Читать книгу Gold Elsie - E. Marlitt - Страница 4

CHAPTER IV.

After a most cheerful dinner, Sabina brought from the cupboard a pipe, which she filled and handed with a match to the forester.

"What are you thinking of, Sabina?" he said, rejecting it with a comical air of displeased surprise. "Do you think I could find it in my heart to sit here and smoke a quiet pipe while Elsie's little feet are dancing with impatience to run up the mountain, and she is longing to poke her little nose into the magic castle? No, I think we had better start at once upon our voyage of discovery."

All were soon ready. The forester gave his arm to his sister-in-law, and they started off through the court and garden. After they had gone a little way, they were joined by a mason from the neighbouring village, whom the forester had sent for that he might be at hand if necessary.

They walked up the mountain by a tolerably steep and narrow path through the thick forest, but this path gradually broadened, and at last led to a small open space, on one side of which arose what seemed like a tall gray rock.

"Here I have the pleasure," said the forester to his brother, with a sarcastic smile, "of revealing to you the estate of the lamented Baron von Gnadewitz in all its grandeur."

They were standing before a lofty wall, which looked like one solid block of granite. They could see nothing of any buildings that might be behind it, because the surrounding forest was too thick and close to allow of a sufficiently distant point of observation. The forester led the way along the wall, at the base of which thick underbrush was growing, until he reached a large oaken door with an iron grating in the upper half of it. Here he had had the matted growth of underbrush cleared away, and he now produced a bunch of large keys which had been handed over to Frau Ferber as she had passed through L—— the day before.

The utmost exertions of the three men were necessary before the rusty locks and bars would move, but at last the door creaked, or rather crashed upon its hinges, and a thick cloud of dust floated up into the air. The explorers entered and found themselves in a court-yard bounded on three sides by buildings. Opposite them was the imposing front of the castle, with a flight of broad stone steps, and a clumsy iron balustrade, leading to the entrance door upon the first story. Running from each side of the main building were gloomy colonnades, whose granite pillars and arches seemed to defy the tooth of time. In the centre of the court-yard a group of old chestnut trees stretched their aged boughs above a huge basin, in the midst of which couched four stone lions with wide open jaws. Formerly four powerful streams of water must have poured through them from the bowels of the earth, filling the entire basin; but now there was only a small stream trickling through the threatening teeth of one of the monsters, sufficing to sprinkle with moisture the grass and weeds growing in the cracks of the stone basin, and, by its low, mournful ripple, giving a faint suggestion of life in this wilderness. The outer walls of the structure and the colonnades were all that could be regarded without terror in this space. The window frames, from which every pane of glass had been broken, showed the sad desolation within. In some rooms the ceilings had already fallen in; in others, the joists were bent as though the lightest touch might send them crashing down. Even the stone steps seemed half hanging in the air,—some mossy fragments had already become detached from them, and had rolled into the centre of the court-yard.

"We can do nothing here," said Ferber. "Let us go on."

Through a deep, dark portal they entered another court-yard, which, although much larger than the first, by its striking irregularity produced an impression of far greater desolation. Here, a dreary, crumbling pile of masonry projected far out, and formed a dark corner never visited by a sunbeam; there, a clumsy tower shot into the air, throwing a deep shadow upon the wing at its back. An old elder bush, leading a straggling existence in one corner, with its leaves covered with fallen crumbs of mortar, and some dry grasses between the stones of the pavement, made the scene yet more desolate. No noise disturbed the deathlike silence reigning here. Even the jackdaws soaring in the air above ceased their chatter, and the echoes of the footsteps upon the stone pavement had a ghostly sound.

"Yes, those old knights," said Ferber, almost appalled at the sight of the desolation around him, "have heaped up these piles of granite, and thought that this cradle of their race would proclaim the splendour of their name through all coming centuries. Each has altered and arranged his inheritance after his own taste and convenience, as we see from these different kinds of architecture, and lived as if there were no end to it all."

"And yet each lodged here but for a little space," interrupted the forester, "and paid his landlord, the earth, for his lodging with his own crumbling bones,—now turned to dust. But let us go on. Brr—rr!—it makes me shiver. Death everywhere,—nothing but death!"

"Do you call that death, uncle?" suddenly exclaimed Elizabeth, who had hitherto been awed and silent, pointing, as she spoke, through a door which was half concealed by an interposing column. There, behind a grating, fresh sunny green was shining, and young climbing roses leaned their blossoms against the iron bars.

Elizabeth ran towards the door, and, exerting all her strength, pushed it open. The space upon which she entered had probably been the former flower-garden, but such a name could scarcely be applied to the tangled wilderness of green, where not even the narrowest vestige of a path could be discerned, and where here and there only the mutilated remains of a statue appeared among the mass of shrubs, bushes, and parasitical plants. A wild grape-vine had climbed to the upper story of the building, and taken firm hold there of the window-sills,—its green branches and wreaths falling thence like a shower upon the wild roses and lilac bushes beneath. And in this secluded, blooming spot of ground, a buzzing and humming were heard, as if Spring had assembled here her entire host of winged insects. Countless butterflies fluttered over the flowers, and golden beetles were running glittering across the broad fern leaves at Elizabeth's feet. And above this little world of bloom and busy life several fruit trees and magnificent lindens waved their leafy crests, while upon a slight elevation were seen the remains of what had once been a pavilion.

The garden was surrounded upon three sides by buildings; the square was completed by a high, green wall, which had been constructed of earth, like a dam, and above which the trees of the forest waved a greeting to their neighbours within. Here were also the same signs of decay,—tolerably well preserved outer walls,—complete ruin within. Only one building of two stories, connecting two high wings, attracted attention from its closed appearance. The light did not shine through it, as through its doorless and windowless companions; its flat roof, finished in front and at the back by a heavy stone balustrade, must have bidden defiance to time and tempest, as had also the gray window-panes which peeped out here and there from the tangled growth of vines that covered everything. The forester measured it with a keen glance, and declared that this must be Sabina's famous building,—possibly the interior might not be in as crumbling a condition as the rest of the castle,—only he could not understand how they were to get into the old swallow's nest. Certainly, the rank growth around the base of the walls would have obscured all trace of steps or door, even were there any such entrance. They determined, therefore, to venture up into one of the large side wings by a worn but tolerably secure flight of stone steps, and thus attempt to arrive at the interior of the connecting building. They succeeded in gaining ingress to the tall wing, although they could keep their footing only by clinging to the uneven walls. They first entered a large saloon which had the blue sky for a ceiling, and whose only decoration was a few green bushes growing through its walls. Remnants of galleries, worm-eaten joists, and various fragments of frescoed ceiling were heaped up in piles, over which the explorers had to scramble as best they might. Then followed a long suite of rooms in the same utterly desolate condition. Upon some of the walls fragments of family portraits were still hanging, upon which, strangely and comically enough, only an eye, or, perhaps, a pair of delicate folded hands, or a mail-clad, theatrically-posed leg, was yet distinctly to be traced. At length they reached the last apartment, and stood before a high-arched doorway which had evidently been bricked up.

"Aha!" said Ferber, "here they intended to cut off this building from the universal desolation. I think that before we venture any further upon this break-neck expedition it would be well to knock out these stones."

His proposal was at once favourably received, and the mason began his task; he soon penetrated into a recess in the wall, which he assured them was double at this spot. The other two men lent their assistance, and a thick oaken door was revealed behind the masonry that they cleared away. This door was not locked, and yielded readily to the mason's strong arm. They entered an entirely dark, close room. One slender sunbeam, straying through a crack showed them where to find a window; the bolt of the shutter, rusty from long disuse, resisted for some time the strength of the forester, and the trees upon the outside opposed an additional obstacle to their exertions. At last the shutter yielded with a crash; the golden-green sunlight streamed in through a high bow-window and disclosed an apartment not broad, but very deep, the walls of which were hung with Gobelin tapestry. Upon each of the four corners of the ceiling were painted the arms of the Gnadewitzes. To the surprise of all, this room was entirely furnished as a sleeping apartment. Two canopied beds, with hangings dingy with age, that occupied the two long walls of the room, were all made up; the pillows were covered with fine linen cases, and the silken coverlid still preserved its colour and texture. Everything that could conduce to the comfort of an aristocratic occupant was here, buried, indeed, beneath a mass of dust, but in a state of excellent preservation. Beyond this apartment, and opening into it, was another much larger, with two windows; it was also completely furnished, although in antique style, and evidently with furniture hunted up from various other rooms for the purpose. An antique writing-table, its top most artistically inlaid and resting upon strangely carved claw feet, harmonized but poorly with the more modern form of the crimson sofa; and the gilt frames, in which hung several well-painted hunting pictures, did not accord with the silver mountings of the huge mirror. Nevertheless, nothing was wanting that could complete the solid comfort of the room. A thick, though somewhat faded carpet was laid upon the floor, and a large antique timepiece stood beneath the mirror. A small boudoir, also furnished, and from which a door led to a vestibule and a flight of steps, opened from the larger apartment. Behind these rooms were three others of a similar size, with windows looking upon the garden; one of these, containing two beds and pine furniture, was evidently intended for the servants.

"Well done!" cried the forester with a smile of satisfaction; "here is an establishment that exceeds the wildest flights of our modest fancy. If the sainted Gnadewitz could see us now he would turn in his leaden coffin. All this we owe, I suppose, to the neglect of a housekeeper or to the forgetfulness of some childish, old steward."

"But do you think we ought to keep these things?" asked, in a breath, Frau Ferber and Elizabeth, who had been silent hitherto from wonder.

"Most certainly, my love," said Ferber; "your uncle left you the castle with everything which it contained."

"And little enough it was," growled the forester.

"But in comparison with our expectations a perfect mine of wealth," said Frau Ferber, as she opened a beautiful glass cabinet containing different kinds of china; "and if my uncle had actually endowed me with an estate in my young days, when I was full of hope and enthusiasm, I doubt whether it would have made as much impression upon me as does this unexpected discovery, which relieves us all of so much anxiety."

In the mean time Elizabeth had gone to the window of the first room which they had entered, and was trying to part the boughs and vines which grew so thick and strong all along this side of the building that they formed a barrier through which only a greenish twilight penetrated. "It is a pity," she said, as she found that her efforts were vain; "I should have liked some glimpse of the forest outside."

"Why, do you think," said her uncle, "that I shall allow you to live behind this green screen, which shuts out air as well as light? Rely upon me to take that matter in charge, my little Elsie."

They next descended the stairs. These, too, were in perfect preservation, and led to a large hall with a huge oaken table in the centre, surrounded by spindled-legged, straight-backed chairs. The floor was of red tiles, and the panels on walls and ceiling were covered with beautiful carving. This large apartment was provided with four windows and two doors opposite to each other; one of these led into the garden, and the other, which was opened with difficulty, into a narrow open court-yard lying between the building-and the outer wall. Here the syringas and hazel bushes were growing everywhere, making an absolute thicket, through which, however, the three men penetrated, and reached a little gate in the outside wall which communicated with the forest without.

"Now," said Ferber, delighted, "every obstacle to our living here is removed. This entrance is most valuable. We shall never have to pass through the older court-yards, which are really dangerous places, surrounded as they are by crumbling ruins."

They made one more tour through their newly found home with an eye to its future arrangement, and the mason was ordered to be upon the spot the next day that he might convert one of the back rooms into a kitchen. Then, after the oaken door leading into the large, ruinous wing had been well bolted and secured, they took their way through the gate in the wall, an undertaking difficult indeed, on account of the thick bushes which opposed their progress, but infinitely preferable to the perilous path by which they had entered.

As the returning party entered the garden of the forest lodge, Sabina came towards them, in great anxiety to learn the results of their expedition, accompanied by little Ernst, who had been entrusted to her care while his mother and sister were away. She had prepared the table with its snowy cloth and shining coffee-service upon a shady knoll under the beech trees, and now clapped her hands with delight upon hearing of all they had found.

"Ah! gracious Powers," she cried, "I hope the Herr Forester understands now that I knew what I was talking about. Yes, yes, all those things were left there and forgotten, and no wonder. As soon as the young lord was buried, old Gnadewitz packed off as quick as he could, and took every servant with him except the old house-steward Silber, and he was childish with age, and besides had enough to do to take care of all that was left in the new castle; it was crowded with furniture and plate, and he had a hard time to keep it all right; so everything was left in the old rooms, and no one knew anything about them. Ah, I've dusted and cleaned everything there often enough, and frightened indeed I was whenever I came to that old clock, for it plays such mournful music when it strikes, it used to sound like something unearthly, when I was all alone at work in the old place. Ah, how time flies, I was young then!"

Then came an hour of rest and comfortable discussion, while they drank their coffee. As Elizabeth had decided that nothing could be more charming than to awaken in their own rooms upon Whit-Sunday morning,—when the ringing of the church-bells in the surrounding villages would come softly echoing through the forest glades,—a view of the matter in which her mother sympathized, they determined to undertake all the necessary repairs and cleaning immediately, that they might occupy the rooms upon the eve of Whit-Sunday, and the forester placed all his men at their disposal.

Sabina had taken up her position upon a grassy bank at a short distance from the table, that she might be at hand if wanted; and that she might not be idle, she had pulled up a couple of handfuls of carrots from the garden and was busily scraping and trimming them. Elizabeth sat down beside her. The old woman gave a sly glance at the delicate white fingers, that contrasted so with her own brown, horny hands, as they picked some carrots up from her lap.

"Don't touch," she said, "that is no work for you,—you will make your fingers yellow."

"What matter for that?" laughed Elizabeth. "I will help you a little, and you shall tell me a story. You were born here, and must know many a tale about the old castle."

"You may be sure of that," replied the old housekeeper. "The village of Lindhof, where I was born, belonged to the Lords von Gnadewitz time out of mind, and you see in such a little place as that every one talks and thinks of the great people who rule over it. Nothing happens of any account in the castle that is not described and handed down from father to son in the village, and, long after the lords and ladies are dust, their stories are told by the village girls and boys.

"Now there was my great-grandmother, whom I remember perfectly, she knew many a thing that would make your hair stand on end; but she had a monstrous respect for every one at Gnadeck, and used to bob down my head with her trembling hands whenever a Gnadewitz drove by our cottage,—for I was but a little thing then, and did not know how to make a respectable courtesy. She knew about all the lords who had lived at the old castle for hundreds of years; yes, many a thing that had happened there, that must have outraged God and man.

"Afterwards, when I lived at the new castle, and had to sweep the long gallery where their pictures were all hanging upon the wall,—pictures of people whose very bones had mouldered away,—I often used to stand still before them and wonder to see them looking so like everybody else, when they used to make such a fuss about themselves, as if God Almighty had brought them down to the earth with his own hands. There were not many beauties among the women. I often thought, in my stupid way, that if pretty Lieschen, the most beautiful girl in the village, could only have been painted and hung in such a rich gold frame, with a silken scarf and such quantities of jewels upon her neck and in her hair, and the blackamoor with his silver waiter standing just behind her lovely face and neck, she would have looked a thousand times prettier than the lady who was so ugly, and frowned so with pride and arrogance that two great wrinkles went up to the very roots of her hair. And yet she was the very one that the family was proudest of. She had been a very wealthy countess, but hard and unfeeling as a stone.

"Among the men, there was only one whom I liked to look at. He had a frank, kind, honest face, and a pair of eyes black as sloes; but he had shown how true it is that the good always get the worst of it in this world. All the others had a fine time of it as long as they lived. Many of them had done harm enough in their time, and yet their death-beds were as calm and peaceful as if they had always been just and true; but poor Jost von Gnadewitz had a sad fate. My great-grandmother's grandmother had known him when she was a very little girl. Then they always called him the wild huntsman, because he never left the forest, but would hunt there from morning until night. In the picture he had on a green coat and a long white feather in his cap, that was most beautiful to see dangling among his coal-black curls. He was kind-hearted, and never harmed a child. While he lived all the villagers prospered, and they wished he might live forever.

"But all of a sudden he left this part of the country, and no one knew, for some time, where he had gone, until one night in a dreadful storm he came back as quietly as he had gone away. But always after that he was a changed man. The people of Lindhof prospered as before, but they saw no more of their master. He dismissed all his servants, and lived alone in his old castle with only one favourite attendant.

"And at last it began to be whispered that he was busy with magic and the black art up there, and no one dared to go near the castle even at high noon, let alone the dark night. But my old great-grandmother was a bold, saucy girl, and used sometimes to pasture her goats right under the walls of the castle court-yard. Well,—once as she was leaning against a tree there, gazing at the high walls, and lost in thoughts concerning all that might be going on behind them, suddenly an arm appeared above them white as snow, and then a face fairer than sun, moon, and stars, my grandmother said, and at last with a sudden spring a young maiden stood upon the top of the broad wall, and, stretching her arms up into the air, cried out something in a strange tongue that my grandmother could not understand, and was just about to leap down into the deep ditch full of water that then entirely surrounded the castle, when Jost appeared behind her, and, putting his arms around her, begged and implored her so that a stone would have melted at such entreaties wrung from a heart full of terror and anguish. And finally he took her up in his arms like a child, and they both disappeared from the wall. But the veil became loosened from the maiden's head and floated away across the ditch to where my grandmother was standing. It was exquisitely fine, and she carried it home in great glee to her father; but he declared it was woven by the devil, and threw it into the fire, forbidding my grandmother ever to go up the mountain near the castle again.

"Some time after,—certainly a whole year after Jost first shut himself up so closely at Gnadeck,—he came down the mountain very early one morning on horseback; but you would hardly have known him, his face was so haggard and pale, all the paler for the full suit of black that he wore. He rode very slowly, and nodded sadly to every one whom he met; he never came back to this place again; he was slain in battle, and his old servant with him—'twas at the time of the thirty years' war."

"And the beautiful girl?" asked Elizabeth.

"Ah, no one ever heard tale or tidings of her again. Jost left a large sealed packet in the town-house at L——, and said that it was his last will, and must be opened whenever news of his death should be received. But a short time after his departure, there was a terrible fire in L——; a great many houses, and even the church and the town-house, were burned to the ground with everything which they contained, and of course the packet was destroyed.

"Before Jost left, the pastor from Lindhof went to see him several times; but the reverend gentleman kept as quiet as a mouse, and, as he was already very old, he soon departed this life, and everything that he knew was buried with him. So no living being knows anything about the strange maiden, nor ever will know till the day of judgment."

"Oh, never trouble yourself to keep the matter quiet, Sabina," called the forester to her from the table, as he shook the ashes out of his pipe. "Elsie had better get used as soon as possible to the terrible conclusions to your stories. Tell her at once—for you know all about it—how the beautiful maiden one fine day flew up the chimney and away upon a broomstick."

"No, I don't believe that, sir, although I know——"

"That the whole country is swarming with such creatures, all ripe for the gallows," interrupted her master. "Yes, yes," he continued, turning to the others, "Sabina is one of the old Thuringian stock. She has sense enough, and her heart is in the right place; but when there is any question about witchcraft she loses one and forgets the other, and is nearly ready to turn any poor old woman away from the door, just because she has red eyes, without giving her a morsel of food."

"No, indeed, sir, I'm not quite so bad as that," the old woman declared with some irritation. "I give her something to eat; but I always stick my thumbs in the palms of my hands, and never answer one of her questions,—there's no harm in that!"

Every one laughed at this charm against witches and witchcraft, which the old servant told with the utmost gravity as she arose and emptied the carrot-tops from her apron, that she might prepare the afternoon meal, which was to be eaten earlier than usual, as there was much to do in the old castle before nightfall.

CHAPTER V.

As Elizabeth opened her eyes the next morning, the tall clock in the room below was striking eight, and she started up with the provoking consciousness that she had overslept herself; and it was all owing to a vivid and terrible dream. The golden atmosphere of poetry, which had yesterday hovered around Sabina's narrative, had become a gloomy cloud in the night, the shadow of which embittered and burdened the first moments of her awakening. She had been flying in deadly terror through the spacious, dreary halls of the old castle, always pursued by Jost. Thick curls were waving wildly above his pale forehead, beneath which his black eyes gleamed upon her, and she had just stretched out her arms in greater terror than she had ever experienced in her life before, to defend herself from him, when she awoke. Her heart was still beating violently, and she thought with a shudder of the wretched girl upon the castle wall, who, pursued, perhaps, as she had been, had sought relief in death, when she was again captured by her tormentor.

She sprang up and bathed her face in cold water; then she opened her window and looked out into the courtyard. There sat Sabina under a pear tree, busy with her churn. All the feathered crowd of the place stood around, looking impatiently for the crumbs that she threw to them from time to time from a bowl upon the table by her side, while she improved the occasion to rebuke the arrogant and greedy, and to console the oppressed and down-trodden.

When she saw the young girl, she nodded kindly, and called up to her to say that every one in the lodge had been busy up there in the old castle since six o'clock. When Elizabeth reproached her for letting her sleep so long, she assured her that she had done so by the express desire of her mother, who thought that her daughter had overtasked her strength in the last few weeks of excitement and exertion.

Sabina's kind, placid face, and the fresh air of the morning soothed Elizabeth's nerves at once, and brought back her thoughts to the world of reality which was just now opening so brightly before her. She took herself seriously to task that, despite her uncle's fatherly admonition, she had leaned out of the open window until midnight upon the previous night, gazing across the moonlit meadow into the silent forest. But common sense often plays a poor part when opposed to excited fancy. Where it should conduct a rigid examination and discriminate wisely, it suddenly finds itself deserted in the judgment-seat, and must retire in confusion, while the varied and motley spectacle which fancy conjures up proceeds without interruption. Thus Elizabeth's self-reproaches soon vanished before the picture which presented itself to her memory, and still threw around her all the magic of a moonlit night in the forest.

As soon as she had dressed, and drank a tumbler of fresh milk, she hastened up to the castle. The sky was overcast, but only with those light, thin clouds which foretell a fresh although not a sunny, spring day. Therefore the birds' morning concert was of longer duration than usual, and the dew-drops lay as large and full in the cups of the flowers as if their existence for the day were not threatened.

As Elizabeth entered the large gate of the castle, which stood wide open, a huge green mound, piled up by the fountain, met her eye. It was formed of thistle stalks, ferns, and bramble bushes, which had been torn from their home in the garden, and were here bidding farewell to their long, merry life. The path through the arched gateway of the second court-yard to the grating was strewn with green boughs and leaves, as though a joyous marriage train had been passing through the old ruins; and even on the sill of a high window, that showed the remains of coloured glass in the lacework of the stone rosette of its pointed arch, some boughs had been caught as they were carried past, and the trailing end of a wild vine was coiling its living green lovingly around the stone trefoil of the Holy Trinity, which betrayed unmistakably that the dark, dreary hall within had once been the chapel of the castle.

The garden, where it had yesterday been impossible to take two steps, seemed to Elizabeth entirely changed. A considerable part of it had been cleared, and showed distinct traces of having been tastefully laid out. She could easily proceed along a partially cleared path, across which timid hares and squirrels ran fleetly now and then, until she reached the green rampart which had only been seen from a distance yesterday. At each end of the long, grassy embankment, broad, worn, stone steps led up to a low breastwork, over which one could look out into the forest, and there, where the trees were somewhat thin, through a green vista down into the valley, where the forest lodge, with the white doves dotting its blue-slated roof, was nestling cosily. At the foot of the embankment, just where the broad path terminated, was a little stone basin, into which a strong stream of crystal water flowed through the mouth of a mossy little marble gnome. Two lindens arched their boughs above this gurgling brook, and threw their grateful shade upon the tender forget-me-nots, which grew here in masses in the damp earth and wreathed the little basin with their heavenly blue.

Directly opposite the embankment lay her future habitation, which, with its window-shutters thrown back and the large door on the ground-floor wide open, looked so bright and hospitable to-day that Elizabeth welcomed with joy the thought that she was looking upon her home. Her gaze wandered over the garden, and she thought upon those moments of her childhood when, her little heart full of unconquerable longing, she had lingered behind her parents during some pleasant walk, and, with her face pressed close against the iron grating, had gazed into some strange garden. There she had seen happy children playing carelessly upon the greensward; they could bend down the lovely roses that hung in such clusters, and inhale their fragrance as long as they liked. And what a pleasure it must be to creep under the flower-laden boughs and sit there in the green, just like grown-up people in an arbour! But there was nothing for her then but the look and the longing. No one had ever opened the barred door to the child with the wistful eyes, who would have been only too happy if they would have thrust a few flowers through the grating into her little hands.

While Elizabeth was standing upon the embankment, the forester appeared at one of the upper windows of the dwelling. When he saw her graceful figure leaning against the low breastwork, as, with her beautiful head half turned towards the garden, she seemed sunk in a reverie, his features were illumined by an expression of pleasure and quiet delight.

And Elsie soon found him out, and nodding to him gaily, bounded down the steps towards the house. Little Ernst ran to her in the hall, and she took him up in her arms.

The assistance which the little boy had afforded had been, according to his own enthusiastic account, invaluable indeed. He had carried bricks for the mason who had been mending the hearth, had helped his mother to shake out the beds, and declared with pride that the lords and ladies upon the woollen hangings looked far handsomer since he had brushed off their dusty faces. He threw his arms around his sister's neck as she carried him up-stairs, assuring her all the way that he liked it a thousand times better here than in B——.

The forester received Elizabeth in the antechamber above. He scarcely gave her time to say good morning to her parents, but conducted her instantly into the gobelin-hung apartment. Ah, what a transformation! The green lattice-work that had obscured the window had vanished. Without, beyond the outer wall, the forest retreated like side-scenes on either side, opening a full view of a distant valley that was to Elizabeth a perfect paradise.

"There is Lindhof," said the forester, pointing to a large building in the Italian style, which lay tolerably near to the foot of the mountain upon which Gnadeck stood. "I have brought you something that will show you every tree upon the mountains over there, and every blade of grass in the meadows of the valley," he continued, as he held an excellent spy-glass before her eyes.

And then the grand, solemn mountain domes seemed to approach, their granite peaks, sometimes crowned by a solitary fir, breaking through the forest here and there. Behind these nearest summits towered countless ranges in the blue misty light, and from a distant, dim valley which separated two giant mountains, arose two slender, shadowy gothic towers. A little river, a highway bordered by poplars, and several gay villages enlivened the background of the valley. In front lay Castle Lindhof, surrounded by a park laid out in princely style. Beneath the windows of the castle extended a closely shaven lawn, beset with small, quaintly-shaped beds glowing with all the colours of the rainbow. Thence Elizabeth's eyes soon wandered, and rested delightedly upon the mysterious gloom of an avenue of magnificent lindens, their heavy foliage interlacing above their brown trunks, while here and there drooping boughs swept the ground beneath with their broad leaves. They bordered a little crystal lake, which just now looked melancholy enough amid all its flowery surroundings, for its depths mirrored a cloudy sky. Now and then a swan stretched its white neck curiously among the low-hanging linden boughs, and sent a shower of feathery spray from its wings to sprinkle their old trunks.

Hitherto Elizabeth had allowed the glass to range restlessly hither and thither, but now she attempted to hold it steadily, for she had made a discovery which excited her interest most powerfully.

Under the last trees of the avenue stood a couch. A young lady lay upon it, her charming head thrown back so that a part of her chestnut curls fell down across the pillow. Beneath the hem of her long white muslin dress, which enveloped her form to the throat, peeped out two tiny feet encased in gold-embroidered satin slippers. She held in her delicate almost transparent hands some auriculas, which she was thoughtlessly twisting and waving to and fro. Her lips alone showed any colouring; the rest of her face was lily-pale; one would almost have doubted its being informed with life had not the blue eyes gleamed so wondrously. But these eyes with their depth of expression were riveted upon the countenance of a man who, sitting opposite, appeared to be reading aloud to her. Elizabeth could not see his face, for his back was turned toward her. He seemed young, tall, and well made, and had a profusion of light-brown hair.

"Is that lovely lady over there the Baroness Lessen?" asked Elizabeth, eagerly.

The forester took the spy-glass. "No," said he, "that is Fräulein von Walde, the sister of the proprietor of Lindhof. You call her charming, and certainly her head is lovely, but she is a cripple; she walks upon crutches."

At this moment Frau Ferber joined them. She too looked through the glass, and thought the countenance of the young lady most beautiful. She was particularly struck with the expression of gentle kindness which, as she said, "transfigured the features."

"Yes," said the forester, "she is kind and benevolent. When I first came here the whole country around was full of her praises. But matters are changed indeed, since the Baroness Lessen has had the control of affairs over there. No more alms are distributed among the poor, unless they are earned by hypocrisy. Woe to the wretch who asks any assistance there! He will be turned away without a penny, if he ventures to hint that he would rather listen to the pastor in the village church on Sundays than go to the castle chapel, where the chaplain of the baroness every week calls down fire and brimstone, and every imaginable pain of hell, upon the heads of the ungodly."

"Certainly such violent measures are poorly fitted to win souls to heaven and inspire people with Christian love," said Frau Ferber.

"They destroy all good, and foster hypocrisy, I tell you!" cried the forester, angrily. "Do they not set an example of it themselves? They are always reading in the Bible of Christian humility, yet every day they grow haughtier and more supercilious. Why, they would actually persuade us that their high-born bodies are moulded of a different clay from those of their poor brothers in Christ. It stands written, 'When thou doest thine alms, let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth;' but no hen ever makes more to-do over her newly-laid egg than these people over their charities. There are perpetual collections, fairs, and lotteries for the poor, and the whole neighbourhood is black-mailed, but when it comes to taking the money from, where it is plentiest, their own purses,—oh, that's carrying the joke too far, as the saying goes. I know people who have been for twenty years collecting subscriptions from others to found a poor-house. These very people have a yearly income of six thousand thalers, but of course it never occurs to them to add one penny from their own store in aid of their charitable project. They must purchase a reputation for benevolence and Christian self-sacrifice more cheaply than that. Zounds! how it enrages me to see people wearing their piety so pinned upon their sleeves! Over there in the castle a bell is set ringing just so many times a day, that every one in the country around may say, when they hear it, 'They are having prayers at the castle.' The closet, where God has commanded us to shut to the door and kneel in prayer, is altogether too small to suit their taste. And it is not only this trumpet-blowing that outrages me. I hold it to be actually wicked to make such a mere everyday form of the worship of the Holiest. Do you suppose that the maid-servant, with a hot smoothing-iron in her hand, or the cook, who is just putting her roast to the fire, can rejoice in the sound of that bell?"

"It is most certainly a dubious kind of piety," said Frau Ferber, smiling.

"Or even the gracious ladies themselves, who are busy with the last novel or a piquante bit of court scandal—for an interest in all such things is quite consistent with the loftiest piety—do you suppose they are able to divert their thoughts in one instant from worldly affairs and turn them all heavenwards? But these people run in and out of the kingdom of heaven without any thought or preparation, and congratulate themselves upon the honour that they are doing to the Creator."

"And does Herr von Walde sympathize with these reforms of the baroness?" asked Frau Ferber.

"From everything that I can gather from the villagers, I should judge not; but how does that mend the matter? He is probably at this moment prying into the pyramids that he may throw light upon antiquity; how should he know that his cousin here is zealously doing her best to blow out the advancing light of the present? Besides, I dare say he has a crack in his own brain. The prince of L——, who knows him well, wished some years ago to make a match between him and a young person of quality at court, but, as I hear, my gentleman refused the alliance because the fair one's pedigree was not sufficiently long."

"Why, perhaps then he may install as mistress of Lindhof some fair daughter of a fellah, whose ancestors lie among the mummies at Memphis," said Elizabeth, laughing.

"I don't believe he will marry at all," rejoined the forester. "He is no longer young, is too fond of a wandering life, and has never shown any love for women's society. I'll wager my little finger that that fellow there with the book in his hand thinks just as I do, and already in his inmost soul regards Lindhof and all the other charming estates in Saxony, and God only knows where else, as his own."

"Has he any claims to them?" asked Frau Ferber.

"Most certainly. He is the son of the Baroness Lessen, whose family is the only one in the world related to the brother and sister von Walde. The baroness was first married to a certain Herr von Hollfeld; that young man is the fruit of that marriage, and by the death of his father he came into possession of Odenberg, a large estate on the other side of L——. The fair widow was fully conscious that her freedom must be made available to assist her up at least one step in the ladder of human happiness and perfection, and naturally this could only be attained by a marriage with high rank, wherefore Frau von Hollfeld one day became Baroness Lessen. 'Tis true the baron's name had been made somewhat notorious by several acts on his part which people of common, low-born ideas might call dishonourable; but what matter for that? Was he not a lord chamberlain, and did not the keys of his office unlock many a door for him where St. Peter's would have availed nothing, in spite of the power given to them? However, the baron died after two years of marriage, leaving his widow a little daughter and an enormous amount of debts. I have no doubt she is glad enough to queen it at Lindhof, for I hear that she has no part or parcel in her son's property."

Here a maid from the lodge interrupted them with bucket and broom, giving unmistakable signs that she was about to begin the duties of her office in this apartment. The spy-glass was hastily closed, and while the forester went into the garden to renew his labours there in clearing away the luxuriant green from the lower window-sills, Frau Ferber and Elizabeth busied themselves with dust-cloths and brushes in restoring the furniture of the room to something of its original appearance.

CHAPTER VI.

Whitsuntide was over. The brazen bells had retired into private life, and looked black and silent through the loopholes in the bell-towers, that seemed like the coffins of the melodious life which had so lately streamed forth from them during the holidays. But the bright flower-bells in the forest, hanging loosely on their stalks, could not forget the festival. They had joined in bravely when the air had quivered with the brazen clang, and still rang gently with every breeze that swept through the underbrush. What did they care that the wood-cutter, his holiday clothes and face all laid aside, tramped past them in his heavy boots, whistling some rude melody! The forest heeded not, but kept up the same mysterious murmur amid its branches like a thousand-voiced whisper of prayer, and the little birds sang as before their matin and vesper hymns in God's praise.

Up in old Castle Gnadeck, as in the forest, the festal spirit of the holidays still reigned, although Ferber had already entered upon the duties of his office, often making unavoidable visits to L——, while Frau Ferber and Elizabeth had, through Sabina, received several large orders from a ready-made linen establishment in L——, and were besides busy every day for some hours in the garden which even in this first year gave promise of abundant fruit and flowers. Notwithstanding this constant industry, there was a holiday air pervading the whole place, arising from the consciousness in the minds of each one of the family that there had come a happy turn in their affairs; they were continually comparing their present with their former situation, and the new and unaccustomed life of the forest had an almost intoxicating effect upon their spirits.

Her parents had given Elizabeth the gobelin room, because there was the finest prospect from its windows, and because the girl when she had first entered it had declared that she liked it best of all. The gloomy door which led into the huge old wing Had been walled up and gave no sign that such a dreary waste lay beyond it. The further end of the room was filled by one of the renovated canopied bedsteads, and by the window stood the antique writing-table, with its quaint inkstand and writing utensils of porcelain, and two vases filled with lovely flowers; while just outside the window, embowered in the topmost branches of a syringa bush, was the canary's cage; its occupant vying with the forest songsters in its shrill trilling with all the envy of some spoiled bravura singer.

While they were arranging the room, and Frau Ferber was every moment bringing in some new piece of furniture to add to it a greater air of comfort and luxury, her husband went to the longest wall, and, stretching his arms across it, banished to the anteroom the lounge that had just been placed there.

"Stay,—this space I appropriate," he said with a smile. Then he brought a large bracket of dark wood and nailed it upon the wall, which was wainscoted neatly to the ceiling on this side. "Here," he continued, as he placed upon the bracket a bust of Beethoven, "this mightiest mortal shall be enthroned alone."

"But that looks so blank and bare," said Frau Ferber.

"Only wait until to-morrow or the day after, and you will, I am sure, admit that my arrangements are not to be despised, and that Elizabeth will have both pleasure and profit from them."

And on the next day, which had been Whitsun-eve, he went to town with the forester. They returned toward evening, but did not enter through the gate in the garden wall. The great gate was flung wide open, and four strong men bore in a large and shining object through the ruins. Elizabeth was standing near the kitchen window, engaged, for the first time in her new home, in preparing the evening meal, when the men entered the garden with their burden.

She cried out, for it was a piano—a large, square piano, which was immediately borne up stairs and placed in the gobelin room under Beethoven's bust. Elizabeth laughed and wept at the same moment, as she rapturously embraced her father, who had expended his little capital, the proceeds of the sale of their furniture in B——, that he might provide her again with what had been the delight of her life. And then she opened the instrument and a flood of rich melody filled the rooms where the silence of death had reigned for so many years.

The forester had come with her father to enjoy Elizabeth's surprise and delight. He now leaned silently against the wall, as the wondrous sounds flowed forth from beneath the girl's touch. For the first time he heard the true speech of the glowing life that animated the delicate young frame. How thoughtful and inspired was the air of the finely-shaped head which crowned her graceful form, so suggestive of earnest maidenhood! Hitherto only jests and merry repartee had been exchanged between uncle and niece. He often called her his butterfly, because of the airy grace of her motions and her quickness of mind, which never left her at a loss for a reply to his merry attacks; but his favourite name for her was "Gold Elsie," for he maintained that her hair was such perfect gold that he could see it shining and shimmering in the darkest parts of the forest as she approached, and that it heralded her coming to him as the jewel in the giant's shield had once announced his approach to Childe Roland.

When Elizabeth had finished she spread her arms above the instrument as if to embrace it, and, leaning her head upon it, smiled the happiest smile; but her uncle approached her softly, gave her a silent kiss upon the forehead, and departed without a word.

From this time he came up every evening to the old castle. As soon as the last rays of the setting sun had faded from the tree-tops, Elizabeth sat down at the piano. The little family took their places in the large low window-seat, and lost themselves in the fairy world, which was opened to them by the great master whose image looked down from the wall upon the inspired young performer. And then Ferber would think of how Elizabeth had portrayed the free life in the forest when the letter from her uncle had first arrived in B——. 'Tis true no elves or gnomes appeared, but the spirits which the mightiest of the masters of music had imprisoned in sound floated forth from their prison-house on a flood of melody, breathing into the solemn silence around a mysterious life—a life of whose joys and sorrows every sympathetic human soul is conscious, although to genius alone is granted power to embody and reveal them.

One afternoon they were all sitting together at their coffee. The forester had brought his pipe and newspaper, and begged of Elizabeth a cup of the refreshing beverage. He was just about to read aloud an interesting article in his paper, when the bell at the garden gate sounded. To the astonishment of every one, when little Ernst ran to open it, a servant in livery entered and handed Elizabeth a note. It was from the Baroness Lessen. She began by saying much that was flattering with regard to the young girl's masterly performance upon the piano, to which she had listened for the two or three previous evenings while walking in the forest, and concluded by preferring a request that Elizabeth would consent, of course for a stipulated consideration, to come to Castle Lindhof every week and play duets with Fräulein von Walde.

The style of the letter was extremely courteous; nevertheless the forester, after a second perusal of it, threw it angrily upon the table, and said, looking steadily at Elizabeth,—

"I hope you will not consent?"

"And why not, my dear Carl?" asked Ferber in her stead.

"Because Elizabeth is, and always will be, far too good for those people down there!" cried the forester, with some irritation. "But if you choose to see what you have carefully planted, choked up and ruined by poisonous weeds and mildew—why, do it."

"It is certainly true," replied Ferber quietly, "that my child has known until now none other than a parent's care. We have endeavoured most conscientiously, as was our duty, to cherish every germ of good, to foster every plant of tender growth. But we have had no idea of producing a mere hot house flower, and alas for us and for her, if all that we have unweariedly tended and nourished for eighteen years is so loosely planted in the soil that it can be torn thence by the first blast of life! I have educated my daughter to live in the world; she must battle her way among its storms, as we all must. If I should be taken from her to-day, she must herself guide the helm which I have hitherto held for her. If the people in the castle below are not fit associates for her, matters will soon arrange themselves. Either both parties will feel their unsuitability to each other and all intercourse will cease, or everything that offends Elizabeth's principles will pass by her like idle wind, leaving no impression. Why, you yourself never avoid a danger, but rather prove your strength by meeting it bravely."

"But, zounds! I am a man, and can take care of myself!"

"And how do you know that Elizabeth hereafter will possess any support except what she finds in herself, or have any sharer in the responsibility of her actions?"

The forester cast a keen glance at his niece, whose earnest eyes were riveted upon her father's face. He who was to her the embodiment of wisdom and tenderness was echoing her own ideas, and the expression of her beautiful face showed what she felt.

"Father," she said, "you shall see that you have not been mistaken—that I am not weak. I never could endure the trite image of the ivy and the oak, and shall most certainly not illustrate it in my own person. Be comforted, uncle dear, and let me go down to the castle," she said, smiling archly at the forester, whose forehead showed a deep frown of decided irritation. "If the people there are heartless, don't suppose for one moment that they will make a cannibal of me, and that I shall eat my own heart up. If they try to crush me with supercilious arrogance, my own inner standard of action shall be so high that I can look down in pity upon the harmless arrows of their scorn; and if they are hypocrites, I shall turn with all the more delight to gaze into the sunny face of truth, and be more deeply convinced of the ugliness of their black masks."

"Fairly spoken, oh incomparable Elsie, and incontestably true,—if only these same people would kindly hand you their masks to examine. But you will awake some day to find that what you have believed to be gold is only the merest tinsel."

"No indeed, dear uncle; I will not foolishly allow myself to be imposed upon. Remember, we have had many trials since my childhood; they have not been borne without teaching me some good lessons. Certainly we must all trust somewhat in our own strength, and I shall not despair for a long time, even if upon my first experience of the world I plunge into an abyss of Egyptian darkness, full of frightful monsters. But look, uncle dear, to what your zeal for my soul's welfare has brought you,—your coffee looks as though it could be skated upon, and your meerschaum is at its last gasp."

The forester laughed, although the laugh was not from his heart. And while Elizabeth refilled his cup for him and handed him a lighted match, he said to her: "You must not suppose that my ammunition is exhausted because I say to you, 'Well, well, go and try it.' I look forward to the satisfaction of seeing the courageous chicken come flying back again some day, only too thankful to creep under the sheltering wing of home."

"Aha!" laughed Frau Ferber, "you have no idea of the stern determination in that little head. But let us decide. I advise Elizabeth to pay her respects to the ladies to-morrow."

The next afternoon at about five o'clock Elizabeth descended the mountain. A broad, well-kept path led through the forest, which melted imperceptibly into the park. No gateway separated its carefully-tended grounds, with their clumps of trees and feathery grass, from the wild woods beyond.

Elizabeth had put on a fresh light muslin dress, and a small, white, round straw hat. Her father walked with her as far as the first meadow, and then she went bravely on alone. No human being crossed her path during her long walk; it even seemed as though the trees rustled more softly here in the leafy avenues and arcades than in the forest beyond, and as if the birds modulated their notes more gently. She started at the noise of the crunching gravel beneath her tread as she approached the castle, and wondered to find how timid the intense quiet had made her.

At last she reached the principal entrance, and caught sight of a human face. It was a servant, who was busy in an imposing vestibule, but who moved as noiselessly as possible. Upon her request that he would announce her to the baroness, he slipped up the broad staircase fronting the hall door, at the foot of which stood two lofty statues, their white limbs half concealed by the orange trees placed at their bases. He soon returned, and assuring her that she was expected, led the way quickly up the stairs, scarcely touching the steps with the tips of his toes.

Elizabeth followed him with a beating heart. It was not the grandeur around her that oppressed her, it was the sensation of standing all alone in this new untried sphere. The servant conducted her through a long corridor, past the open doors of several apartments, which, furnished with extraordinary splendour, were heaped with such a profusion of elegant trifles that a simple child, unused to such luxury, would have supposed herself in a fancy-shop.

Her guide at last carefully opened a folding-door, and the young girl entered.

Near the windows, opposite Elizabeth, upon a couch lay a lady in apparently great suffering. Her head was resting upon a white pillow, and warm coverings were spread over her entire figure, which, in spite of its wrappings, betrayed decided embonpoint. In her hand was a vinaigrette.

She raised her head slightly, so that Elizabeth could see her face distinctly; it was round and pale, and at first sight by no means unprepossessing. Upon a closer view, the large blue eyes, that glittered beneath light eyelashes and elevated eyebrows as light, looked cold as ice, an expression in nowise softened by the supercilious lines about her mouth and nostrils, and by a broad, rather projecting chin.

"Oh, Fräulein, it is very kind of you to come!" cried the baroness in a weak voice, which nevertheless sounded harsh and cold, as she pointed to a lounge near her, and motioned to Elizabeth, who courtesied politely, to sit down. "I have begged my cousin," she continued, "to arrange matters with you in my room, as I am really too ill to take you to hers."

This reception was certainly courteous, although there was a considerable amount of condescension in the lady's tone and manner.

Elizabeth sat down, and was just about to reply to the question how she liked Thuringia, when the door was suddenly flung open, and a little girl of about eight years of age ran in, holding in her arms a pretty little dog, struggling and whining piteously.

"Ali is so naughty, mamma, he will not stay with me!" cried the child, breathlessly, as she threw the dog upon the carpet.

"You have probably been teasing the little thing again, my child," said her mother. "But I cannot have you here, Bella; you make so much noise, and I have a headache. Go away to your room."

"Oh, it's so stupid there! Miss Mertens has forbidden me to play with Ali, and gives me those tiresome old fables to learn; I cannot bear them."

"Well, then, stay here; but be perfectly quiet."

The child passed close to Elizabeth with a stare and an examination of her dress from top to toe, and mounted upon an embroidered footstool before the mirror in order the easier to reach a vase of fresh flowers. In a moment the tastefully arranged bouquet was thrown into the wildest disorder by the little fingers, which busied themselves with sticking single flowers into the delicately embroidered eyelet-holes of the muslin curtain. During this operation large drops of the water, in which the flowers had been placed, dropped from the stems upon Elizabeth's dress, and she was obliged to move her chair, as there seemed no likelihood that any stop would be put to the proceeding, either by the little Vandal herself or by her mother's prohibition.

Elizabeth had only had time to move, and to reply to the reiterated question of the baroness, that she already felt very happy and, quite at home in Thuringia, when the lady hastily arose from her reclining posture, and, with an amiable smile upon her lips, nodded towards a large portière, which was drawn noiselessly aside and on the threshold of the door appeared the two young people whom Elizabeth had lately seen through the spy-glass; but how strangely ill-assorted they now seemed to be, as she saw them thus standing together. Herr von Hollfeld, a slender figure of great height, was obliged to bend very much on one side to afford any support to the little hand that rested upon his arm. The sylph-like little figure, which had lain upon the couch in the park, was no taller than a child's. The exquisitely lovely head was sunk between the shoulders, and the crutch in her left hand showed how helpless was her crippled condition.

"Forgive me, dearest Helene," cried the baroness, as the pair entered, "for troubling you to come to me; but, as you see, I am again the poor wretched creature upon whom you are so ready to bestow your angelic pity and kindness. Fräulein Ferber," here she motioned towards Elizabeth, as if presenting her, and the young girl rose, blushing, "has had the kindness to come, in compliance with my note of yesterday."

"And, indeed, I am very grateful to you fordoing so!" said the little lady, turning towards Elizabeth with a smile of great sweetness, and holding out her hand. Her glance measured the blushing girl before her with an expression of surprise, and then rested upon the heavy golden braids that appeared below the hat. "Oh, yes," she said, "I have already seen your lovely golden hair; yesterday as I was walking in the forest you were leaning over a wall up there at the old castle."

Elizabeth blushed yet more deeply.

"But because you were there," continued the little lady, "I lost the pleasure for which I had clambered up the height, the pleasure of hearing you play, which I had enjoyed on the previous evening. So young and child-like, and yet with such a thorough appreciation of classic music! it seems impossible! You will make me very happy if you will play often with me."

Something like a shade of displeasure flitted across the features of the baroness, and a close observer might have noticed a scornful contraction of her lips, but it was lost upon Elizabeth, whose attention was entirely absorbed by interest in the unfortunate little lady whose delicate silvery voice seemed to come fresh from the depths of her heart.

In the mean time, Herr von Hollfeld pushed a chair for Fräulein von Walde close to the lounge, and left the room without uttering a word. But as he went out by the door directly opposite to Elizabeth, she could not help noticing that he directed a last long look at her before slowly closing it after him. It disturbed her, for his expression was of so strange a kind that she hurriedly glanced over her dress to see if anything there could have struck him as odd or unsuitable.

For the last few moments Bella had been sitting upon the carpet, playing with the dog. It would have been a charming picture, if the whinings and uneasy movements of the little animal had not betrayed that the child was teasing it. At each loud cry from the dog, Fräulein von Walde started nervously, and the baroness said, mechanically, "Don't tease him so, Bella!" At last, however, when the animal uttered a most piteous howl, the mother raised her forefinger threateningly, and said, "I must call Miss Mertens."

"Oh," replied the child contemptuously, "I don't care for her! She doesn't dare to punish me, for you told her she mustn't."

At this moment, the portière was gently drawn aside, and a pale, faded gentlewoman appeared. She courtesied to the ladies, and said, timidly: "The chaplain is waiting for Bella."

"But I won't have a lesson to-day!" the little girl cried, taking a ball of worsted from the table and throwing it at the speaker.

"Yes, my child, you must," said the baroness. "Go with Miss Mertens, and be a good little girl, Bella."

Bella, as though the matter affected her no more than it did Ali, who had retreated behind the sofa, threw herself into an arm-chair and drew her feet up under her. The governess was about to approach her, but at an angry look from the baroness she retired to the door again.

This disgraceful scene would probably have lasted much longer if the baroness had not brought up a corps de reserve to her assistance in the shape of a box of bonbons. The child, after she had crammed her mouth and pockets full, left her seat, and, pushing aside the hand which her governess held out to her, ran out of the room.

Elizabeth sat petrified with astonishment. The delicate features of Fräulein von Walde also showed evident disapproval; but she said nothing.

The baroness sank back among her pillows. "These governesses will be my death," she sighed. "If Miss Mertens could only learn how to treat, judiciously, a child of Bella's sensitive, nervous temperament! She never takes into account social position, temperament, and physical constitution. She would model all after the same pattern—the daughter of a grocer or a peer; a finely-strung, sensitive nature, or a robust, rude, day-labourer physique—'tis all the same thing to her. Miss Mertens is a disagreeable, pedantic schoolmistress; her English, too, is detestable. Heaven only knows in what mean little English county she learned her native tongue!"

"But really, dear Amalie," said Fräulein von Walde, "I do not find her English impure," and her voice sounded exquisitely kind and soothing.

"There you come with your never-failing angelic amiability; but, although I do not understand English, I can always hear, in one instant, how much more high-bred your accent is, my dear, when you are talking with her."

Elizabeth inwardly doubted the value of this estimate, and Fräulein von Walde blushed with a deprecating gesture.

But the baroness continued: "And Bella hears it, too; she will not open her lips when her governess speaks English to her, and I cannot blame her in the least; it provokes me excessively when this person blames the child for obstinacy."

Under the influence of her irritation the voice of the baroness, which had at first been very weak and suffering, had grown perceptibly stronger. She suddenly seemed to become aware of this herself, and closed her eyes with an expression of great weariness. "Oh heavens!" she sighed, "my unfortunate nerves are too much for me. I grow excited instead of being kept quiet; these vexations are poison both to my mind and body."

"I would advise you, Amalie, when you are as nervous and weak as you are to-day, to leave Bella without a fear to Miss Mertens' care. I am convinced that nothing can be better for her. While I fully understand your touching anxiety on the child's account, I can confidently assure you that Miss Mertens is far too gentle and cultivated a person to do anything that would not conduce to her welfare. You look quite worn out," she continued, sympathizingly. "We had better leave you alone; Fräulein Ferber will certainly have the kindness to accompany me to my room."

So saying she arose, and leaning over the baroness imprinted a gentle kiss upon her cheek. Then she laid her hand upon the arm of Elizabeth, whom the baroness dismissed with a gracious nod, and left the apartment.

As they slowly walked through the various corridors, she told Elizabeth that it would be a special delight to her brother, who was so far from her, if she should resume her music. He used to sit alone with her listening to her playing for hours, until a nervous malady that had attacked her had forced her to give up her beloved music for a long time. Now she felt much stronger, and her physician had also given his consent; she would be very diligent, that she might surprise her brother upon his return home. Elizabeth then took leave.

She hastened with winged speed through the park, and along the path which ascended the mountain. In the forest glade just before the open garden gate her parents were awaiting her return, and little Ernst ran lovingly to meet her. What an air of home breathed all around her here! The greeting that she received showed how she had been missed; the canary was singing merrily in his green embowered cage, the garden laughed in beauty, and in the background, under the group of lindens above the cool spring, the snowy table was spread for supper.

The Italian castle with all its splendour, its aristocratic air, and its oppressive silence, only broken by the clamour of a spoiled child, faded behind her like a dream of the night; and when she had imparted her impressions of all that she had seen and heard to her parents, she concluded with the words: "You have taught me, father dear, never to form any settled judgment of others upon a slight acquaintance with them, for such judgment runs a fair chance of being unjust, but what can I do with my unruly fancy? Whenever I think of the two ladies, I see in imagination a lovely young weeping willow, whose elastic graceful branches are the constant sport of a furious tempest."