to you, grandmamma, and confess that I bit my lip
until it bled, with vexation that stupid chance should have
made this man the object of universal homage and consideration,
and that he could stand there behind the chair of his
betrothed so calm and self-assured, as if all this distinction
were his by right, and as if he knew nothing of weakness or
dishonour——!  Let Kitty have the enclosed note——"

Yes, there it lay, closely sealed, upon the writing-table,
bearing the address, "Kitty Mangold."  The room grew dim
about her, and the slip of paper trembled in the hands that
shook as if with a fever-fit.  It contained only these words:

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"Have the kindness to deliver to the Countess Witte the
ring entrusted to you, or, if you choose, throw it into the river
after the other!  FLORA."

.. vspace:: 2

Kitty suddenly grew calm; mechanically she folded up the
note and laid it with the letter.  Was the beautiful countess
the guest for whom the guest-chamber had been prepared?
She shook her head decidedly, and her brown eyes began to
beam brightly as she clasped her hands upon her throbbing
breast.  Was she worthy ever to look him in the face again
if she could doubt him for an instant?  He had said, "I
shall come at Easter;" and he would come, although the most
brilliant eloquence should persuade her to the contrary.  She
would believe nothing save that he loved her and that he
would come.  No, no, a haughty lord might have the heart
to present to his former love a proud new mistress of his
home; but not he,—he in his singleness of soul.  He would
not break his promise to the miller's granddaughter for the
sake of another, even were that other a countess.

An ecstasy possessed her soul in which all thought seemed
lost.  She flew to the southern window to get one glimpse
of the dear old house.  A gay flag was floating above its roof.
Had the guests arrived, then?  Should she hasten to embrace
the dean's widow?  No, agitated as she was, she could not go.
She must banish the traitorous colour from her cheeks and
quiet the throbbing of her heart before she could meet the
gentle lady's clear kindly eye.  Rest, rest!  She went to her
writing-table.

The huge ledger lay open upon it; in that drawer were six
business letters which ought to be answered to-day; and she
could hear the rumbling in the court-yard below of one of the
clumsy mill-wagons laden with grain.  The dogs were
barking furiously at a beggar to whom Susy was throwing a piece
of bread from her window.  Here was enough of prosaic reality.
And the rude pictures, which, as they had formerly been the
objects of her grandfather's admiration, still adorned the
walls, were as little calculated to excite emotion as the stout
stuffed cushion of the sofa above which they hung, or the
tall Schwarzwald clock standing stiff and straight against the
wall, swinging its weary pendulum behind the ground glass.

The young girl's glance lingered among all these glories, till
finally she took a sheet of paper and dipped her pen in the ink.
"Messrs. Schilling & Co., Hamburg,"—oh, no one would be
able to read that!  In despair she passed her hand over her
forehead, parting the brown curls so that a faint crimson scar
was disclosed.  Thus she sat for a moment, motionless, her
left hand covering her eyes, her right still holding the
rebellious pen.  Suddenly she felt a cool air upon her cheek; the
draught came from an open door or window; she looked up, and
there he stood upon the topmost step of the small flight leading
into the room, smiling and radiant with the joy of return.

"Leo!  I knew it!" she exclaimed; and, throwing down her
pen, she ran towards him and was clasped in his arms.

Susy came running from the hall.  What was the matter?
The door was wide open, and she had heard the cry.  She
stood open-mouthed; the corner of her blue apron, with which
she had been about to wipe her heated forehead, dropped from
her hand in dismay, for there upon the well-scoured boards of
her sacred castle-mill room stood Doctor Bruck, clasping her
Fräulein in his arms as if he never in his life meant to release
her.  Lord save us! if they were betrothed no one knew it.

She cautiously crept nearer to close the door, but Kitty saw
her, and with a burning blush tried to extricate herself from
her lover's embrace.

The doctor laughed, the gay musical laugh of former times,
and held her fast.  "No, Kitty, you came, to be sure, of your
own accord, but I cannot trust you yet," he said.  "I should
be a fool to give you a chance of transforming yourself into a
titter again.  Come in, Susy," he cried over his shoulder to
the old housekeeper; "you must witness the fact that we
we betrothed, before I can let her go."

Susy wiped her eyes, and was profuse in her congratulations,
after which she hurried across the court-yard to tell the news
to her gossip and crony, poor Franz's widow, lamenting at the
same time that the good times at the mill were nearly over,
since the Fräulein was to be married.

The doctor went to the writing-table and solemnly closed
the huge ledger.  "The career of the lovely miller's maiden
is at an end, for—Easter has come," he said.  "How I have
counted the days of this time of probation, which I myself
ordained that I might not lose you altogether!  You cannot tell
how hard it is to live on from hour to hour in uncertainty,
when the whole happiness of life is at stake.  My only
consolation I found in your letters to my aunt, in which, in spite
of the character and force of will that they showed, I fancied
I could detect your love.  But how few and short they were!"  He
took her hand and drew her towards him again.  "I knew
that a time of renunciation must intervene between the
unhappy past and my complete happiness; I bore in mind all
your sorrow for your sister; but to this hour I have never
been able to understand why you would have renounced me
forever and lived a lonely unblessed existence."  He paused
suddenly, and his face flushed,—there beside the closed ledger
lay a folded note; he knew the large uncertain characters only
too well: such missives had frequently been sent him in the
early days of his former engagement.

Firmly Kitty laid her hand upon the paper.  Why expose
this detestable intrigue?  Let it lie buried forever; there
was no longer any obstacle in the way of her happiness.  But
the doctor gravely drew the note from beneath her detaining
fingers.  "There must be no secret between us, Kitty," he
said, "and this seems to be one."

He read, and then insisted upon a full confession.  Kitty
told him of what she had endured, and through it all he could
not but gratefully perceive the depth of the unselfish affection
that would have foregone the happiness of an entire future to
secure his freedom.

"And what about the lovely Countess Witte?  I thought
she was coming with your aunt to take possession of the
guest-chamber," Kitty said at last, smiling through her tears,
wishing to change the current of thought which deprived her lover
of all his wonted composure.  She succeeded: he laughed.

"*I* shall take possession of the guest-chamber," he replied.
"I had reasons for not advising you beforehand of the time
of my arrival, and I see they were good.  As regards the
young countess, she was an inmate of our household for three
months while under my professional care, and is perhaps
slightly demonstrative in the expression of her gratitude for
the cure I was happily able to effect,—that is all.  You will
see her in a fortnight, when, my darling, I propose to bear
away my bride to L——.  Ours has been a long betrothal,—seven
months!  Will you not consent to kneel before the
altar there?"—he pointed through the window to the spire
of the neighbouring village church,—"I always had such an
affection for that place."

"You shall take me whither you will," she said, softly,
"but I have duties here——"

"Nonsense! the ledger is closed, and your faithful Lenz can
say what is right to 'Schilling & Co.,' Hamburg."

She laughed.  "Well, then, command, and I obey!" she
rejoined.  "I will retire;—good news for Lenz, who will rent
the mill and soon make good his losses."

They left the house, and Kitty, leaning on the doctor's arm,
walked along the path she had traversed so often in the
wintry weather.  To-day it was delicious to wander there
beneath the arching, budding boughs.  The soft willow buds
brushed the girl's glowing cheeks; a gentle evening breeze
was blowing, and the stream flowed rippling between banks
clothed in the tender green of early spring.  The park lay
beyond, quiet and grand as ever; they saw the swans slowly
gliding upon the lake, and high above the tops of the trees
a blue-and-yellow flag fluttered from the roof of the villa
The lord of the mansion was at home.

What a tide of recollections flooded the two hearts that had
just plighted their troth for time and for eternity!

"Do you know," whispered the doctor, "that they say Moritz
has been seen in America?"

She nodded.  "A few days ago Franz's widow received
five hundred thalers from an anonymous friend in California.
She cannot imagine who her benefactor is; but I know him."  And
she told Leo of the light-bearded workman who had
driven away the roes to save them from a cruel death because
they had been his pets in former happy days.

There stood the dear old house in the fading evening light.
The labourers had left the garden.  A solemn silence brooded
over it all, the statues gleamed white among the evergreens,
and the dean's widow came down the steps from the hall-door
her arms extended to clasp to her motherly heart her "own
dearest Kitty," whose love she had so long prayed might
bless her darling.

Deep and full came the sound of the chimes in the distant
town; they were ringing in—Easter!

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   THE END.

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   \*      \*      \*      \*      \*      \*      \*      \*

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   MRS. A. L. WISTER'S

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   Translations from the German of E. Marlitt.

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   12mo.  Bound in Cloth.

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The Owl's Nest
The Lady with the Rubies
The Bailiff's Maid
In the Schillingscourt
At the Councillor's
The Second Wife
The Old Mam'selle's Secret
Gold Elsie
Countess Gisela
The Little Moorland Princess

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NEW ILLUSTRATED EDITION, HANDSOMELY BOUND.
SOLD ONLY IN SETS, 10 VOLS., $16.00.

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.. class:: center bold

   Other Translations.

.. vspace:: 1

.. class:: noindent white-space-pre-line

Countess Erika's Apprenticeship.  By Ossip Schubin
"O Thou, My Austria!"  By Ossip Schubin
Erlach Court.  by Ossip Schubin
The Alpine Fay.  By E. Werner
Picked Up in the Streets.  By H. Schobert
Saint Michael.  By E. Werner
Violetta.  By Ursula Zöge von Manteuffel
Vain Forebodings.  By E. Oswald
A Penniless Girl.  By W. Heimburg
Quicksands.  By Adolph Streckfuss
Banned and Blessed.  By E. Werner
A Noble Name.  By Claire von Glümer
From Hand to Hand.  By Golo Raimund
Severa.  By E. Hartner
The Eichhofs.  By Moritz von Reichenbach
A New Race.  By Golo Raimund
Castle Hohenwald.  By Adolph Streckfuss
Hargarethe.  By E. Juncker
Too Rich.  By Adolph Streckfuss
A Family Feud.  By Ludwig Harder
The Green Gate.  By Ernst Wichert
Only a Girl.  By Wilhelmina von Hillern
Why Did He Not Die?  By Ad. von Volckhausen
Hulda; or, The Deliverer.  By F. Lewald

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J. B. Lippincott Company, Publishers,
715 and 717 Market Street, Philadelphia, Pa.

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