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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:34:54 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:34:54 -0700 |
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} +ol.AU { list-style-type: upper-alpha; } +ol.RU { list-style-type: upper-roman; } +ol.RL { list-style-type: lower-roman; } +.lsdisc { list-style-type: disc; } +.lsoff { list-style-type: none; } + +.castlist, .castitem { list-style-type: none; } + + + + + +/* Supplement CSS stylesheet "style/arctic.css.xml +" */ + + + +body +{ +background: #FFFFFF; +font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, serif; +} + +body, a.hidden +{ +color: black; +} + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5, h6, .pseudoh1, .pseudoh2, .pseudoh3, .pseudoh4 +{ +color: #001FA4; +font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; +} + +p.byline +{ +font-style: italic; +margin-bottom: 2em; +} + +.figureHead, .noteref, .pseudonoteref, span.leftnote, p.legend, .versenum, .stage +{ +color: #001FA4; +} + +.rightnote, .pagenum, .linenum, .pagenum a +{ +color: #AAAAAA; +} + +a.hidden:hover, a.noteref:hover +{ +color: red; +} + +p.dropcap:first-letter +{ +color: #001FA4; +font-weight: bold; +} + +sub, sup +{ +line-height: 0; +} + + + +</style></head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Major Frank, by A. L. G. Bosboom-Toussaint + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Major Frank + +Author: A. L. G. Bosboom-Toussaint + +Translator: James Akeroyd + +Release Date: December 5, 2008 [EBook #27425] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MAJOR FRANK *** + + + + +Produced by Steven Gibbs, Jeroen Hellingman, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net/ + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="front"> +<div class="titlePage"> +<h1 class="docTitle">Major Frank</h1> +<h2 class="byline">By +<br> +<span class="docAuthor">A. L. G. Bosboom-Toussaint</span> +<br> +Author of “The English in Rome,” etc. +<br> +Translated from the Dutch +<br> +By +<br> +<span class="docAuthor">James Akeroyd</span></h2> +<h2 class="docImprint">London +<br> +T Fisher Unwin +<br> +26 Paternoster Square +<br> +1885 +</h2> +</div><span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb1" href="#pb1">1</a>]</span></div> +<div class="body"> +<div id="xd0e111" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="super">Major Frank.</h2> +<h2 class="normal">Chapter I.</h2> +<p><i>A Letter from Sir Leopold van Zonshoven to Mr. William Verheyst at A——.</i> + + +</p> +<p>The Hague, March, 1865. + + +</p> +<p><span class="smallcaps">Dear Friend</span>,—If you are not too deeply absorbed in some lawsuit or other, come to me by the first express you can catch from your little +provincial town. Something wonderful has happened, and I have great need of a friend to whom I can confide my secret. Imagine +Leopold van Zonshoven, who seemed destined from his infancy to figure in this world as a poor gentleman—imagine your friend +Leopold suddenly come into an immense fortune. + +</p> +<p>An old aunt of my mother’s, of whom I had never <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb2" href="#pb2">2</a>]</span>heard, and who it seems had quarrelled with all her relations, has hit upon the sublime idea of playing the “Fairy Godmother” +to me. By her will I am made sole heir to all the property she died possessed of. I, who with the strictest economy and self-control +have barely managed to keep out of debt; I, who have never given way to youthful follies or run into excess, now see a million +thrown at my head. This is contrary to the ideas of the romancing novelist, who as a rule reforms and rewards the wildest +youth. I almost knocked over the lamp on opening the letter which contained this incredible news; fortunately my landlady +caught it, for she was waiting for the eighteenpence which the messenger demanded for his services, and she has since confessed +to me she thought that it was a case of “baliffs.” I got rid of her as quickly as possible and bolted the door behind her. +I felt an irresistible desire to be alone, and to convince myself that the news was real, and not a page out of the “Arabian +Nights.” + +</p> +<p>After having satisfied myself of the reality of the affair, I was assailed by an indescribable confusion of ideas and impressions. +My heart beat as if it would burst; I felt a rising in my throat as if I <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb3" href="#pb3">3</a>]</span>should choke; and the first profit which I derived from my new fortune was a severe headache. I am not a stoic, and I have +never attempted to appear in that character. Lately all my thoughts have been fixed on some method of changing the miserable +position in which I have thus far vegetated, and there seemed but one hope left me: a reconciliation with my uncle, the Cabinet +Minister, who could get me an appointment as <i lang="fr">attaché</i> to one of the embassies. But this would be a difficult task, for his Excellency has forbidden me his house because of some +articles that I wrote in an opposition paper. How I regretted not having been able to complete my studies and take a degree, +the lack of which has shut me out from so many posts open to my fellow-students. + +</p> +<p>At the age of twenty-nine it is a losing game to compete with younger men in possession of a degree; and whilst I sat brooding +over my misfortunes, suddenly the news reaches me that I am a rich landed proprietor. I ask you, cool-headed man of the law +as you are, whether that is not enough to turn the brain of a simple mortal like myself? Do come, then, as soon as possible +to talk the matter over with me, especially as there is one point on which I <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb4" href="#pb4">4</a>]</span>must have your advice before entering into possession of my estates. Possibly your judicial eye will make light of it, but +for me it is a conscientious question, or at least a question of delicacy, which may cause my mountain of gold to crumble +to dust. I will decide nothing before consulting you. In the meantime I have given my lawyer power of attorney under reserve. +Here I have many acquaintances, but not one trusted friend to whom I can reveal the secrets of my bosom without the fear of +being misunderstood or made ridiculous. + +</p> +<p>And now farewell till we meet. With or without the fortune, believe me to be ever yours sincerely, + + +</p> +<p><span class="smallcaps">Leopold van Zonshoven.</span> + + + + +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb5" href="#pb5">5</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div id="xd0e148" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="normal">Chapter II.</h2> +<p><i>Mr. William Verheyst receives an Anonymous Letter.</i> + + +</p> +<p>By the same post the barrister, William Verheyst, received the following letter without a signature. + + +</p> +<div class="blockquote"> +<p><span class="smallcaps">Sir</span>,—We think it probable that Sir Leopold van Zonshoven will consult you on an affair of great importance to himself. May we +take the liberty of begging that you will kindly assist him in any difficulties that may stand in the way of his taking possession +of a certain heritage left to him, and also use your influence to persuade him not to decline any proposition which may be +made him. The writer of this letter is perfectly acquainted with the intentions of the worthy testatrix, and wishes the young +man joy of his fortune. +</p> +</div><p> + + +</p> +<p>“Oh dear!” exclaimed the good-natured William, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb6" href="#pb6">6</a>]</span>crumpling the anonymous letter in his fingers, “I fear this looks bad for Leopold. It will be hard lines if he has to forego +the fortune which is thus dangled before his eyes like a bait on who knows what unreasonable conditions. I don’t like this +attempt on the part of some unknown persons to bribe his adviser. However, they shall find I am not to be caught in the snare. +If there be any clause in the will inconsistent with law and honesty or with honour, I’ll show them I have not been called +to the bar to no purpose. Poor fellow, he little knows how difficult it is for me to leave home at present. Still, as I must +go to the Hague before my departure to Java, I will set off early to-morrow.” + +</p> +<p>William Verheyst did as he said. He proved himself a true friend and no loiterer; caught his train, and five minutes after +his arrival in the Hague was knocking at his friend’s door. + +</p> +<p>Leopold van Zonshoven occupied a single large front room in a quiet part of the town. He was too poor to live in a more fashionable +quarter, and too honest to attempt living above his means. And yet there was an air of elegance about the room which marked +it as that of a young man of refined tastes, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb7" href="#pb7">7</a>]</span>and proved him to be a lover of home comforts rather than the pleasures of club life. To the ordinary furniture to be found +in lodgings he had superadded a good writing-table, an easy-chair, an antique, carved book-case, and several small objects +of art, which stood out in bold relief against the shabby wallpaper. This, however, he had tried to hide as much as possible +by hanging the family portraits all round the room, some of them in solid ebony, others in gilt frames rather characteristic +of this cheap, showy age. Even the space between the larger pictures he had tried to cover with small miniatures on ivory, +and photographs. The young man had evidently done his best to surround himself by the portraits of his numerous family. + +</p> +<p>He was busily engaged at his writing-table when Verheyst knocked at his door. + +</p> +<p>“I was expecting you,” he said. “I knew you would come to help your friend in need. What a strange letter I wrote you! But +now I have recovered my senses again.” + +</p> +<p>Then turning to his writing-table, he said— + +</p> +<p>“Look here, here’s a bundle of papers soaked with ink. Though my landlady, Mrs. Joosting, saved the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb8" href="#pb8">8</a>]</span>lamp from falling on that memorable evening, she did not notice the ink-bottle. Three articles neatly copied, numbered and +ready for the press, are utterly spoiled. Nothing for it but to copy them again. Pleasant work this for a millionaire! But +I have almost finished now, and the work has done me good; we shall have the whole evening to talk matters over.” + +</p> +<p>Leopold lived, in fact, by his pen, contributing to several papers, and making translations for the publishers who patronized +him. Though he had not kept his terms at the university, he had talent and style, and his writings had been very successful. + +</p> +<p>“Here are the documents: the lawyer’s letter, a copy of the will, the inventory of all effects, both personal and real estate; +and all, so far as I can judge, in perfect order.” + +</p> +<p>After a minute examination, piece by piece, Verheyst answered that he was of the same opinion. + +</p> +<p>“But,” he said, “I cannot find the fatal clause you mentioned, anywhere.” + +</p> +<p>“In truth, there is no such clause expressed; nor is there even a condition set down. But there is a desire, a hope expressed +in this letter from my aunt; and you must read it before giving your opinion. It <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb9" href="#pb9">9</a>]</span>seems to me I must renounce the inheritance if I cannot give effect to the wish you will find set down here.” + +</p> +<p>“Is it, then, such a difficult matter?” inquired Verheyst, before opening the letter. + +</p> +<p>“Oh, that depends! My aunt wishes me to marry.” + +</p> +<p>“No unfair request, since she puts you in a position to maintain a wife.” + +</p> +<p>“I agree; but she has gone further and chosen a wife for me.” + +</p> +<p>“The deuce! that’s the worst part of the business.” + +</p> +<p>“Certainly; for she does not seem to have been acquainted with the young lady herself, who seems to be a granddaughter of +a certain General von Zwenken, who married my aunt’s eldest sister. The young lady is at present living with her grandfather; +and it would seem that my shrewd old aunt, to be revenged on the General, has hit upon this means of leaving her fortune to +her niece and <span class="corr" id="xd0e207" title="Source: shuting">shutting</span> out the rest of the family from any share in it. Consequently I am made use of, and the fortune is placed in my hands with +instructions to hasten to lay it at the feet of this ‘fair lady.’ Nothing seems <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb10" href="#pb10">10</a>]</span>easier or more natural. But suppose the ‘fair lady’ should be ugly, hunchbacked, a shrew, or a troublesome coquette. In this +case, you know, with my ideas about women and marriage, I should feel myself bound to refuse the fortune.” + +</p> +<p>“Refuse! refuse!—at the worst you can propose to divide it between you.” + +</p> +<p>“Now that would be acting in direct opposition to the express and formal wish of the testatrix. Read the letter and you will +see.” + + + +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb11" href="#pb11">11</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div id="xd0e217" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="normal">Chapter III.</h2> +<p><i>The Honourable Miss Sophia Roselaer de Werve’s Letter to her Grand-nephew.</i> + + +</p> +<p>My very worthy Nephew,—Though I am unknown to you, you are not unknown to me. I don’t know you personally; but I am pretty +well informed as to what you are, and what you are not. Thanks to all sorts of quarrels in our family, and the inconsistent +conduct of my eldest sister, I have been forced to live estranged (and shall die so) from all my relations. My nearest relations, +it is true, died years ago; the others are scattered over the world, and scarcely remember their relationship to me. Their +ancestors, who have done their utmost to embitter my life, seem to have left it as a legacy to their children to forget me, +and to trouble themselves as little about old Aunt Roselaer as if she had never existed. But man must think of his end. I +am <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb12" href="#pb12">12</a>]</span>in my seventy-fifth year, and a recent attack of apoplexy has warned me to put my affairs in order, if I would prevent all +disputes about the possession of my property, and, above all, save it from falling into the hands of those who have done so +much to embitter my life. I will not suffer it to fall into the hands of a host of nephews and nieces, who would attack it +like sharks, and divide and crumble into pieces what I and my forefathers have accumulated with so much care and economy. +It is for this reason I have decided to appoint one of my relatives my sole heir, and you are the one I have chosen: first, +because your mother’s mother is the one of my sisters who has caused me the least grief. She married a man of her own rank, +in a good position, with the full consent of her parents; and she could not help his falling a victim to the horrible Belgian +revolution, in which he lost his life and fortune, leaving her with seven daughters, one of whom was your mother, who, I must +say, troubled herself as little as any of the other nieces about Aunt Sophia. I can pardon her, however, because when she +returned from Belgium to Holland an occurrence in our unfortunate family affairs had decided me to break off all intercourse +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb13" href="#pb13">13</a>]</span>with my relations. The second reason, and the chief one, why I have distinguished you above all the rest is this: I have a +good opinion of your disposition and self-command. I have, several times and in divers ways, made inquiries about you, both +of friends and strangers, and the information I have received has always been such as to lead me to believe you the most fitting +person to carry out one <i>wish</i> which I urgently request you to fulfil, if it be at all possible; namely, to marry the only grandchild of my eldest sister, +and in this way put her in possession of that part of my fortune which the unpleasant divisions in our family cause me to +withhold. I wished to adopt the girl in her early youth, give her a good education, and save her from the miserable garrison +life she has led: but my request was bluntly refused; and General von Zwenken, her grandfather, has recklessly sacrificed +the fortune of his granddaughter for the pleasure of being revenged on me. Consequently my will is made with the fixed purpose +of preventing his ever enjoying a penny that has belonged to me. On reflection, however, I have come to the conclusion that +it would be wrong to punish the granddaughter for the sins of her grandparents. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb14" href="#pb14">14</a>]</span>After my death, on the contrary, I should like her to confess that old Aunt Roselaer, whose name she will only have heard +mentioned with anger and disdain, was not so very wicked after all, seeing that she has ever had the welfare of her niece +at heart. If I were to leave her my fortune, I should only be playing into the hands of her grandfather, who would doubtless +spend every penny of it in the same way he spent that of my sister. And so it has occurred to me, Leopold, to single you out +and make you the sole possessor of all my wealth, with the request that you will make good the wrong which I have been forced +to do. The question now is, whether you will be able to accomplish my desire. Difficulties may be placed in your way by the +very person most interested in adopting the means I have thought out: in this case, I beseech you to persevere as long as +there remains a hope of success. If, on the other hand, you raise obstacles, if you find it insupportable to have a wife imposed +on you by a troublesome old aunt, a wife you cannot love, then I release you from this condition, for I wish at least one +member of the family to think of me without abhorrence. Should the worst happen, you must <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb15" href="#pb15">15</a>]</span>consult lawyer Van Beek, who knows my intentions, if you do not wish to lose my fortune altogether. I expect better things +of you, not to mention that I count upon your good heart being moved towards a young lady who has been deprived of her rights +and the advantages of her birth from infancy through the ill-will of her relations. These rights and advantages a loving old +aunt wishes you both to enjoy. + +</p> +<p><span class="smallcaps">Sophia Roselaer de Werve.</span> + +</p> +<p>P.S.—That I must sign myself simply Roselaer de Werve, and not Baroness de Werve, is the fault of the General; but his obstinacy +and folly shall cost him dear. + + +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb16" href="#pb16">16</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div id="xd0e244" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="normal">Chapter IV.</h2> +<p>“Now, what do you say to this?” asked Leopold, as Verheyst folded up the letter with a thoughtful face. + +</p> +<p>“What do I say to it? Well, that it is a real woman’s letter; the most important point being contained in the post-scriptum.” + +</p> +<p>“Ahem! you may be right; how is it possible that a Christian woman, with one foot in the grave, can be inspired with such +bitter hatred of this family, and probably for what is the merest trifle.” + +</p> +<p>“What shall I say?—From the merest trifles some of the longest and most difficult lawsuits have arisen. But, for your sake, +Leopold, I could wish that this lady had been possessed of better feelings towards her relations; it would render the whole +business simpler. If the young lady pleases you, marry her; if not, then propose to divide the fortune <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb17" href="#pb17">17</a>]</span>between you. You will both be independent, and one can live pretty comfortably on half a million.” + +</p> +<p>“Would to heaven she had left me thirty thousand guilders without conditions,” sighed Leopold; “then I should have none of +this bother.” + +</p> +<p>“That certainly would have been pleasanter for you,” replied Verheyst, smiling, “but we get nothing for nothing; and if the +old lady has chosen you to be her instrument of revenge, why you cannot do less than accept the encumbrance.” + +</p> +<p>“I don’t see it.” + +</p> +<p>“I feel sure that on her death-bed she chuckled at the idea of leaving a champion of her griefs behind.” + +</p> +<p>“That may be so; but if she imagined that for the sake of her money I should so far demean myself as to serve her evil designs, +then either she was greatly mistaken in my character, or she received erroneous information about me.” + +</p> +<p>“At present, you don’t even know whether anything inconsistent with your character is demanded of you. Let me remind you that +the depositions of the dead are not to be discussed, but as far as possible carried out. If after due inquiry you find <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb18" href="#pb18">18</a>]</span>yourself unable to fulfil the conditions of this will, it will still be possible for you to stop further proceedings.” + +</p> +<p>“I have written to the lawyer in that sense. I feel it my duty to see first whether a marriage be possible. This I am bound +to do for the young lady’s sake; but I should like you to pay a visit to the Von Zwenkens, and bring me word what you think +of the young lady, before I make my appearance.” + +</p> +<p>“How you do give yourself the airs of a millionaire already!” answered Verheyst—“opening the preliminaries of your marriage +by an ambassador. I am sorry to say I cannot accept your commission, worthy patron.” + +</p> +<p>There was a mingling of irony and offended pride in the tone of this answer, which caused Leopold to start up in surprise. + +</p> +<p>“You do not mean me to take this reproach seriously?” he asked, feeling somewhat touched by his friend’s words. “You know +well enough I only asked a friendly service of one whose clear judgment I prize above my own, blinded as I now am by a confusion +of contending passions.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb19" href="#pb19">19</a>]</span></p> +<p>“Of course. I quite understand your meaning. It was only my chaff; but, unfortunately, it is only too true that I am prevented +from obliging you. To-morrow I stay here in the Hague to look after my own affairs, and then I shall have not a day, nor even +an hour, to lose in making my preparations for a long voyage.” + +</p> +<p>“What long voyage are you alluding to?” + +</p> +<p>“Ah! that’s true; we have had so much to say about the change in your life, that I have forgotten to tell you about the change +in my own. You are not the only person on whom fortune smiles. I have been offered and have accepted the post of private secretary +to the newly appointed Governor-General of our Indian possessions. Besides the high salary, and the excellent opportunity +of travelling to Java in such a comfortable way, my future prospects are so promising that I could not for a moment resist +the temptation to go. It is much more agreeable to me than vegetating in a provincial town, on the look-out for ill-paid lawsuits +or some legal appointment. I expatriate myself for a year or two, to return with all the importance of an Eastern nabob,” +continued Verheyst, with a faint attempt at <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb20" href="#pb20">20</a>]</span>a jest which evidently did not come from the heart, as no pleasant smile lit up his face. + +</p> +<p>“I cannot say you are wrong, and yet I am sorry,” replied Leopold, with an effort to be cheerful; “all my plans for the future +enjoyment of my fortune were bound up with you—we were to shoot, hunt, and travel together.” + +</p> +<p>“What about your wife?” asked William. + +</p> +<p>“My first condition would have been that she must treat my friend kindly.” + +</p> +<p>“It is all the better; you should not be under the necessity of making any such conditions. Possibly you may have difficulties +enough to overcome, without my standing in the way.” + +</p> +<p>“Really, William, I feel inclined to refuse the fortune, and go to Java with you.” + +</p> +<p>“Nonsense, man, pluck up your courage, and trust to those feelings of honour and delicacy of which your present scruples only +afford me a new proof. She may turn out to be a pearl of a wife, this young lady whom you are requested to enchase in gold. +By the way, do you know her name, or where you are to go in order to make her acquaintance?” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb21" href="#pb21">21</a>]</span></p> +<p>“I have this morning received a letter from the lawyer in Utrecht, requesting me to pay him a visit as soon as possible, when +he will give me all necessary information about General von Zwenken and his granddaughter Francis Mordaunt.” + +</p> +<p>“Mordaunt! Is her name Francis Mordaunt?” exclaimed Verheyst, in a tone of surprise and disappointment. + +</p> +<p>“Yes, don’t you like the name? or have you heard it before?” asked Leopold, all in a breath, for the serious looks of his +friend alarmed him. + +</p> +<p>“Heard it before! Well, yes—indeed, often, as that of an English officer on half-pay who some years ago lived in my province; +a man against whose character, so far as I know, nothing can be said.” + +</p> +<p>“Yes, but I am speaking about the daughter. Do you know her?” + +</p> +<p>“Not personally, and it is a dangerous thing to form an opinion from gossiping reports. What I have heard may not be correct; +but if it be so, I cannot hide from you what it would only disturb your peace of mind to know. Therefore, I say, make your +own inquiries, seek information from <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb22" href="#pb22">22</a>]</span>people you can trust, and trust only your own observations and experience.” + +</p> +<p>“Is she deformed? Is she a fright?” asked Leopold, growing uneasy. + +</p> +<p>“No, nothing of that sort; in fact, I believe she is rather good-looking—at least, enough so to attract admirers, but——” + +</p> +<p>“Come now, never falter, man! Give me the <i>coup de grâce</i> at once. Is she a coquette?” + +</p> +<p>Verheyst shrugged his shoulders. “I have never heard it said she was; at least, it must be a strange sort of coquetry she’s +accused of.” + +</p> +<p>“Don’t keep me on the rack any longer; but tell me at once the worst you know of her.” + +</p> +<p>“Oh, there’s nothing that one can really call <i>bad</i>; yet in your eyes it may appear sinister enough. What I have heard is, that an acquaintance of ours, a friend of my youngest +brother, was madly in love with her, and she refused his offer in a manner little encouraging for you. According to his account +she must be a regular shrew, who declines to marry on the grounds that she will acknowledge no man to be her lord and master. +She so ill-treated this poor Charles Felters, the best-natured old sheep that ever <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb23" href="#pb23">23</a>]</span>went on two legs, that he has taken fright and run away—gone off to Africa, as if afraid of meeting her again in Europe. He +is not only a good fellow in every respect, but what we call in common parlance a ‘catch,’ his father being the richest banker +in our part of the country. I don’t wish to frighten you, but——” + +</p> +<p>“Well, I see nothing in all this to be frightened about,” said Leopold, calmly. “That she has refused a booby who runs away +for fear of a woman, only proves her to be a girl of character. I begin to think there will be something piquant in this adventure, +and I prefer a lively young lady to a wearisome, insignificant girl.” + +</p> +<p>“I am glad to hear you take up the subject so pleasantly. I, for my part, should not like to be engaged in such a contest, +but you are morally obliged——” + +</p> +<p>“In fact, without the obligation, your account has so excited my curiosity that I should feel tempted to undertake this conquest. +Do you see this portrait of the fifteenth century? It is that of one of my ancestors who, for the honour of his lady, suffered +his left hand to be cut off. He was very ugly, and <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb24" href="#pb24">24</a>]</span>whenever I was naughty or in a temper my good mother would lead me up to this portrait and say, ‘Fie! Leopold, you are like +the Templar,’ for he was a knight of that order. She said I had the same fierce glance of the eyes when I was naughty, and +I have since been convinced that she was right. The resemblance struck me in a private interview I once had with my uncle, +the Cabinet Minister. I was accidentally standing before a glass, when he upbraided the memory of my dead father, saying he +had married a wife without fortune, instead of following his (my uncle’s) example—using his title as a bait with which to +catch an heiress. His Excellency saw the likeness, too; for he politely turned the conversation, and led me to his antechamber, +where I am sure he gave his footman orders to say ‘Not at home’ in future, if ever I should trouble to call again. But tell +me more, all you know, about my future wife.” + +</p> +<p>“Well, she has had no education. Her manners are rude——” + +</p> +<p>“That I have gathered from my aunt’s letter; but it is not her fault, poor girl. I must try to improve her, and be both lover +and schoolmaster to my wife. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb25" href="#pb25">25</a>]</span>Who knows—perhaps I must also teach her music and dancing!” + +</p> +<p>“At any rate, you will not have to teach her fencing, for she’s already an adept at that—at least, according to Charles Felters’ +report.” + +</p> +<p>“The deuce she is!” exclaimed Leopold, laughing; “that’s almost enough to frighten one.” + +</p> +<p>“Charles was really frightened. At that time she was a very young girl, yet she was already generally known in the little +garrison-town where she lived by the nickname of <i>Major Frank</i>.” + +</p> +<p>“The nickname does not sound flattering, I must confess; however, I will see if there is not some way of enrolling this major +under my colours, and then she shall retire from military life to settle down as a civilian.” + +</p> +<p>“It does me good to see you treat the matter so lightly, for there is nothing for it but your making the attempt.” + +</p> +<p>“It has always been my maxim to take a cheerful view of things,” said Leopold, with a touch of melancholy in his tone; “and, +alas! I have been forced to do so under adverse circumstances hitherto. And now, my good fellow, let us go and look out for +some dinner. I can recommend Pyl’s Restaurant.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb26" href="#pb26">26</a>]</span></p> +<p>“Why not at the Club?” asked Verheyst; “there we shall meet many friends whom I wish to see before my departure.” + +</p> +<p>“I am no longer a member, my dear fellow. After my father’s death I was obliged to cut down all unnecessary expenses, as my +mother had but a small pension, and I could bear retrenchment better than a person of her age. It is not the subscription, +it is the company one meets which leads to extravagance, and those quiet little supper parties, the invitations to which it +is impossible to refuse.” + +</p> +<p>At dinner, over a good bottle of wine, William made Leopold promise to write a full account of all that should take place +during his absence in Java, and send to him by mail from time to time. We can only hope that this story will prove no less +interesting to our readers than it did to William Verheyst. + + +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb27" href="#pb27">27</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div id="xd0e372" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="normal">Chapter V.</h2> +<p><i>Leopold van Zonshoven to Mr. William Verheyst.</i> + + +</p> +<p>My dear Friend,—Whilst you are sailing down the Red Sea, I am entrusting to paper what I would not confide to any living mortal +but yourself. + +</p> +<p>My fortune still hangs in the balance. Without doubt the worthy testatrix has done everything possible to insure her heritage +to me; but there are moments when I feel so great a repugnance to it as to make me question whether it were not better to +renounce it than to become the instrument of Miss Roselaer de Werve’s vengeance on this side the grave. The idea of having +to drive a grey-headed old man from his manor-house, and to render a poor young lady, who has a family claim on her aunt’s +inheritance, houseless, is too much for me, though a whimsical old woman and the law have done their utmost to set my conscience +at ease. +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb28" href="#pb28">28</a>]</span></p> +<p>But to commence my story. The day after you left me, I went over to Utrecht to call on the lawyer, Van Beek. Perhaps in the +hurry of our parting I forgot to tell you this was my intention. At such times a man often forgets the most important things +he has to say. + +</p> +<p>The worthy functionary is a short, thin personage, with a tuft of hair hanging over his forehead, sharp eyes, a long, thin +nose, and thin lips always closed; in fact, a perfect type of the shrewd, clever, but inexorable lawyer. + +</p> +<p>He received me seated in an armchair, clad in a grey office coat, and with a solemn white neckcloth fastened round his neck +so tightly that I really was afraid it would choke him. + +</p> +<p>When I entered the room he rose to salute me with a polite bow, and only when he had learnt my name and my resolve to carry +out the intentions of the testatrix did a fine smile play about his mouth—a smile which seemed to say: “You’ve come round, +then, at last, though you appeared to hesitate at first.” + +</p> +<p>After a few words as to the sudden death of his client, and her express wish to be buried as quietly <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb29" href="#pb29">29</a>]</span>as possible, without the attendance of any of her relations, he told me he had been the confidential adviser of Lady Roselaer +for the last thirty years, and was consequently able to give me all necessary information with regard to her dealings with +General von Zwenken, and her intentions in respect of his granddaughter. + +</p> +<p>I should only weary you if I attempted to relate all the pitiful stories of mischief-making and counter-mischief-making with +which, long before the birth of Francis, the General and Aunt Sophia endeavoured to render each other’s life miserable. I +now comprehend that she neither could nor would leave her fortune to such a man, and I approve of the course she has taken +for Francis’ sake, who would have been the greatest sufferer if her aunt had not acted with so much foresight and prudence. +The General is a spendthrift, or, to put it in the mildest terms, a bad financier. His affairs, the lawyer says—and the lawyer +evidently knows more about them than the General does himself—are in such a state that, to use an expression of Macaulay’s, +“the whole wealth of the East would not suffice to put them in order and keep them so.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb30" href="#pb30">30</a>]</span></p> +<p>Still, does this justify my aunt’s inexorable hatred? I am sure, if you saw her portrait, you would scarcely believe her capable +of it: a stately dame in a rich black silk gown, with silvery grey hair under a black lace cap, and a string of priceless +pearls round her neck—so she appears in a painting done in the last year of her life. And this she has bequeathed to her legal +adviser, because she believed none of her relations would be able to look upon it with pleasure. On this point, I fancy, she +was not far deceived. I myself, her favoured heir, honestly confess that much must happen, much be cleared up, before I can +regard it with any degree of cheerfulness and gratitude, seeing I know what a Shylock-spirit once breathed in that thin, slender +figure of a woman. The lawyer bore testimony to her kindness to the poor, but said she was very singular in her ways of life +and thought. Being strictly orthodox himself, he accounts for all her singularities by saying they are the outcome of her +great admiration of the ideas prevalent in the eighteenth century; she was an admirer of Rousseau, and actually adorned her +room with a statuette of Voltaire. In fact, she had herself painted holding a volume of Voltaire’s Correspondence <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb31" href="#pb31">31</a>]</span>in her hand, though she knew this would not be particularly pleasing to the future possessor of that portrait. + +</p> +<p>“Well, well, Jonker,” he continued, “since you ask me for the truth about the life and actions of your deceased aunt, I must +tell you she seldom went to church, and when she did it was to the French church, though she was not a member of it.<a class="noteref" id="xd0e405src" href="#xd0e405">1</a> She gave large sums every year to all sorts of institutions; subscribed liberally to any fund for the benefit of the lower +classes; but would never give a penny to the Church. If I sometimes tried to change her views on this point, she cut me short +by saying it was a matter of conscience with her not to contribute to the increase of a race of hypocrites. You will understand +that in my position I could not insist further on this subject. Besides, she did not make use of her riches for herself, except +with the greatest economy. She occupied a small villa just outside the town of Utrecht, and her beautiful country-seat in +Gelderland, as well as her magnificent house in <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb32" href="#pb32">32</a>]</span>town, were both let to strangers. She kept but one man-servant, an aged waiting-woman, and a cook. The gardener who rented +her kitchen-garden supplied her with vegetables, and kept her flowers in order. She had no carriage, and sometimes did not +go out for weeks together. Neither did she receive company, denying herself to all visitors except Dr. D., her old friend, +who made a professional visit every day, and came regularly two evenings a week with his married sister to play cards. I saw +her as often as business affairs rendered it necessary, and once a month she invited me, my wife and daughter, to dinner. +On these occasions Dr. D. and his sister were also invited; but I never remember to have met any one else, except the painter +who did this portrait, and to whom she has left a nice little legacy. He was a young man with roguish eyes, and beautiful +mustachios; and I suspect he made love to her <i>à la Voltaire</i>, for she bought drawings of him which she never even looked at. He was, otherwise, a good young fellow, with a widowed mother +to maintain; and the capital she has left is large enough to permit of such a freak of fancy——” + +</p> +<p>“Oh, certainly!” I interrupted, “I am glad that <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb33" href="#pb33">33</a>]</span>the latter days of her monotonous life were cheered by anybody. But what you have told me of her views with regard to the +Church leads me to doubt whether I ought to accept her heritage, since, once in possession of it, I shall feel it my duty +to make use of her money for purposes directly contrary to her wishes.” + +</p> +<p>“I don’t think you need have any scruples; for she was very well acquainted with the character of Jonker van Zonshoven, and +what might be expected of him in such matters. Yet you see this did not deter her from entrusting her fortune to you. Besides, +she was liberal enough with regard to the views of other people. Her maid is strictly orthodox, and yet every Sunday a carriage +was placed at her service to convey her to church; and she is left well provided for during the rest of her life. It is probable +Lady Roselaer considered you the person likely to make good what she had left undone either from false shame or obstinacy. +Had this not been her intention, she was a woman who would have taken measures to prevent her will being ignored, even after +her death.” + + +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb34" href="#pb34">34</a>]</span></p> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" href="#xd0e405src" id="xd0e405">1</a></span> Strictly orthodox Dutch people think that a sermon in the light, airy French language cannot be so serious and solemn as in +their own tongue. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="xd0e420" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="normal">Chapter VI.</h2> +<p>With regard to the Castle de Werve, I have found out that it is situated on the borders of Gelderland and Overyssel, and is +surrounded by extensive woods, moors, and arable land. It is at present occupied by General von Zwenken, and formerly was +in the possession of Aunt Sophia’s parents. To its possession is attached the title of Baron, with seignorial rights—rights +which in our time are little more than nominal, yet to which old Aunt Sophia seems to have attached immense value. Her father, +old Baron Roselaer van de Werve, had no son (a great trial for him, as you may suppose), but three daughters, of whom Aunt +Sophia was the second, and my mother’s mother the youngest. The eldest, Lady Mary Ann, became, on the death of her father, +the rightful heir to the Castle de Werve and the estates attached to it. This arrangement was exceedingly offensive to <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb35" href="#pb35">35</a>]</span>Aunt Sophia, who had expected her father to leave the castle to her, and at one time she had good reasons for fostering such +expectations. + +</p> +<p>Her eldest sister had been the source of much grief and sorrow to the old people. She had secretly entered into a romantic +love-engagement with a young Swiss officer—then Captain von Zwenken—and considering it impossible to obtain the consent of +her parents to such a marriage, she eloped with Von Zwenken, who took her to Switzerland, where they were married. This union, +according to Dutch law, and in the opinion of Aunt Sophia, was illegal. The weak parents (as Sophia called them), however, +at length became reconciled to their son-in-law, and when the lost child returned to her old home in reduced circumstances, +her parents received her with open arms. + +</p> +<p>In this family scene of reconciliation, Aunt Sophia imitated the eldest son in the parable. She had never been on good terms +with her romantic sister; she persisted in regarding her brother-in-law as an abductor and a deceiver, who had obtruded himself +on the family; charged her parents with blameworthy infirmity of purpose, and, in short, declined all reconciliation. +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb36" href="#pb36">36</a>]</span></p> +<p>The stay of the young people under the parental roof was brief; but even these few days were stormy, and sufficed to divide +the family connexions into two parties, for and against the Von Zwenkens. Aunt Sophia’s strong point was the irregularity +of the marriage, solemnized in a foreign country. Those who disagreed with her and recognized the Swiss captain as a relation, +she looked upon as deadly enemies; while those who took her side in the contest were received by Baron and Baroness Roselaer +with freezing coolness. In a word, it was the history of the Montagues and the Capulets re-enacted on a small scale in the +eighteenth century on Dutch territory. They did not attack each other with dagger and poison, but used the tongue for weapon. +They annoyed, they insulted each other, whenever and wherever they found an opportunity; there were hair-splitting disputes, +and retaliation without truce or pity; and lawsuits followed which swallowed large sums of money. A good business for the +lawyers, who only made “confusion worse confounded.” + +</p> +<p>When old Baroness Roselaer—who always pleaded for peace and forgiveness—shortly afterwards <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb37" href="#pb37">37</a>]</span>died, Sophia thought she would be able to exert unlimited influence over her father, as she now became the recognized mistress +of the house. She even took advantage of her position, during the stay of her brother-in-law for the funeral, to make him +so uncomfortable, that on leaving the house he told the old Baron he would never enter it again. Sophia was in triumph. She +thought she had banished Von Zwenken from the house; but she forgot her sister’s children, and the joy and pride the old Baron +was likely to take in a grandson and future heir to his title and estates. Though he never talked to Sophia on the subject, +he was secretly embittered against her as being the cause of this new estrangement, and his great pleasure was to visit his +grandchildren; and what is more surprising, Sophia never suspected these visits. + +</p> +<p>Try, then, to imagine the effect produced upon her when her father’s will was read, and she found that the Castle de Werve, +with its seignorial rights, descended to Madame von Zwenken and her children. + +</p> +<p>It is true she inherited a just share of the property; but the very part she loved best, the home of her childhood, where +she had been brought up, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb38" href="#pb38">38</a>]</span>and which she never willingly would have quitted, was taken from her and given to the man whom she considered so unworthy +of it, and so little capable of appreciating the advantages attached to its possession. She felt herself slighted, and to +this slight is to be attributed the restless hatred and unrelenting bitterness with which she pursued the General during the +rest of her life. She declared her brother and sister had worked upon her father’s feelings by cunning and intrigue; and she +would never believe that the old Baron had left them the property of his own free-will, or for the sake of his grandchildren. + +</p> +<p>It being now the Captain’s opportunity, he ordered her to leave the house with all possible speed; and this was the more galling, +as he did not himself retire from active service and occupy the castle as the old Baron had desired him to do. He was changed +about from one garrison town to another, daily expecting to be ordered on foreign service, and therefore unable to derive +much enjoyment from his possessions. His wife and children would sometimes stay a few weeks at the castle in the summer; but +the former did not long survive her father. The children stayed with Von Zwenken in <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb39" href="#pb39">39</a>]</span>the garrison, until the daughter was old enough to go to a boarding-school in Switzerland, and the son to be placed under +a tutor, who was to coach him for the university. + +</p> +<p>I agree with Aunt Sophia in her assertion that Von Zwenken was not the “right man in the right place.” He made no good use +of his possessions; and the house was entrusted to a care-keeper, who was as incompetent as he afterwards proved himself dishonest. +The old steward, who had been dismissed to make room for this stranger, was immediately engaged by Aunt Sophia to stay in +the neighbourhood and keep her informed of all that happened at the castle. For though she had removed to another province +in which her own estates were situated, she could neither separate her affections nor her thoughts from her old home. + +</p> +<p>Sometimes the Captain, who had now obtained the rank of Major, would come with a party of friends for the shooting, but he +never seemed to observe that the whole place was going to rack and ruin. Further, he was always in want of money; and when +his daughter married an English officer, Sir John Mordaunt, he was obliged to sell a considerable <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb40" href="#pb40">40</a>]</span>part of his estates, so as to be able to give her the portion of the fortune left her by her mother. + +</p> +<p>He had already several mortgages on the property, and as his son led a wild life at college these went on increasing from +year to year; until, when at last on obtaining his colonel’s pension and the honorary rank of general he was able to retire +to the Castle de Werve, all he could call his own was the house, garden, and surrounding grounds. + +</p> +<p>Aunt Sophia, on the contrary, whom it must be confessed was a sharp, clever woman, had in the meantime doubled her fortune, +besides inheriting largely from a rich cousin who had taken her part in the family quarrel. + +</p> +<p>As the proverb says, “hatred has four eyes,” and so she, making use of the information obtained from the old steward, appointed +a lawyer to buy up on her behalf all the land sold by the General. This lawyer had further instructions to advance money on +the mortgages, and to exact the interest with the greatest promptitude. In this way my aunt became so well acquainted with +Von Zwenken’s money difficulties, that she could calculate the day, nay, even the hour, when he would be at her mercy. +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb41" href="#pb41">41</a>]</span></p> +<p>At last, imagining the favourable moment had arrived, she sent a lawyer to offer him a much larger sum for the castle and +the seignorial rights than any one else would be likely to give, seeing that she was secretly in possession of the surrounding +estates. + +</p> +<p>The General’s answer was to this effect: “He would not sell the seignorial rights at any price; and as for the castle, he +had promised his deceased wife to keep her sister out of it at all costs, and he would rather see it fall about his ears than +that Miss Sophia Roselaer should ever set foot inside it again.” + +</p> +<p>Poor man, he little knew how much she had him in her power, and all the precautions she had taken. Otherwise he would have +reflected twice before sending such an answer. Something suddenly occurred which obliged him to mortgage even the house itself—the +cause is a mystery—and now Aunt Sophia might have been revenged; but for some inexplicable reason she countermanded her orders +to Van Beek, who does not himself know why. Just before her death she sent for him to change her will, and it was on this +occasion she made me her sole heir. + + + + +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb42" href="#pb42">42</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div id="xd0e468" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="normal">Chapter VII.</h2> +<p>I was invited to stay to luncheon by my lawyer, and I accepted the invitation. + +</p> +<p>In the course of the conversation Van Beek said— + +</p> +<p>“The country seat, Runenburg, will be at your disposal on the 31st of October next; but the house in town is let till the +May following, and the tenants would like to stay on, if it be agreeable to you. They are very respectable people. How am +I to act in the matter?” + +</p> +<p>I stared at him in surprise and perplexity. Such a strange feeling came over me. I who have never possessed a stick or a stone +in my life (in fact, I always felt it a relief when the quarter’s lodging bill was paid), now I had to decide about a house +in town and a country seat. +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb43" href="#pb43">43</a>]</span></p> +<p>“I think, Mr. Van Beek, everything had better remain as it is until the question of my marriage with Miss Mordaunt is settled.” + +</p> +<p>“The Jonker forgets that that condition is not binding.” + +</p> +<p>“I look upon it as binding, though such may not be the legal interpretation of the will.” + +</p> +<p>“Would you not like to see the house whilst you are in Utrecht? It is beautifully situated, and well worth a visit, I can +assure you.” + +</p> +<p>“No, thank you, sir; but I should like to see the house in which my aunt lived: from its surroundings I may be able to obtain +a better idea of her character.” + +</p> +<p>“Oh, with pleasure, Jonker! I thought I had already told you,” began Van Beek, somewhat embarrassed, “that the old lady had +bequeathed it to me, on condition her maid should occupy it as long as she lives. It is a splendid legacy; that I do not deny. +But consider, I have served her thirty years in all kinds of business, some of which cost me much trouble and loss of time. +And I may remind you that there is no extra money set aside for my expenses as executor, whilst I am recommended to assist +the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb44" href="#pb44">44</a>]</span>heir in every way, and to serve him to the best of my ability by my counsel.” + +</p> +<p>“My dear sir,” I rejoined, “it was to be expected that aunt would treat you generously. It is not my intention to dispute +any of her bequests. It will be a sort of pilgrimage for me.” + +</p> +<p>“We will drive there at once after luncheon. It is only half an hour’s distance from the town.” + +</p> +<p>I must confess the interior of my aunt’s dwelling did not enable me to gather any new ideas of the strange personage who once +occupied it. The old waiting-woman received us with coolness, and chanted the praises of her late mistress in pious terms. +The young cook shed a torrent of tears, and was evidently astonished not to see me do the same; whilst the man-servant eyed +me askance, as if he feared I had come there to cut off his legacy. The house was furnished in a moderately comfortable style, +most of the furniture being of the good solid sort common in the reign of King William I., though there had been an attempt +to imitate the style of the First French Empire. There was only one sofa in the house, and one armchair <i>à la Voltaire</i>, in which Miss Roselaer reposed herself for just one hour after <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb45" href="#pb45">45</a>]</span>dinner every day. She must have been a clever, active woman up to the very last. + +</p> +<p>“She was always making up her accounts or writing,” said her maid, “when she was not either reading or knitting.” + +</p> +<p>“And what did she read?” I asked. + +</p> +<p>“Mostly ‘unbelieving books’—those in the bookcase there; sometimes, but very seldom, the Bible.” + +</p> +<p>The “unbelieving books” were French, German, and English classics. I pointed out to Van Beek that I should like to possess +this small but well-selected library. All the books are beautifully though not showily bound, and they bear marks of assiduous +reading. Among the “unbelieving books” are the works of Fénelon, Bossuet, and Pascal, peacefully assorted with those of Voltaire +and the Encyclopædists, whilst Lavater, Gellert, Lessing, and Klopstock find a place by the side of Goethe and Schiller, and +the plays of Iffland and Kotzebue. + +</p> +<p>This was the first moment of unalloyed pleasure I have felt since I came into my fortune, when I once more cast my eyes over +the library and beheld it with all the pride of ownership. I involuntarily put forth <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb46" href="#pb46">46</a>]</span>my hand to snatch up one of the volumes, as if I thereby wished to signify I was taking possession. Van Beek smiled and twinkled +his cunning little eyes; but the maid, who was standing by, looked at me as though I had committed a sacrilege. + +</p> +<p>“I should rather have thought the Jonker would have preferred my lady’s Bible,” she said. + +</p> +<p>“I should certainly like the Bible as well as the other books, Mrs. Jones—that is to say, unless you wish to keep it yourself +as a memento.” + +</p> +<p>“Oh no, Jonker! such a worldly, new-fashioned book I would not have in my possession. I can’t look upon it as God’s word; +and I could never understand how my lady found edification in it.” + +</p> +<p>“What’s the matter with the Bible?” I asked Van Beek as we left the house. + +</p> +<p>“Nothing, absolutely nothing. It is an ordinary States-Bible, only not printed in the old-fashioned German type.”<a class="noteref" id="xd0e527src" href="#xd0e527">1</a> + +</p> +<p>Upon my word, I thought aunt must indeed have <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb47" href="#pb47">47</a>]</span>been pretty liberal-minded to have put up with so bigoted a servant for so many years. + +</p> +<p>The next day I set out for the small town of Zutphen, which is within an easy drive of the Castle de Werve. + + + +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb48" href="#pb48">48</a>]</span></p> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" href="#xd0e527src" id="xd0e527">1</a></span> The strictly orthodox party in Holland will only make use of the version of the Bible approved by the States-General in the +seventeenth century; the bigots insist upon its being printed in the German characters in use at the time when the first copies +were issued. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="xd0e537" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="normal">Chapter VIII.</h2> +<p>Castle de Werve, April, 1861. + + +</p> +<p>You see, my dear William, I have entered the fortress. + +</p> +<p>But to resume my narrative. Van Beek gave me a letter of introduction to his friend Overberg, a lawyer in Zutphen, and I called +upon this worthy man of the law as soon as I arrived in the town. This Overberg was the agent of my old Aunt Roselaer in these +quarters, and it was through his good management of her affairs that she gradually obtained possession of Von Zwenken’s property, +as the General usually borrowed money of Overberg. After all, the General was more fortunate than if he had fallen into the +hands of usurers, who, speculating on his weakness, would have ruined him in a much shorter time. Overberg had advised the +General to accept the offer of his sister-in-law—with what result <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb49" href="#pb49">49</a>]</span>you already know. For this reason he recommended me, if I wished to obtain a kindly reception at the Castle, not to present +myself there as the heir to Miss Roselaer’s property; such an introduction being calculated to raise a prejudice against me +from the first. Therefore I decided to present myself as a relation anxious to make the acquaintance of the family. + +</p> +<p>Seizing the opportunity, I began to question Overberg about Miss Mordaunt. + +</p> +<p>“I have only spoken to her once,” he said; “the General always comes to see me in person. She is never seen in the town now. +Once, indeed, whilst the General was still commandant of the garrison here, she came to consult me on a matter personal to +herself, but that is a long time ago.” + +</p> +<p>The good-natured lawyer, though ignorant of my matrimonial plans, doubtless read disappointment in my face, for he resumed, +as if to excuse the meagreness of his information— + +</p> +<p>“You see, sir, the General then lived in grand style; and a wide distinction was also made in society between the military +and the <i>bourgeoisie</i>. I was a widower, my time fully occupied, and I seldom went <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb50" href="#pb50">50</a>]</span>into society. Since my second marriage, however, we have parties and dinners enough—and that reminds me my wife has a <i>soirée</i> this evening; several young ladies who know Miss Mordaunt are invited. Will you spend the evening with us? You can leave +tomorrow early for the Werve. I will introduce you to the company as a gentleman looking out for a villa in our neighbourhood; +for as you know, in a small town like ours, it is necessary to give a reason for your appearance among us, otherwise one will +be invented—and such inventions are not always of a flattering kind. I can easily give the conversation a turn so as to cause +it to fall on the family Von Zwenken, and you need only keep your ears open.” + +</p> +<p>This idea took my fancy; I accepted the invitation with pleasure, for a little society would help me to pass the evening more +agreeably than I could spend it at my hotel. + +</p> +<p>We dined quietly <i lang="fr">en famille</i>, and Overberg and his wife—hospitable, jovial people—seemed to me to belie the French verse— + + +</p> +<div class="
 poem
 " lang="fr"> +<p class="line" style=""><span>“De petits avocats, +</span></p> +<p class="line" style="text-indent: 2em; "><span>Qui se sont fait des sous, +</span></p> +<p class="line" style=""><span>En rognant des ducats.”</span></p> +</div><span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb51" href="#pb51">51</a>]</span><p>Mr. Overberg is a shrewd, clever lawyer, who perfectly understands his business and the way to treat his clients politely +and persuasively; he always discourages lawsuits, recommends delay and an attempt at an arrangement, and thus quietly brings +about the desired result without, as it were, seeming to interfere. Aunt Sophia respected him highly for his discretion and +foresight, though she took care never to let him see through her intentions, since he was not the man to take sharp and decisive +measures. For any such business she employed Van Beek, who is a man to carry out the law to the letter, without feeling any +pity for the sufferer. + +</p> +<p>It was therefore in keeping with Overberg’s character that he recommended me to temporize with the General, to give him time +to pay his debts, and not to drive such an old man to despair, though he was a <i>foreigner</i>. The good man little knew he was preaching to one who already shared his views, and whose inmost wish was to deal as gently +as possible with Von Zwenken. + +</p> +<p>I must acknowledge that what I heard at the <i lang="fr">soirée</i> did not make a favourable impression on me. The past life of the young lady must have been a singular <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb52" href="#pb52">52</a>]</span>one, if there be any truth in the gossip I heard about her. I know much must be set down to slander in a small town, where +people are at a loss what to talk about when not criticising their neighbours. + +</p> +<p>But, however, you must judge for yourself from what follows. + +</p> +<p>Among the ladies to whom I was introduced was a charming young widow with jet-black eyes and lively features; she is a niece +of the Roselaers, I am told, and at first I felt very sorry her name was not Francis Mordaunt, the niece-elect of Aunt Sophia. +However, when Overberg had drawn her out a little on the subject of the Von Zwenkens, I felt exceedingly glad to think our +acquaintance would not extend beyond the present evening. + +</p> +<p>I began to feel a most intense hatred against her, so unmercifully did she attack poor Francis. + +</p> +<p>“Yes, they had been well acquainted when her grandfather was commandant of the garrison, and she herself had visited at the +house of the Colonel. But no, friendship had never existed between her and the young lady; she was too eccentric and ill-mannered. +Just imagine, Jonker, she came to our house one evening when she knew there was to be dancing <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb53" href="#pb53">53</a>]</span>and music. Yes, she dropped in, as <i>nonchalant</i> as possible, in a dark merino dress, fastened up to the neck, with a turn-down collar and a silk neckerchief—just for all +the world like a boy. And her boots—they might have belonged to some plough-boy. Upon my word, I believe there were <i>nails</i> in the soles; a non-commissioned officer would not have been so rude as to enter a <i>salon</i> in them.” + +</p> +<p>“Perhaps she had made a mistake about the evening,” I said, by way of excuse. + +</p> +<p>“Certainly not! She received her invitation a week beforehand. Surely that was time enough to get a ball-dress made. And it +was not because she hadn’t got any other dresses; for two days afterwards she came to a house where we were invited to spend +a quiet evening, <i lang="fr">en grande toilette</i>, a low dress (as if she expected to be invited to dance), and resplendent with jewellery and diamonds. Now I ask you if that +was not done to annoy us and to wound our feelings?” + +</p> +<p>“It seems to me she took more trouble to do honour to the ladies than she had taken to please the gentlemen.” + +</p> +<p>“The truth is, she was not at all complimentary <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb54" href="#pb54">54</a>]</span>to the gentlemen,” rejoined a thin, elderly-looking spinster of an uncertain age, dressed in an old-fashioned style, who I +should have thought would have been the last person to come to the defence of a sex that had so clearly neglected her. + +</p> +<p>“And the gentlemen—no doubt they reciprocated her <i>nonchalance</i>?” I asked. “It is very probable she was left in the company of the elderly ladies all the evening to increase the number +of ‘wall flowers.’” + +</p> +<p>“Yes! but it was because she wished it,” replied the widow. “She would be sure of partners, though she were never such a fright. +All the young officers are, as a matter of course, obliged ‘to do the amiable’ to the granddaughter of their colonel. Moreover, +Francis Mordaunt is mistress of the art of attracting or repelling as it pleases her. Notwithstanding all her strange whims +and caprices, she is never at a loss for a partner, and the moment she enters any ball-room she becomes the observed of all +observers. The gentlemen flock round her; she is flattered, flirted with——” + +</p> +<p>“Yes, flirted with, I grant you; but not respected, I’m sure,” interrupted the elderly spinster. “It is chiefly done to draw +out her smart repartees, and the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb55" href="#pb55">55</a>]</span>unladylike answers which have made her so famous (or rather infamous).” + +</p> +<p>“In fact everybody is amused at her scathing replies.” + +</p> +<p>“Which the ladies are afraid of,” said a gentleman, half jestingly, half reproachfully, “for as a rule they are as true as +they are sharp.” + +</p> +<p>“As a rule she makes the gentlemen the butt of her raillery.” + +</p> +<p>“How strange then, indeed, that the ladies take her part so little!” I could not help remarking. + +</p> +<p>“That is <i>not</i> strange, Jonker! The peculiar manner she has adopted to render herself noticeable is just the one our sex cannot suffer. +In all her victories we saw a defeat; the good tone was lost.” + +</p> +<p>“And how did the party pass off for Miss Mordaunt in that curious dress?” I inquired, for I had less interest in carrying +on a <i>combat d’esprit</i> with the vicious little widow than in drawing out a more complete sketch of Francis’ character, though it might be coloured +by slander. + +</p> +<p>“Just as she wished it, I believe. In the early part of the evening she was somewhat neglected, and <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb56" href="#pb56">56</a>]</span>this was evidently her wish, for she did nothing to prevent it; on the contrary, she had told the hostess that she had resolved +not to dance, in such a loud and decided tone, that it would have been absurd for any one to invite her afterwards.” + +</p> +<p>“She’s cunning enough,” put in the elderly spinster. “She only said that lest afterwards she should feel ashamed of herself +at the close of the party, in case no one invited her to dance.” + +</p> +<p>“In fact, it requires more moral courage than the gentlemen in these parts as a rule possess to lead out a lady dressed as +she was,” interposed the widow again. + +</p> +<p>“It appears that the custom of not sparing us gentlemen is catching,” whispered an officer, who had been introduced as Captain +Sanders. + +</p> +<p>I silently bowed, for I wished to listen to Mrs. X., who continued— + +</p> +<p>“Finally, however, when the <i>cotillon</i> was called, she must join, and the unfortunate leader of the dance had to sacrifice himself. Lieutenant Wilibald, her grandfather’s +adjutant, was obliged to take her in tow, mustering up all his courage. After showing a good deal of resistance, which appeared +seriously <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb57" href="#pb57">57</a>]</span>meant, she allowed herself to be led out, but did nothing to lighten her partner’s unpleasant task. On the contrary, she was +so recalcitrant, so inattentive and so awkward, that she often caused confusion, and her partner had the greatest difficulty +to rectify her mistakes. Indeed, the polite young officer was pitied by the whole company, and the more so because it was +known that he was sacrificing himself to a sense of duty; for he was engaged to a charming young lady who had been prevented +from attending the ball by a recent death in the family.” + +</p> +<p>“Pardon, madame; permit me to say that your representation of the facts is not quite correct,” interrupted Captain Sanders, +in whose favour I immediately became prepossessed on account of his serious and earnest look. “Allow me to set you right as +to facts, for I am a friend of Lieutenant Wilibald’s, and I know he would be sorry if what you have said should go forth to +the world as truth. It was by no means a disagreeable task for him to lead out Miss Mordaunt in any dress she chose to appear +in, for he was too much in love with her to notice such small matters as dress. Yes, I venture to say, if it had depended +on him alone he would <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb58" href="#pb58">58</a>]</span>not have married the woman he has; but he was forced by circumstances, and Miss Mordaunt did her utmost to promote the marriage +and to put him in possession of a fortune.” + +</p> +<p>I inwardly thanked the Captain for his chivalrous defence of the absent, and I would gladly have taken him by the hand and +done so publicly, but that this would have prevented my hearing more on the subject of Francis. + +</p> +<p>“And has Miss Mordaunt been married since?” I asked, trying to put the question as disinterestedly as possible. + +</p> +<p>“Why, no!” cried the elderly spinster with a triumphant smile. “So far as we know (and we know pretty well everything that +happens in our circle), she has never had an offer.” + +</p> +<p>“Ah! that is very strange; a young lady who seems to be possessed of so many attractions,” I observed. + +</p> +<p>“That’s not at all strange,” interrupted the little widow, in a coquettish, sentimental tone. “It was never difficult for +her to attract admirers and flatterers for the moment, but it is only by the heart that a woman wins true affection and esteem; +and, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb59" href="#pb59">59</a>]</span>with the Captain’s permission, no one could ever believe Francis Mordaunt to be in earnest, for she has no heart—she never +cared for anything but horses and dogs.” + +</p> +<p>“You forget her grandfather!” pleaded the Captain. + +</p> +<p>“Well, yes, she has been his idol; but this very fact has turned out her ruin.” + +</p> +<p>“How are we to understand that remark, madame?” asked Overberg, whose jovial face grew serious. + +</p> +<p>“That he has left the girl far too much to her own whims and fancies.” + +</p> +<p>“What shall I say, <i lang="fr">chère amie</i>? He was afraid of her.” (It was the elderly spinster who again began the attack.) “He could roar at his officers, but he +was afraid of a scene with Francis.” + +</p> +<p>“Excuse me for once more contradicting you, miss. Colonel von Zwenken never roared at his officers—this I know by experience; +but it is true he was conspicuous by his absence when Francis Mordaunt went into society. He suffered her to go out when she +liked, and with whom she liked. Alas! he sat at the card table in his club whilst Francis by her thoughtlessness and certain +peculiarities in <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb60" href="#pb60">60</a>]</span>her character, was rendering herself a victim to calumny and envious tongues.” + +</p> +<p>“Bravo, Captain! it’s noble of you to defend the absent.” + +</p> +<p>“I am only sorry I cannot do so without blaming another absent person; but what I say is known, and well known, in this circle.” + +</p> +<p>“As well known as the eccentricities of Major Frank. Whatever Captain Sanders may say, we are not making her conduct appear +worse than it is; we are only speaking of it as it struck us at the time.” + +</p> +<p>“That everybody must acknowledge,” said an old lady, who had thus far listened with sparkling eyes. “Only remember what talk +her conduct gave rise to when she met the stranger staying at the ‘Golden Salmon,’ by appointment, unknown to the Colonel, +who had forbidden the man his house! Did she not set all our ideas of good breeding at defiance by walking in the plantation +in open daylight with a perfect stranger.” + +</p> +<p>“In fact, I am assured she pawned her diamonds to pay his hotel bill. She even wished to sell them, for she asked a friend +of mine to buy them.” + +</p> +<p>Overberg’s healthy, blooming face turned pale; <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb61" href="#pb61">61</a>]</span>but he said nothing. The Captain, however, spoke again— + +</p> +<p>“It is only too true she would risk all to attain her ends, if she had once set her mind on a thing.” + +</p> +<p>“And that for a person who went to a third-rate hotel—did not even give his own name, as it was said afterwards; and who certainly +was a sharper or a coiner.” + +</p> +<p>“If such had been the case, the police would have looked after him sharp,” interposed Overberg. + +</p> +<p>“That is my opinion also,” said the Captain; “and I think Wilibald Smeekens was right. He said it was some one who had formerly +committed a breach of military discipline, and whom she out of pity wished to assist in getting out of the country.” + +</p> +<p>“Ahem! out of pity,” said the old lady. “Young ladies should be careful how they show such pity—carrying on an intrigue. I +can assure you that at the time it was a question whether we ought not to banish her from our society.” + +</p> +<p>“But no one dared to pronounce the sentence of banishment,” said the Captain, “for fear of the Colonel, who had it in his +power to refuse the military music for the balls and open-air concerts in <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb62" href="#pb62">62</a>]</span>summer. And this he certainly would have done if he had known what was hatching against his granddaughter. But the ladies +were more prudent; they pulled poor Francis to pieces behind her back.” + +</p> +<p>“With this result,” added the elderly spinster, “that of her own accord she almost entirely withdrew from our society.” + +</p> +<p>“No, there is another reason,” said the widow, with a significant shake of the head; “it was not our treatment, but her own +conscience which pricked her after that affair with her coachman.” + +</p> +<p>“Yes, you are quite right; that was a sad affair,” assented the Captain, to my painful surprise. + +</p> +<p>The honourable man, who had evidently combatted calumny and slander, was now silenced. I wished to ask what had happened, +but the words stuck in my throat; I felt as if they would choke me. The postmaster, however, who had just entered the room, +put the question, which the tongues of the ladies were quivering with impatience to answer. + +</p> +<p>“Unfortunately, no one knows the exact particulars,” began the elderly spinster, whose shrill, sharp voice made itself heard +above the rest; “but it is generally believed she wished to make her coachman <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb63" href="#pb63">63</a>]</span>elope with her. Possibly she might have succeeded, but the man was already married, and when that became known——” + +</p> +<p>“She pitched him off the box whilst the horses were going at a furious rate,” put in the old lady, with a demoniacal smile +of pleasure. + +</p> +<p>“Others who are supposed to know, say she struck him dead with the whip,” added the little widow, who must have her say. “Horrible! +most horrible!” she continued, turning up her eyes with mock sentimentality. + +</p> +<p>Yes, horrible indeed, thought I, when both young ladies and old vie with each other in a wicked desire to give the <i>coup de grâce</i> to one of their own sex who has erred, or, may be, only taken one false step in life. + +</p> +<p>“I have been told,” murmured another voice, “that she fought with him; and the horses taking fright, he fell from the box +under their feet.” + +</p> +<p>“However it happened, the truth will never be known, for he now lies in the churchyard.” + +</p> +<p>“Yes, now you’ve got the truth without any figures of speech,” jested the widow; “and with him the crime is buried, and hushed +up for ever.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb64" href="#pb64">64</a>]</span></p> +<p>“With your permission, ladies, had there been a question of anything of that sort, the law would have taken its course,” observed +Overberg; “and I know for certain it was never brought before a court.” + +</p> +<p>“That I can believe,” answered the widow. “The magistrate is a great friend of the Colonel’s, plays cards with him every evening, +and to palliate the affair, and silence public indignation, he made an official visit to the commandant’s house. Francis Mordaunt +was examined, and, as might be expected beforehand, came out of the affair snow-white—at least, according to the magistrate’s +report,” added the widow, with a satirical shrug of the shoulders. + +</p> +<p>“But, madame,” interposed Overberg, evidently growing angry, “do you mean to say you suspect the impartiality of the magistrate?” + +</p> +<p>“I suspect no one; I only tell you how the affair ended—namely, that it was hushed up, and the relations of the coachman bribed +to keep quiet. Such people are easily frightened. One thing, however, is certain, and that is, Major Frank has not dared to +show her face in our circle since; and besides this, it seems to have been the cause of her grandfather retiring from the +service.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb65" href="#pb65">65</a>]</span></p> +<p>“He had attained the age to be put on the retired list,” said the Captain; “and with his pension he obtained the honorary +rank of General.” + +</p> +<p>“Be that as it may, the General retired from the world to Castle de Werve,” observed the old lady. + +</p> +<p>“Where, now, Major Frank has the command,” put in the spinster. + +</p> +<p>“And spends her time in riding and shooting,” added the little widow, turning up her nose superciliously. + +</p> +<p>“I venture to contradict the latter part of the assertion with regard to the shooting,” said Overberg; “for the General has +not renewed his shooting license and has leased the shooting over his own estates to a client of mine, who, however, leaves +the hares and partridges in perfect peace.” + +</p> +<p>This latter remark led to a long conversation amongst the gentlemen about the shooting and fishing in the neighbourhood, whilst +the ladies set to work to sharpen their tongues on other absent victims. + + + +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb66" href="#pb66">66</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div id="xd0e784" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="normal">Chapter IX.</h2> +<p>Notwithstanding all my efforts to appear calm and unconcerned, Overberg observed that the hard judgment passed on Francis +had made a deep impression on my mind. Taking me aside, he whispered in my ear— + +</p> +<p>“We will talk this subject over to-morrow morning before your departure; in the meantime don’t let it trouble you. You know +the proverb: ‘The devil’s not so black as he is painted.’” + +</p> +<p>It was easy for him to talk; but, alas! he knew not yet the reasons I had for being so deeply interested in this young lady. + +</p> +<p>I passed a restless night. In the morning, when the carriage I had ordered over-night drove up to the door, I was still debating +in my own mind whether I should go to the Werve, or tell my driver to take <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb67" href="#pb67">67</a>]</span>me to the nearest station and return to the Hague. After a few minutes, however, Overberg made his appearance, and accosted +me in the following words— + +</p> +<p>“I believe I have guessed your noble intention, which is to make the acquaintance of Miss Mordaunt, and, if she please you, +to remove all difficulties in the most amiable manner possible. I cannot tell you how praiseworthy, how wise and sensible, +your plan seems to me; but what surprises me is that the testatrix never suggested it to you, she being a woman of such clear +and sound judgment in matters of this sort.” + +</p> +<p>“She has given me such a hint—I will no longer try to conceal it from you—and it was my intention to follow her advice. But +what I heard last night has quite changed my mind on that point.” + +</p> +<p>“Nonsense! Never let gossip have any influence over you. Remember that people living in a small town are possessed by the +evil spirit of slander, and furthermore, that they express their opinions in a very crude manner.” + +</p> +<p>“That’s all well and good; but in a small town where every one is known by his neighbour, people <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb68" href="#pb68">68</a>]</span>would not dare to calumniate and slander each other without grounds.” + +</p> +<p>“I will not attempt to contradict your statement; but let me remind you that certain uncommon occurrences and eccentric acts +on the part of a young lady may be explained in different ways, and why should you believe the worse account of them, coloured +as it certainly is by envy, hatred, and malice. I willingly confess I could not contradict all that was said about Miss Mordaunt +last night; my business has always been with her grandfather, who speaks of her in the highest terms. For this reason I could +not foresee that the ladies would be so severe on her conduct. Otherwise I should have avoided the subject, and made inquiries +for you of people less prejudiced and more trustworthy.” + +</p> +<p>“Do you know any such people here?” + +</p> +<p>“Such people can be found. Why, in my professional career, I have so often seen the most wicked accusations burst like a soap-bubble +when submitted to the touchstone of cross-examination, that now I believe nothing which I have not seen with my own eyes, +or for which I have not proofs equal to the same.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb69" href="#pb69">69</a>]</span></p> +<p>“Then with regard to the diamonds, you have some certain proofs?” I asked. + +</p> +<p>“You are right; I was engaged in that business. The young lady required more money than the goldsmith was willing to advance +on them; and they were never offered for sale unless he took such a liberty during the hour he had them in his possession. +In her difficulties she came to me, her grandfather’s lawyer. I obtained the money from Miss Roselaer, as I always did for +the General, and she refused either to take the diamonds or accept the interest on the money she lent; consequently the diamonds +are still in my possession.” + +</p> +<p>“And do you know for what purpose this money was required?” + +</p> +<p>“It was to assist a person who dared not apply to the General (and, between you and me, the General had not a penny to assist +any one with). What the relationship between them was I am unable to say. The stranger only stayed four days in the village, +and I did not see him myself. Of course I have heard the flying reports. Some people say he was dressed like a gentleman, +and had a gentleman’s manners; others, on the contrary, describe him as <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb70" href="#pb70">70</a>]</span>a rogue and a vagabond, who got drunk in the lowest public-houses in the place. This latter account may also be true, for, +as you know, a woman’s sympathy is often bestowed on the most undeserving creatures.” + +</p> +<p>“With regard to the coachman, you must allow her womanly sympathy does not show itself in a favourable light,” I interposed, +with a certain bitterness in my tone. + +</p> +<p>“I am unacquainted with the facts of that case. Still, I fancy it is far from such a bad case as the amiable ladies made it +out to be; and in your place I should not suffer it to interfere with my projected visit to the Werve. Miss Mordaunt has been +accused, in my presence, of brusque manners, imprudent behaviour, and so forth; but she is renowned for her plain and straightforward +dealing, which has brought her into disrepute with her female friends, they preferring to say the most impertinent things +in the blandest tone possible. I am sure you will find out the truth if you ask her a plain question. Besides, a single visit +will not commit you to anything, and an interview with the General to arrange matters will be absolutely necessary.” + +</p> +<p>There was no refuting Overberg’s line of argument. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb71" href="#pb71">71</a>]</span>I confessed to myself that it would be unfair on my part to form an opinion until after a personal interview and further inquiries. +So, accepting his advice, I stepped into the carriage, and ordered the driver to take the road to the Castle de Werve. + +</p> +<p>The morning was raw and cold, without sun, and the air was so heavy that I did not know whether to expect snow or hail. At +the toll-bar my driver made inquiries about a short cut through a lane planted with poplars, which would bring us out near +the “fir wood.” + +</p> +<p>As the country was very monotonous, and there was nothing to attract my attention, I sank into deep thought, and began arranging +a plan for my conduct on first meeting with my cousin, a little speech to be made when I was presented to her, and so forth. +But then it occurred to me that our best-laid schemes are generally thrown into confusion by the circumstances of the event: +how much more likely was this to be the case in dealing with such a whimsical person as Francis? Accordingly, I gave up all +such ideas as preparing myself for the occasion, resolving only to keep cool and act according to circumstances. +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb72" href="#pb72">72</a>]</span></p> +<p>In the midst of these thoughts the carriage suddenly came to a standstill, and the driver pointed out to me that the lane +terminated in a half-circle—he had taken the lane on the wrong side of the wood. Whilst speaking we heard a horse galloping +behind us, and in another moment it shot past us like lightning. + +</p> +<p>“That’s Major Frank!” said the driver. + +</p> +<p>“Major Frank,” I repeated, in a tone of anger and surprise. “Whom do you mean by that?” + +</p> +<p>“Why, the young lady of the Castle. They call her so in our village, when she comes to see the boy.” + +</p> +<p>Cutting short the conversation, I ordered him to find his way to the Castle as soon as possible. A few minutes later, however, +he had got his carriage on such marshy ground that he was obliged to request me to walk until he could lead his horse on to +a firmer place. + + +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb73" href="#pb73">73</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div id="xd0e848" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="normal">Chapter X.</h2> +<p>Once on my legs I took a view of the surrounding country. We were on the outskirts of the wood, and separated from the ploughed +cornfields by a half-dry ditch, luxuriantly overgrown with all kinds of marsh plants. On our right was a heath; on the left +potato fields. There was not a soul to be seen, and on consulting my watch I found it was just twelve o’clock. Consequently +all the farm labourers had gone home to their midday meal. + +</p> +<p>Suddenly we heard a peal of resounding laughter quite close at hand, only the sound seemed to come somewhat from above us. +I looked up in the direction of the undulating heath; and on the top of a sand-hill, overgrown with grass, stood the person +who was enjoying our perplexity. + +</p> +<p>“Major Frank!” exclaimed the driver in his <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb74" href="#pb74">74</a>]</span>shrill tone of voice, his astonishment and annoyance causing him to show little respect. + +</p> +<p>It was indeed Francis Mordaunt herself who was mocking us. Really, I could never have anticipated such a reception. + +</p> +<p>As she stood there, some feet above me but still pretty near, I had a good view of her; and I cannot say that this first sight +reconciled me to the person who had already caused me so many disagreeable emotions. Perhaps it was not her fault; but she +was dressed in such a strange manner that at first sight I was doubtful whether a man or a woman stood before me. She had +gathered up her riding-habit in a way that reminded me of Zouave trousers, and she had, besides, put on a wide cloak made +of some long-haired material—which was doubtless very useful this sharp, cold spring day, but which, buttoned up to her throat, +was not adapted to show off the beauty of her form if she was really well-shaped. Her head-gear consisted of a gray billy-cock +hat with a soft, downward-bent brim, ornamented with a bunch of cock’s feathers negligently fastened with a green ribbon—just +as if she really wished to imitate the wild huntsman of the fairy tale. And then, because <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb75" href="#pb75">75</a>]</span>it was rather windy, she had tied a red silk handkerchief over her hat and fastened it under her chin. She wore no veil. As +far as I could judge of her appearance, she seemed to be rather delicately built and slim, with a fine Roman nose. Still, +I was not in the humour to be agreeably impressed by a face convulsed with laughter, and bandaged up as if she had the toothache. +Her laugh sounded to my ears like a provocation, and rendered me little inclined to be courteous to a woman who had so evidently +forgotten all feminine self-respect. + +</p> +<p>“Listen,” I cried—“listen for a moment, you who are rejoicing so much at your neighbour’s distress. You would do better to +direct us on our way.” + +</p> +<p>“There is no way. I should have thought you could see that. Any one who enters this wood except with the purpose of driving +round it, does a very stupid thing.” + +</p> +<p>“And you?” + +</p> +<p>“I?” she laughed again. “I jumped my horse over the dry ditch yonder. Imitate me if you feel inclined, though I fear with +your horse and carriage it will not be quite so easy. But where are you going to?” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb76" href="#pb76">76</a>]</span></p> +<p>“To the Castle de Werve.” + +</p> +<p>“To the Werve!” she repeated, descending the hill and approaching me as nearly as she could on the opposite side of the ditch. +“What is your business at the Castle, sir?” she inquired, in quite another tone, no longer speaking like a “somebody” to a +“nobody.” + +</p> +<p>“To pay a visit to General von Zwenken, and his granddaughter, Freule Mordaunt.” + +</p> +<p>“The General no longer receives visitors, and what you have to say to his granddaughter you can address to me. I am Freule +Mordaunt.” + +</p> +<p>“I can scarcely believe it; but, if so, may I request Freule Mordaunt to appoint a more suitable place than this. What I have +got to say cannot be shouted across a ditch in the presence of a third person.” + +</p> +<p>“Then you must drive back to the toll-bar. There they will direct you to the village, from which you can easily reach the +Castle, if your visit is so very urgent.” + +</p> +<p>“In order to give you time to get home and deny yourself to all visitors, my little Major,” I thought to myself. “But now’s +my opportunity, and I will not let it slip me.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb77" href="#pb77">77</a>]</span></p> +<p>So, giving orders to the driver to go on to the village and wait for me there, I took my stout walking-stick, fixed it as +firmly as I could in the muddy bottom of the ditch, and reached the opposite side I scarcely know how. + +</p> +<p>“Bravo! well done!” cried Francis, clapping her hands with delight. + +</p> +<p>As I approached I raised my hat, and she saluted with her riding-whip. + +</p> +<p>“This is an amusing adventure, sir,” she said, again laughing; “if you still wish to go to Werve you must cross the heath.” + +</p> +<p>“Is it a long walk?” + +</p> +<p>“No, it is much shorter than by the high-road, but as you don’t know the way, you run the risk of getting lost again.” + +</p> +<p>“You forget that I have a claim on your company for the rest of the way.” + +</p> +<p>“A claim! how do you make that out?” + +</p> +<p>“Miss Mordaunt promised me an interview; is it strange that I should seize the first occasion that offers?” + +</p> +<p>“I don’t even know the way myself. My horse has lost a shoe, and I have left him at the game-keeper’s, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb78" href="#pb78">78</a>]</span>so I shall have to get home as well as I can without assistance. Have you really business at the Castle? I can assure you +the General has an aversion to visitors!” + +</p> +<p>“I wish to make his acquaintance and yours, as I am staying in the neighbourhood, and I, remember, I am related to the family +Von Zwenken by my mother’s side.” + +</p> +<p>“So much the worse for you. At the Castle relationship is a bad recommendation.” + +</p> +<p>“That I have already heard; but I am not a Roselaer, I am a Van Zonshoven, Freule—Leopold van Zonshoven,” I said, introducing +myself. + +</p> +<p>“I have never heard the name before. However, as you are not a Roselaer you perhaps stand a better chance of a kind reception. +But is it quite certain you do not come to trouble the General about business?” + +</p> +<p>“In that case I should have sent a lawyer, with orders not to inconvenience Miss Mordaunt.” + +</p> +<p>“Then you would have done wrong,” she rejoined, becoming serious. “The General is over seventy, and has had a life full of +trouble; and I will not try to conceal from you that he has many cares and difficulties <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb79" href="#pb79">79</a>]</span>to contend with even now. It is for this reason I desire you to tell me without reserve the object of your visit. Perhaps +I can find some means——” + +</p> +<p>“I protest to you that my greatest desire is to assist you in sparing your grandfather all annoyance.” + +</p> +<p>“The sentiment does you honour, but it leads me to doubt your relationship, for it is contrary to all our family traditions.” + +</p> +<p>“There are exceptions to every rule, as you know, and I hope to prove myself an exception in your family traditions.” + +</p> +<p>“Then you shall be welcome at the Werve also by exception, for as a rule we admit no new faces.” + +</p> +<p>“That’s a pity; for I cannot think it is <i>your</i> wish to live in such isolation.” + +</p> +<p>“Quite my wish!” she interposed, with a certain haughtiness. “I have had sufficient experience of mankind to make me care +little for their society.” + +</p> +<p>“So young, and already such a misanthrope—afraid of the world!” I observed. + +</p> +<p>“I am not so very young—I am turned twenty-six; and the campaign years, as grandfather calls them, count double. You may speak +to me as though <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb80" href="#pb80">80</a>]</span>I were a woman of forty. I have quite as much experience of life.” + +</p> +<p>“Ladies talk like that when they wish to be contradicted.” + +</p> +<p>“Ladies!” she cried, with ineffable contempt. “I very earnestly request you not to include me in the category of beings commonly +denominated ladies.” + +</p> +<p>“In which category must I put you? For, to tell the truth, at first sight I did not know what to call you.” + +</p> +<p>“I believe you,” she said, with a little laugh; “for to any one who does not know me I must appear very odd. But, tell me, +what did you take me for at first sight—for an apparition of the wild huntsman?” + +</p> +<p>“An apparition! Certainly not; that’s too ethereal. I took you for a sad reality—a gamekeeper suffering from toothache.” + +</p> +<p>She seemed piqued for a moment, her cheeks coloured, and she bit her lips. + +</p> +<p>“That’s rude,” she said at last, and glanced at me with scintillating eyes. + +</p> +<p>“You asked for the truth,” I rejoined. + +</p> +<p>“So I did; and you shall find I can endure the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb81" href="#pb81">81</a>]</span>truth. Give me your hand, cousin; I think we shall become good friends.” + +</p> +<p>“I hope so, cousin. But don’t be generous by halves: let me touch your hand, and not that rough riding-glove.” + +</p> +<p>“You are a fastidious fellow,” she said, shaking her head; “but you shall have your way. There.” + +</p> +<p>And a beautiful white hand lay in mine, which I held a minute longer than was absolutely necessary. She did not seem to perceive +it. + +</p> +<p>“But call me Francis; I shall call you Leo. The endless repetition of cousin is so wearisome,” she said frankly. + +</p> +<p>“Most willingly;” and I pressed her hand again. + +</p> +<p>“Your driver will have told you he recognized Major Frank.” + +</p> +<p>“That’s but too true; and don’t you, Francis, consider it a great insult that people dare to call you by such a name?” + +</p> +<p>“Oh, I don’t mind it in the least! I know they have given me this nickname. I am neither better nor worse for it. I know, +also, that I am pointed at as a Cossack or a cavalry officer by the people round, and am stared at because I dress to suit +my <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb82" href="#pb82">82</a>]</span>own convenience, and not according to the latest fashions.” + +</p> +<p>“But a woman should try to please others in her way of dressing. In my opinion, a woman’s first duty is to make herself agreeable. +Can we not show our good taste even in the simplest and plainest attire?” + +</p> +<p>She coloured a little. + +</p> +<p>“Do you imagine, then, that I have no taste at all, because I have put on this shaggy cloak to protect me from the east winds?” +she demanded sharply. + +</p> +<p>“I do not judge from that single article of dress; I am referring to the <i>ensemble</i>, and one gets a bad opinion of a young lady’s taste when she wraps up her face in an unsightly red handkerchief.” + +</p> +<p>“Which gives her the appearance of a gamekeeper with the toothache,” she interposed, with a quick, bold air. “Well now, that’s +easily remedied, if the wind will respect my billycock;” and hereupon she untied the handkerchief and unpinned her riding-habit. + + + +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb83" href="#pb83">83</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div id="xd0e998" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="normal">Chapter XI.</h2> +<p>As she stepped forward, the long train of her riding-habit added to the beauty of her slender figure. Now, indeed, I could +see that she was not ugly, though she had done her best to render herself unattractive. It is true her features were sharp +and irregular, but neither rude nor coarse. In her face there was an expression of haughtiness and firmness, that spoke loudly +of conscientious strength and independent character. It was clear that she had struggled and suffered a good deal, without +allowing it to rob her of her natural cheerfulness and good spirits. Her large blue eyes expressed an open-heartedness which +inspired confidence. That they could gleam with indignation, or glow with enthusiasm, I had already experienced. + +</p> +<p>She walked along with considerable difficulty, for <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb84" href="#pb84">84</a>]</span>her dress caused her to trip at almost every step. I offered her my arm, but she refused it. Suddenly she stood quite still +and said— + +</p> +<p>“Forgive me, Leo, for the unmerciful way in which I laughed at you, when I saw the ‘mess’ your driver had brought you into. +I was not laughing at you personally; but I am always so tickled when I see the so-called ‘lords of creation’ making themselves +ridiculous, that I could not restrain my laughter.” + +</p> +<p>“Oh, I bear you no malice, Francis, on that account; but how is it you are so embittered against my sex?” + +</p> +<p>“Major Frank,” she answered, “has but too often had occasion to study the character of men.” + +</p> +<p>“That is to say, that after over-confidence in the brilliant uniforms which have proved deceptive, Major Frank has decided +to revenge herself on civilians as well as military men.” + +</p> +<p>“You are quite mistaken. Major Frank is acquainted with all the ranks from corporal to general; and in civil life she has +had an opportunity of studying men wearing court dress, decorations, and orders. And this is the conclusion she has come to: +that discipline is the best means of bringing out <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb85" href="#pb85">85</a>]</span>whatever good there is in a man, whilst at the same time it keeps the evil within bounds.” + +</p> +<p>“What you say is not very encouraging for your future husband, Francis.” + +</p> +<p>“My future husband!” she cried, with a bitter laugh. “Now I see you are a perfect stranger in these parts, Leopold. But you +need not trouble yourself about me; I shall never marry.” + +</p> +<p>“Who knows? Circumstances may induce——” + +</p> +<p>“Me to take a husband,” she interrupted, growing indignant. “Listen, Leo: you know nothing about me, and what you think you +know will have been told you by slanderous tongues. Therefore I will not take offence at what you have said; but I request +you not to think so meanly of me as to believe I would sacrifice my name and my person on the altar of Mammon, and make a +<i lang="fr">mariage de raison</i>—the most unreasonable and immoral union that can exist.” + +</p> +<p>“Many a proud lady who once thought as you do, Francis,” I answered, “has been induced by the counsel of her friends to change +her state of ‘single blessedness,’ which is such a mark for calumny and lies——” + +</p> +<p>“And you would have me take a husband to serve <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb86" href="#pb86">86</a>]</span>as a shield against these?” she cried, vehemently. “No, Leopold van Zonshoven, when you once know Francis Mordaunt, you will +find she does not fear calumniators, and that she disdains to seek protection from them in the way you recommend!” + +</p> +<p>“Forewarned is forearmed,” and I now understood that it behoved me to proceed cautiously. Still I determined to try a ruse +of war. Looking her steadfastly in the face, I said— + +</p> +<p>“And suppose my visit to the Werve were expressly for the purpose of seeking your hand in marriage?” + +</p> +<p>“My hand! It is not true you come with such a purpose!” she exclaimed in a bitter tone. + +</p> +<p>“But let us suppose it to be true; what would your answer be?” + +</p> +<p>“If I thought you came with any such intentions, I should simply leave you where you are, in the middle of the heath, to find +your way to the Werve as best you could. There’s my answer.” + +</p> +<p>And she started off as fast as she could go. + +</p> +<p>“Listen, Francis,” I said, rejoining her. “If such had been my object in visiting the Castle, your answer would not stop me. +I am obstinate enough <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb87" href="#pb87">87</a>]</span>myself; but, as I would not willingly wound the feelings of any lady (pardon me the use of this word), I should take good +care not to make her an offer in such a brusque manner, and, above all, not until I had some hopes of receiving a favourable +answer.” + +</p> +<p>“Be it so; but I must tell you I see neither wit nor humour in your kind of pleasantry.” + +</p> +<p>In another instant a gust of wind carried away her felt hat, and then her net, causing her golden hair to fall over her shoulders +in rich profusion. At this moment I thought her worthy to sit for a Madonna. I could not believe my eyes, or rather I could +not remove my eyes from her, so much was I struck with wonder and admiration. She doubtless read her triumph in my looks, +and seemed for an instant to enjoy it. Decidedly, then, she had not lost all the feminine instincts, though the time of their +duration was short on any single occasion. + +</p> +<p>“Well,” she said, “you are very polite. You stand as if you were nailed to the ground, instead of running after my hat.” + +</p> +<p>I did not suffer her to say this twice, but, running after the ugly old hat, caught it just before it could disappear in one +of the sand pits. She followed <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb88" href="#pb88">88</a>]</span>me, but unfortunately caught the train of her riding-habit in a bush, which tripped her, and caused her to fall with her beautiful +locks of hair amongst the briers. At first she refused all assistance, but in the end she was obliged to let me disentangle +her hair—a circumstance which annoyed her much more than the accident itself. I knelt beside her, and heaven knows with what +care I loosened one lock after the other. This, however, was a work of time, as she was very impatient, and her struggles +were every now and then undoing the little I had accomplished. + +</p> +<p>“Now you see into what a predicament your precious advice has brought me; how much more practical my own arrangement was! +The handkerchief looked inelegant, if you like, but it would have prevented me this trouble. Why did I swerve from my principles? +Why was I led astray by other people’s ideas?” + +</p> +<p>At last I could say, “You are free!” at the same time holding out my hand to assist her in rising. But no, she would have +no further aid from me; and bounding up like a hart, requested me to walk on in front whilst she arranged her dress. She was +not long about it, and when she overtook me the hateful <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb89" href="#pb89">89</a>]</span>handkerchief was tied round her hat again, and I had lost my right to protest against it. + +</p> +<p>She now took my arm of her own accord, and said gaily, “This I do, Leo, to recompense you for being so generous as not to +revenge yourself by laughing at me in my distress.” + +</p> +<p>“Laugh at you, Francis! I was frightened.” + +</p> +<p>“There was not much to be frightened about; but I was really afraid you would mock me and pay me back in my own coin.” + +</p> +<p>As we walked on we continued to discuss the subject of female propriety, she claiming the right to live according to her own +ideas, without any regard for public opinion; I maintaining that reserve and gentleness are more becoming in a woman, from +every point of view, than trying to set public opinion at defiance. She, however, interrupted the conversation by pointing +out the Werve to me as soon as we came in sight of it. + +</p> +<p>“Now,” she said, “I request you to tell me plainly the object of your visit to the General, before I introduce you to the +house.” + +</p> +<p>“I have already told you: I wish to make the acquaintance of my mother’s relations.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb90" href="#pb90">90</a>]</span></p> +<p>“I shall feel better satisfied,” she rejoined, “if you will promise me not to trouble the poor old gentleman about business +matters.” + +</p> +<p>I had no difficulty in conscientiously giving such a promise. Then Francis continued— + +</p> +<p>“I must also warn you the General is not alone. We have a certain Captain Rolf, an old pensioned officer, quartered at the +Werve; he is of rude manners and ill-educated, for he has risen from the ranks; but he has a good heart, and my grandfather +could not do without his company. Our way of treating each other may surprise you, perhaps annoy you. Even when I was a child +he called me his colonel, and flew anywhere at a wink from me; and he does so still, though his movements have been rendered +more tardy by his stiff legs and rheumatism. Fishing is his favourite amusement since he has been obliged to give up shooting. +I employ him as my gamekeeper; and when the cook is ill, he prefers frying a beefsteak and making the soup himself, to going +on short commons. In fact, he is a gastronome, and since he obtained his pension his whole time seems to be occupied with +the grand question: ‘What shall we eat to day?’ And, alas! grandfather <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb91" href="#pb91">91</a>]</span>is no less interested in the same subject, so that most of their morning conversation is about the dishes to be prepared for +the dinner.” + +</p> +<p>As we drew near the manor-house Francis gently withdrew her arm from mine, and stepped on sharply as we heard the clock in +the village church-steeple strike one, saying— + +</p> +<p>“I know I am being waited for impatiently, and half the garrison will have turned out in search of me.” + + +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb92" href="#pb92">92</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div id="xd0e1094" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="normal">Chapter XII.</h2> +<p>The Castle de Werve presented all the appearances of ancient opulence; but also of dilapidation dating from a long time back. +There was the feudal drawbridge, immovable through long disuse, leading straight to the large gate, full of those iron rivets +used in olden times as a defence against the attacks of the hatchet and pike. But the wood itself was rotting, and the rusty +hinges could scarcely sustain their accustomed weight. In the tumbledown walls I could see loopholes large enough for a giant +to creep through. + +</p> +<p>The house had been rebuilt in the time of the Stadtholder William III.—King William III. of England—and the rich, solemn style +then in vogue had been adopted. There was a sort of rotunda in the centre, kept, relatively speaking, in better repair <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb93" href="#pb93">93</a>]</span>than the rest of the building, flanked by two wings, which seemed uninhabited, and in fact so neglected as to be uninhabitable. +Most of the panes were cracked or broken, and only in some cases had the broken glass been replaced by gray paper. The aloe-trees, +set out to ornament the front of the house, were planted for the greater part in cracked or broken vases. + +</p> +<p>As Francis had remarked, before I could follow her into the house “half the garrison turned out” to salute us in the person +of the Captain, whom I immediately recognized from the description I had had of him. He wore a blue jacket and trousers, a +waistcoat buttoned close up to his chin, and the military black-leather collar, which he had not yet been able to dispense +with. The William’s Order<a class="noteref" id="xd0e1105src" href="#xd0e1105">1</a> adorned his breast; and he stood erect in spite of his stiff leg, which obliged him to support himself with a stick. He had +placed his cap jauntily and soldier-like on one side of his head, and his entire bearing called up the idea of a military +man only half at his ease in civilian dress. Though deep in the fifties, his hair is still jet black, and the length <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb94" href="#pb94">94</a>]</span>and stiffness of his mustachios, <i>à la Napoléon</i>, indicate a constant use of cosmetics. His face is very red, his eyes brown and bold, his features rude, and his thick red +lips and short round chin give him a sensual appearance. He had in his mouth a long German pipe, from which he puffed clouds +of smoke, and after a military salute he accosted us in these words— + +</p> +<p>“Well, Major, what’s this? Have you made a prisoner? or is this some one to be quartered on us?” + +</p> +<p>“A visitor for the General, Captain,” replied Francis, stepping past him, and giving me a hint to follow her. + +</p> +<p>“Had a deuced bad luncheon! Waited half an hour for the Freule; the eggs too hard, the beefsteak like leather, his Excellency +out of humour—and all this because the Freule takes it into her head to ride out at inconvenient hours, and return on foot +to the fortress leading the hero of this pretty adventure in triumph behind her,” growled the Captain, in a half-angry, half-jesting +tone, as he followed us. + +</p> +<p>Francis turning round said— + +</p> +<p>“All this, Captain, is because your Major—you understand me, <i>your Major</i>—has had the pleasure of <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb95" href="#pb95">95</a>]</span>meeting with her cousin, Jonker Leopold van Zonshoven; let that suffice you, and if you have any more complaints, put them +in your report-book.” + +</p> +<p>After this I followed Francis through the vestibule, where a servant received us with a military salute, and showed us into +an immense drawing-room hung with embossed gilt leather. Here the General was taking a nap in a high-backed easy-chair. Francis +entered the room softly enough, but the loud heavy step of the Captain, who thought fit to follow us, awoke the sleeper with +a start. + +</p> +<p>Instead of the <i lang="fr">pourfendeur</i> I had conjured up in my fancy from old Aunt Roselaer’s accounts, I perceived a little, thin, grey-headed old man, the traits +of whose face showed him to be a person of superior breeding, wrapped in a very threadbare damask dressing-gown. His nose +was long and straight, his lips thin and pale, his eyes of a soft blue, with an expression of lethargy or fatigue. His white, +dry hands had very prominent veins; and he wore a large signet-ring, with which he kept playing in a nervous, agitated manner +all the time he was speaking. + +</p> +<p>Francis introduced me in her own peculiar way— + +</p> +<p>“Grandfather, I bring you Jonker Leopold van <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb96" href="#pb96">96</a>]</span>Zonshoven, to whom you must give a hearty welcome, for he is a curiosity in our family.” + +</p> +<p>“In our family! Jonker van Zonshoven—ah! yes, I remember, I understand,” he said, in a surprised and embarrassed tone, which +proved his recollection to be of the vaguest; but he bowed politely, and offered me his hand, which I shook cordially. + +</p> +<p>“Sit down, Jonker,” he said, pointing to a chair behind which the Captain stood as if he intended to dispute the place with +me. + +</p> +<p>Francis rang the bell, and asked Fritz if the luncheon were still on the table. + +</p> +<p>The servant, with a surprised look, answered— + +</p> +<p>“It is half-past one.” + +</p> +<p>“Right, Fritz. It is the rule of the house: he who is not here at roll-call is not expected. Bring a plate of cold meat and +bread into this room.” + +</p> +<p>“And a glass of port-wine for the gentleman,” put in the Captain. + +</p> +<p>When Fritz had left the room, the Captain came and stood straight before me, saying— + +</p> +<p>“Pardon me, Jonker, I must have a good look at you. There must be something peculiar in a young <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb97" href="#pb97">97</a>]</span>man who has so quickly found favour in the eyes of our Major.” + +</p> +<p>I hesitated about giving him the answer he deserved in the presence of the General; and, besides, Francis had warned me he +was a man of no education. + +</p> +<p>However, the General, speaking in a soft yet authoritative voice, said— + +</p> +<p>“Rolf, there are jests which may pass amongst ourselves, but you seem to forget we are not now alone, and you are wanting +in respect to Miss Mordaunt.” + +</p> +<p>“Because I call her Major in the presence of a relation of the family! Excuse me, your Excellency, but you ought to have given +me the watchword beforehand. I shall not forget again.” + +</p> +<p>“It is no good, grandfather,” said Francis; “at his age we cannot break him of his bad habits, though we might expect him +to be respectful to the granddaughter of General von Zwenken, in spite of his having taught her her drill when a child. And +now, as you have asked for the watchword of the day, Captain, attend: it is this, ‘Politeness to my visitor.’” + +</p> +<p>It became clear to me that the Captain had long<span class="corr" id="xd0e1173" title="Source: ,"></span> been indulged in his vulgar familiarities, and that I <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb98" href="#pb98">98</a>]</span>ought not to attach too much importance to them. As soon as Fritz brought in the port-wine he filled three glasses brimful; +presented the first glass to me, then one to the General, and taking up his own, said in his rough, good-natured way— + +</p> +<p>“The health of our commandant, and a welcome to you, Jonker!” apparently thinking this the best amends he could make. + +</p> +<p>As soon as Francis had taken a slight repast she left the room, and, at a hint from the General, Rolf did the same. + +</p> +<p>Now that we were left to our two selves, the General, drawing himself up with dignity in his chair, said— + +</p> +<p>“A word with you, Jonker, if you please.” + +</p> +<p>I bowed assent. + +</p> +<p>“But be so good as to move your chair nearer to me; I am a little deaf.” + +</p> +<p>I complied with his request. + +</p> +<p>“Pardon me for asking you a question which may <span class="corr" id="xd0e1193" title="Source: eem">seem</span> somewhat out of place. Is this the first time you have met my granddaughter?” + +</p> +<p>“The first time, General;” and I rapidly sketched an account of our meeting and walk to the Castle. +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb99" href="#pb99">99</a>]</span></p> +<p>“Well, I am glad of it,” said the old man with a sigh of relief. “My granddaughter is possessed of many excellent qualities, +that I can truly say; but she has her peculiarities. At times she can be very brusque, and she has a foible for braving the +laws of good society, and setting all the world at defiance, which has made her many enemies. It occurred to me she was now +trying to make amends for some misunderstanding which had arisen between herself and you.” + +</p> +<p>I assured him this was not the case, and that I felt my kindly reception to be the more flattering since Miss Mordaunt was +not accustomed to flatter. + +</p> +<p>“Then explain to me,” he continued, “your relationship to the family, for, though I remember having heard of a Van Zonshoven +who was related to my deceased wife, it is so long ago——” + +</p> +<p>“My grandmother, General, was a Freule van Roselaer.” + +</p> +<p>“She married a French nobleman, if I recollect aright?” + +</p> +<p>“A Belgian, General: Baron d’Hermaele.” + +</p> +<p>“Well, yes, it was during the French occupation of the country under Napoleon I.; and in those days <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb100" href="#pb100">100</a>]</span>one did not pay so much attention to nationality. Our disagreement with Freule Sophia prevented our making his acquaintance. +He settled in Belgium, and I heard afterwards that Baron d’Hermaele stood in high favour at court in the reign of King William +I.” + +</p> +<p>“This court favour cost him his life,” I added, “for he remained faithful to his king during the Belgian Revolution; his castle +near Larken was pillaged and burnt by the populace, and he himself cruelly murdered whilst defending his wife and children.” + +</p> +<p>“Another fact out of those sad and confused times which I so well remember. My men were burning with rage to punish such rebels +and brigands, but, alas! they were kept inactive. What became of the widow and children?” + +</p> +<p>“She returned to Holland with one son and seven daughters, of whom the eldest married my father, Jonker van Zonshoven. I am +their only son.” + +</p> +<p>“Then I am your great-uncle, Jonker.” + +</p> +<p>“I have made the same calculation, General, and it is for this reason——” + +</p> +<p>“You don’t come to talk to me about family <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb101" href="#pb101">101</a>]</span>affairs, I hope?” he interrupted, growing uncomfortable. + +</p> +<p>“But, my dear uncle, we can speak of family affairs without their necessarily causing unpleasantness.” + +</p> +<p>“Hum! Well, you are a Van Zonshoven, a stranger to all the pitiful feuds which have separated me from the Roselaers. Whole +treasures have been thrown away on the lawsuits they have brought against me. Francis and I are both still suffering from +such losses. Look here, if you bring any painful news for Francis, or any humiliating tidings for me—I know that even the +validity of my Swiss marriage is contested—I beseech you, be generous, spare her as long as possible, for she is ignorant +of this fact. Perhaps, old and broken though I be by trials, I can ward off the evil day a little longer; but be sincere and +tell me plainly——” + +</p> +<p>“I assure you, General, my chief desire—as I have already told Miss Mordaunt—is to save you every kind of trouble I can. I +wish simply to draw family ties closer, and my most ardent desire is that a Van Zonshoven may have the good fortune to heal +the wounds caused by the Roselaers.” + +</p> +<p>“Many things are necessary! Much money! As <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb102" href="#pb102">102</a>]</span>we soldiers say, gold is the sinews of war—and, pardon me if I make a mistake, the Van Zonshovens are not rich.” + +</p> +<p>“You are not mistaken, General. My grandmother and her children had to live on the pension allowed the widow of Baron d’Hermaele, +and this pension ceased with her life.” + +</p> +<p>“And did the king do nothing for the daughters?” + +</p> +<p>“What would you expect from him, uncle? The only son was promoted and rewarded, but he died in the flower of his age. It was +impossible for the young ladies to keep William II. in constant recollection of their father’s loyalty. Besides, we decided +not to petition or supplicate for favours, preferring to rely on our own energies and self-help. This principle was instilled +into me whilst I was young.” + +</p> +<p>“You surprise me. But is there not a Van Zonshoven Minister for Foreign Affairs in the present Government?” asked the General. +“He must be a rich man, I fancy. What is your relationship to him?” + +</p> +<p>“He is my uncle; but I esteem him little. He is married to the coffee-coloured daughter of a rich Java merchant—for her money, +of course. She is <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb103" href="#pb103">103</a>]</span>neither intelligent, amiable, nor educated; and indeed, has got little from him in return for her money except the right to +bear his name and title.” + +</p> +<p>“A pitiful <i lang="fr">mésalliance</i>, certainly! But for you the consequences are a rich and childless uncle?” he observed by way of a query. + +</p> +<p>“Yes, and he is already old. But, unfortunately, I am estranged from him, for I consider it beneath my dignity to beg favours +from him.” + +</p> +<p>The General shook his head. “There spoke the blood of the Roselaers.” + +</p> +<p>“No, General, the Van Zonshovens are not vindictive, but proud. Though poor, I have always prized my independence above all +things. I have lived soberly, and never indulged in pleasures above my means; consequently I have not been forced to sacrifice +my liberty, which, to tell you the truth, is dearer to me than my patent of nobility.” + +</p> +<p>“Bravo! bravissimo!” resounded in my ears from the bottom of the room; and it came from the deep, clear voice of Francis, +who had been entering the room as I spoke these words. + +</p> +<p>“You see, Jonker,” said the General, somewhat fretfully, and knitting his brows, “your style of <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb104" href="#pb104">104</a>]</span>speaking has touched my granddaughter’s weak side. Her dreams are of independence, and her illusion is to be indebted to nobody.” + +</p> +<p>“Not my illusion, grandfather. My principle is rather to be poor and independent, and appear so; and rather to suffer privations +and make sacrifices, than be guilty of meanness for the sake of supplying imaginary wants and desires which we ought manfully +to resist.” + +</p> +<p>The General bit his lips, shut his eyes, and sank back in his chair, as if he had received a blow from a club; but unwilling +to acknowledge a defeat, after a few seconds he raised himself up and said to Francis— + +</p> +<p>“I allow that you far surpass me in bearing privations; but it would be well for you to learn a little self-restraint. At +my time of life it is hard to bear reproaches. I cannot change my way of living, though I confess you deny yourself much for +my sake.” + +</p> +<p>“Come, come, grandfather, you know my words sound harsher than I mean them; but you cannot expect me to approve what angers +me—such self-restraint I shall never learn.” + +</p> +<p>“That’s unfortunate,” replied the General in a <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb105" href="#pb105">105</a>]</span>bitter tone; “for what will Leopold think of us if he must listen to such reproaches at every turn.” + +</p> +<p>“He will think, uncle, that he is on a visit to a family which is above dissembling to deceive him, and he will esteem such +frankness as an honour and a privilege——” + +</p> +<p>“Well! that’s an advantage you’ll enjoy to your heart’s content, Jonker, if you stay here long,” interrupted the Captain, +who had again entered the room. “Our Major has the praiseworthy custom of speaking her mind without respect of persons; and +when she’s displeased, it is ‘parade and proceed to execution,’ as we say in the courts-martial.” + +</p> +<p>“Had pardons not been heard of, Captain,” retorted Francis, half in jest, half in earnest, “you would have been dismissed +the service long ere this.” + +</p> +<p>“That only proves my long-suffering and patience, Miss Major; you know I permit you to treat me like a corporal would a raw +recruit. I would not bear from the Prince Field-Marshal what I have borne from you.” + +</p> +<p>“Captain,” said the General, who had been listening nervously, “Captain, I thought I had given you to understand that I desired +to be <i lang="fr">en famille</i>.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb106" href="#pb106">106</a>]</span></p> +<p>“And I, General, not guessing the conversation could be so entertaining for you, came to propose our usual remedy against +low spirits: a game at piquet.” + +</p> +<p>“Thank you, Captain, no cards this afternoon; I am anxious to talk to my nephew.” + + + +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb107" href="#pb107">107</a>]</span></p> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" href="#xd0e1105src" id="xd0e1105">1</a></span> The Victoria Cross of the Dutch. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="xd0e1299" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="normal">Chapter XIII.</h2> +<p>Francis ordered Rolf off in search of her riding-whip which she had lost on the heath in the morning, making sure this would +keep him out of the way for a time. + +</p> +<p>“It’s no easy matter to find such a thing in the sand,” he growled, as he limped off. + +</p> +<p>“But, you know, I want it very much, and if you can find it you will do me a great pleasure,” Francis called after him. + +</p> +<p>“Well, since I need not be on <i>duty</i> with the General, I will do my best,” he answered. + +</p> +<p>“You are a cruel despot,” I could not help saying to Francis. She smiled and coloured slightly. + +</p> +<p>“Oh, Jonker, this is nothing!” sighed the submissive vassal; “when Miss Major was a child, you should have seen what I had +to do and suffer.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb108" href="#pb108">108</a>]</span></p> +<p>“Just so,” replied Francis; “then you spoilt me, and hence your penance is so hard. Give me your hand, my good Rolf; I won’t +promise you absolution, but a truce for to-day.” + +</p> +<p>The old soldier took the hand held out to him, and I saw a tear sparkle in his eye, which reconciled me to him in spite of +his vulgar familiarities. He, ashamed of his weakness, tried to hide it from us by a prompt retreat. + +</p> +<p>Almost immediately afterwards he entered the room again, and approaching Francis he said— + +</p> +<p>“I know I disturb you, Freule, but it is better that I come instead of Fritz. I met the driver who brought the Jonker, at +the gate, and he wishes to know at what hour our visitor intends leaving.” + +</p> +<p>Whilst hesitating about my answer, I overheard him whisper to Francis— + +</p> +<p>“I have passed the turkeys in review, and there is one just ready for the cook, but not to-day: I am sorry for <i lang="fr">le cher cousin</i>.” + +</p> +<p>I hastened to say— + +</p> +<p>“There is nothing I should like better than to spend the day here; and as for the dinner, I prefer to take pot-luck with my +friends.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb109" href="#pb109">109</a>]</span></p> +<p>“Well, of course you will stay to dinner, Leopold,” said the General, eyeing Francis, who had not yet given her consent. + +</p> +<p>After some hesitation she said, in a decisive tone— + +</p> +<p>“We will dine early to-day; order the carriage for seven o’clock.” + +</p> +<p>“You shame me with such meagre hospitality,” interposed the General. “Why not invite your cousin Van Zonshoven to stay the +night; he can leave early to-morrow morning?” + +</p> +<p>“Sleep here, grandfather! But you don’t understand; really we are unprepared to lodge visitors.” + +</p> +<p>“What!” exclaimed Rolf, with <span class="corr" id="xd0e1350" title="Source: aloud">a loud</span> laugh, “we could lodge half a company.” + +</p> +<p>“Half your company!” Francis cried bitterly; “but you forget that Jonker van Zonshoven is accustomed to the luxuries of the +Hague.” + +</p> +<p>“To a modest chamber on the second floor, Francis; and he can sleep comfortably on a mattress of straw, if well wrapped up.” + +</p> +<p>The old man was again visibly affected, and murmured gently— + +</p> +<p>“This is another caprice of yours, Francis.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb110" href="#pb110">110</a>]</span></p> +<p>“If you are determined to stay,” responded Francis, with a cold and sorrowful look at me, “I will try to find you a room where +there are no broken panes. Come, Captain, never mind about the whip to-day; you must now act as my quartermaster. Forward, +march;” and taking him by the arm, she led off her willing slave. + +</p> +<p>When we were once more alone, the General began— + +</p> +<p>“Believe me, she means well and kindly towards you; but as we don’t reckon on visitors, you have taken us by surprise, and +that’s what vexes Francis. It is so difficult to procure anything in this out-of-the-way place.” + +</p> +<p>“Every lady has her faults and her little caprices,” I interposed. + +</p> +<p>“Yes, but others can hide them better under a little polish. Francis cannot understand our social laws; unfortunately she +has not had an education suitable to her rank and station. Her own mother she never knew; and my son-in-law, Sir John Mordaunt, +did not understand the kind of training necessary for a Dutch lady of position.” + +</p> +<p>“Don’t despair, General; who knows what effect a good husband will have on her!” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb111" href="#pb111">111</a>]</span></p> +<p>“That’s just my difficulty, Jonker; Francis would refuse to marry any man she suspected of such intentions.” + +</p> +<p>“You are right, grandfather,” exclaimed Francis, who had again entered the room. “Major Frank will never give up her command +to an inferior; she can only endure slaves and vassals around her, and the sooner Jonker Leopold understands this, the better +for him, if he has intentions of conspiring against her freedom.” + +</p> +<p>This was said half jestingly; but I replied, quite seriously, that I thought Major Frank would do wrong to refuse a good husband. + +</p> +<p>Francis reddened to the roots of her hair, and then grew pale, as she answered with a forced smile— + +</p> +<p>“Well, you are not a dangerous suitor. As the General will have told you, Miss Mordaunt can only accept a very rich husband; +and I think you have already acknowledged that the Van Zonshovens are not among the people who pay the highest amount of income-tax.” + +</p> +<p>“But Francis!” exclaimed the General, deprecatingly. + +</p> +<p>“Well now, dear papa, that’s the standard by <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb112" href="#pb112">112</a>]</span>which people are judged nowadays, and you would wish Major Frank to be sold to the highest bidder, if sold she must be. But +come, Leopold, let me show you the grounds before dinner. Grandfather can go with us, for the wind has gone down and the sun +come out, so that it is quite a mild spring afternoon.” + + + + +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb113" href="#pb113">113</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div id="xd0e1392" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="normal">Chapter XIV.</h2> +<p>We directed our steps towards the back of the Castle, passing by the aviary, which had fallen into decay like its surroundings. +The Captain had, however, turned it into a poultry-walk, and held undisputed sway over the turkeys with which he had stocked +it. The General, who had come out against his will, leaned on the arm of Francis, and I walked by her side. Ascending a small +rise in the grounds we came to a summer-house, whence we could obtain a splendid view of the surrounding country—a sweep of +undulating heath as far as the eye could reach. Francis said this was her favourite place in the grounds, and that she never +grew tired of the charming prospect; but I could see that her grandfather’s thoughts were occupied about something quite different +from the picturesque view. All the farms in <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb114" href="#pb114">114</a>]</span>the neighbourhood, and all the woods around, formerly appertained to the lordship of the Werve; and all these ought to have +descended intact to his granddaughter, to whom he would not leave a foot of earth. + +</p> +<p>“By the way, nephew, what has become of the six other Miss d’Hermaeles, your mother’s sisters?” asked the General, breaking +the silence briskly. + +</p> +<p>Francis burst out laughing. + +</p> +<p>“Grandfather beginning to take an interest in the fate of six young ladies all at once! That’s too much! But he wishes to +know, Leo, whether you have a chance of inheriting anything from a rich aunt,” she said, displaying a quickness of perception +peculiar to her. “Isn’t it so, grandfather?” + +</p> +<p>I hastened to answer— + +</p> +<p>“Three of them died long ago; two others made good marriages, but they have children of their own; and one, Aunt Sophia, is +maintained by the rest of the family, I contributing in proportion to my means.” + +</p> +<p>“Aunt Sophia,” repeated the General; “had the d’Hermaeles the foresight to make Sophia Roselaer godmother to one of their +children?” + +</p> +<p>“It is possible,” I answered, “but I don’t know <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb115" href="#pb115">115</a>]</span>for certain; my mother seldom talked to me about her relations.” + +</p> +<p>“At any rate it appears to me she has been made heir to the property of that mischief-loving woman, Miss Roselaer,” continued +the General; “and probably you, Leopold, were not informed of the death, nor invited to the funeral any more than ourselves? +As far as I am concerned I expected such treatment; yet I cannot understand that she should allow her hatred to deprive the +only granddaughter of her eldest sister of the property.” + +</p> +<p>I now felt myself on dangerous ground; but Francis came to my rescue by saying, in a tone of pleasantry— + +</p> +<p>“Neither did I ever expect anything from her; and yet, who knows, if I had liked—I have only seen her once in my life; and +though as a rule people are not prepossessed in my favour at a first interview” (hereupon she gave me a malicious look), “she +seems to have had no reason to complain of me;—in fact, if I had only cultivated the acquaintance, probably at this moment +my name would be in her will for a good round sum.” + +</p> +<p>“What! you have seen the old gossip?” interrupted General von Zwenken, “and you have never <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb116" href="#pb116">116</a>]</span>told me of it. When and where have you met her?” + +</p> +<p>“At the beginning of this year, when I went to Utrecht on certain business about which it is not necessary to trouble cousin +Leopold.” + +</p> +<p>“She never likes to hear her good deeds spoken of,” the General murmured to me. + +</p> +<p>“Oh, it was only a simple duty I had to fulfil; I had to consult the celebrated Dr. D. about an unfortunate woman who had +lost her reason. At his door I had an altercation with his man-servant, who wished to put me off till next day under the pretext +that the hour for consultation was passed, and that his master was taking his luncheon with visitors. However, I insisted +upon his taking in my card, and finally I obtained admission to the dining-room. Dr. D. politely invited me to take luncheon +with them, and introduced me to two elderly ladies, one his sister, and the other his sister’s friend. As I was very hungry, +I accepted without ceremony. I was soon sensible that his sister’s friend was observing my every motion with sharp, penetrating +eyes. Her conversation was amusing. She was lively, and criticised persons and events cleverly, though with <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb117" href="#pb117">117</a>]</span>unsparing severity. This was just to my taste, and excited me to the contest, till, from repartee to repartee, we got almost +to a dispute. It was my great-aunt Sophia in person, as I afterwards learnt; and just fancy her mixing up her own name in +a malicious manner in the conversation, and then asking me if I knew her, and what my opinion of her was! I simply answered: +‘I had heard her spoken of; that there had been quarrels between her and my relations, but that I did not think it fair, on +my part, to attack her behind her back in the presence of strangers.’ She answered that she approved of my conduct. The doctor, +who had for some time been appearing ill at ease, now invited me to go to his surgery. After the consultation I met the old +lady in the passage; she invited me to accompany her as far as the house of a friend, where her carriage would await her. +I consented, but now I was on my guard, as I knew who she was; and when she invited me to spend a day with her I declined——” + +</p> +<p>“It was imprudent and impolite,” interrupted the General. + +</p> +<p>“It was acting in conformity with the spirit of all <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb118" href="#pb118">118</a>]</span>your dealings with her, grandfather. I said I could not spend a single hour longer in Utrecht than business demanded. Before +she could say more, a band of students, of that class better known outside the lecture-room than inside, began to form a circle +round us, and treat us to a piece of by no means flattering criticism as to the style of our dress. It is true I was negligently +dressed, far behind the fashions; and aunt’s bonnet and shawl gave her much of the appearance of a caricature. I felt my blood +boil, and yet I retained sufficient calmness to tell these seedling lawyers, authors, and clergymen they ought to be ashamed +of themselves, as their conduct was worse even than that of street Arabs. My words took effect; one or two dropped off in +silence, others stepped aside, and one of them even attempted to stammer out an apology. We were near the house of lawyer +Van Beek, where Miss Roselaer was going; and as we took leave of each other she warmly pressed my hand, thanking me for my +protection and presence of mind, but added that ‘such conduct was scarcely ladylike in the public streets.’ + +</p> +<p>“It might have been more becoming to swoon, but <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb119" href="#pb119">119</a>]</span>such farces are not in keeping with the character of Major Frank. + +</p> +<p>“If I had known the story would amuse you so much, grandfather, I would have told it you three months ago; but I was afraid +it would be disagreeable to you to hear I had seen Aunt Sophia.” + +</p> +<p>“And you have never since heard a word of Miss Roselaer?” demanded Von Zwenken, fretfully. + +</p> +<p>“No; but I have reason to suppose she wished to oblige me. I had to make arrangements at Utrecht for the proper nursing of +my poor patient. The most important point was the money, and at the time I had very little; but the same evening I received +a letter from Dr. D., informing me a rich friend, who desired to remain unknown, had promised to pay all the expenses. So +here you have my reasons for surprise that Aunt Sophia should have included me in hatred of the family; for the rich unknown +friend could be no other than herself.” + +</p> +<p>The General muttered between his teeth— + +</p> +<p>“Oh, from that woman you might expect anything!” + +</p> +<p>To me this account was as a ray of light. Aunt had changed her will, after this incident, in favour <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb120" href="#pb120">120</a>]</span>of Francis, and not, it was clear, for purposes of revenge. Now I felt more bound than ever to win the love of Francis, and +to marry her; and I confess my inclinations were tending in that direction. Her straightforward, upright character, her original +and piquant style of beauty, were already beginning to act like a charm upon me; still it would be well not to precipitate +matters, and I controlled a desire which came over me to demand her hand on the spot. There were also mysterious events in +her past life which required clearing up. Besides, I had to consider how it would be possible to change her aversion from +marriage, the male sex, and social life in general. And I was convinced if she once pronounced the fatal word “No,” my suit +was hopeless. + + + +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb121" href="#pb121">121</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div id="xd0e1458" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="normal">Chapter XV.</h2> +<p>Fritz, who came up at a trot, after the usual military salute to Francis, interrupted our further conversation. He addressed +her in the following words— + +</p> +<p>“Freule, the Captain sends to inquire if you have thought of the sauce for the pudding, and if you will let him have the key +to the pantry?” + +</p> +<p>Turning to me she said— + +</p> +<p>“Excuse me, Leo—duty first and pleasure afterwards; my worthy adjutant reminds me I have duties in the kitchen.” + +</p> +<p>In a moment she had tripped away out of sight, and the General, rising, said— + +</p> +<p>“I must also go and dress, for I never dine in my dressing-gown.” Then calling to Fritz, he said, “Show the Jonker to his +room, if it is ready.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb122" href="#pb122">122</a>]</span></p> +<p>“Certainly, General; I have taken up his bag.” + +</p> +<p>“So you have brought a travelling-bag?” asked the General, with a smile, and giving me an inquiring look. + +</p> +<p>“What shall I say, uncle; did I take too great a liberty in reckoning on an invitation for a few days?” + +</p> +<p>“Certainly not, my boy!” he replied frankly; “a change is very welcome to me—only try to make it all right with Francis.” + +</p> +<p>Fritz led the way up a broad oaken staircase to the first floor of the left wing, the very one which had struck me as the +least habitable. I was shown into a large room that had once been well furnished, but which now appeared rather sombre, as +all the shutters were closed except one, and this was only left ajar. I asked Fritz to open them, telling him I was fond of +plenty of light. + +</p> +<p>“Sir, Freule gave me orders to keep the shutters closed, otherwise there would be too much light, for there are no blinds.” + +</p> +<p>“Never mind, man; open them for me.” + +</p> +<p>“Yes, but there will be a draught; we never have guests, and therefore the broken window-panes have been neglected, and there +is no glazier in the village.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb123" href="#pb123">123</a>]</span></p> +<p>I dismissed the good fellow, whose fidelity to his mistress was evinced by his reticence. + +</p> +<p>When I had opened one shutter entirely so as to obtain sufficient light, I found the room contained a large old-fashioned +bedstead, with red silk hangings; a splendid couch, the covering of which was torn in several places and the horse-hair peeping +out—then, even worse, I found it had lost a leg; moreover, there was not a chair in the room I dared seat myself on without +the fear of coming to grief. + +</p> +<p>In the middle of the room was a marble-topped table, standing on its three gilt bear-paws; but it was cracked in several places, +and the mosaic star in the centre had almost disappeared piece by piece. A simple modern washstand, of grey painted wood with +light green borders, had been placed just under an oval rococo mirror, and formed a striking contrast to these neglected antiquities. + +</p> +<p>From my window I was enjoying a view of the beautiful country of Guelderland, and forming plans for the renovation and embellishment +of the fallen greatness around—always provided Francis consented—when I heard the second dinner-bell, and hastened downstairs, +having been warned that the General still kept up his military habits of punctuality. +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb124" href="#pb124">124</a>]</span></p> +<p>I was very curious to see whether Francis had dressed for dinner, how she looked, &c. But, alas! my hopes were disappointed. +Her beautiful hair was loosely confined in a silk net, which seemed scarcely capable of sustaining its weight. She had not +changed her dress, and had only thrown over her shoulders a small faded shawl, which served to hide the white and slender +form of her neck. She perceived my disappointment; in fact, her beautiful eyes regarded me with an air that seemed to say— + +</p> +<p>“Make up your mind that I am totally indifferent as to the impression I may produce on you.” + +</p> +<p>Otherwise she performed her part as hostess with exemplary zeal and great ability. She served the soup, carved the meat, and +even changed the plates herself—as Fritz seemed to consider his duty done when he had placed the things on the sideboard. +To my great surprise, the dinner was abundant and even <i lang="fr">recherché</i>. + +</p> +<p>After the soup, which was excellent, roast beef with choice preserved vegetables was served up—“surrogate of the <i lang="fr">primeurs</i>,” as the General expressed himself; then partridges in aspic and a <i>poulet au riz</i>, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb125" href="#pb125">125</a>]</span>followed by young cabbages with baked eels, which, the Captain said playfully, had only gone into his net for my sake. As +<i lang="fr">plat doux</i>, we had a pudding with the wonderful sauce Francis had been called into the kitchen to make; and to wind up, a complete dessert. +It was difficult for me to reconcile all this with the idea of people living in straitened circumstances. + +</p> +<p>The different kinds of wine, furnished in over-great abundance and variety by the Captain, who acted as butler, completed +the luxuries of the table. The wines were of the best brands, and my host and his aide-de-camp took care to call my attention +to them. My habits of abstinence obliged me to exercise great moderation, and I could plainly see that they were disappointed +at my want of enthusiasm. + +</p> +<p>Neither the crockery nor the table-linen was in keeping with the luxury of the courses. The former was French china, dating +from the same period as the furniture and the golden leather tapestries, and had evidently suffered a good deal from rough +usage and servants. It was cracked, riveted, incomplete; and modern blue ware had been purchased to supply deficiencies, thus +enhancing its splendour and emphasizing the contrast. The large damask tablecloth, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb126" href="#pb126">126</a>]</span>that represented the marriage of a Spanish Infanta, had certainly done duty when Aunt Sophia ruled as mistress of the establishment. +It was exceedingly fine but worn, and the rents had not always been neatly darned. As for the silver, the speed with which +Francis sent the forks and spoons to the kitchen and ordered them back, proved to me that the dozens were not complete. On +the other hand, there was an abundance of cut glass, to which the Captain directed my attention lest I should overlook it, +adding, however— + +</p> +<p>“I do not attach much value to such things. Many a time during the campaign I have drunk beer out of a milk-pail, and champagne +out of teacups; and I did not enjoy it the less for that.” + +</p> +<p>“Provided the cups were not too small,” interrupted Francis. + +</p> +<p>“But the General,” continued Rolf, without noticing the remark, “the General would rather go without Yquem than drink it out +of a common glass; and as our Major (I mean Freule, the commander-in-chief) always manifests the greatest indifference in +this respect, I have charged myself with the care of the General’s wine-cellar.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb127" href="#pb127">127</a>]</span></p> +<p>I neither liked nor approved the tone of the Captain’s observations; but Von Zwenken said nothing. Francis did not, however, +fail to retaliate in her vehement way. + +</p> +<p>“Fie, Captain!” she interrupted. “Are you afraid Jonker van Zonshoven will not observe how great your merits as quartermaster +are? If every one in this house would follow my <i lang="fr">régime</i>, and drink clear spring-water, your zeal and care for the wine-cellar would be superfluous.” + +</p> +<p>I had already noticed that she drank nothing but water. The General now came to the Captain’s aid with a French expression: +“<span lang="fr">Le luxe, c’est le nécessaire.</span>” + +</p> +<p>He had drunk a good deal, and his pale cheeks were growing rosy. Francis rang for Fritz to hand round cigars to the gentlemen, +and then retired to the drawing-room in spite of the furious looks of her grandfather. As the door was open, I could follow +her movements in the large mirror which faced me. I saw her throw herself on the sofa, wring her hands, and bite her lips +as if to suppress her sobs. The General soon dozed off, and the Captain applied himself to the cognac bottle, as he said it +was necessary <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb128" href="#pb128">128</a>]</span>to warm up his stomach after eating cold fruit; so I walked over towards the drawing-room, trying to hide my cigar. Francis +was disconcerted at being surprised in her disconsolate mood; but she composed herself, and said, with an attempt at a smile— + +</p> +<p>“You may smoke here, cousin, if you wish to have a talk with me.” + + + +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb129" href="#pb129">129</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div id="xd0e1554" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="normal">Chapter XVI.</h2> +<p>“I am not in the habit of smoking in the presence of——” (I had almost said ladies). + +</p> +<p>“Nonsense! I am not so fastidious; and you know that quite well. Shall I make you some coffee? The gentlemen yonder do not +take any; they smoke and drink till——” + +</p> +<p>I interrupted her with— + +</p> +<p>“I want nothing but to talk confidentially with you for a quarter of an hour. Will you grant me that favour?” + +</p> +<p>“Certainly; take the easy-chair and sit down opposite; that is the best position for a talk.” + +</p> +<p>I obeyed, and she began— + +</p> +<p>“Tell me, first of all, do you now understand why I do not like receiving company?” + +</p> +<p>“Perhaps. I venture to suppose that you wish <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb130" href="#pb130">130</a>]</span>to simplify the way of living, and that the gentlemen do not approve of it. And visitors cause expense.” + +</p> +<p>“Now, indeed, it <i>is</i> clever of you to guess after what you have just seen!” and she laughed a merry laugh. “I see I must explain matters. But +let us talk about yourself, Leopold; that will change the current of my thoughts—and they want changing in my present state +of mind. You see there my constant and daily society,” she continued, looking towards the dining-room. “They have now reached +the topmost point of their enjoyment—the General asleep with a cigar in his mouth, and the Captain absorbing his <i>quantum</i> of cognac. Afterwards he will fill his German pipe, totter off to the billiard-room, and smoke and sleep till tea-time. Come, +now, as we have a full hour before us, confess yourself. Why have you not studied for a barrister?” And she fixed her large +eyes on me as if she suspected that I had been rusticated. + +</p> +<p>“Simply because my good father died too soon.” + +</p> +<p>“A good father always dies too soon. Even a bad one who neglects his child is a great loss. Yours left nothing?” + +</p> +<p>“Except a widow with a very small pension—too <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb131" href="#pb131">131</a>]</span>small to maintain me at Leyden, and therefore I left after one year’s residence, as I wished to earn my own living and obtain +comforts for my mother, who was in very weak health.” + +</p> +<p>“I admire you for that, Leo; a man who is not selfish, and can make sacrifices for his mother or his wife’s sake, is a rarity. +It does me good to hear such men still exist.” + +</p> +<p>“Now, Francis, give me your confidence. Perhaps I can assist you in your troubles.” + +</p> +<p>“Don’t attempt the impossible, Leopold,” she replied in a tone of profound sadness. “However, as I believe you to be loyal +and generous, I will be explicit with you; and if I am deceived in you, as I have often been in others, one deception more +or less cannot make much difference in the grand total. When my grandfather had obtained his pension we came to the Werve, +as it was urgently necessary for us to economize. His rank as commandant in a small fortified town had necessitated our living +in grand style. He had to invite the mayor and other dignitaries to his table, as well as his own lieutenants; and let me +acknowledge we had both got into the habit of living in abundance <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb132" href="#pb132">132</a>]</span>and of being very hospitable; consequently we had nearly always an open table. Owing to many events and painful family circumstances, +our fortune with the last few years has shrunk so visibly that it was impossible to continue our old style of living. And +grandpapa at last saw things as I did. We retired to the Werve; we did not want company, and we severed ourselves from all +parasites at one stroke. + +</p> +<p>“I counted on the kitchen garden, the orchard, and the home farm (which in those days still belonged to the Werve) providing +for all our wants; and I cherished a secret hope of saving money, so as one day to make some repairs and raise this castle +from its state of decay. + +</p> +<p>“At first everything went on tolerably well. We came in the summer-time. We both needed rest; the splendid and varied scenery +enticed us out on long rides and drives; in fact, everything combined to make us enjoy our solitude. But, alas! the autumn +came with its long evenings and chilly days; the General suffered from rheumatism and could not mount his horse. Then weariness +overmastered him like a plague, and I tried music and <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb133" href="#pb133">133</a>]</span>reading in vain. He is not fond of music, and he does not care for reading. He cannot bear to see me with a book in my hand, +unless it be an illustrated book to ornament the drawing-room table. When I had read the paper there was nothing more to say. +I played dominoes with him and <i lang="fr">piquet-à-deux</i>. I could hardly do it any longer; but he never had enough of it. He grew fidgetty and melancholy, began to languish, and +was less and less satisfied with our simple way of living. I could not bear to see him so cast down, without the means of +helping him. Just about this time one of his former comrades, who had also obtained his pension, invited grandfather to visit +him in Arnheim. I thought it would be a nice change, and encouraged him to go. He was quite happy and quite at his ease there, +and stayed the three winter months.” + +</p> +<p>“And you?” + +</p> +<p>“I stayed at home. They had forgotten to invite me; and when they thought of it, it seemed to me such a formal invitation +that I made up my mind to decline it, as I had before reflected it would save a great deal of expense in ball dresses and +other <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb134" href="#pb134">134</a>]</span>ways of squandering money which such visits necessarily bring with them.” + +</p> +<p>“Yet, even here, a little attention to dress would not be out of place,” I interposed, seizing the opportunity to tell her +my opinion on the subject. + +</p> +<p>“Oh, it does not matter for me. I can speak as a certain French woman <i lang="fr">du temps que j’étais femme</i>. That time’s past; what does it matter how Major Frank dresses?” + +</p> +<p>“Major Frank,” I replied, “should wear a uniform suitable to her rank and the position in which she finds herself. That is +no coquetry, it is only decency—seemliness.” + +</p> +<p>“But, Leopold,” she cried, feverishly beating the devil’s tattoo with her little foot, “since I have been here I have bought +nothing new, and part of my wardrobe I have given away to the daughter of a poor officer, who had obtained a place as governess +in a rich family, and had scarcely the wherewithal to clothe herself decently. Now, cousin, that you are initiated into the +mysteries of my wardrobe, you understand why I could not come to table in a ball costume. But don’t trouble me with any more +of your silly remarks about dress; let me continue. +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb135" href="#pb135">135</a>]</span></p> +<p>“My grandfather returned from Arnheim, cured of his melancholy and more deeply in debt than ever. His stay, even with a friend, +had cost him much money in dress. He had had to order a new general’s uniform, as he could not go into society in that of +a colonel; then there were fees to servants; and, worst of all, that abominable high play which is the curse of our nation. +In short, on his return he was obliged to sell the home-farm, and even this did not bring in sufficient money to satisfy his +creditors. This time my grandfather solemnly vowed he would never enter society again, and he has kept his word; but he soon +fell into a black melancholy, from which he is only just recovering. + +</p> +<p>“Rolf, a brave soldier, but one who, in spite of his merits, would never have obtained the rank of officer without grandpapa’s +protection, called upon us. He was a sort of servant in the house before I was born, making himself generally useful as only +soldiers can. His sister was my nurse, my mother having died soon after I came into the world. Unfortunately, she had neither +education nor character to fit her for the task. With the best intentions, she thoroughly spoilt me, a work in which she was +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb136" href="#pb136">136</a>]</span>assisted by her brother, Sergeant Rolf, who would sooner have thought of disobeying his colonel than of opposing any caprice +of his ‘little Major,’ as he already called me. Well, when he got his pension as captain he stayed here a few days, and his +company seemed to be a welcome change to grandfather; and perceiving that a third person would be an agreeable addition to +our society, I proposed to him to take up his quarters here, as he could live on his pension in one place as well as another. +My proposition was eagerly accepted, and I took the command, as he expresses it, whilst he did his best to cheer up the General, +and the winter has passed less monotonously than I anticipated. + +</p> +<p>“Meantime Rolf has inherited some property in North Brabant, and now he insists upon paying his quota towards the housekeeping +expenses, to which I have consented for the General’s sake, because he is so fond of delicacies. But you don’t know how I +suffer when I see them rivalling each other in the pleasures of the table, and think of the humiliation and abasement of my +grandfather——” + +</p> +<p>Fritz entered with the lamp, and asked if Freule had not rung for the tea. The General and the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb137" href="#pb137">137</a>]</span>Captain followed. The conversation languished over the tea-table, and Francis became silent; when suddenly the Captain exclaimed, +pointing to her hair— + +</p> +<p>“Ah, the lioness shakes her mane to frighten us!” + +</p> +<p>“It’s true,” she answered coolly; “excuse me, gentlemen.” + +</p> +<p>And away she went to her own room. + +</p> +<p>“It is curious how Francis has these attacks of <i>nonchalance</i>,” muttered the General. + +</p> +<p>“And just now, when we have a visitor whom she herself brought,” assented the Captain. + +</p> +<p>But to change the subject the General proposed a game at cards. + + + +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb138" href="#pb138">138</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div id="xd0e1654" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="normal">Chapter XVII.</h2> +<p>The Captain arranged the card-table, whilst Fritz removed the tea-things. We took our seats, and the General, as I thought, +fixed the counters tolerably high. + +</p> +<p>The old man seemed to undergo a thorough change the moment he held the cards in his hand. His dull, sleepy eyes brightened +with intelligence and sparkled with enthusiasm. Every limb moved; the tips of his fingers trembled, and yet they still held +the cards firmly whilst he examined them to calculate, with mathematical precision, what was wanting in ours. His pale cheeks +flushed a deep red, his nostrils expanded or contracted according to the chances of the game; and the melancholy man, who +usually sat with his head bowed down as though overburdened, was of a sudden seized by a spirit of audacity, of rashness, +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb139" href="#pb139">139</a>]</span>of foolhardiness, that not seldom gained him splendid success, and reminded me of the saying, “Good luck is with the rash +man.” It certainly is with the audacious player. + +</p> +<p>As for myself I made many blunders, which greatly amused my companions. I had already lost a considerable sum, when the door +opened and Francis appeared in evening costume. + +</p> +<p>I threw down my cards on the table to offer her a chair. The General, who sat with his back to the door, looked at me angrily, +whilst the Captain cried— + +</p> +<p>“Our Major in full dress.” + +</p> +<p>“What strange whim is this?” growled the General, with difficulty suppressing his anger, for he had an excellent hand of cards +this time. “The whole day you have gone about like a Cinderella, and now——” + +</p> +<p>“The fairy has come, and I appear as a princess,” replied Francis. + +</p> +<p>“And the famous glass slipper is not wanting,” I said, admiring the beautiful little slippers peeping out from under her dress. + +</p> +<p>“Perhaps; but I will take care not to lose it.” + +</p> +<p>“Why not?” I asked, looking fixedly at her. +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb140" href="#pb140">140</a>]</span></p> +<p>“Because I will not make the romance of an hour a question for life.” + +</p> +<p>“All you are saying to Francis may be very gallant and witty, nephew,” cried the General, “but it is not polite to leave the +card-table in the midst of a game.” + +</p> +<p>“If the Freule would join us we could play quadrille,” said Rolf. + +</p> +<p>“Thanks, Captain, I prefer playing the piano, if it does not disturb you.” + +</p> +<p>Her playing was like herself, fantastic and <i>bizarre</i>; gradually, however, it became sweet and melancholy, and moved me almost to tears. My thoughts were with the music, and I +lost every game afterwards. The General was furious, and let me perceive it. I was about to pay my debt, when Francis entered +precipitately, and said in a decided tone—so decided, indeed, as to displease me—that I should not pay. I answered in the +same tone, and to cut short all arguments I placed the money on the table. She then tried to snatch out of Rolf’s hand the +note I had given him. I told her I thought her interference very unbecoming. + +</p> +<p>“Oh, very well; it’s all the same to me if you wish to be plundered.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb141" href="#pb141">141</a>]</span></p> +<p>And with this she returned to the piano; whilst the General, who seemed to gloat over his gains, remained silent during this +little scene. It gave me a painful insight into his character. I pitied the old man, who played not for amusement but for +the sake of money, and would take it in large or small sums from a poor relation or a richer man. + +</p> +<p>But at the same time, as I went to join Francis at the piano, I thought my money well spent in discovering the General’s weakness, +which had so influenced his granddaughter’s past life. + +</p> +<p>“Will you play?” she asked, brusquely. + +</p> +<p>“I don’t feel disposed.” + +</p> +<p>“As you like,” she said, turning to the instrument and striking the keys as if she would break them. + +</p> +<p>I took up an old newspaper and pretended to be reading it. + +</p> +<p>In the end she played a prelude, and then began the air of Bettly in the <i>châlet</i>— + + +</p> +<div class="
 poem
 " lang="fr"> +<p class="line" style="text-indent: 4em; "><span>Liberté chérie, +</span></p> +<p class="line" style="text-indent: 4em; "><span>Seul bien de la vie, +</span></p> +<p class="line" style="text-indent: 4em; "><span>Règne toujours là! +</span></p> +<p class="line" style=""><span>Tra la, la, la, tra la, la, la! +</span></p> +<p class="line" style=""><span>Tant pis pour qui s’en fâchera!</span></p> +</div><span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb142" href="#pb142">142</a>]</span><p>I threw aside the paper, and, approaching the piano, I whispered— + +</p> +<p>“Do you remember how this charming little opera ends?” + +</p> +<p>“Certainly, like all other pieces suitable for the theatre; but in real life it is just the contrary, and I like reality.” + +</p> +<p>Fritz came to announce supper. The gentlemen were cheerful, the Captain noisy and jovial; Francis only gave short and dry +answers, and showed me her ill-humour by only giving me the tips of her fingers when she wished us all good-night. + + + +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb143" href="#pb143">143</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div id="xd0e1734" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="normal">Chapter XVIII.</h2> +<p>Unromantic though it may sound, I must confess to having slept well on the first night I spent under the roof of my mother’s +ancestors. Sleep surprised me whilst I was reflecting on the strange and incomprehensible character of Francis. Proud, generous, +noble-hearted, quick-witted, beautiful—and yet with all her charms (which I could feel had already begun to work upon me) +spoilt by a detestable education, by the manners of a sutler and a rudeness of the worst kind. And then, in addition to all +this, there was the question of her past life which I had heard painted in such black colours. It seemed doubtful whether +Major Frank could ever become Lady Francis van Zonshoven. + +</p> +<p>When I awoke the sun was streaming through the one window whose shutters I had purposely left open, with the intention of +taking an early morning <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb144" href="#pb144">144</a>]</span>walk. I crept silently down the stairs so as not to awake anybody, but I met Fritz in the vestibule, and he made his military +salute in silence. The hall door was wide open. I took the direction of the home-farm, where I hoped to obtain a glass of +new milk, and draw the tenants out a little about the inhabitants of the Castle—one in particular. + +</p> +<p>I had not gone very far before whom should I see coming from the farm but Francis herself, with a basket of fresh eggs. + +</p> +<p>After a moment’s hesitation I asked— + +</p> +<p>“Are we again good friends?” For I had an idea she would have taken another path if she had seen me a little sooner. + +</p> +<p>“I never knew we had ceased to be so,” she answered, colouring a little. + +</p> +<p>“Hem! Towards the close of the evening, in spite of what you may say to the contrary.” + +</p> +<p>“Say, rather, in spite of myself. Believe me, Leo, I was not morose out of caprice; I was troubled and anxious. I saw my manner +displeased you, but I was afraid that to flatter grandfather’s weakness you were suffering yourself to become his dupe.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb145" href="#pb145">145</a>]</span></p> +<p>“And even in that case I could not permit you to interfere.” + +</p> +<p>“You had told me you were poor, that you must economize, and then to squander your money in such a way in our house—it seemed +to me like card-sharping.” + +</p> +<p>“No, no; nothing of the sort. But supposing it had been, you have tact enough to understand that it was beneath my dignity +to take the money back.” + +</p> +<p>“That’s true, I am of your opinion; but I warned you beforehand that my manners were bad.” + +</p> +<p>“I think it less a question of bad manners than a certain arrogance, a certain despotism——” + +</p> +<p>“Well, then, pardon the arrogance, the despotism,” she said jestingly; “still, if I confess you were in the right and that +I deserve correction, will you on your part acknowledge that you are making somewhat too much ado about a little mistake?” + +</p> +<p>“But you, who are so proud, how can you suppose that a man will consent to be protected by a woman?” + +</p> +<p>“Again you are right, Leopold; such a man would be like so many others I know.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb146" href="#pb146">146</a>]</span></p> +<p>“Pardon me, Francis; our friendship is like a tender plant, and we must cultivate it so as to prevent its taking a crooked +turn.” + +</p> +<p>“If you regard our friendship in such a serious light,” she resumed, whilst a slight blush suffused her cheeks, “I will capitulate +on condition that our little quarrel of last night be forgotten and forgiven.<span class="corr" id="xd0e1777" title="Source: ’">”</span> + +</p> +<p>I felt myself under the charm again, and seizing her hand in a transport of joy, I covered it with kisses. + +</p> +<p>“Leo, what are you doing?” she cried, pale and with tears in her eyes. + +</p> +<p>“Sealing the bond of our friendship.” + +</p> +<p>“Leo, Leo! you know not what you do,” she said softly; “you forget to whom you are speaking—I am Major Frank.” + +</p> +<p>“I will have no more of Major Frank; my cousin Francis Mordaunt must suffer me to offer her my arm.” And taking her hand again, +I gently drew her arm within mine. She submitted in silence, with a singular expression of dejection on her face. + +</p> +<p>“I feel it will do me good to talk to you for once in this way, though it may be the first and only time. Where are you going, +Leo?” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb147" href="#pb147">147</a>]</span></p> +<p>“To the farm yonder; I see you have been there already for eggs; let me carry the basket for you.” + +</p> +<p>“No, thank you. I had not reckoned on the eggs, but the good people insisted upon my taking them; I went to see a patient.” + +</p> +<p>“A patient! Do you play the doctor?” + +</p> +<p>“I do a little of everything; but the patient in question is a dog, a dear, faithful creature, my poor ‘Veldher,’ who has +broken his leg, and will suffer no one to touch him but myself. Another trouble I have brought on myself; and yet, if the +others could be remedied as easily!” she said, with a profound sigh. + +</p> +<p>She became pale as death, her lips quivered, and, withdrawing her arm from mine, she stood still, covering her face with her +hands as if she would force back the tears already rolling down her cheeks. I remained by her side, and after a pause I said, +with gentle earnestness— + +</p> +<p>“Tell me what has happened, Francis; it will be a relief to you and ease your mind.” + +</p> +<p>“Yes,” she resumed, calmly, “I must confide my sufferings to some one, but not now. I will not spoil our morning walk by calling +up such a frightful scene. I can myself scarcely understand how it is <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb148" href="#pb148">148</a>]</span>possible that I, who cannot bear to see dumb creatures suffer, have to reproach myself with the death of one of my fellow-men.” + +</p> +<p>“I beseech you to tell me all, trusting in me for my sincerest sympathy.” + +</p> +<p>“Not now,” she cried; “what good would it do? It would only embitter the few minutes we have to spend together.” + +</p> +<p>“May I help you with a word it seems to cost you trouble to pronounce? Is it not a certain unfortunate incident with regard +to your coachman?” + +</p> +<p>“Just so, that’s it,” she replied, assuming her defiant and bitter tone. “If you wish to know more about it, ask the people +at the farm—they know all the particulars.” + +</p> +<p>“I shall take good care not to go making inquiries into your secrets behind your back, Francis.<span class="corr" id="xd0e1819" title="Source: ’">”</span> + +</p> +<p>“My secrets!” she exclaimed, her voice quivering with indignation. “There is no secret in the matter. It is a question of +a dreadful accident, which happened on the public high-road in the presence of a crowd of spectators attracted by the noise; +but the occasion was not lost to set public opinion against me. Was it not Major Frank, who <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb149" href="#pb149">149</a>]</span>never acted like anybody else—Major Frank the outlaw! It would have been a pity to let such an opportunity of blackening her +character pass. I ought to have reflected that you would have heard the story; and very likely you are come here ‘to interview’ +the heroine of such a romantic adventure. It would be a pity you should lose your pains. There’s the farm—go straight on and +ask the people to tell you all about the affair between Major Frank and her coachman Harry Blount; both the man and his wife +were witnesses. And, Jonker van Zonshoven, when they have satisfied you, you may return to the Werve to take your leave, and +return as you came.” + +</p> +<p>And off she ran, without giving me time to answer, leaving me in a state of terrible confusion. + +</p> +<p>One thing at last seemed clear to me; I had lost her for ever. Should I follow and overtake her? She appeared resolute to +tell me no more. Yet I must know more! I could neither stay at the Werve nor go away until my doubts were cleared up. + +</p> +<p>I went on to the farm, and was soon served with a glass of milk. The farmer’s wife seemed to know <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb150" href="#pb150">150</a>]</span>all about my visit, and thought it quite natural for the Freule to send me there for a glass of new milk. She was loud in +her praises of the Freule, said her equal was not to be found in the whole aristocracy, “so familiar and kind-hearted, but +at times flighty, and then she goes off like a locomotive”—she pronounced it “<i>leukemetief</i>.” But it would be impossible for me to reproduce her Guelders dialect; and, to confess a truth, I had myself sometimes great +difficulty in understanding her. + +</p> +<p>She showed me the farm and the dog, a splendid brown pointer who allowed me to stroke him, probably for his mistress’ sake. +Once the good farmer’s wife had loosened her tongue, she rattled away with great volubility— + +</p> +<p>“Yes, she was sorry the General was no longer their landlord; but Overberg was not a bad fellow—he had made many repairs, +and even promised to build a new barn which the General would never consent to. It was a pity for the man! A good gentleman, +but he took no interest in farming; the whole place must have gone to wrack and ruin if the General had not agreed to sell +it before it was too late. The Freule was sorry, for she liked farming; <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb151" href="#pb151">151</a>]</span>she had learned to milk, and talked to the cows just as if they were human beings. And horses—yes, Jonker, even the plough +horses, before they go out into the field in the morning, she talks to them. My husband was groom to her grandfather, in his +youth; I think I can see the greys she used to drive with so much pride, and Blount the coachman at her side, as proud as +a king, with his arms folded, and looking as if the team belonged to him. Oh dear, yes! And now all that grandeur has disappeared. +The beautiful carriage-horses are sold, and the Freule has only her English horse which my husband stables and grooms for +her. What a sin and shame it is when the gentry fall into such decay! And the family used to be the greatest in these parts, +and good to their tenants. My parents and grandparents always lived on the estate; but oh, oh! since the marriage of the eldest +Freule Roselaer, they have never prospered. What can I say? ‘A house divided against itself cannot stand,’ as the Scriptures +tell us. The Jonker has certainly heard of all these things?” + +</p> +<p>“Enough, Mrs. Pauwelsen, more than enough,” I responded, for the good woman’s chatter was <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb152" href="#pb152">152</a>]</span>becoming insupportable. I hastily took my leave of her and arrived just in time for breakfast; in fact, I was in the breakfast-parlour +before either the Captain or the General. Francis was alone, but when she saw me she left the room under the pretext of seeing +if the tea-water boiled. + +</p> +<p>“Stay, Francis—I think I have a right to a kinder reception.” + +</p> +<p>“On what do you ground your right? Have you now satisfied your curiosity?” + +</p> +<p>“I know nothing, Francis; I asked no questions.” + +</p> +<p>“Asked nothing! on your word of honour?” + +</p> +<p>“I have not asked <i>two</i> words, Francis. I did not ask, because I did not want to hear anything.” + +</p> +<p>“Forsooth! You have shown more self-control than I thought a man capable of.” + +</p> +<p>“Are the women so much our superiors in this respect?” + +</p> +<p>“If it be necessary, we can keep quiet.” + + + +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb153" href="#pb153">153</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div id="xd0e1867" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="normal">Chapter XIX.</h2> +<p>The Captain made his appearance, and put an end to our conversation, without for a moment being aware how unwelcome his presence +was to me. I could scarcely give a civil answer to his question— + +</p> +<p>“Slept well, Jonker?” + +</p> +<p>He went on, however, in his jovial tone— + +</p> +<p>“The General will be here directly.” + +</p> +<p>And, indeed, the General’s entrance followed like an echo to the words, and the breakfast began. + +</p> +<p>Francis was silent and preoccupied—yet she gave me a look as if she regretted her want of confidence in me—making all sorts +of mistakes. The General’s tea was sweetened twice over, and the Captain found he had no sugar in his, a defect which he remedied +as furtively as possible, whispering to me— +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb154" href="#pb154">154</a>]</span></p> +<p>“Our Major’s got out on the wrong side of the bed this morning. We must take care, or the orders of the day will be severe. +She——” + +</p> +<p>“But Francis! What’s the matter with you today; the eggs are too hard,” growled the General. + +</p> +<p>“What a pity, just when we have a visitor,” sighed the Captain; “otherwise they are boiled to perfection.” + +</p> +<p>“By the way, Leopold, what hour is your carriage ordered for?” interposed the General. + +</p> +<p>“Well, uncle, I left it to the Captain,” was my reply. + +</p> +<p>As we spoke a carriage drove up, and Francis rose from the table to look out of the window. + +</p> +<p>“It is indeed too early,” said the General, reproachfully, to Rolf. + +</p> +<p>“Wait a moment, Excellency,” replied Rolf, with a roguish twinkle of the eye; and he walked over to the window where Francis +stood. Then with a loud laugh he said, “The Jonker left the matter in my hands, and perceiving he would like to stay a little +longer with us, I simply sent off to Zutphen for his luggage.” + +</p> +<p>It was now my turn to speak, and I asked <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb155" href="#pb155">155</a>]</span>Francis if she would keep me there a few days longer. Her answer, however, was in the negative. + +</p> +<p>“Leave at once; it is better for both of us.” + +</p> +<p>In the meantime the Captain, like a worthy major-domo, had not only assisted in bringing in my box, but also a number of packages, +bottles, tins, &c., which he spread over the table, and clapping the General on the shoulder, as he said— + +</p> +<p>“Now, what says your Excellency; have I not made a splendid foraging party?” + +</p> +<p>“No more of your ‘Excellency’ and insolent nonsense,” burst out Francis, her eyes striking fire and her cheeks burning with +rage. “You clearly forget, you d——d rascal, that you are an inferior; otherwise you would not dare to act like this. Bless +my soul, what a foolish throwing away of money is this—<i lang="fr">perdrix rouges, pâté-de-foie-gras</i>, all kinds of fish in jelly, all kinds of preserved fruit. Why, it looks as if you were going to start a business here. Why +have you brought all these useless dainties again?” And she struck the table with her clenched fist till the pots and bottles +danced again. “The General ought to turn you out of doors; and he would if his tongue and sense of honour had not grown dull.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb156" href="#pb156">156</a>]</span></p> +<p>“Francis, Francis!” murmured Von Zwenken in a pitiful tone. + +</p> +<p>“No, grandfather,” she continued, more loudly and rudely, “it is a shame, and if you had the least fortitude left you would +put a stop to such extravagance.” + +</p> +<p>“Major, Major!” interposed Rolf, deprecatingly. + +</p> +<p>“Silence, you miserable epicure—I am no longer your major; I have had enough of your quasi-pleasantry. If I had my will all +this should be changed. But I have lost my authority; you let me talk——” + +</p> +<p>“Scream, you mean,” corrected Von Zwenken, with a quivering voice. + +</p> +<p>“And you go on just the same,” resumed Francis, pitching her voice still higher. “But I will not suffer you to take such liberties +any longer; and if grandfather does not call you to order, I will myself put you out of doors, and all your delicacies with +you.” + +</p> +<p>“For heaven’s sake, Francis, calm yourself,” said Von Zwenken; “remember that Jonker van Zonshoven is a witness of your unseemly +conduct.” + +</p> +<p>“All the better. The Jonker chooses to become our guest, and he shall see and know into what a <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb157" href="#pb157">157</a>]</span>mean and miserable a household he has entered. I will put no blind before his eyes.” + +</p> +<p>“There is, however, a difference between trying to blind people, and tearing off the bandages from the sores in this way, +Miss Mordaunt,” I replied, with emphasis. + +</p> +<p>“Possibly, Jonker; but I cannot hide my meaning in fine words. I must speak plainly. I would rather live on bread and water +than be beholden to another for these luxuries.” + +</p> +<p>With this she left the room, giving me a defiant look, which I returned by a shake of the head, to signify how much I disapproved +of her conduct and the intemperance of her language. + +</p> +<p>Whilst we stood staring at each other, we three gentlemen, in a state of stupefaction, she just put her head in at the door +and said— + +</p> +<p>“Captain, you will attend to the housekeeping duties to-day; I am going for a ride.” + +</p> +<p>“At your service, Commandant,” answered Rolf, bringing his hand to his cap in military fashion. + +</p> +<p>I could not help expressing my amazement at the coolness with which he treated the whole affair. +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb158" href="#pb158">158</a>]</span></p> +<p>“What could I say, Jonker; such outbursts are not new to me. I saw this morning that the weather-glass stood at storm. The +quicker and more violent the storm, the sooner it is over; and you know an old soldier is proof against weather.” + +</p> +<p>“I am glad I warned you beforehand, nephew, of my granddaughter’s temper,” said the General, with a deep sigh, without raising +his head to look at me. “Once she’s got an idea into her head, there is no opposing her; she’ll drive through anything, like +a man on his hobby-horse; she never reasons.” + +</p> +<p>I thought to myself, she reasons only too logically for you; and he evidently felt it, for throughout the whole scene he had +sat with his head down, nervously playing with his ring. + +</p> +<p>“Come, General, don’t be cast down,” said Rolf, cheerily: “we’ll maintain our alliance against the common foe, and the wind +will change again.” + +</p> +<p>As he spoke he unfolded a long, small parcel; it contained a riding-whip. “I am afraid the moment is inopportune,” he said; +“and yet she will need it. Who knows but she’ll accept my present?” + +</p> +<p>“I hope not,” I said to myself; “that would lower her in my esteem.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb159" href="#pb159">159</a>]</span></p> +<p>“She deserves to be chastised with it,” interposed the General, now giving vent to his pent-up rage. + +</p> +<p>“Yes, Excellency, that we ought to have done twenty years ago. It was a mistake to promote her to the command before we had +taught her the discipline.” + +</p> +<p>“A great mistake,” sighed the General. + +</p> +<p>Rolf now set to work to attend to his housekeeping duties, and I excused myself under the pretext of having letters to write; +for I had a great wish to be alone and reflect on all I had seen and heard this morning. + + + +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb160" href="#pb160">160</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div id="xd0e1970" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="normal">Chapter XX.</h2> +<p>Once in my room, I threw off my coat, loosened my collar, and made myself quite comfortable before commencing a letter to +Overberg. + +</p> +<p>Suddenly there came a polite rap at my door, and, when I opened it, who should stand before me but Major Frank in person. +She was dressed in her riding-habit, and brought me an inkstand, which she placed on the table, then took a chair quite at +her ease, though she could see I was not pleased at being surprised in my shirt-sleeves. However, I put on my coat and demanded +the object of her visit, as I scarcely believed her sole object was to supply me with an inkstand; and I pointed out to her +I had got my own writing-case with me. My freezing manner seemed to disappoint her, so she said— + +</p> +<p><span class="corr" id="xd0e1978" title="Source: ‘">“</span>I wished to ask a favour of you, but I see I disturb you.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb161" href="#pb161">161</a>]</span></p> +<p>I was still silent. + +</p> +<p>“Have you a strap amongst your luggage which I can use as a riding-whip? You know I have lost mine.” + +</p> +<p>“I can lend you my ruler. Will that do?” + +</p> +<p>She grew very red, and after a pause she said— + +</p> +<p>“I see you are in no humour to render me a service.” + +</p> +<p>“I am always ready to serve a lady who exercises the privileges of her sex. Why did you not send for me, if you wished to +ask me anything?” + +</p> +<p>“Ah!” she exclaimed, in an injured tone, “my want of etiquette causes your ill-humour. I have come into your room. Well, pass +it over—you know I am so little of ‘a lady.’” + +</p> +<p>“That’s only too true, Major.” + +</p> +<p>“Major!” she repeated angrily, opening her large eyes in astonishment. “I thought you disliked my nickname.” + +</p> +<p>“Not since I have seen the soldier in action. But I should like to know to which class of majors you belong, tambour-major +or sergeant-major? For I believe the command of a regiment is usually given to a man of refinement—to a person, in fact, who +can make himself respected by his gentleman-like <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb162" href="#pb162">162</a>]</span>behaviour and dignity; but after the scene I witnessed this morning——” + +</p> +<p>“Leopold!” she cried, deadly pale, her lips quivering, “this is a personal insult. Do you mean it as such?” + +</p> +<p>I was surprised at the change, for I had expected her to wreak her anger on me now. But she sat quite still, as if nailed +to her chair; so I continued— + +</p> +<p>“My remarks only apply to the disagreeable character it pleases you to assume.” + +</p> +<p>Still no answer. And I began to be embarrassed in my turn, which embarrassment was only increased by her breaking out in a +plaintive tone— + +</p> +<p>“Leopold, you strike deeper than you suppose.” + +</p> +<p>“Francis,” I cried, changing my tone, “believe me, it is not my intention to wound you; I wish to cure you.” + +</p> +<p>I was going to take her hand, when she sprang up as if she had received an electric shock, and said in her bitterest tone— + +</p> +<p>“I will not be cured by you; I am what I am, and don’t you waste your precious time on such a disagreeable creature as you +think me to be.” + +</p> +<p>“Oh, Francis! I am not deceived in you, and I <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb163" href="#pb163">163</a>]</span>will try to cure you in spite of yourself. When you made such a terrible scene in my presence this morning, I understood you. +It meant this: He is staying here to study the character of Major Frank; well now, he shall see it in all its rudeness and +insufferableness, and we shall see how long he will stay in spite of me. Miss Mordaunt, I have seen through your intentions, +and I am not to be frightened away by the rude mask you have put on.” + +</p> +<p>“A mask! I am no masker!” she cried, stamping her foot with rage. “You, Jonker van Zonshoven, come from the Hague, a town +full of maskers, to tell me this, me whose chief defect or merit—which you like—is to have broken with all social hypocrisies, +me whose chief pride is to speak my mind plainly without regard of persons. I did not think it necessary to measure my words +in your presence; it appeared to me you had made yourself one of the family, and I thought it best you should know the relationship +in which we stand to each other.” + +</p> +<p>“Just so,” I replied, smiling. “You acknowledge that in raising your voice several notes too high when you gave those two +humiliated men a piece of your mind, your real object was to drive a third <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb164" href="#pb164">164</a>]</span>person out of the house. Be sincere, Francis, confess the truth.” + +</p> +<p>I tried in vain to look her in the face whilst I spoke. She had turned her head away, and was kicking the leg of the table. + +</p> +<p>“I observe, and not for the first time, that you can be disagreeable when you like,” she remarked, after a long pause. + +</p> +<p>“I confess it; but an evasion is not an answer, Francis.” + +</p> +<p>“Well then, yes, it is true; I wished you to leave for your own sake. But never believe, Leopold, whatever stories you hear +about me, that I am deceitful, that I would play a part. I was myself when I made the scene—violent, angry, and burning with +indignation. I have my whims and fancies, that I know; but I never feign—that would ill become me; for, I may say, I have +too much good in me to act falsely. Yet there are so many contradictory feelings in me that I sometimes stand surprised at +myself. And let me tell you, Leo, I came here to seek consolation from you, but your tone and your words have bitterly disappointed +me, so much so that for a moment I have asked myself whether you <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb165" href="#pb165">165</a>]</span>were one of those snobs in patent-leather boots, who, while expressing horror at an ungloved hand, are yet not afraid of soiling +its whiteness by boxing your wife’s ears. Because I did not observe the form of sending a servant to ask you to come to my +room, you receive me as you did, and repulse me with mocking words!” + +</p> +<p>It was now my turn to feel piqued, and I should have answered sharply had I not succeeded in controlling myself. + +</p> +<p>“Pardon me, Francis, I should consider myself the greatest of cowards to strike a woman; but it was no question of a woman +just now. We were speaking of Major Frank—Major Frank who is angry when reminded of the privileges of the fair sex, because +he will not be classed amongst ‘the ladies,’ and who, in my opinion, ought not to be surprised when, after his own fashion, +one tells him the truth roundly, and without mincing matters.” + +</p> +<p>Francis listened this time without interrupting me. She was staring at the panes of the window, as if to put herself in countenance +again; her paleness disappeared, and, turning round, she said, without anger, but with firmness— +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb166" href="#pb166">166</a>]</span></p> +<p>“I confess, Leopold, it is not easy to contradict you; and now I think we are quits. Are we again good friends?” + +</p> +<p>“There’s nothing I desire more ardently; but, once for all, with whom? with Major Frank or——” + +</p> +<p>“Well, then, Francis Mordaunt asks for your friendship.” + +</p> +<p>She offered me both her hands, and her eyes filled with tears she could no longer keep back. How gladly I would have kissed +them away, and pressed her to my heart and told her all! But I could not compromise my commencing victory. + +</p> +<p>“Should I have spoken to you in this way, Francis, if I had not been your sincere friend?” + +</p> +<p>“I see it now, and I have need of a sincere friend. Well then, the Captain is ruining himself for our sakes; and grandfather, +in a most cowardly fashion, lends himself to such doings. Is it not horrible?” + +</p> +<p>“It is very wrong, I admit.” + +</p> +<p>“Now, suppose the General were to die—I should be left shut up in this place for life with the Captain. When he has rendered +himself poor for our sakes, I cannot send him away. Now do you understand I had reasons for being angry this morning?” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb167" href="#pb167">167</a>]</span></p> +<p>“That you had reasons, I don’t dispute; but the form——” + +</p> +<p>“Come, come, always the form!” + +</p> +<p>“I don’t say the form is the main thing, but a woman who gives way to such fits of violence puts herself in the wrong, even +though she have right on her side. Just think for a moment what a scene if the Captain had retaliated in the same coarse language +of the barracks, which he has probably not forgotten.” + +</p> +<p>“I should like to see him try it on with me!” + +</p> +<p>“However, he had a perfect right to do so. I agree you are right in principle; but let me beseech you to change your manner +of proceeding. The gentleness of a woman is always more persuasive than the transports of passion. You have told me your early +education was neglected; but you have read Schiller?” + +</p> +<p>“Die Räuber,” she replied, tauntingly. + +</p> +<p>“But not his ‘<span lang="de">Macht des Weibes</span>,’ nor this line— + +</p> +<div class="
 poem
 " lang="de"> +<p class="line" style=""><span>‘Was die Stille nicht wirkt, wirket die Rauschende nie!’”</span></p> +</div> +<p>She shook her head in the negative. + +</p> +<p>“This part of your education has been much neglected.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb168" href="#pb168">168</a>]</span></p> +<p>“I will not deny it.” + +</p> +<p>“But it is not yet too late. Will you listen to my advice?” + +</p> +<p>“Not now; I have already stayed too long here, and—and—you stay at the Castle——” + +</p> +<p>“As long as you will keep me, Francis.” + +</p> +<p>“Well, stay as long as you can—that is, if you can fall in with our ways. I am going out for a ride; I need fresh air and +movement.” + +</p> +<p>“<i>Apropos</i> the service you came to ask of me—the strap?” + +</p> +<p>“Oh, I shall pluck a switch. The Captain came to offer me a whip, and——” + +</p> +<p>“And you would rather accept it at my hands,” I said, laughing. + +</p> +<p>“No; but I should like to borrow ten guilders of you for a couple of days.” + +</p> +<p>I handed over my purse, and told her to take out of it as much as she required. What a strange creature! What a comic conclusion +to our battle! + +</p> +<p>I also felt as if a little fresh air would do me good, and so I walked off to the village post-office with my letter to Overberg. + + + +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb169" href="#pb169">169</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div id="xd0e2115" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="normal">Chapter XXI.</h2> +<p>Downstairs I met the General ready for a walk, and he offered to accompany me. He had also a letter for the post, which was +a secret to be kept from Francis; and he expected to find a packet awaiting him, which could not be entrusted to a servant. +The packet was there amongst the letters marked <i>poste restante</i>; but when he had opened it with precipitation, a cloud of disappointment covered his face, and he heaved a heavy sigh. + +</p> +<p>“Don’t say anything to Francis about the packet,” he said to me, as we walked back from the post. “Such business I must manage +unknown to her; she does not understand these things, and she would not agree with me; and with her temper—at my age I have +great need of quiet—that you comprehend. The Captain is entirely indebted to me for his rank, and it is but natural he should +pay me some little <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb170" href="#pb170">170</a>]</span>attention. Yet you heard how my granddaughter took the matter up this morning. Instead of being content with me for retiring +to this wilderness of a place, which I did to please her, she does nothing to render my life supportable.” + +</p> +<p>“And yet the Werve is beautifully situated, uncle.” + +</p> +<p>“I agree with you there; but when one must give up all field sports, this becomes a very isolated place. The village offers +not the slightest resource, and the town is too far away.” + +</p> +<p>“Why don’t you sell the Castle, uncle?” + +</p> +<p>“Ah, my dear boy, for that I must have money, much money; and that I have been in want of all my life. There are so many mortgages +on the Castle that nobody would give the sum necessary to pay them. Besides, the person who bought it would like to possess +the neighbouring estates. My sister-in-law, who possessed the Runenberg estates bordering on my property, wished to buy it, +but I refused her; family hatred would not suffer me to make room for her. Thank heaven, she’s gone. She instituted proceedings +against me about a strip of land of no real value to either of us; and the lawsuit cost me thousands of guilders. She won, +as a matter of <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb171" href="#pb171">171</a>]</span>course, and then laid claim to a small bridge which connected the land in question with my grounds. Again I lost my money +and my case; and now I must make a long round to reach places quite near, because the use of the bridge is forbidden me. Oh, +that woman has been the curse of my life!” + +</p> +<p>“But to come back to the question. Overberg has commissioned me to say that the heir to the Runenberg is likely to make you +an advantageous offer for the Werve.” + +</p> +<p>“It could be done privately—as in the case of the farms? Overberg arranged that for me—and there are reasons for avoiding +a public sale,” cried the old man, brightening up with a ray of hope. + +</p> +<p>“Yes, Overberg said as much; the only question was whether you could be induced to sell it.” + +</p> +<p>“For myself, yes, with all my heart. But Francis—there’s the rub! She has an affection for this old rats’ nest, for the family +traditions, and for heaven know’s what; nay, even for the title which its possession carries with it. God bless the mark! +She has got it into her head that at some future day she will be Baroness de Werve; and it is an illusion of hers to restore +this old barrack. But her only chance of <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb172" href="#pb172">172</a>]</span>doing it is to make a rich marriage. Formerly she had chances enough amongst the rich bachelors, but she treated them all +slightingly; and now we see nobody in this lonely place.” + +</p> +<p>“But you do not need her permission to sell the Castle?” + +</p> +<p>“Legally I do not require it; but there would be no living with her if I sold it without her consent. Besides, she has a right +to be consulted. When she came of age I had to inform her that her mother’s fortune was nearly all spent. It was not my fault. +Sir John Mordaunt kept up a large establishment, and lived in English style, without English money to support it; for he was +only a second son, and his captain’s pay was not large. A little before his death he lost an uncle, to whose property and +title Francis would have succeeded if she had been a boy. Shortly after this event my son-in-law died of apoplexy, and I was +left guardian to Francis. My evil fate pursued me still, and being in want of a large sum of money to clear off a debt, which +would disgrace the family if not paid at once, Francis generously offered me her whole fortune. I accepted it, as there was +no alternative, but only as a loan; <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb173" href="#pb173">173</a>]</span>and promised to leave the Werve to her at my death.” + +</p> +<p>“But Francis is your only grandchild—or stay, I have heard you had a son, General; has he children?” + +</p> +<p>“My son is—dead,” Von Zwenken answered, with a strange kind of hesitancy in his voice. “He was never married so far as I know—at +least, he never asked my consent to a marriage; and if he has left children I should not acknowledge them to be legitimate. +In short, you now understand why I cannot sell the Castle without Francis’ consent; after my death my creditors cannot take +possession of it without reckoning with her.” + +</p> +<p>It struck me that Aunt Sophia had never foreseen this, and the mine she had been digging for Von Zwenken would have blown +up Francis in the ruins if things had been allowed to take their course. I had, in fact, at my side, a type of the most refined +selfishness, profoundly contemptible, recounting to me his shameful scheming under the cover of a gentlemanlike exterior and +a polite friendliness, which might deceive the shrewdest man alive. Could I any longer wonder why Francis had so great an +aversion to outward forms and ceremonies. +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb174" href="#pb174">174</a>]</span></p> +<p>“But,” I resumed, “are you not afraid that after your death your granddaughter will be sadly undeceived, and perhaps cheated +out of her all by your negligence.” + +</p> +<p>“What can I say, <i lang="fr">mon cher</i>? Necessity knows no law; and I still hope to better my fortune before the end comes.” + +</p> +<p>“At his age, by what means?” I asked myself. + +</p> +<p>Then I thought of the packet he had been to fetch from the post-office. I believed I had seen it contained long lists of numbers; +they were certainly the official numbers of some German lottery. The unhappy man evidently rested all his hopes on this expedient +for re-establishing order in his affairs; and probably invested every penny he could scrape together in such lotteries. I +though him an idiot to trust to any such means. + +</p> +<p>“Nephew,” he exclaimed, briskly, and with vivacity, as if a bright idea had struck him, “if it be true Overberg intends to +treat with me about the sale of the Castle, would it not be well for you to break the subject to Francis, just to sound her? +It appears to me you have some influence over her; and the greatest obstacle would be removed if you could change her fixed +ideas on the point.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb175" href="#pb175">175</a>]</span></p> +<p>“I will do so, uncle.” + +</p> +<p>“You can make use of this argument, that the company of the Captain would become less of a necessity for me if I were in some +town where other society is to be found.” + +</p> +<p>Fortunately I did not need to answer him: we were at home, the luncheon bell was ringing, and the Captain came out to meet +us, jovial as ever. Francis had not returned, and we took luncheon without waiting for her. Only at dinner-time did she put +in an appearance. Her toilette was simply made, but she was dressed in good taste, and her beauty brought out to perfection. +I was charmed. She seemed to tell me in a silent way that Major Frank had given place to Miss Mordaunt. She was quiet and +thoughtful at dinner, and did not scold the Captain, who watched all her movements with dog-like humility. She paid much attention +to the General, who seemed absent and out of sorts, for he only tasted some of the dishes. The dinner itself was a much simpler +affair than on the preceding day; yet there was sufficient, and one extra dish had been made specially for Von Zwenken, who +did not ask for the finer sorts of wine, but made up for this want <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb176" href="#pb176">176</a>]</span>by drinking two bottles of the ordinary wine without appearing any the worse for it. + +</p> +<p>The only difference between him and the Captain was, that unlike the latter, he did not frankly confess that he lived to eat, +and that his belly was his god. I began to feel a most hearty contempt for this grand-uncle of mine, and more especially when +I reflected on the conversation we had had during our morning’s walk. + + + +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb177" href="#pb177">177</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div id="xd0e2185" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="normal">Chapter XXII.</h2> +<p>Dinner over, I did not hesitate about leaving the gentlemen to themselves. I declined a cigar, and followed Francis to the +drawing-room. Rolf soon joined us, and demanded humbly— + +</p> +<p>“What says my Major—do I not deserve a word of praise?” + +</p> +<p>“Yes, certainly,” she replied, but her face clouded. + +</p> +<p>Guessing the reason, I whispered to the Captain— + +</p> +<p>“Don’t you perceive you annoy my cousin by always addressing her by that hateful nickname? Can’t you see by her elegant dress +she desires to appear herself—Miss Mordaunt?” + +</p> +<p>“Indeed I am a blockhead not to pay better attention; but the truth is, Jonker—excuse me, Freule—the custom is such an inveterate +one.” + +</p> +<p>“You and I must break with old customs, Captain,” <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb178" href="#pb178">178</a>]</span>she said softly, but with emphasis, “for we have been on the wrong track—have we not, Jonker?” + +</p> +<p>“May I say one word,” interposed the Captain, “before the Freule and the Jonker begin to philosophise; should the General +come in I cannot say it. You know the day after to-morrow is the General’s seventy-sixth birthday. I had intended the celebration +to be a brilliant affair; but when I hear of wrong tracks, changes, and such farrago, I begin to fear all my plans will fall +through.” + +</p> +<p>“Oh! was that the reason you brought in all those dainties this morning?” + +</p> +<p>“Yes, and I thought the Jonker would be an agreeable addition to our party.” + +</p> +<p>“I give you full leave to arrange it all in your own way, Rolf. Grandfather must be fêted.” + +</p> +<p>“Hurrah! of course!” he cried merrily; and off he went to make his arrangements, carefully shutting the folding-doors behind +him so as to isolate us from the dining-room. + +</p> +<p>I was just going to compliment Francis on the change in her style of dressing, when she complained of the closeness of the +room, and skipped off into the garden. Left thus to my own resources, I lit a cigar <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb179" href="#pb179">179</a>]</span>and walked out in front of the house, where I soon espied my lady; and when I joined her she proposed to walk as far as the +ruin to see the sun set. Instead of taking the regular path, Francis preferred making direct for the object in view; and we +had to trample through the underwood, and were many times tripped by the roots of felled trees. In answer to my remarks on +this whim of hers, she replied— + +</p> +<p>“People say my education was neglected, which is not quite correct. I am not altogether a child of the wilderness. In fact, +much trouble was given to my training, only it was not of the right sort. I was brought up as a <i>boy</i>. As you know already, my mother died a few days after my birth, and Rolf’s sister was my nurse. Her own child had died, and +I replaced it for her. She had a blind affection for me, almost bordering on fanaticism; she obeyed all my wishes, giving +as an excuse to any remonstrances that she was the only person in the world who loved me. This was an exaggeration, for my +grandfather, who lived in the same house with us, made much of me, though it is true Sir John Mordaunt took little notice +of his child. He had previously had a son called Francis, like myself, on whom all his hopes <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb180" href="#pb180">180</a>]</span>were fixed during the six months the child lived. I was a disappointment, as he wished to have a son to take the place of +the lost infant; and he received me with so little welcome that I have heard the last hours of my poor mother’s life were +embittered by this knowledge. My nurse, who could no longer bear the indifference with which he treated me, one day took me +into his room, to show him what a healthy, strong child I was. ‘Indeed,’ she said, ‘it might have been a boy.’ + +</p> +<p>“Rolf has since told me that my father seemed suddenly struck by an idea. From that day forth he devoted much attention to +my training, and this has made me what I am. Under pretext of hygiene and English custom, I was dressed in a loose costume, +‘a boy’s suit,’ as my nurse called it, and I was taught all kinds of gymnastic exercises. They hardened me against heat and +cold like a young Spartan. Rolf taught me the military exercise, and made me quite an adept at fencing, and all the young +officers who dined with us were invited to have a bout with me. Out of complaisance to papa, they allowed me to come off victor; +and Sir John was sure to reward me splendidly for any praise I won. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb181" href="#pb181">181</a>]</span>At this time grandfather held the rank of Major, and I suppose it was an idea of Rolf’s to give me the title of ‘Little Major,’ +with which my father was so pleased that he often addressed me by this sobriquet, and so gave it the stamp of his authority. +I well remember, on one occasion, an officer, evidently a stranger, addressed me as Miss Francis, which so much surprised +me that I uttered a good round oath in English—it was Sir John’s favourite expression; whereupon my father took me in his +arms and kissed me, so far as I can recollect for the first time in my life.” + +</p> +<p>“It is less to be wondered at that the bad habit has clung to you even to this day.” + +</p> +<p>“My nurse of course told me it was wrong, and tried to break me of it; but in my childish way I was a match for her, replying, +‘But papa does so—is it a sin, then?’ + +</p> +<p>“‘Oh, for gentlemen it is different.’ + +</p> +<p>“‘Very well, I will be a gentleman; I won’t be a girl.’ + +</p> +<p>“Indeed, my childhood was embittered by the idea that I was a girl and could never become a man. I never went to children’s +parties; I was always <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb182" href="#pb182">182</a>]</span>with grown-up people, officers, and lovers of the chase, and at eight years of age I was no bad match for some of them on +horseback. When my nurse acknowledged she had lost all control over me, a tutor was engaged—yes, a tutor: don’t be surprised. +Sir John had never either announced the death of his son or the birth of a daughter to his relations in England. For this +reason I was isolated from my own sex, and even learned to regard it with somewhat of an aversion, owing to the conversation +of Sir John and Dr. Darkins. I profited by such training, though perhaps not exactly as they desired, for I hated a lie, and +my chief desire was to show myself such as I was, proud and frank in all my dealings with men. I am convinced grandfather +had no hand in this plot, but he was too weak to speak out and set his face against it. Sometimes, however, he gave me needlework +to do, and he had a strong aversion to Dr. Darkins. Disputes arose between him and Sir John, and he shortly after moved to +another garrison, taking Rolf with him. When I was close upon my fourteenth year, Dr. Darkins was suddenly cashiered, and +it was announced to me that I should be sent to an aristocratic <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb183" href="#pb183">183</a>]</span>ladies’ boarding-school. There I played all sorts of pranks, smoked like a grenadier, and had always a supply of extra-fine +cigarettes wherewith to tempt my schoolfellows. + +</p> +<p>“The cause of this great change in my life was brought about in this way. Aunt Ellen, a sister of my father’s, had come over +to Scheveningen with her husband for the bathing season, and thence she made a flying visit to see her brother, taking everybody +by surprise—nobody more so than Sir John himself. + +</p> +<p>“‘Francis must be a big boy now; what are you going to make of him?’ I heard her ask my father. + +</p> +<p>“‘There’s nothing to be made of him,’ my father answered angrily in his embarrassment, ‘for Francis is only a girl. The eldest +child, a son, is dead. I have only this one.’ + +</p> +<p>“‘John, John,’ cried the lady reproachfully, ‘the whole family believed you had a son, and you have done nothing to undeceive +us; and the old baronet, who pays you the yearly income set apart for his heir, is expecting to see you both in England very +soon. What do you mean by it? Have you acted like a gentleman?’ +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb184" href="#pb184">184</a>]</span></p> +<p>“Papa lisped something about ‘absolute necessity,’ and seemed anxious to induce her to co-operate in his schemes. The proud +lady burst forth in indignation— + +</p> +<p>“‘Can you imagine I would become a party to such deception?’ + +</p> +<p>“Sir John, to relieve his disappointment, uttered his usual oath, and ordered me out of the room, as he now perceived I was +listening with all my ears. + +</p> +<p>“I obeyed very unwillingly, and not until I had spoken to Aunt Ellen. He ordered me to hold my tongue, and there was a mingling +of menace, of anxiety, and embarrassment in his looks which drove me sheer out of the room. I had never seen him look like +that before. What passed between them I cannot say. Aunt Ellen afterwards gave me fifty pounds, and promised to make me that +yearly allowance if my conduct was satisfactory at school. I told her I hated girls’ schools, and that I should much prefer +going to England with Dr. Darkins, as had been promised me. + +</p> +<p>“‘That’s out of the question, my child.’ More she did not say, and I knew better than to ask Sir John any questions. +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb185" href="#pb185">185</a>]</span></p> +<p>“Well, as you may imagine, I did not stay a whole year at school. In some things I had the advantage of the eldest girls, +whilst in others I was more stupid and ignorant than the children in the lowest class. My knitting was always in confusion; +I broke my needles in my impatience; I spoilt the silk and sampler if I had any marking to do; and, to make matters worse, +if any one laughed at me for my awkwardness, or punished me for my carelessness, I flew into the most violent passion. I fought +with the assistant-mistress, and boxed the ears of any girl who called me Major Frank—a girl from the same town as myself +having betrayed me. Before I had been there six weeks I ran away, and had to be taken back by Sir John himself; but six months +later I was dismissed as an untractable, incorrigible creature, whose conduct was pernicious in its effect on the rest of +the school. The dismissal, however, was an injustice to me. Music was the only thing I liked at school, and the music master +was the only teacher who had never had reason to complain of me; on the contrary, he praised me, he flattered me, and one +day he even gave me a kiss.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb186" href="#pb186">186</a>]</span></p> +<p>“The wretch!” + +</p> +<p>“Yes, this liberty aroused all my feelings of feminine dignity, and I boxed his ears for him.” + +</p> +<p>“That was just like you!” + +</p> +<p>“The other girls rushed into the room; the headmistress followed to inquire into the cause of the disturbance. Of course the +master had the first word, and he was base enough to say I had become so violent on account of his correcting my fingering. +When asked for my explanation, I answered that I would not contradict a liar—it was beneath my dignity. + +</p> +<p>“I declined to apologize, and was threatened with the severest punishments known in the school. They shut me up in a room +and fed me on bread and water, but all in vain; the mistress was obliged to write for my father. + +</p> +<p>“He sent my old nurse to fetch me away, and I confided the truth to her with many tears. She was very anxious to make a scene, +give ‘madame’ a piece of her mind in the presence of her pupils; but I was so glad to get away from the school that I prevented +her carrying out her intentions. I told her I should not be believed. The <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb187" href="#pb187">187</a>]</span>fact was, one of the elder girls told me I was very foolish to make so much fuss about a kiss. The music master kisses me,’ +she continued, ‘and all the others who are pretty,’ as he says. Still, we are much too sensible to tell any one, for he lends +us French novels forbidden by madame, and improvises invitations for us when we want to go out: in short, he is ready to do +us all kinds of services that we could not trust to a servant of the establishment. What folly to make such a man your enemy!<span class="corr" id="xd0e2280" title="Source: ’"></span> + +</p> +<p>“I have since met this same girl—Leontine was her name—in society, and experienced the advantages of her education. She was +ever very polite to my face, and calumniated me directly my back was turned. Thus, you see, under these forms of decorum all +kinds of lies and infamy are hidden.” + +</p> +<p>“Francis, I am quite of your opinion that a man’s fine manners are no guarantee of his morality or uprightness; but do you +think society would be improved by turning all its sin, wretchedness, and ugliness to the surface?” + +</p> +<p>“It is certain we should then fly from it in disgust and horror.” + +</p> +<p>“But every one cannot fly from it. There are <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb188" href="#pb188">188</a>]</span>people who are obliged to live in society; and, provided that we do not become its dupe, it is better that what you call the +mantle of decorum should give to social life an aspect which renders it supportable.” + +</p> +<p>As we returned from the ruin the sky had become misty, and the sun was setting behind the clouds, its presence being only +marked by the orange and purple rays struggling through the mist; the fields were already invisible under this wet sheet of +nature’s procuring. It was time for us to seek shelter from such humidity as surrounded us. Francis proposed to enter the +house with all speed. + + + +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb189" href="#pb189">189</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div id="xd0e2295" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="normal">Chapter XXIII.</h2> +<p>Now that Francis was once in the humour to give me the history of her past life, I encouraged her to continue her story. + +</p> +<p>She went on to say that a Swiss governess was engaged to teach her needlework and other ladylike accomplishments. + +</p> +<p>“My father,” she said, “seeing all his plans foiled by the unexpected visit of my English aunt, left me entirely in the hands +of my governess. And as I no longer wrote a letter every year to the old uncle telling him of my progress in fencing and horsemanship, +and signing myself <i>Francis</i> Mordaunt (I had been told this was the accepted orthography in England), Sir John received no more bills of exchange from +that source. It was these bills of exchange which had enabled him to keep up such an expensive establishment. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb190" href="#pb190">190</a>]</span>He ought now to have adopted a plainer style of living; but he preferred drawing upon his capital. + +</p> +<p>“I thought it my duty to write to Aunt Ellen, and to tell her the truth about my having left the school. She answered me in +affectionate terms, and enclosed the annual fifty pounds with many exhortations to industry and much good advice. She even +promised me I should come to London on a visit, as she had much to tell me. But, alas! next year she died, and my pension +ceased—nor have I ever heard a word of my English relations since. + +</p> +<p>“Mademoiselle Chelles, my governess, was a woman of tact, and won my affection and esteem. In the long walks we took together +our conversation was confidential, and she spoke of the sufferings of the poor, and the pleasures to be derived from relieving +them; in short, she showed me the serious side of life in a manner no one else had ever done before. She inspired me with +a love for the beauties of nature, and awoke the better feelings which, thus far, had lain dormant; assisting me in my preparation +for confirmation. Perhaps she would have succeeded in extirpating ‘Major Frank’ altogether, but <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb191" href="#pb191">191</a>]</span>that my nurse grew jealous of her influence; and, worse still, Rolf, now promoted to the rank of lieutenant, fell in love +with her. She could not bear the <i lang="fr">grand soudard</i>, the ‘ogre,’ as she called him; for his manners frightened her, and he made his offer in such a maladroit fashion that she +walked off to my father, and said she would leave the house if ever that man were allowed to put his foot into it again. This, +as everybody said, was assuming the ‘high tone’ on her part. Grandfather and nurse were on Rolf’s side, and my father answered—<span class="corr" id="xd0e2318" title="Source: ”">’</span>It’s only a governess, let her go.’ I myself said little for her; I was too anxious to regain my ancient liberty—though I +have since known the loss I sustained in losing her. I was young then; my father ought to have known better. Even to the present +day this is one of my grudges against Rolf. + +</p> +<p>“Again I became ‘Major Frank.’ I accompanied my father on his rides, and I saw he was proud of my horsemanship. Sometimes +we hunted together, and when he allowed me to drive I was ever ready to show off my daring and skill. In the meantime my nurse +died, and now, indeed, I felt the truth of her words—that she was the only person in the world <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb192" href="#pb192">192</a>]</span>who really loved me. I had to take her place, and fulfil the duties of mistress in the household. My father was expecting +a visitor from England——” + +</p> +<p>She stopped abruptly, and fixing her beautiful blue eyes on me with a strange expression, asked— + +</p> +<p>“Leopold, have you been in the society of women much?” + +</p> +<p>“When I lived with my mother I saw many of her friends and visitors; but since——” + +</p> +<p>“That’s not the question. I ask you if, like most men, you have sometimes suffered from the intermittent fever called love?” + +</p> +<p>“I have done my best, cousin, to escape it. Knowing myself to be too poor to maintain a wife in these expensive times, I have +always observed a strict reserve in my relations with them in order not to be led away from my principles.” + +</p> +<p>“Then you have never been ‘passion’s slave,’ as Hamlet puts it.” + +</p> +<p>“My time has always been too much occupied for anything of the sort.” + +</p> +<p>“So much the better for you; but I am sorry for myself, because you will not be able to give me the information I am seeking.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb193" href="#pb193">193</a>]</span></p> +<p>“Tell me what you want to know; possibly I can enlighten you.” + +</p> +<p>“I wish to know if you think it possible for an honourable man, who is neither a fool nor a coxcomb, but who, on the contrary, +has given evidences of his shrewdness and penetration, not to observe pretty quickly that a girl—how shall I express myself?—that +a girl is deeply attached to him, even though no word of love has been exchanged between them?” + +</p> +<p>I was greatly embarrassed. What could be her meaning? Was this simplicity or maliciousness on her part, to address such a +question to me? After a few moments’ reflection, however, I answered— + +</p> +<p>“I believe that, in general, both men and women very quickly discover the mutual feelings which they entertain towards each +other, even though no words on the subject have passed between them.” + +</p> +<p>“That is my opinion also now; but at the time I am referring to I was as inexperienced as a child. My father’s friends always +regarded me as an ill-bred girl, whimsical and capricious, a sort of savage whom nobody cared to invite into society either +for the sake of their sons or daughters. The young officers who visited at our house would try to make themselves <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb194" href="#pb194">194</a>]</span>agreeable; but their conduct appeared so insipid, so ridiculous, that I only mocked them, and gave such biting replies as +to disconcert the most intrepid amongst them. + +</p> +<p>“It was at this time that Lord William came to stay with us. He was introduced to me as a schoolfellow of my father’s; at +Eton he had been Sir John’s fag, and indeed was his junior by only a few years. For some reason, unexplained to me, it was +said he had been obliged to leave England, and my father offered him the suite of rooms left vacant by my grandfather. Lord +William appeared to be rich; he brought over an immense quantity of luggage, and paid right royally for any service rendered +him. I believe, indeed, he had a private agreement with my father about the housekeeping expenses, though neither of them +ever told me so. Now a housekeeper was engaged to assist me in the management of the house, and yet it was with the greatest +difficulty that I could adapt myself to the duties of mistress of such an establishment. The presence of our visitor, however, +greatly aided in reconciling me to my position. + +</p> +<p>“Lord William (I never knew his family name) <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb195" href="#pb195">195</a>]</span>was a man of letters, and had had a very valuable and expensive library sent over for his use. Moreover, he was highly gifted +with the faculty of communicating his knowledge to others in a pleasant and agreeable manner. He was an enthusiastic lover +of art and poetry; he could read and even speak several modern languages, and was passionately fond of antiquities and ancient +history. He knew—what we were all ignorant of—that the library of our own small town possessed works of inestimable value +on these subjects, and I think this was his reason for choosing it as his place of sojourn on the Continent. At all events +he made great use of the library. You may understand my surprise at seeing a man, evidently of high rank, who cared neither +for hunting nor noisy pleasures of any kind, and who declared the happiest moments of his life to be those spent in his study, +and yet withal he was a perfect gentleman and man of the world. The gentlemen said he was ugly; the ladies were silent on +that point, but appeared delighted with the slightest attention he paid them. I thought he bore a striking resemblance to +our Stadtholder William III., though less pale. He had a high forehead, strongly marked features, and <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb196" href="#pb196">196</a>]</span>dark eyes, which made you think of the piercing regard of the eagle.” + +</p> +<p>“Had he also the beak?” I asked, growing impatient. + +</p> +<p>“I have told you he was like William III. (of England),” she replied, looking at me in astonishment; “his nose was curved +sharply. But not to detain you too long, I will at once confess he exercised a powerful influence over me for good. I soon +discovered that my manners were displeasing to him, and that he evinced towards me a compassionate sympathy, as if he regretted +the sad turn my tastes had taken. One day I overheard him ask my father why he did not take me out into society. He gave as +a reason my wild and brusque manners, and the kind of society to be found in a small town like ours. Lord William was not +a man to be easily discouraged. He spoke to me privately about my previous life, and put all sorts of questions to me about +my education. I told him everything, in my own way, without trying to hide any of the particulars from him. + +</p> +<p>“‘Do you like reading?’ he asked me. + +</p> +<p>“‘Not at all,’ I answered. ‘I like society, men and action.’ +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb197" href="#pb197">197</a>]</span></p> +<p>“‘But any one who does not read, and read much, becomes idiotic, and makes but a poor figure in society.’ + +</p> +<p>“‘If that’s the case, tell me what I ought to read.’ + +</p> +<p>“‘I cannot answer your question right away; but, if you are willing, we will read together and try to make up for lost time.’<span class="corr" id="xd0e2377" title="Not in source">”</span> + + + +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb198" href="#pb198">198</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div id="xd0e2381" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="normal">Chapter XXIV.</h2> +<p>“And so it was settled. He undertook to educate me and to form my tastes. He soon made me acquainted with the masterpieces +of German and French literature, and discovered to me the beauties of the classics in his own language; and I learnt from +him most assiduously that which Dr. Darkins never could have taught me——” + +</p> +<p>“And so well, that you fell in love with each other!” I interrupted, giving way to a movement of anger. + +</p> +<p>“Not exactly; but if you interrupt in that way I shall lose the thread of my narrative. It is at your desire I recount to +you the story of my past life; and how much wiser would you be if I were to compress it into a sentence like this for instance: +‘Lord <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb199" href="#pb199">199</a>]</span>William came to our house in the autumn, and left us the following spring’?” + +</p> +<p>“Without having become your <i>fiancé</i>?” I said in agony. + +</p> +<p>“Without having become my <i>fiancé</i>,” she answered in a dry, cold tone. + +</p> +<p>I was angry with myself. I had only too plainly shown that I was jealous of the praise lavished on this stranger. And what +right had I to be jealous? + +</p> +<p>She was the first to break the silence which ensued. + +</p> +<p>“Leopold,” she said, “I perceive that this account of the events of my youth is anything but agreeable to you. If you had +left us as I wished you to do this morning, I should not now be wearying you with my recollections of the past.” + +</p> +<p>“Believe me, Francis, I have remained on purpose to listen to them; I promise not to interrupt you again if you will continue.” + +</p> +<p>“Well then, now I will confess to you that I loved Lord William with all the strength of a first love, and with all that innocency +of a young heart which does not yet even know that the passion which sways it is love. I soon found that Lord William was +dearer to me than all the world beside, and that my <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb200" href="#pb200">200</a>]</span>chief delight was to obey him in all things, to consult him on all occasions, and to accompany him when and wherever it was +possible. I even found means to interest myself in his archæological researches. I translated for him Dutch documents which +formerly I would not have taken the trouble to read. Besides, finding that, like most men, he was fond of a good dinner, I +took care to have such dishes prepared as I knew to be to his liking. I began to pay attention to my dress, because he himself, +without going to extremes or exceeding the bounds of good taste, was always well dressed. He introduced me into the society +of our small town, and I felt vexed every time he paid the least attention to another lady, though I took care not to let +him see it. We also gave dinners and received company, and the ladies were greatly astonished at the manner in which Major +Frank played the hostess. The winter was drawing to a close, and it had been settled that, on the first fine day which offered, +we should all make an excursion to the Werve. My grandfather had returned to the garrison, and I was soon aware he disapproved +of my sentiments towards Lord William. And it was not long before I knew the reason why. +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb201" href="#pb201">201</a>]</span></p> +<p>“One fine spring morning I was sitting on the balcony with a book in my hand, when I heard my grandfather and father, who +sat on a bench underneath, speaking of Lord William and myself in terms which excited my curiosity. + +</p> +<p>“Grandfather, in a very bad humour, said: ‘She is always parading him about, and he pays no attentions to anybody but her. +In your place, I should ask him to declare his intentions, and then the engagement can be publicly announced.’ + +</p> +<p>“My father burst out in a loud laugh. + +</p> +<p>“‘Major,’ he said, ‘what are you thinking of? William, whose intentions are perfectly honest, was at school with me; he is +only two or three years my junior, and Francis has not completed her seventeenth year.’ + +</p> +<p>“‘What does that matter? He does not look much over thirty, and I tell you she’s madly in love with him. How is it possible +you have never perceived it yourself?’ + +</p> +<p>“‘Bless me, Major!’ cried my father, ‘you must know that William is married; and, moreover, I am very grateful to him for +acting the part of mentor to Francis; indeed she had need of one!’ +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb202" href="#pb202">202</a>]</span></p> +<p>“‘In truth, Sir John, either you are too simple, or you indulge a confidence in your friend I cannot approve of.’ + +</p> +<p>“‘You would have the same confidence in him that I have, if you knew him as well. He is every inch a gentleman, sir, and if +I hinted the slightest suspicion he would leave the house instantly. And, besides, he is generous, very generous—I am deeply +indebted to him. His stay with us is almost at its close. He must return to London to preside at the meeting of some society +of antiquarians of which he is the president. The disagreeable affair which obliged him to come to the Continent is almost +arranged. He was afraid of a lawsuit which would have caused much scandal in high life, but the mediators are now hopeful +of success. His wife, who is travelling in the South with his relations, has written him a very humble letter, imploring him +to forget and to forgive. He has told me his mind is not yet quite made up, but that he has a great repugnance to a divorce; +probably then——’ + +</p> +<p>“Hereupon the two speakers got up and walked away into the garden. As for myself, I remained for a long time leaning against +the balustrade, immovable <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb203" href="#pb203">203</a>]</span>as a statue of stone. When I found myself quite alone, I could not suppress a cry of grief. Yes, my grandfather had read me! +I loved—I loved with passion, and all at once I discovered my passion to be a crime. And he, had he not deceived me by leaving +me in ignorance of what it was most important for me to know? Ought he not to have foreseen the danger into which he was leading +me by his kind and affectionate treatment? Without doubt he felt himself invulnerable; without doubt he still loved his absent +wife. It is true that with his kind manners he always maintained a certain reserve with me; once, indeed, and once only, he +had kissed my hand with marks of tenderness for some attention or other I had shown him. That night I could not sleep for +joy; on the morrow, however, he resumed his habitual reserve. + +</p> +<p>“My first idea was to go and reproach him to his face for what I considered his deception towards me; but he was not at home, +and would not return before dinner. At table I could not help showing him how much my feelings towards him had changed. This +he observed, and when the other gentlemen lit their cigars after dinner, instead of following me to the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb204" href="#pb204">204</a>]</span>drawing-room, as was his wont, he took a cigar and stayed with them. I remembered that I could smoke also, and I followed +his example. I saw him frown; he threw away his cigar, and invited me to go with him to his study. This was just what I wanted. + +</p> +<p>“‘What is the matter with you, Miss Francis?’ he asked. ‘I cannot understand the reason for this change in your behaviour +towards me.’ + +</p> +<p>“‘On a little reflection, my lord, you will easily discover the reason. You know how much I love plain-speaking.’ + +</p> +<p>“‘Very good.’ + +</p> +<p>“‘What can I think of you when I hear from other people that you are married?’ + +</p> +<p>“I saw he grew pale, but he answered with great coldness— + +</p> +<p>“‘Has Sir John only just told you that? and why to-day above all others?’ + +</p> +<p>“‘Sir John has told me nothing; I have heard it by accident. By accident, you understand, my lord, and now I think I have +the right to hear from your own lips more particulars about your wife.’ + +</p> +<p>“He drew back some paces; his features became <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb205" href="#pb205">205</a>]</span>so contracted under an expression of violent suffering that I myself was afraid. For a time he was silent, pacing up and down +the room; and finally he said to me, with a mingling of sadness and discontent— + +</p> +<p>“‘I am sorry, Francis, but I did not think the time had arrived when I could give you such a mark of confidence. There is +too much of bitterness in your tone for me to suppose your question arises out of an interest in my sorrows, and only those +who have such an interest have a claim to my explanations. Is it a young girl like you that I should choose out by preference, +in whom to confide the sad secrets of my unhappy marriage? And how could I begin to speak about a subject on the termination +of which I am still in doubt?’ + +</p> +<p>“‘And it never occurred to you, my lord, that there might be a danger in leaving me ignorant of your marriage?’ + +</p> +<p>“‘No, certainly not. I came here to divert my thoughts from my troubles, and to seek solace—which I have found—in my favourite +studies. I made your acquaintance in the house of your father, who received me hospitably; and I thought I perceived your +education had been neglected, nay, that even a false turn <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb206" href="#pb206">206</a>]</span>had been given to your ideas. This I have tried to remedy and I must acknowledge you have gratefully appreciated and seconded +my efforts; but it does not follow that I ought to acquaint you with all my personal affairs and all my griefs and troubles. +I fled from England to escape the condolence of my friends and the raillery of my adversaries. I wished to avoid a lawsuit +in which my name—a name of some renown in England—would have been exposed to the comments of a public ever hungering after +scandal. Could I have talked to you on such a subject? It would have cast a gloom over the golden dreams of your youth, and +rendered the autumn of my life still more cloudy!’ + +</p> +<p>“‘The clouds surrounding you, my lord, must be pretty thick already,’ I replied, exasperated by his cool manner, ‘to prevent +your seeing that my ignorance of your marriage has caused me to embark on a sea of illusions, where in the spring-time of +life I shall suffer shipwreck.’ + +</p> +<p>“A movement of fright escaped him. I broke forth in complaints and reproaches; he fell back on a divan and covered his face +with his hands. He protested he had never guessed at such an idea, never even <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb207" href="#pb207">207</a>]</span>suspected anything of the sort. Afterwards, when I had eased my mind and was sitting sobbing before him, he recovered himself, +and coming over to me he said, in his usual calm and affectionate tone— + +</p> +<p>“‘My child, there is much exaggeration in all you have told me. Your imagination has been struck, and you have suffered it +to carry you away, so that you believe all you say now; but I can assure you, you are mistaken. You are impressionable, susceptible, +but too young to understand the real passion of love. At your age, young girls have very often some little love affair with +the engaging young dancer they met at the last ball. You, who have been kept out of society on account of the masculine education +you had received, have known no such temptations; but perhaps for this very reason you were the more exposed to illusions +of another kind, which I confess I ought to have foreseen, namely, that of falling in love with the first gentleman who showed +you more than the usual attentions of common civility. I happen to be this man. We have read several plays of Shakespeare +together. Every young girl may imagine herself a Juliet; but that is no reason why <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb208" href="#pb208">208</a>]</span>she should imagine her teacher to be a Romeo. Now, seriously, Francis, could you take me for your Romeo? Look at me, and consider +how ridiculous any such pretension on my part would be. I am about the same age as your father; I am turning gray; I should +also be as stout, but for a disease which threatens me with consumption. All this is far from poetic, is it not? Exercise +your reason, your good sense, and you will be the first to acknowledge that I am most unfitted to become the hero of a love +affair.’ + +</p> +<p>“I was silent; I felt as if some one were pouring ice down my back. He approached me, and laying his hand on my shoulder, +with the greatest gentleness said— + +</p> +<p>“‘I was married one year before your father, and though I have no children, I might have had a daughter of your age. I had +accustomed myself, gradually, to regard you as my own daughter; you deprive me of this pleasure, for the present at least, +though I am sure you will one day recover from your folly. It is your head which is affected, not your heart, believe me, +for I have had experience in the depths of abasement to which the passions may lead <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb209" href="#pb209">209</a>]</span>a woman who has not energy enough to overcome them. If I had a son—I have only a nephew, who will be heir to my title and +property—and if——” + +</p> +<p>“‘Thank you, my lord, I could never address you as my uncle!’ and I burst out in an hysterical laugh. There was a beautiful +edition of Shakespeare lying on the table, a present from him; I took it up and tore it leaf from leaf, scattering them about +the room. At the same instant my maid knocked at the door; she came to remind me it was time to dress for the ball. We had +accepted invitations for this evening to the house of a banker, one of the most prominent men in our province. My pride having +been touched to the quick, I determined to seek solace in the wildest excitement. I flirted with the only son of this banker, +who all through the winter had been very attentive to me. I felt much pleasure in showing Lord William how easily I could +forget him; but my eyes were all the while furtively following him to see the effect my conduct might produce. He remained +calm and cool as ever. After a while he seated himself at the card-table, and lost a considerable sum of money to my grandfather. +On the morrow, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb210" href="#pb210">210</a>]</span>I perceived preparations were being made for his departure in all haste. Lord William had received the letters he had so long +expected, and seemed to have no time to notice me. I became transported with passion, when my father told me at luncheon that +the banker’s son had asked permission to wait upon me in the course of the afternoon. You can understand my rage. ‘What a +falling-off was there!’—from Lord William to a Charles Felters! + +</p> +<p>“I answered my father that I would not speak to the simpleton. + +</p> +<p>“‘You must!’ he replied, in a tone of authority I was little accustomed to in Sir John. ‘You have given the young man encouragement, +and you had better reflect on the consequences of refusing such a good offer.’<span class="corr" id="xd0e2490" title="Not in source">”</span> + + + + +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb211" href="#pb211">211</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div id="xd0e2494" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="normal">Chapter XXV.</h2> +<p>“Poor Charles Felters was quite thunderstruck at the reception I gave him. His gay partner of last evening’s dance had changed +into a veritable fury. I told him plainly I didn’t care a jot for him. He hesitated, he stammered, and couldn’t make up his +mind to go. I was expecting Lord William every moment to take leave of me, and I would not have them meet. In my confusion +my eyes rested on a ‘trophy of arms’ with which my father had decorated one side of the room. Scarcely knowing what I was +about, I seized a foil, handed it to my would-be lover, and taking another myself, I took up my position on guard, exclaiming— + +</p> +<p>“‘The man who wins my love shall win it with the sword.’ +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb212" href="#pb212">212</a>]</span></p> +<p>“The miserable ninny never even observed that the foils were buttoned, but, throwing down his, rushed out of the room in the +greatest alarm.” + +</p> +<p>“I have heard of this feat of arms, Francis,” I said, laughing; “and, moreover, that Felters is still running away from you.” + +</p> +<p>“‘<i lang="fr">Voilà comme on écrit l’histoire.</i>’ I have myself heard he made a voyage round the world to escape from me; but the truth is he only made a tour up the Rhine, +fell in with the daughter of a clergyman, and married her. She has made him a happy man, and he is now the father of a family; +nevertheless, all his relations bear me the most intense hatred, and lose no opportunity of serving me a malicious turn. I +still held my foil in my hand when Lord William entered the room. His look was sufficient to show me his disapprobation. + +</p> +<p>“‘If your father had taken my advice, Francis,’ he said, ‘he would have waited some little time before informing you of the +intentions of Felters; still there was no reason for your acting in this way. <i>For shame</i> to treat a poor fellow, who perhaps never had a foil in his hand before, in such a manner. But, well! I have always hesitated +about putting you to <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb213" href="#pb213">213</a>]</span>the test; permit me now, however, to take the place of the miserable fugitive.’ + +</p> +<p>“And without waiting for an answer he picked up Felters’ foil, and cried— + +</p> +<p>“‘En garde!’ + +</p> +<p>“I literally did not know what I was doing. I would not decline his challenge, and I determined to show him that he was not +fencing with an inexperienced girl. He handled his foil with a lightness and firmness of hand I had little expected to find +in a man of letters, confining himself, however, to parrying my attacks only; and yet this he did so skilfully that I was +unable to touch him. I exhausted myself in my desperate efforts, but I would not ask for quarter. + +</p> +<p>“‘You see such exercise requires more than the arm of a woman,’ he said coolly. + +</p> +<p>“My wild despair and anger seemed to give me strength, and falling in upon him I broke my foil upon his breast. He, with a +smile, had neglected to parry this attack, and I saw a thin stream of blood trickle down his shirt-front. Now I was overwhelmed +with sorrow and repentance. Sir John and grandfather immediately came upon the scene. +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb214" href="#pb214">214</a>]</span></p> +<p>“‘It is nothing, gentlemen,’ he said to them, ‘only a scratch; a little satisfaction which I owed to Miss Francis, and which +will perhaps cure her of her taste for such unladylike weapons.’ + +</p> +<p>“‘I will never, never more touch them,’ I cried in terror when I saw his pocket-handkerchief, which he had applied to the +wound, saturated with blood. + +</p> +<p>“And I have kept my word, though it has not prevented my obtaining a wide reputation as a duellist. Neither Charles Felters +nor the servant of Lord William could hold their tongues, though the latter had been forbidden by his master to say a word +on the subject. I was reminded very unpleasantly, next time I appeared in the town, that the affair had become public property. +Lord William would not allow us to send for a surgeon, but had the wound dressed by his own servant; and, fortunately, it +turned out to be less dangerous than I feared at first. I sought my own room, and hid myself there with all the remorse of +a Cain. I resolved to throw myself at his feet and beg his pardon. But the reaction to my excited state of feelings had now +set in, and I fell exhausted on a sofa, where I slept for several hours a feverish kind <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb215" href="#pb215">215</a>]</span>of sleep. When I awoke Lord William was gone. After this I was seriously ill; and on my recovery my grandfather took me as +soon as possible to the Werve for the fresh country air. Sir John told me, when I was quite well, that Lord William had certainly +given proof of his good-nature to allow me to touch him; for while at Eton he had been considered one of the best fencers +in the school, and just before quitting England he had fought a duel with an officer in the Horse Guards, and wounded him +in a manner that report said was likely to be fatal. + +</p> +<p>“My answer to this was that I had never suspected Lord William of being a duellist. + +</p> +<p>“‘That he never was; but in this instance his honour was at stake. He could not leave the insult of this captain unpunished. +Perhaps, however, he would have acted more justly if he had put his wife to death; and though an English jury would certainly +have brought him in guilty of murder, yet, considering the great provocation he had received, public opinion would have sympathized +with him in the highest degree. Now he is reconciled to her again, at least in outward appearance; but he has written to me +that he is going to make a tour all over the world.’” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb216" href="#pb216">216</a>]</span></p> +<p>“And you have never since heard of this ‘My lord?’” I asked Francis, to whose story I had listened with as much sorrow as +attention. + +</p> +<p>“Never; and I don’t even know his family name to this day. Changes now followed in rapid succession. My father died suddenly; +my grandfather was promoted in rank, and we removed to Zutphen, where I proposed to begin a new life. But though we break +with our antecedents, it is impossible to sponge out the past. However, more of this hereafter. I must attend to the other +gentlemen, otherwise I shall be accused of neglecting my duties. I will tell you more of this history at another time if it +interests you; for it is a relief to me to confide it to a friend. Only never begin the subject yourself, as there are moments +when I cannot bear to think of it.” + +</p> +<p>“I promise you this, Francis,” I replied, pressing her hand. + +</p> +<p>It would be impossible for me to recount all the feelings which passed through my mind in listening to Francis’s trials. I +will not weary you, dear William, for I acknowledge I felt sad and irritable. And yet I tried to think these were her “campaign +years,” as she calls them, though it was evident her heart had suffered <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb217" href="#pb217">217</a>]</span>long before she attained her twenty-fifth birthday. If she had told me of deception, so common in the world, of an engagement +broken off, of a misplaced affection, such things would not have troubled my peace of mind. What affected me was to think +this Englishman had won the place in her affections which I wished to be the first to occupy—that place which permits a man +to inspire a woman with confidence, and exercise over her an influence authoritative and beneficial. Time had done much to +cool her love for him, but she had not forgotten him; and it was certainly a devotion to his memory which rendered her so +indifferent to the merits of other men. I wondered if she had told me all this history in order to make me comprehend the +improbability of my being able to replace her ideal. Had she not told me on the heath, on our first meeting, that if she suspected +I came to demand her hand in marriage, she would leave me there and then? I felt myself diminishing in her estimation. And +there was a portrait of William III. hanging over the mantelpiece which seemed to say to me, ironically, “Too late, too late!” + +</p> +<p>Yet again I asked myself whether I was not growing <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb218" href="#pb218">218</a>]</span>jealous of a vain shadow. Eight years had passed since these events. She was no longer a little girl, who could imagine she +saw a Romeo in her mentor who was a long way on the wrong side of forty. Who could say that the comparison, which she could +not fail to make now, would be to my disadvantage? + +</p> +<p>I determined not to remain in this perplexity. At the risk of committing an imprudence, I made up my mind to ask her whether +she regarded the loss of her Lord William as irreparable. It was necessary for me to know what chance of success was left +me. + +</p> +<p>This night I slept little, for I was rolling over in my mind all sorts of extravagant declarations which I intended to make +to my cousin next day. This, however, was the day preceding the General’s birthday, and Francis was fully occupied with the +Captain in making all sorts of preparations; so that during the whole day I never once could find a suitable moment to begin +the subject. The master of the village school would bring up to the Castle his best pupils to recite verses made for the occasion; +the clergyman and the notables would also come to offer their congratulations. +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb219" href="#pb219">219</a>]</span></p> +<p>Francis sent me to the post-office to fetch a registered letter for her.<a class="noteref" id="xd0e2563src" href="#xd0e2563">1</a> General von Zwenken was in a bad humour because Rolf had no time to amuse him, and finding myself rather in the way I went +off to my room to write. + +</p> +<p>Here in the afternoon I found on my table a little Russian leather case, on which my initials had been embroidered above the +word <i>Souvenir</i>. Inside I found a bank-note equivalent to the sum Francis had borrowed of me; on the envelope which inclosed it she had written, +in a bold hand, the word <i lang="fr">Merci</i>, her name, and the date. The case itself was not new. Poor dear girl! she must have sat up half the night to work my initials +in silk, as a surprise. I now felt more than ever how dear she was become to me, and I promised myself not to temporize any +longer. Then the idea occurred to me: If I can get her permission, I will ask her hand of the General to-morrow after I have +congratulated him on his birthday. + +</p> +<p>This idea threw me into a transport of joy. I got up from my chair with the intention of seeking my <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb220" href="#pb220">220</a>]</span>cousin and bringing matters to a crisis at any risk. My hand was already on the handle of the door, when I thought I heard +a tap at the window. Immediately a hoarse voice called several times— + +</p> +<p>“Francis! Francis!” + +</p> +<p>Astonished, and wishing to know who this could be, I stood motionless. The voice cried again— + +</p> +<p>“Francis, if you don’t open the window I will break the sash all to pieces.” + + + +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb221" href="#pb221">221</a>]</span></p> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" href="#xd0e2563src" id="xd0e2563">1</a></span> In Holland one is obliged to fetch a registered letter; they are never delivered by the postman. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="xd0e2585" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="normal">Chapter XXVI.</h2> +<p>As, for very good reasons, Francis gave no answer, a vigorous arm forced open the window, and a man sprang into the room, +seemingly quite indifferent about any damage he might have caused. + +</p> +<p>“What is your business with Miss Mordaunt?” I asked, advancing towards the intruder. + +</p> +<p>“A stranger here?” he answered, with an expression of surprise; “I thought they never had visitors now.” + +</p> +<p>“I think the manner of your entrance is much more astonishing, and I am the person surprised.” + +</p> +<p>“Well, yes, my entrance is <i>somewhat irregular</i>,” he replied, in the most familiar style possible; “however, <i>Mr. Unknown</i>, I am neither a thief nor a housebreaker. I have entered in this way because I wished no one but Francis to know of my arrival, +and I was <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb222" href="#pb222">222</a>]</span>sure I should find her here; but, now I am here, allow me to rest myself whilst I reflect a little upon the best means of +obtaining an interview with her.” + +</p> +<p>And he threw himself at full length on the old sofa, which creaked under his weight. + +</p> +<p>“Ah! ah!” he continued, examining the walls, “the family portraits are gone—eaten away, no doubt, by the moths and the damp.” + +</p> +<p>It was quite clear to me the stranger was not here for the first time. Though his manners were free, there was something gentlemanly +in his personal appearance. Still his dress was fantastic. He wore a short velvet jacket with metal buttons, and a silk handkerchief +loosely tied around his neck; tight trousers of a grey pearl colour, and polished riding-boots with spurs, and a soft felt +hat. + +</p> +<p>“You’ve got nothing to drink here?” he asked, after a pause of some minutes. “I have ridden for three hours, and my throat +is almost choked with sand and dust.” + +</p> +<p>He spoke Dutch with a foreign accent. His age seemed to be about fifty, though he might be younger. His lively, active features +were never at rest for a moment; his greenish-grey eyes, the fine wrinkles on <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb223" href="#pb223">223</a>]</span>his high sunburnt forehead, and the paleness of his cheeks, all marked him as the adventurer endued with strong passions—an +impression that was increased by his thick-set face, large nose, and the tufted mustachios hanging over his thick, sensual +lips. I could not refuse him a glass of water, unwelcome as I found his presence. As I handed it to him I said— + +</p> +<p>“You seem to know this house well.” + +</p> +<p>“Yes, and that’s no wonder; I played many a prank here in my boyhood. But you, sir, who are you? An adjutant of the Colonel’s, +or a <i>protégé</i> of Francis’s?” + +</p> +<p>“I think I have the best right to question you, and to ask who you are?” + +</p> +<p>“That’s true enough; and I would tell you with pleasure, but it’s a secret which concerns others besides myself. Call me Mr. +Smithson—it’s the name I am known by at present.” + +</p> +<p>“Very well. Now what is your business here, Mr. Smithson?” + +</p> +<p>“I wish you to tell Francis I am here.” + +</p> +<p>“Do you think the news will be agreeable to her?” I demanded. +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb224" href="#pb224">224</a>]</span></p> +<p>“I cannot say, but she will come all the same.” + +</p> +<p>“Here, into my room?” + +</p> +<p>“Bah! our Major Frank is no prude.” + +</p> +<p>“Mr. Smithson, I give you fair warning that if you say a single word derogatory to the character of Miss Mordaunt, I shall +instantly make you take the same way out of this room by which you entered it.” + +</p> +<p>“Oh! oh! Mr. Unknown, I am a first-rate boxer. But easy, man, easy! For I should be the last person in the world to say an +offensive word about Francis. Now, since you know her, you ought to be aware that she would never refuse to assist a person +in distress out of a sense of prudery. Just you ask her to come here to see—not Smithson, because she does not know me under +that name, but a relation of hers, who calls himself Rudolf.” + +</p> +<p>“And if she refuses to come?” + +</p> +<p>“Oh, you make too many difficulties. Ah! is it possible you are her——I should have thought Francis Mordaunt more capable of +commanding a batalion than of bowing herself under the yoke of marriage. But, after all, women do change their minds. Then +you are the happy mortal?” + +</p> +<p>“A truce to your suppositions,” I answered him <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb225" href="#pb225">225</a>]</span>in a firm voice; “I am here as a relation, a grand-nephew of the General’s; my name is Leopold van Zonshoven.” + +</p> +<p>“Well, upon my word! Probably we are cousins, for I am also related to the General. Francis will not refuse to come, I assure +you—especially if you tell her that I do not come to ask for money; on the contrary, I bring some with me.” + +</p> +<p>Hereupon he drew from his pocket a purse containing a number of clean, new greenbacks. + +</p> +<p>“Tell her what you have seen; it will set her mind at ease, and possibly yours also—for you seem as yet only half-and-half +convinced that I am not a highwayman.” + +</p> +<p>I no longer hesitated; but took the precaution to lock my door on the outside, lest he should follow me, and surprise Francis +before I had warned her. Having reached her room I knocked gently, and she answered “Come in.” It was the first time I had +penetrated so far, and I began in a serious tone— + +</p> +<p>“Something very singular has happened, my dear cousin——” + +</p> +<p>“It is not an accident you come to announce to me, I hope?” she exclaimed. +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb226" href="#pb226">226</a>]</span></p> +<p>“No, but a visit which will not prove agreeable, I am afraid.” + +</p> +<p>“A visit at this time of the day! Who is it?” + +</p> +<p>“A person who says he is a relation of the family, and refuses to give any name but that of Rudolf.” + +</p> +<p>She knit her eyebrows. + +</p> +<p>“Good heavens! Unfortunate man! Here again!” + +</p> +<p>I explained to her how he had forced his way in at the window, and offered to make him retrace his steps if she desired it. + +</p> +<p>“No, there must be no disturbance,” she said, in a state of agitation. “My grandfather must not even suspect he is here. I +will go with you, Leopold; this once you must excuse me if I do anything you consider in bad form. How dare he show his face +here? I can do nothing more for him. You will stand by me, won’t you?” + +</p> +<p>I took her hand and led her to my room. Rudolf lay on the sofa, fast asleep. When he saw Francis standing before him, he jumped +up as if to embrace her, but she drew back. He did not seem hurt, but he lost his tone of assurance. + +</p> +<p>“I understand, Francis, that my return is not a joyful surprise to you.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb227" href="#pb227">227</a>]</span></p> +<p>“You have broken your promise. You gave me your word of honour you would stay in America. At any rate, you ought never to +have set foot in your native country again——” + +</p> +<p>“Don’t judge me without having heard——” + +</p> +<p>“Is it not tempting fortune to come back here to the Werve, where you may so easily be recognized?” + +</p> +<p>“Oh, don’t make yourself uneasy on that score, my dear. I have taken precautions; and as for breaking my promise, I beg your +pardon on my bended knees.” + +</p> +<p>And he made a gesture as if he would fall on his knees before her. + +</p> +<p>“Don’t be theatrical,” she said severely, and again retreated some steps from him. + +</p> +<p>“Heaven forbid! On the boards, to gain a livelihood, it is another thing; but in your presence, before you, Francis, whom +I honour and love, I wish to justify my conduct. You may condemn me afterwards, if you like. It was really my intention never +to appear before your eyes again. Alas! man is but the puppet of fortune, and I have not been able to swim against the stream. +I have had all sorts of adventures—but can I tell you all now?” he <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb228" href="#pb228">228</a>]</span>added, looking significantly at me. “To tell you the truth, I had reckoned on our being alone.” + +</p> +<p>“Stay, Leopold,” she said, in answer to an inquiring look I gave her. + +</p> +<p>“Francis,” resumed Rudolf, with tears in his eyes, “you know you need no protector where I am.” + +</p> +<p>“I know that, but I will not again expose myself to calumny for your sake. As for your security, Rudolf, I can answer for +my cousin Van Zonshoven’s discretion. You may tell him who you are without fear.” + +</p> +<p>“It is a question of life and death,” he said in French, with a most indifferent shrug of the shoulders, and he again stretched +himself at full length on the sofa. “The least indiscretion, and my life will be forfeited. What of that? I run the risk of +breaking my neck every day.” + +</p> +<p>And then, turning towards me, he began to sing, or rather to try to sing, with a voice quite hoarse, and with a theatrical +<i>pose</i>, the following lines out of the opera “The Bride of Lammermoor”— + + +</p> +<div class="
 poem
 " lang="fr"> +<p class="line" style=""><span>“Sache donc qu’en ce domaine +</span></p> +<p class="line" style=""><span>D’où me chasse encor ta haine, +</span></p> +<p class="line" style=""><span>En seigneur j’ai commandé.</span></p> +</div><span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb229" href="#pb229">229</a>]</span><p>At least,” he put in, “during the absence of the Baron, for I was heir-presumptive—a presumption which, alas! is destined +never to be changed into certitude——” + +</p> +<p>Francis, visibly affected by his jesting style, interrupted him, and said to me— + +</p> +<p>“Rudolf von Zwenken, my grandfather’s only son.” + +</p> +<p>“It would cost my charming niece too great an effort to say ‘<i>My uncle.</i>’ It is my own fault. I have never been able to inspire people with the necessary respect for me. Well, now, Cousin van Zonshoven, +you know who I am, but there is one point I must rectify: Rudolf von Zwenken no longer exists—he is civilly dead.” + +</p> +<p>“And morally,” murmured Francis. + +</p> +<p>“And if he were to rise again under that name,” he continued, without heeding Francis’s interruption, “he would commit something +like suicide, for he would be arrested and shot.” + +</p> +<p>“And knowing that, after all that has been done to put you beyond danger, you show yourself in this place again! It is inexplicable,” +cried Francis. + +</p> +<p>“But, my dear, who told you I had come to show <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb230" href="#pb230">230</a>]</span>myself here? It is true we give representations in the provinces; but the person who appears in public is Mr. Smithson, so +well begrimed that Baron von Zwenken himself would not recognize his own son.” + +</p> +<p>“That’s very fortunate, for it would be the death of him,” retorted Francis, harshly. + +</p> +<p>“How you exaggerate, dearest. <i lang="fr">Monsieur mon pere</i> never had so much affection for me. He shall never know Mr. Smithson. His son Rudolf, however, seeks an interview with him, +and requests you, Francis, to assist in bringing it about.” + +</p> +<p>“It is useless, sir; you may neither see nor speak to your father again.” + +</p> +<p>“Can you be so hard-hearted, Francis?” + +</p> +<p>“My duty obliges me, and I must have some regard for the feelings of your father in the first place.” + +</p> +<p>“But, my dear child, try to understand me. I only wish to kiss his hand and beg his pardon. With this object I have run all +risks, and imposed on myself all kinds of fatigue. I have just ridden hard for three hours, hidden myself in the old ruins, +climbed the garden wall at the risk of breaking an <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb231" href="#pb231">231</a>]</span>arm or a leg; then, seeing a light here, I broke in—and all this for nothing! No, <i>my darling</i>, this cannot be; you will still be my good angel, and arrange the meeting I so much desire——” + +</p> +<p>“I say <i>No</i>; and you know when I have once said a thing I mean it.” + + + +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb232" href="#pb232">232</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div id="xd0e2770" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="normal">Chapter XXVII.</h2> +<p>Rudolf, after a pause, began once more— + +</p> +<p>“You have a good heart, Francis. Ah! I know your reasons. You think I am returned again like the prodigal son, with an empty +purse, ‘after eating of the husks which the swine did eat.’ It is just the contrary.” + +</p> +<p>“Don’t be profane, Rudolf,” said Francis, severely. + +</p> +<p>“But it is true—I bring money with me, over two hundred dollars in clean greenbacks, as a commencement of restitution, an +earnest of my reform. What do you think my father would say if he found them to-morrow morning on his pillow? Don’t you think +he would receive me with open arms?” + +</p> +<p>“No, Rudolf, certainly not. You have broken your word of honour, and for this your father will never forgive you. Don’t talk +of restitution. What <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb233" href="#pb233">233</a>]</span>is this sum in comparison with what you have cost him, and all the suffering you have caused him and me? Such sacrifices as +we had made gave us the right to hope you would leave us in peace—forget us.” + +</p> +<p>Rudolf bowed down his head and heaved a deep sigh. I could not help pitying the unfortunate man. I should have liked to say +something in his favour; but the cold, haughty, nay, contemptuous attitude of Francis seemed to impose silence on me. There +must be some reason, I felt sure, for her inexorable severity; consequently I remained a passive spectator. + +</p> +<p>At length Rudolf roused himself from his despondency, drank off a glass of water, and, turning towards Francis, said in his +most serious tone— + +</p> +<p>“Just listen, Miss Mordaunt. It appears to me that, under the pretext of acting as guardian to my father, you oppose a reconciliation +between us, without even consulting his wishes; and it is strange that a niece, a granddaughter only, should usurp the position +of the eldest son, and refuse to listen to the returning prodigal.” + +</p> +<p>“Don’t talk to me about your prodigal son,” cried <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb234" href="#pb234">234</a>]</span>Francis, angrily; “you are not the prodigal son. It is only a passing whim, and you will be carried away again to-morrow by +some new idea as you always were.” + +</p> +<p>“Don’t you be afraid you will lose anything by it,” he said in a bitter tone; “you know I shall never lay claim to my father’s +property, even though we were reconciled.” + +</p> +<p>“Must I then be suspected of cupidity, and by you indeed!” exclaimed Francis, in the greatest indignation. + +</p> +<p>“I should never accuse you of anything of the sort. On the contrary, I am only too sensible of your generosity. I only mentioned +this to set you at ease about any consequences which might result from my reconciliation with my father. To the world I am +Richard Smithson, American citizen; but let me have the pleasure of being for the few minutes I stay here Rudolf von Zwenken, +who would speak to his old father once more, and take a last farewell of him. How can you oppose such a desire?” + +</p> +<p>“Your last farewells signify nothing; you always come back again.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb235" href="#pb235">235</a>]</span></p> +<p>“But if, in spite of your opposition, I go at once and seek my father in the large drawing-room—I have not forgotten my way +about the house—who shall hinder me?” + +</p> +<p>“Do as you like; only I warn you you will find Rolf, who knows you, with grandfather; and Rolf knows his orders, which he +will carry out like an old soldier.” + +</p> +<p>“The devil take Rolf! What’s the old ruffian doing here?” spitefully exclaimed Rudolf. + +</p> +<p>“The old ruffian does all he can to cheer the declining years of your father, whom you have rendered unhappy by your conduct.” + +</p> +<p>“My misery would not be complete without your contumely,” sobbed Rudolf. “I came here so cheerful and well disposed.” + +</p> +<p>“Mr. Rudolf,” I said, “allow me to arrange an interview for you with the General, since Miss Mordaunt declines.” + +</p> +<p>“Don’t you trouble yourself, Jonker van Zonshoven,” retorted Francis, in her most cold and haughty tone. “I do not decline, +but I know it is impossible, and therefore better to say nothing. Rudolf well remembers I threw myself at the feet of <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb236" href="#pb236">236</a>]</span>my grandfather, and besought him not to send his son into exile unforgiven, and it only added to the pain and sorrow of the +scene. Don’t forget, either, that you yourself caused the report of your death to be spread abroad. The old man believed it, +and I have since heard him say it was a comfort to him. His fears lest you should be arrested, tried, and condemned, were +only set at rest when he heard the news. Would you renew his distress, and put him to these tortures again?” + +</p> +<p>“It is true, too true—you are right,” said Rudolf, quite breaking down. + +</p> +<p>“But you shall not leave the house without some refreshment,” returned Francis in a kind tone, now she felt her victory to +be certain; “I will go and fetch you something to eat immediately. Cousin Leopold will allow you to have supper and to repose +yourself in his room.” + +</p> +<p>Whereupon she left the room, and I was left alone with this singular cousin of mine. + +</p> +<p>“Bah!” he said, “our Major is not to be trifled with. What eyes she gave me! I felt as if she would pierce me through and +through; and yet she has a good heart—there’s not one in a thousand like her.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb237" href="#pb237">237</a>]</span></p> +<p>“I think she might have shown a little more of its tenderness towards a relation,” I interposed. + +</p> +<p>“What shall I say? She knows only my evil deeds as she has heard them recounted by my father. When chance or misfortune has +thrown us two together, it has always been under circumstances which could not dispose her in my favour. I have cost her both +trouble and money—nay, I even fear her reputation has been called in question on my account. When I was in trouble she came +to my assistance, regardless of what public gossip might say. It was at Zutphen. My father’s door was shut upon me. She agreed +to meet me in a lane outside the town, a public promenade little frequented at certain hours of the day—in fact, very seldom +except on Sundays. But we were discovered; certain idlers took it into their heads to play the spy on us, and Heaven only +knows what sort of reports they set flying about the town. The generous girl had pawned her diamonds in order to assist me, +unknown to her grandfather. This act of devotion was of course interpreted to her disadvantage. You may think it would be +more noble on her part not to remind me of what she has suffered when she sees me again; <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb238" href="#pb238">238</a>]</span>but, my dear sir, a perfect woman is as scarce a thing as a horse without a defect. Though she were to scratch and to bite +me, I would still bow my head in submission to her——” + +</p> +<p>The entrance of Francis with a bottle of wine, bread and meat, &c., interrupted what he had to say further. He attacked the +eatables with a most voracious appetite. + +</p> +<p>When he had somewhat allayed his hunger, he began— + +</p> +<p>“Francis, my darling, where am I to pass the night? I cannot go into that part of the house occupied by the General and Rolf, +that’s certain. I would go into the stable and sleep in the hay, but that I am afraid the coachman might recognize me.” + +</p> +<p>“We have no coachman now,” replied Francis, quite pale. + +</p> +<p>“What! You have sent away Harry Blount?” + +</p> +<p>“Harry Blount is dead.” + +</p> +<p>“Dead! Why he would scarcely be thirty years of age. I taught him to ride——but Francis, my angel, you are quite pale; have +you also sold your beautiful English saddle-horse?” + +</p> +<p>“No, Tancredo is stabled at farmer Pauwelsen’s; <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb239" href="#pb239">239</a>]</span>but it is the recollection of Harry Blount which causes me to turn pale. I—it is dreadful—I was the cause of his death.” + +</p> +<p>“Nonsense; come, come! In a moment of passion?” (here he made the gesture of a man who horse-whips another). “I did so more +than once, but that does not kill a man—and you will not have murdered him.” + +</p> +<p>“Nevertheless, I was the cause of the brave fellow’s death. It occurred during a carriage drive. We had sold the beautiful +greys——” + +</p> +<p>“What! that splendid pair. My poor father!” + +</p> +<p>“We had a new horse which we wished to run with the only one left us. Harry wanted to try them himself for the first time, +but I took it into my head I would drive them. I got on the box by his side, seized the reins, and, as soon as we were on +a piece of level road, they went like the wind. I was proud of my skill, and was rejoicing in my triumph; but still Harry +shook his head, and recommended me to be prudent. The sky became clouded, and a thunderstorm threatened us. In my folly, I +urged the horses on still faster, though they were already taking the bits between their teeth. Harry became alarmed, and +tried to take the reins out of my hands; <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb240" href="#pb240">240</a>]</span>but I resisted, and would not give them up. In an instant the thunder began to roll, and lightning struck right across our +way; the horses took fright and began to rear on their hind-legs. Blount jumped off the box to go to their heads, but tripped, +and they passed over his body. In despair, I also jumped from the box at the risk of my life, and the violence of the shock +caused me to swoon. When I was again conscious, I saw the unfortunate Blount lying on the road, crushed, with scarcely a breath +of life left in him. Within an hour he was a corpse.” + +</p> +<p>Here Francis burst into tears, and covered her face. + +</p> +<p>“It is a pity, Francis, a great pity,” replied Rudolf. “For your sake, I would that I had been the victim of this accident +rather than Blount. You would have had one burden less to bear. Don’t take it so to heart, my child. I have seen others fall +from their horses never to rise again alive. What can we do? Wait till our turn comes, and not make life miserable by thinking +too much about it. But,” said he, “you have not yet told me where I am to sleep. Must I go back to the ruin? It is a cold +place, and doubly so when I think of the parental castle close by.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb241" href="#pb241">241</a>]</span></p> +<p>“The truth is, I cannot offer you a room, Rudolf. There is not one suitable for the purpose.” + +</p> +<p>“But why cannot Rudolf share mine?” I asked; “I will give up my bed to him.” + +</p> +<p>“No,” he replied quickly; “I will be content with the sofa, if Francis will consent to my staying here.” + +</p> +<p>“Very well,” she answered; “only you must promise that to-morrow, before daybreak, you will be far away. It is your father’s +birthday, and there will be many visitors at the Castle.” + +</p> +<p>“I will start early, I promise you, Francis.” + +</p> +<p>“Well, I will once more trust to your word of honour. And now good-bye. It is time for me to go; otherwise my absence will +be remarked upon by the gentlemen of the house.” + +</p> +<p>“Take this purse, Francis; it is a little commencement of restitution; I would I could offer you more, but I have not yet +become a veritable Yankee uncle. I have not discovered a gold mine. Accept at least what I can return to you.” + +</p> +<p>And he spread out the American greenbacks before her. + +</p> +<p>“Are they real ones, Rudolf?” she asked in a grave tone. +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb242" href="#pb242">242</a>]</span></p> +<p>“By heavens, Francis, what do you mean by such a question? I have committed many follies in my life—I have been a fool, a +ne’er-do-weel, a spendthrift, I am a deserter—but a forger of false bank-notes! Francis, could you suspect me of such infamy?” + +</p> +<p>“I wish I had only suspicions, Rudolf; unfortunately I have the proofs.” + +</p> +<p>“The proofs!” he cried, in a sorrowful tone of voice; “but that’s impossible.” + +</p> +<p>“What am I to think of the false letters of exchange in which you forged your father’s signature? We have got them under lock +and key, these terrible proofs, and they have cost us dear. I have pardoned this fault with the rest, Rudolf; but facts are +facts.” + +</p> +<p>“It is impossible, I tell you!” he answered with firmness. “There must be some terrible mistake in this case, and I trust +you will assist me in clearing it up. If my father believes that of me, I am not surprised he should rejoice at my death, +nor am I astonished you despise me. However, I solemnly protest to you by all that’s dear to me, I am innocent, Francis.” + +</p> +<p>“Yet these bills were presented to Baron von Zwenken, and we paid them to prevent a lawsuit. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb243" href="#pb243">243</a>]</span>It could not have affected you very much, for you were in America; but my grandfather would have been obliged to retire from +the army.” + +</p> +<p>“Francis, you are possessed of good, sound sense. How dared I have committed such an offence just at the time I was in hiding +near Zutphen, at the moment when you were so generously raising funds for my enterprise in America; nay, at the moment when +my sincerest desire was to carry my father’s forgiveness with me into exile? Show me these accursed bills, and I will prove +my innocence.” + +</p> +<p>“They are in the General’s possession; I cannot get at them to show you them.” + +</p> +<p>“If we had them here, I would soon prove to you that it is impossible for me, with my wretched handwriting, to imitate the +fine and regular hand of my father. What is your opinion, Mr. Leopold?” + +</p> +<p>“I believe what you say,” I answered. + +</p> +<p>“Ah, that’s a relief; it does me good!” he murmured, his eyes filling with tears. “My father has been accustomed to spend +his leave in fashionable watering-places; is it not possible for him there to have made the acquaintance of some wretch wicked +enough to serve him such a turn?” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb244" href="#pb244">244</a>]</span></p> +<p>“For the last few years the General has not been from home, except one winter which he spent in Arnheim.” + +</p> +<p>“Can Rolf have done it?” + +</p> +<p>“No, don’t suspect Rolf; he never had any education, but he’s the honestest man living, and he would pluck out an eye rather +than cause the old General any trouble.” + +</p> +<p>“Then I don’t know whom to suspect. Now take these notes, Francis—they are real, I assure you; take them as a proof you still +believe my word.” + +</p> +<p>“I believe you, Rudolf; but I think you have more need of them than I have.” + +</p> +<p>“Never mind me; I have a good position now: first rider in the Great Equestrian Circus of Mr. Stonehouse, of Baltimore, with +a salary of two hundred dollars a month—is it not splendid? You see I have not lost my old love for horses. Formerly they +cost me much money; now they bring me in a living.” + +</p> +<p>“Well, Rudolf, you might have sunk lower; your business demands courage and address. But I will not accept your money; I never +take back what I have given. To-morrow morning we shall see each <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb245" href="#pb245">245</a>]</span>other again. You need not jump from the balcony and scale the garden wall; I will let you out myself.” + +</p> +<p>“Ah! you wish to make sure of my departure——” + +</p> +<p>“I have already said I would trust to your promise. Good night, gentlemen.” + + + +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb246" href="#pb246">246</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div id="xd0e2933" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="normal">Chapter XXVIII.</h2> +<p>She was scarcely out of the room, when Rudolf, who had drained the bottle, began in his usual tone of banter— + +</p> +<p>“I don’t know whether I ought to congratulate you, Mr. Leopold, but I am firmly convinced our charming Major has found her +colonel.” + +</p> +<p>I only shrugged my shoulders; for I felt a repugnance to making Francis a subject of conversation with such a fellow. + +</p> +<p>“Do you imagine I have no eyes? I know the women, I can assure you. I have come across all sorts, and all sizes and colours, +in my vagabond life; and my niece, though she were a thousand times Major Frank, is still a woman—a woman with a man’s heart, +as good Queen Bess used to say of <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb247" href="#pb247">247</a>]</span>herself. I don’t know what you intend to do, but it appears to me you have only to propose— + + +</p> +<div class="
 poem
 " lang="fr"> +<p class="line" style=""><span>‘Et bientôt on verra l’infante +</span></p> +<p class="line" style=""><span>Au bras de son heureux vainqueur.’</span></p> +</div> +<p>She is smitten by you, that’s certain! Why, she’s like a thoroughbred horse. With much patience, much attention, and a firm +hand that knows when to be gentle, so one succeeds. As for myself, I was always too rash, too impatient. <i>These gracious devils</i> soon perceive it, and once they know it, you are thrown—there’s no help for you. After all, perhaps I am mistaken,” he said, +seeing I remained silent; “otherwise I would add that I hope you are rich. Her grandfather is ruined——” + +</p> +<p>“And by whom?” I interposed; a little hard upon him, I confess, but his volubility had become insupportable. + +</p> +<p>“By whom? that’s the question. I have contributed my share, I acknowledge, yet not more than my own fortune which came to +me from my mother, as the eldest and only son. John Mordaunt could tell us something if he were alive. He got his wife’s fortune +when they were married, and Francis ought to have had something when she came of age; that <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb248" href="#pb248">248</a>]</span>is if anything were left, for they lived in style—yes, a style that would have run through any amount. I was sent off to the +Werve with my tutor, for I had begun to understand and to make observations. After the death of my sister I was never invited +to the house of John Mordaunt. But perhaps it will not interest you to listen to my old stories?” + +</p> +<p>“Certainly, I should much like to hear an account of your adventures.” + +</p> +<p>“Well, then, my father was the first cause of my misfortunes, for he opposed my wishes in everything. I wanted to be an officer; +and my father would not let me go to the military college at Breda because he was prejudiced against it. He insisted upon +my studying law at Leyden: this, he said, would lead to a fortune. Ah, I have found a fortune!” he repeated, with a bitter +laugh. “Since I was sent to study for my father’s pleasure, I thought it only right to seek my own; and, as he made me a fair +allowance, I was soon noted as the wildest and most extravagant of students. I kept my horses and a Tilbury, and ran up enormous +bills. Still I attended those lectures which interested me, and I had just put on a ‘coach’ for the final examinations, when +my <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb249" href="#pb249">249</a>]</span>father lost a lawsuit against my Aunt Roselaer. The supplies were stopped, and I left college without having passed my examination +as Master in the Law. My father’s interests obtained for me a place in the financial world, but with the condition I should +marry a rich heiress. The misfortune was, the heiress in question was of an over-ripe age, with a nose too red for my taste, +and I neglected her. My father grew furious, and declared he would discard me. Moreover, I could not settle down to the regular +routine of a counting-house for several hours a day, and sometimes extra work in the evening after dinner. I found in the +office an old clerk, a regular old stager, who had sat on the same stool at the same desk for twenty years without a chance +of promotion. This is my man, I thought, and I left the responsibility in his hands, whilst I amused myself with my friends +at the club. But one fine day, when I was out picnicing with a party of friends, my worthy clerk started off with the cash-box. +I was of course held responsible, and my father’s guarantee was forfeited. + +</p> +<p>“I dare say the whole of Francis’ remaining fortune was swallowed up by this affair and a lawsuit arising <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb250" href="#pb250">250</a>]</span>out of it. What could I do now? I had a good voice, and I proposed to go to some music academy abroad, and return as an opera +singer. My father would not consent to this, and told me the best thing I could do was to enlist in the ranks as a common +soldier. I caught at this idea in the hope of being promoted to the position of an officer at no distant date; but I had never +been habituated to discipline. I was sent to a small fortress on the frontiers; Rolf was my lieutenant, and he did not spare +me either hard work or picket duty. To cut it short, I had enlisted for five years, and I did not stay five months. One fine +morning I walked off altogether. I was caught, and I wounded an under-officer in self-defence; the charge against me was as +clear as the light of day. But I succeeded in breaking out of prison. I own I was not very strictly guarded, and Francis, +as I afterwards learnt, had done her utmost to facilitate my escape. Again I was free as the air; but I must live. I tried +everything. I gave lessons in French and in Latin to little German boys, and I taught the little Fräuleins music and singing; +I was even appointed private singer to an Austrian princess, who was deaf, and imagined that <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb251" href="#pb251">251</a>]</span>my voice resembled Roger’s. I wandered about with a travelling opera company, and sang myself hoarse in the open air. I have +been coachman to a baron, and travelled for a house in the wine trade, but when they wanted to send me to Holland I had to +give up the post. Afterwards I was waiter at an inn, billiard-marker, valet to the secretary of a Polish count, who, appreciating +my ability at the noble game of billiards, took me to Warsaw, and hastened to initiate me into his plans for the ‘Independence +of Poland.’ As a matter of course, his enterprise was unsuccessful; but he got sent to Siberia, and I myself was kept in prison +for some weeks because I refused to give evidence against him. Again I found myself thrown on the wide world without a penny +in my pocket. But I will not weary you with a recital of all I have done and suffered. Perhaps the best thing, and the simplest, +for me to have done, would have been to plunge into the Rhine and stay at the bottom; but I have always had a repugnance to +suicide, and, besides, I have always been blest with a fund of good spirits and health. I now made a tour of the German watering-places +from north to south, getting along as best I <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb252" href="#pb252">252</a>]</span>could, and changing my name very often. Once I was imprisoned with a Moldavian prince accused of murder, but I was let go, +as I could prove my connection with the prince was posterior to the crime. A report then got abroad in Holland that I was +dead, and I skilfully manœuvred to obtain credence for it. At last, weary of my adventurous life, I heard how a member of +our family had succeeded in America, and I decided to try my luck there; but I must have money. I flattered myself that after +ten years my father would consent to do something for me. I wrote to Francis. The answer was not encouraging. My father threatened, +if I dared to cross the frontier, he would hand me over to a court-martial. I thought Francis said this only to frighten me. +I came to Zutphen, well disguised, and there I was convinced she had told me the truth. Francis, poor soul, was the only person +who took pity on me, and you know already what it cost her. And when I think she could believe me to be guilty of forgery! +Oh, the fact is I would not make her more unhappy by telling her what I suspect——” + +</p> +<p>“What then?” + +</p> +<p>“Listen; I have my weaknesses, but I have never <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb253" href="#pb253">253</a>]</span>been ruled by passions. I am not ‘passion’s slave.’ Wine, play, and pleasant company have run away with my money, and in some +respects I am no more than a great baby; but a real passion, a tyrannical passion, capable of making me a great man or a great +malefactor, such a passion I have never known. Some one in our family, on the contrary, has been ruled by such a passion; +and many things I observed in my boyhood without thinking much about them. But you are a discreet man, otherwise Francis would +not confide in you as she has done; and, besides, you are a relation of the family—it is better you should be warned.” + +</p> +<p>After a pause— + +</p> +<p>“Know then that amongst all the trades I tried in Germany, I have had the honour to be <i>croupier</i> in a gaming-house. <span class="corr" id="xd0e2989" title="Source: Their">There</span>, unrecognized by my unfortunate father, I have seen him play with a violence of passion of which you can form no idea; and, +believe me, in spite of all my faults, it is in that way both his own and Francis’s fortune have been lost. I would have thrown +myself at his feet, and besought him not to precipitate himself deeper into this abyss; but my position prevented me. Still, +I <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb254" href="#pb254">254</a>]</span>watched him without his knowing it, and I soon found out for a certainty that he borrowed money of a Dutch banker, to whom +he gave bills on Francis’s property;—and, you see, rather than confess this to her, he has accused me——” + +</p> +<p>“But such conduct is abominable!” + +</p> +<p>“Ah! passions do not reason. I was far away, and my name was already sullied. I only desire to clear myself in Francis’s opinion. +But to conclude my history: I was not more lucky in the New World than I had been in Europe; I was shipwrecked and lost my +all before I could land at New York. I then went to the far West without meeting with anything which promised me a future; +in short, I felt quite happy when I made the acquaintance of Mr. Stonehouse, who engaged me to accompany his circus to Europe. +And so it has come about that I once more tread my native earth under the protection of the American flag. Once so near the +Werve, I was seized with an irresistible desire to see the old place again. My satisfaction and reception have not been very +flattering, as you have witnessed; but I will keep my promise to Francis, cost me what it may. And now good night.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb255" href="#pb255">255</a>]</span></p> +<p>Without awaiting my answer he threw himself at full length on the sofa, and soon gave me auricular evidence that he was enjoying +the profoundest slumber. I had nothing better to do than follow his example. When I opened my eyes in the morning he had disappeared, +but he had left his pocket-book and the notes on the table. + +</p> +<p>After mature reflection I came to the conclusion that his surmises were right, and that the father had defamed his own son +to escape the remonstrances of a granddaughter. + + + + +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb256" href="#pb256">256</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div id="xd0e3004" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="normal">Chapter XXIX.</h2> +<p>When I began to reflect on the coming day, I remembered that it would be necessary for me to congratulate my uncle on his +birthday; and I felt it would require a stretch of the forms of politeness to do this in a becoming manner. It occurred to +me now that if Francis could only see through that little glass window in my breast, she would have the best of the argument +in future on the subject of the conventionalities of society; for I confess to you, dear William, I had become a convert to +Aunt Sophia’s opinions with regard to this same General von Zwenken, and now I admired her prudence in preventing her fortune +from falling into such hands. + +</p> +<p>As the birthday fell on a Sunday we all went to the village church, a duty which the General considered his position as lord +of the manor imposed upon <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb257" href="#pb257">257</a>]</span>him; and one which he performed as he would have done any other duty laid down by the military code. The clergyman was old, +monotonous, and wearisome. The greater part of the congregation went to sleep under the effects of his sermon. Francis took +up a Bible and pretended to read, whilst it seemed to me the wakeful part of the congregation paid more attention to us than +to their minister; and the remarks they whispered about one to another struck me as not being very favourable to us. The General +alone kept his eyes fixed on the preacher throughout the sermon; but whether his mind was so intently occupied with the subject +matter, I will not take upon myself to say. + +</p> +<p>On our return the fête commenced. The village schoolmaster brought up his scholars, who recited a string of verses glorifying +the Baron as patron of the school, though I doubt whether he had ever entered it. And I believe the same verses had done duty +for several generations on similar occasions, when the owners of the Werve admitted the master and his scholars to an audience. + +</p> +<p>Then came the Pauwelsens from the farm, who still address the General as their landlord; after <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb258" href="#pb258">258</a>]</span>them some of the villagers. All these people were regaled with cake and chocolate. The burgomaster<a class="noteref" id="xd0e3019src" href="#xd0e3019">1</a> called in his turn; he was a regular rustic, and paid a good deal more attention to me than to the General. He evidently +saw in me a mystery which excited his curiosity. + +</p> +<p>Captain Willibald also put in an appearance, and after congratulating my uncle, handed him a box of cigars, saying— + +</p> +<p>“They are the old sort; I know your taste exactly.” + +</p> +<p>“Certainly you do, my good fellow; it is an agreeable present. Here in the country one must lay in a stock. What say you, +Leo?” + +</p> +<p>“To my shame, I must own I did not know what to buy you on such an occasion; but I will take care to make up for this omission +of mine very soon.” + +</p> +<p>Uncle rejoined in a whisper— + +</p> +<p>“The one thing I should like you to do is to reconcile yourself with your uncle, the Minister for Foreign Affairs.” + +</p> +<p>Happily it was not necessary for me to reply to this remark. Francis entered the room, and quite <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb259" href="#pb259">259</a>]</span>charmed me by her manner. She was cordial to all the visitors—I thought I had never seen a better hostess. I saw how amiable +she could be when quite at her ease, and not beset by fears of what envious tongues might say as soon as her back was turned. + +</p> +<p>The dinner was beautifully arranged. The Captain had put on his full-dress uniform, the General his also, and I had given +some extra attention to my toilette. Francis was dressed plainly as usual, without much regard for the day or the visitors; +and yet there was something original in her style of dress, an elegance which seemed to heighten her beauty considerably. +I was struck by the richness and weight of the silver, all engraved with the family coat-of-arms. I felt sure that the Captain +and Francis had put their money together to get it from the pawnbrokers for the occasion. At table she took her place between +the clergyman and myself. The village lawyer, the postmaster, and some rough-looking country farmers, together with the churchwardens +and several members of the local board, had been invited to the dinner. Rolf took his place in the midst of them, and soon +loosened their tongues by <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb260" href="#pb260">260</a>]</span>pointing out the various sorts of wine, and filling up their glasses with no sparing hand. Even the clergyman I found to be +much more entertaining at table than in the pulpit, and the conversation never flagged. Fritz, assisted for the nonce by one +of the sons of farmer Pauwelsen, had donned a livery which I felt pretty certain was the uniform of an officer metamorphosed. +He was more attentive, and more particular than ever in his manner of serving every one; it seemed to me as if he had something +on his mind, he was so solemn and serious. In spite of myself I could not help thinking of the utter ruin this once opulent +house had fallen into, and of the unhappy son banished from his father’s table. As for the General, I had never yet seen him +in such good spirits. The table so well served, the appetizing dishes, and the wines which he had such a delicate manner of +tasting—all this just suited his epicurean habits. Afterwards we drank coffee in the garden, and Rolf insisted upon our drinking +a bowl of May wine; for he was most anxious to display his skill in the composition of this very famous German beverage. + +</p> +<p>This completed the entertainment, for the country <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb261" href="#pb261">261</a>]</span>people are accustomed to retire early; and the evening was still young when a great lumbering coach drew up before the hall +door, to convey the visitors back to the village. + +</p> +<p>I had hoped to meet Francis and propose a walk round the garden, but she was nowhere to be found. It appeared she had run +over to the Pauwelsens with some of the dainties for the old bed-ridden grandmother. And her first care on her return was +to inquire the whereabouts of her grandfather. + +</p> +<p>“He must not be left alone for a moment to-day,” she said to me; “I have not been at my ease all this day.” + +</p> +<p>“Because of Rudolf?” I inquired. + +</p> +<p>“I can never be sure what whim he will take into his head next. But you are sure that he is gone?” + +</p> +<p>“Certainly, before I was awake; but he left his pocket-book on the table. I will take it to him to-morrow.” + +</p> +<p>“Don’t do anything of the sort, I am sure he will come back; this thought has pursued me like my shadow all this day. But +tell me what you thought of my dinner.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb262" href="#pb262">262</a>]</span></p> +<p>“You were a charming hostess, Francis. How I should like to see you mistress of a well-furnished house of your own!” + +</p> +<p>“And one in which it would not be necessary to take the silver out of pawn when I expected visitors,” she replied bitterly. + +</p> +<p>“My dear cousin, I know this must have been a bitter trouble to you,” I answered compassionately. + +</p> +<p>“This I feel the most humiliating of all; but I did it to please my old grandfather, upon whom I can be severe enough at times +about his weaknesses. Rolf, who in spite of his faults is the best-natured fellow in the world, went to the town of——, and +we polished it up ourselves. We would not let Fritz into the secret.” + +</p> +<p>“And to me, Francis, to whom you owe nothing, you have given much pleasure, by surprising me with this little Russian leather +case——” + +</p> +<p>“Don’t mention such a trifle. I only wished to mark the day on which you became my friend.” + +</p> +<p>“Yes, indeed, your friend for life,” I answered, gently drawing her arm within mine. This word had given me courage, it rendered +me bold. “I thank you for that word, Francis; but it is not yet <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb263" href="#pb263">263</a>]</span>enough. Let me be to you more than a friend; permit me——” + +</p> +<p>“More than a friend?” she cried, visibly agitated. “I beseech you, Leopold, let us not aim at what cannot be realized, nor +destroy this relationship which is dear to me, by striving after the impossible. Promise me seriously, Leopold, you will not +mention this subject to me again, or use any such language to me.” + +</p> +<p>This answer seemed very like a formal refusal, and yet I remarked an emotion in her voice which to a certain extent reassured +me. + +</p> +<p>“And why should it be impossible, Francis?” I resumed, mustering up all my courage. + +</p> +<p>This time I got no answer; she uttered a shriek and rushed off to the summer-house, I following her. There a frightful spectacle +awaited us. + +</p> +<p>Rudolf, the miserable Rudolf, was on his knees before his father, kissing his hand. The latter was seated on the bench, to +all appearance motionless. Suddenly Rudolf uttered a cry of terror and despair. + +</p> +<p>“I warned you,” said Francis; “you have been the death of your father.” + +</p> +<p>“No, Francis, no, he has fainted. But I found <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb264" href="#pb264">264</a>]</span>him in this condition; I swear to you by all that’s dear to me that I found him thus.” + +</p> +<p>The fact was that the General had become stiff and motionless as a corpse. The trellis work alone had prevented his falling +to the ground. His face had turned a little blue, his eyes were fixed and wide open, and his features distorted. Francis rubbed +his temples with the contents of her scent-bottle. This friction revived him a little; but prompt medical aid was necessary. + +</p> +<p>“Tell me where the village doctor lives,” cried Rudolf, beside himself in his agitation, “that I may fly to him.” + +</p> +<p>“It will be better to send Fritz,” replied Francis, in a cold, decided tone. + +</p> +<p>I ran off in search of the old and faithful servant, to whom I explained the state of affairs. + +</p> +<p>“The General has had an attack!” he exclaimed, with tears in his eyes, “and it is my fault!” + +</p> +<p>“How so?” + +</p> +<p>“I ought not to have allowed it—but I—I could not drive away the only son of the house.” + +</p> +<p>“Of course not, but keep your own counsel and make haste.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb265" href="#pb265">265</a>]</span></p> +<p>And the old soldier started off at a speed I had thought him little capable of. + +</p> +<p>When I returned the General was in the same condition; Rudolf, leaning against a tree, was wringing his hands. + +</p> +<p>“That will do no good,” Francis said to him; “help me to carry him to his room; Leopold will give us a hand.” + +</p> +<p>“That’s not necessary—he is my father, and it is my place to carry him.” + +</p> +<p>In an instant he took up the old man with so much gentleness, and yet with such firmness of muscle, that you would have thought +he carried a babe. He refused my assistance even up the staircase. He laid the old Baron on his bed, with his eyes still fixed, +and quite unconscious. + +</p> +<p>“Thank God! there he is safe,” said Rudolf, falling into a chair. “I have had many a hard piece of work in my life, but never +one in which my heart was so deeply concerned. May I stay here until he regains consciousness?” he asked of Francis like a +supplicant. + +</p> +<p>“I feel that it is impossible for you to leave at such a moment,” she answered; “but we must call in Rolf, and if he sees +you here——” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb266" href="#pb266">266</a>]</span></p> +<p>“Oh, if he makes the slightest to do I’ll twist his neck about like a chicken’s.” + +</p> +<p>It occurred to me that the more simple and prudent plan would be for me to go and make the Captain acquainted with what had +happened, and obtain his promise to keep silent and to pretend not to know anything about Rudolf’s presence. He was enjoying +his after-dinner nap when I found him, and I was afraid he would have an attack of apoplexy when I told him about the coming +of Rudolf. His anger seemed to make him forget the gravity of the General’s position. I endeavoured to make him understand +that the accident might possibly be attributed to a fit of cold, caused by drinking May wine in the cool of the evening so +shortly after the copious dinner of which the General had partaken; but he had made up his mind that Rudolf was the cause +of the misfortune, and he asserted that his duty as a soldier and an officer was to have him forthwith arrested as a deserter. + +</p> +<p>It was only with the greatest difficulty that I could get this fixed idea out of his head. I succeeded, however, at length +in proving to him that the duty which he owed to humanity far surpassed all others <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb267" href="#pb267">267</a>]</span>at present; that it would be an unheard-of cruelty to arrest the son now at the bedside of a father, dying, for all we knew; +that even Francis herself had consented to his staying, and that we were in duty bound to cast a veil over the family secrets. +Finally the inborn good-nature of Rolf triumphed, and we went together to the General’s room. + +</p> +<p>The doctor had just arrived. He considered the case serious, and said it would be necessary to bleed the patient. Fritz and +Rolf were left to aid the doctor and undress the invalid. Meantime I led Francis into a cabinet where Rudolf had taken refuge +and was breathlessly awaiting the doctor’s verdict. + +</p> +<p>As we had left the door ajar we heard the patient recover consciousness, and call for Francis in a strangely altered voice, +and address questions to her in a frightened tone; which questions the doctor, not understanding, put down to delirium, though +they made it clear enough to us that he had seen and recognized Rudolf, although he mentioned no names. + +</p> +<p>“If the patient is not kept strictly quiet, I fear it will turn to brain fever,” said the doctor on leaving. + +</p> +<p>“Would you like to see the person you referred to <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb268" href="#pb268">268</a>]</span>just now?” I asked the General in a whisper, as soon as we were alone. + +</p> +<p>“No, indeed! I know he is here; he must leave in peace, and at once, never more to appear before my eyes, or—I will curse +him.” + +</p> +<p>We could hear a suppressed sigh in the neighbouring cabinet. Rudolf had understood. + +</p> +<p>Rolf and Francis undertook the duty of watching at the bedside of the patient during the night; and I led Rudolf to my room—I +may say supported him, for the strong man reeled. He threw himself on the sofa and wept like a child. + +</p> +<p>“It is finished,” he said. “I could not, after all, have expected anything else, and I have my deserts.” + +</p> +<p>“Francis was in the right, you see; you ought not to have broken your promise.” + +</p> +<p>“It is not my fault I broke it. Fritz caught me this morning just as I was scaling the garden wall, and I was obliged to make +myself known to him, otherwise he would have given me in charge as a housebreaker. He then offered to hide me in an unoccupied +room on the ground floor until to-night. Thence, unseen, I could watch the movements of my father; and when his guests were +gone, I saw him <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb269" href="#pb269">269</a>]</span>walking alone towards the summer-house, where he sat down, and, as I thought, he had fallen asleep. Then it was I ventured +out of my hiding-place and approached him. It appears, however, he must both have seen me and recognized me. But now I have +said enough, and this time I will go away for good. God bless him! May the Almighty strengthen dear Francis.” + +</p> +<p>I persuaded him to spend this night with me, and try to get a little rest. From time to time I went to make inquiries about +the General, and towards morning I was able to inform Rudolf that his father had passed a fair night and was now sleeping +calmly; he could therefore leave with his mind more at ease. I accompanied him a part of the way outside the grounds, and +promised to keep him informed of the state of his father’s health. He gave me his address, as I was to write to him under +the name of Richard Smithson, and he then parted from me with the most passionate expressions of gratitude for the little +kindnesses I had been able to show him. + + + +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb270" href="#pb270">270</a>]</span></p> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" href="#xd0e3019src" id="xd0e3019">1</a></span> In Holland every village has its burgomaster, who acts as chairman of the local board. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="xd0e3158" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="normal">Chapter XXX.</h2> +<p>The General escaped for this time, but his recovery was slow. He was weak, and both his arms and legs seemed as if they were +paralyzed. I allowed myself to be easily persuaded to prolong my stay at the Werve, and I was able to render Francis many +little services. One of us two had to be constantly at the side of the convalescent, for Rolf had better intentions than judgment. +He let the General have just what he asked for, and would soon have brought on a relapse if we had not watched them both. +Francis was very thankful to have me with her; and yet she could not be satisfied that it was possible for me to spare so +much time from all my business. She little suspected that my most pressing and agreeable occupation was to remain at her side +and win her affections. Her devotion to her grandfather was <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb271" href="#pb271">271</a>]</span>sublime; she forgot all the wrongs he had done her, and only reproached herself for having caused him pain by her plain speaking. +Notwithstanding, as the old man gradually grew better, she was soon again convinced that a certain amount of firmness was +absolutely necessary to manage him. During his illness he had requested me, in his first lucid moments, to receive and open +all his letters. And in this way I became aware that he was engaged in “risky” speculations, and that he was making debts +unknown to Francis. When he was well enough to talk on such a subject, I ventured to remonstrate with him, and to point out +the consequences of persisting in such a course, both for himself and for Francis. He promised me he would give up all such +speculations, and excused the past on the grounds that he wished to leave Francis something when he died. I was to make the +best conditions I could for him in the sale of the Werve. It was time. Overberg consented to wait; but Van Beek, the executor +of the will, a man as inflexible as the law itself, had lost all patience. And I was not yet sure of Francis. Weakness on +my part, you will say; but no, it was delicacy—it was the fear of having to cut short my <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb272" href="#pb272">272</a>]</span>stay. I was afraid of the obstinacy of Francis—that she would not consent to a marriage even though I might have won her heart. +I was constantly calling to mind that terrible sentence she had uttered in the garden: “You will not use such language to +me again.” I shuddered at the very idea that a new attempt on my part might draw from her lips a definite and decided <i>No</i>. + +</p> +<p>The old General had discovered my intentions—of that I was convinced. He was continually insisting upon a reconciliation with +my uncle the minister, and that I should prepare Francis for the sale of the Werve. On this latter point, I assured him Francis +would listen to reason, and, armed with his power of attorney, I went over to Zutphen to arrange the preliminaries with Overberg. +Van Beek was growing less and less manageable; he had sent in reams of stamped paper to Overberg, and the interest on several +of the mortgages was six months over due; in fact the situation of affairs had become desperate. I charged Overberg to write +to Van Beek that the Werve would be sold, in all probability, at the same time as my marriage with Francis took place; and +I thought this would be enough to keep the lawyers <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb273" href="#pb273">273</a>]</span>quiet for a few days longer. I brought back some little presents for the General and Rolf, who were both highly pleased; and +a plain set of earrings and a brooch for Francis, as the time had not yet arrived when I could offer her the diamonds I intended +for my bride. + +</p> +<p>On my return, to my great surprise, I found Francis sadder and more anxious than I had left her in the morning. She accepted +my present, but seemed to be little interested in it. She retired early, and I followed her example, as I did not find Rolf’s +company particularly interesting. Most of the night I spent in reflection and conjectures as to this change in Francis; for +I had observed tears in her eyes when she bade me good-night. Once more I made up my mind that the coming day should put an +end to all my doubts. At breakfast, Francis, less depressed than the night before, told us she had received a letter from +Dr. D., of Utrecht, who gave her very encouraging news of the invalid in whom she was so much interested. I wished to propose +to her a long walk in the wood; but when I came downstairs from my room, where I had gone after breakfast to make a change +in my dress, I met Francis in the hall, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb274" href="#pb274">274</a>]</span>arrayed in her riding-habit. This time she had put on an elegant hat and blue veil, and was waiting for her beautiful horse +Tancredo, which the son of the farmer led up to the door saddled. + +</p> +<p>“Give up your ride this morning, to oblige me,” I said to her, with a certain tone of impatience in my voice that could not +escape her. + +</p> +<p>She looked at me in surprise and silence as she played with her riding-whip. + +</p> +<p>“You can take your ride an hour later,” I insisted. + +</p> +<p>“I have a long ride before me, and I must be back before dinner.” + +</p> +<p>“Then put it off until to-morrow. This is the first opportunity we have had to take a long walk since your grandfather fell +ill. Don’t refuse me this pleasure.” + +</p> +<p>“You always like to disarrange my plans, Leo.” + +</p> +<p>“To-day I have good reasons for doing so, Francis; believe me, to-morrow it will be too late.” + +</p> +<p>“Really? Your words sound threatening,” she said, attempting to smile. “Well, you shall have your way,” and she threw aside +her riding-whip pettishly. “You’ll have to wait until I change my dress; I cannot walk in my riding-habit.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb275" href="#pb275">275</a>]</span></p> +<p>Tancredo was sent back to the stable, and in much less time than I could have imagined my cousin reappeared in a very neat +walking-costume. + +</p> +<p>“And where shall we go?” she asked. + +</p> +<p>“Well, into the wood, I suppose.” + +</p> +<p>“That’s right, the weather is splendid: we can walk as far as the round point, and rest there on the rustic bench which you +perhaps remember.” + +</p> +<p>And so we walked through the great lane towards the wood, silent, just because we had so much to say to each other. I had +resolved to speak; but I could not decide in my own mind how to begin the subject. She herself seemed to have a thousand other +things to talk about beside the one I wished to come to. At length I tried to change the subject by saying it would be necessary +for me to fix a day for my return to the Hague. + +</p> +<p>“I was expecting it, Leopold.” + +</p> +<p>“And are you sorry I am going away?” + +</p> +<p>“I ought to say ‘No,’ by way of opposition, which is the only suitable answer to such a foolish question.” + +</p> +<p>“But I—will come back, if you would like it.” + +</p> +<p>“No, Leopold, I should not like it. And I still <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb276" href="#pb276">276</a>]</span>believe you would have done better to go away the day I first advised you to do so.” + +</p> +<p>“Have I been a burden to you, Francis?” + +</p> +<p>“You know better than that. You know I have much to thank you for: you have stood by me in days of suffering, and borne my +troubles with me; you have been open, frank, and obliging with me; in a word, you have spoilt me, and I shall feel my loneliness +doubled when you are gone.” + +</p> +<p>“Not for long, though, for I will come back soon—with—with a trousseau!” + +</p> +<p>“And, in the name of goodness, for whom?” + +</p> +<p>“For whom, indeed, but my well-beloved cousin Francis Mordaunt!” + +</p> +<p>“That’s a poor, very poor sort of jest, sir; you know very well that your cousin Mordaunt has no intentions of ever marrying.” + +</p> +<p>“Listen to me, Francis! When we first met on the heath, and you told me your intentions on this point, I had no reasons for +trying to dissuade you from them; but to-day, as you yourself know, the case is different. You will recollect the freedom +with which I have pointed out to you any defects which I considered a blemish on your noble character. Do <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb277" href="#pb277">277</a>]</span>you think I should have taken such a liberty if I had not conceived the idea, fostered the hope, of your one day consenting +to become—my wife?” + +</p> +<p>The word, the all-important word, was at last said. + +</p> +<p>“Well, indeed, Leo,” she began with a profound sigh, “since you force me to speak seriously, I must remind you of my last +warning, ‘not to use such language to me;’ it cannot, it may not be.” + +</p> +<p>“And why not, Francis? Did I deceive myself when I thought I was not altogether indifferent to you?” + +</p> +<p>She turned aside her face in silence, but I was sure I heard something like a suppressed sigh. + +</p> +<p>“Is it possible you are not disengaged?” I inquired, taking her hand gently and placing myself before her so that I could +look into her eyes. + +</p> +<p>“Disengaged! Certainly I am disengaged,” she answered bitterly. “I have done my best to remain so; and I have all along told +you I must be independent. It is necessary.” + +</p> +<p>“Ah, I comprehend, Francis!” I exclaimed, carried away by an absurd jealousy; “you are still waiting for your Lord William.” + +</p> +<p>“I?” she returned with passion; “I waiting for <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb278" href="#pb278">278</a>]</span>Lord William, who never loved me, who caused me to commit a thousand follies, who broke my heart, and who must now be nearly +sixty! No, Leopold; don’t humiliate me by pretending to be jealous of Lord William. Could I have told you the history of his +stay with us if I still loved him?” + +</p> +<p>“Is it then only a whim of Major Frank, who will surrender to no man, but prefers his savage kind of independence?” + +</p> +<p>“Don’t torment me in this way, Leopold. You can break my heart, but you cannot overcome my objections.” + +</p> +<p>“Then I will discover this mysterious power which enthrals you,” I cried, full of anger and pain. + +</p> +<p>“You already know the duties I have to fulfil, Leopold. Why should you throw yourself into this abyss of misfortunes and miseries, +in which I am sinking? and I shall never be able to get out of it my whole life.” + +</p> +<p>“I wish to know your miseries, my dear Francis, to share them with you, and help you to bear them. We will overcome them together—be +assured of that, my adored——” + +</p> +<p>Passion was getting the mastery over me; I caught <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb279" href="#pb279">279</a>]</span>her in my arms and pressed her to my breast. She made no resistance, but, as if wearied with the struggle, she rested her +head on my shoulder—her head so charming in its luxuriancy of golden curls. Her eyes were closed and her cheeks were crimson. +I thought myself in the seventh heaven. + +</p> +<p>Suddenly a croaking voice broke the profound silence of the wood— + +</p> +<p>“Don’t let me disturb you. Ah! Now Missy has a lover, it is not surprising she neglects the little boy.” + +</p> +<p>Such were the words we heard close to us, uttered by a hoarse voice and in the coarsest of country dialects. + + + + +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb280" href="#pb280">280</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div id="xd0e3272" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="normal">Chapter XXXI.</h2> +<p>Francis, pale with terror, disengaged herself from my embrace, and stepped forward a few paces. As for myself, I stood as +if thunder-struck. + +</p> +<p>The person who had spoken these offensive words, and who had doubtless been watching our movements for some time, was an old +peasant woman bearing a strong resemblance to the witches in Macbeth. Her sharp black eyes, bare skinny arms, as red and dry +as a boiled crab, her face wrinkled and tanned, her blue checked handkerchief tied over her white cap, and the stick on which +she supported herself, all contributed to call up before my mind one of those creatures our ancestors would have burned alive. +I confess I wished her such a fate when she advanced towards Francis and said, with her ingrained impertinence— +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb281" href="#pb281">281</a>]</span></p> +<p>“Now, miss—now I see what you have been so busy about the last five weeks, that you have never once had time to come and see +the child.” + +</p> +<p>“My grandfather has been ill, Mrs. Jool.” + +</p> +<p>“Yes, rich people’s sickness—there’s no great danger; but the young gent there, that’s another thing, eh? I tell you all the +village is talking about it.” + +</p> +<p>“About what, Mrs. Jool?” asked Francis, indignantly. + +</p> +<p>“Your neglecting the child for——” + +</p> +<p>“Listen to me, Mrs. Jool,” interrupted Francis, in a calm and firm tone: “neither you nor the village have any right to interfere +with my business.” + +</p> +<p>“Hum! the month is up, and a week gone in the second, and when Trineke<a class="noteref" id="xd0e3294src" href="#xd0e3294">1</a> is not paid the boy suffers for it.” + +</p> +<p>“You shall be paid to-morrow; but I warn you if the child suffer on account of a week’s delay in payment, either at your hands +or your daughter’s, I will take him away from you. To-morrow, or the day after, I shall come to see him myself, and I shall +make inquiries of the neighbours.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb282" href="#pb282">282</a>]</span></p> +<p>“What! You would disgrace me and my daughter by taking him away? You try it! we shall then see who is the strongest.” + +</p> +<p>And the insolent, vulgar woman set her arms akimbo, as she whined out— + +</p> +<p>“This is what one gets for defending great folks.” + +</p> +<p>“It has cost you no sacrifices, Mrs. Jool; for you have simply tried to make money out of your daughter’s misfortune.” + +</p> +<p>“And he must have shoes and socks, or else he will have to run about bare-legged in clogs like a peasant’s child.” + +</p> +<p>“I will provide them, Mrs. Jool; and now I have heard enough. This is the path which leads to the village.” + +</p> +<p>“What a hurry you’re in!” + +</p> +<p>“These are private grounds; do you understand that? Now take yourself off, or——” + +</p> +<p>“Marry come up! how anxious you are to get rid of me. Well, well, I am going. Otherwise I am afraid this dandy will play the +policeman for her.” And so she limped off along the path indicated, mumbling all the way. + +</p> +<p>Francis then turned to me and said— +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb283" href="#pb283">283</a>]</span></p> +<p>“Well, Leopold, this incident will serve to enlighten you; behold a power opposed to my freedom and happiness.” + +</p> +<p>“I understand,” I answered, trying to assume a calmness I did not possess; “I understand, Francis—you are too honest to bind +any man to you for life, saddled as you are with such a burden. But why did you not confide this terrible secret to me sooner? +I will attempt the impossible to save you!” + +</p> +<p>“But, Leopold, what are you thinking of?” she responded, quite red with emotion; “you surely do not suspect me of anything +unworthy? You comprehend that my honour is not herein concerned, though I must suffer for the deplorable consequences of the +fault I committed.” + +</p> +<p>“I am listening, Francis; but, excuse me, I do not rightly understand you. Is this not a question of a child which you are +obliged to maintain?” + +</p> +<p>“Yes, certainly; and that’s not the heaviest part of the burden. I have also to maintain the mother.” + +</p> +<p>“Francis!” I exclaimed, in a transport of joy and relief. + +</p> +<p>“Now it is my turn to say I don’t understand you,” she rejoined, regarding me with an adorable simplicity. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb284" href="#pb284">284</a>]</span>“Do you think it a light charge for me, in my position, to bring up a child, and provide for its mother whom I have sent to +a private asylum?” + +</p> +<p>I thanked Heaven from the bottom of my heart that she, in her innocency, did not suspect the conclusions I had drawn from +the words and manner of the old witch. + +</p> +<p>“This is the fatal consequence of my rash obstinacy with poor Harry Blount,” she continued. “You have heard me speak of the +accident before. He was carried in a dying state into the cottage of this Mrs. Jool and her daughter. In my despair, I repeated +several times: ‘It is my fault; I have killed him, I have killed him.’ The daughter knelt beside Blount in the wildest agony; +and Harry could just murmur, ‘My wife, my poor wife; have pity on her, Miss Francis!’ I did not know until this moment that +they were secretly married. I promised solemnly I would care for her, and even if I had made no promise I should still have +done all I have done for her. + +</p> +<p>“The mother always was, and is, a bad woman; she had, as it were, thrown her daughter into the arms of Blount, whom she considered +a good match. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb285" href="#pb285">285</a>]</span>After the funeral, she made such good use of my words uttered in despair, and spread such nefarious reports in the village, +that I was accused in all earnest of being his murderer. In fact, we were obliged to consult the magistrate, a friend of ours, +as to the measures we ought to take to contradict and put a stop to such slanderous charges. This, of course, did not relieve +me of my obligations towards the daughter, in whom, very soon after the birth of her child, symptoms of insanity manifested +themselves. The child had to be taken from her, and it was given in care to a sister of hers in the neighbouring village, +who had just lost her youngest born. Perhaps you would imagine she took it out of sisterly charity; but no, she insisted upon +my paying her monthly wages as I should have to do any other wet nurse. Besides, I had to do what I could for the poor mother. +It was most fortunate for me that on the occasion of my visit to Utrecht I met with Aunt Roselaer, otherwise I could not have +afforded the expense the mother has cost under the care of Dr. D. Mrs. Jool, not caring to live alone, went to the house of +her married daughter under the pretext of watching over the little one; but the fact is, she would there have <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb286" href="#pb286">286</a>]</span>a better opportunity of extorting money from me, and this she does under all kinds of pretences. The child has long been weaned, +and ought not to be left in their charge. I am always threatening to take it away from them, but I have not yet done so; for, +to confess a truth, I have recoiled from the rumours and false charges such a change would give rise to. The mother and child +are now costing me the greater part of my income. My grandfather finds fault with me about it, for he regards it as so much +money thrown away. Now, Leopold, do you think I could draw a man I really loved into such a maëlstrom as this?” + +</p> +<p>“The man worthy to possess you, Francis, will not be drawn in, but will aid you in getting out of it.” + +</p> +<p>“It is impossible; I will never abandon this child of Harry Blount’s.” + +</p> +<p>“I would never advise you to do anything of the sort. I know the way to treat such people as Mrs. Jool. The child must be +taken away from her and brought up by respectable farmers; perhaps the Pauwelsens would take him. To-morrow I will go with +you to the village——” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb287" href="#pb287">287</a>]</span></p> +<p>“You will only stir a wasps’ nest about your ears.” + +</p> +<p>“Oh, never mind; I am not afraid of a sting.” + +</p> +<p>“It’s bad enough that this woman has been playing the spy on us to-day.” + +</p> +<p>“When she sees us together to-morrow she will understand that it is useless playing the spy on us any longer.” + +</p> +<p>“But then she will make us the talk of the country-side. You don’t know the wickedness that woman’s capable of.” + +</p> +<p>“Well, what can she say more than that we are an engaged couple? And is this not true, Francis?” I said, gently taking her +hand in mine. + +</p> +<p>“You come back to the subject again, even now you know all,” she murmured; “but you have not calculated all the troubles and +burdens which would fall upon you: Rolf, whom we could not send away from the Werve; my grandfather with his large wants—and +small income. Oh yes, I know you are going back to the Hague to reconcile yourself with your uncle the minister, as the General +has advised you to do; and I understand why. But don’t do so for my sake, Leopold, for you have yourself said it would demean +you.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb288" href="#pb288">288</a>]</span></p> +<p>“Reassure yourself on that point, Francis; I may forgive my uncle and seek to be reconciled to him, as my religion bids me; +but never for the sake of his favours. But why so many difficulties? Don’t you see I love you, Francis; that during the last +few days I have been at some pains to suppress my feelings, and have therein succeeded better than I gave myself credit for; +that, now I have told you all, we must either part for ever, or I must have the assurance you will accept me as your husband? +I desire it, Francis; I desire it with a firmness of will that despises all objections and will remove all difficulties.” + +</p> +<p>“Leopold,” she replied, “don’t talk to me like this. No one ever spoke to me as you have done—you make me beside myself. And +yet I ought to resist. I don’t wish to be an obstacle in the way of your happiness, whatever it may cost me.” + +</p> +<p>I took both her hands in mine. “Francis,” I said, “I love you!” This was my only answer. + +</p> +<p>“You persist? Can it be? May I still be happy!” + +</p> +<p>“Enough, Francis; you are mine! I will never forsake you; you are mine for life!” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb289" href="#pb289">289</a>]</span></p> +<p>“For life!” she repeated after me, becoming so pale that I was afraid she would faint. “Leopold, yes, I am yours; I put my +trust in you, and I love you as I have never loved before—never before,” she whispered quite low. + +</p> +<p>“At last!” I cried; and pressed the first kiss of love on her lips. + +</p> +<p>I need not tell you we came in too late for luncheon. It is true we were not hungry. We returned to the house slowly, and +almost in silence, and we even slackened our pace as we drew nearer the Castle. Francis, especially, seemed loath to enter. + +</p> +<p>“Let us rest on the moss at the foot of this large oak tree,” she said; “it seems to me that all my misfortunes will come +back to me as soon as I enter yonder. I cannot yet separate myself from my happiness. Oh, Leopold! I wish we could fly away +together, that no one might interpose between us two.” + +</p> +<p>“We will fly away, dearest; but first we must go through certain formalities which will give us the right to appear in the +world as man and wife, and lift up our heads with the best of them.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb290" href="#pb290">290</a>]</span></p> +<p>“And then will follow the breakfast, the visits, and the congratulations of mean and false people, who come with a hypocritical +smile to wish us joy, whilst behind our backs they will make a mock of the man who has dared to marry Major Frank!” + +</p> +<p>“Oh, what a supposition!” I replied; “you must pay for that,” kissing her sad face into cheerfulness. + +</p> +<p>“I don’t understand,” she continued, “how people can treat so serious a subject as marriage with such lightness. The woman +especially makes an immense sacrifice—her name, her will, her individual self; a sacrifice which I always considered it would +be impossible for me to make, until I met you.” + +</p> +<p>“And now?” I asked, kneeling before her on the moss, the better to see into her beautiful eyes, which sparkled with happiness +and tenderness. + +</p> +<p>“Now I have no longer so many objections,” she replied with her sweetest smile. “But do not remain in that position before +me, Leopold. It is only acting a lie, for I foresee you will be my lord and master. But let us now go in, my dear, otherwise +they will be alarmed about us at the Castle. They won’t know what to think of our long absence.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb291" href="#pb291">291</a>]</span></p> +<p>“Just let me say, Francis, it must be with us as Tennyson puts it— + +</p> +<div class="
 poem
 "> +<p class="line" style=""><span>“Sit side by side, full summed in all their powers, +</span></p> +<p class="line" style=""><span>——— +</span></p> +<p class="line" style=""><span>Self-reverent each, and reverencing each: +</span></p> +<p class="line" style=""><span>Distinct in individualities, +</span></p> +<p class="line" style=""><span>But like each other even as those who love.”</span></p> +</div> +<p>“Exactly my opinion!” she exclaimed, applauding the sentiment. + + + +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb292" href="#pb292">292</a>]</span></p> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" href="#xd0e3294src" id="xd0e3294">1</a></span> Trineke is a diminutive of Catherine. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="xd0e3418" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="normal">Chapter XXXII.</h2> +<p>It was just as well we went in, for we met Rolf and Fritz, who had been sent out in search of us, as the General, though in +a good humour, was most impatient to speak to us. When we entered his room he was arranging his papers, and did not give us +time to announce our engagement, as we intended. + +</p> +<p>“Francis,” he cried, “why did you stay out so long when I have such good news to tell you?” + +</p> +<p>“That’s just what I have to tell you, grandfather; but what can have pleased you so much? You have not been made heir to Aunt +Roselaer’s property, have you?” + +</p> +<p>“It comes almost to the same thing, my child. Know then that the heir to Aunt Roselaer’s property asks your hand in marriage. +It is one of the conditions <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb293" href="#pb293">293</a>]</span>of the will; and I believe he will be agreeable to you.” + +</p> +<p>I smiled, though I found that Overberg and Van Beek had been in too great a hurry to inform the old Baron of the real state +of affairs. I had wished to be the first to break this agreeable surprise to Francis. + +</p> +<p>She stepped forward towards the General, and in a firm voice she said— + +</p> +<p>“I am sorry, grandfather, to disappoint you. The gentleman comes too late, for I have just promised my hand and heart to my +cousin, Leopold van Zonshoven—and that is the good news I came to tell you.” + +</p> +<p>“But that’s all the better, dear child—all the better; for the heir to Aunt Roselaer’s property and your cousin Leopold van +Zonshoven are one and the same person; and on the condition that you should marry the heir.” + +</p> +<p>Francis, turning on me brusquely, cried, “It is not true, Leopold? Oh, say it is not true!” she exclaimed, violently agitated. + +</p> +<p>“Then I should not speak the truth,” I answered. “The only difference for you,” I continued, “is this: you thought you were +giving your heart to a ‘poor <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb294" href="#pb294">294</a>]</span>gentleman,’ and now, like a prince in the fairy tales, he turns out to be a millionaire. Can such a surprise be disagreeable +to you?” + +</p> +<p>“Not a disagreeable surprise to me”—she almost shrieked, with scintillating eyes and flushed cheeks—“to find you have put +on a mask to deceive me! Have you not succeeded in inspiring me with esteem for you by your proud and dignified behaviour, +and the elevated sentiments you professed? And do you think I can be happy to find that all this was but a comedy? Could a +gentleman have treated me so? But you have deceived yourself, Jonker van Zonshoven. I gave my heart to a young man without +fortune, whose upright and noble character I admired, and in whom I had more confidence than in myself; but for the intriguer, +who, to seize upon my aunt’s fortune and make sure of it, has put on a disguise to win the heart of the woman he was ordered +to marry, for this hypocrite, this pretended sage, I have nothing but—my contempt!” + +</p> +<p>“Be careful, Francis; I know your violent temper often causes you to say that which in cooler moments you regret; but don’t +insult in such a manner the man you have just accepted as your husband—a man <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb295" href="#pb295">295</a>]</span>whom no one ever dared to address in such language, neither will he meekly bear it from any living being.” + +</p> +<p>“Need I make any respectful apologies, or do I owe any excuses to you, who have deceived me, lied to me, who have introduced +yourself here like a spy, and carried on your mean and degrading speculations up to the very moment when you thought it impossible +for me to retract my word? Once more, sir, I tell you, you are mistaken in my character. I will never pardon a man who has +abused my confidence!” + +</p> +<p>“I have not abused your confidence, Francis,” I answered, in as calm and gentle a tone as I could; “I have only been studying +your character, and trying to gain your affections, before I would venture an avowal of my sentiments—that is all I have done.” + +</p> +<p>“You have been false, I tell you. How can I any longer believe in your love? You came here to make what is called a good stroke +of business, to gain your million. It is true, I loved you such as you were not as you now appear in my eyes. I will not be +disposed of in marriage by any person dead or alive; <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb296" href="#pb296">296</a>]</span>and as for you, I refuse your offer. Do you <span class="corr" id="xd0e3459" title="Source: underderstand">understand</span> me? I refuse you!” + +</p> +<p>Upon this she fell back in an armchair, pale as death. + +</p> +<p>I was myself obliged to lean on the back of a chair, for I felt my legs trembling under me. Rolf, tender-hearted as ever, +had withdrawn to a corner of the room with tears in his eyes. The General, with agony depicted on his face, sat in his chair +wringing his hands, and seemed unable to move from the spot. + +</p> +<p>“Francis, Francis,” he said, “don’t let your temper overmaster you in this way. Reflect that the Castle is mortgaged to the +last stone, and that the last six months’ interest is not yet paid. If sold to-morrow it will not fetch a third of the amount +for which I have mortgaged it, and it is only by the generosity of Jonker Leopold that the sale can any longer be delayed. +He has offered to take it off my hands, together with all the mortgages with which it is burdened, and to allow me a yearly +income which will make me comfortable for life; but you must marry him, otherwise all our plans come to nought. Understand +that, and don’t insult a man who has such generous intentions towards us. He is still <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb297" href="#pb297">297</a>]</span>willing to forgive you, if you don’t persevere in your senseless refusal, I am sure; for I have for some time already been +aware he loves you. And we have not to deal with him alone; there is a will made, and executors and lawyers appointed to see +its provisions carried out. Now what shall I write to Overberg?” + +</p> +<p>“Write, grandfather,” said Francis, rousing herself with an effort, “that Francis Mordaunt will not suffer herself to be disposed +of in marriage by anybody’s testamentary disposition; that she will neither sell herself for one million nor for two millions, +and that she has decidedly refused Jonker van Zonshoven’s offer of marriage.” + +</p> +<p>Feeling confident Francis would do me justice when more calm and resigned, but feeling also the necessity of not giving way +to violence in dealing with a character such as hers, I said— + +</p> +<p>“I who have your promise and will not release you from it, I request the General to write to Overberg that Miss Mordaunt has +accepted my offer, and that the transfer of the Castle de Werve can forthwith be concluded.” + +</p> +<p>“If I will consent to the sale,” interposed Francis, still pale and unmoved. +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb298" href="#pb298">298</a>]</span></p> +<p>“I beg your pardon, Miss Mordaunt,” I rejoined, “your grandfather is the sole owner of the Castle; and during his life the +will by which it is bequeathed to you has no force nor value.” + +</p> +<p>“Ah! if she could only be brought to see all the circumstances in their true light,” sighed Von Zwenken. + +</p> +<p>“Well, uncle, you write what I have requested you to write; you know only too well the consequences of any other decision.” + +</p> +<p>“He wants you to write lies!” cried Francis, exasperatingly; “he’ll stick to his million, that’s clear.” + +</p> +<p>“Francis,” said the General, with the tone of a supplicant, “if you knew all I know! You are insulting a man who is generosity +itself, who has power to ruin us all, and yet who seeks to save us if you will simply take the hand he holds out to you. Remember +he can force us to sell the Castle if we do not consent to hand it over to him, however much against our own will.” + +</p> +<p>“It is possible that he has secretly acquired the power to drive us out of the Werve like beggars, but he cannot compel me +to marry him.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb299" href="#pb299">299</a>]</span></p> +<p>“We shall see about that,” I rejoined, proudly. + +</p> +<p>“You dare to talk to me of constraint—to me!” she cried, becoming furious, and advancing towards me—“you, Leopold,” she added, +with an accent of real pain. + +</p> +<p>“Yes, Francis,” I answered, resolved to follow up my advantage, “you shall submit to the constraint of your own conscience, +which must tell you that you owe me an apology. I am going away. Farewell. Try to reflect on this in your calmer moments. +You have touched me to the quick; you have wounded my feelings of honour and my heart. Do not let me wait too long, or the +wound will become incurable.” + +</p> +<p>I gave her a last look of gentle reproach, but her glassy eyes seemed insensible to all around her. I shook hands with the +old Baron, who, with bowed head, was weeping like a child. Rolf followed me to my room, and besought me not to leave the Castle +in such haste. + +</p> +<p>“She is like this,” he said, “when anything goes wrong with her. Within an hour she will regret what she has said, I am sure; +the storm was too violent to last long.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb300" href="#pb300">300</a>]</span></p> +<p>But my mind was made up. I packed up my luggage, slowly, I must confess, and always listening for a well-known step and a +knock, which should announce Francis repentant and seeking a reconciliation. But she did not come. + +</p> +<p>I was miserable beyond all expression. It was like being shipwrecked in the harbour after a long voyage. To think this was +the same woman at whose feet I had kneeled an hour ago, and whose hand I had kissed in a delirium of pleasure. And now she +had turned upon me like a fury and declined my offer with contempt! I reflected that I ought to have acted more frankly and +straightforwardly with her. For a moment the idea occurred to me to renounce all my rights as to Aunt Sophia’s property; but, +after all, what good end could it serve—it would only reduce us both to poverty. I promised myself that, once arrived at Zutphen, +I would send her in writing a complete statement of how affairs stood, and enclose aunt’s letter, which, out of delicacy, +I had so far kept to myself. I would add a few words of explanation, and I doubted not that, in her calmer moments, she would +do me justice. + +</p> +<p>And thus I acted; but as all the documents together <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb301" href="#pb301">301</a>]</span>made up too large a packet for the post, I confided them to a waiter at the hotel, who was to hand them over to a carrier +calling every day at the Werve for orders. I flattered myself I should speedily receive an answer, and all the following day +I passed in a feverish excitement, only increased in the evening when no answer came. During the night I never slept a moment. +Another day passed, and still no answer; and now I gave myself up to the most complete despair. There was nothing for me to +do but settle my affairs in all haste at Zutphen and return to the Hague. + +</p> +<p>I kept Overberg in the dark about my rupture with Francis, only telling him pressing business called me back to the Hague. +I signed all the papers he put before me, and told him I would return as soon as possible. The fact was I felt seriously unwell, +and, as you know, home is the best place under such circumstances; I thought I could there immerse myself in my favourite +studies, but I only remember feeling an unbearable weight of oppression come over me. + + + +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb302" href="#pb302">302</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div id="xd0e3514" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="normal">Chapter XXXIII.</h2> +<p>Instead of regaining my usual calm in my own “sweet home,” I fell seriously ill the first night after my return. I was attacked +by a nervous fever, and remained for several days insensible. My landlady now proved herself a faithful and attentive nurse, +and she tells me that my life was almost despaired of for some days. I am convalescent at last, and I shall travel. You will +ask where? I don’t know yet; nothing is decided. + +</p> +<p>When I was able to look over the papers which had accumulated on my table during my illness, I found a card from my uncle +the minister, who had called to make inquiries about me. My worthy uncle had heard the report that I was a millionaire. I +also found quite a heap of letters from Overberg and Van Beek, which I had not the courage to read; one, however, marked “Important,” +I broke open. It <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb303" href="#pb303">303</a>]</span>announced the death of my uncle Von Zwenken, and I was invited to the funeral. The date told me that the letter was three +weeks old! What had become of Francis? + +</p> +<p>Doubtless she was still ill-disposed towards me. She seemed to be unaware of my illness, since she had invited me to the funeral +of her grandfather. What must she have thought of my silence? Not a single word of comfort or encouragement from me. What +annoyances she might already have suffered from the lawyers. I was expecting my doctor every moment, and I had determined +to ask his permission to start immediately for Zutphen, when I heard some one coming up the stairs, whom my landlady was endeavouring +to call back, she being very strict about my being kept quiet. But, in spite of all her efforts, Rolf burst into the room—Rolf, +whom I had ended by loving almost as much as I detested him the first few days of our acquaintance. + +</p> +<p>“My General is dead,” he said, with tears in his eyes—“died in my arms. Francis is gone——” + +</p> +<p>“She is not ill, however?” I interrupted quickly. + +</p> +<p>“Not in the least, she is in excellent health; but—she has turned me out of the Werve.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb304" href="#pb304">304</a>]</span></p> +<p>“What do you say?” + +</p> +<p>“Oh, it was not done in anger or malice; but because she herself will be forced to leave the Castle very soon. In fact, she +has already hired a room at farmer Pauwelsen’s; but she will tell nobody what she intends to do.” + +</p> +<p>“But tell me all the particulars of the General’s death.” + +</p> +<p>“Well, the General had not the courage to resist her, and write to Overberg in the sense you advised him. And as everything +was vague and uncertain because of your answering nobody’s letters, the lawyers lost patience; and Overberg, egged on, I believe, +by that quill-driver in Utrecht, wrote to Freule Mordaunt to know for certain whether or not she was engaged to you. You will +guess her answer, short and dry, but without a word of reproach as far as you were concerned, I can assure you. I know she +reproaches herself bitterly, and has done so since the day you left, as I told you would be the case.” + +</p> +<p>“Even after she had received the packet from me?” + +</p> +<p>“She never received anything from you.” + +</p> +<p>“That’s very surprising!” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb305" href="#pb305">305</a>]</span></p> +<p>“No, it’s not at all surprising, for everything was in the utmost confusion with us from the fatal Friday you left——But I +see this is sherry, may I help myself?” + +</p> +<p>“Certainly, Captain; I beg your pardon, I ought to have thought of asking you sooner.” + +</p> +<p>“Well, then, after you were gone she fainted. Such a thing never happened to her before within my knowledge. I felt almost +ashamed of her; but she loved you so much, as she later confessed to me weeping! When she came to herself again, and whilst, +as we thought, she was reposing in her own room, she had stealthily gone off to the farm, ordered Tancredo to be saddled, +and ridden away at full gallop. At dinner we became dreadfully uneasy as she did not put in an appearance, and neither the +General nor myself could eat. But it was much worse when, in the evening twilight, young Pauwelsen came to say Tancredo had +returned to the stable alone, without saddle and white with foam.” + +</p> +<p>“An accident!” I cried, beside myself. “Do tell me the worst at once. What has happened to her?” + +</p> +<p>“Oh, it was not so bad after all, Jonker—only a <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb306" href="#pb306">306</a>]</span>sprained foot; we found her lying on the moss at the foot of an oak, to which she had been able to crawl to rest herself a +little.” + +</p> +<p>“I know that oak!” I exclaimed. “I feel what she must have felt there. She loves me still!” + +</p> +<p>“I believe so, Jonker, for she said we were to leave her there to die, and to tell you where she died. It appears she had +ridden towards the town, and then, suddenly changing her course, was returning to the Castle through the wood; but either +she must have pressed Tancredo too hard, or dropped the reins—she cannot explain it herself. But certain it is, the noble +animal, no longer recognizing the hand of his mistress, galloped home, and she fell out of the saddle. We carried her home, +and laid her on the sofa in the drawing-room. The surgeon declared there was no danger, but said she must not be moved for +some days.” + +</p> +<p>“And why did you not send me word immediately?” + +</p> +<p>“Hum! I wanted to write to you, and she also. I ought not to tell you perhaps, but she wrote a note to you.” + +</p> +<p>“Which I never received.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb307" href="#pb307">307</a>]</span></p> +<p>“No, for young Pauwelsen was charged to deliver it into your own hands at Zutphen; but when he arrived there they told him +you had left, and he brought back the letter, which the Freule tore up, with a bitter laugh saying— + +</p> +<p>“‘I deserved no better.’” + +</p> +<p>“Oh, if I could have foreseen all this!” I cried, wringing my hands. + +</p> +<p>“I advised you to stay,” replied the Captain; “why need you go off in such a hurry?” + +</p> +<p>“My dear Captain, I felt I was going to be ill; I was ill already. But how was it she did not receive my packet? I waited +until the third day for an answer.” + +</p> +<p>“What could you expect? Everything was turned upside down. Fritz had orders to place all letters on the General’s writing-table, +and he had taken such an aversion to anything in the shape of a communication from the lawyers, that he never opened one of +them. Miss Francis was scarcely able to move about again when those accursed creatures set to work and threatened to send +in the bailiffs, and Heaven only knows what besides. Then she had to attend to everything, for the General had a second attack +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb308" href="#pb308">308</a>]</span>of paralysis: those people have been the death of him, and I could not prevent it.” + +</p> +<p>The Captain forgot to add here, what I afterwards learnt, that he had himself hastened the General’s end by administering +a glass of old cognac to him under the pretext of strengthening him for the occasion of meeting the bailiffs. + +</p> +<p>“As soon as his eyes were closed,” he continued, “the lawyer from Arnheim, who was in possession of the General’s will, and +Overberg advised Francis to arrange matters with you in an amicable manner; but she would not listen to them. You understand, +it was in your name these proceedings had been taken against her grandfather.” + +</p> +<p>“Whilst I lay unconscious on a bed of sickness.” + +</p> +<p>“That’s what the Pharisees knew, but they had your power of attorney; and Francis said— + +</p> +<p>“‘Behold the constraint with which he threatened me! And he imagines I shall give way? Never!’ You should have seen her, how +pale she was, but firm; when the men came to make the inventory of all there was in the Castle!” + +</p> +<p>“Afterwards she took me aside. ‘Rolfie,’ she said—it was her word when she wanted to get anything <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb309" href="#pb309">309</a>]</span>out of me—‘Rolfie, now tell me honestly, have you not sacrificed the greater part of your fortune to the wants of my grandfather?’ + +</p> +<p>“‘Well, certainly not, Maj—Miss Francis; we have only spent that small sum which we won in the lottery. The General would +make use of his part of it to try his luck once more; but I preferred spending my part on a few extras for the table that +we might all enjoy it together.’ + +</p> +<p>“‘Then that story of yours about an inheritance was a pure invention?’ she demanded severely. + +</p> +<p>“<span class="corr" id="xd0e3604" title="Not in source">‘</span>Pardon, Freule, I have inherited a nice little farm in North Brabant, where I always intended to end my days, if the Freule +should’ (marry, I would have said, but I was afraid) ‘wish to dispense with my services.’ + +</p> +<p>“‘And can you live comfortably on it, Captain?’ + +</p> +<p>“‘Very; and, besides, I have my pension. Living is very cheap in that part of the country; if the Freule can make up her mind +to go with me, we should have a very pleasant life of it together. Though it is no castle, the best room in the house is set +apart for your service.<span class="corr" id="xd0e3611" title="Source: ”">’</span> + +</p> +<p>“‘I thank you most cordially, my good Captain; <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb310" href="#pb310">310</a>]</span>I was most anxious to know whether you were provided for. But we must separate, my dear Rolf.’ + +</p> +<p>“‘And where will you go, what will you do?’ + +</p> +<p>“‘I cannot tell you that; but one thing is certain, you cannot go with me.’” + +</p> +<p>The Captain plied himself well with sherry to keep up his spirits, and concluded by saying— + +</p> +<p>“And so we parted, Jonker. But I thought to myself, I’ll pass through the Hague; and here I heard of your illness, and said +to myself, ‘Probably the Jonker is ignorant of all that has occurred.’” + +</p> +<p>“Do you know what you must do, Rolf? Go back to the Werve at once. I shall give you a letter for the lawyers to stop all proceedings, +and you will take command of the fortress until I come. Retain Fritz in the service, and try to find the packet. I shall be +with you to-morrow or the day after, if my doctor will give me permission to leave my room.” + +</p> +<p>“Oh, the packet will be at Overberg’s with the rest of the General’s papers.” + +</p> +<p>“Then try to find out where Miss Francis is, and induce her to return to the Werve; but don’t tell her I am coming there.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb311" href="#pb311">311</a>]</span></p> +<p>At the same moment my landlady brought me the following telegram from Overberg— + +</p> +<p>“Your immediate presence indispensable; no arrangement possible; F. M. has left the Castle.” + +</p> +<p>I did not hesitate any longer. Without awaiting the doctor’s leave, I got Rolf to pack my portmanteau, and we were off before +he could stop us. These thick-coming events called forth all my strength, and I forgot how weak I really was. + + + +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb312" href="#pb312">312</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div id="xd0e3640" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="normal">Chapter XXXIV.</h2> +<p>When I arrived at the hotel in Zutphen, I was surprised to find a letter awaiting me from Rudolf, who was still travelling +through the provinces of Guelderland and Overyssel with his troupe, which was now performing at Laren fair. It ran as follows— + +</p> +<p>“If you wish to prevent Francis from committing the greatest folly she has yet been guilty of in life, try to meet me at the +‘Half-way House,’ between Zutphen and Laren, to-morrow morning about nine o’clock.” + +</p> +<p>I promised myself I would not neglect this appointment. I then sent for Overberg, who confirmed all I had heard from Rolf, +and explained many things I thought inexplicable. It was Van Beek who had pushed matters to extremities, and he (Overberg) +had been quite willing to grant any reasonable delay. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb313" href="#pb313">313</a>]</span>He told me one thing I was still ignorant of. A lawyer had sent into Van Beek a copy of a codicil to Aunt Sophia’s will, drawn +up by her order on the eve of her death, by which she bequeathed to her grandniece, Francis Mordaunt, a yearly income of three +thousand florins in case she did not marry Jonker van Zonshoven; and I was bound to pay this pension on condition she made +no marriage without my consent. A very far-seeing woman this aunt of mine! I charged Overberg to make known this codicil, +and to hand over to Francis the packet which he had found amongst the General’s papers. He had sent it to the Castle, but +too late; Francis was already gone. I requested him to do his best to find her out, and to deliver it into her hands. + +</p> +<p>Next morning, when I arrived at the appointed place, a little country inn, the landlady told me that a lady and gentleman +were already awaiting me upstairs. I hastened into the large assembly-room, and at the bottom of it I could perceive Rudolf +and Francis, almost hidden behind a platform which had been erected for the musicians. Francis stood with her back to the +door at which I entered. I wished to give her warning of my presence, but I could not <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb314" href="#pb314">314</a>]</span>speak; and as I advanced all of a tremble, I heard Rudolf saying to her— + +</p> +<p>“<i>Nonsense, my dear!</i> you have no idea of the sort of life you wish to lead. You talk of liberty and independence; but I tell you it is slavery +and the whip into the bargain. Do you know our bed-room is in the stable with the horses? Do you think the women are much +respected because they are so politely assisted to mount their horses during the performance? I can tell you Madame Stonehouse +herself is not spared by her gracious husband. And you would cast in your lot with us, susceptible and haughty as you are!” + +</p> +<p>“There’s nothing else I can do,” replied Francis. “I can manage a horse, but I cannot become a governess and undertake the +care of young children any more than I could earn my bread with my needle. I will not be guilty of the sin of suicide. I have +a duty to fulfil in life, though to me life is but a martyrdom. And this is my only resource.” + +</p> +<p>“But, you foolish girl, why don’t you seek a reconciliation with your Cousin van Zonshoven? You would then have all a woman +could wish for—your castle back, a beautiful fortune, and a husband <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb315" href="#pb315">315</a>]</span>who would love you truly. Upon that I’ll wager my head.” + +</p> +<p>“Yes; he’s a man of rare loyalty, indeed, and has shown himself such!” she answered with a choking voice. + +</p> +<p>“Bah! at the worst he has only acted a little insincerely; white lies, my dear, white lies may be pardoned. Forgive him his +peccadillo. He will have much to forgive in you, as you have confessed to me yourself. Tell him you are sorry for what you +have said. He will then embrace you and all will be well.” + +</p> +<p>“It is impossible, I tell you; it is too late.” + +</p> +<p>“Why too late, Francis?” I exclaimed, as I stepped forward, unable to restrain myself any longer. + +</p> +<p>“Leopold!” she cried, turning deadly pale, and covering her face with her hands. + +</p> +<p>“Francis,” I went on gently, “nothing is changed; I still regard you as my betrothed wife.” + +</p> +<p>And saying this I tried to take her hand in mine. But the touch pained her; she sprang back as if she had received the discharge +of an electric battery. + +</p> +<p>“Your betrothed! You have given me to understand <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb316" href="#pb316">316</a>]</span>this by the manner in which I have been treated!” + +</p> +<p>“It grieves me to the heart, Francis—I cannot tell you how much. I come now from a sick-bed, and what the lawyers did whilst +I lay insensible in the fever was in opposition to my wishes, and quite contrary to my intentions.” + +</p> +<p>“And was it contrary to your intentions to cause my grandfather the shock which led to his death?” + +</p> +<p>“Most certainly it was, and I did my utmost to prevent it; but you would not assist me, and afterwards it was too late. It +was the executors carrying out the last will and testament of the deceased, and it was out of my power to interfere with them. +And if the consequences hastened your grandfather’s death, you cannot blame me, Francis. For after a calm consideration of +all the facts, you will be bound to agree that I was a better friend both to him and to you than you have been to yourselves. +Because of a little misunderstanding which I could easily have explained, you have brought all this trouble on yourself, and +caused me the most acute suffering. Still all may be well.” + +</p> +<p>“All may be well! Oh, Leopold, Leopold! how <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb317" href="#pb317">317</a>]</span>can you say so, when the gulf between us is so wide,” she replied, with a profound sigh. “You threatened me with force, and +you have meanly carried that threat into execution! You had it in your power to drive me to extremities, your one fixed idea +being to compel me to marry Aunt Roselaer’s heir. I have heard this so often I am sick of the subject; and though I acknowledge +you are right from a worldly and material point of view, I had given you credit for better things. Don’t you understand, that +were I to marry you now under constraint, I should tug at my chains until they made life unbearable to us both, or until they +broke!” + +</p> +<p>“I agree with you, Francis, if you regard our engagement in this light, and I release you from your promise.” + +</p> +<p>“Thank you, but I had already taken measures which render such generosity on your part unnecessary. I am going to travel about +in the world, and I have taken steps to separate myself from the past entirely. I have made my contract with Mr. Stonehouse, +to whom Rudolf is to introduce me as soon as he arrives here to sign the same.” + +</p> +<p>“Your Uncle Rudolf came here, my dear, to dissuade <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb318" href="#pb318">318</a>]</span>you from such a step; and if you are awaiting the arrival of Mr. Stonehouse, you will have to wait a long time,” responded +Rudolf, coolly. “Did you think me such a fool, Francis, as to assist you in your insane idea?” + +</p> +<p>“Then you never delivered my letter to your master?” + +</p> +<p>“Certainly not, I did much better. I warned your Cousin Leopold that you were going to commit a folly which would lead to +your inevitable ruin.” + +</p> +<p>“Oh, I see! this is another plot against me. Enough; as I cannot trust any one but myself, I will ride off at once and ask +to see Mr. Stonehouse in person.” + +</p> +<p>“You will do nothing of the sort,” I said, authoritatively, seeing that she rose to depart. “The General is dead, Rudolf civilly +dead, and I am consequently, in the eyes of the law, your nearest male relation. Therefore I forbid your entering this abyss, +from whence no one ever rises again, in the flower of your age.” + +</p> +<p>“What am I to do?” she cried passionately, yet with an accent of submission in her tone. + +</p> +<p>“You have simply to return to the Werve,” I <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb319" href="#pb319">319</a>]</span>answered, “where you will find a friend actively preparing for your reception.” + +</p> +<p>“A friend!” she repeated, in astonishment. + +</p> +<p>“Yes, Rolf; who is to stay there until further orders. Don’t be afraid—I shall not importune you with my presence, for I am +going to travel.” + +</p> +<p>This latter declaration seemed to make a great impression on her. She regarded me with a strange kind of look, and replied +in a tone of voice which betrayed something more than pride and anger— + +</p> +<p>“In very sooth, Leopold, you are going to travel? Well, then, I will stay at the Werve. Farewell.” + +</p> +<p>And she escaped from the room quickly, shutting the door after her. We soon heard the pawing of her horse outside, and we +trusted she would ride back to the Castle. + +</p> +<p>“Ought I not to follow her?” Rudolf inquired of me. + +</p> +<p>“No; any mistrust on our part would offend her.” + +</p> +<p>“She is in an unusual state of excitement, and such a reckless rider. Only lately she had an accident.” + +</p> +<p>“That’s true; for Heaven’s sake follow her! But if you should be recognized yourself?” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb320" href="#pb320">320</a>]</span></p> +<p>“Never fear, I am too well disguised for that. In my present dress I made more than one visit to the Werve during my father’s +last illness. I have pressed his hand on his death-bed; and he has given me his signet ring. Out of prudence I do not wear +it on my finger, but like this, in my bosom, attached by a cord round my neck. And Francis,” he cried in triumph, “has accepted +assistance from me during these last days of trial. When the <i>Kermis</i> at Laren is over, we shall leave this country; and I shall never more set foot on my native soil,” he added, sadly, as he +mounted his horse; and pressing my hand for the last time, took an eternal farewell of me. + + + + +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb321" href="#pb321">321</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div id="xd0e3741" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="normal">Chapter XXXV.</h2> +<p>Our surprises were not yet at an end. + +</p> +<p>On my return to Zutphen I found Overberg waiting for me at my hotel. He had just received from England a packet addressed +to Francis, which Fritz had refused to take charge of, as he did not know where to find her. I assured him that Miss Mordaunt +had now returned to the Castle; and I offered my driver double fare if he would go at once to the Castle, and bring me back +a <i>reçu</i> from Francis. I should then have proof positive of her return to the Werve. I was very anxious to find out what this packet +could contain; and I was in despair as to any suitable means of satisfying my curiosity, when early next morning old Fritz +arrived at the hotel with a note from his mistress. He had his orders not to deliver it into anybody’s hands but mine. I broke +the seal with trembling fingers, and read as follows— + + +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb322" href="#pb322">322</a>]</span></p> +<div class="blockquote"> +<p>“<span class="smallcaps">Cousin Leopold</span>—I must speak to you once more before you start on your travels; it is absolutely necessary. You once assured me you were +always ready to oblige a woman who exercised the privileges of her sex. May I hope you will come to the Werve to have a last +interview with me? Instead of writing I should have preferred to come to your hotel to see you; but I was afraid of scandalizing +you by such a liberty. Please send word by Fritz the day and hour I may expect you. + + +</p> +<p>F. M.”</p> +</div><p> + + +</p> +<p>I had but one answer to this note; it was to order out the hotel carriage, and drive back with Fritz. My hopes and fears as +we drove along I will not attempt to describe; they are better left to your imagination; but everything seemed to turn round +before my eyes as we passed over the old drawbridge, and drove up to the hall-door. Rolf was awaiting me at the entrance; +and he led me into the drawingroom without a word, only expressing his delight by the manner in which he swung about his cap. + +</p> +<p>Francis was seated on the sofa which I remembered so well, her head cast down, paler than on the preceding day; but charmingly +beautiful in her <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb323" href="#pb323">323</a>]</span>mourning-dress. She rose hastily, and advanced to greet me. + +</p> +<p>“Thank you, Leopold, for coming so soon. I knew you would come; I had confidence in your generosity.” + +</p> +<p>“And—am I then no longer contemptible in your eyes, Francis? You have received my packet, and read Aunt Sophia’s letter?” + +</p> +<p>“I have received all the documents, read all—more than was necessary to convince me I had done you an injustice, and ought +to apologize to you. Now I am ready to confess it before all the world that I did you wrong; will you pardon me without reserve?” + +</p> +<p>“Need you ask me that, Francis? But you must never doubt me more, never more, Francis.” + +</p> +<p>After a moment’s silence she answered in a low voice—“Never more, Leopold!” + +</p> +<p>So saying, she pressed my hand with ardour, as a sign of reconciliation. Still, there was a constraint about her manner which +prevented my pressing her to my heart as I desired to do. + +</p> +<p>“Sit down, Leopold,” she said; “now we are reconciled I have to ask your advice as my nearest relation and my most trusted +friend.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb324" href="#pb324">324</a>]</span></p> +<p>At the same time she unfolded the packet which she had received from England. + +</p> +<p>“Lord William is dead,” she went on; “will you read this letter addressed to me, together with a copy of his will?” + +</p> +<p>I could scarcely control myself sufficiently to read the letter; but I obeyed mechanically. This letter contained a few words +of serious advice, breathing nothing but words of paternal love; though I read between the lines that it had cost him a struggle +after her confession to regain this kind of calm affection for her. He had left with Cupid’s arrow in his heart. The letter +concluded with the most ardent wishes for her happiness; and he expressed a hope she would one day find a husband worthy of +her, begging her to accept as a marriage portion the legacy he had left her by his will. Finally, he said, she must allow +no considerations whatever, especially money considerations, to induce her to marry a man whom she did not love with all her +heart. + +</p> +<p>The family name with which this letter was signed is one of the most illustrious in the scientific as well as in the political +world. + +</p> +<p>There was also a second letter from the nephew <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb325" href="#pb325">325</a>]</span>and heir to Lord William’s title and immense fortune. He assured Francis of his intentions scrupulously to fulfil the last +will of the deceased. Francis was to receive from the estates an annuity of three thousand pounds for the term of her natural +life. + +</p> +<p>“Ought I to accept it, Leopold?” she demanded. + +</p> +<p>“My opinion is you cannot refuse it, Francis. Your greatest desire has always been to have an independence; and here it is +offered you by the hand of a friend.” + +</p> +<p>“You are right, Leopold; I shall follow your advice and accept it. Now I shall not be forced to marry any one; and if I should +choose a husband, he cannot suspect me of having done so for the sake of his money. Shall I be rich enough to buy back the +Werve?” + +</p> +<p>“No, Francis; the Werve is in the possession of one who will not sell it for money. If you still desire to become Baroness +de Werve, you must take another resolution.” + +</p> +<p>“Leopold,” she said, rising, “you say that independence has always been my chief desire. It is possible; but now I understand +that my greatest happiness is to be dependent on the man I love. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb326" href="#pb326">326</a>]</span>Leo, Aunt Roselaer has left me an annuity which I decline to accept, as a matter of course; but her intentions towards me +were kindly, and I will follow her advice. She has forbidden me to marry without your consent.” + +</p> +<p>Then with an indefinable mixture of grace, confusion, and malice, she sank down on her knees before me, and said— + +</p> +<p>“Leo, I wish to marry my Cousin van Zonshoven; have you any objections?” + +</p> +<p>“Heaven forbid! I have no objections!” + +</p> +<p>And with what rapture did I raise her, and clasp her to my breast, where she shed many tears, whilst my own eyes were not +dry. We had loved so much, and suffered so much for each other. +</p> +<hr class="tb"><p> + +</p> +<p>What can I tell you more, dear William? We walked out in the grounds, and again visited all the places which had become endeared +to us by our former walks. We made all sorts of plans for the future. We wrote letters to Van Beek and the other men of the +law, informing them in a grave tone that all the bills would be paid at maturity, or on presentation. +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb327" href="#pb327">327</a>]</span></p> +<p>The fact that Francis was in mourning for the General served us as a pretext for being married privately, and in as quiet +a manner as possible, an arrangement in accordance with both our wishes. An old college friend of mine, vicar in a small town +near the Werve, married us. + +</p> +<p>Little Harry Blount is already confided to the care of the farmers Pauwelsens. His mother has perfectly recovered, and will +one of these days, we trust, marry young Pauwelsen, a son of the farmer, who had already fixed his eyes on her before her +engagement to Blount. This good news has removed an immense weight from Francis’s mind. We are going to make a long journey, +and try to enjoy ourselves thoroughly; the trials we have both passed through have taught us to appreciate our present happiness. + +</p> +<p>During our absence the Werve will be restored, and Rolf will be left in charge. + +</p> +<p>To conclude, dear William, I have got Francis to enclose you a note in her own handwriting. + + +</p> +<p><i>Geneva, 1861.</i> <span class="smallcaps">Leopold van Zonshoven.</span> + +</p> +<p>“That it is becoming in Leo to have sketched the doings of Major Frank in all their shades and peculiarities, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb328" href="#pb328">328</a>]</span>even for a friend, I shall never allow; but I feel that in his delicate position it was necessary for him to ease his mind +to some one, and that it was better he should do so to a friend across the seas. Therefore I have pardoned him. Now I will +request you not to have his letters printed in any of your Indian papers! That would be too bad! Not that Francis van Zonshoven +would attempt to defend such a person—oh no! It appears to me no such person ever existed. But there are family secrets in +the letters, which I must seriously recommend to your discretion. + +</p> +<p>“Don’t wait until your term of service in India expires, but get your leave of absence and visit us at the Werve. All the +windows are now glazed, and there is room enough for Leo’s friend, though he came with a whole family. + +</p> +<p>“<span class="smallcaps">Francis van Zonshoven.</span>” + + + +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div class="back"> +<div class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>] +</span><p class="aligncenter">Unwin Brothers, The Gresham Press, Chilworth and London. + + + + +</p> +<div class="div1" id="toc"> +<h2 class="normal">Table of Contents</h2> +<ul> +<li><a href="#xd0e111">Chapter I.</a></li> +<li><a href="#xd0e148">Chapter II.</a></li> +<li><a href="#xd0e217">Chapter III.</a></li> +<li><a href="#xd0e244">Chapter IV.</a></li> +<li><a href="#xd0e372">Chapter V.</a></li> +<li><a href="#xd0e420">Chapter VI.</a></li> +<li><a href="#xd0e468">Chapter VII.</a></li> +<li><a href="#xd0e537">Chapter VIII.</a></li> +<li><a href="#xd0e784">Chapter IX.</a></li> +<li><a href="#xd0e848">Chapter X.</a></li> +<li><a href="#xd0e998">Chapter XI.</a></li> +<li><a href="#xd0e1094">Chapter XII.</a></li> +<li><a href="#xd0e1299">Chapter XIII.</a></li> +<li><a href="#xd0e1392">Chapter XIV.</a></li> +<li><a href="#xd0e1458">Chapter XV.</a></li> +<li><a href="#xd0e1554">Chapter XVI.</a></li> +<li><a href="#xd0e1654">Chapter XVII.</a></li> +<li><a href="#xd0e1734">Chapter XVIII.</a></li> +<li><a href="#xd0e1867">Chapter XIX.</a></li> +<li><a href="#xd0e1970">Chapter XX.</a></li> +<li><a href="#xd0e2115">Chapter XXI.</a></li> +<li><a href="#xd0e2185">Chapter XXII.</a></li> +<li><a href="#xd0e2295">Chapter XXIII.</a></li> +<li><a href="#xd0e2381">Chapter XXIV.</a></li> +<li><a href="#xd0e2494">Chapter XXV.</a></li> +<li><a href="#xd0e2585">Chapter XXVI.</a></li> +<li><a href="#xd0e2770">Chapter XXVII.</a></li> +<li><a href="#xd0e2933">Chapter XXVIII.</a></li> +<li><a href="#xd0e3004">Chapter XXIX.</a></li> +<li><a href="#xd0e3158">Chapter XXX.</a></li> +<li><a href="#xd0e3272">Chapter XXXI.</a></li> +<li><a href="#xd0e3418">Chapter XXXII.</a></li> +<li><a href="#xd0e3514">Chapter XXXIII.</a></li> +<li><a href="#xd0e3640">Chapter XXXIV.</a></li> +<li><a href="#xd0e3741">Chapter XXXV.</a></li> +</ul> +</div> +<div class="transcribernote"> +<h2>Colophon</h2> +<h3>Availability</h3> +<p>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give +it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/">www.gutenberg.org</a>. + +</p> +<p>This eBook is produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at <a href="https://www.pgdp.net/">www.pgdp.net</a>. + +</p> +<p>The Dutch original, titled <i>Majoor Frans</i>, is available from Project Gutenberg as ebook number <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/etext/20794">20794</a>. Note that this English translation is about half the length of the Dutch version. + +</p> +<h3>Encoding</h3> +<p></p> +<h3>Revision History</h3> +<ol class="lsoff"> +<li>2008-12-05 Started. + +</li> +</ol> +<h3>External References</h3> +<p>This Project Gutenberg eBook contains external references. These links may not work for you.</p> +<h3>Corrections</h3> +<p>The following corrections have been applied to the text:</p> +<table width="75%"> +<tr> +<th>Page</th> +<th>Source</th> +<th>Correction</th> +</tr> +<tr> +<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e207">9</a></td> +<td width="40%">shuting</td> +<td width="40%">shutting</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e1173">97</a></td> +<td width="40%">,</td> +<td width="40%"> +[<i>Deleted</i>] + +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e1193">98</a></td> +<td width="40%">eem</td> +<td width="40%">seem</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e1350">109</a></td> +<td width="40%">aloud</td> +<td width="40%">a loud</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e1777">146</a></td> +<td width="40%">’</td> +<td width="40%">”</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e1819">148</a></td> +<td width="40%">’</td> +<td width="40%">”</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e1978">160</a></td> +<td width="40%">‘</td> +<td width="40%">“</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e2280">187</a></td> +<td width="40%">’</td> +<td width="40%"> +[<i>Deleted</i>] + +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e2318">191</a></td> +<td width="40%">”</td> +<td width="40%">’</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e2377">197</a></td> +<td width="40%"> +[<i>Not in source</i>] + +</td> +<td width="40%">”</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e2490">210</a></td> +<td width="40%"> +[<i>Not in source</i>] + +</td> +<td width="40%">”</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e2989">253</a></td> +<td width="40%">Their</td> +<td width="40%">There</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e3459">296</a></td> +<td width="40%">underderstand</td> +<td width="40%">understand</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e3604">309</a></td> +<td width="40%"> +[<i>Not in source</i>] + +</td> +<td width="40%">‘</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e3611">309</a></td> +<td width="40%">”</td> +<td width="40%">’</td> +</tr> +</table> +</div> +</div> +</div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Major Frank, by A. 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